2: Eulogy in the Night

The bat hanging upside down laughs at the topsy-turvy world.


A fake smile was plastered on her face.

She was surrounded by Republic City's finest and the ones who took up an oath to uphold peace. Yet, they were surrounding her and speaking of matters that shouldnt be spoken of during their work hours. In fact, Dorothea even thought of opening every single interrogation door until she found Gwyn. But she was certain of the fact, Gwyn would shove her out and keep the door shut. She hated how serious her brother had become these past few years. Not that she could hold him at fault for it, really. Especially what their father left in the wake of his death four years ago. Usually, when a parent dies, one hopes to inherit some great wealth or emotional gift. Instead, Dorothea was given their estate that held tragic memories for her, and Gwyn…Gwyn inherited a war.

Though Gwyn's gift was far more useful in her eyes, Dorothea couldn't help but feel as though this was their father's last act of scorn toward her; condemned to watch her brother's life come to an end at any moment.

The more she thought about it, the more her hands clenched around the coffee cup. The break room began to fill with more officers and she hated the way their gazes increased on her. She was a songstress and used to the gaze of people, but these gazes filled her with anger. With an exasperated sigh, Dorothea, with the same fake smile, began to speak up—until an uneasy voice took her place.

"Uh-excuse me? I think I was sent to find you?" It was as if the spirits themselves had sent her a savior. Dorothea whirled around and this time she wore her genuine smile. Before her, her savior, stood a young girl–no older than seventeen. She had on Water Tribe clothing, but a few discerning features; The fur around her waist and a tunic that was remancant of a summer top. Nothing you'd see in the south, but she respected the originality to it.

"Oh? And who was it that sent you to find me?" She then pulled the girl with her, "Perhaps you should tell me over there." She pointed toward the entrance of the building in an attempt to distance herself from the other officers.

She did, however, turn and wave to them goodbye. She may have hated them, but her experience in showbiz wouldn't let her departure be so rude. Unless she wants one of them to show up to her residence and stab her.

"Now," Dorothea began, "Who was it that sent you to find me?" The young girl seemed to suddenly remember and scratched her head.

"I don't remember his name." She said, "Big guy, iron mask, looks like some kind of divine being?"

Dorothea curled her lip in an attempt to stop herself from laughing. Gwyn had been called many things, but divine being was a new one. "So, Gwyn sent you to me. I suppose you're the reason we're here."

"Yea," She said sheepishly. "Sorry…I thought Tenzin would have been the one to come get me."

"One would think so." Dorothea did not hide the slight venom in her voice. Though she had nothing against this girl, she was the reason Gwyn had been in pain for the better half of an hour. She did take a calming breath and noticed the girl staring at her with a question at the tip of her tongue. "Yes? Is there something you want to ask?"

The girl sputtered a bit, "Uh-no-uh. It's just, I've seen you somewhere. I'm just not sure where."

Dorothea chuckled, "Perhaps you've heard me instead of seen me. Or, if you have the income, both." The girl only looked more confused.

What's your name?" the young girl asked. Ah, she had neglected to do proper introductions. She had thought Gwyn would have been close behind and this encounter would have been avoided.

"I'm Dorothea." She said lightly, a smile tugging at her lips. "What might your name be, oh prisoner?" The small jest served to make her tanned cheeks darken.

"My name's Korra–" she suddenly stopped. "Wait. Dorothea. As in the songstress Dorothea?" Korra's voice slightly elevated, her embarrassment forgotten. Dorothea was taken aback, she knew she was popular in the eastern states of the Earth Kingdom, but she never imagined her songs had crossed the ocean.

"Yes, although-"

Korra didnt let her finish her confirmation before she began spitting out words, "Oh, I listen to you all the time on the radio! Especially after I'm done with training and my chores! I love your version of Venus tonight, but then there's also midnight, the stars and you." She then stopped and began mumbling: "I forgot about The world of Midnight, that's also one of my favorites–Gah! There's too many songs I love!"

Dorothea only stared at her, painted lips slightly parted. Any and all ill intent she had towards Korra vanished the moment she began speaking like a child in a toy store. Slowly, as Korra continued mumbling, Dorothea giggled a bit behind her hand. "I had no idea my voice went that far south; it's almost surreal." Dorothea then took note of the songs Korra had mentioned, "Oh, but you purely like songs of love, angst, and heartbreak." A teasing smirk appeared on her lips, "Is there a boy back home you left to come here?"

"What?" Korra asked confused, then realization hit. "No! I mean…no there's no one. I just liked the songs." Dorothea, however, wasn't satisfied with her response and set out to do what she did best. Play the part..

"Oh, come on! You can tell Dorothy all about it! Was the heartbreak gut wrenching? Did you leave him destitute?" She was almost on top of Korra as she began her small play. Korra's face was one of embarrassment as the whole department slowly began looking at them, "Don't go my love, he said with tears in his eyes, and a cry in his throat." Dorothea then leaned on Korra as she feigned hurt. "Oh, I must! You replied. This life of ice and cold cannot be it for me! I need the city to warm me like you once did! You reply in tears."

She then shifted and gripped Korra's face and brought her to look up at her, the height difference clear as Dorothea brought her even closer. Tanned cheeks began to heat up as Dorothea's lips were inches from hers. "Fine, he says. But when that city proves too much for you and you feel as though your heart is moments from shattering, you return to me and I'll take you back into my arms. He says as he places a kiss on your lips, then you turn around and board the closest ship, and hail a farewell to your home and your true love!"

Everything within the department ceased. The officers that were seated at their desk, the receptionist at the window, and even the ones under custody; none of them moved. Slowly claps began to ring out and cheers followed suit. Dorothea had since let go of Korra's face, her cheeks continuing to blush. Korra had no idea this woman was so…good. Forget the embarrassment she just had to go through, the act alone was breathtaking! She had no idea acting like this could-

"What are you two doing?"

Korra looked up to find the masked man standing in front of them, the same ded expression etched onto it. His eyes, however, revealed irritation as he gazed upon them. She looked around and found the people had hurriedly returned to their occupation; the Chief standing by the large door with an annoyed expression.

"Oh, Gwyn you're done! We were just having a bit of fun while we waited for you." Her smile was large and wide.

Gwyn just looked at her, unmoving, then, slowly making his way toward the large door. "Looks like we're leaving." Dorothea said in a singsong voice, leading them out. Before they reached the outside, Gwyn's face turned toward Korra and said: "I apologize for my sister's antics. I often forget which one of us is the older sibling."

"Don't worry about it…wait." Korra stopped in her tracks.

"Sister?"


The view from the castle was nothing short of breathtaking.

The clouds at his height cut against the tough iron, making a short breeze rush up. It was dark, the stars and every mortal inhabitant asleep. It was on these nights that he could assemble a small number of soldat's and push through, conquering the rest of the city. It would be simple enough, break through the border, push up along what remained of their ports and claim the temple; by the time they mobilized to counterattack their heads would be on pikes.

His head would be on a pike.

A scar running along his lower back and up his left shoulder blade ached. His once pale skin he took pride in was nothing but marred, burned, and wrinkled flesh; often sending him into rage when he took notice of it again. He remembers the shame and humiliation he felt when he returned, his brothers having their own expression. His youngest looked at him with fingers pressed against his lips, trying to hold back his chortles, and the other…just remembering the unwavering face of his made his blood boil. Although he showed no emotion on his face he knew his eyes were burning with laughter. That was four years ago, defeated by a mortal still in his adolescence. The memory haunts him, the burning, the pain the–

He let out a loud snarl into the open air.

The buzzing of his ears intensified, the fluttering of his cloak kept the approaching figure hidden until the voice was at his back.

"Seems like not all fresh air is good for stress."

He took in the voice, deep, raspy, feminine. He set his jaw tightly, turning to face the last person he wanted to deal with tonight. But, she was never a conformist by any means, proven by her presence near him again. Her dress, if one could call it that, was revealing as it always was. Tied at her neck and waist, leaving the sides and her back exposed to the outside. A sash kept it tightly bound and descended down her rear waist to her ankles, leaving the front to stop at her knees. He took great displeasure in knowing she walked around the castle barefoot.

"What is it you want, Primula?" He leaned on the banister as she approached the veranda. Her dark brown hair danced in the winds of this altitude, the moon lighting up her pale face.

"Your father sent me to check on you. He thinks you would do something foolish."

He did not hide the sneer that appeared on his face. He hated Primula, her attitude was always one of prudence. Much of that is his fathers fault, since taking her as his fourth bride, she believes herself to be the 'Queen' of this castle. Not that she dares confirm it out loud in fear of his father ripping her to shreds. "If father wishes to know my whereabouts, he can confirm it himself," he turned back out toward the border. "It is his castle afterall."

The wind had picked up and silenced the present ringing in his ears, but it didn't last. Soon the rushing winds were replaced with the sound of deep giggles. "You really are affected with a deep malaise, aren't you?"

His head snapped back to her, his eyes filling and glowing red. "What is it you want, Primula?" he said in a deep growling voice. "Had father sent you to observe me as you say, you would have done so in the shadows!"

She stayed silent for a moment, a smile still on her face as she observed him. "It's saddening, really. Lucian, the first born, one of the heirs to the throne, outshined by his younger brother in almost every way." She tilted her head as she looked up at him, "Gods , even in height he has you beat."

The moment the last sound came out of her mouth his gloved hand found its way to her throat, his claws digging into the sides of her neck.

"You should mind your tongue." He hissed.

"You should mind your manners." She slammed her open hand into his bicep, causing it to spasm and release his grip. She then jumped a few feet away. "Good to know you're still as sensitive as you always were." She rubbed her neck and hoped it wouldn't bruise. It would be difficult to explain it to Anghel if it did. After she assessed her neck she gazed back at Lucian, whose lips began to curl.

"Calm yourself," She raised her hands in surrender. "I just wanted to make sure your tenacity was still there. Being cooped up in this castle tends to dwindle even the mightiest of warriors."

"You still have yet to answer my question, Primula." She set her brow and sighed, placing her hands at her hips. She had intended to ease the topic out, but it was clear Lucian was as short fused as he had always been.

Twenty Thousand years still hasn't mellowed him out.

"The outcome of this war. If Anghel is to return to his slumber by the coming winter, that leaves the throne open." She began slowly, watching for his body language. "Andrei is out automatically, the boy tends to bury his head in a book instead of a bosom, so no heir from his end." She said lightly. Although Lucan didn't fancy either of his brothers, he did not tolerate disrespect of them on the simple fact that they share the same blood. "That leaves you and Athos, a rather divided following." She walked toward the bannister and looked down at the city.

"Although the Sangre Sagrada Familias favor you," She turned to him and lowered her voice. "Athos himself is unpredictable."

This time, Lucian looked at her with contempt. "And what do you suppose we do, hm? We cannot afford another internal struggle, Primula. The mortals are increasing their forces, the Spirits have refused to open back the portals, and above all else." He leaned into her face and snarled: "The Lycans are popping back up."

"You want to dispose of Athos? Be my guest." He turned and began walking away into the dark shadow of the castle. His boots bouncing off the marble floor and echoing out. Primula clenched her hands in a fist. Suppressing a shout, she walked back in after him. She had imagined Lucian to be the easier of the two older children to be easily manipulated, a dire miscalculation on her part, but she needed to reason with him. Athos was too much of a self guided person, he'd sniff out her plans far before she's even finished constructing them.

She needed to remain in a seat of power, only then would she be able to quell the anguish and sorrow in her soul.


Tungsten, the strongest alloy among the family of metals.

Its ability to transfer kinetic energy, after being forged into twenty foot long poles, and remain intact was the sole purpose as to why he continued his research. Steel had been the first choice, it had been delivered to him in abundance after scrapping a few ships, but its integrity gave way the moment it reached his desired speed. Seeing the steel warp, and crush against the weight of gravity as it fell, made him think he needed to abandon this project of his. However, a farm man, from the lands gifted to him by his father, claimed to know of a metal strong enough to pierce titanium itself. He hadn't had much interactions with the mortals up until that point, but the man had no fear in his eyes when he approached him.

The man then led him to a mine, deep in the farm lands. There he found a black mass of uneven edges. Touching it felt cold to the touch, much colder than any metal, and its dark color was natural. It took him two days to forge the desired length, and he thanked the man, asking what he desired. The man, quick to answer, responded only to live as they had lived up until the point of his occupation.

He agreed, he had no intention of intervening with the humans after all.

A week later his project was ready to be tested. Alone, and at dusk, he loaded the twenty foot pole into a chamber. Locking it and grounding the large barrel to its metallic base, he fired. A mixture of spirit vine, spirit essence, and combustion powder, sent the pole cutting through the clouds, and vanishing into the horizon. A moment later he saw the explosion of clouds rise high into the air and reshape their pattern as a whirlwind of air fluttered his cape and commenced a dance with the crops.

For the first time in a long time, he felt accomplished.