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Vanguard
Scene 8
Tear
A/n: A week I said.
Ha
ha
Fuck my life.
There was darkness
Everywhere Lara looked, there was darkness. Cold, empty, darkness.
She looked down, to determine if she could even see her own body.
Nope, still here She thought, flexing her fingers.
Then she noticed a sound.
Drip
Drip
Drip
Water? She wondered, making her way towards the source. As she approached it, she began to feel an undeniable heat. It warmed her body in the otherwise crippling cold. It seemed to be coming from the walls of the cave itself.
A chilling wind blew in from behind her, sending her stumbling further down the tunnel. The draft began as a quiet whisper, barely louder than the sound of dripping.
As she descended down, she spotted a field of stalactites and stalagmites. Water dripping from the ceiling above onto the water below, and the source of the mineral deposits. In fact, a small pool had formed at the bottom, flowing into a small creek leading out of the larger cavernous room.
And yet still, the wind howled passed her, urging her on. So she descended down, the warmth of the caves rising, the chilling breath of wind soon becoming the only reprieve from the stifling heat.
But finally, she reached an end.
She turned a corner, and there it was. The mouth of the cave opened up to show Lara the wide open air. She could see snow capped peaks in the distance, the wind within the cave rushing out to meet the sky once more.
She stepped out of the cave, a shiver going down her back as the air brushed across her skin and the warmth of the cave left her. She looked down below her, eyes going wide at the breathtaking sight.
She had exited within a valley, a massive valley. A massive ring of snow-capped mountains surrounded it, no doubt cold and frigid. Lara herself was about halfway down one such mountain.
But the valley itself was full of life. A geothermal valley, no doubt like the one Jacob and his followers and inhabited. A green forest teeming with wildlife and plants, a secluded paradise in a frozen wilderness.
In front of her was the water, a massive river stretching at almost beyond sight to the other side. At the coast at the end of the valley was something truly incredible.
It was a walled city crafted from ancient stone. Massive in size and scope. The massive wall circling around the city easily held kilometers of territory within its gates.
Massive ramparts dotted the imposing walls, all of which towered over the tree line. Fashioned from black stone, it was a fortress built to dwarf the pyramids of Giza. The castle at the center rose above it all, it's massive halls and gates clear from even this distance.
And despite the age, despite the ruins dotting the countryside beyond the gates, she could tell by the burning blue lights flickering in the buildings, by the movement churning through the streets.
This place was ancient, but it was far from dead.
She could hear the drums of war pounding in the air, the rumble of great horns calling for action. Deep, thrumming, music that stirred something deep within her echoed through the valley. It sent a disquiet tremble through her arms as she heard the beat calling her.
Buu~um
Thrum
Buu~um
Thrum
She closed her eyes and just listened. Listened to it all pass through her, to feel it shake her bones awake, sense the beat of her heart rise to its call.
She was pulled from her reverie by the sound of snow crunching underfoot. Her eyes snapped open and darted to the source.
Even still she was unprepared.
Her breath hitched in her throat as her neck craned back to drink in every inch of the sight, her hungering mind unsatisfied with anything less. She could feel her blood run cold at the sight, the strange, almost impossible, sight.
A giant stood before her. A woman, towering head and shoulders above her like she was but a small child before their mother. The giant woman had pale blue skin and bright, shining, blue eyes filled with an intelligent and ethereal light.
Her face seemed to be carved flawlessly from hard and pure ice, both stern and beautiful. Two obsidian horns curved out from the fore of her head, arcing through her long locks of snow white hair tied up in a neat bun behind her.
She wore thick plates of armor black as night, with swirling, looping, runes, and markings engraved all through it. Between the plates, thick tufts of furs and cloth could be seen. A lose armored skirt of fur and steel hung from a thick belt down to her knees over her greaves, thick plated boots covering the rest. In her gauntlet covered hands, she held a spear crafted from the same black metal of her armor, familiar sigils engraved all down its length.
The giant looked down at Lara, staring directly into her brown eyes. Lara stared back, matching the giant's gaze, unable to look away.
The giantess rose a single solitary armored finger towards Lara, her gaze carved from a glacier. Pale lips parted to say one word.
And her voice shook the heavens.
"Seeker"
Lara jerked up, clutching her chest. Her heart pounded in her chest and she was drenched in a cold sweat.
She was in a room bathed in darkness, sitting on some kind of soft platform, probably a bed, but it could have been a couch or something else. Most of her clothes were gone, just leaving her in her undershirt and boxers.
She panted fiercely for a moment, before using breathing exercises to try to calm herself down.
"Lara!"
She startled, immediately reaching for a gun that wasn't there.
"Glad to see you're finally up!" it cheerfully continued.
Then she recognized who it was.
"Dammit, Cayde." She breathed out, relaxing back onto the cushioning surface.
A bright light clicked on, causing her to wince at the blinding sensation. When she opened them again she could see that she was on a cot in one of the crew's rooms. Cayde was seated in a chair facing her about a meter from the bed.
"So, how ya feeling?" He asked.
"Like I need to make better life choices," She muttered, rubbing her head.
Cayde chuckled slightly at that, but then gave her a serious look for once, "No, Lara, I mean really."
She let out a breath, "I feel terrible, probably dehydrated," She commented as she licked her dry mouth.
"I have a headache, I'm really quite hungry, and most of my body feels too sore to move."
"Got it," he nodded. He opened his mouth to speak again, but she beat him to it.
"H-how are the others?" She blurted out abruptly.
"Well," Cayde began, tapping the hard wood of the nightstand, "We won, if that's what you're asking."
"The captain died, unfortunately." He added, "But Charles made it back in one piece."
"Charles?" Lara asked, the name vaguely ringing a bell.
"Yeah, the guy with the family." Cayde answered, "Turns out he was former GSG 9, managed to use the bombs I gave them to blow up their crystal."
"Oh," she said, letting out a breath of relief, "I'm glad he made it back to his family."
"It's nice to have a happy ending once in awhile," He agreed, "We managed to get the ship up and running again, the weird fog lifted as soon as all the ships sank."
"So we're getting out of here?"
"Looks like."
"That's good." She said, letting out a breath of relief as she finally let herself relax.
Cayde, on the other hand, pursed his lips furtively.
"Laura..." He began hesitantly. "How are you feeling?"
"Mentally, I mean."
She blinked, "Why do you mention it?" She asked suspiciously.
"Well," he paused in mock consideration, tilting his head to the side as he got up, "It could be the how I found you collapsed on the deck of the ship."
"Or," He continued, stepping right up to the bed, "It could be this."
And with those words, he pulled the hem of her shirt up to her chest.
"Hey! What the Bloody hell do you thi-…"
The words died in her throat as her blood ran cold at the sight he revealed.
The large wound in her stomach, the one where she'd been impaled by the Draugr, was completely healed. But that wasn't the worry.
It was the rune burned into her skin in an all too familiar pattern right over the sealed hole.
"Lara," He said, his voice devoid of all mirth and humor, concern shining brightly in his eyes,
"What happened down there?"
"I-" She gulped, ice in her veins and dread in her soul.
What happened to me?
"I-I fought and I," She began, absently touching the band as her mind raced. "I got hurt, really hurt and I..."
"I blacked out."
Cayde gave her a long and careful look with focused eyes. "Laura..."
"I think you died."
"So what did you think?"
"I thought it was extremely unrealistic and scientifically unfounded."
Athena, once again wearing the guise of Carole Agathe, resisted the urge to pout.
Mostly.
"Really, Philip?" She questioned, giving him a disbelieving look.
The two of them made their way out of the theater, walking across the parking lot as they made their way to Philip's car.
"I mean, I get it, the idea that aliens are all bad and they'd just come in to wipe us all out like checking off another box on a checklist is unrealistic," She admitted, gesturing with her soda.
"That's not my problem at all," Philip stopped her.
"Oh?" She challenged.
"No," He nodded with certainty, "I'm completely fine with that part, it's not that unrealistic."
"But the idea that said race of advanced alien warriors with a war machine that has burned through dozens, if not hundreds, of worlds before it would have the cybersecurity of a run down Waffle House, is absurd."
She blinked.
"Now that you mention it, that is a bit odd."
"Not to mention the fact that the aliens only seemed to have a basic grasp of Shock and Awe tactics, with little in the way of actual strategical thought or execution." He grumbled, "They just went after whatever they could see, like a simple animal."
Then he directed his narrowed gaze towards the woman who dragged him here, "In fact, I'm surprised you liked the movie yourself."
She smirked, "Well, what can I say? I've always been a fan of a good Trojan Horse."
He gave her a flat look for all of a second before he turned away with a shake of his head. Athena could only chuckle lightly.
"You're incorrigible." He commented.
"I know how to have fun." She smirked, "Unlike a certain uptight someone I know."
His frown seemed to deepen, and his silence almost made Athena worry she'd gone too far.
"…I'm willing to admit" He began, pulling her from her thoughts, "That I did enjoy the concept."
"I found that what it lacked in intelligence, it made up for in its own kind of charisma. It was an inspiring story of humanity overcoming the odds, of fighting back when the rest of the universe sought to snuff them out. They didn't let it crush their spirit, and even in the darkest days they still held onto the light."
"So…?" She said with a hopeful tone.
"…It wasn't terrible," Philip conceded with a shrug,
Athena snorted, "Wow, what a glowing review."
"Unlike some people, it takes more to amuse me than a few cheap fireworks." He scoffed.
"Cheap fireworks?" She questioned, "That stuff was amazing! You can't seriously tell me that watching the aliens blow up DC and the other cities wasn't one of the most gloriously destructive things you've ever seen."
He snorted, "Obviously you haven't seen Ikora and Shaxx work together." Under his breath adding, "Crazy bastards."
She chuckled, finding amusement in his pain.
Suddenly Philip stopped.
Athena blinked, "Philip?" She asked, concerned and somewhat wary.
His whole stance became rigid. The crowd around them passed him by like a river around a stone. He was focused, tuning out the world around him as he zeroed in on some unseen speck of information.
"Philip?" She repeated, getting somewhat worried.
"…Do you hear that?" he finally said.
She frowned, "Hear what?"
One could barely hear anything under the dull droning roar of the crowd, the rumble of cars along the street, and the sounds of the very city around them. A cacophony of noise surrounded them, making it all but impossible for a normal person to pick up any one specific sound.
He grumbled something in his unintelligible tongue and marched through the crowd, heading towards some hidden destination.
"This way," He muttered, a scowl in his voice.
Athena huffed, but followed him.
They walked down the sidewalk, moving down the peaceful and unsuspecting downtown streets filled with bustling and ignorant citizens. All the while suspicion wormed it's way into Athena's heart.
Finally, they arrived.
Philip stopped in the entrance of an alley. On either side of him stood large walls of brick and mortar, hiding the bright gaze of the sun and bathing the corridor in shade. The closer one got to the back, the more it became totally engulfed in shadow, the corridor arcing behind a building and into the dark depths of the city. A fog seemed to crawl out of the darkness, hugging close to the walls and floor of the alley.
And at the end of it, was the sound he sought.
Crying.
It was more than just the sound of it, more than simply the detection of sound waves oscillating ones inner ear. It was the expression of pain, of fear, of despair.
Athena could hear it. She'd heard it the moment she left the theater. Even bathed in sound as she was, the goddess was more than capable of picking up even the quietest of whispers from blocks away.
She just didn't think a mere mortal like Philip could.
Most curious she said, giving him a cautious look.
Philip gazed down the darkened alley with an intensity strong enough to make a lesser being wither and die. His eyes unwavering and unyielding, picking out every minute detail. His hands and jaw clenched tightly, straining against the mortal bindings that kept them in place.
"Philip, is this…?" Her asking was merely a formality, they both knew.
"Carole" He rumbled, his tone dark and heavy, before a subtle movement of his arm stole her attention.
Athena looked down to see, much to her surprise, Philip handing her a sheathed knife nearly as long as her forearm.
"Just in case."
His words were punctuated by another cry of pain echoing out of the alleyway.
Slowly, Athena nodded and took the knife from his hands. Far from concerned about her own life, Athena was both anxious and excited to see where this would lead.
Lets see the kind of man you really are, Philip. She thought with narrowed eyes, scrutinizing every inch of his person as he stepped forward. Every move he made was like a coiled viper, cords of muscle tensing just under his skin.
A burst of sound, metal clattering loudly upon asphalt, stole her attention. When Athena glanced back toward Philip, he held a firearm in his hands. An M1911 with a matte black finish held in a relaxed, but trained grip.
…And where did you get that? Athena wondered, taking another glance at the knife in her hands, Or this, for that matter?
When they stepped around the corner and into the scene, she stayed silent, her questions held at bay because, for all she was eager to learn, Athena knew she would become witness to an enlightening display. The stage was set, the players in their positions and the curtain raised to begin the play.
Now she just had to enjoy the show.
"Oh, my god, are you alright?"
A woman in a long green sundress with a straw hat, long black hair, and large glasses kneeled down before a girl laying on the ground. Standing over the two of them was a woman in a long white dress with a light denim vest overtop and a pair of sunglasses that sank into her flowing brown hair.
The girl was young, very young, not a day over 8 by Athena's guess. She wore torn jeans, scuffed and dirty sneakers, and ripped black shirt. Her hair black and her eyes blue as the sky.
The young girl looked like she'd just gotten beaten and mugged. Her backpack was thrown against the ground, the contents strewn about the asphalt. She was coughing fiercely, wheezing for breath, several scratches along her body, and one large gash across her arm where she'd been slashed. She seemed to be barely conscious.
Philip gave the whole seen a careful look.
"…Ma'am?" He finally said, getting her attention.
"Oh my!" The one in green exclaimed, startling at his announcement of his presence, "T-there was a man, he just about snatched her up. The precious thing has some fight in her, though."
Her tone was thick with a southern accent as she fret frantically over the child's body.
"A man?"
"Yes," She nodded emphatically, "The man ran off my dear niece, My dear sister managed to chase him down, but…"
"I see…" Philip said slowly, lowering his gun.
The other one in the white dress huffed angrily, pointing down the corridor, "There goes that scoundrel!"
Through the thick fog permeating the alley they could make out a man running down the alley, hefty purse in hand.
"Get after him!" She cried, "He's got my purse!"
"I'll call an ambulance, but the poor thing might not make it without her inhaler." The one in the green dress said morosely.
The girl seemed to tremble in the woman's hands, tears silently running down her face.
"Hush, dear," The one in green comforted her, "Don't hurt yourself."
"Very well," Philip nodded, "I assure that all be well in a minute, ma'am"
The woman in white beamed at him, and the girl sucked in another pained breath filled with agony. To careful eyes, she almost seemed to deflate, the hope leaving her eyes. The one in green just smiled and hugged the girl closer.
"But first," Interrupting their reverie "I have a question," he said as he brought both his eyes to bear, smoldering in the intensity of their gaze.
"What are you?"
The women both stiffened for a moment, before relaxing into easy and inviting smiles.
"Why, whatever do you mean?" The one in green asked.
"We're just visitors from Charleston, here to see our dear little niece."
As they spoke, the fog of the alley rose, growing higher and thicker. She could feel the Mist of the area become stronger, a heavy haze that would dull the mind of all mortals trying to see through it.
But his eyes cut through it all like a lighthouse in the morning fog.
"I'm sure you are." He said carefully. "But you're also not human."
They froze, their posture once relaxed now tense.
"I don't know what you are," He continued slowly, drawing his gun once more, "But I'm not here to entertain your games."
Slowly they shifted from smiles to scowls.
"Two non-human entities such as yourself hovering over a young and battered little girl?" He began, his tone filled with a venomous bile and contempt, "I can't help but find it very suspicious."
Their lips pulled back to bare teeth.
"But I suppose it makes sense."
"Coming from a snake."
Suddenly the woman in green lunged forward, the skin on her hands peeling back to reveal scaled arms and claws. The attack came in the blink of the eye, faster than the average human could even process.
It earned her he a lightning quick jab to the face. The force of the punch snapped her head back, sending her reeling in pain as she cupped her bleeding face.
When she pulled it away the skin fell to more scales. Under the skirt could be seen a long coiling tail of a snake. More and more skin was shed from both their forms, pale flesh giving way to sleek scales. One with Green scales, the other White.
Athena knew what they were. She'd known since the very moment they entered her range so carelessly.
Lamia, the snake women of Greece. They couldn't sense her godly presence, not when she was like that, and she would keep it that way. She wanted to see what Philip, a mere mortal, could do against two monsters of the immortal world. If he couldn't handle it, well…she'd step in when it got too hot.
After all, what could a mortal do against the immortal forces of this world?
It was the same question on the minds of the Lamia before them.
One quickly dismissed by long held assurances.
And one they would come to regret.
White attempted to lash out with her tail, but Philip dashed back out of range. Green slithered forward, chasing him down. She lunged at him with an open claw.
He retaliated by slamming the but of his pistol on her hand with such force that Athena could practically hear the crack of monstrous bone from even that distance. Philip followed with a strong backhand connecting with the creature's jaw, forcing her head snap to the side and sending her reeling as her brain rocked in her skull.
Seizing the moment of breath, Philip took aim at White and fired. Round after round of deafening lead went slamming into the lamia's form. For all their lethality, it had all the effect of hail upon her hardened scales. For a moment, the Lamia smirked.
And then the 5th round punctured the jelly of her eye. As her orbit burst in blood and nerves, White recoiled in stunned agony, the shock overwhelming any and all pain. In a matter of moments, the remaining rounds found their marks, raining blows across her face. Another punctured the soft pallet of her throat as she screamed in pain. The third gouging out her other eye.
With the final round in the magazine, Philip sent another chunk of lead screaming down her throat, boring a hole in the soft back of her neck.
The Lamia reeled in agony, coughing up puddles of blood as she tried not to drown on her own fluids. Blinded and bleeding, she was out of the way.
Leaving the way open for him turn his attention to a furious Green Lamia.
Her burning cry of vengeance fell on deaf ears as she pounced on Philip. Athena watched with renewed interest as the mortal proved himself beyond what she expected. He deftly weaved through the first two of her strikes, batting aside the third and fourth with his left hand. Still, Green pushed forward, attacking him with savage abandon, all thought swept in the all-consuming rage that filled her.
She gave him no quarter as she swiped and slashed, hurling insult and venom at him with blazing hatred. All thought was gone from her assault, all that was left was instinct and fury.
Which left her blindsided by his counterattack.
All it took was a simple overreach with her claw, and Philip's right hand blurred into motion.
With a crunch, he pistol-whipped the Lamia in the jaw so hard that the frame of the gun cracked, the metal bending and twisting under the crushing force. Athena could see the shockwave traveling through the beast's head. Her skull fracturing under the force, her jaw shattering from the blow. Her head twisted to the side almost fast enough to snap her neck, her brain violently shaking in her skull.
Then, a glint of polished steel flickered through the air.
In the next instant, a knife plunged it's way into the Lamia's throat, before Philip tore it out of the side of her neck, spraying the walls with her bright red blood. As the beast collapsed to the ground, groping the gaping wound in her neck hopelessly as the light left her eyes and the blood left her body, Philip only looked down at her with a cold expression
In the relative peace of the fight, Athena saw Philip look over his opponents, each bloody, beaten, and dazed, and ever so slightly relax.
Thud
Philip just barely managed to get his arm up in time to block the blow. A hairy fist crashed into his forearm with enough force to snap a lesser man in half.
Philip just grit his teeth.
Another massive fist went sailing towards his gut at near blinding speeds. Unable to reposition himself, the fist slamming into chest. But like a wall of iron against the storm, he didn't so much as tremble from the blow.
Before him stood the imposing form of a man in loose jeans and a white tank top. A scruffy beard and long wild black hair brushed his shoulders. Hopping back, the man looked Philip over, as well as the two Lamia on the ground writhing in pain.
"Heh, it's so hard to find good help these days." He chuckled.
Philip offered him only a scowl in return.
The large man, easily 7ft tall, simply shrugged, "I guess you're the silent type."
"That's fine," he cracked his knuckles, "Because you'll be squealing all the same when I'm done with you."
"That's what you get for getting in between me and my prey." He said with a toothy grin.
The man at the end of the alley chuckled for but a moment, when a change overtook him. The crack of bone and the stretch of muscle could be heard as his own body churned under his skin. He grew almost another half-foot as his joints popped and cracked. His hair grew wildly across his body, his fingers curling into claws. His ears grew long and pointed, becoming covered in fur.
Athena's eyes widened ever so slightly, mildly surprised that such a rare and dangerous would be present for such a thing.
For the man was a Werewolf.
One of the most dangerous monsters of the immortal world. Strong, cunning, fast, and ruthless, the combined the best and worst traits of all that made them. And they were notoriously difficult to kill.
The beast chuckled, a deep rumble in his throat, "Too bad you won't get to enjoy your little 'victory', but I have to make this fast."
And yet, despite it all, Philip just looked at the beast with hard eyes. A face chiseled from stone stared back at the monster, not a fraction of fear of panic on him.
Instead, he calmly drew yet another gun from his side.
"Ha!" The beast barked, "What's this? A cute little toy?"
She couldn't see where he had gotten it, the firearm suddenly appearing in his hand when she glanced away for a moment. It was an odd little thing. Resembling an antique. A Mauser C96 if memory served correctly.
Oh Philip Athena snorted as Philip calmly leveled the barrel at the wolf's head, You might have gotten lucky with the foolish and weak Lamia, but this is a Werewolf. Bringing a mortal weapon to a fight of legends is a foolish mistake you might not live to regret. You certainly won't be vanquishing any monster with a simple gun.
And certainly not with such an antiq-
BANG
Athena was startled out of her thoughts by the loud and thunderous retort of his gun. She saw the bullet pass right through the beast's face…
And explode out the back of his skull.
Stunned silent, Athena can only watch as Philip turns back towards the Lamia lying in their own blood.
BANG
Another bullet splatters the inside of the Green Lamia across the ground.
The White one, hearing the gunshots but still blind to the world, lurches up, beginning to panic.
"Sister?" She whimpers, whipping her head back and forth in desperation, "Sister, what's-"
BANG
White's head all but implodes, her skull decorating the walls of the alley. An errant burst of blood splashes against Philip's cheek.
Philip lowers the gun, letting out a low breath as he surveyed the area around him. Scowling, he holstered his gun behind him in some unseen pocket and walked up to the girl who had sparked all this.
When he kneeled down to her level, she flinched away from him in fear. She'd finally regained her breath, but words escaped her in favor of raw terror.
Instantly Philip's face seemed to melt from the stony scowl, into a much more inviting, patient, and warm look. "Hey there," He reached out to her.
She flinched away, batting his hand to the side in panic. As he got closer she flailed her arms against him, spouting incoherent ramblings of fear.
"Hey, hey, they're all gone now, you're safe." He whispered to her, weathering the storm as he laid a hand on her shoulder. "I'm not going to hurt you."
She kicked and wailed against him, his body simply shrugging it off and his patience pushing him through. Soon she tired herself out, exhausting what little energy she had. She sagged into his arms, her wails giving in to outright tears.
Philip twisted around, sitting right next to her against the wall and letting her lean against for support.
"It's alright," he said, a comforting hand on her shoulder as he let her sob all over him. "just let it all out."
After a few moments, the girl managed to compose herself enough to speak up. "T-thank y-you f-for saving me from the m-monsters." She sniffled.
"Well that's just what people like me do, we protect all the little boys and girls from the monsters out to get them." He smiled, "There are things that go bump in the night."
"My job is to bump back."
"Are you going to be okay?" he asked, concern filling his voice.
She nodded, her black locks swaying with the movement.
"Can you tell me your name?" Philip asked.
She bit her lip, as if considering it for a moment, but finally nodded.
"I-it's." She swallowed, "It's Thalia."
"Thalia Grace."
And as Athena watched the once secret daughter of Zeus be comforted by the man she'd just realized held a mystery far deeper than she'd ever imagined, she could only think one thing.
Well, She drummed her fingers against her leg. This changes the game.
This changes everything
"Luke?"
In a quaint house in Connecticut, a young boy of 5 years played in the living room.
Heedless of his mother's call, his attention was focused on the screen in front of him, his fingers dancing across the hard plastic remote in his hands.
"Luke?" She repeated, finally stepping into the living room. "There you are, sweetie."
"What do you want for dinner?"
The boy only gave a noncommittal grunt.
"Luke." She raised her voice to get his attention, somewhat exasperated.
"Hmm?" He perked up, finally recognizing his mother's presence, "What's up, mom?"
"Dinner?" She smiled wryly.
The boy blushed, scratching his cheek as he realized what'd happened. "Er, uh, sorry?"
"It's fine," She brushed it off with an easy grin, "But I'm starting to think maybe this thing's bad for you." She teased, gesturing to the tv.
"What? No!" He exclaimed, protectively covering his precious playstation.
"I don't know, ever since I got it for you, all it seems to do is rot your brain." She smirked.
"Don't you dare." The 5-year-old attempted to scowl.
The woman couldn't help but smirk at his pout, "I guess I can let you play a bit more."
"I'd still like to know what you want for dinner."
"Um…" the boy bit his lip, thinking about it, "Lasagna?"
She chuckled, "Of course, Luke."
She ruffled the boy's brown hair, much to his displeasure. "I'll get it all ready for us and then we can watch some X-files."
"Thanks mom." He smiled.
"Anything for my little warrior," She grinned, getting up and moving towards the kitchen, "You have fun with your little Air Battles"
"It's Air Combat!" he whined.
She only gave him a departing chuckle as she left his sight.
Pouting, the boy returned to his games to distract his mind and expand his horizons.
Soon, time passed him by as he became engrossed once more into the digital landscape laid out for him. Immersed in the graphical art he bathed himself in archaic aerial battles.
But while he was caught up in the powerful stream of game's time, he was drawn by a strange scent passing across his mind. His attention pulled, he focused on it, inhaling another fresh breath of it.
His nose crinkled as the acrid passed through, his face curling in disgust.
"Ugh," He cringed, "Mom, are you burning something?"
Finally pulled from the world of his games, he was slowly able to perceive his surroundings. He noticed how the day had already passed to night. He noticed how his stomach gnawed and grumbled from hunger.
"...mom?" he repeated, concerned.
But only silence greeted.
Frowning, he paused the game and got up from his place on the floor. He walked his way to the kitchen, passing by the dark and empty dining room. A light crept out from the entryway to the kitchen, casting everything in dull shadows. Smoke seemed to fill the room, and yet the alarm remained undisturbed.
Finally, passing through the room of dark and empty shadows, his heart filling with dread and his stomach fluttering in his chest, he entered the kitchen.
"Mom?" He repeated, fear clawing at the back of his mind as his imagination soared into overdrive, pulling nightmare after nightmare into his mind.
He gulped as he stepped through the dense cloud of smoke that enveloped the room. Dread fills him as he sees a flickering flame in the window of the oven.
Then he sees her. Bent over the sink, her head bowed low and cradled in her hands.
He inches forward, reaching out to shake her shoulder. "...A-are you okay?"
Just before his fingers brush up against her shirt, she vanishes. The boy recoils in fear, stumbling on his back foot. He trips to the ground, a dull pang of pain flaring up in him as he falls to the ground. Hyperventilating, his wide eyes take note of a large shape on the ground.
He swallows his fear, trying to push past it as he rises to his feet. "Mom?" He repeats, hoping against hope that she'll finally respond.
He sees her there, curled up on the floor in front of the oven, bathed in the flickering light of the fire. Hunched in the fetal position, her body frozen in an unseen pain as her hands grip tightly at her hair. As he gets closer he thinks he can hear her whispering something, murmuring words just under breath.
"M-mom?" He asks, trying to close the distance.
She doesn't so much as twitch in response. Her face is covered with her long locks of hair, only her lips peeking out from the messy mane. And they move with frightening speed, her lips twitching and forming words faster than his eyes can track. Faster than should be possible.
"-thelightburnsallshadowwithoutmercyunyeildingandabsoluteitprotectstheweakandburnstheheretics-"
"Mom?" He sniffled, hands reaching out to touch her, to be there for her. It seemed like it was like those other times. When she'd have one of her...episodes. It scared him, it always scared him, and he still didn't know what was happening.
But he knew that she loved him, that she tried to be there for him whenever she could. She did everything she could to support him.
And in return, he would be there for her.
His hand snaked out, wrapping around her own and pulling it from her head. He crouched down next to her, holding her shivering hand in his own, forcing down that fear as he sought to do his duty.
Then she vanished again.
Suddenly, her arms wrapped around him from behind. Her body was hot, radiating an unnatural heat that felt wrong on an instinctual level he could scarcely understand. Her head resting on his shoulder, her lips all but kissing his ear.
His body went rigid with terror, unable to truly understand what was happening or why.
But all the same, he heard the words his mother whispered into his ear.
"-andthestormwillrageunchallengedconsumingallwhohopeinitsswirlingfuryfireswillrisewindswillfallandeverythingwillgetcaughtupinthechaosthegodswillrememberthattheseviolentdelightshaveviolentendsashighastheyroseonthebacksoftruimphanddesperationsotoowilltheyfallontheswordsofinnovationandprogessingorancewillbeburnedawaybythefirestormoftruthandthedarkshadowsofthe-"
Her words were not her own. It was like an ocean of voices, a sick cacophony of a thousand people all screaming and whispering at once. It was a roar in his ears that, despite the breadth of voices, lost none of the potent sting of each sound lancing into his ears, demanding he listen.
His eyes slid to the side, risking a glimpse at her face against his better instincts.
Her face was scrunched up into a rictus of undisguised agony, emotional and physical pain written across her face. Despair and sorrow filling her eyes. She shed tears of blood freely as the trailed down her face. A stream of blood escaping her nose with more leaking from her ears. Her eyes twitched wildly, flitting about the room with an unnatural speed, focusing on unseen sights.
"M-m-mom?" the boy stuttered, terrified beyond belief.
She stopped her rant for a moment, paused as if shaken from her reverie and pulling herself back together. Her eyes unfocused momentarily, drifting about. Then they twitched back into position, both her chocolate orbs locking onto the boy's own green pair.
"Luke" She whispered in a soft voice like a nice mug of hot chocolate on a cold day, warm, rich, and was a bare moment of pure clarity. Filled with such love, such sorrow, such longing. He could feel the pain in her gaze, how much she felt violated, possessed like a puppet on strings.
Then her eyes widened, focused on something seemingly behind him, some unseen terror.
"Run." The voices all spoke as one.
A light began to fill her eyes. A bright and terrible light.
"Run Run Run Run." She repeated, the light burrowing under her eyes, sinking deep into her skin, her hands releasing him to crawl back up to her face.
"Mom?" The boy responded, scared beyond all reason, and yet he still felt immeasurable concern for his mother, the only person that mattered in his life. He twisted in her grip, grabbing onto her shoulders to hold her steady.
Bright cracks formed in the skin around her eyes, radiating out to the rest of her head.
"I looked for my lord, unbidden and unwilling, but unable to resist." She spoke once more, undisguised fear filling her voice, "The young god touches time, but does not, cannot understand what he seeks. They are but children watching a play, thinking they see the story. They do not see the tapestry behind the curtains, the dense weave of foundation, culmination, evaluation, and execution."
"Mom, calm down, I'm right here." He tried to tell her.
"But they want to gaze into it all the same and I am their instrument." She continued, heedless of his words. "Theythinktheyarethesoledivinersofthelandthesoleownersofexistencetheythinkthemselvesspecialbeingexceptionstotheruletheythinkthemselvesmastersandgodsoftheworldaroundthemtheydonotunderstandthattheyareyetmereproductsoftheworld."
She spoke faster and faster, all but indecipherable now. The cacophony crawled back into her voice as she once more became part of the symphony.
"Buttheydontunderstandthatthingshavechangednowwhentheylookintotimewhentheyseektogazeintothefabricofexistancewhentheyseektodivinewhatthethreadsoftheuniversecantellthemtheyfailtounderstandthatsomethinglooksbacktheyarenttheonlyonesgazingintothestreamtheyarebutchildrenplayingwithatoytheythinktheyvemasteredwhilstthetruesavantsoftheartweredistractedbutnowtheyreburninggazeturnsback."
The cracks spread, her skin peeling and burning the intense energies being sent through her.
"Mom, stop it!" The boy cried.
"Andnowitsgazeturnstomeicanfeeltheyregazeturningtometheeyelooksatmeicanfeelitburnignthroughmeitburnsitburnsitburnsitburnsitburnsitburnsitburnsitburnsitburns."
"Please!"
"Havetogetawayhavetoturnawaycanneverlookawaycanneverhidethereisnowheretorunnowheretohidetheirburninggazeisabsoluteandeverywheretherewasneveranyescapetherewasneveranyhopethiswastheonlypossibilityformedtheinstantthestonehitthepondtheinstanttheripplesbeganeverythingwaschangedeverythingwasdoomedtothatinevitablechaosandchange" She mutters, "Becausethereisnoescapetherewasneveranyescapeitwasalljustanillusionicannevergetawayicanneverbefree."
"Mom! Don't leave me!" He sobbed, his voice hoarse as tears streamed down his face.
And at his words, his mother's gaze turned back towards him. Lines began to form in the air around her. Impossible lines that didn't exist, that never existed, that couldn't exist, but somehow had always existed.
"Wecanneverbefreelukewerealldoomedtobetoolsforthosemorepowerfulthanus" She told him, hoping beyond hope that her words would reach through the tangled mess of her mind, through the tangled streams of time she was forced to work through. "Rememberlukerememberiwillalwaysloveyoupleaseremeberpleasebesafeyouhavetorunyouhavetobesafeyouhavetofindyourfatherhecanhelpprotectyouhesyouronlyhopepleasedothisformebabylukehoneysweetieluke-"
And then the lines burst through her skin. Piercing through her flesh, cutting into every inch of her and trapping her into a box of lines that never existed but always were. She was trapped and bound in a box of impossibility, of chronal contradiction. Every inch of her impaled but unmarked. It was there, and yet not.
Time all around them seemed to bend. Certain corners of the kitchen had the smoke flowing away from them, others had the smoke standing still. Behind her, the boy could see the flames flicking backward. He was trapped, all around him the world seemed to fragment and bend, to fracture and break.
And then he heard the noise.
The noise that could not be heard. The noise that did not exist. The noise that burned itself into every inch of every memory he has, even the ones he doesn't remember yet. That sound burns itself into very wrinkles of time in his mind.
Then it is gone.
It all shatters.
Her body falls to the ground, broken and still.
And it's never/always/currently over.
A/n:
I wanted this to be out a while ago.
I was even a third of the way done with it.
I was like, "Yeah, I can do this."
Then my muse came over and was like, "Ha, naw, you ain't get'n shit done."
I basically had to rewrite half the chapter from there. Part of it is that I wasn't planning on doing the fight scene. It's just I needed something to bring my muse back to the whole thing.
And, well, writing fight scenes is always fun.
So I'm going to be honest, when writing the bit with Zavala and Athena, I'm not sure how good it is narratively or how much sense it makes, and I don't honestly care. This whole fic is a fun little experiment for me for the sole purpose of dicking around with what would happen if I combined the two in such a way, and how much fun I can have.
So for this story, how much fun something is to read and write will always take precedent over how much sense it makes or the problems it could cause.
And hot damn, was that a fun scene to write.
Zavala punching out some monsters and blasting their brains out.
So there are some things I'm going to brush past that I originally wanted to focus on, something things I'm going to have to rework, and some things I am going to ignore all the actual consequences I can think of that would result from it. If I didn't, I'd be spending, like, another 2 chapters focusing on the fallout of the boat incident as it relates to the crew and the authorities.
I don't think anyone wants that.
So we're moving on.
And on another note, Thalia and Luke. That did not happen like I thought it would. Well, Luke's mother I'd already planned, but Thalia! Oh, that was not expected. Thalia wasn't supposed to be relevant for a while. And even if she was, it would be by dear old dad taking a look.
Thalia appeared because I needed a young unaccounted demigod that had already been born and had some sort of agency. Percy (male of fem, still not exactly decided, but probably male) hasn't been born yet. Sally's knocked up alright, so whatever gender he ends up being, the little shit is coming out. Same for Annabeth(though she has her own problems) and basically anyone who might be born would be, like, 2. 'cept Luke, who's five. Which left me with Thalia.
Or the Romans, but the only things I know about what Rick did with them make me want to punt puppies into burning dumpsters. So, yeah, I'll probably have to either rewrite the Romans, mock the whole Roman situation, or ignore them if I want to not kill myself. Either way, for now, I'm just going to try not to think about them too much.
So, I could have made an OC Demigod to take the place of Bait. In fact, Trav said I should probably do that. Unfortunately I was feeling too lazy to bullshit another tragic kid's backstory, and Thalia was just oh so convenient. I try to only make OC's to fit roles I need to fill. If I can fill said role with a canonical character or an import (within certain strict limits) I'll do it.
So...I'm going to have to deal with that.
But I'm going to turn back to the issue of canon.
The more I find out about PJO, the more it annoys me, confuses me, and just makes me feel like curb stomping bunnies.
So, to that end, I'm going to give you guys a baseline for how I shal interpret each canon, especially PJO's.
PJO's side of the story shall all be built on the fundamental idea that ancient myths and legends were not only real, but exist today woven into the world and hidden behind a Veil. I'll be twisting and abusing that to my own will and using Canon as Inspiration but I'm not going to let myself become bound to something I think is dumb. I'll try to keep myself to the spirit of it all, rather than the letter.
Which means this. I don't care what "canon" says. If it's interesting and I can use it, I will. If I think it's dumb and painful, I'm dismissing it or making fun of it. I'm going to be putting fun and narrative faaaaar before canon compliance to either subject. I'll especially be looking more at ancient myths of actual legend rather than Rick's interpretation, and I'll keep an especially close eye on gameplay of the story.
So, yeah, that's all I have to say on that.
Next update...this year?
Shit
I jinxed myself, didn't I?
