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nillial · 5 years

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please forgive me for whatever i do (when i don’t remember you)

a taz fic in which edward and lydia, being undead, are immune to the voidfish and thus can see thb’s blocked memories and offer them up for sacrifice. taako spins mind. they want him to sacrifice the memory of his sister. except taako doesn’t have a sister. or-- taako makes a mistake. and once you sacrifice something in wonderland, you don’t get it back.

ao3 link in the notes because tumblr is dumb and won’t let links show up in tags

“Mind, huh?” Lydia grins, wide and unsettling. “We could have some real fun with this.”

Taako scoffs and watches some black smoke drift up to the ceiling. He’s sick of fun. So far, the only thing that Wonderland’s fun has given him is a bloody nose, a limp, and what he thinks is a broken rib. All he wants to do is finish this job, go home, and sleep for so long that his nap borders on a coma.

“What do you want?” he asks, leaning on his umbrella and feigning indifference. “My brain’s clogged with tons of shit I don’t need. You want spells? Recipes? I’ve prob’ly got some fond memories stuffed somewhere up in the ol’ clunker. ”

“No, no, none of that,” she says. “We want to up the ante a little bit. How about… a person?”

She and her brother smile at one another with wide, unblinking eyes. He suppresses a shiver and steels himself, because, no, they don’t scare him. They’re just weirding him out. Twins are creepy like that.

“A person?” he repeats. He almost ridicules them for making it so easy on him, but decides better of it.

A person. Taako doesn’t have anyone from his past that he’d mind forgetting. Everyone he’s ever known either abandoned him or betrayed him. Who could they make him forget, really? Sazed? His aunt? Every other asshole who left him?

Forgetting wouldn’t be so bad. He’s better off alone, anyways.

“Bring it on,” he says.

Lydia flashes him one of her fake toothy grins and tilts her head. “How selfless! You know, I think you’re becoming our favorite, Taako.”

He holds back a facetious remark and barely restrains himself from grimacing. He’s not sure that being Lydia and Edward’s favorite is much of an honor. “And why’s that?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Edward asks. “The enthusiasm for the job, the impeccable style, the willingness to relieve yourself of your burdens— you’re just like us!”

At that, Taako fails to choke down a “Like hell I am.” He ignores the black smoke drifting up to the ceiling. Magnus shoots him a glare. He shoots him one back. Sure, he was pretty impressed at first, and it’s nice to finally have his oversized hat and ten layers of mismatched clothing recognized as impeccable style, but there’s no way he’s letting them compare themselves to him. Having heavy machinery dropped on top of him and watching his traveling companions suffer cancels out any and all compliments they might give him.

Lydia laughs, cold, empty, and humorless. “Really, Taako, you can’t deny how similar we are. We apologize for the bias towards you, if you feel it’s unfair, but you have to understand that it’s not often we come across another pair of powerful elven twins with such a strong bond.”

Taako’s train of thought halts. Twins?

“It’s a shame only one of you is a lich,” Edward adds. “We really could have been matching then.”

“Even more of a shame that you couldn’t bring her with you. Physically, anyways.” She gives him a once-over, but Taako swears her gaze lingers on his umbrella, which she stares at quizzically before she returns to her usual cocky countenance. “But she’s always there in your heart, isn’t she, Taako?”

He has no clue what apparent twin sister she’s going on about, but something deep in his chest aches.

“Taako, you had a caretaker who you trusted, a friend who betrayed you, and a sister who meant the world to you. You loved each of them, and they all left you.” Edward leans closer to him and Taako takes a few steps back. “I wonder who we should take?”

“Now, Edward,” Lydia says, “it wouldn’t be a sacrifice if it didn’t sting a little, would it? Let’s go with someone he’s still fond of. Someone he wants to hold on to.”

Edward shifts his gaze from her to Taako. His stare drills into him. “Of course. Besides, we’ve already gotten rid of one quest for vengeance today, haven’t we? Right, Magnus?”

Magnus narrows his eyes at them, but it’s more of a confused squint than the threatening glare that it’s intended to be. Taako can’t help but feel sorry for him. He supposes he has to add Governor Kalen to his personal hit list now.

The two of them turn their heads to face him in unison. He stifles another shiver.

“If you accept this sacrifice,” says Lydia, “you will forget Lup. You’ll forget your childhood together, your journey, your grief and denial and relentless searching after she left— you’ll forget your other half.”

Edward slides off the top of the wheel and approaches him. “You spent so long looking for her, Taako. You clung to the hope that she really was out there somewhere, told yourself that she wasn’t gone, you could feel it, and that you just had to look harder. Even after all of those failed expeditions, after your search party had dwindled from six members to two, even after all of those sleepless nights and countless hours of praying to whatever god would listen to you, you remained hopeful.”

“It’s admirable, really,” continues Lydia. “You truly believed she’d return to you. Even after everyone else accepted that she was gone, you kept looking. You always had faith in her, Taako. But things didn’t work out the way you hoped, did they? In your experience, they rarely do.”

“You moved on like she was never even there in the first place— you had to at some point, I suppose— but part of me wonders if she’s not the reason why you’re always traveling. To keep looking. It makes me speculate whether or not the Animus Bell is truly your heart’s desire, instead of, say, a device to help you find your sister?” Edward waves his hand dismissively. “But we might save that for another round, if it’s still a viable option. Can’t spoil all the fun yet.”

It’s Lydia who approaches him now, gliding off of the wheel and onto the floor below, walking towards him with slow, deliberate footsteps. “You loved her, Taako. You couldn’t live without her. She was your twin sister. She was your other half. She was your heart. You searched, and searched, and searched, but you could never find her. I’d say the sacrifice we’re offering now is more of an opportunity than a forfeiture. A chance to shed all of the pain and agony her disappearance has caused you. Why would you deny that? To hold on to a false hope? Because, quite frankly, Taako…” She reaches out to touch his shoulder. She’s cold. “That’s just… greedy.”

They both stare at him, smiles wide and unwavering. He stares back. Their eyes are empty, save for the hunger within them.

Taako leans in close. And, then, mimicking their unnatural grins and wide eyes, says, “I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about.”

Their faces drop. Lydia and Edward share a look.

He has to admit: their confusion is kind of gratifying.

“This isn’t… We’ve been doing this for a long time, you know,” Edward tells him. “We can tell when people are lying to get out of a sacrifice. The ‘you’ve got the wrong guy’ trick isn’t going to work on us.”

“I’m not lying,” he says, his mock creepy grin now a genuine satisfied smile. “I don’t have a sister. I’m an only child.”

From behind him, Magnus speaks up. “You don’t have to take the sacrifice, Taako. I get it. It’s a lot. I’ll spin instead.”

“You don’t need to spin for me. These fools made a mistake.” He watches Edward and Lydia turn and scowl in his direction. Yeah, this is incredible.

“Wait, hold on,” says Merle. “Lich?”

“Oh, no, I’m not a lich,” Taako replies. “I’m not even into necromancy. Remember Grim Reaper? He would kill me. Like, he’d be legally obligated to kill me.”

“He was legally obligated to kill all of us before our charges were cleared,” Magnus points out.

“Yeah, but—” He hesitates and recalls their high death count and the undead presence on the Bureau of Balance quad. “Holy shit. Am I a lich?”

“You did all die those times,” Merle says.

“We died all those times,” Magnus counters. “Especially you, old man.”

“Hey, we’re talking about Taako right now!”

Taako runs his hands down his face and sighs. He’d contemplate their lichdom some other time. “Look, guys, it doesn’t matter. This whole situation isn’t even about me! I don’t have a twin! What matters—” Taako spins on his heel to face Lydia and Edward, who cease their murmured squabbling in order to look at him. “— is that these two fucked up.”

Lydia rolls her eyes. “We didn’t 'fuck up',” she says. “We saw her. We know she’s there. You can’t just pretend like you don’t remember her in hopes of getting out of a sacrifice.”

“You’ve got yourself mixed up there, thug.” He takes a step towards them and presses his hand to his chest for dramatic flair. “I’m Taako. Bomb wizard, culinary genius, single child, and only maybe a lich. I don’t know what poor soul you’re going on about, but it’s not me.”

They’re both silent for a moment. Edward takes a deep breath, and says, “I’m just— I’m not even going to— take the sacrifice or don’t, okay? If we really did make a mistake, which I doubt, then nothing will happen to you and you can move on.”

Taako grins. A free opt-out of a sacrifice? He’s more than happy to take that up.

Before he can accept, however, he feels the weight of Magnus’s hand on his shoulder. “Wait, Taako, I— I don’t trust this.”

He sighs. Magnus isn’t usually the discretionary one. “C’mon, my man, free spin.”

“Yeah, I know, but…” Magnus purses his lips. “The Bureau’s been… weird lately. Weirder than usual. I don’t know if this is really a mistake or not.”

“What do you mean? You think I actually have a sister?”

“I’m just saying there’s a chance that the Bureau... isn’t as good as we think it is.” Magnus’s gaze travels to an empty corner of the room and lingers there. Through the neon pink and green light, Taako thinks he sees a flash of red, but it’s gone before he can register what it is.

“Listen, I believe you when you say that the Bureau’s all secretive and might not be trustworthy. I knew that going in. I mean, it’s a organization hidden in a fake moon harboring a weird jellyfish that’s single-handedly saving the world from destruction or whatever,” he tells him. “But a twin? That’d take a whole lot of covering up for something they have no reason to make me forget.”

“They made us forget an entire war, Taako,” he says. “Is it really so ridiculous to consider that they might be hiding more from us, too?”

Taako hesitates, just for a moment.

Everyone he’s ever known has abandoned him at some point.

He spent his childhood being unwanted. Too much to care for, too much of a troublemaker, too much of a handful— nobody wanted a kid that actively tried to wreak havoc.

(He wasn’t always like that, though. He learned fairly young that every arrangement was temporary because everyone got sick of him eventually. Why stick around? Why get hopeful? Why prolong the inevitable? If he was going to get kicked out at some point, then he might as well have fun until then.)

His aunt was the first caretaker he’d had that he trusted wholeheartedly. It was a temporary arrangement. He knew that. He also knew, from experience, that he probably wouldn't last past a month, so he started being an asshole. Messed up the house, talked back, ran too quickly to be caught, destroyed furniture and clothes and valued possessions by shooting off dangerous low-level spells every which way— the usual routine.

But his aunt tolerated him. That was a lot more than he could say for any of his previous caretakers.

She saw some sort of potential in him, maybe, or she saw someone who could help her with supper, but, either way, she taught him everything she knew about cooking. How to make the gross stuff taste better, how to season bland food, how to prepare a meal when you don’t have anything. He was fascinated by all of it. Every recipe, every tip, everything to do and to avoid stuck in his head and never left.

He loved it. He loved the fulfillment of making something good, and he loved improving on a meal that was already delicious, and he loved the praise that accompanied cooking something right. He loved it because it was fun. He loved it because he was good at it. He loved it because it was useful. He loved it because it was his.

He and his aunt grew closer and closer until Taako was constantly trailing at her heels. Wherever she went, he followed. It was probably annoying, looking back, but she would just ruffle his hair and tell him to help her with the laundry. She seemed to appreciate having him around— pretended to genuinely enjoy his awful early experimental dishes, laughed when he cracked lame jokes, hugged him close to her when hugs were needed.

And then the time came for him to leave again.

She packed his bags herself. She told him she couldn't keep him anymore. She told him that time was up, that he had to go, that it was his cousin’s turn to watch over him.

He asked why.

She sighed. Stared at the wall instead of his eyes. It was easier that way.

“This was temporary, Taako. It was always temporary,” she said. “I thought you knew that.”

Which he did. He knew the whole time, but he ignored it. Shoved the incessant reminders that this will end, this will end, this will end, you’re setting yourself up for disappointment because this will end far back in the recesses of his mind. It’s just that he thought—

He hoped—

God, he was an idiot.

He never went to his cousin's house.

Instead, he took to the streets. He worked on caravans for money, slept next to campfires in empty woods, focused on his magic and his cooking because it was what he was good at and he didn't need anyone to tell him so. No estranged family members to pass him around, to sneer at him, to whisper about how awful he was while Taako listened behind closed doors and thin walls— and no aunt to pretend that she cared.

He used his cooking and his magic to get by. Impressed people on the sidewalk for tips, prepared food for the crews he traveled with, worked at local restaurants for a couple weeks or until they realized that some of their stuff had been stolen. Rinse and repeat.

He spent his life as a traveler. He'd been one for so long that being grounded to a single spot felt unnatural. Maybe he was never meant to settle. Or, at least, that's what the restlessness in his bones told him— the survival instinct that he never really shook, as deep as the well of magic in his veins, as innate and unfulfillable as the desire for more, more, more to fill the something that's been missing his whole life.

Maybe that’s why he opted for a career in a traveling caravan.

He doesn't remember the specifics of how he got his caravan in the first place, really. They're all a little fuzzy around the edges. All that he knew and all he presently knows is that he woke up with the world's worst hangover, lying on the floor of a probably stolen stage wagon, and all he could think was I am Taako, I'm a great chef, and I'm going to start a traveling cooking show. He couldn't recall much else besides that.

But, as his fame grew and his time narrowed, he realized that he'd need to hire someone to drive. Someone to take him places while he caught up on much-deserved rest and prepared for the next show. Someone like Sazed.

Someone like the worst mistake he'd ever made.

Sazed needed a decent-paying job and Taako needed a driver (and, as he would begrudgingly admit to himself and to no one other than himself, another soul in his caravan, because it was just... too empty). For a while, driving was all he did. But when there’s no one else to talk to besides yourself and your employee, you eventually crack.

They grew closer. Taako did shows and helped Sazed with cleanup. It started as mostly friendly coworker chat, but they got comfortable around each other, as people are wont to do when they only speak to one other person. It still took Sazed some time to make Taako talk about anything even remotely personal, but he did, eventually, and told him snippets of stories from his past, to which he'd listen intently. And things were good like that.

But Sazed wanted in the show and Taako wasn't willing to share the spotlight.

And then came Glamour Springs, and the mass murder he thought he committed, and—

There was just— everyone was sick, and they were dropping to the ground, and there was blood, there was so much blood, and— they were going to toss him in prison, and— his show and his fame and everything would be gone again and— he just—

Taako did what he does best and ran. He fled and dyed his hair and covered himself in layers upon layers of clothing. He camped out in the middle of nowhere and didn't dare to go in public except for when it was absolutely necessary. And he choked down the shame, and the fear, and the knowledge that the name he made for himself was ruined.

Sazed left him after a couple days. Motherfucker couldn't stand being around him so much that he killed 40 people to get away.

And this sister, if she exists…

Everyone abandons him at some point. If his apparent sister got a head start, then that's fine. He doesn't need anyone in the first place— not an aunt, not a friend, not a sister, and not even Magnus and Merle, when they inevitably leave. He's Taako. He can take care of himself, and he's damn good at it, too.

If he really does have a sister and The Shining Twins aren't fucking with him, then she's out there, somewhere in Faerun, and she hasn't bothered to find him. That's assuming that she even knows he exists. Why should he hold onto the memory of someone who he never knew and who doesn't care about him?

Even now, he reminds himself that everything is temporary. Even now, he reminds himself that he's a wanderer. Even now, in Wonderland, on the brink of giving up, he knows that he won't be here forever. Even if he dies. Taako is slippery. He can find a way out if the need arises.

If taking advantage of a sacrifice that means nothing to him is what it takes to ensure that, then so be it.

Fuck his aunt.

Fuck Sazed.

Fuck his sister.

“I get where you’re coming from, Magnus,” Taako grumbles, “but I don’t care.”

“Taako, wait—”

Magnus reaches for his shoulder, but it’s too late. Taako shrugs him off, steps forward, and says, “I accept the sacrifice.”

Edward and Lydia turn and grin at one another, then turn back to face him. Lydia snaps her fingers.

And then Taako recoils.

He sinks to the ground and onto his knees, and his insides are turning, turning, turning, and they just won't stop. His ears ring with a loud, overwhelming static that builds and keeps on building. And then he sees— he sees—

He sees snippets of memories that aren't his, yet he intrinsically knows that they are. They have to be. That's Magnus, and that's Merle, and that's Davenport, and… Barry, and— and Lucretia? And—

And he sees a woman that's almost entirely identical to him. He sees her, but a deep static keeps him from connecting the dots. He knows her. He's known her for his whole life. That's— That's his sister. That's—

That's Lup.

That's Lup. He sees her, hundreds of years younger, squeezing his hand as they leave their aunt's house for the last time. That's Lup, shoveling food into a bag while Taako distracts the shopkeep. That's Lup, drunk, belting Fergalicious with him after they found out that they'd both been accepted into the IPRE. That's Lup, staring at the inky mass below what used to be their world, clinging to him as tightly as he's clinging to her. That's Lup, shooting off fire spells left and right. That's Lup, performing a duet with Barry. That’s Lup, giving a passionate speech in front of a glowing pink crystal. That's Lup, clutching his hand as they face off against the world again, and again, and again.

That's Lup, holding his umbrella.

That's Lup, with the Phoenix Fire Gauntlet.

That's Lup, telling him thank you for the last time.

Through the debilitating, unexplainable pain in his head, Taako manages to open his eyes. He glances at his umbrella, but then his gaze is caught there, held there, unable to break away.

That’s Lup.

But as soon as that thought is there, it’s gone.

Memories of her filter through his mind, escaping him just as soon as they surface. He claws at them, screams, begs them not to go. Those memories, however distant they may be, are all he has left of her. She’s all he ever had. She’s his heart.

He can get her back. He will get her back. He’ll find a way to reverse Wonderland’s sacrifices and he’ll get his sister back. Everything is temporary, and Taako is— he’s slippery— he can find a way out if the need arises, even now, even here— he just— he needs to hold on, for her—

Lup’s face, her voice, her laugh, everything she ever did and ever was flits through his mind. A memory surfaces of the two of them on the deck of some kind of— rocket ship, maybe? Flying boat? She points out something on the ground below and makes a joke, but her voice is too distant to discern what she says. Taako replies with something that makes her crack up, but that, too, fades away. He tries to conjure the memory back up, but then realizes that he can’t— can’t remember— what—

Taako sees her eyes light up at an abandoned DMV in the middle of nowhere. She looks at him, grinning maniacally, and casts a flurry of magic missiles at it, setting it ablaze. He watches as it burns, sending embers flying through the air, thick smoke building and rising. And he watches her shoot off spell after spell, each one more destructive than the last. She asks for his wand. He gives it to her. He smiles as she sends lights crashing to the ground, sheets of glass shattering on the floor, beams crackling with flames, but then it goes foggy, and he— he tries so hard to hold on to at least that one memory, but— but it’s— it’s escaping his mind, and—

Taako sees maps piled up on a desk, held down by thumbtacks and paperweights. The one at the top of the stack has several circles drawn on it, some of which have been crossed out. He can remember, at least for now, that the maps are for Lup. She’s been missing for a long time. He and Barry are still searching for her. They always will be, so long as she’s not with them. Barry’s eyes are bloodshot and his chin is resting in his hands. He points at a circle somewhere on the map and begins talking about the possibility of uncovering her whereabouts, and—

And it occurs to Taako that he’s spent so much time not searching. He’s wasted the years where he could have been looking, could have found his sister, could have had her back by now, and—

He needs to get out of Wonderland, he needs to tell Magnus and Merle to keep searching, he needs to—

He needs to find a way to reverse the sacrifice, he needs his sister back, he needs—

He needs to find her— he has to keep looking for her, for Lup, and—

He needs to find his sister, he—

He needs—

Who?

He feels everything crumbling down all at once and he doesn’t know why. His headache subsides, the static clears, but he feels nothing. Instead, he’s left with a deep sense of emptiness. A blankness in his brain. A pit in his stomach. A hole in his heart.

Like he’s one half of a whole that will never be filled.

He tries to stand upright, but staggers. In an attempt to steady himself, he grabs onto the handle of his umbrella and realizes, stifling a yelp, that it’s searing hot. He’s hit with an immediate and immense wave of sorrow, overwhelming him, washing over him. Taako, in the back of his mind, hears sobs and screams and pleas to every god there is.

She’s crying.

Who’s crying?

He’s crying, too.

His palm comes away burned.

From behind him, he hears Magnus ask, “Taako?”

Taako quickly stashes his umbrella away. He stumbles to his feet, wipes the tears out of his eyes— yikes, embarrassing— and swivels around to face him. Magnus and Merle are both staring at him in horror. He rolls his eyes.

“What’d I tell you?” he says. “I don’t have a twin.”

Merle and Magnus share a look. Taako ignores them.

From the other side of the room, a third bright green light flickers on. The stone door below it slides open, revealing another room shrouded in complete darkness.

“Huh,” Edward says.

“What’s ‘huh’?” Taako asks.

“I don’t know. I figured that the sacrifice would void and you’d have to spin again, but it’s gone through. Then again, we’ve never really made a mistake before, so what do I know? Right, Taako?”

He swallows thickly and runs his thumb across his newly-burned palm. Stupid twins. Why do they have to be so weird?

He shakes off the residual feeling of immense regret as best he can, then turns around with a flourish to face the rest of the group. Settling back into his usual Taako self, he says, “Come on, fellas. I’m low on health and I don’t want my soul to be slurped up, or whatever it is that happens when you die in here.”

Merle and Magnus eye him warily. Merle asks, “Uh, are you sure you’re—”

“You can thank me later,” he tells him. “It’s no big. Let’s go.”

He starts heading for the door and is satisfied when he hears the shuffling of feet behind him. Taako doesn’t want their pity. Can’t understand their pity, even if he did want it. Something is blocking his memory. Not like the disconnect and fog and staticky something of deja vu he feels every once in a while, either. Whatever he lost is just— gone. Entirely irretrievable.

And he doesn’t get it. He never had a twin in the first place. He didn’t have to sacrifice anything at all, and yet something is gone. Something important that he can’t place.

He decides not to think about it.

Out of his peripheral vision, Taako sees red lightning crackle and curl around the back half of the room. He suppresses a gasp, so as not to alarm Lydia and Edward, who are whispering next to the door. Hesitantly, he turns around.

He expects a savior or an enemy to kill either Lydia and Edward or the three of them. He expects a reaper ready to collect a five-person bounty. He expects the red robe, maybe, to say something cryptic and then vanish.

But there’s nothing there.

Magnus gives him a look that he doesn’t know what to make of.

Edward and Lydia are there, the Animus Bell in their grasp, and then they're not.

There’s a flash of lightning and then the Red Robe is there, floating above them. This time, though, he doesn't speak to them. Doesn’t say anything vaguely menacing. Doesn’t predict their doom or try to convince them of some different destiny. He only raises his fists, crackling with electricity, and he aims.

The worst storm he’s ever experienced lasts only a few seconds. There’s lightning everywhere— bolts of it curling off the red robe’s spectral form, striking with reckless abandon, crawling up the walls and disappearing into the void above. And there’s so much of it, too. Too much. They should have gotten struck by now, but for some reason, the red robe is protecting them from a hit that would undoubtedly kill them.

All three of them are trapped in a cyclone of crimson and power. Taako isn’t sure whether it’s a prison or a means of freedom.

Until he hears screams, nearly identical, nearly perfectly in time with each other, so loud and so passionate and so painful that they shake the sky above and the ground beneath their feet.

When the storm clears and the lightning dwindles into sparks, the Red Robe is there and the twins are gone.

The Animus Bell sits cleanly in the middle of the ashes.

Magnus looks between the three of them, and then at the red robe, whose vacant stare offers nothing to their silent conversation. He approaches, careful and slow— Taako has never known Magnus to be either of those things— and, for a moment, he just looks at it. Too long of a moment, he thinks, until Magnus says, “I’d hate it. Shut the fuck up.” With the hand covered by his Phantom Fist, he picks it up.

An intense gust of wind blows through the room, making Taako clutch his hat and causing the mannequins to fall over like dominos. Thick black smog peels off the walls, off the stage, the floor, the furniture, the lights, all of it getting pulled into the wind until every one of his senses are obscured by dark fog. He squeezes his eyes shut. When he opens them, Wonderland is gone.

When his vision finally clears, the Red Robe’s vacant stare is on him. Or maybe “vacant” isn’t the right word anymore, despite his eyes being nothing but shadow and skull. Somehow, he looks angry. Heartbroken, even. He doesn’t know how he knows that.

He points at the three of them. Taako instinctively grabs his umbrella and prepares to cast teleport.

YOU, he says, in his low, whispery voice. YOU WILL ALL COME WITH ME.

His finger shifts to Taako.

AND YOU WILL FIND A WAY TO FIX YOUR MISTAKES. FOR YOUR HEART. FOR MY HEART. FOR HER.

He jerks his skeletal thumb behind him.

LET’S GO.

——

All the memories flood back, but they’re not quite there.

He sees his friends, the rest of the IPRE, answering questions at a press conference, and it’s… okay. Strangely lonely. They say their piece and sit back down and everything is weird and professional. There’s an empty spot in the seat next to him. Taako wonders why they even set it out.

He sees a black mass overtake the planet he called home and his hand reaches out and grips the air beside him. He doesn’t know why he does that, but he doesn’t let go, either.

He sits on the beach next to Barry and he’s goading him into telling who he has a crush on. Barry sputters, and blushes, and stumbles over his words, but then he stands up and deadpans, “Just forget it.” Which is… weird. It strikes him as very un-Barry like. He doesn’t think about it too hard. Either Taako will find out eventually or his feelings will pass.

To earn the Voidfish’s approval, Barry does a piano solo. It’s beautiful and heart wrenching, but Taako can’t help but feel like there’s something missing. The Voidfish accepts it anyways.

He takes a day for himself during one cycle. He makes himself breakfast, he has a water gun fight with Davenport, and he goes to an abandoned DMV. He stands there for a moment, looking at the glass panes and the motivational posters and wondering absentmindedly what happened to the people who used to be there.

Until the wall on his right catches flame.

Taako doesn’t know why and he doesn’t know how, but everything begins to catch and spread rapidly. Bolts of fire seem to come out of nowhere. The glass panes shatter. Sections of ceiling fall and crash at his feet. Thick smoke builds and rises and threatens to choke him. The entire infrastructure begins to crumble as everything goes up in flames. Taako should be running. He should be terrified.

But he doesn’t, and he’s not.

He’s elated.

He finally runs when the building threatens to topple on him, but he’s giggling on his way. And he can’t stop. Laughter bubbles in his throat, overwhelms him, makes him double over and clutch his knees. Tears spring from his eyes and he can’t be bothered to wipe them away. He’s just so happy and he doesn’t know why.

Memories flash by, one after the next. A stone of transmutation and a fiery gauntlet that he can’t quite pin the origin of. A sharp star and a mysterious umbrella. A blue sky with only one sun. A celebration that was more of a wake. A day where he feels incredible panic and loss stemming from a source that he can’t identify, and weeks that follow in which those feelings don’t change. Then he sees Barry, on the deck of the Starblaster, under the light of the night sky, poring over maps and stray papers with his head in his hands.

Taako approaches him, but before he can reach him, there’s static.

Static, and then he’s awake.

Everyone is silent. Unbearably silent. And he has one hundred years worth of old-new memories back in his head, however choppy they may be. He’s reeling. He tried to save the world. He has to save the world.

Taako says, “Hey, what the fuck?”

The rest of them find their voices. A cacophony of accusations and epiphanies and questions that have gone unanswered for years mix with each other until they're just noise. Taako is quiet because he doesn't know what else to say besides "what the fuck?" This whole situation is really... what the fuck?

“I’m so sorry,” Lucretia chokes out, hoarse and teary-eyed. “I’m so sorry, everyone, I— but this plan? My plan? It’ll work, I promise—”

“We’ve been gone for so long,” Magnus says, more to himself than to her. “We just... stopped knowing each other for so long."

“I know,” she says. “I know what I did and I know I have a lot to atone for, believe me. I didn’t think things would play out like they did, and I’m so, so sorry. But, please, please — let me finish what I started. I can keep the Hunger at bay. I can save this plane.”

“But isn’t The Hunger… already here?” Merle asks.

“It’s not too late. I— I can fight them off, I—”

Barry interrupts her. “You’re going to sever all of the bonds in this plane! Please, I understand why you did what you did, but, Lucretia, the barrier— it won’t work. Lup and I told you—”

“Lup made us promise that we would never put a planet in danger to stop the Hunger and that is exactly what we did. Barry, please. Let me do this.”

“Hold on,” Taako interrupts. “Who’s Lup?”

Everyone turns to look at him. Confused, concerned stares that betray a hint of horror behind the eyes, all on him.

“What?” he asks.

Davenport is the first to break the silence. “Taako, you… you know who Lup is. Of course you know who Lup is. Right?”

“No. Why would I?”

All of them, now, look at each other like he just murdered somebody in cold blood. Which is totally unfair because, when he does do that, it’s a group effort. He gives Merle and Magnus a pointed glare to even out the scales of justice.

The silence in the room lingers for a moment before anyone builds up the courage to break it again.

Barry says, in a small voice, “She’s your twin sister.”

His insides turn.

“I don’t…” He gives a small, nervous laugh. “I don’t have a twin sister.”

He watches, one by one, as their eyes widen, some of their expressions replaced with worry and others with panic.

Lucretia’s grip on her staff tightens so much that her knuckles turn white. “He should— he should remember by now,” she says, her voice slightly quivering. “Why can’t— why doesn’t he— did I— did I—”

“Hey, hey,” says Merle in his patented “calm down” tone. “I’m sure it’s fine, Lucy. That was a lot of remembering we all had to do. He’s just having some trouble, I bet. His memory’ll catch up with him.”

“No, it won’t.”

Everyone turns to Magnus, looking for elaboration, but Magnus just looks— panicked. Regretful, even.

All he says is, “The sacrifice.”

Something inside of Taako crumbles.

He remembers the sacrifice itself. He remembers Edward and Lydia spinning a story to him about a sister that doesn’t exist. He remembers accepting and absolutely nothing happening except a green light blinking to life. He remembers the confusion from everyone else, the stares he couldn’t understand, and although nothing is adding up right now— although, logically, he should have a twin sister, or should at least remember having one by now— he doesn’t. He doesn’t have a twin sister.

Part of him can’t bring himself to care about his twin sister because his brain is telling him she doesn’t exist, but that part is also panicking because everyone else seems to think he has a twin sister. Part of him is devastated because he must have sacrificed her, and Magnus is right, and the only way any of this makes sense is if he lost his memory of her. However, that part is also confused because he absolutely does not remember that happening, nor can he quite convince himself that it did. He thinks he knows, in the back of his mind, that he gave her up, but the rest of him is just— doubtful. The rest of him, for whatever reason, keeps telling him that he never had a twin sister and everyone around him is mistaken. Admittedly, that’s the part of himself that he’s inclined to believe.

His head hurts so bad. His stomach turns and turns and turns and his throat is tight, almost as if he’s choking on the thick smog of Wonderland.

Through his internal panic and confusion, he hears the distant sound of the voices so close to him.

He hears Davenport say, “What do you mean ‘sacrifice?’”

He hears Lucretia say, “Did— did Wonderland— did he—”

Then, Barry, “No, no, no, he has to remember by now, Magnus. He— It’s Lup, Magnus, he can’t just forget her again. Not after everything.”

Then, Merle, “Shouldn’t the Voidfish have… I don’t know, reversed it or something? I feel like the Voidfish is more powerful than a couple of dead liches. Like, uh, Magnus, you remember Governor Kalen now, right?”

“Who’s Governor Kalen?”

“Oh. Okay, then.”

“No, Merle is right,” Taako speaks up, quiet, withdrawn, confused. “If I had a twin sister, I’d remember her.”

Barry speaks, and he looks and sounds like he’s on the verge of a breakdown. “But you do. You had a sister, she— her name was Lup, she specialized in evocation, she was a lich, she liked fire spells, she was funny, she was passionate, she was good-hearted, and she loved you, Taako. She’s just… she’s not here. She’s gone and we can’t find her, but that doesn’t mean that she was never there. I mean, you have her umbrella, Taako. I don’t know where she is now, or if she’s safe, but your entire life was spent by her side. You just have to remember her.” Utter heartbreak like Taako has never heard before creeps into his voice. “Please.”

Taako tries. He really does. He tries to conjure up an image of a woman he’s never seen before, tries to imagine what she’d be like, tries to insert her into scenarios in which she could’ve been in (his aunt’s departure, his caravan work, the IPRE interviews, the fire at the DMV), but nothing quite works. All of it is met with internal disbelief that he just can’t shake. For some reason or another, he just cannot fathom having a twin sister by his side at all times, watching his back like he’d watch hers, being friends, looking out for one another. He’s never been able to rely on anyone but himself. Having someone like that— a sister to do everything with, to depend on and be depended on by, to care for unconditionally and for her to do the same— it’s unimaginable.

“I’m sorry,” is all he has to say for the hope to drain out of Barry’s face.

—

“I… I didn’t cast that, sir!”

“This isn’t the time to be modest, Agnes.”

“No, sir, you don’t understand. I didn’t cast that.”

“Uh, like hell you didn’t. I watched you do it. Good job. Do it again.”

“I--" Angus starts, but is pushed back by the force of a flurry of fireballs, all hitting the beasts of the Hunger that are advancing towards them.

“Woo!” Taako shouts. “Doing great!”

Across the room, Barry’s eyes widen. He diverts his attention from the threats he’s facing and instead focuses on Angus. “Kid,” he yells, “give me that umbrella!”

Angus looks apprehensive. He turns to Taako.

Taako shrugs. “Your call, I guess?” And then, cupping his hands over his mouth, he yells to Barry, “Don’t mess up my umbrella!”

Angus slides the Umbrastaff across the floor and to Barry, who picks it up gingerly. For a moment, he just looks at it. Turns it over in his hands. He watches as Barry purses his lips, closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath.

And then he snaps the Umbrastaff in two.

Before Taako can ask “What the fuck, man?” a spark of red light ignites from the break in the staff. And then another. And another. A sparkler that grows exponentially until Barry is thrown backwards by a firework with the force of a bomb. Even Taako himself, on the other side of the room, is flung against a wall by the power of the explosion, which is so great and so awe-inspiring that it takes a few moments for him to register what's happening.

Then there’s smoke, red and thick, wrapping itself around the tendril of the Hunger in the center of the room, which begins to explode in a mass of oranges and yellows and pinks. The dark, inky mass of the tendril turns white hot and subsequently erupts in flame, taking out all of the adversaries it brought with it. In its place is a lich, who hovers above the rubble caused by their breathtaking entrance, fire licking at their shadowy fingers. They’re wearing an IPRE robe, but Taako doesn’t know… how. He doesn’t know who this is. He doesn’t know who it possibly could be.

The lich wastes no time in rushing over to him, as if they know that Taako would run if they were not quick enough.

A woman’s voice so similar to his and yet so unfamiliar addresses him. “Do you remember me, Taako?” she asks, and she sounds so desperate.

His heart aches.

He wishes he could tell her that he knows her, but she holds no spot in his memory. Even in her ghostly form, her shadowy face hidden by the hood of her robe, her grief overwhelms him. Something deep in his heart tells him that he does know her vaguely. An acquaintance, maybe. He doesn’t know. His mind feels empty and busy at the same time and he just… can’t think. And it’s not static, not deja vu, not easily glanced over like the Voidfish memories were. It’s just not there. It is hollowness and disconnect and confusion and just not there. Like a part of him that he can no longer identify has been taken and is now entirely out of his grasp.

“Taako?” she asks. She reaches out a translucent hand and grazes his face. She feels cold. “Say my name, Taako. Please.”

He opens his mouth and finds that he has no response.

This woman— this woman, hovering in front of him in her IPRE robe, this woman who sounds just like him, this woman who is insisting that Taako knows her— she should be familiar. He should know something about her. It would explain the robe, the seventh relic, the sister everyone seems to think he has, but it doesn’t… fit. He remembers only five other members of the IPRE. He remembers a childhood in which he fended for himself and only himself. He remembers Taako. Just Taako and no one else. That’s the way he likes it because that’s the way it’s always been.

But everyone else is claiming that isn’t the case.

His memories have returned. If all of them aren’t there by now, they’re not coming back.

And Taako, no matter how hard he tries, no matter how much he racks his brain, no matter how deeply he wants to tell this woman that he remembers her and he loves her and he’s so happy to see her, he cannot comprehend having a twin sister. To lie and to tell her that he knows her, or to even say that he truly believes they’re twins, is cruelty he can’t bring himself to commit.

He gazes into the blackness beneath the woman’s hood. She smells of smoke and emanates heat, despite her bitter touch.

“I’m your sister, Taako,” she tells him, her voice breaking. “You know me better than anyone else. Say my name.”

He can’t tell her that he doesn’t have a sister. He can’t tell her that he knows her, either. He remains silent and wide-eyed.

He takes in this woman before him— all shadow, all smoke, all fire and darkness and red electricity and, most of all, warmth— and he lowers her hood.

Her features are difficult to make out. They’re obscured by the black smoke she seems to be comprised of, and which all liches are comprised of. Semi-physical, semi-transparent smoke that has trouble sticking to one shape surrounding a skull in the center. He does see, however, a face that looks just like his. A nose like his. A mouth like his. Ears like his. The face she’s wearing is exactly like his but it’s not his and he can’t understand why that is. He tries to tell himself that this is his sister. He tries to convince himself that this is the one who he felt was missing his whole life, but now, when he thinks about it, did he ever truly feel like there was something missing or was he just lonely? He wants this to be his sister and he knows that she needs him to be her brother, but he also knows that they can’t be twins because they aren’t.

Surveying her features, looking into her eyes— they’re searching, desperate, they hold a spark of hope that’s quickly dwindling— he knows from somewhere within him that he made a terrible mistake.

“Taako,” she says again, a miserable whisper that would be inaudible if everyone around them were not so quiet. “I’m going to ask you one more time. Do you remember me?”

He can’t lie to her.

Taako stares at this woman who is fire, who is love, who is warmth and passion, who is strength, who is brilliance, who he innately knows holds all of these qualities and who just cannot be his sister.

In a trembling voice, tears threatening to spill out of his eyes, he tells her, “I wish I could remember you.”

She crumbles to the ground in a shaking heap of sobs and lets out a cry full of anguish and despair. In it, he hears her heart break.

Taako’s heart breaks with hers.

#the adventure zone #taz #taz fic #taako #lup #lillian writes stuff #long title but. s'all good #this uh. this took a while #i'd write it on and off and sometimes write whole scenes and other times write like. two #tbh this was mostly ready to go like 2 weeks ago but i was like. but i couldnt convince myself that it was ready #changed a few things and finally posted it #still not entirely happy w it but!!!!!! it good!#actually posting this here made me realize how much italicization this has #oof

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rask-the-rogue · 6 years

Text

When the Day is Done

[Notes: Sorry about the length! There’s been a lot going on with Rask, both leading up to and after the burning of Darnassus. Quick reminder that Rask worked for Sylvanas for a while during the early part of Legion; he has an Undead disguise that allowed him to do so.

The first bit here is from an actual role-play in game, though I didn’t log the chat and don’t know the people on tumblr so I can’t tag them and greatly simplified the conversation. The troll featured belongs to a great rper who I also can’t tumblr tag; if you know Gronn the Tauren deathknight, this is his alt! Further credit: Mavrassle is over at @exileforthecause and Rask’s sister Celune can be found at @sconesandsorcery. The art is mine, and I’m glad I finally found a reason to draw Rask’s kids :) Thanks as always for reading my stuff <3]

He wasn’t able to get the face of the nine-year-old gnome out of his mind. She had been so small, and yet so fiercely dressed with her practice weapons on her back. “I’m going to march with my Order in the war,” she’d said, and Rask had felt his insides go cold.

The woman he’d been chatting with idly at the Slaughtered Lamb had returned his shocked exclamation with a narrow look. “She has to be able to defend herself, don’t you think?”

“She’s nine,” was all he could sputter for a moment before an icy rage seized him. “There’s a diff’rence between self-defense an’ marchin’ ta war!”

“She can make her own choices; shouldn’t we all?” The woman had huffed as she drew the child gnome back, ushering her out of the door.

“She’s a kid!” he retorted, ignoring the fact that the entirety of the bar was now watching this exchange. “She can choose what veggies she don’t like, an’ what color clothes ta wear that day-- NOT whether or not she can die in battle!”

The woman’s lips pinched together, and she shrugged. Rask scoffed, tossing his glass roughly back onto the bar. “I reckon I oughta get goin’,” he spat. “I got three kids at home I gotta get back to.”

He’d walked home, hoping it would clear his head, but the conjured image of the child on a battlefield-- tiny hands clenched around non-blunted weapons, the certainty of her face that she ought to be there giving way to the dawning reality of death-- haunted him the whole journey back.

The gold paint of the rising sun on his door winked at him despite the twilight hour, the honeyd rays of the actual sun having long ago surrendered to the jut of the mountains that encircled Stormwind, now only able to touch the docks and sea far, far from Old Town.

Felpaw, the Demon Hunter Mavrassele’s gift to him and his children, nearly pinned him against the door as it shut behind him, loud rumbling purrs interspersed with snuffling sniffs of his nose as he puzzled out the myriad of smells on Rask’s trousers. Rask chortled as he endured the bunting rubs of the saber’s head, scratching his ears briefly before the thunder of padding feet brought his hands up to stymie the flood of children that rushed toward him down the hall. “Pa!”

He grunted as he lifted Irvin-- the boy had just turned six, but Rask was already betting money that the kid would become a warrior, considering he was a bulwark of a child. “Oi,” He exclaimed, bracing himself for the even younger elven child that leapt up onto his back a moment later, scrambling up it like a monkey. “Ain’t you all supposed ta be in bed?”

“I tried, Pa,” Idalee’s voice cut in; at eleven, she was too old to demand a lift into his arms, so he leaned over to give her a stubbled kiss instead, watching a pleased smile cut through the self-important annoyance on her face. “They kept watching out the window for you.”

“Tsk,” Rask mock-chided, looking from Idalee to her blood brother, Irvin, and then to the little Ash on his back, whose blood lay on both sides of the war: Sin’dorei and Kal’dorei alike, judging by his luminous eyes and pale purple skin. “Well, I’m here now, so no more excuses. Ta bed, with tha lot of you.”

☽ ☼ ☾

He hadn’t had the heart to pull himself away to his own bed, especially not since little Ash clung and whined when he half-heartedly tried to move. They’d all ended up in a pile of limbs on Ash’s bed, Idalee tucked against his back while Irvin had finally splayed himself across his legs and fallen fast asleep there, like the odd duck he was.

Rask listened to the breathing of their small bodies as he stared into the semi-darkness, thinking of the gnome child once again, thinking of how talk in the taverns of Stormwind and Orgrimmar alike had turned to terse discussions of the opposing faction and its bid for Azerite. It felt like mere days since Anduin and Sylvanas had declared the threat of the Legion was vanquished; and yet now it seemed all of Azeroth was holding its breath, waiting for the next hammer to fall-- waiting for the first warning gong or bell, so they could throw themselves into the bloody flames of precious war once again.

War-- He had broken his ties with Sylvanas at the Worgen tower in the Broken Isles, and had dared to allow himself to hope that soon-- soon-- the war would be done and the factions would speak together of peace.

Fear ate away at that hope. The gnome-child’s face loomed up in the dark. Was he doing enough to prepare his children for war? Would they have to protect themselves-- could they?

He pushed the questions away, squeezing his eyes shut and pleading for sleep. It was still speculation, bar-talk. He would allow himself to worry when it came to pass.

☽ ☼ ☾

Word spread like the fires of Darnassus itself through the city. Their door was knocked on so many times-- Did you hear? -- Have you heard? -- Did you know anyone there?-- that Rask had finally shuttered the windows and told the children they wouldn’t be answering it the rest of the day. They whiled away the hours playing board games, and he pretended to ignore his children’s glances toward the window at every knock or shout in the street, just as they pretended to ignore the tightness around his eyes and mouth.

☽ ☼ ☾

"De World Tree. Dey burned it," the troll whispered. Rask had heard his coughing and had left his kids within the circle of light from Idalee’s lantern to go investigate. They had waited until near dusk to set out for the tower in Elywnn that housed his adopted sister and her family, and had gotten about halfway there when the strange hacking noises had drawn their attention. Rask had been surprised to find a druid in cat form, soot clinging to his fur and the smell of woodsmoke clogging the air around him; he was less surprised to hear the troll say he was leaving the Horde. "Saw de smoke from Dalaran. Decided I'd help de right side."

Rask dropped his arms that he’d lifted to show the troll he was indeed a ‘Raznos’, or friend, as he’d called out through the gloom as way of introduction. He let his shoulders slump; his children couldn’t see him, for the moment. "I heard as much,” he admitted, “But by tha time I heard, it was already done-- done enough that if I went ta help, I'd jus' be in tha way.” He heard the uncertainty in his own voice; had there truly been nothing he could have done? He pushed the nagging thought away, as he had countless times in the last twelve hours. “Stars an' suns," He cursed in Thalassian before switching back to Orcish, hearing his voice ache. "Why? Why?" The tears that sprang to the back of his eyes surprise him, but he didn’t let them fall. Not yet-- not here. "D'you know? Has she gone mad?"

"She always been mad, boyo," the troll hissed, finally revealing his natural form in a flash of druidic magic. He wore his dark hair in dreadlocks, and an eyepatch covered his right eye. The rings on his tusks chimed faintly as his frame shook with more ragged coughs. "No one knows,” he continued once the coughing fit settled into a rasp. “No one sane, anyhow. But she ain't my Warchief no more.” His voice grew hard, and Rask felt the words burn like a brand in his chest. Not mine, either. “I knew about Darkshore-- still no reason why-- but I didn't… I didn't know she'd burn Teldrassil." Rask heard the shame in his voice, saw it glinting in his eyes when they locked with his own. "...I'm sorry."

The words cut him to the quick. He’s heard them too many times, said them far more. He shook his head, taking a step forward toward the troll and lifted his hand, holding it palm up. "You ain't got nothin' ta apologize fer. My kids an’ I are headed fer sanctuary-- my sister’s tower, which she shares with her Sin’dorei husband an’ kids. If yer lookin’ fer a safe haven, fer tha time bein’, we can give it ta you.”

☽ ☼ ☾

His home was strange in the still stiffness of the early morning light, with no human breaths or heartbeats but his own to fill it. His children, and the troll Ra’him, were safe with Celune and Jath for now; he’d told them he needed to tie up a few loose ends. Celune had given him a knowing look and a squeeze on the arm, and told him to be back in time for dinner.

Felpaw whines at him as he stood in the doorway to his home, staring down the hallway that ended with a stairwell on the left, and the kitchen on the right. Providing another route to the kitchen was the sitting room, strewn with children’s toys and couches dusted with fur despite the strict orders not to let Felpaw up on them. He picks his way carefully around them, unwilling to even nudge the toys aside like he usually did, as if preserving bones in situ.

He wonders if any toys had survived the fire, imagines the charred remains of dolls or warped metal horses strewn about a playroom in Darnassus.

One of the sturdy chairs around his dining table lends him a needed crutch as he fights the urge to collapse right then and there. He leans heavily against it, casting a despairing gaze about the room while he struggles to moderate his quickening breaths. The sink and its magic that would cheerfully draw water up from the well below with no hand-pumping was of Sin’dorei make, while the kettle hung above the currently ashy hearth had been purchased directly from an Dwarven blacksmith, who had guaranteed his design would boil water faster and keep it hot longer. (He was right.) The ceramic bowls his children ate soup from were patterned with the bright colors of the Tauren, made by their large and careful hands; the glass cups they drank from, spun thanks to tiny Gnomish ones.

His thumb catches on the scrollwork on the back of the chair, smoothing itself over the curves as one would rub a circle of prayer beads. He had requested from the woodcarvers that a rising sun motif be carved there, budding out of the swirling vines and leaves that spread over the rest of the backrest. Silvermoon meets Darnassus, co-existing there in the sturdy frame of his chairs.

A sob chokes him. His body sags until he’s keeling, and he presses his forehead so hard against the chair that it would surely etch dents into his skin. He finally gives himself over to grief there in the empty silence of his home, and weeps for all that’s been lost.

☽ ☼ ☾

youtube

Do you ask why I'm sighing, my son? You shall inherit what mankind has done In a world filled with sorrow and woe If you ask me why this is so, I really don't know.

[To be continued]

#story #my art #world of warcraft #bfa #wra rp #DAM WELL IT'S BEEN A WHILE HUH #rask's just been taking care of his adorable lil kids #until you know #everyone has to go off their rockers and screw everything up #ghh rask has been SO HOPEFUL #as have i #that actual peace may be an option #sighs heavily #thank you if you read the whole thing! you're awesome #ugh i forgot my current theme doesn't show italics so forgive the bolded things grr

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