A/N: ...sorry for the delay, but I think something is wrong with me. I don't feel like myself. Sorry.
Not sure if its my depression or what, but I feel...off. My mood is high, then low, then high again. Its affecting...well, everything, to say nothing of my energy levels. Sometimes its an effort to just get out of bed, get dressed, and drag my self to work. I can feel it eating away at me, sapping my motivation bit by bit. Thanks to Slifer and Advent, I'm fighting on, but I'm not at my best.
Trying to endure, here. Update schedule got a bit messed up last week, I didn't get a chance to update "Lion" properly last Thursday or "Foxfire" on Sunday given both are shaping up to be loooong chapters
As ever, I own no references, quotes, themes or memes. They're tributes to legends far greater than little 'ol me.
I'm just a humble author trying to make his way in this wild world, one word at a time.
Time and feedback determine the update speed of this story. Simple as that.
In other words...its up to YOU, the reader. Do let me know~!
This is a preview for Practice Makes Perfect...
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Just a Little Bonk (Teaser)
Immortals had rules.
Even as the queen of Grimm, of all things vile and vicious, Salem abided by those unspoken edicts for the most part.
After all, she may enjoy chaos but she had no desire to live in a barren realm.
So yes, rules. And they worked for the most part.
She and Ozma had their little shadow war, but said war could have been so much worse. He could have used the relics against her; she could have unleashed swarms of Grimm and run the kingdoms down. They could've been so uncivilized about all of this, downright feral, even, but they weren't. Rules kept the game going, kept things interesting.
And when a Scroll rang, she answered.
"Ozma." she set the black device to her ear. "You're early. To what do I owe the pleasure of this call...?"
"There was a survivor that night."
His words shattered her.
Salem squeaked.
The scroll fell from her fumbling fingers, bounced off her throne, and skittered under the table. Blast it all.
Ozma's voice echoed from within the now-cracked screen. "Salem?"
"Just a moment!" She fumbled for it like the young girl she no longer was, cursing the insipid technology all the while. "Infernal device...!"
She could feel Tyrian and Hazel staring, utterly baffled at her as she squirmed under the table to retrieve it. Watts coughed once.
It might've been a laugh. She'd get him for that.
Composing herself, she finally found the scroll, sat up, took a deep breath and rallied. "I am here. How can you be certain?
"I just watched a young man heal a girl whose soul had been all but disconnected from her body. The same girl that your little "minion" is so desperately hunting."
Her mind whirled. He must mean Cinder. "I will attempt to recall her. The girl is willful. I am not privy to her plans. Bring this boy to me and in return, I'll spare Vale this century from any Grimm attacks."
"Surely you jest. And have you turn him against me? I think not."
She smiled. "Then I shall come to you."
"Preposterous. Your presence would start a riot."
"You cannot stop me. I have my magic, and unlike you, I did not see fit to split it among four foolish girls."
Her ex husband made a strangled noise. "You'll never let me live that down will you...
"I will not. It was a foolish move."
A pause followed. "There is another matter." I have reason to believe he isn't the only one.
...what did you say his name was?"
"Arc. Jaune Arc."
Salem wheezed "I beg your pardon?!"
He looks just like us, the best of us, the both of us." Ozma said. "Is it so inconceivable to believe that one of our daughters survived that night, neither of us were in any shape or condition to check on them? We knew only that they were gone. I died, and you fled that placed, never to return."
She thumped the arm-rest of her throne with a fist. "But then, why didn't they seek us out?!
"Would you if your parents did as we did?"
Salem wilted. "I...no. This doesn't change anything."
Ozpin sounded far too smug. "I disagree. This changes EVERYTHING."
He hung up on her a moment later, the rat bastard.
Alive. One of her children had lived, and sired children of their own. And then their children's children.
And she hadn't known.
She hadn't even thought to look.
Not once had she even considered the matter.
...did this mean she had grandchildren? Grandbabies? No, Great-great-great-GREAT grandbabies?
Something fluttered in her heart. It almost felt like hope. After all these years.
Hope hurt her more than any blade, cut deeper than any spell.
She wanted to see him; this boy, her descendant.
But that would mean doing the unthinkable.
Damn Ozma. Damn him to the hells.
Tyrian was say something, but the words were distant, muted indistinct. She could scarcely hear him, or anyone for that matter. Her heart was pounding, her ears ringing, her mouth dry.
Salem paced to a nearby window overlooking the Grimmlands, emotions roiling deep within. All these armies, and yet she felt so powerless.
Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. Black blood bled between her fingers.
Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, threw her head back...
.
..
...and she screamed.
Salem screamed and screamed and screamed.
All around her, the windows of her tower shattered.
A/N: Welp, Salem's going to Vale. We'll cut it here. Don't wanna spoil too much.
Would you like an update next week? Do let me know! We'll be picking up the pace soon, but with the notifications down, I really need to hear from you here.
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...Review Would You Kindly?
No previews. I just can't...
So in the Immortal Words of Atlas...
...Review Would You Kindly?