You know, Max, you've got a fantastic idea here. And so, I will apologize for the obvious rip off, but at the same time, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. ;p Anyway, here's all of the stories I wrote for Sugar Lip's summer writing challenge, the order they were written in, and the dates they were posted. I hope you guys enjoy them!
Challenge 1 - 200 Word Story: How to Train Your Dragon 2: Hurt
Personal Challenge
Challenge Completed On: July 11, 2014
NOTE: My take on a scene from the movie. Mega spoilers, so read at your own risk.
Challenge 2 - 10 Minute Story: Courtesy Call
Challenge Issued by: ChibiHearts249
Challenge Completed on: July 13, 2014
Note: This clearly ran over 10 minutes I got into such a groove that the story stole me away for an hour. However, we were given permission to go over 10 minutes if we got ourselves into a groove, so here's the tale for your enjoyment.
Challenge 3 - Three Day Challenge: RP Scene
Personal Challenge
Part One Completed On: July 15, 2014
Part Two Completed On: July 16, 2014
Part Three Completed On: July 17, 2014
NOTE: A series of scenes I had simmering for the RP "Glimpses of Darkness".
Challenge 4 - Song Fic: Fading Wonderland
Personal Challenge
Challenge Completed On: July 16, 2014
NOTE: The song that inspired this poem can be found by following this link: Little Sister by Your Favorite Enemies
Challenge 5 - Friendship Story - Hey Brother
Personal Challenge
Challenge Completed On: July 19, 2014
NOTE: This is based on the end of Captain America: The Winter Soldier. It contains spoilers, so if you haven't seen the movie, read at your own risk. Also, this is the link if you'd like to listen to a son that fits very well with the narrative: Hey Brother by Avicii
Challenge 6 - Fluffy Fic: For You
Personal Challenge
Challenge Completed On: July 21, 2014
Challenge 7 - Multi-Universe: Bedtime Story
Personal Challenge
Challenge Completed On: July 23, 2014
Challenge 8 - Horror Story: Ira
Challenge Issued by: ChibiHeart249
Challenge Completed On: July 23, 2014
Challenge 9 - Write It Better/How It Should Have Ended: Rocks Fall, Everyone Dies
Challenge Given by: Max
Challenge Completed On: July 24, 2014
How Final Fantasy VII Ended: Part 1 and Part 2
NOTE: I'm actually very fine with the way FF VII ended, but this is a way that it COULD have happened, and I felt like trolling a bit.
Challenge 10 - 4th of July: Rise and Fall
Personal Challenge
Challenge Completed On: July 24, 2014
NOTE: This is FAR from what I'd originally been intending to write; but I prefer this original piece that came out of no where to the fan fic that I'd been planning to write.
Challenge 11 - Fantasy: Shatter Me
Personal Challenge
Challenge Completed On: July 25, 2014
NOTE: Thank-you to my cousin, who gave me the perfect music to inspire me on this story.
Challenge 12 - Apocalypse/Survival Story: Rise of the Magnificent Seven
Personal Challenge
Challenge Completed On: July 25, 2014
Challenge 13 - Crossover: Kingdom Hearts and Supernatural
Personal Challenge
Part 1 Completed: July 31, 2014
Part 2 Completed: August 1, 2014
NOTE: This one was the one that came down to the wire, and I'll admit that it's not my favorite. I should have done this one sooner in the month; it's decent enough, but especially when compared to the rest of the challenges, this one leaves much to be desired. The story's set about half way through season 5 of Supernatural and a little while after the events of Dream Drop Distance.
Challenge 1 - 200 Word Story: How to Train Your Dragon 2: Hurt
Personal Challenge
Challenge Completed On: July 11, 2014
NOTE: My take on a scene from the movie. Mega spoilers, so read at your own risk.
Spoiler ShowHurt
Hiccup was hurt.
The fog clearing from his head, Toothless approached the young Viking, his eyes snapping across the scene. The dragon could smell the salt as Hiccup cried, the woman that called herself his mother at his side. Both knelt by Stoick, and that’s when Toothless realized…
Stoick wasn’t breathing.
Toothless wasn’t sure what had happened. He remembered fighting the control of the Alpha, and he remembered fighting against every instinct that told him to obey the command of the Alpha. Toothless had fought the command off.
Hadn’t he?
Toothless chirruped softly, trying to get Hiccup’s attention so the dragon could help the Viking. Why wouldn’t Hiccup look at him? Toothless took another step closer. Closer to Hiccup. Closer to Stoick.
“No! Get away from him!”
Toothless backed away from Hiccup as Hiccup screamed at him, and then, he remembered. It was him. Toothless had attacked Hiccup under the Alpha’s orders; he hadn’t been able to fight the command. And Stoick…
Toothless killed Stoick.
“Go on! Get outta here! Get away!”
The Alpha entered his mind again. Snarling, Toothless tried to fight him off, but he didn’t fight hard. In the end, the Alpha won.
Toothless wanted to forget.
Challenge 2 - 10 Minute Story: Courtesy Call
Challenge Issued by: ChibiHearts249
Challenge Completed on: July 13, 2014
Note: This clearly ran over 10 minutes I got into such a groove that the story stole me away for an hour. However, we were given permission to go over 10 minutes if we got ourselves into a groove, so here's the tale for your enjoyment.
Spoiler ShowCourtesy Call
Dragon's Fang ch.1
France, 1636
Nice, Province
"Get up witch; now!"
Kisara had barely enough time to raise her head from the straw before the guard had his hand around her arm. Dazed by the weak torch light after weeks of darkness, she allowed the guard to yank her to her feet at first, his fingers a vice around her arm. Once her eyes had adjusted though, she wrenched herself free from his grip, a snarl climbing from her throat as she turned to level a cool, haughty glare at the man. Facing away from him once more, she started walking, expecting to feel his hand strike her between her shoulders to make her move faster, but he seemed to have taken her warning to heart. Mumbling a soft oath, he fell into step behind her, allowing the prisoner to choose her own stride.
Her bare feet padded silently across the stones of the floor; slowly at first, then faster as her body tried to keep up with her racing thoughts. Countless cell doors passed, the grimacing faces of the inmates caught in brief glimpses at the small, barred windows set in the doors. Her pace quickened until she was almost running, her breath coming in short gasps as her eyes darted around. Were prison corridors supposed to be this long? The ceiling was too low, the walls were too close. But most damnable of all, the door seemed as far away as ever, close enough to see, but not enough to reach...
Her fingers at last brushed the aged oak planks of the door, and Kisara breathed a sigh of relief before flinging the portal wide open. Bright sunlight streamed across her face, and she gulped in the fresh air of outside, cleansing her lungs of the rank prison air. For a moment, she stood there, her face thrust toward the heavens, letting the midday heat soak into her face, chasing away the chill that had swept through her...
"Move it, witch!"
Growing impatient with her stillness, the prison guard's hand at last found itself between Kisara’s shoulder blades, nearly causing her to stumble as he shoved her forward. Swinging around, she leveled a glare at him, eyes snapping cold, blue-gold fire. She saw the shine of fear in his eyes before his gaze darted to the ground, but she didn't cease the challenge. The scream of a raptor rent the air, finally causing the girl to drop her own eyes. Spinning on her heel, she instead turned her attention to the sight in the center of the village square.
Her pyre.
Two more guards stepped up on either side of her, their faces shaded by the helmets they both wore. Even so, Kisara could just see the scar that marred the left cheek of the one who stood to her right. Despite the grimness of the situation, the girl couldn’t help herself; her lip quirked up, the small scar on the corner of her own mouth hitching the grin even higher as she remembered when she gave the man his scar. His hand wrapped around her arm as his companion did the same on her other side, and he spoke in a low whisper, “You ready?”
A soft snort was the answer he received, but he seemed to pick up on the lie that the derisive sound hid; his hand actually squeezed her arm gently as the three of them started walking toward the mound of bundled wood, two stakes centered at the heart the only thing to break the skyline.
That’s right, she remembered now. There were two offerings to the stake today. Squinting against the glare of the sunlight, Kisara studied the girl that was already tied to one of the stakes. Kisara couldn’t see much of her at the moment, but the girl was small in stature, smaller even then Kisara, and her dark hair had been left unbound, letting the breeze whip it into a tangled, snarled mess. Kisara did see the way that the girl’s right shoulder seemed to be hitched a little higher than the other, and her stance seemed to be a little stiff, although that could be because of the girl was soon to die.
Kisara’s line of sight was interrupted as she stumbled, her foot twisting on the rough cobbles that lined the street. The guard on her right tightened his grip on her arm, preventing her from sprawling as she fell. Once she’d regained her balance, the three of them continued their grim procession, the silence in the air between them as thick as the grave.
Reaching the edge of the pile, Kisara slowly set her feet on the piles of wood, doing her best to ignore the bite of the sticks against her bare flesh. Her eyes were drawn once again by the girl that was already tied to the stakes, blazing like a beacon in her white execution dress. Kisara wore the same garment, but where the other girl’s gown flowed to her ankles, Kisara had ripped hers, raising the hemline so the dress fluttered around her knees. They were close enough now that Kisara could see the terror in the girl’s golden eyes, and Kisara felt something twist in her own chest as the girl’s display of emotion. Taking a steadying breath, Kisara was almost thankful when her guards spun her around, forcing her to face the way they had come as they bound her to her stake. The guard on her right lingered a moment, checking that the rope around her wrists was secure before he walked away.
No one had seen his hand as he slipped his fingers around her own.
Once the two guards had climbed off the kindling pile, the executioner stepped to the edge of the cheesegots. Kisara narrowed her eyes at the sight of his oily dark hair, a soft snarl rumbling in her throat. As if he felt her glare, the man turned around, a gleam of malice dancing in his green eyes as an unpleasant smile played across his lips. He looked her up and down for a moment, taking in the state of her dress, before he returned his attention to the crowd that was slowly becoming restless.
Arach. Kisara would make him pay for what he had done to her, even if she had to come back from beyond the grave to do it!
Unaware of the seething girl’s thoughts, Arach raised his arms over his head, calling for silence from the crowd as he roared, “Good people of France, I bring before you two maids accused of that crime which destroys the soul, blackening all those who even come near the sinner, whether the innocent knows it or not!”
A howl rose from the crowd as the executioner whipped them into a frenzy. Kisara wanted to roll her eyes at the theatrics, but she felt her heart pounding heavy in her chest, and she tried to swallow past the knot in her throat. Breathe, she counseled herself. It would all be over soon. Just breathe…
Arach waited until the crowd had themselves going strong, then he bellowed over the noise, “Witchcraft! These heathens have practiced the devil’s own art, and refuse to repent of it. Only the flames of God can cleanse them of their sins now, and so they shall be burned at the stake until dead, so that the evil may be purged from their souls!”
Turning on his heel, Arach reached out with an unlit torch to a brazier that stood near to him. Just as he touched the tar covered wood to the flames, a piercing scream rent the air, a hail of arrows following in the scream’s echoes. Recognizing her cue, Kisara twisted her wrists, positioning the dagger the guard had given her against the ropes. Ignoring the death cries of the true prison guards as they fell to the rain of arrows, Kisara slit the ropes binding her wrists to the stake before she hurled the blade into the eye of a guard that was fast approaching her. Reaching into the kindling piled by her feet, the girl pulled out a knife belt filled with similar blades, pausing a moment to throw another dagger into the throat of a guard before she strapped the belt around her waist.
Kisara whipped around to face the girl that had been bound to the other stake, only to come face to face with one of the guards who had escorted Kisara to her execution. Her eyes snapping fire, she nearly screamed, “Hurry up, Donovan, before the guards shoot us all dead!”
Donovan didn’t say a word, only cut the girl’s bindings and hauled her across his shoulder. Turning away from the pair that was now beating a hasty retreat, Kisara had only enough time to raise one of her knives in defense as the executioner pounced on her, forcing her down into the kindling. His face mere inches away from hers, he hissed, “For the sins you've committed, you will burn in hell. You die today, witch!”
Before he could bring his knife through her heart, the man choked, blood dribbling across his lip. Pushing the man off of her, Kisara spat, “I might burn one day, but it looks like you’re the one going to hell today, bastardi.”
Kisara turned her attention from the dead man as she was hauled roughly to her feet. For a moment, she found herself swept up into a pair of strong arms, but the ride lasted only long enough to get her away from the pyre. Once they were on solid ground again, her benefactor dropped her feet to the ground, and Kisara pushed away from him, her legs already flying as her hair flowed behind her like a long, white cloak.
The pair of fugitives twisted through the streets, going down one ally after another, until the sounds of pursuit faded to a distant thing. Taking the moment to scan their surroundings, Kisara’s friend stopped just outside of a building with rough sides. Cupping his hands, he crouched down low, giving Kisara the opportunity to step into the step he’d created before vaulting up the side of the house. Her hands finding purchase, she began climbing, the soft sound of leather against stone telling her that the man was close on her heels.
Once Kisara was on the roof, she took a moment to catch her breath before she turned to glare at the man that had climbed up behind her. Her eyes landed briefly on the bloody dagger that sat on the cuff at his wrist, and she knew full well whose life rested on the blade’s gleaming steel. Bristling, she nearly spat at him, “What the hell was that, Raphael? I could have managed on my own!”
Raphael turned to face her, his eyes the color of a winter storm and just as cold as he said, “You’re welcome for saving your life, but the thanks really isn’t needed. Now, do you mind piping down so we can get to the rendezvous? Or do you want those prison guards to find you and finish what Arach couldn’t?”
Kisara bit back further comment, seeing the validity in Raphael’s words. This time, she let him take the lead as they ran across the rooftops, traveling what remained of the distance until they reached the wall that surrounded the outer edge of the town.
The two came to a stop on the last roof before the wall, and Kisara let her eyes feast on the open countryside. Raphael gave a sharp whistle, and he kept his back to Kisara as the girl doubled up, wheezing. She’d been in that cell too long, and she knew it’d be a while before she was back in fighting shape.
A low pitched whistle answered Raphael’s signal, one that meant the outer wall was clear. Taking one more deep breath to steady herself, Kisara waited for Raphael to clear the distance between the roof and the wall before she jumped after him. She’d judged the distance well, but she’d forgotten to consider just how much the prison had taken a toll on her muscles; she had to rely on Raphael to catch her as she just missed the wall. Kisara squeezed her eyes shut, determined not to see the smug look that she was sure danced in those grey eyes of his.
Once she was on the wall, it was just a small matter to jump to the ground. A sharp jolt traveled up her body as she dropped from the top of the wall. Straightening, she walked straight to the small band of waiting horsemen, a soft thud sounding from behind her as Raphael found his way to the ground.
Kisara reached the group, her eyes immediately finding the girl that would have burned with her that day. The girl held her right arm close to her chest, a look of pain shining in her golden eyes, and Kisara felt her heart twist. She knew what this girl was, and an injury such as what she had was devastating to one of her kind. Kisara’s voice was gentle as she said softly, “I don’t know if we can help you, as I’m no healer. But our Healers are the best in all the land; if any can send you skyward again, it would be them.”
The girl turned a guarded look to Kisara, although she couldn’t hide the small spark of hope that flashed in them. “Are you certain?” The girl spoke the common tongue well enough, though her accent spoke of distant lands and burning sun.
Kisara swung up onto the mare that was waiting for her. Compassion still in her eyes, she said, “As I’ve said, I’m not certain, but we can certainly try. My name’s Kisara. And you are…?”
“Altair,” The girl answered as Raphael swung up onto his mount. Growing bolder as she realized that she was among friends, the girl repeated, “My name is Altair, of an eastern nation. I came to France in hopes of finding those who may offer an alliance.”
“You traveled just a little too far, but you have found what you searched for. We’ll discuss this further once we've returned home and you've been properly tended to.” Once Altair had given her consent to Kisara, Kisara turned to face her men before she cried out, “Let’s ride!”
Challenge 3 - Three Day Challenge: RP Scene
Personal Challenge
Part One Completed On: July 15, 2014
Part Two Completed On: July 16, 2014
Part Three Completed On: July 17, 2014
NOTE: A series of scenes I had simmering for the RP "Glimpses of Darkness".
Spoiler ShowThe Dark Begins to Rise
The moonlight laid a pale swath of light across the ground, casting a ghostly pallor over the faces of the two companions as they reached the place the Halloween Town locals called Moonlight Hill. Aqua looked around herself, the quiet night reluctant to give up any of its secrets. Looking to the giant grey wolf that stood close to her side, the Keyblade Master said quietly, “I don’t understand. We’d gotten word that the Heartless had spiked in numbers, but this place is so still. What do you think it means, Vesper?”
Vesper had felt the same sense of foreboding that Aqua had. The graveyard was quiet… much too quiet. Even so, the wolf tried to reassure his friend as he said, “Perhaps it’s just the Doctor making up stories again. You know how his mind can be sometimes; he’s always a bit dizzy after Sally puts Deadly Nightshade in his soup. Go find Jack, Aqua, and see if he has anything to say to back up the good Doctor’s claims.”
Aqua gave Vesper a small smile as her fingers found their way into his fur. She rubbed his neck for a moment, causing the Wayfinder on his collar to chime against its steel loop as he leaned into her touch. With a sigh, Aqua untangled her fingers from his gray fur as she started walking towards the town square, the tail of her kitsune disguise brushing softly against her legs. Vesper watched her go, feeling the thorn that had been embedded in his heart for ten years give a fresh twist. Too late; they’d been too late, always too late. Any chance of truly making up was gone; all he could do was watch over her, protect her as he hadn’t been able to when he was human…
A soft wind blew through the graveyard, catching and tumbling around the headstones and the curling hill. Vesper felt his hackles rise as a nearly inaudible sigh whispered against the flow of the wind. Turning around, the wolf turned sharp blue eyes to his surroundings, searching out the source of the Darkness that had come out of nowhere to become nearly oppressive. Feeling slightly spooked because he couldn’t find the source of the malice, Vesper snarled, “Show yourself!”
Whispers erupted around him as shadows broke free from tombstones and walls, flowing across the ground to coalesce in front of him. Vesper stepped back, hunched low and ready to pounce as the shadow form slowly took shape before him. After a moment, Vesper wasn’t the only living creature in the graveyard, although Vesper wasn’t sure how far he had to stretch the definition of “living” to describe the thing standing there.
Vesper was facing down another wolf, one that was as dark as pitch and of a size that he looked down on Vesper. The wolf watched the fallen hero, an unsettling gleam in his yellow eyes. What was even more eerie, though, was the way that the wolf’s lip curled around his teeth, giving him the appearance of a leer, or a pained grimace, Vesper wasn’t quite sure which to call it. It was quite the tossup, actually. Almost as if he knew what Vesper was thinking, the black wolf’s lips pulled back further as he growled softly, “Falling back on humor as a defense, are we? How often have you done that since your fall, Terra?”
Vesper felt like he’d been punched. How had the wolf known? Vesper could tell that the other wolf was old; the scent of ages past clung to his fur, and his eyes spoke of times gone by. Even so, it seemed that he’d only just awoken; how could he know of Vesper’s connection to Terra, one of the fallen heroes of the War against Xehanort?
The wolf laughed, drawing Vesper’s attention back to the now. His eyes narrowed to slits, Vesper watched the other wolf as he stalked closer, a deep rumble echoing from his chest as he seemed to enjoy Vesper’s discomfort. “You have lost touch with the Darkness, Soul, but the Darkness has not lost you, nor have you been able to shake Its hold on you completely. The Shadows whisper, bringing back tales of all heroes and villains, their rises and falls, even one as insignificant as you. What is more interesting, however, is your continued survival. Even in this realm we live in, the Heart can only survive for so long without the Body and Soul.”
Again, Vesper was knocked for a loop, but he did his best to keep it under wraps. Keeping his voice neutral, Vesper said, “Beyond your use of words to disarm me, I see nothing to back up what you’ve said as anything but you trying to sound mysterious and gothic. How about you say something that makes sense, and give me your name?”
The wolf turned that unsettling golden gaze on Vesper again, that not quite smile still on his face as he said, “My name is Styx, the final crossing before the soul reaches the afterlife. You are living on borrowed time, Soul. The final judgment is at hand; do you think you have what it takes to survive?”
Vesper couldn’t help himself. He snorted derisively, before barking out, “You still haven’t given me any reason to believe you, Styx.”
Styx crouched low, a move Vesper mirrored, as Styx snarled, “Then I suppose I have no choice but to show you through action!”
The wolves pounced at the same time, twin streaks of steel and night. Vesper scored a strike along Styx’s side, but the shadow wolf seemed to be made of the Darkness itself. Styx spun on his heel, tackling Vesper with enough force to slam him bodily against Moonlight Hill.
Vesper found himself blinking back stars, but he didn’t let himself stay in one place for long. Snapping at Styx’s neck, Vesper forced the other wolf back enough to drop to the ground and roll under Styx’s belly. Vesper snapped his teeth together, trying to rip Styx’s belly wide open, but the black wolf jumped stiffly to the side, avoiding Vesper’s bite and coming down with one of his own at the grey wolf’s neck.
Vesper twisted to the side, narrowly avoiding a fate worse than the chunk of fur Styx stripped from his neck. Leaping to his feet, Vesper raced up Moonlight Hill, an eagle eye focused on Styx below him as Vesper started gathering energy. He felt the moonlight soaking into his fur, renewing his energy and clearing his head further. Just a moment more; Vesper needed just a little more energy. And then he could shut Styx down for good. Vesper would never give up…
Vesper went tumbling from the peak of the hill as Styx barreled into him, throwing Vesper into a headstone with a solid crack. Before he had the chance to recover, Styx was on him, pinning Vesper against the tombstone as the black wolf attacked, biting, scratching, and assaulting Vesper with wave after wave of shadows. Vesper tried to hold up under the onslaught, but he found himself pinned, unable to move out of way of the barrage because he was devoting all of his energy to weathering the storm.
Seeming to grow tired with battering Vesper, Styx molded the shadows around himself, turning his already sizable frame into something monstrous in its size. Vesper felt shadow jaws clamp around him, biting down with enough pressure that Vesper howled from the pain. Styx shook the massive head of his dark creation, rattling Vesper even further, before the black wolf threw the gray away from him, causing Vesper to slam, once again, into something, this time the stone wall around the graveyard.
Vesper tried to climb to his feet, a refusal to concede the fight burning through him, but he found that he couldn’t. His vision swam, unable to bring anything into focus for more than a few seconds; his paws refused to go under him, his limbs shirking their duty to support his weight. With a thrill of horror, Vesper realized that his energy was completely and utterly spent; it was all he could do to remain conscious.
“I told you.” With difficulty, Vesper turned his head to look at Styx, unable to do anything more than watch as Styx bore down on him. Stopping just in front of the fallen warrior, Styx spoke again, “I told you that you had outstayed the time that was meant for you. All things die, even a Guardian. Farewell, Hero of the Last Keyblade War.”
Styx lunged, his jaws wide open. Vesper closed his eyes, placing a picture of Aqua in his mind so she’d be the last thing he’d see before Styx crushed his throat.
Aqua, I’m sorry...
Spoiler ShowFingerprints
Aqua had been on her way to speak with Jack when she felt a spike of distress from Vesper. She tried to stay calm, but she still felt her heart leap into her throat as she raced back to Moonlight Hill hoping, no, praying, that he was okay. She couldn’t go through that again, she couldn’t bear to see him torn away from her again, she just couldn’t…
Aqua returned to Moonlight Hill just in time to see a large black wolf bearing down on Vesper. Her step faltered as her heart actually stopped for a moment, fear paralyzing everything except her voice as she screamed, “Vesper!”
White mist flowed through the graveyard, thick and warm as a blanket, laying itself down in a dense sheet right over Vesper. Aqua heard the black wolf snarl as she rushed forward, her legs no longer frozen, ice instead coating her hands as she gathered her magic. After a moment, she flung a fistful of icicles at the black wolf, but the frozen shards missed as the beast dissolved into shadows, slinking away to a place that Aqua neither knew of nor cared about.
Aqua dropped to her knees as soon as she reached where Vesper lay. Placing a hand on his chest, she searched frantically for a pulse, only calming once she felt a faint but steady flutter and the rhythmic movements of his breathing.
Even though she could calm her own racing pulse, Aqua couldn’t calm her heart or her mind. She found memories were chasing one after the other, stretching all the way back to when she’d first become an apprentice of the Keyblade.
Aqua peeked around Eraqus’ coat, unsure of this intimidating castle that she was now supposed to call home. The girl’s mouth puckered then, drawing down at the corners as she tried to fight back the tears that had become so close to the surface for weeks now. Mommy. Daddy. Why did they get sick? Why were they both taken away from her, leaving her alone? She liked Uncle Eraqus, but he was a friend of Daddy’s, and though Uncle Eraqus was really nice to her, he wasn’t her Daddy. She just wanted to go home!
Almost as if he knew what she was thinking, Eraqus turned around so he could kneel in front of the seven year-old girl. Placing a hand on her cheek, his thumb wiped away a tear that had leaked from her eye as he said softly, “I know this is a lot for you to deal with right now, Aqua, and so young too. I just want you to know that I’m proud of you, and I you’re your parents would be too. I need you to brave for just a little bit longer, okay?”
Aqua nodded just as a boy came running up to them. Looking from Uncle Eraqus to the boy, Aqua was surprised to see that he was her age, maybe a year or two older. He had such messy brown hair, and it fell in front of his eyes, hiding just how blue they were. He had a bit of a scrape on his cheek, and she could see bandages on both his elbows and another one just a little further up his left arm. What got her attention the most though was his smile. He had a huge grin, a missing bottom tooth the only thing that broke the contrast between bright white teeth and a deep tan from being outside so much. The boy held a hand out to her, that smile of his so warm and friendly, and chirped, “Hi, I’m Terra! What’s your name?”
A small smile of her own slipped across her face, she slid her hand into his and said quietly, “Aqua.”
Aqua’s head snapped up as she sensed someone else in the graveyard. Her hand tightened into a fist, a soft flash of light and petals heralding the arrival of Stormfall in her grasp. Looking up, she set narrowed eyes on the white wolf that was walking towards them, his step light as mist and his breathing even more so.
The wolf stopped a short distance away, watching her with unreadable blue-grey eyes. Aqua returned his stare with a glare of bright blue. After a moment, the wolf spoke, a soft rumble that held absolutely no malice, “I swear to you, Keyblade Master, I have no ill intent toward either of you. My name is Jordan, and I just want to insure that the Guardian is well enough to stay with you.”
She wanted to stay wary, but Aqua found herself believing him. She lowered her Keyblade, though she didn’t banish it. Laying both her hands on Vesper, she watched her unconscious friend for a moment before she said softly, “Who was that wolf?”
“His name is Styx, and he’s a creature borne of a dark, tragic past. But then again, what villain doesn’t want the hero to believe that of them?” Jordan gave a short, coughing bark, a sound Aqua had learned meant that the wolf was laughing. Even so, she didn’t hear much amusement in the sound, and the laugh died quickly as Jordan said softly, “Your friend is resting well at the moment, and he should make a full recovery by morning. But…” Jordan’s voice faded for a moment, as if he struggled with how to say something, before he continued, “But I don’t know how many more times he can lose a battle such as this before he’s unable to maintain his presence in the Mortal Realm. Even with you to draw on…”
Aqua’s head had whipped around at Jordan’s words, and she cut across him as she said sharply, “What did you say?”
“You didn’t know?” She must have had a blank look on her face, because Jordan’s eyes grew heavy with sadness as he said softly, “Vesper’s gone, Aqua. The Guardian died the same night that Terra did. All that remains of either of them is the Spirit that’s followed and protected you for the last ten years.”
“No…” Aqua whispered, her eyes widening. She shook her head, unwilling to believe. She was about to protest, to tell Jordan he was crazy, when she felt her hands slip. Looking down, she felt her heart trip as she saw her hands were hovering inside Vesper’s chest. She’d never noticed it before, because he had always seemed so solid. So alive. But since Jordan had suggested Vesper was gone, the illusion that had kept him solid had broken, allowing her to see the truth.
Aqua felt tears track down her cheeks, frustration and pain warring inside her. It was just the same. She was useless; she could never help those that meant the most to her. They always slipped away…
”Terra!”
Aqua felt her Keyblade fall from numbed fingers as she watched Terra fall to the ground, the dagger thrust up to the hilt in his side. Before the rest of their comrades had realized what had happened, that Master Xehanort was dead, that Terra was hurt, Aqua was already running, her fatigue and injuries forgotten.
Reaching the brunette, Aqua wrapped her arms around Terra, elevating his head so he could breathe easier. She felt his own exhaustion, and realized that he was just as wrung out as she was. Still, he gave her a small, almost boyish smile, one that reminded her so much of the first day they’d met that she felt her heart twist all over again. “We actually did it.”
“We did, Terra. We did. Now hold still; you’re hurt!” Aqua was rambling, not even paying attention to what she was saying. All she knew was that she had to keep Terra talking. If she could keep him talking, he’d stay awake. If he stayed awake, he wouldn’t…
Terra coughed, a wet, gut-wrenching sound that filled Aqua with dread. Aqua desperately scrambled for every scrap of magic she had left in her, frustrated that she’d used the last of her elixirs to give her enough strength to kill Braig. Sensing the others reach them then, Aqua cried out, “Does anyone have any ethers or elixirs left? Magic? Anything? Please!
No one said anything. Kairi and Sora shared a quick glance, helpless, and only Ven spoke as he said quietly, “Everything and everyone’s used up, Aqua. We can’t…”
“NO!” Ven jumped at Aqua’s outburst, but he didn’t say anything as she started rocking, talking in a fast, low voice to Terra, “Just hang on, Terra. You’re gonna be okay, I promise. Just hold on, please. Please, you’ve always been my rope, ever since we met. We’ll find Vesper; he’s here somewhere. We’ll make you better. Please, don’t leave me again…”
Aqua’s eyes were screwed tightly shut, trying to force back tears. She wasn’t going to cry, she wasn’t going to give up. She couldn’t give up. Quietly, she whispered, “Please, don’t leave me…”
A hand brushed across her face, wiping away her tears with a gentle touch. Opening her eyes, Aqua saw the soft smile on Terra’s face as he cupped her cheek. His breathing was growing more ragged, but his eyes actually seemed peaceful as he said, “Don’t cry, Aqua. I’ll always be here for you, I promise. Just… don’t cry.”
Aqua started speaking in a low voice, saying the words to make Terra a Master. Once she’d finished, she said quietly, “Come on, Master Terra, you can’t give up. Remember what you told me? Your dream of becoming a Keyblade Master and maybe teaching in time? You can’t deny future wielders your knowledge!”
Terra’s breathing was growing shallower, and his hand slid down her face. Aqua grabbed it with her own, cupping his fingers against her cheek. Even so, he whispered, “Thank-you, but that’s not my dream anymore, Aqua. It’s you. I’ll always be here for you, I promise.”
Sliding his hand across her cheek, Terra cupped her head, bringing Aqua’s lips down to meet his. Despite the blood, Aqua could still taste the sun warmed earth and cinnamon that had always been Terra’s.
After a moment, Aqua pulled away, looking at Terra’s closed eyes. She waited for him to open them again, but he wouldn’t. He’d made that kiss his final act.
His final memory.
Aqua realized then what Terra had meant. Quietly, so quiet it was barely more than a whisper, she said, “Vesper’s still here, because of me?”
Jordan nodded, that sadness still hanging around him. Unable to understand, Aqua asked, “But why?”
“You’ll have to ask Vesper. I don’t claim to know the hearts of others. I just know that people will go to tremendous lengths to protect those they care for. Take care, Keyblade Master.”
Before Aqua could question him further, Jordan faded away. Biting her lip, Aqua returned her attention to Vesper, her hands gliding across his fur. All she could do now was hope that he’d wake up.
Vesper, I’m sorry…
Spoiler ShowTonight It’s Only You And Me
Vesper came awake by slow degrees, unsure of where he was and how he got there. The last thing he remembered was Styx bearing down on him, the kill bite clear in the black wolf’s eyes. Vesper had shut his own, not desiring Styx’s bite to be the last thing he saw, and then…
Vesper couldn’t remember.
Carefully, Vesper rolled from his side to his belly, and then looked around him. He wasn’t by Moonlight Hill anymore; instead, he was in some shaded area, long tendrils of Spanish moss hanging over head like a thick, curtained canopy, hiding the moon that was just beginning to set. He took in a deep breath, testing the air for either Darkness or danger, and could find nothing but the scent of a crisp fall night. He sniffed the air again, and the aroma of autumn roses and rain filled his head. He knew that scent.
“Vesper?”
The wolf turned his head, meeting Aqua’s eyes where she sat just a few feet away from him. She had her legs tucked under her, her Kitsune’s tail curled around her knees as she watched him, concern in her eyes. He knew she wanted to approach him, but at the same time, she was scared. And he didn’t have to guess the reason why. Turning his eyes down, Vesper said softly, “You know, don’t you?”
He heard her move, but he still didn’t look up, not even when he felt her fingers thread through his fur. Rubbing his head gently, her voice was as soft as her touch as she asked, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“How was I supposed to?” He did look at her then, blue eyes meeting blue, and both sets mirrored the pain that the other was feeling. “Terra had just died in your arms, Aqua. I couldn’t move; I could barely breathe. I felt like I was being torn apart at the seams. I couldn’t...” Vesper shook his head as his voice broke, the pain of the memory flowing through every nerve and limb. “Terra and I are two sides of the same coin. I felt the injury that killed us, and I saw and heard everything he did that night. I didn’t want to leave you anymore than you wanted to be left behind. Your plea was what gave me enough strength to at least keep some part of myself from moving on. As long as you need me here, as long as you want me here, I’ll stay, no matter the cost.”
Vesper saw it when Aqua’s heart broke a little at his statement, and he couldn’t bear it. Carefully turning his head a little, he rubbed his cheek across hers, drying the tears that had started to fall. Pressing his forehead against hers, the wolf said softly, “Close your eyes.”
~---~
Aqua didn’t understand. Why would he ask her to do that?
Seeing the confusion in her eyes, Vesper repeated softly, gently, “Close your eyes, just for a moment. Please, Aqua.”
They were safe here, Aqua knew that. It was because of this safety that she’d chosen the grove of trees to stay the night in so Vesper could recover. Even so, she didn’t want to close her eyes. Now that she knew that Vesper was a spirit, she could see the way that the light played around him, how the moonbeams seemed to pass through the outer edges of his fur and form. She was afraid that, if she closed her eyes, he’d disappear and never be able to come back, and she’d lose her chance to tell him goodbye.
But at the same time, she trusted Vesper and his judgment. She exhaled, her breath escaping her in a long, slow puff of air, and then she shut her eyes tight. After a moment, her other senses became keener to make up for the lack of sight. She felt the current of air as it flowed across her arms, and she heard the soft sounds of the night as the insects played their songs. She could faintly taste the bite of autumn air as well as smell it. Taking another breath, she then smelled warm earth and cinnamon…
Aqua’s breath caught in her throat, and her eyes nearly flew open. But before they could, a hand, warm and calloused, slid across her face, forcing her to stay in darkness.
“Don’t.” The voice was low and husky, and Aqua recognized the slightly smoother pitch that marked Terra apart from Vesper.
Swallowing, she kept her eyes firmly shut, though she wanted to remove his hand from her face so she could see him, drink in the sight of his tousled brown hair, those warm blue eyes. And of course, that smile of his that she loved so much, that quirk of his lips that made all her worries melt away, the one that promised everything would be okay, she just had to believe. Aqua’s breath hitched in her chest, and she felt her heart start pounding after a momentary trip in rhythm. Finally drawing enough breath, she whispered, “H…how?”
“Call it a perk of my… condition, if you will,” he said. Aqua heard him laugh, a double edged sound of mirth and bitter resignation. “People see what they want to see. If they’re in the dark to reality, they can have the truth stare them right in the face, but all they’ll see is the lie that they want to believe because the truth is too hard or terrifying to face. How do you think I can pass as a normal dog instead of something that would be shot on sight? But you… you know the truth. You know that my body died ten years ago, and all that’s left is a fragment of heart that’s taken the form of a wolf. My tricks won’t work on your eyes. I can fool people who don’t know me, but I can’t fool you. I never could. But if you keep your eyes shut, and see with your heart instead, I can at least come back to you for this one night.”
Aqua couldn’t say anything in response; all she could do was nod her understanding. After a moment, Vesper… no, Terra, lowered his hand, and she made sure that her lids still stayed closed. And she realized that she could see him, just the way she’d imagined, except for one small detail. His smile. It was still warm and open, but there was sadness in it, sadness that spoke of everything that neither one of them could give voice to in words.
She felt his hand slide from her face down to her arm, a soft hesitance in his fingers. Aqua knew what Terra was asking, and she leaned into his touch, letting him wrap his arms around her in a tight embrace. Resting her head against his shoulder, she sighed, blocking out the pain of the past and the hurt of the future, and instead focused on the present. But there was one thing she needed to know. Quietly, she asked, “What about Styx?”
“I don’t know,” Terra said, his breath a warm hush against her ear. “All I know is that what he said was true. Everything has its time, and mine’s gone. But I won’t let go, not as long as I’m needed. It’s too late for things that could have been, but I can at least do this one thing to make things more right than they are. I’ll do whatever it takes to stay and protect you, whatever the cost is to me. As long as you need me, as long as you want me, I’ll be here. If you decide that you’ll be okay without me and that I can rest, I will. But not until then, and then I’ll wait for you on the other side, no matter how long it takes. My heart, broken as it is, is yours, and I won’t rest until you’re ready, I promise.”
Aqua believed him. She sighed again, this time letting her doubts and fears go, and settled deeper into his embrace. Terra leaned over and kissed her softly, filling her head with the scent and taste of warm earth and cinnamon, something she had missed nearly as much as just having him near. She sensed him close his own eyes, so that both of them saw nothing and everything, and he just held her. Morning would come, and Terra would be gone with the night, and Vesper would return once more. But for now, both of them could just believe, and they could both seek comfort and solace from the other. Tomorrow may come, but for now, neither one of them cared. For now, they could give each other the night to remember.
Tonight, it’s only you and me.
Challenge 4 - Song Fic: Fading Wonderland
Personal Challenge
Challenge Completed On: July 16, 2014
NOTE: The song that inspired this poem can be found by following this link: Little Sister by Your Favorite Enemies
Spoiler ShowFading Wonderland
Up. Down. Around.
Under. Under. Under.
Voices won’t go away, or be quiet;
They’re only louder. Louder. Louder.
Red tries to drown them out;
Press deeper. Deeper. Deeper.
Push them back, they just come back;
Clearer. Clearer. Clearer.
Mr. Caterpillar’s not home anymore;
His stories and pipe long gone.
The tea is gone, the hare is no more.
The Queen of Hearts is broken;
Off with Alice’s head no more.
Cheshire’s grin is gone. Gone. Gone.
The cat won’t be back anymore.
The magic’s gone. Gone. Gone.
Wonderland’s fading. Fading. Fading.
All that’s left is spinning. Spinning. Spinning.
Broken dolls. Demon toys. There’s nothing else left.
Just Alice and the monsters.
Just Lydia and the monsters.
Alice and the monsters.
Lydia and the monsters.
Alice. Monsters. Alice.
Lydia. Monsters. Lydia.
Monsters. Lydia. Alice.
Lydia. Alice. Monsters.
Monsters. Monsters. Alice.
Monsters. Monsters. Lydia.
Monsters. Monsters. Monsters.
Monsters. Monsters. Monsters.
Monsters. Monsters. Monsters.
Just Alice, Lydia and Lilith.
Alone.
Challenge 5 - Friendship Story - Hey Brother
Personal Challenge
Challenge Completed On: July 19, 2014
NOTE: This is based on the end of Captain America: The Winter Soldier. It contains spoilers, so if you haven't seen the movie, read at your own risk. Also, this is the link if you'd like to listen to a son that fits very well with the narrative: Hey Brother by Avicii
Spoiler ShowHey Brother
He should let him drown.
The soldier watched as the captain fell from the hellicarier, the soldier’s mind blank as the unconscious captain finally hit the water below. The soldier couldn’t understand it. How had that man gotten so under his skin? He was the soldier’s mission, to take him out by whatever means necessary. It wasn’t the first time the Winter Soldier had allowed an outside element to be the final stroke in an assassination. Poison, fire, the elements; he’d used all of them and many other ways to finish his assignments without delivering the killing blow himself, although he certainly preferred the final way. He should just let the captain drown, and be done with this infuriating mission then and there. And yet…
He knew him.
The Winter Soldier rubbed his side, trying to ease the pain from the battle he’d just fought. The hellicarier still continued its slow decent to its own watery grave, but the man didn’t move. He hadn't had that kind of challenge with a fight in years, not since… since when?
What had happened? The mission had been going well enough, even with a few setbacks, but now they were all screwed. How had they gotten so far behind enemy lines? Now he was strapped to a table, like an experiment in those old movies. What…
The Soldier shook his head, banishing the scrap of memory. He didn’t understand the captain. He’d actually enjoyed fighting against the other Super Soldier at first, but once the soldier’s foe had gotten a good look at his face, the fight had gone out of him for some reason; he’d actually seen it in the blonde’s eyes as he balked against fighting the soldier. The same thing had happened just now. Despite a few pleas, the captain had fought hard against him at first, using everything in his arsenal short of killing the Soldier. But once the captain’s mission was finished, the fight had gone out of him again. He’d even dropped the shield he always carried, and it actually fell out of the hellicarier into the river below. Why would he do that? Why?!
“I’m with you to the end of the line.”
He was nearly out of his mind, and he heard explosions going off as he was still tied down. There was no way he was getting out of there; he was going to die strapped to that damn table. Just as he’d reached that conclusion, he heard someone enter the room, someone that came over and saved him from certain death…
“You gotta get out of here!”
“Not without you!”
He was losing his grip on the railing. He tried to adjust his hands, but between the wind and the sweat, he kept sliding. Looking up, he could just see the other soldier leaning out of the destroyed train car, reaching for him, just as his grip finally gave way and he fell…
“Bucky!”
Snippets of memories flew through his mind, bringing momentary clarity to him, washing away the Winter Soldier. “Steve…” Bucky whispered, trying to connect the pieces. Instinct taking over, Bucky didn't stop to think about how mad his next action was.
He just reacted.
Leaping from the hellicarier, Bucky dove into the waters of the Potomac River. Training blocked the pain of injuries from his mind; although he did take a moment to consider that he’d have a bitch of a time getting his arm working properly again later, it was a minor worry as he swam towards the fading figure of the star spangled man. Just as Bucky was starting to worry that he wouldn't get to him in time, he came close enough to grab a fistful of Steve’s uniform. Once he had that, he made the necessary change to his direction to shoot them both out of the river.
His head breaking the surface, Bucky took a moment to pull in a deep breath and make sure Steve’s head was above water too before he struck out for shore. Slowly, Bucky dragged the unconscious Steve out of the water, Bucky’s strength ebbing with each step. He was even slower as he laid Steve out on the shore. Looking to his right, Bucky could just see that Steve’s shield had somehow washed up on shore, making Bucky wonder yet again if there was some kind of magnetic pull between shield and owner.
Bucky looked down at Steve, lost in quiet thought for a moment. Despite the few scraps of memory that had broken through HYDRA’s attempts to stop such things, Bucky was still no closer to understanding his protectiveness of Steve, or his own reluctance to face Steve in battle again. All Bucky knew was that he had to get away, at least until he could get his head straightened out enough to understand what the hell was going on. Even so, just the smallest of smiles crossed his face as he muttered, “Punk.”
As he turned to walk away, Bucky heard a soft sigh from behind him, so quiet he wasn’t sure if he’d heard anything or not. Even so, he felt that smile grow a little bit bigger.
“Jerk.”
Challenge 6 - Fluffy Fic: For You
Personal Challenge
Challenge Completed On: July 21, 2014
Spoiler ShowFor You
The cell rang to life, jolting Tony out of a sound sleep. The teen flung his hand out, groping across the nightstand until his fingers curled around the infernal device. Hauling it to him, he groggily saw it blink that it was the nice, reasonable hour of three on a Saturday morning. He growled low in his throat, not at all pleased at the interruption. He’d had two college midterm papers he’d had to write, and two more grueling tests that he’d had to sit through, a doctor’s appointment, helping Rhys with some wedding plans, and then Tony had had shooting practice and a round of sparring with Zack which culminated in Zack clobbering Tony’s ass so hard that Tony was amazed he hadn’t cracked a couple ribs. Tony just wanted to use the weekend to catch up on some lost sleep; if this was Drew calling with some hair brained idea, Tony was gonna deck him. Finally flicking his finger across the screen to answer the call, Tony said in a sleep husky voice, “Hello?”
“Tony?” Her voice was soft across the line, and he heard the strain in her tone that she was trying so hard to hide. “Can you come over?”
Tony was wide awake and already had his legs over the side of his bed as he said, “Give me fifteen minutes.” He waited until he heard her hang up before he reached for his jeans and shoes.
He’d be at her house in ten.
~--------------~
Tony’s key clicked in the lock as he opened the door, a soft gust of winter wind biting at his heels before he slipped inside. He stopped for a moment in the mudroom, kicking his shoes off before he hung up his coat. Turning to the sink, he scrubbed up quickly with the antibacterial soap that sat next to the tap, making sure his hands were well washed before he turned the water off.
The soft sound of breathing had Tony turn his head from the sink, and what he saw made him want to frown. Even so, he went with a smile as he said softly, “Hey, Laurel. Are you feeling okay?”
Laurel snorted softly at that, the crinkled skin around her blue eyes refusing to smooth out. Still, she did concede the point a little as she said softly, “Better now that you’re here.” Her fingers plucked at the shirt she was wearing over her shorts, and Tony recognized it as one of his shirts. While he normally liked it when she wore that shirt as her pj’s, tonight it just emphasized how painfully thin she was; great, that meant she wasn’t eating again. Carefully, he walked over to her, placing a hand on her shoulder to coax her into a hug.
Laurel spun away, trying to hide the flash of pain that went through her eyes at his touch. Tony did a quick scan, noting the new bruises and how pale she looked, not to mention unsteady on her feet. His concern ratcheting up another notch, he asked softly, “Bad night?”
She nodded, and Tony found himself missing those soft, dark locks of hers and how they’d flow around her face all over again, just as he always did when she was in more pain than she should be. Her voice soft, she apologized, even though both of them knew she didn’t have to. “I’m sorry, it’s just everything hurts tonight. Even sitting or walking. I think this round of chemo might have done more harm than good.”
“Your meds aren’t working tonight?” Tony wanted to give her a hug, but he hung back. Laurel wouldn’t reject the contact, and he knew she really needed it right now, but he knew the kind of pain she was in too. The leukemia was bad enough, but she’d also get hyper sensitive a day or two after chemo sometimes.
Almost as if to prove this point, Laurel kept wincing as the two of them walked into the living room, although she refused to remark on it, saying instead, “Not as well as they should. It’s just… the doctor said there’d be some really nasty flare ups sometimes, and they had a little trouble with the treatment when I went in Wednesday. I just…” her voice trailed off then, but she didn’t have to finish. Laurel had been diagnosed with acute lymphoblastic leukemia, or ALL, just after she’d turned sixteen a year ago. She’d actually broken up with Tony because she didn’t want him to know she was sick, but he’d still found out. He wasn’t going to lie; knowing she had cancer scared the crap out of him. But at the same time, he knew she needed him; it was just Laurel and her aunt, and both of them needed a little help now and then.
Tony waited until Laurel had sat down on the sofa before he did. Dragging the blanket off the back of the couch, he laid it carefully across her legs, earning a smile from her in the process. Even so, his own eyes were serious as he said softly, “How long have you been up? You need to rest.”
She scoffed at that, then doubled up as it turned into a coughing fit. He got up, going into the kitchen to get her a glass of water and a cough drop. Tony stayed standing over her until Laurel got her fit under control, took a few sips of the water, and popped the cough drop in her mouth. She hadn’t fooled him; he’d heard the crackle in her cough. Only once she started breathing easier did he sit down again, a little closer to her than he had been the last time. Sliding his hand over hers, he rubbed his thumb across her knuckles as he asked again, “How long, Laurel?”
“I can’t sleep,” she said softly, and he could smell the menthol from the cough drop as she spoke. “I’m exhausted, and all I want is my bed, but I can’t breathe if I lie down, and everything hurts tonight. Any kind of pressure is going straight to my bones tonight, and I feel like I’m being torn apart. This is driving me crazy; my own body’s my worst enemy!”
Laurel started coughing again, a wracking one that shook her whole body. All Tony could do was rub her back and talk to her in a low voice, just trying to help her ride it out. Once the fit had finally subsided, he said urgently, “Laurel, listen to me. You’re getting sick, and you’re weak enough as it is. You need to go to the hospital, now.”
“No!”
The reply was short and harsh, some of her fire finally returning with the rejection. It was forceful enough that he actually sat back for a moment, stunned. Seeing that she’d done that, Laurel took a steadying breath before she said in a calmer tone, “I can’t, Tony. Not tonight. Please,” she said, raising a hand to stop his protest before he could voice it, “I know I need to go, and I will. Just not tonight. Aunt Ally’s exhausted, Tony. I don’t want to wake her up. I know she’d agree with you, but please, please, let her sleep a while longer. Please.”
Tony heard the unspoken guilt in her voice that said she knew he was just as tired as Allina, yet Laurel had asked him to come over anyway. His teeth tugged at his bottom lip for a moment as he thought, looking Laurel over closely. She was having some trouble breathing and she was definitely in more pain than usual. But at the same time, a spark of fire was burning in her eyes, the Scottish stubbornness that had made him fall for her in the first place undimmed despite the hell her ALL was putting her through. Would she be okay if they waited before taking her to the hospital?
Tony finally nodded his head, and he saw the relief flash through Laurel’s eyes as he conceded, “Okay. But first thing after Allina wakes up, I’m taking you in. You’re immune system’s shot; you’re supposed to beat this cancer, not get brought down by a little bug.”
His reward was another smile from her before her eyes grew troubled again. Taking up her hand again, Tony’s fingers found their way over her skin as Laurel said softly, “Yeah. If they can ever get a match…”
“The docs are still having trouble finding a donor?”
Laurel nodded, a soft frown puckering her mouth. “Yes. They’re trying to keep the chemo at a line where it won’t kill my system, but that it’ll also keep the ALL from going too crazy while they try to find a close enough match for the bone marrow. I’m scared, Tony. I don’t want the doctors to give me a transplant if the match isn’t close enough, but I don’t know if they’re ever going to find that match…”
“Breathe. Just breathe a moment, M'aingeal. It takes time to find a match, like you said. Just have a little faith. It’s going to be okay, M'aingeal, I promise.” Again, Tony found himself comforting Laurel, a position he had no problems with.
Laurel slowly relaxed, and their conversation drifted over several different topics. His classes and brothers, how the planning for Rhys and Lily’s wedding was going, if Laurel was planning to take a few classes of her own online. Eventually, they ran out of things to talk about, and she scooted over so she could curl up against him. Gently, Tony tried wrapping Laurel in a hug again, finding success this time as she settled into his arms. Her eyelids fluttered closed as a soft sigh escaped from her.
Quietly, Tony asked her, “Feeling better?”
“A little,” she whispered, and he could tell she was this side of asleep. He glanced at the clock, and saw that it said 5:30 a.m. He knew she still had to be admitted for extra care, but maybe now she could get just a little sleep first. Gently, his fingers traced their way around her ear and over her head before they came to rest on her collar bone. His blue-violet eyes softened as he listened to her breathing slowly even out as she drifted away. “Thank-you, Tony. Will you be here when I wake up?” It was a barely breathed sigh, the soft sound of dreams hidden beneath the words.
Gently, he kissed the corner of her eye, his own voice soft as he whispered, “Always, M'aingeal. Sleep well, love.”
~-----------~
Rhys knocked on Tony’s door, trying to rouse his brother. Rhys had waited, trying to let Tony sleep as long as possible; but it was almost noon now, and everyone else was up.
“Tony? Wake up, man. The day’s wasting!”
After Tony still didn’t answer, Rhys opened the bedroom door, only to discover Tony wasn’t there. A suspicion tickling the back of his mind, Rhys’ hand snaked into the pocket of his jeans to grab his phone.
“Rhys?”
Rhys heard Lily calling for him, but he already had the phone pressed to his ear, waiting for his contact to pick up. After a moment, he heard a soft, “Hello?”
“Hello, Mrs. Farron. This is Rhys Hunter. Is Tony at your house?” Rhys heard Lily walk up the stairs to stand by him, her face intent as she listened to his conversation.
“No, he’s not, honey. Laurel’s having a rough morning, so Tony went with her to the hospital around seven this morning. I just stopped home for a moment to get a few things for Laurel, then I was heading back myself. Are you going to be coming over?”
“Yeah, I think I am. Thank-you for telling me this, Mrs. Farron. I’ll see you later.” Rhys hung up, amazed once again by the change in his brother. What Laurel’s aunt hadn’t said, but both of them knew, was that Laurel had had a rough time the entire night, and Tony had gone over to help her out. Tony was in for the long haul for the first time in his life, and Rhys knew that Tony had picked a winner to give his heart to, despite Laurel’s health problems.
Lily looked at Rhys, understanding in her eyes. “To the hospital?”
“Yeah. Tell Zack there’s been a change of plans and he’s watching Matt and Mel. You and I are heading up to the hospital.”
Challenge 7 - Multi-Universe: Bedtime Story
Personal Challenge
Challenge Completed On: July 23, 2014
Spoiler ShowBed Time Story
Mickey stalked through the halls of Disney Castle, his eyes narrowed to thin slits as he searched. The hour was late, and the stars were starting to peek out in the summer night sky, but the King was wide awake and on the hunt for what lurked in the nooks and crannies of the castle. His tail lashed behind him as he concentrated, trying to hear even the smallest of noises.
There!
Mickey dashed down the hall, following the soft scuffle to its source. Once he was close enough, he dived, catching the small form and eliciting a giggled shriek from the younger mouse. A grin spreading across Mickey’s face, he started tickling the little girl. She giggled and screamed, twisting in his lap as she tried to get away. But Mickey was relentless, keeping the little mouse pinned until she screamed, “Uncle, Daddy! Uncle!”
Mickey laughed as he finally let the little mouse squirm away. She scrambled down the hall a little before turning back to look at him, the cutest little grin on her young face. Setting his mouth in a mock frown, Mickey said sternly, “Which is it, Mina? Uncle or Daddy? And shouldn't you be in bed now, little lady?”
Mina hopped around a little, the soft light from the hallway shining on her still bath wet fur. She giggled again, acting all of her six years as she chirped, “But I’m not ready to go to sleep, Daddy! I wanna play some more!”
Mickey laughed, catching the hand of the pj’d little mouse as he said, “Come on, Mina, it’s time for bed. We’re going to the carnival in Twilight Town tomorrow, remember? You need to sleep!”
Mina puckered her mouth into a frown, almost making Mickey laugh as she thought. Seeming to reach a decision, she said, “Okay, fine. But can you tell me a bedtime story?”
Mickey nodded, and Mina smiled her little girl smile. “Okay Mina. But only one story, tonight, alright?”
“Alright!” Mina picked her feet up off the floor, and Mickey swung her up into his arms, carrying her the rest of the way to her room.
Entering the room, Mickey plopped the little mouse onto her bed, causing Mina to giggle as she immediately bounced back to her feet, a pillow in her hand. Mickey deftly deflected the blow as she clobbered him with the pillow before he said, “Hey, a pillow fight wasn’t part of the bargain. Do you want that story or not, Mina?”
Mina huffed a little, but she thumped down onto her bed, holding the pillow in front of her as she chirped, “Story, Daddy! Please, you promised me a story!”
“Okay, okay. Let’s see…” Mickey laughed, pulling at Mina’s blanket so he could tuck her in. She snuggled down under the sheet, her eyes bright as she watched him. “Once upon a time, there was a baby squirrel that lived in a pretty oak tree with her family. She’d spend her days playing in the oak’s branches and chasing after sunbeams, and at night she’d get hugs from her parents before she went to bed. This little squirrel was well loved by her parents, and she loved them very much as well. She had a happy life, and she loved every moment of it.
“One day, though, her tree was cut down, and the little squirrel lost her parents when she lost her home. The little squirrel was very sad, because she wouldn’t get to play in the oak’s branches anymore. She wouldn’t get to chase sunbeams through the leaves anymore. But most of all, the little squirrel didn’t have her parents anymore, which meant no more hugs from her mom and dad, no more smiles that meant they loved her so much. The little squirrel was very sad, and she started to cry, because who would take care of her now? Who would love her if she didn’t have her mommy and daddy?”
Mina stifled a yawn, trying to hide just how tired she was growing. But even so, she asked quietly, “What happened to her, Daddy? What happened to the little squirrel?”
Mickey ran his hand down Mina’s cheek, his fingers playing through her soft fur as he finished, “Two more squirrels found the baby squirrel. These two squirrels didn't have a little one of their own, and they were very sad when they learned that the little squirrel had lost her parents when their tree was cut down. So the two adult squirrels took the little squirrel in, taking care of her and showing her the love that she didn't think she’d find again. She was sad for her parents, but she promised herself that she’d also be happy again, because she knew that her parents would want her to be happy. So she played in the oak tree, and she chased sunbeams through the leaves every day. And at night, the little squirrel would hug her new mommy and daddy, and tell them how much she loved them. And every night, they’d tell her how much they loved her. And the three squirrels lived happily ever after. The end.”
Mina’s eyes had drifted closed, and her breathing had evened out. Leaning over, Mickey gently kissed her on the forehead, and whispered, “Goodnight, princess.”
Mickey got up to leave. He paused at the door for a moment so he could flick off the light. Softly, he heard from her bed, “Love you, Daddy.”
Smiling softly, Mickey shut the door as he whispered back, “Love you too, little squirrel.”
Challenge 8 - Horror Story: Ira
Challenge Issued by: ChibiHeart249
Challenge Completed On: July 23, 2014
Spoiler ShowIra
Dante felt like he was going to be sick. He curled up in the corner of his room, hiding his face in his knees as he took a deep, shuddering breath. He tried to ignore the ice in his veins, and he tried to block out the reminder that his bastard friends had locked him in his f.ucking room. But at the same time…
That’s what you do with a monster, right?
Dante felt the cold spreading through him like wildfire. Desperately, his hand scrambled across his desk, trying to find his pack of smokes. Maybe, if he could get his nerves calmed down, he could think enough to find a way out of this and get some comeuppance. Yeah, he just needed to calm his nerves…
Did you miss me?
Dante’s eyes widened as the words whispered around in his mind, their jade and gold shade taking up nearly all the space as his pupils contracted to small pinpricks. No way, no way in hell. That little f.ucker could just piss off. Dante didn’t have time to deal with this shit right now!
Come on. I know you’re bored.
The cigarette pack was empty. Dante’s fingers curled, crumpling the empty pack into a tight ball as he gasped, a cold sweat slowly breaking out on his brow. This was nuts, this whole damn plan was insane. What the hell had he been thinking? He wasn’t going to get of the Demon’s Bane and detox this way; he was going to lose his damned mind, and then he was gonna die.
I’m still here…
“Go the f.uck away!” Dante’s voice was hoarse as he screamed, trying to get that other voice to shut up and go away. Dropping the empty pack, Dante’s hands scrabbled at his head, tugging at his hair and scratching along his face and throat.
I’m haunting youu! The voice said in a sing-song.
Dante bellowed, clambering to his feet as he flew across the room and pounded on the door. Screw this shit, Dante was going to demand Lucas let him the hell out of his room now! Dante’d sober up later. Maybe he’d try shooting the Demon’s Bane this time instead of smoking it, though. The cigarettes didn’t seem to be working as well as they used to; maybe he needed the shit in a more potent liquid form to finally send the demon in his head packing.
Right. I don’t think so. Time for some fun, kiddo…
~---------~
“Are you sure we’re doing the right thing, here, Lucas?”
Lucas didn’t answer Christa right away. He had his violet eyes trained on his hands, studying long, thin fingers as he lost himself in thought. Finally, the words floated out of him as he said slowly, “I don’t know, Christa, but it’s better than the alternative. Dante’s got too much of that Demon’s Bane in his system. He needs it out, before he takes too much of it to get the results he’s looking for. We just need to be patient…”
A mighty crash sounded from one of the upstairs rooms, shocking the two talking into silence. Lucas faced Christa, his look of horror mirrored in her icy blue eyes. Without a word, they both raced for the stairs, Lucas moving slightly faster than Christa so that he bolted up the steps first.
Lucas barreled down the hall, slamming into the door to Dante’s room full force. For the barest instant, he thought he was going to bounce right off the solid wood plank; but that thought hadn’t even finished forming in his head before he crashed through the door, the old oak paneling screaming as it tore itself apart.
Lucas blinked, trying to clear the stars from his vision. He got his head under control just enough to scream hoarsely, “Get the others, Christa, and tell them we’ve got a Code Ira. He’s gone!”
The girl didn’t say anything, she just bolted away, rousing the others from sleep. Slowly, Lucas climbed to his feet, his head still spotty, as he looked at the shattered glass that still hung in the window frame; upon closer inspection, Lucas could see streaks of red smeared across the shards. The man felt a knot forming on his head, and a lump in his stomach. He swore softly.
They were so boned.
Challenge 9 - Write It Better/How It Should Have Ended: Rocks Fall, Everyone Dies
Challenge Given by: Max
Challenge Completed On: July 24, 2014
How Final Fantasy VII Ended: Part 1 and Part 2
NOTE: I'm actually very fine with the way FF VII ended, but this is a way that it COULD have happened, and I felt like trolling a bit.
Spoiler ShowRocks Fall, Everyone Dies
Sephiroth watched as Cloud stalked toward him, a coldness in the blonde’s eyes that surprised the silver haired SOLDIER. It surprised him because he remembered a time when those blue eyes used to reflect a shy hope of achieving a country boy’s dreams; now those eyes reflected a man's determination that was tempered into a resolve of steel.
But Sephiroth had his own resolve to bolster his flagging strength. He took a breath to steady himself before raising Masamune to an angle that it was ready for battle. Cloud watched him, that brittle fury still bright in his eyes, waiting for Sephiroth to make the first move. Both were tired from the battle they had just waged. Both warriors knew this to be the final match.
Sephiroth lunged, striking Cloud with a solid strike from his blade. But Cloud wouldn’t have it. The would-be SOLDIER took his turn to lash out, pouring everything he had into one final burst of his Omnislash technique. Cloud pushed the onslaught, giving Sephiroth no quarter as the Buster Sword connected again and again with the fallen hero. Finally, it was too much even for the living legend, and Sephiroth let the victory go to Cloud.
As Sephiroth felt his body fade away, he felt a moment of clarity wash over him. The madness leaving his mind, the SOLDIER let a small, sad smile curl across his face as he thought, Dreams of the morrow hath the shattered soul, pride is lost; Wings stripped away, the end is nigh. Genesis; Angeal. It would seem that we have all fallen from grace, haven’t we old friends? Though it would seem none have fallen as far as I. Forgive me, my friends, for destroying the world that the three of us used to love so much; would that I could change the hand of Fate, but we all have our role that we must play, don’t we? And this, the Destroyer, is mine.
Even though his consciousness was barely a tangible presence in the Lifestream anymore, Sephiroth still felt it when Meteor crashed into Holy. A grim echo of a smile played through his mind as he sensed the destructive magic pushing against the strength of the guardian spell. He could almost taste it; Holy was too late, and didn’t have the power needed to push back Meteor. Though his body had perished, the victory was still his.
And that’s when he felt her directing the Lifestream to bolster Holy. Sephiroth’s fury rose up, lending him strength, and he threw his own will into the life’s blood of the Planet. He sought out Aerith, his madness and hatred boiling through the energy stream like a flood of poison. At last he found the little flower girl, and he plucked the petals of her essence before scattering them to be burned in his rage.
Without Aerith’s influence, the Lifestream collapsed, no longer able to influence Holy’s power. The shield flickered, then died as the power of Meteor proved to be too great. The last line of defense gone, Meteor finished its slow decent into Midgar, causing a shockwave of damage that would eventually destroy the whole Planet. Sephiroth had won.
And so, your eternal slumber, I offer thee this silent sacrifice.
Challenge 10 - 4th of July: Rise and Fall
Personal Challenge
Challenge Completed On: July 24, 2014
NOTE: This is FAR from what I'd originally been intending to write; but I prefer this original piece that came out of no where to the fan fic that I'd been planning to write.
Spoiler ShowRise and Fall
Promise me you’ll come back.
He could barely breathe, the air was so full of the odor of battle. Smoke hung in a dark, heavy cloud over the vast field, a thick, acrid blanket of gunpowder mantling the men in thick, lung clogging cloaks. The stench of bodily fluids warred with the black powder, the coppery tang of blood and the more musky, acidic tones of other fluids as they flowed onto the earth, mixing with the dirt to create a cloying muck that sucked at the boots and impeded movement.
But the sounds, dear Father Almighty, how the soldier wished he could block those from his ears; how he wished he could fall deaf as he lay where he’d been thrown. All around him was an endless cacophony of noise. The endless report as bayonet rifles were fired; the deep throated bark of the canon as they took their own shot that reverberated into the ground, shaking the very soul with their deadly purpose. The crash of steel on steel as swords met and tested each other’s mettle. The screams of horses as they charged into battle, carrying men on their backs to rain down death from above, only for the great stallions to be cut down themselves, crushing their riders and pulverizing the humans as the beasts convulsed in their death throes. Worst of all were the screams of the men, the harsh war cries and threats of those who still battled, the oaths and bellows thrown between both sides. The soft sobs, ragged breathing, and even more, the high moans and screams of those who lay dying.
The soldier pulled himself to a spot that was just a little more sheltered by a rock outcropping, unwilling to find death by being trampled. He sucked in a ragged breath, finding the action to be a difficult one with one of his lungs punctured. His hand rested against his belly, his fingers slick with blood as he tried to hold himself together, the crisp blue and white of his uniform slowly gaining an unwanted crimson addition. Distantly, he imagined that he could hear the church bell ringing, calling everyone to Sunday service. His eyes drifted closed, hiding their bright, sky blue color from the world for a moment, and that’s when he felt…
Her hand drift onto his arm, a shy smile playing across her face. He was smitten with her beauty, how her fair locks caught the sunlight in just the right way, showering her hair with playful streaks of red. And those eyes! He could fair get lost in them as he watched their color flirt a fine line between blue and green and back again; her eyes were like the waters of the ocean just outside of the Boston harbor for sure!
She chanced a quick glance up at his face, letting a mischievous smile curl at the corner of her lips as a devilish look came into her eyes. He was sent to his guard instantly, glancing about for her chaperone as he felt her fingers dance up his shirtfront, a coy, throaty tone to her voice as she purred, “Why David, aren’t you dreadfully hot today? It’s the peak of July, and you insist on wearing this silly thing!”
That’s when her hand flew upward, taking David’s hat from his head, exposing his thick, dark brown hair. He stood still for a moment, flabbergasted, allowing her the chance to catch up a fistful of her skirts and run away, a trickle of laughter floating behind her as she waved his hat over her head. Suddenly regaining his senses, David followed hot on her heels, shouting out, “Get back here, Anne, now!”
“You have to catch me first!”
And so he chased her weaving in and out of the other guests as he chased after the slip of a girl in the ice blue dress. After what seemed an eternity, David caught Anne, having pinned her against a broad oak tree. Rescuing his hat from her grip, he turned her face to his, watching the play of light that still danced in those blue-green eyes of hers. Slowly, he lowered his head to hers, already able to taste her kiss…
Of Death’s arrival, David was certain of. He wasn’t leaving this battlefield of his own accord; this babe of a country would have to fight for her independence without him to aide her any longer. Slowly, David leaned his head against the stones, his only mission now to focus on his breathing. Dear Father, was he tired. He was tired of the fighting, of the pain that fired through every nerve in his body. But most of all, he was tired of waiting for Death to come to him. Though David wished dearly not to leave this world, at the same time, he knew that he’d rather die in the heat of battle than under the butcher’s knife.
Promise me you won’t leave me alone.
At least here, he could fill his last moments with thoughts of Anne. It was for her that he’d fought. It was for her that he believed in Washington’s cause, that they could unite the Colonies under one banner and be a free nation apart from England. It was for David’s sweet Anne that he’d joined the fight, all for his young bride…
Ran her hand across his arm, sending shivers through his body as her touch set him on fire. David turned to face Anne, and he saw how her lashes laid across her cheeks, hiding her eyes from him. She was scared, he could see that. It was their wedding night, and though she had always been quite the flirt, she was at a loss now as to what she was supposed to do in this role that she had no idea how to play the part of.
David ran his knuckles across her cheek, trying to bolster her courage with the gentle touch. Anne cut a look at him, as shy as the first day they’d met when they were children, and he flashed her a boyish smile, setting her further at ease. He turned his hand so that he cupped her chin in his palm, raising her face to meet his. Her eyes drifted closed again as his lips met hers, kissing her gently. She tasted of roses and sugar, a most pleasing combination to his palate. She sighed against his lips, her kisses growing languid as she slowly relaxed. Gently, so as not to alarm her, his hands slipped around her back, and his fingers slowly working at her stays. Once the garment no longer stood between them, he pulled her closer to him, holding her close to him, a caress here, a nudge there, a soft touch…
Kissed his cheek, causing David to slowly open his blue eyes. For a moment, he just blinked, sure that his mind had abandoned him to let Death claim him with the sweetest of illusions. For there, kneeling before him, was his dear Anne, as radiant as any angel of the Lord. A soft smile graced her face, those beautiful blue eyes of her sparking with an ocean of green. Her voice husky, she said for him alone, “You’re fight is over, David-love. It’s time to come home.”
David flicked his tongue across his lips, trying to find some moisture for his suddenly parched throat. He coughed slightly, only distantly aware that the pain of his injuries had faded away, then asked in a hoarse whisper, “Dearest Anne, what are you doing here?”
Her fingers trailed across his face, easing away his pains, and her voice quenched his thirst like the clearest water as she said, “I’m here to take you home, David. This country that you have given your life for will become a great nation, thanks to the ideals of men like you. You can rest easy now, my heart, and know that you have done such a wonderful job. Come home, David.”
David wanted to believe in her words, but there was one matter that wouldn’t allow him to rest peacefully. With a struggle, he clutched her hand in his own and asked her, “But what of you Anne? I can’t leave you here on your own.”
“You won’t, love.” Love radiated from Anne, and David felt peace quickly engulf him as she continued, “Even now, I am sleeping, and soon, my spirit will leave my body, and we will go to see our Heavenly Father together. All I have need to wait for is you.”
Gently, she leaned close to him, and he once again smelled the sugar and roses that were so much a part of her scent. A smile finding its way onto his own lips, he waited until she was a hair’s breadth from him before he breathed, “And how am I to come with you, love?”
“Like this, my heart,” she whispered, and her lips touched his, gentle in their final caress. His head filled with the scent and taste of roses and sugar, and he let his final breath escape in a small puff against her lips.
Anne rose to her feet, pulling David’s spirit up with her. Tucking her arm into the crook of his elbow, he bowed his head low, touching his forehead against hers for a moment, the still raging battle around them forgotten. Then, without a backward glance, the two spirits left the world behind them, their hearts liberated at last.
Challenge 11 - Fantasy: Shatter Me
Personal Challenge
Challenge Completed On: July 25, 2014
NOTE: Thank-you to my cousin, who gave me the perfect music to inspire me on this story.
Spoiler ShowShatter Me
The room was dark, illuminated by a handful of candles and the moonlight that drifted in from the open windows. Despite the meager light, the room was bright, the mirrors lining the walls catching what little light there was and reflecting it back until a lone figure could be seen within the empty room. She stood in the middle of the floor, her arm raised high over her head and her body as still as a statue. The faint light revealed something odd about her figure, but if there was anyone outside that was looking in on her, the onlooker wouldn’t be able to tell what it was that seemed off, only that something seemed strange.
The girl stood perfectly still, her right arm held high over her head, the fingers of her hand arched slightly, while she held her left arm in front of her body. She stayed like this a moment longer, her breathing rhythmic and even, her eyes trained anywhere but on the far wall. And she waited.
A soft, tinkling melody drifted through the room, acting like a key to a lock. Set free from her staid form, the dancer came to life, gently at first as she took soft steps, bowing her back so that her hands nearly touched her toes; then faster and faster as she moved through the dance, jumping and pirouetting in the darkness of her private studio. She heard nothing but the pounding of her own heart, felt nothing but her muscles bunching and pulling as she spun and dipped, was nothing except the medium that told the story of the dance.
Until the moment when she attempted a leaping pirouette, and reality came crashing down on her. She hung in the air, spinning once; twice; three times. But when she landed, her balance was off, and she heard a horrible crunch as she was sent spilling to the floor, her leg crumpled beneath her. For a moment, she just lay against the hard wood of the floor, her cheek pressed into the planking as she willed her heart to stop its heavy thudding against her ribs.
Slowly, frustratingly so, her heartbeat slowed its headlong rush, easing itself back into a more even rhythm. Once she was certain that her heart rate had returned to close to normal, she pushed herself up, assessing the damage.
As she’d expected, the dancer had been too rough on her knee, causing her leg to give way. She reached out, pulling the errant limb toward her. She hated it when her legs and arms fell off; it forced her to remember her condition, no matter how hard she tried to forget. For a moment, she studied the leg as it was without magic to give it its strength and agility; all it was without her was the broken leg of a doll, its ball joint knee and ankle forlorn and lonely without something to move the foot and calf, without the power that flowed through the thigh. And yet, without it, she too was nothing but a broken toy. Without each other, the leg and the girl were the same thing.
Junk.
Slowly, the girl threaded magic through the leg, reattaching it to her hip. While she waited for the magic to root itself deeply into the leg so that the limb wouldn’t fall off again, she felt her gaze drawn, as always, to the far wall of her studio. Despite how dark the room was illuminated only by moonlight, despite how far away she was, she knew what the newspaper article read; she’d read over it so much that the words were branded on her heart. The article was a short little piece, the picture of a young blonde with bright grey eyes and pretty white teeth stared back at her, a sedate smile on the young girl’s face that seemed to turn into a look of scorn for the young woman.
Lindsey Vincent, age 14, is still missing. Miss Vincent disappeared from her home twelve months ago on the night of her 13th birthday. A gifted violinist, Miss Vincent is a budding ballet prodigy and at ease in any social situation. If anyone has any information in regards to the whereabouts of Miss Lindsey Vincent, please call…
That article was four years old. Nearly everyone had written poor Lindsey off as dead, never to be found, and they had given up the fight to find her. But the young woman on the floor knew the truth about Lindsey; she knew what had happened to that young, hopeful girl that had such a bright future to turn her into this broken creature that could barely dance any longer.
Death had come for her, just not in the way everyone thought.
Feeling that her magic was strong enough to keep her leg from falling off again, Lindsey climbed to her feet, a dull ache in the limb as it worked its way back into order. Slowly, the girl limped her way across the studio, feeling all the aches and pains tonight that her magic usually hid. She rubbed her arm, her segmented fingers resting on the ball joint of her elbow before traveling up to where her arm still fit too loosely into her shoulder, despite her attempts fix that. She was Death’s handmaiden, chosen at birth to pass judgment on the guilty and to reap the souls of those who were fated to die. The power she had been given was awesome, striking fear into the hearts of those who knew the truth.
But it came at a heavy cost. In the five years since her power had manifested, her body had been slowly dying around her. She hadn’t been able to hold the bow of her violin in two years, not since her fingers had grown numb and dead, causing her to replace them with the porcelain joints that they were now. When she’d discovered who she was, she ran away from home, far away to a place where no one had heard of little Lindsey Vincent. Here, she hid away, doing Death’s dark work as she slowly replaced her body with the parts of a living doll, waiting for her own death to come and steal away her pain.
Lindsey’s mouth twisted into an ugly line as she reached the wall with the newspaper clipping on it. She wanted dearly to fall into her bed and sleep; it’s all she ever wanted to do when her magic gave out on her and sent a hand or a foot of hers flying away from her. However, she felt the touch of Death in the back of her mind, the dark, throbbing music that pulsed in time with the final beats of a person’s heart. Tapping the wall, she waited for the paneling to slide away, revealing a secret compartment. Reaching within it, she pulled out the scythe that rested within; as her fingers closed around the shaft of the weapon, she felt the raiment of Death flow over her. A grim look settling over her face, Lindsey pulled the deep cowl over her fair hair before she let herself dissolve into the shadows.
There was Death’s work to be carried out tonight.
Challenge 12 - Apocalypse/Survival Story: Rise of the Magnificent Seven
Personal Challenge
Challenge Completed On: July 25, 2014
Spoiler ShowRise of the Magnificent Seven
(Demon Hunters Prologue)
Dante’s feet flew over the pavement, trying to escape the demon. The little boy’s hands slipped into his jeans, trying to find the salt that he always carried with him; he would have used that small vial of holy water that his mom insisted he carried, but this was the second demon of the night, and Dante’s holy water was gone. Dante scraped his fingers deep in his pockets, picking up nothing but grit under his nails.
Apparently, so was his salt.
Giving up on the salt, Dante bent his head, locks of strawberry blonde hair falling in front of his green eyes as he poured everything he had into staying ahead of the hell hound. He heard it behind him, snapping and growling at his heels, hungry for the power it felt radiating off of him. Things had gotten bad for everybody since the demons rose out of hell five years ago, but it was even worse for eight year-old Dante than it was for most people. Most of the time, the demons just toyed with people for a moment or two before they ate their poor victims. Occasionally, someone proved to be strong enough to hold off the demons for a little while, but people rarely proved themselves to have enough stamina for much beyond that. But not little Dante. The demons wanted him for a whole different reason than they wanted other mortals. They didn’t want him because they wanted to eat him. They wanted to use Dante. He was half demon, one of the Gates for the Big Seven.
Moloch.
Dante turned another corner, only to find himself in a dead end ally. Spinning on his heel, the boy faced his pursuer, unable to hide the terror in his eyes as the hell hound stalked closer. These beasts were normally invisible, but the hafling could see this one just fine. It walked sideways toward him, its lips pulled back into a snarl, revealing sharp teeth dripping toxic saliva. It lashed its whip-like tail, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. But those eyes; God, they were pitch black and empty, and they left a dark pit of fear in Dante’s belly because he couldn’t see anything in them.
The boy’s fingers curled around the knife at his belt while his other hand wrapped around the cross that hung around his neck. There was no way he was getting out of this; the demon had him cornered, and the beast knew it. However, there was no way he was going without a fight. Hate him as much as he did, Dante knew that his ornery nature came from the demon Moloch himself. Dante wouldn’t be taken without the hell hound feeling pain; but even more than that, the boy was determined that the beast wouldn’t take him alive. Dante pulled the knife from his belt, a rim of red lining his eyes as he readied for the fight.
“Twila, get ‘em!”
A sharp whinny pierced the air, distracting both the hell hound and Dante. The hound spun around just in time to get hit square in its side with pounding hooves. Dante’s eyes widened as he saw the nightmare come down on the hell hound again, flames curling from her nostrils and a black fire burning in her eyes. The nightmare screamed again, and Dante nearly clapped his hands over his ears, his desire to block the dreadful sound out was that strong.
A hand curled around Dante’s, yanking the boy around as a young voice said in a rush, “Hurry! We need to go while she’s distracting the hound! Move, now!”
Dante didn’t need to be told twice. Recovering from the strangeness, the boy took off, following closely on the heels of his benefactor, a boy with dark hair that looked like he was around Dante’s age. The boys ran through the streets, passing doorways marked with devils traps and windowsills lined with salt, until at last they found refuge in a garden that had devil traps of its own at the entrance and even around the flower beds.
For a moment, neither one of the boys spoke, both of them focused on catching their breaths after their headlong flight. Dante’s heart rate had nearly returned to normal when a soft whicker broke the stillness of the night.
Lifting his head, Dante saw the nightmare from before standing just outside of the garden, blocked from entering by the devil’s traps. Before Dante could get his mind wrapped around this though, the other boy jumped to his feet, heading straight for the hell horse. Fear tightening his throat, Dante cried, “What are you doing? Don’t go near it!”
“It’s okay,” the boy said, reaching his hand out to the nightmare. Dante was amazed when, instead of taking a snap at the boy’s unguarded flesh, it instead nuzzled its nose against his palm, repeating the soft whicker that Dante now realized was a greeting. Looking over his shoulder, the boy revealed soft, pale violet eyes as he continued, “Twila’s my friend. She won’t hurt me, and she won’t hurt you, either. Come on girl, I grant you, and only you, permission to bypass the power of the trap that would bind you.”
With those words spoken, Dante felt the shiver in the air that meant the magic of the wards had shifted. The nightmare, Twila, tossed her head, giving a soft whinny of delight, before she stepped delicately over the painted traps; surprise went through Dante when he realized that she was being careful not to damage the devil’s trap!
Turning to face the other boy, Dante realized something else about the boy now that Dante himself had calmed down. The boy was like him, there was no way around it; Dante could feel the demon magic pulsing through the other halfling’s veins, acting like just as much of a glowing beacon as Dante.
It seemed that the other boy had realized that Dante had reached the inevitable conclusion. Turning his attention from Twila, he said somberly, “Lucas Thorne.” Then, carefully, he held his hand out, his fingers already long and thin despite his age.
Taking the offer, Dante pulled himself to his feet before he placed his hand in Lucas’ as he said, “Dante Ascher. What…?”
Dante’s voice had trailed off, but Lucas knew just where he’d been about to go. A sour look twisting his face, Lucas said softly, “Supurbia.”
Okay, that did make Dante step back for a moment. Pride. Lucas had been fathered by none other than Lucifer himself?!
Lucas flinched as Dante backed away from him; even though he tried to hide the action, Dante still saw it, and he saw how hurt Lucas looked. Dante felt bad about it almost immediately. How could Dante judge Lucas for the same cursed twist of fate that Dante had borne his whole life as well? Even if Lucifer, the fallen angel that had started the whole war between heaven and hell, was his father, Lucas was still a kid like Dante, forced to be on the outs of things just because of the circumstances behind his being on this Earth. Dante couldn’t treat Lucas like a pariah.
He’d had enough of that treatment himself.
Dante smiled at Lucas, trying to ease away some of the other boy’s pain. Doing his best to break past his own shame, Dante whispered, “Ira.”
Lucas, seeming to have realized what Dante was thinking, relaxed slightly as he said, “Wrath? Like as in Moloch? Who’d have figured on the chances of us meeting up?"
"Think there are others?”
“I don’t know,” Lucas said, shrugging as he did. But even so, Dante saw the light flicker in his eyes as Dante’s question brought Lucas some hope that the two of them weren’t alone. “Maybe?”
Slowly, the two boys started walking, one on either side of Twila. For the first time in a while, Dante wasn’t too scared of what the night held. Glancing over the nightmare’s back, Dante just caught a glimpse of Lucas as the other boy peered at him with those violet eyes of his. A slight grin breaking across Dante’s face, he asked, “Do you wanna try looking and see?”
“Yeah!”
“And then?” Dante was seriously curious about what his new brother thought. Surprisingly, Lucas had had the same idea that Dante had. Lucas spoke quietly, but Dante still heard every word that the other boy said.
“Then we take down the Big Seven, and end this war.”
Challenge 13 - Crossover: Kingdom Hearts and Supernatural
Personal Challenge
Part 1 Completed: July 31, 2014
Part 2 Completed: August 1, 2014
NOTE: This one was the one that came down to the wire, and I'll admit that it's not my favorite. I should have done this one sooner in the month; it's decent enough, but especially when compared to the rest of the challenges, this one leaves much to be desired. The story's set about half way through season 5 of Supernatural and a little while after the events of Dream Drop Distance.
Spoiler ShowHeart…What?
The Winchester brothers had had a hell of a long day; truth be told, it had been one hell of a long week. Sam and Dean had first been called to the small Tennessee town because of reported sightings of a Black Shuck, a large, ebony colored ghost dog, that had been seen numerous times along the same stretch of highway that had then followed at least five people home, and reportedly mauled three of these to death.
After three days of tracking, the brothers had found the black dog, alright. The beast had immediately leapt at the two of them, using its massive size to try to overwhelm Sam. Dean shot the thing full of rock salt, causing the dog to momentarily roll off of Sammy, but the salt just seemed to infuriate the ghost. It turned its sight on Dean, a vicious snarl rumbling in its chest, and made to jump at him; however, it disappeared midleap, the crack of a gun echoing in the trails of ghostly wisps that were left behind, the silver bullet that had killed it coming to rest on the ground.
“Well,” Sam said, tucking the gun loaded with silver back into its holster, “That takes care of that. You okay?”
Dean hauled himself around where the Shuck had last stood, the shine of adrenaline slowly fading from his eyes. “Like a little black dog’s gonna slow me down? I’m fine. Beats fighting demons all the time.”
“No kidding,” was the only reply Sam had for Dean as the two of them walked away down the highway.
That had been three days ago; the main reason they were still in town was because they’d decided they’d earned some much needed R&R. Sam and Dean had been just about ready to pull out of the small town for good though when the soft rustle of feathers caused the brothers to turn around. A wry smile twisting at his mouth, Dean snarked, “So, what brings you here this time, Cas? Out of minutes?”
The angel just looked at the two brothers, just the slightest hint of bemusement in his intense stare. Tilting his head ever so slightly to the side, Cas said flatly, “No.”
After a couple minutes of silence, during which the angel didn’t expand any further, Dean rolled his eyes before saying, “Cas, what have I told you before? Remember to blink now and then, man; you’ll weird people out if you don’t. Now, why are you here? Don’t tell me those demons are up to monkey business again. I’ve still got sulfur from the last time stuck in crevices that you don’t wanna know about.”
Sam shot Dean a quick look, but Cas started talking, cutting off the younger Winchester as the angel said, “It’s not the demons. Not exactly, in any case; they’ve actually been rather quiet in the last few weeks.”
Dean threw up his hands, a mock celebratory tone in his voice as he crowed, “Well, thank God or whatever higher power there be for small miracles. Now, if it’s not demons, why would you be here, Mr. Angel of the Lord?”
“There’s a disturbance in the energy pattern of late, centered around this town. Furthermore, there have been reports of people falling into a coma like state, only for doctors to discover that these victims have lost their hearts in some way…”
It was Dean’s turn to cut across Cas. Holding up his hands, the man quieted the angel as Dean burst out, “Wait, what? These folks are landing in the hospital with a case of lost hearts? Shouldn’t they be dead?”
“They are,” Cas said, acting as if Dean’s interruption were insignificant. “However, that’s only with the few who actually make it to the hospital. For the most part, the bodies dissolve into pools of darkness.”
Finally getting the chance to get a word in, Sam said, “Does this sound like anything you’ve run into Cas? Some kind of demon magic, maybe?”
Cas shook his head, and a hint of frustration crept into his voice as he replied, “No, it’s not. This isn’t any kind of demon magic I’ve heard of, and none of the other angels have encountered it before either. I had been hoping you knew something about it, but it’s clear now that we are all in the dark…”
“Look out!”
Dean and Cas both dove out of the way just in time because of the barked warning from Sam. Looking over his shoulder, Dean saw the strangest creature of his life crouched where he’d just been standing. It was almost human looking, hunched over and scanning the floor of the hotel room like it was looking for something. But something was way off about it to. For one thing, the creature was pitch black, with deep blue veins running along the sides of its head, and long, jagged antenna swept from just behind its eyes nearly to the floor. And those eyes, what the hell was with the eyes? They were a bright, luminous yellow, a dead look reflected in them. They were absolutely flat, blank of everything except one thing.
Hunger.
The creature turned its head to watch Dean as the Hunter scrambled to his feet, his hands scrabbling along the table for the first thing he could reach. Feeling the flask that he and Sam kept the Holy Water in, Dean lashed out, whipping the flask in front of him and soaking the thing.
The beast blinked, those bulbous yellow eyes disappearing into pure blackness for a moment before returning. It cocked its head to the side, an almost perplexed look on its face, then it hunkered down close to the floor. Dean swore under his breath as the Holy Water rolled right off it. “Not a demon…”
The beast jumped, pouncing on Dean. He heard Sammy give a hoarse shout, and Dean could just see that another one had jumped at Sam, pinning the other Winchester to the floor. Cas was fairing slightly better than the two Hunters, but as more of these things started rising up out of the floor, Dean just knew it’d be a matter of time before they overwhelmed even the angel.
“Dark firaga!”
A blast of searing heat filled the room, lifting the monster off of Dean before slamming it against the wall. Not one to waste a moment, Dean rolled onto his belly and leapt to his feet, his hands finding a shotgun this time. Leveling the weapon, Dean shot the beast that had Sam pinned to the ground; a discordant hiss issued from the thing as it rolled off Sam, allowing the other Hunter to his feet. Dean spun around, only just noting two more bodies that had entered into the fray, but he didn’t have time to think about that right now. Dean just kept firing into the fray, taking shot after shot at the six creatures that had showed up in the room.
After a fifteen minute session that seemed to last hours, the beasts were gone. Heaving a huge breath, Dean took a quick assessment of damages. Surprisingly enough, there was just about nothing left of the strange black beasts. Just a few spots of dark ichor here and there were the only traces left of the yellow eyed monsters. Sammy seemed to be okay, even if slightly scratched up from the surprise attack. Even more surprising was the scratch that crossed over Cas’ nose and under his left eye. Those things had actually managed to hurt the angel? Whistling softly under his breath, Dean huffed, “What the hell were those things?”
“They were Heartless. Neoshadows, if you want to name their type.”
Dean’s attention landed at last on their guests, and he was surprised to see that there were two boys standing in the room with them. One of them was about Dean’s height, with spiky brunette hair and bright blue eyes. The other one was very tall, only a hair’s breadth shorter than Sammy, but that wasn’t the strange thing. This kid had freaking silver hair! He had unusually light blue eyes too, eyes that were about the same color as a shallow tide pool, but that hair! On a teenager?
A quirk of the lips tugged the boy’s mouth into a grin as he watched Dean struggle for words. Pointing to himself, the boy said, “My name’s Riku. And this is Sora. We’re trying to figure out how the Heartless got through from our world to yours. It doesn’t seem like the Keyhole’s unlocked, but…”
Gulping air, Dean finally managed to stop his open mouthed fish act. Casting a quick look in Cas’ direction, Dean was faintly shocked to see that the angel, usually a very unflappable man, has a completely flabbergasted look on his face, something Dean would have found amusing under normal circumstances.
This situation was far from normal, even for them.
But still, this kid, Riku, had brought up a few things that Dean was having a little trouble wrapping his head around. Getting the boy’s attention, Dean said, “I’m sorry, but what are you saying? Keyholes? Our world? Your world? Heart-what’s its?” It wasn’t like trying to remember the word Heartless was difficult or anything, it was just that Dean had just about reached his considerably high threshold for “what the hell is this shit” for the day, and it was only 10 in the morning.
Sora spoke up, a placating tone in his voice as he said, “Look, I know this is a lot to take in, but just try to keep an open mind, okay? We just want to make sure the heart of this world is safe from the Heartless, and then Riku and I’ll split, and you won’t have to deal with this again.”
The look on Sora’s face said quite clearly that he could tell he hadn’t gotten through to Dean. However, Riku had this little grin on his face as he studied Sam, Dean, and Cas, and Dean could just see the boy figuring things out as he said wryly, “Like Sora said, this is a lot to take in, but it’s not like you guys don’t deal with weird shit on a daily basis. Or am I wrong on that one?”
Sam was the one that recovered first. Studying the two boys, the younger Winchester said, “Just what are these Heartless after?”
“The answer is in the name,” Sora said, a grim expression thinning his mouth to a hard line. “They want the hearts of people, but most of all, they want the heart of your world. And they won’t stop until they get it.”
Thinking back to what Cas had said about the victims of apparent heart theft, Dean said, “Nothing’ll stop them?”
Riku shook his head, saying shortly, “Nothing except locking the Keyhole. That’s why we need to find it.”
Sam was watching the two of them, an unreadable look on his face as he tried to puzzle things out. Looking between Sora and Riku, Sam asked, “And how are we supposed to seal this ‘Keyhole’?”
“With this.” As Riku spoke, he and Sora both held their right hands up. Twin flashes of light burst into life, one bright white and the other a soft blue-black. Blinking back spots, Dean saw that both of the boys now held some of the strangest swords he’d ever seen in their grip. Surprise on his face once again, Dean blurted, “What the hell are those things?”
Raising his blade a little higher so Sam and Cas could get a better look at it, Riku replied, “This is called a Keyblade, and it’s the only thing that can seal the Keyhole and stop the Heartless.”
Spoiler ShowDemons
It had been over four weeks since Riku and Sora had run into the Winchesters and their angel friend. Since the two Keybearers had filled the other three in on the crucial details, the small team had been searching for the Keyhole, and they were having very little luck. At the same time, the Hunters still had their own work to do, and Riku and Sora had had the dubious honor of meeting a few of the lower class demons that Sam and Dean had to deal with on a regular basis.
Riku was kind of surprised, actually. So far, this world that the brothers lived in appeared normal on the surface; but once you got past that superficial layer, there was a whole lot of supernatural happenings going down. Riku was amazed that more people didn’t believe that the ghosts and monsters were real, but as Dean told the Islanders, people will believe what they want to believe, especially if their minds couldn’t handle the truth.
Even so, Riku and Sora were the only ones with magic that were also human.
The Impala slowly rolled to a stop outside of yet another motel, and Riku looked out the window from the backseat, eager for the chance to climb out and stretch his legs. Honestly, what was the use of being a Keyblade Master if you couldn’t conjure a good portal to get you where you wanted to go? Unfortunately for Riku, his portals, dark or light, were still on the fritz, and Sora never had been able to figure out how to do it. Couple that with the look Dean had given him when Riku had first suggested using the corridors…
Yeah, Riku’s legs were really getting tired of the back seat.
Hauling himself out of the car, Riku took a look around himself at the dusty greenery and asked, “Okay, so where are we now?”
“Kentucky, up in the mountains somewhere.” The reply was short and curt from Dean, and Riku arched a brow at how snappish the Hunter sounded. Come on, they were fighting Heartless, not demons. Even the silver haired teen could see that the demons were a lot nastier than most of the Heartless, and Riku had been fighting some really vicious Heartless over the last four years.
Then again, it might not be the bouts with the Heartless that had Dean on edge. They’d kept it pretty much to themselves, but Riku had noticed the tension growing between Sam and Dean. Sora was smart, but he had a tendency to miss the little things that Riku had a knack for picking up on. A whisper about demon blood here, a whiff of darkness there; there was no denying that something was trying to get its hooks into Sam. Riku didn’t think it was the Heartless, or even the Darkness in particular, and he could sense that Sam wasn’t going to fall for it as easily as he had himself at the beginning, but still, Riku could understand Dean’s tension.
Riku wondered some days if he was gonna backslide into the Darkness despite promises to his friends and himself.
Riku scanned their surroundings, tuning his senses to try and pinpoint a sense of the Keyhole. On the other side of the car, Sora did the same thing, his azure eyes squinting against the glare from the afternoon sun. At the same time, both of them said, “That way,” pointing in two, slightly opposite directions.
Sora laughed, lowering his arm as he shot Riku a look laced with a grin. “Really? You trying to one up me or something, Riku?”
Riku laughed himself, trying to hide his frustration with the act. “Right. It’s more like you have a lousy sense of direction, Sora.”
Sam glanced between the two friends before he decided to venture a suggestion, “Do you think Cas could check it out really quick so we’re not chasing our own tails?”
Both of the teens were silent for a moment, thinking about the suggestion. Then, Sora shook his head as Riku said, “It’s a good idea, Sam, but I don’t think Cas can help with this one. He’s already admitted that the Heartless and the Keyholes are outside his and the other angels experience, and even though an unsealed Keyhole throws off a lot of energy, I don’t think he’ll be able to locate it like Sora or I could.”
The Winchesters took in the information, turning it over in their minds. Seeming to reach the inevitable conclusion first, Dean said, “So we have to split up, then.”
Sora nodded his head. “Yeah, exactly. I’ll go with Sam in the direction I sensed the Keyhole, and you and Riku will take the other direction.”
Dean turned a look on Sora, his green eyes lit with a sarcastic glint, before he said, “Where do you get off on calling the shots, kid?”
Sora, a little on edge himself recently, puffed up at Dean’s comment. Before Sora could say something he might regret, Riku cut in smoothly, “It’s a good plan. Sora and Sam can cover the weakness in each other’s defenses pretty well, and you complement my fighting style. It’s probably the best set up for teams. We can send up sparks or something if we find the Keyhole.”
Dean huffed a slight laugh, a note of appreciation in the sound at how quickly Riku steered that conversation. “Fine,” Dean said, walking around to the back of the Impala. “It’s as good a plan as any. Let’s load up and move out.”
Riku and Sora waited a moment while the Winchesters gathered their equipment from the trunk; once they were ready, the two teams split up, Sam and Sora heading northwest while Riku and Dean trekked northeast. Riku was quiet for a while, leaving Dean to his own thoughts as the teen kept his council while watching the path for any possible signs of danger, Heartless, demon, or otherwise.
Dean and Riku had been walking for perhaps a half hour when a low growl reverberated around the two of them, setting them both on guard. Turning ocean blue eyes toward the sound, Riku felt them grow wider as he hissed, “What’s that thing supposed to be?”
Dean moved forward, his eyes on the massive black dog stalking towards them. His fingers moving quickly as he loaded the gun, Dean hissed, “Dead. Sam and I took this son of a bitch down a few days before you and your friend showed up. So why the hell is the Shuck still alive?”
Riku sniffed the air, then curled his lip at the odor emanating from the beast. Gripping the hilt of Way to Dawn as it appeared in his grip, Riku said grimly, “Simple. That thing’s a Heartless. Maybe it was one before you and Sam smoked it or maybe it turned into one after. The point is, that dog’s not what you thought it was before hand, and it seems like it’s powerful enough to be calling other Heartless here. Watch yourself!”
The Shuck pounced then, a snarling bark rising from its throat. Dean leapt to the side while Riku rolled out of the way of the dog’s lunge; coming to his feet again, Riku palmed a handful of dark fire, letting the ball of flames grow in size before he threw it at the beast, hitting it square in the chest.
The Shuck slowed for a moment, but it didn’t last long before a growl rumbled in its gullet, informing Riku that he’d just seriously pissed it off. A crack sounded in the air, and the beast was jerked to the left as a heavy blow hit it in its right shoulder.
Riku chanced a quick glance over to see Dean lowering the shotgun to slide two more slugs into the chamber. Turning back to the Shuck, Riku saw the sizable injury in the beast’s shoulder, causing him to whistle softly. “What do you use for ammo, again?”
“Rock-salt. Now get your ass in gear!” Dean was snappy, but he was also focused, keeping a keen eye on the Shuck while he loaded a couple more shells into the barrel. Turning his attention back to the dog, Riku lunged at the beast, using his momentum to score a strike on its right flank.
The Shuck snarled, seriously unamused with the two of them. It spun to snap at Riku, but he managed to just twist out of the way, coming to slap the dog low on its heel.
Furious now, the dog pounced, managing to pin Riku under its massive form and knock his Keyblade out of his hand. Riku grunted, trying to get a decent breath in as the Shuck pressed against his chest with its heavy paws. It leaned in close to Riku’s face, its lips pulled back to reveal thick, sharp teeth as it growled low in its throat. Riku scrambled under the dog, trying to get his hands under its chest enough so he could hit it with one of his spells.
A sharp cry sounded to Riku’s left, and a heavy object was forced down on the Shuck’s head, cleaving its skull in two. The dog collapsed on top of Riku, driving the last of the air from his lungs. The beast gave a soft moan that faded away when it did, leaving the only sound to be a soft wheeze from Riku as he sucked an unrestricted breath in.
Finally getting his bearings, Riku was surprised to see that Dean was standing over him, Riku’s Keyblade held loosely in his right fist. The two of them just looked at each other for a moment, both breathing hard after the skirmish with the Heartless. Huffing slightly, Dean extended his left hand to Riku, asking softly, “Hey, you okay Riku?”
A smile twisted across Riku’s face as he decided to accept Dean’s assistance. Grabbing the older man’s hand, Riku hauled himself to his feet as Way to Dawn disappeared from Dean’s grip. Dusting his jeans off a little, Riku said, “A little winded, but that’s to be expected after a scuffle like that. Thanks for the help, Dean. That would’ve gone a lot harder without you being here.”
“Thanks, but I think you’re bluffing on that one,” Dean laughed, and Riku saw the tension melt from his face a little. After a moment, the two of them started walking again.
“Yeah…” Riku said quietly, his voice trailing off along with the thought. For a while, neither one of them said anything, both of them considering what had happened with the Heartless Shuck. After a while, Riku ventured a question and asked softly, “You know, Sora and I have told you a lot of what’s going on, but there’s a story to be told with you and your bother too. You two keep skirting around it, but I’ve noticed things. What’s going on with you and Sam?”
Dean gave Riku complete radio silence, and the silver haired Keybearer thought that he’d found the “Way Too Far” button and there was no way the Hunter was going to answer him. They walked on for about ten minutes without another word said before Dean spoke in a whisper, “Sam’s been in a lot of trouble recently. He’s never cared for being a Hunter, but he’d always been a good kid before. But since the demons started coming out in full force, and they got to him, he’s begun to change. He swears he’s gotten cleaned up, but that kind of influence doesn’t leave you easy. He’s still my brother, and I’d do anything for him, but I just don’t know if I can…”
“Trust him?” Riku said at the same time that Dean finished talking. Dean turned to look at Riku, and Riku knew there was a whole gamut of emotions running across his face as his mouth twisted into an ironic smile. Man, he suddenly wished he hadn’t asked Dean about Sam; but at the same time, Riku knew Dean a whole lot better with just that little bit of info. The two of them had a lot in common.
Riku had a lot in common with Sam, too.
Cutting his eyes away from Dean’s face, Riku started walking again, following the ever growing sense of the Keyhole that he felt in his gut. At the same time, he was using the movement as an excuse not to look at Dean as Riku said in a low voice, “Man, I wonder where that sounds familiar from? I met this guy once, when I was little, and I had one wish. I wanted to be strong enough so I could protect what mattered most to me, and to keep those I cared for safe. It’s because of him that I can use the Keyblade, but I screwed things up, big time. I let my good intentions blind me to the fact that I’d fallen in with a bad crowd, and I used the strength I’d wanted so desperately to hurt instead of protect. Sora managed to knock my head out of my ass for me, but it’s haunted me ever since. I keep going back over my actions, trying to find where it all went wrong, to find the one thing I could do over to change everything. I wonder sometimes if my friends really do trust me, ‘cause I sure as hell don’t trust myself at times. Good intentions can screw you over, no matter what you do. Kind of makes it hard to try to be good, huh?”
Dean was looking at Riku, making him really uncomfortable. He was ridiculously happy when they finally reached the height of the Keyhole energy, a massive red oak in the center of the forest. Riku looked it up and down, trying to find where the lock for his key was, when Dean pointed higher up in the branches and said, “Right there, on the left side. Is that it?”
A faint glimmer pierced the dappled sunlight, and Riku could feel it in his heart, the energy flowing from the Keyhole and the energy of the world’s own heart just beyond it. Riku nodded his head, raising Way to Dawn into the air as he said, “Yeah, that’s it. Let’s just get Sam and Sora over here, right?”
Riku shot a burst of fire into the air, careful to make sure none of the spell caught any of the trees alight. Once that was done, all the two of them could do was wait for Sam and Sora to get there. Riku studied the Keyhole, letting the warmth emanating from it calm his nervousness after spilling all of that to Dean. Riku was a little surprised when he felt a hand drop onto his shoulder, and even more flustered when he realized that the pressure from the touch had caused him to jump slightly.
Dean laughed softly, the good natured laugh of an older brother as their younger sibling did something funny. Dean caught Riku’s eye, no mean feat considering the teen was doing his damndest not to look the Hunter in the eye; but Dean’s green eyes finally caught Riku’s blue ones as Dean said, “Like you said, sometimes it’s hard to be good. But I guess that’s part of being a brother, isn’t it? Rolling with the shit that life and your siblings throw at you and giving as good as you get.”
Riku nodded, a slight smile crawling across his face. “Yeah. And it’s not like I didn’t return the favor. Sora got into some serious trouble cause he’s too gullible, and I had to bale his ass out of it. What kind of thanks do you think I got from him?”
“Hey, it’s not my fault you got back too late for the party.”
Dean and Riku turned around, watching as Sora and Sam walked into the clearing. Sora had that big, goofy grin of his on his face, but Riku could see that the events of their Mark of Mastery were still playing around in Sora’s head too. Riku also noticed the set to Sam’s shoulders, and that the younger Winchester seemed to be slightly more at ease than he had been before they split up.
Maybe Riku and Dean hadn’t been the only ones to talk.
Riku arched a brow, giving Sora a look as he walked up closer to them. Riku waited just a moment longer before shooting back, “Right, and have to wear those stupid glasses that you had on? I think I’ll pass, thanks.”
“Aw, you’re just jealous. Is this the Keyhole?” Finishing up their banter while also getting to the matter at hand, Sora studied the oak that loomed over the four of them, craning his head back to look into its upper branches.
Riku followed Sora’s gaze, once again finding the small point of light that marked the entrance to the heart of the world. Gripping his Keyblade tight, Riku affirmed, “Yeah, this is it. So, are we gonna do this?”
Sora raised his own Keyblade in answer. Lifting his as well, Riku concentrated, shooting a beam of light from the end of the Keyblade at the same time that a similar shaft of light appeared at the tip of Sora’s blade. Both beams arched through the air, sliding effortlessly through the Keyhole. As the light faded, a soft yet audible click echoed down to them, like the turn of a door lock, signifying that the world’s heart was safe and secured from the Heartless.
Turning around to face the Winchesters, Sora raised his arm in salute to them and said, “Well, I guess this is goodbye.”
Sam cocked his head to the side, a little bit perplexed as he asked, “But, how are you guys going to get back to… wherever it is you’re going?”
Riku shrugged as he said cautiously, “Truth is, where here, but not really here. This is a dream for us, so all we really have to do is wake up, and we’ll be back in our world.”
Dean narrowed a close look at Riku as he asked, “And how can you do that?”
Sora was the one that answered this time, “Well, Riku’s been named a Master of the Keyblade, so he can do that kind of thing if he wants to. We’ve been trying to help some people out that are sleeping, cause we kinda need their help for this war we’re in the middle of, but we got dumped here somehow during one of the dives. I guess Riku probably sensed you guys needed some help here. It’s not like that’s the first time he’s done something like that.”
Dean looked over at Riku, and Riku knew that Dean had figured out what time Sora was referring to. Giving a quick nod to the silver haired boy, Dean said, “Keep your chin up, both of you. And don’t forget what we talked about, okay, Riku?”
“Kay.” Riku nodded in return to Dean, and then closed his eyes. All he had to do was will himself to, and…
~-----------~
Riku’s eyes flew open, and he found himself staring at the wall of his room in Yensid’s tower. Looking over, Riku could see that Sora was just starting to wake up himself.
They were back.