Letting Go (Worm/Exalted)

[DeviantD]

TRIGGER WARNING - Suicidal Ideation. Also special thanks to Landcollector & Thief of Words for idea bouncing.

---

-1-​

So, I guess this is it.

The Bitch Trio would probably be laughing if they saw me like this, but that doesn't matter anymore. Nothing really matters now. Not since...

I had thought that I was done crying, but was it really any surprise? As Emma was so quick to remind me, I cried myself to sleep for a week when Mom died. Why should it be any different for Dad?

Both my parents, taken from me by capricious circumstance. I couldn't even claim my situation to be all that unique in this city. I looked up the tally after the fact. Just one death out of twenty seven when Lung rampaged through the Docks last week. It might be selfish, but I can't bring myself to care about those other twenty-six nameless corpses or their grieving families. Nor the eighty-five other serious injuries and the several million dollars in property damage.

I lost my father, the last person that arguably cared about me, all because someone was stupid enough to steal from Lung. Or at least that's what PHO says at any rate.

Logically, I knew I held no responsibility for Dad's death, but I couldn't seem to shake the nagging guilt that it was my fault he was working late. My fault that money was so tight that he had to pull extra hours. My fault that I wasn't strong enough to tough out school instead of desperately begging for a transfer that would put us even further into debt. My fault that he had to avoid being around me lest he was reminded how much he had failed to protect me like he had promised.

Of course nothing had improved, despite Winslow's assurances that something like the locker would never happen again. They had never bothered to do their damn job before, so why would they bother after some loser of a teenage girl was almost murdered on their watch? All their promises were worth less than my reputation at that cesspit of school. Sure, things had eased off in the month after while there was the vaguest scrutiny on their actions. But after that, it just escalated with no reprieve.

Arcadia was no longer an option due to my sabotaged grades and Clarendon was past capacity. So my only hope was Immaculata, with its exorbitant fees. Home schooling wasn't even on the table with how much Dad worked. Had worked.

It wouldn't be much longer before the bank foreclosed on the mortgage and I would be without a home. I had nowhere else to stay.

The answer was simple.

Why bother to go on when no one wanted me, and I had nothing left to live for?

I had decided on something traditional, yet private. My last sights should be of home, rather than a lofty building followed by a random patch of sidewalk. I stared at the straight razor in my wet hand, the dim bathroom light glinting off its mirror-like blade. It was an old keepsake that Dad had inherited from Grandpa. I had never seen Dad use it, being too clumsy for anything beyond disposable safety razors. It would finally fulfil some purpose tonight. A small chill of fearful anticipation fought against the suffusing heat of the bath and the warm tingle from the last of Dad's whisky. It took a few seconds to locate my veins with my eyes blurred from tears and the absence of my glasses. I tilted my head to the side as I thought I could hear odd music in the air, but soon dismissed it as the neighbours something strange.

"Mom. Dad. I'll be with you soon," I muttered, not really believing the words even as I spoke.

"Please wait."

My shriek of surprise was quickly followed by a wince as the razor nicked flesh. I turned towards the strange voice while hurriedly covering myself. Despite the lack of fine detail, it was obvious that the woman standing in my bathroom was not normal. The brilliant blue mane swaying about as if alive was what first caught my eye, contrasting as it was against her pale, grey skin and swirling, black tattoos. The dozens of unnaturally long, many-jointed fingers were close behind, their endless movement almost hypnotising. She did not appear to be wearing much beyond a precariously secured wrap of gold-toned fabric. The music meanwhile had kicked up in volume, apparently coming from her. There was a Cape in my bathroom.

"Who are you? What are you doing in here?" I asked as I reached for my glasses. The woman's sudden appearance had pushed aside thoughts of suicide, since privacy was no longer a thing.

She tilted her head to the side while her fingers continued to pluck at the air between us. While she seemed to ponder what to say, I noticed that the music chimed in time with her fingers. My vision having cleared with the aid of prescription lenses, I realised how unearthly and exotically beautiful the woman was, despite her deformities.

"I am, was, and may yet be Sorrowful Hymn of Youthful Indiscretion." She rolled her head to the other side and paused a moment before continuing. "I am here to make you an offer."

That was an interesting 'name' she provided. Given the unfamiliar accent which tinged her unsettling, yet musical voice, it could be a foreign culture thing. I hadn't bothered looking into the cape scene in other countries, so for all I knew, it could be normal wherever she came from. Either way, her behaviour was highly suspect. I needed to think about this, but the eerie and unpleasant music was distraction.

"Would you please stop that music?"

"No." I could have sworn I saw a flash of an offended scowl on her gorgeous face.

"Why not?"

"An Angyalkae must play, as a human must breath."

I blinked. "A what?"

"Angyalkae. Harpists. Me and mine. Progeny of the Kite Flute."

Deciding that I really didn't feel like trying to dissect that statement, and that trying to stop the music was futile in the face her adamant refusal, I instead focused on something she said earlier.

"What offer?" I asked, expecting the worst yet curious all the same.

"To make things better." Her head tilted back, like a sluggish metronome. "To take away the pain and give you control of your life again. Free you from the chains that tie you down in this broken world."

It sounded good. Obviously it couldn't be true. At the very least, the offer had to be riddled with fine-print.

"What's the catch?"

"In exchange for the power that I can give you, all that is asked in return is to work towards fixing the flawed existence that allowed such tragedies to occur. Return the world to the way it should be, not the out-of-tune instrument it has become."

That was more appealing than I would have thought. She wasn't telling me everything, but she seemed to want to recruit me to be some kind of hero. A childhood dream that I had left to rot as reality had ground me down. I was just moments from ending it all, and here I was being presented with another option. I would be stupid not to take it when the only other choice I could see was to bleed out into the cooling bathwater. Thoughts of revenge flitted through my mind before I thought to clarify some things.

"Why pick me though? Not that I'm ungrateful for the offer, but I'm no-one special."

"Through no fault of your own." She let out a sad sigh. "If not for a single quirk in the strands of fate, you would have been destined for greatness. Your deeds would have been legendary."

It was an interesting idea, intoxicating in its blame of all my problems on happenstance. I had trouble believe it though.

"What exactly do you mean by power? Would I become a Cape?"

"No." Her head ticked back, accompanied by a confused frown that could be considered cute. "You would not become a garment."

I blinked, wondering if she was making a joke. How could an English speaking parahuman not know what a Cape was?

"Instead," she continued, "you would be crowned as a Green Sun Prince. A blessing that would raise you far beyond a mere human, with the potential to surpass gods."

My earlier thoughts that she was foreign were sounding much more likely. Either that, or she was insane. Or religious. Or both. I couldn't discount 'faithful wack-job' as an explanation for her behaviour. Still, a certain part of her offer was bugging me.

"Don't you mean Princess?"

"If you prefer that nomenclature. You would not become a male, if you were concerned?" I shook my head and she resumed her spiel. "You would be gifted great skill, and abilities out of reach of mortals. Anointed by the very architects of Creation, with the power to achieve the impossible."

Definitely a fanatic. But it was still an appealing offer. After all, what did I have to lose? A morbid part of my brain reminded me that I could always continue where I left off if things did not turn out as good as she made it out to be.

"So how do we do this?"

She stared at me as her head continued to roll side to side. "You are in agreement?"

I nodded.

"Then we shall become one."

The implications of that statement brought a brilliant blush to my face. But before I could so much as squawk indignantly, her hair shot forth and ensnared me in its steely grasp. Darkness followed as the azure strands became a cocoon.

The music stopped.

---​

I perched upon the edge of a cliff, far enough away from my target that even with its formidable senses, it could not perceive me. Peering through the far-glass, I could make out the individual blades of the mercurial leaves of Szoreny, the Silver Forest. Scanning through the mirror-foliage, I eventually settled on a form that had to be his Fetich soul. Who else would walk so brazenly through pools of quicksilver?

The General needed to know.

---​

We fought the living geography that was the Primordial foe. Off in the distance a death-cry sounded and the swathe of deadly waters that was Adrian, the River of Torment, evaporated into a howling wind.

I dodged to the side as another metallic tree-limb swung at me, avoiding the silver puddle lest I once more end up in the mirror-world that made up of Szoreny's Fetich. The figure I had seen before was a simple manifestation of the true soul of the Forest, and my assumption almost led to my demise.

As I was about to sever the tree from its roots, it stilled. Then the call came. The Primordials had surrendered.

I felt... unsatisfied.

---​

I drove the dagger into the breast of the demon before me. Her transparent, vitreous body only putting up the barest of resistance to the orichalcum point. She let out an almost perverse moan before forcefully shattering and driving numerous shards into my flesh. A minor inconvenience at most. I glanced about the temple, noting that my soldiers had finished up the remnants of the incursion. Humble Mountain Badger approached with a feral smile, still dripping with the blood of cultists. A passionate kiss left my lips stained.

"Come, my Love." He growled. "Let us depart this place. Leave the cleanup to the Dragon Blooded."

"What a lovely idea, my Mate." I smiled as I wrapped an arm around his waist.

---​

My fingers clenched and I crushed the man's heart. Pulling my hand free from his chest, I wiped my hand clean on his wife's dress. She began to weep as she realised what had just happened. He should not have questioned me. The Solar Deliberative's rulings were absolute. The peasant should have know better than to complain about his lands being seized.

---​

I lay entwined with Badger on the ruins of our bed, my skin bruised and glistening with sweat from our lovemaking. We would occasionally fight, but making up was always more violent than any conflict, and so much more enjoyable. After the celebrations the night before, we were definitely in the mood. It had been an age since the last gathering of the entire Solar Deliberative, and the party had been worthy of such an rare event.

A sound from outside stirred me from the afterglow. Before I could extricate myself from my lover's arms, a veritable army of Dragon Blooded soldiers surrounded us. As Badger shifted to his war-form, they struck. As I bled out, all I could do was wonder why they had betrayed us? They should have been loyal. They were beneath us and should have known their place.

---​

I danced through streets of basalt and brass, my steps in time with Malfeas. I could not follow his movements perfectly, I did not have the same level of grace, but I kept time well enough for him not to murder me. Ligier's green brilliance glinted off his brazen skin as we danced through the streets of Malfeas.

A lowly Sesseljae got in the way of the procession and was crushed to a pulp as Malfeas danced over it.

---​

I admired the purple form beneath me. The Neomah's bells jingled in time with our movements and made for a wonderful counterpoint for her moans. She was not the prettiest demon in the city by any means, but she made up for it with enthusiasm.

---​

The Dragon Blooded let out a hilarious scream as I threw him at his fellow Dynast. Even more so the crumpled heap they made as they crashed through some poor bastard's melon stand. Ducking a spear intended for my head, I crushed the soldier's sternum before using his wheezing form to catch the hail of arrows from over the hill.

Discarding the dead weight, I grabbed a new weapon as the idiot tried to stab me with a short sword. He didn't last long. Only enough to bludgeon his two friends who tried to flank me as he acted as a 'distraction'. After that, I was left holding naught but a leg. That too was soon discarded, to interrupt their sorcerer before I could be immolated.

The look on her face when I knocked the wind out of her with the wet end was classic. I haven't seen such an expression of outraged shock in decades.

---​

I ran through an endless desert of silver sand, a gentle wind blowing through my hair. The joy of motion filled my heart even as I barely kept ahead of the less gentle attentions of Kalmanka. It could have been worse after all. I hadn't drawn the affection of her mother, Adorjan. Even as a Scourge, I was not guaranteed safety if she decided to love me.

---​

My thumbs dug into his starburst eyes even as I bleed out on his Daiklave. The Sidereal bastard had outmatched me in so many ways, but I was damned if I couldn't make his victory costly. His anguished screams made for a lovely lullaby as I faded off into eternal slumber.

---​

What the hell was that all about? That was the first thought upon... well waking up wasn't exactly accurate. If I were awake though, my next thoughts would have been all too appropriate. Where the hell am I?

"No, not quite."

I turned in the black, music-filled void that was my existence to find the monstrous cape from earlier standing on nothing as well.

"What was that?"

"We are not in hell." She calmly told me while her face wore a disturbed frown. She stared at her dozens of fingers as they plucking at nothing like before, but the sound that came from the action was different. Somehow it was more lovely than the uncomfortable tone from before. "We are not in Malfeas, nor in surrounding Cecelyne. We are instead inside the Chrysalis Grotesque. My music sounds wrong."

"Your music doesn't set my teeth on edge now. Wait. I didn't say anything." I said, wondering if I had actually muttered my thoughts without realising.

"No, you did not. But you thought them, which is enough given that we are, or soon will be one."

"Explain." I commanded, surprised at the authority in my voice. "The last thing I remember before the hallucinations was you attacking me."

She looked up from her hands, though her fingers did not stop. Once again, her head tilted and her face mostly returned to the passive, yet achingly beautiful expression she had worn when we first met.

"For you to become Exalted and thus a Green Sun Prince, Princess, I had to fuse with you. I carried the Exaltation that was to be gifted to you. As part of the process, I shall remain a part of you to act as an advisor, though my body was sacrificed to create the Chrysalis, and thus bring about your ascendance."

"So that's what you meant by becoming one." I mumbled mostly to myself. "But why would you sacrifice your body to help me?

"I apologise for any accidental innuendo." Despite the potential for sarcasm in her words, her tone felt genuine. "If you did not accept the offer, I would have died anyway. My body could not contain such power for long."

That set off all sorts of warning bells. Seeing my expression, she explained further. "Do not worry about the same occurring to you. Once the process is complete, you will live to at least one hundred and fifty years without suffering the ills of age. Barring violence or significant accidents."

"Well that's good." I really didn't know what else to say to news like that. "Could you by any chance explain what I saw before we met again?"

"Oh, the memories?"

"Memories?" I echoed, wondering how that term could apply to the strangeness I witnessed.

"Yes, memories. Past lives. Previous holders of the Exaltation that is now integrating with your soul."

I blinked in a mixture of surprise, confusion and disbelief. How could any of that have happened?

"You're kidding."

"I do not jest. While I only caught glimpses of what you must have experienced, your exaltation only had two significant users. Bearers that lived long and large enough to leave imprints in the Exaltation. The first appeared to be one of the original Solars involved in the Usurpation. Who, I am not sure, as much of that occurred far in the past. The next was most definitely the Green Sun Prince known as Reckless Prophet of Change. He was a great warrior and patron of the arts in Malfeas. Sadly, he caught the attention of the scheming Viziers while promoting the Reclamation."

"He was also a lecher." I shuddered as I remembered sensations that I should not have been able to feel. "And a violent psychopath."

"Indeed." She nodded, unsettlingly unperturbed by my derision of what was apparently one of her 'heroes'.

"These 'memories' referred to a figure of brass as Malfeas, but you seem to use the name for a place."

"Yes." She nodded.

I pinched the bridge of my nose in exasperation. Or at least my mental image of my nose. "Could you please elaborate?"

An embarrassed expression settled on to her face. "I apologise. I am so accustomed to his existence that it never occurred to me that you might not be. Malfeas is the king of the Yozi. He is both the multi-layered City of Brass that you must have seen, as well as the Dancer frolicking though his streets."

I must have looked as confused as I felt.

"The Yozi are beings of great power and scale. They are locations and concepts as much as they are creatures. Each is comprised of many souls, with individual personalities. While each of these souls is part of the whole, one is responsible for much of the Yozi's character. For example: Ligier, the Green Sun after which the Yozi's Exalted are named, is the primary soul of Malfeas. He is both the heart of the city of Malfeas, just as he is the core of the being that is Malfeas. He also frequently appears as an exceptionally beautiful man with eyes as brilliant as himself." She gave off a wistful sigh after describing that form. Better not to think about it. "Each of these souls is then made up of seven other souls, each representing some facet of said soul. These facets then spawned all the other creatures that exist in Malfeas and the endless desert of Cecelyne."

"So I take it this... Cecelyne is also a Yozi, despite being a desert?" She nodded at my question, which was not particularly reassuring. "So when you said something about being the progeny of, what was it again?"

"The Kite Flute."

"Kite Flute, okay. So that would be one of those seven facets of Malfeas, or would it be Ligier?"

"No. Zsofika, the Kite Flute is a facet, or Second Circle Demon if you prefer, of Jacint, the Prince upon the Tower. He in turn is the eighteenth soul, or a Third Circle Demon, of Adorjan, the Silent Wind. She is the Yozi that has granted you your Exaltation. Given your memories though, it would appear that Malfeas is another patron of yours."

This family tree had more titles than a library. The use of 'demon' though was the most concerning to me.

"Do not worry. Demon is merely the term that the Usurpers of the rightful rule of Creation use to describe the inhabitants of Malfeas. As the progeny of a Second Circle, I am considered a First Circle. I personally do not understand the reasoning behind the nomenclature."

"Can you stop reading my mind?" I asked, snapping at the helpful but disturbing intrusion into my thoughts.

"No. I cannot. In all practicality, I am unable to ignore your thoughts now that I have been unwoven." She tilted her head down, staring at her apparently 'mistuned' fingers. "This is distressing."

Great. A self proclaimed demon was making me feel like I had kicked a puppy.

"Sorry, but this is a lot to take in."

"There is no need to apologise. I have heard that the change is unsettling."

"Speaking of... How long will this take?"

"Objectively, five days."

I wasn't sure whether to consider that a long time or not. Sure five days seemed a lot, but given that I was having some kind of magical thing patched onto my soul... I was still dubious as to how accurate that was. For all I knew, this was just a hallucination as I bled out in the bathtub.

"While I can offer no actual proof to counter your philosophical speculation, for what it is worth, I can confidently state that such is not the case."

I took in a deep, calming probably-not-physical-breath as I tried to avoid getting angry at her.

"May I make a request, Mistress?"

My train of thought immediately derailed. "Umm, yes?"

"Can you please think of me by my name, rather than 'her' or 'she'. It feels impersonal."

I blinked at her... Sorrowful...

"Sorrowful Hymn of Youthful Indiscretion, Mistress."

Yes, that. All the names that have popped up in this possibly-a-fever-dream have been mouthfuls of word salad.

"Do you have a shorter name by any chance?"

"No." At my disbelieving stare, she elaborated. "In Old Realm, it is much shorter."

"How does it sound in Old Realm then?"

"I have been speaking it." She looked directly into my eyes. "You have been hearing it in your local tongue due to our bond, and I suspect a gift from Elloge."

She appeared sincere, even if it sounded like absolute bullshit. Shoving it aside as just more issues to ignore for now, I focused on the cause of my earlier mental halt.

"Why are you suddenly calling me Mistress anyway?"

"As a Green Sun Prince. Princess. You are my superior. Even if I am now a part of you, I must show the proper respect when begging an indulgence."

"Please." I sighed as I could swear I felt a headache developing. "Just call me Taylor."

"Very well Mistress." She blinked. "Taylor."

There was an awkward silence for some time before I broke it.

"So. What do we do until the process is complete."

"Oh, yes." She once more appeared sheepish. "I was led to believe that the Yozi would visit you during the transformation, but I must have been mistaken. As promised, I shall teach you the lessons of Adorjan and help you let go of the pain. Only then can you be truly free."

 

[DeviantD]

-2-
​

Spoiler: Narrator

For best results imagine it voiced by Jeremy Irons.

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Joseph Blackridge is a patient man. He is neither easily bored, nor easily distracted. In other words, he is about as exciting as a pet rock. It is these traits that have led to him frequently being assigned tasks which his fellow agents describe as gardening. In other words, duties that are so dull, one might as well be watching grass grow. It is like a match made in Yu Shan.

Currently, that monotonous task consists of the night shift observation of the suspected "Bio-Tinker" creation that was discovered several days ago. It is also the only reason I am bothering to observe such a boring example of humanity.

Neighbours had of course reported the strange sounds and lights coming from this poorly maintained residence on the night of April Fifteenth. What a strange calendar this world uses. The months don't even have consistent lengths. The local constabulary had investigated some thirty minutes later and immediately handballed it off to these PRT chaps. Parahuman Response Team. Are they a team of parahumans that respond, or a team that responds to parahumans? This "English" language that they use locally is just so imprecise. I could have so much fun twisting meaning that just wasn't possible in Old Realm. What even is a parahuman anyway? They appear to be some kind of cut-rate Exalted or God-blooded, with very limited yet powerful charms.

But I digress, the change of jurisdiction of course led to a flurry of activity as agents, scientists, and "Thinkers" investigated what appeared to be a large, blue, indestructible hairball in the second floor bathroom. Specifically, in the bathtub. In all my years, I have never seen a Chrysalis Grotesque in a bathtub. I wonder what I missed?

They of course have no clue what it is, having never been blessed with the magnificence that is Yozi ingenuity. They could only guess that Blasto fellow might have taken a trip out of town to experiment, or that it was a particularly unfortunate example of a "Case 53". Even disregarding the fact that they are blatantly wrong, these theories were tenuous at best given the missing inhabitant of the house. Namely, one Taylor Hebert, age fifteen, and recent orphan of Danny Hebert. Their cursory investigation showed that she was a social outcast, and given the recent trauma, prime material for a trigger event. What ever that was. I really must investigate this whole parahuman thing soon. It will likely be important at some point.

Anyway, she also hasn't been seen since before the report came in. The "Thinkers" had apparently been even more useless, giving the parahuman equivalent of a seer saying "The loom is snarled and fate is unclear", or as one of them put it "Ask again later". Even more amusing is the case of that poor sucker in the city of Las Vegas, bleeding from the eyes and shouting out "404" over and over again, whatever that means. Apparently he was better now, but was refusing to so much as guess at anything on the Eastern coast of "America". Silly seers, trying to divine the will of things outside Fate.

So their technicians had set up numerous arcane devices for monitoring all sorts of obscure emissions. So far, they'd gotten naught beyond it being visible, tangible and warm. Not a single change had been noted, being unfamiliar with Essence, but they are hesitant to move it to a secure location just yet. Joe the Depressingly Dull seems to be of the opinion that it would be at least another few days before the researchers would give the go ahead for a transfer. He was unsurprisingly fine with getting paid to sit on his lazy ass. It was certainly better than getting shot at, at least for his continued safety. Besides, he is almost finished reading the latest book in a fantasy series his sister lent him. It is certainly dull to watch a person read, but from what I've gleaned from reading over his shoulder, it wouldn't be out of place back in Creation. It was farfetched by local standards and full of characters that rivalled Exalts in power. He insists on comparing them to some chap named Eidolon. He has to be more entertaining than this, but the story is strangely compelling nonetheless. I am beginning to suspect my dear sister Elloge has been leaking her stories into this realm.

He was just about to discover who was responsible for the great betrayal of the protagonists when a flash of red light and a wet, slopping sound grabs his attention. Looking up from the page, both of us immediately focused on the crimson-glowing naked girl standing in the disintegrating remains of what he thinks of as "the hair-cocoon". Realising he had accidentally perved on a teenager, but unwilling to turn his back on a potential threat, he instead did his best to achieve and maintain eye contact. I had no such moral compunctions. It isn't like I'm a pitiful human after all.

The first thing he seems to notice is that hair should not move that way, even if there were any wind present. It would appear that she has taken on some interesting traits from her Coadjutor. The second is the luminous red ring hovering just below her hairline. Oh dear. I hadn't realised I'd stolen one of Adorjan's Exalts. I really should have paid more attention to the demon I snatched beyond it being pretty. This should be interesting.

The third observation that goes through his simple mind is that he is pretty sure this is the "Hebert girl", even if she no longer looks quite so awkwardly adolescent. The reference photos they have of her show a non-insignificant amount of acne and the overall appearance of an unhealthy and all together unfit individual. This is most definitely not case. He wouldn't call her beautiful, even if he wasn't afraid of what others would think of him staring at a teenager, but striking certainly fit. Indeed, not beautiful, but not a sin against beauty either. Not really my type.

The last thing he notices as he meets her gaze is...

Oh. Familiar geometry. A city of brass curling in on itself. Constantly shifting roads that never meet. Everything lit by a sickly green, and all too arrogant star and filled with all manner of wonderful creatures and death. Never knew I'd feel homesick over that old place. What lovely eyes.

To Joe however, every detail is wrong. Impossible. Horrifying. Should not be. Could not be.

What a melodramatic whiner.

 

[DeviantD]

-3-​

I watched as the man in a black PRT uniform stared at me for a second before meeting my eyes. Then he started screaming and fled downstairs. It was quite the rude awakening.

"What?"

I do not know.

My eyes darted around the room, taking in the changes that had occurred since I entered the Chrysalis Grotesque. Numerous machines with blinking lights, a comfortable looking folding chair. A camera. The strange, reddish light.

A camera.

Without really thinking about it, I grabbed the device and threw it against the wall, shattering it into an unrecognisable mess. I had heard stories of what happens to naked footage of girls. Inevitably, it always ended up on the internet. I sifted through the remains, grabbed the memory card, broke it further and then flushed it down the toilet, just to be sure.

It was about then that I noticed my hair, dancing through my field of vision. As soon as I did, it stopped. I immediately turned to face the mirror. I was not ready for what I saw.

There was a swirling ring of red light on my brow, or more accurately, hovering maybe a quarter-inch from it. I continued to stare at it until it faded away, along with the ambient crimson light. What the red ring was and how it would supply that much light was a mystery, but one I couldn't investigate after it disappeared. With that distraction gone, I noticed some other important details. My face had, for a lack of a better description, been refined. More symmetrical, and lacking the blemishes that I had to work so hard to control. My mouth was still too wide in my opinion, but it was my eyes that were most disconcerting. They were nothing less than a direct view of Malfeas. The city, not the man. Though I had a feeling that if I looked hard enough, I might see him dancing through the reflected streets.

Still, I couldn't see why someone might have the reaction that guy had. Disturbing, maybe, but not terrifying. So much for having a secret identity. Perhaps I should invest in some sunglasses... Wait.

I wasn't wearing glasses. I could see clearly though my new impossible eyes, yet I wasn't wearing glasses.

That was the best news ever.

Okay, maybe the portal eyes were a downside, but I couldn't help but be pleased by my release from the burden of expensive prescription lenses.

My hair meanwhile, had started moving again as soon as I stopped paying attention to it. Looking down at my hands with a mild sense of panic, I still had five digits per hand as normal.

There is occasionally some bleed-through of traits from the coadjutor after the transformation. In this case, it appears you have gained the hair of an Angyalkae. It is a shame you did not adopt my shade as well.

I like my hair the colour it is, thank you very much. I thought indignantly. What about the eyes?

No offence meant Taylor. I just think that the absence of colourful hair in this place is yet another sign that the world is flawed. Dull as well. Your eyes, I can only explain as a blessing by Malfeas. I have only ever seen such a feature on a powerful Demon-Blood.

I shook my head at her words with some amusement and an amount of concern. With my eyes still downcast, I noticed several other changes. Namely that I looked fit. Gone was the paunch that made me look like an upright frog. Instead, I could make any of the track team jealous with my muscle tone.

This was also great news, but I couldn't decided if it was better than the improved eyesight.

While your form is certainly impressive, it may be wise to vacate the premises before the stranger returns with reinforcements.

Brought out of my admiration with blushing cheeks, I could only nod at the suggestion before I moved off to my room to locate some clothes. They were not ideal. While they did still fit, they were more snug in some locations due to the increased muscle mass. It was only after I had dragged a t-shirt over my head that I realised that I hadn't picked it up with my hands. Tracing back though my actions, I determined that my hair had placed it in my hands after retrieving it from my bed.

Deciding to put off practicing until I was sure of my safety, I descended the stairs, into my lounge room and the presence of several more agents and a man whose logo was on my current pair of underwear. While all of them were armed, none had their weapons pointed towards me. That at least was a good sign. Just how long has it been?

I am uncertain, but at least fifteen minutes.

"What are you doing in my house?" They all twitched as I spoke. I was probably coming across as harsh, but I was too irritated by this unwanted intrusion into my home to bother with niceties. Even if Armsmaster was standing in my living room. Still, I tried to avoid eye contact in case of a repeat of earlier.

"In addition to the panicked reports from one of our agents, your destruction of PRT property sent an alert to my systems." Armsmaster spoke in an almost accusatory tone. "We came to investigate."

"Well I'm sorry, but how else was I supposed to react to a camera catching me naked after some strange man was checking me out?" I snapped. "I didn't realise that the P in PRT stood for pervert."

A snort of amusement from one of the agents was quickly silenced as the cape stared in his direction.

"The observation equipment was in place to monitor the anomaly, and was in no way intended to capture indecent material." He said, obviously trying to cover his ass more than reassure me.

"Forgive me if I am not exactly trusting of uninvited visitors setting up recording equipment in my bathroom." I replied, kind of wishing there were some reporters nearby. I was curious how they would react to such a scandal. The agents must have thought likewise given how uncomfortable they seemed. "Well, the anomaly is over. Feel free to leave."

They did not move to leave, but at least the didn't advanced on me. Instead Armsmaster let out a sigh.

"Miss Hebert. I understand all too well the stress involved in gaining powers. We only want to help you adjust to your changes. The Ward program is designed to do just that and is well equipped to help with your financial situation."

What do you think Hymn?

I think that I do not like you calling me Hymn.

Why? Its like a nickname.

It is like me calling you Ay.

"Are you alright, Miss Hebert?"

"I'm thinking." I pinched the bridge of my nose as I took a seat on the couch, hoping it would look less suspicious than staring into nothing as I talked to the voice in my head.

Okay Sorrowful Hymn of Youthful Indiscretion, what do you think of his offer?

It would be wise to obtain additional information before making a decision. While I am biased against rigid hierarchy, we are currently without allies, and I am unsure what resources we have.

Damn, I had hoped to be able to act independently. As for resources, I might have enough money to last me another week of groceries and I don't think I'll have the house past the month. At least I can try to be a hero.

"Give me your best sales pitch, Armsmaster." I stared where I thought his eyes must be. I felt a jolt of satisfaction as he flinched. "Why should I join the people who let Lung kill my Dad?"

 

[DeviantD]

-4-​

"With all due respect for your loss, Ma'am," One of the previously silent goons chose this moment to speak. "By the time anyone knew Lung was rampaging, even the Triumvirate couldn't have stopped him without levelling half the city. As it is, I still have three of my unit in the infirmary after trying to evacuate civilians ahead of him. So while I'm sorry we were unable to save your father or the others that died, I'd appreciate if you cut back on the insults."

I just sat there blinking at the unexpected tirade. Armsmaster twitched in irritation as he turned towards the trooper. I couldn't help but respect his blunt confidence. Agreed. After all, for all they knew, I could be extremely dangerous and unstable. You are indeed formidable.

"Oh and the voice thing too. Gives me the willies."

While I could respect and even agree with what he'd said, in this case I had no idea what he was talking about.

"Voice thing?"

Your voice is now appropriately regal.

"Infrasound. It can provoke an unconscious fear response." Armsmaster clarified my pet demon's explanation, sort of. Apparently my voice was the cause of the earlier unease rather than the situation itself. It also seemed to be enough of a distraction to prevent Sergeant Subtle over there from getting a reaming for talking out of turn. I tilted my head in query while looking his way. "My helmet picked up on it and started filtering it out."

He must be a fine craftsman to have been able to selectively cull an octave.

"Wow." I chuckled lightly, setting off shudders in the troopers. "Tinkers really are bullshit like they say."

I turned to face the outspoken agent. "I hadn't heard anything about PRT troops getting involved, so consider me corrected. Sorry though, I have no idea how to stop my voice doing whatever its doing. I didn't even realise it was any different since I woke up. Unlike, you know, the spooky eyes and the hair." I finished, twirling my hand around to emphasise the changes.

"Such changes aren't unheard of, " Armsmaster interjected, though he sounded uncertain. Perhaps he was trying to sugar coat things, though I was fairly tame by monster cape standards. "But they are likely to make a civilian identity problematic if you wish to pursue parahuman activities. The Wards program has many successes in accounting for physical differences."

I turned back to the Protectorate leader with a wry grin.

"Oh, I think any secret identity I could of had was trashed by the PRT observation crew and Armsmaster himself arriving at my home."

Such duplicity is best left to the chosen of The Ebon Dragon in any case.

You'll have to tell me about that one later.

"All the more reason to join the Wards before one of the gangs comes recruiting. Unlike us, they won't take no for an answer." Sergeant Subtle replied. At my raised eyebrow, he continued. "We won't force you into the Wards, but we can recommend it strongly. Independent heroes don't last long, especially in Brockton Bay. I've seen too many dead Independents to want to see it happen again. Even if you do kinda creep me out."

There was no sensible response to that, so I just stared at him. While the others in his squad appeared to glance away from my gaze, he seemed to happily stare straight at me.

"No offence, Ma'am."

I blinked a few times in silence before breaking out into laughter. You know, the kind that starts to hurt because you can't breathe in enough air to match the amount your mirth is expelling. It was a type of laughter that hadn't escaped my lips for years, limited as I was to nervous chuckles and sarcastic snorts at my lot in life. The last time was some comedy I watched with Mom and Dad. Come to think of it, I really needed to track down that movie again.

What is a movie? Is it some kind of particularly amusing prey creature?

I'll explain later.

I couldn't explain exactly why it had set me off, but the absurdity of my day combined with the unexpected comment was too much to take in my stride.

"Well at least you didn't run screaming like Private Voyeur earlier." I choked out once I got some breath back, helped along by her questions and the laughter's effect on my guests. "I've decided I like you Sergent Subtle. I need more honesty in my life."

I stood up suddenly, drawing startled reactions from the troopers and Armsmaster, but thankfully not enough for them to aim their weapons at me.

"Well, lets head off to your base and discuss options. I'm hungry and don't really have any food it in the house. Besides, it would be rude to make you all stand just because I don't have enough couch space."

I started walking towards the front door, the troopers falling in behind without much fanfare.

"You're coming with us because you're hungry and don't want to be a poor host?" Armsmaster asked in monotone, even as he followed to leave the house.

I spun on my left foot before continuing to walk backwards as I answered.

"Well that, and I'm not going to join without meeting the Wards first. High school is unpleasant enough. I don't want to double up on the drama without seeing if any of them are worth knowing."

"That is acceptable." He nodded, seeming to be more at ease with that reasoning. He was much too serious. Sure he looked heroic but I found myself more appreciative of the outspoken PRT agent. This led to me wondered if the Sergeant had branded underwear. My lips curved into a smirk at the mental image of a faceless PRT helmet being emblazoned on my tush.

Is such a practice common here?

Sorrowful Hymn of Youthful Indiscretion's innocent question prompted another supposedly spine-tingling giggle.

"Something amusing, Miss Hebert?" Armsmaster's voice dragged me out of my ponderings. I turned to face him, saw the logo that I was just pondering earlier and couldn't help by snort.

"Armsmaster brand panties."

He let out a resigned groan as some quickly muffled laughter came from the troopers.

"Ma'am." Sergeant Subtle gently lay his hand on my shoulder. "As funny as that marketing decision may be, we do need you to get into the van if you want to come to headquarters."

With great effort, I managed to wrangle my mirth back into some semblance of control. "Very well Sarg." I stepped into the PRT transport through the side door, noticing a few of the neighbours had been drawn by my late-night visitors. That or the lightshow. Given the few smart phones pointed my way, I could guarantee that there would be no secret identity for me. The troopers piled in after me while Armsmaster was making his own way. I caught a glimpse of an impressively sized motorcycle before the door was closed behind the last agent.

After a few minutes of silence as we drove, I decided to make some small talk to gather information and relieve the encroaching boredom. "So, did much happen in the last five days?"

"Not much Ma'am." Another of the faceless troopers replied, much to my surprise, in a female voice. The bulky armoured uniforms did a great job in disguising any features beyond height. "The Empire Eighty-Eight have been posturing and riling up anti-Asian bias as expected, but Cape activity has been sparse in the wake of..."

"No need to pussyfoot around it." It was easy to guess why she had trailed off. Understandable really, given how I was before my transformation.

"I have to say Ma'am, you seem to be coping pretty well." She commented, quite accurately. "All things considered."

"Oh yes, I am doing much better now. I was a mess before I learned to let go of my grief."

"Oh?" Sergeant Subtle's voice carried an obvious tone of confusion. Hmm, how to describe it.

"The journey of life is so much easier without lugging emotional baggage. So I chucked everything but my carry-on."

The entire van turned towards me after the words left my lips. "Wait, what?" The female trooper asked. I mustn't have been very clear.

"I let go of all my sorrow over the death of my father, as well as the pain, fear and self-doubt I had built up since Mom died. I am much happier now."

"So you just, what, removed some of your emotions?" She sounded not a little horrified, and understandably too. That would be a terrible idea.

"Oh god no. I just discarded my feelings for certain things. I could still feel grief over something, at least until I decided I didn't want to anymore."

"That still isn't reassuring Ma'am." She balked, to which I could only respond by shrugging. Personally, I didn't see what the big deal was. It wasn't as if I was turning myself into some kind of soulless monster.

Without feeling it for themselves, they could never understand.

I guess so. What a shame.

Besides, you most definitely have a soul Taylor, and it is much too resilient to be damaged in such a way.

With that bit of awkwardness happening, I decided that I could live with a quiet trip to the PRT HQ.

 

[GraemeHart]

Exalted/Worm is one of my favorite crosses. Looking forward to new updates!

Oh, and also this is really well written so far. Funny, dialogue isn't forced. Things aren't okay per se but they're looking up. Got the Transhuman elements that make parahumans/exalted interesting from an ethical and existential perspective incorporated nicely but not overtly, have hints of an interloper but not one that is too hamfisted like how crossovers or si's have a habit of being. Keep up the good work!

 

[StatelessGem]

......Yes

YES.

YESSSSSSSSSS


YAS.

 

[DeviantD]

-5-​

"So, I noticed your hair seems to be swaying to some rhythm." One of the other troopers broke the silence my earlier revelations caused. I pondered his comment for a moment, trying to catch the movement in his reflective face-shield.

"Huh, so it is."

It is... fitting that it follows my song. I do hope you are not displeased.

No. No, it is fine. Odd, but fine.

"If I am not paying too much attention to it, it looks like it follows the music."

"Music?" Sarg asked. I probably shouldn't have said that out loud. Mentioning that I heard things that didn't exist outside of my head would have been best avoided. Still, music was fairly benign and parahumans had all sorts of weirdness with their powers. It wasn't like I had a voice telling me to burn things. You're not going to tell me to burn things, right?

Unlikely. However, it is possible that circumstances may require such in the future.

That is not reassuring.

The lives of Exalted tend to be quite exciting.

Not helping.

"I have been hearing music since I awoke." I finally answered. "I figure it has something to do with my powers. Either that or I have the strangest tinnitus."

"What does it sound like?" Lady Trooper joined the conversation once more, her curiosity outweighing her earlier discomfort.

I hummed along with Sorrowful Hymn of Youthful Indiscretion's song. As I did so, I could have sworn that I felt a gentle wind slip over my skin.

You efforts are adequate. Despite her words, her tone was laced with pride.

"You have some talent there." Sarg nodded along with the song. "Also, less creepy when you hum. Though you might want to get that looked at." He pointed at my forehead. Checking my reflection in his visor, I saw the circle had appeared once more.

"Thanks?" I said, ending my rendition of what was playing in my mind. "That happened when I woke up as well. Go figure."

I was remiss in explaining your Caste Mark earlier, Mistress Taylor. That will become more prominent as you use your charms.

How prominent? And why now?

Depending on how much you push yourself, it may be glittering as it does now, or you may display a full Anima Banner. That is to say, you will be quite obvious and all shall witness your splendour. As for its current appearance, I do believe you augmented your humming.

Wonderful.

"We are so going to be stuck in Master-Stranger protocols for a week after this." The fourth and previously silent trooper muttered. When I looked over at him, he flinched and explained. "It's protocol to go through screening when exposed to a mind-affecting power."

"Oh." I blinked as I thought about that. Frankly it made sense, even if I was pretty sure I wasn't doing anything nefarious. "Well, sorry about that."

"Eh, it's all part of the job." Sarg waved it off. "Though if you are mastering us, I'll be really put out."

I could only shake my head at his behaviour. Really, I should be offended, but he just didn't have the cruelty of Emma and her cronies. Instead, I had the feeling that he was just as irreverent with everyone else. How the hell he managed to be in charge of a squad, I could only put down to him being talented enough to outweigh the quirk. Of course, I had yet to see him in action so for all I knew, it was just nepotism.

Come to think of it, that was just as likely.

I was about to query him on how he managed to keep his position when time seemed to slow to a crawl. My heart was filled with anticipation, even as I suddenly knew that danger was inbound. I did the only thing I could think of. I grabbed one of the hand-holds and braced for impact.

"Incoming." I yelled, hoping that they would get the hint.

Sarg and Lady cottoned on quick enough, taking on crash positions. The other two didn't react in time. An almighty crunch reverberated through the back of the van as it lurched to the side, before it began to flip over what had to be a ruined front. I didn't have time to think about what hit us, I was too busy trying to avoid cracking my skull open as the van tumbled down the road. We were just lucky the compartment was reinforced with roll-bars, or we would have resembled sardines after the first few flips.

With a bone-jarring thud, the van stopped. Unfortunately, it ended its last flip on its side. Unbuckling myself, I could still feel the strangely enticing sense of impending violence, and a surprising absence of pain. Not wanting to be stuck in the glorified-tin-can of a wreckage, I balanced on the seat as I tried wrenching the side door open. It came loose with a protesting squeal of scraping metal, accompanied by that phantom breeze and a sudden blooming of that eerie red light. Guess I'm stronger than I thought. As soon as I popped my head out of the van, I had to duck back to avoid getting it perforated by a spray of bullets.

Someone is definitely trying to kill us.

I had not realised you had such resourceful enemies.
Neither did I.

Taking stock of the situation, I could see Sarg starting to stir. Lady was swearing up a storm while holding an arm that really should not be bent that way. Of the other two, one appeared to be completely still and the other was making pained groaning noises but not much else. I wasn't sure what the gunmen were after, but I could make a guess that it was me. Staying here would just leave me a sitting duck, and while I didn't really know these people, I didn't want them to die.

You will be at greater advantage while on the move.

And how am I supposed to deal with all the bullets?

Dodge them. I would also suggest trying to emulate Reckless Prophet of Change. You should have adopted some of his style.

Well, who am I to argue with the demon in my head over what I'm capable of.

Before hurling myself into the line of fire, I tried to think back on the flashes of memory. Ignoring the way he pulled limbs off of people like a child would de-wing a fly, or hurling people towards the horizon, I focused on the strangely lucid image of him going through a short kata. My arms mimicked the motions even as my feet were perched on the front of the bench seat. Instead of the mild tingle I felt earlier, it was as if the wind was blowing through my very being. It was not unpleasant by any means. That was saved for the roiling, flesh-crawling sensation as my body grew.

Looking down in surprise, all of my previously sensibly toned muscles looked more like those of a body builder. I was pretty sure I gained half a foot in height, in addition to ripping the seams of my shirt. Sudden clarity accompanied the change as I realised why my memory-self seemed so different at times. A startled gasp drew my attention to Sarg, who was staring at me in awe. Or maybe just confusion. It was so hard to tell with the faceless helmets. I gave him a shallow nod and leapt up through the opening.

Bullets whizzed past my head as I vaulted over the sideways roof of the van and away from the wall it had crashed against. More impacted the tarmac half a second after I rolled through my landing and sprung into a sprint. I had a target: A man in black fatigues and body armour, pointing some kind of assault rifle at me. I jinked this way and that, practically dancing through his incoming fire. Instinctually, I dove into a roll as more shots came from my left. The wind curled around me as I leapt back to my feet and closed the distance in the blink of an eye. My approach ended with my right arm extended, two feet past where the gunman once stood. Instead, he had crumpled around my fist with a near comical 'oof' and what sounded like a dropped plate. His gun clattered to the floor, as did he a moment later when my left descended on his skull. I was already moving, my skin rippling as more muscle formed.

Swirling winds picked up litter from the streets, each piece of trash catching some of the scarlet light roiling around me like flames. The silent winds were soon punctuated by the droning of some unfamiliar instrument.

You have been blessed by Zsofika.

Not now.

Another twinge of anticipation sent me spinning around a parked car, letting it take the shots intended for me. I couldn't help but cringe as the shattered windows set the alarm off, its discordant wailing clashing with the eerie, omnipresent hum. I kept running, leaving the shrill noise behind as I closed in on the next gunman. Diving to the side as he sprayed lead in my direction, I grabbed the lid off a nearby trashcan and hurled it at him. It missed by a good foot, but bought me time as he ducked behind his automotive cover. The car did nothing for him as I vaulted over its roof. I had a moment to notice the man's eyes widen in surprise before my foot impacted his balaclava-masked face.

A tug at my hoodie along with a loud crack in the distance let me know another was watching from a building, even as I kicked off of the collapsing body. My fingers curled around the barrel of his gun as I cart-wheeled away, lashing out with it as I felt another moment of anticipation. Vibrations ran up my arm as the rifle intercepted another bullet from yet another direction. An alleyway up the road.

Too many.

Until you are strong enough to take on armies, isolate them. Then tear them apart, one by one.

Taking her advice to heart, I zigged and zagged between and behind cars, a bus stop, and even a post box as I advanced on the alleyway. The man saw me coming of course - I was hard to miss with the bonfire of deep-red flames swirling about my body - and ducked around the corner of the building with a parting shot. The bullet went wide as I jinked to my left. I felt another burst of excitement, but did not slow as I approached the corner, instead leaping into the air, rolling into a somersault before landing against the alley wall. I had a moment to take in the five men raising their guns from the entrance to my temporary perch. I pushed off the bricks, launching myself at them as the droning sound returned.

A flying clothesline took down the first as they tried to adjust to my sudden presence, leaving him choking, curled up on the ground. I ducked under their clumsy attempts to club me with their guns, rising up with an uppercut to one's jaw. Teeth scattered with faint clinking as I blocked a punch with my other arm. Electricity crackled at the end of a stun-gun as I stepped back to avoid it. My foot connected with his groin, lifting him up a yard before he crashed down in a pathetically mewling heap, stun-gun forgotten in his world of agony. I had to spin quickly to catch a wrist in my hand, a quick twist and a crunch left the baton to clatter on the pavement as the man yelled in pain.

My foot lashed out. A scream echoed through the alley as it connected with a knee. I left myself open and a gunman took advantage. I watched as the shotgun drew a bead on me, willing him to miss. My hair answered my call. Coiled strands, longer than I was tall, shot out and wrapped around the gun before yanking it out of his hands. The audible crunch and following yelp told me his trigger finger did not fare well. He didn't scream for long though, as my hair clubbed him into oblivion with his own weapon. I stomped down on a hand as one tried reaching for the stun-gun, before pulling the man who's wrist I had broken earlier in to my knee with bone crushing force. As he collapsed onto the pile made by his crippled friends, I felt the familiar sense of anticipation and began to move.

Pain. Too late.

Taylor!

Blood splattered the wall in front of me, just before the distant crack of a rifle hit my ears. The last thing I saw as everything went dark, was the ragged hole in my chest.

Damn. I forgot about that one.

Please be alright Mistress. Please live. I don't want to die.

I felt the world tilt, and then nothing.

 

[DeviantD]

-6-
​

Spoiler: Narrator

Alternatively, Vincent Price.

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Thomas Calvert, or Coil to his many minions and enemies, is not having a good day.

To be more accurate, the last five days have been delightfully horrible for him, much to my amusement. Constantly in pain, anxious over his malfunctioning divination charm and having to rely on simple, straightforward planning rather than his usual multiple probing actions. Though really, if I had such a - usually - reliable ability, I too would have abused it excessively. I would also likely still be trapped, after having decided the actions that set me free were too risky. In hindsight, oh my were they stupid decisions. Redheads: Never again. I should never have listened to Elloge when she insisted that it would be a good match.

Anyway, enough about me, even if I am marvellous. Instead, we should focus on the poor fool acting in desperation and anger. If it wasn't for his personally offensive style, I could almost confuse him for the Brass Idiot in his need for control, and compulsive authority over his minions.

Case in point, he is already yelling at the mercenaries in his employ to deploy for the rather unwise task of attempting to murder my freshly emerged Walking-Entertainment-Generator. What? She'll get respect when she earns it. Just because one has a Fate-Defying-Superweapon grafted to one's soul does not mean exemption from mocking. Especially mine.

Anyway, just because he can use his divination again without the Chrysalis Grotesque acting as a fountain of disruptive Yozi Essence doesn't mean it's flawless. Something Coil apparently didn't think of before basing major decisions on it. Though to give him credit, he has at least attempted to divine some simple things as a test. Such a shame that coin flips are not a useful trial of his power in this case.

Oh look, there he goes demanding information from the cute, blonde minion he has slinking about the place. If I hadn't already sworn off marriages, I'd be tempted. Even with the burn scars. Hey, they give her character. I'm sure it wouldn't work out anyway. She's too clever by half from the looks of things, and with some sort of information gathering charm to make things worse. I still haven't been able to determine how they manage all their interesting tricks in this world. There's hardly any Essence to speak of, and most of it is being generated by me, or my nascent Green Sun Prince.

I have to give him credit though, if not for the fact that he's basing his actions on flawed information, his planning is thorough given the limited time he's had to act. The timing of the powered carriage collision is a masterpiece in violent motion and the mercenaries seems skilled, despite their over reliance on firewands. The way they coordinate the strike on the carriage while another team distracts the armoured warrior, it would make any Slayer happy to recruit them. It is just a shame for him, and his mercenaries, that the one Exaltation I managed to steal while escaping, was one blessed by that athletic lunatic, Adorjan. I've never been fond of her, much too hard to manipulate. The last bearer though, he had a certain sense of style that I can respect. Or at least be entertained by.

Speaking of entertainment, it looks like my little fledgling inherited some of her predecessor's skill in Infernal Monster Style. I personally can't think of any other reason for Coil to be bleeding from the eyes and screaming for his troops to protect him from the "Monster."

There is just something satisfying in watching well orchestrated plans fall in to ruins. It makes me fell like less of a rube over my own. That, and it's hilarious to watch. The Anorexic Snake is practically having a fit over the complete disruption of whatever plans he saw working, and that Clever Little Fox is grinning in the background as her employer suffers. She too seems to be enjoying his cries of "But it worked. Why isn't it working?"

If only I had another Exaltation. She'd make a stunning Fiend...

Nope, bad idea. Don't start courting the conniving beauty. It didn't end well last time. I should really stick to the dim ones. Less chance of them stabbing me in the back before I can do it to them. The denizens of this realm don't know what they are talking about when they say divorces are messy. My wife didn't just take half of everything I owned. She took a good chunk of my very being too. Alimony has nothing on Fetich death.

Oh. Well, would you look at that. Seems I may have overestimated just how durable a fresh Infernal is. Either that or the firewands are more powerful here. Still, she'll survive by the looks of things and did take out all but that one... Nevermind. Oh the delicious irony of the one that caught out my Scourge, being surprised in turn by soldiers I had written off as casualties.

Hmmm, well I'm bored now. All Coil is doing now is muttering about remembering killing "Her", while locked in his office. Time to go find someone more interesting.

Oooooh, she is looking particularly devious. I wonder where she's slinking off to? I think I shall follow the blond for now. I'm sure something entertaining is about to happen.

 

[sdarian]

So the Ebon Dragon broke out and for whatever reason decided to steal an exaltation to bring to this new world with him?

 

[StatelessGem]

Did......Taylor just get iced?

Edit: Nevermind. I just seem to have selective blindness XD

More importantly: EXALT TATTLES?!

NOPE. NOPENOPENOPE.

I'M OUT BOIS. HAVE FUN IN HELL!

 

[pressea]

More importantly: EXALT TATTLES?!

Click to shrink...

I wish she was the Exalt instead of Taylor.

Oh well. What we're getting is very good, please continue.

 

[Aeondrac]

I was wondering why The Shadow of All Things was acting so mellow, I suppose fetich death explains it. Though I do wonder what his new aspects are, as he seem to have held onto messing with people.

 

[SandwormPhish]

The Primordial of Trolling and Lulz?

Because seriously The Being Formerly Known as TED seems to be doing a lot of this for shits and giggles.

 

[E-Rank Luck]

Oh man. All aboard the hype train, may it have no brakes.

 

[Schielman]

Still, she'll survive by the looks of things and did take out all but that one... Nevermind. Oh the delicious irony of the one that caught out my Scourge, being surprised in turn by soldiers I had written off as casualties.

Click to shrink...

What just happened?

 

[Datakim]

I was wondering why The Shadow of All Things was acting so mellow, I suppose fetich death explains it. Though I do wonder what his new aspects are, as he seem to have held onto messing with people.

Click to shrink...

Which was kinda odd? Should he not basically have become someone 100% different if his actual fetich died? Is that not how it works? Which might be considered somewhat important here given that it seems Taylor has fully jumped to Adorjan bandwagon by "letting go" of her intimacies of pain and loss, and Adorjan is only Adorjan (and not a river) because of fetich death. Adrian cared little of letting go of attachments for instance.

Anyway, as to the events themselves, did I understand correctly, that Ebon managed to flee as happened in RotSE, got fetich killed somehow, and then somehow fled the entire Creation/Exalted reality entirely to Worm-verse with a single exaltation shard (or rather with the demon that had it I guess), which he let loose and which chose Taylor?

Overall, things look interesting so far. Looking forward to reading more.

 

[Skitzyfrenic]

Some Primordials changed very little when they became Yozi. Swillin for example.

TED didn't change a whole lot from the Dragon's Shadow, besides being a dragon instead of a shadow.

Another bit of soul surgery might tone down the mustache twirling and make him a bit less likely to betray even himself. Besides so long as one fiend or someone who knows even a single TED charm YED wouldn't be changed that much. It's a back door way to keep the Yozi alive iirc

 

[Datakim]

Some Primordials changed very little when they became Yozi. Swillin for example.

TED didn't change a whole lot from the Dragon's Shadow, besides being a dragon instead of a shadow.

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Neither of those went through fetich death, merely had non-fetich third circles/2nd circles pruned. The ones that did go through fetich death changed utterly (except for Malfeas who had two fetiches (Ligier and Ruvelia), but even he was changed greatly despite retaining some continuity due to Ligier). Dragon's Shadow deliberately sacrificed a third circle he knew would change him the least, which is why he remained mostly himself.

Another bit of soul surgery might tone down the mustache twirling and make him a bit less likely to betray even himself. Besides so long as one fiend or someone who knows even a single TED charm YED wouldn't be changed that much. It's a back door way to keep the Yozi alive iirc

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Oh sure. Having several of his non-fetich third circles be permanently killed would change his personality without actually remaking it to the point where he would stop being TED. Like for example if someone permakilled a 3rd soul that most represented his treachery or somesuch.

Fetich death is an entirely different thing however. If TED underwent fetich Death, then he should not be TED anymore, but something utterly new and different. Probably not even a dragon shaped.

Only the following underwent Fetich death to the best of my knowledge:
- Adrián the River of Torments, who became Adorjan the Silent Wind when the fetich Lilike was killed. Adrián encircled Creation and protected the world from Raksha. Adorjan flies around and tries to teach people to let go of their intimacies (Taylors Yozi).
- Theion the Empyreal Chaos, who became Malfeas the Demon City when one of his two fetich, Ruvelia was killed.
- He Who Bleeds The Unknown Word, became Elloge. Can't recall his fetich.
- Sacharavell was also apparently formed by fetich death of the previous primordial.

Oh, and GSP only prevent power and charm loss:

Much as they might wish otherwise, the Yozis can't take back the power they bestow. The use of a Yozi's Charms in no way depends on the cooperation of that being, though fetich
death radically transforms and replaces their Charms with more appropriate effects for most wielders. The Principle of Hierarchy has definitively calculated that Green Sun Prince Exaltations would preserve a dead Yozi's Charms intact, warding that titan from suffering final death as a Neverborn or suffering net power loss as a result of fetich death so long as a single Green Sun Prince lives to preserve the seed of her former self.

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[Nidhogg]

This is going to be so entertaining. Also, Lisa. Don't. Just don't. You got her dad killed. Nothing you say will make that end well.

 

[Skitzyfrenic]

Sounds like you answered your own question. But then again ST fiat could make the new shadow thing person similar enough to TED for story purposes. Does it really matter?

Or maybe new-TED contradicted himself and reassigned his fetich at the last second to spite or to escape or something. And that's what allowed him to stay vaguely similar. Iunno but I plan on reading the story to find out.

 

[Scify]

when a flash of red light and a wet, slopping sound grabs his attention. Looking up from the page, both of us immediately focused on the crimson-glowing naked girl standing

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Huh. Don't GSPs usually have the, y'know, green theme going on? I wonder what could have caus--

           $,  $,
          "ss.$ss. .s'
      , .ss$$$$$$$$$$s,
    $.s$$$$$$$$$$$$$ `$$Ss
    "$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$oo$$$$          ,
    s$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$"$$$$$$$$s,    ,s
    s$$$$$$$$$"$$$$$o"""$$$$$$"$$$$$,
   s$$$$$$$$$$s""$$$$ssss`"$$$$$$$$"
  s$$$$$$$$$$'        `"""ss"$"$s""
s$$$$$$$$$$$$,             `"""""$

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Oh.

I turned to face the outspoken agent. "I hadn't heard anything about PRT troops getting involved, so consider me corrected. Sorry though, I have no idea how to stop my voice doing whatever its doing. I didn't even realise it was any different since I woke up. Unlike, you know, the spooky eyes and the hair." I finished, twirling my hand around to emphasise the changes.

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Are my eyes playing tricks on me, or is Taylor's speech a different color?

"[color=white]I hadn't heard anything about PRT troops getting involved, so consider me corrected. Sorry though, I have no idea how to stop my voice doing whatever its doing. I didn't even realise it was any different since I woke up. Unlike, you know, the spooky eyes and the hair.[/color]"

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Guess so.

Umm. How's that working out for people using FlexWhite?

Before I hurling myself into the line of fire,

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Hurled, or drop the "I"

I wish she was the Exalt instead of Taylor.

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Wasn't there an abandoned fic awhile back where Tattletale was a Sidereal (and, I think, Coil was as well)?

 

[Artemis1992]

Huh. Aren't GSPs usually, y'know, green? I wonder what could have caus--

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Only Slayers. Every Yozi has it's own colors and most GSP's share those in their anima.

 

[Chloe Sullivan]

Ah, the Empress managed to backstab ebbie first. good show, always been my take on that marriage.

Only Slayers. Every Yozi has it's own colors and most GSP's share those in their anima.

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are you sure you're not confusing ES-brew with canon?

 

[Finagle007]

Oh, I'll DEFINATELY be watching THIS. Can't wait to see Taylor's reaction to meeting The Shadow of All Things...

 

[Aeondrac]

Which was kinda odd? Should he not basically have become someone 100% different if his actual fetich died? Is that not how it works?

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Not necessarily, while they do change significantly they can be similar to what they were before. Elloge's nature seems relatively close to He Who Bleeds The Unknown Word's and Adjoran The Silent Wind and Adrian The River Of All Troments have strong thematic links.