Scrawlings - [Ziel's Collected Works]

[Ziel]

Chimera

1.9

I made it home a few minutes before Dad. He pulled into the driveway just as I got my improvised costume off. It was then that I remembered that I'd supposedly stayed home sick. He couldn't know that I'd been up or about, let alone all the crazy shit I'd done today.

I stuffed my costume into the back of my closet and looked around my room for any more evidence of today. Costume- check. Backpack- I kicked it under the bed. Feathers- Feathers. The Simurgh feathers I'd scattered around last night were still there, and I could hear Dad's key in the lock.

Panicking, I drew on my copied powers and pulled all the feathers to me with telekinesis. Now I had a huge bundle of crystalline feathers. Wonderful. How did I usually get rid of these? Could I just absorb them like I did my wings?

I bustled into the bathroom with them and cranked on the shower for the noise. Okay. Absorption. Nothing gross about assimilating monster flesh into my body. Nothing at all.

With the same act of will I used to untransform, I pressed the feathers to my skin. There was an instant where I felt the edges pressing against my skin, but then my skin gave. The feathers melted slowly into my arm.

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. It was quick and painless. It was weird as hell, but that was par the course by now. By the time Dad knocked on the door, I'd finished with the bundle.

"Taylor? How are you feeling?" He called.

"I was just about to take a shower. I'm feeling better now."

"Okay. I'll have dinner ready when you get out." I listened at the door as he walked away. Having him home reminded me of something else. If I was going to join the Wards, I needed to tell him that I was a cape. That was going to be… I wasn't sure how to feel about. Glad that I could finally tell him something? Excited that I had to lie to him a little less?

Urgh.

I rushed through my shower. I was tempted to use Leviathan and see what I could do with the water, but I wanted to get it over and talk to Dad. I dried off, glanced in the mirror, and then headed for the-

Gray lips curving in a smile, wings spread wide, fruit blooming on the vine. Excitement.

(joy)

I froze. But I wasn't- the new connections formed instantly. All four of us together. Their feelings poured through our connections, overwhelming me with their intensity. What in the world? Wasn't Simurgh right in the middle of attacking Canberra?

<query>

The replies came like bolts of lightning.

A shadow- no, a silhouette- A man in green? Three arrows converging on a point. Metal being forged. A sense of duty.

#purpose#

The man in green again. Broken swords. The tide sweeping away sand castles. The feeling of satisfaction.

~fulfillment~

I still didn't understand. Behemoth was talking about reasons to exist. Leviathan spoke of completion. It didn't explain what they were so excited about. Who was the man in green I kept seeing? I knew him from somewhere.

I sent more forcefully.

<query>

Simurgh replied, her happiness bleeding through her message.

(watch)

Pressure rose up behind my eyes. I blinked, trying to clear away the feeling, and when I opened my eyes, the world had changed.

I/She looked out over a city in darkness. My/Her wings encircled us, twitching to adjust our flight as we soared high above the city. Enemies gathered in the streets, little more than shapes in the moonlight.

They were more through my/her eyes. Not just people, but lines of sensation and memory stretching forward and back. They were composite. With the merest of glances, she/I could read them. They were predictable. I/She- We formed models and plans when we looked at them. The complexity of her thoughts was light years beyond my own- far above even the pale imitation I got from copying her form. And yet I understood.

Action and reaction. Impetus and impairment. We reached out with hands that spanned the world, and where we touched, we changed. Telekinesis in name only. Something vastly more. We relayed communication with our siblings, no longer as necessary. We had Littlest Sister now. She changed us. In the same way that he changed us, she did the same.

Her touch was contamination. She sullied our purity- the singular focus by which we operated. Our bond corrupted us. We stained her with our forms, and she shattered us, gave us new eyes. Let us speak in new ways. Gave us the ability to know ourselves.


We understood now, with the awareness that she gave. Knew him for the instigator that he was. That we were chained by his weakness. All this we knew as we saw him. There was no one else.

He stood among the other shapes in the street, the glow that suffused his cape illuminating those around him. And then there was our joy at his arrival. Our siblings rejoiced as we shared the news. To face him was our purpose. A false purpose- but a purpose nonetheless. We hated him and loved him, as we were bound to. Validation. Fulfillment. Loathing. All new flaws that Littlest Sister gave us.

We are tainted, and it is-

(<wonderful>)

With a thought, we destroyed the device. Nothing more than an imitation, plucked from the mind of a Tinker. Its purpose was complete. We set the stage with it, and he came. At once, the cities lights sprang back into life, the hum of a million engines mixing with our song. Once it was merely a distraction, a misdirection, but now it is a demonstration. We must share our feelings with the world. They are too much to hold in. Too new, too frightening.

The humans renewed their attack, rising up and painting the sky with their powers. They were reinforced by machines now, ships and Tinkers formerly held in reserve. Even when he spearheaded the attacks, it was meaningless. They were all simply more levers for us to exert change on.

We understood their movements, all foreseen, all accounted for. We knew all the steps to our little dance. Understood it for the farce it was, though even he didn't know. We cared not. The infection that ran through our thoughts made it worth it, bringing new excitement to what was formerly an act without meaning.

And as they struck at us, we danced.

(<laughter>)



We came back to ourself slowly, still laughing under our breath. We- I shook my head. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, reorienting myself. Tangled, damp ringlets of black hair. Gray eyes- I shook my head again. Brown eyes. I braced myself against the sink, anchoring myself with the feeling of the cold porcelain.

I was in my bathroom. Not Canberra. I was Littlest Sister Taylor. Not her. Definitely not we. A pulse of feeling down our bond reminded me what I'd been doing. I was still connected with them. The other two were rapt, exhilarating in Simurgh's joy.

A giggle escaped me. I was still heady from our shared euphoria. She wasn't just happy; she was experiencing true happiness for the first time. The feeling was completely alien to her, and almost as strange to me.

I sent to her-

<congratulations>

Trying to package all the wonder and pride I had at her change was difficult, but our bond made communicating it easier than it would have been with speech. I sent an identical message to the others. They deserved all the feelings they could get. I'd suspected that they'd changed, but to know it- to feel it was something else. I was happy for them.

They pulsed back-

#greater#

~hate~

I agreed entirely. They were definitely better this way. And whoever that man in green was, I hoped Sister got a hold of him. But… who was he, and why did he matter to them so much? Doubt cut little gouges in my joy. Who could have inspired them to feel such rage? What had Simurgh said about him? Something about him being their purpose?

There was more to it, but I couldn't recall it clearly. Simurgh's thoughts were just too much; even remembering them was like staring into the sun. She'd definitely said something about the man in green, and… me? Something about instigation- or was it infection?

"Taylor, dinner's ready!" Dad called from across the house.

My reverie broke apart instantly. I'd forgotten all about Dad after my union with Simurgh. I finished up in the bathroom quickly. As I dressed, more of Simurgh's feelings bled through the bond at me. Behemoth and Leviathan's emotions were there too, but they were lesser.

It felt… nice being connected to them this way. Better than nice, really. It was like we were connected in a more meaningful sense. Four parts forming a whole; a perfect joining. I hadn't been this in tune with them since they first contacted me. All it was was thought and feeling, and I still felt greater- like I was part of something more. As though there was a we instead of just an I.

But, as I tried to use my shirt as pants for the third time, I knew that the bond was also a little distracting. Considering that it was basically a four-way, four-dimensional conversation, it wasn't a surprise. I needed to let go before Dad noticed something.

With a deep sigh, I began closing my links to the others.

<regret>

They replied similarly. I could sense two of them turning their attention to the third. Lucky bastards, getting to always be linked with each other. I usually had to make do with their forms. Wait. Their forms. I'd been linked with Behemoth for a large part of the day and I hadn't copied him at all.

Even though the connection was frayed to a thread, I held onto the link. And with a thought, I absorbed Behemoth's shape into my well of power. It fixed itself within me with a certain firmness; a warm reassurance that I was safe. I blinked at that. I hadn't realized that Behemoth was so… protective. He was turning out to be a real older brother-type.

It was the first time a form had brought a feeling with it. And as I stood contemplating it, the three forms shifted inside me. They seemed to… settle? It felt like they were more me and less them now; a part of my power rather than something borrowed. Why had that happened? Was it because I'd never held three forms before? Or was it because I had all three of them?

Sister sent to me in the last instant before I closed our link entirely.

A vision.

An old memory.

My mother teaching me to ride a bike. Little Me wobbles precariously for a moment before she picks up speed. Mom stands with her hands on her hips, watching me go.

"Alright Taylor, come back." She grins in a way I'd forgotten; a way that makes my heart ache to remember. "It's time to take the training wheels off."

 

[Ziel]

Chimera

1.10

I sat across from Dad at the kitchen table. We were having spaghetti. It was Dad's typical standby meal. Something quick, cheap, and easy that he couldn't burn. There was a reason that I usually cooked. He'd done a good job with it tonight, but I wasn't hungry. I'd mostly shifted the food around my plate so far.

I took a deep breath, holding onto the good feelings that lingered from my link to the other three. They might have helped me do this, but I knew it was something I needed to do on my own.

"Dad. I- uh, I have something I have to tell you."

He stopped with his fork halfway to his mouth, set it down, and then looked straight at me. His expression was suddenly grave.

"What is it Taylor?"

Another deep breath. I could tell him something innocuous and just blow it all off. He didn't have to know. No. That was bullshit and I knew it. He did have to know. He deserved to know.

"I have superpowers." The words come too easily. It shouldn't be so easy to say such momentous things. And as I said them, a tension I hadn't noticed began easing out of me.

Dad stared at me. "You… what?"

I held up a hand and drew on Simurgh's form. White crystal feathers bloomed from my fingertips, their edges glinting in the kitchen light. Dad jerked back and stood up, his face ashen. I pulled her form away immediately.

"Taylor." He whispered. "Was… was this what you were hiding all this time?"

"Yes…" I hesitated. I had to put it all out there or it'd never be right. "No. There was other stuff."

Dad sat back down slowly. Only when he was settled did he speak again. "At school."

I nodded. "At school. The girls were-" I swallowed. "Two years, Dad. It was for the last two years." The room seemed blurrier all of a sudden.

"And it wasn't just that- it was Emma, and she- she hates me and we were friends and-" I swallowed again. Why was this harder to say than admitting that I had superpowers? "No one cared, Dad. When they put me in the- in there, no one cared."

Dad got up again. There was a terrible expression on his face. Worse than all the anger I'd ever seen there. Sadness. The same awful, ugly grief that he'd worn when Mom died. He walked around the table to me.

"Dad, I'm sorry." I whispered.

"Taylor, get up." He said. I stood with legs like rubber. He was upset at all the lies I'd told him. At what a shitty daughter I'd been, and now he'd-

He hugged me, his arms so tight around me that I could barely breathe. I froze, my arms at my sides.

"Don't ever apologize for what those girls did to you." He growled. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to bother you, and there was nothing you could do." I said.

"I could have figured out something." He sounded exasperated and upset at the same time. "Taylor, I'm your father, I will always be there for you."

"But-" I began.

"But nothing. If anything like this ever happens again, you tell me. Promise me that, Taylor."

"It's still happening." I said. "I can't go back there anymore. I just- I can't."

He hugged me so tight I thought I was going to break. "You should have told me. Even if you think it's going to upset me, tell me from now on."

"I know things are bad at work, and you're really stressed-"

He cut me off again. "Taylor. Tell me anyway. You'll feel better."

Slowly, I lifted my arms and returned the hug.

"I love you Taylor."

I might have started crying at that point.



When I woke up the next morning, it took me a moment to figure out why I felt so good. I dressed in street clothes and headed downstairs. Dad was sitting at the table with his coffee and the morning paper.

"All ready?" He asked. I nodded.

"Okay. Taylor… you're sure you really want this?"

I found my tongue. "Yeah. It's the only way I can get out of Winslow that we can afford."

He sighed heavily. "I don't know how to feel about you going out and fighting supervillains. You can't get a desk job, can you? Do superheroes have those?"

I decided then and there that I was never going to tell him where the Wards had gone yesterday.

"Don't worry. My powers will protect me, and the Wards all seem like good people." The jury was still out on Shadow Stalker. "From what the Director told me, the Wards aren't supposed to get into a lot of action anyway."

He gave me a flat stare. "In this city?"

I should have known he'd see through that. I was so far from the truth that it was almost an outright lie. Normal Wards might work that way, but Brockton Bay Wards were out on the streets every day.

"There's nothing that can happen to me out there that's worse than what those girls did."

I said. I regretted it instantly when Dad flinched. "Sorry. Dad- look, I'll be okay. The Wards are all really tough, and they work with the adult Protectorate members all the time."

Dad looked troubled. "If you're sure this is what you want, I don't think I could stop you anyway. You're just like your mother that way." He flicked the ends of my hair. "Your hair is almost as long as hers now."

I blinked at that and examined myself. My hair hung down in front to the middle of my chest. When had it gotten that long? I could have sworn it wasn't that long when I put it up yesterday.

"I like it long, but this is a little bit too much." I said. "I think I'll cut it back later."

We finished breakfast in silence, each lost in our own thoughts.



It felt weird getting to the PRT HQ in a car, but I needed Dad with me. We parked down the block so we didn't have to pay for a garage and then walked the rest of the way. Taking the ferry out into the bay was worth the walk though. Dad and I stood at the railing and looked out over the water. It was warm for February, and the weather was still sunny. The sunlight playing across the ocean made for some of the most beautiful sights of the bay I'd ever seen.

Dad looked up at the modified oilrig that housed the Protectorate and shook his head. "My daughter, working up there. I'd never even imagined."

"I was up there yesterday. It's really high-tech inside." Technically, I'd been there twice, but my visit to the PRT hospital was another one of the things I wasn't going to tell him. Getting hospitalized on my first day was not a good way to make an impression on Dad.

My list of "Things I won't Tell Dad" was becoming disturbingly long already, and it'd only been about two hours. The Endbringers were at the top of the list. They were going to be my secret from everyone. There was just no way for me to swing something like that without getting a kill-order.



I introduced myself at the front desk with the same visitor's badge I'd used yesterday.

"Chimera, nice to see you again." The guard directed us to the elevator. "They're a little busy right now. Go up to the 28th floor, room 42b."

When the chromed doors shut behind us, Dad turned to me.

"Chimera? So… what are your powers anyway, Taylor?"

I blushed at having Dad find out my cape name. It felt like I was a little girl playing dress up when he said it like that. I decided to tell him the same almost-lie I'd told Armsmaster.

"I copy other capes' powers, up to three at a time."

Dad stared. "I'm not really familiar with superpowers, but that sounds like an incredible ability Taylor."

I shrugged. "I get a watered down version. Like a knock-off of the original."

I was about to draw on Leviathan and show him my scales, when something occurred to me. I kept telling people that I could copy other capes' powers. So far I'd only mimicked the Endbringers. What if I could copy other capes? I'd never tried it, but just thinking about it sounded right.

I checked my well of power; I'd try pinging a parahuman later when I had time to- my well was full. My well was full. I was at a full charge without even doing anything. Without thinking, I fired off a ping. My well didn't decrease even a little. I was at a full, permanent charge. If I was shocked at this new change, I was even more surprised when the ping returned almost instantly.

With it came a new form. I felt the new shape in my mind. It felt… intuitive, like it would make me smarter in some way. Was that a Thinker ability? Who had I copied? What was more, I still had all three of the Endbringer forms in my well. It felt like they were in a different section than this new shape. They felt almost… fixed; permanent in a way that the new form wasn't.

I pulled the new template up, drawing on its form like I would with my siblings. My body shifted, growing taller, broader. Dad cried out in alarm as I changed. The change only took a moment, leaving me standing awkwardly in my now too-small clothes.

I examined myself in the polished elevator doors. I was a man, white, probably… late 20s/early 30s if I had to guess. I had tight cropped brown hair and… I stroked the thin line running along my jawline. I recognized that beard.

I'd just copied Armsmaster. Not only could I copy capes, I'd copied Armsmaster.

Holy. Shit.

"Dad." I said. Hearing myself speak with an adult man's voice was downright surreal. "I forgot to tell you, but there're rules to being a superhero. One of them is that you don't mess with peoples' secret identities. So you can't- don't tell anyone that you know what Armsmaster looks like."

Dad stared wordlessly, open-mouthed. I shifted back into my normal body.

"Dad!"

He didn't stop staring at me. "Jesus Christ, Taylor. Seeing that for real was…" He trailed off, shaking his head.

"Sorry."

"No, it's okay. It's just a lot to take in… my daughter's a cape." He sounded like he still couldn't believe it.

The elevator slid to a halt and the doors opened. I thought I recognized the hallway from before, so I led the way. We got lost a few times in the nigh identical halls, but we eventually made our way to the meeting room.

Dad caught my shoulder before I opened the door.

"Taylor, no matter what happens after this point, remember that I'll always love you." He pulled me into a hug. "I'm proud of you."

"Thanks Dad." I said. My face was muffled by his chest, so I didn't think he'd heard me.

"Now," Dad let go of me. "Let's get in there and make them regret the day they ever asked a Hebert to be a superhero."

 

[Ziel]

Chimera

Interlude: Sitri


Sitri decided that she disliked airports. It was her first time flying, and she was already regretting the experience. Miami International Airport was too big, too crowded, too noisy. Too many people for her to just make everyone shut up, and the high ceilings of the terminal just reflected the noise back at her. And the crowds were a nightmare. Unless she literally held Gremory's hand, she was sure to lose her in the press of bodies. There had been a few close calls already. It made Sitri want to put her head between her knees until Daddy came back.

Why couldn't it be like before, when they'd take long roadtrips with him? Just her, Gremory and Daddy, bouncing along in his beat up old van. Sometimes Belith would come, but not often. And that was good, because Belith was Gremory's mom, not hers.

Daddy had gone off to buy tickets, and she was stuck with Gremory in one of the endless rows of plastic chairs. She had the strap of their bags wrapped around her ankle. Just in case. It was up to her to watch them. Gremory was too busy staring out the window, looking north.

"Grem-" What was the fake name Daddy had used? "Remi, are you okay?" She called.

Gremory turned slowly, unwilling to look away from the window. The older girl had the dazed look she always wore when she used her power.

"What was that, Sitri?"

Sitri sighed and got up. She went to Gremory and pulled her back to the chairs.

"It's Siri when we're in public. Are you okay? You were really out of it."

Gremory put a hand to her forehead, unconsciously straightening a crown that wasn't there. "Huh? Oh, I'm fine. Just feeling the target."

"Isn't the target like a thousand miles away?"

"Nine-hundred-twenty-three. The strongest signals are, at least. There're a couple that are closer, in uh- Boston, but they're not important enough."

"Close enough." Sitri shrugged. "Ooh, there's Daddy!" She jumped up, grabbing the bags. She almost handed one to her sister, and then thought better of it. Gremory was too zoned out. She'd lose it as soon as she started watching the target again.

Daddy wove through the crowd easily, sliding through gaps with graceful, sweeping movements. Seeing him in a golf shirt and khaki shorts were strange. Like he was an imposter. He'd explained why, and she could see that he was right- he looked like every other tourist in the crowd. It still felt weird though.

They met him by a row of pay phones. He bent down so they were face to face; his lanky limbs always reminded her of a stork. "How are my girls doin?" He said.

Sitri smiled at him, and he returned the smile. She could see the faint outlines of his tattoos through the makeup she'd helped him put on.

"Good, Daddy." She said.

"…good." Gremory said. She was staring into space again.

"That's what I like to hear." Daddy said. With a flourish, he pulled out a handful of tickets. "Siri, I need you to be my ticket girl. In fact, I think I'm going to let you be the leader today."

She gaped at him. Her. The leader. Was she dreaming?

"W-what do I have to do?" She said.

He handed her the tickets. She tucked them into a pocket immediately.

"You're going to go first, and hand the tickets to the people at the checkpoints. I've got to talk to Eli- -er. Uncle Eli about our plans, because he's coming with the rest of the group. So while I'm getting that straightened out, I want you to use your power and get us through security without any fuss at all."

He put a hand on her shoulder. "Can you do that for me, Siri?"

"Hell yeah!" She shouted, her excitement getting the best of her.

Daddy snorted with laughter. "Good girl."

She was ready to march into action, but she hesitated. "What about Remi?"

He stopped, looking at his eldest daughter. "She can… Why don't you take her with you? She can hold your hand, and you'll probably get closer to the target, so that'll make her happy."

Sitri drooped on the inside, her enthusiasm deflating. Of course that's how it would be. Daddy always made her watch Gremory. He never wanted her around when he did business. She mustered the last of her excitement and saluted Daddy.

"Aye aye, Boss."

He smiled again; this time it was the smile he used when he worked. The one that didn't need fang tattoos to be menacing.

"Lead the way."

She took Gremory's hand and headed off through the terminal. Gremory kept lagging behind, but Sitri tugged her along without stopping. Daddy trailed a short ways behind them, and as they walked, a large man joined Daddy. When Sitri saw him, she waved. Eligos nodded and continued talking to Daddy.

When they came to the first checkpoint, one with a metal detector, she went over to the guard manning the station. He looked bored and tired. It was a good combination for her power. She triggered it, letting the gentle wave of her aura flow outward. To her eyes, a faint haze filled the air around her, and she willed it toward the guard. As soon as it touched him, the man's eyes went unfocused, his mouth slack. She smiled cutely, her lips moving with the ease of long practice.

"'Scuse me mister. Could you let me, her, my Daddy, and his friend through? We've got a special pass that lets us get through without a scan." She handed the man their tickets. "I think these check out just fine."

The guard nodded slowly, barely even looking at the tickets, and then handed them back. Then moving like a sleepwalker, he unhooked the divider and ushered them through the checkpoint.

Sitri pulled Gremory through, and then turned to watch Daddy. As he passed the guard, he made eye contact for a few seconds. And then they parted, with Eligos laughing at something Daddy had said. Sitri couldn't help but be impressed with how fast Daddy worked. He'd whammied the guard so smoothly that if she hadn't known what was happening, she wouldn't have noticed.

"Why does he have you doing that?" Gremory asked.

Sitri started. It wasn't often that Gremory spoke when she had her power on. She resumed walking, and thought about it while she walked.

"I think… it's practice. And he's busy talking to Uncle Eli." She said.

"Why doesn't he just do it himself? His power is better than yours." Gremory said. There was a sharp intent in her gaze that Sitri had rarely seen. She had to think about that some more. Why had he put her in charge? Gremory was right; Daddy's power was a lot stronger than hers was. She could only suggest things, but he could basically mind control people.

"I… I don't know." She admitted.
Gremory smiled. "I have an idea. Do you get tired when you use your power?"

Sitri shook her head. She was still taken aback at how lucid Gremory was.

"Watch him sometimes. Daddy gets tired when he uses his power too much. You've got a higher limit than he does."

"Remi, are you okay?"

Gremory squeezed her hand. "I know I'm not with it most of the time, but I have my moments."

Sitri squeezed back. "Thanks Gremory." She whispered. When she looked back at Gremory, her sister was staring off into the distance again. Sitri sighed.

Why couldn't Gremory be with it more often? She wanted someone to talk to, and there was never anyone her age around. No, more than that, she wanted the old Gremory back. From before she got her powers. Gremory from when she could still be a big sister. She'd just caught a glimpse of that Gremory, and it made Sitri miss her more.

Her good mood all but gone now, Sitri led the group through three more checkpoints. Each time she'd 'suggest' that their tickets would allow free passage, and they would be admitted. The final checkpoint was the hardest. She had to whammy all four guards at once. She was pretty sure her aura had hit some of the people in line, but as long as they didn't say anything, who cared?

After that, they were stuck in the food court until their flight came in. Being able to skip the lines meant that there was almost an hour to wait. Daddy and Eligos went to sit down at a table in a far corner where they wouldn't be overheard.

"Take Remi and go get something to eat." Daddy said.

She trundled off with Gremory in tow.



Valefor turned back to Eligos. The other man was shaking his head.

"I will never understand how you have two kids."

He smirked at Eligos. "Why, because of the cross-dressing thing?"

"Just figured you didn't swing that way."

"What about Belith?" He said.

"Beard." Eligos said simply.

"We're fucking supervillains, the fuck am I gonna care about being gay?"

"I don't know- I just- I wondered all this time what crazy shit you were getting up to, and it turns out that you have kids." Eligos sipped his coffee. "Kids with powers, looks like."

Valefor looked across the food court at his daughters. Gremory was sitting at a table, looking as vacant as usual. Sitri, ever-dutiful, was waiting in line at McDonalds. Eligos followed his gaze.

"What's with the older one? Autism or something?"

"Nah, her powers get her all fucked up. She finds people. Fixates on whoever she's looking for until she finds them. She just kinda… stares in the direction of whoever she's after."

"That's why we're headed north?" Eligos asked. Valefor nodded.

"You ask her to find someone, and she can do it. I usually use it to track down lottery winners and shit like that."

"No shit." Eligos said, his eyes widening. "She's that good?"

"She can find anyone. We're headed north because I asked her 'Find me the target of the next Endbringer attack.' It's some cape up north. Dunno the name."

"Fuck me." Eligos whispered. "You've had a kid like that all this time? Why didn't you tell me sooner?! We could have gone big with her power."

"Just triggered, eh… almost three years ago now. Her sister's had them for about two." Valefor smiled. "I wanted to keep my golden goose safe."

"Exemplary parenting as usual, Valefor." A voice said. They both turned, instantly wary at the interruption.

A woman stood over them. Tall, her blonde hair was cut short and jagged. She was attractive, but there was a hardness- something cruel about her face that left her short of true beauty. She sat down in the empty chair at their table without asking, moving with a sinuous grace that put even Valefor's to shame.

"Talking about my daughter as your golden goose." She sneered at Valefor. "Please, keep it up."

"Belith." Valefor spat.

"Bel." Eligos said, lifting his coffee in a mock toast.

"Eligos. I've missed you." She patted his hand. "Have you been keeping this idiot out of trouble?"

"I thought I was. But if I missed that he's had kids all this time, I'm probably not doing a very good job."

"That was my idea." Belith said. "I didn't want them involved with the family business. And then Gremory triggered, and I find out that he's using her to commit crimes." She glared daggers at Valefor.

"Why didn't you take her back if it bothered you so much?" Valefor snapped.

"Because Gremory loves Sitri, and Sitri hates my guts." Belith said acidly. "Do you want to split them up?"

"You just don't want to raise them." Valefor said.

Spots of color bloomed in Belith's cheeks. "Murder for hire is not the right environment for children!"

Valefor was about to retort when Eligos cleared his throat loudly. Eligos pointed, and the other two looked. Sitri and Gremory were coming back across the food court. Sitri was carrying both of their trays one-handed, balancing them precariously while towing Gremory along with her other hand. Belith hurried over to help them.

Eligos pulled up another table to theirs for the girls. Belith and Sitri got Gremory situated before Sitri took a seat. Belith scooted her chair over to sit next to her daughter.

"Gremmy, how are you doing?" She said. She wore a smile that the men had rarely seen. It took Gremory a moment to respond. She blinked and then seemed to come back to herself.

"Mom!"

She almost tipped over the table as she lunged at Belith. Belith wrapped her arms around the girl, running her hands through Gremory's long blonde hair. It was the same shade as hers.

"I've missed you, sweetheart." She whispered.

When their hug broke apart, Gremory pulled her chair over so she could sit arm to arm with her mother.

"And how are you doing, Sitri?" Belith asked, smiling at the younger girl. Sitri scowled and moved closer to Valefor. Belith's smile faded.

"I figured." She said sadly. "Have you been having fun with Gremmy?"

"Enough of this." Valefor growled. "You can talk on the plane. Where are Ose and Glasya, and why aren't they here?!"

Eligos spoke. "They're driving up. Ose has all that Tinker shit that'd never make it past security."

"What about Glasya?" Valefor said.

He shrugged. "Probably wanted to get high on Ose's stuff. You know what he's like. They'll show up too fucking high to see."

Belith chuckled. "They haven't changed at all, have they? Remember when Ose made those rave drugs and we all got-"

The intercom cut through the noise of the terminal with its electric hum. "Attention, Flight 311- Miami to Boston, will be boarding in 15 minutes at Gate 7. Please proceed to Gate 7 for Flight 311- Miami to Boston."

The three adults stood as one. Valefor smiled ferally.

"Brockton Bay, here we come."

 

[Ziel]

Calvatia Gigantea


Amanita Margatroid has uncovered a mystery: Why don't her parents live together?

And more importantly, how is she going to fix it?

XXX


1

The mansion standing alone in the sunflower field was decaying. It was Victorian, all ornate wood working and traceries, but the paint was sun-faded and peeling, and vines had twined up most of the exterior and burrowed inward. The entrance, once a looming set of double doors, was now open, one off its hinges entirely, the other propped open with a crate.

The blonde woman sitting on the crate was flipping her way through a catalog of plant samples, circling some with a pen, marking others out, humming idly all the while.

Further in, down a hallway crowded with potted plants, voices carried from the mansion's kitchen, weaving between the canopy of vines hanging from the ceiling.

"Ah, where was I?"

A tow-headed little girl fidgeted in her seat, thinking for a moment. "You were telling me about Makai."

"More tea?" the other asked.

"No thanks, Miss Yuuka. Mother's making dinner in a little while."

Yuuka shrugged, rolling the plaid shoulders of her blouse. "More for me." She topped up her teacup and returned to the table. It was small, more suited for a farmhouse than a mansion, but it alone seemed in place among the jungle of plants filling the house.

"We really ought to get you a day trip back there," she mused, taking a sip of her tea.

The girl set down her empty cup, glanced longingly at the plate of cookies, and then looked back at Yuuka. "Why?"

Yuuka's red eyes lit up. "Your mother never told you? Why, Amanita, how're you ever supposed to meet your grandmother?" She grinned at her guest. "Really now. Didn't even tell you that Granny Shinki is the queen of Makai?"

Amanita stiffened in her seat. "Queen?"

"And Goddess! She- do have a cookie, dear. Otherwise Elly eats them all. She rules the entire realm."

Yuuka nudged the cookies a little closer to Amanita. After a moment's hesitation, the girl reached out and took one.

"I can understand not having met her," Yuuka continued. "But not even knowing about her? They didn't have that much bad blood between them."

Amanita lowered her cookie half-eaten. She was frowning now, her blue eyes narrowed. "My mother doesn't get along with her mom either? And… Mama never sees her family."

"That's a bit different," Yuuka said. "Marisa's family are human. Her parents are quite old at this point, and they never did see eye-to-eye on her becoming a youkai."

"It just..." Amanita's frown deepened. "It just feels like my whole family… doesn't have a family?" She phrased it as a question, sounding out the thought as she said it. "My parents don't see their parents, and…" She trailed off, fidgeting with the cookie.

"Yes?" Yuuka said, motioning with a hand.

"Why doesn't my mother live with Mama?"

Yuuka's reply was cut off in a deep bass chime. A grandfather clock in the mansion's foyer was gonging, marking the hour with a sound loud enough to send splinters of rotten wood showering from its frame.

The two waited until it fell silent, and then Yuuka sighed. "It's time for you to be going."

"But-" Amanita got up, but stayed where she was. "Do you know why?"

"Walk with me."

Yuuka started off without waiting for a reply. Amanita had to scurry after her, brushing crumbs off her sundress as she ran.

They exited the manor. The blonde woman at the door came to attention as Yuuka passed, and waved goodbye to Amanita.

"Bye, Elly!" Amanita called over her shoulder.

They crossed into the sunflower field. The stalks were thick and tall, high enough to feel more like a forest than a field, and the air heavy with their scent. Amanita had to run to catch up to Yuuka.

"I've asked my mother before, but she never answered," she gasped. Ahead, Yuuka heard her and turned. The run had been a bit too much- Amanita was already breathless.

"Come here." Yuuka scooped her up like a kitten and began carrying her.

Amanita slowly caught her breath as Yuuka wove through the flowers. It was a few minutes before she could ask the question again. Yuuka ignored her.

The stalks parted ahead, and they came to the boundary of the field. The flowers gave way to forest, looking strange and out of place beside the orange and reds of the autumn leaves. Yuuka's field was eternally summer. Amanita didn't know how she managed it, and couldn't imagine the level of power to do such a thing, but she appreciated it. The flowers were lovely and vibrant, and visiting was always a treat.

Except for today. Now her insides were churning, and the ache in her chest was only partially from the running.

Yuuka set her down, but Amanita turned and caught at her host's dress. "Miss Yuuka, please."

But Yuuka shook her head. Her ever-present smile had faded. "That's a question for your parents. I have an idea, but the specifics aren't known to me." She sighed. "Here I was all set to plan a girl's weekend to Makai, and we ended up talking about this."

Amanita hung her head. "Sorry."

A calloused hand tousled her hair. "Not your fault, brat. You needed to find out sooner or later. Now- you have your little friend to lead you home, correct?"

Amanita nodded. She stuck two fingers in her mouth and whistled loudly. Almost at once, the ground shook and a squat little form burst out of the dirt.

The creature was about four feet tall, stocky, its body the color of pale mold, but the cap atop its head was a brilliant, speckled red. It was a walking mushroom.

It scooped Amanita up without fanfare and sat her atop its cap. She sunk into the soft flesh slightly, but balanced easily on her mount.

"And your hat?" Yuuka added.

Amanita tugged the sunhat from its spot on her back to her head, forcing her curls under it. She smiled weakly from beneath the wide brim. "Thank you for the tea and cookies, Miss Yuuka."

Yuuka shrugged. "You know where I live. Come see me again."

With a nudge, Amanita directed the mushroom man to start walking. "Bye."

"There are seeds in your pocket," Yuuka called after her. "Plant them in your garden. The mushrooms should like them."

Amanita twisted round to give her thanks, but Yuuka was already gone, vanished into her fields like a wraith.

She sighed and patted her familiar's cap. "Cmon, let's go home."


XXX


Yuuka's current location wasn't terribly far from the Forest of Magic. The sunflower fields tended to slide around Gensokyo when Amanita wasn't paying attention, and it had become one of her favorite activities every spring to seek out the little oasis of color to meet Yuuka.

It was the first time Yuuka had actively refused to talk about a subject with her though. There had been previous occasions where she'd changed the subject or demurred, but she'd never stopped a conversation dead.

Amanita crossed her legs and cradled her chin in her hands. It would be faster and easier to get home if she could fly, but it was beyond her. Too much exertion.

Ostoyae made up for it though. The mushroom man started running as soon as they entered the forest, and did not slow. She jiggled up and down on his head, but it was like riding on a very spongy horse. His crown absorbed most of the motion. He was tireless, just smart enough that she only had to prod him a bit to get him going, and he'd handle the rest.

And that left her with nothing to do but sit and think while he ran.

Her parents not living together wasn't a new thing. They'd lived apart as long as she could remember, each in a little cottage in the Forest of Magic. Every week, Amanita would go to live at a different parent's house. Mama and Mother spent time together once in a while, and they'd gone on trips as a family, but they didn't live together.

And… she hadn't really thought it was odd until she started school. Most of the human children in class had moms and dads who lived together- if they were both alive, and that was normal. But her parents were both youkai, so she'd just accepted it as something that came with the territory.

Reiko's moms didn't live together, and that made sense. Reiko's one mom was the shrine maiden, and her other mom was Yukari, and of course a youkai wasn't going to live at the Hakurei shrine.

But… the miko was a human, and Yukari was a youkai. So that wasn't quite the same.

And didn't the Moriya temple have a pair of goddesses that lived together?

She frowned deeper and deeper.

Any way you sliced it, her family wasn't normal.

Ostoyae crossed the unseen border that marked Amanita's range. She relaxed a little as the network of fungal growth beneath the ground touched her mind. The roots covered a nearly two mile circle around her mother's cottage, and they grew a little each day. In a few years, it would be large enough to connect with the identical root system beneath Mama's house, and it would be like being with both of them at once.

It was her version of Yuuka's field. Within its range, she was stronger, not so weak, and most of the spells she'd made were actually possible. But more than that… she was home.

A home.

Her frown returned.

Another exception occurred to her. Two homes. Didn't one of the girls in her class have two homes? And… yes. She did.

That girl's parents were divorced.

Amanita sat up straight, suddenly nauseous in a way that had nothing to do with how Ostoyae was jouncing through a rocky section of forest.

She swallowed, then reached down and prodded his cap. "Faster. Go faster."

Ostoyae clapped the knotty growths that were his hands together; his version of 'yes,' and then sped up. The trees raced by around them, and Amanita ducked down, lowering herself so he could go even faster.

In a matter of moments, the treeline broke around them, and Ostoyae came skidding into the neat clearing that surrounded her mother's house. A few dolls were trundling about doing yard work, but most had gone back inside for the day.

Amanita banished Ostoyae mid-step. He dropped seamlessly into the ground, rejoining with the main body of fungus, and she touched down running, moving fast enough that she nearly flipped over the neat stones of the front walk.

She went pattering up the walk, her heart thudding painfully from the sudden exertion, and then flung open the front door.

"Mum!"

Silence.

The house was quiet. Not fully quiet- it never was; there were always dolls moving about doing little tasks for Mum, but there was no comforting voice, no sound of footsteps.

Amanita hovered on the doorstep for a moment, listening as hard as she could. Perhaps her mother had simply been napping or busy or- or something, and-

A rustle. A Shanghai doll sitting on the sewing table was waving to her. It held up a piece of paper.

Amanita snatched it away, and the doll immediately stopped moving. The magic animating it had been for that purpose only. Mum liked those kinds of things when she wasn't around. Because she definitely wasn't around.

She read quickly. Frowned. Read it again, more slowly.


Amanita,

I've been called away on urgent business. I hate leaving you like this, but it was a matter of gravest importance and could not wait. The shrine maiden, your mother, myself, and several others will be occupied with this for several days at the minimum.

Please understand that I do this only because all of Gensokyo is at stake, and Yakumo-san wasn't able to spare the time to fetch you.

There is food in the icebox if you want supper, but I want you to go to Uncle Rinnosuke's until I am back. It's not safe for you to be home alone for that long. I was able to send word to him with one of the dolls, so he should be coming to fetch you. Do not go looking for him on your own.

There are an Orleans and a Hourai on your bed. Touch their foreheads to activate them. They have standing orders to protect you.

Stay safe until I return,

Mum


The page dropped from numb fingers to slide under the table.

Amanita slowly pushed her hat off and let it fall as well.

The only thing that made its way past the mind-numbing panic was the foulest word she knew.

"Fudge!"


XXX


Couldn't think of a title, so I ended up looking up mushroom names for ideas. Enter Calvatia Gigantea, or literally- The Gigantic Puffball.

And instantly, I had not only a title, but also a descriptor for Amanita.

Inspiration for this story was... not really sure on what the specific moment of generation was, but the general tone of light-hearted antics and dealing with the daughter of a Malice relationship came largely from 'The Dollmaker's Daughter.' Go read it, because it's hella adorbs.

 

[Ziel]

Calvatia Gigantea

2

Amanita paced back and forth through her garden, grumbling down the rows. Fear had given way to frustration after an hour or so of huddling in bed, wishing for her mother to come home so she could have some answers.

And now she was downright grumpy. What were the odds? That both her parents would just happen to vanish the moment she really needed them, spirited off by Yukari to parts unknown for who knew how long.

"This- stinks!" she yelled, kicking at a table. The trestle rattled, the pots shaking, but it mostly just hurt her foot. Amanita hissed, bouncing on one foot as she nursed her injured toes.

Stupid Yukari.

Amanita returned to her pacing, now limping a little.

The basement of her mother's cottage was Amanita's. She'd colonized it with mushrooms by the time she was six, and the only real changes over the years had been the increasing complexity and organization as Mum trusted her with more gardening equipment.

It was dim and dank, and very musty with all her growing fungi, but it was her space, and it was safe.

Normally.

Now it felt hollow, because she wasn't just home alone, but home alone in a house that was feeling increasingly alien.

Why didn't her parents live together? Why had they never talked to her about it?

She was eleven, old enough that they didn't have to pull their punches. It was like when she was a kid and they told her tall tales about a magic German elf that delivered presents at the holidays, when it was clearly just Yukari being festive.

She huffed.

Not even the endless trays of rotting, loamy wood and pale mushrooms could interest her at the moment. Mushrooms were only fun if she had someone to show them. Like how Mum always showed her her newest dolls, or Mama always had a new potion to try out.

Amanita grumbled some more, but she was losing steam. She just didn't have the endurance to stay angry for long, and she was getting hungry. It would normally have been dinner time.

After a long moment of weighing continued anger against food, food won out.

She stomped upstairs and into the kitchen. True to her word, Mum had left a couple covered dishes in the ice box, each cover stamped with a green rune of Stasis to keep them fresh.

Amanita set her place at the table and dug in.

The sun was beginning to go down outside, turning the treetops orange. Rinnosuke should have shown up by now.

And… she took a bite, frowning, chewing over the thought.

She didn't want him to show up.

Uncle Rinnosuke was nice, and basically Mama's older brother, but she didn't want to see him right now. He knew her parents, but he also wouldn't answer any of her questions about them. He was one of those people who didn't like to tell kids anything interesting.

It would be off to bed as soon as they got to the shop, and then she'd never find out. It would just be a couple days of helping him clean and dust, all the while agonizing over her moms.

She finished her food and pushed the plates away, staring into space.

Rinnosuke would be no help.

...who would?

Yuuka normally, but that ship had already sailed. Who else did she know? Her parents both had friends. The shrine maiden was one, but she was gone, and so was Yukari, who knew everything that happened in Gensokyo.

Mama played cards against some of the other forest-dwellers sometimes. But Amanita didn't know where the Phoenix-woman lived, and the bamboo forest was dangerous (and scary) at night.

Her mother… who were her mother's friends? It seemed like Mum disapproved of everyone interesting. Even visiting Yuuka every year had been a bitter argument, and Mum still gave Yuuka the stink-eye whenever she thought Amanita wasn't looking.

But Mum did know other magicians. The rainbow-haired lady who lived in the boat temple. And Patchouli.

Amanita stood up from the table.

Patchouli was not only her mother's friend, but they both did magic stuff together. Amanita had only met her a handful of times; the mansion was pretty far away, and Lady Scarlet was another person who Mum didn't approve of. But even Mama knew Patchouli, albeit for reasons that Amanita wasn't privy to, and that always made Mum embarrassed.

That settled it.

She did the dishes and snuffed all the lights in the cottage before locking the door. Shanghai and Orleans, she left behind. They'd just try to stop her from going.

The sun had fallen far enough behind the trees now that she no longer needed her hat, so she hung it from its cord around her neck and called Ostoyae.

The mushroom man resurfaced at once. He looked a little different every time she called him, but it was just external details. He came from the same giant fungal network, and that was what mattered.

He lifted her into place, and she pointed into the forest. "Onward, my trusty steed!"


XXX



The forest at night was darker than she'd imagined it. Even with her parents along, there hadn't been many nighttime trips through the woods.

The trees were thick, branches snarled together into a canopy that blocked out the stars. Ostoyae had slowed, having to pick his way over roots and around drop-offs. Amanita huddled atop his head, squinting into darkness that not even her eyes could penetrate. Neither of her parents were nocturnal youkai, and only the scatterings of moonlight that made it through the canopy let her see at all.

It was getting chilly. Not just the wind and the air, but the way the forest felt. She was shivering, hands in her armpits for warmth, and it was getting worse. Ostoyae sounded like a bull galumphing through the woods, and she kept glimpsing little fairy lights far off in the trees, almost like glowing eyes. Watching them?

Something was watching them, she knew that.

The Scarlet Devil Mansion was roughly north-east from the cottage. Once she made it through the forest, she'd be at the lake. It would be a pain in the neck to have to walk around it, but at least she'd be able to see the mansion once she got out there.

Ostoyae stepped around a thicket of brambles, and Amanita ducked her head to avoid clutching branches in her hair.

Her Mama gathered mushrooms out here, and Amanita did too, but she'd never been allowed on any hunts after dark.

She was beginning to understand why. The forest had presence like it was one giant youkai. She felt tiny, nothing more than a seedling beside a redwood. It was… it was like what she imagined humans felt like around youkai. Weak and feeble and clumsy. Like prey.

She dipped to get by a hanging vine, and-

Something split the air over her head. Branches cracked behind her, and something went crashing into the underbrush. Amanita shrieked with surprise, nearly toppling off Ostoyae. The mushroom man spun, gnarled fists raised like a boxer.

The thing in the underbrush straightened, coming clearly into view.

A youkai. Some kind of feline, with sharp, tufted ears.

"Hey there, little girl," the youkai called. "What are you? You smell tasty."

Amanita swallowed. The cat was older than her, built like a teenage human. It didn't mean as much to a youkai, but size and maturity generally lined up with strength. The cat was older and stronger; a forest native, which meant she had plenty of experience hunting down food.

Normally, this would be the time for a danmaku battle. Except Amanita didn't have the magical reserves for it outside of her field. Win or lose, she'd be too exhausted to do anything after a fight.

"Aww, cmon, don't be shy," the cat said. She was padding slowly toward Amanita, tail swishing behind her, eyes narrowed.

"I'm a poison mushroom!" Amanita yelled. "Eat me and die."

The cat actually stopped. She examined Amanita, lips pursed, head tilted. "You smell like a magician."

Amanita shook her head furiously. "Mushroom youkai. I'm a zillion types of toadstool spirit all mixed together. Poisonous enough that I have tea-parties with Medicine Melancholy."

"Liar." The cat grinned at her. "You can't lie worth a damn, magical girl."

Amanita opened her mouth to say something else when the cat lunged. She came in, claws out, leaping through the air. Ostoyae swung at her, but the cat wove around his clumsy haymakers with ease. She was actually laughing at him.

"Too slow! Too slow!"

The cat lashed out and sliced one of Ostoyae's arms off. He staggered, and Amanita clutched at his cap to keep from falling.

"Gotcha!" A hand wrapped around her wrist, and Amanita screamed.

The cat had hold of her in a grip easily stronger than anything Ostoyae could muster, and was pulling her away.

"Get off!" Amanita yelled. All thoughts of what her parents had told her to do in a fight were gone, lost in her panic. She inhaled, her narrow chest swelling, and blew a cloud of spores straight in the cat's face.

The youkai laughed for a moment, then blinked. And then she released Amanita altogether to fall back, yowling and clutching her eyes. "Burns! Ahhggrrh! Dammit, you little brat!"

"Run!" Amanita slapped Ostoyae's cap, and he took off, fast enough that she didn't have time to do more than hang on.

Behind them, there was a crash and a furious shriek as the cat took up the chase.

Ostoyae was running at top speed, but Amanita had control this time. He was a mindless mushroom- it was effortless for her to reach out and simply take control.

She had to. Her heart was in her throat, and the cat sounded like she was gaining. Amanita forced Ostoyae faster and faster, using her control to send him careening through the forest.

There were other noises now, crashing in the brush to the sides as other youkai took up the pursuit. Something reared up in front of them, only for Ostoyae to plant both feet in its face and roll right over top of it.

They kept going. There was a faint howl behind them as the cat ran into whatever the other youkai was. The sounds of squabbling faded into the distance as Ostoyae ate up ground.

Amanita was gasping atop his back, short of breath from fear even as he did all the work. It was his purpose; to make up for her short-comings. He was earning his keep more than ever. Little by little, the other youkai fell away for easier prey, but Ostoyae went relentlessly onward, leaving them far behind.

She wasn't sure how long they ran. The minutes blended together, all endless trees and dark shadows under the moonlight, broken only by new youkai surfacing to swipe and claw at them. Ostoyae lost his other arm, and- in a moment that left Amanita shrieking like a banshee, had the entire plane of fungal tissue that formed his face cleaved off by an insectile youkai with huge, scything claws.

They ran. And ran. And ran.

And then the trees broke around them, and Ostoyae skidded to a stop on the line where dirt met sand.

They'd made it to the lake.

Amanita took a deep, shuddering breath and wiped her face on her sleeves.

Why had she thought this was a good idea? Hadn't her parents warned her how dangerous the forest was at night? She was stuck now. There was no way to get home without going through the forest, so the only way to go was onward.

Ostoyae began plodding along the shore. Amanita sat on his cap, wrapped herself in her arms, buried her chin in her knees, and shivered. Her hair was knotted, tangled around a dozen twigs and leaves, but she couldn't bring herself to fix it.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

All because she hadn't wanted to go to Uncle Rinnosuke's. Where it was safe and warm and a little boring, but still safe. He'd be tucking her in right now, and if she was lucky, he'd dig out an outsider book to read from before she fell asleep.

Ostoyae climbed over a mound of driftwood, and Amanita had to break her reverie to clutch his head.

She forced herself to take stock of her surroundings.

The lake was to her right, wide enough and foggy enough that she couldn't see the far shore. Couldn't see more than a hundred meters, really. There were scatterings of fairy lights in the mist, but they didn't have the same malevolent feel that they had in the forest. Far off, she could even hear the faint sound of splashing water and voices as the lake youkai played together in the mists.

The Scarlet Devil Mansion would be at the north side of the lake. She'd approached the lake from the west. So she just needed to keep walking clockwise to get there.

Eventually.

Even if the lake shore was not so much empty as deserted, and the murky waters really not that much different than the dark woods in terms of what they could be hiding.

She nudged Ostoyae up to a run again. He was slower now, without his arms to build momentum, and his steps were a little unsteady. Tireless, he may be, but he was just a mushroom.

Amanita stayed vigilant as Ostoyae ran. The beach was better than the forest in that regard. She had a clear thirty meters on every side, which meant no one could-

Someone dropped out of the sky in front of her.

Amanita screamed. Ostoyae screeched to a halt, his lumpy feet digging up furrows in the sand.

The newcomer hovered a few inches off the ground, her arms folded.

"Oi oi, who's this?"

It was a fairy. An odd fairy. Taller than normal, the teal-haired girl was nearly Amanita's height, with delicate wings like ice spun across glass dangling from her shoulders.

"Wotcha doin on my beach, you..." the fairy paused, squinting at them. "Mushroom-stack?"

"I was just walking and minding my own business," Amanita said carefully. "Also, I'm extremely poisonous, so you can't eat me."

The fairy snorted. "Eatcha? Forget it. I'm 'ere for danmaku."
Amanita went very still. This might actually be worse than the cat youkai. Danmaku imposed bargains, but failing to rise to a battle would be an invitation for the fairy to do her worst. It was like giving the fairy an excuse to do whatever she wanted.

"T-terms?"

"If oi win, you gotta be my minion!" The fairy nodded at this, like it made perfect sense.

"And if I win, you let me go?"

"Sure sure, whatever."

"Unharmed, from you and any of your friends."

The fairy rolled her eyes. "Oi said whatever!"

Okay. She just had to win a danmaku fight with no spellcards or magic. And if she lost, she'd be magically obligated to be this weird fairy's minion. Whatever that entailed.

Amanita glanced over her shoulder and paled. There were a few other fairies hovering behind her, watching the proceedings. No running that way. And they could fly. Which meant they'd catch her before she made it into the forest.

What would her mother do? Master Spark them. Not an option.

How about her Mum? She'd have blasted everyone with dolls already. Also not an option.

"Well?" the fairy said. She'd uncrossed her arms, and was already beginning to flex her wings in preparation for the fight.

Amanita fished in her pockets. Maybe she had a spellcard left over in a pocket somewhere? Or a mushroom she could harness into a weapon.

Her fingers closed around something and she withdrew it triumphantly.

A packet of seeds.

Hope died in her chest with a cold, sinking sensation.

"Give ya to the count of 'five' and Imma just gonna wop you into the lake," the fairy interjected. "Now quit playin round with that junk."

Paper crackled as she curled her fist around the seeds. Useless. They were Yuuka's plants. She had no control over them. They were-

Yuuka's.

What would Yuuka do?

She'd make it interesting, because that was what she enjoyed. Didn't matter if she won or lost as long as it was intriguing.

"How about a change?" Amanita cried. "A- uh- not danmaku, but uh-" She searched desperately for inspiration. "Jan-ken-pon!"

The fairy gave her a flat look. "You kiddin, mushroom-stack?" A smirk bloomed on her lips turning her childish face suddenly feral. "You're dealin with Kyusei, twelve-time jan-ken champion of all the fairies."

Amanita tried to muster her mother's devil-may-care smile. It didn't quite come out, but she nodded all the same. "Same terms."

"One game," Kyusei added. "Oh- and nunna that addin moves nonsense. It's Jan-ken-pon, not Jan-ken-laser beam like half these goons think."

One of the fairies hovering in the background shifted guiltily at that.

Amanita held out her fist. "On three?"

Kyusei nodded.

Together, they both yelled "Jan! Ken! Pon!"

Amanita didn't think. She threw rock simply because she was too stiff with nerves to open her hand.

The fairy had thrown paper.

"One to me," she said, grinning.

"Don't get carried away," Amanita said. No big deal. She'd just wagered her future on a children's game. How was she supposed to explain that to her parents?

Fists out.

"Jan! Ken! Pon!"

Amanita threw scissors.

Kyusei threw paper. She scowled at Amanita. "Beginner's luck."

"Final round."

They threw. Amanita felt like she was moving in slow motion.

Possibilities raced through her head. Was the Kyusei dumb enough to throw paper a third time? Fairies were dumb. She'd done it twice. But what if that was a trick?

Her fingers twitched through the choices.

And then-

Scissors.

She looked down slowly.

The fairy had thrown rock.

Oh.

Her life was over.

All because she'd wanted to know about her parents. The first time she'd ever strayed out of bounds and this was where it had left her.

Amanita looked numbly between her hand and the Kyusei's, willing it to change.

"Oi win!" Kyusei crowed, raising her hands to the sky. "Oi'm the strongest!" After a moment basking in the scattered applause of the other fairies, she let her arms drop and turned to Amanita. "Deal's a deal. You get to be a minion now."
Her life was over and she was never going home.

Amanita sniffled.

They'd been a long time coming, just brimming under the surface after the forest, but this was just too much. Losing her future over a dumb game.

She burst into tears.

There was a moment of stillness, broken by her muffled sobbing, as all the fairies stared at her.

"Quit blubbin," Kyusei snapped. "'s really weird." She reached out and hooked her arms under Amanita's shoulders. It took only a bit of flight for her to lift Amanita off Ostoyae's head and drop her into the sand.

Amanita curled into a ball, whimpering, her face sand-caked where it was wet.

"Seriously, quit it," the fairy repeated, sounding uncomfortable. Then she grabbed hold of Ostoyae's cap and lifted off.

Amanita blinked, then gaped at her. "What are you doing?"

Kyusei hovered a few feet off the ground, Ostoyae wiggling like a giant eel in her grip. "Don't try to play tricks on me, mushroom-girl. Oi know you're like one of them kogasas. The girl part is fake- the real you is the mushroom bits!"

And with that, she turned in the air and scooted off over the lake, Ostoyae dangling just above the water. The other fairies zoomed after her, all beginning to talk and laugh at the events.

Amanita stared after them.

Fairies really were dumb.

Slowly, she got to her feet and began trudging along the shore toward the SDM. She could see the lights now, far off in the distance, but still- she could see them.

And if anyone else tried to jump her tonight, she was going to curl into a ball and just let them try and eat her.

===

Yes, that's the bizarro lovechild of Cirno and Daiyousei. We'll be seeing more characters who aren't weirdo lesbian love babies next chapter.

And for the record- this story is unbetaed, so I'm extremely open to any and all constructive criticism. It's a more casual project for me, so I forewent a beta, but that doesn't mean I'm not concerned with quality. Let me know if anything doesn't make sense or if there are any errors.

<3

 

[Ziel]

Burnout

(content warning: self injury)


Bethany sat by the kitchen sink, stockinged heels rocking against the cabinets. The cigarette in her hand burned down, and she tapped the ash into the drain before stubbing it out entirely on a plate. She pulled another- the last in the pack.

The butt and the empty wrapper got tossed into the wastebin on the far end of the kitchen. A half-dozen other butts already littered the floor around it, and she was inordinately pleased when this one actually went in.

Her impromptu victory cheer broke off when she tried to raise her hands in glory and banged one on a top cabinet. Cheering became swearing, and she was still grumbling when she pressed the final cig to her lips.

Unfiltered. She hated the way her fingers were shaking as she lifted them to touch the tip of the stick. Thumb and index, like she was snuffing a candle, only this time the cigarette tip flared cherry red, and she drew back fingers trailing wisps of smoke.

The first breath turned a full eighth of the cig to ash. She dragged deep, black heat filling her lungs, head swimming slightly.

Exhaling slowly, lips pursed like she was blowing a kiss, the plume of smoke sent out the open window behind the sink. She let it off until she was sighing, the last streamers coming out between bared teeth like dragon's breath.

Faintly, she heard the sound of keys before the lock scraped and the apartment door opened. Bethany turned to look.

"Put that out, please? It's not good for the kids."

Bethany directed a flat look at Lilith. The dark-skinned woman was already unbuttoning her blouse. The small swarm of imps and other minor demons that cavorted constantly around her ankles began surging, all of them chattering in their shrill child's voices.

"Mum!" "Me!" "Mama!" "Momomomomom!"

Lilith groped for a kitchen chair, hands waving in the right direction until one of the imps took the hint and looked directly at the table. Lilith smiled and found the chair at once.

"Thank you, Pazu."

She sat and pulled Pazu into her lap. Bethany looked away as Lilith finished opening her shirt, raising the imp to her breast.

"Bethany, please?" She sounded tired. Bethany couldn't blame her. They'd only been back for twelve seconds and she was already tired of the little goblins.

"Yeah." Her voice came out hoarse, lungs still full of smoke, her tongue thick from disuse.

"Are you alright?" Lilith asked.

"Didn't sleep." Bethany shifted on the counter so she could see Lilith again. "I dropped off for like an hour, but the dreams got me back up."

The witch had another incubus suckling from her now, holding both demons with one hand, tapping at her phone with the other. Bethany wondered for a moment how Lilith could see it, before she noticed the glittering eyes poking out of Lilith's mane of hair – a succubus was perched on her shoulder so that Lilith could use the demon's vision.

Bethany took a final drag of her cigarette. There was barely a third left anyway. She plucked it from her lips and held out her arm. Rings and spirals of cigarette burns drew lines there, like marks on a map.

She picked a spot.

Pressed down.

She hissed, biting her lip, toes curling in her socks. The cig wavered, but she didn't pull it away from her skin. The pain was flaring, low at first, growing worse as the heat touched her. She twisted the butt, grinding ash into the wound, and her hiss became a low groan. Time melted away for precious instants, lost in the starburst of heat blooming in her arm, her head, her belly.

Finally, the fire died away, and she let the butt fall into the sink before sliding off the counter. She was panting, her face hot. Lilith was looking at her- sort of. Two or three of the demons had turned to look, and Lilith's dark glasses were faced in her direction as well.

Bethany found herself suddenly, bizarrely embarrassed. She was sharing a kitchen with a woman breast-feeding two little antichrists, and she was the one getting weirded out.

"Thank you," Lilith said, smiling gently. She motioned to one of the other kitchen chairs.

Bethany took it.

"What's the situation?"

Lilith exchanged the current crop of imps for another set, letting them settle before replying. "Quiet. Eve should be back soon. We split up around Liberty Street, and she took the north side. I didn't see anything more than a few wayward cherubs, and I sent a couple demons to trail those."

"None of them?"

Lilith shook her head. "No. They're here though. Eve thought she saw Samson this morning, but it was during rush hour and she lost him in the crowds."

Bethany exhaled slowly, already missing her smokes. "Fucking Samson." Just thinking about him made her tired. Athletic bastard had always been a font of energy, and he'd only gotten worse since Ascending.

She rubbed her eyes. "No one else?"

Lilith was eyeing her again. "How much sleep have you had this week?"

Four hours, split up over seven days, not counting the split seconds where she kept dropping off, only to jerk awake again.

"Enough."

"Liar." Lilith's smile softened a bit more. "Jacob and Esau should be home in a day or two. You'll be okay then, right?"

Bethany gave her a jerky nod. It was the only way she could find sleep anymore, pressed between the two brothers, safe in their arms. They were her brothers as well, but that had always seemed so much lesser than their link as twins.

Another pair of incubi took their place with Lilith. The woman rubbed her free hand through her hair and sighed. "I don't like being split up like this either. Feels like we're incomplete."

"Yeah." Bethany found herself mimicking Lilith's gesture. Her hair felt greasy and smelt smoky. In the bad way. In the she hadn't bathed since her boys left kind of way. "Where's Az now?"

"South. Didn't you see the group text?" Lilith tapped the back of her phone. "He thought Eden had taken a piece of Mom down country to try and establish a new base."

"Ah." He had said something about that, hadn't he? Hard to remember when most of her texts were read half-buried in blankets, hovering on the border between insomnia and night-terrors. "Just Eden?"

"He-" Lilith's response was cut off in the sound of the front door opening. They both stiffened.

"I'm home!" Eve's voice was light and melodious, floating through the wall between them. Her heavy footsteps marked her progress through the living room before she rounded the corner into the kitchen.

"Evie," Lilith said, relaxing into her chair. "Glad to see you're safe." A note of accusation entered her voice. "You didn't text me back."

Eve stopped in her tracks, blinking owlishly behind her heavy mascara. Bethany waved to her. There was something funny in the way she lit up a room, despite wearing all black, combat boots, with a half-dozen raven feathers plaited into her hair.

"I… You texted?" Eve said. She pulled her phone from her pocket. "Ohh… So you did." She shrugged, rolling the shoulders of her bomber jacket. "I was a little distracted."

Bethany forced herself to sit up a little bit straighter. "You found them?"

"Yes and no." Eve leaned against the wall as she talked. "I was distracted because there's this band that's going to play down on 6th tonight, and I actually know the lead singer. Siren is-"

Lilith cleared her throat loudly, and Eve flushed, her pale cheeks glowing.

"I was gonna say she's single and satanic, but that's something for later. But I did pick up their trail." Eve tugged one of the feathers in her hair. "Some of my familiars spotted a certain bald-headed fuck disappearing into an abandoned factory complex over by the river."

"Judas," Lilith hissed.

"It's too big to search alone," Eve continued. "Some kind of huge shipping operation that was spread out over a couple blocks. But I wasn't noticed. Which means we can strike when ready."

The surge of heat in her chest and the grin growing on Bethany's face for once had little to do with fire. "If Eden's gone, and Lazarus is out west, then we'll outnumber them once the twins get back."

Across the table, Lilith's children were smiling, their red eyes all far off. "Finally," Lilith breathed. "The tide will turn."


XXX



The impromptu team meeting broke apart after that. Any further planning could wait until Jacob and Esau returned, and there was still more reconnaissance to be done. Lilith finished nursing her brood and announced that it was dinner time for the adults in the room.

Bethany staggered out of her chair and over to the fridge. Eve was working around her, opening cabinets and cupboards to take stock of what they had, moving with enough energy to leave Bethany feeling like she was in slow-motion.

"Rice. Spices. More spices. Bread is- no that's gone bad." Eve pitched it over her shoulder and into the trash without even looking. "Canned peaches. Canned yams. Baby food?"

"It was an experiment," Lilith supplied.

"Right." Eve returned to looking.

Bethany finally managed to tug open the fridge. The interior wasn't reassuring. She hadn't been paying attention to eating in the last couple days- burning gave enough energy to sustain herself, and she never felt hungry when she couldn't sleep.

So she hadn't been giving any mind to the state of their fridge. There was takeout from before the twins had left a week ago, something thick and gelatinous in a jar that reminded her unpleasantly of something Mom had horked out, and an entire bowl full of individual condiment packets. Any actual food was few and far between. The days where they'd eat actual trash were long behind them.

And… Oh fuck.

"We're out of milk." Bethany spoke with the slow, heavy tones of the damned.

Behind her, her sisters both stopped.

"What's the rule, Beth?" Eve said.

Beth sighed, pressing her forehead against the cool metal of the freezer door. "When I find that something is out, it's my responsibility to buy more. Thus be-eth the first of all our apartment rules."

It was also the only rule they could collectively agree on. The other dictums that they'd picked to reduce the odds of killing each other over stupid roommate stuff cycled in both number and topic. The only ones Beth really cared about were: "Don't touch my cigarettes" and "Hot water must be divided evenly."

She groaned slowly, letting her head slide down the door a bit. Buying milk meant leaving the apartment, and that meant walking to the store. She wanted Jacob and Esau back so she could get some goddamn sleep already. Errands shouldn't be this much effort.

Eve clumped over and patted her shoulder. "Cmon. I'll drive you."


XXX


Of all the vehicles they'd stolen, borrowed, and appropriated during their crusade against the other half of the family, Eve's hearse was in Bethany's top five favorites. The clunky old car was just so gauche with the way Eve had painted various signs and symbols all over the exterior, most of them relating to death, and a few just being borderline obscene art of pretty girls.

Bethany took shotgun, sinking gratefully into the seat with a huff. Their apartment was only two stories up, and she'd gotten winded just taking the steps down. Sleeplessness fucking sucked.

She patted her breast pocket for a smoke, only to remember that she'd just emptied the pack. A quick check of her other pockets returned nothing but a couple hair ties. She sighed and started putting her hair up as Eve got in.

Twintails were kind of a kiddy hairstyle, but they made her feel better. Mom had used to put her hair up like this before everything went to shit. Having them now made her feel just a tiny bit more put together, like she wasn't a tottering, insomniac zombie held together by tar and self-injury.

Eve started the car and shifted it into gear. The speed they left the parking garage at was one Bethany doubted hearses had ever- or were even supposed to achieve, but it ate up the street with pleasing ease.

"Where's the store again?" Eve murmured. She glanced over, and Eve caught a glimpse of the true Eve in the rearview, all coal black skin and infernal eyes, horns just missing digging furrows in the roof.

Bethany blinked and had to think for a moment. "Down… there? It's a cornerstore by the…" What was it? She hadn't left the apartment in days. Where the fuck did they even live? "Subway. You know which one I mean?"

Eve did. She cut through two lanes of traffic to make the turn. Bethany clutched the oh-shit-handle, heart thumping unpleasantly as Eve somehow managed to get the hearse to fishtail. They straightened out and merged into the flow of traffic.

From there, it was only a few minutes of staring blankly out the window, not really seeing anything, with Eve humming tunelessly in the background, before they arrived. Eve pulled into the parking lot, passing the Subway and pulling in to the minimart that served this area of town.

They came to a halt- Eve parked across two spaces to get the hearse to actually fit. "Just wave if you need anything." And then she slid her chair back and put her boots up on the dash, opening a dog-eared tome she'd left stowed in the console.

"You're a peach," Bethany drawled. She shoved her door open and dragged herself out of the car.

Two dozen plodding steps had her entering through the automatic doors into air-conditioning and muzak. The clerk, a strawberry-faced boy in an apron, raised a hand in greeting. Bethany managed a jerky head-nod in reply.

She turned down an aisle at random, the shopping list Lilith had written in her hand. Picking out the items took longer than it should have. She was moving glacially slow, and the little bit of charge she'd gotten from burning was only just propping her up. The labels on all the food kept blurring together, and she was losing her train of thought in between items on the list.

She wasn't really sure how long it took her to stagger through the rows, returning once to grab a basket, but it carried all the dreamlike slowness of the nightmares she was trying to avoid in the first place.

Being able to dump the food onto the counter and watch the clerk begin to ring them up was almost exhilarating. Bethany sagged and let the countertop hold her up, dropping a little lower with each boop of the scanner.

"Will that be all?"

Bethany jerked her head up. "Wha- yeah. Wait- no." She pointed shakily, ignoring the way he looked at her pockmarked skin. "Carton of the- can't read it. The blue ones."

The clerk stepped to the cigarette case and lifted one of the cartons in answer.

"Yeah, that one."

There was a faint crashing noise from outside, and the sound of breaking glass. They both turned to look. There was nothing that could be seen through the doors.

"What was that?" Bethany murmured, blinking unevenly, trying to get her eyes to focus through the doors.

The clerk returned to bagging without pause. "Probably just a fender bender. Happens a lot here. People take the right turn too fast coming around the pumps. I'll see if I need to call the cops in a minute."

"Ah." Bethany let herself slump back against the counter. Eve would raise holy hell if someone dinged her hearse, but it wasn't like a car accident could actually harm her.

"Your total comes to..."

The auto-doors opened, then closed. Bethany turned, still leaning on the counter. Eve had probably gotten impatient and come inside to see what the hold up was. Or had there really been an accident?

"We're almost done, Eve" Bethany was saying. The words were leaving her lips, only to die in midair as she saw who had just come in.

"Hey, Bethie," Maggie said.

Bethany's fatigue fell away like lead weights as the adrenaline rush hit her.

"Mags."

She was as tall as ever, golden hair in clean, elegant waves around her shoulders, and a beatific smile on her face. There were objects around her, flicking in and out of view as they brushed the material plane- a censer, numerous crosses, a white lotus. Maggie dropped her arms and let her bomber jacket fall to the floor, exposing her under-tank, drawn tight over a body like an olympic athlete.

The sprawling heart and rose tattoos on her biceps were as vivid as ever.

Her sister's smile hitched a tad. "It's Magdalene, now. Remember?"

Bethany was tapping her pockets again. Where was her lighter? Where was it?! "So I'm 'Bethie,' but you don't get to be Big Sis Mags?"

"Ma'am, are you ready to check out?" the clerk interrupted.

Bethany jerked- she'd forgotten he was there. "Get out of here, you stupid fuck!" He stared, all blank doe-eyes at her. Bethany snarled at him and let hellfire bloom in her palm. "This is a robbery, now run you fucking moron!"

The kid gaped, then turned to run. He was scrambling for the door into the employee's quarters when Bethany turned away.

Maggie was watching her, thumbs hooked into the straps of her top like suspenders. "I'm going to have to kill him," she said. "No witnesses, remember?"

"He won't remember. Muggles can't comprehend shit." She was back to patting herself down, trying to find her lighter. She needed to self-immolate, to burn herself with something. Magical flame didn't have the same effect- she couldn't power herself by burning herself with the thing she was powering.

And… she didn't have it. She'd left it in the car. Wait- the car. She wasn't here alone. Maggie was standing between her and the door, but that didn't mean much.

Bethany pointed and fired. A tiny fireball rocketed from her fingertip and shot through the glass of the front door. It hit the tarmac outside and burst, scattering sparks everywhere. She was hoping it'd start a fire out there, something mundane to fuel herself with, but it was no dice. It sputtered out, even as the last of the glass was falling.

"Looking for someone?" Maggie said calmly.

Another figure stepped into view in the doorframe. Red hair, cut short enough to expose the pale scalp beneath it. Gangly and incongruous in his button-down shirt and slacks, looking more like a budget Jehovah's Witness than anything.

Lazarus.

"How's it going?" he drawled, the twang in his voice more pronounced than in Maggie's. "Just runnin errands, Bethany?"

He stepped through the doors, coming more clearly into her sight. Blood poured from his eyes and followed in his wake like a slug-trail. A gash across his neck was spurting onto his shirt, slowly dyeing it red, even as the wound closed.

"Did you get her?" Maggie asked.

"Eve got away. Wounded her, but then she ran for it when I regenerated." He fingered his neck for a moment, probing the cut. It closed a bit more as Bethany watched.

Maggie shrugged. "We'll just get her afterward." She tilted her head to one side, then the other, cracking her neck.

"Anyone ever tell you two-on-one is bullshit?" Bethany said. She could hear muffled pounding from inside the office. The kid hadn't gotten out, which meant there was no exit there. There should be a fire door in back, but she hadn't seen one yet. Maybe by the bathrooms?

The bathrooms that were almost certainly down a dead-end hallway if there was no fire door.

Slowly, Bethany reached out and snagged the brown paper bag the clerk had been using to store her groceries. The carton of cigarettes he'd pulled was beside it. She grabbed that too, tearing it open one-handed.

Her siblings were beginning to fan out. Maggie was stalking toward her, taking her time. Lazarus was hovering in the background, poised to cut off any escape routes with his shots. Two-on-one was bullshit though. Solo, she'd be able to take either one of them, but together they could cover their weaknesses.

"So," Maggie was saying. "Lilith really needs to be more careful. She's very distinctive with all those brats of hers."

Bethany paused with a cigarette halfway to her lips, her blood running cold. They knew where the apartment was. Lilith was vulnerable. They'd waited until they'd split up and moved in.

She pressed a second cig in beside the first. Lit both.

She grinned around them, letting her fire grow for the first time in days. "You stay the fuck away from my sister." The tips of her twintails ignited, her hair rippling in the heat wave, her eyes suddenly full of hellfire.

The bag burst into flame in her hand, the carton burning a moment later. Their ignition was magical, but their incineration was purely mundane. Beth's grin grew wider as the fire burnt through the flesh of her palm, fingers closing convulsively around it as the tendons shrank.

Maggie charged. There were five yards between them. Maggie covered them in half a second, breaking tile with her footfalls, fists coming up.

Bethany cocked her fingers like a gun and fired. The firebolt cut the air between them. Maggie didn't even slow. The second before it would have struck her, Lazarus leapt in between. The bolt hit him dead-center in the face.

He went down screaming, his skull a melting ruin. Maggie leapt over him, flaring gold as her lotus activated. Bethany's second shot caught Maggie on her upraised arm, glancing off Maggie's aura, and then she had to roll away as Maggie's fist imploded the cash register.

She came up on her feet in the bread aisle, threw her hands to either side and let the flames gout over the shelves. Loaves and pastries went up in the heat, and Bethany basked in it.

There was nothing on the rush it gave her to fucking light something up.

Her internal gauges were rising, little will-o-wisps flaring into life around her like fireflies. She pointed and they fired, spraying shots over the store. Maggie had been nearly within striking distance again, but she threw herself to the side through a shelf to avoid Bethany's fire.

Bethany turned, turreting her flares to keep up the heat on Maggie. A stray shot winged the blonde in the shoulder and she stumbled. Bethany used the opportunity to machinegun shots into Maggie's chest. Maggie choked as a firebolt tore her throat open, her shirt igniting as more rounds ripped into her. Bethany pressed harder, focusing the attack and-

A flash of red on her periphery- she ducked just in time to avoid an arc of solidified blood that sliced cleanly through the donut case.

Lazarus was back up on his feet, face regenerated, stupid haircut and all. He gestured, and the tide of vitae that followed him whipped out, snapping and grabbing for Bethany.

She lit up like the sun, drawing on the flames now spreading across more and more of the store, her heat combusting the ceiling tiles overhead. Lazarus hissed with frustration as she evaporated the blood he flung at her.

Bethany sent him ducking for cover with her return fire, igniting the entire rack of cigarettes when she missed and loving every second of it. He popped up from behind the counter, shooting back, and she drew on her own regalia. A crown of candles bloomed on her brow, red, black, blue. The black one ignited, then flashed once.

Across the store, Lazarus howled as the curse seared his eyes. He staggered, and Bethany put a firebolt clean through his chest. Her brother dropped.

It wouldn't keep him down for long. His regeneration was the strongest of all of them.

Bethany turned and ran, repositioning herself at an intersection in the aisles, watching for Maggie's counterattack. She began spreading flames around her in a wall for the thug to hit.

Maggie surprised her. She leapt into the air on the other side of the store and drove both feet into a shelving unit. It rocketed towards Bethany, metal screeching on the floor, tearing through everything in its path.

Bethany dove to the side, but the shelf still clipped her. She yelped with pain as her ankle broke and she went spinning into a display of pulp novels. More fuel for the fire. The new bonfire gave her enough drive to get up. Her ankle wasn't healing anywhere nearly as fast as Laz or even Maggie, but the more she burned, the faster it would.

She jammed her entire arm into the fire, hissing as her skin seared and bubbled away. Her gauges were filling though, rising more and more with every bit of flesh that burned away. She was at nearly a full tank, half-delirious with pleasure and pain when she pulled away. Her arm was a charred ruin, but it would heal.

Smoke was beginning to fill the store, and her siblings were lost in the haze, flitting into view like jackals. Looked like the megamart had skimped on its fire alarms- normally she had to fight through the sprinklers by now.

She started firing at random, dozens of wisps generating from the inferno around her, adding their shots to her barrage. Every shot set a fire now, and she found herself laughing, her smile so wide it hurt. Getting to kill her siblings were all well and good, but this- fire was what got her motor running.

There was a crash on the far side of the store as one of the shelves toppled. A support tore its way loose from the ceiling and fell, destroying most of the bread section. The store was beginning to fall apart.

Beautiful.

Bethany was still puffing away merrily on her cigs, her lungs full of smoke, fit to burst like paper balloons, and the next time Lazarus emerged from the smokescreen, she exhaled. The ensuing fireball was more like a flamethrower, arcing from her mouth as dragon's breath.. He actually dodged it- his regen must be at its limit, and rolled away into the produce aisle.

Sweet smoke heralded her incineration of the fruit display, and she didn't let off with the flame until the whole section was a conflagration. Panting, she retreated, casting eyes about for Maggie. Her elder sister wasn't normally this indirect. She-

Bethany ducked, more on impulse than anything, only for a blood bullet to tear its way through her upper arm, cutting a runnel in flesh just beginning to heal from her self-burning. Her arm went limp, and she swore venomously as she had to fall back towards the wall full of drink fridges.

She came out of the aisle and Maggie was already there, barreling toward her.

There was no time.

She raised her good arm. Maggie hit her like a train. Fists like iron wrapped in flesh slammed her, a dozen a second. Bethany felt bones break, but couldn't tell which, only that there was pain beyond the flame. She fell back, feet tangling, and Maggie caught her shirt and lifted.

Bethany's feet left the ground. Maggie hurled her like a baseball. Bethany collided with the wall of drinks, and exploded through the glass and shelves. She hit a row of boxes in the storage space behind the freezers and dropped like a stone, too numb and exhausted to rise.

The boxes were beginning to burn around her, and whatever drinks had spilled on the floor were bubbling, but it wasn't fast enough. Her powers were as fleeting as fire itself- quick to burn, and quick to burn out. There wasn't enough to get her up before they were on her.

Glass crunched. Maggie was stepping through the remains of the freezer. She was no longer grinning. The sharp, cold look on her face was worse. She didn't look like Maggie. She looked like Magdalene.

"Any last words?"

Bethany laughed. She'd somehow not dropped one of her cigs in all the confusion. It was bent, but still smoldering between her lips. "You're a cunt."

Maggie's foot drove into her side. She could discern that it was her ribs that broke this time, and then Maggie followed through and punted her into the far wall of the cold storage. There were no soft boxes here. Her back hit cinderblock walls, her head following.

Bethany went face-first into the floor. Her vision swam in and out, the world around her sliding from clarity. Distantly, she was grinning. After all this time, now she was about to pass out. If only sleep was that easy at home.

A weight ground down on the side of her skull, pressing her into the thick rubber floor mats. Bethany groaned with pain, but the agony was forcing her back into reality, giving her something to focus on.

Maggie had her foot planted firmly against her head, and was leaning down to look at her, still all dispassion. "I'll ask again: Any final words, sister?"

She could hear footsteps, and feel vibration in the mats. A blurry shape was approaching from behind Maggie. Lazarus had joined them.

The fire continued to spread through the store. Bethany could feel it, but it all felt so far away now, so insignificant to the blaze she wanted it to be.

She glanced up as far as she was able to with the eye that wasn't swollen shut. Looked forward.

Probably no chance of Eve showing up to save her. Hopefully she'd at least gotten back to the apartment and rescued Lilith from whatever the fuck they'd come up with.

She blinked slowly. They were a few feet from the back of one of the drinks fridges. Rows of pearly milk stood neatly, as of yet untouched by the flames or the fighting. All this for some goddamn milk.

She sighed. They couldn't have thrown her through the liquor cabinet, could they? Then she would have lit this place up like a forest fire in hell. Where was the alcohol anyway?

Bethany strained her eye. What was that beyond the milk case? She'd seen it on the way in, but she'd been half-asleep then.

"Bethany," Maggie said. "I suggest you take this chance to repent."

Rows of white containers. Not milk. Cylindrical and squat. She blinked blood out of her eye, squinting. Maybe?

A slow smile bloomed on split lips.

This was gonna even better than a fucking liquor fire.

"Hey… Mags," she rasped.

The weight on her skull shifted, then left entirely as Maggie let off. She bent down. "I'm listening."

"Did you know… this store sells propane?"

Her unbroken arm was already aimed toward it. She just had to point. Maggie shrieked something, Lazarus was yelling, but it was too late.

Bethany fired.

There was a metallic shunk as the canister ruptured, and then white-heat consumed the world.


XXX



Her lungs came back first. They always did.

A gasping, choking breath filled her. She exhaled, puffing smoke and flame like a balrog. The smoke curled and twisted into the fire, both of them taking shape in the air. There was heat around her, inside her, every breath spreading it like bellows. She basked in the fire. She was the fire.

Another breath. In. Out.

Shape became form. Ribs formed around her lungs. A heart between them, a scarred rune in the center where the Devil had marked her.

In. Out.

And again.

And again.

She was nearly whole again when her eyes coalesced, vitreous fluids boiling briefly before settling.

Bethany blinked slowly, unevenly.

She sighed.

Apparently resurrecting didn't count as sleep. She was still fucking tired.

It took her a moment to find the energy to sit up, shoving wood and burnt metal aside, digging herself out of the wreckage. She rose, her skin just beginning to regenerate from the ash caked over her muscle.

The store was blazing around her. For once, her powers protected her from the heat, a reprieve while she recovered. They parted like water around her as she stumbled out of the fire still tearing apart the metal skeleton that remained of the Megamart. The ceiling had collapsed entirely now, and oily smoke plumed into an open sky.

The concrete walls were still intact in spots, but for the section where she'd set off the propane. That entire corner of the store was nothing but a blackened crater, too destroyed now to have anything left to burn.

Bethany navigated the fire, glancing around occasionally for her siblings. She could hear sirens in the distance, smirking a little at that. Too little, too late, firemen.

She made her way toward the propane corner, feet dragging little trails in the layer of ash carpeting the floor. A pile of mangled shelving marked all that was left of the drink freezer. She climbed over the top like a jungle gym.

She paused there.

"Ah."

A charred skeleton lay half-buried beneath a support beam. It had burnt to nothing more than bones, but Bethany had incinerated enough people to know male from female.

It was Lazarus.

She descended slowly, moving to stand beside his corpse. He had always had the strongest healing factor among them, and she'd thought she'd seen him die a dozen times just during their childhood. But… even he had limits. It looked like explosion had melted him, leaving him to be crushed by the support, and then probably finished off in the fire.

She crouched down and took his head in her hands. One or two stubborn strands of hair had somehow survived, clinging to the few fragments of skin left on his skull.

It took only a tug to separate his head from his body. She looked into the empty eyesockets. His eyes had been blue, earnest once upon a time. She remembered fear there as well. Always fear. But that hadn't stopped him sticking up for her as a kid. Taking lickings from Mom, or shielding her with his body in the basement.

The earnestness had disappeared at some point, but the fear had remained. All the better for Mom to pull the strings on him.

He'd been ill-used like all of them had. Had chosen his side.

Still her brother though. Lazarus, two years older. Red-haired, blue-eyed.

Dead for real this time.

"Goodnight, Laz."

Bethany pressed her lips to his forehead.

She rose, his skull under one arm, and padded out of the store.

The parking lot outside was deserted. A number of people stood by their cars on the side of the road, but none entered the lot. Eve's hearse sat to one side, windshield smashed, one door ajar. A long smear of blood was drying across the driver's side.

Bethany started walking toward it.

The people were yelling something at her. She remembered too late that she'd just resurrected and was bare-ass naked.

Dammit.

Jacob and Esau were going to laugh their tits off at her.

She tugged open the hearse's door. The keys were still in the ignition. Bethany swept broken glass off the seat and got in, stowing Lazarus' skull on the passenger's seat. She started it, the engine purring. It took her a moment, but she shoved the windshield until the safety glass detached from the frame and she was able to toss it aside.

Headlights on.

A shape lit up, crouching at the back of the store.

Bethany frowned.

Maggie stood. She was a patchwork of melted skin, raw muscle, and new flesh, all coated with a gray-black rime of ash. Blood was caked down her chin and chest, and her hands to the wrist.

A body lay at her feet. Bethany squinted. It was the store clerk. Maggie had torn his chest wide open. She had his heart in his hand. As Bethany stared, Maggie bit into it. She chewed, swallowed, and another section of her flesh regenerated.

Their eyes met. Maggie's were that same blue as Lazarus. Her hair was just beginning to sprout anew, blonde curls growing in fast-motion. Maggie took another bite of the clerk's heart. Another bit of her came back.

Bethany glanced to the side. Lazarus' skull looked up at her from the shotgun seat.

The Megamart was still burning. Bethany's tanks were nearly full, and it wouldn't take much to get going again.

If she wanted to, Maggie wouldn't be able to stop her. Her sister was all close-combat. A brawler. It wouldn't take much to burn her to ash.

She looked back at Maggie. Her sister was still watching her. She was nearly whole now, wiping the last of the clerk from her mouth.

Those blue eyes, set into a feral mask. Like someone had jammed Maggie's eyes into Magdalene's face.

Those blue eyes, that had once laughed at her over a birthday cake. Bethany's was only two weeks ahead of Maggie's, so they'd always celebrated together, even though Maggie was the elder by almost four years, and too old for some of the kid's stuff Bethany liked.

Bethany sighed.

She put the car into gear. Turned out of the parking lot.

She glimpsed Maggie watching her in the rearview mirror, just once, and then Bethany took a corner and her sister was gone.

Fire trucks came screaming past her after only a block down the boulevard, headed for the Megamart. Bethany pulled over with all the other drivers, waiting for them to pass.

She used to reprieve to fish her lighter out of the cup holder. A quick check of the visor yielded nothing, but the glovebox did. A backup pack. Her emergency stash of smokes.

She put one between her lips.

Far off in the distance, she could see smoke. Not from her fire, but from another. It was the direction the apartment was in.

She lit her cigarette and rolled up the window to let the smoke build.

Traffic began flowing again. She joined it.

It took her two blocks to get the hearse up to 70, and three before she began disregarding the laws of traffic entirely.

No rest for the wicked.

XXX

(This is a Binding of Isaac AU Fic, inspired yesterday after I unlocked Bethany. My muse was unexpectedly good to me, and I wrote nearly the entire fic in one sitting. I unlocked Bethany, liked her motif, and just knew I had to write something with her. I really love the viscerality of all the powers in BoI.

So here's this! Some kind of weirdo AU urban fantasy, where the kids have all matured, and things have gone all Angels and Demons. The group loyal to Mom has gone all weird and are using pieces of Mom to spawn monsters in the name of god or... something. Don't think about it too hard. It's not important.

If you're curious, the roster for each side is as thus:

Mom's Faction
-Isaac
-Maggie
-Judas
-Samson
-Lazarus
-Eden

Devil's Faction
-Eve
-Lilith
-Bethany
-Jacob and Esau
-Azazel
-Cain

 

[Ziel]

Please Don't Touch the Flowers

1

"How dya take your tea? I've got the most delightful brew made from bamboo. Straight out of Eintei, though they weren't much obliged to share it with me."

Taylor stared for a long moment at the woman bustling around the kitchen. For a homicidal urban legend, the Sunflower Woman was surprisingly well dressed. Her odd plaid dress was well-kept, and a pleasantly earthy smell followed her, like fresh grass and spring wind. Not even the woman's green hair and red eyes detracted from her poise.

"Darling?" the woman drawled.

"Oh!" Taylor started. "Sorry. Whatever you're having will be fine."

The woman chuckled softly. "I'm having sake. I think you'll have to make do with tea."

And with that settled, the woman turned back to the counter. Taylor used the time to glance around the kitchen. She'd expected the interior to be a wreck, all overgrown, but she had been wrong. The inside was cozy, furnished in a style she thought was Victorian, with nearly every surface covered in various potted plants. It was a little like stepping into a greenhouse. Whatever the stories said about the Sunflower Woman, none of them mentioned anything like this.

"So..." Taylor said slowly. "I didn't ask your name. I'm uh... Taylor."

The woman returned bearing two cups, and a plate of cookies. She set them down and seated herself across from Taylor at the kitchen table.

"My name?" The woman said. "Well, most of the folks around this town call me the Sunflower Lady. As nicknames go, it's really quite charming. Not remotely the worst I've ever had. But you... you, Taylor, can call me Yuuka Kazami. Pleased to meetcha."

"N-nice to meet you too."

Yuuka gestured at the tea, and Taylor lifted her cup. She inhaled, and was surprised at just how earthy the scent was. Whatever kind of bamboo the tea was made from, she'd never smelled any tea like it. She tipped it to her lips, and Yuuka smiled at her. The taste was... rich. Earthier than the smell, something that lingered, tasting of... mountain air and...

"Wow," she exhaled. "That was..."

"It is something," Yuuka said. "You wouldn't believe how that crybaby princess carried on when I stole it from her. She mobilized the rabbits like they were going to war." Yuuka's lip curled darkly. "They tasted better than the tea."

Taylor blinked. A princess? And rabbits? What in the world was she talking about? But actually asking her seemed... gauche.

"You're not from around here, are you?" she asked, settling for a happy medium.

Yuuka's smile faded a little. "Where I'm from... let's just say that I lost my way and ended up here. Much like most of Brockton Bay, really."

She sipped her drink, her eyes far off. "Things are different here. The air is dirtier, the soil foul. And I am... bound."

"To the garden?" Taylor guessed.

Yuuka's smile faded away entirely. "Yes. The garden. Bound like a common deity, when I should be able to roam free. I don't know what that damn Yukari was thinking, but-" she cut herself off suddenly, and set her cup down with care. "But I'm getting upset. And I've got a guest."

"Sorry," Taylor said. "I didn't mean to- I-"

"It's nothing," the green-haired woman said airily. "But while you're here, could I trouble you for a favor?"

Something cold ran down Taylor's spine at that. A favor. The stories said that the Sunflower Woman murdered anyone who entered her garden, but nobody said anything about favors.

"W-what for?"

"Don't look so worried, girl," Yuuka said, smirking. "It's not really a favor."

She rose, towering over Taylor suddenly. All through the kitchen, the plants were rustling, moving in a non-existent breeze.

"It's not a favor so much as an order."

Taylor found her feet and stood, backing away. There was a look in Yuuka's eyes, and her smile had edges now.

"Maybe I should just go," she said.

"The way I see it," Yuuka said, ignoring her. "Anyone who enters my garden is intruding on my territory. But you- you're more like an offering than anything. It's been a while since anyone has tried to send me a virgin sacrifice."

"HEY!"

"So instead of killing you, like I usually do, I'm going to spare your little life, Taylor."

Yuuka stepped forward, stalking around the table. Taylor retreated, moving toward the door and- her back hit something solid. The door was gone, replaced by a wall of thick vines.

"I'll spare your life, and in return, you'll work for me. I need things. Things I can't get inside the garden without outside help."

"Please, I can just go, and I won't tell anyone," Taylor pleaded.

"You start now," Yuuka hissed.

She pointed one long finger at the teacup Taylor had deserted. It had toppled over, and thick, black liquid was oozing into the table cloth. Taylor coughed, and suddenly something hot was writhing up from inside her. She groaned and fell to her knees.

"What's that word you Westerners use?" Yuuka said. "Communion? It doesn't do this justice."

Taylor felt her face hit the floor. The world was going black around her. Her last sight before the darkness took her was Yuuka laughing and waving merrily.

"What kind of youkai will you be, I wonder?"

==

Reposted here, thanks to @Redd984, who reminded me this even existed.

 

[Ziel]

Please Don't Touch the Flowers

2

Lisa stared across the bar, her eyes locked on the newcomer. The new girl had long, dark hair held back with a band of ivy. Her costume was a thick dress, seemingly woven of hundreds of thin vines, adorned in spots with vibrant flowers. Her only concession to a disguise was a domino mask, plain but for the imprint of a sunflower between the eyes.

Costume is bulletproof. Redundant. Not human. Inhuman physiology.

What? Not human. Then what the hell was she? Lisa leaned forward slightly, tuning out Kaiser's latest posturing to study the girl. She was sitting quietly, waiting her turn to speak.

Restraining herself. Sees humans as food.

"What's so interesting about plant girl?" Regent whispered in her ear. "Where's she even from?"

"That huge garden on the south side. She's-"

Garden of She Who Blooms. New girl is a disciple, She Who Grows.

"She's... I don't even know, Regent. It's like she's just..."

Human-shaped.

"She's not human," Lisa said, settling for the least bizarre word choice.

"Grue will be overjoyed," Regent said dryly.

Lisa looked again, following Regent's gaze. The plant girl was leaning forward to watch Grue talk. She had the tip of one curly lock between her fingers, toying with it.

Finds Grue attractive. Interested in him.

She sent Grue a silent apology. Sorry, but when it came down to murderous flesh-eating plant girls, it was every man for themselves.

Lisa gave a long exhale. "That settles it. When she eats Grue, we can make a run for it."

 

[Ziel]

Definitely a Doctor (Worm/Borderlands)

==

The two twin-tailed girls faced each other. The older, a copper-haired young woman, narrowed her eyes.

"Are you criticizing my work?" She raised her cybernetic fist menacingly. "Because if you are..."

The other girl, a waifish blonde, shook her head rapidly.

"No no no! I'm just saying... Gaige, was it? there's all sorts of stuff you could do. Robot arms are just the start! Why just one? Why not two? Or three? Or you could replace everything else with robot parts!"

The blonde pointed at the hulking robot floating behind Gaige. Electricity crackled between its jagged claws.

"And him. He's not bad if you need someone to smash heads. But why not build something to help you tinker? Like these little guys."

Gaige tensed as the other girl fished around in her bloody apron. The girl withdrew what looked like a repurposed tv remote and pressed a series of buttons. At once, a swarm of insectile robots boiled out of doors and manholes around them. Gaige squeaked with surprise and leapt onto Deathtrap's waiting hand. The robot hovered up and away, its eye cycling from passive-green to a threatening red.

The blonde girl smiled happily as her creations scuttled around her. She clicked the remote again, and one of the spiders crawled up her back, wrapping its limbs around hers. The blonde raised her hands, and tools of all shapes and sized fanned through her fingers.

"Can your robot do that?" She said.

Gaige lowered her triple-barreled shotgun slightly. "...no."

"Do you want it to?"

Gaige scowled again. "What's the catch?"

The blonde raised her hands disarmingly. "No catch. Just a... mutual exchange. I help you with your cybernetics, and you show me the ropes with some of this Digi-struct tech you use. I can think of like... a million things I could do with a lightning death ray!"

After a long moment of hesitation, Gaige lowered the shotgun entirely. Deathtrap descended and deposited Gaige on the ground, but didn't return to passive mode.

"So... you're a mechanic or something?" Gaige said. She gazed thoughtfully down at her artificial hand. "How many robot arms do you think I could manage?"

The blonde girl grinned. "We can't know until we try."

She held out a hand. Artificial palm met blood-stained glove, and they shook. Their respective robotic minions followed close behind as the two girls turned and began to walk through the dusty town.

"You got a name, kid?"

"Call me... Dr. Bonesaw. I'm a real doctor and everything!"

Gaige raised an eyebrow. "Right..."

She wasn't really comfortable taking medical advice from someone who felt the need to reiterate that they were a real doctor, but... Bonesaw couldn't possibly be any worse than Dr. Zed.

"Alright then, Dr. Bonesaw. I'm thinking... one of my new arms needs to have a gun in it. Maybe a laser."

"Just one gun? Why not..." Bonesaw paused dramatically.

Gaige met her eyes and returned her grin.

With the synchronicity that can only be born from two equally deranged minds meeting, both girls bellowed out.

"ALL THE GUNS!"

Maniacal laughter followed.

==

Just a repost. Got some traffic off this one from the Recs thread, so I figured might as well.

 

[Ziel]

This is a continuation on Burnout, my previous Binding of Isaac fic. I know some readers had previously expressed concern because they're unfamiliar with BoI. I'd recommend reading it anyway. This is a full AU, and literally every character in this chapter but Eden is non-canon and basically just an OC.

If you're still confused on the premise- the generality is an Urban Fantasy AU, where two halves of a family have aligned themselves with Heaven and Hell respectively. Neither of them are particularly nice groups, but neither are they pure evil.

Jacob and Esau are basically Sam and Dean Winchester, using the weapon/meister mechanics from Soul Eater, with a number of other related powers.

====


Highway to Hell


"I spy, with my little eye, something… yellow."

"I will murder you, Esau."

There was a pause, cornfields streaming by on either side, Jacob gritting his teeth and staring at the road.

"That's Cain's thing, not yours." Esau smirked at him from the passenger seat. "Well?"

"Corn." Jacob's eye twitched. It had been fields for the past 800 miles. He'd forgotten that middle America was apparently nothing but, with towns virtual oases in the endless expanses of corn and tobacco and- he hated Flyover Country.

"That's right," Esau said. "Your turn."

"Wrong." Jacob pulled the car onto the side of the road and stopped. "Yours."

They both looked at the clock for confirmation. It had indeed been two hours. 6pm. Late enough that the sun was just beginning to edge behind the treeline, but not enough to hit full sunset.

They exited the car. Esau was stretching on his side, working the kinks out of his arms. Jacob used the opportunity to dump out the stale dregs of his gas station coffee, and then wade into the cornfield to take a leak.

When he returned, Esau was leaning against the driver's side, shading his eyes with one hand as he checked his phone. "Lilith texted me. They've confirmed the Apostles have set up shop. They're… waiting for us to return before making a move."

Jacob made his way round to the passenger side. He glanced at his brother over the car before getting in. "We'll need to cut the trip short."

Esau copied him, sliding in behind the wheel. Jacob busied himself with adjusting the seat- too far back, and weirdly warm from Esau's body heat.

"There's an airport about three hours north," Esau said. "You wanna just skip bumfuck-ville and head up?"

Jacob fixed him with a stare, eyes sharp behind his glasses. He held it for a long moment, until Esau squirmed in his seat and raised his hands in surrender. "Fine, fine, geez."

"We're almost there anyway," Jacob said. He rubbed his eyes. "Five churches max, and we can quit."

"Agreed." Esau shifted the car into drive and pulled back onto the tarmac. He accelerated quickly, and by the time he hit the speed limit, was already fiddling with the stereo. They crossed over from cornfields to what Jacob thought might be hemp, stereo flicking between songs as fast as Esau could register them.

Jacob spoke up occasionally, vetoing Esau's pause on a throbbing techno album that sounded like a headache waiting to happen, and then voicing his support for a jazz track – Esau shot it down.

They finally settled on some electrojazz band that Jacob had never heard of, but were solid enough that they could both agree on.

The car sped onward toward their final stop.



XXX


Out here, the towns all blended together. Usually no more than a single main road, with a few smaller streets branching from it like veins from an artery. The buildings were all the same. Fast food chains. Gas station. Thriftstore. Bar. Maybe a Walmart if the place was thriving.

And the churches, of course.

The little burg they pulled into just before seven pm was no different. Jacob had stopped keeping track of the names somewhere back in Kansas, and their newest town's name faded from his memories as soon as the roadsign disappeared from sight.

Esau pulled off, idling in the parking lot of a McDonalds while Jacob plugged in his phone. He pulled up the GPS and keyed the coordinates.

Jacob smiled thinly. "Lucky us."

"What?"

He held up the phone to Esau. This particular slice of Americana was so remote that there were only four religious institutions. One of which was, of all things, Unitarian.

His brother laughed, his freckled face dimpling. "What the fuck?"

"Not counting them," Jacob said, refocusing on the phone. "The closest is… two blocks that way. Methodist."

Esau pulled out onto the main strip. Traffic was light, but Jacob found himself keeping watch for any cops. The car had out of state plates, and sheriffs in these small towns liked to hand out tickets to tourists. That, and Esau wasn't much of a believer in speed limits.

Two blocks, and three stoplights up, was the church. The building was steepled, painted crisp white with black trim, and looked out of place in the rural town. Like something from New England transplanted far inland.

Esau pulled in.

Jacob rolled down the window. Cool night air wafted into the car. He inhaled, tasting the scent.

Gas. Diesel. Faint oil smoke from a passing car with a bad engine. Cooking oil from the Hardee's next door to the church, and rot from its dumpster. The sharp, icy aroma of faith from the church.

Jacob shook his head. "Just a church."

They kept going.

It was growing dark, the town around them shutting down for the evening. The next church was on the outskirts, and the route to get there wound through more fields and woods. Esau began drumming his fingers on the wheel after a few minutes, and Jacob made no move to stop him.

He was just as sick of this fucking trip as his brother. Two more stops, and then they were going straight to the airport. Let Eve take the next roadtrip. It didn't always have to be them and Cain. Even Azazel had stepped up this round.

Lilith was blind, and too busy wrangling her brats to really travel much, and Bethany was too unstable to drive long distances, and didn't do well sleeping in new places.

Beth.

Jacob's grip tightened around his phone. A traffic light up ahead clicked from green to yellow. Then to red. Esau ran it without slowing down.

"Don't say it," his brother muttered.

Jacob caught his eye. Shook his head. "Keep doing it."

Esau's pale eyebrows rose. "Seriously?"

"I want to get home." He left it at that, but he knew Esau understood.

They drove in silence, broken only by Jacob pointing out turns, and the rumbling of the engine under the hood.

"She hasn't texted me back," Esau said suddenly.

"She forgets." She hadn't replied to Jacob either. After a moment, he repeated it to Esau. There were no secrets between them. No place for jealousy, real or perceived.

A passing car- the first in some time, illuminated Esau's face for an instant. He was frowning, his face uncharacteristically grim. "Lilith said Bethany isn't sleeping."

"Yeah."

"I'm tired of this."

"I know."

"I am," Esau repeated, his voice rising slightly. He glanced over at Jacob. "All of this shit. Worrying about her. Running around on a wild fucking goose chase because half the family are goddamn loonies."

Jacob nodded. He opened his mouth. To reply. To agree.

The words didn't come. It was a long-standing sore that Esau was breaking open, and Jacob didn't have the right words to capture the way he felt. Like he wanted to find Lazarus and tear him apart for taking them away from Beth and the rest of the family. Like anyone who stood in their way was going to die.

He met Esau's eyes.

Nodded again.

"Fucking right," Esau growled.

Two minutes of silence, headlights eating up the road, and Jacob found himself pointing.

"We're here."

Their stop was Baptist. Some variation on denomination that he didn't recall seeing often. It was alone beside a narrow two-lane, surrounded entirely by waving, rippling, hateful corn fields.

Orangey-brick. White trim around the windows. A small paved area out back with a jungle gym and two swings. Just another of a thousand other American churches they'd seen on their trip.

The parking lot was full.

Jacob set his phone down. After a second, he picked it up again to check the date and time.

The parking lot was full at 7:30 on a Wednesday. They exchanged a look. Churches like this filled up on Sunday morning and were probably closed the rest of the week. The congregations were just too sparse; the populations in these towns too low. Unless this place had an amazing bingo night, something was wrong.

Esau turned into the lot and parked. He deliberated for a moment, and then pulled the car around, facing the exit. Then he parked it again.

They got out.

There was a tang in the air. Sharp and cool, like winter wind on a mountain, yet somehow… metallic. It burned the nostrils, like standing downwind of a fire, Jacob's sinuses itching in objection.

Consecrated ground.

Esau was already pulling his gear bag out of the backseat, but Jacob held up a hand. "Hold on. There're a lot of people in there."

"They made their choice." Any semblance of geniality had vanished from Esau's voice. "We're not waiting any longer."

"That's why I was going to suggest the proper method for killing a large number of people at once."

Esau straightened up, his eyebrows raised again. "You don't mean…?"

Jacob offered his hand.

His brother let the gear bag fall back into the car. "Oh, man, it's been ages. You never let me do it."

"Because you like when I use to you shoot people in the face." Jacob found himself smiling, mirroring the expression on Esau's face.

Esau took his hand and pulled him close. Esau's free hand pressed to Jacob's chest, hovering above his heart. He hesitated for a moment, and then plunged his fingers in.

Jacob's shirt and skin parted like water. There was a lurch in his chest, his breath catching in his throat, and then they were on key, hearts beating in sync, breathing in tune.

Esau's arm vanished into him up to the wrist. He reached for a moment, fumbling, and then seized hold of his goal.

"Damocles."

Esau drew the sword from Jacob's heart, and Jacob dissolved, fading into streaks of light and smoke that trailed behind the blade.

Jacob's consciousness flickered, for an instant nowhere, and then he was-

They were.

Esau blinked, eyes adjusting to the new passenger. Jacob was thrumming in their grip, sword shining in the moonlight, silver through and through, blade, handle, crossguard.

They were smiling.

They had their differences and disagreements, but this trumped all of that. Perfect unity.

As long as they were in sync, united toward a singular goal, they were infinitely more together than they were apart.

Esau glanced at the gear for a moment before shaking their head.

'Won't need it,' Jacob said.

"More fun without it," Esau added.

They turned on their heel and headed for the church. It was tempting to run, but Jacob was tempering that, holding back Esau's need to rampage. More fun to stalk, to take in the church as they moved, noting the exits and flattening tires with quick flicks of the sword.

No escape.

Anyone touched by an Apostle was already tainted. Anyone foolish enough to get that far was beyond saving.

They pushed open the front door. It was glass-fronted, opening onto a small foyer. Numerous religious posters and pictures- a mission trip to a developing nation, a teen retreat and summer camp, did little to distract from the faded linoleum and painted cinderblock walls.

A murmur of voices came from further in. Many people all speaking at once. Chanting.

The smell was worse here, and their skin itched, like they'd been suddenly sunburnt. Holy ground abhorred all adherents to the left-hand path, but it was no more than an irritation. They hadn't yet found a church they couldn't despoil.

There was a large crucifix on the wall beside a plaque with the church's name. Esau paused in front of it, and with a single stroke, bisected both.

He giggled.

Jacob rolled his metaphorical eyes. 'Childish.'

Didn't stop him from smirking though.

They padded down the hallway, passing the Sunday school room with a brief glance inside. Empty- all plastic chairs, and tables marked with crayon.

Ten more feet to the doors to the sanctuary. There was another scent in the air now. Something stale and sour, like a whiff of old meat. Something coppery that they thought might be blood.

The chanting was growing clearer. Prayer, spoken in two dozen arrhythmic voices, the words garbled into a dull, stupid sound.

And another, a voice beyond the chorus. High, calling out something. The congregation responded. Another call. Response.

Esau planted their foot in the sanctuary doors and kicked hard enough to knock them both off their hinges. They went down with a splintering crash, and the chanting broke off.

The sanctuary itself was small, made to hold no more than several dozen, and they doubted it had seen that in some time, but now… Every pew was packed. The churchgoers turned to look at them, moving as one.

Slack, empty faces. Men, women, children, plain country folk now moving jerkily, their mouths still half-open from chanting. A few had already succumbed. They stayed slumped in their seats, blood pouring from eyes and nose and mouth.

And at the front of the room-

They frowned. It wasn't Lazarus.

"Eden."

Their sibling was leaning on the altar, one hand holding a ritual dagger, interrupted in carving symbols into a girl's flesh. The girl was bound, the only normal in the room still under her own steam. But even she was only struggling weakly. Her white dress was stained with red, and her face was contorted with agony beneath her heavy bangs.

"Boys." Eden gave them a flat look. They were as pale as ever, their white hair slicked back, a pale carnation tucked behind one ear. Today they had on a white suit, playing the role of southern preacher to a tee. This incarnation was slightly masculine than the last time they'd seen Eden, but it never really mattered much. Eden was whatever it suited them to be.

"Thought I had more time than this," Eden mused.

"Where's Lazarus?"

The androgyne laughed musically. "Never here. I took his form to lead you on my trail. Lazarus is too weak a target to pass up." Their smile melted away in an instant. "He died today. Did you know that?"

The surprise was enough that Jacob flickered in Esau's hand, their thoughts briefly separating.

What did that cost us? How the fuck? Who did that?

"Dear little Bethie got him," Eden hissed. "So guess what?"

They traced another line on the girl's skin. She whimpered, crying into her gag.

"Isaac passed down the word. The truce ends today. We're done fucking around. It's time to recruit."

Jacob and Esau stared. And then all the pieces fell together. The chanting. The symbols. The sacrifice.

Eden was creating another sibling. Another Apostle.

They charged.

"Kill them!" Eden shrieked.

The parishioners piled out of the pews and threw themselves at Esau.

Jacob and Esau were in sync, and their sword parted flesh and bone and the aged wood of the pews as easily as it split the air. Blood fountained over them like rain.

The second wave stumbled over the corpses, little more than zombies, reaching and grabbing. Esau stabbed a woman in the face, turning his wrist to continue the motion and slice the thrall beside her and-

Jacob's blade lodged in her skull. Thick, glutinous liquid bubbled out of the wound. Not blood this time, but something pus white, closer to putty or jellied bone. The woman gurgled, her skin bleaching, and her eyes darkening. Black sclera, yellow pupils.

"Do you like them?" Eden called. "They're called Deliria. Have fuu-unn!"

Esau tugged, but the blade stayed stuck in the creature, like trying to pull it from a bog. They swore, and Jacob stepped forward.

Sparks rippled down the blade as he ignited their conduit. The Deliria twitched, then writhed, smoke pouring from its mouth as the blade electrified. The monster's liquid flesh blackened and bubbled, and Esau ripped the sword free just in time to meet the next wave of grasping, moaning Deliria.

They found themselves retreating this time, fending off the zombies from all sides. Not all of them were Deliria, but there were more creatures than there were normals, and the mix forced them to pick their strikes, wasting valuable energy on sharpening Jacob's edge with magic.

Dull nails raked across their arm, and they fell back to the doors. The thralls were bottle-necked, but they weren't making any headway. The Deliria was more resilient than they'd initially appeared. There was nothing human left of them. Things that would kill humans were little more than flesh wounds to them.

The Deliria were taking hits and just getting back up.

Further retreat, panic beginning to grow, little by little.

"Full-burn," Esau yelled. "We'll never make it to Eden otherwise."

Jacob nodded.

Lightning bloomed in their free hand. The fluorescent lights that ran the length of the hallway flickered, then burst as the power erupted from them, drawn to Esau's palm.

Their attentions diverted. Esau worked the right arm, wielding Jacob's blade. Jacob controlled the left, spraying gouts of lightning across the thralls. The creatures seized where he struck them, and Esau used the opportunity to finish them off, putting them down conclusively.

They danced on the edge of separation, their minds just barely touching as they relied on the other to know what to do, to take the shots they set up.

Esau impaled a Deliria, and Jacob seized it by the face. He channeled electricity into it. The monster shook, limbs contorting, and then discorporated. It splattered to the ground, little more than a mass of putty in the shape of a man.

The tide turned. The few remaining humans were felled, and they worked through the Deliria one by one. The monsters were too stupid, too mindless to have any tactics, to retreat, or to use their numbers.

"Waste of time," Esau murmured.

Jacob agreed, then paused, his electrical counterstrike faltering.

It was a waste of time. Eden would have known the Deliria wouldn't be able to stop them.

'Stall tactic! Forget them!'

Esau snarled. He charged, scattering the stragglers like ninepins, lashing out to either side as he ran.

They barreled back into the sanctuary. A few thralls lay twitching and dying in the aisles, but the altar was deserted.

A single white rose lay there. Eden's parting blessing.

'Shit.' 'Shit.'

There was no time to investigate or finish off the thralls. They hit the front doors hard enough to shatter them and kept going.

The sedan they'd come in was destroyed. A twisted hunk of metal sat on the pavement in front of it, all that remained of the engine.

And worse, they hadn't disabled every car in the lot. Even now, a set of headlights was disappearing over down the road into the distance.

'Careless, fucking careless!' Jacob berated himself. He was supposed to be better than this! He was supposed to be the careful one. The brains! Now they were fucked, and Eden had gotten away.

His self-loathing warred with Esau's need to pursue, and they split. Jacob stumbled away, his face twisted with fury.

"Dammit! God fucking dammit!" He drove his foot into the side of a truck, denting the metal.

"Quit wasting time!" Esau seized him and pulled. "We can still catch them."

Their eyes met. "How?"

Esau pointed. A police car sat at the edge of the lot. They hadn't noticed a sheriff among the dead, but there had been a lot of them.

"I'll get the stuff," Esau said. "You start the car."

The door was unlocked. A quick check for the keys revealed none, but it didn't matter. He took hold of the ignition and ripped it straight out of the column. From there, all it took was a twist of his fingers and an application of electricity to start the car. The engine purred into life, followed by a squawk as the radio came on- chattering with requests for the officer to respond.

Jacob switched it off and leaned over to open the passenger door for Esau. His brother slid in beside him, throwing what was left of the gear onto the floor.

"You got this?" Esau asked.

Jacob floored it.

The car they'd 'borrowed' to make their trip was nice enough. Fuel efficient. Nice AC. But it didn't have a damn thing on a police interceptor.

Jacob debated on turning on the lights for a moment before deciding against.

Then Esau flicked them on anyway. He grinned at Jacob. "Oh cmon, like you've never wanted to do this."

They went screaming through the countryside, lights flashing, sirens howling. The interceptor had more horses under the hood than anything Jacob had ever driven, and it tore up the road with almost frightening ease.

Beside him, Esau was opening bags and withdrawing equipment. He loaded the SMG and racked the slide to chamber a round. The gun went onto the center console. Esau pulled out three more mags for it and stowed them in the cupholder.

Brakelights appeared in the distance, little more than red pinpricks.

Jacob found himself grinning once again. Any earlier disgust had vanished in the thrill of the hunt. Just because he was supposed to be the 'smart one' didn't mean he didn't enjoy himself. They still had a chance to finish this right and go back home with a win.

And, judging by the way they were still in sync, hearts pounding as one, breath sliding through bared teeth, Esau was having just as much fun.

Jacob mashed the radio button. He turned the dial at random.

A familiar guitar riff filled the car.

How… apropos.

He turned up the volume to full blast.

They were doing better than 85, the needle creeping toward 90. The car ahead was slowly growing larger. He could tell Eden had sped up, but whatever Eden was driving didn't have the power to outrun them.

They were out in the country now, nothing but the fields and the moon, and their quarry growing ever larger.

Ahead, Eden's car swerved and took a turn fast enough to up kick arcs of dust and gravel behind it. Jacob and Esau were there barely a minute later.

Every trace of information Jacob had ever learned about driving cried out for him to slow down, to ease into it.

He ignored them.

Esau cheered from the shotgun seat as Jacob hit the turn. The interceptor heeled alarmingly, and he felt the right-side tires actually leave the ground. Esau slammed his weight into his door and the car dropped, fishtailing like he'd hit a patch of ice. The engine roared, RPM needle spiking as he burnt rubber, and then they were off again.

The gap between the cars closed. Two-hundred feet. One-fifty. One hundred. Eden's was- of course, pure white. Some kind of sporty model that Jacob didn't recognize, fast enough to keep ahead of them, but not enough to get away. The license plate read simply 'CHRIOT.'

Esau rolled down the window. He had the SMG in his lap. "Hold it steady." He leaned out, lifting the gun to his shoulder.

Jacob sped up, trying to give his brother a better shot, and then-

"Shit- Jacob, hold on."

"What is it?"

"The girl! He's got the kid in the car with him."

Jacob bit his lip. "We don't know that."

"I'm not risking it," Esau snapped.

"If Eden gets away, there's going to be a hundred more just like her. They're breaking the truce!"

"We're not like them."

"Take the shot, Esau!"

"No!"

"It's either that or I have to run them off the road," Jacob said. "You think she'll survive that?"

Esau flinched, his face falling. "Fuck. What are we supposed to do?"

"You need to take the shot."

His brother shook his head. "Not like that. I'll- I'll shoot the tires. The car stops and we kill Eden."

"Can you do that?"

"I have to."

Jacob closed the gap. Fifty feet now. Esau lifted the gun again, his top half hanging out the window.

Esau fired. Three round burst. Sparks kicked off the road. A pause as Esau waited to check his shots. He fired again.

Eden's back window spiderwebbed.

Again. The left tail-light went out.

Again. Esau was hissing under his breath, whispering a litany of curses. Jacob pushed the pedal flat, trying to get as close as he could. The road had grown wavy, and he was fighting with the car, forcing it to keep pace around the curves.

Ahead, the road arced sharply. Eden fishtailed, rear tires spinning. Jacob came into the turn seconds behind him. He was ready- he had Eden's reaction to go off of, and took the turn smoothly, even as Eden's car was still screaming streaks of molten rubber across the road.

Esau aimed. Clicked the switch to full-auto. Fired.

Silver holes painted themselves along the broadside of the car. The right side windows shattered. The passenger's door dimpled. Eden- for a moment illuminated in the headlights, turned to look, their face a mask of rage.

And then the right side front tire burst. The rubber went shooting away. Rim met road with a hellish screech. Sparks erupted.

Eden lost control. The fishtail became a spin. The car revolved fully, spitting sparks and chunks of metal before it hit the guardrail and smashed through.

"Shit!" Esau yelled.

Jacob pulled up short, stopping suddenly enough to make the interceptor's brakes grind. They both jumped out, running to see what had become of the other car.

The guardrail sat at the top of a short incline. The white car lay at the bottom, halfway into a ditch. The remaining headlight flickered before fading out.

"Cover me," Jacob said. "I'll go in fir-"

The roof of the car split with a noise like someone punching a hole in a tin can. White tendrils pushed through the cut, forcing it wider, tearing the roof apart.

Eden unfolded.

Colorless wings upon wings upon wings, all horribly organic, with tendrils taking the place of feathers, spreading forth as the shapeshifter bloomed from the wreck.

Esau opened fire, the SMG roaring in his hands for only an instant before it clicked empty. Esau hissed before throwing it aside and charging down the slope.

It was too late. Eden's wings flexed to their full length, and then beat. The downdraft was enough to shoot their sibling into their air like a rocket, the car smashed into the ground by the force of their takeoff.

Someone screamed, and Jacob looked up. Eden had the girl clasped tight in their arms. More than just one set now- multiple limbs clutched the kid to Eden's amorphous form.

Eden was gaining altitude, wings working, drawing away from them.

Jacob lifted his hands and sent a spray of lightning at them. Eden dodged it, their shrill laughter floating down behind them. He fired again, but Eden was out of range now- far above the treetops.

Getting away.

"Shit shit shit shit!" Esau was running back to the interceptor to reload when Jacob turned to him.

"Esau- there's no time. You and me. We can make the shot."

His brother wheeled, staring for an instant before his grim expression broke.

They came together. It was Jacob who took Esau's hand this time. He lifted his hand to the red-head's chest and drew. Esau's body came apart. Everything earthly boiled away for the pure, spiritual core of what they were.

Two bodies. One soul. Resonating.

Esau thrummed in their hands. A greatbow, as tall as Jacob, carved from a smooth, silvery metal. There was no string.

Jacob raised Esau.

The bowstring formed between their fingers. White lightning, conducted between the two poles of Esau's frame. The arrow was the same. Lightning. Energy condensed to a glowing bolt, aching to be fired.

"Kill that fucker."

Jacob nodded. They smiled.

The string left their fingers. The arrow loosed with a boom like thunder.

They aimed high. The shot arced, a shooting star splitting the sky.

Eden's fleeing form, just beginning to lose definition in the night, lit up for an instant.

The arrow ripped through half the wings on one side like paper. Scraps and fragments of Eden fell to earth, and it was they who screamed this time. Eden's flight was suddenly uneven, listing to one side as they tried to grow new wings.

Jacob and Esau drew again.

Fired.

Eden was ready for them now though. They dropped, their remaining wings folding inward to send them out of the arrow's path. It arced harmlessly overhead and vanished into the fields.

"We're not going to get another shot," Jacob murmured.

Esau had no verbal response. There was only a sudden flare of rage from within. Indignant fury that Eden would get away with what they'd done.

Jacob pushed all their power into the final shot. Their hair was standing on end, their suit crackling with discharge. The arrow vibrated dangerously, a hundred million volts in one, little more than a lightning bolt held in place by human hands.

They drew the bow to its limit. Esau's metal creaked in protest, but they both knew he could take it.

Loose.

Jacob let go.

The arrow burnt the skin from their fingertips. It moved so fast that they couldn't follow the flight for a moment.

They traced the path with their eyes. Pinpointed the exact spot it would strike Eden. And-

Jacob's mouth fell open. It was going to miss. Eden had moved again. Not purposefully this time- their wings hadn't regrown properly. It looked like they'd hit an air current and been blown off course.

Out of the firing path.

The shot crested.

Descended.

Esau was screaming something guttural inside them.

The arrow curved.

It was impossible. A fucking miracle in action. Except their kind didn't get those, but it was.

The malformed wings on Eden's side exploded in a flash, bright enough to light up the forest like a flare.

The shapeshifter shrieked inhumanly. They dropped rapidly, only to discard a shape into the air.

"The kid!"

The girl's form, tiny at this distance, spiraled down, tree branches breaking under her, and then fell from sight.

Eden, freed from her weight, threw themself into a dive, curving far off to the right, away from the girl, and away from them. In moments, Eden was gone from sight, vanished into the night like a vast, pale moth.

Jacob and Esau split. Jacob turned to his brother to, only to find him already sliding down the slope.

"Esau, wait!"

They needed to go back to the church and mop up. The Deliria probably couldn't last long without a mage sustaining them, but Eden might have left something behind. Information that they could use.

Esau ignored him. He splashed across the ditch, sparing only a cursory glance at Eden's car before running into the forest beyond.

Jacob hesitated, glancing between his brother and their car. The small, growing ache in his chest answered his question.

They couldn't be apart.

He sighed, and slid down the hill.

It didn't take him long to catch up to Esau. His brother had left a trail like a blind buffalo.

It was pitch black in the forest, too much for even their limited nightvision. Jacob lifted a hand full of sparks, casting the trees into flickering relief.

"Thanks," Esau said, not looking at him. Neither stopped running forward.

It didn't take long to find the spot where the girl had fallen. The scent of her blood carried on the wind.

She lay in a pool of moonlight. Her fall had torn a hole in the canopy, spotlighting her body. She was small. So, so small.

Jacob grimaced. They could at least take her back to the church for the authorities to find. Maybe her family hadn't been among the Deliria.

Esau ran to her. He hovered, hands wavering, not sure whether to pick her up or try to heal her. He paused, his mouth creased in a terrible frown, looking at her.

Jacob walked slowly to him. "Let's take her back. I'll carry her if you can't handle it."

Esau shook his head. "Shut up for a second." He leaned over her and pressed his ear to her chest.

He went very still.

And then two wide blue eyes turned up to Jacob.

"She's alive," Esau whispered, awestruck.

Jacob pursed his lips. What were they supposed to do? The closest hospital was miles away, and the girl was mangled. Just looking at her he could see that both her legs were shattered, one arm was bent the wrong way at the elbow, and if she was breathing at all, he couldn't hear her. Alive, but for how long?

He began to voice his thoughts to Esau, only for his brother to shake his head furiously.

"Stop talking- you're distracting me. I need to- just gimme a minute to think about this."

"Think about what?" Jacob sighed and crouched down beside his brother. "Esau," he said very slowly and carefully. "The kindest thing we can do is put her out of her misery. She's dying."

Esau ignored him. He reached out and nudged the kid. "Can you hear me?"

Silence for a long, uncomfortable moment.

And then her mouth opened. She moaned softly. Her teeth were broken, and she had a mouthful of blood. She coughed, once, twice, splattering red froth over her chin.

Esau brushed her bangs back, revealing two black eyes. The girl was squinting at them through her bruises.

"Kid, look at me," Esau said. "I can save you, but I need your consent. It's not going to be nice, and there'll be a price, but you'll live."

Jacob gasped. He seized Esau's shoulder. "What the hell are you thinking? You can't bring her into this."

"Why not?" Esau's eyes were flinty, his voice low. "Eden broke the truce. I'm not going to let a kid die just to hold up a bargain that no longer exists."

"This is a war!"

"And she's a victim!" Esau shouted back. "If it goes wrong, it's on me."

The girl made a soft gurgling noise. One of her hands, all smashed and broken like a crushed spider, rose. It was trembling.

Esau took it gently. "Kid, do you want me to save you?"

Silence. She coughed roughly, gagging on blood, and Esau propped her head on his knee. It took a long, jagged bout of coughing for her to clear her airway.

Her lips moved. Esau leaned in. Jacob followed him.

"esss."

Esau looked up at Jacob.

Jacob shook his head in frustration. "So be it."

His brother moved into action at once. He pressed a nail into his left palm. The skin split and blood welled up, pooling in his cupped hand.

Esau dabbed a finger in it, and then to the girl's forehead. He drew three symbols.

The numeral Six. Three Sixes, facing outward, forming a sort of triskelion.

"In the name of the Beast, the Whore, and the Morning Star, I baptize you."

Another symbol. An inverted cross on her chin.

"Rise again and be reborn in the skin of kings."

The mark of brimstone between her collarbones.

Esau paused. There was a silence in the clearing that had nothing to do with not-speaking. The night birds and insects had fallen silent. No leaves fell in the trees. No wind moved branches. There was only a terrible, pregnant silence as the world held its breath.

Jacob looked at Esau, all rigid focus and tension, tight lines etched in his face. At the girl, on the edge of life and death and more.

Jacob looked and he knew that this was a ritual that required his participation, or it would fail. There needed to be three of them.

"Speak your name," he said. "That we may write it in the Black Book."

Esau glanced up at him. Flashed a smile.

The girl mouthed.

"M-mah-mah-" she broke off, wheezing. Coughed. The cross on her chin was running with loose blood. "Ma… Mei."

Jacob cut his palm and pressed his hand to Esau's over the girl's heart. Their blood- the same and yet different, mixed and mingled, humming with the power behind the ritual.

"So be it," they said.

And then they each tipped their hand over the girl- Mei's mouth.

She drank.

===

If you're curious about the mechanics in more detail, here's a quick overview:

Jacob and Esau- Twins. One soul, two bodies. Linked, their magic is greater than the sum of its parts, with the cost that they can't get too far from each other without becoming increasingly uncomfortable/pained. Jacob is brunette. Esau is ginger. They have the same electrical powers (taken from Jacob's Ladder in canon), but tend to have different ratios at which they use it.

Originally started out as twins with a mindlink- using the They pronouns for the entire chapter. It became very difficult to write, very quickly, and it was hard to write characterization when, as a flaw with the They/Them pronoun in English, it came across as exposition rather than character narration, if that makes sense.

Shuffled through a couple different ideas for their power sets. The twinlink thing came first, but then I actually sat down and looked at the biblical stuff with Jacob and Esau as feuding brothers. Their characterization swapped- Esau went from the sickly, put-upon older child to the hot-blooded, impulsive brother. Jacob went from being the dumb, conniving asshole to the cool, collected, focused brother, who isn't always as moral as he should be.

Almost made one of them a ghost, with whoever is the ghost alternating, treating the ghost brother like a Stand from JJBA, but it was a headache. The soul eater style weapon transformations kind of came out of nowhere, and I'm pleased with how their personalities turned out. Felt very Sam and Dean to me- though not on purpose.


Eden- Shapeshifter. Genderless and sexless. Using They pronouns got kinda confusing when I had Jacob and Esau using them too. Almost went back and had Eden using It pronouns to reflect how fucking creepy they are. Has shapeshifting to reflect how their appearance changes on each run ingame, and while it wasn't showcased, they can actually swap powersets at random, picking from a large pool of artifacts and magical items, four or five at a time.

Kind of a creep, and we don't see their personality much beyond sadist here. Did kind of lean a little too close to effeminate villain for me at one or two points.


Mei- Psychic. A mod character that just recently came out. Totally noncanon, but I used her and she just jumped into the story. The reason Eden was trying to sacrifice her, and why the arrow curves at the end is because of her latent abilities.
Think Sadako from the Ring, and you've got her.

 

[Ziel]

Urgh... I'm still not happy with how this turned out. I wanted to do something with Mithradatism, AND with hurt/comfort fluff stuff between Lillie and Moon.

Tired of messing around with it.

XXX


Mithradite (Pokemon, Lillie x Moon)


The Charizard descended the last dozen meters slowly, his wings splashing mud and water away from the landing zone with every beat. He touched down, sinking slightly in the mushy earth, and bent to let her get off.

Lillie landed with a splat, mud splattering high enough to speckle her legs. She ignored it- boots were meant to get wet, and it wasn't like Po Town saw many dry days. She patted the Charizard's shoulder.

"Thank you. That was even faster than usual."

The ride Pokemon snorted proudly, his breath and tail steaming in the rain, and nodded to her. He waited until she moved away before taking off, kicking off from the ground and rocketing away fast enough to blow the rain aside in his path.

Lillie waved. Charizard disappeared into the cloudy afternoon sky, and she turned away, pulling her hat from her bag. The ballcap was a far cry from the wide-brimmed sunhats she'd once carried, but it kept the rain out of her face, and kept her hair from frizzing too badly. Her umbrella came out next.

Surrounded by her little canopy of dry space, Lillie made her way toward town.

The walls around Po were as imposing as ever, all industrial concrete and pylons. She remembered vaguely that it had been some kind of odd retreat for a wealthy family before Team Skull took it over, but the idea always made her uncomfortable. It felt a little too much like someone else's version of Aether Paradise. Something to shut the outside world, and reality away.

She dipped her umbrella so she could fit through the gap in the wall, and entered. The rain was no weaker inside, but she breathed a little easier.

Selene didn't care if Lillie landed in town, but Lillie liked coming in this way. Despite the eeriness that still lingered around Po, there were newer, stronger associations she had for it.

It felt more like a castle, like she was slipping through a gate into some old fortress, when she remembered who lived in Po now. The walls weren't a barrier against rationality any longer, but a shield, something that made her feel safe.

The cobbled street that ran up the center of town was uneven, puddles collecting in the low spots, or covering the stones entirely in others. Lillie had to zig and zag through them, the heels of her boots splishing on every step.

She'd just passed through the first intersection when the lights came on. Purple flames bloomed in the empty lampposts, row by row, moving towards the mansion only just now coming into sight. A faint giggle trickled its way out of the gloom, and while Lillie couldn't see where it came from, she raised her free hand all the same.

"Thank you, Sortia!"

Selene's Misdreavus flickered briefly into view, just at the edge of visibility. She cackled again and disappeared.

A moment later, a chilly breeze crossed the back of Lillie's neck. She kept walking.

"Is everything alright today?"

A light tug on her left braid.

Lillie smiled. "Good. Did Selene sleep in until noon again?"

A pull on her right braid this time.

"Oh? Later than that?" Right braid. "Earlier?"

Two tugs on the left.

Lillie was just passing into the section of Po that Selene had reclaimed, but she paused at that, frowning.

"Did she sleep at all?"

Sortia's shrill laughter came from all around her.

Lillie started walking again, redoubling her pace.

If it wasn't one thing, it was another. Selene couldn't just oversleep. She alternated. There would days where Lillie would come by to find the Kahuna still in bed, buried in sheets like some kind of hibernating Ursaring. And then there was this.

'I just wanted to marathon the whole season and get it done.'

'My Hypno wanted to practice eating my dreams and see if they tasted different if I was sleep deprived.'

'Challengers should have an interesting test when they come here, so I was going to restage my invasion of Po Town with trainers playing Team Skull, and I get to be Guzma!'

For a woman who had rubbed shoulders with legendary Pokemon, wiped out two separate criminal organizations, and somehow, seen the value within a scared little blonde girl, Selene was… sort of an idiot sometimes.

The mansion loomed out of the mists, shadows flickering across its surface from Sortia's balefire. Under Selene's reign, most of the damage from Team Skull had been repaired. The windows had been replaced, the trash cleaned up, the pool refilled- currently housing a gently dozing Lapras.

In its place had come Selene's artistry. Every inch of the mansion's exterior was covered in her work. Painted landscapes warred with graffiti. Flowers and thorny vines twined through letterwork and curled around sprawling, beautiful women themselves covered in a second skin of tattoos. Symbols carpeted gables and trim- the elemental signs, star signs, icons for the legendary Pokemon.

It was overwhelming, the visual equivalent of a wall of sound. Even now, Lillie was still glimpsing new portions of the mural. She had no time for them today though, and they passed unnoticed.

She stomped up the front steps and pulled open the front door. There was a letter box nailed beside it for any challengers who came calling when Selene wasn't around.

Lillie shook out her umbrella, and then set it on the tile in the foyer to dry. "Selene! Selene, where are you?"

A clattering noise from the right, and the sound of glass breaking. "Kitchen!" Selene's voice carried over the sound. "Mind the mess."

Lillie crossed the foyer. The mansion's eastern half was largely devoted to the dining room and kitchen. The former was big enough to house a table best described in meters, and judging from the mess when Selene moved in, had fed all of Team Skull at once.

Selene rarely had any visitors besides Lillie, and the massive table had been half-rotten. She'd thrown it out and furnished the room with a vast array of comfortable chairs and beanbags, all scattered across a dozen mismatched rugs. It had become the main sleeping quarters for Selene's Pokemon, and if Selene wasn't in bed, she was usually there.

Lillie waved to Selene's Pokemon as she passed them. The only ones she really knew the names of were Selene's main team and a few of the more eccentric personalities. Mido the Minior was currently ricocheting back and forth between a Mankey and a Jangmo-o, laughing as the two fighting types whacked it like a ball.

Selene's Metagross, Bixby, was keeping watch on everyone, blinking lazily from its position in the corner. A few other psychics seemed to be congregating around it and meditating in its presence. There was a faint brush across her mind as she looked at it, and Lillie nodded in greeting to Bixby.

She had to step over a slumbering Weavile in order to get into the kitchen. The door was closed, and she could hear Selene bustling around. Judging from all the crashing and the undertone of Selene cursing, something was out of sorts.

Lillie pushed open the door and made it three steps in before she stopped, staring.

An array of tubes and beakers lined the countertops, and every burner on the stove was currently heating up a different container of viscous liquid. A number of Selene's Pokemon milled around on the floor and sat at the kitchen table, all watching their trainer.

Her girlfriend stood in the middle of a kitchen disaster.

She looked utterly dreadful.

Short, shaggy black hair normally held in some semblance of order was now pushed back- seemingly held in place by only grease and sweat. Selene's skin, caramel brown beneath her ink, was looking distinctly grayish, covered with a faint sheen of perspiration.

She lifted her head from a notebook as she noticed Lillie. "Hey, Lils," she rasped.

"Selene!" Lillie crossed the kitchen at a run, leaping over Selene's Salazzle to skid to a halt beside the other girl. "What happened?!"

"I'm alright."

This close, Lillie could see ruptured blood vessels in Selene's eyes, like red starbursts on white, and she was pretty sure the odd cast to Selene's voice was coming from the twin twists of tissue she had stopping up her bloody nose.

"You are not fine!" Lillie snapped. Growing up at Aether had been miserable, but she'd learned a lot about medicine. Selene's symptoms raced through her head, and she knew she should do something, but she was drawing a blank. The situation was just too surprising.

"How did this happen?" she repeated. "If you're sick, you should have called. Or- called a doctor or something!"

"I'm not sick," Selene said. A Clefairy sitting beside the sink gave a low grumble at that. Selene glared at it. "You know I'm not."

Lillie finally defaulted back to the basics and pressed a hand to Selene's forehead. It was hard to tell with her; Selene had too much Fire affinity in her heritage. She always burned a little hotter than normal, but this definitely felt like fever. The skin beneath her palm was clammy, somehow too cool and too hot at the same time.

Lillie found her bag and dug for her phone. "Right. We're going to a doctor." After a moment of dialing, she turned to the crowd of Selene's Pokemon. "You're all going to help me get her outside."

Her phone rang once, only for Selene to snatch it out of her hand.

"What are you doing?!" Lillie cried.

Selene ended the call. "Just sit down and listen. 'Ceus, you're freaking out for nothing."

Lillie held out a hand for her phone back, but Selene didn't offer it. They looked at each other for a long moment, Selene blinking drunkenly, Lillie glaring, her heart in her throat.

"Two minutes. And then I'm taking you to a doctor."

"Anyone ever tell you you're cute when you're- urp." Selene's words cut off in a gulp. She covered her mouth, eyes wide. Lillie skittered away, but thankfully, Selene shook her head and relaxed.

"False alarm." Her thumbs-up was the least convincing Lillie had ever seen.

"One minute," Lillie grumbled. "This isn't a game, Selene."

"I know. It's science." Selene reached out and rubbed the Clefairy. "Thanks to Clementine here, and my other friends-" She waved at the Pokemon around her.

Lillie gave them her full attention for the first time.

Cinder, Selene's Salazzle was curled up, tail flicking idly as she watched the conversation. To her left was a slimy, tentacled Pokemon that Lillie didn't recall the name of. Some kind of aquatic predator with- judging by the thick spines covering its blue flesh, poisonous barbs. Under the table, a vividly colored Ariados was working thread between its chelicerae, weaving long ropes that it looped over its back spines for later use.

There were others, some of Selene's regular team, but those three and the Clefairy were the closest at the moment.

Lillie squinted. Selene wouldn't possibly…

"Are you poisoned?!"

Selene touched thumb and index together. "Bingo."

Lillie lunged for her phone. She toppled into Selene and they both knocked into the kitchen table, scattering Pokemon left and right. She'd been expecting Selene to struggle, but the other girl let her have the phone, and after a moment to right herself from where she'd pressed Selene down, Lillie retreated.

She started dialing again. Not a doctor this time, but the nearest hospital. It would be in Malie City, and that wasn't close enough. The flight wouldn't be nearly quick enough. They'd have to ride together, so she could make sure Selene didn't fall off. And-

"How did this happen?"

Selene jerked a thumb over her shoulder at the rows of science equipment. "I'm trying to build up an immunity so I can train Poison types better."

Lillie stopped dialing to stare at her.

"Don't give me that look," Selene said. "It's perfectly safe. I take a sample from one of the Pokemon, dilute it with Antidote and a couple other chemicals, and then inject it. I give myself an hour to start feeling it, and then I have Clemmy use Aromatherapy to cure it. Rinse and repeat. I did Ariados last night. That's why he's just sitting around."

Lillie stared some more. The inner workings of her mind ground to a halt. She understood. She didn't understand.

"You're… trying to build up… an immunity," she said slowly.

"Yup. I've got Poison Affinity from my Dad's side, apparently, and I always wanted to specialize in them. Just never got the chance, you know?"

Selene grinned. One eyelid was more open than the other, and she was swaying on her feet.

"And you thought it would be a good idea to do this alone, in the middle of nowhere, with no medical staff on hand, without telling anyone?"

"Well… when you say it like," Selene said, her grin thinning slightly. "Sounds kinda crazy."

The last piece of the puzzle fell into place.

"Selene, when was the last time you took your medication?"

"This morning."

"You mean when you got up?"

"Nope. That's when I normally take it. But I haven't slept in a couple days, so I just decided to take it at 9am every morning."

Lillie frowned. That didn't make sense. Selene wasn't behaving rationally. She was normally energetic and creative, and prone to stupid ideas, but… this was downright bizarre and self-destructive. It wasn't like her at all. This was how she behaved when she missed a dose.

She glanced around the kitchen, taking in the mess of equipment. Where had Selene even gotten this stuff? Team Skull hadn't been cooking meth or something, had they? Her eyes flicked across Clementine, now dabbling her paws in the sink.

Clemmy uses Aromatherapy to cure it.

"Selene, does Aromatherapy discriminate between chemicals?"

Her girlfriend cocked her head, looking confused.

"How is it supposed to know the difference between the chemicals in poison that hurt you, and the ones in your medication that keep you stable?"

She could tell the moment when it sank it.

Selene blinked slowly. And then her smile faded. Her gaze dropped. She held up her hands. They were stained, dyed a rainbow from all the chemicals she'd been fiddling with.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"I- I didn't think of that," Selene said. "It just seemed like a good idea- so I just did it. And it- it all kinda blurred together."

"I know." She reached out to gently run a hand through Selene's hair. "Do you want to go to bed? And does Clemmy need to cure you before you do?"

"Yes." Selene grimaced. "I mean- I need to sleep. It's been a while. And no. She's- I haven't had anything for a while." She shook her head like she was trying to clear it. "Ceus, Lillie, I feel so… so stupid."

"That's okay." Lillie took Selene's hand; her skin paper white against Selene's gentle brown. "Let's get you to bed."

The Champion nodded, and then began trudging toward the door.

Lillie took all the beakers off the stove and stuck them in the sink before turning it off. She did a triple check of all the appliances and containers to make sure nothing was going to catch fire or shoot poison gas.

And then she went to catch up to Selene. It wasn't hard. The other girl hadn't gone far. They linked arms, and, with Selene leaning on her, Lillie took her up to the bedroom.

Guzma's one-time throne room had become Selene's, and on occasion, Lillie's as well. It was in just as much disarray as the kitchen was, and they waded across a strata of discarded clothes and laundry to reach the bed.

"Shower." Lillie pointed to the bathroom. Arceus knew what kind of toxins were on Selene's skin.

Selene went. Lillie waited until the water started up before she began tidying. She tried to impose some kind of system of what was clean and dirty before deciding that it was all on the floor, and therefore dirty.

She was pretty sure Selene's Pokemon had been sleeping in there too, judging by the amount of poke-fur coating everything.

She wasn't nearly done when the water stopped.

Selene emerged, her hair down, a waterlogged corpse in ragged pajamas. Lillie joined her at the bed, sitting on the side while Selene slid under the sheets.

She'd expected Selene to drop off in exhaustion, but it seemed like she was still going too strong on her episode. Bright eyes settled on Lillie, and Selene's feet were kicking and twitching under the covers.

"You wanna read me a bedtime story?"

"I- I don't think I know any." She didn't. That part of her childhood had ended when her mother discovered Ultra Space.

"Oh."

"Give me a moment and I'll see I can think of something?"

Selene nodded, and Lillie got up and scurried to the bathroom. Inside, she opened her bag and withdrew a small orange bottle.

The pills were meant for her. Something to calm her down when she got stressed, when her anxiety flared like a neon star.

Lillie crushed three of them and poured the powder into a glass of water. She returned to the bedroom and handed the glass to Selene.

"It'll help you sleep."

The other girl snorted. "That's your bedtime story?"

"No." She waited until Selene drank the entire glass before continuing. "I could tell you about… ah, the story of the princess and the knight?"

"...is this story some kind of gay parable about me rescuing you, princess?"

Lillie flushed. "No." She looked away. "Do you want to tell one?"

"Sure." Selene patted the bed beside her. "Get comfy."

Lillie tugged her boots off and slid up next to her. One of Selene's arms wrapped round her shoulders and drew them together.

There was silence for a moment, Selene not looking at her.

"This isn't so much a story," she whispered. "It's just… what happened."

Lillie leaned in. Selene's skin was still damp beneath her pajamas, and she was warm. The bodywash she'd used hadn't quite removed the acrid, too-sweet smell of venom.

"I'm listening."

"The immunity thing. It wasn't just for the Affinity or so I could train Poison types. It was partly that. I- I've been doing the Kahuna thing for what- six weeks?"

"About that."

"I'm not Acerola. I like Ghost-types, but I don't have any sixth sense. Like, not even a little bit. It's not a good fit for me."

"So you wanted to change what type of Kahuna you were?"

"Sorta." Selene inhaled slowly, raggedly. Every breath whistled faintly; Lillie thought Selene's sinuses might still be closed up from the dosing. "But the real reason I did it… is because of your mother."

Lillie stiffened. She turned, but Selene wasn't looking at her again. Selene's hand was tight on her shoulder, holding her close.

"Lusamine- your mom. And… Nihilego. You said they found venom in her system during the autopsy. And when I had to catch all the Ultra Beasts for the police… they said the Nihilego could make people go crazy."

Lillie nodded, barely a jerk of her head. She knew. It had been almost a year, and she still dreamt about it sometimes. Her mother had become unrecognizable. Like she'd died, and someone with her face was still walking around, talking in her voice, but saying things she never would. That her mother finally had died, back then, in that nightmare place, had been a relief. It was a sick, shameful thought, and one she'd never voiced. Never would.

"Ultra Beasts are drawn to people who have been through wormholes. Like me. Or you." Selene swallowed. Took another rasping breath. "And I thought, if that could happen to your mom, what if it happened to me?" She swallowed again, but laughed this time, high and mocking, just once. "I'm a friggin mental disaster already, just imagine what might happen if I got poisoned."

"So you were trying to build up your poison immunity so that couldn't happen," Lillie said softly, finishing the thought.

Selene didn't respond. Lillie didn't need her to.

She pressed closer, until her heart was pressed to Selene's shoulder, and then brushed her lips to Selene's cheek. "Thank you."

It was only then, when Selene relaxed, that Lillie realized that the other girl had been just as tense and stiff as she was.

Lillie let herself loosen as well. Her forehead came to rest in the crook of Selene's neck, her arms sinking down to encircle her waist.

She sighed, long and slow.

"Thank you for doing that, Selene. It's- it means a lot. But… I want you to know something, okay?"

"Yeah." Little metal rods of tension had come back into Selene's frame.

"I loved my mother, even at the end. No matter how hateful she became. Just because someone changes doesn't mean the person we love is gone."

A tentative, rainbow-dyed hand crept up, slowly coming to rest in the small of Lillie's back.

"Even if you do stupid things, like go off your meds and staying up for 3 days straight, or-"

"Try to set a world record," Selene suggested. "And end up burning down the Megamart."

Lillie giggled. "I was going to say things like that time you painted the entire front of the mansion with a mural of us to commemorate our six-month anniversary… in water-soluble paint."

Selene groaned. "Shiiittt. I forgot about that. That was really dumb."

"It was also very romantic."

Selene stiffened again, but with shock this time. Lillie peeked up, just a little.

She hadn't thought Selene could blush, but a definite red tinge had crept into her cheeks.

"Ready to sleep now?" she asked.

"I think so." Selene smiled. "Whatever you gave me… is starting to kick in. I feel like-" She yawned cavernously. "Like you hit me with Yawn, last round, and it's about to knock me flat."

"Sleep powder."

"And here I thought… I thought…" Her eyes were drooping. Lillie slowly nudged Selene down to lay flat on the mattress. "I thought I'd been poisoned enough for one day."

"Last time."

Selene didn't hear her. Her eyes were already shut, her body slowly limbering and unfolding with sleep.

Lillie gave her a moment before she slipped out of bed. She drew the curtains- not that it mattered much, Po Town was always overcast, and flicked off the bedside lamp.

Her set of pajamas were in their usual spot in the dresser.

Lillie put them on, fumbling a bit in the dark. Her sundress, after a moment's hesitation, was discarded haphazardly over the back of a chair. Folding her clothes was something reserved for a different Lillie. An old one.

A Lillie without friends, or any family in the real sense.

She joined her partner under the sheets. It took only a moment for Selene to roll over and clutch her like a Komala.

That Lillie, of the past, was a Lillie without Selene.

 

[Ziel]

Calvatia Gigantea (Touhou)

3

Amanita trudged.

It had been several hours since her run-in with the fairies, long enough for the moon to pass its zenith. The SDM's lights had grown slowly, but she was only just beginning to be able to make out the mansion through the mists.

For the first time, she had a true idea of just how large Gensokyo was. This was a journey that had been made before, but always in the arms of her mother. The work of an hour at most, and even that was only if there was danmaku involved.

The scope of it… of the lake. She'd never realized. Gensokyo had only been navigable from the sky. Walking on the ground, on her own two feet… She was small. Small and exhausted. Ostoyae's purpose as her chariot had always been practical. He protected and carried, simply because she didn't have the stamina for it.

One of the straps on her mary janes had snapped, and now every step jostled the shoe on her foot. It was rubbing against her heel, the stocking sticking to her skin in a tender spot. Blistering, little by little. Amanita would have just removed it and walked in her bare feet, but the beach in this area of the lake was closer to gravel than sand, all sharp little stones, and carpeted liberally with jags of driftwood.

She was trying to ignore the pain, but there was nothing else to think about. Her running inner monologue of 'stupid stupid stupid, this idea was so stupid' had died out about an hour ago, her thoughts just as exhausted as she was. She ached all over, she was cold, and she had nowhere to go but the SDM.

There was no turning back through the forest, and sleeping on the beach was just asking to get eaten by a- a lake monster or something. She was pretty sure those existed.

Trudging.

Trudging.

And on.

She was just climbing over a beached log, the thick bark spongy and waterlogged, when the wind picked up. Amanita hissed, dropping to a crouch on the log, glancing around for another fairy coming her way.

After a moment of heart-in-her-throat panic, nothing materialized. The wind rustled the trees a bit, but the beach was otherwise silent.

She glanced around again, just to be sure. Looked up- because that was never happening again.

All clear.

Except… what was that out on the lake?

Her eyes widened. The wind had parted the omnipresent layer of mist that lay over the lake's surface. It was still there, but she could see a bit further out onto the lake now.

A jagged spire of rock thrust out of the lake, rising to a point that nearly pierced the moon. Mount Umbra was, despite its name, closer of a fortress than a mountain. Except it was a fortress in the same way that the Scarlet Devil Mansion was a house. Another thing that she'd never really grasped the size of until now. Seeing it from the air didn't capture the sense of menace, of the way it towered over the lake, watching everything around it from candlelit windows like hollow eyes.

Amanita found herself thinking of the books her mother had in her shelf. Not a magical book, but a book of magic and elves and dragons. Mount Umbra reminded her of something from that book. A thing of Mordor.

The fog was beginning to creep back together, blunting the details of the fortress. It was crouched there like a tiger, biding its time behind the curtain of mist. Not gone. Just waiting.

Ostoyae was out there. Amanita sniffled at the thought. Just because he was only a tiny portion of the fungal network, and they couldn't technically hurt him didn't mean it didn't upset her.

He was her friend, and he didn't deserve to get dragged off to that horrible place by Kyusei.

She sniffed again and forced herself to start walking again.

It wasn't the first time she'd lost part of Ostoyae, but this felt worse, somehow.

Guilt made her steps that much heavier.


XXX



She wanted to stop, but it would be impossible to get moving again. Momentum was all that kept her going at this point.

One foot in front of the other, toes scuffing in the sand, one heel sticky with blood. Left. Right.

Left. Le-

Not sand, but stone. She stumbled. Went down, hands scraping on the rock.

The pain wiped away some of the haze in her thoughts- she hadn't realized how murky things had gotten until just then. Where- where even was she? She couldn't remember the last ten minutes or so.

Amanita looked down. Her hands were resting on smooth, even, cobbled bricks.

A path.

She looked up.

The SDM was just ahead, filling the sky in front of her, its clocktower like a second moon.

"Yes! Yes, yes, yes!" She scrambled up, whispering to herself, the words whistling in her throat.

She'd made it.

A glance over her shoulder, just to check- a solitary line of dragging footprints ran far off into the night, vanishing beyond the range of her vision. It had to have been ten kilometers at least, from the spot where she'd first found the beach.

Hope gave her the strength to rise. Her palms stung, and her throat felt like someone had sand-papered it, but she had made it. She was still stumbling, her feet and ankles stiff as boards, but there was new energy in her steps.

Just a bit further.

Neat rows of trees framed the path, their canopy shading it, covering the bricks with dead leaves. These trees were a world apart from those in the forest of magic though. There was no menace in them.

And just ahead, the trees ended. There was a space separating them and the dark stone of the outer walls. Amanita came into the open space, her steps slowing a bit.

The SDM's gates were absurdly tall, standing far above even the oaks that led up to them. They were a maze of metalwork, all curving, interlocking lines in baroque designs. There was a guard post to the right of the gates, just an awning over a little booth against the wall.

The woman there was watching her.

Amanita approached her, arms folded round her chest, head down.

The gate guard was sitting with her legs crossed under her, and was still head and shoulders taller than Amanita. Her brilliant red hair was held back with a gold clasp, the metal accentuating the slitted, deep blue eyes currently evaluating Amanita.

Hong Meiling blinked, squinting at her. She leaned forward a bit. "C'mere."

Amanita moved forward a few inches.

The woman rolled her eyes. "Tetchy. Aren't you Alice's kid?"

"Y-yes." Amanita swallowed. "Ma'am."

"You need something?"

"I wanted to see Miss Patchouli, ma'am."

"Meiling, not 'ma'am.'" she said. Amanita realized for the first time she had a long-stemmed pipe in her lap, though it wasn't lit. Meiling slid the pipe into her dress before rising smoothly, brushing her green dress out as she moved.

Amanita had to take a step back to look up and meet Meiling's eyes again.

"You're not here to steal anything for your other mama, are you?"

"What?"

"Kirisame." Meiling leaned forward, forcing Amanita back another couple of steps. "This isn't a distraction or something, is it?"

Amanita shook her head. "My parents are both- ah, out. There was an incident."

"Oh, right. They would be." Meiling shrugged, looking slightly abashed. "You wanted to see Patche for magician stuff?"

"Sort of."

Meiling grunted, shrugging again, and rose. "Come on. You don't look like you're in any condition to steal anything anyway."

She turned and pushed one of the gates open. Amanita stared.

They hadn't even been locked? Although… basically everyone in Gensokyo could fly anyway… so…

She scurried in after Meiling.

The SDM's courtyard was a landscape painted in moonlight. Lush, elegantly groomed gardens gleamed in silver, flowers accenting topiary and statues of fantastic beasts. Here and there a fountain broke the silence with the gentle sound of trickling water. It was a far cry from the wild beauty of Yuuka's gardens, but it was lovely nonetheless.

"Are you coming?" Meiling's voice interrupted her thoughts, and Amanita started. She'd been staring.

"Sorry. The- the gardens are very nice."

Meiling's bushy eyebrows rose and she grinned. "Thanks. I bust my hump keeping those together."

They started walking again. Amanita found herself jogging to keep up with Meiling's impossibly long legs. Her newfound store of energy burnt through quickly, and she was lagging and panting before long.

"Oh, come here." And then hands caught her and scooped her up. Amanita went up and up before being deposited to sit on Meiling's shoulders, the woman holding her ankles to keep her in place.

"Thank you, ma- Meiling."

"'s nothing. Your parents are good people, so you are too."

Amanita found herself staring down at the gate guard in mild amazement. Ostoyae had nothing on this Amazon. She could feel iron hard muscles rippling beneath her, and Meiling was tall enough that it felt like riding on two Ostoyaes stacked on top of each other. Now she wanted to see if she could grow a mushroom man this tall, or this tough.

Amanita was still goggling when Meiling slipped through a side door into the mansion.

The door shut behind them, cutting off the last of the cool night air, and the mansion closed in around them. It was dim, lit with only a handful of flickering gas lamps. The air carried an undercurrent. The faint, musty scent of an old house. And blood. The copper undertone had never varied in all the times Amanita had visited.

Meiling stopped, her shoulders tensing. "Shit. Forgot about them."

"Who?" Amanita whispered.

"Quiet."

Meiling turned and began moving down a side hallway, pants swishing as her strides lengthened. She took turns seemingly at random, cut through a doorway, and then took a narrow staircase upward, taking them three at a time.

They had just crested the top, Meiling nudging the door open, when Amanita felt the air change.

There was presence.

Meiling stiffened, her pace slowing, and crept out of the stairwell. They emerged onto an upper passageway, one side open, looking down on a hall tall enough that the ceiling was lost in the darkness.

Breath died in Amanita's throat.

Her sixth sense was screaming. The presence was like being back in the forest again. Being small and insignificant, dwarfed by something immense behind imagination. Only now it was condensed. That had been hundreds of square miles of forest, all saturated with millennia of magic. This was all of that, pressed to one, impossibly dense point in space.

It was like those star objects in that book Rinnosuke had given her. Black holes. Something so dense and all-consuming that nothing could escape it.

There was a low wall separating the passage from the sheer drop beyond, decorated with fluted, flower-carved columns. Meiling lowered Amanita to the marble and crept forward, hiding herself behind the column and peering down. Slowly, moving like her bones were glass, Amanita walked forward to press against it. She was just barely tall enough to see over the railing.

She wished she wasn't.

Far below, figures were emerging from a door onto the checkered tile of the entryway. First came a woman in blue with wings that reminded Amanita of Kysuei, and who was cold enough that Amanita's third eye ached just looking at her, like trying to stare into a frozen wind only for it to bite.

Others, fairies, she thought, came next, small beside the blue woman. Her retinue?

A woman in gray, wearing a muted green cape, shorter than the blue woman, but built more like Meiling. Whip-thin, with a fighter's poise. This woman too had a small crowd trailing her. She was talking to someone out of sight.

Her focus joined them a moment later. Gray haired, clad all in white and gray, like a beam of moonlight. Red eyes flashed, visible even from a distance. This one, Amanita knew. Sakuya. She had no presence at all. Not a void in Amanita's sixth sense, but just not there.

Sakuya said something to the other woman, who nodded, smiling.

And then they all turned, looking through the doors again.

The black-hole was moving.

Amanita had her hands fisted in her dress, her breaths catching in her throat again. The sheer weight of whoever was down there was mind-numbing.

The woman who stepped into view was blonde, her hair bobbed. For a sudden, ridiculous second, Amanita thought it might be her mother. But then she inhaled, the woman's aura like a hand around her heart, and the resemblance fled.

She wore black trimmed with white, a red ribbon tied at her neck. Her every step bled shadow around her like ripples in a pond.

The woman spoke to Sakuya. Shook her head. Turned to the other two. Jerked her head toward the door. The guests began to leave. Sakuya moved to show them out.

A hand touched Amanita's shoulder and she would have yelped if she'd had the breath for it.

Meiling took hold of her and pulled her away. Amanita stumbled, her head spinning, and Meiling just picked her up like a sack of potatoes and stowed her under one arm.

They left the overlook at a creep, and it was only when they were safely into the next hallway that Meiling sped up. It wasn't flying, but it was close. She was leaping, covering dozens of meters at a time, wood paneling and portraits blurring around them, lamps streaking.

"W-who was that?" Amanita said hoarsely.

"Remilia has guests," Meiling whispered. "Because of the incident. She always uses Yukari's absence to scheme. I'd tell you not to tell anyone, but I'm pretty sure everyone who matters knows by now."

Amanita thought of the three women. Of the black-hole shaped like a person. Yukari was supposed to be invincible, but… could someone like that match her? Whatever she'd stumbled into here was bigger than her. Something for adults. For people who could walk down a hall under their own power. Who could protect their friends.

Someone who wasn't her.

She sagged around Meiling's arm. "Your secret's safe with me."

Meiling chuckled softly, but continued running.

They continued on through the manor for several minutes, with Meiling taking more turns at random. Amanita tried to keep track, but quickly lost all sense of direction beyond her faint, general plant-youkai sense of 'where the sun is.'

It was hard to breathe with Meiling holding her like a sack. She voiced it to Meiling, expecting the gardener to just set her down, but she didn't. Instead, Meiling hoisted her into a piggyback carry without breaking stride.

They exited through a door and came out on a small statue garden. Meiling navigated the winding path, weaving between the weathered forms of men and women before re-entering the mansion. They couldn't have gone more than five meters outside, but the sitting room they entered bore no resemblance to the seemingly endless hallway they'd been in before, and Amanita flinched as her solar-sense jerked wildly.

She'd known the SDM was ridiculously, unreasonably large for a place that only housed a half-dozen women and their maids, but this was beyond all expectation. Now that she was paying attention to it, her solar-sense was shifting subtly with every turn they took, and even sometimes at random. The dimensions to the house made no sense.

Meiling took two rights, entered a doorway, and instead of coming out in the hallway they'd just left, came into somewhere entirely new. A small flight of stairs leading up to a set of grand doors.

They stopped outside, and Meiling let her down. Amanita swayed on her feet. The spatial mess made her head ache, but now that they'd slowed it had eased. It did nothing for her exhaustion, or her blisters, or the simmering terror of the women Remilia had been hosting.

"We're here," Meiling said, and pushed open one of the door.

Amanita walked in, and immediately felt more of her aches fade away.

Voile.

If the mansion bent space, the library ignored it entirely. This though, she was glad for. Bookshelves stretched as far as the eye could see. It was like the pictures of Outside cities she'd seen in books, only instead of buildings and towers, there were shelves and shelves. Blocks and risers and cliffs, some with sky-bridges connecting sections, others separated by platforms or walls. It was a topography made entirely of literature.

Amanita inhaled slowly, tasting old paper and ink. She exhaled, feeling her shoulders loosen.

"Oh, honestly…" Meiling was groaning beside her. "I should have guessed with your parents. Another bookworm."

Amanita gave her a smile. "Thank you, Meiling. I wouldn't have made it here without your help."

"Don't steal any of the books and we'll call it even." Meiling tousled Amanita's hair, scattering twigs and leaves that had been caught in it, and was just departing, the door closing behind her, when she paused.

"Margatroid."

Meiling was in the doorframe, half-hidden behind the door. She had turned, one reptilian eye narrowed through the gap.

"Yes?"

"Stay in the library. If you need to leave, have Patchouli send for me and I'll escort you out. Keep away from the maids. Don't let them see if you if you can help it. Words carry, and it's… it would be better if Remilia didn't see you at the moment. She's in a mood." Amanita nodded to show she understood. Or thought she did. "Good. You seem like a nice kid, but this isn't something for kids."

Amanita nodded again, and Meiling smiled. The door slid shut and she was gone.

She stared at the wooden barrier for a long moment, weighing over Meiling's words. The SDM was looking like a worse and worse choice. Like she'd maybe have had a better chance if she just stayed in the forest with all the youkai, than here, where there were webs and undertow that she knew nothing about. Nothing, but that she was nothing in comparison.

Amanita sighed slowly and glanced around the library for a moment before finding a chair. She removed her shoes before peeling off her socks. The left came away with the visceral tug of raw skin dried in place, and she hissed through her teeth at the bloody spot she'd left on the fabric.

Holding her shoes in one hand, she pocketed her socks and got up. She walked slowly into the maze of shelves.

There was nowhere to go but forward.

Voile changed its layout occasionally, but the larger shape remained the same. She knew Patchouli hated disorganization enough that the books were carefully inventoried and ordered, grouped together by topic.

But it didn't help her find the magician. And she wasn't going to start yelling. It was a library.

She'd never had the chance to spend much time here, and never alone. It was proving to be an exercise in temptation, as just walking down the first set of shelves had her glancing over a dozen different books that looked interesting. But if Patchouli was anything like her mother- and she was, then the books were either booby-trapped or warded for interference.

Amanita folded her hands in her armpits to prevent herself from grabbing, and kept walking. She limped through what looked like a history section before crossing the border into biography. She was just moving from regular to auto-biography when something brushed past her.

It was like brushing through spider thread, only she caught the stray tips of woven magic falling away, and then-

'Kirisame detected. Defenses activating.' An artificial voice from nowhere.

A shrill alarm began sounding, half-birdsong, half horn. Books began toppling off the shelves. Scattershot, falling like paper rain, only none struck the ground. They paused in midair, pages riffling furiously, only to stop and bare pages inked with blazing magical seals.

Amanita had only a second to drop her shoes and run before they opened fire.

Danmaku tore down the aisle, magical discharge putting her hair even more on end than normal, stray lightning crackling through the bookshelves. It chained, the more books that fired, the more defenses activated, the shelves coming alive ahead of her, their tomes joining the assault.

She ran faster than she ever had before. Faster than she knew she could.

The only reason they didn't hit her immediately is because the aisles were narrow enough that only so many books could aim at her at once, and they had to pick their shots so as not to damage the other library stock.

Amanita ran with fire licking her heels. She hurtled to the end of the aisle and turned, feet sliding across polished wood, and then threw herself forward, narrowly avoiding the oncoming curtain of bullets.

"Aaiiiiii ohmygods whyyyy!" she squealed, flinging herself down an aisle at random.

And immediately skidded to a halt.

The defenses had activated into a solid wall of books in front of her, all open, all shining with magical energy.

"You have to be kidding m-"

They fired.

A solid wall of rainbow bullets filled her world.

Her last conscious thought was to wonder what in the hells her mom had done to warrant this kind of attention.


XXX



Awareness came slowly.

She was awake. Recognition came a few moments later. She wasn't dead. She had been in the mansion's library, and she'd gotten… blasted?

Amanita blinked.

Tried to blink.

Attempted to frown at her inability to blink.

Panic flared inside her- where that was she didn't know, because she didn't seem to have a body.

It was like the time she'd done astral projection with Reiko, her mind and spirit departed from the physical to walk the ether, only now there was no tether to her body.

Amanita's inner monologue took up her missing mouth's task of screaming.

She reached out, trying to find the limits of her spirit, clutching for a boundary, a line at which she might find her way back to reality. And this was wrong too, because her spirit was spread out across almost a dozen square meters, instead of the neat simulacra of her form it should be. She was almost gaseous.

Amanita tugged. The boundary moved inward a bit.

If she'd had a mouth, she'd have sighed in relief.

More focus, and the edges crept inward. They gained momentum as they came, little bits and pieces, specks of Amanita falling into place. A current formed. Bits clumped, then combined, growing larger and larger as they fused with other clusters.

The momentum was stronger now, the pieces coming into position without conscious direction. As if they knew where to go.

It took more moments of frantically observing her spirit to check, but Amanita was able to confirm that her pieces- and why was that even a thing – were beginning to reform her spiritual body.

Clumps and lumps became shapes. Shape gained definition. Texture.

Function.

With a bizarre, itching, prickling sensation like having cotton fiber brushed across the raw flesh of her eye, Amanita blinked.

She could see once more.

Still in the library, just above a pile a rags and ashes that- had she been vaporized?! What kind of lunatic defense did Patchouli have here?

Her skin knit itself together, not from spirit as she'd initially thought, but from some kind of odd, powdery material that was floating through the air around her remains. It was only when one of her hands reformed and she had a change to touch it that Amanita realized what the white dust was.

Spores.

She'd reformed from a cloud of spores. Not astral projection at all, but reproduction. Had she exploded into spores like some kind of smushed mushroom? That was…

That… was...

Amanita's mouth reformed. The external came first, lips molding, followed by the internal carving their way into her body with an incomprehensible digging sensation. Esophagus, followed by lungs.

She inhaled.

Her scream became external. Not shrieking now, but the low, constant, breathless whine of someone pushed far beyond normalcy.

"-aahhhhhhhhh-"

There was a noise behind her.

Amanita turned- she could do that now, because she had feet.

The woman had hair like a crow, black with a purplish sheen, and wore a maid's outfit, complete with apron. Except she also had batlike wings on her back, and two sets of horns poking from her scalp. The first set were as long as Amanita's index finger, and the second just nubs.

She was currently pointing at Amanita and making a very similar sound. "Ahhhh-"

"Aahhhh!" Amanita yelled back.

The maid continued pointing and screaming.

Amanita tried to continue doing so, but her scream tapered off. She'd run out of breath.

She took an unsteady step forward. Legs. She had definite legs now. She looked down just to make sure, because she was never taking legs for granted again.

She was also naked.

There were footsteps, and then three more people joined them in the aisle. Two more maids; one was Koakuma, the other an unknown.

And a woman in a purple gown, her arms full with a heavy tome.

The book hit the floor with a noise like thunder.

Patchouli Knowledge stared at her, her mouth open.

Koakuma gave her a thumbs up and grinned.

The maid continued screaming.

Amanita wondered if she couldn't just go back to being spores.

XXX


This one went through a bunch of different drafts. Kept trying to do more with Amanita sneaking through the SDM on her own to get to the library after she and Meiling get separated, but it was all just... Xeno's Race kinda stuff. Delaying the actual plot on more travel, when that was basically last chapter too.

I wanted to do something emphasizing Amanita, rather than having her just carried there by Meiling, but instead we get one of Amanita's powers- one that she didn't know she had, and a somewhat more amusing finish.

Not 100% happy with how it turned out. If you have any constructive criticism or think it might look better a different way, I'm all ears.
And yes, that is Team Nine meeting Remilia.

 

[Ziel]

Nerve Damage (Overwatch, Angela/Genji)


"Tell me where it hurts."

Shimada lifted his right hand. "It is not painful. It is… numb? Damage during training." His fingers opened and closed, formed a fist. "Feels clumsy."

"I see. That will be a priority for today then. Are there any other spots like this?"

He looked like he was about to shake his head, but then paused. "I am unsure. Hard to tell. So much of- of this is different. I do not know how it is supposed to feel."

Angela gave him a gentle smile. "That will take time. Getting your body into working order will be the first steps."

She pressed two fingers to the seam on Genji's forearm. "You said the issue was here?" There was a line where synthetic flesh met the metal surface of his shuriken launcher. Normally, there would be layers of armor plating over it, and the rest of him, but that was for battle. They'd be in the way. Now, he was peeled, layers pulled away and discarded so that she could examine him.

It was rare to see his face anymore. His eyes were had been among the replacements, and the cybernetics blues were watching her, following the motion of her hands across his arm.

Angela prodded gently, touching spots on his arm, moving along as he indicated yes or no. "Here? No. More along this side? I see."

Her hands dropped to his, taking his fingers one by one, curling them gently. "Stiff, numb, or pain?"

Genji finally settled on the issue being in his thumb, index, and middle.

"Ah." Angela tapped a spot just above his wrist. "I think I know. The shuriken feeder probably knocked into the ventral nerve feed. Lay back on the table for me, bitte."

Genji sighed and lay back. She tugged his arm to one side, perpendicular to his body, and settled it on a stand.

"I'm going to disconnect this part so I can work without it hurting you."

"Fine." His glare was hawklike. Genji, of course, would hate her taking him apart like a puzzle.

The computer console was already hooked up to his central chassis. It was the work of only a second to find the diagnostic maps, select his right arm, and deactivate it.

Genji hissed.

"Painful?" she asked.

"Gone."

He shifted on the table, looking at his arm in distaste. The limb was limp, fingers curled slightly inward like a dead insect.

Angela shifted it, then tapped the computer command to open the underlayer. The nanofiber split, a seam forming from nothing as the material rewrote its shape to comply. Sure enough, her diagnosis of his damage was correct. It took some fiddling, but she reset the position of the feeder before applying nanopaste to the malfunctioning circuits.

Her creation, her paste, was as malleable as clay. A command, a nudge from the computer, and it melded into the circuits, repairing and rebuilding in seconds.

"Give me five years, and I'll have you regenerating on your own, just like this," she mused.

"I'd rather you just regrow my body," he said very softly.

Angela stopped, her hands hovering over the keyboard. She sighed, turning to look at him. "That will not be possible at this time. It- let me finish, please." She held up a hand, forestalling his interruption. "What do you know about biotech research?"

"Less than you, I imagine."

Angela gave him a thin smile before returning to the console. A few passes over the keys, and Genji's arm began resealing itself. The nanofiber closed without seam, reforming into a singular, unmarred surface.

"This will sting."

Genji grit his teeth, and she reconnected his arm. The limb jerked, fingers spasming and convulsing for a moment before forming a fist.

"Are we done?" he said, voice hoarse.

"Not quite."

Angela turned away and went to her cabinet. She rummaged for a moment before coming back with the necessary tool. The device was incongruous, a small, bright green rubber ball, studded with little points.

"We need to make sure the nerves are connected properly. I roll this along your arm, and you tell where where the feeling stops. Or if it feels wrong."

Genji's arms had not originally been cybernetic. Not both of them. There had been more of the left remaining than the right. But there had been issues with weight and balance early on in testing, and she'd finally just amputated and replaced the entirety of both with machinery to settle it. Easier that way.

His right was made of the same grayish material as the rest of his underlayer. Beneath the carapace of his armor was a reinforced layer of fibrous nano-mesh. It did not feel quite like skin to the touch- more like silk, but it was thin enough that she'd been able to work in a full suite of nerve sensors. Touch, pressure, temperature, friction. A ninja's hands were his livelihood. As a surgeon, that, she could appreciate.

Angela began rolling the ball along his fingers. "You were asking about biotech."

Genji nodded, his gaze following the ball once more.

"I am a surgeon. My work mixes biotic and nanite technology to regenerate form. But it does not create. It could, given time and research."

He raised an eyebrow at that. "You have both." He jerked a head at the technological paradise that was the Overwatch medbay.

"I do. Any issues with the feeling? No? Temperature is good?" Genji jerked as she took the ball away and pressed her fingers to his palm. Trimmed nails and cool fingers ghosted along surface of his hand, tracing where the life line would be on a human palm.

Angela smirked up at him. "The anecdote about doctors and cold hands holds true, I am afraid."

He was stiff, his posture rigid, but he didn't pull away. Angela gauged his reaction, not stopping her exploration of his palm. She didn't have to guess to know this was the first human contact he'd had with anyone in quite some time. Shimada was supposedly quite the ladies man in his past life, and the look in his eyes as she held his hand was almost hungry.

"Something wrong?" she said.

"N-no." He looked away. "Continue talking."

"I have money, resources, and support," Angela said. She ended her contact with him, not missing the way his hand followed hers for just an instant as she pulled away. "But I also have limits. These things come with strings."

She returned to the ball, beginning at his wrist. The seam of flesh to metal, and his weapons attachments, she left alone, save to palpate them to make sure they were settled properly. There was no real sense in probing them with the ball- he had no sensation there. Just the vague pressure identified by the sensors in his skin, like something pressing on a fingernail.

Genji shifted as she nudged the piece of his arm where the armor plating would sit.

"Pain?"

"No." His gaze dropped. "It feels strange. Like it is a part of me, but not. But… none of this is a part of me."

"It feels out of place."

"Yes."

She rolled the ball across the area she'd repaired. "Good?"

"Fine."

"Working for Overwatch comes with rules," she said softly. "We answer to Jack, and he answers to the UN. And if the UN decided at some point after the Omnic Crisis, that one disaster averted was enough, and banned any advanced biotech research, we would have to follow those standards."

"What?!" Genji jerked forward, nearly rising off the table entirely. "Why?"

"Cloning." Angela set the ball on the table, pausing in her examination to meet his eyes. "If we created omnics and they turned on us, what would happen if cloning and biotech were allowed to advance to create new life?"

"That's- that's insane," he hissed.

"It is cowardice." Angela pressed her fingers to the nanofiber of his inner arm. Silken skin passed beneath her fingers. "And that is why we are stuck using prosthetics and cybernetics."

Genji swore. She did not know the word, it was in his native tongue, but he said it in the tone used for epithets. "Insane. I'm stuck in this thing because they're afraid. So worried about something that they've damned me to this shell."

"Genji," Angela said. "Genji, look at me." She rose. Her hands moved from forearm to elbow to shoulder to chin. His was stubbled, just enough of his skin left for a beard shadow before the underlayer replaced his neck. Angela brushed her fingers through it.

His skin was warm. He stared at her.

"You are you. No matter how much of you is machine, the components that matter are here."

A single finger pressed to his forehead.

"Please know that I have given you nothing I would not have myself."

Genji frowned at that. "What?"

"You are better now," she whispered. She followed the seam. Stubbled chin became underlayer and carapace. Cool and smooth. Impenetrable. The faint vibration of the pump system that had replaced his heart thrummed through her fingertips.

"It will not be this generation, but once I have you finalized, I will begin converting myself."

He was still staring.

"I could grow you a new arm, were I allowed. But I can build a better one. Everything I know about physiology and nanotech combined, all the gain and none of the flaws. That is the purpose of cybernetics." She pressed closer to him, stepping between his legs to stand nearly chest to chest with him. "Does this really feel any different?" Her hands across his again. Her breath against his neck.

Interesting to see how his face flushed. Angela wondered briefly how this would have played out had she removed his sex drive like she'd originally planned to, and decided that this was much more fun. All this human passion in a machine's shell. Shimada might just burst out of his skin.

"I've taken the first steps already."

She took his hands and drew them to the small of her back.

Genji gasped. "I thought- but the suit?"

His hands probed this time, following the links of her spine up, pressing to feel them through her coat and shirt. Angela shivered, pressing just a little closer to him with each vertebrae.

"Cybernetic. Full spinal replacement." She rolled her shoulders meaningfully, and he took the hint to touch there. The implant branched over her shoulder blades, fanning out for a series of ports that would, in combat, accept the wings of her Valkyrie suit.

"The suit is mostly power sources and armor. With this though, I can be one with it. My reflexes more. Faster."

His grip on her shoulders tightened, pulling them together fully now. His chest was firm, his arms encompassing. His fingers were tracing now, crossing the seams where metal met flesh, contouring the muscles in her back and shoulders.

Angela looked up, her breath heavy. "Is this embrace really any different than any before?"

Genji met her eyes. He opened his mouth. Shut it. Grimaced. "I- it is- confusing."

Slowly, Angela slid his hands away from her and stepped back. "It is overwhelming," she said. "Why don't we leave it there for today?"

His eyes widened. A flurry of emotions crossed his face, almost breathtakingly rich. He wasn't used to having his face exposed. It took away that stoic air of his.

Surprise. Shock. Hurt. Need. Longing. Confusion. Need. Frustration.

She wanted to see more. More of this. Genji's face, all twisted and wanting.

"I do not want to push too hard," Angela said gently. "Or go too fast. You said yourself that this was something you needed to get used to."

He nodded jerkily. "Yes..."

Shimada rose from the examination table slowly. His head was down, his hands opening and closing at his sides.

"Get some rest, Genji. We can pick this up another time."

His head jerked up, and she smiled at him.

That burst of expressions again. Surprise. Hope. Want. Need.

He was still looking over his shoulder at her even as he stumbled toward the door.

It hissed shut behind him, Angela waited thirty seconds, and then locked it.

She sank back into her office chair.

The laughter came, rich and easy.

This project had turned out infinitely more amusing than she'd imagined. Her aim to create her own superman, a demonstration of the cybernetic conversion techniques she was honing, had become something more. He was her opus. They'd asked her to save his life, and she'd made him art.

She was going to keep modifying him until he was perfect, and only then would she turn the knife on herself. Overwatch's resources and money turned toward the aims of Talon's greatest scientist.

In the mean time… she didn't need any surgery or mods to get Genji to become hers. His body already was.

His mind would follow in time.

XXX

That's right. Yandere!Talon!Mercy. This is about as close to romance as I get.

Came directly out reading a fic where Mercy was with Talon, and had this creepy ass sort of stockholm relationship with her Genji, and from another where it played with her having the spine attachments from her suit as cybernetics.

 

[Ziel]

Nymphaea (Naruto)


Amegakure had levels.

It was a city built of them. A layer cake growing up from pylons sunk so deep enough into the lakebed that they touched the center of the world. The next layer was pumps. Like the air bladders that kept aquatic plants afloat, Ame was kept where it was by a sprawling root system of pumps and pipes. The poorest citizens were forced to live with the ever present thrum of pumping machinery, and it was said that a true Ame resident's heart beat in time with the pumps themselves.

The next layer was houses. Apartments. Buildings. The strata of any city. There were even a handful of parks. Difficult for an artificial city, but not impossible with the jutsu out there.

Izumi lived in the housing layer. Midway up, just before the apartments became really comfortable in any way. Her apartment was a single, and just big enough for her futon in the evenings, and a kotatsu during the day.

It was the kotatsu she was thinking of at present. The rains had been cold that day, catching an unseasonable chill that cut away the usual humidity and replaced it with bite. Her umbrella and raincoat hadn't done much against the horizontal spray of rain that always kicked up when she crossed the higher sky-bridges.

Most of Ame's important places were higher up, in the upper levels of towering buildings. The Academy, in a design idea she was sure was sadism, was at the tip-top of a fat government building. Getting there, for her, required five separate sky-bridges and a detour through the redlight district.

Feet heavy with a long day of training, Izumi plodded home. She'd reached the stage of wetness where it stopped mattering so much, because there weren't really measurable grades between 'drenched' and 'soaked.'

The real annoyance was the sopping bandage wrapped around her left palm. They'd been doing weapon practice that day, and she'd fumbled a kunai and grabbed for it without thinking. Her sensei had wrapped the wound up and told her to get back to work. Typical. Her sensei was more scar tissue than human.

She'd need to clean it when she got home. Dealing with the moisture was something every Ame nin learned on day one of Academy. Izumi's understanding was that it was something along the lines of 'if you can deal with omnipresent, torrential rain, you can deal with anything. Now treat that before it falls off.'

She shook her hand slightly, wincing at the little flash of pain it generated. She used her elbow to push open the door into the shopping complex. The air inside was musty, filled with the scent of too much incense and too many bodies.

Folding her umbrella, she descended a flight of stairs into the area proper. The crowd there was middling, just beginning to bustle. The civilians had started getting off work, so the redlights were filling up. She wove between them, using her elbows and umbrella to shove past anyone who dragged their feet.

The shopkeeps and workers had long since grown used to her, so no one got in her way, though a few civilians did double-takes when she passed. Izumi rolled her eyes. There was never anything fun to see out in the open anyway. She'd had her run of the kinkier shops once she figured out henge, but she'd ended up too embarrassed to buy anything. Not that she had the money for any of the fun stuff anyway.

She umbrellaed her way through a knot of rough looking laborers arguing over who got to take the first run at the best whore at that particular shop. The woman, who was admittedly very pretty, looked more bored than anything. She was casting seductive smiles at the men, now rifling through their wallets to check funds, but her eyes were flat. Uninterested.

Izumi hurried on, her skin crawling.

There was nothing wrong with that. Everyone had to make their own way, and not everyone could be fortunate enough to be ninja. If she hadn't had chakra, she might well be there herself.

But gods, it was just so… gross.

She paused at a junction in the path. A staircase would take her down into the next leg of her walk, while going straight would lead to her favorite shop in the district.

A raucous cheer came from behind her, as one of the men won the honor of going first. Izumi shuddered, her uninjured hand white-knuckled around her umbrella.

As much as she wanted to leave, she needed something to get the taste of that scene out of her mouth.

She went straight.

The adult bookstore sat at the end of the aisle, sandwiched between a ramen shop and a shop peddling some exotic leather goods. It was small, no bigger than five by five meters, but every inch was crammed with merchandise. It was a maze of floor to ceiling shelves, all filled and double-stacked with books and magazines.

The shopkeep nodded to her as she entered. The old man was good people. His prices were cheap enough for her to afford on the shoestring budget Ame provided for orphans, and he didn't give a frig if she was twelve or twenty-seven.

It didn't take long for her to navigate through the stacks to her favorite shelf.

Novels.

This was the good stuff. Not just smut or bodice rippers, but books with actual plot to go with the dirty parts. That was what made them interesting. Smut was just… meaningless. It was like watching those men debate over buying a whore. Anonymous strangers rutting. People she didn't care about.

The center of the novel section was dominated by the orange spines of the Icha Icha series, but she'd never had much taste in them. A little too obviously written by a man. Written one-handed by a man. Blech.

She'd torn through the Lily of the Valley saga, and was waiting for the next one to come out- it hadn't yet. The author was apparently 'doing research.' But the books had ads in the back for stuff from the same publisher.

She snagged a couple of those, perusing the different series for something that caught her taste. The first went back on the shelf. Too dry. The second and third were apparently sequels to series she'd never heard of. The fourth was about a duo of female bounty hunters, scrapping away to survive, both of them apparently very much inclined toward the fairer sex. Seemed like it was as much about their struggles and friendship as it was about the girl on girl.

Nice. She checked the shelf- the book had a sequel, which she grabbed as well, before making her way up to the owner.

She had to dig through her change purse to get enough for both of them, and she wouldn't have any spare cash until her next payday, but she left the shop with her head held high, books wrapped up under her arm.

Leaving the redlight was like coming clean. Not just because it was pouring once again, but because the air outside was cool and fresh, thick with the taste of the rain. It was the kind of shower she'd normally walk through without an umbrella, but her books were still clenched in one hand, and it was a long way home.

She squelched across the skybridge from the redlight, passing through an apartment building before descending a spiral staircase to a lower rooftop. The foot-traffic was lighter now. Though not rich enough to live higher up, most of the people who lived here were still affluent enough to take in the entertainment district after work. Even now the bridges and pass-throughs of the district would be filling with families, out on the town after a long week at work.

Izumi paused on her next bridge, looking down. A pavilion was set up on an open area just below. Stalls and kiosks thronged with customers, moving with the same vibrancy the redlight had had, but none of the filth. There would be more than just families down there. Some of her classmates, surely. The ones with spending money, and people to spend it with. Friends. Dates. Parents.

She sighed, hefted her armful of smut, and continued on.

The final stretch to her building was a long, arching bridge that spanned one of the main roads in Ame. More elaborate in design than most bridges, this one was framed with red arches, almost like torii, and a number of statues stood facing out over the road, greeting guests to Ame with raised hands and open arms.

The largest was at the center, a massive arch stood over a bronze statue as big as an elephant. It was two-sided, one facing the street, another facing the bridge. A man, his legs folded under him, left hand held up, index and middle finger raised, the others curled inward. His right was in his lap, holding a lotus flower. Ten other arms emerged from behind him, each holding an object or making a hand-sign.

His features were indistinct- something she'd never liked about this statue. Other artisans would cast their depictions of God with various elements, horns, halos, crowns, tears, etc. But this one was not. All it had was a smooth, bald head, and odd, wide eyes. It was hard to tell, but she thought the sculptor might have given the statue mandalas for eyes. Weird.

There were two boxes in front of it. One with a slot in the top, and another that was open on one side. Izumi stopped, pulled the last few coins from her purse, and dropped them in the box. Basically broke was the same as broke.

She pressed her palms together in a quick prayer. "God, please help the money go to someone who needs it." The whore's face flashed through her mind. Flat, empty eyes, like a statue's. Could have been her. "And… protect me from misfortune?"

It didn't feel like enough, so she went to the second box. The wish box. This one was larger, more of an enclosed bulletin board, with hundreds of paper slips clipped to it. A stack of blank slips and a pen were in a little basket in the bottom.

Izumi pulled one free and paused, pen hovering over it. The words were there. I wish no one would have to sell themselves to live. But it felt hollow. She was just as lustful and foul as the clients who bought the whores. And she'd thought of it before. Entertained the idea of doing it. Buying one.

She just… it wasn't what she wanted, but it was close. That was love, wasn't it? Sort of?

Izumi sighed. She put the pen down.

Her eyes trailed across the other slips.

'Help my son find work.'

'My father is a ninja, please get him home safe.'

'I am too weak to do the right thing. Help me be better.'

'Avenge my family on Konoha.'

Her gaze settled on an odd shape in the bottom corner. Not a slip. She blinked, and looked closer.

It was an origami flower. One of the paper slips had been written on, then folded dozens of times into an ornate blossom, more detailed than even the lotus sitting in the statue's lap. A crossbreeze rustled the slips and shifted the minute inner petals of the flower.

Izumi stared. It was… beautiful. Most of the slips had gotten at least a little splashed with rain by now, and were kind of melty, but the flower was tucked away in the corner, protected from the water. Immaculate.

Her free hand rose, and was already reaching out for it when she caught herself.

"What are you doing?" she hissed.

That was someone's wish to God, written on paper to give it substance. A disclosure of their most heartfelt desires.

But… what kind of person would make a wish like that? Stand out here in the rain for however long it took to fold the flower.

What had they wished for?

Her hand inched closer.

"This is fucked up. Seriously."

Maybe God had meant for her to see this message and be inspired by it? Or maybe that was an excuse so thin she couldn't even pretend to believe it.

Her fingertips brushed paper.

Izumi wanted it. More than she'd wanted the books, or new kunai this morning, or someone to walk the festival with in the evening. She wanted to look at the flower and see what it said, because maybe, just maybe, the person who'd made it was someone who… who… wanted too.

Her hand closed around it like a baby bird, not daring to hold tight for fear of crushing it.

Izumi turned and ran, heels kicking up spray as she hurtled along the final bridge to her apartment building. She came in from the rain, clutching her books and umbrella under one arm, the flower in her hand, held out like a sacred relic, and didn't stop running until she slid into the dim hallway where her door was.

17-H opened and closed. She locked it behind her and slumped against the door. Her clothes were wet, clinging to her back, and the bag of books finally slipped away to thud against the floor.

She sank down, following the bag to the ground.

Izumi opened her hand slowly.

The flower was unharmed, maybe a tiny bit misty from her run through the rain, but otherwise undamaged. Black lines ran across the petals at random, bits and pieces of the larger message broken up by the folds.

She licked dry lips, staring at it, trying to decode the words there.

It was impossible. She'd never know unless she unfolded it.

And once it was unfolded, the holiness of the flower would be gone. It wouldn't just be something she stole, but something she desecrated as well. There would be no returning it.

But she'd gone this far. And she needed to know.

She tugged the smallest petal in the center. The paper was so delicate that she let go immediately, fearing that she'd torn it.

It took her another minute to recover after that, her heart pounding at the idea of tearing the slip.

She started from the outside this time. The calyx, the outer layer of flower that shielded the rest. Izumi pressed it down, nudging it away from the main body with gentle pokes.

From there it was just a matter of teasing apart the layers until it unfolded. She fiddled with it, working with surgical precision, before it finally, randomly, just clicked, and the layers split apart. The flower wasn't one slip- it was three, twisted together to form something greater.

The first two slips were blank.

It was only the last, that had formed the core of the flower, that was written on.

Izumi held it, not looking at it until the last folds were undone.

It was written not in pen, but in ink. A woman's delicate brushstrokes curved and curled across the page, as much a work of art as the flower itself, ruined now by the creases.

'The man I loved is dead. The man I love is dying. I am terrified to be alone again.'


XXX

 

[Ziel]

Nymphaea

2

Izumi barely slept that night.

Panic had set in when she realized the magnitude of what she'd just done. Stealing from God. She spent hours pacing her apartment, homework forgotten on the floor, circling the unfolded flower now sitting on her little table.

Fear eventually gave way to dread, and she forced herself to go to bed. She expected to lie awake for hours, but sleep came quickly, creeping up on a mind exhausted from working itself into tighter and tighter knots.

Her dreams were muddled and murky. Half-glimpsed, remembered only in flashes of clutching hands and judging eyes.

She woke twice before morning, each time jerking up at some change in the background noise. The constant patter of rain on the awning over her tiny balcony. The wind picking up and rattling the door in its frame. Her tired mind imagined the rain stopping, as it only did when God descended to walk the streets, coming to judge her crime.

Morning was a stiff, jagged affair, dragging herself out of her futon and staggering through her routine. Any sense of relief or reprieve from her sleep lasted only seconds, as her mind dutifully whirred into action and regurgitated exactly why she felt so awful.

Izumi made it halfway through breakfast before she remembered her homework, and the papers due today. She decided she didn't care, though the blank pages did nothing for the weight currently bearing down on her.

Attending school was another story. She hovered, sandals in hand, pacing again, glancing between the door and window.

Would not going be more suspicious? Or would she turn up to the academy and find a crowd waiting, already organized to punish her?

It was finally the thought of lingering in the apartment all day, bouncing off walls growing closer and closer until she finally went nuts and confessed, that got her to leave.

She slipped on her shoes, grabbed her box-lunch, and departed.

The rain was lighter this morning, closer to a gentle misting than an actual downpour. To Izumi, it felt like it was moments away from becoming nothing at all, as God came down for her.

She wasn't tremendously religious. Her parents, judging by the few belongings she had of them, had been devout, but that had been before God came to Ame. She didn't pray more than a little, and only ever at a shrine.

But God had earned his title. A man powerful enough to ascend to a deity. Who single-handedly united a nation gripped by centuries of war.

Someone who knew every inch of the land beneath his rain.

He knew.

She fretted all the way to school.

Her homeroom was mostly empty; she'd arrived earlier than usual, but she took her seat and waited for it to fill. Her classmates were predominately boys, and weren't really interested in talking to her. The few kunoichi in the class were almost entirely from clans, and the two that weren't were both from high enough social classes among civilians that she didn't really have anything in common with them.

There were other orphans, other civilian-descended ninja, and they might talk on normal days, but today Izumi wasn't having it.

She was twisting a lock of gray-green hair around her fingers, coiling it in repetitive, neurotic motions, well before the teacher made his appearance.

XXX

It was a day as close to Hell as she could imagine. Every raised voice or loud noise, every approaching set of footsteps in the corridor outside the classroom. It was all distorted. Everything became oncoming doom. Her judgment, in everything that caught her eye.

Izumi twitched and flinched her way through classes until lunch. She begged off from the usual crowd of casual acquaintances and made for the bathroom. Her stomach was already roiling, and the scent of food, the idea of eating, sent her gorge rising. She made it to the sink- nowhere near the toilet, just in time to heave up half-digested breakfast and spew until there was nothing left by sour bile and her heart pounding in her ears.

Her afternoon sensei had just entered the classroom when she returned. He was a career chunin, keen enough to take one look at her pale face and raw lips, and ask her if she was feeling well.

Izumi had to shake her head. The urge to spill her guts- literally and figuratively, was too strong.

He sent her home.

Izumi went.

It felt like walking to the gallows.

The ever-present terror was greater now. The streets were less densely populated with most citizens at work, but every stranger, every noise around a corner was magnified into that same doom. The relative quiet and solitude only made it worse. She was alone, walking through hostile territory.

She moved quickly across bridges and paths- another route today to avoid the redlight – God would see and judge, and that would only incur more wrath, wouldn't it? Legs shifting between scarecrow stiff and ramen limp, Izumi sleepwalked her way home.

She looked up, expecting to see the entrance to her apartment bloc.

The golden face of the God statue looked down at her, his ringed eyes stern and disapproving.

Her feet had carried her to the scene of the crime.

Izumi dropped to the ground. Her knees scraped concrete, landing in a puddle, but she stayed down.

"I'm sorry."

She bowed. Hands forward, her face pressed flat against the cold stone, bangs soaking in the puddle.

"Please forgive me."

There was no response. No crash of thunder. No massive, golden hand coming down to smash her like an insect.

Izumi rose slowly, still kneeling. Something warm slid down her cheek, and it took her a moment to realize she was crying. Hot tears joined raindrops.

"What should I do?"

No response.

"Please."

Golden eyes held her in place.

Izumi shuddered, frantically looking over the shrine for a sign, an inspiration.

Her gaze found the source of all the trouble.

The wish box.

But she couldn't just bring the pages back. The message was already read, the flower unfolded. It was done.

And wishing for forgiveness? That was just… stupid. You didn't wish for something like that. You had to make it happen.

She came to her feet. Moved toward the box.

Some of the slips were the same, some different. There was no origami slip though.

Of course there wasn't.

She needed to write a slip though. That much felt certain. The pieces were falling into place.

Izumi needed to write something, write back to make this right.

Write… back.

She repeated the thought in her head a couple times.

Her eyes went wide.

"Of course!"

She snatched up the pen and a slip.

Stopped.

What to write though?

The previous message had been a woman baring her heart and soul. Her deepest fears.

She was halfway through writing before she scribbled it out and crumpled up the slip. She pocketed the ball and began anew.

It took four more tries before she had something legible and right.

It needed a be a trade. Paying karma for karma, otherwise she'd be doomed for sure.

A secret revealed in return.

'I'm alone too. I worry that I'll always be alone. That being an orphan means always being that way.'

And a wish.

'I wish that the origami woman would find someone so she isn't alone. That her love may live. Trade my lot for hers, o God, please. Let me be alone and unloved she won't have to be.'

It took her another half-dozen fiddly attempts with practice sheets before she got the origami down. It looked… she grimaced. It looked like dog shit. Like a little kid having their first go at the hobby.

It was supposed to be a cat. It was cat-like, if she tilted her head to the side. Two legs, boxy head, and a stub tail.

But it was complete, and it wasn't getting any better.

Izumi pinned it up in the corner of the box where the flower had been.

Above her, the statue was still and silent, a sentinel in the rain.

She pressed her palms together, said a quick prayer for forgiveness, and then ran like hell for home.

XXX

She woke the next morning in a tangle of damp, sweaty blankets. Getting out of her futon was an ordeal, all feeble limbs and panting breaths.

She'd gotten so stressed that it had actually made her sick.

Not that she didn't have reason to stress.

It was only desperate hope that let her believe her return slip would be an acceptable trade for the flower. Because the alternative meant that divine retribution was still coming.

Or maybe that getting sick was just the beginning? Bad karma snowballing until she was buried under the weight of her sins.

The thought sent her heart pounding in a way that made her dizzy. Might have just been the fever.

Academy wasn't happening today. She'd be lucky to make the walk there without collapsing, and her nerves were still frayed to the breaking point.

Huffing and puffing with the effort of moving, Izumi crawled back into bed. Her apartment didn't ever face the sun directly, so it was constantly dim and gloomy. The perfect environment for her to sink back into a sleep mired in fever dreams.

Waking for the second time wasn't any easier. Her sweat-soaked t-shirt was half-twisted around her body, and she'd shifted during sleep in such a way as to leave an awful kink in her neck.

She stripped, showered, and dressed in the loose clothes she usually wore when lazing about.

It was… not so much easier to be calm now as it was that she'd gone numb. What was going to happen would happen. She'd done her part, now it was time to see what God's choice would be.

She giggled weakly at the thought.

Breakfast- lunch? She glanced at the clock. Lunch found her rummaging through the tiny kitchenette for something to eat. Just moving about was tiring, and her head was thudding dully, but there was nothing that could be easily made to eat.

She finally sighed and dropped the can of soup stock back into the cupboard.

There was a food stand a couple levels down on one of the main roads. Not more than a five minute walk normally.

Izumi bundled up, pulling on the heavy raincoat she used in the winter. It was too warm for it, but that was the fever talking. And getting soaked would only make it worse.

Her wallet was empty. She bit her lip before dipping into the jar in her closet where she was saving up for a sword.

Just a couple bills. She'd replace twice as many next payday. That was the deal.

Karma for karma, a little voice echoed out of her head.

The notes got stuffed in her jacket pocket as she made for the door.

Where going to school required her to go up at the juncture at the end of her bloc, getting to the shop had her descending. Four flights of dreary concrete stairs, the landings littered with trash or pungent with urine. They got worse the closer they got to the street. More accessible for anyone to come and go.

Izumi held onto the railing all the way down, using it to keep from falling whenever her head spun too badly.

Staggering steps carried her into the market. A massive canopy spanned the entire street, canvas diverting the rain away. The sudden dryness was always a bit shocking. She was outside, so it should be wet.

She laughed softly at that.

A fishmonger looked sideways at her.

Izumi kept walking.

Just the fever talking.

The stall was just a bit further in, an oasis of color with its bright red awning and bunting. She stumbled through the curtain and sank onto an empty stool between two men.

"Welcome!" the shopkeep bellowed, waving at her from behind the stove.

Izumi waved a limp hand back. His words were too loud. Her head was thumping worse than before. The color, and the sound, and the smell of eel on the grill, was… just too much.

"Unadon, please," she said slowly, aiming her question at the shopkeep's assistant. "And green tea."

She wasn't sure what his response was, but she shoved bills at him, and he took them. After a moment, he returned her change, and Izumi let herself slump onto the counter and buried her face in her arms.

The thud of bowl hitting counter woke her. She sat up, just in time for the assistant to draw back from where he'd been about to nudge her.

"Thank you," Izumi mumbled.

The food was good. Perhaps too heavy on an empty, churning stomach, but it stayed down long enough for her to finish. More importantly, the tea cleared her head and sinuses.

She was just slurping up the last of the eel when a conversation further down the bar caught her ear.

"- in Konoha! I heard Orochimaru rolled in and offed the Hokage," the man sitting to her right said, gesturing wildly over his fish.

His associate, a woman in a loose robe, rolled her eyes. "Eh. Couldn't he have at least done us the pleasure of dying too? Snake bastard. I ever tell ya he wiped out my grandad during the war?"

"A thousand times." The man downed the last of his sake and waved for more. "But Konoha's a real mess right now. I bet Kumo invades."

"Don't say that! We're right in the middle of it."

Izumi sat up straight on her stool. War. But… she was a ninja. A trainee, yes, but a ninja still. If there was a war, would she get pulled in? It was part of her duty to Ame, but… War.

"Er… excuse me?" she said softly.

The man glanced around before looking over his shoulder. "Aye? You need the salt or something, sweetie?"

"Do you think there'll be war?"

The two adults exchanged a dark look.

"Shit, kid," the woman said. "We were just talking. Don't worry about it."

"Don't swear in front of the girl!" The man turned to face her fully, his expression placatory. "We were just speculating, yeah? Even if there was a war, it wouldn't involve us. Ame's neutral. Nothing to gain from getting involved."

"I was just wondering," Izumi said. Her heart was beginning to pound, and every beat sent an unpleasant, echoing throb through her skull. "I'm at Academy now, but… I'm still a ninja, right?"

The man set his drink down, staring. "Fuckin… just a kid."

"No." The woman spoke this time, leaning around the man to meet Izumi's eyes. "That, you don't gotta worry about. My nephew's a chunin. Saotome Yamada, you know him? No? Doesn't matter. Kids don't go to war in Ame."

Izumi frowned. "Sorry?"
The woman repeated herself. "God's decree. You're too young to remember it, but when he took power, there were a lot of kids your age on the front against Konoha. God stopped that. Gotta be at least a fully qualified genin to go into combat, and even then it's just minor missions. Getting your feet wet. Saotome tells me about it when he's in town."

Something stiff and metallic unknotted in Izumi's spine. She sagged, catching herself on the bar. "That's… that's good to hear."

The adults began talking about the last war, and Izumi politely excused herself.

She tipped, thanked the chef for the meal, and departed.

The climb back up to her apartment was longer than she'd realized. Coming down had been mostly gravity, a controlled fall. Going up was entirely her. Hips and legs and knees working, all off-kilter, moving in a drunken rhythm to send her lurching up a few stairs at a time, then pausing to catch her breath.

She nearly lost her lunch on the third landing, and it was only sheer willpower that kept it down.

The familiar hallway to her apartment appeared after a long while. She wasn't sure how long it had taken, only that she couldn't remember the last couple sets of stairs.

Izumi paused on the threshold.

She could go home and go to bed.

Or… she could keep going. Three more levels to the bridge. And the shrine.

If there was a change, or some kind of sign, it would be there.

If she didn't, she was going to wonder until she did.

More than that though, she needed to.

She sighed and turned toward the up-flight.

The ascent had a dreamlike haze to it. Her head was throbbing painfully now, and her vision swimming and looping erratically.

The open sky above the bridge brought rain, chilly on her burning skin, but enough to clear the haze once more.

She crossed the bridge, feet dragging, toes of her sandals kicking through puddles.

The shrine was unchanged. The statue hadn't moved. There was no sign of some great passage.

Izumi leaned on the wish box to catch her breath. At least her dumb origami cat was still… was still…

Her return slip was gone.

She stared, wide-eyed for a long moment, her hair slowly growing lank around her face. She slicked her bangs with with her fingers before returning to staring.

Anyone could have taken it, but she knew that it had been the origami woman. It wouldn't just be some random person.

A smile slowly formed on her lips.

The offering was accepted.

She looked up to meet God's eyes.

Kids don't go to war in Ame. That's God's decree.

How many other things had God done, how many mandates had he given that had changed the course of her life?

A fat raindrop splattered the concrete at her feet, ripples forming in one of the puddles.

One action with wide-reaching results.

And… God's rain covered the entire country. His actions reached an entire people.

Suddenly, the massive golden statue didn't seem quite grand enough to do him justice.

Izumi pressed her palms together once more.

For the first time in her life, she felt truly, honestly faithful.

She walked home, savoring the rain, and not even nearly vomiting on the climb down could detract from her mood.

XXX

Elsewhere


"Higher up, please. It needs to be over the tenketsu."

"Here?"

"Mine are a little recessed. A tiny bit to the left- yes, there, perfect."

The needle was curved, almost fish-hooked, to let it arc smoothly through a loop of skin over his spine. She pressed it through, holding his skin on the other side so that it didn't deviate.

He was silent, his arms on his knees, his head down as she worked on him. They'd done this enough that he didn't even hiss at the pain. She had always been surprised that he could even feel pain with this body, but apparently he could. She wished sometimes he hadn't confided that in her. It made every in-and-out of the needle just a little more guilty.

She withdrew the needle and picked up the chakra receiver from a surgical tray. This one had been constructed as a hinged ring, one end male, one female. Using the needle hole as a guide, she began inserting the receiver. It was… unpleasant, on a visceral level. Like stabbing someone in slow motion.

The male end emerged from the hole, tip sheened with red. She clicked the ring shut and sealed the clasp with a quick burst of fire chakra between her fingertips.

"There. You'll be able to do the rest yourself?"

He stood, his movements stiff and jerky. She stepped back and waited for him to acclimate.

He rolled his shoulders, then his elbows, wrists, hands, and then fingers, working them individually. The actions repeated, large to small, as he worked out the kinks. It took a few minutes, but he eventually stopped stretching and turned.

"It will do, thank you." He smiled – and that was always odd – Nagato's crooked smile on another man's face. "It's much less of a strain than using another Path to do the ones I can't reach."

"This one is… Animal?"

"Yes." He flicked the body's long hanging bangs, still the mint-green color of its original host. "I'll finish inserting the receivers in a little while. You can go back to your message. Is that from a spy?" He chuckled weakly, his mood light after a successful integration of the new body. "Why in the world did they make it origami?"

Konan eyed the letter sitting on the table between them. "That, I'll have to find out."


====

This story is ending up surprisingly religious... I do find fictional religions very interesting, but it will shift somewhat as things get moving.

Largely a chapter about Izumi's internal struggle. The conversation at the restaurant was a late edition, but I think it works well to justify that section. Otherwise it's just a page about Izumi going to dinner. Child soldiers definitely felt like the kinda thing Pain wouldn't be okay with. Dude's kind of a nut, but after growing up as an orphan in a war torn nation, there's no way he's going to go for child soldiers when he doesn't have to. That... that's probably true for all the nations at this point except Mist and Sound.

It also helps us establish a timeline for where we're at. Not particularly relevant at this point, but it will matter a bit more eventually. Don't expect this to be some giant epic or to segue into the stations of canon, as seen from Ame. That's not what this story is about at all.

 

[Ziel]

3

"Kerono!"

Izumi jerked to her feet. "Sensei!"

"You were sick yesterday. How're you feeling?" Ruto Sensei was eyeballing her, his scarred face twisted into its usual frown.

"Alright, I guess?"

"Good. Get in there." And that was all the warning he had before he shoved her into the ring.

The combat rings in their training hall were about five meters at their widest, marked with a circle of paint on the floor, now scuffed from years of sandaled feet.

Izumi found herself facing Haji, another one of the civilian orphans. She nodded to him, and he returned it, his face impassive.

It was a bad match up. She was a little taller than most of the other girls in class, but he was a full head above her, and well-muscled. She vaguely remembered hearing him mention that he sometimes did manual labor on the side for a quick buck. It meant he had weight and reach on her, a lot of it.

And there was no girl/boy split in combat class. Fighting a bigger, stronger boy was just good training for real life. Izumi scowled. Kicks to the groin were still forbidden though. Lousy, squeamish male teachers.

"Begin!" Ruto barked.

Haji moved in slowly, falling into an open-armed grappling stance. He was going to use his superior weight to try and take her down. And Izumi wasn't a good grappler. All the writhing and grabbing was just weird and uncomfortable.

He lunged, coming in low to try and knock her off her feet. Izumi dodged to the side, flicking a kick into the back of his knee. Haji grunted, but turned and grabbed for her, nearly seizing her sleeve.

She yelped and fell back a few more steps. Haji rushed again, but she was ready this time. She dropped to a crouch and then leapt straight up in the air, hopping over him like a frog. His momentum carried her under him, and she used her airtime to send both feet into the back of Haji's head.

He stumbled and then tripped, nearly falling out of the ring.

"Gotcha!" Izumi crowed.

"Get in there, Kerono!" Ruto yelled from the sidelines.

She closed in. She'd missed her opportunity, and Haji was already rising. She aimed a kick at his head, but he caught it on his arm and knocked it away.

They came together and the fight began in earnest. Haji was no longer attempting solely to grapple. Now, he had added grabs and heavy punches to his arsenal. She had to avoid both, after a counterpunch turned into a grab that nearly sent her to the mat.

She flurried kicks at him, aiming for the same spots on his legs and thighs each time, forcing him to divert his punches to block her. Every time he dropped his guard, she'd use the opening to punch at his face.

She was hitting him more, but every one of his blows was enough to rattle her bones, and the single punch that glanced her head sent lights dancing behind her eyes. His strength was too high, compared to hers. This was a contest that would be decided with weapons or jutsu in the real world, but she was allowed neither here.

His endurance was better too. He was breathing lightly, but she was beginning to sweat. The effort of sending hit after hit at him was wearing at her.

He swung, and she ducked and rolled away, creating space between them to think.

This was a taijutsu match, and he had the advantages there for sure. There were things that didn't matter with how strong you were- joints and weak points like eyes and throat. But she didn't want to hit those for fear of actually hurting him. This was just training, not a death match.

"Ameno, get in there in and hit her, for God's sake! She's not made of glass!" Ruto was still circling the ring like an angry bull, glaring at the both of them.

Something clicked at his words. Izumi smiled thinly.

Buoyed by Ruto's words, Haji closed in. He jabbed at her face. She blocked. Another jab. Another block. He threw a heavier punch.

She let it through.

An explosion of pain sent the world spinning sideways.

Something hard and flat hit her side, and it took her a moment to realize it was the floor. Izumi groaned. Her nose was full of hot, sick pain, and she could taste the copper of a bloody nose.

"Oh! Oh man, Izumi, are you okay?" Haji said, his voice suddenly high with panic.

His heavy footsteps came towards her.

She rolled over slowly, trying to get her legs under her.

"Izumi?"

"Owww," she moaned. "By dose."

Hands brushed her shoulder.

She cracked a watery eye open.

Haji was within arm's reach, bending awkwardly to look down at her. "Izu-"

Izumi unfolded. She lunged up at him and grabbed Haji around the neck. He had time to gasp before she used his imbalanced stance to pull him over. Haji crashed to the mat and she found herself on top of him.

She pinned his arms with her knees, using her body weight to hold him down, before jabbing her fingers toward his throat. It would be a killing blow in real life, though she was going to stop here and not make contact.

And then Haji sat up. He pressed his hands flat against the floor and curled like he was doing a sit-up. Izumi squeaked as he shook her off like a bug and sent her tumbling to the floor in front of him.

She tried to scramble up, but he was faster. A leg swept hers from underneath her- she'd missed it coming through the waves of pain still radiating through her head, and she hit hard enough that her vision rolled and keeled for an instant.

Big hands caught hers- both in one of his, and his knee drove into her midsection. Izumi wheezed as he knocked the breath out of her. Haji held her flat, his weight and her windedness enough to keep her down.

"Match over," Ruto called. "Winner, Ameno."

"Sorry," Haji said. He pulled away, then helped her up. Izumi let him. Her balance had taken a leave of absence, and it was hard to focus with her sinuses full of blood. "Didn't mean to whack you like that."

"Who can tell me what Kerono did wrong?" Ruto was facing the rest of the class now, hands on hips. "How about what she did right? Or the same for Ameno?"

"He used his strength to his advantage," someone said.

"He out-weighs her," said someone else. "But she doesn't weigh enough to pin him."

"All true," Ruto said, nodding. "What else? Kerono, any thoughts?"

She sniffed, clutching a workout towel to her gushing nose. "When I play possum because I got hurt… don't actually get hurt."

"Almost. Kerono's idea was sound. She played off Ameno's expectations. Girls, this is a technique you can and will use. Men will underestimate women. They will pull their punches- speaking of which, Ameno, pull your punches against a girl again and I'll have you fighting kunoichi until your balls drop off!"

Haji blanched. "Yes, sensei."

"Turn an injury into an opportunity," Ruto continued. "It was a good strategy. She forced him to approach on her terms, and had we been using weapons, he would have lost. Kerono's other mistake was that if you intend to fake an injury, don't let your physically stronger opponent deck you right in the face!" He pointed toward the door. "Kerono, nurse's office. The rest of you, pair off for sparring drills."

XXX

As it turned out, Haji had broken her nose.

The school med-nin unbroke it, his palms humming with green healing chakra, and then slapped a stiff bandage over it to hold it in place. He gave her a list of all the things she would need to do to recover from her healing, ended it with "And don't get hit in the face for at least a week," and then sent her off.

Izumi stumbled out of the office, still sniffling through sinuses just beginning to unclot. Somehow, healing hadn't done much for the actual pain, and her whole face ached, hot bolts radiating out from her nose to run through her jaw.

This week was officially terrible.

Her next class was the last of the day, but it was just history, and it wasn't like that was going anywhere.

"'m going home," she muttered thickly. She was just beginning to trudge toward the exit when there were footsteps behind her.

"Kerono!"

Izumi turned, just in time to catch Haji flinching at the sight of her bandage.

"Yeah?"

He rubbed the back of his head, his eyes on the floor. "Just- just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"My face hurts."

"Sorry."

"Shouldn't have gotten hit like that." She rubbed her face gingerly. It wasn't swelling, but it was probably going to bruise. "It was dumb."

"Yeah." Haji blinked. "Not that I mean that you're dumb, I just mean that- that- you know?"

She looked at him. Talking made her face hurt.

She shrugged again.

Haji seemed to read her right though, because his shoulders relaxed.

"Do you mind if I walk with you for a bit?"

"Why?" He still had class.

"You're going home, right? You're hurt, and I dunno… it didn't seem right?"

Izumi shrugged again. "If you want."

She hefted her bag over one shoulder and started toward the doors again. Haji was quick to move to her side, only to slow down to match her much shorter stride.

It was only after they passed out into the misty afternoon humidity that she turned her attention on him once more.

"So… What do you want?"

Haji stuttered to a stop, and she could see the excuse forming on his lips. Izumi glared, and she held up his hands.

"Alright! I wanted to ask you something."

His eyes dropped again, and- was he blushing?

"I didn't want to like… ask you in front of everyone else. It's embarrassing."

Oh no. Was he confessing to her? This was how it went in the books. A couple alone in some quiet location, and the boy would blurt out his feelings and- no no no noooo!

A shrill, panicked noise like a tea kettle escaped her.

"Can you help me ask someone out!?" Haji yelled, his face now glowing.

"I'm engaged!" Izumi shrieked. "Arranged to a rich noble- wait, what?"

They both stared. Her murky green eyes squinting into his blue.

"Are you really?" he asked.

Only in certain nighttime fantasies about arranged marriages to lusty foreign princesses.

"...no." The rest of what he said trickled through. "You… wanted me to help you confess to someone?"

He nodded dumbly.

"Why?"

"You sit next to Hajime-san. And uh- you're a girl, so I figured you'd have a lot of knowledge about romance and stuff? All my friends are guys, and they're kinda… dumb about sappy stuff like that."

The face to match the name came to her. Hajime Mikoto was the girl who sat to her immediate left. She was a clan kid from a fairly well-to-do family, and she and Izumi had never spoken beyond 'I dropped my eraser, can I use yours?' levels of conversation.

Hajime was not only a fairly decent kunoichi, well-off, but also very, very pretty. Like, distractingly so. There was a definite reason Izumi had always chosen the boy to her right whenever they had to pair up in class. Hajime was all soft, golden hair and amber eyes, and way way out of her league.

And Haji's.

Izumi repeated this thought to him. To his credit, Haji nodded.

"I know. It's just… I need to at least try. She's rich, and I'm just a dumbass orphan loser. I'm so low that I don't even have a real last name. But I can't think of anything else but blurting it out. And girls are supposed to know romance stuff, and you're the only girl I know."

That wasn't quite it, and they both knew it. He was talking to her because Izumi was one of the only civilian kunoichi in class. Socially, they were on the same strata.

"What's in it for me?" As much as her heart fluttered at the idea of true love and all that, her nose was still clogged with dried blood, and the bandage was making all her words nasally. She wanted nothing better than to go home and forget today, forget getting hit, or writing letters, or stealing from shrines.

"I- I hadn't gotten that far," Haji said.

She tapped a finger against her lips while she thought. "You know any jutsu outside what they teach?"

"Nope."

"Any unusual combat styles? Chakra tricks? Secret ninja magic?"

"Nope. No, and- wait." He blinked. "Ninja magic? I thought I could maybe just… do your homework for a week or something?"

"I think I'm a higher class rank than you." Izumi frowned. They'd been talking long enough that she honestly did kind of want to help him now. He was just so earnest. "How about… I help you, and you'll owe me one?"

"Deal!"

"And you owe me one regardless of if she says no or not."

Haji hesitated for only an instant before shouting "Deal!" again.

They shook hands, and the bargain was struck.

The tall boy grinned from ear to ear at her. "Thank you, Kerono-san. I really appreciate it. I- oh man, this is gonna be big. Can we do it today?"

"My face hurts, Ameno. Tomorrow. We can meet… we can eat lunch together?"

"That'd be great."


XXX


Their conversation came to a close, and Haji zoomed off with a speed that belied his size, practically floating on a cloud of gooey romantic thoughts.

Izumi waved and set off on the long walk home.

Somehow, the pain in her nose had eased a bit, and her steps felt a little bit lighter. And wasn't that lame? One conversation with someone was all it took for her to get emotionally invested, even though she couldn't have picked Haji out of a line-up before today.

It was still funny that he'd thought she'd know anything about romance. Her experiences in that department were limited to her erotica collection, and the few pulp romance novels she used to pad her bookshelf. Confessing to someone was… how did that even work? Like, she knew how it worked in books, and on tv, but that wasn't real.

Izumi stopped in the middle of a sky-bridge.

"Shit."

She had absolutely no idea how to ask someone out.

"Shiiitttt."

If Haji was going to use what she told him to ask out Mikoto, then… when Mikoto said no, it would be like both of them got shot down. This was going to be a disaster. She was going to get turned down by the first person she ever technically asked out, and wouldn't that just be a wonderful omen for future relationships.

"Oh God, I'm going to die alone."

A few passing citizens looked oddly at her as she moaned with self-loathing and slumped against the bridge railing.

She ought to just give up now and go find the Cat summoning contract.

Images of herself, dying alone and surrounded by cats, a desolate, decrepit, 60-year old spinster virgin followed her the rest of the way across town.

She paused at the shrine, glancing over to see if there was another origami token, but there wasn't.

With that note of despair, she dragged herself home and fell face first into her futon.

XXX

Morning brought with it a fresh view on things. And a gloriously purple bruise across the center of her face.

But it didn't matter- Izumi had an idea.

If Haji succeeded, it would mean that Izumi had the chops to ask out a girl. If she had the skills, it would give her the guts to actually do it. Not Mikoto, mind, there was reaching, and then there was social-insanity, but she would be able ask a girl out.

Haji had to succeed.

She rose from her futon, a phoenix in froggy-print pajamas. "I need to learn about romance."

And when you needed to learn something, you went to the experts.

XXX

"Onee-san, please, teach me about love!"

The prostitute sitting behind the counter of 'Love You Long Time' stared at her.

Izumi stayed where she was, bent double in a bow. "Please!"

"Kid, you're not old enough for that. And-" The woman squinted, taking in Izumi's faded gray kimono top and patched pants. "You probably don't have the dough for it either."

Izumi shot up, a blush lighting her cheeks like a sunset. "Not like that!" she squealed. "I meant like love-love. Not sex stuff. I need to help my classmate ask someone out."

"Oh." The whore blinked silver-rouged eyelids at her. "Why didn't you just say so? Dating is easy. Take it from me, kiddo. Easiest way to land a man is to put out. Or, make him think he's going to get some."

"Ew. And no, my classmate is a guy, asking out a girl."

There was a pause, and then the woman leaned a little closer, squinting at her again. "You're not this guy's pimp, are you?"

"He's my classmate."

"That's not a no," the woman said, smirking at her. "But that's easy too. Women like men with a lot of money. Your little boy-toy got a lotta cash?"

"No."

"Then you know where to start." A pause, as she inspected her lime-green nails. "You gonna buy something, or just keep standing there?"

Izumi left.

It was way too early in the day for the redlight to have any real traffic- she'd ditched her first class of the day to come here, and she moved easily through the rest of the aisles to the exit.

What the woman had said rankled her. It wasn't so- so cynical as all that. Sure, having money was nice. Izumi would love to have enough money that she didn't have to squeeze her entire budget into the minuscule stipend she got as a junior kunoichi and an orphan.

But there was more to it. It wasn't all just money and wealth. Love was more genuine than that.

Real love- true love, was emotional and deep and… she wasn't really sure. She'd never been in love before. Lust, sure, but never love.

She sighed. If she'd wanted a real answer, she should have asked someone else. What whores dealt in wasn't real. It was just… physical. Lust, but not love.

But that just made it worse. Because there was no one she could actually talk to about love. This was the kind of thing girls were supposed to ask their mothers.

Izumi sighed again. Being an orphan was something she was used to. Never know anything else, and it becomes the norm. But she was feeling the lack of parents fairly keenly at the moment.

XXX

On a whim, she doubled back and went to speak to the old man who ran the erotic bookstore.

His advice was about as useful as the prostitute's.

"My wife ran off with a rich eel-salesman from Iwa. Never fall in love. Just makes it easier for them to break your heart."

Okay, the redlight as a whole was probably a bad source for romance advice.

Izumi ended up leaving to scuttle down the stairs to the lower market. She revisited the food stall she'd eaten at when she was ill.

The old man running that was… oddly familiar.

"Don't fall in love, lass. My brother's wife ran off with an eel-salesman, and mine left me to join a commune of lesbians. Nothing but trouble, the lot of them. You- never grow up to lead a man on. Just find yourself a nice man with a stable business and learn to be happy with that."

XXX

Her footsteps were heavy, and her thighs burning by the time she abandoned her quest to make her way toward school. Ame had too many freaking stairs. No easy, convenient elevators, no sir. That would be too easy.

She grabbed her stuff from her apartment and locked up. It was nearly time for her second class, chakra training, and she wanted to be there. Ninjutsu was something she was pretty sure she was actually talented at. Not like stupid taijutsu…

Izumi checked her watch. And she needed to hurry if she wanted to get there. She threw herself into a run, burning chakra to wipe away fatigue from all the stairs. The rain blurred around her as she shot across the first bridge and-

A flash of white in the corner of her eye.

She skidded to a halt, sandals kicking up arcs of water as she stopped.

An origami lotus was tucked in the corner of the prayer box.

XXX

She made it to second period with seconds to spare, hurling herself into the closest open seat and nearly careening into the person sitting next to her.

The bell rang.

Sensei Mikami entered, the bells in her hair jingling softly.

"Today, we will be discussing the mechanics of chakra conversion and..."

The words drifted away into a vague buzz.

Izumi stared feverishly at the flower cradled in her lap.

Another message.

She plucked at a petal, intending to unravel this one piece by piece like she had the other, but it came apart all at once. One bit of impetus was enough to tug the entire fragile thing open.

It unfolded.

A single sheet of marked paper at the center of the blossom.

"It was a pleasant and unexpected surprise to find my letter missing, and yours in its place. An unusual way to treat a shrine, but I find myself glad you did. You are kind to feel the way you do, and to offer to sacrifice your happiness for mine, but this is my burden to bear. Suffering is not a fair trade. There is no give and take. If it were that easy to take away the pain of others, I would have eased my beloved's long ago.

These notes at the shrine were my way of consoling myself, of easing some of the tension by writing anonymously. I never expected to receive a response, but yours has done more than any ten of mine.

Please feel free to write back. It helps me to have someone to speak to, and I think you may feel much the same. It does not matter what topics you choose. Any diversion is pleasant."

Izumi had to reread it three times before the message truly sank in.

The origami woman wasn't angry at her for stealing. She was actually happy. And she wanted Izumi to keep writing, to keep snatching letters and posting her own.

She glanced down, looking for a name at the bottom. The space was marked, but not with a name. A curling, elegant drawing of a rose.

"Wow," she whispered.

Whoever this lady was, she was cool.

She looked up for a second. Mikage was sketching a diagram of the chakra cycle on the board. Nothing she hadn't seen before.

Izumi turned her attention back to the letter. After a moment, she pulled a piece of paper from her notebook and began writing.

If she'd thought her return letter, written in the pouring rain during a religious crisis, was tense, this one was like trying to crack a safe while wearing earmuffs. Every word needed to be perfect, every letter written with flawless calligraphy. It needed to be smart and adult- no not adult. Mature.

This was a grown woman she was writing to. Being a snot-nosed brat had gotten her into this situation, but she was going to use her head to get out.

She was halfway through her ninth attempt when new lines appeared on the page. She'd hardly realized what she was writing until it was fully formed, her pen resting on the final mark.

I have a friend who wants to ask a girl out. I'm not good with romance, but this is really important.

Can you tell me about love?

XXX

 

[Ziel]

The Way

The first video was crude. It had the shaky, grainy quality of a home movie, and the out of the box transition effects of a bad amateur effort. It was posted anonymously on four different video sharing websites on September 9th, 2001. None of the sites had much traffic – the internet was still too new, and the technology just wasn't there.

The video hit the airwaves nearly a week later. VHS copies had been sent to seven major news stations, post-dated for the 9th. The tapes were marked with strips of tape, labeled with permanent marker. Each one was titled simply, "The Way."

Later tracing efforts would follow the mail trail back to a post office in Dublin, Texas. The post office, a small branch in an unremarkable suburb, had no cameras. It was considered a dead end.

Three of the stations called the Protectorate. Three more only discovered their copies of the tape during later investigation, and never aired them.

The seventh station showed the video in its entirety.

XXX

The video is black for 7 seconds. Static crosses the screen, and the picture solidifies by 10 seconds.

The camera wavers, jittering up and down, as it films a man from behind. The man has short, dark hair, and is walking away from the camera. The surroundings are a gray, barren city. Rows of decaying Soviet era buildings line a street full of abandoned cars.

The man continues walking. He passes through the headlights of a car that is still running, its driver's seat empty.

The camera person and the man continue walking for 1 minute, 30 seconds.

Sounds of thunder can be heard in the distance, and other, loud noises like cannon fire. The skies are black, and plumes of smoke can be seen on the other side of the city.

The camera cuts.

It resumes after 6 seconds of blackness.

The man faces the camera now. He wears a plain, black suit, his only adornment a white priest's collar. His face is bland, unremarkable. Dark eyes. Thin eyebrows. A broad smile.

Thunder is heard again, loud enough that sound is momentarily lost. The ground shakes. The camera person nearly falls, but the man stays upright with ease.

"I spent quite a lot of time trying to write a sermon for this," the man says suddenly. His voice is dry and drawling, with the twang of the American South. "But it finally hit me – I was trying too hard." His smile shows teeth. "This is something you need to see to believe."

He spreads his arms.

The ground shudders again, and a building crashes down in the background.

Another building barely fifty feet from the man erupts in a plume of fire, rubble raining down across the streets. A car is hit by one of the meteors and explodes, its gas tank adding its own burst of fire to the storm.

A shape- a person hurtles into sight from a side street. They're brightly clothed, flying a dozen feet above the ground. They fire an actinic ray from their hands at something down the street, but the bolt curves in midair and rebounds upon them. The figure is incinerated in an instant. Ash paints the street below.

The ground shudders again, continuous now, but pounding ever more.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the man says. "Behold."

Behemoth, taller than the buildings, only unseen because he was out of frame, steps into view. Other capes, some flying, others fleeing on foot, come into the picture as they scurry away from it. The Endbringer lashes out with jerks of his gnarled hands, burning and striking the capes with every motion.

The defenders flee toward the camera.

The man dressed like a priest turns and folds his hands behind his back.

A cape flies overhead, his passage shaking the camera. The recorder tumbles, nearly drops the camera this time. They recover in time to catch Behemoth drawing back his head.

He roars.

The sound obliterates all other noise. Windows across the street shatter in a single wave, and concrete breaks behind it. Most of the capes fall. Few get up.

The man stands calmly, even as capes fall screaming and bleeding around him.

He turns back to the camera.

Behemoth moves forward in the background, drawing nearer. Every step shakes the view. He comes within a hundred feet.

The man does not die, even as one of the capes beside him combusts within Behemoth's aura. Behemoth takes a second step. A third.

He steps over the man and the camera person without so much as looking at them.

The camera turns to follow Behemoth for a moment before returning to the man.

The man fishes in the neck of his suit and withdraws a symbol on a chain. It is jagged and black, obsidian carved into the shape of a sun.

"The gods have returned," he says. "They have come to punish the sinners and the nonbelievers. I have heard the Word. And the Word is thus: 'Worship us. Worship us, or die.'"

He lets the symbol fall against his chest.

"Join with me, and let us adore them."

The video cuts to hissing static.

XXX

The first Endbringer cult began two weeks later. Within six months, more than five hundred independent religious groups associated with Endbringer worship existed across the United States. Within nine, there were nearly four thousand reported across the globe.

September 9th, 2002 was regarded as a holiday to these groups, and the man, the first priest, showed himself once more.

The second video was much the same as the first.

The priest stood before Leviathan.

And the rain waters parted around him.

He was untouched.

===

A repost of a fic I keep forgetting I wrote. I do love fictional religions...

Inspired by this snippet. Not as polished as it could be, but I wanted to get it out so I could move on.

Think of it more of a prompt than a full oneshot. I'd love to see someone else roll with it. I always loved the idea of EB cults spreading like in Cult City, and this was kind of in that vein.

 

[Ziel]

Ars Goetia

"So... ah, I don't really know much about you guys."

Oracle- Lisa, I corrected myself, we were out of costume, smiled at me. "That's okay. We prefer to run under the radar. Hitting Lung was our first real public gig." She began climbing the stairs into the loft, motioning me to follow up behind her. A beaded bracelet jingled at her wrist as she moved, and the feathers braided into her hair bounced with every step.

"Lung is... a bit out of our league," she continued. "We're more smash and grab, you know?"

I didn't, but I nodded anyway. Lisa and Brian had unmasked to me earlier, but I was still wary of the Undersiders. I'd been burned one too many times to just go along blindly. Lisa crested the stairs and stepped aside, waiting for me.

"It's a little much to take in," she said gently.

"I'll manage."

I climbed up into the loft. The space was open, with a seating area in the center, and a galley kitchen in the back. A short hallway off to one side held closed doors, each labeled with a drawing, a symbol. A slim, black-haired boy, maybe my age, maybe a little younger, sat on the couch, his feet up. He had a girl on each side, his arms around them. The girls were limp, their heads down, while he watched tv.

An alarm went off in my head. Were they drugged?

The boy turned, glanced over at me, and then returned to the tv. The girls didn't move at all.

"Lisa, what is this?" I hissed.

She slowed, her smile faltering slightly. "It's- it's nothing. They're part of his power. Don't worry about them."

I stayed where I was. "Explain."

A door slammed in the hall, followed by the sound of footsteps. A man emerged, and I stared. He was... odd. Tall and thin, his blonde hair pulled back into a bun. That, and his clothes, neat and stylish and more expensive than anything I owned, and the thick glasses he wore, made him look almost hipsterish, but for his tattoos. He had fangs etched around his mouth, poking up and down from lips painted purple.

Lisa saw him and went to him, almost floating across the loft. Her smile was back. She molded herself to his side, but the man gave her barely a look.

"Lee, how are you? Did you sleep well?"

The man ignored her question. His glasses caught the light, turning opaque as he looked at me.

"This is the new girl?" he asked.

Lisa nodded. "Taylor, this is Lee. Lee, Taylor. She-"

Lee put a finger to her mouth, and she fell silent.

He strode toward me, leaving Lisa behind, and I took an involuntary step back. Something was wrong here. Something was very wrong. Lisa's behavior. The boy on the couch. The slumped, huddled girls.

"Hello, Taylor," Lee said. There was a twanging drawl in his voice, but he spoke softly.

I took another step back as he approached. My swarm gathered around the warehouse, beginning to slip in through the cracks and crevices to hide in the shadows.

Lee stopped, towering over me, his inked mouth quirked into a smile I didn't like. I knew that smile. It was cruel, ready to watch me suffer.

"You met Oracle," he said. "That's Forneus." He jerked a thumb at the boy on the couch.

"Yeah. And I met ah- Brian, earlier."

"Shax. His cape name is Shax." He paused. "And you're Taylor."

Lee tipped his glasses down, and I saw his eyes for the first time. Blue-green so sharp it almost glowed, and there was... something... moving... and-

"My cape name is Valefor."

His hands came out to catch me as my legs folded. The world spun.

"Welcome to the team, Taylor."

Everything went black.

===

There is not nearly enough Fallen stuff out there, and virtually nothing but Cloudy Path that plays up how dangerous Valefor really is.

Nothing to stop him from say... co-opting the Undersiders.

A repost that I completely forgot about until today, when I found it by coincidence while looking for The Way.

Flip a coin whether this or Heartless are more disgusting in their implications.

 

[Ziel]

Parselbrat


"Out! Supper is at 6. Be back in time to set the table. If you aren't, your portion goes in the bin. Understand?"

"Yes, Aunt Petunia."

Left unsaid was that Aunt Petunia gave her this speech three times a week. But then her aunt shoved her out the back door and sent her stumbling into the yard, and it stopped mattering.

Harry adjusted her smudged glasses and pulled up the set of Dudley's hand-me-down jeans she was wearing. It was too hot for them, Surrey in July, and the equally inherited sweatshirt she had on, but they were by far the best option.

The alternative was for Aunt Petunia to convert some of Dudley's old clothes into girly equivalents. Trousers to dresses, and so on. Her relatives had quickly decided that was too much work, and that Harry being seen as a 'tomboy' was an acceptable trade-off for not having to buy her clothing.

Four steps took her off the concrete patio and into the grass. Another dozen took her to the fence. She opened the gate and slipped out into the narrow alley that divided the fenced yards from one another. It only ran the length of the adjoining yards, but the fences were all tall enough that she couldn't see over them. Later in the day, they'd also be tall enough to block out some of the sun, but for now, it was high noon, and her shadow was a tiny pool underfoot.

Harry sidled along, hands half in her pockets, head bowed, trying to keep the sun out of her eyes. It just meant her hair caught it and heated up.

A bead of sweat dropped off her forehead to splat against the inside of her left glasses lens. Harry sighed, pulled them off, and cleaned them. Another drop hit them barely a meter down the alley.

Too bloody hot for this.

She tugged at the neck of her jumper, trying to fan some air through the thick cotton. No such luck. The air coming off the tarmac was so warm it was like standing over a fireplace and trying to catch a breeze.

She needed to get some shade or there'd be nothing left of her but a husk by the time supper came around.

Harry picked up the pace a little. She exited the alley- checking left and right for any of the neighborhood kids who might want to bother her. The street was deserted. They were all inside, enjoying the AC.

Bolstered, if not a little jealous, Harry crossed the road and turned left. Down the street to the corner, then right. The neighborhood fell away for a roundabout, and a little further down, an overpass, but Harry's eyes were on the playground.

The slide was a solid sheet of metal- literally hot enough to cook on, and she stayed well clear. But the jungle gym that housed the slide, sprouting a swingset from one side, was her destination. There was a little oasis of shadow under the platform, a space just big enough to fit into if she crawled. It was enclosed on three sides, covered over by the stairs and other parts of the gym.

Harry dropped to her hands and knees. She'd hidden here before. It wasn't a good spot for it. If there were other kids on the playground, they'd inevitably point her out to Dudley and his gang.

Not today though. That was the only real bonus of the heat.

The dark, loamy mulch was thick under her palms, and under the space, the mulch was actually a little damp. She was going to get dirty, but there was nothing wrong with a little moisture on a day like this.

Harry crawled in, circled like a dog, and then stretched out. It took a bit of fidgeting to find a position that made lying in the mulch bearable, and a bit more to adjust her clothing to not suffocate her.

For the first time since she woke that morning, Harry relaxed. She sank back against the nearest wall, wiggling like a worm to get the mulch indented beneath her and-

Something touched the back of her legs.

Harry stilled.

Just a bit of mulch?

She reached down and back, groping for the offending object.

Her fingertips brushed across something dry and scaly.

Initial thoughts of it being some odd piece of litter died beneath a much more basic instinct.

Snake!

Harry yelped and rolled away, scrabbling for the exit. She pushed off from the back wall and lunged for the sunny exterior.

"Ouch!" someone said.

Harry squirmed frantically away from the play gym, not stopping until she was two meters away. What if it came after her? Were there any poisonous snakes in Britain? She didn't really know.

"Rude," someone said.

Harry squinted. The voice had come from beneath the platform.

"Hello? Someone there?" She paused, suddenly frowning. Something clicked in the back of her head. She knew this game.

It was a trick. There had been a kid underneath there also, probably trying to get out of the heat, and they'd played a joke on her with a rubber snake. Just like last spring when Piers had got her with that fake spider in class.

"That's not funny!" she called. "Come out!"

"Kicks me in the head and says I'm not funny. The nerve..." the voice said. It was dry, and not just in tone. Like someone hissing under their breath. But… it didn't sound like a kid. It sounded like a man was under there.

And that was definitely impossible. The space was barely a meter across on all sides. A kid could maybe have hidden there without her noticing. But an adult? An adult lurking under a play gym like some kind of troll? Hadn't Aunt Petunia always warned Dudley about people like that?

"Come out. I'm not playing around. I'll- I'll call the police!"

"Rude. Rude and loud. Always tramping about on their legs." The voice hissed angrily at that. "This is my cave. Go away."

Another hiss, louder this time, and something stirred in the darkness.

Harry stumbled backward and fell as the snake- for it was definitely a snake, slithered out of the mulch. She'd missed it for good reason. It was pure black, its scales shining in the sunlight.

"Go away!" it said.

Harry stared.

"Get!"

It could talk. A talking snake.

"Weird!"

And then it hissed louder than ever at her, baring a set of needle-like fangs, and Harry bolted.

XXX

She came back the next evening.

It was, at the end of the day, the single most interesting thing that had ever happened to her on Privet Drive.

A talking snake.

Harry crouched near the jungle gym. "Hello? You, ah- Mister Snake? Are you there?"

Silence.

"Sorry for stepping on you. I brought food. Is that okay?"

Silence.

Then-

A voice floated out to her."What kind of food?"

XXX

His name was Blackscale.

According to him, his siblings had been born with the typical rippling brown and black pattern that most adders had. He'd been pure black. It wasn't that rare, but it was enough to earn him his name.

Blackscale enjoyed the hunk of chicken Harry had kept from last night's dinner. He enjoyed it enough to forget any ill-will over her kicking him, and invited her to join him in the 'cave.'

Harry declined.

She sat against the side of the play gym frame, legs spread out, drawing patterns in the mulch with a finger.

"So…" she said slowly. "You're a talking snake."

"All snakes talk. Humans just don't listen. You… you are a speaker."

"Meaning?"

"Human that speaks like snakes."

"Ah."

She rocked back and forth a bit, mulling that over.

"Uh… how do I do that?"

Blackscale gave a low, uneven hiss. Her mind translated it as a snort of laughter, but now that Harry was paying attention, she could hear the separation.

"Magic."

XXX

She took him home with her that night. Around her neck like a boa, his weight and texture both unfamiliar. Blackscale had been unsure of leaving his cool burrow under the playground, but she'd reassured him with stories of how lush and cool the Dursley's garden was.

They were technically true. She watered it frequently, and the leafy bushes would be cool to lay beneath if she was the size of an adder.

Harry didn't want to be away from him now.

A snake of all things, had voiced the answer to a question she hadn't even known she'd had. An explanation for all the weirdness, for why the Dursleys didn't like her, of the sense that she got sometimes that if she just pushed a little harder somehow, something would happen.

And the issue was definitely her.

With Blackscale's help, Harry had sought out three other snakes on the way back to the Dursleys, and unless every random snake in Surrey was talking, then she could talk to snakes.

She. Was. Magic.

It took a long time to fall asleep that night, half-baked in the stuffy cupboard as always, but now with the added thought of magic whirling and sparking through her head like an errant lightning bolt.

Her dreams were just as muddled. Scenes of long, dismal hallways and doors. Boys and girls in ragged clothes. A boy bending, a baby snake twining through his fingers. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia melding and separating, a yelling mass. A green sun.

They were forgotten by the time she woke. She stumbled through breakfast, and was already heading for the door when Aunt Petunia started into her 'be back for supper' spiel. Her aunt didn't even notice that Harry had gone.

Outside, Harry crouched in the bushes at the back of the yard. Blackscale surfaced from beneath one, winding his way through the roots toward her.

"Speaker."

Harry smiled. "I brought some bacon."

She didn't think a snake's eyes could light up, but Blackscale made a good show of it.

It was only after, when he was sleepy, his midsection slightly lumpy with the food, that Harry leaned in.

"What can you tell me about magic?"

He blinked dully at her. His tongue flicked in, then out. And then he shook his head.

"How would I know?"

Her jaw dropped. "What?!"

"Human magic. Not snake."

"Oh." She scratched the back of her head, combing a kink out of her curls before she answered. "You don't have… snake magic or something?"

Blackscale gave a snort of laughter. "What use do I have for magic?" He snickered again before yawning. "Doesn't mean I'm completely ignorant. Keep feeding me, and I'll tell you everything I know, Speaker."

There was a flash of wariness at his words, and Harry's thoughts went to, of all things, the handful of church sermons she's been to. The Dursleys did Christmas and Easter service, if they remembered. The Biblical serpent and the apple. And there's something else there as well, a snake coiling through a boy's hand, circling and coiling, endlessly.

But there was never anything in those stories about the serpent snatching up rashers of bacon, or lurking in a playground because it was too hot. And… Harry found she doesn't care either way. Because things were changing. The world her aunt and uncle had laid out was tearing apart at the seams.

Harry smiled. "Deal."

XXX

Blackscale kept his word.

He knew more than Harry had imagined a snake could. More importantly, he genuinely seemed to like telling her. She wondered sometimes over the humid weeks that followed if he was lonely too, or if he was just lazy and preferred the easy meals she provided.

He taught her about nature. Magic, he knew nothing about, beyond some humans (HER!) apparently being able to do some things. Who and what, he neither knew nor cared.

Instead, she got long lectures about which birds were smart, which were dumb, the ones who left their eggs unprotected, and which ones were cutthroat enough to point him toward their neighbors. Speeches about the plants in the forest- there was a wooded area, maybe a few acres square, a mile or so from the Dursleys' home, and Harry found herself taking a walk there nearly every day she wasn't occupied with chores.

Blackscale couldn't name any of the plants or trees, but he could point out which ones held fruit or thorns, where bees tended to nest, which plants the rodents he preyed on would eat.

Harry took in his facts, digested them, and then asked questions. That in itself had taken a while. Too many years of getting whopped by Dudley in primary for being 'a dirty swot' had made her wary of probing too much. But Blackscale reveled in them. Asking questions stroked his ego, gave him something to ramble about ever more.

And from her questions, Harry learned. She extrapolated which plants were safe for her to eat, which were poisonous. How to search for mushrooms in the dark and damp, but not to even think of eating until she had a chance to look at them in the light. Insects that would bite, and the plants that kept them away. Vines that split open to spurt foul-smelling innards. Bark and leaves that could soothe a wound.

It was not magic, but there was a magic to it.

The forest quickly became not just a day trip, but a refuge as well. There were no pointed fingers and raised voices there. No accusations and unhappy eyes. It was cool and quiet and safe. For the first time, Harry found something that was hers. Her place. Her woods. Somewhere where she could be as loud as she wanted, or run around like an idiot, or gorge on wild strawberries and morels until she could hardly move without bursting.

There was time for magic as well.

Harry couldn't really do anything. Not at first. She drew off raw instinct, groping for a feeling, an idea of how to work magic. Started small. Little things. Staring at a leaf, trying to move it without touching it. To stir the water in a puddle. Speak to other animals of the wood.

It took weeks. Furious hours of staring and wanting, needing something to happen to prove her right. In the end, it was Blackscale's reassurances that 'A speaker is of magic.' that gave her the push to keep going.

It was not just wanting or needing magic to happen, but knowing she could do magic, and that it should happen. She'd been winding herself up on a nice, throbbing headache, staring at a twig, willing it to break, not because it could, but because it should, and she wanted it to, and- something of her frustration leaked out, and she remembered the times before that something strange had happened.

Desperate, terrifying times. Dudley's gang. Aunt Petunia with the kitchen scissors. Uncle Vernon's bellowing anger.

"Come. On." Hissed between gritted teeth.

Something clenched behind her ribs. Twisted. And then unfolded. Heat and joy filled her limbs, twining around her bones, lifted her chin. Opened her eyes.

Harry gasped, as a dam broke and something burst-

The twig exploded like a firecracker.

XXX

Her thoughts slowly filled with trees and greenery, until the Dursley's home, with all its artificial wood and fluorescent lights, felt more alien than ever before. Every morning, she would wake from dreams of snakes and a gray, industrial London, Blackscale curled in a knot against her side, and it would begin anew.

And it was in the woods one morning, that things set into motion. Harry crouched behind a log with Blackscale, watching for prey, letting the snake show her how they hunted.

A shadow passed overhead, and she looked up.

Blackscale hissed angrily, sliding under the log. "Hide from hunting-birds, Speaker!"

There was a rustle of feathers, and then a bird alighted on the log.

An owl. Black and brown, yellow eyes meeting her green.

It held its leg out to her.

Harry reached out numbly, dumbly, and took the letter it offered her.

Thick, brown paper, and a crest with animals around an ornate letter 'H.'

She opened it. The owl took flight.

Harry waited until Blackscale emerged from beneath the log before she read the letter.


'Dear Ms. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you...'


XXX

This concept was an amalgam of a couple different things. I wanted a Parseltongue study. I wanted a fic about Nagini. I wanted something that wasn't the godawful parselmagic bullshit that pervades the worst part of Harry Potter fandom.

Enter Parselbrat. A fic where it turns out that the ability to control snakes is honestly kind of lame. Because snakes are basically legless cats, and there's no plausible reason for them to know shit about magic. So it ended up being less about Parseltongue, than about the doors it opens. No super OP powers. Just an early reveal of magic, and a friend who happens to be scaly.

Because seriously Wizarding Britain- controlling snakes is like literally the least terrifying thing that Voldemort can do.

Expect 2 more chapters, max.

Oh, and a rec for this fic, which inspired some of the mood here, and features a lot of fluffy Harry Nagini stuff.

 

[Ziel]

She slept poorly that night. Questions she couldn't answer churned and buzzed behind her eyes like so many bees.

A school, but where? Platform 9 ¾? That was… nonsense. And how was she supposed to buy her school supplies? Some of it she could improvise, given time, but a cauldron, dragonhide gloves? It wasn't as though there was a magic-mart just down the block beside the Tesco.

Harry had drifted off, dozed, woken, dozed off again, and was just starting the cycle once more when Aunt Petunia rapped a knuckle on the cupboard door.

"Get up and set the table. Hurry up before your uncle comes down!"

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," Harry murmured, rubbing her eyes.

The latch clicked, and Harry took a moment to pull on her clothes before nudging the cupboard door open. Morning was always blinding after nights spent under the stairs. She winced, rubbed her eyes some more, and then leaned back into the cupboard.

"I'll bring you something. What do you want?"

Blackscale opened a yellow eye. "Just water. Too much food makes me sluggish."

"Okay."

She was just turning to close the cupboard when there was a booming knock at the front door. Harry went wide-eyed at the dust now sifting down from the stairs, and then looked at the door.

"Get the door!" her aunt yelled shrilly from the kitchen.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," Harry called back.

She scurried to the front door and glanced through the frosted windows on each side before she undid the lock. Whoever was outside was big enough to cast both windows into shadow.

Harry shrugged.

As long as it wasn't Aunt Marge, she didn't really care.

She opened the door.

A man- a giant man filled the space outside. Dark eyes beamed down at her from a beard thick enough to hide her in its entirety.

"Hullo, Harry," the giant said.


XXX


Harry was coming to reconsider her feelings on London. She'd only visited the city a few times, but this round she was finding especially overwhelming. Part of that was the revelations that Hagrid had brought about a secret society of witches and wizards, and part of it was the noise, the bustle, and the people.

Any hope that the wizards would be better was quashed as soon as she stepped foot in the Leaky Cauldron. People wanted to meet her. To shake her hand. A man actually wept with joy when she shook his.

She'd had fantasies of being important, being famous. Hard not to when she was about as popular with the Dursleys as dry rot. But to actually be famous. To have people know her. To turn their heads when she walked by.

It made her skin crawl.

The steady thrum of the crowd in Diagon Alley was a relief after the pub. She vanished into the crowd, becoming just another shopper. Not Famous Harry Potter.

What she was famous for, she hadn't quite figured out yet, even if everyone else seemed to know. Hagrid had tried to explain it, something about a dark wizard and her apparently vanquishing him? But how was a one-year old supposed to do that? If she had that kind of power, then how come Dudley had always been able to knock her silly?

Hagrid was a steady presence, tugging her along, her hand wrapped around one of his huge fingers. He parted the crowd with his size, and that alone made the street less cloying. But there was also his smell, like woodsmoke and leather and earth, and the way he had leaves caught in his beard like some kind of ancient tree spirit. It was like walking with part of the forest.


XXX


They shopped.

Gringotts. A ride through the tunnels and caves that she enjoyed, even if Hagrid didn't. And then-

Money.

She was still dazed with the image of that gold-stacked vault by the time they made it back to the surface. Hagrid, still somewhat queasy as well, sent her towards Madame Malkin's so he could have a break.

Robes were… kind of itchy. And a bit too hot for the summer sun. But no one else seemed troubled. Was there a magic for that as well? She wouldn't mind learning that one first.

A blond-haired boy joined her during the fitting.

He gave her a once-over, taking in her scrawny, tanned limbs and over-large sneakers. The set of Dudley's jeans she'd cut off into capris. The snarl of black hair that she'd given up trying to tame and finally just twisted back with twigs like hairpins.

His lip curled, and he turned away.

Harry wasn't sorry to leave the shop.

Hagrid was waiting outside with ice cream. She'd forgotten the sneering boy by the time she'd taken her first bite.

"Where next?" Hagrid rumbled, his ice cream scaled up to match his size, nearly the size of a traffic cone.

"Books?"

"Alright 'en."

They parted the crowed once more.

Something he'd said earlier came back to her. Harry tugged at Hagrid's index finger.

"Hagrid- did you say there are dragons at Gringotts?"

His face lit up. "Aye. Never seen em myself, but yer can 'ear em sometimes. Always wanted a dragon..."

"So… Dragons are real?"

"Course they are."

She grinned up at him. Did dragons count as snakes? She hoped so. "Can you tell me about them?"

The duo that entered Flourish and Blotts was a tower. Nearly fifteen feet high, a slip of a girl riding on a giant's shoulders, her shoes dangling from skinny legs as she balanced an ice cream.

Hagrid had tired of talking down to her and pulled her up to his level so she could hear him better.

And he knew a lot about dragons.

Flourish and Blotts was familiar in an odd way, in that it reminded her exactly how little she knew about everything. Not just about magic in all its facets, but the things she thought she was just getting a handle on- nature, plants, animals, apparently all had magical variants.

Harry snatched up every book on "Herbology" and "Magizoology" she could, enlisting Hagrid to help carry, and then for advice. She hadn't given much thought to what a groundskeeper was, but Hagrid seemed to know as much about magical flora and fauna as he did about dragons.

She left the store with enough books that the bookseller had thrown in a complimentary 'Flourish and Blotts Extended Expanda-bag' to carry all of them.

"Les get yer wand now, I think," Hagrid said, checking her list.


XXX


Holly and phoenix feather.

"After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things. Terrible! Yes. But great."


XXX


She departed Ollivander's much quieter than she'd entered it.

Hagrid, seeming to sense her discomfort, slowed and patted her on the head. "Don' pay him any mind. He's a weird ole bloke. Been there forever, I think."

"Yeah." Harry nodded. That Hagrid honestly seemed to care she was upset made her feel a bit better.

"Cmon, pet shop's up 'ere. Might be nice if you get an owl. You and yer friends can write to each other."

She smiled at that, but her first thought was a long-time mantra: I don't have any friends.

Another voice spoke up, softer than the first.'I've got Blackscale.' Harry looked up at the massive man escorting her through Diagon. Her smile became truer. 'And Hagrid.'

And that shut the nagging little voice up right sharp.


XXX


As it turned out, she couldn't speak to lizards, frogs, toads, or salamanders. Not even slowworms, legless lizards that were for all intents and purposes, snakes. Apparently her speech only worked on 100% snakes.

It worked well enough on the massive Brazilian Mirror Viper in the far corner. His tank was marked with "HIGHLY POISONOUS! COLLECTORS ONLY!", but that didn't stop Harry from having a quick talk with him about his life in the petshop.

The store clerks wouldn't sell him to her though, and she didn't have enough money on hand anyway.

Hagrid, distracted by owls and owl accessories, hadn't noticed her conversation with the viper, but he did catch on once the clerk started yelling at him to fetch Harry away from the "incredibly deadly serpent."

He'd been put-off by her interest, she could tell, and Harry allowed him to lead her away.

It didn't rekindle her interest in an owl, and she was forced to admit to Hagrid that she wouldn't have anyone to write to anyway, and that he should save the money.

The tall man looked at her for a long, heavy moment, his thick brows knitted.

"Next year, 'Arry. Next year, yer'll need an owl. Promise yer that. I'll get yer one then."

He took her hand and led her out of the emporium. Harry waved goodbye to the Mirror Viper as she went.


XXX


"So… yer like the Mirror Viper? Those're something. I know yer'd take good care of 'im, but McGonagall'd have my head if I let yer bring that into the school." He smiled ruefully at her. "Tell yer what. I've got loads of beasts at school that plenty of people're too scared of to 'preciate. Yer can come see 'em any time."

Harry found herself matching his smile. "His name was Rain-slick-slither-skin. He had a weird accent, but he was nice."

Hagrid stopped so suddenly that the crowd had to part around them like a river around a rock.


XXX


Hagrid tried his best to explain what she'd done wrong, and that he wasn't mad, but Harry still ended their trip sure that she'd messed up somehow.

So apparently certain people had magic, but certain people who had magic also had magic that other wizards didn't.

Hagrid led the way back to the Leaky Cauldron, Harry still holding his hand, but trailing a few steps behind now, her eyes down.

Parselmouth. Parseltongue.

There was something ugly and jarring about the terms that she didn't like. Being a Speaker meant having a title. A role. Something that snakes understood and respected.

Being a Parselmouth was just another one of those things she didn't understand. That no one had ever bothered to explain, but that everyone but her seemed to know. It was too much like being with the Dursleys or at primary school. All these rules and unspoken understoods. Like playing a game where everyone else already knew the rules.

Warm sunlight gave way to brick and cobble, and then the smoky darkness of the pub.

"I'll floo yer back," Hagrid said. "Don' wanna mess round with apparatin.' Too much strain on yer."

She nodded slowly. What floo was, she wasn't sure. Apparation was teleporting. They'd done that to get to Diagon in the first place, but it had made her horribly nauseous for several minutes, and Hagrid had apologized profusely.

"I think that'll be fine," she said.

They crossed in front of the bar, Hagrid towing her toward a back hallway, when-

"My g-goodness, H-harriet Potter?"

A man sitting at the bar had turned to stare at them.

Harry tugged Hagrid's hand, mentally urging him onward. She didn't want to meet-and-greet anyone else today. But Hagrid had stopped.

"Professor Quirrel. Didn' think I'd see yer round here."

The man, Quirrel, young and pale, built like a scarecrow, stood from his stool. "J-just having a drink b-before term s-starts," he said tremulously.

He wore an odd, purple turban, incongruous beside his European features and his wizard robes. But… it wasn't like Harry hadn't seen a dozen weirder looking people in the alley alone.

"I-is this r-really Harriet Potter?" Quirrel asked.

"'Arry and I were just finishing school shopping." Hagrid patted her shoulder, nudging her forward. "'Arry, this is Professor Quirrel. He'll be teaching Muggle- er, 'scuse me, Quirrel. He'll be teaching Defense agains' the Dark Arts this year at Hogwarts."

"I'm l-looking forward to t-teaching you, Miss Potter." Quirrel held out a hand.

Dutifully, Harry reached out.

He had very long fingers. Thin. Like a spider.

Their hands touched.

Something in her magic shifted. A lurch behind her ribs, on her forehead, at the base of her spine, something stirring, and-

Harry drew back, gasping, her hand halfway to her forehead by the time she realized the feeling was gone.

"'Arry?" Hagrid rumbled. "Yer okay?"

She blinked.

Quirrel was pressed against the bar, his eyes wide, hand still outstretched.

"It- it was nothing," Harry muttered. "Just a bit of magic."

"It's been a long day," Hagrid added, as though that explained things. And then he was drawing her away again, maybe a little more quickly than before.

Behind her, the tall man moved, his robes rustling like snakeskin.

"I'm looking forward to teaching you, Harry Potter."


XXX


Hagrid flooed her home via Mrs. Figgs' fireplace. That, in itself, was a revelation. But it was a discovery for another day. Harry just nodded tiredly at her neighbor, hefted her things, and headed for Privet Drive.

She entered just long enough to stow her things in Dudley's spare- her new room, and then she was off, Blackscale around her neck, headed back to the forest.

There was quiet there, and time to think.

XXX

XXX

In retrospect, this is a fairly standard Diagon Alley sequence. I'd like to have changed things up a bit more, but I think the tone is sufficiently different enough that it's bearable. The most salient points are probably how Harry reacts to what's going on around her, and how quickly dreams of importance and fame sour. I'm pleased with that much.

Oh, and Quirrel's there too.

 

[Ziel]

There were almost three weeks between her visit to Diagon Alley and the start of term. She'd been ditching the Dursleys for the forest nearly every day already, and it swiftly became daily.

There was a nauseous tension in the house now. Dudley skittering from the room like a cockroach when she entered. Aunt Petunia chewing her lip, biting back words that she no longer dared to say. Uncle Vernon, impotent and red-faced, itching to shout or lay hand on her, held back only by his wife's hissed warnings.

Harry woke, made breakfast, did the few chores they still pushed her way, and then set off into the neighborhood. Most days she went to the woods, but she'd been exploring a bit more, venturing in other directions to look for other woody areas.

There was an entire world outside of Privet Drive, and she was itching to see it.

XXX

Dry leaves crackled beneath her. She was spread-eagle on the forest floor, hair fanned out, skin patterned with canopy shade. It was quiet in the center of the woods, the noise of the motorway a dull, distant thing, easily ignored.

"Where was I?"

"The ogres," Blackscale said, draped across her belly like a belt.

"And then- ah, the prince got carried off by the three ogres, and the brave lady knight had to set out to save him. She-"

A little grass snake coiled in the hollow of her collarbone shifted."Are there any snakes in this story?"

"Speaker, may I sun myself with you as well?" A black snake took advantage of the interruption to poke his nose into her cheek.

"Ah- alright then," Harry said. She paused, squinting for a moment to remember where she'd been. "The lady knight saddled her horse and coiled her trusty snake companion around her shoulders." Another pause for the serpents to hiss their approval, and then she continued.

"They journeyed long and hard, passing into the far north, where..."

She lay in the shade, her limbs heavy beneath a score of scaled bodies, and spoke until her jaw ached. One by one, all the snakes in the wood came to hear her. They settled on and around her, drowsing in her body heat and the sound of her voice. When she finished one story, they'd call out suggestions- most were snake related, but there were a few that weren't.

They wanted to hear her, to be in her presence. They stared, but there was a different weight to it, not the furious eyes of her relatives, and none of them skittered away when she came.

It was almost like having friends.

XXX

'Add two drops of armadillo bile, stir counter-clockwise once, and then add one dash of ground snake fangs.'

Harry frowned. "How do you suppose they gather those?"

Blackscale, currently swollen and indolent, digesting a mouse, just twitched his tail in response.

"Snake fangs, I mean. You- you don't think they harm the snakes, do you?" She rifled the pages of her potions text to the very back, scanning the glossary for anything else in that vein.

"Crushed claw of cat, bat wings, beetle eyes… This is horrible. I guess they could use magic, but still."

She spent the rest of the day marking out recipes that used animal components, and the next cross-checking her potion ingredients guide for things that could be possible substitutes. It didn't really go well. She didn't understand half the potion terms, and it kept throwing in mentions of 'symbolic value' and 'ritual weight' that she didn't grok at all, beyond that they were likely what she was looking for, if only she understood.

It wasn't like she was going to become one of those 'animal-loving tree-huggers' that Uncle Vernon occasionally ranted about, but it was hard to think of hurting an animal when she could talk to them. If there were parselmouths, then surely there had to be wizards who could talk to dogs or bats or whatever. She wouldn't be okay if one of the ingredients was 'tongue of Harry,' so why would a serpent be any different?

XXX

Her scar itched.

It had never done that before that she could remember, but it was now. When had that started? When she first used magic, maybe? Or was it when she met the professor in the Leaky Cauldron?

It itched, and that night she dreamed.

XXX

It itched, and in her dream, she reached up. Fingertips brushed inflamed skin. There was a flash of pain and she drew away, only for the skin to come away with her hand, scraps of papery flesh sticking to her fingers like it had been glued there.

The open space on her forehead tingled, cool air against raw skin.

Her hands moved up again. They were long and thin, someone else's, and not under her control anymore.

Pulled.

Skin peeled away. A long strip down her arm.

And there wasn't flesh underneath it, but scales. Glistening black, and new.

She wasn't a witch at all, but a vast serpent wearing a human skin. The Dursleys had always known something was off, because there was, and if everyone said something about her, then mustn't it be true? It-

"Freak."

"An odd boy."

-dug at something deep within her. A secret thought that maybe she was a freak after all. And-

"Get up, Tom."

"Go to your room. No one wants you here.

"Get up, you lazy little bastard! Get-"

"-up!"

A hand against her door and Aunt Petunia's shrill voice.

Harry woke. Blackscale brushed by her wrist and she jumped, a tiny yip escaping her throat before reality reasserted itself.

She blinked once, slowly, shook her head, and got out of bed.

Her scar itched.

XXX

August 31st ended in soft twilight.

Harry leaned against a fallen log at the edge of a small clearing she frequented. Her textbooks were scattered around her, most propped open on rocks. It was too dark to read them now, but the wind would occasionally rustle their pages, and the sound was soothing.

Blackscale, more susceptible to the chilly evening than she, had burrowed under her shirt and coiled up there, smooth scales against her skin. She didn't think he was asleep, but he was still, and she had stopped trying to bother him with conversation when it began getting dark.

The sky turned blue, purple, and then black. There were no stars in Privet Drive. There was too much ambient light from the houses and street lights.

Harry sighed, slumping down against the log a bit more. That was the problem with Privet Drive though, wasn't it?

Too much everything, and not enough room for anything else. No room for things that didn't fit, or people like her. It was like the Dursleys and other, Dursley-ish people had built it for that purpose. Privet Drive was a snakeskin. Something they had layered over the earth so that they could forget it was there. A perfect little world, where there was nothing bad or frightening or disorderly.

Even if the forest was nice, it was still just another part of Surrey. Just a small grove, poking up through the cracks in an artificial landscape. It was a refuge, but it was no real home for her.

She didn't belong here. And tomorrow, she'd be leaving.

There was a whole wide world out there beyond the tiny box that was Privet Drive.

Slowly, she raised her palm to the sky.

Her magic, more familiar now, though still strange, stirred inside her. She'd been practicing, and though she couldn't manage any of the fancier spells in her books that seemed designed for wands, she could do this.

A tiny light, no bigger than a firefly blinked into existence above her. And then another. And another. A dozen. Two score. Countless minuscule points of light bloomed in the canopy.

Harry gritted her teeth, willing a change, and then-

They began to shift. Colors appeared. Lights flashing from hue to hue, all moving in gentle patterns like a school of fish, color rippling down the mass in waves.

She released her hold on it, and the lights lingered, still drifting hypnotically around the top of the clearing.

Harry lay back against the log, eyes reflecting her replacement stars.

The night was quiet, seeming to hold its breath for her. And there, alone in the trees but for a snake, Harry Potter felt like a witch for the first time.

XXX

XXX

A slightly episodic chapter, but nice for the transitionary stuff of a Harry who actually cracks a book before day 1, and some more stuff just being a kid exploring her new powers. This was originally a shorter sequence that was the first part of a chapter covering Kings Cross, the Train, Sorting, and Hogwarts, but the Privet Drive bits are wildly different in tone and focus, so I decided to just put it out as a short chapter. Ended up adding the dream bit and reworking the star sequence, but I'm pleased with how it turned out.

Some nice introspective moments, even if I would like to get things moving, it's nice to take things slow once in a while. There'll be plenty next time, and the next chapter is 90% done.

 

[Ziel]

4

September 1st.

Blackscale had woken her before dawn, announcing that he needed to shed. Even now, he was curled in the bottom of her backpack, shifting rhythmically as he worked his old skin off. His movements pressed against the small of her back, and Harry moved faster with each one, dragging her trunk through Kings Cross, her nerves about school blending with her need to get to the train so she could see to him.

Hagrid had told her- it, where was it? Platform Eight. Nine. And, there was Ten, so it had to be… there. A wall you could walk through. Nothing to it. Just had to get up the nerve. And hope that he hadn't been having her on.

She was still trying to screw up her courage- there were a couple of walls between the platforms and she wasn't sure which one, when an entire family of red-heads passed her.

They vanished into a wall to the left of the one she was eyeing.

"Well then."

Any thoughts about it being a bloody stupid way to catch a train disappeared the instant she saw the Hogwarts Express, a scarlet steam engine surrounded by hundreds of witches and wizards.

There were men and women in red robes the same shade as the train scattered about the platform, directing travelers. After a moment to reason that it was easier to ask rather than get yelled at for not asking, Harry approached one.

The man had just smiled. "First year, is it?" And then he'd flicked his wand and levitated her trunk onto the train without a backwards glance.

They picked a compartment at random – there were two other students already there. Both boys, one her age, the other a little older.

XXX

This wasn't going to work.

The boys, after introducing themselves, had asked for her name.

Harry gave it.

And they hadn't stopped gawking at her.

Blackscale was shifting unhappily in her bag, hissing at her to let him out so he could finish molting.

"So, do you really have a scar?" one of the boys asked.

"Yeah, yeah! My da said You-Know-Who finally died that day, and-"

She tuned them out.

Stood up.

"I'm going for a walk."

XXX

Trunk bumping along behind her, Harry made her way down the train. She was just crossing into the next car when the train lurched and began moving.

She needed an empty compartment. Somewhere without staring eyes and thoughtless questions. Blackscale needed quiet, and so did she.

XXX

Full. Full. Full. Empty- wait- the girl had just been rummaging under her seat. She came out with a large calico. Harry grimaced at the sight and clutched her bag a little tighter.

Full. Full.

Occupied.

Next car.

She stopped.

It wasn't a passenger car, this one. Now that she paid attention, she thought it might actually be the last car on the train altogether. A baggage car, full to the brim with trunks and luggage of all varieties.

It was also completely and totally uninhabited.

XXX

There was some kind of magic on the trunks. Despite being stacked to the ceiling, none seemed to be under any real pressure- there was a glass aquarium holding up a stack near the door without a single crack. And none of the stacks had so much as tilted, even though the train was bumping and rattling along.

It smelled musty, all dust and old wood, but it was quiet and dark.

Harry burrowed down between two of the stacks, hidden by a third from the main aisle, and opened her bag.

Blackscale was out in a heartbeat, half his body milky-white where the scales were peeling away.

"Nearly there," he said softly, voice strained with the effort of shedding.

"Anything I can do?"

"Tug where I tell you."

XXX

"Guess that answers my question about where snake fangs come from," Harry mused.

She was curled up in her trunk fort, back facing out, shielding her friend. Blackscale was sprawled and silent inside the circle of her body.

It reminded her a little of being back in the cupboard, though there'd never been this much light in there, and there were no doors to hold her in here.

Her fingertips found his husk, dry as old leaves, and as fragile. She lifted it like spun glass, and set inside her trunk, cushioned by a set of robes.

His new scales were a fresh, inky black, totally untarnished by wear or damage.

He was beautiful.

"I wish I could do that," she said softly. They were idle words, and it was only as she said them that she realized they were true.

To just… shed it all away. No more scrawny little Harriet who slept in a cupboard. No more scraped knees from running from Dudley, or split knuckles from working in the garden.

No more bloody scar.

Shed everything Harriet Potter and just be herself. With none of the baggage that Harry Potter carried. No lousy relatives, and no dead parents. Because those… those were infinitely worse than just being an unwanted orphan. To know that she'd had parents, and they'd been murdered.

That would be a girl who could sit anywhere on the train and not be gaped at like a zoo animal. No one would crow at how famous she was for having dead parents. She could have friends, and not have to worry that she'd simply replaced one husk- her cousin's hand-me-downs, for another, the skin of Harriet Potter, the Girl-Who-Lived.

She stewed over it a long time, the thoughts circling and winding in her head, biting their tail and repeating. She had no answers by the time the gentle rocking of the train lulled her to sleep.

XXX

The sound of the door opening woke her. There was a rush of wind and noise, and then it closed once more. Heeled footsteps tapped against the wood.

Harry froze where she lay.

The boys had come to steal her things again. The matron would always pretend she didn't know anything, but she smirked behind her fingers, that cow, but-

Harry blinked, then shook her head. The last dregs of the dream she'd been having drifted away.

The footsteps crossed the car, overlaid by an odd, rolling sound, like someone was moving a trunk on casters.

The steps stopped.

"Come on out, dearie," a woman called.

Harry stayed still. She was concealed behind trunks. How had the woman noticed her?

"I've walked this train long enough to know when someone's in need of a bite. Come on out and have something off the trolley. I've got Cauldron cakes, Bertie Bott's Beans, licorice wands… something for everyone."

Slowly, Harry turned over, moving so as not to make any noise. Beneath her, Blackscale caught her eye.

He nodded, and slithered away between the stacks, vanishing to lie in wait.

Harry crept over a few inches until she could peer through a gap in the towering trunks.

A plump witch in an apron and mobcap beamed back at her, immediately on the other side of the stack.

"Hullo there," the woman said.

Harry squeaked.

XXX

Once they got past the initial fright, it turned out that the woman – "Agatha Sweetley, though you can call me Aggie if you feel like it," did in fact have candy, and was not like all the other adults with candy her relatives had always forewarned Dudley about.

Cauldron Cakes were delicious, if Harry did say so herself.

XXX

"So," Agatha said, sitting down on a trunk. "What's got you all holed up in here? You- you have a name, by the way? Troublesome, just calling you 'you' all the while.""

Harry chewed thoughtfully, using the time it took to finish her chocolate frog to find the words she needed.

An image flashed through her head: Agatha's face lighting up, her eyes going wide and flicking up to Harry's brow, just like everyone else's had.

Another scene followed that one: the crowd in the Leaky Cauldron. Grown men and women queuing up to meet her and shake her hand, all saying her name with the kind of reverence usually reserved for the queen.

She imagined those things.

And then she lied.

"Riddle. My name is ah- Harriet Riddle."

XXX

The conversation that followed was a reprieve.

Harry gave a vague excuse about being in the car to look for her pet- Blackscale was sniffing around an empty owl cage, but Agatha didn't know that.

The older witch bought it. The awkward mood broke, and Harry found herself having a long, in-depth conversation with Agatha about wizarding candy. Her own experiences with muggle candy were rather limited, but the wizard equivalents sounded downright fascinating.

That someone would put all this effort into making magical candy. Was there magic food as well?

The floodgates opened, and Harry found herself for the first time, really beginning to imagine all the possibilities. There may well be a magical version of anything she could think of. They didn't have cars, but- but were there magical socks, and she'd seen magical snakes, and-

It. Was. Amazing.

And all of it was underscored with the simple pleasure of just being a face in the crowd. No gawking, no gaping, and no bowing and scraping. It was the first conversation she'd had with a person since she talked to Hagrid, and that had been weeks ago.

By the time she said her goodbyes to Aggie, Harry had come to a conclusion:

She wasn't going to be Harry Potter any longer.

XXX

Blackscale rejoined her, and Harry crawled back into their burrow.

"Did the food witch have anything for me?" Blackscale asked.

Harry eyed her handful of unicorn lollis. "I don't think so."

"I'm going to hunt then," he said. "Shedding is always tiring."

"Alright. Call me if you need anything. And be careful- we're on a train. I don't want you falling off."

"I won't go far." His tongue flicked out. "There is prey in here with us."

Harry let him slide off into the stacks again before she dug out some of her books. No telling how long the train ride was, and this book on how the stars and moon affected plants was really interesting.

She flicked to the chapter she'd dog-eared, and had just begun reading when a word bubbled up to her.

Riddle.

Why that surname? It sounded familiar, like she'd read it somewhere and just forgotten.

It kind of fit though. Riddle. Sort of a nod that her name was a mystery.

"Harriet Riddle," she whispered.

It had a good sound to it. Maybe… once Blackscale returned, she could go back into the passenger cars and see if she had more luck making friends with her new name.

She was smiling as she turned the page.

XXX

"I have hunted well. Do you want any?"

Harry examined the prey Blackscale had dragged back. It was a fat toad, warty sides heaving and eyes bulging as the adder's venom finished it off.

"Sorry," she said to the toad. And to Blackscale: "It's all yours."

"I will wait until it dies. When the poison on its skin dries, then I shall feed."

She forced herself to watch as the toad twitched, croaked feebly, and then went still.

Snakes had to eat. Circle of life and all that. She wouldn't shame the toad's sacrifice by looking away and pretending it wasn't dead.

Didn't mean she didn't cry a little bit.

XXX

It was nearly an hour after that when the train door opened once again.

Harry perked up, wondering if Aggie had come back. She scooted to the side of their hideaway, stepping carefully over Blackscale, who was slowly swallowing the toad whole.

Two sets of footsteps entered this time.

"I don't think he could have gotten in here," a girl said.

"He's- Trevor is slippery. He always gets into places," a boy answered. He sounded worried. "I don't want him to fall off the train."

Harry stiffened. She'd been afraid of Blackscale falling, could it have happened to someone else's pet?

"Trevor, oh Trevor," the boy called, slowly walking down the train. "Come out, Trevor."

After a moment, the girl copied him. She seemed to be moving more slowly; Harry caught a glimpse of her through the stacks, the girl bending to peer behind a crate.

It didn't take long to come to a decision.

Harry slipped out from her spot. "Excuse me?"

The boy and girl turned.

"Are you looking for someone?"

The boy, round-faced, his hair mussed like he'd been running his fingers through it, dashed over to her. "We are! I've lost my toad, Trevor."

XXX

Uncle Vernon had never struck her, never more than a slap at least, but she'd often imagined the way his meaty fists might feel. The impact in her gut in that second was comparable.

Harry gasped.

A cold, prickling feeling crawled up her spine and down her throat, tongue frozen and stupid in her mouth.

The boy and girl were still talking to her, the girl moreso, all hands and gestures.

Harry nodded, seeming in slow-motion.

Blackscale was near, a meter at most, divided only by a mound of baggage. He was gorged, his throat packed with toad.

Something in her brain clicked, analyzing the situation with a sterile, detached eye.

There were two options.

She could tell the boy- Neville, the girl had just called him, could tell him the truth.

That path opened up before her, clear as day. He would be angry. Horrified. Wizards didn't like parseltongue, Hagrid had said. It wouldn't matter if she was Harriet Riddle here; that name would be tainted just as badly as Potter, if in a different way. Harriet Riddle, snake-girl. Weirdo. Primary school all over again. Shunned. Everything ruined before she even made it to school, because children never forgot this kind of thing.

The other path.

Lie.

Was that any different than lying about her name? Something untrue now that she could tell the truth about in the future. Time for Neville to get over his toad, and for Harry to find him a new one. To make amends. And in the mean time, she'd have to live with the guilt, carry it with her like another scar. Complicity. A hidden murder.

XXX


"I haven't seen him."


XXX

Hermione and Neville said their goodbyes.

"You're sure you wouldn't like to come?" Hermione asked. "There's all sorts of interesting things on this train. I can't imagine the baggage car is much fun."

"I'm sure," Harry said. She smiled stiffly.

The idea of searching alongside them, of perpetuating this lie… it made her sick.

Her stomach roiled.

The duo turned and exited the car, beginning their search back up the Express.

Harry lasted just until the door shut behind them. She spun around and ran for the far side of the car. Bursting through the door onto the tiny platform at the back of the car, iron railing fencing it in.

She hit the railing and heaved. Chunks of wizarding candy splattered the train tracks. Her eyes watered, bile and food clogging her sinuses, and she heaved again, convulsively now.

And again.

Again.

She retched, and drew nothing but a clenching pain in her ribs and a thin trickle of water.

Sagging backward, her back hitting the door. The urge to vomit left her, replaced with an angry emptiness.

The guilt hadn't diminished at all.

XXX

Arrival.

Itchy and uncomfortable in her new robes, Blackscale a leaden weight around her neck. She wasn't angry at him. He was just being a snake.

She was the one who should have known better. The letter had said so, hadn't it? She'd read it enough to know it by heart. 'Cats, rats, and toads.' Why else would there be a random toad on a train?

"Firs' years over here! Firs' years, with me!"

Harry craned her neck to smile up at him. "Hey, Hagrid. Can I talk to you about something? Later, I mean?"

"Course yer can."

The dustbin-lid sized hand not holding a lantern came down to pat her head.

XXX

A fleet of little boats streaming across the lake, waves spreading out behind them. And above, a castle big enough to fill the sky, ten-thousand lights warm and waiting.

As one, the first-years fell silent.

XXX

Professor McGonagall was a far cry from Hagrid. Stern and aged, an old oak to his mossy redwood. She paced up the line of new students, voice raised for all to hear.

"You will be called up by name. Go to the front of the hall, put on the Sorting Hat, and it will choose where you belong. Take it off, then go to your table. From this moment on, you are Hogwarts students. Your House is your home for the next seven years. Your actions reflect on it. That is a thousand years of tradition to live up to. Do not let it down."

She passed Harry with barely a glance, but Harry followed her, catching up just as the witch reached the door.

"Ma'am? Ah- Professor?"

McGonagall turned, one severe eyebrow raised.

Harry bit her lip. "I was wondering- you said you'd be calling us by name."

"Of course, Miss Potter."

"Could you..." She swallowed. McGonagall looked as rigid as iron. This was a waste of time. "Could you call me under another name?"

That sharp eyebrow rose a little higher.

"Because- everyone so far just wanted to meet Harriet Potter. They only care because I'm famous. I want people to get to know me."

A pause. McGongall turned slowly, giving Harry her full attention for the first time. "You have your mother's eyes."

Harry blinked, not understanding.

"I taught her, in her time here," McGonagall added. She spoke slowly, the words a burden on her. "She desired something similar. To be seen for herself, rather than her blood status. It was something she had to confront eventually, all the same. This charade won't last, you understand that, don't you, Miss Potter?"

"Yes, Professor," Harry said, wilting.

McGonagall turned to continue into the hall beyond, only to pause in the doorway.

"What name did you have in mind?"

XXX

The Great Hall lived up to its name. A cathedral-sized room lit by innumerable floating candles. Harry kept her gaze up, scanning the vaulted ceiling. ("Enchanted!" Hermione whispered down the line). They were far from the city and all its light pollution, and the stars were amazing.

Harry continued looking up, steadily ignoring the hundreds of watchful students in the hall, breaking her focus only to clap when the students she'd met were sorted.

Gryffindor for Hermione and Neville. The House of the brave.

Braver than her, for sure.

She hadn't really given which house she wanted much thought. A few of her books had mentioned the Houses, but never in much detail. They were a given. Something that witches and wizards were just assumed to know about.

"Patil, Parvati!" A dark-skinned girl went to Gryffindor. The girl immediately after had to be her sister- probably a twin. Ravenclaw for her.

Harry tensed. Potter wasn't far after Patil. Would McGonagall go through with it?

"Pickering, Adam!"

Her spine like a bowstring, taut and waiting. Blackscale sensed her agitation and coiled inward, whether to prepare to strike at a threat, or to comfort her with his presence, Harry couldn't tell.

"Prescott, Gladys!"

Relief. Harry unknotted, exhaling through her teeth.

She was just beginning to grow giddy when it happened-

"Riddle, Harriet!"

She turned.

The hall was already filled with whispers. Students murmuring to each other about prospective sortings, or just catching up with friends after the summer. It seemed to grow greater as she stepped forward though. A dull roar of hissed talk. The weight of their eyes on her suddenly ten-fold.

Harry kept her eyes on the flagged floor in front of her. A stool appeared ahead, holding a ragged looking hat.

She lifted it. Sat.

Put it on.

XXX

"Interesting. Interesting. Where to put you, I wonder? No desire for fame, I see in you. A shame, for fame is something you will live with."

What did she want?

She wanted to be off this bloody stool, not stood up in front of the entire school like some kind of display.

"I see. Definitely not suited for that, then. You have a lot of desire, but… little ambition. No drive for power, child? No need to leave those humble beginnings behind?"

No. Yes.

Those weren't the same things.

"You've endured much. It takes bravery to do so."

She wasn't brave. Bravery would be standing up to the Dursleys. Or telling the truth to Longbottom, Neville, who had looked a little lost when he was sorted, like he was missing a friend.

"What do you desire, then?"

Quiet. Softness. Her forest. Mornings with Blackscale, learning about the land. Or like she'd desired on the train, what she'd really wanted. A couple of close friends. People who knew Harry, but not Potter. A place for her. For what few friends she had. Power just meant more fame. More attention. And if the Dursleys had taught her nothing else, it was that attention only brought trouble.

Somewhere safe.

A change- the hat musing to itself.

"I could send you to Hufflepuff. They welcome all. You would find yourself a home there. But do you prefer safety itself, or what that safety brings, Harriet Potter?"

She blinked beneath the hat.

What?

"The chick must break out of its shell to see the world, child. Yes, yes..." The hat paused, seeming to draw breath. "Better be… RAVENCLAW!"

XXX

The blue-bannered table had been reserved so far, clapping for new arrivals. Even that scattered applause was a bit much, as Harry set the hat back down on the stool and made her way over, face slowly growing hot.

Someone pushed out a seat for her, and she dropped into it.

XXX

"What's this?" And that was all the warning she had before Blackscale dropped out of her hair and onto the table.

The Ravenclaws around her, who were only just beginning to dig in, and were finally ignoring her for a moment, all looked.

A girl squealed. A boy drew back, choking on a mouthful of sprouts.

"I'm a parselmouth," Harry said. She was going to have to do this a lot, wasn't she?

Blackscale, now nosing through her plate, barely looked up at her. "What a strange bunch of food. Where's the mice? Or the pig meat you always give me?"

"How are you even hungry?" Harry hissed at him, suddenly bitter over the reasons why.

"I'm not. Just curious."

"Honestly!" she said to him, exasperated. "His name is Blackscale," she added to the people around her, all of whom were staring now.

The boy sitting across from her, who had pushed his seat all the way back from the table, nodded slowly. "Safe, is he?"

"He rode all the way up in my robes. He's safe."

An older girl just down the table wearing a prefect's badge leaned in. "Leave Riddle alone. We'll have time to talk about her familiar later. Riddle, pass me the gravy please? And no snakes on the table."

XXX

She'd just finished her goulash when something made her look up. It was… instinct. A vague sense of being watched. It should be impossible to really tell in a hall full of hundreds, but she could.

Professor Quirrel sat at the staff table, turned in his chair to speak to a dark-haired man at his left.

Quirrel wasn't looking at her, but she was almost sure he had been.

Something flickered in her magic. Not the all-encompassing blanket of Hogwart's magic, or the wildness of the lands outside. This was visceral. An odd sort of leap in her belly. A quickening of her heart. Her scar prickling.

And a sudden sense of something. The same impulse that had let her find her magic in the first place. If she just reached out and… and did something, it would…

"Riddle. Hey, Riddle, what're you looking at?"

Harry blinked slowly. "What?"

Someone tugged her sleeve. Prefect Clearwater was leaning over to reach her.

"Sit down, please."

Harry sat.

XXX

Dinner ended with a few parting words from Dumbledore. Some nonsense, and some foreboding.

A corridor on the third floor. A forbidden forest. What did that mean? Having all that land out there and not being able to use it made Harry itch.

They finished with the Hogwart's School Song.

Harry realized two things about Ravenclaw: Very few of them could sing. And they were close enough to the Gryffindor table that no one could hear them anyway.

XXX

All these moving staircases and not one of them actually moved upward? Harry didn't usually need an escalator, but it seemed like they just kept going up.

Clearwater, who was leading the pack of new Ravenclaws, just kept saying "A little bit further," directing them up endless flights of stairs and through long, torchlit corridors.

Harry wanted to stop and take in the scenery. Hogwart's interior was filled with life. Paintings that moved. Suits of armor, some mundane, some so fantastic it looked like it belonged in a movie. Marble pillars in alcove that held glowing, rainbow-hued tablets. And above it all, a constant, underlying sense of magic.

It was like her first brushes with it in the forest. That river of warmth and life just waiting to be tapped behind her heart. And Hogwarts felt like that, but moreso, like sinking into the bloodstream of an infinitely vaster creature.

Her own magic tingled, and for the first time in a long day, Harry found herself really smiling, her fingertips twitching at just how wonderful it all was.

XXX

Ravenclaw Tower wasn't what she'd expected. She wasn't sure what she'd expected, but the tall, bookshelved common room, full of desks and chairs, but ringed with arched windows and blue hangings, was an odd mix of library and villa. It was… airy. The sun during the day must be blinding.

Not that she was complaining. Now that she was here, it was sinking in. Magic wasn't just real, it was- it was this, and she was going to be living here. Hogwarts. Not the Dursleys.

And she was itching to dig into those shelves and find out just how much magic there was in the world.

XXX

The dorm itself was the tower above the common room. A curving flight of steps led to the second story and continued on upward, but the first-year rooms ringed the landing.

Two girls she'd met at dinner, Patil and Fawcett, joined her on the landing, followed shortly after by a small herd of others. Sue Li, Lisa Turpin, Mandy Brocklehurst, and Isobel MacDougel rounded out the year, with Clearwater stopping by to point out a few features of their rooms.

"Beds are assigned alphabetically. If you don't like your room, work it out among yourselves. Watercloset is this door here. Showers don't run out of hot water, but this is a big year, and there's only… three stalls, I think, so you might want to work out a schedule. Enter your room, tap the lock with your wand, and say your name. That keys it to you. Anything you want to keep private, you leave in there. Any questions?"

"Aye," MacDougel said. "Is there any easier way to get up here? The stairs are murder."

Clearwater smiled darkly. "No one ever said Ravenclaw didn't value hard work."

XXX

Her room. The thought took a moment to sink in, and it wasn't really clicking yet.

Her room.

And not in the way she'd had a room at Privet Drive. That had been just another one of Dudley's hand-me-downs.

This was hers. It had a lock and a door and a window. Harry stood on tiptoe to peer out.

It faced the lake, a sweeping black mirror far below, glittering with reflected light from the castle.

She was too tired to unpack.

Instead, she shoved her trunk to one side, locked the door- and wasn't that novel, before slipping between the sheets. Her bed was narrow, but still far wider and more plush than Dudley's broken down old mattress.

"Tomorrow will be better," she whispered.

Blackscale curled up beside her pillow, tongue tickling her wrist.

His voice was the last thing she heard before sleep came, his hisses mingling with the sound of wind whirling around the tower.

"Tomorrow will be better."

XXX

XXX

Goodbye, fair Trevor, may flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.

This was almost a much more standard Hogwarts Express ride. My first draft, which is literally 95% done, had her bump into Ron, and end up sharing a compartment with Theo Nott and Ron. The boys bitch at each other. We get some nice Nott snark, and Ron shows why he's kind of a bro to Harry by standing up to her- complete with getting off a fan-fucking-tastic one-liner on Malfoy. Neville and Hermione enter, looking for Trevor. Hermione spots Harry reading a book she's read before, they talk. The two sit down. Everyone sort of talks, gets to know each other.

Hogwarts comes into sight for the first time on the train ride, and Harry muses about how far into the wilderness it is, and how she can feel the magic of the land to it. Gonna recycle that scene for probs next chapter.

When I summarize it like this... it sounds fucking dull. My favorite part was actually Ron, who gets a bunch of great lines, and I had a lot of fun writing. He's such a dickweed in most of canon that I wanted to try and have the good parts of him emphasized a bit more. He's an older brother, if only a little, and fem!Harry wouldn't trip his jealousy factor in quite the same way as regular.

I wasn't happy with that draft and completely rewrote the entire train ride. The Hogwarts section is largely the same.

I debated at length whether to have Harry tell the truth about Trevor or not. Having her tell the truth was... it didn't turn out too well. That's the kind of story route where she basically ends up a pariah. Not to mention that Dumbledore would be all over that shit, since to him it would look (reasonably so), like Tom Riddle 2.0 just came to Hogwarts. It was an unpleasant idea, and having her lie about it gives her a nice bit of opportunity for character development in making it up to Neville.

 

[NemoMarx]

He had a girl on each side, his arms around them. The girls were limp, their heads down, while he watched tv.

An alarm went off in my head. Were they drugged?

The boy turned, glanced over at me, and then returned to the tv. The girls didn't move at all.

Click to shrink...

Spookiest thing here? Whatever he's done to Regent is probably big, for him to be letting the girls go limp. I'm assuming he got Valefor upset, at some point.

 

[Oh I am slain!]

Just stopping by to throw likes at this thread too, for your lovely snippets in fandoms that I'm familiar with--Naruto, HP, Pokemon are the ones, I think.

I'm sure that my subtle encouragement will lead to you subconsciously thinking more about those fandoms. ^_^

 

[Ziel]

Spookiest thing here? Whatever he's done to Regent is probably big, for him to be letting the girls go limp. I'm assuming he got Valefor upset, at some point.

Click to shrink...

That's a really creepy interpretation. My original intention was simply that Alec was probably pretty broken just by virtue of getting sucked into another Master's web, and that he was no longer bothering to put any effort into puppeting people. And Valefor isn't someone you can just run away from. It's a definite Bad End for basically everyone.

But yours is equally valid. Because you know Valefor isn't going to put up with Alec's shit for an instant. It's gonna be blammo mind rape the second he mouthes off.

Just stopping by to throw likes at this thread too, for your lovely snippets in fandoms that I'm familiar with--Naruto, HP, Pokemon are the ones, I think.

I'm sure that my subtle encouragement will lead to you subconsciously thinking more about those fandoms. ^_^

Click to shrink...

I have the strangest urge to write something... About a bounty hunting Wobbuffet. Weird.

But as for HP- I'm definitely going to finish Parselbrat. I'm having a blast writing it, and it's easily the most popular fic I've written since Speak.

Once that's done, I'm going to finish Nymphaea, for Naruto.

I've got a number of other ideas for HP oneshots that I may do after that, but right now I'm leaning on doing a series of themed oneshots for Pokemon. If you check my Ao3 page for Mithradite, there's a more comprehensive summary there under "Prism."

After that... Who knows? I may finally write that fucking novel...