Eddie’s Words

[Edema Rue she/her]

1 hour ago, RoyalBeeMage said:

i recently watched it and now i am addicted to writng small town mysteries... 

that trio plus erica in season 3 were soo under rated IMO

Season 3 is literally peak just because of them

[RoyalBeeMage he/him]

On 5/13/2025 at 8:06 PM, Spark of Hope said:

You can’t spell America without Erica

that had me laughing so much!

On 5/13/2025 at 9:09 PM, Edema Rue said:

Season 3 is literally peak just because of them

season 3 also has the best cinematics and plot out of all of them. also the colours are the best! i love me that body horror with bright colours!

[Edema Rue she/her]

hello if you’re new and seeing this PLEASE READ IT AND COMMENT YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW HAPPY YOU’LL MAKE ME

*ahem*

Learn to swim:

Spoiler

“What’s that?”

Lance looked up, grinning. He held up his hand, and the metallic butterfly fluttered its wings. “Pretty, isn’t it?”

Claud raised an eyebrow. “I’d agree, except that you’re using team resources…”

Lance rolled his eyes. “It’s meant for surveillance. The wings are quiet enough so as not to drown out conversations, and large enough that they can record a wider area than more traditional bugs.”

“Like spiders,” Quori called down from the loft. “And flies.”

“Exactly!” Lance set down the butterfly and pointed his wrench at her. He turned back to Claud. “Downright boring, that’s what I think of flies and spiders.”

“I like your spiders.”

“You like killing things,” Lance retorted. “That’s different. If you liked my spiders, you wouldn’t lose so many. And you’d name them.”

“Naming your equipment is stupid.”

“Ah! That’s your first problem. They aren’t equipment.”

“I like it,” Quori said. Somehow she had gotten from the loft to the floor. Lance jumped, glaring. She giggled. “When do I get one?”

“It’s just a prototype,” Lance mumbled. “Until we can get schematics, I have to make every single one by hand. And considering your history with them, that means this one won’t last the week.”

Quori rolled her eyes, gingerly picking up the clockwork creature. Lance stopped himself from wincing. “I wouldn’t hurt anything this pretty…it could be a hairpin.” It was admittedly stunning against her dark hair. “I feel like a princess. Will you make me more hairpins, Whirr?”

Lance smiled at the nickname. It had started as an insult—something about the way he was only useful because of all the things that whirred—but now it meant he belonged. “That’s a little expensive for jewelry.”

She sighed dramatically, setting the clockwork creature down. “Boring, isn’t he?” She whispered loudly.

Claud just shook his head, leaning against the wall and sliding to the floor. “Never thought I’d be working with some pompous schoolboy.”

“Never thought I’d be working,” Lance muttered. 

Quori snickered. “Maybe you should quit. I could finally work with another girl!”

“Wait,” Claud said, feigning shock. “You mean to tell me that our buddy here isn’t a girl? He had me fooled!”

“Ha, ha.” Lance started sorting his mess of gears and wires into a collection of bins. A mess was fine while he worked, but as soon as he was done, tidiness was expected. At least, it was where he was from. It wasn’t anymore, but the habit had served him well. “Have you guys heard anything about our next job?”

Quori shrugged. “It’s supposed to be a big one, right? Something about order between worlds.”

“Tedious,” Claud said, yawning. “They want us to think it’s a big deal. That’s how you know it’ll be boring.”

“None of our jobs are boring,” Lance interjected.

Claud snickered. “Have any of us died?”

“No, but—”

“That means it’s boring.”

“Or,” Lance said, “it means you’re stupid. Just a theory.”

“I think I’m with Whirr on this one,” Quori said apologetically. “I’d rather stay alive than be entertained.”

Claud groaned, opening his mouth with a retort just as the door swung open. The three of them immediately snapped to attention, even though the person who entered was a boy no older than they were, wearing the same uniform they wore. Only he wore it like he deserved it, and his posture carried a presence that none of the others possessed. 

“Peter,” Lance said. “New job?”

“Yes,” Peter said coldly. “We have thirty minutes to be offworld. There are assassins moving towards us as we speak. Travel alone. I’ll see you at Gland in fifteen minutes.” Peter turned, letting the door swing shut behind him. Lance opened his mouth to comment, then realized that Quori and Claud had vanished as if into thin air.

“I should’ve stayed at school,” he moaned, adding the butterfly to his pack and tossing the leftover bits and pieces into a hidden drawer. This life—always on the move, always running, waiting for the next job or the next attack—didn’t suit him. Then, shouldering his pack, he took off running.

Two worlds and nine minutes later, Lance walked into Gland. The inn was built high in the towering trees of Redd, a peaceful planet that thrived on tourism but still managed to feel intimate and isolated. Lance hurried into the large room that they used whenever they stopped here. He was last. How was he last? At least he wasn’t late this time. Peter wasn’t technically supposed to punish them, but missing one of his deadlines was an experience Lance hoped never to have again.

“So?” Claud’s eyes were wholly focused on Peter. “What’s the job?”

“Assassination.” Quori grinned, and Lance felt a whisper of relief. Assassination meant that he ran surveillance and worked with the tech—the job he’d expected to do all the time. It meant Quori went in alone, moving through the shadows like some sort of wraith. It meant Claud was backup.

“Seriously?” Claud scowled. “Assassinations are easy. Why can’t one of the other cells cover it?”

“This,” Peter said, “isn’t a regular job. A group of Lance’s old classmates needs to be disposed of.”

Lance started. “But that’s asking for interplanetary warfare. Those are the sons and daughters of the most powerful people in the most powerful worlds. Stars, half the Council has kids at that school.”

“So,” Peter said, tilting his head and smiling so sweetly that Lance wondered whether he was a person  or a monster, “it must be an irrefutable accident.”

“Weather,” Quori suggested. “We just have to wait for a big storm, lure them out. Lightning strikes. Maybe a mudslide. They freeze to death?”

“We can’t let their bodies be found.”

Quori sucked on her lower lip. “So it has to be such an obvious accident that no one blames anyone else, but we can’t leave their bodies. Guess I see why this one fell to us.”

“Why do we have to take the bodies?”

“There are rumors that the gods are not as impartial as they once were. Rumors of the privileged coming back to life.”

“Wonderful.”

“It gets better.” Lance swallowed. Claud laughed. “We have to be in place, prepared, the instant the order comes. It could be next week. It could be next month. We don’t know, but we have to be ready at any moment.”

“So…what’s the plan?” Claud looked much more excited now.

“You know, I’ve always thought you and Quori should have been given a chance at formal education.”

Quori’s mouth dropped. “You’re sending us to school?”

“Lance will make sure you fit in.”

“You’re sending us to school and putting Whirr in charge?”

“Are you questioning orders, soldier?” Peter was still smiling. Lance felt a chill crawl up his spine.

“A bit, yeah,” Quori said darkly. “It’s a hard job. We’ve done hard jobs. There are other ways to get it done besides humiliating us.”

“I’m sure there are.”

“Why are you choosing this one?”

“Balance.”

“What?” 

Peter raised an eyebrow, slowly, intentionally. “Do you really need me to explain? Claud, you understand, don’t you?”

Gritting his teeth, Claud nodded.

“Lance?”

Lance nodded, not meeting Quori’s eyes.

“Why don’t you tell her, then?”

Lance looked away. Quori was proud. Peter knew that. She already balked at his orders, and this would take it from bad to worse. But Peter knew that too, and if Lance was honest, he trusted Peter’s judgement a lot more than his own. “You’re incredible at what you do,” he said, trying to keep his voice mechanical and businesslike. “But you’re very specialized. You’ve never done anything outside of your area of expertise, and it’s a weakness he refuses to tolerate.”

Quori’s face was scarlet, both from embarrassment and fury. “Refuses to tolerate weaknesses, huh? Why keep you around, then?”

“That’s enough,” Peter said. To Lance’s surprise, Quori fell silent. “You think we’re the best,” he said, eyes on Quori. “Right?”

A nod.

“And you?”

Claud nodded. 

He didn’t ask Lance. “You’re right. Of all the cells, we are their elite. When there is work that no one else can handle, they come to us. They came to this cell when I was a brand new recruit. They came to us when it was Claud and I and two soldiers who are dead now. They came to us when it was Claud and Quori and I. They come to us now. Do you think they’d come if Lance was the same brat he’d been when he got here?”

Quori snickered, but her eyes stayed dark. Mistrusting.

Claud crossed his arms. “Guess he’s not quite as stupid. No offense, Whirr.”

“None taken,” Lance replied automatically, eyes still on Peter. What was he doing?

“He’s been a fish in a tree since he joined,” Peter said. “But you can both tell he’s adapted.” They nodded. “It’s your turn. That is what sets us apart. That is what makes this cell the best. No one is allowed to be incompetent in any area.”

Quori closed her eyes. When she opened them, the darkness had faded. She was not entirely happy, but now she was working. This was an obstacle, not an insult. Lance marvelled at the change. “This is dangerous. Staying in one place for so long, with a regular schedule…it’s not like we don’t have enemies.”

“That’s my part. While you three attend classes, network, and gain the trust of our targets, I’ll be keeping you alive and monitoring the status of another cell, who must complete their assignment before we can do ours.”

“You aren’t staying.” Claud looked oddly bothered. “You’re disappearing.”

Peter met his eyes. Something passed between them. Then he smiled, not the monster smile but a quirky grin that reminded Lance he was a child. “Too many people at that school remember me. Everything will run smoother if I stay out of the picture.”

Lance’s jaw dropped. “You went to school there? But…”

Peter winked. “Ready to meet the ocean, little monkeys?”

Spoiler

@Spark of Hope have I put any scenes with Whirr up here? If so, this is his backstory. If not, you’re in for a roller coaster

 

[Through the Living Hope]

11 minutes ago, Edema Rue said:

hello if you’re new and seeing this PLEASE READ IT AND COMMENT YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW HAPPY YOU’LL MAKE ME

*ahem*

Learn to swim:

  Reveal hidden contents

“What’s that?”

Lance looked up, grinning. He held up his hand, and the metallic butterfly fluttered its wings. “Pretty, isn’t it?”

Claud raised an eyebrow. “I’d agree, except that you’re using team resources…”

Lance rolled his eyes. “It’s meant for surveillance. The wings are quiet enough so as not to drown out conversations, and large enough that they can record a wider area than more traditional bugs.”

“Like spiders,” Quori called down from the loft. “And flies.”

“Exactly!” Lance set down the butterfly and pointed his wrench at her. He turned back to Claud. “Downright boring, that’s what I think of flies and spiders.”

“I like your spiders.”

“You like killing things,” Lance retorted. “That’s different. If you liked my spiders, you wouldn’t lose so many. And you’d name them.”

“Naming your equipment is stupid.”

“Ah! That’s your first problem. They aren’t equipment.”

“I like it,” Quori said. Somehow she had gotten from the loft to the floor. Lance jumped, glaring. She giggled. “When do I get one?”

“It’s just a prototype,” Lance mumbled. “Until we can get schematics, I have to make every single one by hand. And considering your history with them, that means this one won’t last the week.”

Quori rolled her eyes, gingerly picking up the clockwork creature. Lance stopped himself from wincing. “I wouldn’t hurt anything this pretty…it could be a hairpin.” It was admittedly stunning against her dark hair. “I feel like a princess. Will you make me more hairpins, Whirr?”

Lance smiled at the nickname. It had started as an insult—something about the way he was only useful because of all the things that whirred—but now it meant he belonged. “That’s a little expensive for jewelry.”

She sighed dramatically, setting the clockwork creature down. “Boring, isn’t he?” She whispered loudly.

Claud just shook his head, leaning against the wall and sliding to the floor. “Never thought I’d be working with some pompous schoolboy.”

“Never thought I’d be working,” Lance muttered. 

Quori snickered. “Maybe you should quit. I could finally work with another girl!”

“Wait,” Claud said, feigning shock. “You mean to tell me that our buddy here isn’t a girl? He had me fooled!”

“Ha, ha.” Lance started sorting his mess of gears and wires into a collection of bins. A mess was fine while he worked, but as soon as he was done, tidiness was expected. At least, it was where he was from. It wasn’t anymore, but the habit had served him well. “Have you guys heard anything about our next job?”

Quori shrugged. “It’s supposed to be a big one, right? Something about order between worlds.”

“Tedious,” Claud said, yawning. “They want us to think it’s a big deal. That’s how you know it’ll be boring.”

“None of our jobs are boring,” Lance interjected.

Claud snickered. “Have any of us died?”

“No, but—”

“That means it’s boring.”

“Or,” Lance said, “it means you’re stupid. Just a theory.”

“I think I’m with Whirr on this one,” Quori said apologetically. “I’d rather stay alive than be entertained.”

Claud groaned, opening his mouth with a retort just as the door swung open. The three of them immediately snapped to attention, even though the person who entered was a boy no older than they were, wearing the same uniform they wore. Only he wore it like he deserved it, and his posture carried a presence that none of the others possessed. 

“Peter,” Lance said. “New job?”

“Yes,” Peter said coldly. “We have thirty minutes to be offworld. There are assassins moving towards us as we speak. Travel alone. I’ll see you at Gland in fifteen minutes.” Peter turned, letting the door swing shut behind him. Lance opened his mouth to comment, then realized that Quori and Claud had vanished as if into thin air.

“I should’ve stayed at school,” he moaned, adding the butterfly to his pack and tossing the leftover bits and pieces into a hidden drawer. This life—always on the move, always running, waiting for the next job or the next attack—didn’t suit him. Then, shouldering his pack, he took off running.

Two worlds and nine minutes later, Lance walked into Gland. The inn was built high in the towering trees of Redd, a peaceful planet that thrived on tourism but still managed to feel intimate and isolated. Lance hurried into the large room that they used whenever they stopped here. He was last. How was he last? At least he wasn’t late this time. Peter wasn’t technically supposed to punish them, but missing one of his deadlines was an experience Lance hoped never to have again.

“So?” Claud’s eyes were wholly focused on Peter. “What’s the job?”

“Assassination.” Quori grinned, and Lance felt a whisper of relief. Assassination meant that he ran surveillance and worked with the tech—the job he’d expected to do all the time. It meant Quori went in alone, moving through the shadows like some sort of wraith. It meant Claud was backup.

“Seriously?” Claud scowled. “Assassinations are easy. Why can’t one of the other cells cover it?”

“This,” Peter said, “isn’t a regular job. A group of Lance’s old classmates needs to be disposed of.”

Lance started. “But that’s asking for interplanetary warfare. Those are the sons and daughters of the most powerful people in the most powerful worlds. Stars, half the Council has kids at that school.”

“So,” Peter said, tilting his head and smiling so sweetly that Lance wondered whether he was a person  or a monster, “it must be an irrefutable accident.”

“Weather,” Quori suggested. “We just have to wait for a big storm, lure them out. Lightning strikes. Maybe a mudslide. They freeze to death?”

“We can’t let their bodies be found.”

Quori sucked on her lower lip. “So it has to be such an obvious accident that no one blames anyone else, but we can’t leave their bodies. Guess I see why this one fell to us.”

“Why do we have to take the bodies?”

“There are rumors that the gods are not as impartial as they once were. Rumors of the privileged coming back to life.”

“Wonderful.”

“It gets better.” Lance swallowed. Claud laughed. “We have to be in place, prepared, the instant the order comes. It could be next week. It could be next month. We don’t know, but we have to be ready at any moment.”

“So…what’s the plan?” Claud looked much more excited now.

“You know, I’ve always thought you and Quori should have been given a chance at formal education.”

Quori’s mouth dropped. “You’re sending us to school?”

“Lance will make sure you fit in.”

“You’re sending us to school and putting Whirr in charge?”

“Are you questioning orders, soldier?” Peter was still smiling. Lance felt a chill crawl up his spine.

“A bit, yeah,” Quori said darkly. “It’s a hard job. We’ve done hard jobs. There are other ways to get it done besides humiliating us.”

“I’m sure there are.”

“Why are you choosing this one?”

“Balance.”

“What?” 

Peter raised an eyebrow, slowly, intentionally. “Do you really need me to explain? Claud, you understand, don’t you?”

Gritting his teeth, Claud nodded.

“Lance?”

Lance nodded, not meeting Quori’s eyes.

“Why don’t you tell her, then?”

Lance looked away. Quori was proud. Peter knew that. She already balked at his orders, and this would take it from bad to worse. But Peter knew that too, and if Lance was honest, he trusted Peter’s judgement a lot more than his own. “You’re incredible at what you do,” he said, trying to keep his voice mechanical and businesslike. “But you’re very specialized. You’ve never done anything outside of your area of expertise, and it’s a weakness he refuses to tolerate.”

Quori’s face was scarlet, both from embarrassment and fury. “Refuses to tolerate weaknesses, huh? Why keep you around, then?”

“That’s enough,” Peter said. To Lance’s surprise, Quori fell silent. “You think we’re the best,” he said, eyes on Quori. “Right?”

A nod.

“And you?”

Claud nodded. 

He didn’t ask Lance. “You’re right. Of all the cells, we are their elite. When there is work that no one else can handle, they come to us. They came to this cell when I was a brand new recruit. They came to us when it was Claud and I and two soldiers who are dead now. They came to us when it was Claud and Quori and I. They come to us now. Do you think they’d come if Lance was the same brat he’d been when he got here?”

Quori snickered, but her eyes stayed dark. Mistrusting.

Claud crossed his arms. “Guess he’s not quite as stupid. No offense, Whirr.”

“None taken,” Lance replied automatically, eyes still on Peter. What was he doing?

“He’s been a fish in a tree since he joined,” Peter said. “But you can both tell he’s adapted.” They nodded. “It’s your turn. That is what sets us apart. That is what makes this cell the best. No one is allowed to be incompetent in any area.”

Quori closed her eyes. When she opened them, the darkness had faded. She was not entirely happy, but now she was working. This was an obstacle, not an insult. Lance marvelled at the change. “This is dangerous. Staying in one place for so long, with a regular schedule…it’s not like we don’t have enemies.”

“That’s my part. While you three attend classes, network, and gain the trust of our targets, I’ll be keeping you alive and monitoring the status of another cell, who must complete their assignment before we can do ours.”

“You aren’t staying.” Claud looked oddly bothered. “You’re disappearing.”

Peter met his eyes. Something passed between them. Then he smiled, not the monster smile but a quirky grin that reminded Lance he was a child. “Too many people at that school remember me. Everything will run smoother if I stay out of the picture.”

Lance’s jaw dropped. “You went to school there? But…”

Peter winked. “Ready to meet the ocean, little monkeys?”

  Reveal hidden contents

@Spark of Hope have I put any scenes with Whirr up here? If so, this is his backstory. If not, you’re in for a roller coaster

 

I will sometime soon!

[Edema Rue she/her]

On 4/30/2025 at 6:13 PM, Edema Rue said:

I wrote

uh

something

 

@Through The Living Glass@RoyalBeeMage it grew but I think it's still technically a monologue

Restless:

  Reveal hidden contents

“You know about the fire, because that was when I came to stay with you. I was only there for a few weeks before they took you. Then it was just me and the kids. I mean, I say kids. They were only a few years younger than me, and I don’t think they needed a babysitter. I know, I know. Everything is a mess, and people like you, who remember the world before all of this…

“I’m not saying I blame you. That’s all. I got it, and they did too, but the only thing they really needed me for was food. I’ve told you this much before, but I didn’t really explain how I spent my time. It was that old car of yours. It hadn’t worked in forever—that’s what the kids told me, anyway—and there wasn’t much point to trying. But most of the roads around your place were still pretty whole, and I wasn’t exactly busy. So I fixed it up. Found some gas in that old shed you have, and…I just drove. I guess that's something people used to do before. I wouldn’t know. It was wasteful and stupid of me, but I wanted it the way I haven’t wanted something in a long time. Do you know that feeling?

“Well, I drove. I wasn’t going fast—I’d only driven once before—but it felt like magic. You always used to say that magic is only technology we don’t understand, so maybe this is me admitting how dumb I am. But if being dumb lets me feel what I felt that day, I’ll never learn anything again. It was pure freedom. No one and nothing in my way. I made it out to one of those big roads…what did you call them, freeways? Yeah. I’d seen them before, but never like that. Your section is pretty crowded with old cars and little huts, but once I got out of the city it was nothing but road. I started going faster and faster…I knew it was wrong, but the wind was blowing through the broken windows and that feeling was all that mattered. 

“The car broke. I hadn’t even thought to bring tools, so there I was, miles and miles from the city in a car that didn’t work. It didn’t bother me, though. Isn’t that weird? It should have, but I’ve always reacted differently to things like that. Some corner of my mind knew that it was your car, that I’d wasted time and resources and now the kids were alone. But there are a lot of kids growing up alone these days, and yours were luckier than most. They had friends, support, school. I guess that doesn’t give you a lot of hope, because I had those same things, and look at me now. But they’re not like me. Maybe it sounds narcissistic, but I’m starting to wonder if anyone is like me.

“The point is, I’ve always been this way. I used to skip days of classes without any idea why. I’d wander, get into fights. Drove my parents crazy, but they wanted what was best for me, and I think we were all starting to question what the classes did besides use time. Some kids needed that. No judgement here. But me, I’d jitter and chafe against it. By the end of each day, I was convinced that it was all designed as some twisted personal torture. I did well, though. It was just that I got their assignments done in decaying shopping malls and on the roofs of forgotten skyscrapers. I never messed with drugs or the gangs. Maybe I would’ve, but you have to know people to get involved with any of that, and I never got on well with others. It was probably pretty obvious to you and all the adults, actually. I am a lonesome creature. It isn’t as romantic as it sounds, but…at least it’s consistent.

“Anyway, I didn’t have a problem with being lost without supplies or transport. The road was empty for miles on end, and the overpasses weren’t even crumbling. So I got out and started walking. Not towards home, either. People don’t travel much, obviously, and I was surprised to realize that I’d never been that far from the city. I didn’t even care that it was dangerous. I was thinking like an animal, like nothing mattered past the moment I was living in. After a couple miles, it started to rain. Softly, then in thick, warm sheets. A summer rain. I remember the smell. It shocked me more than anything else. Water on asphalt has a unique smell, and while it wasn’t a new one to me, on the empty freeway it was overpowering. It made me feel alive for the first time since the fire. With my family gone, it was hard to feel anything. That might be what made me so reckless. But there in the rain, I felt something like hope. For myself, for this broken world, for other loners. I ran until I tasted blood—which, embarrassingly, wasn’t very long—and then I laughed until my stomach ached. I was in control enough not to drink the rain. For the first time in my entire life, death sounded appalling. I kept walking until I heard something that sounded like singing. I hadn’t seen another person since I left the city, so of course I was curious. They were on the other side of the concrete barrier that separated the two sides of the freeway, so I climbed over. On the other side, I saw three people, spinning and singing in the rain.

“I barely even thought about it. I knew the tune, so I started singing and made my way to their circle. The wind picked up, and for a moment I barely felt human. It was like the whole world was laughing with us, and we were its spirits, its fae creatures. The storm passed and I started to continue on my way. But one of them called after me.

“‘Where you headed?’ He asked. 

“‘I don’t know,’ I said, and honestly.

“He smiled. I remember how open and warm he was. ‘Towards, or away?’

“I got the sense that he wasn’t asking about anything specific. He wanted to know if I was running towards the future or away from the past. I waited a little too long to answer, but he was patient. ‘A little of both, I guess.’

“‘Does it have to be alone?

“I started walking back towards them. I noticed that they’d collected the rainwater into collapsible buckets and the girl was slowly filtering it into water bottles. ‘No,’ I decided, and that was all that needed to be said on the matter. From there on, I was with them.

“Before you get angry, I didn’t know anything about the world. I didn't understand how lucky I was to have met good people—and they are good people—before getting into any real trouble. Most people like me end up a lot worse off…I remember how embarrassed I was at first. I hadn’t brought clothes or supplies. I hadn’t even admitted to myself that I was running away. In fact, I don’t think I realized that until the second week. I’ll spare you the details of walking and surviving and scouring old cars for anything we could use. It isn’t that I don’t want to tell you, it’s that I can’t explain it without making it sound like misery. It wasn’t. It was paradise, emotions I’d started to think didn’t exist, at least not anymore. It was dreams and family like I’ve never seen before, a connection that went deeper than one conversation. It was safe.

“Then we got further from the city, and the monsters turned up. Like I said, I’ve gotten into fights before. I held my own. Iz, though, the other girl, she killed them as if she’d been born for it. I’m still not convinced she’s human. Darren and Trif were closer to my level, and we could sometimes take down one while she fought three. They were huge, beautiful creatures. I know that isn’t what you’ve heard before. But you’ve never seen one, have you? I didn’t think so…I guess, though, that maybe they wouldn’t look that way to you. Have you ever thought about that? We see this world through completely different eyes. You see cracks. I see caves. You see this world as old and broken and burnt out. But I think it becomes something new every day. I’m not saying you’re depressed or anything–except I think your generation had some problems with that–I’m just saying that the world you grew up in isn’t this one, and there is beauty in places that are jarring and unfamiliar to you. Maybe it’s dumb, but I think this world understands me. It feels my restlessness…

“Restless. That’s one of my favorite ways to describe myself. I don’t think I can rest. There’s always something in me that has to be moving, bouncing or fidgeting or escaping. Can’t escape this place, though, can I? I don’t want you to answer that. I don’t think you even tried. Yeah. Yeah, whatever. How long did it take them to let you out? Two? Two what? Weeks, months, year–you’re joking. No, I don’t care. I’ll find my way out. I’m not going to be a prisoner for two years and just hope they don’t try to keep me any longer. I don’t know how you knew I was here, how they let you in for a visit, or why you thought I wanted to see you. Get out. I’m not like you. That was all I’ve been trying to say, but I guess you didn’t get it. I hope the kids are good. I hope you’re all happy without me, because you won’t be seeing me again until my picture is plastered around this whole city because I got out, and after that you won’t see me at all.”

 

On 5/9/2025 at 11:55 PM, Edema Rue said:

Caretaker:

  Reveal hidden contents

“Good morning. How are you feeling today?”

”I’m not answering your questions.”

“I understand that you must be feeling a lot of stress.”

“Get out, or I’ll kill you.”

“I’ll be back tomorrow, then.”

 

“Good morning. How are you feeling today?”

“Go away.”

“Everyone’s worried about you, Dali.”

“That isn’t my name.”

“Are you sure?”

“I said go away!”

“Make sure to finish your breakfast.”

 

“Good morning. How are you feeling today? I’m afraid staying quiet isn’t going to make me leave.”

“Then what will?”

“Nothing. I have a job to do, after all. Any pain? You’re looking much better.”

“If I’m better, let me out.”

“You know that’s not how this works, Dali.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“What should I call you?”

“I—what did you do to me? Why can’t I remember my name?”

“Your name is Dali. It has always been Dali.”

“I hate you.”

 

“Good morning. How are you feeling today?”

“I’m bleeding.”

“I can see that. What happened?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Would you like me to take you to the nurse?”

“No.”

“I’ll bring her here. Lie down, okay?”

 

“Good morning. How are you feeling today?”

“Like a dog.”

“Dali, I think that was the first time you’ve actually answered one of my questions. Thank you!”

“You’re insane.”

“I’m grateful. I want to get to know you, but you’ve been so cold. I was worried you were getting lonely.”

“I’m not lonely.”

“Of course not. But if you ever are, that’s why I’m here.”

“You’re better than Teacher.”

“Don’t say that. Teacher pushes you to grow, and sometimes it’s uncomfortable. That’s all.”

“He scares me.”

“I’ll speak to him. Would you like that?”

“Yes.”

 

“Good morning. How are you feeling today?”

“Caretaker, why don’t you ever ask something different?”

“Would you like me to?”

“No.”

“Then that’s why.”

“I won Teacher’s game today.”

“Did you really? That’s wonderful.”

“I’ve never won before. Teacher punished everyone else and I couldn’t stop him.”

“How did that make you feel?”

“Ugly. Like everyone hated me.”

“Dali, do you remember who won the game last week?”

“No.”

“Next week, do you think they’ll remember that you won?”

“I’ll remember.”

“Maybe they hated you then. But they won’t always. It was Teacher who hurt them, not you.”

“Are you saying that Teacher is bad?”

“I think you should forget the last part of this conversation, all right?”

 

“Good morning. How are you—”

“I won again! I’ve won five times in a row now. Teacher says that if I win one more game, I’ll be the best he’s ever seen.”

“Really?”

“He blinked once before he said it, just like you told me. So maybe he was lying. But I know that he’s proud of me.”

“I’m glad.”

“Are you proud of me? You never say so.”

“I suppose I am. You’ve come very far.”

“You would think so.”

“Excuse me?”

“Whatever I’m becoming isn’t progress. One more slave in a prison.”

“You still believe that?”

“Don’t pretend I fooled you.”

“You did. I thought you were becoming like all the others.”

“You don’t get it. I have to lie or they’ll tear me apart.”

“I understand better than you know.”

“Whatever. Just…go away.”

 

“Good morning.”

“Aren’t you going to ask how I’m doing?”

“You’ve made a point not to answer.”

“Maybe I had something to say.”

“How are you doing today?”

“I changed my mind.”

“How…surprising.”

“Do you want to know what’s really surprising, Caretaker?”

“Please, tell me.”

“I saw you. They were bringing me back from one of the tests and I saw you in a room with Teacher and the guards.”

“We do work together, Dali.”

“They were hurting you the way Teacher hurts the others after I win.”

“You win often now, don’t you?”

“Every day. Don’t try to distract me.”

“I wasn’t aware that’s what I was doing.”

“Why was Teacher hurting you?”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

“Good morning. How are you feeling today?”

“I thought you weren’t asking that anymore.”

“How are you feeling today?”

“Why are you asking that?”

“Rules must be enforced. If you continue to break the rules, there will be consequences.”

“Caretaker, there are red spots on your shirt.”

“Oh. So there are. I’ll change right away. Thank you for bringing this unprofessionalism to my attention.”

“Wait! Tell me—”

 

“Good morning. How are you feeling today?”

“My head hurts. What happened?”

“One of Teacher’s tests went wrong. You’ve been asleep for almost a week.”

“Oh.”

“Can you open your eyes?”

“I don’t want to.”

“Don’t open them, then. We’ll have a nice talk once you feel better.”

 

“I want you to look at me, only me, and react as if we’re having a regular conversation. Can you do that?”

“Caretaker?”

“You’ll have to. Dali, Teacher is planning something big.”

“Something bad?”

“That’s right. It may mean you leave this place. I won’t be able to protect you anymore.”

“You can’t come?”

“You aren’t the only prisoner here, Dali. The difference is that I have to smile through it, and no tears will be shed if I get in an accident.”

“I’d cry for you.”

“That’s sweet. Listen, I—too late.”

 

“Teacher!”

“Good morning, Dali.”

“What are you doing here?”

“We’re here for an extra special lesson. Caretaker, if you would?”

“What’s he doing?”

“Setting up our lesson. You know, he used to be quite a rebel. Curious, how people change.”

“Did you do something to him? Why is he so quiet?”

“I’ve asked him not to speak today. I believe he needed a reminder of the rules. You remember the importance of rules, don’t you?”

“Yes, Teacher.”

“That will be all. Leave us, Caretaker.”

 

“Good morning. How are you feeling today?”

“What did Teacher do to you?”

“Nothing, Dali. How are you feeling today?”

“Did you break the rules?”

“I suppose I did. That isn’t important right now.”

“Why did you break the rules?”

“I guess I thought there was something more important.”

“Was there?”

“I think that’s a question for when Teacher isn’t keeping such a close eye on me.”

“Does Teacher have to follow the rules?”

“Everyone follows the rules. Teacher’s rules are just a little bit different than yours.”

“Are your rules different than mine?”

“A little bit, yes.”

“You don’t have tests and games.”

“Not like you do, Aria.”

“What?”

“Is something wrong?”

“Why did you call me Aria?”

“You must have misheard me. I said Dali.”

“No…oh! I understand, Caretaker.”

 

“Good morning. How are you feeling today?”

“We need to talk.”

“Of course. That’s what I’m here for.”

“Not like this. I understand what Teacher is doing.”

“Teacher is training you to be heroes.”

“Caretaker, please, we have to—stop it. Don’t leave!”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Dali.”

“Don’t call me that. My name is Aria.”

“You have a big test today. It’s time for me to go.”

“I’m going to fail the test.”

“You aren’t. You’re the best Teacher has ever seen, remember?”

 “I’m going to fail on purpose.”

“He’ll hurt you.”

“But he won’t send me away.”

“Whether Teacher thinks you’re the best or not, I know that you are the bravest of all his students.”

“Are you telling me to fail?”

“I’m telling you there is a brave choice and a safe choice. If you don’t want to listen to Teacher forever, you’re going to get hurt.”

“Thank you, Caretaker.”

“My job is to care for you.”

“Even when it means breaking the rules? Even when it means Teacher hurts you?”

“That’s my choice, not my work.”

 

“Good morning, Caretaker.”

“Teacher. Is something wrong?”

“Dali failed a test.”

“All students make mistakes.”

“Not Dali.”

“Maybe you expect too much from her.”

“Don’t play with me.”

“Is that what I was doing?”

“You sabotaged her. With that score, no one will take her.”

“That’s terrible.”

“I’m giving her a future and you’re throwing it away. I can assign her a different Caretaker.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

“You’d rather. Have you always been such a pretentious prick, or do you just put this face on whenever I’m around?”

“You chose this.”

“You did this to yourself. You were too weak to train this one student…”

“She’s our sister.”

“Not anymore!”

“Breaking her wasn’t enough for you. Now you have to sell her? Just let her go.”

“Is that how you speak to me, Caretaker?”

“You’re full of–”

“Ah. Try again, or we’ll find you another assignment. Or maybe just a cell.”

“My apologies, Teacher.”

“Don’t interfere with my student again.”

 

“Good morning. How are you feeling today?”

“Teacher hurt me.”

“I know.”

“I failed.”

“I know.”

“I don’t want to be brave. I want to be safe.”

“Then maybe you should have gone.”

“Will I be safe where Teacher sends me?”

“Maybe. I haven’t seen the world outside in a long time.”

“Why don’t you want me to go?”

“There’s more going on than you realize, Dali.”

“Caretaker?”

“Yes?”

“What do you want for me?”

“I want you to be free. But free isn’t the same thing as safe.”

“Does Teacher want me to be free?”

“No.”

“Does Teacher want me to be safe?”

“You are useful to him. He would never waste a tool.”

“Are you a tool?”

“Teacher thinks so.”

“Do you hate Teacher?”

“You’ve got a lot of big questions today. Is something wrong?”

“Something’s been wrong since I got here. My head doesn’t work right. I don’t feel anything as strongly as I’m supposed to. I couldn’t even remember my name until you said it.”

“That’s one of the Teacher’s secrets. It helps him to train you better.”

“Can I ask one more question?

“Of course.”

“Is what we do magic?”

“Magic?”

“Yeah. Teacher calls it a Gift or a Talent, but…that’s the one thing I remember from before. Sitting on someone’s lap and listening to them tell me stories about magic. What I do now feels a lot like that.”

“I think it’s magic. Teacher has never liked that word, but I don’t know of a more perfect description.”

 

“Good morning. How are you feeling today?”

“I want to be free.”

“If that’s true, you’ve got to speak more carefully.”

“What if I attacked Teacher? Then everyone could come with me.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“They don’t want to be free. They want to be safe.”

“I’m stronger than they are. I can make them come with me.”

“If you do that, are you any different than Teacher?”

“Oh.”

“We’ll find a way to get you out. Don’t worry.”

“What about you? You want to be free too, I know it.”

“I’m afraid that won’t work for me.”

“Why not?”

“I’ll die if I leave.”

“Did Teacher do that? I’ll kill him.”

“Dali.”

“What?”

“Please, don’t kill him. Never kill anyone. Will you promise me that?”

“Caretaker, how can I make a promise I’ve already broken?”

“Did Teacher make you?”

“I didn’t want to fail his tests. He told me they were bad people.”

“It’s all right. Focus on what you can change.”

“But Teacher will kill you if you leave. Teacher is bad, and you’ll be safe if he’s gone.”

“Remember what I said about being safe and being free?”

“But you aren’t safe or free.”

“No. But that matters less when you’re with someone you love.”

“You love Teacher?”

“Teacher is my brother. I’ll stand with him, even as he’s becoming something terrible.”

“It would be easier if I killed him.”

“Maybe so. But easier doesn’t always mean better. It’s time to go. The cameras are about to turn back on, and Teacher will get both of us in a lot of trouble if he thinks we’re doing anything suspicious.”

“I won’t kill anyone else, Caretaker.”

“Thank you, Dali.”

“Can you…call me Aria?”

“Of course. When the cameras are off.”

 

“Is this the end?”

“That’s one way of thinking about it. It’s also the beginning.”

“Wise as ever. Stay safe.”

“Stay free.”

“Caretaker?”

“Yes?”

“I know I should know this by now, but…do you have a name?”

“I do. It’s been a long time since anyone used it.”

“Would you tell me? I might not see you again, but…it doesn’t feel right, not knowing.”

“My name is Lukas.”

“Thank you, Lukas. I’ll find a way to get you out. I promise.”

“Goodbye, Aria. I hope we’ll meet again.”

Consider this a…prologue. Yes. Use that as an excuse for why it’s only dialogue. Or that most media I’ve been consuming has been plays and tv. Or that I’ve also been doing more playwriting today. Or just that it fit, and if you’ve read The Slow Regard of Silent Things, you know what I mean.

Also, I might write more that takes place after a CHOOONKY time skip, with a little more world building and emotions and just…the things I usually write.

anyway

may my precious broken friends bring you joy

On 5/25/2025 at 5:06 PM, Edema Rue said:

hello if you’re new and seeing this PLEASE READ IT AND COMMENT YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW HAPPY YOU’LL MAKE ME

*ahem*

Learn to swim:

  Reveal hidden contents

“What’s that?”

Lance looked up, grinning. He held up his hand, and the metallic butterfly fluttered its wings. “Pretty, isn’t it?”

Claud raised an eyebrow. “I’d agree, except that you’re using team resources…”

Lance rolled his eyes. “It’s meant for surveillance. The wings are quiet enough so as not to drown out conversations, and large enough that they can record a wider area than more traditional bugs.”

“Like spiders,” Quori called down from the loft. “And flies.”

“Exactly!” Lance set down the butterfly and pointed his wrench at her. He turned back to Claud. “Downright boring, that’s what I think of flies and spiders.”

“I like your spiders.”

“You like killing things,” Lance retorted. “That’s different. If you liked my spiders, you wouldn’t lose so many. And you’d name them.”

“Naming your equipment is stupid.”

“Ah! That’s your first problem. They aren’t equipment.”

“I like it,” Quori said. Somehow she had gotten from the loft to the floor. Lance jumped, glaring. She giggled. “When do I get one?”

“It’s just a prototype,” Lance mumbled. “Until we can get schematics, I have to make every single one by hand. And considering your history with them, that means this one won’t last the week.”

Quori rolled her eyes, gingerly picking up the clockwork creature. Lance stopped himself from wincing. “I wouldn’t hurt anything this pretty…it could be a hairpin.” It was admittedly stunning against her dark hair. “I feel like a princess. Will you make me more hairpins, Whirr?”

Lance smiled at the nickname. It had started as an insult—something about the way he was only useful because of all the things that whirred—but now it meant he belonged. “That’s a little expensive for jewelry.”

She sighed dramatically, setting the clockwork creature down. “Boring, isn’t he?” She whispered loudly.

Claud just shook his head, leaning against the wall and sliding to the floor. “Never thought I’d be working with some pompous schoolboy.”

“Never thought I’d be working,” Lance muttered. 

Quori snickered. “Maybe you should quit. I could finally work with another girl!”

“Wait,” Claud said, feigning shock. “You mean to tell me that our buddy here isn’t a girl? He had me fooled!”

“Ha, ha.” Lance started sorting his mess of gears and wires into a collection of bins. A mess was fine while he worked, but as soon as he was done, tidiness was expected. At least, it was where he was from. It wasn’t anymore, but the habit had served him well. “Have you guys heard anything about our next job?”

Quori shrugged. “It’s supposed to be a big one, right? Something about order between worlds.”

“Tedious,” Claud said, yawning. “They want us to think it’s a big deal. That’s how you know it’ll be boring.”

“None of our jobs are boring,” Lance interjected.

Claud snickered. “Have any of us died?”

“No, but—”

“That means it’s boring.”

“Or,” Lance said, “it means you’re stupid. Just a theory.”

“I think I’m with Whirr on this one,” Quori said apologetically. “I’d rather stay alive than be entertained.”

Claud groaned, opening his mouth with a retort just as the door swung open. The three of them immediately snapped to attention, even though the person who entered was a boy no older than they were, wearing the same uniform they wore. Only he wore it like he deserved it, and his posture carried a presence that none of the others possessed. 

“Peter,” Lance said. “New job?”

“Yes,” Peter said coldly. “We have thirty minutes to be offworld. There are assassins moving towards us as we speak. Travel alone. I’ll see you at Gland in fifteen minutes.” Peter turned, letting the door swing shut behind him. Lance opened his mouth to comment, then realized that Quori and Claud had vanished as if into thin air.

“I should’ve stayed at school,” he moaned, adding the butterfly to his pack and tossing the leftover bits and pieces into a hidden drawer. This life—always on the move, always running, waiting for the next job or the next attack—didn’t suit him. Then, shouldering his pack, he took off running.

Two worlds and nine minutes later, Lance walked into Gland. The inn was built high in the towering trees of Redd, a peaceful planet that thrived on tourism but still managed to feel intimate and isolated. Lance hurried into the large room that they used whenever they stopped here. He was last. How was he last? At least he wasn’t late this time. Peter wasn’t technically supposed to punish them, but missing one of his deadlines was an experience Lance hoped never to have again.

“So?” Claud’s eyes were wholly focused on Peter. “What’s the job?”

“Assassination.” Quori grinned, and Lance felt a whisper of relief. Assassination meant that he ran surveillance and worked with the tech—the job he’d expected to do all the time. It meant Quori went in alone, moving through the shadows like some sort of wraith. It meant Claud was backup.

“Seriously?” Claud scowled. “Assassinations are easy. Why can’t one of the other cells cover it?”

“This,” Peter said, “isn’t a regular job. A group of Lance’s old classmates needs to be disposed of.”

Lance started. “But that’s asking for interplanetary warfare. Those are the sons and daughters of the most powerful people in the most powerful worlds. Stars, half the Council has kids at that school.”

“So,” Peter said, tilting his head and smiling so sweetly that Lance wondered whether he was a person  or a monster, “it must be an irrefutable accident.”

“Weather,” Quori suggested. “We just have to wait for a big storm, lure them out. Lightning strikes. Maybe a mudslide. They freeze to death?”

“We can’t let their bodies be found.”

Quori sucked on her lower lip. “So it has to be such an obvious accident that no one blames anyone else, but we can’t leave their bodies. Guess I see why this one fell to us.”

“Why do we have to take the bodies?”

“There are rumors that the gods are not as impartial as they once were. Rumors of the privileged coming back to life.”

“Wonderful.”

“It gets better.” Lance swallowed. Claud laughed. “We have to be in place, prepared, the instant the order comes. It could be next week. It could be next month. We don’t know, but we have to be ready at any moment.”

“So…what’s the plan?” Claud looked much more excited now.

“You know, I’ve always thought you and Quori should have been given a chance at formal education.”

Quori’s mouth dropped. “You’re sending us to school?”

“Lance will make sure you fit in.”

“You’re sending us to school and putting Whirr in charge?”

“Are you questioning orders, soldier?” Peter was still smiling. Lance felt a chill crawl up his spine.

“A bit, yeah,” Quori said darkly. “It’s a hard job. We’ve done hard jobs. There are other ways to get it done besides humiliating us.”

“I’m sure there are.”

“Why are you choosing this one?”

“Balance.”

“What?” 

Peter raised an eyebrow, slowly, intentionally. “Do you really need me to explain? Claud, you understand, don’t you?”

Gritting his teeth, Claud nodded.

“Lance?”

Lance nodded, not meeting Quori’s eyes.

“Why don’t you tell her, then?”

Lance looked away. Quori was proud. Peter knew that. She already balked at his orders, and this would take it from bad to worse. But Peter knew that too, and if Lance was honest, he trusted Peter’s judgement a lot more than his own. “You’re incredible at what you do,” he said, trying to keep his voice mechanical and businesslike. “But you’re very specialized. You’ve never done anything outside of your area of expertise, and it’s a weakness he refuses to tolerate.”

Quori’s face was scarlet, both from embarrassment and fury. “Refuses to tolerate weaknesses, huh? Why keep you around, then?”

“That’s enough,” Peter said. To Lance’s surprise, Quori fell silent. “You think we’re the best,” he said, eyes on Quori. “Right?”

A nod.

“And you?”

Claud nodded. 

He didn’t ask Lance. “You’re right. Of all the cells, we are their elite. When there is work that no one else can handle, they come to us. They came to this cell when I was a brand new recruit. They came to us when it was Claud and I and two soldiers who are dead now. They came to us when it was Claud and Quori and I. They come to us now. Do you think they’d come if Lance was the same brat he’d been when he got here?”

Quori snickered, but her eyes stayed dark. Mistrusting.

Claud crossed his arms. “Guess he’s not quite as stupid. No offense, Whirr.”

“None taken,” Lance replied automatically, eyes still on Peter. What was he doing?

“He’s been a fish in a tree since he joined,” Peter said. “But you can both tell he’s adapted.” They nodded. “It’s your turn. That is what sets us apart. That is what makes this cell the best. No one is allowed to be incompetent in any area.”

Quori closed her eyes. When she opened them, the darkness had faded. She was not entirely happy, but now she was working. This was an obstacle, not an insult. Lance marvelled at the change. “This is dangerous. Staying in one place for so long, with a regular schedule…it’s not like we don’t have enemies.”

“That’s my part. While you three attend classes, network, and gain the trust of our targets, I’ll be keeping you alive and monitoring the status of another cell, who must complete their assignment before we can do ours.”

“You aren’t staying.” Claud looked oddly bothered. “You’re disappearing.”

Peter met his eyes. Something passed between them. Then he smiled, not the monster smile but a quirky grin that reminded Lance he was a child. “Too many people at that school remember me. Everything will run smoother if I stay out of the picture.”

Lance’s jaw dropped. “You went to school there? But…”

Peter winked. “Ready to meet the ocean, little monkeys?”

  Reveal hidden contents

@Spark of Hope have I put any scenes with Whirr up here? If so, this is his backstory. If not, you’re in for a roller coaster

 

@TwinStorm these are the most recent  things I have that aren’t connected to anything else, I write in non-chronological scenes so that’s what a lot of this thread is. I really like em, there uh might maybe be something you can laugh at?

[Through the Living Hope]

On 5/25/2025 at 6:06 PM, Edema Rue said:

hello if you’re new and seeing this PLEASE READ IT AND COMMENT YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW HAPPY YOU’LL MAKE ME

*ahem*

Learn to swim:

  Hide contents

“What’s that?”

Lance looked up, grinning. He held up his hand, and the metallic butterfly fluttered its wings. “Pretty, isn’t it?”

Claud raised an eyebrow. “I’d agree, except that you’re using team resources…”

Lance rolled his eyes. “It’s meant for surveillance. The wings are quiet enough so as not to drown out conversations, and large enough that they can record a wider area than more traditional bugs.”

“Like spiders,” Quori called down from the loft. “And flies.”

“Exactly!” Lance set down the butterfly and pointed his wrench at her. He turned back to Claud. “Downright boring, that’s what I think of flies and spiders.”

“I like your spiders.”

“You like killing things,” Lance retorted. “That’s different. If you liked my spiders, you wouldn’t lose so many. And you’d name them.”

“Naming your equipment is stupid.”

“Ah! That’s your first problem. They aren’t equipment.”

“I like it,” Quori said. Somehow she had gotten from the loft to the floor. Lance jumped, glaring. She giggled. “When do I get one?”

“It’s just a prototype,” Lance mumbled. “Until we can get schematics, I have to make every single one by hand. And considering your history with them, that means this one won’t last the week.”

Quori rolled her eyes, gingerly picking up the clockwork creature. Lance stopped himself from wincing. “I wouldn’t hurt anything this pretty…it could be a hairpin.” It was admittedly stunning against her dark hair. “I feel like a princess. Will you make me more hairpins, Whirr?”

Lance smiled at the nickname. It had started as an insult—something about the way he was only useful because of all the things that whirred—but now it meant he belonged. “That’s a little expensive for jewelry.”

She sighed dramatically, setting the clockwork creature down. “Boring, isn’t he?” She whispered loudly.

Claud just shook his head, leaning against the wall and sliding to the floor. “Never thought I’d be working with some pompous schoolboy.”

“Never thought I’d be working,” Lance muttered. 

Quori snickered. “Maybe you should quit. I could finally work with another girl!”

“Wait,” Claud said, feigning shock. “You mean to tell me that our buddy here isn’t a girl? He had me fooled!”

“Ha, ha.” Lance started sorting his mess of gears and wires into a collection of bins. A mess was fine while he worked, but as soon as he was done, tidiness was expected. At least, it was where he was from. It wasn’t anymore, but the habit had served him well. “Have you guys heard anything about our next job?”

Quori shrugged. “It’s supposed to be a big one, right? Something about order between worlds.”

“Tedious,” Claud said, yawning. “They want us to think it’s a big deal. That’s how you know it’ll be boring.”

“None of our jobs are boring,” Lance interjected.

Claud snickered. “Have any of us died?”

“No, but—”

“That means it’s boring.”

“Or,” Lance said, “it means you’re stupid. Just a theory.”

“I think I’m with Whirr on this one,” Quori said apologetically. “I’d rather stay alive than be entertained.”

Claud groaned, opening his mouth with a retort just as the door swung open. The three of them immediately snapped to attention, even though the person who entered was a boy no older than they were, wearing the same uniform they wore. Only he wore it like he deserved it, and his posture carried a presence that none of the others possessed. 

“Peter,” Lance said. “New job?”

“Yes,” Peter said coldly. “We have thirty minutes to be offworld. There are assassins moving towards us as we speak. Travel alone. I’ll see you at Gland in fifteen minutes.” Peter turned, letting the door swing shut behind him. Lance opened his mouth to comment, then realized that Quori and Claud had vanished as if into thin air.

“I should’ve stayed at school,” he moaned, adding the butterfly to his pack and tossing the leftover bits and pieces into a hidden drawer. This life—always on the move, always running, waiting for the next job or the next attack—didn’t suit him. Then, shouldering his pack, he took off running.

Two worlds and nine minutes later, Lance walked into Gland. The inn was built high in the towering trees of Redd, a peaceful planet that thrived on tourism but still managed to feel intimate and isolated. Lance hurried into the large room that they used whenever they stopped here. He was last. How was he last? At least he wasn’t late this time. Peter wasn’t technically supposed to punish them, but missing one of his deadlines was an experience Lance hoped never to have again.

“So?” Claud’s eyes were wholly focused on Peter. “What’s the job?”

“Assassination.” Quori grinned, and Lance felt a whisper of relief. Assassination meant that he ran surveillance and worked with the tech—the job he’d expected to do all the time. It meant Quori went in alone, moving through the shadows like some sort of wraith. It meant Claud was backup.

“Seriously?” Claud scowled. “Assassinations are easy. Why can’t one of the other cells cover it?”

“This,” Peter said, “isn’t a regular job. A group of Lance’s old classmates needs to be disposed of.”

Lance started. “But that’s asking for interplanetary warfare. Those are the sons and daughters of the most powerful people in the most powerful worlds. Stars, half the Council has kids at that school.”

“So,” Peter said, tilting his head and smiling so sweetly that Lance wondered whether he was a person  or a monster, “it must be an irrefutable accident.”

“Weather,” Quori suggested. “We just have to wait for a big storm, lure them out. Lightning strikes. Maybe a mudslide. They freeze to death?”

“We can’t let their bodies be found.”

Quori sucked on her lower lip. “So it has to be such an obvious accident that no one blames anyone else, but we can’t leave their bodies. Guess I see why this one fell to us.”

“Why do we have to take the bodies?”

“There are rumors that the gods are not as impartial as they once were. Rumors of the privileged coming back to life.”

“Wonderful.”

“It gets better.” Lance swallowed. Claud laughed. “We have to be in place, prepared, the instant the order comes. It could be next week. It could be next month. We don’t know, but we have to be ready at any moment.”

“So…what’s the plan?” Claud looked much more excited now.

“You know, I’ve always thought you and Quori should have been given a chance at formal education.”

Quori’s mouth dropped. “You’re sending us to school?”

“Lance will make sure you fit in.”

“You’re sending us to school and putting Whirr in charge?”

“Are you questioning orders, soldier?” Peter was still smiling. Lance felt a chill crawl up his spine.

“A bit, yeah,” Quori said darkly. “It’s a hard job. We’ve done hard jobs. There are other ways to get it done besides humiliating us.”

“I’m sure there are.”

“Why are you choosing this one?”

“Balance.”

“What?” 

Peter raised an eyebrow, slowly, intentionally. “Do you really need me to explain? Claud, you understand, don’t you?”

Gritting his teeth, Claud nodded.

“Lance?”

Lance nodded, not meeting Quori’s eyes.

“Why don’t you tell her, then?”

Lance looked away. Quori was proud. Peter knew that. She already balked at his orders, and this would take it from bad to worse. But Peter knew that too, and if Lance was honest, he trusted Peter’s judgement a lot more than his own. “You’re incredible at what you do,” he said, trying to keep his voice mechanical and businesslike. “But you’re very specialized. You’ve never done anything outside of your area of expertise, and it’s a weakness he refuses to tolerate.”

Quori’s face was scarlet, both from embarrassment and fury. “Refuses to tolerate weaknesses, huh? Why keep you around, then?”

“That’s enough,” Peter said. To Lance’s surprise, Quori fell silent. “You think we’re the best,” he said, eyes on Quori. “Right?”

A nod.

“And you?”

Claud nodded. 

He didn’t ask Lance. “You’re right. Of all the cells, we are their elite. When there is work that no one else can handle, they come to us. They came to this cell when I was a brand new recruit. They came to us when it was Claud and I and two soldiers who are dead now. They came to us when it was Claud and Quori and I. They come to us now. Do you think they’d come if Lance was the same brat he’d been when he got here?”

Quori snickered, but her eyes stayed dark. Mistrusting.

Claud crossed his arms. “Guess he’s not quite as stupid. No offense, Whirr.”

“None taken,” Lance replied automatically, eyes still on Peter. What was he doing?

“He’s been a fish in a tree since he joined,” Peter said. “But you can both tell he’s adapted.” They nodded. “It’s your turn. That is what sets us apart. That is what makes this cell the best. No one is allowed to be incompetent in any area.”

Quori closed her eyes. When she opened them, the darkness had faded. She was not entirely happy, but now she was working. This was an obstacle, not an insult. Lance marvelled at the change. “This is dangerous. Staying in one place for so long, with a regular schedule…it’s not like we don’t have enemies.”

“That’s my part. While you three attend classes, network, and gain the trust of our targets, I’ll be keeping you alive and monitoring the status of another cell, who must complete their assignment before we can do ours.”

“You aren’t staying.” Claud looked oddly bothered. “You’re disappearing.”

Peter met his eyes. Something passed between them. Then he smiled, not the monster smile but a quirky grin that reminded Lance he was a child. “Too many people at that school remember me. Everything will run smoother if I stay out of the picture.”

Lance’s jaw dropped. “You went to school there? But…”

Peter winked. “Ready to meet the ocean, little monkeys?”

  Reveal hidden contents

@Spark of Hope have I put any scenes with Whirr up here? If so, this is his backstory. If not, you’re in for a roller coaster

 

Oooooh likey

[Edema Rue she/her]

Woahhhhhh it’s been a hot minute since I posted here

but I have written!

If you guys remember my monologue thing called Restless, this is a sequel to that (but you can read it even if you didn’t read that, it’s just a lil guy with good vibes)

Restless 2: Withered

Spoiler

“It’s time for your walk.”

The girl huddled in the corner didn’t move.

“Ray.”

“I’m not going.”

“Do I need to get the guards?”

Ray snorted. “Aren’t you a guard?” There was no heat in her tone. The words were habit, not rebellion.

“Get up.”

“I can’t.”

“You know the routine. Get up.” Ray rolled over. A moment later, a rough hand grabbed her by the arm, pulling her to her feet. She went limp. “Is this really a fight you want to have?” Silo’s breath was warm on her ear.

Ray went for the walk, stumbling along without looking up or speaking. She felt dizzy and her head ached. Abruptly, she realized that the hand on her shoulder had disappeared. She didn’t know how long it had been gone. She looked up. The hall in front of her was empty. She looked back. Silo was on the floor, a figure in black standing over him. The figure flipped back a deep hood and became Iz.

“Ray?”

Ray didn’t move.

“Starlings, Ray, we don’t have time for this. I’ve missed you too, but we need to get out of here. Reunions later, all right?”

Ray didn’t answer. 

Iz cursed and ran, grabbing her arm and pulling her. Ray followed, because she didn’t need to think to follow. She didn’t need to choose or feel or any of the things she had once done as naturally as breathing. When Iz ran, she ran. When Iz stopped, she stopped. The older girl glanced at her several times, worry lines between her brows. Ray noticed, distantly, but didn’t remember how she was meant to react.

They made it into the large garage, where a car that definitely didn’t belong to the facility was running. Iz shoved her into the backseat and climbed in after her. “Go!” Darren was in the passenger seat, which meant Trif was driving. The car jolted forward, then towards the single open door. An alarm was ringing somewhere, lights were flashing, and Ray thought she saw guards rushing towards them. She closed her eyes. As soon as they passed through the door—she knew because she could see more light behind her eyelids—she pressed the button to roll down her window. 

Then she stuck her head out, treasuring the deafening wind. Trif was driving too fast and she was glad. She didn’t have to speak or hear or feel. She wasn’t even thinking, really. Just letting the wind rage through her already tangled hair until she was no longer a person. Five minutes. Ten. Twenty…Ray opened her eyes. They were on the freeway. And there were other cars driving all around them. 

She pulled her head inside and rolled up the window. “Why are there so many cars?”

“Good to see you too,” Darren said dryly.

Ray blinked.

“That’s the first thing she’s said,” Iz murmured. “I’m starting to think something’s wrong.”

Trif scoffed, not taking his eyes off the road. “She’s been stuck in one place for almost a year, that’s what’s wrong.”

Darren and Iz shared a glance. “Why are there so many cars?” Ray asked again.

“The world’s not like it was when you were taken,” Darren said. “They’re fixing it.”

“Sterilizing,” Trif corrected. “Making every building indistinguishable from the rest.”

“Killing the monsters.” Iz sounded sad. Ray remembered that that should feel ironic.

“The cars,” Ray said.

Darren sighed. “The city was safe before, right? So they built a wall around it. Then another wall a few hundred yards further. They cleared the space, killed the monsters. They’ve been doing that since, recycling walls, hiring hunters. At some point it’ll be too big for even a simple fence to be worth it, but for now, the world is coming back to life.”

“Who’s they?”

“Call themselves the Healers. Guy named Caden started the whole thing.”

Ray blinked once. “Caden Dres?”

Iz leaned forward. “You know him?”

“He created the facility.”

There was a breath of silence, and Ray took the opportunity to look out the window. There were no broken down cars or patched-together huts. The old, faded lines looked brighter than ever. It was like a vision of a world that had been lost forever. But…not forever.

“Ray, will you say something? Laugh? C’mon, let me know you’re a person,” Trif said.

“Not yet,” Ray whispered. “Please, not yet.”

“How long are you going to take?” She could see him looking at her in one of the mirrors. She refused to meet those reflected eyes. “How long?”

“I don’t know,” Ray snapped. “I don’t know!”

“Then how about you figure it out? We came for you, not some shell—” Ray stuck her head outside, letting the wind block his voice. Trif rolled the window up with no regard for her fingers. “You don’t get to ignore me.”

“I’m not—”

“You are.”

“You don’t get it!” Ray said.

“Oh, she’s angsty, is that it? No one understands her?”

Iz and Darren had been dead silent through the whole conversation, but now Iz reached for Trif’s shoulder. “Checkpoint.”

Trif rolled down his window, and Ray noticed for the first time that the rest of the cars had somehow disappeared. A group of guards stood in front of a tall gate, and a wall extended from it in both directions, curving back towards the city. 

“This area hasn’t been cleared,” one of them said. “We advise staying inside.”

“That’s all right,” Trif said, and Ray started at how casual and friendly he’d become.

“You sure?” The guard glanced doubtfully at the gate. Another guard ran forward, smiling when he saw Trif.

“Headed out?”

“Yup.”

“Hope he wasn’t giving you any trouble.”

Trif laughed. “Not at all.”

“Good to see you.”

The gate opened, like Trif was a sorcerer who had spoken just the right incantation. This side was much more familiar. They went through nearly the same process at the next gate, and then they were out, and it was the world she remembered. Wild and free, beauty escaping through every cracked wall and decayed building. 

“Anything to say?” Trif was hard again. That was all it took.

Ray didn’t speak, curling into the seat and staring out the window.

“Answer me.”

She didn’t.

Trif braked too fast, too hard. The car came to a halt and he turned around. “We know they broke you. We know you’re hurting. But you have always said broken things are the most beautiful, and you don’t get to change your mind now that you’re one of us. You got that?”

Ray swallowed. “Yes.”

“I won’t have you being one of them, Ray.”

“I’m not like them.”

“Starlings and bonedust, you sure fooled me. If you start to live like you’re afraid, you become them. If you decide that broken means ruined, you become them. If you are passive, you become them.”

“I’m not like them,” Ray said, feeling a spark of passion.

He started driving. “So, give me a laugh.”

The words were still an order, but Ray could feel the smile in them. How did he do that? “Ha.”

He snickered. “What was that?”

“You can’t just tell a person to laugh!”

“The other option is one of Darren’s jokes, and that’s as likely to make you cry.”

“Hey,” Darren protested, and Ray snickered. That…that felt really good. When had she stopped laughing? Had she really chosen to give that up?

“There she goes!” Trif said, and Iz cheered, and suddenly they were all laughing. And then, even though Darren hadn’t tried at a joke, Ray was crying. All the aches that had disappeared in the meaningless numb of the last year returned. The loneliness, the loss, the indescribable pain of being trapped when her heart was wandering. The isolation, the tests, the constant fear that every step she took was wrong.

She let the tears fall, grinning. “I missed you guys.”

I’ve got a few more scenes that I can post, so we’ll scatter them through the next few days.

you guys, i feel so good. better than i have in a long long time. There is real power in a connection with God.

[Through the Living Hope]

1 hour ago, Edema Rue said:

Woahhhhhh it’s been a hot minute since I posted here

but I have written!

If you guys remember my monologue thing called Restless, this is a sequel to that (but you can read it even if you didn’t read that, it’s just a lil guy with good vibes)

Restless 2: Withered

  Hide contents

“It’s time for your walk.”

The girl huddled in the corner didn’t move.

“Ray.”

“I’m not going.”

“Do I need to get the guards?”

Ray snorted. “Aren’t you a guard?” There was no heat in her tone. The words were habit, not rebellion.

“Get up.”

“I can’t.”

“You know the routine. Get up.” Ray rolled over. A moment later, a rough hand grabbed her by the arm, pulling her to her feet. She went limp. “Is this really a fight you want to have?” Silo’s breath was warm on her ear.

Ray went for the walk, stumbling along without looking up or speaking. She felt dizzy and her head ached. Abruptly, she realized that the hand on her shoulder had disappeared. She didn’t know how long it had been gone. She looked up. The hall in front of her was empty. She looked back. Silo was on the floor, a figure in black standing over him. The figure flipped back a deep hood and became Iz.

“Ray?”

Ray didn’t move.

“Starlings, Ray, we don’t have time for this. I’ve missed you too, but we need to get out of here. Reunions later, all right?”

Ray didn’t answer. 

Iz cursed and ran, grabbing her arm and pulling her. Ray followed, because she didn’t need to think to follow. She didn’t need to choose or feel or any of the things she had once done as naturally as breathing. When Iz ran, she ran. When Iz stopped, she stopped. The older girl glanced at her several times, worry lines between her brows. Ray noticed, distantly, but didn’t remember how she was meant to react.

They made it into the large garage, where a car that definitely didn’t belong to the facility was running. Iz shoved her into the backseat and climbed in after her. “Go!” Darren was in the passenger seat, which meant Trif was driving. The car jolted forward, then towards the single open door. An alarm was ringing somewhere, lights were flashing, and Ray thought she saw guards rushing towards them. She closed her eyes. As soon as they passed through the door—she knew because she could see more light behind her eyelids—she pressed the button to roll down her window. 

Then she stuck her head out, treasuring the deafening wind. Trif was driving too fast and she was glad. She didn’t have to speak or hear or feel. She wasn’t even thinking, really. Just letting the wind rage through her already tangled hair until she was no longer a person. Five minutes. Ten. Twenty…Ray opened her eyes. They were on the freeway. And there were other cars driving all around them. 

She pulled her head inside and rolled up the window. “Why are there so many cars?”

“Good to see you too,” Darren said dryly.

Ray blinked.

“That’s the first thing she’s said,” Iz murmured. “I’m starting to think something’s wrong.”

Trif scoffed, not taking his eyes off the road. “She’s been stuck in one place for almost a year, that’s what’s wrong.”

Darren and Iz shared a glance. “Why are there so many cars?” Ray asked again.

“The world’s not like it was when you were taken,” Darren said. “They’re fixing it.”

“Sterilizing,” Trif corrected. “Making every building indistinguishable from the rest.”

“Killing the monsters.” Iz sounded sad. Ray remembered that that should feel ironic.

“The cars,” Ray said.

Darren sighed. “The city was safe before, right? So they built a wall around it. Then another wall a few hundred yards further. They cleared the space, killed the monsters. They’ve been doing that since, recycling walls, hiring hunters. At some point it’ll be too big for even a simple fence to be worth it, but for now, the world is coming back to life.”

“Who’s they?”

“Call themselves the Healers. Guy named Caden started the whole thing.”

Ray blinked once. “Caden Dres?”

Iz leaned forward. “You know him?”

“He created the facility.”

There was a breath of silence, and Ray took the opportunity to look out the window. There were no broken down cars or patched-together huts. The old, faded lines looked brighter than ever. It was like a vision of a world that had been lost forever. But…not forever.

“Ray, will you say something? Laugh? C’mon, let me know you’re a person,” Trif said.

“Not yet,” Ray whispered. “Please, not yet.”

“How long are you going to take?” She could see him looking at her in one of the mirrors. She refused to meet those reflected eyes. “How long?”

“I don’t know,” Ray snapped. “I don’t know!”

“Then how about you figure it out? We came for you, not some shell—” Ray stuck her head outside, letting the wind block his voice. Trif rolled the window up with no regard for her fingers. “You don’t get to ignore me.”

“I’m not—”

“You are.”

“You don’t get it!” Ray said.

“Oh, she’s angsty, is that it? No one understands her?”

Iz and Darren had been dead silent through the whole conversation, but now Iz reached for Trif’s shoulder. “Checkpoint.”

Trif rolled down his window, and Ray noticed for the first time that the rest of the cars had somehow disappeared. A group of guards stood in front of a tall gate, and a wall extended from it in both directions, curving back towards the city. 

“This area hasn’t been cleared,” one of them said. “We advise staying inside.”

“That’s all right,” Trif said, and Ray started at how casual and friendly he’d become.

“You sure?” The guard glanced doubtfully at the gate. Another guard ran forward, smiling when he saw Trif.

“Headed out?”

“Yup.”

“Hope he wasn’t giving you any trouble.”

Trif laughed. “Not at all.”

“Good to see you.”

The gate opened, like Trif was a sorcerer who had spoken just the right incantation. This side was much more familiar. They went through nearly the same process at the next gate, and then they were out, and it was the world she remembered. Wild and free, beauty escaping through every cracked wall and decayed building. 

“Anything to say?” Trif was hard again. That was all it took.

Ray didn’t speak, curling into the seat and staring out the window.

“Answer me.”

She didn’t.

Trif braked too fast, too hard. The car came to a halt and he turned around. “We know they broke you. We know you’re hurting. But you have always said broken things are the most beautiful, and you don’t get to change your mind now that you’re one of us. You got that?”

Ray swallowed. “Yes.”

“I won’t have you being one of them, Ray.”

“I’m not like them.”

“Starlings and bonedust, you sure fooled me. If you start to live like you’re afraid, you become them. If you decide that broken means ruined, you become them. If you are passive, you become them.”

“I’m not like them,” Ray said, feeling a spark of passion.

He started driving. “So, give me a laugh.”

The words were still an order, but Ray could feel the smile in them. How did he do that? “Ha.”

He snickered. “What was that?”

“You can’t just tell a person to laugh!”

“The other option is one of Darren’s jokes, and that’s as likely to make you cry.”

“Hey,” Darren protested, and Ray snickered. That…that felt really good. When had she stopped laughing? Had she really chosen to give that up?

“There she goes!” Trif said, and Iz cheered, and suddenly they were all laughing. And then, even though Darren hadn’t tried at a joke, Ray was crying. All the aches that had disappeared in the meaningless numb of the last year returned. The loneliness, the loss, the indescribable pain of being trapped when her heart was wandering. The isolation, the tests, the constant fear that every step she took was wrong.

She let the tears fall, grinning. “I missed you guys.”

I’ve got a few more scenes that I can post, so we’ll scatter them through the next few days.

you guys, i feel so good. better than i have in a long long time. There is real power in a connection with God.

Ooooh lovely

[Edema Rue she/her]

I’m on mobile and don’t have the energy to go through and edit/add italics to this one, so if it doesn’t make sense I’m sorry, I love it though.

it’s a continuation of Peter, Claud, Qori, and Lance, if you remember them from a hot minute ago. This is pretty much directly after the last scene I put here. Kinda fun, kinda cute. I have one more in this world that I’ll put up sometime that I also really like, I know a lot of the backstory and future and lore and things so it makes me very happy.

Day One:

Spoiler

Quori hated the skirt. How were they making her wear a skirt? She fiddled with it, pulling at a loose seam. 

“None of that,” Lance said cheerfully. “Shoulders back. Chin up. Put your hands somewhere and leave them there. Fidgeting makes you look weak.”

“You calling me weak?”

“Of course not.” Lance was grinning. Quori loathed him for that. This was a side of him she’d never seen. As long as she’s known Lance, he’d been out of his element. She’d given him no respect; he’d never given a sign he deserved it. Here he walked with his head high. Arrogant enough to rule and charming enough to be loved. Where was the awkward boy with the gadgets she’d come to know?

“Next time I see Peter, I’m going to kill him.”

“Good luck,” Claud snorted, emerging from the bathroom and straightening the cuffs of his sleeves. “Even you would struggle in that skirt.”

“What if we run? He’d get in trouble for it, and we’d get to do this the right way.”

“You think he wouldn’t find us?” Claud laughed. “Besides, school is basically a vacation. Right, Whirr?”

The corner of Lance’s mouth twitched up. “For me. Let’s go.”

“Lance!” Lance grinned and turned towards the shout.

“Does everyone here know him?” Quori mumbled to Claud, who shrugged, staring as Lance clapped the son of some planet’s hegemon on the shoulder. 

“So you’re back,” the kid said excitedly. “For good?”

“Maybe,” Lance said easily. “Did I miss anything fun?”

The kid snickered and launched into a story that Quori found remarkably…boring. Hgh class though these people may be, they were so young, so sheltered. But they still judged her, determining in a single glance that she was worthless. Claud felt it too, she knew that. It didn’t help that Lance was now in the center of a whole pack of them, looking for all the world like a mob boss surrounded by his lieutenants. 

“It’s like he’s royalty,” Claud mumbled.

Quori glanced at him. He was right. But the concept of one of their friends being royalty was completely foreign. A mob boss would be much easier to handle. “No wonder he never learned to fight. All his friends have armies to send for his every whim.”

Suddenly Lance was pulling them into his crowd. They were surrounded…Quori subtly pushed her knives back into her sleeves. Killing these people would be the biggest mistake of her life. By anyone else’s standards, anyway. “Everyone meet Quori and Claud.”

“Brought home a couple strays?” Someone called. Quori gritted her teeth. Claud elbowed her ribs. 

“Smile,” Lance hissed. “Guess so,” he said to the stranger. “They’re from Warren.”

The crowd fell silent, then burst into a flurry of whispers. Aside from the three of them, no one here could claim to have visited Warren. The idea that real people were from that rogue planet was baffling. But it was the only world about which they could make that claim, and so lying about Claud and Quori’s origin wasn’t an option. Quori still wanted to punch Peter every time she thought about it. It made them a target, made them stand out from the very beginning. Besides, these kids would tell their parents, and suddenly everyone would know that two kids from Warren had come to Tranquil.

“Can’t have them being late,” Lance added, and swept them away, never letting his smile slip or his conversation falter. Quori had noticed that talent before, but clearly she’d underestimated its importance.

How was she supposed to get through six more hours of this?

 

As it turned out, it didn’t end with the school day. Someone had gotten into their head to throw a party to welcome Lance back—a party, of all things—and she and Claud were, of course, expected. 

It was the darkest part of the night when they were finally alone and Lance shook the smile from his face, replacing it with a more genuine expression of pleasure. He scribbled away easily at an assignment that was taking all of Quori’s energy to understand. Still, this was something she could do. She was used to being effective after days of no sleep. That was all this was. One more job like all the rest. Then it would end, and they’d return to their previous equilibrium.

“When do we find out who we need to kill?” Claud asked, poking his head into the room. He wasn’t wearing a shirt.

Quori snickered. “When you put some clothes on.”

Claud rolled his eyes and his head disappeared. A moment later he stepped out, now wearing comfortable street clothes. “Is that an assignment?”

“Yep,” Lance said, sliding his neatly into a folder. How was he done? “You’ve each got three.”

“Where are the answers?” Claud asked stupidly.

Lance raised an eyebrow. “Are you asking me to let you cheat?”

“Yes,” Quori and Claud said in unison.

Lance shook head, laughing. “If you copy, everyone will think you’re idiots.”

“You won’t tell them,” Quori said, rolling her eyes. “Obviously.”

“There are class discussions,” Lance replied. “Obviously.”

Quori growled, pointing her knife at him. “Give me your answers!”

“That bad?” Peter said. Quori and Claud started. Their backs had been to him, but Lance had to have seen…or maybe he was just used to people being able to sneak up on him.

“You didn’t tell us we had to do the assignments,” Claud said pointedly. “How are we supposed to keep up with the work if we’re planning an assassination that has to fool the Councilors themselves?”

“Are these kids tougher than you?”

“Don’t condescend to me.”

“I’m not. You have more experience than most of them will earn throughout their entire lives. Your orders come directly from the gods. So why are you telling me a little schoolwork is too much for you?”

Quori realized she couldn’t look at Peter. Or at Claud. The assignment felt a lot more appealing now.

“I’m not saying it’s easy,” Peter said, but it felt more like a planned concession than actual compassion. “They’ve been doing this their entire lives. But that’s why we’re doing it this way. When I’m finished with you, no one in any world will be able to surpass us.”

Planned though it might have been, it worked. Claud pulled out his papers and Quori found herself doing the same. “Do we get more details on the job, or is that something else we’re adapting to?”

“Five students,” Peter replied, “believe they have made a deal with Death. What they don’t realize is that Death is too closely watched for that to be the case—beyond that, he hasn’t spoken to a mortal in more than five hundred years. No one is quite sure who’s at fault, just that someone is.”

“Why don’t the gods ever solve their own problems?” Quori groused. 

“We are their hands,” Peter said, “as per our contract and theirs. More than that, this is a case where the gods do not trust one another. Backwards though it may seem, they look to us to be impartial.”

“So the mortals die,” Lance said, frowning.

“Human lives mean little to infinite deities. You know that. The students know that. They thought they could cheat death—instead, they bring it upon themselves.”

“Fear is counterproductive,” Quori said, nodding. “Besides, their parents will pay the rite of passage and more. They’ll have a good afterlife.”

“Either way,” Peter said, “these are our orders. We don’t question orders, Lance.”

Lance inclined his head. “You’re right, of course. I just like to think before ending lives.”

“Fine. The students will—”

There was a knock. Quori saw a blur as Peter moved, and then he was gone. Lance’s smile snapped back into place, and Quori ducked behind a corner. Lance owned this place—it was perfectly legal for her to be here—but rumors would not help them. 

“Lance,” a voice said warmly. Quori froze. Was that…was that Councilor Farren? What was she doing here? “We’ve missed you.”

“Councilor,” Lance said respectfully. “It’s an honor. Would you like to come in?”

“That’s all right,” Farren said. “It’s late, and we’ve all got to be up early tomorrow. I just saw the light and thought I’d bring these by.”

Quori heard a sound of surprise. “Thank you,” Lance said. “Thank you. I wasn’t expecting to see them again.”

“Of course,” Councilor Farren said, sounding pleased. “You left so suddenly I started to worry. I couldn’t believe that you’d willingly leave them behind.”

“I’m sorry to worry you,” Lance said. To Quori, he sounded genuine. Was that possible? To lie with real emotion? Or was Quori just as much of a mark as the Councilor? “The opportunity came so quickly. I couldn’t bear to turn it down.”

“It went well then?”

“Very,” Lance said, following Peter’s script easily. “I feel as if I’ve finally grown up.”

“You certainly look like it,” Farren said, and Quori heard her smiling. “And what interesting friends you’ve brought back. Claud, was it?”

Claud, still sitting at the table, managed a smile. Quori struggled to hold in a snicker. “That’s right,” Claud said. “It’s an honor to be here.”

“With a reference like Lance, how could we say no?” Farren laughed, high and tinkling. “Goodnight, students. Welcome home.” The door shut, and Quori came out of hiding. Lance was tucking something into his inner coat pocket. Clever. If she tried to palm something from there, he’d feel it. He was learning.

“What was that?” Claud asked before she could say a word.

“It’s all right,” Lance said, raising his hands. “She’s like my mom.”

“She’s a Councilor,” Quori said.

Lance rolled his eyes. “And we’re in Tranquil. There are more Councilors here than at Nexus.”

“What did she give you?” Lance’s jaw tightened. “Claud?”

Claud shook his head. “He was blocking my view.”

“Whirr…”

“They’re not important,” Lance said. “Is Peter coming back?”

Quori met Claud’s eyes, then looked back at Lance. “Why are you hiding?”

“I’m not—”

“It’s not important,” Claud broke in. “We’ve got other things to worry about.”

“Yes,” Lance said, “we do. She’s suspicious.”

Claud and Quori started as one. “What?”

“She wasn’t happy that I left without telling her. She’s not happy that I didn’t stay in touch. And she’s definitely not happy that I didn’t tell her you two were coming.”

“So…”

“My best guess is that she thinks you threatened me into bringing you here. Warren has a reputation.”

“Earned,” Quori noted, “and then some.”

“Not helping,” Lance said, but he didn’t look at her. She could see his hand trying to drift to his pocket. “Farren is the most sentimental of the Councilors. She never had children, but she mentors as many as she can, and gets fiercely protective of them. She got me here in the first place—if she suspects you two, you’ll be out of here in an instant and the job is compromised. This school is too high profile. If something goes wrong here, everyone will know exactly what we are and we’ll be lucky to escape alive. Mistakes are part of learning, but we don’t have room for them. For this to work, every step has to be in line. Understand?”

Quori blinked. Claud nodded.

“Like Peter said, you’re posing as innocents from Warren. It’s a romantic idea. Born in Hell, but remaining civilized while surrounded by barbarians. Learning and working your way up until you were offered the same opportunity I was. A chance to study tech on Giirs. We became friends, I got you into Tranquil. Be charming, be kind, and let everything dazzle you.” Lance looked at Claud. They both knew he hated lying, that he valued honesty above all else. “Can you do that, or are you going to explain to Peter why a Councilor wants you out of the picture?”

Claud met Lance’s stare. “Go to bed, Whirr. We’re not half as incompetent as you think.”

“That's not what I meant,” Lance said, “and you know it.”

“Guess so.”

Quori cleared her throat. “Stop it. Both of you.”

Lance stood. His face was a mask of calm. “Goodnight.” He made his way down the hall to his old bedroom.

Quori stared at Claud. “What—”

“Get some sleep. Tomorrow is another today.” Claud said, not waiting for her to answer before moving to an empty bedroom across from Lance’s. 

“Idiots,” Quori whispered, sliding into Claud’s empty seat. She hit the table, wishing desperately that they’d come back. Wishing she was still on Warren, killing anyone she was told for a couple pennies. Nothing could hurt you when you were too desperate to ask questions. But she wasn’t desperate anymore. She was angry. Angry at the gods. Angry at Lance and Claud. Angry at Peter. They were her team. They were supposed to stand by her and hold one another together. Claud’s bitterness was childish. Lance’s naivety was getting old.

Something made Quori look up, well trained reflexes dropping a pair of daggers into her hands. Peter smiled and sat. “It’s a pain, isn’t it?”

Quori felt her mouth twitch into a wry smile. Thank the gods for Peter. “What’ll it take for them to grow up?”

“Remember Tim?”

Tim had been a part of their cell before Lance tumbled in. He’d died during a job more than a year before. “I hated him,” Quori said fondly.

“It drove Claud insane.”

“Really?”

“Every night,” Peter said, surprisingly gentle, “he’d sit just like you are now. You and Tim would be yelling in the other room and he’d sit and glare at the wall. If we were at a safe house, he’d spar with ghosts until his heartbeat was too loud to hear you.”

“I never knew,” Quori said, glancing at Claud’s door.

“Harmony is just a term for the breaths between discord. It’s not something that lasts.”

“I guess. But something feels—broken. With Claud. I guess…did you hear everything?”

Peter nodded.

“That thing he said. ‘Tomorrow is another today.’ He used to say that, back on Warren. Before he left me. I thought it was hopeful. We made it through today, so we’ll make it through tomorrow. When I found you guys, I realized he’d stopped saying it. When I asked, he said it was because now he never had any idea what tomorrow would bring. But he likes that. He chafes against routine. It rubs him until he snaps. This job is torture for him.”

”I know,” Peter said softly.

“Why? Just so that he’ll get stronger? He’s tough, Peter. We all are. It took today for me to realize that Whirr is too, but he is. Maybe Claud will survive, but maybe it’ll break him. Can you really risk that?”

“It won’t break him.” Peter took a steady breath. “He’s gone through worse.”

Quori sighed, looking into Peter’s eyes for answers he didn’t give. “What about you, Peter? I don’t know anything about you.”

“It’s safest that way,” Peter said. “That is how the gods will it.”

“What, the gods order you to be mysterious?”

Peter shrugged, deadly serious. Quori was more focused on his left hand, which was forming a fist one slow finger at a time. He opened his hand, then closed it again. Bound. It was one of many handsigns the used during the climax of a job. It meant that they were being watched and couldn’t speak freely. Quori struggled to keep her face neutral. Were the gods watching Peter? Why? She couldn’t ask now. But she’d stay alert. 

“What did the Councilor give Whirr?” 

Peter raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think I know?”

“Peter…”

“I don’t think he wants you to know.”

“Should I know?”

“Will you tell him?”

“No.”

“Can you lie to him?”

Quori bit her lip. “Probably not.”

“Better learn quick,” Peter said, winking. “Supposedly, rings. Five of them, eternally spinning gears that he created himself.”

“Eternally?”

“They never stop. He built them and a mage removed the friction.”

“Removed…friction.”

“Lance is creative like no one else, and uniquely naive. He never even considered the weapons someone could make with that. Bizarre, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Quori mumbled. “But…supposedly? She didn’t actually give them to him?”

“She did,” Peter said, “but mostly as a disguise for the pills.”

Quori started. “Whirr’s not…what?”

“They’re sleeping pills.”

Quori scoffed. “You’re telling me he gets nightmares?”

“Dreams,” Peter corrected. 

“I don’t get it.”

“It’s like Lance said. Farren picks her favorites, and she’s not going to leave their loyalty to chance. She’s sentimental, sure, but also manipulative. She does something to their minds so that they dream every time they sleep—nothing dangerous, but they can never truly rest without the pills. They aren’t addictive, but living without them is miserable, and Farren is the only place they can get them.”

“So Whirr’s been living with that this whole time.”

“I fixed him.”

“It was much harder than you’re making it sound, wasn’t it?”

Peter smiled. “How long will your assignments take?”

Quori grimaced. “I can’t believe you’re making me do them.”

“If you finish in the next hour, we can go on a hunt.”

Quori had her folder open in the time it took to blink. “Please.”

…after scrolling all the way down here, I realize it’s kinda chonky. Hopefully some of you still have the time to read it :))

[Edema Rue she/her]

On 1/14/2024 at 10:36 PM, Edema Rue said:

Listen to Once There Were Dragons while you read this. It's a beautiful song that never fails to make me cry.

Gone:

  Reveal hidden contents

The girl looked up at her sister and smiled, gap-toothed and pigtailed. “It’s okay that you have to go. I know you’ll come back.”

And though she didn’t know it, her sister’s heart shattered. “Okay, Ann. I’ll come back. For you.”

And the girl giggled. “I won’t even put my toys on your bed! That way it’ll be ready for you, Izzy-wizzy.”

Izzy laughed and tousled her sister’s hair, pulling her in for a tight hug. “Make sure you help Mom and Dad with the chores, okay? You know Mom has trouble sweeping the floor since she hurt her back, and Dad sometimes forgets that dishes need soap, and—”

Ann rolled her eyes. “I know, I know!”

The older girl gave her a small smile. “Bye?”

“Bye!”

And then Izzy grabbed her bags, and stepped into the crowd. Ann watched her beautiful sister fade into just one more person, just one more traveler, and then she turned and walked slowly back to the car. And she saw the world around her get blurry, and started to feel something warm and wet on her cheeks. She climbed into the car and gave her mom a hug, then promptly fell asleep.  

Izzy found herself alone, yet surrounded by people. She smiled bravely and boarded her plane. And flew, alone. And landed, alone. And got on the train, alone. She made it to her aunt’s, and escaped a flurry of tight hugs from people she barely knew by pleading “jetlag”. She collected her car, and was on her way. Alone. She made her way to campus, alone. Found her room. Started unpacking her clothes. And found a picture of her smiling little sister. And she smiled back. 

Ann woke up at home, and looked across the room. To an empty bed. To a place where her sister used to be, and wasn’t anymore. She got up. Made her bed. Paused, then went upstairs. She made breakfast, and while setting the table she paused. Only three plates. Not four. She put one back.

Izzy rarely had time to think about her family anymore. There were so many new things to be doing, so many new friends and new people and new classes and new…everything. Her roommates were fun, her classes were hard, and she was trying to get a job. But once in a while, there was a moment of quiet. Her roommates would be out, and she’d find herself alone. She’d look up from her computer and wait to hear laughing, or talking, or the tv. She’d look for stuffed animals on the floor. She’d walk in expecting to smell food. And there’d be none.

“It must be nice having your sister gone!”

Ann smiled and nodded. “Yeah. I get the room all to myself,” she added, as if she needed to convince this adult she didn’t even care about that she really was glad. Or maybe she was trying to convince herself. The lady smiled, nodded, then turned away and kept talking to Ann’s mom, and Ann looked down at her hands. Her nails were unpainted and chewed on. Izzy used to paint them for her. 

Izzy wasn’t the type to get homesick. But alone in a new place, and aware of how temporary it all was…it was hard not to miss the security of a safe home.

It took months for Ann to understand it. 

The change.

To understand that Izzy wasn’t coming back, at least, not for good. She and her sister would never again share a room. Things were different, and they could never go back to the way they were before. 

But life didn’t stop.

It didn’t matter how much she cried or dreamed or wished for things to go back. Time was as stubborn as a three year old boy, and it wouldn’t pause or go back. Her heart was breaking. But…she had to keep living. No one stopped because she was hurting. So Ann only cried at night, when there was no one to see her. And when they called Izzy, who was always so happy, Ann smiled and laughed with her, and sometimes she would close her eyes and imagine they were all in the room together, instead of separated by hundreds of miles.

So Ann grew.

And Izzy did, too.

And though their roots were entwined, their hearts grew apart. 

When Izzy came to visit, she stayed in the guest room.

When Ann needed to cry, she called a friend. Not her sister.

And years later, Ann found a picture in the bottom of a drawer. It was wrinkled and torn, and its bright colors were faded. 

But there were girls in the picture. Two of them. A child with pigtails. And a young woman with a suitcase.

And Ann cried.

For a life she’d lost.

For a sister who hadn’t come back.

And with a little bit of guilt. Because she was happy, even though all had changed. Because she had lost the parts of her that used to form all that she was.

And because she’d become someone new without them.

And then Ann put the picture on her mirror, and picked up her phone, and called her sister.

And Izzy stepped away from the cradle of a sleeping child, and smiled at the sound of her sister’s voice.

And hours later,

After some laughter,

And some tears,

They both felt as if parts of them that had died long ago were reborn.

And their eyes shone a little brighter that day.

And Ann looked at the picture on her mirror and she smiled. 

And though so much had changed, not all that had been before was lost.

Picking up a shirt from the bed that had been Izzy’s, Ann cleared a place for her sister, in her room and in her heart.

Because, she realized, that’s what home is. Somewhere there’s always a place for you, no matter where you wander or who you bring back with you.

And Izzy was always welcome home.

  Reveal hidden contents

...If I don't have a Liz scene here tomorrow, someone please poke me with the writing stick.

Also...I like writing creepy things...if anyone has any creepy prompts for me, I would appreciate and use them  

 

 

On 7/21/2024 at 11:01 PM, Edema Rue said:

Ooooookay have some feelings my friends  

I'll Try:

  Reveal hidden contents

She opened her eyes to see stars in a rich blue sky. At the center of her vision the moon shone brightly, lighting the world in a gentle and welcoming light. She sat up, looking around, and found herself face to face with a towering oak. Sitting on a wide branch was a boy.

“Who are you?” She asked, eyes wide.

“I’m a child,” he said, “who forgot to grow up. Who are you?”

“I’m a princess,” the girl murmured, not quite sure that she’d meant to say the words, “who didn’t realize I was supposed to wait for a prince to rescue me.” She paused. “Do you have a name?”

“I don’t think so. Do you?”

“Not one I’d like to remember.” The girl looked back up at the stars, watching them pulse faintly. When she turned back, the boy was standing beside her. He smiled.

“I like the stars,” he said. 

The girl blinked. “Who are you?” She asked.

The boy was quiet for a moment, staring into her eyes. His, she noticed, were a blue nearly as deep as the sky. “I’m your friend,” he said. “Do you remember me?”

“I want to,” she said. “Who am I?”

“You’re an angel,” the boy said, smiling. “Even if you don’t know it yet.”

“Really?” The girl blinked at him, then at the tree behind him. “Does that mean I can fly?”

“Would you like to?”

In response, the girl turned and pulled herself up into the tree, then higher, higher. The boy’s laughter chased her as he followed. Her head broke through the foliage, and she gaped at the sky. The boy followed a moment later. The girl turned to him, eyes shining. “It’s beautiful.”

“Isn’t it?” The boy reached for the same branch she was holding, his fingers brushing hers. “It’s ours.”

The girl smiled. “I like that. But who are you?”

The boy’s smile faded. “I’m the stars. Who are you?”

“I think,” the girl whispered, “that I’m the night.”

“You can’t see the stars without the dark,” the boy said. “I’m seen through you, Princess.”

“I thought I was an angel.”

“You can be both.”

The girl laughed, leaning her head on his shoulder. “Okay.” The boy reached his arm around her, and the girl leaned in closer, looking up at the sky. He was warm and safe, and strong as the tree beneath them. 

“You know this isn’t real,” the boy murmured into her hair.

“Shh,” she whispered. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s true.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to say it.”

He sighed softly. “What do you want me to say, Princess?”

“Who are you?” She asked tiredly. “I don’t remember.”

“I’m a child,” he said, “who doesn’t know how to grow up.”

“Do you have to?”

“You do,” he said gently. “You can’t hide here forever.”

“I don’t want to go back,” she whimpered, leaning further into him. “I don’t want to go.”

“I know,” he said.

“How?”

“Because I didn’t want to go back either.” The girl lifted her head, looking at him. He smiled sadly, his eyes large and melancholy. 

“Can’t we just stay here a while?” The girl looked away. “We could stay here.”

“Okay,” the boy said. “But not for too long. They’re waiting for you.”

But the girl barely heard the rest of his sentence. She was climbing down the branches, flying towards the ground, and then she was standing in the soft grass, spinning wildly. When the boy caught her, she grabbed his hand, pulling him along with her as she ran. 

“Where are we going?” He panted.

The girl smiled and shrugged, running on as fast as she could manage. Eventually, she heard the sound of running water and veered towards it. A slow river wound through the field. She smiled, then closed her eyes. When she opened them, there was a graceful bridge arcing over it and the boy was watching her.

“We can be gods,” she said. 

“Or kids,” he replied. “Not much difference here.” The girl walked up onto the bridge, looking down into the water, and the boy followed. “What’s that song?”

The girl cocked her head. “What song?”

“The one in your head.” The corner of his mouth twitched up. “It’s beautiful.”

“There isn’t a song in my head,” the girl said, blinking in confusion.

“Then maybe it’s in your heart,” he said, reaching for her hand. She gave it to him, and suddenly they were dancing. Each step was careful, precise, perfect. The boy hummed a gentle melody that was at once unknown and familiar. The girl closed her eyes, breathing in the air, feeling his careful hands. Then she stepped back, lip trembling. I can’t do this.

“Princess?”

“My name is Lily,” she said sharply. “I can’t get away from it.”

“Okay, Lily.”

They fell into silence as Lily’s breath started coming faster and faster. She shivered, and the boy reached for her, to warm her. She shied back. “Who are you?” Her voice was sharp, angry, cold.

“I’m you,” the boy said. “I’m the part of you that you’re scared to see. I’m the part of you that doesn’t hate the rest of you. The part of you that wants to smile. The part that wants to love, and be loved. I’m the part of you that’s dying, Lily.”

Lily shivered harder, taking a shaky breath. “I want to keep pretending. Why can’t I keep pretending?”

“Because you have to go back. And I can’t go with you.”

“Maybe I don’t want you to,” she snapped. “You’re a liar.”

“No, I’m not. I love you, Lily.”

“You don’t!” She insisted. “You don’t. You can’t.”

“But I do.” The boy reached for her, but she shook her head.

“You can’t,” she whispered.

“Lily,” he said calmly. “Are you afraid to be loved?” The tears were dripping from her chin before she even realized she was crying. She couldn’t answer, could barely breathe, could only cry. 

“I don’t know,” she finally whispered. 

“That’s okay,” he said, putting his hand on her arm. She didn’t move. She was pulled too tight to move. “Sit down,” the boy instructed, and she did. He sat next to her, feet trailing in the water. “Do you know why you’re here, Lily?”

“Because I can’t stand to be there.”

“That’s part of it,” the boy said, nodding encouragingly. “But something happened. Do you remember what happened?”

“I don’t want to,” Lily said. I can’t.

“I know,” the boy said. “I know. Can you try to anyway?”

Lily looked down into the water. The stars were reflected in the darkness. “There was—an accident.” As she spoke, the water shifted to show a quiet street. “I got hit by a car.” The car entered the image, flying towards a crosswalk and the girl who stood upon it. She looked up and froze, and it swerved, knocking her to the ground before screeching to a halt. 

“But you didn’t freeze, did you?” The boy’s voice was quiet, nearly a part of the picture.

“No,” Lily whispered. “I saw it. I could have run. I didn’t want to.”

“You wanted to die.”

“I never would have done it otherwise,” Lily said. “Killed myself, I mean. I’m too scared. But then it was coming, and I thought, I can go home. I just wanted to go home.”

“So you let it hit you.”

“And it didn’t work.” A fresh wave of tears flowed down Lily’s cheeks, and she scrubbed them away furiously. “And now you want me to go back. But I don’t think I can.”

“Lily,” the boy said, and she shook at the sound of his voice saying her name. “Did you think you deserved to die?” Lily didn’t say a word, and that was answer enough. “You can be loved,” the boy said gently. “You are loved. I need you to believe that.” Lily stayed silent, and for a moment the only sound was the trickling water beneath them. The boy put his hand on her back and began rubbing gentle spirals. “Do you trust me, Lily?”

I don’t know. I want to. I promise I want to. “I…”

“Can you try?” Lily sniffed and nodded. “Okay.” The boy met her eyes. “You’re going to go back. I know you don’t want to. I know it’ll hurt. But there are better things coming. Do you believe that?”

Lily hesitated for a long moment. “I want to,” she finally croaked. “But I don’t.” I can’t.

“I need you to believe it,” the boy said. “Because you’re going to need that hope.”

Lily shook her head, and suddenly she was laughing, or perhaps scoffing, or maybe it was just a sob. “You’re just some piece of my imagination. I’m imagining a conversation with myself because I probably have a terrible concussion. There’s no point to any of this. You aren’t real.”

“I’m more real than you think,” the boy said. “And there is a point, because you’re going to wake up. And when you do, you don’t have to hurt the way you do now. So. Can you try to believe that better things are coming?”

Lily nodded.

“Can you hold on, just until they get here?”

“How long?” Lily glared at the water. “How long do I have to wait? I’m tired. I’m lonely. I disgust even myself. I can’t do it.” I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. There’s so much, and it’s all too much. “Can’t I just go home?”

“What is home to you, if not life?” The boy was watching her intently, but Lily couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes.

“It’s—it’s everything else.” Lily shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. It’s where I was before I was born. It’s where I’ll be after I die. Maybe it’s like this place, I don’t know! But I want it. I need it.”

“Why?”

Lily turned her glare on him. “Why do you ask so many questions?” The boy raised an eyebrow, and she sighed. “I need a world that isn’t the one I live in. I need things I’ll never find there. To—to think clearly. To not be so afraid. To be a princess, or a queen, or a warrior, or anyone but who I am.”

“You want paradise.”

“Is that so wrong?”

“No. Of course it isn’t. And I can promise you that you’ll see that place someday. But I need you to live first.”

“I can’t,” Lily said. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.

“You can. But not if you keep thinking like that.”

“I can’t think any other way!”

“Lily.” She scowled. “You have so many enemies out there,” he said. No, he begged. “Don’t give yourself one more. Fight for yourself, not against.”

“It’s too much,” Lily said firmly, wishing she could run away. Wishing she knew how to escape her own mind. “I can’t do it.”

“It’s hard,” the boy countered, “but you can.”

“What do you know?” She muttered, aware that she wasn’t really angry with him but with herself. Idiot. You can’t even think right.

“Stop,” the boy said sharply, sounding angry for the first time. “You will not talk to yourself like that. Do you understand me?” Lily blinked, shying away. “You’re human, Lily. You’re going to make mistakes. You have made them, and you’ll make more. Beating what spirit you have left into a pulp isn’t going to change that, only make it hurt worse.”

“Then how do I stop?” Lily pleaded. “I c–I don’t know how to stop.”

“Replace ‘I can’t’ with ‘I’m trying’. Change ‘I should’ to “I will’ or ‘I won’t’. Don’t lie to yourself, okay?” The boy still spoke firmly, but the anger was gone as if it had never been there. “Relationships without trust bring only pain, and right now you can’t trust yourself. So make little promises to yourself. Tell yourself when you’ll go to bed, or workout, and then do it. Take small steps. Do you think you can do that?”

“No,” Lily said honestly. “But…I’ll try.” I'm trying.

“That’s all you need to do,” the boy said. “One breath at a time.”

Lily nodded, and they sat in silence for a long, long time. The river flowed, the stars twinkled, and the moon reigned as an empress over her court. Finally the boy stood, taking her hand and leading her back to the tree.

“It’s time for you to go,” he said. 

Lily swallowed. “Okay,” she whispered. The world started to fade, but she reached for the boy one last time. “Wait. I ca–I don’t know how to thank you.”

And the boy smiled. “Keep living, Lily. Keep smiling and hoping. Whatever happens, I’ll be waiting for you on the other side.”

 

 

On 2/4/2025 at 9:01 PM, Edema Rue said:

Siren: (but this one isn't creepy cause I think I wrote a creepy siren thing here)

Finished this like 5 minutes ago, so no editing yet. I like it though.

EDIT: awwww I accidentally put it in a quote...too late.

@Just A Silvereye, these are the three that I specifically remember having you in mind during

(and also anytime I write something with Silver, because you share a name lol)

[Throw TheLiving Silverware he/him/il/lui]

2 hours ago, Edema Rue said:

 

 

@Just A Silvereye, these are the three that I specifically remember having you in mind during

(and also anytime I write something with Silver, because you share a name lol)

Oooh yeah

I actually still remembered the first one (Gone) all this time later

Thanks 

 

Edit: oh and also I realized I was a little bit behind on this thread, so I spent some time today catching up. If you were wondering who was upvoting months old posts, well it was me 

(And also I went even further back and reread some older stuff, mainly Liz)

Edited August 20, 2025 by Just A Silvereye

[Edema Rue she/her]

4 hours ago, Just A Silvereye said:

Oooh yeah

I actually still remembered the first one (Gone) all this time later

Thanks 

 

Edit: oh and also I realized I was a little bit behind on this thread, so I spent some time today catching up. If you were wondering who was upvoting months old posts, well it was me 

(And also I went even further back and reread some older stuff, mainly Liz)

Awww thank you

It’s been a hot sec since I’ve posted here…

I actually have a scene wait maybe I’ll post it at work in like an hour

stay tuned, folks

[Edema Rue she/her]

I know this is a writing thread

but technically, it’s a words thread

chthonic: defined as belonging to the underworld.

Spoiler

 

Edited August 30, 2025 by Edema Rue

[Honors Spectral Image She/her]

20 minutes ago, Edema Rue said:

I know this is a writing thread

but technically, it’s a words threat

chthonic: defined as belonging to the underworld.

  Hide contents

 

That’s so cool

[Through the Living Wrath he/him]

15 hours ago, Edema Rue said:

I know this is a writing thread

but technically, it’s a words thread

chthonic: defined as belonging to the underworld.

  Hide contents

 

See

I know that chthonic doesn’t mean this

But it makes me think of some lovecraftian monster - servant of Cthulhu

also that cool

Edited August 30, 2025 by SpiritOfWrath

[Edema Rue she/her]

Knights:

Spoiler

One moment, Nite was sleeping. The next, he was awake.

“Up,” Teacher said, and he got up. Too slowly.

“Did I raise you to be lazy? Move, boy, or I’ll teach you what work really means.”

Nite moved quicker.

“You’re late for a duel.”

It was nearly two in the morning, and Nite had not been informed of any duel. But if Teacher said he was late, he must be late. “I’m sorry, Teacher.”

“Sorry. I don’t want you to be sorry, I want you to be ready.”

“Yes, Teacher.”

“Come on, then.”

Nite followed Teacher along the passage. During the day, there were sometimes other people. Nite had never spoken to them—Teacher had instructed him not to. But tonight it was dark and empty. Strange lights glowed every few feet, but the usual brightness of the place was absent until they reached the arena. Gravel covered the floor, empty benches lined the walls, and brilliant whiteness shone from the high ceiling. 

A beast sat poised in the center. Nite had no word for its kind. It was covered in plated armor, a pair of leathery wings folded neatly upon its back. Upon seeing Nite, it bared a set of brilliant white teeth.

“Teacher—”

“Are you a coward, boy?”

“No, Teacher, but—”

Teacher crossed to the beast, which held totally still as he approached. Teacher set his hand on the beast’s nose. It did not bite him.

“This,” Teacher said, “is a dragon.”

“A dragon,” Nite murmured, tasting the unfamiliar word.

“They used to roam the world,” Teacher said. “Then they were destroyed. We finally learned to bring them back.”

“Is that wise, Teacher?”

“Are you questioning me?”

“No, Teacher.”

“Good.” Teacher stepped back from the dragon, and it slowly started to move again. It was as if Teacher’s presence had immobilized the great creature. If all it took were the sight of the man to take away this dragon’s movement, how powerful must Teacher himself be? Nite dipped his head, remembering that Teacher was one who could not be fought. He was blessed by Teacher’s gifts, and was not to question him. “You will fight the dragon.”

“Am I to kill it?”

“No,” Teacher said sharply. “But neither are you to be killed.”

“You want a stalemate.”

“Yes,” Teacher said. “But it does not end when you are evenly matched. Survive. I will tell you when you’ve finished.”

Nite nodded, and fetched his thin metal staff as Teacher sat. He stepped into the arena, and the dragon attacked. It moved far too quickly, far too fluidly, for a creature of its size. Nite ducked under it, sprinting towards the far wall. This was dangerous, more dangerous than anyone or anything he had fought before. He sized it up quickly. Those sharp teeth he’d seen before. The plate that covered it was hard, and would slice like razors if they caught him. The wings, but the arena was small enough that it couldn’t spread them. Claws on the feet. And—the dragon reached him.

Nite gritted his teeth and ducked to the side as the dragon’s head hit the wall. Rock crumbled. The dragon looked disoriented, but nowhere close to beaten. Fine. Nite dashed forward, hitting two of its shoulders and a knee with his staff and backing up. He hadn’t hit it hard enough to break bone, but it should…there. The dragon stumbled. Then it turned, and Nite froze before its glittering stare. It roared, and he was lost in the sound. It seemed to echo between the walls, rebounding until he was nothing outside of the noise, the noise…he was going to die. This was where he ended.

In the corner of his eye, he saw Teacher stand. The dragon froze. Teacher approached, and it backed into the furthest corner, curling in on itself. There was nothing supernatural about Teacher’s glare, but the fury was enough that Nite would rather have taken the dragon.

“Is that your best?” Teacher spat to the side. “Barely two minutes. I expect more from you.”

“I can’t,” Nite whispered, preparing himself for a hit, or the unnatural pain that came when Teacher was most angry. Neither arrived.

“Who taught you to say that?”

“What?”

“Who taught you to say you can’t?”

“I don’t understand.”

“I didn’t teach you to quit. I didn’t teach you weakness. Did someone else, or do you think you can learn on your own, that you don’t need me any longer?”

Nite swallowed. “Your dragon is too powerful, Teacher. Maybe if I knew your secret way of taming…” the words were bitter in his mouth. Even as he said them, he knew they were wrong. 

“Look at me,” Teacher said. Nite did. The man was tall and haughty and proud. Fluid movements and a pair of thin swords. “You don’t have my permission to die , and so there is never a reason for you to give in. I expect you to put your chin up, wipe the sweat out of your eyes, and take the next step. You’ve done worse than this. You’ve done worse than this a hundred times over. Who gave you the right to let it beat you?”

Nite swallowed. “Nobody, Teacher.”

“Then get up and fight. I will not be so lenient if this happens again.”

“Thank you, Teacher.”

 

Nite returned to his room after two hours, eyes heavy with exhaustion. Too tired to think, he fell into familiar routines, beaten into him for years and years. Change. Check his weapons. Climb into bed. 

Barely an hour later, he opened his eyes to Teacher’s stern eyes. “You’re late.”

“Coming, Teacher.”

The day was the same as all days. Breakfast. Lessons. Duels. Dinner. 

Now the lights in the passageways shone as brightly as always, and the arena was peacefully crowded. The dragon was gone, and in its place were a pair of boys. Each spoke and listened only to his Caretaker, who stood alertly at the back of the arena. The benches were filled with other boys, each of whom sat next to a single Caretaker. When Teacher entered, the silent room sharpened as each pair of eyes became alert and snapped to Teacher. 

“Nite,” a voice said softly. It was not Teacher, and so Nite didn’t move. One of the other boys glanced nervously at his Caretaker, who had spoken. The boy was young, and had not noticed Teacher enter. Flushing, he dipped his head in apology. Teacher nodded once.

“Sit,” Teacher said. The two boys in the center followed their Caretakers to the sides and sat. “Four. Thirty-One. Nineteen.” Three Caretakers stood, and their boys followed them into the arena. “Against…Eight and Twelve.” Another pair of Caretakers stood, followed by their students. Teacher sat, and Nite stood behind him. The other boys could sit; Nite was expected to stand. It was only natural. The other boys served their Caretakers, who served Teacher. Nite was honored to serve Teacher directly. But more honor meant harder work, greater poise, sharper discipline. Teacher had explained these truths to Nite years ago. They had shaped him into who he was.

In the arena, the boys fought. One of them wielded a staff, like Nite. He clearly hadn’t been training with it long—he was still trying to handle it like the swords the younger boys used. Nite frowned at the wide, uncontrolled movements. Teacher glanced at him and smiled faintly.

“They don’t impress you.”

“I’m sorry, Teacher. It isn’t my place to lead them.”

“It isn’t,” Teacher agreed, “but you must recognize their mistakes if you want to avoid the same ones. Tell me, what bothers you?”

“The boy with the staff,” Nite said, still watching. Three boys against two—but the boy with the staff was on the side of the three, doing more harm than good to his own team. “He hasn’t practiced enough with it.”

“Nineteen’s boy. He earned it only two weeks ago,” Teacher noted. “Don’t you remember?”

Nite nodded. The boy had used a thin  sword before, and his mastery of it had prompted Teacher to advance him. “Of course, Teacher.”

Teacher raised an eyebrow. “You act as if there’s something else.”

“He moves like he thinks it’ll be a sword. He isn’t experienced, which is natural, but I wonder if, in his lessons, he hasn’t been using it.”

“Interesting.” They watched for another moment. “Nineteen.” One of the five standing Caretakers broke away from the group and came to stand next to Teacher. Nite took a respectful step back.

“Yes, Teacher?”

“Tell me about your lessons.”

“Nite progresses slowly, Teacher. He works hard, but misses having a weapon he understands. Is his performance unsatisfactory?”

“Yes,” Teacher said. “But more than his, yours. You were assigned to train him with a staff. In disobeying my orders, you are allowing him to think he can as well. You are halting his progress and ruining a talented young man.”

The Caretaker looked shaken. “It won’t happen again, Teacher.”

“No,” Teacher agreed, “it won’t. Nite?”

Invited into the conversation, Nite stepped forward so that he was on the same plane as Teacher and the Caretaker. “Yes, Teacher?”

“You will attend lessons with Caretaker Nineteen tomorrow. Obey and respect him.”

“Yes, Teacher.”

In the arena, one of the boys finally landed a hit on the youngest fighter. He shrieked. Everything stilled and Teacher stood. The boy who’d made the offending sound trembled. “Four,” Teacher said softly. A Caretaker stepped out of line. “Collect your student and meet me in the hallway.”

Teacher stood and left. The child trembled as he followed his Caretaker out the door. Nite felt a whisper of disgust at the boy’s fear. Had the Caretaker taught him to be afraid? Teacher’s punishments were violent, painful things that could bring you to your knees, jaw tight and eyes squeezed shut. But you learned not to scream. The boy’s fear showed his lack of perspective. He didn’t understand that Teacher was just that—an instructor, not a monster. Pain bred warriors. The boy should be grateful for what he was about to experience.

 

When evening arrived, Nite was allowed to sleep for only a few short hours. The dragon was waiting, and so they fought. The exhaustion was deeper now than it had been the night before. He wasn’t sleeping enough, and the memories of the day before—and the night before that, and the day before that—hadn’t yet faded from his muscles. It didn’t matter. Teacher said to fight, so he fought. I’ve done worse than this. I’ve done worse than this a hundred times over.

Nite slipped only once. He was moving too quickly, and his feet got tangled together, and then he was on the ground, the dragon above him. Its teeth were inches above his face when it stopped. Nite closed his eyes, struggling to catch his breath and waiting for Teacher to force the dragon back. Instead, he felt a sharp pain in his shoulder. His eyes flew open and he struggled, but the dragon’s claw held him fast. Jerkily, more like a machine than a predator, it was cutting his shoulder, down his bicep…Nite finally slid free, gasping. Blood dripped down his arm, staining the gravel below. The dragon’s jaw was still frozen in the moment before an inevitable attack…Nite glanced at Teacher. His head was cocked, eyes closed. He was controlling the dragon. He opened his eyes, and Nite saw the barest glint of surprise. Surprise that Nite had gotten free, or surprise at the puddle of blood at his feet? It quickly faded to anger as Teacher stalked towards him.

“Do you think this is a game, boy?”

“No—”

“You can’t rely on me to save you.”

Nite blinked. “You told me I wouldn’t die.”

Teacher stepped closer, looking down into Nite’s eyes. “Not here. But you won’t always be here. I told you that so you wouldn’t run. I didn’t think I needed to tell you not to be an idiot.” He turned and walked back to the wall. “Even under my watch, you can be hurt. Injured, you’re worth nothing.”

“Yes, Teacher,” Nite said. He was already injured. His arm throbbed, and it was all he could do to keep standing. But if Teacher didn’t offer a break, he wouldn’t ask. Asking meant he was weak. Weakness meant more pain.

“I’ll send a medic to your room when we’ve finished.. And, Nite? No one is to know how you were injured. Do not speak to the medic. Do not speak of the dragon to anyone.” 

 

Caretaker Nineteen was different from Teacher. He spoke softly, peacefully, but every time he met Nite’s eyes there was another emotion. Bitterness, maybe, or hate. Nite had done nothing to earn it, that he remembered, but the Caretakers were above him. If this one thought he needed punishing, he must.

“Nite,” Caretaker said, and both boys looked at him. He winced. “There has got to be a better…” he trailed off, meeting Nite’s eyes, and muttered something Nite couldn’t quite hear. “My Nite. Does that work?”

Nite nodded. The other boy waited for instructions.

“Teacher isn’t pleased with your progress. No more sword.”

The boy slumped. “But—” He cut off, eyes sliding to Nite.

It was Nite’s fault. He shouldn’t have drawn attention to himself, but the boy’s tone had grated against him, and he’d stiffened. Who had given him permission to whine?

“Understand,” Caretaker said quickly. “He is young. He…something’s wrong with his head. He can’t learn as well as the other boys.”

Fourteen was not young, and this boy learned just fine. Nite had seen him with a sword. He was afraid of doing something new, that was all. But Nite had been ordered to obey and respect Caretaker, so he dipped his head submissively. “As you say, Caretaker.”

“Right,” Caretaker said. “Right. Um, follow me.” He started down a passage. The boys followed. Again, the other student’s behavior startled Nite. He walked slowly, kicked at the floor, even hummed some strange tune. It was lazy and unfocused, but nothing dangerous, nothing that was wrong, exactly, until the boy leaned over to Nite.

“Hey,” he whispered. “What happened to your arm?”

Nite blinked. He couldn’t answer that, so he went with an easier excuse. “We aren’t allowed to speak to one another.”

The boy rolled his eyes. “Come on. Teacher’s not here, and you can drop the act. No one actually follows all the rules.”

Nite blinked. “Is that why you’re all so weak?”

“Weak?” The boy smirked. “You think we’re weak?”

“Yes,” Nite said. It felt wrong to speak to someone who was not Teacher. He hadn’t done that in years. But the boy had started it. Surely that meant Teacher couldn’t be angry. “I’ve picked out a few with potential, but not one of you is as far as you ought to be. I didn’t understand, but if you aren’t following the rules…that makes sense.”

The boy looked disgusted. “I don’t believe this. You think you’re better than us.”

Nite shrugged. “I work harder.”

“Enough,” Caretaker called. Nite fell silent. “Nite, with me.”

Nite decided to assume Caretaker meant the other boy, and was proven right as the student, with a final glare, sped up to walk side by side with Caretaker. If Nite had behaved this way, Teacher would have punished him a dozen times over. At the very least, Caretaker should be reprimanding the boy. Instead, Nite caught a few muttered phrases… “Just for today…tame as a dog…fun.”

The boy scoffed, but yielded. 

That phrase stayed in Nite’s mind for a long time. Tame as a dog. It wasn’t true. It was wrong that a Caretaker should lie, but this was neither the first nor the largest he’d heard that day. Nite was not a tame dog. The idea was insulting. He’d been trained, raised his entire life to…what? There had to be a reason. All his life, it had been to improve. To beat the older boys, but now even the few who remained were no challenge. To beat the dragon, maybe, but there had to be something more. Tame as a dog. Was he?

 

“Teacher?”

“I don’t want to hear you speak. Not another word tonight.”

So Nite fell silent and fought.

 

“Teacher?”

“Again? If you still have something to say tomorrow, I’ll listen.”

 

“Well?”

“If it’s wrong for me to speak, I won’t make a sound.”

Teacher shook his head. “No. It would be wrong for you to waste me time, and so I trust that whatever you have to say matters.”

“Caretaker Nineteen lied, and his student is both lazy and arrogant.”

“Ah.”

“How did this happen?”

“Is that an accusation?”

Nite froze. “I—”

An unnatural force seized him. Waves of pain flooded through him. He stumbled, biting his tongue so hard he drew blood, but he didn’t make a sound. Teacher moved slowly, every movement exact, precise, deadly. He grabbed Nite’s injured shoulder, and Nite gasped, shaking from the effort of keeping a scream inside. “You forget your place.”

“Yes, Teacher,” Nite whispered. The pain finally faded.

“I will take care of my own students. Do not presume that you are more than you are.”

“I won’t, Teacher.”

“Is there something else?”

Nite swallowed. The question wasn’t meant to be answered. But the words had been bouncing through his mind for days, and Teacher hadn’t given him nearly enough time to sleep, and something inside him needed to push. I’ve done worse than this. I’ve done worse than this a hundred times over. “Caretaker said I’m tame as a dog.”

Teacher laughed, wild, dangerous, mad. Something greater than human. Something far worse. “Dogs don’t ask questions.” Nite had no response, so he nodded. “It’s my own fault that you brought this up. This conversation is long overdue. The Caretakers were never meant to teach the children, only to raise them. But there were no suitable Teachers, and so we made do…I can’t help each child. Some of the Caretakers are too kind, and so their pupils are never pushed hard enough. You have been. You’re better. So they hate you. They call you my little pet, my tame dog, my broken child. They fear you, but many have chosen hate over respect. 

“What they don’t understand, Nite, is that you are going to change this world. Not just in here, but outside. You’ll outshine even the brightest of my Dollys. From here on out, your role changes. Some of my Knights will hate you for that. But they already hate you, and you’ve been through worse than anything they can do.” Nite nodded. “You aren’t tame like a dog, boy. You’re tame like my dragon.”

Spoiler

Anyone who read my scene Caretaker, one page back…yes, they’re connected. This world is a lot of fun (for me, not for them) but it’s super hard to explain it just right. I feel like this scene was a lot of telling and not much showing, so…next time we see Nite, I’ll introduce him from someone else’s perspective and he’ll be infinitely cooler.

 

[Through the Living Hope]

1 hour ago, Edema Rue said:

Knights:

  Reveal hidden contents

One moment, Nite was sleeping. The next, he was awake.

“Up,” Teacher said, and he got up. Too slowly.

“Did I raise you to be lazy? Move, boy, or I’ll teach you what work really means.”

Nite moved quicker.

“You’re late for a duel.”

It was nearly two in the morning, and Nite had not been informed of any duel. But if Teacher said he was late, he must be late. “I’m sorry, Teacher.”

“Sorry. I don’t want you to be sorry, I want you to be ready.”

“Yes, Teacher.”

“Come on, then.”

Nite followed Teacher along the passage. During the day, there were sometimes other people. Nite had never spoken to them—Teacher had instructed him not to. But tonight it was dark and empty. Strange lights glowed every few feet, but the usual brightness of the place was absent until they reached the arena. Gravel covered the floor, empty benches lined the walls, and brilliant whiteness shone from the high ceiling. 

A beast sat poised in the center. Nite had no word for its kind. It was covered in plated armor, a pair of leathery wings folded neatly upon its back. Upon seeing Nite, it bared a set of brilliant white teeth.

“Teacher—”

“Are you a coward, boy?”

“No, Teacher, but—”

Teacher crossed to the beast, which held totally still as he approached. Teacher set his hand on the beast’s nose. It did not bite him.

“This,” Teacher said, “is a dragon.”

“A dragon,” Nite murmured, tasting the unfamiliar word.

“They used to roam the world,” Teacher said. “Then they were destroyed. We finally learned to bring them back.”

“Is that wise, Teacher?”

“Are you questioning me?”

“No, Teacher.”

“Good.” Teacher stepped back from the dragon, and it slowly started to move again. It was as if Teacher’s presence had immobilized the great creature. If all it took were the sight of the man to take away this dragon’s movement, how powerful must Teacher himself be? Nite dipped his head, remembering that Teacher was one who could not be fought. He was blessed by Teacher’s gifts, and was not to question him. “You will fight the dragon.”

“Am I to kill it?”

“No,” Teacher said sharply. “But neither are you to be killed.”

“You want a stalemate.”

“Yes,” Teacher said. “But it does not end when you are evenly matched. Survive. I will tell you when you’ve finished.”

Nite nodded, and fetched his thin metal staff as Teacher sat. He stepped into the arena, and the dragon attacked. It moved far too quickly, far too fluidly, for a creature of its size. Nite ducked under it, sprinting towards the far wall. This was dangerous, more dangerous than anyone or anything he had fought before. He sized it up quickly. Those sharp teeth he’d seen before. The plate that covered it was hard, and would slice like razors if they caught him. The wings, but the arena was small enough that it couldn’t spread them. Claws on the feet. And—the dragon reached him.

Nite gritted his teeth and ducked to the side as the dragon’s head hit the wall. Rock crumbled. The dragon looked disoriented, but nowhere close to beaten. Fine. Nite dashed forward, hitting two of its shoulders and a knee with his staff and backing up. He hadn’t hit it hard enough to break bone, but it should…there. The dragon stumbled. Then it turned, and Nite froze before its glittering stare. It roared, and he was lost in the sound. It seemed to echo between the walls, rebounding until he was nothing outside of the noise, the noise…he was going to die. This was where he ended.

In the corner of his eye, he saw Teacher stand. The dragon froze. Teacher approached, and it backed into the furthest corner, curling in on itself. There was nothing supernatural about Teacher’s glare, but the fury was enough that Nite would rather have taken the dragon.

“Is that your best?” Teacher spat to the side. “Barely two minutes. I expect more from you.”

“I can’t,” Nite whispered, preparing himself for a hit, or the unnatural pain that came when Teacher was most angry. Neither arrived.

“Who taught you to say that?”

“What?”

“Who taught you to say you can’t?”

“I don’t understand.”

“I didn’t teach you to quit. I didn’t teach you weakness. Did someone else, or do you think you can learn on your own, that you don’t need me any longer?”

Nite swallowed. “Your dragon is too powerful, Teacher. Maybe if I knew your secret way of taming…” the words were bitter in his mouth. Even as he said them, he knew they were wrong. 

“Look at me,” Teacher said. Nite did. The man was tall and haughty and proud. Fluid movements and a pair of thin swords. “You don’t have my permission to die , and so there is never a reason for you to give in. I expect you to put your chin up, wipe the sweat out of your eyes, and take the next step. You’ve done worse than this. You’ve done worse than this a hundred times over. Who gave you the right to let it beat you?”

Nite swallowed. “Nobody, Teacher.”

“Then get up and fight. I will not be so lenient if this happens again.”

“Thank you, Teacher.”

 

Nite returned to his room after two hours, eyes heavy with exhaustion. Too tired to think, he fell into familiar routines, beaten into him for years and years. Change. Check his weapons. Climb into bed. 

Barely an hour later, he opened his eyes to Teacher’s stern eyes. “You’re late.”

“Coming, Teacher.”

The day was the same as all days. Breakfast. Lessons. Duels. Dinner. 

Now the lights in the passageways shone as brightly as always, and the arena was peacefully crowded. The dragon was gone, and in its place were a pair of boys. Each spoke and listened only to his Caretaker, who stood alertly at the back of the arena. The benches were filled with other boys, each of whom sat next to a single Caretaker. When Teacher entered, the silent room sharpened as each pair of eyes became alert and snapped to Teacher. 

“Nite,” a voice said softly. It was not Teacher, and so Nite didn’t move. One of the other boys glanced nervously at his Caretaker, who had spoken. The boy was young, and had not noticed Teacher enter. Flushing, he dipped his head in apology. Teacher nodded once.

“Sit,” Teacher said. The two boys in the center followed their Caretakers to the sides and sat. “Four. Thirty-One. Nineteen.” Three Caretakers stood, and their boys followed them into the arena. “Against…Eight and Twelve.” Another pair of Caretakers stood, followed by their students. Teacher sat, and Nite stood behind him. The other boys could sit; Nite was expected to stand. It was only natural. The other boys served their Caretakers, who served Teacher. Nite was honored to serve Teacher directly. But more honor meant harder work, greater poise, sharper discipline. Teacher had explained these truths to Nite years ago. They had shaped him into who he was.

In the arena, the boys fought. One of them wielded a staff, like Nite. He clearly hadn’t been training with it long—he was still trying to handle it like the swords the younger boys used. Nite frowned at the wide, uncontrolled movements. Teacher glanced at him and smiled faintly.

“They don’t impress you.”

“I’m sorry, Teacher. It isn’t my place to lead them.”

“It isn’t,” Teacher agreed, “but you must recognize their mistakes if you want to avoid the same ones. Tell me, what bothers you?”

“The boy with the staff,” Nite said, still watching. Three boys against two—but the boy with the staff was on the side of the three, doing more harm than good to his own team. “He hasn’t practiced enough with it.”

“Nineteen’s boy. He earned it only two weeks ago,” Teacher noted. “Don’t you remember?”

Nite nodded. The boy had used a thin  sword before, and his mastery of it had prompted Teacher to advance him. “Of course, Teacher.”

Teacher raised an eyebrow. “You act as if there’s something else.”

“He moves like he thinks it’ll be a sword. He isn’t experienced, which is natural, but I wonder if, in his lessons, he hasn’t been using it.”

“Interesting.” They watched for another moment. “Nineteen.” One of the five standing Caretakers broke away from the group and came to stand next to Teacher. Nite took a respectful step back.

“Yes, Teacher?”

“Tell me about your lessons.”

“Nite progresses slowly, Teacher. He works hard, but misses having a weapon he understands. Is his performance unsatisfactory?”

“Yes,” Teacher said. “But more than his, yours. You were assigned to train him with a staff. In disobeying my orders, you are allowing him to think he can as well. You are halting his progress and ruining a talented young man.”

The Caretaker looked shaken. “It won’t happen again, Teacher.”

“No,” Teacher agreed, “it won’t. Nite?”

Invited into the conversation, Nite stepped forward so that he was on the same plane as Teacher and the Caretaker. “Yes, Teacher?”

“You will attend lessons with Caretaker Nineteen tomorrow. Obey and respect him.”

“Yes, Teacher.”

In the arena, one of the boys finally landed a hit on the youngest fighter. He shrieked. Everything stilled and Teacher stood. The boy who’d made the offending sound trembled. “Four,” Teacher said softly. A Caretaker stepped out of line. “Collect your student and meet me in the hallway.”

Teacher stood and left. The child trembled as he followed his Caretaker out the door. Nite felt a whisper of disgust at the boy’s fear. Had the Caretaker taught him to be afraid? Teacher’s punishments were violent, painful things that could bring you to your knees, jaw tight and eyes squeezed shut. But you learned not to scream. The boy’s fear showed his lack of perspective. He didn’t understand that Teacher was just that—an instructor, not a monster. Pain bred warriors. The boy should be grateful for what he was about to experience.

 

When evening arrived, Nite was allowed to sleep for only a few short hours. The dragon was waiting, and so they fought. The exhaustion was deeper now than it had been the night before. He wasn’t sleeping enough, and the memories of the day before—and the night before that, and the day before that—hadn’t yet faded from his muscles. It didn’t matter. Teacher said to fight, so he fought. I’ve done worse than this. I’ve done worse than this a hundred times over.

Nite slipped only once. He was moving too quickly, and his feet got tangled together, and then he was on the ground, the dragon above him. Its teeth were inches above his face when it stopped. Nite closed his eyes, struggling to catch his breath and waiting for Teacher to force the dragon back. Instead, he felt a sharp pain in his shoulder. His eyes flew open and he struggled, but the dragon’s claw held him fast. Jerkily, more like a machine than a predator, it was cutting his shoulder, down his bicep…Nite finally slid free, gasping. Blood dripped down his arm, staining the gravel below. The dragon’s jaw was still frozen in the moment before an inevitable attack…Nite glanced at Teacher. His head was cocked, eyes closed. He was controlling the dragon. He opened his eyes, and Nite saw the barest glint of surprise. Surprise that Nite had gotten free, or surprise at the puddle of blood at his feet? It quickly faded to anger as Teacher stalked towards him.

“Do you think this is a game, boy?”

“No—”

“You can’t rely on me to save you.”

Nite blinked. “You told me I wouldn’t die.”

Teacher stepped closer, looking down into Nite’s eyes. “Not here. But you won’t always be here. I told you that so you wouldn’t run. I didn’t think I needed to tell you not to be an idiot.” He turned and walked back to the wall. “Even under my watch, you can be hurt. Injured, you’re worth nothing.”

“Yes, Teacher,” Nite said. He was already injured. His arm throbbed, and it was all he could do to keep standing. But if Teacher didn’t offer a break, he wouldn’t ask. Asking meant he was weak. Weakness meant more pain.

“I’ll send a medic to your room when we’ve finished.. And, Nite? No one is to know how you were injured. Do not speak to the medic. Do not speak of the dragon to anyone.” 

 

Caretaker Nineteen was different from Teacher. He spoke softly, peacefully, but every time he met Nite’s eyes there was another emotion. Bitterness, maybe, or hate. Nite had done nothing to earn it, that he remembered, but the Caretakers were above him. If this one thought he needed punishing, he must.

“Nite,” Caretaker said, and both boys looked at him. He winced. “There has got to be a better…” he trailed off, meeting Nite’s eyes, and muttered something Nite couldn’t quite hear. “My Nite. Does that work?”

Nite nodded. The other boy waited for instructions.

“Teacher isn’t pleased with your progress. No more sword.”

The boy slumped. “But—” He cut off, eyes sliding to Nite.

It was Nite’s fault. He shouldn’t have drawn attention to himself, but the boy’s tone had grated against him, and he’d stiffened. Who had given him permission to whine?

“Understand,” Caretaker said quickly. “He is young. He…something’s wrong with his head. He can’t learn as well as the other boys.”

Fourteen was not young, and this boy learned just fine. Nite had seen him with a sword. He was afraid of doing something new, that was all. But Nite had been ordered to obey and respect Caretaker, so he dipped his head submissively. “As you say, Caretaker.”

“Right,” Caretaker said. “Right. Um, follow me.” He started down a passage. The boys followed. Again, the other student’s behavior startled Nite. He walked slowly, kicked at the floor, even hummed some strange tune. It was lazy and unfocused, but nothing dangerous, nothing that was wrong, exactly, until the boy leaned over to Nite.

“Hey,” he whispered. “What happened to your arm?”

Nite blinked. He couldn’t answer that, so he went with an easier excuse. “We aren’t allowed to speak to one another.”

The boy rolled his eyes. “Come on. Teacher’s not here, and you can drop the act. No one actually follows all the rules.”

Nite blinked. “Is that why you’re all so weak?”

“Weak?” The boy smirked. “You think we’re weak?”

“Yes,” Nite said. It felt wrong to speak to someone who was not Teacher. He hadn’t done that in years. But the boy had started it. Surely that meant Teacher couldn’t be angry. “I’ve picked out a few with potential, but not one of you is as far as you ought to be. I didn’t understand, but if you aren’t following the rules…that makes sense.”

The boy looked disgusted. “I don’t believe this. You think you’re better than us.”

Nite shrugged. “I work harder.”

“Enough,” Caretaker called. Nite fell silent. “Nite, with me.”

Nite decided to assume Caretaker meant the other boy, and was proven right as the student, with a final glare, sped up to walk side by side with Caretaker. If Nite had behaved this way, Teacher would have punished him a dozen times over. At the very least, Caretaker should be reprimanding the boy. Instead, Nite caught a few muttered phrases… “Just for today…tame as a dog…fun.”

The boy scoffed, but yielded. 

That phrase stayed in Nite’s mind for a long time. Tame as a dog. It wasn’t true. It was wrong that a Caretaker should lie, but this was neither the first nor the largest he’d heard that day. Nite was not a tame dog. The idea was insulting. He’d been trained, raised his entire life to…what? There had to be a reason. All his life, it had been to improve. To beat the older boys, but now even the few who remained were no challenge. To beat the dragon, maybe, but there had to be something more. Tame as a dog. Was he?

 

“Teacher?”

“I don’t want to hear you speak. Not another word tonight.”

So Nite fell silent and fought.

 

“Teacher?”

“Again? If you still have something to say tomorrow, I’ll listen.”

 

“Well?”

“If it’s wrong for me to speak, I won’t make a sound.”

Teacher shook his head. “No. It would be wrong for you to waste me time, and so I trust that whatever you have to say matters.”

“Caretaker Nineteen lied, and his student is both lazy and arrogant.”

“Ah.”

“How did this happen?”

“Is that an accusation?”

Nite froze. “I—”

An unnatural force seized him. Waves of pain flooded through him. He stumbled, biting his tongue so hard he drew blood, but he didn’t make a sound. Teacher moved slowly, every movement exact, precise, deadly. He grabbed Nite’s injured shoulder, and Nite gasped, shaking from the effort of keeping a scream inside. “You forget your place.”

“Yes, Teacher,” Nite whispered. The pain finally faded.

“I will take care of my own students. Do not presume that you are more than you are.”

“I won’t, Teacher.”

“Is there something else?”

Nite swallowed. The question wasn’t meant to be answered. But the words had been bouncing through his mind for days, and Teacher hadn’t given him nearly enough time to sleep, and something inside him needed to push. I’ve done worse than this. I’ve done worse than this a hundred times over. “Caretaker said I’m tame as a dog.”

Teacher laughed, wild, dangerous, mad. Something greater than human. Something far worse. “Dogs don’t ask questions.” Nite had no response, so he nodded. “It’s my own fault that you brought this up. This conversation is long overdue. The Caretakers were never meant to teach the children, only to raise them. But there were no suitable Teachers, and so we made do…I can’t help each child. Some of the Caretakers are too kind, and so their pupils are never pushed hard enough. You have been. You’re better. So they hate you. They call you my little pet, my tame dog, my broken child. They fear you, but many have chosen hate over respect. 

“What they don’t understand, Nite, is that you are going to change this world. Not just in here, but outside. You’ll outshine even the brightest of my Dollys. From here on out, your role changes. Some of my Knights will hate you for that. But they already hate you, and you’ve been through worse than anything they can do.” Nite nodded. “You aren’t tame like a dog, boy. You’re tame like my dragon.”

  Reveal hidden contents

Anyone who read my scene Caretaker, one page back…yes, they’re connected. This world is a lot of fun (for me, not for them) but it’s super hard to explain it just right. I feel like this scene was a lot of telling and not much showing, so…next time we see Nite, I’ll introduce him from someone else’s perspective and he’ll be infinitely cooler.

 

Ooooh.... I like... I like very much...

[Throw TheLiving Silverware he/him/il/lui]

2 hours ago, Edema Rue said:

Knights:

  Reveal hidden contents

One moment, Nite was sleeping. The next, he was awake.

“Up,” Teacher said, and he got up. Too slowly.

“Did I raise you to be lazy? Move, boy, or I’ll teach you what work really means.”

Nite moved quicker.

“You’re late for a duel.”

It was nearly two in the morning, and Nite had not been informed of any duel. But if Teacher said he was late, he must be late. “I’m sorry, Teacher.”

“Sorry. I don’t want you to be sorry, I want you to be ready.”

“Yes, Teacher.”

“Come on, then.”

Nite followed Teacher along the passage. During the day, there were sometimes other people. Nite had never spoken to them—Teacher had instructed him not to. But tonight it was dark and empty. Strange lights glowed every few feet, but the usual brightness of the place was absent until they reached the arena. Gravel covered the floor, empty benches lined the walls, and brilliant whiteness shone from the high ceiling. 

A beast sat poised in the center. Nite had no word for its kind. It was covered in plated armor, a pair of leathery wings folded neatly upon its back. Upon seeing Nite, it bared a set of brilliant white teeth.

“Teacher—”

“Are you a coward, boy?”

“No, Teacher, but—”

Teacher crossed to the beast, which held totally still as he approached. Teacher set his hand on the beast’s nose. It did not bite him.

“This,” Teacher said, “is a dragon.”

“A dragon,” Nite murmured, tasting the unfamiliar word.

“They used to roam the world,” Teacher said. “Then they were destroyed. We finally learned to bring them back.”

“Is that wise, Teacher?”

“Are you questioning me?”

“No, Teacher.”

“Good.” Teacher stepped back from the dragon, and it slowly started to move again. It was as if Teacher’s presence had immobilized the great creature. If all it took were the sight of the man to take away this dragon’s movement, how powerful must Teacher himself be? Nite dipped his head, remembering that Teacher was one who could not be fought. He was blessed by Teacher’s gifts, and was not to question him. “You will fight the dragon.”

“Am I to kill it?”

“No,” Teacher said sharply. “But neither are you to be killed.”

“You want a stalemate.”

“Yes,” Teacher said. “But it does not end when you are evenly matched. Survive. I will tell you when you’ve finished.”

Nite nodded, and fetched his thin metal staff as Teacher sat. He stepped into the arena, and the dragon attacked. It moved far too quickly, far too fluidly, for a creature of its size. Nite ducked under it, sprinting towards the far wall. This was dangerous, more dangerous than anyone or anything he had fought before. He sized it up quickly. Those sharp teeth he’d seen before. The plate that covered it was hard, and would slice like razors if they caught him. The wings, but the arena was small enough that it couldn’t spread them. Claws on the feet. And—the dragon reached him.

Nite gritted his teeth and ducked to the side as the dragon’s head hit the wall. Rock crumbled. The dragon looked disoriented, but nowhere close to beaten. Fine. Nite dashed forward, hitting two of its shoulders and a knee with his staff and backing up. He hadn’t hit it hard enough to break bone, but it should…there. The dragon stumbled. Then it turned, and Nite froze before its glittering stare. It roared, and he was lost in the sound. It seemed to echo between the walls, rebounding until he was nothing outside of the noise, the noise…he was going to die. This was where he ended.

In the corner of his eye, he saw Teacher stand. The dragon froze. Teacher approached, and it backed into the furthest corner, curling in on itself. There was nothing supernatural about Teacher’s glare, but the fury was enough that Nite would rather have taken the dragon.

“Is that your best?” Teacher spat to the side. “Barely two minutes. I expect more from you.”

“I can’t,” Nite whispered, preparing himself for a hit, or the unnatural pain that came when Teacher was most angry. Neither arrived.

“Who taught you to say that?”

“What?”

“Who taught you to say you can’t?”

“I don’t understand.”

“I didn’t teach you to quit. I didn’t teach you weakness. Did someone else, or do you think you can learn on your own, that you don’t need me any longer?”

Nite swallowed. “Your dragon is too powerful, Teacher. Maybe if I knew your secret way of taming…” the words were bitter in his mouth. Even as he said them, he knew they were wrong. 

“Look at me,” Teacher said. Nite did. The man was tall and haughty and proud. Fluid movements and a pair of thin swords. “You don’t have my permission to die , and so there is never a reason for you to give in. I expect you to put your chin up, wipe the sweat out of your eyes, and take the next step. You’ve done worse than this. You’ve done worse than this a hundred times over. Who gave you the right to let it beat you?”

Nite swallowed. “Nobody, Teacher.”

“Then get up and fight. I will not be so lenient if this happens again.”

“Thank you, Teacher.”

 

Nite returned to his room after two hours, eyes heavy with exhaustion. Too tired to think, he fell into familiar routines, beaten into him for years and years. Change. Check his weapons. Climb into bed. 

Barely an hour later, he opened his eyes to Teacher’s stern eyes. “You’re late.”

“Coming, Teacher.”

The day was the same as all days. Breakfast. Lessons. Duels. Dinner. 

Now the lights in the passageways shone as brightly as always, and the arena was peacefully crowded. The dragon was gone, and in its place were a pair of boys. Each spoke and listened only to his Caretaker, who stood alertly at the back of the arena. The benches were filled with other boys, each of whom sat next to a single Caretaker. When Teacher entered, the silent room sharpened as each pair of eyes became alert and snapped to Teacher. 

“Nite,” a voice said softly. It was not Teacher, and so Nite didn’t move. One of the other boys glanced nervously at his Caretaker, who had spoken. The boy was young, and had not noticed Teacher enter. Flushing, he dipped his head in apology. Teacher nodded once.

“Sit,” Teacher said. The two boys in the center followed their Caretakers to the sides and sat. “Four. Thirty-One. Nineteen.” Three Caretakers stood, and their boys followed them into the arena. “Against…Eight and Twelve.” Another pair of Caretakers stood, followed by their students. Teacher sat, and Nite stood behind him. The other boys could sit; Nite was expected to stand. It was only natural. The other boys served their Caretakers, who served Teacher. Nite was honored to serve Teacher directly. But more honor meant harder work, greater poise, sharper discipline. Teacher had explained these truths to Nite years ago. They had shaped him into who he was.

In the arena, the boys fought. One of them wielded a staff, like Nite. He clearly hadn’t been training with it long—he was still trying to handle it like the swords the younger boys used. Nite frowned at the wide, uncontrolled movements. Teacher glanced at him and smiled faintly.

“They don’t impress you.”

“I’m sorry, Teacher. It isn’t my place to lead them.”

“It isn’t,” Teacher agreed, “but you must recognize their mistakes if you want to avoid the same ones. Tell me, what bothers you?”

“The boy with the staff,” Nite said, still watching. Three boys against two—but the boy with the staff was on the side of the three, doing more harm than good to his own team. “He hasn’t practiced enough with it.”

“Nineteen’s boy. He earned it only two weeks ago,” Teacher noted. “Don’t you remember?”

Nite nodded. The boy had used a thin  sword before, and his mastery of it had prompted Teacher to advance him. “Of course, Teacher.”

Teacher raised an eyebrow. “You act as if there’s something else.”

“He moves like he thinks it’ll be a sword. He isn’t experienced, which is natural, but I wonder if, in his lessons, he hasn’t been using it.”

“Interesting.” They watched for another moment. “Nineteen.” One of the five standing Caretakers broke away from the group and came to stand next to Teacher. Nite took a respectful step back.

“Yes, Teacher?”

“Tell me about your lessons.”

“Nite progresses slowly, Teacher. He works hard, but misses having a weapon he understands. Is his performance unsatisfactory?”

“Yes,” Teacher said. “But more than his, yours. You were assigned to train him with a staff. In disobeying my orders, you are allowing him to think he can as well. You are halting his progress and ruining a talented young man.”

The Caretaker looked shaken. “It won’t happen again, Teacher.”

“No,” Teacher agreed, “it won’t. Nite?”

Invited into the conversation, Nite stepped forward so that he was on the same plane as Teacher and the Caretaker. “Yes, Teacher?”

“You will attend lessons with Caretaker Nineteen tomorrow. Obey and respect him.”

“Yes, Teacher.”

In the arena, one of the boys finally landed a hit on the youngest fighter. He shrieked. Everything stilled and Teacher stood. The boy who’d made the offending sound trembled. “Four,” Teacher said softly. A Caretaker stepped out of line. “Collect your student and meet me in the hallway.”

Teacher stood and left. The child trembled as he followed his Caretaker out the door. Nite felt a whisper of disgust at the boy’s fear. Had the Caretaker taught him to be afraid? Teacher’s punishments were violent, painful things that could bring you to your knees, jaw tight and eyes squeezed shut. But you learned not to scream. The boy’s fear showed his lack of perspective. He didn’t understand that Teacher was just that—an instructor, not a monster. Pain bred warriors. The boy should be grateful for what he was about to experience.

 

When evening arrived, Nite was allowed to sleep for only a few short hours. The dragon was waiting, and so they fought. The exhaustion was deeper now than it had been the night before. He wasn’t sleeping enough, and the memories of the day before—and the night before that, and the day before that—hadn’t yet faded from his muscles. It didn’t matter. Teacher said to fight, so he fought. I’ve done worse than this. I’ve done worse than this a hundred times over.

Nite slipped only once. He was moving too quickly, and his feet got tangled together, and then he was on the ground, the dragon above him. Its teeth were inches above his face when it stopped. Nite closed his eyes, struggling to catch his breath and waiting for Teacher to force the dragon back. Instead, he felt a sharp pain in his shoulder. His eyes flew open and he struggled, but the dragon’s claw held him fast. Jerkily, more like a machine than a predator, it was cutting his shoulder, down his bicep…Nite finally slid free, gasping. Blood dripped down his arm, staining the gravel below. The dragon’s jaw was still frozen in the moment before an inevitable attack…Nite glanced at Teacher. His head was cocked, eyes closed. He was controlling the dragon. He opened his eyes, and Nite saw the barest glint of surprise. Surprise that Nite had gotten free, or surprise at the puddle of blood at his feet? It quickly faded to anger as Teacher stalked towards him.

“Do you think this is a game, boy?”

“No—”

“You can’t rely on me to save you.”

Nite blinked. “You told me I wouldn’t die.”

Teacher stepped closer, looking down into Nite’s eyes. “Not here. But you won’t always be here. I told you that so you wouldn’t run. I didn’t think I needed to tell you not to be an idiot.” He turned and walked back to the wall. “Even under my watch, you can be hurt. Injured, you’re worth nothing.”

“Yes, Teacher,” Nite said. He was already injured. His arm throbbed, and it was all he could do to keep standing. But if Teacher didn’t offer a break, he wouldn’t ask. Asking meant he was weak. Weakness meant more pain.

“I’ll send a medic to your room when we’ve finished.. And, Nite? No one is to know how you were injured. Do not speak to the medic. Do not speak of the dragon to anyone.” 

 

Caretaker Nineteen was different from Teacher. He spoke softly, peacefully, but every time he met Nite’s eyes there was another emotion. Bitterness, maybe, or hate. Nite had done nothing to earn it, that he remembered, but the Caretakers were above him. If this one thought he needed punishing, he must.

“Nite,” Caretaker said, and both boys looked at him. He winced. “There has got to be a better…” he trailed off, meeting Nite’s eyes, and muttered something Nite couldn’t quite hear. “My Nite. Does that work?”

Nite nodded. The other boy waited for instructions.

“Teacher isn’t pleased with your progress. No more sword.”

The boy slumped. “But—” He cut off, eyes sliding to Nite.

It was Nite’s fault. He shouldn’t have drawn attention to himself, but the boy’s tone had grated against him, and he’d stiffened. Who had given him permission to whine?

“Understand,” Caretaker said quickly. “He is young. He…something’s wrong with his head. He can’t learn as well as the other boys.”

Fourteen was not young, and this boy learned just fine. Nite had seen him with a sword. He was afraid of doing something new, that was all. But Nite had been ordered to obey and respect Caretaker, so he dipped his head submissively. “As you say, Caretaker.”

“Right,” Caretaker said. “Right. Um, follow me.” He started down a passage. The boys followed. Again, the other student’s behavior startled Nite. He walked slowly, kicked at the floor, even hummed some strange tune. It was lazy and unfocused, but nothing dangerous, nothing that was wrong, exactly, until the boy leaned over to Nite.

“Hey,” he whispered. “What happened to your arm?”

Nite blinked. He couldn’t answer that, so he went with an easier excuse. “We aren’t allowed to speak to one another.”

The boy rolled his eyes. “Come on. Teacher’s not here, and you can drop the act. No one actually follows all the rules.”

Nite blinked. “Is that why you’re all so weak?”

“Weak?” The boy smirked. “You think we’re weak?”

“Yes,” Nite said. It felt wrong to speak to someone who was not Teacher. He hadn’t done that in years. But the boy had started it. Surely that meant Teacher couldn’t be angry. “I’ve picked out a few with potential, but not one of you is as far as you ought to be. I didn’t understand, but if you aren’t following the rules…that makes sense.”

The boy looked disgusted. “I don’t believe this. You think you’re better than us.”

Nite shrugged. “I work harder.”

“Enough,” Caretaker called. Nite fell silent. “Nite, with me.”

Nite decided to assume Caretaker meant the other boy, and was proven right as the student, with a final glare, sped up to walk side by side with Caretaker. If Nite had behaved this way, Teacher would have punished him a dozen times over. At the very least, Caretaker should be reprimanding the boy. Instead, Nite caught a few muttered phrases… “Just for today…tame as a dog…fun.”

The boy scoffed, but yielded. 

That phrase stayed in Nite’s mind for a long time. Tame as a dog. It wasn’t true. It was wrong that a Caretaker should lie, but this was neither the first nor the largest he’d heard that day. Nite was not a tame dog. The idea was insulting. He’d been trained, raised his entire life to…what? There had to be a reason. All his life, it had been to improve. To beat the older boys, but now even the few who remained were no challenge. To beat the dragon, maybe, but there had to be something more. Tame as a dog. Was he?

 

“Teacher?”

“I don’t want to hear you speak. Not another word tonight.”

So Nite fell silent and fought.

 

“Teacher?”

“Again? If you still have something to say tomorrow, I’ll listen.”

 

“Well?”

“If it’s wrong for me to speak, I won’t make a sound.”

Teacher shook his head. “No. It would be wrong for you to waste me time, and so I trust that whatever you have to say matters.”

“Caretaker Nineteen lied, and his student is both lazy and arrogant.”

“Ah.”

“How did this happen?”

“Is that an accusation?”

Nite froze. “I—”

An unnatural force seized him. Waves of pain flooded through him. He stumbled, biting his tongue so hard he drew blood, but he didn’t make a sound. Teacher moved slowly, every movement exact, precise, deadly. He grabbed Nite’s injured shoulder, and Nite gasped, shaking from the effort of keeping a scream inside. “You forget your place.”

“Yes, Teacher,” Nite whispered. The pain finally faded.

“I will take care of my own students. Do not presume that you are more than you are.”

“I won’t, Teacher.”

“Is there something else?”

Nite swallowed. The question wasn’t meant to be answered. But the words had been bouncing through his mind for days, and Teacher hadn’t given him nearly enough time to sleep, and something inside him needed to push. I’ve done worse than this. I’ve done worse than this a hundred times over. “Caretaker said I’m tame as a dog.”

Teacher laughed, wild, dangerous, mad. Something greater than human. Something far worse. “Dogs don’t ask questions.” Nite had no response, so he nodded. “It’s my own fault that you brought this up. This conversation is long overdue. The Caretakers were never meant to teach the children, only to raise them. But there were no suitable Teachers, and so we made do…I can’t help each child. Some of the Caretakers are too kind, and so their pupils are never pushed hard enough. You have been. You’re better. So they hate you. They call you my little pet, my tame dog, my broken child. They fear you, but many have chosen hate over respect. 

“What they don’t understand, Nite, is that you are going to change this world. Not just in here, but outside. You’ll outshine even the brightest of my Dollys. From here on out, your role changes. Some of my Knights will hate you for that. But they already hate you, and you’ve been through worse than anything they can do.” Nite nodded. “You aren’t tame like a dog, boy. You’re tame like my dragon.”

  Reveal hidden contents

Anyone who read my scene Caretaker, one page back…yes, they’re connected. This world is a lot of fun (for me, not for them) but it’s super hard to explain it just right. I feel like this scene was a lot of telling and not much showing, so…next time we see Nite, I’ll introduce him from someone else’s perspective and he’ll be infinitely cooler.

 

Interesting

Will be watching with great interest

[Edema Rue she/her]

Something New:

Spoiler

“Nite.”

It was Teacher who spoke, so Nite turned. None of the other boys moved. “Yes?”

“We have a meeting. Bring your staff.”

Nite stood and followed him out the door. None of the other boys ever left the passageways where they’d been raised, but Teacher often expected it from him. The first time, he’d been so excited Teacher had needed to punish him. But he’d since learned that it was nothing new. Teacher had more duties than a Caretaker, and so Nite accompanied him. Usually that meant training in a small room while Teacher led meetings or worked with the girls. Recently, Teacher had been leaving him to instruct the other boys, and today felt like proof that something had changed. They walked up, up, farther than Nite had been before, through more locked doors and checkpoints than he could have imagined. So far that sunlight streamed through tiny windows near the ceiling. Nite’s eyes widened.

“Nite,” Teacher said, and he forced himself back to neutrality.

“What is different about today, Teacher?”

“We’re meeting a patron,” Teacher said, lip curling. “He isn’t like you or I, or the Caretakers, or even the other boys. He is the sort of person you must never become.”

“Yes, Teacher.”

“He may try to speak with you, to entertain you, even to offer you rewards if you obey him. He is a liar.”

“Why would he speak directly to me?”

Teacher laughed softly. “He only knows about the girls. You are something he’s never seen before.”

“I understand.”

“Good. I shouldn’t need to clarify, but you are not to answer him.”

“Of course.”

Teacher nodded once, and Nite followed him through a final door. The room on the other side was grand and dramatic, stained glass and dark wood trim. A man was sat facing a tall desk. Teacher smile, shaking the man’s hand then sitting behind the desk. Nite stood at his side.

“What’s this?” The man grinned widely. “You’ve brought me something new.”

“Maybe,” Teacher said. “That depends what you’re willing to pay.”

“Are they like Dollys? But I thought the formula didn’t work on males…something else, then? Except the hair is the same. What is he, an improved Dolly?”

“Are there problems with my girls?”

“No,” the man said quickly. His round head was shiny. How, Nite wondered, could he swear while sitting down? “No, they’re are as brilliant as ever. But even with such a limited supply, the market is nearly saturated. We’ve seen them. We’re ready for something new, that’s all.” The man laughed nervously.

“New,” Teacher drawled. “We can do that. This is the first of my Knights.”

Nite noted, unimpressed, that the man was trembling with excitement. “No more suspense. What do they do? Magic?”

Teacher fixed the man with a level stare. “They have no magic. Neither do the Dollys…but then, it’s all the same to you. Advertise however you can. My Knights are companion to Dollys. Protectors. Soldiers, though there aren’t enough to form armies.”

For the first time, the man frowned. “We have no need for killers.”

Teacher cocked his head. “None? I’ve heard rumors of unstoppable monsters. I’ve seen madmen destroy entire Families. And surely the Families themselves wouldn’t complain about a new advantage.”

The man shrugged, and Nite was surprised to see the faintest sheen of intelligence in his eyes. “But you sell to everyone. No one gets an advantage—and anyone who can’t afford you is suddenly behind. What’s to stop the Families from shutting your lab down forever?”

Teacher’s lip curled into a smile. “Nite,” he said. “I believe this man has threatened me, but I don’t want him dead.”

Nite moved, and an instant later the man was on his knees, Nite’s staff across his throat so that his face was forced towards Teacher. If Nite had been practicing the move on another boy, there would have been some resistance. But this man didn’t even move, and only now appeared to realize what had happened. “How…” he cut off as Nite added pressure with his staff. Nite didn’t speak, but the message was as clear as it was when he disciplined the other boys: wait for Teacher. 

“If it looks like there are problems, you will keep the Families in line,” Teacher said. “My Knights are not to be crossed, and any threat to their home, or to me, will not be taken lightly. Do you understand?”

The man nodded weakly. Teacher jerked his chin, and Nite released the fool, returning to his position behind Teacher. “It wasn’t a threat,” he rasped, rubbing his throat. “I’m only trying to be realistic.”

“Then I thank you for your pragmatism,” Teacher said smoothly, “and I hope that you better understand the value of even a single Knight.”

“I do,” the man affirmed. Nite noted that the sweat was back, but so too was an overwhelming greed. “How many do you have?”

“Dozens.”

The man started to laugh.

 

“Aria.”

“Someone’s here for you.”

Aria’s gaze sharpened. “For me specifically?”

Sira coughed. “He said he had to talk to our leader, so...”

“Get rid of him.”

Sure shrugged. “He’s got information.”

“He said that, or you think that?”

“Both.”

“Fine.” Sira’s intuition was usually right. Not Sight, just good instincts. “Anything to watch out for?”

“Nope.” Sira snickered. “He’s pretty naive, actually. So even if he isn’t all that helpful, we should probably give him a hand.”

“Nomad?”

“Not sure. Don’t see how he could be anything else, but he doesn’t have the usual look.”

Aria nodded, opening her office door and starting down the stairs. It only took about two steps before she heard a gasp.

“You have a Dolly?” He sounded disgusted. Well, that was a good sign.

Aria frowned. Even now, the term made her feel dirty, but it wasn’t something she could outrun. “My name is Aria.”

That was enough for the boy’s face to pale, his eyes to widen. Girls with pure white hair and dark eyes were Dollys. Dollys did not speak unless spoken to. They did not act without orders. They did not have names. “You…”

“I’m in charge here,” Aria said smoothly. “I heard you have information.”

The boy swallowed. “I didn’t know you were a…” he trailed off as Aria’s expression darkened. “I mean, uh, if you can See, you might already know. Or maybe you have sources in the Families. I just—you need to know.”

“Know what?” Sira said. She wasn’t a patient sort of person.

“There are rumors,” the boy mumbled, looking away. “Of a new product.”

A chill danced along Aria’s spine. That matched what she’d Seen. She hadn’t wanted to believe it, but a second witness was too much confirmation to ignore. She closed the rest of the distance to the boy. “Do you have details?”

The boy shrugged. “I don’t know if it’s true, but I heard they’ll be fighters.”

“Fighters?” Aria frowned.  “That makes no sense. There’s no market for fighters.”

Behind her, Sira coughed. “Uh, the monsters?”

“Even you guys,” the boy added. “The labs aren’t happy with your raids.”

Aria sighed. “What’s your name?”

“Cota.”

“You ever been in a lab, Cota?”

Cota crossed his arms. “You don’t need to talk down to me. Just say what you mean.”

“The people who become these products don’t change overnight. If rumors are starting now, they’re ready. So, assuming he wants to sell them at seventeen, the boys have to have been training specifically as warriors for the last thirteen years. That’s before the monsters, before our attacks, and no Dolly can See that far. Back then, there would have been no reason to create them.”

A beat. “I didn’t tell you they were boys,” Cota said.

Aria crossed her arms. That’s what he focused on? “I Saw.”

“So you already knew everything I had to say.”

“No,” Aria said patiently. “I knew they existed. I didn’t know they were fighters. I didn’t know a timeline. Sight isn’t all powerful.”

“But you have it. I thought you weren’t a Dolly.”

“I’m not.”

“Aria.” Sira had come up beside her. “Calm down.” She turned to Cota. “She was raised like one. She has the ability, but she’s not like them.”

“That’s not possible,” Cota said. “You can’t just say she was raised like one if she’s here now. It doesn’t work that way.”

“Understand that I’m not condescending,” Aria said slowly. “But if you haven’t been in a lab, you don’t know.”

“No one gets out,” Cota said again.

Aria opened her mouth, but Sira cut her off. “Who’d they take?”

“Brother.”

“Older or younger?”

“He’ll be eight next month.”

Sira nodded. “My sister was bought almost a year ago. She has no idea who I am.”

Aria stayed quiet, watching the connection spring between them. Part of her wanted to be jealous. But jealousy was one of the first emotions they’d taught her not to feel. So she just watched. Sira explained. Cota listened, hostility draining. Finally, he turned back to Aria.

“I don’t know anything else about the fighters. But I do have a group of people who think you’re doing the right thing. We need a favor, and if you can help us, we’ll join you.”

Aria and Sira shared a gaze. “What do you need?”

Cota took a breath. “We’ve got friends in Cogs. We want them out.”

Sira started to laugh.

Aria smiled. “Us too.”

sorry lol I know this only gives you more questions and has pretty much no answers

[Through the Living Hope]

8 minutes ago, Edema Rue said:

Something New:

  Hide contents

“Nite.”

It was Teacher who spoke, so Nite turned. None of the other boys moved. “Yes?”

“We have a meeting. Bring your staff.”

Nite stood and followed him out the door. None of the other boys ever left the passageways where they’d been raised, but Teacher often expected it from him. The first time, he’d been so excited Teacher had needed to punish him. But he’d since learned that it was nothing new. Teacher had more duties than a Caretaker, and so Nite accompanied him. Usually that meant training in a small room while Teacher led meetings or worked with the girls. Recently, Teacher had been leaving him to instruct the other boys, and today felt like proof that something had changed. They walked up, up, farther than Nite had been before, through more locked doors and checkpoints than he could have imagined. So far that sunlight streamed through tiny windows near the ceiling. Nite’s eyes widened.

“Nite,” Teacher said, and he forced himself back to neutrality.

“What is different about today, Teacher?”

“We’re meeting a patron,” Teacher said, lip curling. “He isn’t like you or I, or the Caretakers, or even the other boys. He is the sort of person you must never become.”

“Yes, Teacher.”

“He may try to speak with you, to entertain you, even to offer you rewards if you obey him. He is a liar.”

“Why would he speak directly to me?”

Teacher laughed softly. “He only knows about the girls. You are something he’s never seen before.”

“I understand.”

“Good. I shouldn’t need to clarify, but you are not to answer him.”

“Of course.”

Teacher nodded once, and Nite followed him through a final door. The room on the other side was grand and dramatic, stained glass and dark wood trim. A man was sat facing a tall desk. Teacher smile, shaking the man’s hand then sitting behind the desk. Nite stood at his side.

“What’s this?” The man grinned widely. “You’ve brought me something new.”

“Maybe,” Teacher said. “That depends what you’re willing to pay.”

“Are they like Dollys? But I thought the formula didn’t work on males…something else, then? Except the hair is the same. What is he, an improved Dolly?”

“Are there problems with my girls?”

“No,” the man said quickly. His round head was shiny. How, Nite wondered, could he swear while sitting down? “No, they’re are as brilliant as ever. But even with such a limited supply, the market is nearly saturated. We’ve seen them. We’re ready for something new, that’s all.” The man laughed nervously.

“New,” Teacher drawled. “We can do that. This is the first of my Knights.”

Nite noted, unimpressed, that the man was trembling with excitement. “No more suspense. What do they do? Magic?”

Teacher fixed the man with a level stare. “They have no magic. Neither do the Dollys…but then, it’s all the same to you. Advertise however you can. My Knights are companion to Dollys. Protectors. Soldiers, though there aren’t enough to form armies.”

For the first time, the man frowned. “We have no need for killers.”

Teacher cocked his head. “None? I’ve heard rumors of unstoppable monsters. I’ve seen madmen destroy entire Families. And surely the Families themselves wouldn’t complain about a new advantage.”

The man shrugged, and Nite was surprised to see the faintest sheen of intelligence in his eyes. “But you sell to everyone. No one gets an advantage—and anyone who can’t afford you is suddenly behind. What’s to stop the Families from shutting your lab down forever?”

Teacher’s lip curled into a smile. “Nite,” he said. “I believe this man has threatened me, but I don’t want him dead.”

Nite moved, and an instant later the man was on his knees, Nite’s staff across his throat so that his face was forced towards Teacher. If Nite had been practicing the move on another boy, there would have been some resistance. But this man didn’t even move, and only now appeared to realize what had happened. “How…” he cut off as Nite added pressure with his staff. Nite didn’t speak, but the message was as clear as it was when he disciplined the other boys: wait for Teacher. 

“If it looks like there are problems, you will keep the Families in line,” Teacher said. “My Knights are not to be crossed, and any threat to their home, or to me, will not be taken lightly. Do you understand?”

The man nodded weakly. Teacher jerked his chin, and Nite released the fool, returning to his position behind Teacher. “It wasn’t a threat,” he rasped, rubbing his throat. “I’m only trying to be realistic.”

“Then I thank you for your pragmatism,” Teacher said smoothly, “and I hope that you better understand the value of even a single Knight.”

“I do,” the man affirmed. Nite noted that the sweat was back, but so too was an overwhelming greed. “How many do you have?”

“Dozens.”

The man started to laugh.

 

“Aria.”

“Someone’s here for you.”

Aria’s gaze sharpened. “For me specifically?”

Sira coughed. “He said he had to talk to our leader, so...”

“Get rid of him.”

Sure shrugged. “He’s got information.”

“He said that, or you think that?”

“Both.”

“Fine.” Sira’s intuition was usually right. Not Sight, just good instincts. “Anything to watch out for?”

“Nope.” Sira snickered. “He’s pretty naive, actually. So even if he isn’t all that helpful, we should probably give him a hand.”

“Nomad?”

“Not sure. Don’t see how he could be anything else, but he doesn’t have the usual look.”

Aria nodded, opening her office door and starting down the stairs. It only took about two steps before she heard a gasp.

“You have a Dolly?” He sounded disgusted. Well, that was a good sign.

Aria frowned. Even now, the term made her feel dirty, but it wasn’t something she could outrun. “My name is Aria.”

That was enough for the boy’s face to pale, his eyes to widen. Girls with pure white hair and dark eyes were Dollys. Dollys did not speak unless spoken to. They did not act without orders. They did not have names. “You…”

“I’m in charge here,” Aria said smoothly. “I heard you have information.”

The boy swallowed. “I didn’t know you were a…” he trailed off as Aria’s expression darkened. “I mean, uh, if you can See, you might already know. Or maybe you have sources in the Families. I just—you need to know.”

“Know what?” Sira said. She wasn’t a patient sort of person.

“There are rumors,” the boy mumbled, looking away. “Of a new product.”

A chill danced along Aria’s spine. That matched what she’d Seen. She hadn’t wanted to believe it, but a second witness was too much confirmation to ignore. She closed the rest of the distance to the boy. “Do you have details?”

The boy shrugged. “I don’t know if it’s true, but I heard they’ll be fighters.”

“Fighters?” Aria frowned.  “That makes no sense. There’s no market for fighters.”

Behind her, Sira coughed. “Uh, the monsters?”

“Even you guys,” the boy added. “The labs aren’t happy with your raids.”

Aria sighed. “What’s your name?”

“Cota.”

“You ever been in a lab, Cota?”

Cota crossed his arms. “You don’t need to talk down to me. Just say what you mean.”

“The people who become these products don’t change overnight. If rumors are starting now, they’re ready. So, assuming he wants to sell them at seventeen, the boys have to have been training specifically as warriors for the last thirteen years. That’s before the monsters, before our attacks, and no Dolly can See that far. Back then, there would have been no reason to create them.”

A beat. “I didn’t tell you they were boys,” Cota said.

Aria crossed her arms. That’s what he focused on? “I Saw.”

“So you already knew everything I had to say.”

“No,” Aria said patiently. “I knew they existed. I didn’t know they were fighters. I didn’t know a timeline. Sight isn’t all powerful.”

“But you have it. I thought you weren’t a Dolly.”

“I’m not.”

“Aria.” Sira had come up beside her. “Calm down.” She turned to Cota. “She was raised like one. She has the ability, but she’s not like them.”

“That’s not possible,” Cota said. “You can’t just say she was raised like one if she’s here now. It doesn’t work that way.”

“Understand that I’m not condescending,” Aria said slowly. “But if you haven’t been in a lab, you don’t know.”

“No one gets out,” Cota said again.

Aria opened her mouth, but Sira cut her off. “Who’d they take?”

“Brother.”

“Older or younger?”

“He’ll be eight next month.”

Sira nodded. “My sister was bought almost a year ago. She has no idea who I am.”

Aria stayed quiet, watching the connection spring between them. Part of her wanted to be jealous. But jealousy was one of the first emotions they’d taught her not to feel. So she just watched. Sira explained. Cota listened, hostility draining. Finally, he turned back to Aria.

“I don’t know anything else about the fighters. But I do have a group of people who think you’re doing the right thing. We need a favor, and if you can help us, we’ll join you.”

Aria and Sira shared a gaze. “What do you need?”

Cota took a breath. “We’ve got friends in Cogs. We want them out.”

Sira started to laugh.

Aria smiled. “Us too.”

sorry lol I know this only gives you more questions and has pretty much no answers

Ooooooooh

[Throw TheLiving Silverware he/him/il/lui]

7 minutes ago, Edema Rue said:

Something New:

  Hide contents

“Nite.”

It was Teacher who spoke, so Nite turned. None of the other boys moved. “Yes?”

“We have a meeting. Bring your staff.”

Nite stood and followed him out the door. None of the other boys ever left the passageways where they’d been raised, but Teacher often expected it from him. The first time, he’d been so excited Teacher had needed to punish him. But he’d since learned that it was nothing new. Teacher had more duties than a Caretaker, and so Nite accompanied him. Usually that meant training in a small room while Teacher led meetings or worked with the girls. Recently, Teacher had been leaving him to instruct the other boys, and today felt like proof that something had changed. They walked up, up, farther than Nite had been before, through more locked doors and checkpoints than he could have imagined. So far that sunlight streamed through tiny windows near the ceiling. Nite’s eyes widened.

“Nite,” Teacher said, and he forced himself back to neutrality.

“What is different about today, Teacher?”

“We’re meeting a patron,” Teacher said, lip curling. “He isn’t like you or I, or the Caretakers, or even the other boys. He is the sort of person you must never become.”

“Yes, Teacher.”

“He may try to speak with you, to entertain you, even to offer you rewards if you obey him. He is a liar.”

“Why would he speak directly to me?”

Teacher laughed softly. “He only knows about the girls. You are something he’s never seen before.”

“I understand.”

“Good. I shouldn’t need to clarify, but you are not to answer him.”

“Of course.”

Teacher nodded once, and Nite followed him through a final door. The room on the other side was grand and dramatic, stained glass and dark wood trim. A man was sat facing a tall desk. Teacher smile, shaking the man’s hand then sitting behind the desk. Nite stood at his side.

“What’s this?” The man grinned widely. “You’ve brought me something new.”

“Maybe,” Teacher said. “That depends what you’re willing to pay.”

“Are they like Dollys? But I thought the formula didn’t work on males…something else, then? Except the hair is the same. What is he, an improved Dolly?”

“Are there problems with my girls?”

“No,” the man said quickly. His round head was shiny. How, Nite wondered, could he swear while sitting down? “No, they’re are as brilliant as ever. But even with such a limited supply, the market is nearly saturated. We’ve seen them. We’re ready for something new, that’s all.” The man laughed nervously.

“New,” Teacher drawled. “We can do that. This is the first of my Knights.”

Nite noted, unimpressed, that the man was trembling with excitement. “No more suspense. What do they do? Magic?”

Teacher fixed the man with a level stare. “They have no magic. Neither do the Dollys…but then, it’s all the same to you. Advertise however you can. My Knights are companion to Dollys. Protectors. Soldiers, though there aren’t enough to form armies.”

For the first time, the man frowned. “We have no need for killers.”

Teacher cocked his head. “None? I’ve heard rumors of unstoppable monsters. I’ve seen madmen destroy entire Families. And surely the Families themselves wouldn’t complain about a new advantage.”

The man shrugged, and Nite was surprised to see the faintest sheen of intelligence in his eyes. “But you sell to everyone. No one gets an advantage—and anyone who can’t afford you is suddenly behind. What’s to stop the Families from shutting your lab down forever?”

Teacher’s lip curled into a smile. “Nite,” he said. “I believe this man has threatened me, but I don’t want him dead.”

Nite moved, and an instant later the man was on his knees, Nite’s staff across his throat so that his face was forced towards Teacher. If Nite had been practicing the move on another boy, there would have been some resistance. But this man didn’t even move, and only now appeared to realize what had happened. “How…” he cut off as Nite added pressure with his staff. Nite didn’t speak, but the message was as clear as it was when he disciplined the other boys: wait for Teacher. 

“If it looks like there are problems, you will keep the Families in line,” Teacher said. “My Knights are not to be crossed, and any threat to their home, or to me, will not be taken lightly. Do you understand?”

The man nodded weakly. Teacher jerked his chin, and Nite released the fool, returning to his position behind Teacher. “It wasn’t a threat,” he rasped, rubbing his throat. “I’m only trying to be realistic.”

“Then I thank you for your pragmatism,” Teacher said smoothly, “and I hope that you better understand the value of even a single Knight.”

“I do,” the man affirmed. Nite noted that the sweat was back, but so too was an overwhelming greed. “How many do you have?”

“Dozens.”

The man started to laugh.

 

“Aria.”

“Someone’s here for you.”

Aria’s gaze sharpened. “For me specifically?”

Sira coughed. “He said he had to talk to our leader, so...”

“Get rid of him.”

Sure shrugged. “He’s got information.”

“He said that, or you think that?”

“Both.”

“Fine.” Sira’s intuition was usually right. Not Sight, just good instincts. “Anything to watch out for?”

“Nope.” Sira snickered. “He’s pretty naive, actually. So even if he isn’t all that helpful, we should probably give him a hand.”

“Nomad?”

“Not sure. Don’t see how he could be anything else, but he doesn’t have the usual look.”

Aria nodded, opening her office door and starting down the stairs. It only took about two steps before she heard a gasp.

“You have a Dolly?” He sounded disgusted. Well, that was a good sign.

Aria frowned. Even now, the term made her feel dirty, but it wasn’t something she could outrun. “My name is Aria.”

That was enough for the boy’s face to pale, his eyes to widen. Girls with pure white hair and dark eyes were Dollys. Dollys did not speak unless spoken to. They did not act without orders. They did not have names. “You…”

“I’m in charge here,” Aria said smoothly. “I heard you have information.”

The boy swallowed. “I didn’t know you were a…” he trailed off as Aria’s expression darkened. “I mean, uh, if you can See, you might already know. Or maybe you have sources in the Families. I just—you need to know.”

“Know what?” Sira said. She wasn’t a patient sort of person.

“There are rumors,” the boy mumbled, looking away. “Of a new product.”

A chill danced along Aria’s spine. That matched what she’d Seen. She hadn’t wanted to believe it, but a second witness was too much confirmation to ignore. She closed the rest of the distance to the boy. “Do you have details?”

The boy shrugged. “I don’t know if it’s true, but I heard they’ll be fighters.”

“Fighters?” Aria frowned.  “That makes no sense. There’s no market for fighters.”

Behind her, Sira coughed. “Uh, the monsters?”

“Even you guys,” the boy added. “The labs aren’t happy with your raids.”

Aria sighed. “What’s your name?”

“Cota.”

“You ever been in a lab, Cota?”

Cota crossed his arms. “You don’t need to talk down to me. Just say what you mean.”

“The people who become these products don’t change overnight. If rumors are starting now, they’re ready. So, assuming he wants to sell them at seventeen, the boys have to have been training specifically as warriors for the last thirteen years. That’s before the monsters, before our attacks, and no Dolly can See that far. Back then, there would have been no reason to create them.”

A beat. “I didn’t tell you they were boys,” Cota said.

Aria crossed her arms. That’s what he focused on? “I Saw.”

“So you already knew everything I had to say.”

“No,” Aria said patiently. “I knew they existed. I didn’t know they were fighters. I didn’t know a timeline. Sight isn’t all powerful.”

“But you have it. I thought you weren’t a Dolly.”

“I’m not.”

“Aria.” Sira had come up beside her. “Calm down.” She turned to Cota. “She was raised like one. She has the ability, but she’s not like them.”

“That’s not possible,” Cota said. “You can’t just say she was raised like one if she’s here now. It doesn’t work that way.”

“Understand that I’m not condescending,” Aria said slowly. “But if you haven’t been in a lab, you don’t know.”

“No one gets out,” Cota said again.

Aria opened her mouth, but Sira cut her off. “Who’d they take?”

“Brother.”

“Older or younger?”

“He’ll be eight next month.”

Sira nodded. “My sister was bought almost a year ago. She has no idea who I am.”

Aria stayed quiet, watching the connection spring between them. Part of her wanted to be jealous. But jealousy was one of the first emotions they’d taught her not to feel. So she just watched. Sira explained. Cota listened, hostility draining. Finally, he turned back to Aria.

“I don’t know anything else about the fighters. But I do have a group of people who think you’re doing the right thing. We need a favor, and if you can help us, we’ll join you.”

Aria and Sira shared a gaze. “What do you need?”

Cota took a breath. “We’ve got friends in Cogs. We want them out.”

Sira started to laugh.

Aria smiled. “Us too.”

sorry lol I know this only gives you more questions and has pretty much no answers

What in the - 

GIMME MOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAARRRRR

[Edema Rue she/her]

Just now, Spark of Hope said:

Ooooooooh

:DD

Just now, Just A Silvereye said:

What in the - 

GIMME MOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAARRRRR

 I’m tryinnggggggg

[Through the Living Hope]

1 minute ago, Just A Silvereye said:

What in the - 

GIMME MOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAARRRRR

Tu voudrais plus d'histoire?

[Edema Rue she/her]

5 minutes ago, Spark of Hope said:

Tu voudrais plus d'histoire?

would I like more or would you like more?

im sorry to say i dont speak French.

[Through the Living Hope]

Just now, Edema Rue said:

would I like more or would you like more?

im sorry to say i dont speak French.

I was asking Sil if he wanted more of the story lol