Your girlfriend came back from the dead "wrong", or at least that's what everyone says. She died quickly and slowly, far too young, and for a reason that would not have happened if the world was a better place. You were both going to the same college, she was majoring in film studies while you were majoring in necromancy, you lived in the same apartment together for so long. When you chose to bring her back you had to deal with faeries, and gods few people dare to pray to, but you got her back. Not because you deserved to have her but because she deserved to live.
She isn't what she used to be. Her face looks plasticish and embalmed, and because you didn't have that much skin to work with she's permanently sown into her clothing, that fancy outfit that was always her favorite. You didn't know it at the time but the spell gave her sharp teeth, and black eyes, and a desire for raw meat. It's not the body you would have given her if you had better ways of working. But your happy she's here. Your happy she's alive.
She's considered to have been revived wrong. You don't see it that way, the spells worked as well as they did. She's considered low functioning undead, creatures that are almost always thought of as entirely inhuman. She's considered a failure because she's not able to function like a human would, she doesn't move like a human, can't go out during daylight, acts erratically, is afraid a lot of the time. She's considered a failure because she can't work or go to school like she used to, even though she's alive that's not enough for most people. People are afraid she'll start going out at night and start attacking people on your block, she won't, even she's afraid of that but she doesn't need you to control her, she just has some very scary thoughts and abilities.
People sometimes say she's your experiment, or your pet, or like your daughter. She's not, she's still your girlfriend, you still love her and want to be with her. You comfort her when she's scared. You sing to her, and tell her about your day when you get home, and sit on the couch watching movies with her. You hold her to keep her warm because of how much having a cold body seems to upset her, and she'll push her face into your breasts, and touch you in ways someone touches their girlfriend.
Her parents act like she's fully gone. Calling her a mockery of her old self. Some higher functioning undead that you know have even called her an insult. And even a lot of people you know are so focused on the idea of her getting better. But you don't love her so that she can get better, you love her because it is a gift to love her, whatever form she may take.
🌷Red tulips🌷- symbolizes true, deep and undying love
Distraught Peter desperately delving into Tony's files for anything that could bring his love back to him. No matter how unfinished or unstable he would use it.
And what he found was something labeled Extremis. The project was unfinished but Peter knew he could finish it. He had to.
It took months but he managed to complete it. All he had to do now was claim Tony's body and prep him for being brought back.
hey so um. erm. gl!ranboo's dead in a sense, yes, but we saw charlie die or at least be in a state he probably shouldn't have come back from at least twice. so... has anyone checked the body is still in the box?
or has showfall done what it always does and "recycled" him? maybe he will come back, just not as the ranboo we know...
Yeah, so, we brought back your boyfriend but he came back wrong. Mentally and emotionally he's great, we just accidentally put his left hand together bad. Pinky's where the thumb should be, thumb is where the pinky should be. But otherwise he's great!
"Are you certain, Captain Jones?” Killian’s jaw tightened and the little magician flinched back a bit. “Sir. I meant s-”
“I was told you are more powerful that you look. Was I deceived?”
“I can bring him back, if you’re-” Killian glared at the little man and his words trailed off.
“What do you need?"
“Protection.”
Killian raised an eyebrow. “I offered you payment not protection.”
The man stuck his chin up defiantly though it trembled a bit. “That’s my price. I do this for you, you take me away from here. Get me to-”
“I do not take passengers.” The man opened his mouth to argue and despite the trembling in his frame it made Killian think better of him. “But,” Killian continued. “I can arrange your transport with a discrete person who will see you safe to your destination for the right price. Is that acceptable?” The man nodded and set about arranging a variety of strange items in a circle as Killian looked on.
This is a bad idea.
The voice sounded like Liam.
The voice in his head telling him something was a bad idea usually sounded like Liam...
“Tell me about him.”
“His name was Liam Jones. He was my brother.”
“I need more.”
“More?”
“Yes,” the man sounded exasperated, more confident now that terms were agreed to. “This is complicated magic. A name isn’t enough. Tell me about him.”
“He was...” Killian paused, his throat tightening. The words wouldn’t come. How could he possibly put his big brother into words. “He was older. Not as much older as he acted sometimes. He could be a stubborn ass but he always... he always knew what to do. Was always so certain, so...” he closed his eyes. “He was noble. Loyal to the realm. Never did a bad thing in his life. He even died nobly. Stopping a treacherous king from poisoning the realm.”
The magician rolled his eyes. Actually rolled his eyes. “It’s not a eulogy, Captain. And the magic requires honesty. No one is perfectly good all the time.”
Killian stiffened defensively. “Liam was,” he hissed.
The man shrugged, “if you say so.” The magician handed him back Liam’s log book. “This will stabilize the magic. Write it down, what you just told me and protect it, or you’ll lose him again.” Killian nodded, filling an empty page with the description of his brother he’d given the man.
“Where did he die?” the magician asked finally after several long minutes.
“What?”
“Your brother. Where did he die?”
“My ship.”
“Get there.”
“What?”
“I’d hurry.”
It was possible the man was playing a cruel joke. It was possible he was a fraud and he’d be gone by the time Killian returned alone from this fools errand. It was possible. But maybe ... just maybe...
Killian ran.
His heart sank as the Jolly Roger came into view. Nothing out of the ordinary. The men were repairing cosmetic damage to the hull from a particularly nasty squall. No indication that his Captain, his brother had returned home. His face heated in anger and shame. He’d been deceived. Again. One more fraud with no more power to bring Liam home than he had.
His pace slowed as he approached the ship, gathering himself, placing the mask carefully, layers of sternness and anger and bitter cold between himself and the crew. No one spoke to him. No one dared.
He threw back the hatch and climbed down into the cabin without bothering with a lamp, crashing to the floor gracelessly. He was pouting like a petulant child and he knew it, but it didn’t matter. Not anymore. Something hit him like the kick of a particularly ornery mule, shoving him hard against the wall as he scrambled for his sword bringing it up just in time to block a blade coming at his throat.
"Do you really wish to add striking a superior officer to your crimes, pirate?”
Killian’s blade fell with a thud, no doubt leaving a chip in the polished wood of the cabin. “Liam?”
“That’s Captain to you.”
Killian grinned, his heart swelling for a moment as his eyes adjusted to the dimness below. Liam wasn’t smiling.
And his blade did not fall.
“Liam-” he tried again tentatively
“Captain. What the hell were you thinking, Lieutenant. This is mutiny. This is treason.”
“You- brother, you died.” He held the log book in trembling fingers. “Gods he did it. He actually did it-” There was something in Liam’s eyes. Something wrong. Something not Liam. but Killian’s mind was spinning, in too much shock to process it. “The magic is tied to this book.” He placed it carefully on the desk. “If we keep it safe-”
“You chose treason over reporting to the admiralty?” Liam interrupted. “You always were a damned fool.”
The words stung and Killian shrank in on himself “I’m sorry Li- Captain. I’m sorry.”
“You will be. You’ll hang for this, little brother. You’ve gone too far this time, even I can’t save you now.” Liam tightened the grip on his blade and looked contemplative for a moment. “The penal code allows for some discretion.” Liam sighed. “Make your peace, brother.” Something softened in his eyes for a moment. “It won’t hurt. I’ll make it quick.”
There were a few moments of silence in which Killian could do little other than stare. He carefully set the book down and then suddenly Liam’s sword flew again. His own rose to meet it by habit rather than choice, his mind still spiraling out of control. He trapped the blade against the wall, its tip dug into the solid wood.
“This ... Isn’t you. Liam, please. I know you’re in there somewhere. Come back.”
“I am back. And I have to make this right.” Liam scowled. “Don’t fight me, little brother. Their just punishment would be painful, it would take time. You are a pirate and a traitor but you are my brother. Let me give you a good death, a quick death. For what we once were-" Liam jarred his blade loose and came at him again, Killian met him blow for blow, muscle memory protecting him with rapid parries as Liam advanced.
The sound of metal clashing had drawn the crew to the hatch and Killian threw out a hand to stop them coming down into the cabin. “Stay back-” he ordered and they hesitated.
“Liam, listen to me-”
“No, little brother. Listen to me. This cannot continue. The treason, the piracy, the drink and the gambling. It’s wrong. It must end.”
“And what they did to you?” Killian snapped, “Should I have served an unjust King who did that?”
“You swore an oath,” Liam spat, bringing his blade down again, Killian side stepped it but fell off balance for a moment, steadying himself against the wall as Liam turned to face him again. “You swore to serve, and you betrayed that oath.”
“No, brother. Our King betrayed us."
Liam advanced again, feinting and redirecting so quickly that Killian could not quite recover. Liam’s blade sank into his bicep and Killian cried out, sharp pain lancing up his arm and making him drop his blade.
Liam hesitated. It wasn’t much but Killian saw it. Liam’s eyes slid out of focus for a moment, then locked in on Killian again, drawn to the scarlet blood dripping down his arm.
“I’m sorry, brother,” Liam said, his voice shaky now. “I’m sorry I didn’t teach you better. I’m sorry it’s come to this.”
“Don’t do this, Liam,” Killian whispered quietly, making no attempt to retrieve his blade. “This isn’t you. The magic that brought you back... it’s wrong... somehow. But we can fight this. We can fix this-”
“Treason is punishable by death,” Liam insisted, his eyebrows furrowed and the tip of his blade suddenly shaky. “I swore to uphold the laws of the realm-” he shook his head, as though pestered by an irritating gnat that he couldn’t shake. His blade fell a fraction of an inch and then he turned retrieving the log book from the desk and examining it carefully. He flipped open the book to the end and read for a moment.
A sigh of relief passed through Killian’s lips and he struggled to his feet, one hand still tight over his bleeding bicep.
“The magic. It’s tied to this?”
“Aye.”
Liam nodded and set it back down on the desk, turning to face Killian.
“I want to kill you.” His face was eerily calm and Killian’s heart clenched. “You’re a traitor to the realm and a pirate and I need to...” Liam clenched his jaw for a moment, his knuckles white on the hilt of his sword. He looked at Killian for a moment, pale and leaning against the wall.
When Liam moved it was so quickly Killian had no time to dodge the blow. No time to dive for his sword to block it. He closed his eyes and waited for the pain.
The pain didn’t come.
Killian opened his eyes.
Liam’s blade was stuck in the solid wood of the desk... through the bespelled log book.
No.
Killian looked to Liam who had a small smile on his face, a stubborn gleam in his eye and a scarlet stain of blood blooming slowly across his shirt.
“No!” Liam staggered and sank to the floor but this time Killian was there to catch him. “Liam, what have you done-”
How many times did you die chosen one? How many people have you saved who saw you torn apart by the monsters your body was built to vanquish? When you wake up on that table, new parts being sown onto you where your old parts were torn off, a new soul put into your body when your old soul has been torn to ash, do you remember? They make sure all your memories are safe, there's no reason why you shouldn't? Do you remember what it's like to die? What it's like to feel your body be torn apart? To see strength that has crushed demons become nothing? To see your beautiful body, a body statues were built of, defiled, played with by things human eyes should never see? Do you remember being put back together?
When this quest is over and you request your final form, will you request something that's stronger, something that dies less? Or will you be weaker? Do you want to need protecting when this is over? Do you want to be able to fight at all?
