A/N: Hmmm…didn't get too many readers for the last chapter. ;.; You've all abandoned me for Diablo III haven't you?-!
Kitty: Or Finals. Not everyone is out of school yet, you know.
Me: Oh, right, Real Life. Bleh. (Pulls out Diablo III box) For those of you who are still able to keep up with my updates: You're lucky I haven't slipped this into my computer yet or said updates would be slowing down to one a week.
(8)
The creature's blood was hot and burned my skin – though perhaps this was simply a perception for when I later examined myself my body was not burned. I convulsed violently as I realized what I had done, for though the creature was foul and monstrous it was still a sentient being. It was an entity as aware of its own self as I. Perhaps it twas guilt which burnt me, not the blood. Yet this thing had possessed no such reservations about me and myself. I had been its pet too long, suffered its cruelties and learned the true nature of its kind. Yet the last words it uttered to me before it died chilled me through the fire. I remember them well.
"Is that guilt I see in your eyes? Then truly I was wrong. You are not the monster I thought you to be. I am sorry."
I? She believed I was the monster? Was I the monster? Had her cruelty been born of fear? Had she feared me just as greatly as I feared her?
I could not bear these thoughts. I ran from the tower, from the murder I had done, and out into the cold rain where mud became my clothing and the only balm for my scars and fears was the harsh icy spray of the moorland storms.
~ Excerpt from Rorek's memoirs.
(O)
Chapter 7 – Forgiveness
It hurts, doesn't it?
Shut up.
Knowing that she was just using you.
Shut up!
She didn't miss you at all. She just needed your knowledge.
Enough…
It is no more than you deserve.
Enough! I regret my actions! What more do want from me?-! Why must this go on and on?
Tis far easier to forgive another than one's own self.
It'd also be nice if his own thoughts would stop berating him like this.
He'd been a fool. He'd managed to delude himself into believing that she was returning to him out of a desire to learn his language. In fact the small hope that perhaps she missed him and was using these lessons as her own excuse for spending time with him had been incubating in his mind. But no. She had other reasons for learning his language. She must have been surprised when he offered to teach her just like that, so desperate he'd been to find some way of bringing her back. He had even gone into the first lesson without waiting for her to actually confirm her desire. All this time…
You owe her. Do not dare to feel misled. This is all you deserve. his own thoughts growled at him.
Yet still he wanted to rage; to pity himself; to call her a temptress and other such names; to claim that she had been stringing him along with false hopes and wishes. She was using him! She only wanted—
"Oh dear, you're not going to cry now, are you? I know it hurts, but you'll just have to accept the truth. It's over. I got what I wanted; I don't need you anymore." Weren't those your exact words?
You are a real pain in the tail sometimes.
You owe her.
(O)
The celebration technically lasted for three days but the Earth party were only asked to stay for the first few hours. Starfire got to stay for a bit longer since there were a few repairs that had to be made to the T-Ship – the existence of which were the reason Wheatley was having a time-out in the cargo hold.
Raven assisted Cyborg with the repairs since she now knew quite a bit about machines from her part in the new T-Ship's construction. She didn't even want to know what Wheatley had managed to convince Beast Boy to do. Fortunately the damage wasn't quite as bad as Cyborg had at first thought.
They called Starfire on her communicator when everything was up and running to Cyborg's satisfaction and were on their way back home before noon. Or so they thought at first. Five minutes of space-travel later and they had to fly back or else risk being permanently deafened by Starfire's cries of, "WE FORGOT THE SPACE-LOVING SPHERE—GO BACK GO BACK!-!-!"
It took all day to find it.
A few hours later and Raven was alone at the helm while the others got some sleep. It was peaceful and quiet. She found serenity in the way the stars moved around her, becoming huge suns reflecting planets that fled past as she watched. Sometimes the ship would pass a particularly enormous sphere at a great distance and she was able to watch it for more than a second before the hyper drive whipped it out of sight.
It seemed almost impossible that the Titans could take a trip like this and not be attacked by some planet's threatening oppressors or something. This peaceful vacation was almost a letdown. Like the universe had simply decided to give up and go take a nap.
Someone entered the front deck and Raven turned to see it was Nightwing. "Hey." he said.
"Hey. Can't sleep?" she asked.
"Sort of…" He took one of the helm's passenger seats. "Actually…there's something I wanted to talk to you about." 'And I know you're not going to want to hear it but please don't kill me.' were the words she heard but were not actually said.
"Alright," she began in her best, 'here, I'm bracing myself so I don't kill you.' voice. She was pretty sure she knew what the meat of this talk was going to be about, though. What else could it be about?
"It's about Malchior."
Yep, called it. she thought. "Specifically?"
He took a deep breath. "I'm wondering if…maybe…we should give him a second chance."
If Raven had been driving a car they would have definitely crashed into something. Even so it was lucky the autopilot was flying and all she was really doing was keeping an eye on things. She stared at Nightwing who, after five minutes, started to sweat under the silent scrutiny.
Finally she managed, "You what?"
"I'm not saying let him out!" he told her earnestly. "And I'm not saying we should completely trust him but…maybe we should give him the chance to prove he really is sorry?" he suggested.
There was another long, nervous pause.
"What, exactly, did you have in mind?"
(O)
"You're—you're a talking book! A talking book! That's amazing! How are you doing that without a mouth or lungs or anything?"
"I…could ask you the same question."
"Speakers, mate. Gotta love 'em."
"I. Am. Not. Your. Mate."
Wheatley's glowing blue eye got very small. "Right, got it, not a mate…understood. Completely acceptable. Ah, will 'buddy' be okay? Mr. Book maybe? How about 'Sir'? I can do 'Sir'."
"That will suffice."
"Good! Good! So, ah, any idea why the gloomy girl is laughing so hard? Seems a bit out of character, that."
"No. Idea."
"Ah ha, so it's a mystery is it? Oh! You know what we should do? Solve this mystery! We could be mystery-solvers. You and me! Solving mysteries everywhere! Starting with why the gloomy girl has slipped out of character and is engaging in a fit of laughter that is considered atypical for characters of the general gloomy profile. You'll be the prime detective and I'll be the beloved side-kick. So, what's the plan, Boss?"
"I still prefer this to the beep."
"Oooo, a beep? What beep? Is that another mystery? Two mysteries in one day! I smell a two-parter."
"You will stop talking, now."
"Yes Sir."
A few minutes passed in silence. Cyborg materialized next to Wheatley and stared at him. Then he poked the sphere. No response. He glowered grumpily at the white book. "Dude, I've been trying to find the off button for three days straight! How'd you do that?-!" he demanded.
"It's a knack. Tell me something: Is this how you redeem all your former enemies? Place them next to annoying spheres?"
"I am sure that once you and the Wheatley get to know one another you shall become the best of friends!" Starfire declared.
Wheatley's pupil shrank again as he looked from her to the book and back.
"Ye gods, woman. I can't tell if you're serious or holding a grudge."
"Whatever do you mean?" asked Starfire, honestly confused.
"…And there went one of the last few pieces of my sanity that I had managed to cling to. If I begin to babble incoherently about large green things with teeth and big dogs with orange eyebrows please pay me no heed. And I know that is you, Shifter. You are not funny."
Beast Boy, who had turned into a big green dog with big teeth and orange eyebrows, snickered and turned back.
"How did you change your eyebrow color?" Raven asked him.
"Uh…not sure." Beast Boy admitted sheepishly.
Malchior did not give any indication that Nightwing, Beast Boy, or Starfire had paid him a visit while Raven was asleep. He obviously hadn't mentioned it earlier either or Raven would have said something about it when she told them what he'd told her about the black book. That was probably one of the biggest reasons why Nightwing had decided to give him a second chance. When Raven carried him to the front deck there were a few moments of baited breath and thumping hearts. It would have been just like the Malchior they had previously thought he was to make some hinting remark about meeting three of the Titans for the second time. He hadn't.
Only Beast Boy and Starfire's complete lack of poker skills would have given them away. Fortunately Raven seemed to mistake their tense behavior for nervousness about having to meet Malchior.
And then Raven had decided to set him on the same wall-table that currently held Wheatley and the Space Core (who was currently suffering from yet another fry-out).
The book flopped open, which startled everyone but Raven, and the pages flipped over to the colorless image of white eyes and white hair. Automatically Cyborg leaned him up against the wall so they could all see those eyes. "Thank you. So…now what?" he asked.
"Now we ask you a bunch of personal questions that no one really wants to know the answers to." Cyborg answered.
"We do?" Raven asked, cocking an eyebrow at him.
"…Smashing…" Malchior sighed with resignation. "Proceed."
"What's your favorite food?" Beast Boy asked.
"Virgins chained to rocks." the book answered sarcastically. "Maartuz, I don't know. It's been over a thousand years since I've had a body. Do you really think even something as basic as the common potato would still taste the same in this time as it did in mine?" he asked.
"And if the potatoes taste different then the virgins are definitely going to have a off flavor." Raven mused.
"Not to mention the rocks and chains." Malchior added.
"Okay, um…favorite color?" Beast Boy asked.
"Is this really necessary?" Malchior questioned.
"We would like to get to know you as a potential friend." Starfire told him cheerfully.
"…"
"You guys never asked me my favorite—"
"I thought I said you were not to speak."
"Yes Sir!" came a very high-pitched response.
"Dude, you have got to teach me how to do that." Cyborg said.
(O)
He stood there next to the silently terrified talking sphere and watched with interest as, after more pointless questions about his likes, dislikes, hobbies, and so on ("Violet.", "Dogs.", "Various arts.", and so on), the communal activity of these empowered youths broke apart into individual things that still seemed to require them to be in the same chamber. The green shifter was playing what was called a 'video game' – which Malchior only sort of knew about – and was complaining loudly that the screen was too small. He went ignored. Their leader, the newly-named Nightwing, was focused on a small strange object similar to the one that he'd seen Raven using when she had first opened his book again. The metal man was focused on the front of the ship where the fascinating sight of planets speeding past them held Malchior's attention for a very long time. Raven herself was sitting on the floor reading while the hyperactive one was cheerfully playing with her lusciously long violet hair. Malchior had to turn his attention away from that scene rather swiftly. There was no telling what might happen if he came out as a paper man again and tried to take over Starfire's activities. For all Raven yet knew, he'd lost that particular ability and he didn't want to reveal it's continued existence until he was sure she wouldn't decide to remove it.
So instead he turned his attention back to the stars. It was truly an amazing sight. If only that thing these humanoids called 'music' wasn't playing in the background. During some of these individual songs he really wished he had ears so he could cut them off and toss them out into space. This wasn't the case with all the songs, but they were for quite a few. Honestly, how could Raven stand it? Surely this wasn't her type of music. She'd probably had practice.
"Hey, hey Malchior." the shifter, obviously thinking he was being stealthy, decided to slip up next to the book. He had previously been groaning about something in his game and was now whispering to the dragon out of the corner of his mouth.
"Yes, what?"
"Look, Raven's totally cheating on you with another book. Jealous?" he asked.
Malchior flipped a page to an altered image of his eyes. This one possessing the picture of one eye opened a bit wider than the other in the definite expression of one questioning another one's sanity. Then he flipped a page to another expression, this one something of a resigned sort of leer. "Yes, I am so jealous…of an inert bundle of paper. Indeed." he said in a dead voice. "Go make your video game-thing move again. I was watching that." he lied.
"You wanna play?" The shifter proffered the controlling object he'd been using to manipulate the moving pictures.
"Oh yes, absolutely. Just cut off your wrists and attach your hands to my pages so I can use it." Malchior said brightly.
"Can't you do that paper person thing?" he asked.
"I don't know…I could try." He flipped a page to eyes that were pointed at Raven.
"Hey Raven! Can Malchior do the paper person thing so I can teach him how to play Mega Monkeys Ultima?" the shifter asked.
"I don't know, can he?" Raven asked, not even looking up from her book. The hyperactive one had pulled her hair up into a ponytail and was now braiding individual locks with every sign of enjoyment despite Raven's apathy.
Deciding to take this as permission, Malchior let his pages rustle in a chaotic deluge of flying paper. After a few moments of disconcerting blackness he opened a pair of ink-made eyes and looked out through them. He looked down at his hands. "Mmm, seems I can."
"Awesome! Here," the shifter shoved the controller contraption into his paper hands and pushed him over to the screen. "We'll start you off on a new game!"
20 minutes later and Malchior was so engrossed in the novelty of having such control over a moving image that he completely failed to notice what the shifter was doing until he heard the energetic one giggle and Raven's own light chuckle. Then he realized he'd been feeling something running across his substitute skin and looked over to see the shifter wearing a big all-too-innocent smile. The green youth was also hiding something behind his back in a less-than-subtle manner.
Malchior pressed the button that froze the pictures and gave the shifter his full attention. Then he noticed the black scrawls all down the left side of his makeshift body. He leered at the shifter. Suddenly it felt like the entire chamber was waiting to see what he would do. Was this a test? No, this was just the shifter's own childish behavior.
But, suddenly, it was a test. His reaction was going to be carefully judged for both the act itself and its honesty. It may determine just how much freedom he'd be allowed in future.
He had three options: One, get mad; two, ignore it; or three, get even – but in a humorous way. One thing he had learned about present day humanity was that they'll forgive almost anything if you make them laugh.
"Your artwork leaves much to be desired. Here, let me show you a few things." he held his hand out for the marking tool and, like the unsuspecting fool that he was, the shifter handed it over. Malchior then grabbed the green youth by his hair and began industriously inking his face. "What you must always be conscious of is perspective. Not simply what you are looking at, but the angle at which you view it. You must also know about shadows. Shading is what creates the illusion of shape upon a flat surface and is vital for accurate portrayal – particularly when all one has to work with is black ink. You can take an inaccurate sketch and still at least give it an attractive look if you have good shading skills." he chatted amicably. "Also be aware of your lines. More often than not using just a few lines to hint at a texture will do you more favors than drawing out the entire texture. It is also not always necessary for everything to be outlined, especially if you are limited on just how much you can shade. There." He finished his work and returned the marker to the shifter. Then he calmly went back to figuring out the fascinating world of video games.
"Alright, Beast Man, turn around." the Nightwing lad commanded, sounding amused.
Upon the shifter's forehead he had drawn a distant scope of mountains while either cheek indicated the trees and foliage of a forest. The middle of his face had been employed for a river that made use of his nose and mouth to indicate a rock and a short water fall.
There was some snickering and a giggle. "I like where he put the river." he heard Raven say.
"Alright, someone get me a mirror! What did he do!"
"He showed you up Beast B-Man, big time." Nightwing answered.
"Alright, y'all, let me see." said the metal man, coming away from his chair.
What is going on here? he wondered as the metal man guffawed. This was the last thing he had expected. Were these youths honestly intending to befriend him? Where was the obligatory hostility? Where was the awkwardness? Where were the uncomfortable silences? What about the shaded and uncertain glances in his direction?
They are willing to forgive you and are offering you a second chance. It is more than you deserve, but so often does life give us what we do not deserve.
Indeed…but if they are willing to forgive me then perhaps that means she is as well.
Malchior turned his attention back to the game. Thus far he had been so fascinated by simply moving the little monkey about he had not actually done anything yet. From what he could tell, the little monkey was in a town of other monkeys that were all walking upright and wearing clothes. It was amazing. He was exploring a town with this little monkey in which no one seemed to be doing anything much but standing around or walking aimlessly. This was not normal town behavior as far as he knew it. Even in modern times people did not simply stand around and do nothing. There was always some work to be going on with or, in the present day, some entertainment to be had. It was very strange. Were they all waiting for something then? He directed his monkey towards another.
"Sweet, merciful Pahmonah, is that female intended to look alluring?-!" he exclaimed, startled and slightly sick.
"Well, to monkeys I guess." the shifter answered.
"She seems to be having some difficulty with her clothes." the hyperactive one observed. And if she agreed with that sentiment then obviously it wasn't just him.
"In my experience monkeys do not wear clothing. Neither is it the females that do the luring. The male lures, the female chooses. Why does this moving picture game thing seem to think any female primate would deem it necessary to attempt to appear attractive?"
"It's just a video game, dude. You know, it's like fiction." the shifter explained.
"Ah, lying for entertainment. I see." Malchior looked at the female…thing and then back at the shifter. "The story-tellers and artists of your time are touched in the head. How do I instigate conversation with this…female?"
"Just press the 'A' button. That's the blue one there."
"Very well," he did so. "Pardon me…Madam, but I would like to ask—"
"Oh Optimi! Thank the moons you are here! My basement has been overrun by giant space rats! Please, you must do something!" the female cried out desperately.
"She just interrupted me in mid-sentence!" Malchior cried in outrage. "Is this typical?-! And who is this 'Optimi' she believes she is speaking to? What is so funny?"
"It is not funny." Starfire said primly. "I too believed the images of people could hear me when I first witnessed these fictions."
"At least Malchior didn't try to kill any monsters by destroying the TV screen." Raven mused.
Malchior put the game in its frozen state. "Alright, before I proceed further I would like a more detailed explanation." he stated.
"Hey, can we play some of my music now?" Raven asked. "Everyone else has had their turn." she added when the other Titans seemed to become awkward.
"Yeah, sure, Rae! Just let me, um, go see if I can find your mp3s..." the metal man said.
Malchior was curious. Raven's music? He guessed it wasn't so much music that she had written as that she simply liked and listened to. Undoubtedly it would be music that the others might find gloomy or depressing or slow or...
Or roaring?
And it doesn't matter how you feel now
Anything at all
Seems to be your only way
So vicious
Heavenly apart
It wasn't like the previous bits of rather rough music with their enthusiastic drums and guitars. Oh it had those things, but it was a bit different. It was harder, more vicious, while at the same time the female voice that sang was haunting and unusual.
When your envy is on a piece of paper
Let me sweetly smile
You're devouring all the crumbs I'm leaving
Caught up in your lies
In fact, it felt like humans were attempting to make their instruments sound like a dragon choir.
You're on any other side/Clawing up my eyes
I'm feeling your arms around me
On the other side
It's time to go
I'm hearing your voice without words
On the other side
"What sort of music is this?" Malchior asked.
"Something Argent got Raven hooked on a while back. I think it's called goth metal or darkwave or something. Use to she listened to classical music. Now her music has more metal in it than Nightwing's." the shifter explained.
But it doesn't matter how I feel now
Anything at all
Since I've left you with the wrong impression
While I'm still the same
("Unspoken" by Lacuna Coil)
"I like it." he decided after listening to it for a few more seconds.
"Yeah that figures. Here, let me show you how this works." the shifter said, taking the controller from Malchior. He then tumbled down into a long-winded explanation involving moving blocks of color, large rats, something called Dungeons & Dragons, and the mind-numbing fact that, now that humanity had pulled itself up out of the dark ages, they were constantly returning to it in their heads as a means of escaping their disappointment in the advanced world. And perhaps he could see the point. Perhaps once one took one's real self out of the environment and placed an imaginary self there instead then there could be some enjoyment in the act.
It was actually quite fascinating.
(O)
Burning here
In the room
Feeling that
The walls are moving closer
Silent scene
The dark takes me
Leads me to
The ending of another day
I'm haunted
Raven was at the helm again. Once more the others were all asleep but this time around she wasn't exactly alone. Malchior was glued to Beast Boy's video game – though he was currently having some issues now that Beast Boy had decided to retire. Every now and then he would grumble something under his breath in Draconic. Other than that it was quiet. Malchior's mere presence was enough to keep the personality spheres completely silent. Even the Space Core – whom Raven had thought lacked the necessary amount of intelligence (artificial or otherwise) to be frightened – didn't talk. It was just her, an occupied paper dragon-man, and her music. She was also reading, but made sure to glance up every now and then to make sure everything was okay. Still no sign of some needed epic rescue or anything. Things were pretty quiet.
Tell me who you are
I am spellbound
You cannot have this control on me
Everywhere I go
I am spellbound
I will break the spell you put on me
("Spellbound" by Lacuna Coil)
She noticed when the game's sounds and Malchior's grumbling stopped but she didn't pay much attention until the paper man appeared next to her.
"May I sit down?" he asked. She nodded and he took the same seat that Nightwing had the night before (though, of course, out here day and night were simply a matter of preference).
They sat in silence for a long time. Her reading, him staring in fascination at the view of the planets speeding past. She noticed when his gaze turned to her. She could feel it. But she refused to acknowledge it.
She wasn't sure what to think anymore. She wasn't sure how she felt. Part of her felt dead, or perhaps just dormant and too lazy or simply too tired to raise its head again. She didn't really want to feel anything. Not like that. She'd learned her lesson the first time, and she was still too new to the freedom of emotions. She was dealing with it by doing what she always did and simply dipping in one toe at a time. Slow and steady.
Did she still have feelings for him? No. Not those kinds of feelings anyway. She'd been over him for a long time now. She'd accepted what had happened and while she wasn't going to tell anyone it was alright she also wasn't going to let it rule her life.
And now?
"I'm jealous, Raven." Malchior said, suddenly breaking the silence.
"Of my book?" she asked.
He coughed and chuckled. "Yes, you are cheating on me with another book. How could you, Raven?" he asked in a mock hurt voice. Then his eyes became serious. "No, I'm jealous of you."
She raised an eyebrow. "Of me?"
"If I had had such friends in my early days…many things would be different." He turned his attention back to the stars but, for a brief moment, Raven was sure she'd seen real honest longing in his eyes. "Truly, it is not what I am which they despise but what I have done. Such individuals are rare indeed. Sheer experience so often burns away these trusting philosophies, and, unfortunately, not without cause." he mused.
She wasn't entirely sure what to say to that. She shrugged. "There are always going to be prejudices. It's one of the ways people deal with their fears and insecurities. This doesn't make them right, but there's so much about life that isn't right." she mused. "I'm sure people were prejudice against dragons long before that High Priest you mentioned disappeared."
"Certainly, but the High Priest was at least able to keep humans and dragons on marginally good terms. At least, that's how it was in the land of Nahl. He kept the dragons in line and earned the trust of many powerful kings and princes so that there would be a sort of surface communion between the two races. At the same time, however, they carefully stayed out of one another's affairs." he explained.
"Wait, this High Priest was a dragon? I thought dragons didn't worship gods. Why would there be a High Priest?" Raven asked.
"What dragons worshiped was not a god, as such…" he told her awkwardly. "It's a bit complicated."
"What about this 'Maartuz' you mentioned? I notice that's the last word in your Draconic power chant. Is it a god as well?"
"In a way, yes. But he wasn't worshiped any more than Pahmonah. According to the old legends, Maartuz was the first dragon and it is from him that the power of the Thu'um comes. But these are largely the same sort of legends that think you can gain the power of transformation by making a new shape out of clay and bypass the whole business of skin, bones, organs, blood, and so on. It's hard to know what is true and what isn't. It could be that Maartuz began as a human and became a dragon and that is why the Dov, I mean the dragons, have human shapes. I'm sure that was one of the stories. Obviously since the first dragon was male in these legends then he had to have some way of propagating with females of other races otherwise there would be no dragons at all. Perhaps it is not that the Dov are dragons with human shapes but humans with dragon shapes. There's no real way to know. But perhaps the details aren't that important."
"Perhaps." she agreed. "And the being that dragons do worship?" she asked.
"That's a bit deep, Raven. I'd rather not talk about it. I'm no priest." he told her solemnly.
She decided not to ask any more. He seemed uncomfortable with the subject. They sat in silence for a while longer, both staring at the stars. Raven's book was closed on her lap.
"Raven,"
"Hmm?"
"I'm sorry."
She didn't look at him. "You've said."
"Then perhaps there is some way I can prove it."
"You're being given the chance." she pointed out, now peering at him out of the corner of her eye.
He nodded. "Tis more than I deserve." he murmured quietly, not looking at her.
Another silence stretched out between them.
"Raven…"
She jumped slightly when she felt his hand take one of hers. He moved so silently! He was kneeling at her knee and his white sepia eyes were staring earnestly up at her.
"I am sorry." he said softly. "Perhaps one day I can tell you…why…but it won't matter. I would like to say that I am different now, that I have changed, but I do not know if this is true or if I am simply looking at things differently because I have come to accept my paper prison for the eternity it is. But I regret this, Raven. For whatever reason I regret my actions. I regret how I used you, I regret how focused I was on nothing but my freedom, I regret the foul creature that I was and probably still am. I regret…and I will continue to ask for the forgiveness I know I do not deserve. I am sorry, Raven. Please forgive me."
She pulled her hand away and he let it go, looking crestfallen. "Malchior…" she sighed. "I forgave you a long time ago." she told him simply.
His eyes went wide with shock and surprise. "What? Why? How?" he asked.
"Just…listen. I forgave you but not for your sake, alright? I forgave you for myself, because I didn't want to carry around all that hurt and anger for the rest of my life. So I let it go, I got over it." Well, it was mostly true. Perhaps she hadn't forgiven him completely…until now. Amazing how much easier it was to do that when the person in question actually asked for forgiveness. "You were a mistake that I learned from. My first love, and it ended badly. Now, that doesn't mean I was going to completely forget what you did and that doesn't mean the pain just left and never came back. But I put it behind me. Despite what many of those fluffy romance novels that Starfire reads would have you believe, one does get over these things. Life moves on and you have to move with it or die. That's how things work. So I did.
"What I'm trying to say," she went on, "is that I'm willing to give you another chance. I'm willing to think of you as a possible friend, and so are the others. But those feelings I had for you back then are gone. And in a way I think that's a good thing. It means that I can forgive you. So I forgive you. That doesn't necessarily mean I trust you enough to free you again, but…maybe we can start being…friends."
"Friends…" he mused. "Just…friends…"
"Yes."
He nodded, "Yes. I…think I would like that." he said, though his eyes were telling her something else. Something she very carefully did not read. He then returned to his own chair. "Would you…like another lesson in Draconic?" he asked her.
She considered this a moment. "Why not?" She put her book away and turned the music off so it wouldn't be distracting. "Should I fetch the book?"
"Your reading doesn't need any more work. Only your comprehension. I was thinking of doing something different. I'm going to tell you a few stories, familiar stories, and you just do your best to follow along."
That sounded kinda fun. She nodded, "Alright."
"Ont au fin tiid…"
(O)
Malchior was back in the green book bag and zipped up. This time, though, it had been at his request. He didn't exactly sleep; not sleep as they knew it. But when all sounds and sights were blocked from him then he could dream. These dreams had been quite restful as of late and he looked forward to them – provided he knew that he could also look forward to having something other than endless dreaming in his future.
She'd decided to leave him in there for the sake of convenience when the ship docked in the tower. Out of habit she carried him to her room, leaving the others to unload all their luggage (Starfire, naturally, coming home with more than she went). At first she didn't notice the odd look of her door. It opened and shut as it was meant to, and she walked into her room with the book bag slung over her shoulder and hidden by her cape. Then she froze and looked at her hand mirror. She turned and looked at her door. To the naked eye nothing was amiss but she was sure that if Cyborg ran any detailed scans over it he'd be able to detect that it had been broken and reattached. It didn't matter how good you were, you could never break something and then put it back together in exactly the same condition. There would always be a mark, even if plain eyes couldn't see it.
Someone had been in her room. Someone who had been careful and had not wanted to leave behind any trace of their presence, trying to disturb as little as possible. Swiftly she examined all the hidden passages to her various closets. She was relieved to find that none of them had been found. This mysterious intruder would have had to break them open and fuse them back like he or she had done with the door but there was no sign of that. For reasons she couldn't quite identify she decided to employ one of them – the one with the most seemingly useless yet sentimental junk in it – and she hid Malchior's bag in a large chest full of small rag dolls (one she typically kept very tightly shut). He'd be safe in there, though his dreams might not be quite so restful if she had to keep him there for a great length of time.
First thing was first: Warn the team. She could scan the tower in what had come to be her normal method, but if she did so then the magic-user in question would undoubtedly sense her. And then what? Would he or she run? Would they seek her out for a fight? Regardless she needed to tell the others. Now. She had no idea if the magic-user was still there, and she had no idea if he, she, or it had left.
The other Titans were consolidating their luggage in the living room. Apparently some souvenirs had gotten mixed up and they had to sort through everything. Currently Starfire and Beast Boy were fighting over some strange object that looked like a big claw with a smiley face.
"The Nufgor is mine! I am the one who caught it in the celebration of throwing things!"
"But you totally gave it to me, Star! Don't you remember?-!"
"You know what we need in a situation like this? A stalemate resolution button! And, preferably, a qualified stalemate resolution associate to press it. Has anyone in here had the necessary training?" Wheatley asked.
"Guys, trouble!" Raven exclaimed, stopping the argument.
"What is it, Raven?" Nightwing asked.
"Trouble? Um, er, what kind of trouble?" Wheatley asked, his little glowing pupil going small.
"Someone's been in the tower." she told them. "A magic-user, and not one we know." she stated.
"Yeah, 'cause all the ones we know would have definitely trashed the place. How did they get past my security?" Cyborg demanded. "I thought my sensors could pick up someone else's magic."
"They're not completely fool-proof. There are magics out there that I don't know about." Raven said.
"Well that ain't good."
"Someone looking for Malchior's book?" Nightwing asked.
"Could be." she answered.
"Um, uh, what's going on again?" Wheatley asked nervously.
"Are they still here?" Nightwing asked.
"I don't know. But if I scan the tower they will definitely detect it." she told them.
"Yeah, hard to simply not notice when everything goes black and white and the shadows look like they're going to jump out and shout 'boo'." Beast Boy muttered.
"Where's Malchior now?"
"I hid him."
"Good. Alright, do your scan." Nightwing said.
"You guys do know that magic isn't real ri—AUGH!-!-! WHAT IS THAT?-! I CAN'T SEE IN COLOR ANYMORE!-!-! WHAT'S GOING ON?-! THIS IS CREEPY MAKE IT STOP! Oh, thank you…"
"The roof!" Raven exclaimed with a gasp. "He's on the roof!"
"Titans, go!"
(O)
The door was practically blasted open as the Titans all rushed out as swiftly as possible to confront their intruder. He appeared to have been waiting for them over by Starfire's rooftop garden. He certainly didn't seem at all surprised to see them there, but they – Raven in particular – were surprised to see him.
She had to stifle a gasp when she saw him. He was tall and lean with long thick white hair and crystal blue eyes. He wore a black bodysuit overlaid by silver armor that glinted in the sun. There was a decorative 'R' on the chest plate, and obscuring all but his eyes was a black cowl.
So this was Rorek. She knew it was him. How often had she stared at his picture in the book; flipping back to it as she read through the story so that she might cement that image in her mind? But how could he be here? And why? Well, the latter question was easy enough to guess.
"Who are you and what are you doing here?" Nightwing demanded.
Rorek bowed to them. "I apologize for the intrusion," he began. His voice was different from Malchior's. It still maintained a similar accent and tone, but it was just slightly deeper and the harmonics of it seemed to reverberate in the air. "I had hoped to cause as little strife as possible, but fate so often conspires against us all. I am Rorel of Nahl, though if you knew me at all you would know me as Rorek of Nol. And I believe you have something that belongs to me."
(8)
A/N: Finally a truly evil cliffhanger! MUAHAHAHA!-!-! I know you've all been SO disappointed in me for the lack but now the story's getting good and it's time for evilness. 8D
In my mind Rorek has the same voice as Raziel from the awesome game series: Legacy of Kain. Who, as it so happens, also wears a cowl over his face! Connection? Eh, most definitely not…yum anyway, though.
What do you think is gonna happen in the next chapter?:
A. Rorek falls madly in love with Raven on sight and begs to join the Titans.
B. Rorek falls madly in love with Wheatley and begs to join the Titans.
C. Some villain or other shows up suddenly, gets his, her, or its butt handed to him, her, or it by Rorek, and Rorek joins the Titans.
D. Rorek/Raven tongue-wrestling match.
E. Rorek/Malchior tong—Pfffftahahaha!
F. The Church of Blood (see original DC comics) didn't get the memo about Trigon's death and show up to collect Raven only to face a freed Malchior in all his dragon glory, decide 'F(hurk!) this, I'm out!' and convert to Christianity. (Now that's what I call a 180 XD)
G. Slade shows up and gets eaten by Malchior. ("Mmm, tastes like chicken. EVIL CHICKEN! Er…sorry, I'm not sure where that came from. Do excuse me…")
H. GLaDOS (From Portal 1 & 2) finds a way to this dimension, takes over the T-Tower, and uses waffles as test subjects.
I. The kitchen appliances organize a revolution and set out to conquer the bathrooms.
J. All of the above, even the one you couldn't write out.
K. None of the above save for the ones that wouldn't get you flamed for sheer stupidity.
L. You're weird.
Your – haha – 'vote' may very well have an indirect effect on the author's notes at the beginning of the next chapter. (Troll Face)
Don't worry, don't worry. I have every intention of updating Tuesday(5/22/12) evening (Central Time). I'd like to take this opportunity to point out that I do appreciate reviews even though I neglect to ask for them. I assume that it is assumed that I want them as any author would. They make me happy and encourage me to keep on writing. Also, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE let me know when I've made any booboos like spelling errors or plot holes and such-like. I do go back and correct them. Thank you!
