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#like you want the dire wolf AND a black goat- but i feel like in that case why don't you just start with curious egg deck
skull-storm-daily · 2 years
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8/14/2022 (vanilla deck)
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✨Rawr✨
@trippygalaxy
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“That way, there’s no way for them to strike back,” [Name] added in a matter-of-fact tone. “That is the exact words of my dad.”
Twilight hummed, his boot stepping on a significantly bigger branch than before, creating a nice crack as the two strolled.
Usually, he decided for wolf form when he patrolled the perimeter, but you had insisted on coming. It wasn’t like you didn’t know, everyone knew, but he wanted to be able to talk to you. Wolves happen to not be able to speak words.
Twilight nodded as you kept talking about your lynel-esk father. Though, you called them ‘centaurs’ in your world.
“So…centaurs? Are they all like him?” He asked the question at the tip of his tongue since you mentioned your father.
You scoffed. “Not nearly. The rest of them are…wild. He rarely talks to them from what I know.” Then you started giggling. It was a giggle akin to Wild’s when he decided he wanted to put a lizard or fly in dinner. Or akin to Hyrule when he sees something shiny in the distance that’ll lead to hours long search just for him to be sleeping in a flower. Or Wind when someone says something wrong and he is now plotting their downfall.
“Do you want to know how centaurs were made?” You could barely contain your cackles. Twilight lightly chuckled while rubbing the back of his neck.
“I have no idea,” he said, his voice slightly wavering. Then he sighed and shrugged. “How were centaurs made?” He couldn’t say that he hadn’t imagined it.
A woman who didn’t not have a good time at a ranch? A man who had too much fun at a ranch?
He kind of didn’t want to know…but he kind of did.
“How were centaurs made?” He asked again, his ears stood at attention against his will.
“Well,” you tapped on your chin, your teeth showing. He’d noticed the sharpness of your canines not too long ago. He had spent that night playing with his own, happy that the others wouldn’t only be bugging him about it. “it all started because this one guy, Ixion, fell in love with the Queen of the Gods…”
And he listened. He listened so intently that he barely felt the arrow embed itself into his collarbone.
It was like muscle memory to take out his sword. The next arrow got embedded into his shield, the Ordonian Goat head blocking the sharp end of the stick.
Then there was you, standing at the Hero of Twilight’s back as monsters seemed to spawn from the trees.
You hacked and slashed, doing everything you could to prevent Twilight from moving his body that was obviously killing him. None of it was working. At this rate, even with the arrow taken out of the wound, he would be on standby without Hyrule’s magic to help him. After the battle that happened earlier, the Traveler was hard at work, nursing those who needed dire help. Legend, Wind, Four. It had taken him out, easily magic exhaustion.
Twilight grunted with every swing, like a broken record. Your heart sunk with every hitch of breath.
When you were finally stabbed by an enemy, you decided that swords weren’t enough. You dropped your sword and ran right to the sea of purple and black, the portal that accumulated the enemies.
For the years you’ve been doing this, you’d think it’d feel like nothing. That wasn’t true though. You’d feel everything.
You felt the change of your spine, making you fall to your hands, but you still pushed forward. You felt the way your skin hairs grew longer and longer. You felt the way your face elongated. You felt everything.
You took the throat of one of Wild’s bokoblins into your mouth and tore it out of the neck. You spit it out, reveling in how disgusting it tasted. You moved on to the next one, then the next one, your fur, no doubt, covered in the black blood you shed.
Sooner or later, they were gone. Then you shifted back, your back straightening last. You promptly threw up, the black blood that coated your mouth coming out.
Hands came into your face and pulled your hair back. Twilight waited silently as you spilled your guts. When your hurling turned into coughs, he patted your back a few times. “Yep, I know.”
That was the start of something he never thought would happen.
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chnqin · 3 years
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My Epic MDZS/The Untamed Daemon AU
I’m sure other people have already done Daemon AUs, but this idea wouldn’t leave me alone. I have been working on this for like three weeks now.
I just wrote down my first instinctive thought for most characters, and then researched* further into subspecies etc. What I found for a lot of the animals made me agree with my first opinion even more, although all of these are obviously just my own opinions. I also decided to stick to non-mythological animals. (some characters have been given a lot more consideration than others, I’m sorry)
Wei Wuxian: beech marten Beech martens are quick and clever. The are nocturnal, omnivores, and skilled swimmers. They move through paths made by larger animals such as hares in the snow. {further notes under read more}
Lan Wangji: white hare More solitary animals. They have an association with the moon, which I tend to associate LWJ with. {f/n}
Jiang Cheng: osprey Aquatic birds; good hunters. {f/n}
Lan Xichen: white stag {f/n}
Jiang Yanli: asian black bear {explained in detail under the read more}
Jin Zixuan: lion Ngl it’s probably because the Persian pokemon reminds me of him
Jin Guangyao: domestic cat {f/n}
Nie Huiasang: pangolin {f/n}
Nie Mingju: wolf {f/n}
Wen Qing: Chinese sparrowhawk {f/n}
Wen Ning: black Formosan mountain dog (tuguo) {f/n}
Lan Sizhui: Xiasi Quan dog or red panda or badger {f/n}
Jin Ling: lion {f/n}
Lan Jingi: monkey They’re respected animals but also have a mischievous side
Ouyen Zihzen: capybara No, they’re not native to China, but this is what I imagined him as and I couldn’t get it out of my head or find a perfect substitute
Xiao Xinchen: swan He just gives me major swan vibes, possibly something to do with Swan Lake (as do some Lans but they’re not graceful in the same way or tragic in the same way)
Song Lan: oriental hobby falcon or black horse He struck me as some sort of raptor, but I also liked a horse for him 
Luo Qingyang/Mianmian: lynx
Lan Qiren: sheep Symbolise filial piety. Also follow other people without question (*cough* the Lan Sect elders)
Jiang Fengiman: otter Spends a lot of time around the water, just what popped into my head
Yu Ziyuan: snake Because Zidian
The Jiang Sect favour animals who live near or on the water, some even possessing daemons which are fully aquatic, and thus are unable to leave Lotus Pier
The Lan Sect usually have herbivore animals for daemons and favour swift, elegant animals.
The Jins tend towards lions and panthers, but also flashy, rich birds like pheasants and peacocks (which makes WWX’s nickname for JZX even more funny).
The Nies often have pack or herd animals. Wolves and mountain lions are very common, but also a lot of horned animals like oxen, mountain goats and sheep (bighorn sheep and ibex are common), and also wild boar.
The Wens were typically birds of prey (the Dire Owl becomes Wen Chao’s daemon) or mountain cats.
The Yus often have daemons which take reptile form. Wildcats also common.  I quite like the idea that the Yus are a sect which has cultivated the ability to separate themselves from their daemons.
~Further notes on why I picked these animals, Daemon settling, angsty AUs of my AU, and research disclaimer under the cut~
Story & Research Notes:
(I’m going with the idea that trauma can make a daemon settle into a particular form)
WWX A marten was the first thing to come to mind for WWX, I have no idea why, but the more I thought about it the more I liked it. They’re really inquisitive, playful, and cute, but are also predators and will fuck you up if necessary.  A crow was another obvious choice because they’re curious and inventive, but with a bit of a dark connotation. However, in my version at least (I’m not great on His Dark Materials canon), Daemons usually settle in the early teens, and at that point WWX really didn’t have as much darkness in him as he develops later. 
I think WWX was one of those people whose daemon changed with every thought and feeling of his, whose daemon changed so rapidly and so repeatedly that people would complain of motion sickness watching it. His daemon’s most common forms were a martin, a magpie, an otter (which drove Madam Yu nuts), and (after JYL’s settled) very occasionally a bear.
When WWX comes back most people don’t realise anything is wrong because Mo Xuanyu always hid his daemon (I think it was probably something like a field mouse although how funny would it be if Little Apple was actually his daemon and WWX unknowingly inherited her along with the body), so they just think his has settled into something too big to hide now. However, his beech martin is the other reason Lan Wangji knows who Wei Wuxian is (WWX’s daemon hides from Jiang Cheng at Dafan Mountain, so JC only suspects it’s WWX). (Angsty AU further down)
LWJ I know that arctic hares aren’t native to China, but I want you to pretend that something like that does exist because I need lwj to have a white hare daemon. They are also bigger than other hares and cuter (they look slightly less cursed than some hares do). I’m imagining a lot of the daemons being slightly bigger than their real-life animal counterparts would be, so imagine the ears coming up to a normal person’s hip-height when the daemon is sitting. Rabbits can also apparently symbolise hope, and that suits someone who is known to go where the chaos is, bringing hope and light in the darkness. 
As a child, LWJ’s daemon was expressive in a way he never could be. It liked to take snow leopard form a lot, which was seen as excessively violent to the Lan sect, who preferred non-carnivorous animals, and often snarled at people. His daemon always took snow leopard form when visiting his mother so it could curl up with her tiger daemon. 
LWJ’s daemon settled exceptionally early, shortly after his mother’s death, into an acceptable hare form. Lan Xichen always wondered if LWJ himself made his daemon settle, if she was not supposed to have been a snow leopard all along, and so always looks upon LWJ’s daemon with a bit of sadness because he feels like it was LWJ stifling - almost killing off - a part of his personality (spoiler: it was) in order to fit into the Lan sect.
(More on that in an angsty AU below)
JC Ngl, I wanted to make Jiang Cheng a goose because they’re always angry but I didn’t. Jiang Cheng shifted mostly between a hunting dog and a mouse as a child, both of which infuriated Yu Ziyuan (honestly what she wanted her children’s daemons to be even I don’t know). Jiang Cheng’s daemon settled very late (another thing his mother wasn’t happy with). In fact, it didn’t settle till the attack on Lotus Pier and the death of his parents, when it took the shape of an osprey (because he wanted to be able to fly away and pretend none of it ever happened). 
Even more angsty: One Chinese poem has the Osprey as a symbol of marital harmony and fidelity. Upon seeing his parents death, finally united in a way they hadn’t been in life, JC’s constant wish for his parents to love each other (and, by extension, him) physically manifests itself in his daemon.
JYL I know what you’re thinking. Why the hell did you give Jiang Yanli a bear of all people. Well I’ll tell you. For two reasons: one, because I can do what I want, and two, because I would say one of JYL’s most central characteristics is her wish to look after people. She’s not physically strong in the way most other cultivators are, however, and she’s always having to keep the peace at home - and so I can see her daemon becoming a physical manifestation of that need to protect (bears are known to be protective, particularly mothers), and a physical example of her inner strength which is so often overlooked.
Yanli shifted between a dove, a crane, and a maritime striped squirrel for most of her childhood. She favoured the squirrel and dove (incredibly mild animals) over the crane, which disappointed Madam Yu.  It’s one of the reasons Jin Zixuan never saw her as a potential match, her daemon too small and docile to match his almost constant lion daemon.
When Jiang Yanli was around fourteen Madam Yu took things with Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng too far one day, and Yanli saw it. Her daemon suddenly shifted into a bear, a form it had never taken up to that point, and jumped on Yu Ziyuan’s snake daemon. WWX and JC always remembered Yanli standing in the doorway, her expression placid while her huge bear daemon growled with absolute fury and menace. Everyone expected Yanli’s daemon to go back to its usual squirrel or dove form, but it never did. It remained a bear, and remained the biggest daemon of pretty much anyone in any of the sects.
I had already picked a crane as one of JYL’s potential daemons because of its connection to water and positive symbolism in China. Upon further (hopefully accurate) research, I saw that cranes depicted with lotuses in Chinese art symbolise purity and longevity, and I liked making her daemon a bear even more, because her daemon took that form to protect WWX and JC - years after her death, they both wondered if, had her daemon had taken crane form, maybe she wouldn’t have died. From what I found, “crane” is also a homophone for 合 hé “peace, harmony”, which is a quality Jiang Yanli had much of, and tried to inspire in others.
LXC I think its LXC’s hairpiece which always makes me think of deer antlers (even though it’s a dragon?), so that’s probably why I immediately thought of a stag for him. But stags are also very noble and refined looking animals which don’t tend towards violence, but also have horns for a reason. Obviously, like with LWJ, it’s a white stag because aesthetique. Upon further research, I discovered a (hopefully correct) source which says 鹿 lù (deer) is a homonym with 璐 lù (precious jade), and the character for deer is used within the character 丽 lì ‘beautiful; elegant’ - both fit LXC very well.
JGY Cats are sneaky little fuckers (I say this with love). The ultimate predator in small unassuming form. Many of the main Jin family have big cat daemons so this is kind of another smack in the face for JGY - so close to being a real part of the Jin family, but still kept apart from them - and something people like to bring up along with his mother. However, many Jins are also birds (including JGS), and cats prey on birds.
NHS I thought a fox was a bit on the nose. Also I like the way pangolin’s just drop and curl up in defence - it’s a viable form of protection, but to the outside appears cowardly. However, their scales are sharp and can cut predators who come after them. Also I didn’t want him to fit into any of his sect’s typical animals. Also also imagine how cute it would look being carried around everywhere by NHS because it’s too lazy to walk, absolutely adorable.
NMJ A wolf was what immediately came to mind for Nie Mingjue. Wolves are apparently sometimes associated with greed, self-interest, and lechery, but I think the pack elements and the carnivore/hunting nature of the wolf really suits NMJ and the Nie clan in general, so I decided to overlook that aspect (although I did briefly consider making JGS a wolf, but I like them as animals too much in real life to do that to them and also he doesn’t have a soul, so he doesn’t get a daemon).
WQ I always saw Wen Qing as some sort of hawk, I just think it suits her very well. The Chinese sparrowhawk is quite small and very beautiful. It has white, red and grey colours. They are good hunters and swift flyers. 
WN I knew I wanted Wen Ning to be some sort of dog because he’s very loyal, and also (angsty) when the Jins call the Wens dogs I wanted that to hurt even more. He’s very unusual for a Wen, none of the main sect have dog daemons - it is very much a thing that is specific to their branch of the Wen family. The mountain dog I picked for him is an endangered breed, which I also felt fitted WN well. From what I found, dogs symbolise watchful wisdom, honesty, and loyalty, which all fit Wen Ning. 
This was all perfect till I remembered WWX’s all-consuming fear of dogs. I decided to get round this by cheating and saying that for some reason daemons are different and he’s not scared of them (because they represent a part of someone’s soul, rather than being a real animal? I guess?? Please do not look too hard at this delicately constructed card tower) 
Angsty version: when Wen Ning becomes a fierce corpse he loses his daemon, another reason people are unsettled by him and another thing WWX feels guilty about.
LSZ I think Lan Sizhui was the hardest to pick. I couldn’t decide which way to go: should he follow a “Lan approved” daemon pattern; should he have a bird like Wen Qing and a lot of other Wens? Then I saw the Xiasi Quan and it’s white and fluffy and cute but it was also a hunting and a guard dog, which seemed right for him. And I liked that it gave LSZ and WN this one very tangible connection. It is also endangered.  However, I also liked a red panda and a badger for Lan Sizhui too. I really couldn’t decide between the three. I like them all, why is he the hardest to choose for? (I’m still not 100% happy with this, let me know if you have any alternative suggestions)
Again, please suspend your disbelief at the fact that WWX’s child has a dog daemon and he’s fine with this (it would have looked so cute as a little puppy running around the Burial Mounds though).
When he was younger his daemon liked to take on the forms of those closest to him. So you’d often see a bby marten running after WWX’s daemon, a tiny bird perched with Wen Qing’s sparrow-hawk, a puppy following Wen Ning’s dog around, and a tiny bby rabbit in Cloud Recesses. As he got older it shifted between the dog, a red panda, and a badger. (maybe I’ll just say his hasn’t settled yet and that’s why I can’t decide)
JL Jin Ling definitely also had a daemon which shifted because of a) his loved ones and b) his mood, and he hated it. As if his own explosive temper didn’t give him away enough, his daemon always showed his exact feelings. When he wanted nothing more than his mother to be there it would be a bear. When he was feeling defensive about his parents it would turn into a lion (this happens when he and WWX first meet and any time people talk about his parents’ deaths). When he was younger his daemon spent a lot of time as a cat and a bird, although different types to what his uncles had. 
Jin Ling’s daemon still hasn’t settled when WWX is resurrected, and he is absolutely mortified the one time it decides to turn into a beech marten like WWX’s. Eventually it will settle into a lion, and WWX will pretend to be grumpy that it didn’t choose a bear instead.
Angsty AUs:
Daemons are linked to golden cores Jiang Cheng loses his daemon along with his core. When Wei Wuxian’s core is removed it’s more like when daemons and humans are separated in the books. His daemon stays with him, but can move about freely - this is part of what causes WWX to rapidly destabilise, not just resentful energy. Jiang Cheng always feels weirdly aware of WWX’s daemon after that but doesn’t know why. WWX’s daemon is technically connected to JC too, and also finds this weird. JC also can’t work out why his daemon never came back with his golden core, and that loss is part of why he’s so angry and isolated.
The effect of trauma on Daemons Another angsty au is based on the idea that, if trauma can make your daemon settle early, then trauma can also make it change.
When Wei Wuxian is thrown into the Burial Mounds, he wishes so hard to be able to fly that his beech marten turns into a crow (because I do love a crow for him too). I kind of like the idea that after the Burial Mounds WWX’s daemon almost un-settles itself, and can change between a marten and a crow. This really freaks people out and is another reason people say he’s dangerous.
Similarly, after Wei Ying’s death and the Lan sect’s punishment, Lan Wangji wakes up to find his daemon has shifted from its hare to snow leopard form. In his soul, LWJ feels like if he had been less passive and actually stood with WWX then his soulmate would still be alive. His daemon changes from a more passive hare to the more aggressive snow leopard.
He’s criticised by the elders for it, but they shut up when his daemon flattens theirs, while LWJ’s face remains an impassive mask but his eyes promise murder. WWX is really sad when he comes back to see LWJ’s hare gone and blames himself for causing LWJ so much trauma his daemon changed. (personally if I were writing a Daemon AU this is what I would have happen, because I love LWJ with a snow leopard daemon - they symbolise bravery and martial ferocity, while rabbits are virtue and gentleness, and I feel like these two both accurately represent the two sides of LWJ. I really feel like LWJ has a huge shift in himself after WWX’s death which would be represented in his daemon. It also is, in a way, a return of a core part of himself which was lost after his mother’s death)
Sword/Instrument substitute Mixing Daemons with sword sprits - the animal becomes a physical representation of the spiritual tool. Some people could therefore have more than one daemon (for example, LWJ could have Bichen - his rabbit sword daemon - and Wangji - his snow leopard guqin daemon)
Angsty version: WWX actually does die in the burial mounds and Suibian, his beech martin, dies/changes into Chenqing, a raven/crow.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.  .·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. 
If you are reading this you have made it to the end of this post, well done.
 I wanted to make it shorter but I had too many ideas and wanted to explain my reasoning for my choices and decided just to put it all in one post rather than lots of little ones.
*Disclaimer: I know only the smallest amount of Chinese, and have taken all my information about imagery, word meanings, and homophones etc from web-sources, and so it is very possible I have made mistakes. Though I have, to the best of my abilities, attempted to check on the cultural/artistic meaning, if any, that certain animals have in Chinese culture, the internet lies and I can’t get any decent books on it atm as the libraries are closed, so I’m really sorry if there are errors and I hope people will forgive any mistakes or blunders I might have made. 
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theshipsfirstmate · 5 years
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Game of Thrones Fic: Please Speak Well of Me (part 1/2)
Post-finale jonsa angst/feelings, with some gendrya in the background. (Honestly, I just want them all to be happy.)
About a year later, Arya ventures to Castle Black with some news.
“The lone wolf dies, Jon.” Ned Stark’s words have rung in his ears a few times in the last year, but they sound more dire coming from his daughter’s mouth. “You need your pack.”
A/N: To be perfectly honest, I’m new to this fandom and still kinda coming to terms with this ship and my feelings about it. But I opened a doc and this just came flying out. Hoping it will be a few chapters, but I’m not really sure how far I’ll be able to take things. This is a good intro, right? Please don’t leave.
Title & chapters from “Please Speak Well of Me,” by The Weepies.
Please Speak Well of Me
Part 1: You Did What You Did, and That Was That (AO3 - wc: 6959)
“Your sister’s at Castle Black.”
The words from Tormund hang in the icy air for a long moment, and as they make their way into Jon’s consciousness, he wonders if it’s the first thing he’s actually heard in over a year.
The winds blow so strongly up here, in the true North. He had nearly forgotten, the way the frosty howls could deafen you for hours at a time. He sometimes goes days without speaking, without hearing, without any sound around him other than the roar of a winter that would take more than a Valyrian steel dagger to kill. It’s a very different life than the one he thought he’d be living all those moons ago.
Not that he's been doing much living at all. He spends some of his time with the Free Folk, but their merriment starts to ring shrill and false in his ears after too long, and he’ll venture out on his own, riding a straight line in one direction until his horse can’t any longer, half-hoping the snowy gusts will sweep him away into nothingness.
“Cousin,” he corrects Tormund automatically. The bigger man just shrugs, and Jon realizes he's already saddling his horse for him, expecting him to venture south at the news.
He should, Jon knows it, but he can’t seem to make himself move from his spot by the dwindling fire. His heart is pounding in his chest, a two-beat to the sound of a name that fills every second of silence in his mind these days. He's afraid to ask, but he knows he must.
“Which one?”
“The scary one.” Jon bites back a smile despite the way disappointment flashes through him, sharp and shameful. For some, that wouldn't be enough of an answer, but he knows Tormund well enough to understand.
Arya . The chorus in his head quiets for a moment at the thought of her, how he's longed to see her as well. He’s longed for all of them, all the characters in the book of his tragic history that he left on a shelf somewhere south of the Wall. Arya, Bran, Sam, Davos…
When he pauses, the other name returns to fill the silence once again.
“She's brought the Lord of Storm’s End with her, too.” Tormund interrupts his reverie, and when Jon glances up at him, his brow is furrowed. “Still jus’ looks like a smith to me, though.”
Something kindles in Jon’s heart at that news, a surge of emotion he’d thought long gone, like a limb lost to frostbite. He wonders what it means -- if Arya’s back for good, if she and Gendry have run off together, if the six kingdoms have already turned on each other and they're looking to join his life of exile beyond the Wall.
Or, Jon realizes horribly, belatedly, perhaps it means something truly awful has happened.
He moves then, mounting the horse with barely a word of thanks to Tormund, riding faster then he has in too long to remember. Urgency is something that feels foreign after all this time roaming, and he tells himself that’s why his heart is hammering at the backsides of his ribs until it hurts to breathe.
After days or maybe hours, he passes through the gate at Castle Black and there she is -- forever the smallest and mightiest presence in a crowd of lesser men. She smiles when she sees him, though, and his panic abates, something inside him threatening to thaw.
It’s been a long time, but it was longer last time, he remembers. Even still, Arya leaps into his arms, and he catches her, just like he used to when they were children. Jon holds her tight for a long moment, wishing hopelessly for the time before they had scars on their faces and swords on their hips
“ Arya .” He smiles as her name scratches from his throat, and she returns it for a half-second before her face twists back like she’s smelling something foul.
“You look like pure shit.”
It only makes him smile wider. “It's good to see you, too.”
The gash above her eye has faded slightly, but he sees the angry pink pucker of a new one on the right underside of her jaw and fights a brotherly urge to hook a finger beneath her chin and tut at her for whatever it is she’s gotten into this time.
But when he looks over Arya’s shoulder to see Gendry standing proudly, he knows he’s not the only one looking out for her. It’s more comfort than he’s used to, and it feels odd in his chest. Still, he turns his smile on the other man, reaching out to clap a friendly hand to his arm.
“Good to see you too, my Lord.” Gendry rolls his eyes at the title. Jon remembers the feeling.
“So,” he asks, turning back to Arya, “did you find out what’s west of Westeros?”
She nods, with another grin. This one, though, flickers away too quickly for his liking. “Some of it, anyway.”
“And?”
“It’s...interesting.” Her eyes dart to the space behind her and back again, and Gendry stands up a little straighter. “But it doesn’t really hold a candle to what’s here.”
It’s not quite an answer, but it may be the best he can hope to get. It's sweet, to see her that sentimental, and more than that, Jon’s as happy as he’s been in years to have her safely back in the North.
“No candles to you, though. I’m afraid you’d catch.” Arya wrinkles her nose at him again. “What in seven hells have you been doing up here?”
“Haven’t been here, really,” he admits. “Mostly been up beyond the Wall.”
“I can see that,” she sneers, like he's somehow missed the other hints about his unkempt appearance. “You’re a true wildling now, are you? King of the Free Folk?”
“I’m not King of anything,” he bites back. “I don’t know what I am anymore.”
She glances around the yard then, letting the truth in his admission return things to a simmer. “What happened to Ghost?”
“Haven't seen him in a few moons.” Truthfully, Jon’s started to worry a little -- it’s the longest his wolf has ventured away since they returned to the Wall. So his next assurance may be as much for himself as it is for her. “He always makes his way back to where he needs to be.”
Arya quirks an eyebrow at that, and then gives him a sad look he assumes is either for him or Nymeria, wherever she may be.
“The lone wolf dies, Jon.” Ned Stark’s words have rung in his ears a few times in the last year, but they sound more dire coming from his daughter’s mouth. “You need your pack.”
“Yes, the lone wolf dies,” he agrees, and the spite and conflict inside him call back a different warning -- one he heard years ago at this very castle, “and a Targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing.”
What’s left of the Castle Black kitchen does their best to throw something together for the Night Kingslayer and the Lord of Storm’s End come suppertime, and the both of them look expectedly embarrassed at even the attempt at ceremony in their honor. They’re a good match, Jon notices, not for the first time, and it makes him wish for another life where they had found each other in happiness, rather than whatever this is.
But his sullen brain betrays him then, wondering if this is the way it always had to be. Perhaps even the old gods saw it coming -- fire and ice and whatever’s left when the ash and snow had settled.
The evening’s mood lifts significantly when Tormund arrives with a small traveling party and a few large horns of ale and fermented goat’s milk to share, and the meager feast becomes a celebration with the lively raucousness of the Free Folk. It doesn’t grate at Jon the way it normally does, and he’s glad for it. He even catches himself smiling, more than once, and knows Tormund spots it too.  
As the night’s dancing begins in earnest, he glances over to see Gendry and Arya deep in conversation. The young lord is nodding his encouragement and placing a comforting hand on top of where hers rests on the table between them, and it warms Jon’s heart even further. But when Arya stands and gathers herself before heading in his direction, dread creeps like ice back into his gut.
“Is there somewhere more private we can speak?” He nods dumbly, and leads the way.
Jon had protested for hours when they presented him with the Lord Commander’s chambers, but none of the men would hear it. He's even more embarrassed now, when they enter his solar and find it just as empty as he did all those moons ago. At least there’s a fire going -- he makes a mental note to thank the stewards for their forethought.
“We’re headed back to Winterfell in the morning.” He didn’t expect her to tiptoe around things, but still, Jon’s heart lurches at Arya’s abrupt announcement. He stops by the window, and doesn’t fully turn back to face her. “You’re coming with us.”
“You know I can’t.” He glances to his near-empty desk and back before he can remember to school his features, but it’s enough for her to follow. Arya crosses quickly, and picks up one of the twelve identical scrolls that sit in a neat line at the top corner of the otherwise empty surface.
“Seven hells, Jon,” she sighs when she unrolls one and then two, realizing what they are. “Are these really the only things you have in this whole bleak chamber?”
He shrugs. It might be sheepish, if that’s something his features can remember. Arya just rolls her eyes again, then narrows them at him.
They’re the only items of value he’s acquired in this last year, the only things he’s found himself with a need to keep. Once a moon, a raven arrives from Winterfell, with a pardon in his name from the Queen in the North. A young, sharp-faced man he keeps accidentally calling Edd used to save them for him, to hand-deliver when he returned from beyond the Wall. After a few turns, though, the lad seemed to realize they wouldn’t be heeded, and began to simply leave the new ones with the old for Jon to find upon his increasingly infrequent returns.
He knows he only saved them because she wrote them herself.
“You’re coming with us, anyway,” Arya repeats. He notices she’s not been posing it as a question. “Special occasion. There’s to be a fancy royal wedding, and you’re invited.”
The name that usually fills his spaces returns then -- only now, instead of a whisper, it’s a roar.
Sansa .
Sansa’s getting married. Sansa’s made herself a proper royal match. Sansa’s going to take another husband, and he’s meant to go and watch it happen.
Jon's not certain when she became the echo in his brain, not certain when his heart had turned, like leaves changing in the fall. But it has.
He’s thought often of all of them, the surviving Starks, but they each mean something different, each occupying a different place within him. Bran is his vision, a reminder to keep more than his eyes open as he travels the wild lands. Arya’s his compass, forever angling towards true North.
And Sansa, she's his heartbeat.
At the start of his exile, the ache in Jon's chest was an unknowable black -- like the charred remains of a fallen city, the scales of a lost dragon or the widening eye of a queen gone mad. Now it’s red -- the last embers of a dying blaze, a pool of blood on an icy stone floor, hair kissed by fire sat beneath an iron crown. Black to red. Perhaps he's more of a Targaryen than he ever thought possible.
The only thing he is sure of anymore is what he sees in his mind’s eye when he thinks of the word “forgiveness.” It’s come to him not infrequently over the past year, and it’s always Sansa, on the dock in King’s Landing, asking if he had any left for her.
He hadn’t given her an answer then, still too stupefied by the way his world kept upending itself and yet somehow, never landing him on his feet. He wishes he could have told her that he forgave her the moment Tyrion had told him what she’d done, before he knew if he'd ever see her face again. He wishes he could have stood in the Great Hall when the North crowned her their rightful leader. He wishes he could have mustered the courage to send just one raven back to Winterfell.
It might take him a full minute to realize Arya’s still speaking.
“Jon.” She sounds exasperated. It’s a tone he remembers well, despite everything. Perhaps it was even longer than a minute. “It’s my wedding. Gendry and I, we’re getting married.”
The sudden relief is so strong he can taste it, sliding thick and intoxicating across his tongue. It renders him stupid with his words -- or in his case, even more so. In the time it takes him to cobble together half a sentence, Arya makes her way through twenty or so different expressions, from exhaustion to disbelief to something that almost looks like mischief, and back again.
“What?” he stammers. “Why did you--”
“I needed to see your face,” she answers in that way of hers that only poses more questions.
He swallows heavily, telling himself it’s not a gulp. “Thought you were done with all that.”
“I don’t wear faces anymore,” she half-explains, quirking one side of her mouth up. “Can’t help studying them, though.”
He can only imagine what she’s learned from looking at his just now -- gods, she probably understands more than even he does. A change of subject is his futile attempt to distract them both. “Last I heard, you turned down his offer.”
Arya gives him that look, the one that says she knows he’s being purposefully stupid.
“I'm not the same person that I was a year ago, Jon.” Her tone is obvious, but softer than he expects. “None of us are.”
Nothing's ever been truer than that, has it? A year ago, he was a traitor, a kinslayer, a man whom even death couldn't keep from lining up at the start of each new war. Now he’s not sure if he’s anything more than a lone wolf beyond the Wall.
And Arya, brave and bold, she’s something else now, too.
“You’re going to be a Lady,” he says with a smirk. She doesn’t match it.
“I’m going to be myself. Always. I came back home for what I want, and what I want is to be with Gendry.” This is a practiced speech, one she’s given before. Maybe to Sansa, he thinks idly. “Who’s anyone to say what that has to mean?”
Jon holds a hand up in defense. “I just can’t believe you’re actually marrying.” She sighs again.
“I don't believe that the world owes me anything.” He almost laughs at how wrong she is. Westeros as it still stands owes her everything it has to give. “But change is slow, and our time isn't promised. I'm going to take the life I want, and I’m going to fight anyone who tries to stop me.”
It’s hard not to believe in her. He can picture it, Arya sparring with her troops during the day and wrestling her gaggle of wild babes in the evenings. A kingdom led by love and cunning and the strategy of survival. A castle where the Lady carries the sword and the Lord forges it for her.
“There isn’t time enough to stand still, Jon,” Arya adds, softening again. “Or, ride around in circles, or whatever it is you've been doing up here.”
She turns to leave, but he's mulling all of her words over and it takes a while for things to come back into focus. When he does meet her eyes, she’s watching him closely again, and he wants to ask what it is people keep seeing in his expression that gives him away.
“Arya--”
“We’re headed home first thing tomorrow. The three of us.” Then she does smile, finally. “And I'll be expecting a proper congratulations in the morning, you absolute dolt.”
She’s through the door before Jon has the chance to stammer an apology, or his belated well wishes.
He doesn’t sleep that night. He barely even tries, laying down for just a few heartbeats before accepting how futile it will be. Winterfell. Sansa. Home . For a brief moment, it’s too much, and he thinks of running, of saddling up and fleeing back through the Wall before Arya can realize he’s gone.
But the feeling passes, quicker than he expects, and a familiar memory returns to take its place.
On his last day in the Red Keep, the Hand of the King had paid a final visit to his cell as he was preparing himself for the journey North. Tyrion didn’t look any happier than he had on the day he handed down the sentence, but his voice was stronger, and his words of advice rang clearer in Jon’s muddled mind.
“The most heroic thing we can do now is look the truth in the face.” Sansa had said that, Tyrion told him, before pulling a dagger from her cloak and preparing to fight the risen dead in the Winterfell crypts. The image had burned itself on Jon’s brain immediately, but it’s her words that have come back to him time and again as he’s served his time in the far North.
“They’ll call you a traitor, Jon Snow, and you may find your only comfort in the knowledge that you are also a hero.” Tyrion had spoken with his usual confident calm, though Jon found it brought him little more comfort than it did when they first met. “That will be your armor now.”
They had parted ways then, with a familiar nod. Jon didn’t bother mentioning that he was hoping for a life, or even just a few moments, where he didn’t need an iron plate to protect what little was left beating in his chest.
Look the truth in the face. Maybe Arya’s right. Maybe it’s time now.
Newly revitalized, Jon spends the few remaining hours preparing for the trip, as best he can. He takes a proper bath, trims his hair and his beard, freshens up his furs, and packs what he can salvage from the Castle’s meager stores.
When the light of morning finally breaks, he returns to his empty solar and throws eleven of the scrolls into the dying embers of the fire, lingering only to watch them catch. The one he saves -- tucked into his breast pocket as he descends to prepare the horses -- had come a few moons back, with three extra words scrawled at the bottom of the standard pardon.
They were still in Sansa's hand, but scratched slightly sideways -- hasty or frantic or fraught with something else he couldn’t understand. He remembers spending a few selfish moments tracing them over with his finger, as if somehow he’d be able to touch her through the parchment. Now, he presses them close to his heart for the journey back to Winterfell.
Please come home.
He waits until they're a few hours in the ride -- long enough that he won't be able to convince himself to turn back -- before he dares to ask. “Does she know you came?”
“No,” Arya admits. “I’m hoping she’ll be too busy planning to be angry.”
“Angry?” Jon's already beginning to panic at how readily he’d agreed to make the journey, and looks back now to try and catch a glimpse of the Wall, like a comfort. “She’s the one who's been sending me pardons.”
“And still you stayed away.” There’s so much that remains unspoken in that accusation, but it’s nothing Jon hasn’t already leveled at himself.
“I didn’t--” He starts to stammer out an apology that he knows will need some work before they reach Winterfell, but Arya heads him off.
“Jon, you should know. She’s… different now.”
He watches his breath catch in the frosty air, and waits for her to continue. Of course Sansa’s different now. Arya had said it herself, they all are. But he hears the uncertainty in her voice, and knows there’s more she’s trying to tell him.
“She’s a good queen. And she’s still Sansa, in there somewhere. But she’s been all alone for a year. And before that, too. She’s changed.”
Alone. For all Jon has thought about Sansa in the last year, he's never pictured her alone. He’s imagined the Northmen raising their swords to celebrate her reign, pictured her days full of meetings with advisors and lackeys she'd manage with smart precision. But he never saw her at night, never allowed himself to think about her retiring to her chambers, and so he never considered what happens when the Queen in the North becomes Sansa Stark again, for a few hours in front of a private hearth.
He hopes she has people she can trust, people who know her when the crown comes off. But deep down, he realizes that Arya likely speaks the truth. It unsettles him, the thought that she's been just as isolated as he's felt amongst the Free Folk -- surrounded by life and still so very alone.
“When she sees you,” Arya continues carefully, “she might not--”
“No, I don’t expect she will,” Jon cuts her off before she's even finished her thought, but his bitterness can only be directed inward. He’s spent a year atoning for his sins, but Tyrion had suggested ten -- and even that seemed meager, compared to what he's done. Whatever it is he's seeking at Winterfell, he knows enough at least to understand he doesn’t deserve it.
“It’s not all to do with you, Jon,” Arya fairly snaps, cutting through his brooding. “Are you listening? She's not the same since we left her behind.”
And they did, didn’t they? After those dark, horrific weeks of war, Sansa went home, but no one went with her. She gave everything for her people, and lost what was left of her family in the process.
“Is she alright?”
“I don’t know,” Arya admits, and that might scare him most of all. “I don’t know what it is, exactly. But she's...”
“Some of the smallfolk have taken to calling her ‘Old Stone Jenny,’” Gendry offers.
“And I’ve boxed the ears of anyone I’ve heard say it,” Arya answers fiercely, shooting a glare at her betrothed. “Don’t think I can’t get you, too, even on horseback.”
“Old Stone Jenny?” Jon’s mind feels slushy as he turns over Arya’s warning, looking for clues like worms beneath river rocks, not certain he wants to find them.
“Like the song,” Arya reminds him. Jon only recalls bits and pieces. The ones who’ve been gone for so very long, she couldn’t remember their names. “They say she’s made of iron and ice -- still as a statue and surrounded by ghosts.”
“Probably don't help that she spent most of her first year rebuilding the crypts,” Gendry chimes in again, and this time, the look Arya gives him is simple and sad. Jon’s stomach turns over at the thought of Sansa being tasked with laying generations of Starks back to rest -- and building new tombs for the ones who had loved her the most.
He barely knew her as a girl, and so many of his early memories are shrouded now in a thick fog of mortality and blood magic. All of Jon’s thoughts of Sansa are newer ones, from after her escape and his rebirth, when they found each other at the Wall. But it must be even more jarring for Arya, to see how the evils of the world and the pressures of power have forged her a sister so different than the one she knew.
“We stayed for almost a moon before we came to get you, and she had barely started to thaw by then,” she says sadly, looking off into the distance like it pains her to recall. “Even for me.”
Jon doesn’t have to imagine, there’s still so much he can picture like it’s happening in front of his eyes. “I remember how she was after Ramsey,” he offers as a comfort, though it sends a chill up his spine just to think of it.
He call still see the way Sansa would jump every time one of the doors in Castle Black latched too loudly, remembers the way she’d cower at a stray shout from the yard. When they returned to Winterfell, he would watch her spine go straight when anyone leaned in too close, saw her dig her fingernails into her soft palms when an over-familiar lord would bend to kiss her hand.
“She steels herself, but still she flinches,” he says, almost to himself. Past Arya, he sees Gendry nod in recognition.
“I tried to hug her,” he admits with a shrug. “When we told her about the betrothal.” He doesn’t finish the story. He doesn’t need to.
Jon wonders if there’s a space in the crypts now for everyone who left her. He wonders if there's one for him.
He turns back to Arya, who still seems lost in her thoughts, and decides to leave her be for a while. But after an hour or two more of riding, his curiosity gets the best of him.
“Why did you need to see my face?” He knows she’ll understand what he’s asking. But she just gives him that look like he's being stupid again.
“The last night we were there, she finally started talking,” she tells him, even so. “And then it was like she couldn’t stop. She talked about the past -- about Mother and Father, Robb and Rickon. She talked about how strange it felt to have Bran gone -- even when it used to feel like he wasn’t really there at all.”
The ache in Jon's heart has a name now too, the same one that's been echoing in his mind all this time. How selfish he’s been, to think that he was the one suffering the most.
“She even talked about the future,” Arya keeps on. “She's got a new idea in her head now about heirs for Winterfell, though gods know how that’ll even be possible.”
It's Jon’s turn to flinch at that, and when he glances at Arya, she has a shameful grimace on her face, like she hadn't meant to say that part aloud. Sansa never spoke of it, not to him at least, but another thing he’s never forgotten is the look in her eyes when she told him she wouldn't go back to Ramsey alive.
“Of course, any children Gendry and I have will be Baratheons, not Starks. So, no help there,” Arya spits out, moving past the uncomfortable moment, but her ire is reserved for the lob she aims in Jon’s direction. “A parting gift from your queen.”
To his credit, he barely flinches at the mention of Daenerys. “She’s not anybody’s queen anymore.”
Arya’s eyes narrow at him then. He should have been expecting this, at least. “Yes, and you never told me what changed your mind about that.”
“Something Tyrion said.” It’s all Jon offers. He doesn’t tell Arya that it was she, and not the Hand, who had been the first to make him realize where Dany would set her sights next. He doesn't know how to say it without giving away a truth he’s never looked in the face. “It wasn’t ever going to stop.”
“Sansa knew that.”
He doesn’t need the reminder, but accepts it as part of his penance. “Aye. I should have listened.”
“She never talked about you after we said our goodbyes that day,” Arya picks back up, like she half-knows all of his secrets anyway. “Not then, and not now. It’s like she can’t, or won’t. I thought maybe if you--”
“If I what , Arya?” Jon interrupts, suddenly incensed by the uncertainty of what’s facing him at the end of this ride. He can't save anyone, he never could. All of his efforts seem to end in failure and flames. He starts to say as much, but Arya won't hear it.
“You’ve been up there torturing yourself, and she’s been doing the same down here. The world’s moving on in peacetime, and somehow, the two smartest people I know are still stuck in the war.”
Jon just sighs. There’s little relief in her insight, not when it seems like her solution lies on the other side of his most daunting battle yet.
“I knew I had to bring you back to her,” Arya adds, softly. “I’m just not sure what’s going to happen when I do.”
It’s the most straightforward she’s been with him about anything. As the gates of Winterfell come into view, Jon only wishes it came as more of a comfort.
He hears Sansa’s voice before he sees her.
She’s in the Great Hall, discussing logistics of the upcoming celebrations with one lord or another, when they arrive. Jon's grateful for Arya’s plan to sneak in and avoid the fanfare of an official entrance, because it affords him a few moments to take her in candidly, as the Queen in the North.
He sneaks in the servants’ entrance in the back, down the narrow hallway he and Robb used to duck into to sneak nips of wine during feasts, several lifetimes ago.
Jon can't make out the words at first, but even just the overtones of her cadence echoing against the familiar granite soothe him in a way that shouldn’t be possible. He’s longed for that voice, he realizes just how strongly as it washes over him once again.
And then he sees her.
She’s as beautiful as he remembers, and so much more, red hair cascading across her Stark grey dress with a black wolf draped over her shoulder. She wears a crown like she was born for it -- she was , his stupid brain whispers -- and sits in the direwolf throne like it’s the only place she’s ever truly belonged. The rightness of it all brings Jon a sense of peace he’s never felt before.
She looks like everything he’s been yearning for and nothing he was expecting. She looks like the kind of queen they’ve already started writing songs about.
She looks so beautiful, Jon almost forgets to hate himself for thinking so much of it.
He tries to be as stealthy as possible -- no one else in the hall seems to notice his arrival -- but as soon as Sansa concludes her business with the lord, sending him away with a beatific but fleeting smile, her eyes turn to lock on his.
“Jon.” She says his name softly, but it rings in his ears, and then there’s nothing left for him to do but present himself officially. He walks on shaky legs to stand before her, ignoring the mumbles that start to fill the hall as the Northmen recognize his presence.
He means to call her “Your Grace” or “My Lady.” Even just her name would have been better. But the new honorific rolls off his tongue, like something he’s been waiting to say his whole life.
“My Queen.”
He knows he’s watching too closely, because he catches the ways her blue eyes widen a little. But she doesn't say another word until he moves to drop to his knee.
“Don’t-- ”
It's so soft, he wonders if he imagined it, but when he glances up to meet her eyes, Sansa looks almost pained. It only lasts a second, though, before she’s straightening her shoulders and sharpening her voice to a command. “Please, stand.”
Jon has no idea what's happened, and the rest of the hall seems equally frozen in confusion as he rights himself before their queen. Is she going to throw him out? Tear up his pardon and send him back to the Wall? Is she truly that unhappy that he's come?
Or, Jon wonders, meeting Sansa’s eyes again as a flash of something hot curls in his belly, is it that she can't stand to see him on the ground before her without thinking of the last queen for whom he bent the knee?
He only realizes the silence between them has stretched on too long when it’s broken by a flash of white fur that brushes right past her side before bounding down to where Jon stands awkwardly.
“Ghost!” Jon crouches down to pet him, glancing to his left to seek out Arya, who gives him a knowing look that nearly makes him scowl in return. But he’s too glad to see his companion alive and well to mind much that her question at Castle Black had been some kind of test. “I should have known this is where you’d be.”
The wolf’s ear has healed nicely, and the patches left over from the Battle of Winterfell have filled in as best they can. Jon glances up from greeting him and catches Sansa very nearly smiling at them, but it doesn’t last.
“He’s been here for a few moons.” Her eyebrows furrow and she comes as close to a frown as he thinks she’ll allow herself. “I thought--”
She doesn’t allow herself to finish the idea out loud, but Jon understands all the same. She’d thought he sent him. She’d thought the wolf was his way of being with her when he couldn’t.
Gods, he’d give anything in the world to be able to tell her she was right.
“No.” Awe and regret flood him in equal measure as he shakes his head at the beast, who looks positively docile as he returns to sit at the queen’s right-hand side. “But it seems like he knew where he needed to be.”
In the past, Jon likes to think, something like that would have broken through the ice between them. But Sansa sits stoic and still, looking almost through him. The only evidence that she's not a statue from the song is her hand reaching up to card calmly through Ghost’s fur.
For a moment, she seems so much to him like Lady Catelyn -- or perhaps it's just that he feels that same nagging sense of failure that had always followed the Bastard of Winterfell around this very hall. Iron and ice, Arya had said.
“Will you be staying though the wedding?” the Queen in the North asks him then, casually, as though she doesn't care either way. Her voice that has crystallized back to the formal. It's impossible to remember how he believed he wasn't going to ruin this
“Of course.” Jon almost smiles, looking over at where Arya stands, Gendry positioned just behind her. But they’re both watching Sansa, with expressions that betray more worry than he thinks they would probably want.
All she gives any of them is the slightest of nods, turning back to Jon with that same fake smile she gave the lord before him. He feels ill with how wrong this has gone so quickly, but she allows no time to fix it. “I’ll have someone show you to your chambers. Winterfell welcomes you.”
And that's that.
The corridors of the Great Keep seem colder than he remembers, and the servant, whom he doesn’t recognize, won’t look him in the eye as she walks him towards his old chamber. There’s barely more than a bed, a chair, a set of drawers, and the sound of his rattled breath echoing around the room, but it still feels more like home than the quarters he left behind at Castle Black.
That’s a dangerous thought, and Jon shoves it away with the others. He tells himself it’s exhaustion and delusion that has him smelling lemon and lavender -- there would be no reason for her to have been here -- and presses his fists to his eyes, suddenly and utterly drained by the journey and the loss of a hope he didn't even realize he was still carrying.
Just as he moves to close and latch the door and the day behind him, though, he hears a rustle in the corridor and then, gods , his name in that voice again.
“Jon .” There’s a flush to Sansa’s cheeks as she materializes before him. But she couldn't have rushed after him -- that wouldn’t befit a queen.
He clutches at the door frame as he takes her in, like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. “Your Gr--”
“Jon, please,” she whispers before he can finish, and suddenly he's back to being the man who can deny her nothing, from his mug of ale to a battle fought in their family's name.
She's right in front of him now, not up on some untouchable throne, and it's easier and harder all at the same time. He can see the uncertainty written across her face, the way her pulse flutters at the slope of her neck. Her hair is different that he's ever seen it, straight and smooth, but still stunning in his eyes, and he takes in a painful breath when he notices the direwolf detailing on her crown. Muddled as she makes him, though, his lips know just what to call her.
“Sansa .” Her eyes well up as he says her name, and his grow misty as well. He wants to pull her into his arms, to bury his face in the fur that drapes across her shoulders, but Arya's warnings are clear in his mind and so he leaves his arms at his sides, hands balling into fists.
“I’m sorry,” she says then, and he assuages her worry in an instant, though he hasn't the faintest idea what she's apologizing for.
“It’s alright.”
“I didn’t even know what to call you in there.” She sounds baffled by what was barely a blunder. He wonders if it’s the first she’d made in a year on the throne. It wouldn’t surprise him in the least. “I was surprised, I didn't meant to--”
“Sansa, it’s alright,” he says again, unable to stop saying her name after such a drought and unable to keep a smile from his face she steps past him into the room. “I’ve had about enough of titles to last me a lifetime. It’s good to be nobody once again.”
She turns on him, pursing her lips at that, and he tries not to stare at them for too long. But then her hand comes up to cup his cheek and Jon’s breathing stutters to a stop. He can’t remember if she was wearing gloves in the hall, but if she was, they're gone now. He tries and fails to suppress a shiver at the feel of her skin on his, from the slight chill of her fingertips to the warmth of her palm.
“You’re not .” His eyes slide open to meet hers at the fierce words. He hadn't realized that he'd closed them. “You’re not nobody, you never were.”
Here she is, the women he remembers. Not the queen on the throne, but the last Stark in Winterfell -- the best of all of them. She’s fierce like Arya, brave like Robb, wise like Bran and wild like Rickon. She’s everything, and she just gives it away like this.
“It’s good to see you, Sansa.” Jon knows he can’t give her much, but he can give her the truth. “I--”
He pauses and she draws in a breath, leaving the air too thin between them. There's a million things to say here, and he can't find one, suddenly lost in the familiar blue of her gaze.
“It’s just very good to see you,” he repeats, and he sees the smile in her eyes before it touches her lips, but he’s still not ready for the way it makes his entire chest seize up.
The hand on his cheek snakes around his neck and then she’s hugging him, fully and fiercely. He follows her lead, banding his arms around her back, trying not to notice how a sound that might be a sob escapes from where there once was space between them. The hunger and fatigue and anxiousness of his journey fade away in her embrace. Every question he has about past, present and future can wait. Holding her is the only thing there is.
They’re wrong about Sansa, they all are. Jon was sure of it the moment Arya tried to tell him, and he's even more certain now. There’s nothing stone in the soft curves under his hands, no ice in the hot breath that puffs against his neck. There are no ghosts in this keep tonight, there's only life in the words she presses into his cloak as their arms pull each other tighter.
“I'm so glad you're home.”
READ MORE: PART 2 - SANSA POV
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oneiroi · 4 years
Text
First Hunt
I sat down on a fallen log and shrugged off my ruck, letting it thump heavily onto the forest floor. I was surprisingly calm, given the circumstances, as if my mind had flipped on autopilot. Without thinking, I produced a pack of cigarettes from my shirt pocket, brought one up to my lips, and lit it. After replacing the lighter and the rest of the pack I hunched over and drew deeply. I exhaled, resting my elbows on my knees, then withdrew the cig and watched it shake in my hands. Maybe I wasn't so calm after all.
The panic hit me again. All at once like a blow to the chest. I must've sat there and cried for hours. Not that soft, dignified weeping either. I mean the sort of sobbing that makes your entire body ache and soaks your face with tears and mucus. Real ugly crying.
You'd think someone in that state would be at their absolute limit. That if the situation got anymore dire they would simply keel over and die of shock. I guess I didn't. I heard a twig snap behind me, and fight-or-flight kicked in. In a moment I was on my feet with rifle in hand, now-forgotten tears still dripping from my chin. I whipped around and locked eyes with an owl, hardly three yards away from me. In my state of surprise and relief, all I could do was stammer out, “Uh, hey there.” Guess I spooked it, because it flew right back off the way it had come.
I shook my head and tried to take stock of the situation. I was miles into the forest, and I did not know the way out. I had about a day's worth of water, but the only food was back at camp. I had my cell phone, but no battery. I had my rifle and six loaded magazines, most of which were stuffed into my ruck along with a change of clothes.
I weighed my options and found that I really only had one: find my way back to camp. Then what? See how long I could last on canned beans and granola bars and wait for someone to wander down the trail to save me? Unlikely in these parts; I had been sent out here for a reason, after all. At that moment I fully believed that I was going to die in those woods. Nevertheless, I decided there was no sense in waiting around where I was, so I lit another cigarette and began walking in what I guessed was the direction I'd come from that morning. I had snapped branches and left boot-prints and depressions where I'd stumbled and fallen in the mud on my mad run away from camp, so it was not difficult to retrace my steps. Time-consuming given the distance adrenaline had carried me, but not difficult.
As soon as I caught a glimpse of my green tent a chill ran down my spine. Rifle shouldered, I crept up to camp as quietly as I could and looked around. Everything seemed to be as I'd left it. My tent stood upright with a single large gash down one of the sides where I'd cut it open to make my escape. Ash, dead coals, cookware, and firewood were scattered all over the camp. Ben's orange tent was torn to shreds, the canvas in tatters and the poles snapped everywhere and in every-which-way. And it was empty, which came as a surprise.
I had been expecting a body, or at least some blood, but there was no trace of Ben anywhere. The destroyed tent and sleeping bag were the only evidence that I hadn't come out here alone. Even his gun, ruck, and boots were gone. I let out an awkward, choked laugh and fell to my knees, relieved that my friend might still be alive out there, somewhere. 
But where the hell had he gone? The only obvious tracks I could find were my own blunders from the previous night, and if he'd gone to find me he certainly would've succeeded. He was the one that actually knew what he was doing out here, and even I'd managed to follow those tracks.
I searched for a lead until sunset, careful not to stray too far from camp, and came up with nothing. I certainly didn't want to be wandering through the woods in the dark again, so I prepared to hunker down for the night. I dug a few fuel tabs and a can of beans out of the ammo can we'd been storing our odds and ends in and started a small fire. My stomach was tied up by nerves, but I forced myself to eat a bit before I crawled into my sleeping bag.
It was very difficult to fall asleep, what with the circumstances and the hole in my tent, but I managed it eventually. I dreamt that I was wandering through the forest, naked. There was a deep warmth in my gut and a sort of mindless euphoria. The trees were singing to me in soft, soothing tones, and the branches bent before me to clear a path deeper into the wood. Eventually I came to a giant tree, carved into the likeness of a man. Great branches sprouted from his head, formed into magnificent curved horns. The roots at the base of the tree were in the shape of a rough throne, upon which sat a tall beast. Broadly human in shape, but with the head of a goat and long, predatory claws for fingers.
The beast opened its eyes when I approached and stared at me, still as stone, without so much as a twitch of the nose. I knelt before it and found myself speaking, "Ave imperator, morituri te salutant." The beast's clawed hand came to rest atop my head, and with that everything went black. 
It felt as though I was falling and suddenly, as if from all directions at once, I heard a woman's voice, "You, my favored son, must not succumb to the Beast's call. Have no fear on this night, for I am watching over you."
I was awoken by the call of an owl. It jolted me upright in my sleeping bag, immediately alert, and within moments I was outside of the tent with my rifle at the ready. The owl sat on a branch at eye level on the other side of camp. It took flight the moment I looked at it, wings beating silently in the night. I thought for a moment about how bad of an idea it was to begin looking for Ben before first light, but I lit a cigarette and began walking anyways.
I walked to the owl's perch, and continued straight from there, my path lit only by the light mounted on my rifle. I had no idea where I was going or what I was looking for, but something was urging me forward. After an hour of walking, I heard the baying of wolves break out close by.
I rushed towards the sound to find Ben sitting motionless against a massive tree, which I immediately recognized as the one from my dream, where the great Emperor of Beasts had sat upon his throne of roots. It lacked the carving and the throne, of course, but it was unmistakable. Two wolves circled him, hunched down with ears lowered. As I stood and watched, they began to approach him, slowly but surely closing their circle. One of them finally darted in, and time seemed to slow to a crawl. I brought my rifle up to bear but hesitated for a moment. I very clearly remember thinking, "I'll hit Ben if I miss," to which I heard the woman's voice reply, "You won't." I pulled the trigger only once and the pouncing wolf crumpled into the mud as the rifle's thunderous report echoed through the woods. The flash blinded me for a moment, and when my eyes opened the other wolf was gone.
I rushed over to Ben to find his head and face caked in dried blood. I reached out and touched his shoulder, causing him to jolt awake. I had to hold hold him down as he thrashed and raved, shouting in a language I didn't recognize. We struggled for a few minutes before I heard something large running towards us. Something with hooves. A great deer crashed into the small clearing and darted through to the other side, quickly vanishing in the thick brush. The sight of it calmed Ben immediately. I had released him in fright at the animal's sudden appearance, but he simply lay there staring towards the sky.
His voice came in a breathy whisper before trailing off, "High on a stag the Goddess held her seat…"
I looked at him, breathing heavily, and asked, "Fucking what?"
He broke down sobbing, and we just sat there together for a while. Eventually he sat up, the tears slowed, and finally stopped. He wiped his face, smearing dirt through the dried blood. He staggered to his feet with a nervous chuckle and turned to face the tree. Casting a glance at me, he spoke, “Well, here we are.”
“So, what now?” My hand anxiously ran up and down my rifle’s handguard as I spoke.
Wordlessly, he stepped back away from the tree and motioned for me to do the same. We stood there and stared at the monstrous tree for a long while. We both knew what had to be done but there was something holding us back. I swear I could almost make out the tree singing to me, just as it had in the dream. I felt at peace, there before the Emperor’s tree, but there was something else gnawing at my mind. “You, my favored son, must not succumb to the beast’s call.”
I held my breath, raised my rifle, and fired all twenty nine rounds left in the magazine straight into the tree trunk. Something black and viscous oozed from each new wound on the tree. Ben and I watched in awe as the leaves withered and fell before our eyes like rotting snowflakes. 
After a few moments Ben turned towards me and spoke, "Hell of a first hunt, hey?"
"Yeah," I replied, "Let's get out of here."
The hike back out was uneventful. We walked through our campsite, but didn't bother to take anything with us aside from the ammo can. We marched dutifully and silently back to the more well-established trails, and finally reached the trailhead at midday. We climbed into Ben's truck, still without another word exchanged between us, and I fell asleep nearly immediately.
I dreamt of myself and Ben in a wondrous temple. I watched from afar as Ben knelt before a marble statue of a maiden clad in a green mantle. He stayed perfectly still save for his lips, which were mouthing a silent prayer. I watched him for a few moments before approaching another statue, this one a muscular woman holding a shield and spear. I threw my arms around her, buried my face in the nape of her neck, and wept softly. The marble grew soft and warm, and I felt strong arms embrace me as a hand ran gently through my hair. She made me feel safe, loved even. I never wanted to let go, but all things must end.
Ben woke me with a slap on the chest. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and looked around groggily. "Right, here's your place," he said.
He had clearly cleaned up his face somewhat, but his forehead was still smeared with blood and dirt. "Are you sure you're alright?"
Ben smiled warmly and said, "It's nothing. I'll call you in a few days, alright brother?"
"Yeah, I'll see you."
I went into my apartment and shrugged off my ruck, letting it thump heavily on the carpet. I felt safe back in my own home, but I was preoccupied. Lost in thought, I produced a pack of cigarettes from my shirt pocket, brought one to my lips, and lit it. I replaced the lighter and the rest of the pack, and that was that. My first hunt had been a success, and I would spend the next few days resting and waiting to be called again. Ben had warned me that the first hunt would be the hardest; I only hoped he was right.
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roseyboy · 5 years
Text
no one asked for this, but if anyone wants my playlist I made on Spotify for songs that remind me of Arya and Sandor - have at it 
and if anyone wants a full list with the lyrics of each song that really speak to me, keep reading 
*** I will also note I’m only into s.8 Arya and Sandor being romantically involved w each other. Only an 18+ yr old Arya here folks. 
Also a couple of these are just stupidly cheesy and for my own dang fantasies. 
Oh Comely - Neutral Milk Hotel:  Oh comely // I will be with you when you lose your breath // Chasing the only // Meaningful memory you thought you had left
I Hope That I Don’t Fall in Love with You - Tom Waits:  I can see that you are lonesome just like me // And it being late, you'd like some some company // And I hope that you don't fall in love with me
bury a friend - Billie Eilish:  Your talk'll be somethin' that shouldn't be said out loud // Honestly, I thought that I would be dead by now  // Calling security, keepin' my head held down // Bury the hatchet or bury your friend right now
It Will Come Back - Hozier:  Don't let it in with with no intention to keep it // Jesus Christ, don't be kind to it // Honey don't feed it, it will come back
Can’t Help Falling in Love(cover) - MountainCity:  Would it be a sin // If I can't help falling in love with you?
Song for a Guilty Sadist - Crywank:  How rude of me to bring my thoughts into your bedroom. // Is it condescending to be so scared I might hurt you?
Creep - Scott Bradlee(cover):  Whatever makes you happy // Whatever you want // You're so fuckin' special // I wish I was special // But I’m a creep
Cherry Wine - Overcoats(cover):  Calls of guilty thrown at me // All while she stains // The sheets of some other // Thrown at me so powerfully // Just like she throws with the arm of her brother.
In the  Woods Somewhere - Hozier:  I clutched my life // And wished it kept. // My dearest love I'm not done yet // How many years // I know I'll bear // I found something in the woods somewhere.
Closer - Nine Inch Nails:  My whole existence is flawed // You get me closer to god // You can have my isolation // You can have the hate that it brings // You can have my absence of faith // You can have my everything
Desire - Meg Myers:  Honey, I wanna break you // I wanna throw you to the hounds, // I gotta hurt you, I gotta hear from your mouth
My Blood - Twenty One Pilots:  If you find yourself in a lion's den // I'll jump right in and pull my pin // And go with you
As it Was - Hozier:  And the sights were as stark as my baby // And the cold was as sharp as my baby // And the nights were as dark as my baby // Half as beautiful too
Before I ever Met You - BANKS:  Before I ever met you // I never knew that my heart could love so hard // Before I ever met you // I never knew I would be enemies with disregard // Before I ever met you // I never knew that I liked to be kissed for days // Before I ever met you // I never knew I could be broken in so many ways
Here You Come Again - Dolly Parton:  Here you come again // Just when I'm about to make it work without you // You look into my eyes and lie those pretty lies // And pretty soon I'm wond'rin how I came to doubt you.
Dire Wolf - Grateful Dead:  When I awoke, the Dire Wolf, six hundred pounds of sin, // Was grinning at my window, all I said was "Come on in". // Don't murder me, I beg of you, don't murder me. Please, don't murder me.
To Be Alone - Hozier:  It feels good, girl, it feels good // Oh, to be alone with you
Hallelujah - Jeff Buckley:  And I've seen your flag on the marble arch // And love is not a victory march // It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah
Can’t Nobody Love You- The Zombies:  'Cause they don't know how to love you // Like I do
Love is Blindness - Jack White:  Love is clockworks // And cold steel // Fingers too numb to feel // Squeeze the handle // Blow out the candle // Love is blindness
NFWMB - Hozier:  If I was born as a black thorn tree // I'd wanna be felt by you, held by you // Feel the power of your hand on me
Go Your Own Way - Fleetwood Mac:  Loving you // Isn't the right thing to do // How can I ever change things // That I feel
I’m on Fire - The Staves:  At night I wake up with the sheets soaking wet // And a freight train running through the middle of my head // Only you can cool my desire
Woke Up New - The Mountain Goats:  On the morning when I woke up without you for the first time // I felt free and I felt lonely and I felt scared
Young Blood - Noah Kahan:  And if you want, I can tell the truth // That this life takes a toll on you // I spend nights stitching up the loose threads of my soul //  In the morning I'm bulletproof
Hold On - Tom Waits:  She closed her eyes and started swaying // But it's so hard to dance that way // When it's cold and there's no music // Oh, your old hometown's so far away
If I Loved You - Delta Rae:  If I loved you, life would be easy // There'd be no truth that I'd be scared of // I could walk through every valley // And you'd light me with all of your love 
when the party’s over - Billie Eilish:  But nothing is better sometimes // Once we've both said our goodbyes // Let's just let it go // Let me let you go
The Night We Met - Lord Huron:  I had all and then most of you // Some and now none of you // Take me back to the night we met // I don't know what I'm supposed to do // Haunted by the ghost of you
Moment’s Silence - Hozier:  What yields the need for those who lead us oh so morally // Those that would view the sin we do through their deformity // Who view the deed as power's creed is pure authority // This moment's silence when my baby // Puts her mouth on me
bad guy - Billie Eilish:  So you're a tough guy // Like it really rough guy // Just can't get enough guy // Chest always so puffed guy // I'm that bad type // Make your mama sad type // Make your girlfriend mad type // Might seduce your dad type // I'm the bad guy, duh
I Love You Like an Alcoholic - The Taxpayers:  One last kiss, I love you like an alcoholic. // One last kiss, I love you like a statuette. // One last kiss, I need you like I need a broken leg.
Fell in Love with a Girl - The White Stripes:  but sometimes these feelings can be so misleading // she turns and says are you alright? // I said I must be fine cause my heart's still beating
Whore - In This Moment:  But let me tell you something baby // You love me for everything you hate me for // I’m the one that you need and fear // Now that you’re hooked, it’s all becoming clear // That all your judgments that you placed on me // Was a reflection of discovery
Closer - Kings of Leon:  She took my heart, I think she took my soul // With the moon I run // Far from the carnage of the fiery sun
Love Song for a Vampire - Annie Lennox:  Oh loneliness, oh hopelessness // To search the ends of time // For there is in all the world // No greater love than mine
Big God - Florence + the Machine:  You keep me up at night // To my messages, you do not reply // You know I still like you the most // The best of the best and the worst of the worst
Ouija - Beacon for Ghosts: I should have known I’d be misunderstood //  in every story you heard I was the antagonist // But I can’t hurt you, and even if I could // I’ve forgotten what it was that I even wanted vengeance for  
Last Night on Earth - Green Day:  I'm here to honor you // If I lose everything in the fire // I'm sending all my love to you
Started - Iggy Azalea:  I started to say sorry, but fuck that shit // You started out hatin', now you love my drip // Ayy, bitch, they lookin' at me, they not lookin' at you // I don't mean to be rude, I'm a ten, you a two  
Otherside - Avi Kaplan:  wrapped around my skin // pulls me deeper // drags me back again
I Can’t Go On Without You - KALEO:  Oh so what is left but a broken man? // 'Cause nothing hurts like a woman can
Happier - Marshmello, Bastille:  When the evening falls // And I'm left there with my thoughts // And the image of you being with someone else // Well, that's eating me up inside
Graceless - The National:  All of my thoughts of you // Bullets through rotten fruit // Come apart at the seams // Now I know what dying means
Furr - Blitzen Trapper:  Yeah, we would gladly get our fill // Howling endlessly and shrilly at the dawn // And I lost the taste for judging right from wrong
Beggin for Thread - BANKS:  So I got edges that scratch // And sometimes I don't got a filter // But I'm so tired of eating // All of my misspoken words // I know my disposition gets confusing // My disproportionate reactions fuse with my eager state // That's why you wanna come out and play with me, yeah // Why?
Take Me To Church - Hozier:  I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies // I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife // Offer me that deathless death // Good God, let me give you my life
Go to War - Nothing More:  Every feeling in my bones tells me to lash out // And tell you, "fuck off" // You've got my heart and I've got your soul // But are we better off alone? // With every battle, we lose a little more // Remember everything that we died for // You are everything that I die for
Kissing You Goodbye - The Used:  On my own, I'm nothing, just bleeding // I'm not kissing you goodbye
Follow You - Bring Me The Horizon:  So you can drag me through hell // If it meant I could hold your hand // I will follow you 'cause I'm under your spell // And you can throw me to the flames // I will follow you, I will follow you
Smother Me - The Used:  Now I can breathe, turn my insides out // And smother me // Warm and alive I'm all over you // Would you smother me? Smother me, smother me
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xaphrin · 6 years
Text
Poison
Obi padded outside the invisible line of territory, his breath escaping in short, discontented sounds. He hated coming this far out of his own space, where he could feel the press of another territory around him. The scent of the Wistalias pack was a fragrant, almost floral scent that filled all of his senses, and (not for the first time since he lived outside their borders) he wondered what it would feel like to belong to a pack like that. He wondered what it would feel like to belong to something.  
But, he knew better than to stand here and daydream like this. His fingers ran through his short hair and he rolled his shoulders, his back rest against the rough bark of the elm he stood under. The leaves flickered above him, casting lace shadows against the forest floor.
What was he doing here?
He didn’t feel worthy to actually step into their territory, even for something as important as this. He was an outlier, a nobody that was trying to find a place in this world where he didn’t fit, trying to be more man than animal, even when he knew for certain that the reverse was true. Obi’s hand pressed the gnarled scar just below his collarbone, knowing it was proof of how much there was a beast raging inside him - how ragged his own emotions were. Obi shifted again, swallowing that twisted thorny feeling that was scraping along the inside of his chest. One foot in one world, one foot in the other - unable to mingle them with the same grace, poise, and civility that the Royal Pack did.
Must be nice to feel like a real member of society.
Shuddering, Obi let his hand fall to the side of his form. His eyes closed and he let his hand crumple the worn, leather bag next to his side, feeling it void of wolfsbane. If he had the kind of support structure the Royal Pack did, if he had at least someone he could count on, then maybe he wouldn’t have to fight against his change, sequestering himself in the woods like some kind of hermit. He wouldn’t have to poison himself with stores of wolfsbane to keep the beast at bay.
He snorted and shook his head, taking a step closer to the town. That would never happen, so he better get used to his increasingly short life span.
Obi traced a hidden deer path, tall grasses growing up on either sides of it, nearly masking the steps. From the slope of the hill, he could see the soft blue banners of the Wistalia house lazily drifting in the soft, late spring breeze, the crest of lilacs and silver, northern wolves practically taunting him again. He hadn’t been a wolf for long, but just long enough to remember what real freedom felt like. He shifted his weight again again, looking through the gap in the trees to see the pharmacy shades pulled back. He waited for the owner to hang the thin black ribbon in the window, the signal that it was safe for him to come forward, but there was nothing.
Garrack always put it out on time. What in the world was wrong?
Obi's lips twitched and he shifted again, waiting. Was it not safe? Was he not supposed to step into the Wistalia territory today? His hand rubbed against the tight muscles in his neck, feeling his skin jump beneath his touch. This was dangerous, and he didn’t know what choice to make. If it wasn’t safe for him to enter the Royal Pack’s territory, there could be dire consequences. It didn’t do well for a lone wolf to wander too long in another’s pack’s territory, especially if it was the Wistalias. But, if he didn’t get his store of wolfsbane, he’d have more to worry about than trespassing.
Cautious, he took a few steps forward, his eyes darting up and down the path and the town ahead of him, looking for anything that seemed off. What in the world was he doing? This was insanity. If the Wistalias smelled him in their territory… No. They weren’t like that. But… then again, he should be cautious. Maybe he should just turn around and go home. If he went higher into the mountains, maybe he could contain himself on the hunt of mountain goats without wolfsbane.
“Is there something you need?”
Obi jumped and turned around, feeling as though he had been caught off guard. How in the world had someone managed to sneak up on him? He shook his head and lifted his stare to look into the greenest eyes he had ever seen - like the bright leaves of a spring tree after a hard rain. His throat seemed to collapse in on itself, and Obi felt as though his tongue was too thick and sluggish to remember words. There was a slip of a girl was standing behind him, a basket of neatly organized herbs resting on her hip.
“You’ve been standing here for a while, and I just wanted to make sure you’re all right.” She offered a small, sheepish smile, a touch of pink crowding her freckles. “I didn’t mean to intrude on your thoughts or anything. It’s just almost no one knows about this path, and you seemed… bothered by something.” Pause. “Lost in thought?”
“N-no… I’m fine.” His eyes darted to her left hand, seeing the thin black ribbon wrapped neatly around the delicate bones. The same ribbon that used to hang in the window of the shop. He swallowed and met her stare again, his heart and stomach doing a reeling dance inside him. “Are you…”
“Am I…?” Her brow furrowed just a little until she seemed to pick up what he was trying to say. “Oh!” She showed him the ribbon on her wrist and offered a smile that seemed to soften all the edges of her. “Master Garrack used to hang it in the window, but not everyone likes to venture too far into the Wistalia territory, so… I’ve started making house calls. It’s much more efficient, and then I can assist in all kinds of ways - not just in the way Garrack used to.” She paused again, that smile brightening as she held out her hand. “I’m Shirayuki, by the way. Garracks assistant. It’s nice to meet you…” She trailed off, waiting for a response about his name.   
“I need wolfsbane.” Obi felt like he blurted it out, the words tumbling over his lips before he could form them, and heat rose up his neck. He didn’t think there was a way he could be anymore embarrassing, but he didn’t put it past himself. “Please.”
Her face fell, and her eyes narrowed, as if he had called her a dirty name or cursed. Her nostrils flared and she leaned forward, looking into his eyes as she crowded his space. “That’s poison.”
He knew. He didn’t need a damn lecture. “I’m aware, but it keeps him at bay and keeps everyone around me safe. So, here I am.” His jaw clicked as he locked it. It didn’t matter how cute she was, he wasn’t going to budge on this. “Wolfsbane.”
Her mouth set into an even thinner line. “That's not an excuse.”
Obi's face fell and his eyes narrowed at her, unsure if she honestly knew what she was doing, or if she really was Garrack’s assistant. Garrack had given him a certain look when he asked for it, but she hadn't ever outright denied him, and she didn’t try and debate with him on the topic. His mouth twitched and he reached into his pocket to pull out coin, showing them to Shirayuki. “I'm not here to argue for it. Just to pay. That’s all. So, you can save your ‘holier than thou’ speech for someone who will actually listen.”
He thought his tone might go ahead and deter her, but Shirayuki seemed undeterred. Her eyes narrowed, staring at him without venom, but with a kind of sterness he hadn’t seen in Garrack. “Have you tried catnip?”
Obi balked, nearly dropping his coin into the tall grass. “I'm not a… that's not how it works. I can’t just use catnip.”
“Some of my other patients have good success with it.” She snapped her fingers. “Or cannabis.”
Obi's face fell, his chest tight with frustration as he glared at her. “Miss.”
She paused and tilted her face up to meet his own, her cheeks flushed with color and smattered with freckles. There was something inside her that seemed a strange, varying shade of light that he had never seen before. She was nothing if not determined to try and protect him from himself, and then there was… well… she was cute. His wolf lifted his head, curious at the sudden rush of emotion that pooled in Obi’s belly. He swallowed, taking a half-step back as he tried to pull himself together enough to keep his thoughts clear.
“Just the wolfsbane. That’s it. I don’t need your homily about my choices in managing my wolf.” He could feel his patience growing thin, and he tried to hold on that anger if only to keep himself from falling even further into those distinct, green eyes. Wolfsbane had worked for him for nearly a decade at this point. He didn’t want to try anything else, and she wasn’t helping. “I’m prepared to pay you for-”
“Would you be open to trying something else?”
“No.” Obi had to bite back a growl, something rumbling in the back of his throat. She was insufferable. How had Garrack ever put up with her? “I never had this problem with Garrack.”
Her face fell and she took a step forward, pulling so close that he could smell something like lemon and vanilla clinging to her. Oh, gods. She smelled amazing. The wolf inside his chest rumbled again, this time making a strange, contented sound, and urged him forward, as if eager to take another sinful drag of her scent. There was something raw about what the animal wanted, and something complicated at the same time. It wanted to search her and throw her to the forest floor, hunting for that sweet smell with every part of its form. Obi shoved his baser instincts to the back of his mind and tried to glare at her, hoping he didn’t look as pathetic as he felt.
Her expression turned pitying, and that was somehow worse. “Garrack always had hope you wouldn’t poison yourself like this.”
“How do you know what Garrack wanted?”
“I read her files.” Shirayuki watched him carefully, a strand of hair falling into her eyes. “I had hoped that maybe they weren’t true.”
His muscles tensed and he pitched forward a little, wanting to lunge at her. He was fighting with his wolf again, and the growl in his throat slipped through before he could stop it. He sounded so damned pathetic. “And I suppose you are going to make me not poison myself?”
She shifted, pulling the basket in front of her. “Yes.”
“You’re insufferable.” He turned and started to move away from her, making his way back up the deer path. If he had to steal it from someone else, so be it.
“Wait! Wait!” She chased after him. “I’ll make a deal with you.”
Obi paused, turning around to glare at her again. The last thing he needed to do was  “Oh?”
“The full moon is on Sunday-”
“I’m aware.” And she was denying the one thing that would keep him docile. His nostrils flared. “Is there a point to this?”
She seemed undeterred by the bite to his words, setting her hands on her hips as she looked up into his eyes. “Let me help you… without wolfsbane. I’ll come by your house and I’ll sit with you during the full moon.”
He balked, his heart dropping into the pit of his stomach. A girl like her? Around him when he turned? When he turned into the monstrous animal that was living inside him. The same animal that was practically forcing him to take long drags of her scent, that wanted to chase her and defile her? Gods. She was flirting with death and destruction at this point, and yet she stood in front of him as if she knew exactly what she was doing - no questions asked.
Obi growled and leaned close to her again, glaring. “Are you insane?”
“I know it’s dangerous…” She shook her head and met his stare. “But, I trust you and I trust what I do. So, if my ways don’t work, then… then I promise to dose you with enough wolfsbane to keep you docile until you die from it.”
Well, that was uplifting.
“It's a fair trade.”
“You'd willingly lock yourself in a small house with a lone wolf on a full moon, just to prove a point? You are insane.” His face contorted in annoyance, and he turned away from her again, trying to find his way around her, but she moved again, blocking his path. Obi tried to snarl at her, but the wolf inside him seemed contented to lay there and watch her, like a dog lounging in the sun. Obi threw his hands up, wishing he could somehow gain control of the situation again. Even his own animal was working against him. “All I need is wolfsbane, I don’t need you trying to save me-”
“From a slow death of poisoning? I think I do.” Shirayuki took a step forward and placed herself squarely between him and his escape again, feet planted firmly. “I know Garrack let you murder yourself slowly because it was your choice, but I refuse.”
Obi just stared at her. “I bullied her into it.”
“Garrack can’t be bullied into anything.” Shirayuki scoffed and shook her head. “She probably figured you’d come around eventually, but I’m not letting you go until-”
“Fine.” Obi’s eyes narrowed and he pitched forward, lowering his face so that it pressed close to her own. He made the mistake of taking another breath of her vanilla-and-lemon scent and his wolf moved contentedly within him, as if basking in the scent. What a useless mutt. “Fine. If that’s what you want, or what you think will be best, or at the very least it’ll get you to shut up, then I’ll try it.” He pointed a finger at her. “But if my wolf decides it would rather eat you than your stupid cannabis, don’t blame me.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” She looked entirely too pleased with herself, a soft smile pulling at her lips. “And there are plenty of other things to try besides cannabis. There’s been a lot of headway in the idea of physical touch, you know.” She looked so innocent saying it, that the idea of laying hands on someone was suddenly going to cure them of their wolf. She was crazy.
“So… you’re just going to come over on Sunday and feed me cannabis and touch me all over? While I’m turning?” That sounded… stupid. His wolf was disagreeing with him, liking the idea of Shirayuki’s small hands pressed against his sides, but logically Obi knew it was stupid. His voice rumbled in the back of his throat and he shook his head. “Whatever you want to dream, Miss.”
“It works on the Wistalias.”
Obi snorted at the thought of a docile, snow-white prince, high on cannabis and lounging around pillows with a harem of dainty feminine hands laying over him. And then he thought about Shirayuki lounging next to him, her fingers threading through the prince’s fur while his head rested in her lap, and that made things infinitely worse. Stupid Pack. He shook his head and walked away, moving through a patch of thick grass just to put space between them. “Sunday night, Miss. I’d prefer if you came by dinner time.”
Shirayuki smiled, not looking like she had won a battle, but that she was just happy to provide. She was going to give him a toothache with this stupid sweet kindness. “I’ll bring something to eat!”
What in the world was he doing? “I’m just off the side lane, back in the woods.”
“I’ll find you.” Shirayuki pulled the ribbon from her wrist and handed it to him. “Just tie this to the tree branch by your house. I’ll make sure I’m there.”
Obi just huffed.
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mayaparker · 6 years
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In which Maya and Fane discuss the events of the Parade. 
After speaking to Faye, and explaining the things behind his behaviour earlier in the day Fane still felt the lingering guilt that came with how he’d acted.   Though in his own defence, thinking back over the conversation Fane had barely said a thing to provoke Ryden. It was only after his introduction by Maya and Dani that Ryden had apparently realised the situation, and consequently started name-calling. Daddy this, daddy that with such a shit-eating grin that there was little chance not to be annoyed at the wolf’s behaviour. Fane knew that he could personally be prone to bouts of childish behaviour, grudge-holding being a particular feat of his but Ryden’s call outs had been unnecessary on several levels. Not to mention the fact that they had generally made him feel weirdly uncomfortable considering it had been in front of his family.
Perhaps that was the part that had bothered him most of all, the fact that a jump-start person he barely knew was willing to behave in such a fashion around the most important people in his life. And somehow be accepted by them, at least, Dani and Maya it seemed. Though he really hated having to dwell on the particular reasons why they had both respectively come to like the kid. The thought merely left a sour taste in his mouth. But consequently, his own issues with the wolf had got Maya caught up in the crossfire and that, out of it all was the thing that had knocked all steam out of his engines. The sight of her face, upset and tinged with disappointment not only at him, but specifically with him lingered on his mind a constant nagging presence that forced him to go back and rethink things. Things he didn’t want to think about at all. But, he had also said to Maya that he would explain and so it was this reason that even though he felt like crawling into bed and just staying there for a month he started to thumb out a text slowly. Hours had passed since he’d gotten back from the event and he wasn’t sure what Maya might be doing.
Probably drinking, or something of the sort to make herself feel better. But he owed her an explanation, and that mattered more to him than his own feelings about the shit that had gone down.
[TEXT]: I’m probably the last person you want to talk to right now.
[TEXT]: But I said I’d give you an explanation and I keep my promises. [TEXT]: I’ll be at the park in half an hour - the one I found you in after that Shaw stuff. If you want to talk I’ll be at the bench. If you don’t, I understand and probably deserve that too. Probably won’t be at the other events this week so I’ll maybe see you next week or s/t and if you need me for anything just, text or do what works best for you.
Embarrassed and still a little shaky Maya had made her way to the Fainting Goat for a drink. Just the one to help calm her nerves. She wasn’t happy either Fane or Ryden. They had both acted like idiots. She wasn’t happy with herself either. That she could still completely lose herself to panic like that frustrated her. A voice in the back of her head told her this was what it meant to have a family, having to pick sides. It was in plenty movies after all or people just talking, that one uncle no one wants at Thanksgiving. The thought terrified her. She didn’t want to have to imagine a life without either of them. She almost had to laugh at the now naive seeming thought that missing New York might be her biggest problem.
Her phone buzzing caught her attention. She picked it up and read through the texts Fane had sent her. He was right. She didn’t really want to talk to him. Her own guilt at being unable to keep herself together swirled in the pit of her stomach. With a sigh Maya decided she’d go talk to him. For one because it was the adult thing to do. For another she knew that Fane would beat himself even worse if she didn’t. He was at fault sure, but he wasn’t the only one. Unsure what exactly to say she didn’t text him back.
Instead Maya showed up at the bench at the prescribed time. “So, that wasn’t great,” she said as she approached. They might as well get down to it. No point really in beating around the bush and faking small talk. At the end of the day she did want to know what had happened between the two men, if only to know if it was completely hopeless situation.  
Fane only felt a little better for speaking to Faye, unfortunately, not even her words could shift the gnawing guilt that was slowly fizzing through his veins leaving him feeling off-kilter. Because even if she’d tried to change his mind, regardless of what she said he had hurt Maya intentional or not it didn’t really matter at the end of the day did it? It had happened, and he had to do something even if it was as little as tell her why. He wouldn’t make excuses for himself, though after spending a few solid hours working himself up with what ifs and maybes he couldn’t admit to being presently in a good place. His earlier loud pride gear replaced with faded black jeans, a worn charcoal hoodie and a beanie that concealed the dye beneath a dire contrast to other residents he’d passed on the street in his walk to get here. He’d just averted his gaze and pressed on, not particularly feeling so inclined to being stopped by anyone and questioned regarding the stark contrast he painted. To say he wasn’t in the mood for the week anymore would be a little bit of an understatement. After the stunt he pulled today he didn’t feel like he had anything in particular to be proud of. After all, the accusation that he was at fault had stuck hard and fast. A good day that he’d ruined, all because he couldn’t help but feel protective of those he cared for and the transference of anger from a deeper issue to something trivial.
He checked his phone occasionally on the walk, but as the minutes ticked by and there was no particular response he gave up. Arriving at the bench, Fane sat down and waited, wondering if perhaps this was it. That Maya would chew him out and be on her way wanting nothing more to do with him. Fane had a spectacular track record at splintering his family after all, perhaps a track record wouldn’t be all that surprising. However, as the time approached and Fane saw Maya he looked up from where he’d been contemplating the ground in front of him. No move was made to depart the bench, unsure whether proximity would be appreciated presently. Her words were neutral enough he supposed when she did speak, and Fane wasn’t sure if that helped or just made him feel worse.
Still, he pushed his glasses up with his knuckles hand dropping to hand between his knees “no,” he agreed looking up at her “it wasn’t. I was upset which is no reason for what happened, but for the record I didn’t actually mean to start anything… Not that it probably means anything considering what happened anyhow but-- I came over ‘cause I was curious about how you both knew him. I could tell you and Dani were familiar with him from somewhere.” It was the truth, was Fane a little ticked off? Yes. “Then he kicked off immediately with that weird daddy name-calling after you introduced me as your dad looking smug as hell and it just… Went south from there.” He sat back a little “but like I said, me being upset’s no excuse” unfortunately since this morning Fane had slid back to the rut of feeling like he had no real authority to be upset over any particular matter. It was entirely his fault in his mind after all. Maya’s earlier words aiding to cement that fact home. “I know I said it earlier, but I really am sorry for ruining your day… I never meant to upset you but I hurt you indirectly, which is maybe worse. You were having a good day and I ruined that.” Was it? Fane had never sought to maliciously harm Maya, but the guilt that weighed him down left him feeling like an atrocious person regardless he’d hurt her and that was all that mattered. “But either way I should’ve handled it better.” Should’ve thought before he even went over, and suddenly the multitude of what ifs he’d been contemplating for the day came back and his eyes dropped. He’d explain the rest in a little bit, but he wanted to explain today first off to at least give some context to why he’d acted the way he had.
Maya came to sit next to him on the bench and listen. In Fane’s face she could read his guilt. Knowing him he probably felt more than he was truly responsible for. Or rather than she thought he was responsible for. She didn’t entirely know how she ought to feel. This was mostly uncharted territory for her. She was still a little angry, but mostly embarrassed and scared. She nodded when he finished, digesting his words. Shrugging she replied, “I can salvage the day, done it before.” Maya sighed, “But am I really supposed to believe that you actually didn’t mean to start anything? Because the look on your face when you came over suggested an entirely different thing.” She could look back on that moment more clearly now that she wasn’t affected by her own magic.
There wasn’t much she could do at the moment about Ryden’s behavior, which had been obviously antagonizing. She would have to talk to him about that. The only thing they could deal with now was how Fane had acted. What scared her most was that she would end up caught in the middle. That she would have to keep parts of her life separate something she had done before and had no desire to do again. Whatever was between Fane and Ryden didn’t have anything to do with her, but she supposed this was what having a family meant. She didn’t want that to be what it meant.
What she had no interest in talking about was the true roots of why she had panicked. It had nothing to do with any of it, a remnant of a person she’d been a long time ago. It had surprised her too. If she had known she just would’ve walked away, gotten herself out of the situation before she embarrassed herself. It was too late for that now though and all she could do was try to move forward, do better next time.
“Like I said, I was upset, but I didn’t come over looking to pick a fight with him,” he wasn’t entirely sure what she meant by the look on his face, he didn’t actually have a mirror in that instance so whether or not his expression conveyed something else he wasn’t quite so sure. He didn’t remember doing anything specifically to provoke Ryden beyond looking at him and offering a hand in greeting. Nothing specifically malicious in looking at another person was there? Not in his opinion, but how it might’ve been interpreted he couldn’t say but there had been no intent to cause a scene. “Honestly, I wasn’t” and if there was one thing Fane would stand by it would be the fact that he would own up right here if he felt responsible for a situation, but in this instance he couldn’t take responsibility for starting it “and if that’s how it came off I’m sorry, but in terms of starting anything I don’t feel responsible for that. Come on, as soon as he found out who I was to both you and Dani he kicked off like a child…” His voice remained relatively neutral on the topic but a small frown pulled at his features betraying the lingering mixed bag of emotions he felt regarding everything that had happened earlier as he looked down, threading and unthreading his fingers to give him something else to focus on presently. “I can stand humiliation to a point, but what he said wasn’t fair to either of you, Grace or me and if I felt like I was responsible for starting things I would say so right here, on my life.” Fane paused his fingers momentarily stilling before he continued to speak, noticing a stray thread on his sleeve that he started to pick at “but you were there, I barely said two sentences to him. Yet in the space of that time he insults me, he tells Grace-- my ex by the way, that he’ll spank her and then went on to insult me again while acting like he didn’t care about anything other than taking a shot after shot.”
But none of that mattered really, nor did the fact that he was genuinely upset over everything that had happened. Surprising what a few well-placed words in front of the right people could do. So maybe he’d just have to swallow poison in the hopes of salvaging something. He’d done it before, why should now be any different? Dani and Maya’s happiness would always be ranked above what he felt, his own petty grievances inconsequential in comparison to their security. So considering he’d wrecked it, he’d just have to find some way to fix it and the easiest way that he was most familiar with was dismissing what he felt. Still, he owed her an explanation “we met a while back during that magic blob time, he stole my Corvette and I chased him down on what I’m assuming is his bike… Long story short we fought, he bailed out of the car which along with me in it went into the lake...” He frowned a little, his shoulders tense never particularly liking talking about the times he got seriously maimed and injured but it played heavily into how he presently felt “my legs got caught in the cabin, when the car impacted I got thrown over the windscreen trim… Fractured ribs, smacked my head and I couldn’t feel my legs… It was... messy, really messy.”
Raising a hand he rubbed his neck slightly “I’m angry at him ‘cause of everything that happened that day, and magic or not, whether he remembers or not… I’m angry that he put me in that position.” It wasn’t the entire story of what he felt, but Fane wasn’t sure he was entirely comfortable divulging the other bits regarding he felt presently. Perhaps in a little while, but it was enough of an overview for now. “So, yeah, I’m sorry I upset you but I was seriously upset that a guy who I barely even know, that stole my car, left me to sink with it and get out alone, realised he’s messed about with you and Dani, my family, propositioned my ex because he thought it was funny, decided that it would be okay to insult me whilst wearing a shit-eating grin in front of my friends and family.” Fane heard his voice growing a bit tight in his restrained annoyance, and he had to take a moment before continuing, slow but no less serious “the people that I love, just to get a cheap shot and boost his own ego in the most unapologetic way.” He sighed, shaking his head slightly but none of that mattered did it? Of course it didn’t. Fane was the one clearly at fault in some roundabout way for simply walking over and being introduced. The fact Ryden wasn’t missing most of his teeth and choking on his own tongue a rather strong testament to Fane’s restraint, not that he commented about his internal consideration to knocking the wolf flat on his ass during the course of the incident.
Maya almost said first the echoes of what had been said to her. You couldn’t control what other people did only your reaction to it. But she didn’t because she’d swallowed enough poison that way. “You’re right,” she said instead, “What he said wasn’t fair. It was pretty shitty and I’ll take that up with him.” She didn’t say that in comparison to Fane’s age Ryden was a child or that Fane had threatened him or that she couldn’t really believe that Fane honestly thought there would be no confrontation if he came over. It didn’t matter. They couldn’t change what had happen. None of those things made Ryden’s behavior alright. What she cared about was whether or not it would happen again.  “But there’s not much you and I can do about that,” she added.
She listened as Fane offered the explanation she had asked for hours earlier. For a long moment after she didn’t say anything. “That’s not really fair, is it Fane?” she finally asked, “Those blobs were serious magic. I robbed a bank. I almost drowned. It’s not fair of us to be angry with people because we don’t want to be scared. And considering your complete lack of anger at me for getting you injured with a deliberate and conscious decision, I don’t understand why you’re angry with him for something that wasn’t his fault, not really.” Maya had said we because she had done it more than once. Angry was easy in comparison to scared. In fact, she added, “And speaking of which I’m sorry for cussing at you earlier. I was scared and embarrassed, but it wasn’t not fair of me to take that out on you.”
“As for messing about with me, I mean, I can’t speak for Dani, but yeah, he and I have had sex, completely consensual and mostly my suggestion,” Maya sighed and pushed her hair out of her face. “Honestly I don’t care. It was a shitshow. I was a shitshow, he was a shitshow. There’s no changing that now. His behavior towards you today wasn’t okay. But he’s been really good to me; if I hadn’t run into him I would’ve spent my birthday crying and drinking in an abandoned lighthouse by myself and I certainly wouldn’t have told you about it. And you’ve been good to me and I’m afraid that I’m going to get stuck in the middle, have to pick sides, keep parts of my life separate. And that’s making something that’s not about me about me, but I don’t want that. And clearly I am incapable of handling it,” she said, referring to her panic. “I’m not asking for you to be his best friend, I just...I don’t even know what I’m asking,” Maya sighed, “I don’t know what I’m doing here. I don’t know.”    
Fane knew well enough that he hadn’t behaved stallarly himself, and perhaps a part of him knew there would be some trouble but he hadn’t expected it to become so toxic so-- well, instantaneously. Fane had admitted that he could’ve handled the situation better, probably not even come over but it was what it was. Her apology was met with a small shrug, “it’s fine, I’m to blame and you were right to be mad at me… I don’t hold it against you” and he didn’t, not really.
However, once his explanation was given and Maya chose to call him out for not being fair he almost scoffed, but didn’t, instead he stared at the ground with such an intensity he might’ve burned a hole straight down to hell. He’d never claimed to be very good when it came to his grudges against other people and nor would he ever say he was. “Because when it came to you, to Shaw I walked in with my eyes open and entirely conscious of what the consequences might be, it’s one thing going in prepared for the possibilities but when you’re going in blind and then you come to and you can’t walk, that’s--” it was more than scared, “that’s not just scary Maya, that’s terrifying. With you Faye knew, she came with me and we understood the risks but that crash?” He trailed off knowing it probably made no sense without context, and Fane sat for a few long moments debating with himself. “I wish it was that easy… And maybe I’m stupid but it isn’t like that for me Maya… Not when he ran the very real possibility of killing me, and yeah, maybe that’s petty of me but it’s how I feel… Like I say… Magic or no if I never walked away from that crash I’m not the only one who would’ve suffered.” His voice wavered a little “Eowyn, Dani and you would be without a father and none of you would have even known about it… And Faye,” he hated to think on it but he knew well enough what would possibly happen “she’d be devastated.”
Rolling up the sleeve of his left jumper to the elbow he turned his arm the right way up revealing a set of bite marks on his wrist and a patchy scar of tissue roughly three centimetres wide and four long along with precise tracking and needlemarks in the crook of his elbow. Once he had shown her those he turned, grabbing his hood and pulling it down to reveal the top portion of a thick scar that vanished down under the fabric. Only after doing so did he let the material go and fall back into place a sudden amount of uncertainty radiating from him. “Only Faye knows the reason why I have these… Why I scar and why I don’t always heal as I should from injuries I get” he never felt comfortable talking to anyone about this and Fane blinked trying to muster up the courage necessary to broach the topic. “I-- Um-- A long time ago I was a soldier, I’ve-- been a soldier several times over but in this instance I was part of a supernatural unit sent into enemy territories… Special missions. We were-- we were good,” too good… Turning his hand over he pulled his sleeve back down fidgeting a little uncomfortably as he spoke, “one time we were on a routine mission, and I don’t really remember how-- All I have are moments but I was taken. What I was… Who I was… That person was purged…” in several ways that still affected him to this day but gory details weren’t necessary “everything that made me who I was, it was taken.” There was no point going into details, it wasn’t necessary nor did he want to trouble Maya with the things he spoke of “point being my captors used me for their own ends… Used me as their, their um- lab rat and ever since then I don’t heal.” He had slowly been pulling at the thread of his jumper, the act a focal point for him “at least not always and in some instances not completely and it means I have to be careful, moreso than others vampires… And it means when something like that crash happens… I can never pull myself out of it sure that I will be fine after it or that there won’t be consequences. This time I was lucky, but I’m not sure what I feel when it comes to Ryden… The reminder seeing him brings about, of brushing so close to something that would snatch everything I loved away from me, whether it was intended or not… I can’t just… unassociate that with him.”
And he was sorry he couldn’t, but it just wasn’t that easy. It wasn’t something that a day would fix and how Ryden had acted… The humiliation had brought him back to a place he’d barely survived. And maybe that wasn’t fair of him, but sometimes Fane couldn’t always be the bigger person as much as he tried. Still, he knew he had to address Maya’s concerns and finally he stopped picking at his sleeve shifted a little and turning more to face her finally looking at her directly and slowly reaching out to touch her arm to get her attention. “Look,” he sighed deeply knowing he would have to find some point or compromise somewhere “I’m going to be brutally honest, I personally do not like him in the slightest and if he’s going to keep that attitude he has. If he thinks it’s okay to insult me and chat the sort of shit he did today then I’m not sure I’m ever going to like him… I trust your opinion, but I only know what I’ve experienced and that’s the fact he’s a loud-mouth git.” Fane held up a hand slightly before she might’ve interjected continuing “however, if he’s your friend and if being around him makes you happy then I’m not going to ask you to choose between us and I’m not going to ask you to side with me over him. Doing that would just be cruel and-- I can only hope that’s one thing I’m not.” His fingers remained resting on her arm. “That being said, unless he is capable of learning to curb his mouth I can’t say he’s welcome around the estate… That is our home and if he was willing to insult me in front of Eowyn today I am not willing to risk him doing that near her again… At the end of the day, I’m only looking out for our family… And I will personally compromise to a point regardless of how I might feel about him, I’ll give him a chance but when it comes to keeping Eowyn out of harm’s way I’m not budging and if he crosses that line again... I hope you can understand that… I don’t want to put you in an awkward position but I won’t risk Wyn being around some guy I don’t know or trust.”
Maya listened quietly, tried to keep her mind from swan-diving into the intense guilt breeded by the knowledge that she got him even closer to getting him killed than she’d thought. She could understand the struggle of trauma linking itself to unrelated people or events. One didn’t have to look farther than today to know that. It was easy to forgive him for his part in it knowing with this new information. Anyway explanation or no she would’ve forgiven him. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been antagonized. She didn’t anything, mind too busy reeling from the revelation. She knew she couldn’t convince him out of the feeling either, especially if he didn’t want to be. And considering today it was fair not to want to be. Maya couldn’t ask that of Fane. She couldn’t ask him to face that kind of pain for her.
Maya was certain too that Ryden wouldn’t be convinced out of his obvious dislike for Fane. And she couldn’t really ask that of him either. He had his own side of the story, which was just as legitimate as Fane’s. At least she expected he did. There it was. Whether she wanted it or not she was going to be stuck in the middle. As Fane continued, made it clear that Ryden wouldn’t be welcome in his home Maya only nodded. There were parts of her life she’d have to keep seperate. She’d been toying with the idea of moving out too, getting back on her own two feet now that she could. This meant she would have to. It wasn’t something she wanted around Wyn either. Of course she wouldn’t tell Fane about her plan now. It would only make him feel worse.  
She felt tired again. And again for a long time she said nothing, gathering her thoughts, trying to figure out how to make peace. All she wanted was peace. “Well, obviously, I forgive you for that then,” Maya said when she finally  spoke, “Especially since I freaked out because it was like I was nine years old again listening outside the door to Officer Baer and the Chief of Police arguing about if I should testify, which had nothing to do with anything and was no one’s fault. Well, no one present.” It was more than that, but she didn’t want to get into it. “If that’s even something you feel you need forgiveness for,” she added because that was sometimes the thing about forgiveness people needed it for things they weren’t guilty of. “And I won’t ask you to face that kind of trauma on my behalf. That would be the shittest.”  
This was the other shoe dropping Maya supposed. This must be what it meant to have a family that sometimes you got caught in the middle. “And of course I have no plans to invite him over,” she added to reassure Fane. She almost argued again that despite his actions today Ryden was a good person. It was a fact she was certain of. There was no point in beating her head against a wall. She was right, she felt, to stand up for Ryden. She was doing it anyway, despite the voice which told her she could lose her family over it. She had lost people before for standing up for what she thought was right. She took a deep breath. This wasn’t Salem, she wasn’t fourteen anymore. It wasn’t fair to judge Fane by those standards. He wasn’t going to ask her to pick, he’d said as much. It was just harder to hear at the moment. “ I just…” she said and shook her head before starting again, “I’m so terrified of losing you, of losing all of it. And so much of that is because of other people, because of things that happened thousands of miles from here and a decade ago, which isn’t fair. It isn’t fair to you or to him. I should just let you hate each other as much as you feel justified, but I’m still that dumb kid who just doesn’t want to lose anyone anymore.”
She laughed bitterly, “And I don’t even know what the fuck I’m going on about. Fair. I mean, Jesus, if I know anything its that none of its fucking fair.” She shook her head at a loss for words, at a loss to what to ask for, to what she had any right to ask for. Because she had no right to ask for any of this. Maya should’ve just kept her mouth shut. Although if she hadn’t learned how to do that by this point she probably never would.
Fane didn’t wish to guilt her into anything, but he also knew that withholding the truth and roots from where his issue stemmed wouldn’t allow her to understand the depth of the reasons backing his behaviour. It didn’t justify them, but it was the fundamental reason why he was so bothered by it all. Where normally he would have been willing to live and let be, this just-- wasn’t something he was so sure he could easily bypass. Not without time, and not without evidence it was worthwhile. Maya’s word counted for something but actions spoke louder than words and so far Fane had seen nothing but a general shitshow from Ryden. Was his caginess regarding opening himself up to yet again be at the mercy of the other man make his wariness regarding them atter so questionable as a consequence?
The thing was, Fane was willing to make an effort and he had said as much. While home might’ve been a boundary that he wanted to set, feeling the need to have a certain personal restriction until he could reassess things from his perspective. The estate was a safe space for him, and Fane was particular and specific about the people he was willing to extend invitations to beyond the larger scale events he sometimes hosted. So it was hardly surprising that he made that one particular request. Maya’s statement of forgiveness however did little to tide over the lingering guilt that had built up from earlier this morning because even with it, none of this felt-- settled. “It’s more for the case I should’ve thought before coming over, I was wrong to put you in that position and I’m sorry that it caused you to panic… I promise I’ll try to have more forethought in the future” Maya had been doing so well in her time here in Soapberry that during the festivities and happiness around them it hadn’t been a consideration. Which was a faux-pas on his side and one that he didn’t feel too great about. But if they kept at it they would be going around in circles all day like this so, he chose to leave it at that.
He pressed his lips together, considering the issue at hand. “Look, the house is just-- it’s a safe space for me and I wouldn’t feel comfortable having him there that’s only why I ask” saying this wasn’t the easiest thing, but for Maya and for any other part of his family Fane was willing to try and find a way through to the other side. “How can I make things easier? I’m willing to give him a chance, I trust you and I trust your word” he looked at her levelly not as an adult speaking to a child but simply speaking to someone he held a tremendous amount of respect and admiration for. He trusted Maya and her judgement and if she said that Ryden Bolt was supposedly a good person then he was willing to extend an attempt at an olive branch. “I might not like him,” and it would probably make him god awfully uncomfortable to do so but for Maya he was willing to try and deal with that “but I’m willing to try and see whatever good you say he has.”
If there was one thing Fane appreciated it was Maya’s honesty, and that showed in how his expression softened and he sought out her hand giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’ve told you before, I’m not going anywhere Maya love and I’ll keep telling you that ‘til you’re sick of hearing it” his words were spoken quietly hoping that this would help reassure her. “You’re a part of this family, and nothing’s going to ever change that… Not some beef I might have with your friend or anything else, nothing,” he insisted a little more seriously then “hear me?” He gave her hand another squeeze slightly firmer this time, “and being stuck in the middle of things like this-- it sucks, but give it time yeah? It’ll either sort itself out or it won’t, I promise to try and not punch him but the effort has to come from both sides on this one… But whatever happens between him and me, I’m not going anywhere any time soon.”
“Its okay,” Maya said softly, “You didn’t know I was going to freak out that bad. Hell, I didn’t even know until I did.” Given that Fane acknowledged that perhaps he shouldn’t have come over in the first place she didn’t need to go over it anymore. It was over. They could only move on. She shook her head though when he tried to explain about the house. He didn’t need to explain himself. “No, it’s okay,” she said again, “I get it.”
She shook her head a third time as Fane tried to offer to get to know Ryden better or something. While it was true she’d like them to get along it wasn’t something she anticipated. If they tried to spend time together she imagined it would end up just the same. They were both stubborn, which maybe spoke to something about her.  “No, it’s okay,” she said, “I’m not going to ask you to do that. I’m not going to ask him to do that. Not for my sake.” Her fear, besides the fact it wouldn’t go well and leave them both feeling like shit again, is that forcing them together would only result in them resenting her.  
Looking up at him Maya gave a tired smile. “Yeah, good luck with me ever being tired of hearing it.” She sighed, knowing that she needed more reassurance than most people. “And when you get something like earlier it makes it harder for me to believe it,” she said, “But as long as you’ll still have me I’ll be okay.”
It was the least he could do, and perhaps he might be able to figure some compromise in the future but presently he wasn’t sure he would be entirely capable of doing that. He’d need time to process what he felt, to sort it out into some semblance of an order, but what he said to Maya was the truth. He trusted her opinion and if only for her he was willing to at least try to eventually come to terms with perhaps reconciling. For now though he was feeling more inclined to just heading home and staying there. He’d been looking forward to the party but in all honesty his mood had rather drastically fizzled out.
With a small nod of assurance that he’d happily tell her however much she needed, Fane pulled her in for a hug. Wrapping his arms around her and hugging her tight he held on for a few moments before letting her go. “‘Course we will. Now, you’ve probably got the rest of the day to enjoy” he didn’t want to stop Maya from having fun, “I’m going to head home… But I’ll see you around hm? And if you need me just drop me a line and I’ll come get you.”
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tessatechaitea · 7 years
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Dark Nights: Metal #1
I thought this series was going to be about how the meta gene is tied into Nth metal and not some fifteen year old metal head's idea of a cool black light poster.
Apparently time travel makes you vomit blood.
I thought the page after that scanned page was going to declare the new age was the Age of the Bat. But it didn't. It declared it was the Age of Metal! After reading that, you're supposed to make guitar noises with your mouth and bang your head and throw up some devil horns. You might even fuck a goat, if you're super cool. I'm not sure when the Age of Metal began. There was the Golden Age and the Silver Age and the Modern Age (and maybe some other metallic ages I don't remember). Perhaps the Age of Metal just means the time when superhero comics began? Or did the Age of Metal start when Peter David gave Aquaman long hair and a hook for a hand? Mongul currently has the Justice League battling for their life on his new Warworld. This takes place almost immediately after Mongul was punched into orbit by General Zod, so editorial demanded that Batman mention something about how this makes no sense, continuity-wise. He doesn't say it to help explain it! He just says it because editorial was all, "You know we're going to get buttfucked hard on this by the Fangenders¹, right? You need to get out in front of this shit." And Snyder was all, "Okay, okay. Batman will be all, 'This doesn't make sense!' But then Superman will be all, 'Stop over thinking things, you stupid fucking hypocritical moron living in your parents' basement and not adding any value to anything because all you do is destroy things with your Internet criticisms!'" And the editor was all, "Yeah, maybe that. But tone it the fuck down. You're sounding like Cullen Bunn anonymously defending his shitty Twat Lobo comics on harsh but hilarious blogs offering valid critical reviews." The Justice League's powers have been rendered inert by...well, it doesn't really matter what by. It's the same old shit as usual. The heroes are too powerful so to create dramatic tension, you remove their powers. Snyder does offer a few ways that their powers can be dampened by invoking red sons and vibration domination technology and Gorgon pasties just so the Fangenders can nod enthusiastically and think, "Yep! Yep! They should have seen this coming! This is just like Justice League #45²! Idiots." Of course, those are the powers with fairly easy explanations for how to suppress them. He doesn't explain how he's keeping Cyborg from utilizing his Mother Box technology. Or how Green Lantern's ring isn't working (although, I mean, really? It's probably just out of charge like in 95% of Green Lantern comic books). And how did he stop Aquaman from talking to fish? Oh, you know what. Mongul probably decided Aquaman could keep his stupid power. Oh, just so Scott Snyder doesn't feel like he was being too subtle, I got it. It's the Metal Age and the entire Justice League is being forced to wear armor by Mongul!
Some of it is super sexy titty fucking armor!
Toyman has also been captured by Mongul, probably because Scott Snyder needed enemies that the Justice League could kill without Batman getting on everybody's dick about murder. Toyman tells Mongul the name of the toys that will kill the Justice League is Fulcum Abominus. Mongul pulls out his dick and begins sucking it because he's smarter than me and that apparently means something to him. I shouldn't feel too stupid though because why should I have known what a fulcum is? I've never owned a Warworld and seemed to have missed the adolescent phase where Roman soldiers intrigued me as much as women's nipples. I suppose the name means the Justice League will be battling an abominable shield wall? A close formation made up of Yetis? Or maybe just a few transforming robots.
Judging by Mongul and the crowd's reaction, the Aegea Formation must be where the Justice League creates an illusion that they're running away. Either that or this is Greg Capullo's way of telling Snyder to fuck off because he's going to draw whatever the fuck he wants.
I'm not four years old so the crowd chanting "Do not run! Pain is fun!" doesn't amuse me. It does make me question why I've spent so much of my life reading comic books though. It's at this point during the battle that I need to apologize to Scott Snyder. It's my first apology of the new season but it won't be my last. The problem with writing the critique as I'm experiencing the "art" is that I tend to point out flaws before the artist has a chance to finish. It's like when I'm in the middle of cleaning a floor and somebody thinks they're the next George Burns and says, "You missed a spot!"³ So, um, my apology is that I assumed Snyder couldn't think of ways to dampen the powers of the other Justice League. But he continues explaining how they've all been shut down. Green Lantern's gauntlet has a mini-black hole. And you know what they say about black holes when they're not making anus jokes, right?! Not even Green Lantern light can escape! Plus it's a mini-black hole so don't worry about how heavy and dense it is. Even though it must be even denser than a non-mini black hole if it can still capture light in its gravitational pull. And Aquaman has lost half of his strength to the vambraces made from glass forged in the heat of Apokolips! Each creature in the Fulcum Abominus has been designed to counter one of the Justice League members. So not only do they not have their usual powers, they have to battle creatures that wouldn't care if they had those powers anyway! Wonder Woman can't even outsmart hers because it has a Cassandra Engine! And we all know what that means! Well, most of us do. Those who don't can always watch old reruns of Red Dwarf. I hope the solution to defeating the Fulcum Abominus isn't to switch opponents because that's been done fifteen thousand times. Although it would be more original than just having Batman defeat them all after the rest of the Justice League are incapacitated. That's been done about sixteen thousand times. I can't think of any other way this conflict might end. Maybe it'll have something to do with the metal! Or maybe Toyman will have programmed the Fulcum Abominus to turn on Mongul once he's done sucking his dick. He'll be drained and distracted at that point! Batman comes up with a plan to be eaten by Toyman's machines. He comes up with it the way Dr. House came up with solutions to his medical mysteries. You know how somebody would say just the right word and he'd sort of glaze over into a fugue state for a few seconds before snapping back and yelling, "I am a genius! You people are all idiots! And this show shits on the scientific process to pander to people who believe intuition is some magic panacea that comes out of the ether!" Anyway, Wonder Woman says "Formation" and Batman is all, "That's it! Formation! These machines were formated by Toymanster! If I reach into the gaping maw of this one, I'm sure to find a WayneTech Emergency Shutdown Switch!" Or something. I mean, there is a button in the creature's throat and it does have a bat on it and Batman does push it. But it doesn't shut the thing off at all. It just makes it eat Batman. By pushing the buttons in the throat of the creature (which Batman realized by knowing that the command to form the fulcum formation was done by a cry from the back of the throat (because Batman knows everything (which means Toyman must know everything because you can't give subtle clues to people who know everything if you're a dumbshit like me...I mean Mongul))), the Justice League turn the machines into Voltron armor. This allows them to "form up" like the Roman formation and turn into a giant robot. Batman is the head, of course. Aquaman is the balls.
Is that why Snyder introduced the stupid rhyming chant earlier when it made no sense because the Justice League wasn't running? Just so Batman can act childish now? Eh, works for me! I mean, I'm the guy who chose to write that Aquaman was the giant robot's balls.
Instead of saying "ass" on the next page, Snyder inserts the title page and credits. Apparently the logo for Metal is a Satanic Hexagram. Can hexagrams be Satanic? They made it into a six pointed star but not so that it looks like the Star of David. It's got some bend to it. But the star is enclosed in a circle with symbols at each point. Those symbols are combinations of Justice League symbols and the bat symbol. So Wonder Wobatman and Superbatman and Aquabatman and Black Computer Batman and Green Lanterbatman and the other one. It's totally metal. Also the word metal is textured like the bumper on a pickup truck. Is that metal? I mean, it's metal, literally. But is it metal, 80's figuratively? When the Justice League return to Earth, they find a mountain has appeared in the middle of Gotham. Apparently it didn't kill too many people because the city somehow made room for it. But Batman is still upset by it for some reason. Probably because he's thinking about how he vowed to never let anybody else be crushed by a mountain after his parents were crushed by that mountain in that alley. The Flash finds a door inside the mountain with a pseudo-Challengers of the Unknown symbol on it. It's an hour glass with most of the sand in the bottom half. That's probably not a good sign, right? Inside the door, they find a cryogenic pod with five people inside. I bet one is a white woman, one is a white man with blond hair, one is a white man with brown hair, one is a black man, and one is white man with red hair! Nearby the pod is Red Tornado. They don't seem to recognize him even though earlier somebody mentioned Aquaman's hook hand. If they remember that, they should surely remember Red Tornado! The Blackhawks appear, led by Lady Blackhawk, Kendra Saunders. Get it?! She's still a hawk! Oh, Scott Snyder! You're so fucking clever! I bet Geoff Johns hates the fuck out of you. It always hurts to be usurped. I imagine. Nobody has ever been able to usurp me. Or wanted to? Lady Blackhawk tells everybody that this is the start of an invasion but she can't tell them who is doing the invading. That's called dramatic tension! It's also called bullshit writing. Just fucking say it, you resurrected nutcase! Instead of revealing cool shit, she spends a few pages taking everybody to Blackhawk Island where she has a map of Grant Morrison's Multiversity. She's all, "Nth metal is this thing that's behind all these things. It's such a crazy thing! Hawkman, the most boring hero in the Multiverse after Aquaman, has been studying it his entire lives! Yeah, you heard me right! I said lives! He decided it didn't come from anywhere in the known Multiverse through assumptions and poor science. Unless over the course of all his lives, he had time to use good science? You know what? Who cares? Just believe me when I say it must have come from somewhere else. He didn't know where until he binged Stranger Things last year and Eleven turned over the Dungeons and Dragons map. That's when he was all, 'A-ha! That's the one place on the map I didn't search! The other side of it! The dark side of it! The Dark Multiverse! And now that I've decided that the known Multiverse is much like a two dimensional representation of it, the other side of the map must exist in reality! A Dark Multiverse!'" "I'm not the worst," mumbled Aquaman.
Ha ha! Wanting proof! How silly!
I like how Kendra wanted proof of Carter's theory which caused Carter to want to prove her wrong. What the fuck does that mean?! You don't prove somebody wrong who just wants some evidence that your theory is reality! You just prove your stupid theory. I already hate this new version of Hawkman. Yes, I'm biased because I've hated every version of Hawkman so I didn't have far to go to hate this one. But I hate him more passionately than I ever hated the other ones and I haven't even met this one yet! The other ones I just sort of hated for no real reason. This one is a scientific idiot. Kendra isn't much for science either. She just found the word wagon over and over again because a wagon would carry a dark beast named Barbatos from the Dark Multiverse into the Non-Dark Multiverse. And then she decided that Wagon was the root of the name Wayne (you know, wainwright? Wains! Wagons!) which must mean that the Wagon was Batman and he was the bad guy. That's when the Blackhawks pull their guns on Batman. But they don't shoot him in the face for some reason. Some heroes they are! Red Tornado begins screaming about the door being left open which probably saves Batman's life. He then flips the fuck out which means he'll be dismembered in a few pages. His stories always end in dismemberment. Batman steals Kendra's Nth Metal and races back to the Batcave to destroy the Multiverse in the pursuit of knowledge. The Nth Metal reveals Carter Hall's diary hidden in Wayne Manor. It's there to tell Batman he was right to pursue whatever he's been pursuing. The mysteries of the Nth Metal, I guess. And once he's been proving right, he's visited by Dream of The Endless. Well. I guess Snyder can still surprise me without me needing to make a snarky comment about how dumb his twist is. I don't know why Dream has appeared but it's pretty cool that he's been allowed back into the regular DC Universe. I'll say this about Metal: it's entertaining and interesting. But it's also built upon the dumb shit that Scott Snyder likes to build his retcons. So far we've learned that the Meta-gene is actually the Metal Gene because Nth Metal is behind all superpowers. We also learned that Nth Metal couldn't have come from anywhere in the DC Multiverse so it must have come from the other side of a two-dimensional representation of the Multiverse. I know that's just a metaphor but I bring it up because it's a metaphor from Stranger Things. The other big twist is that Wayne means wagon. In both the meta/metal and wagon/Wayne plot elements, we see the thing Scott Snyder bases almost all of his stories on. He starts small by looking at words and their meanings to expand those observations into a bigger story. Usually I'm just annoyed by them. But this time, he gets to really fuck around with the DC Universe by making this Nth metal/meta-gene connection and I'm always up for a good buttfucking of the DC Universe. Oh yeah! How can I mention all the word play without mentioning the Dark Nights title of the series? Oh, probably because it's been used before. But this time it's the Dark Nights bring the Dark Knights of the Dark Multiverse! It's boner and/or lubrication inducing! _________________________________________________________ ¹"Fangenders" is my inclusive term for what was once thought of as Fanboys. Being an obnoxious comic book know-it-all knows no gender boundary. ²I don't actually know what happens in Justice League #45. But if you were instantly angry at my lack of knowledge, you're a Fangender. That was the whole point, dum-dum! ³I have a floor cleaning business. This isn't just an analogy of a thing I rarely do. It happens all the time. I'm getting angry just thinking about it! I should probably footnote George Burns as well but what's the point? You have access to the fucking Internet, lazy!
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