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friendshipcampaign · 4 years

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Truth or Dare

Here’s something a little different: backstory writing!

This story takes place in 1439, 5E, 16 years before the start of the campaign, and deals with an encounter Erwyn had in the past with the DPL officers Creed and Aurelia. Since the experience and relevant characters cropped up in-game this arc, I was able to share it with the group -- no more secrets! The only thing that remains redacted is the name of Erwyn’s hometown, which hasn’t come up yet in-game.

As morning light began to filter into the tiny jail cell he’d spent the last couple of days in, Erwyn barely even tilted his head to look the direction it came from. Though he was exhausted, having not tranced at all since his incarceration, he didn’t want to tear his eyes away from the barred door to the little room for the same reason he hadn’t been getting any rest -- he was terrified here, and far too scared to let his guard down.

Resting his head on his arms, which were in turn folded on top of his knees, he felt tears start welling up in his eyes again. They still felt puffy from his last bout of crying, but no one seemed to have informed them that they weren’t allowed to start it up again just yet. So he sat there, still as the surface of a frozen lake, and trapped in the second prison of his anxious thoughts. Even the sound of voices making their way down the hall wasn’t enough stimulus to pique his interest -- at least, not until he made out a particular phrase in their conversation.

“Right down here,” the jailer was saying. “I have to say, we weren’t expecting anyone to get here to deal with the elf kid until sometime later this week.”

A gruff voice that he didn’t recognize replied, saying “Then you clearly don’t understand how seriously we take these sorts of infractions.”

Erwyn squeezed his eyes closed for a moment, his overwhelming anxiety causing his instincts to stay alert and his desire to disappear entirely to war within him. He was already curled up fairly small, but tried to fold in on himself even more. It was a useless course of action, but every part of his body was telling him he ought to try to hide, and there was nowhere to do so.

He heard the sound of jangling keys, likely meaning someone was opening the cell door, followed by the voice of the jailer calling out to him.

“Hey, kid. Got some people here who want to talk to you.”

Unmoving, Erwyn kept his eyes clenched shut and ran through about a dozen different scenarios that could be referencing. None of them were good.

“Kid,” came the jailer’s call again. “Get moving. You’re not in a position where you want to keep people waiting right now.”

When Erwyn still didn’t get up or even open his eyes, the jailer kept talking, but this time to whoever had come down the hall with her.

“He’s been like this ever since we brought him in,” she said. “Doesn’t move, doesn’t talk. Hasn’t even been eating or doing whatever that weird thing elves do instead of sleep is, far as I can tell. For days.”

“Oh, come on then!” came another voice, much more singsong than the jailer or the other new person. “We’re just here to get things sorted. If you truly didn’t know what you were doing, you haven’t got any reason to be afraid.”

“You have got a reason though,” the gruff voice he didn’t recognize from earlier cut in, “if you don’t get moving. I’ll drag you out of this cell by your pointy ears in another ten seconds.”

The “If I don’t do what these people want I’ll be in even more trouble” anxiety now overriding the “I’m scared of why they’re here” kind that had been captaining his brain thus far, Erwyn opened his eyes and lifted his head a little to get a better look at the strangers.

The jailer he recognized, and standing with her were a grumpy-looking human woman and a pale blue tiefling man. The pair were almost comically mismatched -- she was short and round-ish where he was tall and lithe, and where she bore a scowling expression, the tiefling seemed oddly cheerful given the circumstances. Though Erwyn supposed that he wasn’t the one who had anything to be afraid of right now.

“Come along,” the man said, “We’re not going to ask you questions about dabbling in demonology out here in the open.”

The prisoner in the cell across from Erwyn, a rough-looking human man who’d heckled him a little when he’d first been brought in before seeming to realize that the boy was too miserable a target to be much fun and had since adopted the stance of just making occasional snide comments about how much he was crying, snapped his head up in interest.

“Demons?” he said, incredulously. “You mean that scrawny kid got thrown in here for trying to summon demons?”

The scowling woman turned her head to give the other prisoner a withering look, and he didn’t press further. But before Erwyn could muster any relief at that particular chain of questioning being stopped, she whirled back around to face him.

“Get up!” she snapped. “Are you trying to get yourself in even more trouble?”

Erwyn scrambled to his feet, fighting back tears again already. He was scared enough as it was. People yelling at him could only make things worse. It always made things worse.

Once standing, he stared at the two apparent investigators nervously, eyes flitting between them as he awaited more -- and hopefully quieter -- instructions.

“Just follow us,” the tiefling man said, opening the cell door a bit wider and gesturing for Erwyn to exit. “There’s a room in the back where they’re going to let us ask you some questions. Mostly to figure out if you’re working with anyone, though if you truly weren’t trying what it looks like you were, we’ll likely be able to prove that as well.”

Erwyn started to walk towards the door. The mismatched pair and the jailer started to head down the hall, though the man stood and waited a bit longer, walking almost alongside Erwyn and towering over him.

“I’m Creed,” he said, “And the woman with me is Aurelia. We’re with the Demonology Prevention League. Have you got a name?”

“Of course he’s got a name, Creed,” Aurelia snapped from ahead of them. Erwyn was beginning to get the distinct impression that these two might not actually like working together. Or at least that Aurelia didn’t.

“M-my name’s Erwyn,” he said nervously.

“He speaks!” Creed exclaimed, tossing his hands up into the air and grinning. Though he couldn’t see her face, Erwyn had a feeling Aurelia was rolling her eyes.

“Last name?” she asked, voice sharp, and more demanding than Creed’s when it came to acquiring information.

“Cestacelvar.”

“Bit of a mouthful, eh?,” Creed said. “Bet you had fun learning to say that as a kid.”

Though it was clear from the tiefling’s tone that he was trying to make friendly conversation, Erwyn wasn’t in the right frame of mind for it. He looked down at the ground, deciding that for the rest of the walk to wherever they were going he wanted to stare intensely at his shabby boots.

It wasn’t long before they arrived at a door near the entrance, behind the jailer’s desk, that Erwyn hadn’t noticed when he’d been brought in. Understandable, as even though his perception was typically decent, he’d been even more distraught then than he was now. As well as slammed against said desk by the officer who’d dragged him to the jail from the library.

The jailer unhooked a key from her belt and stuck it in the lock on the door, pulling it open once there’d been a small click. It made an ominous creaking sound that didn’t set his nerves any more at ease.

“Alright,” she said. “You folks are welcome to it. Let me know when you’re done if we’ll be hosting him any longer.”

Aurelia pursed her lips. “You won’t,” she said. “There’s a slim chance he’s deemed innocuous enough today that we decide he doesn’t need to be locked up anymore, or more likely, we get him transferred somewhat more high security that knows how to deal with his type.”

Erwyn squeezed his eyes shut again. His heart had, for just a moment, stopped pounding so loudly he could swear it was audible to everyone, but at the declaration that made it sound like Aurelia already assumed his culpability, it started racing even faster. He’d been absolutely miserable these past few days, physically shaking with anxiety much of the time. Not to mention too stressed to eat, and too instinctually terrified to trance. If he ended up getting a longer sentence, he was genuinely unsure he’d survive.

People legitimately imprisoned for demonology usually got very, very long sentences.

When he let himself look at everyone again, he realized they were all staring at him and his rapidly pulsing heart began to sink towards his feet.

“Well, you planning on standing there?” Aurelia said, sounding annoyed. Erwyn very quickly shook his head in response and stepped inside, nervously glancing back at the jailer and investigators in fear. Part of him felt like asking him to go first was a ploy, so they could shut the door behind him, lock him up again, and have a laugh about it.

It was one of those thoughts he had so frequently that was entirely irrational, but he still couldn’t convince himself might not be true.

Creed and Aurelia followed in after him though, and only then was the door shut by the jailer -- and certainly, with those two inside as well, not locked. The former of the two even walked around him to pull out the chair at the table in the center of the small room, the only two pieces of furniture inside it, and gestured for Erwyn to sit down.

As soon as he obliged, the investigators took places standing towards opposite corners of the table on the other side, Aurelia crossing her arms. Creed seemed like he wasn’t entirely sure what to do with his until he started speaking, and they waved around wildly.

“Now,” he said. “I’m sure we’ll all be happier if you tell the truth -- we’re looking for it, and even if you try to disguise it, we’re going to figure it out, and it probably won’t be so pleasant for you if we have to extract it in a difficult manner.”

“I-I’ll tell the truth, I promise,” Erwyn said, a disting quaking entering his voice. He hoped he didn’t sound as terrified as he felt. Though on the other hand, perhaps that would help his case -- someone as scared as he was would probably be less likely to lie.

“Yeah, promises aren’t going to cut it, kid,” Aurelia said. “We’ve got a method that’s going to be a lot more effective.”

Looking frantically between the two, Erwyn hoped one of them was about to give an answer, and that it wouldn’t be something as frightening as his own brain was supplying.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Creed said. “It’s entirely painless, just a spell. And if you’ve got nothing to hide it’ll only help you, seeing as we’ll actually be inclined to believe you. Makes you tell the truth, that’s all. Sound good?”

Erwyn was only slightly comforted by this explanation, as while he didn’t like lying, especially to authorities, there were certainly still things he’d rather not have to tell the truth about. But he wasn’t in a position to tell anyone they were causing him distress, so he simply swallowed heavily and nodded.

“Now, some people try to resist it. Everything’ll go a lot smoother for all of us if you just… let it happen,” Creed continued.

“And I’d listen to him,” Aurelia said, staring him down, “Because otherwise we know you’ve got something to hide, and it’ll be a big mark against you. Seeing why you’re here in the first place, you’ve already got a lot of marks.”

“Alright, casting in one… two… three…” Creed said, doing something odd with his hands that clearly represented manipulating magical energy.

Almost instantaneously, Erwyn felt a horrible sensation wash over him. It started in his brain, and he so desperately wanted to fight it, but he instead took a fistful of his cloak in his right hand and tried to stay grounded in the outside world, and not the prying, tickling feeling he suddenly felt all over. He shut his eyes tightly again, only opening them when the feeling had subsided to be a bit duller.

“The Zone take hold?” Aurelia asked, looking at Creed.

“Perfectly,” the tiefling said. “Thank you, Erwyn, for working with us thus far.”

Aurelia just planted both her hands on the table to lean over it, staring at him like she was trying to pry as deeply into his brain as the spell seemed to have.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

Erwyn swallowed nervously. If he was careful with his phrasing, perhaps he wouldn’t have to disclose, well…. you know.

“I already told you my name is Erwyn Cestacelvar,” he said after a moment of thought.

“Yeah, well a lot of people make stuff up,” Aurelia said. “Creed?”

“Registered as truth. Shall we establish now that I’ll just tell you if something’s false?”

“Yeah, I guess. Might still ask on some important ones though.”

“Fair enough.”

“How old are you?” Aurelia asked, turning to look back at Erwyn.

He was about to answer when Erwyn felt tears prick at his eyes again -- he’d just realized he didn’t actually know. He’d been aware he was starting to struggle with keeping track. Humans and other races used a very different calendar than the elves, and he’d never learned their equivalents. His age wasn’t something he liked to think about for that reason. But he hadn’t realized he’d pushed it so far out of mind that it had escaped him entirely.

“I don’t… I don’t know,” he said, choking slightly on the words. The two investigators exchanged glances.

“He isn’t lying,” Creed said, shrugging.

“What,” Aurelia said, “Are you an orphan or something? Never learned?”

Erwyn shook his head, still trying desperately not to cry. This was an unfortunate situation to be in when learning he’d lost such an important piece of information about himself. He’d much rather have realized it when he was alone some night -- perhaps around the winter solstice, idly trying to recall how old he’d be after this one. When he could think about it enough to accept it a bit more. Not in a scenario where he felt like crying anyways.

“No,” he said, “I-I did know, once. But I don’t anymore. I’m sorry.”

“Have you got any idea?” Creed asked. “Approximately, of course. It would aid our inquiry if we at least knew whether or not you’re an adult.”

“Well I can say… I mean, I do know that I’m over 100, i-if that’s what you need to know. Probably about 109,” he said, hoping it wasn’t too far off. It sounded about right.

Aurelia made some difficult-to-interpret noise than nonetheless seemed disdainful, followed by something muttered under her breath that sounded suspiciously like “Elves…”

“Where are you from, Erwyn?” Creed asked.

“ ,” he said.

“ ?” Aurelia said, quirking an eyebrow. It was a short name, but she still managed to butcher the pronunciation.

“I-It’s an elven town,” he said. “North of here.”

The two investigators exchanged glances, seemingly trying to decide if they should pry further. Hopefully they didn’t -- he didn’t know how else to describe where he’d grown up other than to say it was about four days’ walk from where Lyrium had been, and mentioning Lyrium didn’t seem like something that would help his case here.

“Okay then,” Aurelia said. “You’re from a place with elves, as far as I’ve heard elves usually stick around other elves, and yet somehow you ended up here, digging into things you shouldn’t have instead. Care to explain that?”

Trying to ignore the first part of the phrasing of her question -- and desperately hoping that these people weren’t going to ask him for his whole life’s story -- Erwyn replied “I’ve been traveling for a while now, visiting towns large enough to have libraries in particular. Th-there are some things I’ve been trying to learn about, but most places don’t have much information on them.”

“Demons?” she accused.

“Other planes,” Erwyn said.

Aurelia narrowed her eyes. “We were informed that you asked for a book on Abyssal,” she said.

“Well, yes,” Erwyn said. “Other planes, and… and things that live on other planes. They sort of go together.”

“An aspiring cosmologist?” Creed asked.

Erwyn nodded. “You could say that.”

“Why not try to learn about less dangerous ones?” Aurelia said. “Less evil ones in particular? If you’re not trying to summon demons, why would you spend your time on the Abyss and not Arborea?”

“People need more protecting from those ones.”

Aurelia pointed a finger at him, like she’d caught him in a lie -- or something equally incriminating.

“Then you’re no academic,” she accused, “If that’s even true, you’re just a vigilante!”

Erwyn hung his head. He didn’t really have a good counter for that. Usually -- thought he didn’t have a particularly large sample size -- saying he wanted to protect people was good enough. It had never occured to him that some people mind find that a danger to society, too.

Creed cleared his throat. “Erwyn,” he said. “Can I at least get a verbal confirmation from you that you never intended to summon anything?”

“I didn’t,” he said. “And I-I don’t intend to in the future either. I’m trying to learn how to get rid of dangerous creatures, not the opposite.”

The tiefling turned to Aurelia. “That was a truthful statement, by the way,” he said.

“Doesn’t mean he’s not dangerous,” she said, her eyes still narrowed in Erwyn’s direction. She hadn’t taken them off him since he’d answered her last question.

“No, it doesn’t, but it does give us much shakier grounds for any kind of conviction,” Creed said.

“I don’t want to tell him he’s free to go if in a couple weeks we’re going to have to deal with some amateur’s shoddy patch job on a portal making a bad situation worse,” she said.

“Well I’m not sure what you want anyone to do here, then,” her partner said. “Seeing as the boy’s been nothing but truthful and given us not only an assurance that there was no malicious intent to his previous research, but an additional statement that he isn’t harboring any for the future either. And from the report we got from the jailer, I would assume this little visit has scared him enough on that front.”

Aurelia glowered for a bit, but finally seemed to relent.

“Alright, fine,” she said. “We’ll let him go -- on one condition.”

Glances with varying levels of curiosity versus distress were exchanged with here by both Creed and Erwyn.

“And... and what might that be?” Erwyn asked nervously when she didn’t give an immediate answer. He didn’t feel like he was out of the woods yet.

“He promises to stop looking into this stuff and leave it to the professionals,” she said.

Erwyn felt his heart plumment back into his stomach. He couldn’t promise that, and if he did, it certainly wouldn’t register as truth. Not because, as Aurelia seemed to think, he arrogantly thought he knew better. That couldn’t be further from the truth. It was simply the fact that he’d sacrificed nearly everything to follow the path he was currently on. It wasn’t something he could just throw away like that -- even with the threat of more jail time lingering over his head.

He turned every possible phrasing around in his head, trying to come up with something he could stay that would be enough within the bounds of truth to work. Just as he was beginning to despair that he had no ideas and he’d waited long enough that the fact would be betrayed whether he said anything or not, he caught a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye.

Creed winked.

Aurelia was still staring straight ahead, practically into Erwyn’s soul, and didn’t seem to notice the gesture, but it was unmistakable. His heart fluttering, Erwyn hoped he wasn’t misinterpreting what it might mean. He supposed he’d know in a matter or moments if he trusted his intuition and it failed. At the same time, however… it almost felt like the truth magic was fading.

“...I-I promise,” he said. The words were shaky but they tumbled out of his mouth nonetheless. He could have cried.

Creed folded his hands behind his back, looking pleased, but Aurelia didn’t seem to notice.

“Truthful?” she asked.

“Most certainly,” he replied, the expression fading from his face seamlessly as she turned to look at him.”

“Alright,” Aurelia said. “We’re letting you go, so that should make you happy, but don’t think you’re entirely off the hook. You’re still going on our list of potential threats. I wasn’t born yesterday, so I’m not taking the risk that you know some way of getting around truth magic or have a loophole or are somebody’s accomplice. So I’d step carefully from now on unless you want to end up back here, and if you end up back here, we won’t be so nice.”

Erwyn nodded.

“Come on, then,” Creed said, stepping over to the door behind him. “I’m sure you feel you’ve spent enough time in the stuffy place. We can tell the jailer to collect your things and get you out of here.”

He followed the tiefling out, in a bit of a daze as the agents talked with the jailer. She left after a short while, probably to grab his bag and bow (that was all he really had), and Creed turned to him, chatting idly while they waited.

“Should’ve gotten into trouble nearer a big city,” he said. “Then you wouldn’t have had to wait so long for some of us to get out here.”

“I-I’m just glad it worked out,” he replied.

There was a brief pause, and Erwyn spoke again.

“Thank you,” he said.

Creed winked at him a second time, the implication going unspoken between them. “We got a fairly good read on you, I think,” he said. “I don’t think letting you walk free is a poor decision.”

“That’s because you’re not hard enough on anyone, Creed,” Aurelia said, rolling her eyes. “You’ve got your uses, but judging character isn’t one of them.”

Looking over her head to give Erwyn a sly, friendly smile as he leaned against the counter, the tiefling either ignored her or didn’t seem to mind the insult. Erwyn thought that was fair of him -- he was a biased source, obviously, but it felt to him like Creed seemed to be the member of the pair who was all that discerning -- or understanding -- at all.

#erwyn #creed #aurelia #writing #backstory writing

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cantgetoutofmyheda · 5 years

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46. What if i told you... clexa

If someone had told a younger version of Lexa that she would one day find herself in a conference room with the head of marketing for 20th Century Fox Films, she would have laughed in their face—but here she was, sitting face-to-face with Indra.

The woman pursed her lips, making a calculated decision in her head before finally speaking, “Listen, Lexa. It’s the company’s 85th anniversary. We need to go big, that’s why we’re here talking to you,” she paused, waiting for Lexa to acknowledge the compliment, “I’ll be honest, we received a lot of good proposals from your competitors, but there’s something about Vice that has just been speaking out to me.”

Lexa nodded and tugged her lips into a grin, “Is it the exceptional branded content we make for our partners? Our network of publications we have ties to? The culturally relevant events we plan on a weekly basis?” She lifted her brow before she continued, “Indra, I promise you that if you go with my team, the whole world will know that your company will be throwing the party of the year. Forget the Met Gala, everyone’s going to want an invite to this.”

Indra couldn’t help but laugh at the younger woman’s enthusiasm, “They don’t call you ‘The Commander’ for nothing, huh?”

“So I’ve been told,” Lexa smirked.

“Okay,” Indra sighed, “Put your best team on it. I want a huge campaign—media running at least a month before the event. Co-branded billboards. Hell, I want every damn bus, cab, and train wrapped in our posters.”

“You got it,” Lexa nodded as she jotted down notes.

“And,” Indra lifted her index finger, “I want your creative department to vet all the artists through me. I give final approval on the commissioned pieces, and I am counting on your creatives to make sure that our vision isn’t being taken away.”

Lexa nodded again, “Of course,” she couldn’t help the grin on her face as she stuck out her hand, “So do we have a deal?”

Indra let out a chuckle, reaching for the brunette’s hand, “It seems as so.”

---

“It’s going to be fucking sick, Lexa,” Anya smiled, flipping through a Keynote presentation, “Indra approved every single artist I chose and their initial concepts.”

“Knew you’d come through,” Lexa shrugged.

“Oh,” Anya turned to face her, “As if I’ve never come through with mind blowing plans?”

“You do,” she shrugged again, “that’s why you’re our creative director.”

Anya placed her hand on Lexa’s shoulder, “Exactly. Now are you ready for me to run through production timelines? They’re kind of tight, but I know we can make them work.”

Lexa sat on the lounge chair across Anya’s desk and kicked her feet onto the small coffee table, “Hit me.”

“Alright,” Anya flipped to another slide, “We give the artists approval today to start their pieces and check in next Tuesday for revisions—that’s over a week from now, which should be enough time. By the following Tuesday, we do one more round—hopefully working with the final product. Once Indra gives the ‘okay,’ she chooses eight of the thirty pieces to highlight in the advertising leading up to the event, and the rest will be unveiled there.”

Lexa nodded, the tip of her ballpoint pen was sitting at the corner of her mouth, “We’ll need to digitize all the paintings as soon as they’re finished in order to get the right specs for the billboards and transit wraps, then your team will have to work pretty quick to get some editorial pieces, digital videos of the story behind the eight pieces, and all the online banners.”

“All built into the timeline,” Anya shook her head, “Have you no faith in me?”

“I know,” Lexa nodded, “I know. It’s just the biggest partner we’ve ever had and biggest campaign and event we’ve ever done, it needs to be perfectly executed.”

Anya looked at her friend dead in the eyes, “And it will be.”

---

To say that the campaign leading into the event was successful would be the understatement of the year. The ads using the re-imaged artwork for the film house’s famous movie posters was the talk of the town—talk of the country. Every publication was writing about them, streaming for the eight movies chosen had nearly tripled on Netflix, Hulu, and Prime, compared to this time period last year. Lexa was beyond happy—exhausted, but beyond happy.

“Stop stressing,” Anya rubbed her friend’s arm, “everything’s going to be perfect.”

“I know, it’s just,” Lexa rubbed her temple before smoothing her pressed white button up which was neatly tucked into her slim-fitting suit pants, “this is it. It’s the climax of the whole activation—all eyes are on it.”

“Go mingle and check out all the posters, Lex,” Anya gave her a gentle nudge forward, “Hell, grab a glass of wine, too. I know you haven’t seen all the final art yet, go take a look and enjoy yourself for a bit—it’s well deserved.”

Lexa nodded, “Okay, yeah. Just call or text me if you need anything.”

Anya rolled her eyes, “Just go.”

---

Lexa found herself sipping her wine and staring at a painting that depicted one of her favorite movies. She knew that someone was commissioned to do this piece, it was actually one of the ones she didn’t want to see the concepts and mocks for—wanting to be surprised during the unveiling of the showcase. She stood, sipped, and stared, hoping to find answers to her questions within each brush stroke.

“You’ve been standing here for a while,” a voice next to her observed.

Lexa turned to face the stranger and was taken aback by how piercing her blue eyes were, “I have. And I presume you have too, if you’ve taken notice to me.”

The woman smiled, “I saw you from across the room a few minutes ago. I’ve been making my way through the exhibit. I was pretty surprised to see still handing here as I made my way around.”

Lexa returned the smile, “I see. So, are you in the film industry or are you a fan of art?”

“The latter,” the woman smiled, “Do you have a favorite piece from tonight?”

Lexa turned back to the painting in front of her, “I think I’m still trying to decide. What about you?”

“Easy,” she answered, “over in the Modernism section—Mannequin, the 80’s movie with Kim Cattrall.”

Lexa furrowed her brow, “I actually don’t think I know it. What’s it about?”

The woman laughed, “80’s rom-com. Kim Cattrall plays a department store mannequin that comes to life. It’s so bad that it’s good. One of my all time guilty pleasures.”

“Sounds interesting,” Lexa smirked, “Might have to check that one out.”

“So,” the blue-eyed beauty stepped closer to Lexa, “tell me what’s so interesting about this piece for you. I don’t mean to be presumptuous, but I’d assume there’s something piquing your interest since you’ve been standing here for so long.”

“I–,” Lexa started, “Well, this is one of my favorite movies of all time.”

The woman nodded for her to continue.

Lexa smiled, “I knew this was being commissioned, but I wasn’t expecting this particular poster to be used. I know there were a few different ones floating around when the movie was in theaters, but this one was one of the more uncommon ones. I’m not bummed about it, just trying to understand why the artist chose this one to represent the film.”

She brought her attention back to the piece—it’s true, Star Wars Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back was one of her favorite movies of all time, and arguably the best Star Wars movie in the entire saga. Mostly everyone knew the iconic poster: Darth Vader in the shadows of the background, with Han Solo and Princess Leia in an almost-kiss in the foreground, and Luke and the droids at their side. This piece, however—this piece didn’t depict that poster. This one had Darth Vader most prominent with Stormtroopers rushing to the foreground. The film’s protagonists all had a certain fear cast in their eyes—it showcased the power of the Dark Side, not the optimistic resistance of the Light Side that people were used to.

“I see,” the woman interrupted her train of thought, “it’s nice to see something so out of the ordinary for such an iconic movie, though. Don’t you think?”

Lexa nodded, “Absolutely, I think the thing that’s on my mind is just wanting to know why the artist chose to do their depiction on this poster.”

“So,” the woman took another step closer, now entering Lexa’s personal space, “are you industry or a fan of art?”

“Both, I suppose,” Lexa said, scanning the woman in front of her up and down, “I work for Vice, my team put the campaign and event together—though I am a big fan of art, even outside of this project,” she tugged the corner of her mouth into a smirk and reached her hand forward, “Lexa Woods.”

The woman took Lexa’s hand in hers, giving it a light shake, “What if I told you I was the artist behind this commission?”

Lexa raised a brow, but before she could respond, the woman spoke up again, “Clarke Griffin. It’s a pleasure.”

“Clarke,” Lexa repeated, surprised at the way the woman’s named rolled so seamlessly off her tongue, “Pleasure is all mine. Maybe I could pick your brain about your piece, then?”

Clarke raised a brow, “How about over a drink?”

“Well,” Lexa raised her glass of wine, “I already have one, so maybe we should get one for you?”

Clarke bit her bottom lip, “I was thinking something outside of a work setting—because that’s technically what this is for you, right? Me as well, I suppose.”

Lexa smiled, “I see. Are you asking me out for a drink?”

“I guess I am,” Clarke grinned, “But only for the sake of Star Wars and artistic expression.”

“Only?” Lexa raised a brow.

Clarke corrected herself, “Mostly.”

“I see,” Lexa smirked, “tomorrow at 7? Wine bar down the street?”

“Sure,” Clarke nodded with a grin plastered on her face.

“Well then,” Lexa cocked her head to the side, “I suppose it’s a date.”

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renegade-skywalker · 5 years

Text

On Call

Summary:

“How ‘bout a game of Pazaak?” Atton offered, mostly sarcastic but still slightly earnest, hooking his arms behind his head as he leaned back in his pilot’s chair. “Last time we played you almost beat me.”

“You let me win. Almost,” Eden could hardly contain her smile, though she tried her damnedest. “I don’t count cheating as actually playing.”

“Does it count as cheating if I let you win?” he countered, his voice softer than he intended, though he tried to play it off coolly, “C’mon, I promise I’ll play nice.”

(continue reading on AO3 or below the cut)

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“Glad to hear everything’s coming along okay,” Eden confided over the comm, lingering longer than she had to, “I know we have unfinished business once we touch down on Dxun but I like knowing we can ditch that moon before my boots get too muddy.”

Eden laughed, that casual laugh she breathed when nervous, unsure of herself but sure enough to put up a facade, not so much for others but more so for herself. Atton could feel it, he could tell. It wasn’t anything he’d gleaned by prying, either, but something he’d begun to notice of his own accord, finding himself incapable of looking away from her whenever she was around.

“Trust me, I don’t think any of us are a fan of this place,” Atton agreed, though he felt strange as the word us crossed his lips, though less-so if he thought of it as just meaning him and Bao, who were still manning the ship during its seemingly endless repairs, occasionally joking that the moon was haunted when the sound of a hydrospanner being kicked around the garage would wake them between shifts - though Atton was sure that despite their mostly-forced small-talk and running jokes that this place was haunted, and he was glad someone like Visas wasn’t around to say otherwise. “We’ll all be better for it once this moon is behind us.”

“Yeah,” Eden joined uncertainly, “... Yeah.”

Another moon had been a topic of late, and talking of moons in general had been … difficult to say the least, and for once Atton was glad that Dxun was the moon of the hour. As for Malachor, they’d get to that when they came to it. Which hopefully wasn’t for another long while.

“Hopefully we’ll be out of here soon,” Eden sighed, looking around as if saying it out loud would jinx their chances, “The sooner we finish up on Onderon, the sooner we finish up on Dxun.”

“Agreed,” Atton rejoined, watching her as she tried to settle into the inevitable end of their conversation, clearly stewing over the idea of potentially being stuck on Onderon or Dxun, or a mixture of both, longer than any of them wanted. She picked at a nail off-screen, glancing up at Atton to show that she hadn’t quite forgotten him, yet somehow prolonging her eventual sign off.

“It’s weird,” she said finally, making eye contact through the holo, her usually green eyes an almost silver-blue, “Being here. Without you - well, without both of you.” She quickly corrected, her face darkening for a moment before recovering, Atton’s breath catching in his throat as he noticed it, “Any luck with the navicomputer, by the way?”

She absently picked at her nail still, doing what she could to appear nonchalant. Atton knew that move well.

Eden had been on edge here since they’d landed, and Atton reckoned the fact that it was a crash landing (and their second one, no less) did nothing to help matters. Eden was famous for the campaign she held against the Mandalorians here, the Mandalorians that remained on this moon and sought to reclaim it along with their honor. Eden seemed to have found some odd-feeling peace at making nice with those she’d once faced down on the battlefield, hunted and killed in these very forests, but she was still unsettled, still plagued with memories she’d rather not remember. Atton could tell just by looking at her, so ravaged by memory that Eden could hardly keep her mask up - not that she had to, he reminded himself, but try telling her that - but he could also feel it in the air around her, stormy like the clouds rumbling across the jungles about them, only the thunder felt closer than the far-off clouds should have allowed, as if Eden were reliving storms of years past, dredging up memories even if it was the last thing she wanted. The others felt it, too, Bao most of all, but he had at least found some peace in being here, somehow. Atton had a mind to ask him about it, but figured it would be best if he didn’t. If fixing the ship was Bao’s way of fixing his past somehow, then so be it. In a way Atton envied it, still bitter about how his conversation with Eden had gone on Nar Shaddaa not too long ago…

“Not great, huh?” Eden cut in, a disappointed half-smile crossing her face as she assumed the worst in response to Atton’s lack of response.

“Oh shit, sorry,” Atton mumbled, apologizing for his lapse in thought, “Just… tired.”

He glanced back down the hall, as if Bao might overhear and correct him, assuring Eden that he was doing most of the heavy-lifting, not Atton…

“Things aren’t looking too bad,” Atton continued, trying to sound hopeful. “May still be a long while ‘til we’re out of the woods. Er, literally and figuratively. Granted, at least we can leave these literal woods once you get back. Can’t say the same about anywhere else in the galaxy, unless we have exact coordinates.”

Eden snorted, as if mentally recounting their journey so far and tallying their luck, “Doesn’t look like we can afford to head anywhere new just yet, I just-” she sighed, looking off-screen, almost wistful. “I could use a good distraction, that’s all.”

As their plan would have it, once Eden spoke with the Jedi called Kavar they would either make a return visit to Dantooine or to the Republic depending on whether the Council of old decided to gather quickly or if the Sith tailing them decided to attack the galaxy at large first. For now they’d play it by ear, but it didn’t look like things would let up either way, and as much of a reprieve as this little jaunt was proving to be they all still seemed to use a rest.

“You let me win. Almost,” Eden could hardly contain her smile, though she tried her damnedest. “I don’t count cheating as actually playing.”

“Does it count as cheating if I let you win?” he countered, his voice softer than he intended, though he tried to play it off coolly, “C’mon, I promise I’ll play nice.”

Eden considered him, balancing her chin between her thumb and forefinger as if in genuine thought.

“Atton, why do you-?” she started, her expression still playful for a moment before suddenly growing serious. “Ah, never mind. Just deal.”

Swallowing her expression and replacing it with one of easygoing revelry, Eden gestured to Atton as she rummaged around her pack, which was apparently set on the table beside her holo.

“Why do I what?” Atton asked, his voice quiet but probing as he thumbed his own deck out of his jacket pocket hanging off the back of the co-pilot’s chair, gentle as he tried not to push too hard though too curious to let it go completely.

Eden finally pulled out her own deck from her unseen bag on the table and shuffled before drawing a hand. It was a deck he’d helped her build in their time on Nar Shaddaa, before things had gotten too dicey, before their conversations had grown too serious, when things between them still felt friendly and less… heavy. She eyed him over the cards now fanned out in her hand, their decorative backs facing him like a mask, and part of him was proud she was being so playful despite avoiding his question. Fair enough.

Atton shrugged, letting his query go unanswered, though he held onto it like the card he always kept up his sleeve. Well… figuratively. And literally. He’d sworn off cheating after the mess that got him into his stint at Peragus, having unknowingly tried to out-cheat a known cheater, not realizing the prick had a card hidden somewhere unexpected when Atton’d already counted the cards, including the one he thought was up their sleeve. Now, Atton only mirrored their trick to mess with Eden. And to piss off T3 when he was in a mood, since T3 was the only other one on the Hawk that bothered to play with him. And droids weren’t equipped to anticipate cheating, or handle it very well for that matter…

“Ready to draw?” Eden asked, raising a brow provocatively in jest.

“As you wish, Master,” he joked, though Eden blanched at the word, her face paling even with the blue-white tint of the holo feed.

“Please don’t call me that,” she said through pursed lips, waiting for Atton to pull the first card. She settled once Atton slipped a card from his deck and showed it to her, laying it flat on the Ebon Hawk’s still-dormant control panel, before showing him a card of her own.

He could keep score in his head, so seeing her card only once was enough. He watched her as she registered his play, her eyes darting between him and the number displayed before considering her hand again.

“I didn’t think you’d be up for it,” Atton considered aloud as Eden pulled her next card.

“Up for what?” she said almost absently, taking a few moments to keep track of the game in her head.

“Pazaak,” he said after a few seconds, giving Eden time to get her rein on things. “I was half joking, y’know.”

“Oh, I know,” she said, her voice somewhere between a sigh and a thoughtful statement, “But I wasn’t kidding when I said I needed a distraction.”

Eden flashed him a quick smile - genuine though fleeting, her smile meeting her eyes, their upturned corners creasing with the effortless gesture - and glanced back at her hand again before placing another card down and surrendering. “Not surprised that was a quick round, though,” she conceded, already shuffling her deck again as she counted her loss.

Atton considered her, watching on as she mixed the cards up in her deck again, but this time with too calculated of a focus.

“I do it to keep them out of my head,” he offered, still watching her, waiting for the thought to register.

“Do what?” she said, looking up, doing her best to appear caught off-guard, though part of her was.

“That was what you wanted to ask, wasn’t it?” he asked quietly. “Why I play Pazaak in my head?”

“I wasn’t-” Eden began, cutting herself off before she could muster up an excuse, “I just noticed-”

“It passes the time,” he said, before she could make any more of a fool of herself, since it was the last thing he wanted. “Beats listing off engine sequencers, memorizing hyperspace routes or counting the ticks in power couplings.”

“I’m sure any memorized hyperspace routes would be welcome now ,” Eden mentioned, her voice light and airy, detracting from the invasive nature of her question, no matter how genuine. And there she went again, giving him credit, making him feel important. Something she’d done since Peragus, and even though Atton wasn’t used to it, he knew she meant it. “Though, all I meant was that I-”

“I get it, I get it,” Atton said, waving an unbusy hand about as he continued the next round. “Things still a bit haywire?”

He still wasn’t sure how the Force worked, or how it felt for Eden to be disconnected and then reconnected to it after so many years, but now that he knew for an undeniable fact that his intuition all these years had been some facet of it, he was just as curious about its nature as Eden was about his innate abilities no matter how sensitive the subject.

“A little,” she confessed, her eyes darting from her cards to Atton every millisecond, “Dxun didn’t help, and now Kavar-”

Eden shook her head, effectively drowning out the rest of her thought as it remained unvoiced, her mask of calm slipping again, though Atton could still sense her soothing serenity sitting somewhere beneath it all, trying to calm her thoughts.

Atton only nodded, pulling the next card, letting Eden register the draw before countering him with her next play.

“What are you thinking about right now?” he ventured, testing her, knowing that part of him wished to hear something other than what he was expecting…

“The score, my hand, my next play...” Eden answered almost instantly, as if reading off a list, looking from Atton to the card he played again, counting the score silently before her eyes returned to his, questioning now. “Why?”

“That’s why I play Pazaak in my head,” he said, drawing the next card, letting Eden choose between reading the play and waiting for his response. “If I’m playing Pazaak in my head, then no one gets in.”

“You hold the deck,” Eden answered in understanding, almost laughing with a sort of relief, “You literally hold all the cards.”

“Exactly,” he said, before laughing himself, though this time with genuine mirth. “You win.”

Eden paused, looking from her hand to Atton again, though this time in disbelief. She smiled, letting it steep instead of hiding it away as she usually did, except for the smile she afforded him on G0-T0’s ship, the brightness of it still fresh in his memory. Before she could sense it, he glanced at his losing hand, placing its numbers at the forefront of his mind, putting up a wall - but the look on her face told him it was all but too late.

“Smart,” she said, still impressed, “I’m sorry I-”

“Don’t apologize, and you don’t need to explain anything,” Atton said, reshuffling his cards again and putting them down for the time being, “Jedi… light or dark… do it, more often than you’d think. But I never heard one say they were sorry before… That’s a new house rule,” he huffed a dark laugh, “I didn’t realize I was doing it myself until you-”

Atton had pried into minds his entire life, counting cards and calculating moves - it’s what made him both an excellent card player and an expert assassin. A brilliant interrogator on both counts, though he wasn’t sure just how proud he wanted to be about either of those things just yet.

Eden only frowned.

“That still doesn’t make it right,” she said, her voice suddenly soft, her regret plain on her face.

“I feel…” Eden started, trailing off as she sought out the right word, “ Gross.”

“See why I don’t like Jedi?” Atton said, “I mean, not you - not that you’re a -”

Eden put up a hand to shut him up, not that it had much effect across planets, or moons or whatever length of space stretched between them.

“I get it,” she said, “It’s not that I wasn’t expecting it, you said as much. It’s just that it really does feel weirder from the other end of things. Even when I was cut off from the Force, I was just… empty. But this…? I wonder how many Jedi would condone this if they knew what it felt like, if they were taught to wonder what it was like, to really put themselves in the shoes of those they… used. ”

Atton didn’t say anything in response, only nodding as he listened but not quite in agreement, more so to indicate that he was actively listening to her every word. As Eden had met with each hidden Jedi over the past few weeks, earnestly pled with each ex-Council member for help against the Sith, she’d grown more and more confident in her original convictions, convinced she’d made the right choice in walking away even though the others had already deemed her exiled. And in a way, she still was, only they had branded her an outsider before she could claim her own path, even though it was hers to walk alone.

“But… it feels better knowing now, knowing that I can stop it.”

“We can stop playing for now, if you want to,” Atton offered, ready to place his cards back on the table but also suddenly reluctant, knowing the moment he did there was no reason to keep their call going, not quite ready to say goodbye just yet.

“No, no, let’s play another round, I want to try again,” she replied, eagerly reshuffling her cards, ready to play again.

“Are you sure?” Atton asked, trying to mask the smile stupidly overcoming him, trying to throw up another wall before Eden could see just how intent he was to keep playing, even if it only meant he’d get to talk to her for a bit longer…

Eden nodded, putting her game face back on, “I’m sure.”

“I know it feels a bit strange, but now you know why I do what I do. And you can do it, too.”

Atton waited for her to reshuffle her deck so they could start again, assuming they would so he could prove his point.

“So these are your walls?” Eden probed, her tone still wary, testing the waters. She fanned out her deck again like a miniature fence blocking her from Atton, almost playful, something light to hide the genuine curiosity that plagued her, “Pazaak plays, hyperspace routes, coordinates...”

“Give it a try, during our game,” he offered, nodding in encouragement, amused by how timid she suddenly was but understanding why. Part of him was glad, but he felt guilty for it too, realizing it was part of a deep-seated issue he had with Force-users and the fact that Eden had likely never learned what it felt like from the other side of things. “I’ll try to get through, but I won’t go too deep.”

He watched her for a reaction. Eden’s eyes were fixed on her cards as she thought it over, finally looking at him with a nod, affirming, “Not too deep.”

Atton smiled a small smile, more to reassure her than anything, though it was secretly for himself as well. He didn’t say it but this was a bit of practice for him, too. As a Sith, he’d never controlled how far he broke into Jedi minds, never once stopping himself, only willing himself deeper until there was something to break, until he found something that could be used as a weapon, something that would hurt . But the thought of doing that to Eden, even unintentionally… it made him sick. He swallowed any queasiness that overcame him and prepared to flip over the first card, steadying himself just as much as he was sure Eden was doing the same.

Eden locked eyes on Atton’s first play, refusing to look away as she waited and played in turn, silently trusting him, “Shit hand.”

Atton laughed, even though he knew she was only trying to lighten the mood. Her first draw had, indeed, been a terrible one, and Atton silently promised to buy her a better deck once this was all over if she didn’t manage to win the cards herself.

He played his next card, trying not to wince at the number, realizing they may reach the finish line faster than intended. Eden considered her hand and Atton decided that now was the time… he reached out, probing, and sensed something…

“A plus five, minus two, and a minus three,” Atton muttered, sucking in a breath through his teeth set in a grimace, “That really is a shit hand.”

Eden only smiled, playing the only card that made any sense for her to play. Atton probed again, this time finding a phrase on the tip of Eden’s tongue - Nice try, smart ass. Now try this.

Without thinking, an image entered Atton’s head - or perhaps it was more accurate to say that it sauntered in of its own accord - a vision of Eden in those Peragus undergarments what now felt like years ago, wreathed in the half-sick glow of Atton’s poor vision through the force cage he’d been withering away in. His face instantly turned red, the heat threatening to stay where it was despite how much he willed the opposite.

“You’re never gonna let that go, are you?” he teased, though his voice was edged, annoyed to be caught off guard with such a… sensitive image. “I was delirious, you know.”

“Mhmm,” Eden murmured through a half-hidden laugh that threatened to burst over her pursed lips, a faint smile present despite her efforts, “You seemed pretty coherent once I let you start talking.”

“Talking is one of the only things I’m good at,” Atton laughed darkly, “Other than drinking and shooting things.”

“And Pazaak,” Eden added as she tucked a loose strand of dark hair behind her ear, her expression growing serious, “But you and I both know that’s not true.”

“Okay, I guess I’m not the best shot on board, but I can drink the entire crew under the table.”

“And over it,” Eden chuckled, “But you also know that’s not what I meant.”

Atton bit his lip, not quite ready to acknowledge that Eden had given him credit again, and tried her best to let him know it. Part of him felt he didn’t deserve it, wishing she’d drop the subject so they could continue, but Eden failed to elaborate, wishing for Atton to come to the conclusion himself, or at least voice that he had.

Atton only just realized that neither of them had made a play as he thought it over, still undecided whether he would say anything in response to the credit he craved but felt undeserving of, and without a proper table Atton had actually forgotten whose turn it was. He combed through his brain for the right numbers, the correct pattern, finding it again but not before Eden found his lapse of thought.

“Damn you’re good,” he said, putting up a wall just as he sensed she might break in again, this time holding it tenfold. It was like a gentle tug from her direction, a polite rapping at his brain, as if someone wanted to see if he was home. He almost laughed. “See? You’re a natural.’

“I didn’t realize it felt like this,” she admitted, looking somewhat guilty, but watching him curiously still, waiting for him to acknowledge what she had said earlier, “The only time my mind was… breached I was made very, very aware of it.”

She shook her head, closing her eyes for a moment as she no doubt relived the memory. Atton paused, watching her, realizing now would be a good time to sneak in and catch a glimpse, but also knowing that he respected her too much to catch her in a low point.

“With my brother it was different,” she continued again, opening her eyes and seeming to settle into herself as she moved passed the darker memories, “We used to talk to each other like that, in our minds. It was like our secret way of passing notes in class.”

“Like what you did just now?” Atton said, referring to her clever quip, the image she willed him to see of her on Peragus. Eden nodded.

“I thought it was maybe a Force bond thing, but now I’m not so sure. I’m surprised it worked with you, actually.”

She smiled again, laughing quietly, triumphantly that her joke had worked.

Now, Atton thought. I’ll try again now.

Without so much as looking at her, Atton reached out with his mind, a polite probing if there were such a thing, and he was met with a flimsy image of Eden’s hand - minus two, minus three, and the plus one she’d just added into play - but it was mingled with a weak feeling of her brother… of Aiden… the young man Atton had turned all those years ago, and the man they saw again in the flesh on Korriban, at Sion’s side. The image was more a kaleidoscope than a set picture, a mix between the man as he was now and the twin Eden had known as a child, as well as whoever it was Aiden was perpetually in her head, in her memory, a feeling more than an image.

“See what I mean?” Atton said once Eden registered the breach on her end, hastily sending up another wall of numbers, but this time gibberish and not quite a solid hand worth playing. “Most people don’t feel it, especially not when they’re unguarded. I think putting up a wall makes it more obvious. Without a wall it’s harder to tell when someone might be digging around, but with a barrier up you feel them pass through it or push it down. Or better yet, you know when you stop them dead in their tracks.”

Eden nodded, grasping the concept as she soaked in his words, connecting the dots. He had felt it when she had first tried to get into his mind, sensed the feeling of someone trying to get in and peruse its contents. It had been quiet, and he had almost half a mind to drift off to sleep when he felt her. But it wasn’t just Eden… he sensed Kreia, too. He’d felt her presence even though he knew it was Eden trying to read his thoughts, sending out tendrils of the Force across the ship to get a feel for it and everyone on board, a lesson of Kreia’s, no doubt. Eden’s quiet exploration was more curious and careful, her energy more like a sprite than a shadow. But there was something about Kreia that felt different, darker, not quite malicious but… deliberate. Atton wasn’t sure which was worse.

He wondered now just how many times Kreia had violated the thoughts of the others on the ship, and now that he knew Eden was only just learning how to send up walls, he wondered how many times Kreia may have breached her thoughts as well. He didn’t want to think about it, and he didn’t want to think about what someone like Sion or even Eden’s now-Sith brother could do, what someone trained in the Dark Side of the Force could glean from a person’s mind, willing or otherwise.

“If you’re fighting anyone, and I mean anyone, whether light or dark,” Atton began, not exactly sure where he was going with this, already certain his tongue was getting ahead of him, thinking of Kreia, of the lost Jedi, of the Sith that hounded them and everyone else in between, “If you’re facing someone who might have power over your mind, put up a wall, so at least they’ll have to knock.”

Eden watched him, her gaze earnest as she listened to his every word, her eyes locked on his even through the holoscreen.

“Recite engine sequencers, start listing hyperspace routes…” he continued, not breaking her gaze, “And when they try to use their power over you, it won’t be as easy as they thought. Because you’ll be right here with me, playing Pazaak, where they can’t reach you.”

It was part in jest, a playful suggestion that his playing Pazaak was just a big fuck you to the galaxy at large, especially anyone that thought enough to mess with him, or Eden now that he’d invited it… but it was also an earnest vow to keep her safe, to offer her safe harbor, whatever that meant and whatever the case may be.

“Atton, I-” Eden balked almost, her mask slipping again, somewhere between her usual calm and collected self to something more vulnerable, the gratitude evident on her face for just a moment before she settled into a half-smile, “I’d like that.”

Atton didn’t say anything in response - couldn’t say anything in response - he was only capable of smiling dumbly at her, his affection clear on his face.

“You didn’t have to tell me,” she continued, her voice quieter, deeper now, “After what I did.”

“You deserve to know,” Atton replied almost too quickly, hearkening back to their conversation on Nar Shaddaa, “It’s not as much a favor as it is a courtesy.”

Eden was staring at her cards now, but she smiled at them, at him, and said “I’m glad you have just as much to teach me as I have to teach you,” she sighed, her smile dissolving only a little, “You know how I feel about positions of… power.”

“Oh, I know,” he said, smirking in response, knowing she had more power over him than perhaps she cared to know. “Your turn.”

It took Eden a moment to realize that Atton was referring to the game at hand, showing her hand easily as she settled into a newfound calm again, but this time Atton could tell he had something to do with it. And for that, he was glad.

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They played Pazaak for a couple more hours, by far their longest game, and by far their longest call since they’d been separated. It was only when the sun threatened rising on Dxun did Atton think to finally cut their game short, realizing it may have been more telling for Eden to find the cockpit suddenly sunnier of her own accord than him bidding her goodnight of his own volition.

Part of him wanted her to know just how much he wanted to keep talking to her, just how much seeing her face changed things, but he also knew it only made her inevitable return more complicated. At least Eden hadn’t seemed to want to call it quits, either, though her reasons were her own.

Atton finally signed off and bid her farewell, cracking a joke while he was at it. Eden smiled at that. It was the last thing he saw before the comm feed faded out, losing her signal, and it was the last thing he thought of before finally drifting off to sleep.

But Eden hadn’t called in three days. Not that Atton was counting…

He kept busy with Bao most of the time, though now they were only running diagnostics on the parts of the ship they’d already repaired and conducting routine maintenance on the rest. Atton knew quite a bit about ship maintenance before their impromptu repair training camp, but he had to admit he’d learned a lot from Bao in the past week or so. Atton had never met anyone as well-versed in circuitry than Bao-Dur, and no one near half as ingenious. Everything the Iridonian proposed seemed so obvious, so natural, that Atton was surprised at least half of it wasn’t taught during his training with the Republic Flight Academy. Not that pilots were meant to be technicians, but everything that came out of Bao’s mouth felt like something that should have been common knowledge, almost to the point where Atton wanted to call Eden and tell her about it…

Only he didn’t call her, and she didn’t call back, so he had no excuse to tell her. He picked up the comm several times, considering it, his thumb hovering over the button, but he resisted each time. Their calls had been so regular before, almost scheduled, and Atton wondered if there was perhaps something behind it all, something more than Eden’s simple need to update the other half of her crew on her current party’s tasks and whereabouts. She’d sent him a few text-based messages, as well, a few jokes here and there, snide remarks she likely had no one to half-mouth them to as the reaction came naturally to her - and at these Atton couldn’t help but smile, fool that he was. There were moments where he’d plant jokes only to find they never quite landed with Bao-Dur, and though the man never complained, Atton couldn’t help but wish that Eden was there by his side to roll her eyes and try to swallow a laugh at his expense. Maybe she felt the same.

And in those past three days Atton found himself perusing their text log, reliving old messages as if they were new again one moment while the next he was berating himself for being such an idiot.

She’d sent two messages since their last game, and Atton pored over them now, almost anticipating if another might be sent while he contemplated sending one himself. One was about the sad state of the Pazaak tables at the Iziz Cantina, and the second was a photo of a sad droid merchant she’d spied in the city’s Western Square, pairing it with a sardonic comment about the shop she’d run back on Tatooine, a story she’d told him in confidence over drinks back on Telos - before they’d ever met Atris, before Kreia thought to blackmail him, back when things were a lot simpler and Atton was still planning on leaving and hoping he’d not only leave Eden behind but forget about her, for his own good as well as hers.

He wondered how Kreia might feel if she could see him now, wondered whether she considered her blackmail successful in that he stayed or a failure in that Atton ended up caring for the Exile more than he’d anticipated, to the point where no amount of coercion could get him to leavewhen it had first been the only thing to convince him to stay… She’d probably sneer, or laugh that hollow laugh of hers that was more of an annoyedly exhaled breath. He didn’t like that Kreia traveled with Eden now, without him, finding little comfort in the fact that Mical was in his stead, but was at least glad to know Mira likely had her wrist-launchers perpetually set to fire should anything happen.

Reveal the face of the +8 card, switch the face of the +10/-10 card, the total is 18/0…

“The hell?”

Atton nearly threw the comm across the dashboard of the ship as the image entered his mind before disappearing entirely. Jolted, Atton stood suddenly, checking his surroundings and reaching out with the Force, the way Eden had taught him to after he’d quietly pleaded for training after leaving Nar Shaddaa. He still wasn’t used to the reach of it, his mind tentatively stretching out over the ship like an outstretched hand, fingers poised to sense any interlopers… but the ship was quiet, empty. Bao had gone for a walk an hour ago, claiming that he found the rain calming, and now only T3 remained along with the still-unrepaired vestiges of the HK unit the Hawk came with.

There was a pause, like a breath baited, waiting, before Atton sensed it again.

Reveal the face of the +5/-5 card, totals are… well, shit.

Atton had subconsciously begun counting cards in his head more times than he could, well, count . But this… this was something different. This was planted, and there was only one person Atton knew who owned a shitty Pazaak deck.

“Eden,” he breathed, reaching over the dashboard now to retrieve the comm he’d thrown, its scratched hull now lying closer to the duraglass than he’d prefer.

Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he climbed over the console to reach the damn thing, fumbling with the controls before he could properly call her, his blood thrumming in his ears as he waited for Eden to pick up.

After a moment and a wave of static, a lounging Eden with wide eyes greeted him from the viewscreen, but before he could utter a greeting he blurted, “What, what happened? Are you alright? No one’s trying to-” “Whoa, whoa settle down there,” Eden laughed nervously, “I didn’t think you’d actually pick up.”

Her voice was deep, as if having just woken from a deep sleep, and her hair was unkempt, barely held aloft from the nape of her neck in a complete mess of a bun. She blew a dark strand of hair out of her face as she leaned in to get a closer look at Atton, suddenly paling as the realization dawned on her.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry, you didn’t think I was-?”

“In potential peril? Yes!” Atton barked, not quite angry but still coursing with too much adrenaline, more than his otherwise motionless body could cope with right now, his mind mentally preparing for another crash landing via dashing rescue.

“Oh my god,” Eden sighed, covering her face, “I couldn’t sleep.”

“You- wait, what?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” she said through her fingers, her voice muffled slightly but hiding none of her anguish, “I was afraid to call, in case you were busy, or asleep, or, I don’t know.”

“I…” Atton floundered for a moment, realizing his hands were braced on his hips with an almost motherly consternation, quickly relaxing them at his sides before continuing, “You were afraid to call?”

His question came out whisper-soft, watching Eden as she slowly lowered her hands down her face to place them in her lap, where she kept her gaze as she continued.

“I thought about what you said, about playing Pazaak in my head to occupy my mind, to keep others out. But this place…? This planet is so old, and there’s so much energy left over from so many years of conflict, and there’s still stuff at work I can’t quite figure out,” Eden nursed her temples, as if merely talking about it was muddling her head with worry and the Force, “I kept dreaming about it while I slept and finally I got fed up. I just wanted… I wanted to relax, to do something else… so I thought about doing what you said, in case it helped with other things, like keeping the Force out, even for just a minute. But then I thought… well, we hadn’t talked in a while, and I wasn’t sure if you’d answer, even though I know you would, I just… I don’t know, it all seems so silly now that I say it out loud.”

“It’s not silly, and you know I’m always on call. Always,” Atton said, sitting down now, trying to match her near manic expression with one of unending calm, something she’d taught him indirectly, something he’d simply observed. “That was a shit hand though.”

“A really shit hand,” Eden laughed, looking relieved that he’d somewhat changed the subject to spare her any more embarrassment, “I lost before I even gave you a chance to pull a card.”

“We really need to get you a new deck,” Atton sighed as he finally found it in himself to grow comfortable, once his vitals realized that danger wasn’t at hand and that… Eden had simply thought of him when she couldn’t sleep. He tried not to smile at the thought. “That is, if you want to.”

“A problem for another day,” she said, biting one of her nails now as she gathered the courage to look up at him, “Care for a game, regardless?”

Atton smirked, already thumbing his deck out of his jacket, “Still in need of that distraction?”

“Desperately,” she replied, her demeanor lighter now, better… “You deal, you’re better at it.”

“Oh, how ever will you learn?” he joked, looking up at her as he shuffled through his deck, and he swore Eden bit her lip before looking away, swallowing her expression and replacing it with as good a Pazaak face as she could muster given the circumstances. “I’m glad you called.”

Even Atton was surprised by his own words, feeling heat rush to his face as they escaped his mouth almost unbidden.

“You did the calling,” Eden reminded him, not hiding her smile now, though she looked downright mischievous as she eyed her new hand, “Remember?”

“Yeah, well,” Atton began, readying the first card of the game as he tried to shrug nonchalantly, “You sent me that god awful play first, I had no choice.”

“Right,” Eden said, smirking now.

“I thought you said you needed a distraction?” Atton conceded, waving a hand about impatiently, putting on a show. Eden laughed, so much easier now than when he’d first called, than she’d been in weeks, even. “You know I’m always happy to oblige.”

Atton thought back to something dumb he’d said on Peragus, cursing when Eden had been fortunate enough to find some clothes and backpeddling like an idiot as he realized he accidentally called her a distraction. Eden was far from a distraction, or anything nearly as trivial, but Atton could be hers, for now… whatever she needed. He owed it to her, if anything.

“Alright, alright,” Eden said, pulling her next card and showing it to Atton. “How’d I do though?”

Atton knew she meant the message, the fact that she’d sent him a play through the Force alone.

“Impressive,” he admitted, still struggling with remnant adrenaline, “I should have known it wasn’t serious when I saw that play, though. Y’know I didn’t expect you to pull out a deck of cards while trying to keep someone like Sleeps-with-Vibroblades out of your mind, so I should have known you were actually looking at your cards, that you weren't actually in danger.”

Atton rubbed his face now, feeling the weight of his worry dissolve into an easy sort of tiredness, thankful that Eden was okay and humbled that she’d thought of him.

“Maybe… do you want to try it again?” Atton paused, putting the idea out there, still somewhat shocked and honored that she had trusted him, that she’d opened the bridge between them and invited him in, even if it was just for a game. “Y’know, as practice?”

Eden bit her lip but watched Atton with a careful eye, “Are you sure?’

Atton nodded, even though he was less sure of the feelings coursing through him - though not for their legitimacy but for what they might do to him, as if he wasn’t already enough of a fool to begin with.

“Alright, I’ll continue my hand in three, two…”

Eden disconnected, her image dissolving into static on the holofeed before she could say one, but just as she would have said it, her play entered Atton’s mind, like a polite rap at the door, only it was Atton’s consciousness that answered with a warm hello and the ghost of a laugh.

Switch the face of the +8/-8 card and… shit.

Atton laughed heartily now, not caring if Bao heard or if Eden could feel it. It was almost as if she were in the room with him, her presence heavy yet ghostly all the same, as if she were there trying not to laugh at his side. It was the calmest Atton had felt in a long while, the pouring rain now a gentle thrum against the duraglass of the cockpit as he mentally pulled his next card. He smiled.

Your turn.

#atton x exile #atton rand #the jedi exile #kotor 2 #long post #my writing #honestly don't feel obligated to read this it is so long I still can't believe I managed to churn this out...

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wellhellotragic · 6 years

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If Looks Could Kill 2/27

Summary: Emma Swan is a dedicated FBI agent getting over a bad breakup. When she and her partner, Ruby Lucas, are forced to go undercover as contestants on a reality show, Emma is forced to try and win the affections of Killian Jones, a man she despises.

Killian Jones is a lost boy. Having recently been nicknamed the ‘Bad Boy of Boston,’ he’s been living up to his moniker using women and rum to avoid dealing with his dark past. When he’s forced to take the lead in a reality show, he encounters a gorgeous blonde who turns his world upside down.

Miss Congeniality meets The Bachelor

Rated: M for language, violence, and smut.

Catch Up Here: 1

The week flew by for Emma. She and Ruby quizzed each other back and fourth on their backstories, making sure that they wouldn’t stumble if someone asked them a random question. They were going in as friends, an idea the network execs jumped at. It would be great for ratings having two friends vying for the same man. It would create the drama audiences thrived on.

Ruby’s was playing the part of a lingerie model, a part she would excel at. They had some guys at the bureau take pictures of her, editing them into full blown advertising campaigns to add to the internet for proof if anyone googled her.

Emma on the other hand was going in as a writer for a beauty and health magazine. Emma tried to argue that she wanted to play a cop or sheriff, but everyone was worried that even a small time law enforcement officer might scare off Tamara. Just as they had done for Ruby, the tech support guys created Emma’s cover, including some magazine articles, a blog, and some other social media profiles for her.

She fought to keep her lunch down as she read the articles she had ‘written’ about hair care and the latest workout trends. It was the complete opposite of everything she stood for. Emma believed that women should feel empowered from the inside, not the superficial outside.

The only benefit was when Graham had told her it seemed fitting, given her body. Both of them had blushed at the comment. She avoided being alone with him after that, but couldn’t help how her eyes would wander over to him during their briefings, where she found him already watching her each time.

Technically he was her boss, or at least he was for the next couple of months, and she wasn’t ready to date, but her brain would sometimes drift to some unlady like images. Maybe he could be an easy fling before she headed back to New York.

Bad Emma, she chastised herself.

The group also went through the profiles of the other contestants on the show, garnering some lewd comments from Will. The women were a complete mix of ethnicities and all beautiful, causing Emma to groan.

How was she supposed to compete with these gorgeous women when she was completely repulsed by the prize? When Ruby pushed it, she had admitted that he was attractive, but that his personality was so bad that it overshadowed his looks. When Ruby mentioned the accent, Emma quickly reminded her that they were surrounded by men from the UK, and it had lost its appeal.

The girls also met the other two agents that were going undercover with them. James Charming and Ava White would pose as a newly married couple, David and Mary Margaret Nolan. David would be a camera operator, giving him unlimited access to the mansion and contestants, while Mary Margaret would act as a production assistant, helping them control everyone’s actions.

Both seemed nice enough to Emma, and they complemented each other well despite never having worked together officially before. The two had spent the week in character, and anyone who didn’t know better would see them as newlyweds happily in love.

Robin and Will couldn’t be present on the set like the others since Killian knew them, and they didn’t want anyone to know about the operation, especially Killian per Regina’s request. If an emergency came up they would be able to quickly visit as Killian’s friends, but most of their time would be spent behind computers running surveillance and providing support to the girls.

Graham said he would check in on them from time to time, but he also had other teams to supervise. Ruby conspiratorially told Emma that Graham just didn’t want to watch Emma flirt with another man, earning another of Emma’s patented eye rolls.

Emma and Ruby sat through their final briefing, going over everything one last time, including the suspect of the case, Tamara. Regina explained to everyone that Killian Jones was no stranger to threats. A few years before Killian had a very unfortunate brush with a crazed fan, but Regina didn’t go into the details. Emma had tried to search the incident, but found nothing. Whatever it was, Regina had gone to great lengths to keep it under wraps. Emma made a mental note that Regina was exceptional at her job if even she couldn’t find anything.

Regina explained though, that usually the threats were directed to whatever lady he was currently sleeping with. His female fan base didn’t respond well to him dating, not that what he did could be considered dating. This time though, it was Killian who was receiving the threats. Regina made sure that Killian’s assistant, a man named Smee, intercepted all of the threats, and that Killian had no idea.

She was dodgy about the reasons when asked, but Robin spoke up agreeing with her that it was in everyone’s best interest that Killian not find out. They explained that Regina had mentioned it in passing to Robin one night over diner but neither of them took the threat that seriously. Fans loved to write outlandish things for attention. It wasn’t until one of Will’s informants told him that he heard a hit had been ordered on Killian that they realized how serious the situation was.

After months of investigating, they still didn’t know much. They hadn’t figured out who had ordered Killian’s assassination yet, only that it had been accepted. It was Ruby and Emma that stumbled across Tamara while investigating another case and the pieces started to come together.

She was rumored to have ties to a Boston mob family, and her name had come up while interrogating the lead suspect of another murder for hire. They had ultimately ruled her out in that case, but something about her stuck with Emma. When she ran some details through her confidential informants, she learned that Tamara had moved back to Boston from New York and had possibly accepted a hit that had been ordered, but the informants were too afraid to ask questions, and Emma knew she wouldn’t get anymore out of them.

When Emma called up the Boston office to give them a heads up she was transferred to Robin. After explaining the situation, Robin informed her that he believed she was connected to his case and invited Emma and her partner to come join the investigation.

Tamara was smart though, and clearly well funded. She purchased everything in cash leaving no money trail, and no statements of purchase. She had taken up a bar tending job at the Rusty Anchor as a front, but had apparently quit as soon as she found out that she was going to be on the show. Robin believed that she took a job there knowing that Killian frequented the bar, but left after getting better access to him.

Hopefully Emma or Ruby could find something that linked her to the hit, or to the person who ordered it.

“Okay guys, I think we’re all set here,” Graham stated as her stood from his chair to stretch.

“Oi, before anyone leaves, I think we should have a group outing tonight at the Rusty Anchor. It’ll be like a last hurrah before we all go under house arrest. What do you lot say?”

Emma was finding it easier to understand Will after the last few weeks working together. Initially she found his poor use of the English language annoying, but now it was enduring.

Ruby shot Emma a wink. “We’re in! What time?”

Emma wanted to be upset with her partner, but couldn’t find it in herself. They had spent every waking hour that week huddled in their make shift office, or in the conference room. When they weren’t at work they were trying to get a couple of hours of shuteye in their hotel room, all too tired to do anything else.

Graham joined in, “How about we shoot for eight?”

“Well looky there,” Will stated giving Robin a sly grin. “He is a real boy. We just assumed that you went in your office and powered down at night.”

Graham had rarely attended any social gatherings outside of work. He liked to maintain some distance from the other agents to keep things professional. His voluntary attendance that night was about as rare as a goose laying a golden egg.

“Ha, ha,” Graham shot back. “We’re all in for a long road ahead, and I think all of us could stand to use a night out first.” Graham emphasized the last bit while shoot a look to Emma before quickly averting his gaze back to Robin.

“Sounds good.” Emma was actually a little excited. “We’ll see you boys there.”

Everyone left work pretty quickly and Emma and Ruby headed back to their hotel. Emma showered and actually managed to shave her legs for a change. She had no intentions of doing anything with Graham, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t dress to impress. When she got out of the shower she wrapped herself in a towel before drying and curling her hair. She left her makeup light knowing that she’d be wearing way too much of it in the following weeks, but choose a bright red lip color. She wrestled through her suitcase before putting on some sexy black lace underwear and a matching bra, purely for the confidence factor. She threw on a short little black dress as well and waited for Ruby to join her.

She didn’t have to wait long, and Ruby didn’t disappoint in the wow factor either. Ruby had on a long sleeved blue dress, but the lack of material on the bottom more than made up for the extra coverage up top.

By the time both girls made it down stairs they had just enough time to hail a cab to the bar. When they walked in all three men where already at a table waiting for them, along with Regina. They ordered beers all around. The evening was pleasant. They shared stories of their more interesting cases, and most embarrassing moments. A few men tried to approach Emma and Ruby, but they both politely declined enjoying the company they were in too much.

About three hours had passed when Robin got a call. Without looking at the caller ID he answered.

“Locksley.”

“Hey,” came a familiar voice. “What is all of that noise? Wait, are you at the bar?” He sounded a little hurt.

“Ya,” Robin replied sheepishly. “Sorry. We’re having a bit of a work outing mate.”

There was a pause before Killian spoke up again. “And you didn’t invite me because?”

Robin slumped down in his chair groaning and catching the attention of the others.

“I’m sorry, I just assumed you were busy getting ready for tomorrow.” Robin was quick on his feet, a good quality in their line of work.

“Well, I’m going to assume Regina is there with you, and she could have easily pointed out that I am, in fact, not busy. I believe I also heard a few female voices in the background? Are you afraid I’m going to alienate your lovely lady colleagues?” Robin could tell that Killian was trying to disguise the pain in his voice with lusty innuendo.

When Robin didn’t say anything Killian continued. “Look, if I promise to be on my best behavior can I come? It’s my last night of freedom and I’d like to hang out with you guys before I get fed to the beast, and before you answer you should know I’m already walking over there.”

Emma saw Robin’s eyes shoot wide. “Um, ya, sounds great. I think of couple of the guys were just about to leave, but Will and I can hang around for a bit still.”

Robin finished the call and then turned to tell everyone at the table that Killian would be there in a couple of minutes. Ruby and Emma took that as their cue to leave so Killian wouldn’t recognize them the next day. Both ladies were halfway down the block when Emma realized she had left her phone on the table.

She ran back quickly hoping to get in and out before Killian arrived. She was met at the door by Graham, who had found her phone and was attempting to return it before she got too far. Before she could thank him she saw Killian rounding the corner heading straight for them.

She panicked. He couldn’t see her so she did the only thing she could think of. She grabbed Graham by the lapels of his jacket and crashed her lips into his, hoping to hide her face from Killian’s view.

After seeing Killian make his way inside, she let Graham go, and he stumbled back a few steps. She couldn’t help the way her tongue darted out to lick her lips after.

“Wow,” was all he managed to get out.

Killian had been in hell all week. Regina had written him scripted answers to give to all of the interviewers. They asked him questions about his past and his goals for the future. They asked him why he had decided to do the show. He recited Regina’s words perfectly and the girl interviewers swooned over him.

He spent a full day in a studio in front of a camera taking pictures of him in different suits holding red roses. By the time he left that night he was sure he’d never see again from all of the flashes.

His breaking point came when Regina explained to him how the elimination process would work. He would have time to interact with all of the women, and at the end of the week there would be a rose ceremony, where he would present a single red rose to each of the women lucky enough to pass through to the next round.

In the beginning he was under the assumption that he would get to choose the women who stayed each week. It wasn’t until Regina informed him that morning how it really worked that he’d lost it and dove back into the rum.

Killian would be allowed to give them a list of the women that he wanted to stay, but the final decisions would be up the network based on viewer comments. If there a tie between the women based on viewer demands, they would look to Killian’s list to see who would stay.

When Regina left, Killian went straight to his bar and grabbed a half open bottle, downing it as quickly as he could. He stumbled over to the couch where he passed out for the rest of the day. When he woke up it was almost eleven at night.

He got up and went for his phone to see if he had missed any calls or texts, but his phone taunted him with the fact that he didn’t have any friends. Outside of Robin and Will that was actually true. He had succeeded at driving everyone else away.

He had to admit, his life was lonely, and he was a little bothered by the fact that neither of his two best friends had tried to invite him out for a last night out. He knew that they were often busy with work, but remembered them saying that they were gearing up for a sting the next morning, meaning they should still be free tonight.

He called Will first but it went straight to voicemail. He called Robin next and when he answered he could barely hear him over all of the background noise. He heard a couple of females laughing hard at something, and then Will’s voice in the background.

He didn’t even bother waiting for Robin to say anything before heading down to the bar, still wearing his clothes from that morning. He was hurt, but even more than that, he was angry.

He hung up with Robin as he reached the lobby of his building. He wanted to launch into the guys for excluding them. He found himself almost jogging to bar.

As he rounded the corner he saw Graham Humbert, Robin and Will’s boss outside. He found his anger subsiding a bit, realizing that Robin had told the truth when he said it was a work thing.

He considered saying hello to Graham but before he could, Graham had found himself otherwise occupied and Killian couldn’t help but grin as he walked past. It didn’t take him long to find the table where everyone, including Regina was sat. There were empty beer bottles all over the place.

Killian sat down nodding at both men.

“Was that your boss I saw outside?” He already knew the answer but was trying to make small talk, having been a little embarrassed at his earlier attitude.

Will held his phone up in the air. “Ya. He just got called back into work for an emergency though.”

“Ah,” Killian grinned back. “I never realized that Graham Humbert was the type of guy that considered making out with leggy blondes an emergency.”

Robin spat out his beer all over the table.

#If Looks Could Kill #wellhellotragic #hellotragic #cs ff #ILCK

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megape · 6 years

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A Hairball of a Homebrew

Hi guys! Here’s a terribly long post of that short story I had to do for my Creative Writing class! Please comment any suggestions or edits! It’d be greatly appreciated! It’s supposed to be 2000 words long at the most, but this is 2600. Oops. So I’m sorry if it feels rushed, I needed to keep it as concise as possible.

A Hairball of a Homebrew

Garth slouched in his seat; his party eyeing him with wide eyes and anticipation. His eyes wandered over to the window as he pondered what he should do.

“Come on, Garth! The hitpoints on this giant are slim to none. Do your job, cleric! Make magic!” Freda, the elven ranger of the party, said as she slapped her hands on the table, making the dice rumble.

“Try out that new spell you got from leveling up last time.” Maximus crossed his arms awaiting his friend’s decision.

Garth did just that, “Alright guys, I cast spell of Active Endangerment.”

“And what does that do?” Ted, a friend the party had made at a convention recently, asked. Ted was just your ordinary nerd, lover of games, especially old games and game systems, and overall mysterious guy. This was actually Garth, Freda, and Maximus’s second time playing with Ted as the dungeon master. So far he was a pretty exciting guy, full of life really.

“Any player within a ten foot radius emerges from the active danger zone and transports to a less harmful destination. So basically it’s just going to teleport us away from this beast.”

“Alright, guys. I think you’ll like this spell; I came up with it on a whim, but it’s actually super neat. Do me a favor and roll this d20 for me. Just curious how powerful this spell will be…” Ted handed Garth a twenty-sided die that sparkled against the setting sun’s glare on their table.

Garth kissed the die hopefully and tossed it along the tabletop, allowing it to skip and frolic across and into the middle, landing for a natural 20.

The party roared in excitement as Ted looked to Garth and wiggled his fingers, “Any words you’d like to say while casting it?”

“Sayonara asshole!” Garth shot his hands in the air like a child at the top of a ferris wheel.

Within seconds the tabletop shook and the d20 glowed an earthly green, beams of light shooting into the room before crystallizing Garth, Freda, and Maximus. A sharp light burst from the dice and all three fractured to dust and sparkles.

The next thing the party knew they were flying from the sky and tumbling in a pile of hay. A cow leaned down and stuck up its nose at Maximus before giving him a good lick up the face.

“Back you beast! Back!” He waved his arms frantically, rolling about as his stout dwarf figure had trouble getting to its feet. His eyes squinted and jaw dropped as the environment he was now in looked nothing like Ted’s grouchy mother’s basement.

As the three stood up and looked around they could see a vast array of hills full of green grass, crops and livestock, mountains in the distant with snow dusting their peaks, and a town that awaited them, busy with merchants yelling and children running about with chickens. It was as if they were back in time to a place much simpler than their own modern era.

“Well I’ve got to say, I’ve seen lots o’ things in my nine lives, but this has got to be the best.” A furry orange tabby locked eyes with the three adventurers, and let out a friendly chirrup.

Freda stepped back and nearly fell over a haystack behind her and onto another cow. “Did that cat just talk?” She held her head and shook it frantically.

“Welcome to the next puzzle, friends.” The cat hopped onto a larger stack of hay to be at eye level with them. “I know you might be frightened, but let’s take a minute to gather ourselves, shall we?”

The three quizzically looked at each other and their surroundings. An understanding nod was evoked from them as they all knew absolutely nothing of how they had gotten here or what to do next. As far as they knew this talking tabby was the only clue as to what to do.

“Follow me, I’ll be your guide. Don’t get lost or you might never find a way back.” With that being said the tabby hopped from the hay and walked along a dirt path into the town.

The three followed with nothing more than a questioning glance towards each other and a hunger for adventure. Could this be their game?

Garth walked with the others and spoke his thoughts out loud, “I think-I think we’re playing our campaign?”

“Don’t rustle yourselves up too much with all the questions. I’ll answer them shortly. I’m Lester by the way. I’m the farmer’s cat.” Lester waddled along and finally led the party up a flight of dirt steps to a room with three small beds and a low table. The table held a wooden box, a key, a dirty piece of paper, and a quill with a red tip to it. Lester found himself a nice spot on the back of the table so he could explain what was in front of him. “Before I go on it would be best if we all rested up. You’ve got canteens in your bags and some flatbread. I’m sure that will help restore the hitpoints you lost from the giant.”

Freda gave Lester a concerned look, her brow furrowing as far as it could and her lips pursed in frustration. “Where are we? What’s going on? Who are you? How did we get here? How do you know about the giant? Where’s Ted’s basement?!” Her voice shook with fear and misunderstanding. Questions swarmed her head, but most importantly she wondered if she was going insane; after all, she was talking to a cat.

Maximus gave a glare up to Freda, if she scared the cat away they would be lost. All they had was this cat and without him they would be nowhere. “Let him speak, he may have good information. We’ll get out of this Freda.” He added the ending for a little sake of empathy. He wanted to know what was going on too, but it wouldn’t help any of them if they rushed this.

Garth sat down on one of the cots and rummaged through his bag. “This has all the stuff we’ve gathered throughout our game. I have my staff and my spellbook and everything.” His tone was hopeful.

“Indeed,” Lester answered calmly, licking his paw and letting it glide over the top of his head. His ears pushed back some almost like he was slicking his hair. “I’ve got a mission for you in exchange for your freedom.”

“Our freedom?” Freda panicked.

“Well, if you’d like to get back to your homeland I might know the way…” Lester purred persuasively. “I’ll just need a signature from all of you on this here document and then the puzzle you may persist.”

“What’s in the box?” Maximus glanced towards it suspiciously.

“It could be your reward or your demise.” Lester laid down letting himself clean as the three humanoids discussed amongst themselves.

“This has got to be a joke. Did Ted spike our drink? What if I’m just dreaming?” Freda worried and clutched her elven bow subconsciously.

“I don’t think so,” Maximus would punch Garth, sending him flying over to the nearest wall. Garth would let out a grunt and dust himself off. “What the hell, Max?!”

“We’re our characters. And this is most definitely not a dream. Besides, he would have woken up when I hit him.” Maximus grinned.

“That’s not how this works, Max. You pinch yourself.” Freda laughed watching Garth limp over. “We need to rest. We were all low on health. Let’s just sign the damn contract and get out of here. I like D&D, but not enough to want to live it.” Garth rubbed his cloaked arms.

“So if this is just like the game can’t we roll an intimidation check or persuade Lester to give us the way back?” Freda would whisper to them.

Garth nodded, looking over to Lester, and giving their more intimidating dwarf fighter a push forward. Maximus gruffly walked towards Lester, crossing his arms and grumpily speaking, “I roll for intimidation.” He would say.

Lester looked up from his grooming, his head cocking to the side in question towards the action, but a curve could hardly be seen on his lips. “Um, is there anything you’d like to say to add to it?”

“You’re gonna tell us how to get home or I’ll beat you straight, puss!” The dwarf stomped forward as Garth and Freda backed him up.

Lester paused, standing up and walking to the edge of the table to meet the dwarf’s glare. “Oh no, I’ve been intimidated, whatever shall I do?” Lester rolled his eyes, clicking them shut and then narrowed them at Maximus. “You thick-skulled dwarf, that doesn’t work here!”

Maximus shyed back, embarrassingly turning red from his failed effort.

“One might call that a critical miss. It’s either you get me what I want or I don’t help you.” Lester protested their groans. “Finish Ted’s puzzle and you get home, that easy.”

“So you know Ted?” Garth asked.

“I’m one of his NPC’s.” Lester responded. “I’m here to forward the adventure and if you don’t comply you might as well just go get drunk in the tavern for all I care.” Lester grumpily growled and hopped away towards the door. “Sign the contract. You’ll be rewarded well and sent home. I’ll be back tomorrow morning. Rest up.” And with those final words Lester left the room to the three of them.

The rest of the night blurred together as the three drank their water and feasted on flatbread. They bickered over whether to sign the contract or not but ultimately ended up signing. An adventure was an adventure and if it was the only way out then so be it; they would begrudgingly accept. It wasn’t a very restful night, but it was enough to get them back to a healthy amount of hit points. At the break of dawn, a rooster could be heard back where they had originally spawned into the game.

Freda was the first to make a move as she got up and made sure she was equipped for the day. She stared at their contract as if it was a nuisance. What could possibly go wrong? She thought to herself and awoke her friends for the day.

Soon enough Lester was elegantly making his way back into their small dormitory. He sat back down on the table to be at a more convenient height. His eyes glanced at the contract to which he let out a light purr of contentment at the sight of. “I’m glad you decided to abide by the rules.” Lester sat with his feet together and his back arched upward. “You’ll be pleasantly surprised to hear that the answer to all your problems is a simple spell.”

Garth rose an eyebrow and sat at the table with Freda and Maximus at opposite ends.

“Is this some sort of sick joke?” Garth frowned, not understanding.

“It’s a puzzle I’m sure you can figure out. The rules are simple really. I’ll give you a hint, you must cheat.” Lester purred and curled his lips into a devious smile, “You could even say it has the power to help you in many realms other than this one.”

Garth contemplated how he could possibly cheat his way out of this world? A spell that got them into it could also get them out, but how? He got his spellbook out and flipped through it. There was nothing new other than the standard spells. Garth sighed, sitting there at a loss for what felt like hours until he lifted his head and stared at Lester.

“This is stupid! What kind of puzzle is this, Ted?” Maximus would raise his fist to the sky. “I’m done playing games. Sitting here solving riddles isn’t going to get us home! There has to be some man we talk to or a dungeon in the depths of a cave that holds the spell! Give me something to smash!” He nearly lunged himself at Lester in aggravation.

Garth winced as his friend roared in dismay while Freda was preoccupied with keeping Maximus at bay.

“If it’s Ted’s game we’re playing then we’ve got to think like Ted.” Garth ran his hands through his hair, grasping at it like straws.

Freda patted Maximus down beside her. “What could be a universal cheat that would work in our world?”

Maximus grumbled with his short temper, “After this I’m going back to old school games. Those are easy. You don’t ever see this type of shit happening with Spyro or Mortal Kombat.”

“I mean, the only cheat code I can think of is-” Freda tried to speak but was interrupted.

“The Konami code!” Maximus pounded his fist on the table. “Up, up, down, down, left, right, left, right, B, A!”

Garth slapped his hands down and grinned. “That’s it Maximus!”

Freda slumped over relieved. “Now let’s figure out how to cast it.”

“You’ll need not only the help of your cleric, Garth, but a tool…” Lester would eye the box and swat it to them. “Figure out how to open it.”

Freda would take no time at all but carelessly swipe up the key on the table and jam it into the box, twisting it. The box rumbled, letting a black thick ink ooze out of the keyhole, the ink consuming her hand and crawling up her arm. She let out a loud shriek and shook her arm about as the box flew around, still connected to her hand.

Garth almost let out a laugh, seeing the sight of this small elven woman with a box attached to her hand being waved around like a bee was near her. Garth snapped back to his new reality and pinned her down. “Get the box open!”

“Get it off! Get if off, hurry!” Freda struggled, still in shock that her arm was slowly becoming one with this black ooze.

“Hold still!” Maximus brought up his large dwarven hammer and crashed it down overtop the box as fast as he could. He almost didn’t have time to react to his action before the box split open and splinters soared through the air. Freda pushed Garth off her and shook her hand once more as the box was no more and the ooze crept back into nothingness. Freda and Garth watched in fear at the disaster before them.

“I hate cursed objects!” Freda yelled and shriveled back into the corner of the small room.

Maximus threw his hammer to the side and pushed through the rubble of wood and found a single jeweled die, the same one that Ted had given Garth to roll. “I’m gonna kick that guy’s ass when we get back.” He tossed the die to Garth.

Freda sighed, staring at the die in Garth’s hands. “We’ll be back…I know we will.”

Garth sighed, “I cast the Konami Code.” He juggled his hands letting the die dance between his palms and then let it go. The die fumbled along the table and rested on a 12.

“Is there anything you’d like to say while casting it?” Lester smirked.

“Up, up, down, down, left, right, left, right, B, A.” He hoped that was enough, but it all seemed too easy now.

Seconds later Garth felt the bottom of his seat beneath him and the earthly green die sat in his grasp. He looked across the familiar old coffee table to where Ted was. He frowned and looked to his sides and only saw Maximus, “Where is Freda?”

“I’m afraid she won’t be joining us in this puzzle. After all, you only rolled a 12.” A light purr laced in his speech.

#short story #creative writing #college #college course #D&D #cats #fantasy #edit #proofread #help me edit #suggestions

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sushigirlali · 4 years

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If You Don’t Love Me, Lie To My Face - Epilogue (Reylo Fanfic)

Part I | Part II | Part III | Epilogue

Summary: Grifter!Rey helps U.S. Senator Leia Organa’s son, Ben Solo, out of a jam when a couple of muggers invade her turf. Afterward, she debates robbing the rich American herself, but can she protect her heart while stealing his?

Pairing: Rey + Ben Solo | Finn + Poe Dameron

Rating: E

Continuity: Modern AU

A/N: Last but not least, here's the epilogue! I would have been in CA this week for SWCA, so I'm missing my Reylo friends extra hard! Hopefully things will start looking up next year for conventions because cosplay and meetups are life for me! Enjoy :)

Master list –> AO3 | ff.net | Tumblr

——————

If You Don’t Love Me, Lie To My Face - Epilogue

By: sushigirlali

——————

Kennington, London Three months later

——————

Rey curled her legs underneath her as the news report she'd been waiting for finally started. At the same moment, Finn's door opened and he passed through the living room to the kitchen.

"Since when do you watch the news?" he asked, opening the fridge to grab a snack.

"Shh!" she waved a hand at him, trying to listen to the report.

"Senator Organa has won reelection in a landslide, despite a hiccup in her campaign when J.J. Snoke, former head of multinational corporation The First Order, was arrested by the FBI and charged with a slew of crimes ranging from embezzlement to the attempted murder of her son, Ben Solo. Solo is expected to remain at his mother's side for the foreseeable future as Chief of—"

"Hey!" Rey yelped as Finn grabbed the remote and switched the TV off. "What the hell?"

"I could ask you the same thing," he frowned, taking a bite out of a bright red apple. "Have you actually talked to Ben or are you getting all your information from the telly?"

"We've talked," she said evasively.

"When was the last time?"

"Last week," she muttered. "He's very busy right now."

"And what did he say?" Finn inquired.

"He said he was coming back soon," she hunched her shoulders, "but the news for the past few days has been saying that Ben's going to stay in America and work for his mom and there's speculation he's dating that tiny blonde woman from the fancy café and—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," her brother cautioned as she worked herself up. "If Ben said he's coming back, then he is. I don't think the bloke has it in him to lie to you. And he's definitely not cheating on you, Rey."

"How do you know?" she cried. "You and Poe talk fifty times a day and are so in love it makes me sick!"

"Okay, let's put a pin in my love life," Finn said, "and get back to the real issue. If you're having doubts about him, then you need to talk to him!"

"I guess I could call him," she sniffed. "It's late there, though. He might be asleep."

"Why not give it a try just in case?" he urged.

She blew a raspberry at him. "Fine."

Finn looked at her expectantly, continuing to much on his piece of fruit.

"Are you just going to stand there or can I get some privacy?" she glared.

"I'm just going to stand here," he confirmed with a grin.

Swearing under her breath, Rey was about to dial Ben up when her phone rang. "Oh, no."

"What? Is it him?"

"No," she gulped, recognizing one of the contacts she'd copied from Ben's cell all those months ago, "it's his mother."

"Well, answer it!" he said, rushing to sit beside her.

Rey held the phone so that Finn could hear too. "H—hello? Mrs. Solo?"

"Organa, but Leia is fine," she replied briskly. "Rey, have you heard from my son? He's supposed to be in town for another—"

"Finn!" Rey gasped as he took the phone from her hand and ended the call. "What are you doing?!"

"Dammit, this isn't going right at all," he bemoaned. "Ben is going to kill me!"

"What?"

Sighing, Finn scrolled through her favorites and called Ben before pressing the device to her ear. "Here."

Rey started to argue, but the sound of another phone ringing diverted her attention to the front door. "What the fuck?"

"Surprise!" Finn said weakly.

Her mouth dropped open as the door suddenly swung wide, revealing a casually dressed Ben Solo with cell in hand.

"Hey, Rey," he smiled, speaking into the receiver.

The sound of his husky voice was magnified by their close proximity, making her quiver. "Ben?" she breathed.

"I'm back, sweetheart," he held his free arm open, "aren't you glad to see me?"

Unable to respond, to think, she just stared at him in shock. "This can't be real. Am I dreaming?"

"Rey?" he frowned, hanging up the phone and slipping it into his back pocket. "You are happy to see me, right?" He hovered half inside the doorway, looking like he intended to bolt if she said "no."

Shaken by his vulnerability, Rey tossed her phone over her shoulder and bounded across the room and into his arms. "Ben? Ben!" she cried, realizing he was real and firm and here. "Oh, my god!"

"Does that mean you missed me?" he teased, sounding relieved.

She squeezed him tight, burrowing her face into his black Henley. "Yes!" she said, words slightly muffled against his firm chest.

"Good," he responded, hugging her tightly. "I was worried for a second there."

Looking up at him, she drank in his handsome features. "Don't be silly." Then, a little anxiously, "Did you miss me too?"

"Every minute, baby, every minute," he said huskily.

"Are—are you staying long?"

He tilted his head in confusion. "What do you mean? I'm back."

"Yes, but back for how long?" she chewed her lip.

"Have you been watching the news, Rey Niima?" he chuckled.

"Shut up," she flushed.

He leaned down to kiss her. "I'm going to work out of the embassy for my mother during her last term, then I'm free to do whatever I want."

"And what is that?" she sighed against his mouth.

"Be with you," he said simply, looping an arm under her legs and pulling her into a bridal carry. "How does that sound?"

"I think I can work you in between classes," she ribbed, curling her arms around the strong column of his neck. "I'm starting in January. If I take summer classes as well, I should be done within three years."

"I can live with that," he murmured, taking her mouth again. "I can live with that forever."

——————

"Nice to see you, too," Finn laughed quietly as Ben walked into Rey's room and kicked the door shut behind them. Stooping to pick up Rey's discarded phone when it started ringing again, he answered, "Hey, Senator."

"Uh… hello?" Leia replied. "Who is this?"

"Finn."

"Oh, the brother!"

"Yes, the brother," he laughed again. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm looking for my son," she paused, "and now Rey too, I suppose. Do you know where they are?"

Finn snorted as Rey's bed started squeaking against the wall. "I have an idea," he said irreverently.

Something in his voice must have given the situation away, because she said, "Oh… I see... Ben's already in London then. Can you ask them to give me a call, um, tomorrow? There are a few things we should discuss about Ben's move… and other future important events."

"Sure, I can do that," he said brightly. "Rey, you've got your hands full with this one. Good luck planning your own wedding."

"Thank you. Goodnight, Finn."

"Goodnight, Senator." Disconnecting the call, he placed the device on the coffee table with a sigh. "Well, my duty is done for the night, I should probably—"

"Done managing our friend's lives?" A man rumbled from the still open doorway.

"Poe!" Finn exclaimed, flipping around. "You're here too!"

"Surprise!" he smiled, holding out a hand. "Wanna go out for dinner?"

Sparing a glance toward Rey's bedroom as the scandalous sounds from within became even louder, he tossed the apple core into the trash, grabbed his jacket and wallet, and joined Poe at the door. "Hell yes," he agreed, taking his hand, "it's a date."

——————

Washington, D.C. Three years later

——————

Rey Solo tried to focus on what her husband was whispering into her ear, but found the task impossible as his hips slammed hard against hers. With her thighs pushed wide to accommodate his width and a plush pillow propping up her hips, Ben had worked his thick cock so deep inside her body that she could practically feel him in her throat.

Not that she was complaining, per se, but it was rather annoying to be stuck housesitting for Ben's mother, the esteemed Senator Leia Organa, instead of enjoying the long awaited honeymoon in Hawaii they had painstakingly planned over the last year. Having already postponed their vacation until after Rey finished engineering school, they were both itching for a break.

Since getting together with Ben, Rey had met Leia exactly three times. Once at her engagement party, then again at her wedding, and finally only hours ago in the very room Ben was fucking her brains out in now. She was a kind woman, if a bit stern, and loved her son to distraction. Which was fortunate, since Rey was pretty sure they didn't have anything else in common.

Still, she wanted to be a good wife and daughter-in-law, so she'd sucked up her disappointment when Leia had asked them to babysit her pets and water her plants for two weeks instead of going on her dream vacation while Leia jetted off to lord knows where to bail her erstwhile husband out of a jam.

Having never met the man, he'd be conspicuously absent from their wedding, Rey's only opinion on the elder Solo was that he was lucky to have a family that cared about him so much. Having grown up in the foster care system, she knew never to take such things for granted.

In fact, now that she had a family of her own, every day was more special than the last. When not working for his mother, Ben was helping Finn and Poe grow their independent racing team. And with Leia retiring next year, he would be free to pursue his new passion with his friends. For her part, she couldn't wait to get involved in designing cars for Finn; he was quickly becoming a star on the British circuit. It was funny how things worked out sometimes...

"Rey?" Ben's hoarse whine broke into her thoughts. "Rey, I'm gonna lose it!" His long fingers slipped between them, zeroing in on her pulsating core. He deftly manipulated her slick nub, dragging her to the brink as well. "Do you want me to pull out, or…?"

Sometimes life threw in-law sized curveballs at you, but on the plus side, making furious love to her husband in the middle of the day on his mother's favorite sofa was a pretty good alternative to a Hawaiian vacation. Being married to the love of her life was turning out to be quite the adventure after all.

"No!" Rey locked her ankles around his waist and tightened her inner muscles around him. Ben swore in response, his careful rhythm becoming sloppy as they careened toward climax. "This sofa costs fifteen thousand dollars, don't you dare ruin it!"

"How the hell do you know that?" he grunted, but she could tell he was pleased. While she enjoyed when he made a bit of a mess during sex, Ben had always preferred coming inside her.

"Your mother," she gasped, arching into his next stroke. "When we toured the house earlier she—she—ah! Ben!"

"Guess I'll just have to come in you then," he panted, playing her body like a fiddle. "You've been off the pill for a month. Do you think you're ready for me? For my come? Are you ready to have my baby?"

"Oh, Ben!" she moaned, heart racing madly at the mention of having his child. Whoever said procreation wasn't sexy hadn't met her husband. They'd barely started trying, but he'd already reconfigured his home office into the perfect nursery. "Yes! Come inside me, please! Fill me up! I want your baby, Ben!"

"Fuck! Rey!" He pounded into her harder, angling his hips in just the way she liked, giving her everything he had to give. "Right there?" he huffed, hooking one of her legs over the crook of his arm. "Is this what you want?"

"Yes!" she cried, nails digging into the soft suede sofa. "Yes! Yes! Yes!"

Stars suddenly exploded behind her hazel eyes, making her blind to everything except the man holding her. "I love you," he whispered over and over again, trailing kisses across her face as her cunt milked his shaft for long moments. "I love you so much, Rey."

She curved her arms around his neck, returning his affectionate embrace. "I love you too, Ben."

"I'm only sorry I couldn't give you the honeymoon you deserve," he sighed absently.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I think we're off to a great start." She kissed his prominent nose. "Besides, we have traveler's insurance, so we can just go away next month instead."

"Thank god for that," he chuckled. Ben slowly sat up with her in his lap, careful not to dislodge his softening member. "So, about this sofa..."

"Yeah?"

"I think you may want to trim your nails before we start round two."

"Oh? Why's that?" she said bemusedly.

Ben turned her cheek to see two sets of crescent indentations cut into the arm of the couch. Apparently her grip was stronger than the fine fabric. "Shite."

"This is why we can't have nice things," he said with mock seriousness. "Mother will be so disappointed."

She giggled and pushed his unruly hair away from his face. "Then I guess it doesn't matter what else we do on this sofa, now does it?"

"Nope," he grinned at the possibilities. "Though we should probably keep our play fighting in the ballroom; less things to ruin in there."

"Mm… good point," she groaned, unable to resist lifting up and down on his rapidly hardening member. "But before I kick your butt again, I'm going to thoroughly ruin you—and maybe this sofa—first!"

Ben kissed her heatedly, letting her take what she wanted. "I wouldn't want it any other way, sweetheart."

-FIN-

——————

A/N: Hope y'all enjoyed this little fic! I really love action romance with an HEA! Please check out my other fics and leave reviews! Validation is wonderful lol Be well!

#reylo #reylo fanfic #reylo fic #kylo ren #ben solo #rey #finn #poe dameron #my fanfiction #sushigirlali

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darknessandtentacles · 7 years

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Background: Elias is the questgiver in my current campaign. He tasked the players with protecting and investigating the town of Black Birch as he traveled to Eversummer to get supplies for the Speak with Dead spell - which he will use to get information about the odd happenings in Black Birch. This is his trip back to the village and his thoughts on the most recent sessions. Paul is his partner.

One scene has been illustrated here

The trip back from Eversummer was tiring. Elias didn’t particularly like travelling during the winter, but he had taken this job and he couldn’t walk away from it. Not just the adventurers he had hired were waiting for him, but the entire village was afraid of what would happen next. He had to stop it, whatever was going on there. The pinch of graveyard earth he had procured would help.

His fingers were red and shaking when he stopped that night, he and his horse huddling close to the fire, taking shelter from the wind in an alcove close to the road, nestled in the hills. But the one solace he could always take was the scroll he had, and the ring on his finger. He had developed a habit to turn it once a day, feeling Paul’s presence like a warm, comforting blanket around him. He was moving south, getting farther from him each day.

Gods, he missed him.

It suits you to be travelling south, my flower. You’re like a bird, craving the warmth of the sun. When this is over I will meet you. How about Dar’we? We haven’t been there in quite some time. I can’t wait to hold your hand and walk across the marketplace, to see your smile and hold you in my arms again. I miss you, Paul. I’m sorry I’m not a better wordsmith to describe just how much. I hope you’re taking care of yourself.

His sleep was restless, plagued and blessed by images of Paul at the same time. In his bed, smiling up at him, gathering flowers in the forest, crafting a wreath to hang on his door. When Paul was in his home, that was the only time he could really call it that. Alone, empty, it was just a house to him. It had been far too long, and Elias wondered when they might be able to get back.

Early in the morning he had a quick snack, made sure his horse was fed, and continued on. The cold wouldn’t leave his body, and his nose was surely as red as his fingers, the tips of his ears, he couldn’t even feel anymore. His grip on the reins tightened as he tried to keep himself awake. But a few hours later he felt the soft vibration, saw the glow of the scroll, indicating a reply had come. Still on the horse, he rolled it out and smiled at the sight of Paul’s graceful hand.

You’re eloquent enough, my moon, and I feel the same way. My heart and body yearn for you, strangers only provide a momentary distraction. Dar’we sounds perfect, I will keep traveling on foot, just say the word when your contract is over. Be prepared for a white raven to fly on your head, I hope I can startle you again. You make the cutest noise. Please be careful. I love you.

Underneath the writing Paul had drawn a little raven, and a stylised version of himself startled by its sudden appearance. The moment would apparently haunt Elias for the rest of his life, but he did not mind. As long as it made Paul smile, it wasn’t half bad. Still, this time he would probably be on the lookout for a white raven, to avoid the embarrassment of falling on his behind. Again. He did it often enough. Sometimes he was just lost in thought and he couldn’t pay attention to everything, like he had done with the group of adventurers he had hired. It had supposed to be a cool moment, but no, the chair he had tried to draw close to the table had been occupied by someone already. His cheeks flushed at the thought and his embarrassment.

But he wondered how they were faring. They seemed capable enough, strong enough indeed, but they were strangers and he did not know how they would get along. Hopefully for the coin, they would at least keep the town safe.

Elias barely rested on the road, only long enough to keep his mount safe and healthy, so he would make it back to Black Birch as soon as possible. It was late afternoon when he did, and he could already see the four people he had hired waiting in front of the inn. They seemed relaxed, and the tall half orc, Eeva, if he remembered correctly, was chatting with the owner of the place.

He waved at them and led his horse past the black tree in the middle of the square, and when he got off he almost fell over. His legs felt all wobbly from riding for so long, and he hoped none of them had seen this happening. Johann took care of his horse and inside he listened to the adventurers’ briefing of what had transpired. Robed figured attacking the town, creatures animated by magic, shadows trying to take people away. None of it really made sense when taken together, and Elias’ head was pounding.

A small part of him had hoped that he wouldn’t need to do this. He was already tired but he didn’t feel that he could wait any longer.

“Alright,” he said, looking at his hands. “I guess since you’ve been risking your life I should be honest with you. I… Want to raise the Thordan’s dead son. To speak to him and find out where this originated. I’m not sure that there is another way.”

Silence. It was either that, or outrage, he had not gotten different reactions than that, except from Paul. He let it pass for a while, and then looked up. He was almost startled by what he saw, not hate but… curiosity, mostly. Gera, the half elven woman to his right, usually eyed him suspiciously, and she did so now too.

It was the human, Genn, who spoke.

“What is it like?,” she asked, her brown eyes widened in curiosity.

And so he told her. Reaching beyond the veil and into the Beyond was exhausting, and he did not like doing it, although for him, it was easy. It’s how he had been born, wrong in some way but it gave him power that he could use to help people. Taking the soul from its resting place wasn’t pleasant for either of them, but he wanted to do it to help the ones that were still alive.

She eyed him for a moment, as if she were looking into his heart.

“Alright,” she concluded, giving him a small nod. “I will be there. By your side, if you want.”

“I…,” he was speechless for a moment. “I- Yes, thank you.”

“Same here,” Eeva interjected, giving him a big smile.

“I should warn you, I can look a bit… scary, when I cast magic.”

“Nothing smaller than me scares me,” she replied, and her hand came to his shoulder - hard, and he flinched but laughed.

“Alright, I suppose there’s nothing left to do but… do it.”

“Yeah, so I think Gera and I will stay behind,” Phelan said, shifting in his seat. “The Thordans wouldn’t really be happy to see us.”

He gave them a nod so the three - or four of them if Genn’s bear could be counted - made the short trip to the Thordan’s house, green ribbons still decorating its door. The colour of grief. He had grown up wearing it. Years he had spent wearing green, and it still felt like a betrayal that he had stopped. Well, black was grieving too, wasn’t it?

The face of grief opened the door for him, Victor and Yusuf hadn’t changed much from the day he had seen them, and still eyed him with the same suspicion and hatred he usually encountered when tasked with something like this. But still, they stayed true to their promise and led the three of them, with Grimm waiting outside, down into the basement. Here their dead son was propped up on a table, surrounded by ice to keep his body from rotting away too soon.

“You might not want to see this,” he said quietly to the couple.

“No, I… we want to be here for him,” Victor said.

“He won’t know you.”

But they did not change their mind, and so Elias started the preparations. He lit candles in strategic places around the body, took out his salves and painted the runes on his face, his skin so cold to the touch. His breath turned into mist when he sighed, took the graveyard dirt and sprawled it over his chest.

Sound seemed to vanish as he cast his magic, the familiar dark lines sprawling from his fingertips, up his veins, painting his lower arm completely black. The body shimmered with his dark blue magic, and all Elias had to do was reach out, and guide the soul back to its body. His fingers pierced the veil, tracing the sigils he had learned, and when he pulled back the body’s eyes were open, shining with an eerie light.

“How did you die?,” he asked, trying to remain calm and keep the soul where it was supposed to be. If he wasn’t careful, it would be stuck on this side.

It’s voice was hollow, rattling, otherworldly.

“Magic,” came the simple answer.

“Who killed you?”

“Humans.”

He turned his head, trying to keep his gaze low and hide his blackened eyes.

“What else should we ask him?”

Eeva and Genn watched curiously, the latter’s lips parted in a slight gasp, fingers touching her lip. Her other hand clutched the spot just over her heart.

“I uhm…,” Genn stammered, taken by the whole scene before her.

“Where did he die?,” Eeva offered in her stead.

Together they got the information they needed to find where he had been killed. A camp, a few hours north of the village, his usual hunting grounds. But now all he met there was death. It was protected by magic, and that was all they could find out before Elias let go, and guided his soul back to where it could find rest.

“Oh no,” Victor’s voice made him turn, and it was too late when he realised what was going on.

Vera, the boy’s sister had seen everything. She was running down the stairs, her small legs rushing as fast as she could to jump onto the table.

“He’s back! My brother is back!,” she called out, tugging on the corpse’s clothes.

His heart broke in two at the sight, and he was pushed away as Vera was gathered in strong arms, carried away while crying loudly. All she wanted was to be with her big brother again. A flash of black hair came to Elias’ mind, and he clutched the side of his head. When he came to his senses again he was faced with Yusuf, crying but stoic.

“No offense, but I don’t ever want to see you again.”

Elias nodded. There was nothing more to say. He turned and walked outside, past a crying Vera and her father, straight back to the inn. He needed a drink. And Paul. Gods, he needed him so badly right now. At least the ale flew freely here, and the two women briefed their companions on what had transpired. As he always did when he was distressed, he took out the scroll, and his finger came to the ring on his finger.

I had to do it. Raise the dead again. We needed the information, but it hurts. I wish you were here to soothe these aches, you always can. I don’t want to sound weak, but I just miss you so much. Tomorrow we will face the murderers, and hopefully put an end to this. I will see you soon, my sun.

He tried to hide his shaking hand when he finished his sentence, and closed his eyes for a moment to concentrate on Paul’s presence coursing through his mind and body. These rings had been an expensive investment, but a worthwhile one nonetheless. Besides… It almost made them look like husbands.

He excused himself then, curling up in the first warm bad he had had in almost a tenday. He wished the ring’s magic would last for longer, or work more often, perhaps it would hold back his bad dreams. Dreams of Paul, thorny vines holding him back as black ink threatened to drown him. Dreams of the endless darkness, cold and unforgiving. Dreams of the Beyond.

He woke up shaking and restless, not feeling up to much fighting but knowing it was the only way back to see the love of his life. Maybe in Dar’we he would find Iraneth too. His presence was as soothing as Paul’s and it had been some time since he had seen him. In the back of his mind Elias always worried that he might forget him, even knowing his friend’s promises.

As he waited for his adventurers, a message awaited him.

Be strong, my love. It will be soon. I will hold you, and I will soothe you, nothing will stop that from happening. Be careful, don’t rush into this. I need you whole and healthy.

The rest of the page was filled with scribbles of Paul’s surroundings, of trees and animals, the bright sky and the warm sun. It filled him with warmth and he found himself smiling again, feeling stronger than before having read these words.

The trek to the camp took a few hours and he felt nervous, he kept bumping into Phelan who gave him a strange look that he couldn’t place. Aside from Paul, he wasn’t really that good with people. Through Genn’s own magic they were able to avoid the trap that had been laid near the camp - an alarm spell. She looked so different. A ranger. A huntress. Grimm was by her side, perfectly trained ears back as he sniffed, a perfect hunter himself. They worked as a team, able to communicate without words.

They were discovered too soon, the fight was complete chaos, but still, they persevered. These robed figures all bore the strange symbol he had been told about. An eye with three strikes through it. He had never seen it before, and he did not know what was going on. Still. Searching through the camp they found valuables, supplies, a journal none of them could read, and a map, leading to a cave. Their last chance.

He looked around when they rested, looked at Grimm, whose head was in Genn’s lap. She fed him dried jerky, smiling and petting his fur as she talked to him soothingly. Eeva was still watching Gera, chin in her hands as he asked her about the strange bat like transformation she had gone through, while Phelan was watching the scene with quiet amusement.

Oh and there were corpses all around them.

He didn’t like doing this, taking lives. He felt too guilty, but they had needed to defend themselves. And if they were the bad guys, he was protecting the nearby town. Or so he kept telling himself.

The trip to the cave was short, and they stopped just before going inside.

“I’ll go first,” he said, carving sigils and runes into thin air to cast his spell. He didn’t want to step into another trap.

This was it, he could feel it. One more battle and he would see his Paul again. He reached back to grasp Genn’s hand, and led it to one of his straps on his back.

“Stay close.”

His ears twitched. Something was wrong.

#fic:elias vanos #fic #otp:sun and moon

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leadershipinalison-blog · 7 years

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Week 5: Reflecting on the Encore Card, Attending the LEAP Gala, and New Project Idea!

Wow! Week 5 has come and gone, and I honestly can’t believe I am entering the latter half of my LIA experience. New developments are happening with my work at East West, and I really immersed myself in LEAP because the 35th Anniversary Gala happened on Friday! During the beginning of the week, I was at EWP finishing up partnerships for the Encore Card with Kelly. We have successfully connected with 26 businesses (!!) and we are really excited to move on to creating the Encore Card and also working on improvements for the intern experience (in regards to the Encore Card) for incoming students at EWP. While we faced challenges working on the Encore Card, I think Kelly and I were able to make the experience successful by consciously taking note of each other’s work styles, and thus figuring out how we could work together to both optimize our strengths and improve on our weaknesses. Kelly definitely took the lead in terms of mapping out which businesses to visit each day, and created Google docs to organize our progress. It helped a lot that she already knew the Arts District/Little Tokyo area fairly well (especially since I have zero sense of direction). I like to think that I contributed through the personal interactions like approaching businesses, being a second eye on the documents, and discussing ways to improve the intern’s Encore Card experience.

During the whole process of putting together information packets, visiting businesses, following up with them, and now beginning to create the new cards, Kelly and I have found it very important to reflect on how we can make the process more efficient and the card more useful to users. After discussing our experiences with each other at length, and also talking about it with other interns, we met with Monika to reflect on how our work was going, and ways we thought we could improve the Encore Card experience. For example, a problem Kelly and I noticed was that the Encore Card isn’t actually used that often. We began to understand this when returning partners would turn us down because they were not interacting with consumers who actually used the card with them. When we approached returning businesses, many times the everyday employees would not know what the Encore Card was. I also received feedback from a business owner who said that he never used the card, despite going to partner businesses regularly. Kelly and I proposed a new idea, to make the Encore Card into a keychain (thanks for the pitch, James Choi! aka owner of Cafe Dulce!), but unfortunately EWP does not have the finances for that. Monika did like our other suggestions, like listing our Encore Card partners on the EWP website. This way, our subscribers and donors can look at more specific data about the benefits they will receive by joining our community. Looking forward, we also suggested that EWP might want to develop an app that could centralize information about their productions, and also act as a digital Encore Card for subscribers and donors. Monika was telling us that EWP has never received this kind of feedback from interns, which to a certain extent makes sense, especially considering a new group of interns work on the Encore Card every year. Without continuity (of the people who work on it), I think the Encore Card has become functionally antiquated in many ways. I hope that Kelly and I’s suggestions on how to improve it will help make the Encore Card a more useful program, as it has great potential! Through this process of working on the Encore Card and giving feedback on it, I am realizing the importance of new energy and fresh eyes on different projects, as well as fostering a work environment that is welcoming of feedback and innovative thinking. Additionally, I have really appreciated being a part of an organization like EWP that has so much history behind it, but I am also realizing that being an established institution leaves you at risk of getting comfortable in work processes that become redundant or inefficient. I don’t mean this in a robotic/unemotional way, but more that it is so important to dedicate our passion and energy in a way that optimizes impact and reward. Especially in a nonprofit that is always busy and in-demand of energy, it is essential that we make things smoother and easier for ourselves when we can. To put it simply, I think we feel happier and more invigorated when we approach projects that we know will give back and have a purpose in our communities. I think the weaknesses that Kelly and I have found in the Encore Card, which have largely come out of the overcapacity that characterizes nonprofits and a high turnover rate of interns, can be improved on over time by focusing on making the Encore Card more accessible to cardholders, and on the flip side, more streamlined (in term of applying/reapplying) for businesses.

Wow, that reflection on the Encore Card was a lot more in-depth than I thought it would be... but anyways, on to the gala! What an affair. LEAP set everything up so beautifully - outside, there were high tables for people to gather around and talk, and streamers and stars strung in the air in a pagoda-like fashion. Target was our main sponsor for the event, so the color theme was red and white. In the VIP area, there was a beautiful set up in the bamboo garden with ethereal white lanterns and lovely ukulele music played by Jason Arimoto. The VIP reception was where I was assigned to take photos for our social media campaign, so I spent the beginning of the gala asking VIP attendees if I could take their photo, chatting with LIA interns and alumni, and enjoying delicious hand rolls prepared by Kazunori. At first I was quite nervous about approaching people to take their photos, but over time it became easier. I received some unwanted attention from men overcompensating for their masculinity, but I think I navigated it quite well. Note to self/curious readers: if you are young, and quite a bit younger than the creeping men, mentioning your age in conversation is a smooth way of setting up a roadblock. You will likely need to deploy other tools besides mentioning your youth, but it is a nonthreatening strategy that can potentially protect you from unwanted conversation/further unwanted attention.

I had so much fun during the gala dinner (the food was delicious!!), and it was so fun to hang out with the other interns and feel a little glamorous. I also spent some time with other volunteers, and I really enjoyed Fuzzzy’s performance. He is actually part of Kollaboration LA (an org that showcases API entertainers), which is being held at East West Players, so it was cool to see his success being reflected in Little Tokyo at the gala as well! To top it off, we all received $100 gift cards from Southwest as gala attendees!! I feel extremely lucky to be a part of the LEAP community and receive these opportunities and privileges, and the gala has definitely been a highlight of my LIA experience.

On Friday, our morning was focused on giving feedback about the gala and then heading off to lunch with LEAP’s board of directors. We mainly had positive things to say about the gala, and we realized that a lot of our critical feedback had to do with mishaps related to Givergy’s responsibilities. The fact that the shortcomings of Givergy negatively affected LEAP’s fundraising during the gala will have tangible consequences on its programs and growth as an organization. Hopefully problems will become at least partially resolved when Givergy and LEAP engage in conversation post-gala. After discussing the gala, we put together our Flipagrams/mini movies about our nights at the gala. Hopefully mine will be up soon on LEAP’s social media!

At noon, we headed off to Fu-ga for some lunch and networking with LEAP’s board. Honestly, the beginning felt really awkward for me. I wasn’t sure where to place myself because separate conversations was happening among interns and board members, and I was stuck in empty space. I am really grateful that Linda saw me looking a bit distressed, and introduced me to a board member. Before we sat down for the lunch, I ended up having a really good conversation with a director named Jim Lactaoen, and we ended up sitting next to each other during the lunch as well. As the lunch progressed, I was able to engage in meaningful conversation with all the directors sitting around me, and they ranged from discussing my LIA experience to Hawaiian food franchises to intensive Korean SAT training. It was strange how all these conversations came together because of our connections with each other, ranging from our ethnic identities to our travel experiences to our generational differences. I was also very conscious of how my participation in our conversations was predicated on class privileges we shared. For me, this mainly involved my upbringing in Hong Kong and international school education, being able to travel around the world, having access to college preparatory programs, and, related to class, being East Asian. When I have these kind of conversations, I like to acknowledge these preconditions, in that particular space, I did not feel comfortable enough to do so. This is not to say that other people in the room were unaware of how privilege played a role in our conversation, but I think that consciously creating space to address privilege is necessary to breaking down classism and systems of oppression. I hope that in the future, when I might be a mentor figure, I can foster and participate in these kind of conversations.

Friday was also a big day in terms of our community impact project. We have decided to change our idea from creating a workshop, and shift to a project that is centered around our identities and experiences. I think that the workshop idea had potential, but mutually we felt a sense of discomfort at the likeness of our project to that of helicopter advocacy. To be brief, helicopter advocacy is the concept of entering a community that you do not have a connection to, trying to make an “impact” on them through research, outreach, and other kinds of activities, and then leaving the community without any intention or means of maintaining a sustainable relationship. Helicopter advocacy is self-centered and a privileged activity. Historically, it has often involved rich and/or white people entering poor and/or colored communities for “research”, “philanthropy”, and other white-savior-complex activities. In regards to my feelings about our workshop idea, I mainly felt comfortable with it when we were leaning towards making it for college students. I thought we could center the workshop around our own experiences as a cohort, and invite fellow college-aged API students we knew to participate. We would be a very specific community addressing API issues, and I felt comfortable with this idea because it was a community I identified with. However, my sense of comfort with that audience only resolved a small part of the larger issue tied to us as a cohort not being from the LA area, and thus not knowing how best to serve the LA API community, and furthermore, assuming that LA APIs would want some sort of “help” or “impact” from us. I feel much more motivated and at ease with our new idea, and I am excited to share it with you all.

Our LIA 2017 cohort will be creating a mixed media website that features art pieces about our API identities, our CBOs, and ourselves as a cohort. Works will range from short films to moodboards to zines, and our aim is to create a resource about the complexities and diversity of the API community, open a window into the amazing work done by our nonprofits, and also reflect on ourselves as a group. Our community impact will be online, and later on, we will be strategizing on how we will get our website out there, the audience we want to target, and how we will maintain impact beyond the end of the program. I won’t disclose my project ideas yet, but stay tuned for my next post to find out what they are :) I am really looking forward to the self reflection that will come out of this community project, and I hope to learn more about myself, my fellow cohort members, API organizing, and what it means to create change.

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