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mcmystery · 3 years

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We Can’t Have One (long post)

(Cerise and her Husband backstory)

After trying for a baby, Cerise and her husband can't seem to make results. They try often and Cerise keeps a supply of pregnancy tests, but every time, it’s a negative or worse, a false positive.

After many attempts Cerise suggested that maybe something is wrong with her. Her husband says if she feels that way, then maybe a doctor can help find the reason for the unknown problem.

They make an appointment and go see the earliest visit available. The doctor runs through some questions and asks about their intimate lifestyle. To which the husband is embarrassed about saying, but Cerise confirms that they do try often, daily some weeks or a few days out of the week with longer sessions.

The doctor tells them they'll run test on Cerise and mentions they'll need test samples from the husband. He agrees not thinking much of it but was being supportive for Cerise.

They wait a few hours and are called back. The doctor gave the good news, Cerise is perfectly fine and is a condition to have children. Before the doctor can speak again Cerise questions why the no results, to which the doctor carries on his sentence saying that, Cerise is fine...but the husband, unfortunately, cannot produce what’s needed to conceive a child for Cerise.

The husband slips into silent shock, the doctors words mumble in the background as silence fills his mind. Cerise listens thoroughly to the doctor’s explanations while holding her husband's hand tightly.

As they get home, there's a deep weight in the air. Cerise tries to comfort her husband but he responded with silence and avoidance. He states he wants to be alone.

He makes his way to his study and sits at his desk. His eyes stare blankly into space. A voice in his head says a drink could ease the pain. His eyes glimpse to a little bar with some bottles of alcohol. His hand trembles towards it. He stops himself and balls his fist, hitting it harshly against the desk, resisting the temptation to drink. No, it won't numb anything, it won't fix anything. The answer is still the same. He failed to give Cerise what she's wanted. He failed to give her the only thing she's asked of him.

His eyes become blurred. His memories became blurred. All of the happy smiles and sounds of laughter of her in his head are being blurred. He didn't deserve to be hers, someone who couldn't even do this one thing.

His hands covered his face as he began to sob on his desk. Slowly sulking down and crying into his arms. All her smiles in his head made his heartache that much more. The tight painful suffocation in his throat as he wept. The thought of her being better off with someone else, someone who could give her the one thing she asked for. This thought stabbed him again and again as it ran through his mind. A life without her is painful enough, but a life where he can't fulfill her desires feels all that more unbearable.

Slowly he drifted in and out of sobs to quiet tears that never seemed to end. And the study began to darken as the sun set and brought in the night. He would let the tears continue to run as his eyes drifted weakly to sleep.

"...ney... oney... hey, honey?"

He awoke to hear Cerise, she knelt next to him as he lifted his head a bit to see her.

"I know you want to be alone, but... come eat something. I made your favorite little cake."

He rose slightly, arms stiff from sleeping awkwardly on his desk. Head hung and feeling numb but painful at the same time. Cerise held his cheek and stoked it gently to comfortably wake him.

"C'mon, honey, let me cut you a slice." She held his hand and tugged it towards her. They both stood and she began to walk letting her hand slip out of his grip and she exited the study. He soon followed her slowly.

The house had a faded smell of cinnamon and vanilla. He sat at the dining table and just space out onto the tables surface. Cerise made noises in the kitchen as she prepared a plate for her husband.

Cerise came around and present a piece of coffee cake to her silent lover. He looked at it and the image of it blurred in his mind. Always so considerate of him, always finding a way to do these things for him. But he couldn't do that one thing for her, this one thing.

"Milk or coffee, honey?" Cerise asked, but when no response came, she repeated, "Honey?"

He came to and responded, "Ah, um... milk."

Cerise strides away to retrieve what he asks for, and he felt guilty. Again, making eye contact with the slice of cake and just, guilt.

"Here you go, dear." She said as she brought herself a slice and sat next to her husband. She waited for him to start eating.

"Something wrong with the cake?" She asked, he felt guilty, but responded by shaking his head no. A cake is for celebrating, but today didn't feel like something to celebrate. She went out of her way to make this, so again, the guilt slipped back in.

He picked up his fork and took a piece. He took a bite and as he tasted the fluffy texture the familiar flavors came to him. They were filled with love and sadness. He felt guilt most of all, having to swallow this piece, like he swallowed all of Cerise's desires into a void that he could never fill.

Tears streamed down his cheek as he ate that first piece. Cerise took notice.

"Oh, honey...are you alright? Is the cake bad?" She said disappointment on her tone.

He wanted to laugh, this silly girl, whose only ever loved him and done everything he's asked, questioned the flavor of a cake rather than questioning his pathetic excuse of being a man, who can't fulfill his wife's one request. Guilt was the most looming shadow over him.

Before Cerise could speak again he cut the mood with one response.

"I'm sorry."

Cerise looked at him, worried. "If you don't want cake, it’s okay honey, you don't have to eat-"

"I couldn't give you a baby."

Cerise stopped in her tracks.

"You asked one thing from me and..." tears that couldn't stop dripped on the table and onto the cake. "I made a promise to you that I can't fulfill."

Cerise reached out for his hand and touched it, "Honey, it’s alright-"

He pulled away, "It's not!"

Silence and guilt emitted from him. "...it's really not."

He balled his fist until the knuckles were white. "You never ask me of much or close to nothing. I leave you here by yourself with no one to love. Because of me, we can't go out, I can't court you like a husband should, but I desperately want to. Cerise... I wanted so badly to give you, us, something we could share our love together and... I promised you that. I promised..."

"Honey, you didn't know. How were you supposed to know?"

"Either way, I've failed you. I failed our marriage-"

Cerise shot up from her seat. "Don't say stuff like that!"

He was taken back by her sudden outburst.

"Don't ever say stuff like that!" She shouted at him; tears welled in her eyes. "You didn't fail me! You could never fail me! How could we have known? Me? You!? It's not your fault! And I don't love you less because of it. Yes, I asked for a baby, but it’s not the end of the world if we can't have one. We still have each other; I still have you..."

His heart clenched from her words. His mind raced with guilt, with looming responsibility. For how long they would be until the knocks of death came and separated the two. A child would comfort the loneliness if anything were to happen to either of them.

"I don't... want you to be alone, Cerise." He spoke.

She came and knelt next to him, "I'm never alone, you're always with me..." she showed her pinky, tied in a red string that threaded back to his. Her Semblance, a reminder of their fated bond.

"I will always love you, even when your away, I still feel your love, your heartbeat, everything. Just because I asked of something that we couldn't get isn't the end of the world. We must readjust. Maybe there's other ways to fill our home, the doctor did say there was methods that are still in development, they aren't 100% for sure. But it's an alternative we can try?" She tried speaking words of comfort, for both of them.

"...If you want to try them, I'll do it. Anything, I'll do for you, Cerise." He gripped her hand and pulled her towards him.

Cerise stood and let her hand be nuzzled against his face, he gave small kisses that were filled with apologies and deep affection.

Cerise spoke, "I'll have to do research before we commit to something like that, but..." she let her other hand run through the side of his hair as he kissed her hand. Her hand guided to his cheek as she led him to face up at her. "For now, let's just spend some time together, okay?"

He nodded up at her, slowly stood and embraced her tightly. Cerise wrapped her arms around his neck and letting him have his moment hugging her.

"We can spend some time together, right?" Cerise whispered into his ear. "Not to, you know, but for us. Tonight, can we?"

He nodded at her small request. Picking her up and held her against him, kissing her cheek and whispered little apologies as they left their desserts on the table, barely touched.

He walked, holding her towards the bedroom, at least he knew a request like this from her was something he could do. A request from Cerise like this, he would pour all his love, devotion and cherished feelings for her into. Hoping it would ease the pain that the both of them shared.

---------

Thanks for reading if you made it this far! Not much of a writer so sorry for any errors or weird phrase that might not make sense haha

#mcmysteryart #rwby oc #writing #writing concept #Between Destiny #Cerise Han-Brunswick

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cryptidprimalslayer · 3 years

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eh i just wanted to write abit about Ney’s Coerthas doings.

Being a floater is fucking great. i do what i want and go where i please. only obligation is to myself. i usually stay in Dravania cause it’s better then the snow sometimes. but i still need the frigid touch to soothe the fire in me. i set out for tailfeather to get some cloth i need for cleaning my rapier, i had to take it off my arm so i’m one armed. i’ll just have to use my claymore for if I’m attacked. i get to the settlement and find out there’s no cloth i use only this really coarse kind that will surely scratch up my blade, and it’s super expensive as well. i look made of gil to you? fine i guess i’ll have to cross into Coerthas after all, i aint dealing with the Gnath. Let’s hope there’s no overzealous Temple Knight looking to take down a heretic. Honestly can i not help a dragon without being marked for death? this is complete bullshit. They are like family to me, and you always protect family. i had to come all the way to Falcon’s Nest to see if i could get some damn cloth. i was only waylaid by a few Knights but a horde of Her heretics, that woman needs to stop honestly. i don’t give two shits about that damn city i only care about living in this tundra. i was going about my business with a merchant when i was approached and talked to by a Knight. well this can’t be good.

it wasn’t good. i’m actually surprised you didn’t kill me where i stood. i’m being extradited to Ishgard for some trial shit. i managed to shake my captors in central Coerthas then went off to Providence Point to think of how to get back to Dravania. i took a seat on the cliff overlooking that city and leaned against one of the weird rock formations. i’ll need to lay low for awhile, possibly indefinitely, while they are sure to sniff around the Western lands. idly throwing rocks while strategizing i came across an unusual stick with leaves on it. it looks really unassuming and i almost chucked it like the rest of the rocks. Something gave me pause though, i swear i’ve seen this design somewhere before. but where? i pocketed it and reached over my shoulder for the hilt when i heard footsteps approaching. of course someone can see me around these rocks, my ears are like a mile high. when the footsteps got closer i realized the sounded light, this isn’t an adult behind me. a stretch of silence later i emerged from behind the rocks to see an Elezen child staring back up at me. she looked super young and also a bit frightened so i knelt to get eye to eye. “Hey little girl what are you doing up here.” no response, she must be shy. An idea struck me so i pulled out the odd stick. She recognized it and looked relieved to see it. “I take it this is yours then? May i ask what it is?” i hand it over and again got no response. “Where are your parents?” why do i keep asking questions when i know she won’t answer them? i kept fruitlessly asking her things until two sets of footsteps approached. Instinctively shoving the girl behind me i raised to my feet and waited for them to arrive. it was two men, an Au Ra and a Hyur, and by the looks of it are both Dark Knights. Does Ishgard employ this trade? They were both looking down at the girl by my legs so i glanced at her as well. “Do you know these men?”

“Yes so give her back.” i shot a glare at them since i didn’t see who spoke and pushed the child further behind me.

“I don’t remember asking you a goddamn thing!” they didn’t appreciate me holding the child from them but until i am convinced she is safe with them, she aint going nowhere. the girl tugged on my pants so i looked down and she nodded at me that she did know these two. “Are you absolutely positive?” they didnt like coach her into staying with them? is she safe? She again nods so i pushed her forward and watched her run for the Auri. even though i was abrasive towards them the Hyur still thanked me for holding her so i bowed in response. i didn’t see any reason to try to make further conversation so i returned to sitting on the cliff and planning. i think i heard them leave but i didn’t check cause my involvement was done.

wasn’t the last time i’d be seeing them though. i bumped into them several more times evading the Knights after my heretic ass. the child even saved me a time or two with that odd stick. so it’s a conjury weapon, gotcha. i can do a bit of healing as a red mage but it’s not as potent as white magic. after that i didn’t see them for awhile so i prayed Oschon would keep them safe on their travels. i still needed to get back to Dravania to lie low.

i couldn’t run forever i knew that but i didnt dream theyd be specifically looking for heretics tryna cross into the Shroud. it’s out of your jurisdiction isn’t this up to the Shroud officials for if you can clap me in irons? this time the extradition was thorough and i was hauled to Ishgard. what kind of trial am i to be put on? just because i saved a dragon and killed some of your men that were deaf to reason doesn’t mean i’m plotting your downfall. and i told them that. my shouting attracted a few ears and some looks, then i heard someone call out and antagonize the Knights holding me. i recognize that voice. that’s the Dark Knight with that little girl. why are you fighting them when it’s pretty obvious they throw death sentences to anyone who so much as breathes wrong. this is tyranny. Straight tyranny. they carted us off to some building and it appeared like this might be an actual court session. now why would you do this when i already said the aforementioned deaf to reason? i’m sorry what...... you said a trial by combat? sounds barbaric to me. we were called heretics so nothing new, then when told to step forward and claim our right to this combat i learned the man’s name was Fray. interesting name but i cant judge when mine sounds weird as well. whoa hey hang on now we weren’t accused by no men in white why are they stepping up to fight us? i looked over at this Fray but helmets suck for reading emotions. why did i expect them to play fairly? Where’s the Knights that hauled me here? lemme fight them. he drew his giant sword and stood ready so i sighed inwardly and got myself into stance as well. after this i never wanna see this fucking city again.

i haven’t felt that close to death since childhood. it was very uncomfortable. they sent us out and i didn’t need a formal invitation to hightail it the fuck out. i cleared the so called Gates of Judgement, friendly name, and only then did i have to take a knee. gods above my body is heavy as shit suddenly. i held my side and my hand came away bloody. oh well that explains a few things.

Fray

i was making my way back to our little camp when i came across that Viera, Ney, using his claymore as a walking stick trailing blood. quickly catching up to the hobbling man i sat him down to patch that up. “Now what in Fury’s name made you think to just keep walking instead of healing yourself? do you want a pack of wolves on you?” he grumbled at me to shut up and watched me tend to him. “Guess i owe you another one. i would’ve died if not for you at my back. where you headed? least i could do is make sure you get back home without these wounds reopening.”

“Dravania.” You live in the dragon’s land? no wonder they think he’s a heretic. “I live wherever i wanna live for your information.” he’s a rather snappy man. there’s no doubt in my mind this impale wound was meant for me. even the angle it was spells fatal but somehow he’s still alive. escorting this man home truly is the least i can do. I should be dead. i don’t know why that’s weighing so heavily. “I’m feeling it too Fray....... a dance with death isn’t to be brushed off so easily.” He stood and puts his sword away. “and you don’t owe me shit. i took this wound so you could see that little girl grow up. no one should have to raise themselves.” Speaking from experience are we? it was silent as we made our way across the highlands and into Dravania. i dropped him at a place called Tailfeather with him insisting he could make the rest of the way, so i turned and went on my way. What a character, i wish him well.

#ffxiv #fray myste #ffxiv drk #Fray meets the cryptid

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joachimnapoleon · 4 years

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The Flutist

This latest addition to my and @histoireettralala‘s ever-growing Trifecta AU was partially inspired by our love of the fact that Michel Ney played the flute, and partially by a scenario we randomly came up with one day regarding baby Louise Murat being fascinated with Ney’s red hair.

... Also, partially by my constant need for Marshalate fluff these days.

Enjoy! :)

***

[Age: 1]

Michel Ney can't remember the last time he's been stared down this hard by a baby. But he is prepared to give as good as he gets; blue eyes lock on to blue eyes. The contest commences.

He hasn't spent much time around this one-year-old who bears such a striking resemblance to her father. In addition to sharing his eyes (both in color and mischief), little Louise Murat has also inherited Joachim's dark, curly hair, rounded chin, and thickset lips.

His attention span, too, apparently, Ney thinks, as the baby quickly grows bored with the stare-down; the wide blue eyes shift upwards. Settling on Ney's hair, they widen yet further.

Murat, holding the squirming child, grins at Ney.

"You're the first redhead she's ever seen."

Ney can't help but smile.

A plump little arm stretches towards him. A stream of incomprehensible baby gibberish babbles forth.

"I think she wants to touch your hair," Murat interprets without missing a beat. "Is that okay?"

Ney chuckles. "Sure, why not."

Murat gently lowers baby Louise, guiding her wobbly steps--she has only recently started walking--across the narrow gap on the sofa between the two men. A moment later she latches onto Ney's shoulder, mouth agape in wonder as she continues studying the red hair intently.

"Bababababa," Louise says, staring Ney in the face.

"My, aren't you a talkative one," Ney replies. "Just like your Papa." He gives her a wink.

"She is indeed," Murat says proudly.

A tiny hand reaches towards Ney's hair.

"Gently, sweetheart," says Murat.

"It's okay," Ney reassures him.

Her face full of wonder, baby Louise pets and pats the strange red hair, narrating the exploration with a series of random coos and gurgles. Murat is smiling in delight; he pulls out his cellphone to take a picture--no, a video! Caroline and Aglaé will both love this!

Ney is beaming too--until Louise suddenly grabs a fistful of his hair and gives it a much sharper yank than he would expect from a one-year-old.

"AHHH-D-D-D-D-D" Ney grits his teeth, bending down slightly towards the baby to alleviate the pulling. He sees Louise opening her mouth wide and--Wait, is she trying to--

Yes. Louise is trying to eat his hair.

"JOAC--"

But Murat has already dropped the phone and is hastily reaching over to gently extract Louise's hand from Ney's hair, scooping the baby up into his arms. The little girl looks, for a moment, as if she is about to cry--she flails towards Ney, whining--but Murat is an expert at this sort of thing, and has her distracted and laughing again in no time.

Twenty minutes later, Murat has to take a phone call.

"Go on," Ney says. "I can keep an eye on her."

"Thanks."

By the time he returns, the reconciliation is complete: Louise is sound asleep, snuggling against (and drooling on) Ney's shoulder. She hadn't even tried to eat his hair again.

Murat reaches out tentatively. "Here, I can--"

--Ney shoots him an indignant look, unconsciously pulling the slumbering baby away from her father.

"Um. Okay then," Murat says, chuckling as he runs a hand through his hair. "Just, you know, make sure to give her back to me eventually."

"Do I have to?"

"Yeah. I've gotten pretty attached to her."

That makes two of us. He and Aglaé have four sons, but no daughters. He'd always hoped a girl would come along for them eventually, but it didn't seem to be in the cards. Now all of a sudden, tiny Louise Murat, with her wild curls and curious blue eyes and grabby little hands, has stolen his heart.

Either Ney's face is betraying his thoughts far more than he means for it to, or Murat is a mind-reader.

"Tell you what," Murat says with a knowing smile. "How 'bout if we share?"

"Deal."

***

[Age: 6]

Ney has been invited to a tea party.

Although he isn't entirely sure whether "invited" is the right word.

Actual invitations can be declined. But Louise has no sooner "invited" Ney to the tea party than she takes him by the wrist and begins dragging him up the stairs. He looks down at BunBun, being likewise dragged along by Louise's other hand. The giant, floppy stuffed rabbit has been Louise's favorite toy since Murat brought him home from a recent trip to an amusement park with Ney and Lannes. Apparently BunBun has been "invited" to the tea party too.

"Is there going to be room for both me and BunBun?" Ney asks.

"Yes," Louise says. "It's a big table. And you're my special guest!"

"I thought BunBun was your special guest?"

"BunBun lives here," Louise says dismissively. "You're my special, SPECIAL guest."

"Well then," Ney says, "I consider myself honored."

They finally reach the top of the stairs and Louise opens the door to Letitia's room, where all the tea parties are hosted.

Already seated at the table are Letitia, Mr. Bear, and Murat, the latter scrunched precariously into a pink plastic chair that is clearly much too small for him.

"Greetings!" Murat says with a broad grin. "I take it Louise invited you?"

"Indeed," Ney confirms with a nod. "I'm a special, special guest."

***

[Age: 10]

Ney's fingers flutter expertly over the keys of his flute; the cheerful notes of Bach's Partita in A Minor peal through the air. It is a difficult piece, but also a long-time favorite, and after playing it for so many years, he has little need to reference the sheet music in front of him anymore.

He had fallen in love with the instrument at twelve years old. The only boy in his school band to choose the flute, Ney had endured some teasing from his peers for picking what they considered a "girl's instrument," but it had never fazed him. In his eyes, it was their loss for not being able to appreciate the flute's beauty and versatility.

By high school he was the best flutist in his class, and his talents ended up earning him a college scholarship. In college, they helped him charm Aglaé, who played the clarinet in the college orchestra. And the rest was history; as far as he was concerned, Ney could trace all of his current happiness to learning to play the flute during his childhood.

He had hoped one of his sons would develop a liking for it as well, but so far they were all gravitating to--Ney grimaces inwardly--the brass section. Where did I go wrong?

Ney concludes the final notes of the piece, and is startled to hear applause. He turns to see Murat and little Louise, clapping happily from the doorway.

"That was so pretty Uncle Michel!" Louise exclaims.

"Incredible!" says Murat. "Why have I never heard you play before?"

Ney blushes. "I rarely play in public anymore. Thanks though, I'm glad you liked it."

"Well you absolutely should play in public more! Our friends would love to hear it! Isn't that right, darling?" he asks Louise.

"Papa is right! You play so good!" the ten-year-old says.

"Thank you, my dear."

"May I hold the flute? I've never held a flute before."

"Yes, of course!" Ney hands Louise the flute. The child studies the instrument in rapt fascination, running her littlefingers over the intricate keys and tubes.

"Next year she'll be old enough to play in the school band," Murat says.

"Oh yeah? Has she chosen an instrument yet?"

Murat looks down at his daughter, who is still captivated by the flute. He smiles.

"Possibly." ***

[Age 11]

The following year when Murat informed Ney that Louise had, indeed, decided she wanted to learn to play the flute for the school band, Ney had scarcely been able to contain his joy.

"Also," Murat began, "she's wondering if you'd be willing to teach her some of the basics, before her formal lessons begin next month?"

"Tell her I would be delighted to."

Sitting in the Murats' beautiful garden now, he has, so far, taught Louise how to put the flute together, what all the various parts are called, how to clean the instrument, how to hold it, and proper posture. Now, for the most important part: how to make the sound come out.

He shows her how to form the necessary embouchure--the positioning of the lips in relation to the blowhole of the flute--and demonstrates with his own flute: a clear, sonorous B-flat emanates through the garden.

Louise tries to copy his face, and blows into her flute.

PPHHHHHTHTHHTHTHTHHHHH.

She tries again.

PPHHHHHTHTHHTHTHTHHHHH.

And again.

PPHHHHHTHTHHTHTHTHHHHH.

Louise is dismayed. It isn't working! Is her flute broken?

She hands the instrument to Ney; he holds it up, arranges his embouchure, and plays another B-flat.

"Your flute works perfectly," he says reassuringly.

Louise tries again and again, over and over, but still fails to get any sound to come out of the flute. Ney can see that she is getting frustrated.

"Don't be discouraged," he tells her. "This is usually the hardest part for every beginner."

"Was it hard for you too?"

"Oh yes. It took me hours to do it right the first time. And multiple lessons. I was in total despair after a while, but then I just... did it. Somehow. And once I made that first note, I didn't have any problems doing it again. It was like something had just clicked, and now I could play the flute. So, don't worry. You'll get it eventually, I promise. We're not going to give up. Okay?"

"Okay."

A little over an hour later, the PPHHHHHTHTHHTHTHTHHHHH suddenly morphs into a resounding OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

Louise lowers the flute, staring at Ney with wide eyes.

"Uncle Michel!! I did it!!! I'm playing the flute!!!!" she raises the flute again and, making the same embouchure as before, plays a full, crystal-clear note.

Ney turns away just for a brief instant, to wipe away a sudden, unexpected tear.

***

Ney makes his way towards the front row, his eyes finding Murat's curly hair in the dim light of the school auditorium.

"Glad you could make it!" Murat greets him. "Caroline and I saved you a seat."

"Thank you," Ney says, sitting down beside his friend. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."

Louise has been working very hard for the past six months, and tonight is her first concert with the school band. Additionally--and Murat had barely able to contain his excitement when he'd told Ney--she was going to be performing a duet with another student. The band instructor had been so delighted with the progress of both girls so far, that he wanted to give them a moment in the spotlight to showcase their developing talents.

"Is she nervous?" Ney asks.

"Honestly, I think she's more nervous about playing in front of you than anything," Murat chuckles.

Ney grins. "I can't imagine why. We practice together all the time!"

"Yes, exactly. She's worried she's going to mess up and disappoint you."

"No, that won't happen," Ney says firmly.

The concert begins. While the band of eleven- and twelve-year-olds performs its ensemble, Caroline dutifully records it on her phone, Murat sniffles and wipes his teary eyes with a handkerchief throughout, and Ney wallows in nostalgia, vividly remembering his own days playing with the school band. He smiles at the sight of Louise, so poised for her age, playing every song without missing a beat, as if she'd been in the band for years.

"My little princess," Murat wibbles during the break between pieces, falling apart into the handkerchief again. Caroline smiles and runs her fingers through his hair, but Ney can't help but notice her own eyes are glistening in the darkness of the auditorium.

"You should've seen him when Letitia played the Butterfly Queen in her first school play," Caroline tells Ney.

Murat gives a shuddering sob into the handkerchief at the memory; Ney, shoulders shaking, conceals his laughter behind a hand.

Now it is time for Louise's duet. She is introduced to the audience. Only the firm hand of Caroline on his forearm keeps Murat from springing up out of his chair to cheer for his daughter.

"Don't embarrass her, dearest," Caroline whispers reprovingly.

"Right. Sorry," Murat says sheepishly.

Louise and her companion begin playing Beethoven's "Ode to Joy," with the band instructor accompanying them on thepiano.

Ney smiles. The Ninth Symphony has always held a special place in his heart, and now it is going to be even morespecial.

Louise hits every note perfectly.

The audience applauds after the girls finish their performance. Louise curtseys, lighting up at the sight of her parents and Uncle Michel in the front row. She gives them a wave before returning to her seat with the rest of the band.

Murat is a mess. But Ney is surprised to find his own face suddenly wet too. He fumbles through his pockets for a tissue. Damn it all. Probably should've anticipated this.

Murat hands him a handkerchief.

"I always bring a spare," he explains.

"Thanks." Maybe I should too. What is happening to him? He's slowly turning into Murat--a big, blubbery, walking catastrophe. Oh God.

After the concert, he stoops to give Louise a hug.

"Did I do good, Uncle Michel?"

"You were brilliant, my dear. I'm more proud of you than I can possibly put into words."

Louise is beaming. She hopes he'll come with Papa and Mama to all her concerts from now on.

"As your special guest?" Ney asks.

"My special, SPECIAL guest."

Murat claps him on the shoulder cheerfully.

"In that case," he says, "you might want to order some handkerchiefs."

***End***

#Trifecta AU #Papa!Murat AU #The Flutist #the second fluffiest fluff I've ever written #@histoireettralala

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thefifthclown · 4 years

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Part 2, Chapter 2-Reunion and Confrontation, and the Demon of Wrath; Scene 2

Fifth, Pierrot, pages 223-231

January 30th, 2AM.

It was about three hours after Lemy’s revival.

Guided by the demon that dwelled inside the red wineglass, the “Glass of Conchita”, Lemy arrived at the northernmost point of Merrigod Plateau, the Apocalypse Cliffs.

It was an enormous chasm. He could faintly hear water flowing below. It seemed there was a river there.

But it wasn’t a height that he would be able to get away unscathed if he fell. Even if he was able to withstand the impact, Lemy couldn’t swim in the first place.

In the pitch darkness, Lemy cautiously pressed forward, careful not to misstep.

Just a bit further. Julia should be by the ‘grave of Pale Noel’ up ahead. Ney said to Lemy.

She was not the “Demon of Gluttony”. There was someone else, a different being, residing inside the Glass. Like Ney, he couldn’t see that being either. Only the voice spoke to him.

Lemy had no memory of having contracted with a demon. It was done without him knowing. So he had no real obligation to obey it. Even if it was thanks to them that he didn’t die before.

But if they told him that his mother was ahead, then he had to keep going. According to Ney, Magician and Sniper were heading that way too.

They would try to bring his mother to harm.

And he wouldn’t be satisfied until he’d gotten appropriate payback against the two of them.

After moving a little ways forward, he arrived at a place that had several large rocks piled up like a mountain. When he moved behind it, he found a cave entrance that went through the rocks.

Go in there. Your destination should be right through.

“But I don’t have a lantern with me.”

Don’t worry. It should be bright inside.

Ney knew a lot. But how did she come to be so well-versed in so many things? He’d asked her several times, but she would never tell him, dodging the question.

After timidly making his way inside, he immediately learned what Ney had meant.

The rocks gave off a faint light. Strictly speaking, the moss that was clinging to the rocks was the thing that was glowing. Thanks to that Lemy still could see inside the cave.

The cave took on a gradual incline that led downward. He advanced, taking care not to lose his footing. The air was pleasant, and a little chilly.

But when he’d made it all the way inside, the coolness gradually lessened. It was as if the temperature was rising.

At the other end, it looked as though the rocks were burning. They were giving off a different light than regular fire. It was blue. Blue flames were burning the moss on the rocks.

If he drew any closer, it might set his clothes on fire. Lemy continued walking while avoiding the reach of the flames.

As he did so—

“Wha--!?”

A ball of blue fire shot at him from inside. Lemy swiftly dodged it. The ball of fire impacted against the rock, and then gave rise to new blue flames.

--That’s the fire magic that the “Red Cat Sorceress” specializes in. It’s been a while since I’ve seen it. Take care, Lemy. You might not die, but if your body gets burned to ashes it might take some time to resurrect you.

He didn’t need to be told that. Even Lemy had put up with heat. He’d once gotten a burn on his hand when trying to help Phoebe with the cooking. He’d had to endure the awful, stinging pain for a few days until it had healed.

“Ney. Who is the ‘Red Cat Sorceress’—”

That’s your mother, Julia.

“--!? Mom’s a…sorceress?”

What’s surprising about that at this point? Did you think a woman that’s able to lead Pere Noel was an ordinary human being? And you yourself saw her magical tools in the treasure room before.

Thanks to the flames and light of the moss, the inside of the cave grew as bright as if it were midday.

Finally, he came out into a wide space. It seemed it was the deepest part of the cave. He could see some kind of pattern tightly carved into the surrounding rock.

There were three people there.

One was Julia. She had her arms spread, and both of her hands were wreathed in blue flames. There was an old grave marker behind her back, and on it was written the name “Pale Noel.”

There were two people who looked to be facing off against her. He couldn’t see them well from behind, but Lemy immediately knew who they were. Magician and Sniper.

“Mom!”

When Lemy called to her, all three people turned to face him at once. And all of them at once looked surprised.

“Lemy!? Why are you here…?”

His mother looked confused. Maybe she hadn’t wanted Lemy to come there. To keep him from getting involved any more than he was--

But it was too late for such sentiment. Lemy had already killed several people, taking his mother’s directions as his own will. He figured now that he’d come this far, he would see it through to the end.

And it wouldn’t be the “lowest end” that Magician had said it would be. He would kill Magician and Sniper, and then revive Pere Noel too. He was confident his mother would do well, even if she wasn’t president anymore. This story would close on Lemy and Julia’s victory.

Magician looked to be even more shaken than his mother. That was understandable, the foe she’d thought they’d killed appearing before them again in this way.

“Impossible…Gumillia surely dealt him the finishing blow. How…”

Looking upon them, Julia sighed as though somewhat put off.

“Hah…Have you learned nothing these past six hundred years? You must have realized that Lemy made a contract with the ‘Demon of Gluttony’. –A ‘contractor’ won’t die. You can’t kill them through normal means.”

“…What!? But, Venomania and Conchita—“

“You at least remember who it was that killed Venomania, don’t you? Yes, Karchess Crim…He had received a ‘certain something’ from his mistress.”

“--’A Vessel of Deadly Sin’.”

“Exactly. The only one who can kill a ‘contractor’ is someone else who’s similarly made a contract with a demon. The one who killed Conchita was the very ‘contractor’ herself. No matter how powerful your magic is, you are powerless before a ‘contractor’. As long as you aren’t borrowing the power of a higher-grade being than yourself.”

“That can’t be true. I’ve defeated a ‘contractor’ once before.”

“Are you talking about Presi?”

“Yes. The Minister of Internal Affairs of the kingdom of Lucifenia, and the man who tried to secure political power using Riliane when she was six years old. I killed him with my own hands, and he was possessed by a demon.”

On hearing that, Julia laughed scornfully.

“He was just using the power of the demon that had possessed Riliane. He wasn’t a ‘contractor’. So even you could finish him off.”

“That can’t…Then everything I’ve…done until now…”

“You could say that you’ve been very lucky. You must be, to survive this long, hardly ever having to face off against a ‘contractor’ directly. And you’ve had a god acquaintance who stepped in to save you when you needed it. But Held is no longer in this world. And what can the likes of Michaela do, having only just been promoted from a spirit? --There’s no one left to save you now!”

Right as she finished speaking, Julia released a ball of fire from her right hand.

It was headed straight for Magician, but it dispersed as though striking against an invisible wall.

“…I don’t need help from any god. Right now I—Elluka Clockworker—can defeat you all by myself.”

“—Don’t you dare go by that name!”

Elluka continued, ignoring Julia’s angry cry. “Julia—no, ‘Irina’. You aren’t a ‘contractor’ yourself, are you? So I shouldn’t have any problems.”

“Heh heh…Then strike at me with your favored magic. Even if you do, all you’ll injure is ‘Germaine Avadonia’’s body. You can’t finish me off.”

“—I’ll have to destroy the red cat that’s your real body. It looks as though you’ve hidden it somewhere…. I’ll have to take my time looking for it after I defeat you.”

Elluka started to gather lightning in her hand. Sniper followed suit, aiming her gun at Julia.

“Like hell you will!”

Lemy took out his knife and ran towards Elluka.

But Sniper quickly moved to cut Lemy off, and wordlessly fired her gun.

The gunshot reverberated through the cave. The bullet directly pierced Lemy’s heart.

“Guh…”

Lemy fell to his knees, clutching his chest. Blood gushed from the wound.

But he soon stopped feeling any pain. The wound steadily closed up, and the blood stopped.

“My recovery’s much faster than it was earlier…?”

That’s because you’re directly holding the glass. Our Lady’s protection is strong.

“Thanks for the explanation, Ney. …I got it, that’s pretty handy.”

Lemy stood once more.

“…Like a dead soldier. No—those monsters didn’t have such a quick recovery power.”

Sniper was expressionless, but there was a faint bit of sweat on her forehead. That wasn’t from the heat inside the cave.

Give up, Gumillia. Those who’ve contracted with the “Demon of Gluttony” have an especially strong healing power. Your precious gun is useless against Lemy!

Could Ney’s voice reach Gumillia? He didn’t know, but with a practiced motion she ejected all the bullets from her gun, and then loaded it up with different ones.

“If lead bullets are no good—then what about this?”

A beam of light fired from the gun, and enfolded Lemy’s body.

“Ghuh!?”

Assailed by an extreme pain, Lemy was blown backward.

“…”

--But after a few seconds, he once more stood up again. His clothes were in tatters, but there wasn’t a scratch on him.

“Even magic bullets, won’t work…” Gumillia murmured.

Blue fire shot towards her from behind.

“Could you not bully my child?”

Julia had released that fire. Gumillia had been focused on Lemy; when she noticed them and turned around, the waves of flame were already upon her.

Immediately afterward, there was a flash of green light and a thunderous roar. A much louder and more earsplitting noise than the one Gumillia’s gun gave off. In the span of a second, all of the flames had been extinguished.

“—Gumillia’s not your foe. I am, Irina.”

Elluka had her hand thrust out in front of her. She had dispelled the fire by releasing the lightning that she held there.

“…What a pain you are.” Julia once more summoned her flames to hand.

“You’re certainly persistent.” Elluka too began preparing to fire lightning again.

“…” Gumillia wordlessly pointed her gun at Lemy.

“That’s not going to work. You’re clueless, you know that?” Lemy gripped his silver knife.

And so—

Santa Claus.

Pierrot.

Magician.

And Sniper.

The curtain opened on a four-way duel.

<<prev------directory------next>>

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babybadger · 4 years

Text

Neymar Imagine- Daddy/Daughter Game

If there was one thing Y/N loved most in the entire world, it was her family. Seeing Ney and her daughter just being happy and being themselves was the sweetest thing. Being able to go see Neymar smile and play for his country while she has her daughter with her, well that was just the icing on the cake.

Y/N and neymar had known each other for years. Meeting through their friendship groups and partying a lot togerher. They had been together for nearly a year when Y/N found out she was pregnant. Terrified to tell Neymar, she tried to keep it from him but ended up cracking from the pressure and telling him. He couldn’t have reacted better.

Their babygirl Maria was born completely healthy and with a VERY large set on lungs apparently. Ney had never felt more in love, apparent from when Davi was born. He was completely obsessed with his new child.

Currently, the family were on a private jet to Brazil. Y/N had previously refused to take Maria to PSG games as she didn’t 100% trust the fans and didn’t know the stadium well enough for if something were wrong. Paranoid, protective mum problems. Although Y/N did promise Neymar that she would Maria to his next Brazil match, which happened to be in 3 days now.

Neymar had been leaving early for training every morning and Y/N therefore had Maria all day. She adored her daughter but to have her 7 month old with no help from others from 6 in the morning till 8 at night, was a lot of work for a newish mum. She has resorted to just lying down in the bed and trying to catch some sleep when her daughter breastfed. She would do anything for an hours sleep.

Neymar had just got home and he heard to noise. Slightly terrifying to him if he was honest. He was sure the TV would be on or at least that Y/N would be speaking in a baby voice to Maria. Instead he put his training bag in the cupboard and headed upstairs to get changed. When he entered the master bedroom of his Brazillian house, he was met with the most beautiful sight.

Y/N and Maria were both completely exhausted from the day and had obviously fallen asleep during Maria’s dinner. “Hey baby” Ney whispers to Y/N rubbing her back. “what time is it” she mumbled back, carefully rolling herself away from Maria who had started to wake up. “it’s only 7:30, got away early today. Come here i’ll put Maria down.” Y/N sat up and passed Maria to him before settling back down in the bed.

By the time Ney came back, Y/N was an inch away from sleep. “better get a good sleep, it’s the match tomorrow” Y/N smiled back at Neymar. She loved how excited he got when people were coming to see him play. “Night night babe” She replied curling into him just like maria did her.

Piercing screams woke the couple hours later. “I’ll get her” they said at exactly the same time before smirking at each other. They both stood up and made there way to their daughters room. “Morning grumpy baby”

Ney quickly picked her up and comforted her. “It’s alright, I know i know shhhhhh shh shhhh” he whispers soothing words in her ear. “mama mama” she cries out “I think she wants you” he chuckled as their baby held her arms out, practically throwing herself at Y/N.

By the time Maria was calm and all three of them had eaten breakfast, it was time for Neymar to go to the stadium. He left a kiss on both both of their foreheads and then jumped in the car to go. “just us till the game now bubba isn’t it?” Her daughter just looked at her with big doe eyes and you couldn’t help but laugh. She was just the cutest.

Y/N was finally in her seat at the stadium. A protected area because Neymar wanted to make sure that Y/Nwere still safe. He would do anything for his baby safety so this was nothing. The game went phenomenally with Brazil winning 3-0 and Neymar scoring twice.

The final whistle was blown and Y/N decided to bring her baby out the separated area and down to see Neymar. Carefully she straightened Maria’s hat and walked down the steps till she got to the edge of the pitch. Marcello, who was on the bench, noticed her almost immediately and got Neymars attention.

“Two goals today mister, you were on fire!” Y/N grinned at him as he walked over to her. The stadium was emptying rather fast but the team was still on the pitch waiting on friends and family. “Had to score one for each of you didn’t I?” he smirks back cheekily.

Ney puts out his hands and you pass Maria over the advertising board to him. He holds his precious girl on one shoulder and puts his other hand out to help you climb over the board. “I’m gonna wait here, you taking her over?” Y/N asked looking over at Neymar’s teammates who were waiting to see his daughter for the first time. He nodded and turned to walk away.

“Oh my god Ney, how did you create something so beautiful?” “She looks exactly like Y/N” “Shes literally the prettiest little girl” Neys teammates continue to say sweet things as Maria keeps her head tucked into her daddy’s shoulder.

“Come on princess, say hi!” Ney says to her in a high pitch voice lifting her above his head. The little girl errupts in giggles and stares at all the men around her who she could now see were looking at her after hearing her laugh. It might have been scary but she was with her daddy so she knew it was okay.

Neymar decided to bring her back over to you as she was begining to get bored. Tired of listening to her pai talk to his teammates, she was getting fussy. “Okay babygirl we are going back to mamai. shhhh calme calme” he repeating helping her relax before reaching you.

“Think a certain Maria needs a big old nap” Ney chuckled as he notices his baby’s eyes closing and her body starting to becoming limp. “I’ll second that decision Maria, come on Ney before i fall asleep on you too”

The parents giggled over their daughter as they made their way to the back of the stadium and out to their car. Getting home, Maria was placed at the centre of the bed with her parents either side.

“thank you for bringing her meu amor.” Y/N didn’t reply so ney lifts his head to see her already completely passed out asleep. He smiles and soaks in the image of his beautiful family minus Davi. He loved his life.

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fire1033 · 5 years

Text

Forget that!

Commander Xia looked over the soldiers and civilians now under xer command. With the pirates nearly at the colony, every capable adult from every species had been called in to stall for time until the fleet could mobilize. Xia knew that if they held off the pirates long enough, then the queen would wipe them out and all would be remembered. Xe stood up to address the troops. "You all know the stakes. The pirates will be landing soon, and we need to hold the off as long as possible. Though we will die and the colony will be destroyed.." "Fuck THAT!" A single voice yelled from the back, startling the commander. Who would dare interrupt a superior officer? Must have been a civilian to be so rude. "Who said that?" "I did," A young human, barely into adulthood stepped forward "and I stand by it. I have a wife and a newborn daughter in this colony. You think I am going to let a single pirate anywhere near them?" "I understand your sentiment, but I refuse to lie to my troops. They outnumber us 100 to 1, and they have the advantage of all being trained as a unit. Statistically.." "Fuck the statistics. I may be a scientist, and I may not be a soldier, but I don't care if they are 100 to 1 or 10,000 to one. Not a single pirate scum is coming near my family, even if I have to kill them all with my bare hands." "If you are quite done, get back in line. Any moment" At that exact word, the alarms started ringing and everyone ran to their battle stations, except the one human. He was nowhere to be seen. 'So much for killing them all' Xia thought, until We saw the human outside the colony, right in front of the pirates, drawing a line in the dirt. "WHAT IS THAT SUICIDAL MORON DOING?"

As the young man stood there, staring at an endless wave of pirates, he thought of his home, his wife and child, and knew that he could never allow a single person to hurt them. He raised his arms to hip level and started shaking them. "Ka mate, ka mate! ka ora! ka ora! Ka mate! ka mate! ka ora! ka ora!Tēnei te tangata pūhuruhuru Nāna nei i tiki mai whakawhiti te rā Ā, upane! ka upane! Ā, upane, ka upane, whiti te ra!" As he changed, the young man started by banging on his chest, then his knees and arms, all in a rhythmic fashion matching the words. He ended is by sticking out his tongue and glaring at the pirates. "I am at the edge of the shield, and not one of you shall make it past me. If you wish to try your hand, go ahead. My ancestors smile upon me this day, and will grant me the strength to destroy you. This is your last chance!" As the nervous clattering of mandibles turned to laughter, one of the largest pirates stepped forward and said "I will come kill you, and after I do, I will eat your kind and make them suffer for your insolence." The pirate rushed forward only to stop dead in front of the human, his leg missing. " I warned you, and you dare threaten my family? Humans are not feared for when they are in danger themselves. No, even we know that if you threaten a person's family you better be ready to pay the Piper. And the cost is your life!" With rage filled eyes, the pirate was torn in two, right along his carapace, his head held high for all to see. "This is the cost for coming here! Leave now!" As all skittered and froze in shock and fear, the commander of the pirates screamed at them " He is one pathetic human! Swarm him and we will feast like Kings!" As the swarm of pirates rushed forward, a low rumble started in the depths of their souls. As they reached the human, they realized he was no longer alone. Twenty other humans had joined him, but behind them, in the shadows, and army seemed to be sitting there. Just out of sight, the ancient humans whispered encouragement and lent strength. Too late did the pirates realize that the rumble was their rage, and that nobody would be surviving this assault.

As the humans walked up to the gates, covered in blood not their own, the commander ran to yell at them for deserting their posts. As Xia reached the gates, xe saw what caused the fear in the first place. The fire in the eyes of the humans was like a sun burning away at your very essence. "What were you thinking?" "As I told you, Fuck you and fuck your plan. I have family, and nobody will take them from me. I am human. I will never bow down, I will never accept death, and I will never give up the lives of those I love just because a statistic tells me something is impossible. Now move so I can shower and spend time with my loves." With that the young man pushed past xer , and the commander knew that xe had made a mistake. Any animal backed into a corner was dangerous. A human back into a corner will tell the world to fuck itself, then do the impossible just because they can.

#humans are space australians #humans are weird #humans are space orcs #Don't mess with my family

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writersblock2point0 · 6 years

Text

I Am Project Six, Part 3

Summery: Six must look into her past to see what’s the problem. lol her and bucky connect?

“We are going to hook you up to a machine that monitors your heart and brain waves. These glasses will allow us to see what you do, as you dream.” Tony states, both him and Bruce worked fluently as they hooked her up to monitors. “It’s been developed enough that it will make an outline of what you're dreaming about.”

Six furrows her brow in confusion. “You will be able to see what I see?”

“Yup.” Bruce answers, giving her a soft smile before beginning to strap her down. Her heart spiked, but with a small pat on the arm from Sam, she forced herself to calm. She was in a chair, glasses on her head as she faced a stage like platform.

“Okay, we’ll give you something to help you sleep.” Tony places a mask over her face, and she takes deep breaths. “Can you count for me?”

“One, two, three, four...five...six…” Her eyes fluttered closed. Tony pulls the mask away and turns on the machines, which hummed with life as they begin to map her brainwaves. The glasses fluttered before projecting into the platform. It was black, until Six’s heart skipped, and then a soft fuzzy picture was painted onto the air. The team quieted down, looking up in suspense as the picture cleared.

Lights, almost looking like flickering stars were scattered on a black canvas. A small child with long dark hair stood, holding hands with a woman who was only visible from the chest down. It was obviously Project Six, and the child was staring up in wonder at flickering lights, and in front of her was a spinning carousel. A classical song played, the name not known to them. It wasn’t regular carousel music, but it still held a nice tempo.

“She told me that's the only thing she remembers before Hydra.” Sam mutters, placing a hand on the chair that she was strapped down on. With a grunt, and a head shift, the picture changed. It was of a long hallway, and the team could see the door at the end of the hall getting closer. The door seemed big, and when the vision began to turn, there was two soldiers dressed in black holding small pale arms. The arms of a child. She was dressed in a white gown, her thin body being dragged down the hall. Her eyes were watery, and she looked extremely tired.

The door opened and it looked like an old bathroom. A metal table was placed in the middle of a dimly light room, tile lining the ceiling, walls, and floor.

Then, suddenly Project Six’s small form was strapped down and looking into a single light above.

‘This will hurt.’ A figure's voice whispered as a figure loomed over, blocking the light as they raised what was distinguishably a needle into the light. ‘Feel free to scream.’

The scene changed again, this time to chained hands as Six kneeled on the floor. Dirty fingernails dug into the palms on her hands, shaking as the chains rattled.

‘Prosjekt seks!’ Her head snapped up and golden eyes focused on the man in a uniform walking towards them, the team recognized it as the doctor from before. Over his uniform, he wore a white lab coat. ‘Respekt må læres.’

Bucky recognized the language as Norwegian.

Project Six’s heart monitor started to freak, her heart speeding up as fake her was dragged out of her chains and thrown into a cage. Standing, five other young children were in with her. They all looked battered and beaten, thick bags under the eyes, and ratty hair. Two girls, and three boys. The tallest boy looked older, about seventeen. He walked over, helping Six up before a loud bang rang through the speaker.

‘Bare en kommer frem fra denne cellen.’ The man’s voice bellowed, and Project Six stood.

‘Frihet er i døden.’ The boy whispered, and Project Six began to sweat, her right arm twitched against the restraints as the team watched-all knowing what was happening next. The boy smiles before her hand was punched through his chest. Six’s heart rate increased as the boy’s body fell. The other kids, all looking equally surprised, stood stock still as the man’s voice broke the silence.

‘Nei!’ A smaller girl, looking frail tried to move away, but Six caught her easily by the throat. Snapping her neck, Six moved on. One after another, until the only one left in the cage was Project Six, surrounded by the bodies of her friends, blood covering her arms and hands. The cage opened, and in walked the doctor.

‘Very good, Project Six.’ His voice hissed, ‘Lesson learned.’

Snapping her eyes open, Project Six heaved air into her lungs. Fighting against the restraints on her body. Tears pooled in her eyes, and she couldn’t stop her body from overheating.

“Six!” Sam yells, trying to get into her line of sight. He knew not to touch her, as her skin would burn him. “It’s okay! It’s over now, it’s over.” She looked at him, eyes bright with fire, her limbs shaking with fear as she locked eyes with him.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Sam soothed, beginning to unstrap her.

“Sam she could-” Natasha stopped when Sam sent her a glare.

“She’s fine.”

“She could be...you know.” She continued and Bucky sighed.

“Soldat.” His voice dropped, and her head snapped to him. “Calm yourself.” She clenched her jaw, closing her eyes as she took deep breaths to steady herself. “Stand.” He commanded as Sam finished getting her unhooked from the chair and machines. She stood, her legs shaking but the held her up. She looked at him, her eyes dark and watery as she forced herself to breathe normally. The other looked at him as he stood taller, hands behind his back as he stared her down.

“Buck?”

“Not now Steve.” Bucky answers, seeing flames swim under the girls skin as it traveled up her leg. The flames were like soft and slow heart beats, appearing and reappearing. “Soldat.” Bucky turns from her, walking towards the door. “Følg meg.” She follows him without even thinking, her body working on autopilot. She passes the others without a glance, and the two leave the room in silence. There isn’t much to say on the way to her cell, but once they reach it, Bucky opens the door with a code and watches her go in.

“Du gjorde det bra, Prosjekt seks.” Bucky states, voice low as he closes the door. “Sove.” He leaves, stalking back into the lab to find they haven’t moved since he left with her.

“What the hell was that about Barnes?” Tony retorts, arms crossed over his chest.

Bucky stops when he’s made it to an open spot in the circle, beside Steve and Sam. “Six is from Hydra, and while she’s agreed to rehabilitate herself with Sam, that doesn’t mean she won’t have flashbacks or experience triggers.”

“What was with the commands and other language.” Again, Tony looks at him as if he’s a dumb teenager in trouble.

“She’s only ever known commands. She’s never had to think for herself, Tony. Not giving her orders in that exact moment, could have caused her to act out and become violent. She needs that stability before she’s cleared of that crap in her mind.” Bucky glances at Steve. The blond was in deep thought, hands on his hips as he stared at the ground.

After a moment, he nods. “Buck’s right. From now on, we should give her some stability with authority. At least until she’s mentally stable. Now that doesn’t mean we’re punishing her with violence or anything, but he’s right when he says she needs it.”

The others nod, quietly agreeing with their captain.

After an hour, Steve made is way to Six’s cell.

“Six, come on.” She looks up at him from her position on the bed. When she stands, he sees she’s sweating and how ratty her hair is. He leads her out, not worrying about handcuffs as she walks beside him quietly.

“We’re proud of you today,” He comments, thinking that positive reinforcement would be good to. “You did very well.” She didn’t smile or say anything, but when she looked at him, her eyes flashed yellow. She does that a lot, instead of speaking, Steve thought to himself. He lead her up and to his personal quarters, through his living room, bedroom and into his bathroom. “Okay, here we are. Let me get it started for you.” He fiddles with the shower, getting it nice and warm and situates the bottles in order to how she should use them. “Okay, so you have shampoo and con-” He freezes as he turns to see her completely naked and looking at the floor. He blinks, looking away from her after a moment and feels his face flush.

“W-what are you doing Six?”

“I am ready for our shower.” Our shower. What the heck? Steve blinked, processing everything.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t understand.” She says softly, and Steve sighs holding a towel out in her direction.

“Please, cover yourself.” She takes the towel and holds it to her body. It covers her, but he can still see the curve of his hips as he turns back to her. “You said our shower?”

“Yes.” She nods, blinking at him as if taking a shower together was completely normal.

He goes to speak, but Steve can’t find the right words-or any words for that matter. Smiling, he holds up a finger and quickly leaves. Steve makes his way out of his room and across the wall, knocking heavily on Bucky’s door. When it opens the man is standing with his shirt off and sweatpants hanging low on his hips.

Bucky sees the look on Steve’s face an smirks, “What’s with that face pal? See someone naked?”

Steve glares at him, making Bucky’s laughter die out. “Project Six is in my bathroom, naked, and-”

“Whoa, why is she in there in the first place?”

“I was going to let her shower, and get cleaned up-but then she was suddenly naked and said she was ready for our shower.” Steve shakes his head, “I didn’t know what to do so I came to you.”

Bucky nodded, “Alright, stay here.” With a small clap to his Steve’s shoulder, Bucky makes his way into Steve’s room and finds the girl standing with a towel to her front. She turns to see him, her eyebrows raised in question as he sends her a smile. The water was still going and Bucky tests it, seeing it was still hot.

“Go on.” Bucky says, sitting on the closed toilet lid.

“Go on.” Six looks at him, confused beyond all reasoning. Was he not going to join her? Perhaps he was waiting for her to get cleaned before doing so. She was afraid to ask why he was here instead, and not Steve. Perhaps Steve found he did not like her looks and this man does? She sets the towel on the sink, walking over to the shower and peeks over her shoulder, meeting the man’s eyes.

He nods, “I’ll be here.”

She step in, closing the glass door behind her. The glass started to fog, but with a small glance to him, she saw he was still looking at her. Getting herself wet, she let the water run over her body. It felt nice, and as she closed her eyes it was the most relaxed she had every felt. Opening her eyes and looking around, she felt lost as to what to use. They always told Six what to use, and these containers look very different.

“Six,” She turn to see him standing by the glass, the door open just a little as he picked up a white bottle with green leaves on it. “Use this on your hair.” Taking it, an opening the cap and washing her hair, she scrubbed as hard as she could stand, making sure she got herself clean. Who knows when she would be able to shower again.

After washing herself, she stepped out, watching as he turned off the shower and handed her a towel. She dried, standing in front of him naked as she wondered what was next. A knock came to the door and Steve walked in, blinking as he noticed she was naked again. She wondered what it was about her than made me look away. Perhaps she was not tall enough? Was her hair too long? Did she not have the right body?

“I brought clothes.” Steve hands them to Bucky before quickly leaving.

“Steve’s a bit shy Six, don’t worry about him.” Bucky states, giving her a smile. He sets them down and stands near the door. The clothes consist of a long sleeved grey shirt, much too large for her own body, and white shorts with a weird opening in the front. Six frowns, wondering what that use was for.

“Come on Six.” Bucky’s voice cut through her thinking, and without any thought to it, she follows him out.

Bucky sat on his couch, deep in thought as he plaid over the events after the shower. Six was still as stoic as ever. Bucky wasn’t stupid, and he wasn’t a man that took advantage of others, especially when they needed help. Six, needed help. All the help she could get. She looked young, but he was sure she was at least in her early twenties. Her body was small, perhaps genetics. He recalls the figure of the woman in her memory, and that woman seemed tiny. Being taken to hydra at such a young age, not having any idea what society was like outside of it and now suddenly being thrown into this, it was going to be difficult for her. Bucky remembers how hard it was for him to be able to speak, to talk to others, and to even make choices for himself. It was so foreign, even though he easily slid into the swing of things. He knows how hard it is. Six will not have an easy time. She’s been in Hydra since she could walk, and according to Sam’s reports, they potty trained her. She’s never had a voice for herself in her life. She’s never been her own person.

So how can the rest of them not see what she needs? Right now, she needs authority and guidance. Bucky knows how terrible Hydra is, how ruthless their soldiers are, and how little they care for their subjects. He can imagine his time there, and knows it was much worse for Six as she was a female.

Running a hand through his hair, he thinks back to the shower incident. God, she looked helpless and confused. Bucky wasn’t permitted to shower with someone, and knew that for other female soldier’s it wasn’t a rule for them either. He has a clear idea of why she was confused to be able to shower alone. Bucky knew Steve wouldn’t act in a way that was good for Six, bless Steve’s golden heart, but it would probably do more harm than good to make her upset, especially after making her dream today.

So he sat on the toilet, supervising her shower. He told her what to use, how to use it, when to use it. She soon became more relaxed as the shower went on. He didn’t focus on her body in a sexual way, but he was able to see her scars. After her shower, he walked her back to her cell. He wondered how long it would take for her to speak, to ask questions, to do her own thing.

How long would it be until she was able to smile?

Sorry for the shortness.

Tags:

@stuck-as-me @lilulo-12 @themeanestlittlewitch

Prosjekt seks. - Project Six.

Respekt må læres. - Respect must be learned.

Bare en kommer fra denne cellen. - Only one comes from this cell.

Frihet er i døden. - Freedom is in death.

Nei! - No.

Soldat. - Soldier

Følg meg. -Follow me

Du gjorde det bra, Prosjekt seks. -You did well, Project Six

Sove. - Sleep.

#bucky x oc #bucky and oc connect #imagine #marvel imagine #marvel #steve rogers #captain america #named reader #avengers

40 notes · View notes

strainingfororiginality · 6 years

Text

Chapter 11.7 - Sacrifice

Note from Author: Apologies, but there WILL be a part 8 to Chapter 11. It was going to be just ONE big section, but it was already more than 12k words and I wasn’t even done writing it yet. Normal sections are 3-6k words.

Wings - Hurts

Say you'll catch me when I fall

Wrap your wings around my body

When I'm lost in the storm

And I'm calling

"Oz …" Mike huffed from behind, but she made no indication in her flight that she heard him.

Oz. Please. I need to … I can’t …

He tried through voice and then he tried through their connection, but again, she was distracted. She did not hear him. What the hell was she doing? Her head was tilted at a strange angle and she was staring up into the night sky. Wait … was she stargazing?!

"Oz!" He screamed again before his body gave out fully and he began to free fall towards the Earth, plummeting through the rain clouds like a rocket. He closed his eyes when he expected to slam against the ocean’s surface, but she had him, catching him and grabbing his right wrist with both of her hands.

"Michael! What on Earth happened?!" Her wings took large swallows of air as she kept them in no more than ten feet from the water’s surface. “Are you alright?!?”

"I was calling to you ..." He tried not to be emotional, but he had never felt so weak and helpless in his life. “I CALLED TO YOU! What were you doing?!”

"I was … preparing." She was curt with her answer and he knew something else was up. She was usually never so short with any response. “Can you fly or not?”

"I …" He wanted to say yes, but he didn’t know if he could, and there was no point in lying to her. She would know. “I just need to take a short break …”

"Nope. No more breaks. No more charging. I apologize, but we haven’t the time." She scooped him up into her arms like a child, holding him tight and close to her heart. “You will rest within my arms, brother.”

"No, Oz! I don’t need you to carry me!" He was more embarrassed now than he has ever been, but he was unable to fight her. “Please, don’t … please ...”

"Your ego will have to take a backseat today, I’m afraid." She held him tighter and resumed the flight, heading back above the ominous clouds and rain. “Don’t worry, Golden One … I won’t tell anyone.”

"Thank you." Michael felt as if this was some kind of karmic punishment suddenly, as they had threatened Quintus with this same fate, had they not? He could not believe he was being carried to Siberia … like a baby.

"Well … Ok. Ok. Ok. I gotta be honest here … " She grinned madly. “I’m definitely telling Raphael.”

"Signore, è molto bello vederti." Antonio greeted him with a firm and uncharacteristic hand shake, his voice flush with genuine relief as Quinlan walked down the ramp to the black, armoured SUVs. George and Fet followed him per his instructions, and the rest stayed with the plane while it was being refueled and the pilot made the necessary arrangements for the next leg of their trip, much to the Hacker’s dismay..

Diverting from their planned destination, the plane had landed in a small unmanned airfield on the outskirts of Rome; one which Quinlan had often used as a backup option. The military, no doubt, was waiting for them across Rome at their original destination and now they had at least an hour to kill until the journey could continue.

The storm had provided ultimate coverage for them to sneak across the ocean undetected and now it was in its last throes of existence. Though the rain and lightning ceased half an hour ago, the wind and the dark clouds had not retreated and he did not expect they would. At least not the wind ...

Dutch’s jamming equipment had not just masked them, but it had also ceased all communication to and from the plane, and while Quinlan would have preferred to have Ferraro bring weapons to the airfield, landing in one piece was well worth the cost. He hoped the man would be waiting here and he was, with two SUVs and enough room for ten individuals. Well trained. Still reliable and trustworthy. Quinlan was proud of him. He watched the boy grow before him and he never expected that Antonio would make a viable replacement for his father as Quinlan’s emissary, but he had been pleasantly surprised by him, time and time again.

"Antonio. It is good to see you as well." He acknowledged his friend as he removed his harness and sword, sliding into the backseat. “Take me home.”

"Sir …" The Italian man pointing to the plane and specifically at the woman who hung her body out of the door, glaring at him still. “I was expecting ten?”

"We are not staying …" Quinlan explained and the other people piled into the car, Ferraro taking the front seat. “We only require … supplies.”

The drive into the city was nearly uneventful, save one roadblock on the main freeway. As the SUV slowed for examination, the driver rolled his privacy-tinted window down and spoke with the soldier with familiarity. "Ciao Edoardo!"

"Ciao!" The military man smiled back.

"Cosa sta succedendo?" The driver poked.

"C'è un avvertimento su una possibile minaccia terroristica. Ci è stato chiesto di verificare la presenza di sospetti nei veicoli." The soldier warned. “Dovresti stare attento guidando. Consiglierei di rimanere dentro per il giorno successivo o due, Alessandro.”

"Ah, grazie per l'avvertimento."

The soldier nodded and leaned slightly into the car as Mr. Fet attempted to melt lower into his seat. "Uh oh." There was no doubt that the clipboard the soldier carried had pictures of the giant Ukrainian in it.

The soldier caught a glimpse of the dhampir in the back seat and apologized immediately for such an intrusion. "Scusa per l'inconveniente, signor Sertorius." Quinlan nodded once back to the soldier and he stepped away from the car, waving them through without any scrutiny.

"What da hell?" Fet sat back up straight. “Dey just lettin’ us through?” He eyed the other cars as they drove past. Every vehicle was being stopped and searched, their occupants forced to exit and watch.

"New York maybe be your city, Mr. Fet, but this one is mine." Quinlan chuckled lowly. “Welcome to Rome.”

An Ending, a Beginning - Dustin O’Halloran

He left George and Fet downstairs, instructing his men to take them to the sub-basement ‘supply room’ and take as much as they could carry and more. He instructed his men to give the Ukrainian anything he wished from the vast stash of weapons and explosives and then he made his way upstairs. As he walked through the lobby, half destroyed and half in the process of being rebuilt, he stopped for a moment and marvelled at the current state of his elevator, or lack thereof.

"It will be fixed next week." Antonio apologized. “It took extra time to get the permits for the crane use. It is very …” He looked around. “Impressive.”

"What is?" Quinlan asked for clarification.

"How much destruction such a tiny thing is capable of." Antonio actually grinned at his words and Quinlan fought the urge to do the same.

"Indeed."

"If you are curious, Sir, I can have the video footage of that day played back for you."

He actually was curious, but there was no time now. "It is fine, Antonio. I will watch it later." Quinlan assured him. Taking the stairs, he found himself proceeding slowly up to his home. He wasn’t entirely sure what was driving this reluctance, but once he was before the front door, he paused once again. The last time he left his home, he assumed he would never return. He had looked forward to his end, but now, an incredible relief rushed across his heart as he reached for the handle and he was so very thankful to be back ...

He entered his home and he found it very much the same he left it, albeit somewhat messier. Specifically, there was human food strewn across his counter and dirty glasses in his sink. Grumbling, he cringed as the rings of dried blood in their bottoms only hinted at one person leaving them there. Damn Lap Dog.

His eyes crawled over the human food and he inhaled their smells. A half finished cappuccino, containing milk now rancid and pungent to his sensitive nose, and a half eaten croissant. He could still make out the tiny bite mark on its edge … such a tiny bite mark.

Focus, Quintus.

Resisting the urge to clean it all, he moved up the stairs. He needed to get his weapons and get back to the plane. The road block had eaten considerable time and now he just needed to … hurry.

He stopped at the top of the stairs as her smell hit him squarely in the face. It danced all around the area and he stared at the object from which it emanated: his unmade bed. Only half of it had been used and it was the half upon which he had normally slept.

Focus, Quintus.

He approached the closet and punched in his code, 0618, but the door responded with a disagreeable beep accompanied with a flashing red light upon the keypad. What? He tried his number again and it refused him … again. He pinched his eyes shut and took a deep breath. She had changed his code. 0618 had been Tasa’s birthday. It had been the day her and Sura were taken from him. The day he burned down Rome. Given the circumstances, he fully accepted that if the scenarios were reversed, he probably would have changed it as well.

In any case, he already knew what she had changed it to. He typed in the four numbers, the same code she had used on her phone, and the door unlocked with a click.

These numbers represented the date of his death.

Two of his guns, some ammunition, and his gladius were missing, as well as some of the other clothing items, but what he came for was still here. He felt whole again as he pulled the under-arm holsters across his back and nestled two of his micro-uzi’s into their holsters.

Lag Fyrir Ömmu - Ólafur Arnalds

Grabbing a duffel, he shoved the extra guns and ammo into it before heading back towards the stairs, but the bed caught his eye one more time, and the smell wafting off of the sheets distracted him fully.

As the bag slid from his shoulder, he approached it wearily, assuring himself he was just going to make the bed quickly to stifle the aroma that floated off of it, but as he pulled the top sheet across, her smell hit him hard and he found himself powerless against it. He melted into the embrace of the covers laden with her rich, angelic scent. Quinlan clenched the blankets in tight fists and pulled them against his body as he curled into a tight ball.

In this moment of utter weakness, he buried his face into his pillow … into her bouquet … and he struggled to remain composed.

Just a moment here, while he broke. What would it hurt?

Just one more moment here ...

Orphan - Vaults

Thrown into the fire like a widow’s charm

I step into the role as the veil it burns

I just wanted to believe in something beautiful

Hunger by a streetlight I’ll see no more

The apple of your eye was a falling star

I just wanted to believe in something beautiful

"So, you’re saying they’re soulmates?" Uriel asked for qualification, interrupting Sandalphon’s meandering tale.

"No. No. Absolutely not." She shook her head. “Well … They weren't exactly soulmates. At least not in the strictest sense of that word. You see, they weren't MADE for each other. They weren’t born without the freedom to love whomever they wish. But rather, they just wholly complement what the other one has always lacked.”

"What do you mean lacked?" He squinted at the word.

"An other." She explained. “That bitter emptiness, that insatiable ache, of being a Hayyoth without an other. You see, this left each of them with matching holes carved into their very souls. And it was beautiful that each other’s voids were just precisely the shape of the other. One spotted and one striped. One gold and one silver. One made from the Left and one made from the Right.”

"So you set up this game for them to find each other?"

"No. That description is too simplistic. It lacks the nuance necessary to understand what occurred." She sighed at his overly practical nature. “You see, brother, it had to be a push and pull between them. It had to be a give and take.”

"Not a game then." He interpreted her words perfectly, as she already knew he would. “You set up a dance.”

"Like you have always said, everything is a dance. Fighting is a dance. Love is a dance. Life itself. Existence." She smiled. “I had to find a partner who would both challenge and surrender … to her.” She spun her cup. “I had to find a partner who would could both defeat and be defeated … by her.” She closed her eyes, struggling to embrace hope rather than fear. The Gladiator was so much better at hope than she was … than anyone was. “I had to find a partner that she would deem worthy of her love. Someone that could prove worthy of it, regardless of the personal cost.”

"She sounds … demanding?" Uriel quipped.

"No more so than Honoria, I suppose." The statement was made to sting him and he responded with an uncharacteristic glare. “I had to find her an equal. Equal in strength. Equal in determination and … most importantly … equal in defiance. And let me tell you, it did not prove an easy task. I had to search for him across time. Countless futures. Countless possibilities.”

"But what about him, Andy?" Uriel asked. “You said personal cost … What about what Quintus wanted? Or what he deserved? I’ve met him. I ... “ He hesitated as he didn’t wish to actually admit what he would say next and she understood why. He was Honoria’s son, but he was also Sempronius’. “I like him. I like him a lot actually. He doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserves your meddling--”

"Uriel …" She shook her head and closed her eyes, seeming to remember something bothersome, something disgusting, something painful. Her face contorted with these memories, with these visions. “I have seen … I have witnessed such unsatisfying and tortuously unwarranted fates which awaited him without her. Countless timelines, over and over and over. Endings with agony and sadness and … worthlessness and loneliness. I have seen him without her, without even the promise of her, without the fate of her. Each time, it ends the same. He gives his life for mankind, over and over and over. Fearlessly, courageously, vengefully, and entirely without LOVE, brother. Every fate without her was … lacking fundamental purpose. It was almost mechanical in natural. I watched as the Seventh shard of Ozryel took his head or corrupted his body and mind or crushed every ounce of strength from him like he was nothing more than a god damn cockroach. No, brother. No. In fact, he deserves better than that. Never doubt that this story … this timeline … this choice I make for them … this respect that I afford him … is anything less than a chance at the happiness I feel he truly deserves.”

"I didn’t mean to imply …" He could see the passion that inflamed in her eyes and his words trailed off.

"Neither one would have or could have been happy with anyone less … extraordinary." She chuckled. “And do not assume him completely innocent. Do not assume that he did not rush into this without begging for it first. He is just as much at fault for his own fate as I am, brother. Even Michael tried for months to dissuade him in fact, did he not?”

"Heh. He is like his mother in that way." He smiled slightly before clearing his throat as he forced the twinkle in his eye away. “Defiant, I mean … that is ...”

"Yes! And that was the challenge in and of itself, my brother. How does one manipulate the most defiant of souls?"

It was a rhetorical question, but he shrugged and offered a comical answer regardless. "Blackmail? Extortion?"

"The simple answer is … you don’t. You don’t control them. You can’t. They are free souls. So instead, you change the world around them so that their defiance in turn drives their actions. Their pain, their loss, their love, and their determination is what you have to use to guide them."

"See …" He shook his head and bit into his lower lip in dismay. “You talk about control as if it were freedom. You use words like guide, but really you are just shaping the outcome you want. That is the opposite of freedom, Andy.”

"No. You are missing the point. Freedom …" She spun her cup. “... is why any of this was even possible. Freedom, Uriel. I know you understand this need.”

"Don’t make assumptions about--"

She interrupted him, as she knew he had already chose to fall a long time ago, the moment he chose love over duty. "Freedom to live … to want … to choose … to feel and, of course, to love … whomever we wish. And …" She reached for his hand and he sat in silence as she took it, looking up into his eyes. She beamed as she waited for him to finish her sentence as she already knew he would. “And?”

"And the freedom to Fall."

Creep - Kina Grannis

You're just like an angel

Your skin makes me cry

You float like a feather

In a beautiful world

And I wish I was special

You're so fuckin' special

But I'm a creep

The plane was already on its way to their Siberian destination and Quinlan sat in silence, alone again. He held his new blade in his hand and stared at the bone handle as he remembered taking his friend’s head.

"Have you given it a name yet?" Barqan stood in the aisle and asked.

"In fact I have." Quinlan had actually given the sword’s name quite a bit of thought on the flight to Rome. “Her name is Devoratrix.” Devourer.

"Fitting name. I hope it pleased you?" The marid slipped into the aisle seat on the other side of the row and stared at his creation. “Did it meet your expectations?”

"You could have warned me of its … ability." Quinlan was pleased, but he still did not feel in a charitable mood towards the Djinn.

"I thought you knew, Prince of Snakes!" Barqan laughed. “You said you were familiar with the Celestial Blade. Was this an exaggeration?”

"I …" Quinlan glared at him. Yes. He had implied that. “I have held the Celestial Blade but … Fine.” He had held the blade, but thinking back on it, he had never actually used it. The Djinn waited and Quinlan rolled his head in annoyance at his presence. “Yes. It did please me. Thank you.”

"Good. Good." Barqan shifted in his seat and Quinlan could read the body language easily. The Black King wished to discuss something he was assuming would be unpleasant.

"What do you want?"

"Prince …" Barqan looked at him and his brows pinched with seriousness. “I …”

"Just out with it … or leave me be. I am currently not the mood for smalltalk." Quinlan sighed.

"I want to make sure you are prepared to do what you must." Barqan said rapidly and confidently, tilting his jaw towards the blade as he spoke. “To do what is … necessary.”

"Necessary?" Quinlan was not in the mood for another lecture this soon, especially not from someone who had yet to re-proven his loyalty. “I do not follow.”

Barqan pointed across the aisle, at the metal part of the sword. "What will be necessary for … survival. For … victory."

"I do not plan to lose." Quinlan tilted his head as he fully understood the implication behind the marid’s word, but he sneered and simply asked the Djinn to be direct with it. “But if there is something else on your mind, I challenge you to actually speak it, rather than dance around your actual intention.”

"Very well." Barqan took a deep breath. “I question your reserve to do what will be required of you next, Prince.”

"Required?" Quinlan laughed off the statement. “You make assumptions that hope is gone--”

"Little Bear told me what you found at that cabin." Barqan looked into his eyes as he shook his head. “We both know what … who … awaits us in Siberia, Pri--”

"No. No." Quinlan’s jaw clenched and his lip curled up as he interrupted, moving to put the sword away. “We know nothing yet.”

"Quintus." Barqan tried a fatherly tone with him, but the dhampir refused still. “We know--”

"WE KNOW NOTHING YET. Return to your seat. Leave me in peace now." He was done with this conversation as he faced forward, opting to try and ignore the marid, who continued to pry still.

"You are not an irrational child. As much as you wish to refuse it." Barqan sighed again. “You are more practical than that … and you have understood the very need for this … many times in your long life ...”

"The need for ‘this’?" Quinlan found it impossible to ignore his words and what he was implying. “And what exactly is … ‘this’?!”

"The need for sacrifice, my lord." Barqan’s voice cracked slightly. “The need to do what is necessary … for the greater good. For the survival of this world--”

"Greater good?" Quinlan laughed and this time met the Djinn’s eyes. “I have done what is for the greater good my entire life. I have given and given … and given. I am sorry, but I will give no more.”

"You were chosen to give, because you have the strength for it. You have always been destined--"

"Your words are horseshit." Quinlan cut him off with rash vulgarity. “Do not spout nonsense to me about destiny, coward. I doubt you even understand the meaning of ... sacrifice.”

There was silence and Barqan picked at his fingers nervously. Assuming he had won the discussion, Quinlan turned to finish sheathing the blade when the Djinn spoke again.

"I understand sacrifice, my lord. Better than most, in fact." The marid’s voice was monotone. “Her name was Sathariel.”

"What? Another lover?" Quinlan scoffed at his attempt. “Please do not attempt to belittle--”

"My daughter." Barqan stated. “Her soul was purged from existence before my very eyes, using the very shard you now hold in your grip.”

"I am …" The content of the Djinn’s words struck Quinlan hard. “Apologies.” There was a moment of lingering silence and the dhampir waited as the Djinn breathed deeply.

"I am not as strong as you, Prince." He confessed as he looked up, shame painted across his dark face. “I could not stop them. They took her from me so that others would live … so that I would survive and thrive ... for my people. I … I understand sacrifice, my lord.”

"Perhaps …but be honest with me now, Black King." Quinlan leaned forward, squinting into the Djinn’s eyes to read any possible reaction. “If it had been in your power to stop them. If you had been strong enough … Would you have? Or would you have done what you are asking me to do now?”

"My lord, sometimes the real show of strength is to accept that you are the chosen one who must proceed … who must live … alone. I know you may not wish to hear it, but you can find love again. This situation only lends itself to that fact even more. Do you not see? You have lost before and you have been given again--"

"Do not trivialise what she means to me." Quinlan sneered. “This situation … her … there will never be another like her again … not to me. Of this, I am more certain than I have ever been.”

"Quintus …"

"Leave me."

"If hope for her is already gone, then all that is left now is vengeance for her loss and the subsequent and bitter necessity of this_ sacrifice_ that must follow it. I beg that you consider giving the rest of the world a fighting chance."

Hope … Vengeance … Sacrifice ...

"Do not worry." Thomas was standing before them, seemingly on his way to the bathroom located in the back of the plane. The strigoi looked much better after Quinlan had delivered nutrients to him. “He will do whatever is necessary, whatever it takes, as he always has. Isn’t that right, Invictus …” As the Nazi spoke, Quinlan detected a hint of animosity, judgement, and disgust in the German’s voice. Its presence caused Quinlan to tilt his head at the strigoi. “Unfortunately for her.” Did this creature really care for her?

No further words were exchanged and as Thomas continued to the restroom, Barqan returned to his seat, and Quinlan looked solemnly at the partially sheathed sword, gingerly touching the edge of the exposed part of the blade’s edge as he felt the plane angling down for their final descent ...

Sacrifice? The Greater Good?

Why was this always his responsibility? The cost for it was always the same. His life. His love. His happiness. Him.

And now, the Djinn’s words echoed within him and he considered everything that he had been forced to give up … for the greater good. Nothing made sense. The Wheel had lied if it was his fate to … sacrifice, yet again, as he had always done before.

No. Absolutely not. Not again. In fact …

Never again.

Blackout - Charlotte OC

Can you reach to me now? 'cause I've fallen in

And I'm caught in your wake, it's so hard to swim

"Father should have never made that thing! It has corrupted you just like that bitch corrupted Lucifer!"

Gabriel pushed Raphael’s button and that was the moment the fight was over. Raphael was done playing. He needed to get to Earth, with or without Gabriel, and as he drew upon the very depths of his divine well, he cringed when his brother screamed in agony over the divinity that coursed through both of them. The massive angel fought it, but Raphael did not stop and his brother fell to his knees, his body shaking violently. Raphael did not wish it to have to go this far and he was shameful for the pain he inflicted.

"I am so sorry, Rael." The indigo child’s voice cracked. “You cannot win. You simply … cannot.” Gabriel clenched, but his sword fell from his grip. Control was lost and victory was granted. The Indigo Child began to pull his brother’s armour away and as the bronze metal evaporated into the air, Gabriel slouched on the ground, naked and raw and the staff reformed before Raphael. He took it in his grasp. “It is over now. It is done. I am sorry.”

As The Messenger looked up into his solemn face, Raphael’s chest ached at the sight of Gabriel’s eyes. He had never before seen them full of such despair and defeat. Oh God. What had he done? What had he been forced to do? What had she forced him to do? He hadn’t wanted it to happen this way.

His amber eyes were the first things Raphael saw when he first cracked through the wall of his shell and pushed into the world. The divinity illuminated his vision into this bitter existence and Gabriel was the first thing he saw.

Unlike the other four, Raphael didn’t have to break through into this world on his own and nor did he even have to stand by himself the first time. For once he had kicked his shell, pressing on it with all of his strength from within, it had cracked along the side and Gabriel curled his hands into it and pulled it apart for him, freeing him. His other had peeled away this cell and then bowed down to him, offering a hand so that Raphael could stand … beside him.

"Stand with me. Please." Gabriel, defeated and naked, wrapped his massive arms around his knees and pulled himself tight, as if he were back in his egg again. It was now Raphael’s turn to offer a hand to his brother, speaking softly as he did. “Rael … stand beside me.”

"You of ALL people, Phael." Gabriel choked the words free from his throat painfully and ignored his brother’s hand as he began to rock back and forth. “I never thought you would fall. You have always been the best of all of us, but now … I am the only one who stood strong. I am the only one left ...”

"Does that even make sense?" Raphael asked calmly. “Consider it carefully. Does it make more sense that everyone has fallen ... except you?” He crouched down, resting his arms on his knees as he gazed upon his other with understanding, bringing them both back to eye level with one another. “Or does it not make more sense that you are the only one that hasn’t leapt with us yet?”

There was a militia of several hundred men waiting for them when they touched down. Part of them mercenaries, part of them ex-military, part of them surviving Sun Hunters from the old world Ancients who lived here. Regardless of their background, they were all skilled, trained, and well armed. Quinlan stepped down from the plane, adjusting his gloves and pulling his hood down as he addressed them all quickly, loudly, and succinctly.

"Сегодня вы увидите вещи, которые заставят вас подвергнуть сомнению ваше здравомыслие.." He shouted. “Оставайтесь сосредоточенными и помните ... даже боги могут кровоточить!”

The pep talk was accepted with enthusiasm. The soldiers thrust their various weapons into the air before the crowd dissipating and people fell back to their respective transportations.

"Everyone with me." The dhampir moved towards the armoured ATV. “Now.”

"Hey!" George jogged up beside Fet. “Do you speak Russian? What’d he say?”

Quinlan grinned, hearing the question from behind as he hoisted himself up to sit in the front row of seats of the tracked tank and Fet answered with a crazed smile, raising his eyebrows enthusiastically. "Dat even da gods bleed."

Until We Go Down - Ruelle

And I feel it running through my veins

And I need that fire just to know that I'm awake

Erased, I missed till the break of day

And I need that fire just to know that I'm awake

Until we go down

The massive ATV bounced savagely back and forth and Dutch balanced her laptop on her knees, cursing as she tried to type on it while they moved.

"You are absolutely certain?" Quinlan asked again.

"Yeah, love. I am." She spun the device and pointed to the ellipses on the map, next to the western-most bank of the massive lake. “She’s on, right now … In fact, I’ve never seen her on this much. The signal is so strong, I’m having a hard time picking up anything else. The amount of power that she’s emanating--”

Quinlan spun the computer in her lap and spoke to the driver on the other side of her, instructing him to proceed to that very location.

As they did, the vehicle bounced over the snowy, rugged terrain, ambling its way towards the lake and everyone sat in uncharacteristic, nervous silence. The full moon illuminated much of the land before them, as the armoured mini-tank climbed the final hill between them and the massive body of water, they glimpsed the shine of its surface on the horizon and Thomas spoke from the middle row of seats.

"Baikal." The Nazi explained. “It is the world’s largest, deepest, and oldest freshwater lake. It is known as a rift lake, for below its surface, rests the deepest continental rift on the planet. Though it is quite unique in many ways, the only one that matters right now is that there lies seven kilometers, or for you Americans, four point three miles of organic sediment at its bottom.”

"Is there a purpose to this history lesson?" Quinlan sneered. He wasn’t in the mood for a lesson right now. He was nervous and … uneasy.

"Oh yes, my lord. Important purpose. Purpose that you should take note of." Thomas did not skip a beat, undeterred from Quinlan’s sour tone. “My Master spoke of it often. He told me many stories of its history … and purpose. He told me that it is not just the Gate to Hell but it also serves as a warning, for it is also a tomb.”

"A tomb?" Dutch bit. “Is it … Lucifer’s tomb?”

"Oh no. No. Not his tomb." Thomas laughed, but there was no detectable amusement in his tone. “What do you think caused that four point three miles of sediment, my dear? And when the Gate of Hell opens, and those damned souls flood in this world … where do you think they will go? Do you think he would open the gate to simply allow them to become lost?”

Oh gods.

Oh … gods ...

"The sediment … “ Quinlan gulped. Organic waste. Decomposed organic waste. It was bodies. It was a mass grave. “It is …" Quinlan felt vastly underprepared suddenly, as the history lesson became clear, its importance running along his spine. “The remnants of his army.”

"Yes." The response was a hiss. “It is where the Indigo Child laid The Morning Star’s monstrous legions to rest, after he fled to the safety of Hell. It is the resting place of his hordes, those millions left after his nearly-successful destruction of Earth.”

"Do I even want to know why this matters?" Dutch stammered.

"Lavoisier, Mrs. Fet." Thomas quipped and Quinlan actually spun around, to look at lapdog in his smug eyes. “Matter cannot simply vanish. It had to go somewhere … Raphael left it here as a warning.”

"What did you say?" That name. That name. The Wheel had spoken it … Oh gods. It had been warning. “Who is that?”

"Antoine Lavoisier, my lord." Thomas sat straight up, as Quinlan’s stare intimated him. “He was the french chemist who discovered the Conservation of Mass.”

"Conservation of what now?" Gus spoke for the first time since landing.

Thomas chuckled at the Boxer’s ignorance, though Quinlan was certain none there, save perhaps the Hacker, knew what it meant, though the dhampir had a growing suspicion. "That the total mass of matter is the same at the end as at the beginning of every chemical change."

"Uhhhh … Yeah, but dey’re all dead though, yeah?" Fet hoped loudly from behind. “Dey are dead.”

"So was I." Quinlan cringed as he knew it didn’t matter. In fact, it was how Quinlan himself had reincarnated. All the Morning Star required was the matter itself. He could form it to his wishes. This was The Power of Creation. “So was I, Mr. Fet.”

4.3 miles …

4.3 miles of decomposed corpses.

Millions upon millions of wicked creations.

He played the number again and again in his mind as they approached the lake and he made out a familiar silhouette standing at its distant shore.

#the strain fanfic #quinlan fanfic #mr. quinlan fanfic #quintus sertorius fanfic #quintus densus #an insatiable ache #chapter 11 #part 7

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chillerhjemmeisak · 7 years

Note

Writing prompt - Evak + their oldest daughter's first day of school :")

If there was one thingIsak had learnt over the last 11 years with Even, it was to neverunderestimate his dramatics.

Sure, Even wasdefinitely the one of them to get least stressed and always remainrelatively calm in distressful situations while Isak freaked out, buthe sure had a tendency to overreact when it came to Belle.

Belle was their firstdaughter and Even’s pride and joy. They had adopted her not longafter she was born and that wasn’t something either man took forgranted. Being able to raise their first child from birth wassomething that they had always wanted but assumed would beimpossible; it was never guaranteed that there would be a newborn toadopt.

Belle was, somehow, theperfect mix of Isak and Even.

With blonde curls that rivalled Isak’sand blue eyes as bright and sharp as Even’s, she managed to captureboth man’s favourite feature of the other. If Even loved combing hishands through Isak’s hair, it was nothing compared to brushing theknots from his daughters as she laid against him, trying to get tosleep. And if Isak ever felt happiness looking into Even’s eyes thenit was muted in comparison to what he felt when looking into Belle’s.

Belle was –fortunately in Even’s mind but unfortunately in Isak’s – like bothof them in personality too. She was feisty and sometimes defensivelike Isak, although he’d never admit it, but she was also a cheerfuland laid back like Even.

She appeared to have equal love for both thesciences and art, much to Isak’s chagrin because “there’s onlyso many times she can draw on the walls without punishment, Even!”

Perhapsit was the little girls love for art that made her and Even soinseparable, or perhaps Even’s unwavering ability to always make hersmile. Isak highly suspected it was simply because Even alwaysmanaged to avoid being the one to dish out punishment, thereforebeing the one she always ran to for a cuddle when Isak was playingbad cop.

Eitherway, Even freaked out when it came to Belle’s first day of school.

WhenIsak first woke up that fateful Mondag morning to Even makingbreakfast as per usual, he had really thought that today would go offwithout a hitch. But the moment Even caught sight of Belle in herlittle outfit for school, school bag tightly in her grasp and biggrin on her face, he lost it.

“Wouldyou stop squeezing her hand so hard”, Isak whispered for at leastthe 5th time under his breath to Even.

Evenshrugged sheepishly but loosened his grip, only for it to tightenonce more when a particularly fast car passed them on the street.

Isakrolled his eyes affectionately.

Theyhad collectively decided that for Belle’s first day, the entirefamily would walk her to school. Initially Isak had protested because“we have a perfectly functioning car, Even” but he was nowstarting to understand the appeal of the short, peaceful walk to hisdaughters new school.

“Daddy,can we run?” Belle asked excitedly, tearing Isak from his thoughts.Using her free hand, Belle pointed towards the gathering of pigeonson the pathway.

Isakimmediately shook his head, tightening his arm around their youngest,Jonah. “You’re not going to go and scare pigeons for no reas-”

“-Let’sgo!”

Isakwatched exasperated as Even raced down the path with their daughterin tow, waving their joint hands wildly and cooing loudly. Despitethe embarrassment Isak couldn’t help but feel, he laughed quietly ashis husband and daughter chased pigeons away from the path.

Followingnot far behind, Isak turned to Jonah.

Theyhad adopted little Jonah just 2 years after Belle, because apparentlyit was getting “too easy” for Even. Isak couldn’t help butchuckle at that, because not long after adopting Jonah, Belle haddecided to hit her terrible twos a little late.

“They’remad, aren’t they?” Isak asked Jonah rhetorically, beaming at hisson when the little boy burst into a round of uncontrollable giggles.

“Whoare?” Even asked playfully as he and Belle returned to Isak’s side.“If you’re talking about us then that’s a bit mean.”

Bellestomped her foot loudly but the smile on her face was obvious. “YeahPapa, that’s mean!”

Isakhid his smile in Jonah’s hat, blatantly ignoring Even’s encouraging“Yeah you tell ‘im, Belle”.

“Itwas mean to scare the pigeons”, Isak finally responded.

Belleseemed personally offended at the idea. “No Papa, we’re playing agame.”

Isak,knowing better than to argue with such a strong headed 6 year old,simply smiled and agreed. “Of course, B.”

“SoPrincess”, Even began as he scooped Belle into his arms, chucklingat her squeals. “Are you excited?”

Belleimmediately buried her head into her father’s neck, something Isakhimself was guilty of doing rather often. She shook her headadamantly. Even immediately turned to Isak in panic but Isak simplyrolled his eyes.

“Butyou were excited this morning?” Even asked in alarm, lifting Belleup slightly so that she could no longer hide her head in his neck.

Belleshook her head sharply before attempting to hide her face in Even’shair. Isak, growing worried, pulled Even to a stop and manoeuvredthem towards one side of the path.

Isakquickly put a reluctant Jonah down, who immediately grabbed Isak’shand and hid between his legs.

“What’swrong, B?” Isak asked gently, stepping behind Even so he was faceto face with their daughter. “Why aren’t you excited?”

Bellelooked up at her father and something in Isak broke when he noticedher tears.

“Nei,nei, nei”, Isak whispered softly as he stroked away her straytears. “Come on, you have to tell me and daddy what’s wrong or wecan’t fix it.”

Even,obviously hearing Belle’s sniffles, tightened his grip on her andpressed a soft but purposeful kiss to the side of her head. “HeyPrincess, why did we call you Belle again?”

Belle’sbrows furrowed as she attempted to figure out her father’s question.After a moment she sighed, hiding her face once more in Even’s hair.When she spoke, it came out as barely a mumble.

“Whatwas that?” Even asked patiently, stroking a hand through her loose,shoulder length hair.

Bellepulled her face from Even’s hair just enough to speak. “Becauseshe’s the best princess.”

Isakcould see the grin on Even’s face, even with his husband’s back tohim; his shoulders shook slightly with silent laughter.

“Exactly.No matter what anyone says Belle is the best, most underrated Disneyprincess”, Even said. “And we called you that because you’re thebest little girl in the whole world.”

Bellegiggled quietly and Isak was once again blown away by how good Evenwas with their children. If seeing him cradle their daughter as anewborn was enough for Isak to know that everything was perfect inhis life, then seeing Even comfort their daughter so effectively withtheir son wrapped tightly around his leg, was enough for Isak’s heartto swell uncontrollably.

Itwas in moments like these that Isak couldn’t stop a dark thought ortwo creeping in; how had his father so willingly and easily given allof this up? Even though the kids were only 4 and 6, Isak knewdeep in his chest that what he felt for his children would neverchange, never lessen and never fade. The excitement he got when oneof his children smiled was a feeling he would never grow tired of,and one he would never voluntarily give up no matter how old theygot.

“Whatdid Belle do in the film when the Beast was mean to her, princess?”

Isakturned back to his husband and daughter, who was now looking down ather father with a small smile on her face.

“Wasshe really brave and kept trying to help him?”

Isak,despite desperately wanting to roll his eyes at his husband’s antics,grinned when he noticed his daughter’s smile widening and a gigglebubbling in her throat.

“Yeah”,she said softly, the laugh following her words out of her mouth. Asmile lit up Even’s face at the sound and Isak once more felt hisheart stutter.

“Exactly!”Even cheered, setting his daughter onto her feet on the ground. “Soare you gonna do the same today, when me and Papa drop you off atschool? Are you gonna be brave and have a good day?”

Bellenodded enthusiastically, looking between her fathers with anuncontainable smile. “I promise Papa”, she said, looking at Isak.

Isakbeamed at her and leant down to drop a kiss to her forehead. “Andme and daddy will be proud of you not matter what, even if you can’tbe brave today.

“ButI will be”, she said. “I will be brave today.”

“Okay”,Isak laughed. “Then that’s even better!”

TakingJonah back into his arms, Isak nodded to Even who took his cue andbegan to lead Belle back down the path to her school. The trip, whichhad previously felt kind of long to Isak, now felt ridiculouslyshort. Sooner than expected, they rounded the corner and came face toface with the school.

Thegrounds were full of young children, obviously all new to school thatyear if the frantic parents chasing them around were any indication.The sight did seem to calm Even down slightly, or perhaps it was thesound of children’s laughter, for he let go of Belle’s hand and lether run ahead towards the gate.

“Youready for this?” Isak couldn’t help but ask his husband.

Evenreached down to take the hand that wasn’t holding their son againstIsak’s hip and squeezed it. “Not really, are you?”

Isakshook his head with a laugh. “No way.”

“Y'know…for totally unprepared parents we’re doing pretty well right now.”

“Yeah”,Isak sighed, watching his daughter join the crowd of children playingwhat he assumed was hide and seek. “You weren’t calm this morningthough, when we were trying to leave”, he teased.

Evensnorted. “It’s perfectly normal to cry on your daughter’s first dayof school.

“Notfor 20 minutes.”

“Foras long as necessary”, Even protested.

Isakrolled his eyes affectionately, a habit he simply couldn’t get out ofaround Even. Looking down at their youngest, he sighed. “We have todo this all again in two years.”

Evengrinned wildly. “We’ll nail it”, he promised. Isak couldn’tcontain a laugh at the look on Even’s face.

Hope it lived up to what you wanted

#emma answers #skam prompt #evak #prompt #my writing #skam #skamily #even bech næshiem #isak valtersen #ask #oneshot

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neyithfiresong · 5 years

Text

Death’s Door...

(Photo Credit: http://hdqwalls.com/sunset-beach-wallpaper)

Neyith rests on the beach in his dream world. I has been four weeks since he had his second heart attack and only a week since the one that almost took his life for good. He can hear his mother sobbing, although he can’t see her. He tries to drown out the sound by listening to the waves crashing.

“You know you can’t stay here much longer. If you do you’ll forget how to wake up.” A woman appears next to him. She stands in a white satin robes and smiles at the setting sun.

Ney squints at the woman, she looks like a younger version of his mother...but different there is a dark aura around her. “Who are you?” He stands up and walks in front of her trying to get a better look. Neyith draws back startled when he sees the other half of her form is burt? No, it’s burning still burning.

The woman looks up at him, her eyes wide and shiny, burning red, however not a threatening red, more so a calm red from a late night campfire, “That is a hard question to answer. I have had many names. The most common however, death.” Ney looks her up and down, “So death is a woman.” She laughs at him and pinches his cheek, “Death is everything and nothing. I just chose a form that would not scare you. Contrary to popular belief, I do not relish in being frightening to those who have not done wrong in their life. This form- the person I am modeling myself after seemed appropriate.” Ney raises an eyebrow, “I don’t know this person.” “Yes you do you have just forgotten. You met them once- your mother’s trial. But, I am not here to talk about me. I am here to offer you some advice Mister Firesong. You are about to be given a second chance at life. A full second chance, a man is about to risk all he has to save you and as a result save his son.” Ney rubs the back of his neck, “If you are trying to tell me to make amends with my father- I don’t have one.”

“Yes, you do and soon you will have two. Now shut up. Accept this gift of new life and do not throw it away. Do not lock yourself up inside of yourself, or push those you love away because you want to protect them. That is not how this works. I have seen every member of your family, both biological and the one you married into multiple times. Tell them I have a message, stop working alone.You all try and do things alone and it never works out. One of you always ends up dead.” She walks over to the water’s edge and smiles. “They won’t listen to me-” “Make them. Soon you will have the power to make them believe.” Ney stands there and looks at the ground, “You know, I have a job involving you. I am supposed to-” “You’re supposed to bring me down. I am aware, you are not the first to try and stop me from doing what I do. Many have tried, a few succeeded,” She looks back at him over her shoulder, “You show promise. I expect you to get closer than all the rest have. However, just like your predecessors you too shall fall. You chose a path with no positive outcome for you. You will die, leave those you love behind, and be trapped for eternity.” “Wait trapped? No, I go to the other side.” He stands there firm, arms across his chest, “Unless you want to claim my soul for yourself as punishment.” “Sweet sweet summer child. Everything has a time, everything dies, even death and then another needs to take its place.” She looks back out at the sea, “I also have another message. But this one is only for two people. Misses Paleflight and Misses Dawnblood. They came to me some time ago and I made them a deal. I would give them back their lives if they would do something for me. They have yet to make good on their end of the bargain. Remind them, I own their very lives. Everything they have gained since then is mine. And I can take it away in a flash. I already have my eye on two rewards I can take. Would be a shame….so young.” Is she really threatening my family in front of me?

Ney’s instinct takes over and he steps forward and is about to grab Death. When he reaches out his hand ages. Becoming wrinkled and grey, “Wh-” He looks up at Death and snarls. “Did you really think I came here unprotected? Just deliver my messages Neyith….and make sure they listen.” Death fades out slowly and in her place a small black pearl rests. Ney bends down his long hair falling in his face and picks up the pearl. Holding it in his hand he notices there is no light on its surface, no reflection. Slowly it starts to melt in his pal turning to ash and blows away.

Hours pass and Ney is struggling to comprehend what just happened. He paces on the beach. “What reward is she gonna take? What is going to happen? Who is so young?”

Neyith growls in frustration and punches the sand leaving a giant crater in the ground.

“I will save them...I will save all of them.”

#oc #original charecter #red and green #dragon #death #i got bored

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aroseandapen · 7 years

Text

Trial Through Echo

Rating: T because Light says ‘ass’ Pairing: GemLight (two Sans AUs by @ryliescreativecorner) Word Count: 2280 Summary: Gaster is terrible with children and has no desire to be responsible for another one. Which is unfortunate for him when BlackLight talks (i.e. forces) him into watching Echo for a few hours. Doubly unfortunate when Echo decides that using their magic to get into trouble and stress Gaster out is the best way to spend those few hours

“This is a job for your brother, isn’t it?”

“Nope.”

Light shook his head, juggling Echo in his arms. The child didn’t seem to be quite happy with the current arrangement, and was kicking their legs against their father’s thigh in what must be an attempt to be set free. Thankfully Light kept a firm grip on them. “My bro is busy toda-ay, and Gem’s bro-other is in some a-all day training session wi-ith his Undyne. Nei-ther of them can watch Echo today.”

Gaster sucked in a deep breath, eyeing the child with apprehension. It wasn’t that he was afraid of some kid, of course. He was the former Royal Scientist. He braved plenty of experiments and crossed the pathways over the Core before the handrails were even installed. There was nothing scary about a kid to him.

But…

He was never good with children. Light and Papyrus had been a fluke, experiments that he’d failed to go through with, and even when he took them out of the labs they essentially watched over themselves. All Gaster did was make sure there was some sort of sustenance and gave them clothes and made sure they knew how to get to school and…

Well, he hadn’t considered himself a father at all. A caretaker, if anything, but nothing more than that.

Light wouldn’t agree with him, but the fact that he referred to Gaster as ‘dad’ (something which still managed to make Gaster’s soul lurch unpleasantly in his chest) hadn’t meant much more than that Light was a victim of his amnesia, for a long time at least. He didn’t remember the horrible things that Gaster had done to both he and his brother. Even if Light claimed that he was no better, and that he had done and experienced things worse than anything the scientist did, it didn’t change anything. It was obvious in how Papyrus reacted toward him.

Nervous, unsure, refusing to initiate physical affection with him, referring to him exclusively as ‘the doctor’ or ‘doctor Gaster’… As a eternally forgiving monster, it was telling that Papyrus still struggled to refer to him as family.

He was becoming more comfortable with thinking of them as his family, but either way, Gaster still wasn’t good with children, and he didn’t quite want to be left with Echo. Alone. With only him around to keep an eye on the rambunctious skeleton child.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” he said, hoping that he could still change Light’s mind. “Perhaps you can just reschedule your date until either Papyrus or Gem’s brother are available.”

“No-ot a good idea, my a-ass.” With a derisive snort, Light shifted Echo in his arms so that he could press them directly into Gaster’s. He let go, and Gaster jumped to grab onto Echo on instinct. “There you go-o, look. What a natural.”

Ohhh. Gaster’s mind went into overdrive. There was a child in his arms. A squirming child trying to get free. He awkwardly adjusted his arms for a better grip, resisting the awful urge to drop them.

“I mean it, Light. I’m not good with children,” he said once Echo settled down somewhat.

Light shrugged, already backing away before Gaster could think to push Echo right back into his arms. “You-ou’ll be fi-ine. Me and my bro survived your care, didn’t we?”

“The two of you were older and more mature and could hardly be referred to as children.” Months old they’d been, technically, thanks to the wonders that was science and speeding up their growth.

“Whate-ever. Point is, if you didn’t ki-ill us in the y-years that we lived with you, I think that you can survive a couple of hours with Echo. So thank you for watching them, ha-ave fun, and remember not to gi-ive them something like piles of sugar for dinner, ok? Tha-anks dad, see you later!”

And before Gaster could get out another word of protest, Light had pulled open a portal and stepped through it. It closed behind him with a blip, and Gaster found himself alone with Echo.

Oh no, this wasn’t going to be good. He could feel it.

Gaster turned Echo around in his arms so that he could look them in the face—eyesocket to eyesocket. They’d stopped their squirming to meet his gaze, tilting their head as if considering him in whatever way that babies considered other monsters. He frowned.

“Alright, Echo, if this is to work then we must set a few ground rules here.” What was Gaster even doing? He didn’t think that Echo was even old enough to understand what he was saying to them. “First, there will be no unnecessary magic use—especially blue magic and whatever trick your father has with that teleporting thing. Second, you will be nice and quiet and avoid getting into any trouble while you are in my care. Are we clear?”

A long silence stretched out between the two of them. For a moment, Gaster thought that his words had actually gotten through to them, and Echo was taking them to heart. Good. Perhaps watching over them wouldn’t be as difficult as he’d feared.

“Ooo!” They let out a trill, and shoved their hand right into his good eye socket.

Never mind.

A full body shudder ran through him. He extricated the offending hand from his eye socket and promptly set Echo on the ground. They stood on their feet, wobbling and waving their hands for a good minute before losing balance and sitting heavily down on the ground. They made a choked off squeal of surprise before falling into silence, blinking down at the ground as if it were solely responsible for their inability to stand.

Well, they weren’t crying at least.

“Alright. Now…” Satisfied that they weren’t about to go tottering away, considering that they couldn’t even stand, Gaster turned to survey the living room. One of Echo’s toys had to be around somewhere, right? Right?

No, it seemed. Papyrus kept things under strict cleanliness, and that hadn’t stopped after Echo had been brought into their lives. Gaster had never seen a house be so clean once a baby was introduced to a household, but if anyone was capable of it then he supposed that it would have to be his neat-freak of a son (his son, it was still so strange to consider either of the boys as such) especially if he enlisted the help of his double.

And thus there were no toys in sight. He’d have to take Echo up into Light’s room and see if there was anything for them to play with in there.

Gaster began to turn back to the child with a sigh. “Alright, Echo, let’s go—.” He choked off the rest of his words, staring straight at the spot where he’d left them.

Echo wasn’t there.

“Echo?” he called, the steady pulse of his soul quickening with a nauseating twist in his chest. Oh god, he’d already lost the kid. The kid who could barely even walk. Gem was going to murder him. “Echo where did you go?”

“Grampa!”

That was Echo’s voice. From above—oh no.

He glanced up, and sure enough there they were, little skull sticking out between the bars of the railing on the second floor landing. Gaster felt his soul stop when they leaned even further out to stick their hand as far out as it could go, waving cheerily down at him with the other hand holding onto the bars with the weakest grip he’d ever seen. It was easy to imagine them leaning too far forward and crushing their poor little skull on the ground below.

“Echo! Down!”

Everything was a blur of motion as he bolted, leaping over the baby gate that was useless in keeping Echo from managing to get upstairs. The terrified look on his face must have been somehow comical, because Echo shrieked with laughter, releasing their grip on the railing to teeter at the edge. He pushed himself to go that little bit faster, practically throwing himself to scoop Echo up and out of harm’s way.

His arms closed in on empty air.

“Wha—what, they—?” Gaster panted from the physical exertion, staring down at his arms, missing the baby he’d lunged for. How could they—? Oh no, why? He’d been prepared for blue magic, but apparently Echo shared their fathers’ ability to teleport. “Echo?”

“Graaaaampa!”

If it were possible, his face would blanch at Echo’s voice. He prayed to every divine above that Echo was just on the ground floor, nice and safe and sitting still until Gaster could get back down to them. His head jerked, spine stiffed as he peaked through the bars of the railing. And there they were, in a nest of sticky strings like some sort of toddler-shaped spider-ton, fingers entangled in its knots as they stuck to the wall.

The image of Light hanging from a hammock forced its way up from his memories. Oh. Wonderful. Echo shared another lovely magic ability with their parents. The only power that he expected yet to come from them was—.

Blue magic. Of course.

Mentally beating himself over the head, Gaster reached out to envelop Echo’s soul and with a ping! turned it blue. Little Echo burst into helpless giggles as Gaster forcibly extricated from the wall, bringing them through the air, over the railing, and into the (relative) safety of his arms.

“I’m not playing,” he told them, getting nothing but smiles in return.

He sighed, setting them against his hip as he carried Echo back downstairs and through the baby gate once again. “How do you feel about an early dinner and a bath? I think we’ve had enough excitement for one day, do you?”

“Ooopappa!” was the highly intelligent response from Echo.

Gaster nodded. “Right. I agree. Now… how do you feel about having piles of sugar for dinner?”

“’oogar?”

Aw. He found himself grinning. Now this was the sort of conversation that a man could get used to. (Not that he was actually going to feed Echo piles of sugar for dinner, but the idea of that little rebellion as revenge for foisting the kid on him was enticing nonetheless.)

“That’s right, Echo. ‘Oogar’. Your dad said ‘oogar’ for dinner so that’s exactly what I’m going to make you, doesn’t that sound great?” he asked lifting Echo up above his head.

With the answering giggle and delighted flapping of limbs, Gaster was sure that the two of them would get along just fine.

Unfortunately, after setting Echo in their chair so that he could make dinner (none of the sugar that he promised, but he didn’t think that Echo would care about the lie once they were old enough to understand what he said in the first place), the child decided that sitting still wasn’t their style. When he glanced over his shoulder to check on them, he discovered them missing. Again. Highchair and all. At least they hadn’t gone far, just outside the kitchen banging on the food tray. He left the chair there, and brought Echo’s food to them.

What would be the point of moving the chair back into the kitchen anyway? They’d probably teleport it again.

After a very messy dinner, it seemed that Echo was winding down. Their bursting energy from before seemed to have calmed—likely exhausted from all the magic they’d expended within the last short hour—and they were beginning to fuss. He scooped them up, allowing them to rest against his chest as he walked them about, losing himself to his thoughts.

All things aside, spending time with the kid wasn’t too bad. He didn’t think that he wanted to do it again anytime soon, but Echo was a good baby. That was… when they weren’t teleporting around and climbing walls. How did either of his sons or their doubles deal with a child like that? Papyrus and Light weren’t such a fright to be around when they were smaller.

(Although maybe that wasn’t much of thing to brag about. He didn’t think obedience, fear, and anxiety was much of a way to raise a child. Light and Gem were better fathers than Gaster could’ve ever hoped to be.)

Echo had been still for a while now, he realized with a start. He stole a glance down at the child, relief washing over him at the sight of Echo, little skull pillowed against his chest and eyesockets shut. Oh thank god, Echo had fallen asleep. His legs felt weak suddenly, and he edged himself down onto the couch, taking care not to jostle them and ruin their rest. He had no clue how he’d get them back to sleep if he messed it up now.

The both of them had survived Gaster’s babysitting.

He laid down along the couch, head on the armrest on one side and legs kicked up over the armrest on the other. Now that he wasn’t chasing the terror child around the house, exhaustion crept into his joints and his limbs felt like they’d turned into lead. Gaster was more than ready for what he considered to be a well-deserved rest.

Well, what better time like the present, with Echo already asleep as well?

Just as the thought crossed his mind, Gaster’s eyes fell closed. It felt like his body was sinking into the cushions, the steady breathing of his sleeping grandchild lulling him into peace.

Before he knew it, Gaster dropped away into the blissful dark of sleep.

#gemlight #undertale #starseed au #and whatever other aus that end up in this jumble of a universe #one shot #Trial Through Echo

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zebrashavestripes · 7 years

Text

The Child by Witi Ihimaera

The Child.

“Haere mai, Mokopuna,” she would say.

And always I would go with her, for I was both her keeper and her companion. I was a small boy; she was a child too, in an old woman’s body.

“Where are we going today, Nani?” I would ask. But I always knew.

“We go down to the sea, mokopuna, to the sea.”

Some people called my Nani crazy, porangi. Whenever I heard that word, my heart would flutter as if a small bird was trapped in there and wanted to get out. My Nani wasn’t porangi, not to me.

But always, somebody would laugh at her and play with her feeble mind as if it was a kaitaka, a top which you whipped with flax to keep spinning. They would mimic her too, the sudden spasms that shook her body or the way she used to rock her head when her mind was wandering far away.

Dad, he told me that those people didn’t understand or that they were only joking. But I’d see the sharp flints gleaming in their eyes and the cruel ways they lashed out at her. I would yell, “Stop! Don’t you make fun of my Nani.” I used to hate them all.

I loved my Nani. I would pat her on the head and hug her close to me. And she would whimper and put her arms around me too.

“Where my kete,” she would ask me. “Where my kete?”

And I would help her look for it. I knew always that the basket would be under her bed, but Nani liked playing pretend so I’d lay along with her.

“I don’t know, Nani,” I’d tell her as we searched in all the dark corners of her room. “Is it in the drawer? No, not there. Where you put it, Nani? Where?”

And all the time, she would answer me in a vague voice, just like a little girl.

“I don’ know, mokopuna. I don’know where I put my kete. It’s somewhere.”

We’d play the game a little longer. Than I’d laugh.

“Here it is, Nani! Here’s your bag!”

Her eyes would light up.

“You found it, mokopuna? You found my kete? Ae, that’s it, that’s my kete.”

I would put it in her hands.

“You ready to go now, Nani?” I’d ask. “We go down to the sea now?”

“I put my scarf on first, eh,” She would answer. “Might be cold, might be makariri.”

Those other people, they never saw Nani the way I did. And some of the kids at school they used to be funny to her. Willie Anderson, he would make faces and act all crazy. He would follow Nani and imitate the way she walked. His father caught him once, and gave him a good hiding. But Willie didn’t feel sorry; he only hated Nani more. And he told lies about her. We had a fight after school one day. He was tougher than me and he won. But I didn’t care, not even when he told some other kids I was porangi too.

I had my Nini; I didn’t need anybody else.

“You fella just leave my Nani alone,” I told them. “Don’t you touch her even.”

Willie, he just laughed and threw dust at me.

But he was only jealous, because he’d thought that when Nani was staring at the sky, she was looking at nothing.

“No! I’ve seen what she looks at, Willie Anderson, I’ve seen her world. She’s taken me there.”

Willie didn’t like that. He never liked being left out of things. That’s why he was jealous.

“Come to me, Nani,” I would say.

And she would come and lift her head so that I could put her scarf on her. She would sit very still and very silent, and her lips would move without saying anything. The words were soundless.

“Yes, Nani,” I would answer. “We’re going down to the see soon. Just wait your hurry. No don’t say bad words to me. Nani! I heard what you said that time! You’re a bad girl!”

My Nanai, she knew I was angry with her. Her eyes would dim and she’d fold her hands carefully in her lap. Sometimes, a small droplet of spittle would trickle from her mouth.

“I’m sorry, mokopuna,” she would whisper slowly.

I’d wipe her lips.

“Don’t cry, Nani. I was only playing. Don’t be a crybaby, don’t be a tangiweto!”

And her eyes would light up, and deep down in them I’d see a little girl beginning to smile.

“You’re cunning all right, Nani!” I would say. “Those are only pretending tears! I know you, Nani! So no more cry, eh? Come on, we go to the sea now. Haere mai.”

And she’d put her hand in mine.

My Nani, she used to be alright once. She never used to be porangi all the time.And she had another life, another history, way before I was born.

“Your Nani was with Te Kooti the prophet when he took the people to Ohiwa,” Dad told me. “She’s one of the morehu, the ringatu survivors, of the pakeha wars. During the 1918 flu epidemic she took all the children into the bush and didn’t bring us out until it was all over. If it wasn’t for her we wouldn’t be here today. Over all these years she has protected and nurtured the seed sown at Raiatea.”

“Where you going, Tawhai?” Mum would ask.

And I would tell her, sometimes afraid that she might say, “No, you and Nani stay home.”

“Me and Nani,” I would answer, “we’re going down to the beach for a little walk. Won’t be long, Mum.”

“Okay, but you look after Nani, eh. If it gets cold, you put your jersey around her. If it starts to rain, you bring her home straight away. And don’t get up to any mischief down there.

“Alright, Mum.”

And I would turn to my Nani.

“Come on, Nani. It’s allright. Mum said we could go. Come on, come to me, Nani. Give me your hand. Don’t be afraid.”

And together, we’d walk out of the house.

Sometimes, my Nani she’d be just like she used to be, as if she was waking up from a long moe. She’d laugh and talk and her body wouldn’t shiver all the time. But after a while, her mind would go to sleep again.

When she was asleep like that, I’d have to help her do things. Nani couldn’t even feed herself when her mind went away!

“Come to me, Nani,” I would say. And she’d sit down and I’d put a tea towel around her neck to stop the kai from getting on her dress. “Open your mouth, Nani. Wider yet. That’s it. There we are! Wasn’t that good? This kai’s good eh!” And she’d nod her head and make some moaning noises which meant she wanted more. So I’d fill her spoon again, and she would smile to show she was happy.

“What that thing?” Nani would ask as we walked along the road.

And she would point to a house, a tree, a car or an animal grazing in a paddock. She liked pretending she didn’t know what things were.

That’s a horse, that’s a fowl, that’s where Mrs Katene lives, that’s a kowhai,” I would tell her.

And she would repeat my words in a slow, sing-song voice.

“A tree, a manuka, a fence, a horse. No, that’s not a horse, that’s a hoiho, mokopuna.”

“That’s right, Nani!” I would say. “You’re cleverer than me, eh! You know all the Maori names; I don’t, Nani. Your mokopuna, he’s dumb!”

And she would giggle and do a little dance. Sometimes she’d even sing me a song.

Tahi nei taru kino

Mahi whaiaipo,

Kei te wehenga

Aroha kau ana.

And her quivering voice would lift its wings and circle softly in the air.

Nani like to sing. Sometimes, she’d be waiting at the door for me when I got home from school, and she’d have the guitar in her hands. Kepa, my brother, he gave me that guitar and learned me a few chords. But I didn’t know how to play it properly. Nani didn’t mind, thought. As long as I strummed it, she was happy. We’d sit on the verandah, she’d press my fingers to the strings, and as I played she would sing, one song after the other.

And sometimes, Dad would come and join us. “What a racket!” he would say. “Here, give that guitar to me.” And he would tune it and say to Nani, “Com on, Mum, we sing your song, eh? Ready, steady, go!” My Dad, he could play that guitar! And him and Nani, they could sing as good as anything.

E puti puti koe, katoa hia

You’re just a flower from an old bouquet,

I’ve waited patiently for you, each day

That was Nani’s song. Her pakeha name was Violet, and everybody called her that because her Maori name was too long. And my Nani, she was just like a violet; shy and small and hiding her face in her petals if the sun blazed too strong.

“We’re almost there now, eh, mokopuna,” Nani would say.

And I would nod my head.

“Ae, Nani. Almost there. Almost at the sea,”

Nani always said that same thing every time we reached the shortcut to the beach. She’d hurry along the road to the gate. Beyond it, a path led through a paddock and down the cliff to where the sea was. Nani, she would run a little ahead of me, than look back just to make sure I was following. She didn’t like being alone.

“Haere mai, mokopuna!” She would yell. “Hurry up! The sea!” And she would cock her head to the wind and hear the waves murmuring. Than she’d run along a little further and flutter her hands at me to hurry.

I used to pretend not to hear her, and just dawdle along.

“Eh, Nani? What you say?” I would call.

And always, she would flutter her hands and lead her head into the wind.

My Nani, she loved the sea. She and Nani Pita used to live in a house right on the beach. But when Nani Pita died, she came to live at our place because dad was the eldest of her children. Dad, he told me that Nani wasn’t really porangi; just old and lonely. He didn’t know how long she’d stay with us because she was as old as Nani Pita.

“What is the greatest thing we can do as a family, son?” he asked. “It is to love and care for each other. Your Nani has loved us all her life, looked after us and fought many battles for us. It is only right now she is old that our turn has come to look after her. By loving her we honour her. By looking after her we truly begin to understand how painful as well as fulfilling love can be. Many people are not given the gift of loving someone as old as she is. So while you have her, love her, eh?”

I told him I would make Nani so happy that she would never want to leave. But Dad, he didn’t understand that I knew my Nani wouldn’t go away. He just smile sadly and put his hands around my shoulders. “Someday,” he said. “Someday.”

Sometimes, late at night, I’d hear Nani crying because she was lonely. I’d creep softly down the corridor to her room and brush away her tears with my hands.

“You’re too old to cry,”I’d growl at her. But she’d keep weeping, so I’d hug her for a while. “Turi Turi, Nani,”I’d whisper. “I’m here. Don’t be afraid.”

And sometimes, I’d stay with her until she went to sleep again.

“Here’s one, mokopuna!” She would yell. “I got one!”

And she would hold up a sea shell she had found.

My Nani, she thought I liked shells; I don’t know why. Maybe it was because when she first came to stay with us, she saw a paua shell in my room. Whatever it was, every time we went down to the sea, she’d wander along the beach, looking for shells to give me.

“You want this one?” She’d ask. And she’d cock her head to one side and look into my eyes. Sometimes, she’d look so hard case that I’d laugh.

“Okay, Nani! We take it home.”

Than she’d look very happy and drop the shell into her kete.

“We’re taking you home,”she’d tell the shell. “We taking you home for my mokopuna.”

And every now and than, as we walked along the beach, she would let go of my hand to get another shell glittering in the sand.

“I already got enough, Nani!” I would yell.

But always, she would show it to me and cock her head as if she was asking me a question.

“All right, Nani,” I would sigh. “We take this one home too.”

It used to be good just wandering along the beach with Nani.

If it was sunny and the sea wasn’t rough, she’d let go of my hand more often, and wander off alone. I didn’t mind, because I knew Nani wasn’t really alone; she was wandering with Nani Pita on some remembered day.

But sometimes, a seagull would scream or casts it’s shadow over her head. Than she’d stop and begin to tremble.

“It’s all right, Nani,” I’d say. “I’m here.”

And she would reach for my hand.

“You won’t leave me will you, mokopuna?” she would say.

“No, Nani,” I would answer. “Turi turi now.”

And we would walk together again. Nani, she never left me when the sea was stormy. She used to be very scared and hold me very tight. Seaweed, it frightened her. She’s look at the waves and see the seaweed rising with them and whimper, afraid that she’d be caught by the long, black fingers.

And sometimes, she would make me scared too.

“We go back home no, eh?” I would ask her.

“Ae, we go back home, mokopuna. Hom.

And she’d clutch her bag closely to her, and the shells would clink and scrape against each other.

One day, my Nani, she wasn’t home when I got back from school. I looked in her room, I looked everywhere, but I couldn’t find her. Mum got worried and went to get Dad. But I knew where she’d be.

I ran down the road.

“Nani! Nani!”

I don’t know why I was crying. Perhaps it was because she had gone without waiting for me.

“Nani! Nani!”

I heard the sea murmuring as I ran along the path, toward the cliff. I looked down to the beach.

My Nani, she was lying there.

“Nani!”

I rushed down the cliff toward her. I hugged her to me.

In her hand was a sea shell.

“Yes, Nani,” I said. “That’s a good one, that’s the best one you’ve ever found for me. We put it in your bag, eh? We take it home. We go home now, we go home…”

But she didn’t answer.

Her mind had wandered far away, and my Nani, she had wandered after it.

“Haere mai, mokopuna,” she would say.

And always I would go with her.

“Where are we going, Nani?”

“We go down to the sea, mokopuna. To the sea.”

(Maori Glossary)

Haere mai- Come here

Mokopuna- Grandchild

Nani- Nickname for grandparent

Porangi- To be mad or crazy

Kaitaka- Whipping top

Kete- Bag

Makariri- Cold

Tangiweto- Crybaby

Ohiwa- Small town in the North Island of New Zealand

Pakeha- Non-maori people

Raiatea- Island in french Polynesia

Kowhai- Type of tree with pretty yellow flowers.

Manuka- Tea tree (Which makes amazing honey)

Hoiho- Horse

Tahi nei taru kino- With weeds

Mahi whaiapo- Working Whaiapo

Kei te wehenga- The seperation

Aroha kau ana- I love you alone.

E puti puti koe katoa hia- Strength is all you need

Nani Pita- Nickname for grandparent

Turi turi- Shush shush.

#short story #new zealand #maori #witi ihimaera #poems

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