Konductor here, back with another one-shot! Fair warning, this update schedule is not permanent, I'm just eager and cutting into class time, so weekly updates won't be forever, unfortunately. My plot bunny muse is a fickle creature.
Again, comments are at the bottom.
This is an AU I've tinkered with a bit. Has a Console War while going down the Hyperdimension (as in Sister's Gen, Victory, VII) continuity with changes that you shall soon see. For example, the four were raised in their Basilicoms mostly separately and are currently in their teen years. A bit more serious tone.
But, I promise I'm working on a cute little shot with regular Nep & Nowa. Thanks for reading and feedback/comments are appreciated!
Posted: 10/24/18
Edited: N/A
Waking up from a good nap was never a fun experience. Awareness took to yanking at her nerves, the prickling lack of warmth screaming at her. Goosebumps were making waves on her bare thighs as she used her makeshift bed to stand.
Trees, contrary to popular belief, made for a wonderful daybed. There were worse things to sleep on and, personally speaking, soaking up the natural energy around on a near unpopulated landmass was heavenly. Not that she would be admitting that aloud anytime soon. The haven was hers first.
Groaning at the tell tale pop of her spine, the once sleeping teen bends back. A part of herself eager to feel the loosening tension of her muscles and bones. What a nice nap to get her a good wake up and everything. She should really sleep more often, ah, but duty calls. That lethargic hum fades and what fills the void that it leaves is her senses.
Because, oh joyous day, someone's fighting again.
Now, she was no pacifist. That'd never work out, first of all. One drop of that familiar yet foreign power was a good enough high for her. Second, stimulation — certainly not the creepy kind that drove beings insane — was hard to come by. So, that power high was a rarity, an exotic fragment of life the darker deity hungered for.
Third of all, when has the designated protector ever been allowed a peaceful life when death wasn't dancing around like it owned the whole Goddess damn place?
Within a few minutes of awakening, Black had thrown herself into more stretches. Extending fingers out to touch her toes, the teen throws herself into monotonous, fast-paced repetition. It's a better method of waking up than to splash water in her face. Up, down, up, down, up. And yet, the compulsion to close her eyes is still there.
"This," a yawn, "is such a pain." What else is there to say? She didn't feel one hundred percent awake, maybe more of a seventy. Her head wasn't pounding, though, and that honestly meant the world.
All-nighters weren't new to her, but adding the input of her fellow goddesses, it was less than substantial recently. Because these people were just annoying and that was just being polite. She really didn't want to be playing nice when they were trying to kill each other. The four of them had enough issues with their nations and yet they were going to battle for days on end, which was great.
And the only one who relatively liked her was Purple and whatever relationship they had was a stretch.
Purple Heart was.. different. Dangerous, if she were truthful. The air around the twin-tailed patron charged with this coiled tension and it was enough to make her leery. Not that Black was going to hold that fact against her, she could respect her rival for the strength she possessed.
It would be wrong not to acknowledge that much. Even she could see that Purple was best suited for the role as 'True Goddess' or whatever the hell they were actually fighting for. Sure, there was a lack of care for the title on that end, but it didn't mean what was fact was wrong. And she would be making damn certain the only one who would claim the Stupid moniker would be her rival.
Neither White nor Green were close to being ready.
Letting one last low-pitched whine as her mind and body clicks back into place, the immortal sets aside the sounds of conflict going on not far from her location. Instead, she zeroes in on the phone in her inventory. What a surprise, messages from Chhaya.
The umber-skinned woman was a thinly-veiled miracle. Obviously an experienced lady, she was worth over half of her own nation's wealth. Priceless, priceless advice and aid was doled out by her and this was one of those moments. How lucky Black was to have someone like her before she drowned herself in work.
And it was very tempting to do so. To just get absorbed in it and never see anyone for days on end. How easy it would be to let go and never look back from that path.
The ruler of Lastation wasn't that type of person, though.
Couldn't be like that, Black internally huffs, typing back a reasonable response to her advisor. Yes, she would be returning soon. Yes, she would be trying to stop whatever squabble occurred this time. Yes, nobody was going to get badly injured.
It's almost as if Chhaya didn't trust her. Which, in hindsight, made a lot of sense with how baselessly Stupid she's been lately.
Not that she wanted to worry her, the research simply turned out less safe than perceived to be. Anyways, Black could handle herself, the experiments helped with the slump she was starting to feel. It was perfectly fine.
Yeah, that was escapism. Yeah, it was pretty pathetic. Yeah, something like that was unsuitable for a CPU. Yeah, it'd be better to throw herself into something healthier.. Maybe books than the fantasy of being successful. But her reality was filled to the brim with lies in the end, what was one more added to the bucket?
She was being productive and that's all that mattered. The world was watching the four goddesses now and every bit counted, or something. Black didn't care. There were no cameras in Celestia.
"Done. Are you happy now?" The disgruntled deity dejectedly grunts, shoving her device back into place before silently stomping through the foliage. "Nngh, aren't even my mother and you lecture me about properly leaving. I can take care of myself," albeit, badly, but still.
If her second in command was as frighteningly effective as she believed, the woman probably heard her words. Or inferred she would say so, given their relationship. They were a good team, the Stupid teen ruler and the level-headed adult. Lastation was afloat because of the latter, not the former. She clenches her fists, nails digging crescent-shaped imprints in her palms. Probably not the best place to think about that sort of thing, huh. Ah, who cared? Not her.
Quickening her pace, Black edges the remaining flanks of the forest. A part of her wants to burn the place, wishful thinking and another angry thought that's thrown away. There are better things to do, more important things to do. Always is, always will be. That's how the world works.
How it burns.
She nibbles at her bottom lip. Not enough for it to bleed, enough to feel it. Her hands were itching for something to grip. Cold hard metal to cut and render the world broken. Cut it red, but Black doesn't want to think of that color. Can't hesitate now, after all.
Metal against metal. Grinding then separating only for them to meet once more in a constant cycle of untapped energy potential. Brimming with the clash of two titans, emotion peaking. Pressure, tension, anticipation rising with each beat and pump of the heart. Breathes gasping, silent and forced, ragged and calm. The difference between good and perfection.
Imagery is being painted in her mind as she strides forward. Towards the noise, the chaos stitched with every action chosen in the name of blood.
No geniuses needed to figure out who is who. Only one set winner in that dance; humming, singing, chanting with discourse. The immortal can practically taste it, distance being no obstacle as the white-haired teen forges forward. There was no competition, a pointless game.
These are the people the world demands she fight against. It's only right for her to deny them of the honor of falling. None of Black wants to see her reflection in another crimson puddle pooling on the floor. Not again. She doesn't want to go through that sight again. She didn't want to do anything of this, so she would refrain for as long as possible.
Such a monotonous task that was.
Nevertheless, it was acceptable and fun at times. A pinch precarious because of Purple's relentless chasing during their bouts, but everybody needed some variety.
How oh so very lucky that Purple Heart provided that in spades. Release — no matter how miniscule, no matter how hazardous — could always be fulfilled with her at least. She didn't get why the violet-haired ruler continuously chose her to fight, but she wasn't complaining. Killing the growing void was a nice way to waste time. It wouldn't change anything, but still nice. Purple was a blessing.
What a crying shame it would be if she were to break in this world of theirs.
An improbable concept. But that didn't mean such a thing was impossible, simply unlikely.
Besides, the idea was laughable at best.
The twin-tailed deity was better than that, she had to be if she kept up with Black. It didn't change how tragic such a thing would be, the brightest star falling and shattering from the impact. Now that, Black could prevent that from happening.
It wouldn't do for the king, or was it queen, chess piece to be taken so early on. As the strongest goddess, falling would mean the title would fall to her. She didn't want that, Black didn't even want to be there. And so, Purple remained on top.
A simple solution that would stay if only White and Green were not obsessed with becoming 'True Goddess'.
The teen didn't care about their opinions. They weren't ready and probably never would be, teaming up against a single person was less than honorable and a blaring sign of the status of things. If she were them, the opponent would be six-feet under already. Ahh, but it was Purple and doing that to her wouldn't do.
Black remains on the outskirts of the shaded trees, leaning against the bark. Content to sink in her natural habitat and eye the spectacle unfolding in such a chaotic manner.
She doesn't make a peep, summoning a kusarigama in her hand. Its long chain is silent, not a rattle escapes the metal she personally fingers expertly positioning the snake-like coil for attack.
Wait for it, wait for it. What will come will come and all will be as it should.
To see Purple fight off both of the idiots was an amazing image to brand into her mind. It was breathtaking to observe two teens being utterly torn to shreds. Metaphorically speaking, though. Quite the view she had, very much worth waking up for. Who's said they've been invigorated from seeing their rival crush the so-called competition? She has.
And it really was a yummy thing to see. The effort the violet-haired immortal exterts was oh so very tempting. She wanted to fight against it, to struggle and toil for something of worth. Today was not that day, however, and such a delicious vision from her rival would have to be cut short.
Horrible, really, but such was the way of the world.
It would be burning eventually, now wasn't that time either, though. She'd live. Her heart was aching for another choice, her insides were twisting and turning for a chance, her mind remained impenetrable. But she would live. As much as Black wanted to see usurpers get grinded into the ground, there was a better prize.
Purple Heart, of course. And, in a way, she was Purple's prize.
Clashing with the mongrel wouldn't be far off after all.
Sparks would fly from their blades engaged in a conversation only they were blessed with.
Their eyes once again meeting in a battle between wills and ideals. Bodies groaning, perspiring, screaming at its like minded opponent and struggling similar to everything else that existed in the world.
That was living. She was sure the teen would appreciate a real experience. It was Purple, she should expect no less.
Black was never going to throw her life away based on a flimsy reason like a title. What would the patron have to gain from becoming 'True Goddess'? Money? Power? Fame? There was nothing she wanted nor would any of that ever happen from a title.
What the divinity desired was simpler and much more absurd for anyone to ever think Black would ever achieve it. Not that a piece of it would get out, the teen knew just how impossible a goal like that was. She was Stupid, not a fool.
So when Purple finally chose to divide the pair attacking her, she chose the hardest target.
Literally.
Greenie was no obstacle, she was a fast one, never a defensive-based fighter, however. She couldn't tank the way White did. Common sense only enforced what happened next. And while Black did chuckle at the unadulterated horror on the youngest's face at her partner being thrown aside, she had to applaud Purple's thinking.
Eliminate — temporary or not, the beautiful damage was done to such a prideful idiot — Shortie and Green became the insect falling into a venus flytrap without a second thought.
Funny, how misfortune works for and against her, she thinks as White comes barreling inside the ring of trees. The blue-haired CPU disheveled and gasping for air after careening into solid wood was understandable, though. Taking a hilt to the solar plexus wasn't at all fun.
Black would know.
The mongrel was her rival amongst the four of them and, boy, did she love taking advantage of that pain-filled moment of weakness or what. White was, for lack of better word, launched out of the fight to boot.
It was sort of painful to watch the small eldest try and stand. Ahh, but, Black wasn't one to let an opportunity Purple gave her go to waste. That'd be bad practice against a teen who really demanded the full package. She had such a high maintenance other half, didn't she? Too bad, Black wasn't the type to complain about that one. It'd be a wasted effort.
The crack as a body connects with an object never fails to unsettle her.
It's a jarring sound. The CPU hates it from the first instance she heard the noise. This time, however, the petite body shakily stands.
Coughing, White doesn't notice her.
Lowee's little ruler doesn't see the blade being hung above her blue tuft of hair. But the would-be assassin withdraws, her clenched hand drawing blood as a memory comes to mind. No, no, instead the kusarigama in her other palm is used. Its chain snaking around its target without a moment of respite, the silence is broken as she lets out a yelp of surprise.
The waif-like teen struggles immediately, red eyes widening as they try to find their assailant and panic flooding her system beside the adrenaline.
A futile action that's only wasting precious time and energy in Black's opinion.
She yanks. The all too familiar weapon responds to the command like an old friend.
White is in her arms. The initial sounds of shock swallowed by the ongoing match between Purple and Green. The scythe-like blade hovering only inches from pale flesh as the girl's movement jolts to a stop. Smart move, the deity concedes.
"Good morning. Hope I didn't frighten you." Black chirps, faux cheer filling her voice. It's a lie, everything are lies and her captive knows it. How could Shortie not?
It takes a moment for the blue-haired teen to snap out of her stupor. "The fuck, Black," her whispers harsh and shaken. "You don't just Goddess damn do this to a person. I thought you—!"
Predictable. "—I was what? Going to eliminate you for certain? Please, give me some credit for my efforts. I just woke up and wanted to see what was the commotion was about. Haven't the desire or need to kill you."
And, perhaps in this one's perspective, the yet was unspoken. Not that she cared of these idiots' say in her life.
The short-haired eldest of the four snarls at her. Or she tries to without disturbing the blade at her carotid artery. "The hell I'm gonna believe you! This is war. You spew literal bullshit whenever you open your mouth. First you say you don't care about this war and then you lie about being on that fucking blue-eyed bitch's side!" White's such a , what really catches her ears is the last part.
She personally didn't mind the rest of it.
There seems to be a misconception about her. Which really wouldn't do if this so-called war would be continuing.
Poor communication did have a nasty tendency to kill whoever fell into that pitfall. Not that she had a right to complain about it. The immortal screwed up a lot in the social department as is. The case in point being now for instance.
This was such a pain. "You really need to stop assuming this about your fellow CPUs, Shortie. It would be a darn shame if an accident happened."
Why did she have to deal with this again?
Was it because Black did something horrible and unspeakable in her past life?
She wasn't the greatest of persons, but sheesh, did luck hate her or what?
And no, the immortal did not want an answer to that question. Balancing the tells of a nation was one thing. Figuring out her emotions and place in a group she really wasn't sure she wanted to be a part of was another. There was no way something like this would be anything but helpful.
She legitimately wanted to burn someone for having to be in this situation. If the goddess were back in her church and in the confines of her lab, she wouldn't have to deal with this. Instead, Black had to interact with these people. Why couldn't she be alone?
"We saw you taking a snooze beside freaking Purple Heart. What the hell are we supposed to think, huh, Fluffy?! You're the one who got cozy with her. How about you explain yourself for a change! Pulling that shit about not caring about being a CPU and then adding your lot to her really doesn't tell us a damn good thing about you!"
If this wasn't filled with utter Stupidity, she would have laughed at the outcome they thought of.
This was why the deity wasn't close with the other two. Fucking moments like these made it very hard for her to ignore the incessant compulsion to just cut the brat in her arms and get rid of her once and for all.
But, no.
Plastering a cyanide smile across her face, — a sight that may have reflected on the blade for the small one to see and shut up — she lost all sense of niceties.
"As much as I love," emphasis on love, via contact with metal-to-flesh, "Purple. I work better off alone." Black says, well aware of the lies she breathed.
Her seriousness, for once, silencing White again.
The fear was practically palpable. And it was very, very hard not to take advantage of that crack in the exterior. Tolerance was key, patience was key, anything but the imagery she so desperately wanted to make into reality.
Huh. Maybe Chhaya was a bit right about her having some issues and needing some proper restraint.
Ah, well, not as though knowing that would do any good now. There were things to do and people to crush beneath her heel, the regular stuff. For example, the little tart in her arms that had failed to even respond to her words. This one would have to be dealt with. Fair was fair and Shortie did have some use. Albeit, unorthodox use, but still.
Black Heart wasn't allowed to kill anyone for some time now anyways. Apparently the act in itself caused panic attacks, not that she remembered them. The patron would have to contend with merely playing until she broke through whatever block was before her.
She was fine, really. Nothing was seriously wrong with her. This was another obstacle to bypass. There wouldn't be any death in this so-called Console War and Purple was here to act as stress relief.
Err, ignoring the last part. The mongrel wasn't that important to her. Not in the slightest. That twin-tailed annoyance had no place in her world, why would she ever wanna be with her anyways? Purple was better than that. A lot of people were better than that and just because she slept better near her didn't mean anything!
Geh, she was changing the subject now.
"Don't make an ass of yourself, White. I owe you two no explanation, because if I can recall, Purple enjoys beating her partner black and blue as much as she does with you." Though, none of as focused or kind. "Besides, when do you a have a monopoly where I sleep? Really? What kind of stalker are you?"
That, of all things, hit a nerve. "Don't call me a fucking stalker!" Now, if only a kama's blade wasn't touching White's neck. Then a real fight would've broken out.
The ruler didn't know what was with her fellow goddesses.
Making friends seemed to be a lost cause more than ever with them seemed to be more making enemies, really. Maybe she really did suck at talking with the others and making nice, but what else did she know? Her skill set for one thing, but, as mentioned before, it was useless. She wanted to laugh, she wanted to cry, she didn't even know why she was here to begin with.
They didn't get along and they sure as hell didn't respect each other, with the exception of herself towards Purple.
Why keep making them meet up for a Stupid moniker?
If Black were to stop coming to Celestia, would the other three care to look for her? Of course not, what was she thinking? Stupid, that was so Stupid. Those idiots had their own lives to deal with and the mongrel would eventually lose interest. Ahh, what thoughts were filling her mind?
"You didn't deny it. Now get moving, Shortie, I wouldn't want to mar that tiny neck of yours." Harden your soul, Black thinks to herself as they slowly walk through the brush. Her free, bleeding hand acting as the only distraction to her thoughts.
She was better off back in Lastation.
Her second in command was there and willing to help and be nice. Here, at best, were enemies and that one mongrel who kept her attention on Black after that less than enjoyable first meeting. Not a single thing here was concrete, Chhaya was at least sworn to her. Thinking of this in terms of the Console War, the three were her foes, weren't they?
Why did she care? How could she have attachment and hate at the same time? It would be so much easier to cut ties and walk away.
Why is the second time different than the first? They, opposing leaders of nations, weren't bothering to touch peace. Why didn't she just end it? How was it so hard to burn what she had now?
She huffs at her indecisiveness, her inability to understand why. And with that damn veil of mystery, it's easy to throw herself into stopping Purple and the tall idiot. An explosion has never not been the best solution in garner attention.
The utter look of horror from White filled the immortal with enough glee to permanently kill the less than polite punishment that had been forming in her mind. It was adorable to see the seeds of fear start to blossom.
Plus, Greenie's pallor resembling a slip of paper was icing to that dessert. She definitely needed better hobbies if this is what got her a high on a lackluster day like this.
Purple gives her a hard, indecipherable look as she floats down on those butterfly-like wings of hers, ōdachi in hand. Nice to see her antics were taken into account and not immediately met with opposition. Very comforting, actually, but it's not as though Black will ever admit that to these three. It was always a step in the right direction to be taken seriously by them.
The walk towards the pair is leisurely. Well, compared to the hesitant and cautious steps of White, that is. She's a dirty liar at heart and the others knew that, the air of confidence as false as each breath she dare breathed in her lungs.
Was it an odd image?
Herself walking behind White, who was tangled in chains and with a kusarigama to her throat, with her damned bloodied hand.
As usual, the picture of innocence failed to reach her. What presence did the deity steal this time? A monster? A criminal exchanging a catch for freedom? A fool walking towards execution? The possibilities were endless. She was pretty sure her hands weren't trembling this time around, though, it'd be a terrible contradiction to the illusion.
Between the four of them, Black wanted to know their opinion of her. A dumb thing to desire, yet it continues to burrow in her chest. It wasn't as important as other things but it still existed. She's not going to ask upfront, of course. That'd only invite more lies to the table and, honestly, she brought enough as is.
Goddess, why does her train of thought keep coming back to herself and her faults? Is she that doubtful of her own abilities? Is that it, world? ..Ahh, it didn't matter now. She would be retreating to her nation soon enough. A much better place to contemplate than amongst tentative enemies.
So instead of trying to think, she just did. Throwing herself into a discussion that would go nowhere. "I'm sorry for interrupting that riveting conversation you two were having, but seeing repetition after repetition was starting to be dull."
Unfortunately, her person of interest remained silent, leaving Green to fill in. "I would appreciate the apology more if you were to release my rival." She grits out, hands still clutching her spear.
"While I do understand the need to keep one's possessions safe," the ponytailed teen shudders at her word choice, "Shortie was the one to engage with me and it would be a wasted opportunity not to use that to my advantage." An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. It was the only fairness she knew well enough to commend.
Because the truth was: retaliation was just as plentiful as their lies. Honor and fairness were weapons in themselves.
"As much as I love the chitter-chatter," Purple starts, earning everyone's gaze, "You did interrupt this fight of mine. Explain, before I use your occupied arms for higher ground." The strongest punctuates her declaration, hand tensing on the hilt of the sword.
The first instinct is to fold.
Cold cerulean was challenging Black for standing up to her.
They were practically goading the fourth to start something as if she owned her. The temptation was near unbearable, to apologize and to back out, to break under her gaze.
Purple stood at the pinnacle compared to the three of them. She was, by far, the biggest threat with her wants and desires shrouded in mystery and her capabilities quite easily surpassing the rest of them.
It would be foolhardy to not follow her unspoken command. But then again, she was never the smartest of people, now was she? Impulses were ignored, hopes dashed, will forged forward. The CPU did nothing to warrant any closeness from Purple and she would maintain her distance for as long as possible.
Teal meets cerulean. A smile — something oh so very real for once in a painfully long time — makes its way to her face. "I have been informed of an.. insurgency in my main cities. Before today, it's been contained, however… a little spirit has enlightened me of otherwise."
The mongrel quirks an eyebrow and the other frowns, mulling over the information. Looking at her captive is pointless, the berserker is just as engaged as before. No spikes of smugness or annoyance.
"And judging by your reactions, you aren't the ones to cause this little insurrection." Which was both a relief and no surprise, none of the others had garnered a vicious mindset just yet and Black would return the favor. "I'm grateful, that much I'll admit. So, I'll tell you a little more of what I was told. You three really should head back to your nations, trash has this real troublesome tendency to pile up when you aren't checking."
It was only the truth, if you left an enemy alive to multiply, the bastards would eventually come back to strike thrice as hard.
"How did anyone contact you from below?" The youngest cuts in, eyeing her with hints of trepidation. Black was still holding White hostage, wasn't she? "It's near impossible to get any cellular connection when we're over a hundred meters in the air."
"It's called innovating, heron," the deity retorts, ignoring how the speedster bristled at the nickname. She deserved it for acting like a bloody bird half the time. Flighty, defensive and not to mention annoying to boot. "Plus, I have no obligation to explain anything for you." She released the hold of the small one, letting the chain unravel before coiling around her arm.
Purple grins, tilting her head to the side as she strides forward. White, seeing her approach, stumbles to the side to avoid the collision. The violet-haired teen stops barely a few inches away from her rival. "You do, however, owe me."
An eye twitches. "Pardon?"
The grip on the kama tightens when warm, soft hands brush against her neck to push cloud-colored strands out of the way. Heart stuttering with each beat as hot air comes into contact with her skin. She swears she can see Green with her mouth agape while helping White stand. Those two don't matter, though, not when this utter goddess is face-to-face with her and gingerly touching her.
Both mind and body skids to stop when Purple takes notice of the flush invading her.
The mongrel laughs, bells were ringing like the calm crashing waves on the shore. "You interrupted my fun, little puppy," the darker immortal trembles at the moniker. "This merits some compensation. You understand, don't you?" And Black fucking nods, as if in a daze. "Good girl."
With her part said and done, Purple flies off. Leaving a thoroughly shell shocked White and Green and one blushing rival in the aftermath.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
A hammer boomed on the metal. Heat was roaring in tandem of the strikes, the heavy bang-bang-bang singing with a crackling blaze of the fire and the breaths of the goddess at work. It's automatic work, there is no rhyme or reason needed for her to do this. Mindless physical strength with a minor hint of strategy to move everything along.
Perfection was a lie in the end. She would never be able to craft something of that strength, it just wasn't possible for her. Not without some sacrifice that Black would never be willing to commit to, her new blade would be a normal goddess-made weapon.
Which doesn't sound very normal in itself, but considering her armory of self-made tools, it was a general practice to her.
Having a regular hobby was sort of tough, she didn't care for much.
Her mind remained on work and work only, forging added onto her workload.
The process was calming, though.
It, much like gambling, took her away from the world as a whole. The burn of the metal and the fire felt good against her weak flesh. A metaphorical splash to the face when all she wanted was to be dissolved.
But getting away from that, when doing metalwork, emptiness was key. Pouring her heart and soul into the weapon was actually tedious. A divinity like herself could pour her emotion into the blade, giving it varying effects and since the majority of her feelings were less than positive, that would probably cause some problems in the future.
For example, if she were to fill a tool to the brim with hunger, then the properties would align more with destroying — or rather devouring, if that even fit — en mass. Angry may cause the user to go into a primal rage, despair could force them to do things meant for those at the end of their rope, hope would probably involving absolute survival or something.
At least, that was what she thought. Her experiments pointed to that particular result, you see.
Emotions could be such a pain, though, especially after the stunt Purple had pulled recently. She had been blushing up a storm, even after she had retreated from the so-called meeting. Almost as if the violet deity enjoyed making her slip in control, the nerve of her… Black hated it, the reality that she was too weak and vulnerable against a fellow goddess.
Unacceptable, a part of her wanted to scream, there was a such an obvious crack in her armor.
A chink that kept on successfully being used.
An unsurprising truth she had to swallow. Because, of course, the twin-tailed teen was stronger than her. Of course, Black keeps on failing to gain a real upper hand against her. Of course, this of all damnable things was affecting her unlike anything else. Of course, of course.
Bang-bang-bang-bang-bang-bang-bang-bang-bang-bang. Drown out her thoughts, drown out her feelings, drown out every single thing in this Goddess forsaken world gave to spite her.
She was being foolish, yes, Black knew.
Having a temper-tantrum in a semi-public place and just taking her frustrations on something that wasn't even responsible.
Blaming anyone was impossible when the immortal was at fault. The rapid fire swings onto the anvil soothed her spirit. Lost, she felt so very lost, but the furnace was warm and comforting. What a sight it must be, the patron of Lastation, without wearing an inch of protection, creating a sword.
She must have looked out of place. Clad in a sleeveless red dress shirt and black pants, it was as if she came to party than to work. Hell, her silvery-white hair was tied in a long braid to keep most of it out of her face.
Everything was set in motion and man, what were the mortals thinking of her now?
Black wasn't thinking very hard.
That wasn't the point of this excursion, however.
Making another sword was the sole reason for going outside and having to interact with people. Yes, she could've forged it in her Basilicom like the many others, but that wasn't going to help. She wanted to make it outside her comfort zone.
This was an experiment to test the difference between the cold and solemn halls of her church to the populated and lively air of this forge. Any upper hand was greatly appreciated.
Another fight against the three would be dawning on the horizon anyways.
And — while the concept of lowering her guard and possibly falling was a tad bit frightening — she did trust Purple in a way. Their post-battle naps were good for her, she needed a moment of serenity despite how messy her own life was. Occasionally, she mumbled a quick 'thank you' to the traditionally disgruntled CPU, so Black was sure that her rival knew the appreciation there. What the immortal didn't know was how the other viewed this engagement.
Reading the best goddess, a fact Black was not going to ever confirm, was puzzling. She was so damn stone-faced these days and when she wasn't like that, Purple was teasing her, verbally that is. It was annoying.
Did complaining about that make her pathetic? There wasn't a side of the CPU that knew anymore, what was the point? So much was happening in such little time these days, her head was spinning and spinning and and spinning and never stopping.
So many lies, so many years, so many murders, so much fucking bullshit.
The pounding of the hammer, the uninterrupted rush of scorching air, the sharp pains of her palm ate away at the dissatisfaction buried beneath the skin. Coming here was a good idea, even if she had to be outside of her safe haven. Little else in the world helped her the way that toiling by a furnace and anvil did.
Well, there were a couple things, but they tended to lean towards the murder aspect. As the ruler of Lastation, of course, several organizations wanted her dead. It shouldn't shock anyone that Black was good at what she was. With so little to dedicate herself to, how could it be a surprise? She was so, so tired of it. A shame, really.
Her sense of empathy for the masses was dwindling… or had it faded away years ago? No way to know, it's not like the goddess had cared about anything at that point in time. A myriad of whispers and feelings swarm her mind at the thought.
When had living become more of a chore to her than fighting? Why was walking beside others becoming so draining for her? She didn't know what was wrong. People were tiring and it was worthless to befriend anyone who would only leave in the end.
This is why the teen focused on the battle. But how sad it was, to have her, a divine leader amongst the masses, thinking war helped more than peace.
They were trying to kill each other and, while it isn't really a true slaughter, the intent was crystal clear.
She glances at her hand, the bloody gorge having been cauterized by the flames. What a mess Black was becoming, going to such lengths for a mere tool..
If her original caretakers were here, they would be scolding her.
Using blood, or ichor in her case, as an extra ingredient for a weapon was taxing on the body and add her being a goddess along with that, it just wasn't good. Not that she would listen, they were gone now and if she wanted to use herself to further her goals, then Black would.
She wasn't going to listen to them, didn't have to listen to them. And why should she? After what they made her do? After they left her in the fashion that they did? After they broke her? No, no, no. The goddess would never listen to their distant words and falsified smiles, how dare they put her down in such a way after dedicating her life?
Black exhales, reining in the hate, hate, hate, hate swarming in her chest. Now wasn't the time for another outburst, not when she was in the middle of something important right now.
Bang-bang.
Everything didn't matter right now.
She went back to gripping the blunt and resuming with her work. Now wasn't the time to bitch and moan, the blade was almost complete.
Another arm to add to her vault for future usage. Another blade to wipe. Another tool to cut. And while it wasn't a masterpiece made by the finest technology, it was still hers.
Bang-bang.
For this sword, this simple and nameless blade, reflected who Noire was.
She, who's true name would remain in her sheath and kept away from straying eyes, who was meant to be used to cut and slay and avenge and sever and reduce to nothing.
Noire who stood behind of Black Heart. Noire who would have no mention in the history books outside of Lastation's church archives. Noire who lacked and lacked and lacked and could only make things in response to the void embedded in her chest. Noire — Black wouldn't dare half-ass something this important.
Nobody dared bother her. This was a goddess doing her thing, why intrude? That, however, was not the only reason why Black remained untouched by any interruptions. She didn't notice, too absorbed in her forging.
But from the shadows stood a lone figure, who had been there for too long to not know her.
How could the immortal notice her company with her gaze firmly on the task in front of her? It changed nothing and somehow, it changed everything.
They watch in silence, letting the hammering echo through the room. They watched the golden-orange glow of the flames cause silver-snow strands to gleam. They watched the quiet and oppressive determination steel itself in that teal gaze. They watched as a new threat to the other goddesses was brought into the world, encased with the sensations its maker unintentionally gave it.
Black, despite her training and abilities, did not see them.
She continued forward, pulling more molds for more tools for her weary hands. Clockwork and yet, it defied all of the watcher's expectations. And so they stayed, observing drops of red drip into molten metal and be melded into arms of war. A calming day for both halves, really.
Guest: Thank you! And yup, yup, Black definitely misses Purp, but intends to keep Neptune the happiest and safest Nep in the world.
Rpbautis: Glad to hear you enjoyed it. I try real hard on making mortal and HDD distinctive to each other depending on the AU. Each chapter, if it isn't explicity stated in the chapter title, is based in a different AU.
xyzdreadnought: I'm relieved you like the NepNowa from last chapter. Sorry about Maelstrom, I wanted to try something new and it turned out very high charged. The continuation in my docs is much warmer and more affectionate than the first for sure.
Anibi: Thank you, thank you! I put a lot of thought in what is different in each AU and try my best to make things a bit different in each for variety's sake. Ripples are just so fun to place with and I hope to continue your enjoyment!
DavianThule19: Dunno about that just yet. That set up, and the reasoning behind it, will take a bit for me to think of, but I'll try. Though, you may like pieces when Nep's in Ultra/Plutia, I'm sure that'll get some posessiveness out. As for the selfishness, I always saw Noire/Black as a greedy type.