#while sealing him back within the artifact was especially painful | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gayalertcuziamhere · 3 years

Text

Starscreams deepest, darkest desire.

Starscream. Many knew him as Megatron's annoying, cowardly, loud, selfish, femmine Second In Command and like many bots/cons, know one liked him (well except for one Vehicon) but no one really knew his story, why was he so selfish? Why did he act so spoiled and why does he push away anyone who tries to help him? Well there's an answer for that, but it's a sad one. Megatron had sent Starscream off on a 'mission' to investigate a small energon signal they had gotten from one of their abandoned mine shafts. Starscream knew that this was just a way of getting him off the ship for a while but didn't object to getting out of Megatron's shooting range while he was having one of his afternoon tantrums.

Starscream had gotten bored of the war and what it had become, fighting Autobots, mine energon, get fraged hard in the aft by Megatron recharge and repeat. Every. Single. Day. And nothing changed, not the fragging, not the battles or the struggle for survival, it was all the same as every other day and he had grown tired of it. Starscream had been wandering the catacombs of the mine for a cycle and was about to give up and return to the nemesis for a ‘well deserved’ recharge.

Just as he was turning to leave he heard something or someone "Starscream.... Starscream~" That voice. It was so familiar to him, but where had he heard it before, turning back to where the low husky whisper of the voice came from, he saw a faint glow at the end of the dimly lit tunnel, slowly walking towards it Starscream could feel his fear start to grow, was it the Autobots? M.E.C.H? Perhaps some Insecticons playing a stupid joke one him again. But what he found he didn't expect, it was... And Orb? But not just any Orb, it was the Orb of Galva, this artifact was extremely rare, it had been lost to the stars for eons long before the war had started both the Autobots and Decepticons searched for it but came up empty handed, who would've thought that the Orb would be included within the planet Earth's crust.

The Orb was an artifact made by Galva one of the 14th primes, no bot alive knows what had truly happened to Galva for he had died long ago, long before Starscream was even born.

The artifact is said to give whoever touches it their deepest, darkest desires. Starscream smirked, finally he could have the upper hand on Megatron and the rest of his loyal soldiers, he could destroy the Autobots and that wretched Arcee once and for all, this could finally be he- As he reached out to touch it Starscream was blasted back by a ray of white and blue light sending him flying into the wall his vision turning black. His optics opened slowly he turned his head slowly seeing he was not in the mines any longer but rather... Vos? It couldn't be, but it was, It was Vos, his home on Cybertron, how did he get here? Vos had been destroyed during the war, hence the reason why he was one of the only seekers left; they were all nearly killed in its destruction. He turned, lifting his body off the ground and observing the room that he was so familiar with, yes everything was the same, the portraits, the decorations, the polished tiles and.. The throne.There at the end of the room sat a large glistening throne, there were multiple gems molded into the backrest all of them different types of colored gems. He stood at the start of a line of red metal leading up towards the throne. Slowly but surely Starscream walked towards it with slow steps, moving his servo up the armrest lightly not wishing to smudge it, he felt the carvings in its oar and how the cool touch of the gold colored iron filled him with so many emotions and memories of home that he had missed so dearly. Walking around it slowly recognizing ever curve every dent and placement of its design, he soon felt the urge to sit on it once again, like the many times he had done once before even if it didn't belong to him just yet, it has been eons since he last felt the familiar rims of the sealed iron of the Seeker throne. He never truly got to sit in it as a king, since Vos was destroyed before he could take his rightful place as the ruler of the Vos.

"You always liked that throne" It was that voice again. Wiping his head around, Starscream's wings and intake dropped his optics wide with disbelief. There standing at the other end of the room was a tall black mech, his wings held high behind him, his arms held against his back. He stood proudly just the way he remembered him, it truly was him.. His father. Starcry, king of the seekers and ruler of Vos. His mentor, his king, his sire was standing right in front of him, his dark red ruby optics stared back into his almost identical ones with a stern gaze, the same gaze that he always had. His black and dark grey armor stood out the most, it almost looked as if he was glowing, there were shining particles floating around him, he looked as if somebot had poured glow paint over top of him. But this couldn't be his father, he was killed when Vos fell, but if he was in the well of the allspark, then who was the mech standing in front of him

"y-you can't be.. N-no! You're dead! You're not real! I'm just dreaming!! This isn't real!!!" Starscream cried out as if he were in pain but at this point he might as well be. He had blamed himself for his sire's death, it was his fault he was gone, if he didn't make that primus forsaken deal with Megatron he would have still been on Cybertron, in Vos with his family, with his sire.

"Starscream." The impostor stepped closer towards him, reaching his servo out to lay it gently on his shoulderplate, but was pushed violently way before he was close enough "don't touch me! You're not real! This is just a dream! Yeah that's it, just a dream, you're not real, you're just a figment of my own stupidity and guilt!" He continued to shout, living up to his name, screaming begging to wake up from this dream, or in his opinion a nightmare. "STARSCREAM!!!" he was grabbed roughly by the shoulderplates forcing him to face the bot who looked exactly like the mech who he disappointed so many eons ago "Y-your-'' Swallowing the energon that had formed in his intake he continued "yo-your not real... You can't be.." Another drop of lubricant fell down his faceplate, as the impostor wiped it away with his long talon like digits as quickly as it came "perhaps.. But that doesn't make me any less alive'' Confusion flooded him like a wave, until realization hit, that was the last thing his sire said to him before his spark was extinguished. But no one was there but himself, his sire and his twin older brothers, but they had perished as well, so than that means.. "Sire?.." The mech stared at him, before nodding slowly "s-sire!" Jumping on to his peds Starscream did two things he had never dreamt he’d do in his life. He pulled himself into his sire holding him close to his Chassis, he cried his spark out, holding him tighter not wanting him to disappear. He had hugged and cried in front of his sire, something he vowed to himself never to do. Starcry was stern and strict, he was pretty much emotionless, especially towards his own sparklings. He had always given Starscream and his trine a tough time, he showed what others called tough love, so none of his children even dared think about letting any sort of tear or emotion leave their optics in front of him.

Starcry stumbled back a bit, not expecting the sudden contact, but hesitantly returned the gesture. There was a long silence between the two besides Starscream's sobbing. It was nice and comforting, something Starscream had not felt in a long time. "I'm sorry Sire.. I'm so sorry.." Starcry shushed his youngest son, rubbing his helm gently. Starscream was about to apologize for everything he had done, for every little thing, every little mistake big or small, wanting to cry himself out to his sire but was stopped before he could "I don’t blame you Star.. You were just following your spark... Like your Carrier.." Starscream's sobs slowed down, making him hiccup slightly "This isn't really real is it? This is just a dream, isn't it?" Starcry nodded "yes.. This is a dream of sorts, but I am real" Pulling away from him, Starscream looking up towards his sire in the optics. "I-... This was what I desired most... To see you again.. To apologize and the Orb granted it" Starcry nodded again "... How much longer will this last?" Starcry was silent for a moment before turning and walking towards the balcony overlooking all of the rest of Vos, with Starscream right on his heels. "Not very long" Starscream looked up at his sire once more, he didn't want this to end, not yet, he had so much he wanted to say to him- "Starscream.." Starcry grabbed his son's clawed servo holding it tight, while his other hand went up to crease his cheek. "I am so proud of you.. Your Carrier is too and so are Thundercracker and Skywarp, we are all so proud of you and were watching over you. We always have been... We love you, I love you Starscream... So, so much" Another tear of lubricant ran down his face, he was about to say something he wished he had said to his sire a long time ago, but everything started turning black. “Si-sire? What's happening!?” Starcry pulled away looking his son in the optics, he stood back, his arms crossing behind him once more “I’m afraid our time is up Star. It was good seeing you again son, take care” Starcry turned towards the hallway on the left of the room, walking away from him. Starscream tried to follow, but was stuck in one place. “Sire! Sire, wait!!" Starcry turned his helm slightly, seeing the sad smile on his sire's faceplate confirmed that this truly was the end of what the orb would give. He saw his sire walking away from him….Then nothing.

"Wait!" Jumping up Starscream checked his surroundings, looking left and right, sadly finding himself back in the med-bay of the Nemesis.

#starscream #tfp #tfp starscream #tfp au #tfp decepticons

20 notes · View notes

sxveme-2 · 3 years

Text

blueberry pancakes // bucky barnes

MASTERLIST

Description: A single mother. Juggling being a mom, a full time pediatrician, and a difficult ex who believed now would be the best time to finally be a father. A soldier ripped out of time. Ex-assassin turned superhero. Learning how to balance a new domestic life with handling demons of his past, while facing the trials of the future. a love story began over something as simple as chocolate chip pancakes with hidden blueberries.

Disclaimer: I do not own any original Marvel characters! All canon plots and canon characters belong to Marvel Comics and Marvel Studios. This is an original work. You may not publish it anywhere else

Status: Edited

Note: Takes place after endgame. I have elected to ignore Tony's death and Steve's leaving. Did not happen. Quick Reminder! My works are only published here, AO3 and on Wattpad, thank you.

Chapter Five: The One with the Burnt Pancakes

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 2516

Coming out of a divorce unscathed was more uncommon than its counterpart. Typically, a bit of baggage attaches itself to one or both parties. No matter whether or not divorce rates are through the roof in today's modern era, it still hurt more than words could describe. Especially when it's due to an affair. It creates this sense of unworthiness, and as though you weren't good enough. And when the pair has a child, it makes it ten times more difficult. Knowing that you'll have to break it to the child that their parents will no longer be together, and that they will most likely spend more time with one in comparison to the other.

But, when your child already has a bit of distaste towards your partner, it can make the blow a little softer. Sure, every mother wants their child to have a relationship with their father, other mom, etc. Whatever the situation is, parents, want that. They want to be able to see their child's face when they see their ex-spouse, but sometimes, there's nothing you can do about it. Especially when your ex never put in the effort, to begin with.

Above all, your perception of love changes. and that's exactly what happened to Lily. She lost all belief in herself and didn't believe she could ever find someone who would love her, along with the baggage that she carried alongside her. And that broken heart that she has yet to mend, and honestly, she wasn't sure if she'd ever find someone who could help. To cup warm hands around the two halves and hold them together until they combined once again.

Other things she deemed impossible, was her sitting in a kitchen with the avengers. Earth’s mightiest heroes. The people that destroyed an entire army. travelled to space. Some even having been ripped out of time and thrown into different roles and periods. These people had stories people couldn't even dream of, lived lives people only wished to be able to experience. And here sat Lily, a single mother of an 11-year-old boy, who lived in a domestic area, and worked as a pediatrician. She was minuscule in comparison to the Gods and soldiers that sat around her.

"So, is Hunter’s father around?" a soft voice asked, an accent dripping from the words. It had pulled Lily out of her thoughts of astonishment, as she tried to wrap her head around what was currently happening.

"Hm? Oh, no," Lily spoke, her voice as soft as the gentle ripple of a pond, while she sipped the coffee they had given her. Glancing up, a few of the superheroes looked at her with inquisitive eyes, wondering where he may be, or if he even was to be anymore, "We uh, we divorced four years ago."

"I'm sorry to hear that," the girl continued. Lily had placed her as Scarlet Witch, or Wanda Maximoff. Hunter adored her. He ranted and raved about how cool her abilities were and how she could probably take down an entire army by herself if she wanted to, "He's cute. I've always wanted kids."

Lily nodded along as the conversation continued around her. She stayed as silent as a sleeping lamb, her green eyes glancing around as she tapped her fingers against her coffee mug. She wasn't sure what they wanted her to say. It had been proven time and time again that Lily was the farthest from a talker. Deep inside of her mind, the little voice of self-doubt had convinced her that no one cared about what she had to say. That the only reason people even spoke to her, to begin with, was because it was polite. But she's also been told that the world around her found that shy demeanour endearing, and mysterious. As if she held secrets behind those sealed lips when in reality, Lily was scared that if she spoke, she'd create secrets. Letting the world in on the pain she hid, that she kept locked away in a vault deep within her mind. protecting herself from being destroyed again.

"...So if you ever need a babysitter," Wanda’s voice sang again, yanking Lily away from her deeper thoughts once again, as though the two were tethered. the young blonde's attention perked up as the young girl continued speaking, "I'm your girl."

Was the Scarlet Witch, offering to babysit Lily's eleven-year-old? As in, seriously? Like to pick him up or come down from upstate New York to deliberately take care of him? If it weren't for the fact Lily rarely left the house, and if she did, it was with Hunter, she may have considered the idea. But Lily wasn't one to go out. The noise that came along with the idea of partying or going out on the town always got Lily's heart beating at a much too fast pace. If she was going out, it was to gen's cafe, or with three glasses of wine down and a whole bottle to go. The world was loud and intimidating, and could easily crush Lily's fragile heart and mind with a simple touch. And where would that lead her? Nowhere good, that's where.

"Oh that's sweet, but I don't typically go out, and when I do, he comes with," Lily stated, lips forming a tight smile as she ran her finger along the circular hole atop her mug.

"Really? A girl that's as beautiful as you must get tons of guys and go out on dates. and I see no ring on that finger," the infamous Tony Stark teased while shifting his weight to look at the blonde, "unless there's already a lucky fella."

A laugh of almost disbelief escaped through Lily's full lips as if the idea of Tony Stark calling her beautiful was too good to be true, "Oh no. my best friend tries but I don't date. Already have my hands full with work and Hunter."

"Where do you work?" Steve's voice now chimed in, pushing off the counter he leaned on as Bucky worked away, staying silent. He hadn't spoken a word to Lily since Steve walked her through the threshold of the kitchen, merely a gruff hi before returning to the feverish work he was doing on the pancakes. It was as though he was trying to make them perfect.

"I'm a pediatrician at Mount Sinai Kravis Children's Hospital down in Manhattan," Lily answered, her eyes averting from looking at any of the intimidating people around her. Why were they so interested in her? Why did they seriously care so much about her personal life? She just brought Hunter here for a tour, not an interrogation...was this what people did? Like...they wanted to learn more about her? It didn't make sense, she was pretty basic. There was nothing special to her, Lily thought.

"Oh, that's awesome. I have a few-"

"SHIT!"

The large outburst caused everybody to immediately turn their attention to where it came from. Behind the counter, Bucky was waving smoke away from his face that seemed to be billowing from the pan on the stove. He burnt the pancakes. Lily felt a small smile tug at the corners of her lips as she watched him throw a towel at the counter, his face turning a crisp shade of red, like a cherry. The moment his eyes landed on her though, his entire body lit up in a hue of pink it seemed. He grew flustered, biting down on this ever so soft lips he had. Lily was only human, she couldn't help but avert her eyes down to the thin layer of skin. And as if on cue, Wanda let her voice ring through the kitchen.

"Damn it, Barnes! I told you not to cook, and you decide to challenge your abilities in front of our guest?" The ginger exclaimed while standing from her chair, going to help the built man clean his mess.

A few of the others in the room whined, and Lily guessed they had been waiting for a bit to eat. She felt a twang of guilt deep within her, as though it was her fault. But it really wasn't, she wasn't the one making the pancakes. no, she was merely answering the personal questions they all seemed to have for her, as well as constantly glancing at the hall or behind her to see if Hunter was on his way back. Instead, he was now outside with Sam, looking at all of the different artifacts and things that weren't able to be kept inside of the compound.

"You much of a chef, Lily?" James Rhodes (Warmachine, she reminded herself), asked. No matter the amount of mental effort it took, Lily couldn't help but allow the tinge of rose to decorate her full cheeks. They seemed to want to get to know her, and she felt almost...accepted? No, maybe more so welcomed, by these beings of immense power and ability. She allowed her shoulders to relax, and her grip on her mug lessened.

"Nothing impressive, but I do know my way around a kitchen," she responded, tilting her head to the side, causing her blonde locks to dance across her shoulder, "Most nights, I try to make homemade meals for Hunt and I. It's important for a child's development." she finished but noticed how all of their eyes were glued to her. Raising her left eyebrow ever so gently, she let a giggle escape from her throat, "but sometimes I give in and order pizza."

"You should help Bucky out, he's never been the best cook. Got used to boiling everything in the forties, so he makes a mean hot dog," Steve teased, sauntering over in all of his Captain America excellence, "Anything else? Completely lost on him."

"It's a good skill to have. But difficult to master, I suppose." Lily shrugged, crossing her legs over one another as she rested her elbow on the glass table, cupping her chin as she sipped the hot liquid in her cup. She couldn't seem, however, to take her eyes off of the culprit of the burnt pancake smell. The way the muscles in his neck rippled whenever he clenched his jaw. How his metal arm glinted as a small stream of light entered through a window, creating a bright reflection. How his scruff along his chiselled chin seemed to be a bit overgrown underneath.

Her mind began to wander momentarily, a gentle and soft vision dancing itself into her brain. Him sitting on a chair in her bathroom, Lily sitting comfortably on his lap, facing him. His eyes sleepy and his hair unkempt. Her skilled and nimble hand resting on the side of his face as she trimmed underneath his jaw, getting those areas he seemed to miss. His lips parted as he seemed to slowly drift off again, as though Lily's gentle hands were willing him to...

A hand waving in front of her face snatched Lily out of her odd fantasy land. She cleared her throat and looked around her, eyebrows knitting together in confusion, as though she had been paying attention to the whole conversation she just missed. Holding her lips inside of her mouth, Lily shifted once again in her seat, attempting to play it cool as the blush that had formed on her cheeks seemed to grow rapidly.

"Sorry, could you repeat what you said?" she asked, her voice weak as her eyes shifted to look at the man behind the counter once again. She couldn't help it...he was beautiful.

"I said you should help Buck out making the pancakes. Most of us haven't eaten, and if you're as good as you say, maybe you can help." Steve grinned, a knowing glint in his sky blue eyes. The way he looked at Lily, as though he could see inside of her head, sent a shiver down her spine. The idea of anyone knowing where her mind just wandered was basically mortifying for her. Being such a conservative person, the idea of that getting out? Yeah, no.

"Oh no I shouldn't...I'm positive he's capable of making pancakes." Lily chuckled, her voice cracking halfway through. This caught everyone's interest, and Lily had to hide her face with her mug as the dark liquid slid its way down her throat.

"He isn't. We don't normally let him in the kitchen. C'mon Lily, show us whatcha got." Steve continued to pry, leaning back in his chair as the others encouraged the entire idea.

Lily's head turned back to where Bucky stood, an almost pleading yet bashful look gracing his perfectly sculpted features. Just the way his eyes seemed to call out for her, was enough to allow the eldest Osborne to give in to the peer pressure of her new acquaintances. That was something Lily believed to be impossible, being friends with these heroes. These people that laid their life on the ground multiple times, saving her and her son by protecting the world around them. She was in debt to this group, everybody was. They've kept them protected for countless years. But how would one even begin to thank them?

"Okay okay, I'll do it," Lily mumbled, finishing her drink before pushing herself out of the chair that probably cost the same amount as her dog. She pulled a hair tie from her wrist and securing the blonde locks at the nape of her neck as she gracefully floated towards the kitchen. Glancing around, she couldn't help but let out a laugh at how expensive the items around her were. Sure, she didn't live in a house with run-down appliances, but these were top-of-the-line, high-end, see-on Food Channel things. A far reach from Lily's budget, "Well, first of all, Bucky, you need to turn on the fan."

After preparing everything to ensure not only safety but also to optimize space and time, Lily turned towards the man she had just moments ago daydreamed of. For a moment, she found herself lost in those steel-blue eyes he had. As though he had captured the moon and made them his own, adding a tinge of the blue from the sky above. How with every flicker across her face, a story was told. The pain and suffering he had endured etched into the dips and creases of his face, especially around those beautiful orbs. A part of her wished that the other members of the group were gone and that she could grip the sides of his face and kiss those lips he kept licking. His tongue darting out to wet them, creating a slight chapped ring around the pink layer of skin.

"Hey if you two are done gazing into the eyes of each other and looking like Hollister models, the rest of us are hungry." Starks’s voice rang, snapping Lily out of the trance the ex-soldier had put her under for a few seconds.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, coke can," Bucky muttered while turning his gaze away from Lily's and focused on washing the blueberries, "I'm just cleaning fruit."

20 notes · View notes

mor-beck-more-problems · 4 years

Text

Juice Box || Morgan & Cece

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @thebickedwitchoftherest & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Oh, right. The box. The box from Roy. The box stolen specifically from Roy. Roy’s box.

CONTAINS: ex-roomie shenanigans

Morgan would have gone to see Cece after she was out of the hospital anyway. She felt awful about what had happened at the morgue, and how it had probably cost her a friend, at least for a while. And then there was whatever weird pain and damage a banshee scream would have on human ears. Something like guilt twisted in her stomach as she adjusted in her old spot on the couch and set her water glass on Cece’s coffee table. This wasn’t anything directly to do with her, but she could probably afford to be a better friend than she had been lately. But maybe a little magic research would be a good distraction from the awfulness around them. They’d had enough adventures like this before, maybe Morgan was just feeling nostalgic for earlier times. “So,” she said, nodding at the box, which sat perched on a stack of books she’d brought over. “Any ideas?”

After the morgue incident, Cece was happy to relax at home with something to distract herself. She had felt a surprising amount of guilt following the incident in the hospital. In her less than 48 hour stay she had managed to piss off Grace and steal the memories from Janus the janitor. Both in an attempt to cover the tracks of a woman who refused to talk to her. Maybe Regan had been right, trying to build a friendship with a coworker or boss was a bad idea. It certainly seemed overrated at the moment. Morgan had enlisted Cece’s help to study this magic box. Cece didn’t have all the details yet, but was slowly pressing for more before attempting to open it herself. Before, when Morgan and Cece had discovered a magical artifact used when those lobsters were hanging about the artifact that drained magic. They had been able to quell it by working together and sharing the magic between the two. If this were a similar situation, Morgan didn’t have the same magical abilities she had before. “Well I’m sure it’s magically locked. Probably needs a spellcaster to open it. But I don’t know exactly how to open it. Or if it’s boobytrapped. What context can you give me about the box?”

Morgan laughed uneasily. “Uh, promise not to hate me?” She flashed Cece a sheepish look as she brought it onto her lap and ran her fingers over the markings on the surface again. “It belongs to a crime boss. Some undead asshole named Roy something or whatever. He’s after a friend of mine and she’s hoping to figure some stuff out so he can’t, you know, bump her off so easy. It’s important to him, enough that it was kinda hard to steal. This sigil here--” Morgan pointed to one and held it out for Cece to look at, “Gets used a lot in containment rituals, like when you’re trying to seal something up. It’s a little intense, so maybe whatever’s in here is volatile, or rare, or ephemeral somehow. Problem is, I can’t figure out these--” she pointed to the row of markings along the lid. “Are. Probably if I had done my homework a little more in grade school, I could read it. But I thought I’d ask my genius witchy friend instead of renting a time machine, you know?”

“A crime boss eh? I feel like I’m in a heist movie or something.” Cece wiggled her eyebrows and leaned around the box to study the sigils as Morgan pointed them out to her. She discarded the wine glass she had been holding, abandoning it on the coffee table as she studied the signs closer. “I guess I don’t want to know what a friend of yours is doing pissing off a crime boss?” Actually, Cece very much did want to know. As much as Cece had seen, a crime boss wasn’t something that she had spent a lot of time around. Cece loved trying new things. “They’re a mixture of things from the looks of it.” Cece slid off the couch and onto her knees on the floor, pressing her face close enough to the box that her breath fogged up the silver of the box. “Please, Morgan. Flattery will get you everywhere. Some of these are more containment spells, but some-” Cece pointed at the symbols as she described them, “Are hexes. I can’t tell exactly what they’re supposed to do. But my guess is that it’s a last ditch effort to keep the contents safe in case someone got it open.”

“Uuuuhhhh…” Morgan’s voice lilted up shrilly. Cece had enough mischief in her to pass for fae. It wasn’t hard to figure that she did want to know, but the whole criminal justice system thing was still...a lot for Morgan to wrap her head around. “I could tell you, but you definitely can’t tell your boss. I don’t think she’d be happy knowing I’m a corrupting influence. I’ve lost count of how much weird shit we’ve gotten up to together by this point. You’d think the whole me being dead thing would mean less trouble, but I think we’re getting worse.” She smirked as she spoke, and angled herself in as many weird ways as she needed to look at the hexes Cece had identified. “You ever wish people would just print out a nice label on these things? Like, beware, magic dynamite inside! Or, angry bloodclingers within! But, that looks kinda like some Irish curses I’ve seen in this book… Doesn’t it feel weird to you how light it is?”

Morgan set the box between them and reached over for the book in question, flipping through the pages too quickly to find what she was looking for.“Hey--” she said, turning the pages slowly now. You’d say if you weren’t okay, right?”

“Yeah, well. My boss and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms right now anyways.” And by that, Cece meant that Regan was not on speaking terms with Cece. Despite the repeated attempts on Cece’s part. The whole thing was bullshit. Especially considering that despite this, Cece had still gone out of her way to make sure that no one poked their heads around Regan’s business or questioned her abilities to do her job. “That being said, I love the idea that you’d be able to corrupt me. I for one cherish every moment we share getting dragged into some crazy shit.” Cece laughed. Sometimes it was easy to forget that Morgan had died. Especially since she hadn’t seen it for herself, “Well there’s nothing like the afterlife, am I right?” Cece had to admit that Morgan had a point. It would sure make things a hell of a lot easier. “Witches are way too dramatic to do anything as simple as that, unfortunately. They can never make anything easy.” Morgan pointed out how light it was and Cece had to agree, leaning in closer but not being able to tell anything further. “This whole thing feels weird to me. What would a crime boss need with a magically sealed box? There must be more than meets the eye with this guy. If I’m careful, I should be able to strip the hexes before I start working on getting the box itself open. But keep reading to see if you find anything I don’t know.”

The distraction wasn’t enough, since Morgan decided now was a good time to dive into the personal questions. “Me? Almost certainly not.” Cece laughed the question off. After a moment, she decided to not completely brush the question off, “If you’re asking about the morgue then I’m fine. I’ve had worse done to me than some exploding glass and an earache.” Cece hadn’t told anyone about her days with the coven but figured Morgan would be one of the few she would trust with the information. At least some of the information. Cece didn’t need all of her skeletons dancing around the house. “Nothing that a few glasses of wine and solving a mystery with you can’t solve.” As far as not talking about issues went, Cece wasn’t the only offender, “What about you?”

Morgan scrunched her face up in a way Cece was long familiar with. “I didn’t just mean that,” she said. “But that is good to know. I just… I mean as much as I can’t imagine leaving here anytime soon, I know it can be really cruel sometimes. And you’re all Miss Tough Gal with a smile, but you don’t have to be like that all the time, you know? I just don’t want you to slip through the cracks just because I’m not here so much anymore. I’ve been kinda swept up lately, but I do care about you, tough gal and all. And not just because you do so many nice favors. But if you’re good or you wanna say you’re good, then that’s…good. And, oh, you know me. Cursed or not cursed, apparently there’s always something. Lots of gory details we didn’t make it to sharing on the dash.”

It took Morgan a few more pages to find what she was looking for, but she hesitated before showing the witch, just in case there was more to say.

Cece supposed there was no better time than now to discuss this, though Cece usually preferred any serious conversation be prefaced with a lot of alcohol. More than Cece had drunk so far. More than Cece probably had in the house. “Honestly? I’ve always been like this. Full disclosure, I was in a coven before I came to town. Things didn’t end so well with them and it always keeps me a bit on edge. Even before joining the coven, I wasn’t really one to take life super seriously. I had a pretty laid back childhood with a surprising lack of trauma so I guess when I turned eighteen life decided I had to make up for it.” Cece talked with an airiness, trying to show Morgan that she was trying to be sincere without trying to sound too much like she was whining about her past. “I have plenty of things that should keep me up at night, but I promise the injuries from the morgue aren’t one of them. I’ll seriously be okay. But trust me, even living apart I know you’ve got my back. Same to you.” Gory details didn’t exactly inspire confidence. “Yeah, what the hell? I thought you were done with the whole curse and ghost bullshit? Because ‘gory details’” Cece made finger quotations to match with her tone, “doesn’t sound very fun.”

Morgan listened thoughtfully, smiling wistfully at the thought of a good or ‘before’ times that lasted longer than eight or twelve years. But how awful, still, to know exactly the stability you were losing. To never be able to exhale or relax. Well, that part Morgan knew too well. Maybe that had something to do with why they got along so easily. You had to keep things light when you had one eye on the present and one over your shoulder. “Those are some pretty ominous Sparknotes. I’m starting to take back all those times tiny me wished for a real coven besides just my parents. If any of them come knocking, you’ll holler though, yeah? Partial magic immunity makes for a great zombie perk in a pinch.” Morgan smirked at Cece’s question to her. Fun was...definitely not a word to use for this. “You’d be right,” she said. “I...honestly don’t know what the sparknotes version of that is. So maybe you’ll have to drag me into a sequel session just to find out.” She huffed and held out the book. “Found our guy. Check out the common uses. What does ‘source’ even mean? Like...power source? Is that a real thing?”

“I’ll keep that in mind. But fingers crossed I never see any of them again.” Cece laughed, although the idea of any of her former coven members finding Cece’s location and showing up in town was anything but a laughing matter. Something told her they wouldn’t want to catch up. And if they did, Morgan wasn’t who she would want to get involved although she made a good point about the magical immunities. Cece had always figured that her best bet if any of them were to show up in town would be to count her losses and cut and run. As the two had talked, Cece slowly worked on rubbing the hexes away from the box. It was more exhausting than it looked, a constant string of magic being poured into her fingertips in order to break the seals without cursing herself into oblivion. Whatever those hexes did, Cece didn’t want to find out. “You’ve got yourself a deal. You. Me. Pick another night and get drunk off our asses. You can give me the sparknotes version of your story and I can try to elaborate a bit on mine. It’ll be a good time.” Morgan found something in the book and leaned over to see what she had found. A power source? It didn’t mean much at first, until she remembered that Morgan had mentioned that he was undead. Cece still couldn’t be sure, but suddenly something started to make sense. “Holy shit.” Cece let go of the box for a moment. “You said undead, right? Do you know what kind?” If they didn’t then…. “I think this is a fext. And if I’m right- yikes.” Cece didn’t know how else to describe it. Cece had heard of fext from the coven. To witches, they were a sort of horror story or monster under the bed type. A monster whose special power was stealing the magic from witches. Was there any fate worse than that in the eyes of a coven? “If he is a fext- then I have a feeling that I know what’s in this box too. I think I have all the hexes cancelled out. Now I just have to pop the thing open. Give me a minute.”

“A--a what?” Morgan stammered. She hadn’t thought about fexts in a really long time. Some old witchy wives tales, stories her mother would tell her to scare her into behaving one day and dismiss as folklore the next. It was never anything to devote a lot of headspace to. “Those are--real? They’re like what...witchy-vampires?” She searched Cece’s expression. Her friend looked very serious and certain. “What’s the big yikes? Can he do weird creepy magic things to normal humans? I mean, I know he set her house on fire, but does this mean there’s worse things? Magic things? Wait--” She gaped, mouth dropping as the pieces aligned themselves in her mind. “Is that--does mean there’s just...raw magic in there?” That definitely explained why it was so light for something that was supposed to be important. “Are you sure you want to open that? Is it going to--- do something?”

“Exactly. Or something like that at least.” Cece couldn’t speak with any certainty. She had never seen one for herself. “The coven used to talk about them. Supposedly they can drain magic from spellcasters and then use their magic.” No word on whether the witch lost their magic completely or not, but all the horror stories claimed they did. Could just be a part of the chill factor, though. “Exactly. Chances are that fire was taken from another witch.” Cece nodded her head. Chances were that it was. The problem was, without seeing for themselves they had no idea what kind of magic it was. That wasn’t going to help Morgan’s friend. “I don’t know. Things could go bad. But knowing what kind of magic is stored in here might help your friend.” She couldn’t guarantee it. For all the things that didn’t scare Cece, this one at least made her a by apprehensive. “Moment of truth. Do we open it or not?”

“Shit.” Morgan took the box for herself, looking it over. “Why couldn’t I be a dead witchy vampire?” She grumbled. “I mean, obviously: very spooky. That is some dark, sketchy shit and a hard diet to work with sustainably. I’m just saying, it wouldn’t be the worst thing if I could work some magic after death. Why do things like this have to happen to assholes who light funeral homes on fire and run underground organ trading rings? That’s just not fair, is all I’m saying.” She examined the markings and little groove the lid depended on. “I’m a little worried about what would happen if we did open it. Hypothetically, I have the least amount of risk of getting whammied by something, but what should I be on the lookout for?”

“You’d make the coolest dead witchy vampire.” Cece agreed, “And you’d definitely use your power for much better than Roy uses his for. What a prick.” Cece didn’t know the man but just from the bits and pieces she had learned she had to say that he didn’t seem like a stellar dude. In fact, he seemed like an ass. “You got the short end of the stick for sure.” It wasn’t surprising that Morgan was offering to open the box and take the brunt of the spell for the two. Morgan was selfless like that. And although Cece was worried about it’s contents, she had a list a bit of confidence that things would mostly be okay. “Well- what the coven explained to me once was that spellcasters and artifacts acted as a sort of conduit to magic. Without it, there’s no where for the magic to go. Using that same logic, it might be that raw magic is just that. If we open it it’s just a mass of magic until someone that can use magic channels it.” The logic wasn’t exact, but based off of what she did know about magic this at least seemed semi plausible. “On the flip side, if this is some sort of summoning spell, it could already be activated and take effect as soon as the box opens. Hypothetically opening it could literally summon a demon. But the chances of it being that are pretty low. Probably.”

“Probably?” Morgan squeaked. “Okay, come on, grab something powerful, we’re doing this outside.” She took the box, held out in front of her and pressed between the tips of her fingers like it was hazardous waste. “I really don’t want to punch a demon or chase one into the woods, but I think our evenings together have taken weirder turns, so--” Morgan opened the back door with her elbow and walked out into the yard. She couldn’t tell if she was overreacting (because who would seriously leave potent magic just in a booby-trapped box? There had to be other layers, right?) or if this was the most reckless thing she’d done yet. “Maybe, uh, stay back--?” She called, looking sidelong at Cece.

Come on. Waiting wasn’t going to change what’s inside. They had to know for sure if they wanted to correctly identify this asshole. One eye pinched shut, Morgan thumbed the lid open.

No flashing lights, no demon. Morgan finally risked a look inside. “Oh. That’s a little anticlimactic.”

“Well I can’t see the future Morgan!” Cece defended herself. She very rarely spoke in absolutes. She couldn’t be blamed or held responsible if shit went south if she told them probably or most likely. “Divination is not one of my skills.” Nor one of her interests. For all of the planning that Cece liked to do- her escape from the coven had taken more than a year to pull together- Cece had no interest in seeing her future. At Morgan’s request, Cece hopped onto her feet and began following her outside, only to spin back around and grab her wine glass and falling behind Morgan again. “You said grab something powerful.” She shrugged, taking a sip and standing with her former roommate out in the backyard. Now it was time to actually open the damned thing.

When Morgan did it was… well it was boring. Morgan was right, that had been anticlimactic. She stepped closer to Morgan and leaned in to get a look at the vial. “Can I squeeze in real quick?” Cece reached her arm in, running her hand over it without actually touching it. Magic was different. In some ways it felt alive or like an aura. And every aura was different. If someone was familiar enough with a certain branch of magic they may be able to pick it out just like someone could look at someone and see what color their aura was. “Well, bad news is that I’m pretty sure this actually was summoning magic. Whoopsies.” Cece sucked air through her teeth and slid away from the box again, “But on the plus side it didn’t summon whatever is in there! So another point for the former roommate dream team!”

Morgan’s stomach turned. There was no consciousness in the box, no traces of who the spellcaster had once been, but after what Roy had done to Erin’s home, she felt pretty confident that they were dead. She knew, on one level, that it was the same as the stock of brains she kept in the fridge. But thinking of his cruelty, the way he crushed people for nothing more original than gain, she felt disgusted. Morgan snapped the box shut and turned back to Cece. “Thank you for this. You’re a really good friend, you know?” She pulled her in a one armed hug. “I’ll make sure this guy get’s destroyed, okay? Do you want to hang onto this, in case you need it someday? I’d rather it be with a real witch than with Roy.” She squeezed her friend carefully. “But definitely, definitely another score in our dream team column. We are, without a doubt, the most badass pair in the Crest. Maybe we should start charging the town for all the favors we do them, huh?”

“I’m supposed to be holding up my tough girl reputation Morgan. Don’t expose me. You know this unbeating heart only flutters now and again for you.” Cece playfully shoved Morgan’s shoulder, careful not to do it hard enough to jolt the vial resting in the overdramatic box. “He sounds like a real dick, so I can’t say I’ll be mourning his loss or anything. But you and your friend need to be careful. If Fexts are even half as scary as the stories are, you don’t want to underestimate this guy. He’s going to be dangerous as hell.” Cece had no idea what kind of nightmare fuel this bottle could summon. Keeping it around probably wasn’t the greatest idea. But if Cece could figure out what it was, she may be able to use it someday. “I will happily take this little container of evil. What could go wrong, am I right?” What an awful question to ask. It’s like she was begging for demons to fuck up her life. Good luck trying to screw up something that was already so royally fucked, demons. “We really do. I’ll brainstorm some business titles. Double bubble, toil trouble? Never mind. We’ll keep workshopping.”

#juice box #wr cece #wr chatzy #wr cece chatzy #wickedswriting

10 notes · View notes

rogerblackwolf · 3 years

Text

The Fall of the Saharan Empire

Excavation Site 22

Libya, North Africa

-2017-

The sun was unbearable, even in the shadow of the mountain it was barely below a hundred degrees. Even the wind didn’t help as it blew sand and dry wind that made you sweat bullets as soon as you moved. The worst part was that it was only 11am, and it was only getting hotter. Set up around an ancient tomb-like structure, buried under sand and stones from the mountain, was a camp of nearly twenty tents although their occupants were hard at work digging up the ruin. Workers dug deep into the sand, shoveling, and taking sand out by the bucket full, yet there was little progress.

One man was overlooking the dig; he was middle-aged and in great physical shape dressed in desert camouflage pants, boots, a short sleeve shirt, and a tactical chest harness that had a canteen and several magazines for a rifle among other gear. A second man who was taller, but skinnier in build, dressed in tan cargo shorts, a sweat drenched tank top, and he had a sun hat that did squat against the heat. The skinny man took out a canteen, drank several gulps before wiping the sweat from his brow then returned to help shovel sand. The fit man slung his AK-47 over his shoulder before checking on the man.

“Any luck Prof. Winslow?” He asked

“Well Mr. McCormick, I think we can safely assume that this indeed is a Garamantian tomb, you can tell by the simple fact that we are near their ancient capital Garama.” The skinny man responded with a British accent.

“But can you be certain that this is the right one?” McCormick asked.

“Won’t know until we get inside. But the Lidar scans showed a hollow spot in this section. And you know what they say ‘twenty two times the charm.’.” Winslow said, continuing his work.

It was nearly evening by the time Winslow and the team managed to find the entrance, though they were all tired, the prospect of opening the tomb filled everyone with newfound vigor. Once the entrance was unearthed, Winslow was the first inside with McCormick right behind him, both men had flashlights which helped illuminate the corridor. The two men followed the corridor downwards for about thirty feet before entering a more open chamber which had little in terms of artifacts with some pottery and remnants of textiles. They paled in comparison to the true treasure in the tomb. In the center of the few artifacts, partially buried under the sand, was a complete humanoid skeleton, while Prof. Winslow was used to seeing ancient skeletons; he had never seen one so unaged and altogether, almost as if it were placed there this morning.

The two men gingerly stepped around the skeleton, Winslow took out a camera and started taking pictures as he made a circle around the remains ensuring he got every detail. He halted his photography to take out a tape measure, he drew a line in the sand at the top of the skeleton and a second at the feet before measuring the approximate height.

"Fuckin Hell." Winslow exclaimed.

"What?!" McCormick responded with a hand on his AK-47.

"Whoever this person was, they were roughly 6ft 3' tall." Winslow said in astonishment before taking a picture of the measurement.

"I'm guessing that's above average?" McCormick asked, kneeling next to the skeleton.

"Way above average. Most men of the time were lucky to be above 5ft 6'." Winslow said.

"Damn." McCormick said placing his hand next to the skeleton's hand which made his own look a bit shorter. It was then he noticed that the knuckles were fractured, the other bones in the hand had cracks in them as well. He looked over the skeleton noticing multitudes of other injuries like fractures and breaks, the skull especially had its fair share of impacts mostly around the face and jaw. McCormick also noted that the left clavicle as well as ribs 1-4 were crushed inward, the thought of whatever did such damage made him wince. The most gruesome injury was that the sternum was split in half, leaving a gap wide enough to stick his hand through.

This surprised Winslow as he didn't know of any weapon that would cause such a clean break. Once Winslow was done with his pictures he turned to a couple of workers and told them in Arabic;

"Get the brushes, the lights, plastor, and the crates. We are moving the body and the artifacts tonight."

With that the worker nodded before rushing to the others, who quickly went to get the equipment. McCormick looked to Winslow before asking;

“Taking this back to London?”

“I can only do so much here, if I’m to investigate more I’ll need a sterile environment, plus the Order will want to know what we’ve found.” Winslow said.

“I’ll call in the plane.” McCormick says, leaving the chamber. He passes by the workers as they head to the now open chamber.

Several hours passed before the rumbling of aircraft engines broke the nighttime silence, McCormick had seen to having a makeshift landing strip carved up and lit up for the transport. The single C-130J landed easily, kicking up enough sand for a small sandstorm in the process, but at least the skeleton was nearly prepared for transport. All that was left was to wait for the plaster encased bones to set so they could meticulously place them in a sterile container that looked like a steel coffin. Within minutes of the plaster setting, the remains had been placed in their respective containers and sealed; the containers were taken from the chamber to be loaded but as Winslow turned to follow he noticed something. In the sand next to where the remains were previously, he found a crystal just big enough to fit in his palm. He didn’t think much of it at first but remembered that not everything is as cut and dry as they seem, especially in this line of work, he bagged it and, as he caught up to the containers, stopped to add it to the last container before it was loaded aboard by the team. The pilot came to meet with Winslow and McCormick, telling them,

“Weather is holding for now but I’d like to get out of here before that changes. You guys coming?” He asked.

“I better deliver the remains myself, The Director probably would want to hear it from me personally.” Winslow said.

“Yeah right, you just want a free ride back to HQ.” McCormick said with a smirk.

“That is a coincidence entirely, but I won't deny that I miss being in my air conditioned office.” Winslow replied in a bit of a huff.

McCormick simply chuckled before the pilot prepped the plane and Winslow packed up the equipment in his tent. He thanked the workers for their help and wished them well as they likely will be heading back home, and he thanked Mr. McCormick for all his help and security of the camp.

“Oh I’ll be back before you know it. See you back at HQ Professor.” McCormick said, patting him on the back. Winslow took his seat as the ramp closed and the engines spun up, he held on tight to his seat as the plane lunged forward before taking to the air in what felt like seconds. Either way, Prof. Winslow was glad he was heading home.

Back at Headquarters after a day of rest, Prof. Winslow was now able to study the skeleton in greater detail. He determined that the individual was male, most likely in his late forties, although with the normal methods he couldn’t accurately tell. One thing he could tell was that this man got into quite the fight before his ultimate demise. The individual had comminuted fractures to both of his hands, a flail chest fracture in his left 1-4 ribs, a broken left clavicle, multiple fractures to the face and skull, even a couple of teeth were missing, but what really drew his attention was the killing blow. The sternum fracture was conclusive with a stabbing, which he now saw went through the spine, plus given the angle of penetration he further concluded that whoever ended the man was standing over him when the blow was struck.

Winslow took a break as he stood alone in the lab, the others having checked out for the night, just staring at the skeleton. He was a combat medic with the Royal Marines for six years, he could remember every man he treated, everything from blisters to shrapnel wounds and burns. He remembered the first life he was unable to save, and the many others after, Winslow simply couldn’t comprehend how much pain this man was in when he died. How long he suffered before the end came. Winslow let out a deep sigh before returning to work, he took a sample of bone for the mass spectrometer to get an idea of how far back he lived. Winslow knew the machine would likely take all night so he decided to check out. He ensured the skeleton was locked in it’s locker before locking up the lab.

The next morning he greeted the rest of the team as they went about their duties, the first thing he wanted to see was the results of the test, which he decided to read in his office.

“Holy Shite!” Winslow shouted in surprise.

The test results had come back but he ran them again just to be sure only for it to come back the same. He took them to the Director’s office who was surprised by the sudden intrusion.

“Director Ambrose, you have to see this.” Winslow said, extending the file out towards him.

Ambrose was an older man with a slender build, dressed in a dark blue suit and glasses. His face was angular, clean shaven, and always had this serious no nonsense look that made him almost unapproachable. He adjusted his glasses so his dull grey eyes could focus on the paper in front of him, his expression turned from serious to questioning and finally disbelief before he looked at Winslow.

“Nigel…are you absolutely certain?” Ambrose asked.

“Yes George, I ran through the machine twice and it hasn’t changed. This skeleton is over 1 million years old.” Winslow replied in excitement.

"Bloody Hell." Ambrose said under his breath.

There was a moment of silence before Ambrose sat the folder down and spoke once more.

“And what of the crystal you found?”

“My team in Sector 9 theorize it is some sort of memory bank but we're unable to reveal any secrets it may have at this time.” Winslow said.

“I see, well keep me in the loop Nigel. We both have been waiting a long time for answers.” Ambrose said as his face settled back to it’s normal no nonsense look.

“Of course, Director Ambrose.” Winslow responded before taking his leave.

-Two years later, OMC Headquarters, London-

A pair of women walked down the halls passing multiple cells containing objects of great power, while the Order considered them safe to be around, safety above all was still enforced. One of the women, a younger lass dressed in normal office attire with her hair in a bun, stopped for a moment at one cell looking at a sword lodged in a stone.

“Is that-“ she started to ask excitedly, only to be cut off by the second’s more serious tone.

“Yes it is, now come along.” She said, continuing down the hallway.

The younger woman caught up with her mentor as she rounded a corner. The younger woman looked at her mentor who was staring forward in silence. She was also dressed in office attire but no blazer, her hair was long and stopped in the middle of her back. She was a little older than her in terms of age but her experience definitely showed as she was an excellent scientist, though she always had a stern look, she rarely attended social events, and as far as she could tell probably hasn’t smiled in a long time. The younger woman spoke to break the silence;

“For the record, it was an honor being your assistant Dr. Garrett.” She said with her normal pep.

“You're not moving to a new facility Dr. Greene, just to a new office.” Dr. Garrett said.

“I know, I was just saying I’ll miss working with you. Plus you rarely eat in the cafeteria so…” Dr. Greene said but trailed off.

“Dr. Winslow is brilliant in his own right, and Director Ambrose only looks scary, just do your job and you’ll do fine.” Dr. Garrett replied.

“Right.” Dr. Greene said in a little defeated tone. Dr. Garrett looked at her assistant as she lost some of that excitement she had this morning. They finally arrived at Prof. Winslow’s office, which had a sign that read “Be back shortly” so the two women took a seat on the bench beside the door. As they sat, Dr. Garrett glanced at Dr. Greene before sighing.

“I eat lunch in the cafeteria at 2 every day, if you want to join me I would not be opposed to your company.” She said with a rare smirk.

“Thank you Dr. Garrett, I will be there!” Greene squealed in excitement.

“Don’t make me regret it.” Dr. Garrett said.

After a few minutes Prof. Winslow finally returned.

“Oh Morgan, sorry if you had to wait long.” He said in a friendly tone.

“It’s good to see you too, Prof. Winslow.” Dr. Garrett greeted.

“Oh come now, we’ve been colleagues for quite a while, I don’t see any reason to be so formal.” Winslow said.

“Oh alright Nigel, anyway this is my former assistant, Director Ambrose just approved her promotion to being part of your team.” Morgan said, introducing her now former assistant.

“Dr. Elizabeth Greene at your service sir. I hope I learn a lot.” Greene said in slight embarrassment.

“Pleasure to meet you, and you definitely will.” Nigel says, shaking her hand.

Morgan took her leave as Nigel and Elizabeth got introduced, Nigel then had Elizabeth step into his office where they took their seats to chat further.

“So I assume you know what we do here in Sector 9?” Nigel asks

“Yes, you and your team study the ancient remains of magic creatures and artifacts.” Elizabeth replies.

“That is the majority of what we do, yes but for the past ten years we have been pooling our resources to find and study a specific subject. Only two years ago did we find what we were looking for and today we finally have the whole story. Tell me Elizabeth, what do you know about the Garamantes?” Nigel asked, donning a serious look.

“I know they were an ancient tribe in what is now Libya, but I don’t know much about them.” She answered honestly.

Nigel’s face softened before he explained.

“They were much more than an ancient tribe, by the mid-second century AD they were a major regional superpower that established a kingdom that spanned 70,000 sq miles. They built complex underground aqueducts that supported their agricultural economy and population, even building their capital city in the middle of the desert without needing to be near a major water source. The Garamantes were by all means the most advanced civilization of their time. At their height they regularly traded with the Romans and Greeks, even traveled to Rome and Greece to sell their merchandise. Then in the fifth century, they vanished. Most history books or professors will tell you that as the water diminished the Garamantes were annexed or absorbed by the surrounding tribes. However we now have the real story of what really happened.”

Nigel paused to reach into his desk, retrieving a folder, then handed it to Elizabeth. Only then did he continue.

“You can read these in greater detail when you have more time, but I’ll give you the short version. In 2009 we discovered several tablets that spoke of a disaster that struck the Empire. The survivor, who we now know as Aya, spoke of a being that descended from the heavens and wiped out the Empire and all its people in the span of only a few days. Interestingly this being also spared her, her husband was not so lucky.”

“Her husband?” Elizabeth asked.

“Yes, according to her writings her husband wasn’t just a normal human, she described him fighting this destructive being in a valiant last stand that ended in his death. Two years ago we found his resting place and studied his remains here in Sector 9, along with a crystal that stored his memories. Thanks to it, we even know his name. And the name of his killer.” Nigel answered before getting up and having her follow him. Nigel escorted her to another room where the other team members were tending to the crystal, which now had a faint glow that pulsed every few seconds. Nigel first introduced Elizabeth to the other members then asked them to prepare a memory projection.

“Memory projection?” Elizabeth asked.

“This crystal, which we dubbed the Soul crystal, was inactive when I discovered it. But thanks to exposure to another magic crystal we have in storage, it came back to life. We were then able to use special filters and lenses to display the memories contained within much like a projector. What you are about to see are the memories, including the last moments, of Aya’s husband, the angel known as Ramiel.” Nigel explained, as a strange device with a number of lenses was set up facing the far wall, which was smoothed out to act as a projector screen. The Soul crystal was then gently removed from it’s protective glass box and placed in the device, it then came to life as the lenses were set and the projection was focused to the far wall.

They first saw a land of green with farmers tending their fields, children at play, and a thriving village. The next scene was a man dressed in light robes, his head devoid of hair, and tall in stature with his wife in front of their home looking at a large city in the distance. They seemed genuinely happy until the next memory appeared showing dark clouds blotting out the sun, followed by rampant balls of fire falling that burned fields, decimated buildings, and sent people running for their lives. The next memories showed the city defenders, a vast army of mounted soldiers, amassed in front of the city walls, their opponent was a relatively short distance away. The opponent had wings coated in ash and embers, armor wreathed in flames as a storm of blackened clouds of smoke and fire followed behind them advancing slowly as they walked towards the citadel.

The leader of the city defenders raised their sword then shouted a command leading the army at full charge, a storm of hooves and spears closed the distance in seconds but it was all for naught. Fireballs shot out from the clouds sending scores of men and horses into fiery heaps, if they weren’t incinerated immediately, across the sandy field. The being then flapped its wings gaining some height before descending like a meteorite onto the army, the survivors were cut down before many of them were able to fight back. Balls of flame then rained upon the city, the people’s cries of desperation and terror filled the streets as their destroyer entered their final refuge. Finally the last memories played, the city was aflame, the cries of the people were silent, their corpses littered the streets, and the one who brought it all upon them stood before the man and his wife, who now had a child in her arms. Their eyes like burning coals looked upon the trio before the man spoke a language they couldn’t understand, one of the researchers rewound the memory then pressed a button that translated the language to English.

“Why? WHY?! Tell me Apollyon! Why have you done this?!” He demanded.

“You forget Ramiel, in the grand scheme of things these insects mean nothing. It’s our job to ensure they know where they stand.” The dark one spoke.

“When did the Council allow for the slaughter of entire civilizations?!” Ramiel exclaimed.

“They only allowed me to destroy one. One limb sacrificed so the tree can flourish. Course there is one condition.” Apollyon answered indifferently.

“And what was that?” Ramiel asked.

“I only leave two survivors. And since there are none left in this “empire”, the choice falls to you Ramiel. Which among you will die?” Apollyon asked, summoning a battle axe and longsword to his hands.

Ramiel turned to his wife and the child she saved from it's dying mother, she stared at him fearfully, her hazel eyes dimmed by the desolation that surrounded them.

He smiled warmly before holding her close, his own tears streamed down his face.

"When I let go...you run. Run as far as possible. And don't look back. Please don't look back." He begged.

She nodded before saying

"I love you."

"Always." Ramiel replied.

He broke from the hug and she did as was asked running down the empty streets towards the gates.

Ramiel turned to Apollyon, his choice made.

"You're a monster Apollyon...it's time you were put down." He challenged as repressed energy surged through his body. Wings sprouted from his back as armor enveloped his body, lightning filling his eyes as his rage boiled, and with an outstretched hand summoned a spear of grand design.

"I damned Atlantis to the depths, buried Pompeii in ashes, and you think you stand a chance against me, The Angel of Destruction? We shall see." Apollyon said unsummoning his weapons, before the two charged each other, their clash sent shockwaves powerful enough to flatten the buildings around them. Their duel took to the skies and though Ramiel was strong, with every blow he landed sounding like thunderclaps, Apollyon was overwhelming. Even unarmed Apollyon drew blood with every punch and kick.

Finally Apollyon grabbed Ramiel by his wings and threw him so hard he went through the palace and out the city wall before rolling to a stop among the ash fields. He barely got to his knees before Apollyon snatched him up by his throat, carrying him above the clouds, so far up the curve of the earth could be seen. He then descended like a falling star, throwing Ramiel into the earth with such force he left a crater several hundred feet wide. Apollyon landed seconds later and summoned his longsword. Ramiel's wings were scorched of nearly all their feathers, his face was bloody and swollen, one eye was barely open as his mouth was oozing blood, his breaths were shallow and gargled, and he had no strength to resist as Apollyon's boot planted itself on his chest.

"Such a disgrace of one of the original Watchers. Ending your miserable existence is an act of mercy." He hissed as he heard the crunch and snap of Ramiel's bones under his boot. Ramiel let out a groan of pain before Apollyon's sword impaled his chest, his breath no longer heard. Apollyon then took his leave, a flash of flame into the eye of the storm dispersed the clouds and the sun shined down on the ruined land. Ramiel's last memory was the sight of his wife before his eye closed for the final time. When the projection ended, a few of the team were in tears or drying their eyes, even Elizabeth felt unsteady before she sat in a seat.

"I think...that will be all for today. Secure the soul crystal...and consider the rest of the day yours. I know what we just saw was terrible, but we must move forward. For there is no reason to dwell on that which we cannot change." Prof. Winslow said, drying his own tears.

#BSRC #Story 10

0 notes

velvetroom--imagines · 7 years

Note

Ryuji, Akira, Minato and Yu's headcanons when they see their crush's awakening their personas and wanting to become one of them. How would they treat them in the Metaverse? Maybe Small scenes of confessions when crush is hurt, because they're so worried? Thank you

Ahh, this are the type of asks I really like, especially if it interferes or has something to do with the plot. Thank you! I wasn’t sure about Minato and Yu’s since they were from a different game, so I will be writing it in their own dungeons like the ‘TV World’ or ‘Tartarus’.

“Let me Join You.”

Akira Kurusu

It was accidental. You weren’t supposed to be here, he thought. If there was anything Akira was afraid of, it would be the fact that his specific other had strolled into the deep into Mementos, alone. In all honesty, he hadn’t noticed your presence until Futaba noted that she felt a faint unrecognizable energy in one of the floors.

Prior to your awakening, Akira had already established a Confidant with you. You were a student, someone who only watched as things fell apart. Bystander was the word, but it wasn’t that you refused to do anything. It’s just that no matter what you did, no one would listen.

It was then when one day, you wanted to talk to Akira when they had suddenly opened an app and warped the whole world. To your surprise, you had found yourself in the Metaverse. Quietly, you trailed after the ‘Bus’ but had gotten lost along the way.

May God know how you managed to escape from the Shadows. You ran from the monsters for a time until you took a wrong turn and trapped yourself in a dead end. Luckily, from the corner of your eye, someone had come to your rescue.

The Phantom Thieves, right before your very eyes. Covering you, they didn’t let you in the sight of the enemy. Again, like always, you were just watching without being able to do anything. It wasn’t until you watched as the Shadow knocked everyone down, leaving Akira on his knees.

“A-Akira!” You squaked, scrambling onto your feet. What could you do? Was there anything… you can do? Suddenly, you feel a pounding to your head, a voice echoing out to you.

“Finally, you’ve come to your senses and have broken out of little cage. I’m disappointed that it had taken this long.” Writhing on the floor, you felt a searing pain take place on your eyes. You felt blinded, and the urge to remove it was pulsing.

“Come now, let’s give them what they deserve! I am thou, thou art I…” Desperate, your hands made their way up to your mask, gripping the sides before ripping it off, the scent of iron hitting your nose. “Now, what do you plan to do?”

“No. I won’t stand and watch anymore.” You hissed, gripping the weapon given to you. You stood, adrenaline pumping through your veins. You smiled at the Phantom Thieves, ecstatic. “Come, let’s finish them!”

Once the battle had come to a finish thanks to your new abilities, the Phantom Thieves approached you. Akira came into view, glancing at your wounds with concern. “S/O, are you alright?”

He had that soft spot foryou, and seeing those scars made him wince. He didn’t hesitate to take off his gloves to brush his hands along them, checking how severe they were. “Next time, don’t enter places that look shady.”

Shaking your head, you smiled at him. “It’s okay. I actually want to continue entering shady places if it’s for the greater good.” Akira would always be captivated by how sweet and compassionate you are, why would he deny your request?

Akira smirked at you, holding out his hand for you to take. “Consider yourself a Phantom Thief, my dear.” A confession wasn’t even needed at this point, really. He’d flirt his way into your heart until it becomes clear that he isn’t going to stop.

Battles are actually very convenient. At moments when he asks you steal something or whenever you jump to avoid enemy attacks, Akira would always catch you. Literally, most times, you fall right into his arms. He’d smirk, unwilling to let you go. “I think you belong here. Don’t worry, you can pay the rent through kisses.”

Whenever you get wounded, Akira would always place himself in front of you. His cheeky demeanor would fall whenever your life is as stake. If you get seriously damaged, he won’t show mercy to the Shadows that hurt you then tend to your every beck and call.

Expect Akira to drag you into Mementos for ‘training sessions’. Sometimes they get heated after battles. Imagine Akira taking your hand and attempt to seduce you out of the heat of passion. “If you beat the next one by yourself, your efforts will be rewarded.”

Rewarded? Pfft, he ends up taking you for a Mega-Burger Challenge. Gotta get your stats up after all.

Bonus; There was a time when Akira accidentally dismissed an ability your Persona had, and now he desperately needed it. You were awfully confused when he had taken you to Church.

“Akira, why are you asking me to confess my sins?”

“You can kneel before me later. Please do a confession. I really need that Salvation move.”

Ryuji Sakomoto

Ryuji was horrified once he discovered that you, out of all people, had been following the Thieves into Madarame’s Palace. Ever since the two of you had met, he has had this urge to protect you.

Geez, this guy isn’t willing to even let someone lay a finger on you. You were always quiet and lenient towards Kamoshida’s advances. While Ryuji would bark at the man, you couldn’t avoid the harassment. Your silence and submissive decisions made it clear that you couldn’t stand up for youself.

One of the reasons he wanted to destroy Kamoshida so badly was to protect you. When you displayed your surprise when Kamoshida turned himself in, your friend simply grinned victoriously. You knew something was up, and Ryuji was involved.

For the past days, Ryuji was nowhere to be seen. You’ve heard whispers that he has been sen at an Art Museum, but as far as you knew, Ryuji would’ve left the place since it felt too boring. Eventually, you decided to follow him, trailing him to the house of Madarame.

You weren’t too surprised when you found out they were the Phantom Thieves. Curiosity got the better of you, leading you to watch from afar. It wasn’t until you got lost, and found yourself curled against an artifact.

Suddenly you felt a chill run down your back, noticing a dark figure standing behind you. You desperately didn’t want to look behind you, but you ended up doing so.

Ryuji always recognized that scream. It was too familiar, and it was certain it belonged to you. On instinct, he ran off and followed the sound. That was when he had found you backed against a wall, a Shadow looming over you with dark intentions.

“What the hell are you doing here?!” He yelled, immediately catching the shadow’s attention. Grinning darkly, it’s attention diverted towards the Phantom Thieves, bigger lives aching to be destroyed.

“S/O! Stay back!” Ryuji yelled, unable to notice that the Shadow was inches away from attacking him. Before you can yell out a warning, it was already too late. Before you knew it, the Phantom Thieves were struggling and low on health.

It won’t be long until they are defeated.

“Is this how it will end?” A voice echoed within you, sending painful tremors through your head. Clutching your hair, you collapsed onto your knees. “Are you going to simply watch them fall apart? You can do better than that, don’t you think?”

Ryuji watched as you thrashed around in your position, fearful for your safety. Drool spilled from your lips, foaming out. “Mercy? Don’t be foolish. Being nice will never get you anywhere in life, dear. Let’s seal the deal, right here, right now. I am thou, thou art I...”

It all flashed before your eyes. You were always being protected, always being shielded against others. Never had you fought back, and it was always Ryuji who took the blow for you. Not anymore, not this time. “That’s right! Wreak havoc upon your foes! Destroy them!”

Weapon in hand, you grinned widely at the Shadow. “Thank you, Ryuji. You have always protected me from the dangers of this world.” You looked at your friend, smiling gently. “Let me return the favor.”

Ryuji was frozen in awe, too lovestruck to even protest. He watches as you land a blow on the Shadow, amazed by how powerful you can be when agitated. Getting up himself, he runs to your side with a matching smile. “Come on, S/O! Let’s finish this!”

At the end of the battle, he finally approaches you with an upset expression. “S/O, be careful next time. If we didn’t find you, who knows what could’ve happened to you...” Without any hesitation, he takes your hand.

“I really don’t wanna lose you, you’re everything to me.” His eyes widened in realization, only registering the words that flew out of his mouth. A faint blush glazed over your cheeks.

“Is this your way of saying you love me?” You asked, noticing the matching red shade on Ryuji’s face. He groans, already foreseeing his rejection. “Yeah, but it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way--”

His words were cut off by a swift kiss to the cheek. Frozen in his spot, he blinks in confusion. You laugh softly before jumping onto his back, burying your head into his neck. “Thank you for protecting me, my knight.”

In battle, rather than protecting you, he tries to fight alongside you instead. He tries to sync his movements along yours, both creating flashy attacks. You would attack first, then suddenly he runs straight into the Shadow from behind to give it the final blow.

Just be careful when you get struck down, Ryuji will show no mercy. If you’re still hurt, he won’t mind carrying you until the next safe room. Even in the Metaverse, he’s still the sweet guy we all know and love.

Yu Narukami

It was another night, and Yu already had a feeling about his next target. It was a bit too obvious when a familiar face appeared on TV, questioned about the mysterious Inaba Murders. He felt sick to his stomach, hoping that it wouldn’t be you and your appearance on the news was just a coincidence.

When the TV turned on, Yu couldn’t help but blush at the sight. You were dressed in an exposing white attire, pure. Behind your figure was a brightly colorful background of endless artifacts and paintings.

“Hello dear viewers! Today’s program is the pre-showcase of this painfully bright museum! Gah, it disgusts me how much color this around.” Posing inappropriately, you smiled at the camera. “We can’t have that. I’m supposed to be the Number 1 Artifact there is! My name is S/O, and you shall witness me tear down these walls into a pure white shade!”

Yu furrowed his brows with confusion. Were you planning to repaint the whole museum white? Grinning mischeviously, you leaned in closer towards the camera. “Once we are finished, you shall witness this Museum’s greatest and only exhibit. Of course, it won’t be ready until I get rid of everything else! Until next time!” The screen fades out as your Shadow takes out a bat, smashing a colorful vase.

Yu was very flustered during the meeting the next day. “No questions, we’re going into the TV World today.” “Yu, aren’t you being a little too worked up?”

He wastes no time working through your dungeon. It was a colorful museum with paintings and artifacts scattered and torn apart. The rooms were covered with white paint, attempts to cover up it’s vibrant and eye catching wallpaper. It was a hunch, but Yu suspected that your Shadow was a manifestation of a desire to feel special.

His conclusion was right once he made it to the final floor. It was an art studio, and your Shadow stood before you. Paint was ready, scattered and thrown along the floor. “No! This isn’t right. It must be beautiful– I must be beautiful!”

Yu’s heart hardened at the sight of you on the floor, teary-eyed and angry at your counterpart. “Please, stop it!” You cried out, refusing to look at your own reflection.

“Oh please. Do you really think I’m happy with out plain I look?” Your Shadow asked in a dark tone before chuckling. “My friends are so colorful. They’re so smart, so pretty, so… eye catching.” Rolling it’s eyes, your Shadow snorted. “Then there’s me, little boring me. I tried everything, you know. I joined clubs, studied hard and all, but did I get any praise? No!”

Disgust flashed over your Shadow’s face, glaring at it’s human counterpart. “I’m so sick of it. I’m sick and tired of being average! All the crap about everyone being special, lies! It’s all lies!”

“N-No… You’re not me.” You said in a hoarse whisper, collapsing in defeat as your Shadow grinned widely, warping into an unrecognizable form. Yu gripped his blade tightly, ready to summon his persona.

“I am the Shadow, the True Self! Come, let us paint this lonely canvas with your demise!”

Yu found it hard to fight your Shadow. It made him feel terrible to know that the one he held feelings for would have such a distorted view. Yet, this only gives him a better motivation to fight, to free you from your sadness.

Once your Shadow had been defeated, you sighed and got up on your feet. “Disgusting, isn’t it? You probably dislike me now for that side of me.” To your surprise, Yu shakes his head in disagreement. “Even with your flaws, you’re still the same person I fell in love with.”

Glancing at your shadow, you nodded in acceptance. It faded into air, giving you a glimpse of a figure you would soon call your Persona.

Just before collapsing from exhaustion, a faint smile rose upon your lips. “Thank you, Yu.” Even your tiredness couldn’t hide away the pink shade of your cheeks.

Once you had become accustomed to the Investigation, nothing really changes in battle. Every now and then, Yu would try to catch you off guard in battle by sending small flirtatious comments your way. It grosses the team out, but it always found a way to make you smile.

“You know, I wouldn’t mind if you were feisty when we are alone–”

“EWW, SAVE IT FOR THE BEDROOM!” -Yosuke Hanamura

Minato Arisato

Minato was always certain to make sure you didn’t catch onto his late night missions. Everytime you asked to stay overnight, he tried to make sure it doesn’t interfere with his little visits to Tartarus. He would always send you home, no questions asked.

He always did appear stone cold in front of his teammates, at least until he heard a piercing scream in Tartarus. It was very familiar to his ears, causing his never-changing expression to falter in terror. Running past the hallways, he finally made it to a corner where a Shadow stood threateningly. Behind it was a small figure curled against the wall, eyes filled with fright.

“S/O?!” Beckoning his team over, he calmly charged for battle. Unluckily for him, this specific monster managed to land critical hits on the team. Minato fell onto his butt, groaning in discomfort. His evoker had been thrown against the wall from impact, as the shadow approached him with interest.

“S/O… run.” He whispered, praying that Fuuka had already contacted backup. You weren’t moving away, instead taking the gun in a shaky grip. His eyes narrow with seriousness. “S/O, just get out of here!”

You ignored his desperate pleas. Placing the gun to your head, your eyes remained fixed on Minato who lay helpless on the floor. At that moment, you knew what you had to do. Even if it means to meet Death itself, you were willing to throw it all away to save him.

“Persona!”

His vision was blurry, but he could already make out the small figure from your back. Grinning madly, you gestured your hand forward towards the shadow that stood menacingly before the boy. “Megidolaon!” You cried out, a shining light eradicating your enemies.

Minato was astounded once he figured out that you had the potential. Once he gets back up on his feet, he immediately grabs your wrist. Was he angry? Furious? Scared? Who knew? Minato couldn’t bring himself to yell or scold you for doing something so risky. Hissing to himself, he lets go of you. “Let’s go back to base for now.”

After that encounter, Minato quietly protested against you joining SEES. To fight against shadows, one must accept the possibility of dying. He certainly did not want you to fall to such a fate. However, after multiple meetings, Mitsuru welcomed you to the team with open arms.

For the first few missions with you, Minato becomes a bit too protective. He’s the Battle Leader, isn’t he? He would mostly leave you out of battles until you start to persist him to do so. To avoid any disputes with Mitsuru or Yukari, he gives in.

Even in battle, he is still hesitant to let you fight. Minato was mature enough to let you fight on your own accord, but was always pulling back at the slightest hint of danger. He would always cast Diarama whenever you were hurt, just to keep your safe.

Due to the fact that he is responsible for your life, he ceases all his plans on asking you out. Letting his love evolve will not help in the field of battle. Subtly, he still shows his affection in different ways. He often takes blows for you in battles, and heals you once they are over.

Boy, his confession for you was on complete accident. It was when a Succubus cast a ‘Marin Karin’ spell on him. With a faint blush on his face, he swung his blade at you as you dodged. “Tartarus is full of dangers. I must end your life before the shadows do!” He growled, seemingly irritated at each miss.

“Snap out of it, Minato!” You cried out, already growing tired at each attempt. It wasn’t long until you tripped over your own feet, back against the floor. Delighted by the action, the Leader straddled you while raising his sword up high.

“I’m doing this because I love you, please understand that.” Just as he was about to land the final blow, you snapped at his words. “What?!” You squeaked in surprise, your hand immediately flying upwards to smack his cheek.

His eyes snapped back to their original calm hue, brought out of his delirium. “S/O?” Scrambling off you, he had a horrified and embarrassed expression on his face.

By the moment the battle was over, you dragged Minato to a secluded area in the building. He wanted to escape and hide his face in shame for what he had done, but you weren’t going to let him escape. “Did you mean it when you said you loved me? Was that why you didn’t want me to fight?”

He remained silent. Minato didn’t know how to answer your question, torn between tell you and keeping silent. After a more moments of silence, you were about to turn around and leave before he grabs a hold of your wrist, pulling you into his embrace.

“So what if I do? What are you planning to do with that information?”

#persona 5 imagines #persona 5 headcanons #persona 4 imagines #persona 4 headcanons #persona 3 imagines #persona 3 headcanons #p5 imagines #p5 headcanons #p4 imagines #p4 headcanons #p3 imagines #p3 headcanons #akira kurusu #ryuji sakomoto #yu narukami #minato arisato

496 notes · View notes

orange-you-say · 7 years

Text

the chains of harrow quest was really, really bad imo

(spoilers for literally the entire quest under the cut)

the quest starts out really promising - an abandoned steel meridian vessel, the crew slaughtered and the red veil insignia scrawled on the wall in what looks like blood. something really really wrong is happening here, a feeling amplified by a sudden red veil ambush after the spending the whole mission in eerie silence. then, when rescuing palladino, rather than fight against clear and defined red veil agents, you’re pitted against a force composed of some sort of shadow figure that shuffles about with no label. you’re hard pressed to spot them before they’re in your face because the level is also ominously dark, allowing them to blend in with the shadows, usually only seeing their red health bar when targeting them

after you rescue palladino you next investigate an abandoned corpus vessel. it’s the same deal as before - pitch black, eerie silence, with strange shadows dancing along the walls, looking almost human. you think you know what to expect this time, especially as you’re crashing a red veil seance - they’re gonna try to fuck you up, and you’re gonna have to fuck them up first and steal their sacred relic so palladino can try to get through to their god-figure rell.

the neat thing is that that isn’t what happens. the veil agents are all already dead, with their sacred artifact sitting in the center of the room. you nab it and get ready to head out, but you’re stopped. something is talking to you. it’s not happy you took the sacred gizmo.

and that’s when rell appears and all hell breaks loose

the shadow figures are back, and the veil agents are reanimating, which on their own would be easy enough to deal with - their defensive stats aren’t particularly noteworthy, and they drop after a couple of hits. the problem is rell. rell is a particularly ill defined shadow man with glowing red eyes who stands out for two other reasons. the first is that he has little minions that will chase you down while he catches up. the second thing that sets him apart is that he doesn’t have a health bar. you can’t kill him, and the doors are all chained shut. so you’re stuck in a room with shadow monsters and zombie edgelords and what amounts to about eight different horror movie monsters in one really pissed off god-figure who’s immortal. it’s great, it’s different, it takes away your ability to cheese it with a silly high amount of damage. it removes the sensation of being overpowered from you, which warframe struggles with in a lot of areas. anyways you escape and get back to your ship after palladino warns you that you can’t kill him, and that marks about the point where the quest starts going downhill

the next three missions of the quest are the same mission spread across different tiles - go to a room, use a kinetic siphon trap that simaris sold to you assuming you’d use it to capture prospective sanctuary candidates, and shoot the physical manifestation of one of rell’s emotions until it’s weak enough for the trap to absorb a la danny phantom. it’s boring, it’s grindy, and it would be painfully dull if it weren’t for rell following you and trying to murder you the whole time. it’s a very nice touch, as are his remarks on each emotion as you trap them, but the justification for it - apparently doing this will help him regain his “true self”, as well as the fact that you must capture a total of nine emotions over three missions, make it tedious and irritating.

finally, once rell’s emotions have been contained, you are asked to go to the red veil temple and straight up murder rell because apparently capturing his emotions did absolutely nothing to help him and now it’s his time to pass on, so off to destroy his vessel you go. this has the potential to have been a really touching moment in which we see rell’s humanity restored and free him from his prison after an epic showdown with who you’ve come to understand as “dark rell”. instead, you get a really obnoxious and painful sequence where you must fend off waves of veil agents between rounds of shattering the chains around rell’s vessel - as your operator. this could have been relatively simple and painless, albeit a little too easy, but instead you are forced to use the most fragile unit in your arsenal, and the enemies aren’t going easy on you. the veil agents will throw dagger users at you, and then bows that can take out a significant chunk of health (enough to kill me every time they hit me, but i never got hit by them at full health so idk how much damage they acutally do), followed by veil agents who are just straight up reskins of the shadow stalker with lowered stats. to top it off, “dark rell” or “the man in the wall” is floating around like an asshole and will pepper you with balls of fire periodically. it’s a really painful mission that perfectly captures how lacking in any ability at all the operator is - something that we’ve all been complaining about since the War Within dropped, so DE really has no excuse for how poorly thought out this was. the only positive side to this mission is that death didn’t set you back in the slightest - you respawn a few seconds later with the map exactly as you left it, right down to the number of hit points that asshole had left before he killed you, and keep going

level design notwithstanding, the lore to the quest also leaves a lot to be desired. over the course of the quest, we learn that rell was a tenno who was “different” (autistic), and for this, margulis cast him out. we already know margulis is a character of questionable morality from how she sealed our memories and abilities in the War Within, but this feels much more like a character being driven by the plot, rather than the other way around like it ought to be. margulis loved the tenno, and it seems odd that rell was the only tenno out of many who was “different”.

(and frankly, i find it incredibly frustrating that DE didn’t have the guts to outright say “margulis rejected rell because he was autistic” and instead left plenty of hints and implications that he was. it’s 2017, warframe is set even further in the future than that, we can say that characters are autistic without having a meltdown, and we are certainly above the idea that autism is grounds to reject someone is an acceptable plot device)

anyways margulis deciding rell wasn’t good enough for her apparently turned out to be a good thing, because he goes on to become an expert in void related knowledge which he shares with his disciples, who will eventually form the red veil. he also takes it upon himself to protect the system from what he calls the “man in the wall” - an entity hinted to be the “something out there, watching us” the tenno’s father talks about in TWW. because he knew he would eventually get old and die (which finally starts to answer my questions about tenno mortality - at the very least, people think the tenno are gonna age over time), he chose to permanently transfer his consciousness into the Harrow warframe

let’s back up a second here. rell wasn’t good enough for margulis. he wasn’t allowed to be put in cryosleep and dream with the other tenno. he never received a precursor to the warframe, and yet somehow he happens to have his own warframe? something doesn’t add up here, and it’s never going to be addressed.

after declaring that he must be chained up in the depths of the red veil temple for all eternity, he slowly starts to deteriorate into “good rell” and “bad rell”. “good rell” is who rell is - the clever, knowledgable, autistic child who was ostracized and made to be an outsider. “bad rell” is the man in the wall.

wait, what?

it turns out, while aboard the zariman, after his mother sends him away for his own safety as she succumbs to the madness all adults aboard the ship did, the other tenno still refused to acknowledge him and continued to exclude him. this resulted in him feeling incredible isolated and alone, which allowed the man in the wall to slip in and manipulate him. “bad rell” is nothing more than the man in the wall breaking free after rell’s mental state begins deteriorating. killing rell has apparently retrapped him - inside our own operator’s mind. (this last sentence is purely speculation on my part, given some of the weird things that happened after returning to the orbiter post quest)

this quest starts off strong gameplay wise, but deteriorates quickly in much the same way the Glast Gambit did, and has lore that’s more messy and contradictory than the current US administration on pretty much anything. it also raises a lot of questions for the few that are answered. what exactly is the man in the wall? where did it come from, and why is it so hostile? how did rell get a warframe, and why did his mind deteriorate, when Silvana, who didn’t even share the tenno’s powers, retain her mental stability, if not her ability to think quickly? why did rell’s emotions get free, and why didn’t capturing them do anything? for that matter, how did rell’s emotions attain physical manifestation and separation from their host? how does harrow actually play into all of this? is he really just a glorified set piece, or did his abilities in particular serve some purpose to rell?

honestly this quest was a mess and a disappointment all around

#warframe #honestly between the war within the glast gambit and this quest DE's been kind of a mess lately #octavia's anthem was okay but it had it's own share of issues #such as sentients in the void #also DE plz give us combat ready operators i'm begging you

4 notes · View notes

popola-sil-pola · 7 years

Text

A Fallen Star (OneShot)

I haven’t ever.. posted anything like this before;; So forgive me if it’s hard to read... UM! This is a little thing I wrote about Popola’s mother, Shoshola Sil Shola, the Oracle. Please enjoy!

As per usual, she lost sight of her husband. How could someone so tall get lost so quickly? Truthfully though, it was she who had became lost.

“ Is it not as if I enjoy wandering…” she mumbled to herself, clutching her fur trimmed cloak tighter on her chest. Even in such a warm outfit, Popola was not used to the cold stale air of Ishgard.

“He’ll look for me eventually,” Popola’s sigh created a small cloud, though she’d experienced this many a time it still felt magical every time she could see her breath. Her map told her the building next to her was a guild of some sort, the Athenaeum Astrologicum.

“ Gods be praised! Hopefully they’ll allow me to sit by the fire a while,” The rosey cheeked lalafell happily darted towards the door, opening it in hopes to escape the frosty air. Rather than the warmth, another sense hit her first. A strong… nostalgia? No she had never been here before. The guild receptionist called out to her in concern, seeing Popola grabbing her head in pain. Popola assured the receptionist that she was alright, just a bit cold.

“ Oh? Have the fates brought a new prodigy to our door?” a male voice chuckled, “ Welcome to the Athenaeum Astrologicum! I, Jannequinard welcome you to our humble guild. I take it you have an interest in the sharlayan style of astromancy?”

She did not, to be frank. Well, not at first at the very least. This feeling… being surrounded by a library of books and star maps, it felt like home. Could appearing here be another instance of Nymeia’s divine guidance? As not to be rude, she engaged Jannequinard, allowing him to explain mission in spreading this style of fortune telling. As she was listening, something caught her eye. it was… silver? No some type of mythril? What was this… pang in her chest?

“ You see, in this style isn’t used for tracking and mapping, but rather- oh? My lady are you quite alright?” the guildmaster asked, fixing his glasses as he noticed Popola’s full attention was given to the odd flat globe mounted on the wall. “ Ah! A keen eye you have there! this Starglobe belonged to one of our orders most famous Astrologians. She donated her divination tool to the guild in order to inspire-”

“ This is… my grandfather’s handywork,” it was undeniable. Those engravings, the attention to detail, although worn out and old she could make out the grain on it’s surface from her grandfather’s beloved polishing tool.

“ I.. have never seen such a tool at home,” she spoke softly to herself, reaching out to it, “ Please! Allow me to see this device,” she begged, looking back at Jannequinard.

“ Ah, I’m afraid that this is a rather important starglobe… but if you should like to try one out I can-”

“ I am the granddaughter of Jijiriku Jiku, famed goldsmith and scholar of the Wellwick Wood.” Popola stood her ground, “ Prey, forgive my forwardness, but… I must know if his signature is engraved on this device,” it was unmistakable. It had to be his! Reluctantly, Jannequinard allowed the lalafell to hold the artifact, but only for a moment! Surely enough, there it was. Her face fell, staring at the engraving.

“ Grandfather…” she whispered, tracing his name with gentle fingers over the cool metal. Suddenly, she faltered. Aether pulsed at her head and entire being, a dull pounding like a heartbeat made voices and vision fade before everything fell dark.

“ It’s not right, my love,” Yuyura sighed, looking out into the night sky, holding her husband's hand, “ She’s always had a gift, but… to use it in such a way. I for one know what happens when you dictate your life solely on magical abilities..” she spoke crestfallen.

“*Sigh* It is how she is. Perhaps I was too lenient with her upbringing. I should have worked for a better life for you both.” her husband gently rubbed his thumb over his wife's’ hand. She shook her head, “ Our life together has been wonderful. She’s foolish not to see that. but I suppose when one can see beyond the stars, the wonders in front of you are completely lost.” she sighed. Yuyura was pulled in close, held tightly by her beloved.

“ But father! If we pack up and leave we could have so much more!”

“ Shoshola, please! You’ve upset your mother enough with your arrogance!”

“ tch, It is not arrogant when I can SEE without a doubt how fortunate we will be. It is more arrogant to doubt irrefutable fact and deceive yourself into thinking you are always right.”

“ Oh, of course! Certainly it is I who am deceptive.”

Shoshola took a step back. How could her own father… doubt her!? When she had never been wrong before! When she studied in Sharlayan lands just as he did in all his years before her. She gave up so many futures trying to convince her parents, to aid them. How could they be content living as meager folk in a market!?

“ …. Father,” she steeled her heart, “ We gave up on eachother long ago. Is it not time we end this charade?” she scoffed. Her words cut him deep. He had always believed in his daughter’s premonitions and skills. Her magic was more potent than his own! Just like him, she was blessed with wanderlust, unable to keep to one place for too long. Alas, even with all that she had she was… never satisfied. He worried when she started overcharging for simple fortunes. More so when she took jobs from unsavory folk for coin, then gambling them piss poor. As a grown woman he, and as a mage he had no authority over her, carrying the title of ‘father’ seemed to have meant very little in the past few years.

“ No matter how much I do for you and mother, I am met with only scornful looks and reprimands,” she turned her back to them both.

“ Shoshola, don’t you dare! if you leave now-” Yuyura called, trying to contain herself from her hysterical tears.

“ I will not be confined. “

She feared for her life. Irrationally perhaps, but this had never happened before! How could… she have been wrong? How could she not have seen this coming!? She was all seeing! How had her womb swelled with life and come into the realm without her insight. This creature before her, had the power to evade her vision, had denied the stars prophecy. What sort of creature was capable of this!?

“ We are glad that you finally came to your senses,” Yuyura spoke calmly, placing a hand woven blanket onto her daughter’s lap. “ Jijiriku darling, can you boil some water? Shoshola must be tired after all that work.” the usually nervous woman seemed at peace, walking over to the old cradle.

“ Such a sweet little child,” she smiled, “ And so fair you’d mistake her for our blessed Sultana,” she chuckled gingerly, so proud to have become a grandmother. Shoshola was quiet.

They did not scorn her, or turn her away when she came back home years later, carrying a child. They were only glad tos ee their daughter again. Having heard tale of her travels, and a brief career with the Observatorium in Coerthas they did not care to question what she had done. Only if she was safe and begged her to stay with them, especially as she carried her child to term.

“ It must have been rough,” Jijiriku started the kettle from the other room. The house was small enough to make conversation even in separate rooms. “ Have you decided on a name?” he asked his daughter. Shoshola shook her head.

“ Ah, I suppose you’d like to converse with the stars to find a proper and fitting name,” he smiled. At least her parents were happy now. Looking at the crib, she could not feel the same peace.

”What… is this child?” Shoshola whispered to herself, staring at the small lalafellian child lying quietly in her cradle. “This creature that invaded mine own womb and came to life without my knowledge. Her aura is strong as well. No matter how many times I try, I cannot read her future. I do not know what she will be, who she will be or what she will do. And that she was born from me, I fear most,” The child’s cheeks were flushed pink with muted lavender tufts atop her head. Her features were much softer than Shoshola’s but they were unmistakably mother and child.

“... I am not fit to raise a child,” she sighed, looking off to the side as if this was a cruel, divine prank, “ Nymeia are you punishing me for rivaling you?” she asked cockily. “ Tch, Unlike her divinity, I cannot weave the fates, only see them. But this child… I feel she may be able to surpass even myself,” she glared at the babe, “ Which is too dangerous in the wrong hands.” She had only one choice, at least in her deductive reasoning. A creature with immeasurable potential was not right for the world. Pressing her thumbs to the third eye, in between the babe’s eyebrows, she channeled the Balance constellation, using her own life’s aether to enhance the power of this seal. the room filled with stars, gravity losing its pull as she casted time Dilation upon the seal onto the child, locking her potential within her. As soon as Shoshola finished casting, she felt her chest tighten and fell gracefully to the floor. By the standards of her teachings this was a blasphemous combination to use, but it wasn’t as if Shoshola thought she had to conform to any law. In her arrogance she made-shift a seal, blocking the babe’s flow of aether.

“ Tch, displeased, are you Nymeia? Or is this part of the cruel tapestry you’ve woven my life into?” she seemed to have cared little, but there was determination in her stone cold eyes. “ Father and Mother are good people. A helpless creature like you will bring them joy,” she said to the infant, getting up and pulling on a cloak. “ they will be pleased to have a second chance to raise the daughter they wanted in the first place,” she whispered, before disappearing into the night.

“ Popo! Popo!!”

Her vision came back slowly, meeting the familiar and golden gaze followed by a humble chuckle.

“ Were it not for my worry, i could watch you’re slumbering face for hours. But why don’t we save that for tonight?” Renaud spoke softly, holding his tiny wife in his arms.

“ Madame! You’ve awoken!” Jannequinard fanned himself, “ As soon as you looked upon the globe you fell! For certain it is a beautiful weapon but-” he went on, remounting the weapon on the wall.

Popola was so tired. That echo went on for what seemed a lifetime. She curled up into Renaud’s arms meekly. “ You found me,” her head was still pounding.

“ Don’t I always?” Renaud asked, hugging her just a bit tighter as if he was worried he would loose her again, “ I can’t say I’m pleased to see you fainting before another elezen. I’ll have to try harder,” he joked, making his way to the door.

“... What happened?” he asked, his voice riddled with concern, “ What did you see this time?”

“... My mother.”

#ffxiv #oneshot #popo lore #oc stuff #shoshola shola #PLEASE BE GENTLE;;;

27 notes · View notes