Hi, guys! I was just rereading Lodestar and Gethen's character really interested me. He reminds me of a mix of Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez and Gin Ichimaru from Bleach. So yeah, I decided to write about him.
I do not own the Keeper of the Lost Cities series.
To set the scene, Sophie is in Gethen's mind and she got trapped in one of his um ... traps. If I get any details wrong, please forgive me. I'm human and very apt to make mistakes. :) Also, please note that this was before Sophie recieved her skill as an Enhancer. To put it into perspective, this is a remake of the scene when she met Gethen with Oralie, but substitute Fitz for Oralie ... that made sense, right?
Warning: this story contains swearing. And Lodestar spoilers.
Stuck, now, are we? Gethen's mental voice was as metallic and harsh as his real one.
When Sophie had first plunged into the distorted world that was the captured Neverseen agent's mind (trying to wrench free a few secrets for the Black Swan) she had been opalescently confident that she could wade through his mental rivers of madness without falling into any of his mental traps or become utterly annihilated. The latter, though the thought of it was scary, was far from inevitable—Fitz and Mr. Forkle were hovering over her physical body, ready to channel any and all of their mental energy should they have sensed a disturbance.
Sophie groaned, trying to untangle her mind from the web-like telepathic barrier Gethen had surrounding his thoughts with so that he could only broadcast the ones that he wanted. No, she replied, struggling to unhook herself from an unsurprisingly persistent tangle. She tried to make her mental voice sound more confident that she felt. I have you right where I want you.
Gethen's voice sounded amused. Oh, really? He laughed—a mirthless sound. Where you wanted me was to be watching you fumble through the superiority of my mind? How sweet.
She gritted her teeth in frustration. You can cut the act—a cheer nearly escaped her thoughts as she freed herself from the knot, only to be shrouded in a new one—Fintan's abandoned you. Why else do you think no one's come back for a jailbreak?
You're stupider than you look. His mental grin made Sophie shudder. Clearly, the Black Swan's expectations for you weren't high enough.
Sophie ignored the jibe, choosing instead to build up a shield of mental energy, wrapping it around herself like a bonafide blanket burrito. She tried to recall the plan that Mr. Forkle had given her. He had said distraction was key. It was best to keep Gethen talking and focused on her alone, while her mind explored his. And clearly, the Neverseen expected more from you. You failed them, Gethen—getting captured by a bunch of kids? They don't want you anymore.
There was a slight hitch in the man's voice, but it remained as nonchalant as ever. Sophie praised herself for striking a nerve. I could say the same for you. Supposedly Project Moonlark was the Black Swan's 'pièce de résistance'. He snorted, and Sophie's barrier melted into the environment. Pièce de résistance, my ass. All they've come up with is an expendable little girl who they can use as bait to poke into other peoples' minds.
Pièce de résistance? That was a human term, wasn't it? How did Gethen know—
French. I took French.
A flash of surprise struck Sophie like a wayward lightning bolt. You can read my thoughts?
The web-like structure of his mind condensed, and Sophie felt herself choking as one stubborn thread ensnared her neck. She sliced through it instantly with a sharp twist of her thoughts. Don't tell me you don't know that while you're in my mind, your thoughts are broadcasted to me as if they were my own? That's one of my special talents. Gethen's mental voice twisted with malice.
What? Her mind was impenetrable—or was supposed to be, anyway. That's the way the Black Swan had created her to be. Only a select few could break through her mental blocking, and among them were Mr. Forkle and Fitz.
That's right, Gethen realized, and Sophie could hear a grin through his words. You've never been inside my mind, have you? You're always hiding like a pussy behind that fuckboy Forkle.
Her anger flared. He's not a ... a ...
Fuckboy?
Yes, that. Sophie cringed at the thought of him being able to read her thoughts and finish her sentences, chiding herself. This conversation was going absolutely nowhere. She had to keep him distracted.
Yeah, that would be a lot easier if everything you were thinking wasn't being transmitted straight to my mind. He groaned. Your mental voice is really annoying, you know that? Aren't you supposed to be a Polyglot or something? Mimic someone.
An idea began to churn in her mind and she grinned. All right. She tried to recollect the cold, hard, and somehow ... welcoming?—voice that the jogger with the crescent-shaped bite mark had used when Fitz had first come to pick her up to go to the Lost Cities. Why were you learning French?
She grinned when she heard the cringe in Gethen's voice as she mimicked his own. Stop that.
Why should I? Sophie made sure to keep her voice exactly like his.
He scowled. Keep that up and I'll start setting traps in here again.
Sophie paused and scanned the area. It was true; the webs that Gethen had placed in his mind to deter her had dissipated, although she had yet to see the man himself. She saw her chance to seize some information since his guard seemed to be down. With that, she called to Fitz for a surge of mental energy and tried to find Gethen in his mindscape. The traps went back up immediately. She reverted to her normal voice, hating herself for almost sounding pouty. Why did you take the traps down in the first place?
Your voice is muffled when I put up the webs. Because they're a mimic of a typical Psioniopathic ability, they get some interference and sound like static in my head since I'm not a Psioniopath.
She blinked. That must be one of the longest, non-insulting sentences you've ever said to me.
Don't get used to it. I have to explain everything very thoroughly if I want to get anyshit through your dense skull.
I'm not dense.
Right, because not realizing Gisella's boy's obsession with you is actually a testament to your intelligence.
A prickly feeling enveloped her and her mind went fuzzy, not knowing what to do with the information. She knew that this conversation would breach topics that she didn't enjoy talking about, but she wasn't expecting that.
Ha, does that make you uncomfortable? I'll change the subject, then. What day is it?
Sophie could sense the eagerness in his question and suspected that Mr. Forkle would not appreciate her revealing that information to him. It must have had something to do with the Neverseen's plan—one that Gethen probably wasn't a part of, considering his current imprisonment in Lumenaria.
She sensed irritation coming from him as well as an oily form of mockery. There I go, trying to make you comfortable, and then you go and snub me.
It's not like you gave me a better option. I'm going to assume that knowing the date is important to you.
Aww, so you'd rather talk about Gisella's—
She sent a blast of mental energy toward the direction of his voice, delighted when she cut him off. So there was a way to control him.
To her dismay, his voice returned immediately, in all its sardonic glory. Was that supposed to do something?
It made you stop talking for a moment, didn't it?
He was a silent for a second. And then four. Five. Twenty. Thinking. Unimpressed. I'm going to assume that that wasn't your intended goal.
No, but if she did it enough times, she was sure it would, in fact, get her closer to her goal—retrieving some information. Another blast of energy propelled out of her, this time mixed with a bolt of Infliction. She drew upon the emotion reserve Bronte had trained her to stockpile. For some reason, this current conversation with Gethen had yet to make her truly rage, so the withdrawal was necessary.
Fuck, Gethen's mental voice sputtered when the energy hit him. The hell was that?
Sophie felt like a little bit of smugness was necessary after such a victory. I mixed my mental energy with some anger and Inflicted it on you.
Right, I almost forgot. His snicker sounded pitying. You're the Black Swan's little science experiment. What was it that they gave you? Double enhanced special abilities?
More like tripl— she dared not finish the thought, considering Gethen could hear them. There was no need for him to know anything about her.
She was too late. Three special abilities? Wow, they fucking really played Dr. Frankenstein on you, didn't they? Let's see if I can guess the third one.
A rare smirk glossed her lips. Too bad the third special ability wasn't one that normal elves had and stemmed from her alicorn-based genetics. She let her mind go quiet—not stagnant or anything, otherwise, Fitz and Mr. Forkle would go berserk—but quiet, in case she slipped any more important facts, and Gethen happened to be listening.
I am listening.
Why?
I'm not sure what you're asking. Why am I listening? He laughed darkly. I'd have to be stupid not to take advantage of a situation like this.
No, Sophie corrected. She tried to make her mental voice sound bold and strong. Why don't you retaliate? All you've done is immobilize me when you've had the chance to do so much worse. Not that she wanted him to do anything to her.
Gethen's mind went silent, and Sophie wondered if he had checked out altogether. His quietness lengthened to where Sophie instead focused her attention back to untangling his mental energy's viselike grip. When his voice finally returned, it sounded hollow, morose. I don't get much company here.
Sophie couldn't suppress her gasp. You're lonely?
Don't say it like that, he grumbled, his voice filling with a scowl.
She tried imagining his position, despite all the grotesque and unthinkable things he had done. She imagined her friends, whom she had trusted, leaving her to be captured by the enemy and left all alone in an empty room, with nothing but missing fingernails to show for it. She shuddered at the thought of the form of torture that the Collective had put Gethen through—though she couldn't deny that it was necessary. Sophie tried to brush away any modicum of pity she felt for him—it couldn't erase what he had done.
She huffed. You couldn't possibly be lonely. There are guards who bring you things, right? I'm sure they're enough company.
Gethen's voice hardened again. What would you know about 'enough company'? Last time I checked, back in the Forbidden Cities, you were known as 'Friendless Foster'.
I was a twelve-year-old in a class of nineteen-year-olds! She hated that he had struck a nerve.
His voice practically glowed. I struck a nerve?
Another bolt of Inflicted mental energy released from somewhere inside her, and this time, Sophie made sure that it was more potent, drawing from the constant flow that Fitz provided.
A gag echoed through the mindscape, coupled with a few labored breaths and coughs. I see you're getting better with those. Much more powerful than your punches, by the way.
She rubbed her Sucker Punch that was fastened on her wrist and tried to remember seeing Gethen's nose before she had entered his mind. It had looked perfectly healed, albeit a slight bit crooked. You'd know that first hand, wouldn't you?
Gethen didn't answer.
Sophie breathed out a long breath. This wasn't getting anywhere. Perhaps it was time to leave—no doubt Fitz would be worrying about her, and Mr. Forkle would be prepared with a lecture on how she shouldn't have stayed in the former Neverseen agent's mind for so long.
The moment the thoughts formed in her head, she felt the web around her grow thicker, tighter. Like a vine, it traveled up her body, squeezing her tight from around her waist and neck. Panic ebbed away at her when she realized the same mind trick she had used to cut the web earlier no longer had any effect. Let me out! Gethen, you ... you ... bastard!
The bonds loosened slightly but still maintained their firm grip. A smirk echoed in Gethen's voice. I think the proper term is 'bitch'. He frowned. Tell me something first, before you go.
That depends on what it is.
... Do you think you can actually defeat Fintan?
Sophie blinked. Of course. It wasn't a matter if she could or not, but she had to. After all the innocent people he had hurt and all the havoc he had created in the Lost Cities, there was no way that she could let him get away with what he'd done. With her friends and powerful allies on her side, there was no way that Fintan could possibly prevail.
How naïve, Gethen noted, almost woefully. If you want to leave here with a secret for your Black Swan friends, I'll tell you one: you can't defeat me, therefore you can't defeat Fintan.
She raised a mental eyebrow. And what makes you say that?
Fintan, he began, is weak—
—But you just that if I can't defeat you—which I can do, if I keep up with my Inflicted energy blasts—then I can't defeat Fintan. That insinuates that he's more powerful than you.
Wow. You're more of a stupid freak than I thought. I said you can't defeat me. Because I won't let you and because there's never been a Telepath better than me born in the Lost Cities.But, if for whatever reason you can, getting to Fintan is easy. He's weak. Pathetic. Anything that his consciousness abhors—which, in essence, is everything he does—he has to hide in his caché; otherwise, his weak-ass mind will break.
A psychotic grin took hold of his face, nearly splitting it in half. But, me? Blood, gore, death—I've seen, done, and remembered it all. Everything a normal elf would be mentally compelled to forget, I've seen it and taken it in stride. I don't need some half-ass caché to forget it all for me. I live to remember.
Sophie gulped. Everything Gethen had just said confirmed her suspicions. Yes, Fintan needed to die. He killed Kenric. He was instrumental in the deaths of so many people. But so was Gethen. The thing that made Gethen scarier than Fintan was that like some true Earth television show villain, he didn't feel any remorse. If Fintan needed to wash away his memories to prevent his mind from breaking, it proved that he had some sort of consciousness.
You're horrible. This time, Sophie summoned a tidal wave of emotions—fear, pain, anger, dread, worry, fear, doubt, fury, hate, fearfearfear and channeled her mental energy, hurling it right in the direction of Gethen's disembodied voice. So much energy was propelled into the attack that any feelings she felt faded into the background and she became numb.
Sophie, are you okay? came Fitz's frenzied voice.
Her breaths were labored and she answered, I'm good. Just a little drained.
I'll send you some more energy.
While he did that, Sophie scanned the area. Her surge of mental energy had dispelled any traps that Gethen had placed, including the webs. His mind had gone eerily silent ... ... ... Gethen?
Moments later, a weak voice thundered like a storm. Why didn't you kill me? All—all you did was send an obscene amount of mental energy. You didn't Inflict on me at all ...
His tone asked the question she herself was wondering: why did you hold back?
Why didn't she end Gethen right then and there? All she had to do was release those emotions, the fear, along with her mental energy and the deed would have been done. Gethen would have been no more.
The answer came to her. Sophie gulped. I'm not like you, Gethen. She wasn't going to kill anyone with or without a nagging conscience—which she had.
They were both silent for a few moments. Then, Sophie felt it—the pressure. In her weakened state, she felt Gethen's mental energy surround her, pushing—no, shoving her out of his mind. She let the pressure drag her out—she hadn't found anything useful, but there was no way that she was staying in this mind anymore.
Just before she completely lost contact with Gethen, she heard a soft voice whisper, you want a real secret? Next time you see Fintan, be careful, be wary. Don't let your guard down for even a second. Don't believe a word he says.
Because that will be the day it all comes crashing down.
Please review if you enjoyed!