About Fates. A few stories about Jacks and Gill being transformed into Fates.
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The North is a land of tales. It is built from fables and myth. Once upon a time, in this frozen kingdom, a girl lived in a tree, and from her fingers masterpieces were created.
The artisan was truly a blossoming master in her craft. Any medium she touched turned into works of art; clay danced under her hands, brushes delivered vibrant swatches of paints, and instruments released their siren songs at her call. She showed her work to the people of her town and received admiration; nobles and royalty sought her creations. A prince of the kingdom praised her, said that if she would come to the palace, he could convince the king to recognize her art and give her an official role. She always refused. Living in the palace as their artisan would limit her; it would also mean abandoning her brother, who she'd always relied on.
The siblings were close, rarely seen without the other nearby; yet, as they both matured, the brother began to divert his attention. He would vanish for hours, days, exploring with his party of friends.
This rebuffing of their bond felt like a great betrayal. The artisan felt abandoned, she watched as her brother favored his friends more. Loneliness makes people vulnerable and in craving companionship she found it with a wanderer drifting into their town.
The drifter spoke to a passion buried deep inside her heart, his sweet words brought her closer. He lavished compliments upon her artwork, and those affirmations meant much to her.
He was an artisan, similar to herself. They forged their bond in paint and whispered midnight chats.
She fell in love. He told her he too was in love deeply.
She thought his works were beautiful. Though, dissimilar to her, his work wasn't wildly known.
He desired his work to be seen by many. He spoke of impressive the artisan was. If he had her talents, perhaps more people would appreciate it.
He wondered, maybe, could she let him borrow a painting? There was a gallery he truly desired to be accepted to. If he could catch their attention with her gorgeous art, then they surely would accept his work.
His question felt sincere. She wanted to help her love. She gifted him a painting and adding it to his collection it was displayed as his.
People began to admire him. It was called a work of art. He lavish the artisan in appreciation and she truly was pleased for him.
His fans began to loose interest as he wasn't releasing art of the same quality. He asked for another painting from the artisan, just something to keep their attention. She readily agreed.
And again. May he have another painting, he'd plead.
Often, her pieces were added to his galleries. Slowly, his paintings were replaced by more of her own.
The artisan had stopped releasing work of her own. It shined brightly and the drifter asked if she'd please give him a chance to gain more attention. But the ache of fading into unrecognition as he took all the praise for her art clawed at her.
Another painting, he again asked for. But then, she refused.
She was no longer going to let him take her paintings; he should let himself lead with his own art. She does care for him, but she must express her thoughts.
But this inspires a whip of rage from her partner. How could she be that cruel and unsupportive to him, he argued.
When he is done berating her, his true feelings are known. He's never truly loved her.
She hadn't realized just how focused on her paintings he had been. Her feelings torn, she ran to the woods. She curled by a tree. Her tears soaked her hands as she cried beneath the open sky; and a star approached.
The star reached to her, saying he had seen her artwork and the way she'd been treated. She'd been tossed aside, but he wanted to assist her; he saw more from her than what they noticed. He held out an ornate goblet, and said if she sipped from it then she could gain a fraction of his powers. She could ensure nobody would be able to take her passion again, that love could never betray her.
The artisan drank from the goblet, and the star's power transformed her from a human. She became ethereal, a being of light and passion. And the star took her hand, guiding her to where she could forever watch out for the artisans and wayward lovers out there.
Those who create shall always have protection under the stars. The drifter shortly vanished, but it is claimed that his likeness was later seen inside a painting. No longer would passion be manipulated.
---
Cold breath, trembling hands, and a stumbling feet. Weaving slowly around the forest, Jacks felt his legs starting to fall under him as he continued walking. His hair clung to him, limp and dirty, his eyes unfocused; hed been walking for, he assumes hours.
He looks terrible. Castor's blood was soaked into his clothing and frozen. Lyric's blood as well. He wanted to tear it off. His fingers were too cold to properly undo it though. Snow crunched underneath his shoes.
His hand steadied himself on the frigid bark he walked near. Just get back, return to the hollow. That's all that pushed him, getting back there.
He felt that he could've done more. There's a clearing he approaches. He hears people.
With bleary, exhausted eyes, he flaters at the edge of that break within the woods and tries to focus on the people there. His fingers splay into some bark. He's not certain who he sees.
A tall man, bronze skin contrasting with the snow, built from solid muscles and dressed too cold for the temperature of these woods but looking content. He holds out one arm, and golden blood drops slowly, rhythmically, from that wrist; a self satisfied smile like a fat cat sits across his face. The other person is bent, their lips on his bleeding arm.
They straighten, slowly, unnaturally smoothly. Her blonde hair has a faint shifting of colors within the strands as the moon's light falls onto it. Delicate features stare impassively at the man, a strange and nearly tangible power comes from her. And familiar eyes find Jacks.
"Gill." Jacks says, voice wheezing without strength. "What the fuck."
She looks at him, eyes obviously noting his dirty attire but not seeming bothered. Her lips gleam golden, a wet sheen adorns them as well. "Jacks, you look like crap."
He lurches forward, shoving off of the wood. It is her, looks like her, why does she feel distinctly altered; he's never seen her like that. "You were supposed to be home." He can't grasp what would bring her out there.
The man looks at him, eyes unnervingly piercing. "And who's this, my muse?"
Jacks wanted to throttle him for the overly familiar way he referred to his sibling. But Gill simply scoffed. "Only my brother." She said, dispassionate.
Jacks knew he'd never seen this guy until then. Someone like him is a beacon; not flashy but a magnet for attention. "Who are you?"
His smile widens, teeth that are too white flashing and glinting back to Jacks. His eyes are colder than the woods. "I am Gavriel." He half turns, gesturing to his sister. "Your sister and I were just talking. She's wisely agreed to become my personal artist; what fantastic talent she has."
Jacks bristled. He had heard Gill tangent about not wanting to limit herself by putting herself under some noble; a count, a lord, a prince, she wasn't interested in serving with her skills. And she looked wrong. She looked like Gill, none of her features were different, but the energy she was exuding was just far from anything he's felt from her before. There wasn't many emotions in her eyes, save for annoyance, her gaze just a little distant; that's somewhat familiar, she looks petulant. He sees that her eyes look red. His sister was just crying. His disgruntled stare lands back on Gavriel. "What the fuck did you do to my sister?"
That barb only appears to please Gavriel further. "I did only what I desired. It gets dull without entertainment. I'd been searching for an artist with suitable qualities to join me, and I saw her work and knew she was the correct pick. You must agree, she makes a gorgeous Fate." He holds a hand to his sister.
Jacks was used to the quiet preening his sister does whenever she gets compliments. To Gavriel now, her expression only twists with just a touch of bitterness in it. "Bullshit." He growls; he's too tired, too skeeved out, to trust him.
Gill finally snaps. "Just butt out, Jacks." And her eyes jab him with a look he's only recieved in their most pissy fights. Rare as a genuine fight with them is, they're the kinds that include shouting, slamming of objects, and insults to be sheepishly retracted a couple hours later. "What I decide isn't your problem."
He fumbles angrily for his words. Gavriel said hed made her a Fate. Hed yet to hear that sort of title, but maybe it was effecting her temper. Obviously, shed been changed by him some way. "You're my sister, it is my problem."
She only sneers. "Like you've cared before. Where have you been, for months you've ignored me to run around with Lyric and Castor. Where was that meddling when I got played like a fool?" It's the first burst of emotion he's seen, and she immediately bites her bottom lip in her rage after.
He stalled, because her words brought no recollection. He had no clue what that meant. He couldn't know, and maybe that proved her correct. "I've always cared." He said, and his weak voice sounded pitiful, quiet.
Gavriel leans in. Right away, attention is back to him. Gill's indignant argument is bitten and swallowed. He speaks. "This has been fairly cute to see. But, I have places to go to." He looks to Gill. "I shall take my leave, with my newest follower." And he straightens.
Jacks looks at them both, not grasping what he says. But when Gavriel turns, Gill does also. As they start to move is when Jacks realizes he's trying to take her. Fueled by a jolt of adrenaline, Jacks gets before his sister. "You can't leave !" It's a plea, it's desperate, it's a weak command; she can't leave him like that. She can't.
She just levels him with a tired, scornful expression. "You left first."
And then she keeps going. Standing there, Jacks's breath falters. Anxiety flashes in disorienting bursts inside of him; castor, Lyric, both hos closest friends are out of reach. His sister is leaving him. If she leaves, he's just alone. Jacks and Gill, it was always them. He's never known what it means to not be her big brother; they did always have their arguments, but never once did he feel any threat to the bond connecting them. He realizes he can't handle the idea of being abandoned.
He moves as fast as his weak limbs can to grasp with both frigid hands the shirt sleeve on Gavriel's arm. "Stop, just, just wait !"
And Gavriel looks at him. Not particularly moved by him, and Jacks can feel that it wasn't his strength prompting him to pause; this man looks downward at this boy like he's a bug that landed on him and whose bite he'd hardly feel, a sort of bemused curiosity of something trivial to entertain. "I can give you a few seconds." And it's assumed should his hands not release him, that'd be done for him instead.
"Take me too." Jacks wheezes out.
Contempt appears within Gavriel's face. "I have no place for humans."
There's a vile taste in his mouth as he barely notes what that means for what he's done to his sister. But if that's the option. "Then whatever you did to her, make me one too. You are not taking my sister, not alone. Not unless you bring me." His jaw clenches.
Gaveiel examines him. "Do you know what we are? Do you seek powers? Do you want to serve me?"
Jacks stares. "I want family." And he wouldn't just abandon it again.
He says nothing, stares, and watches Jacks; and then, a scoff. A laugh. One that grows louder and more amused. "You've gained my interest, child ! I did say I desired entertainment, perhaps the two of you are more suited to a duo act than just a solo." Gavriel easily pulls his arm free. He turns fully, extending his wrist. "Be glad the wound hasn't shut." Looking at it, Jacks sees the, now slowly, bleeding cut, and watches as Gavriel edges a nail into it. The wound offers its golden blood.
With a shuddering inhale, Jacks bends. He drinks deeply of Gavriel's shimmering, metallic blood. It's for his sister. Whatever he becomes, he won't be on his own. They'd have eachother. He feels it's warmth seep along his throat and coat his mouth, settling in his stomach. He drinks, and he drinks, and he changes.
Jacks screws both eyes shut. Lyric and Castor, two of his closest friends, he thinks of how he failed the two of them. A girl, her hair white and who knows all his worst mistakes, he could've been better for her. He can feel his sister near him, and he knows he loves her because he would do anything if it was for her. He feels these emotions within him. Then, he feels them leaving.
With each gulp of golden blood, he is changed. His mind sharpens, the ichor rising inside him. And he rises, and he's changed. The intense exhaustion is washed away, and he feels greater strength than he's possessed beforehand. He straightens, brows furrowing. He knows what he'd been feeling just before, all that love and things. But, now he can't seem to grasp it. He knows he'd felt it, but he's no longer sure what that felt like. It's strange, and his mouth tastes like blood. He'd felt such drive before, but the root of it evades him.
He hears footsteps. His sister stands at his side. "You'd think you'd look better now, but only you could keep looking that lame." She says dismissively.
He just hums, arching an eyebrow. "Whatever you say." And there's more bite than he thought he'd have.
"Come." Gavriel says, and something within Jacks steers him along, saying to follow. "Let us all head out now." And when he walks, they trail.
---
The book makes a soft, muted thump as it is closed. Evangaline loves stories, and the Artisan's Embrace was an interesting one. She'd heard it was originally created centuries ago.
"What are you reading now?" A voice asks, though obviously disinterested. She looks, and a bored Jacks peers at the tale.
He's already sneering before she actually says the title verbally. "It's the Artisan's Embrace. Have you read it too?"
"Nope." He says, and he snatches it from her with a quick extension of an arm.
"Hey ! Jacks, give it back !" She sits straight, watching him meander away with it.
His expression is that of a buried disgust, staring at the book. "This story is awful; why read it?"
She pouts, glowering towards him. "If you've never read it, how could you say it's terrible?"
"I just know that it does, no need to read it." He dismisses her. His eyes seem somehow distant, off.
She slumps. "You just have no taste in books." She huffs.
"More than anyone who reads this." He regards the book, that strange look displayed on his face. Without any other comment, he tosses it into the lit fireplace, flames caressing and curling the material.
She shrieks. "Jacks !"
He scoffs, rolling his eyes. "Please, that story isn't worthy of any book. Besides, it's barely accurate; I mean," and the strange expression turns from distant to smug. "The drifter never became a painting; somebody else got their hands on that guy."
She begins to question just what that means. From the doorway, Muse bounds into the small sitting room. "Awe, having a little book club? But Jacks can't read."
Jacks glares, striding to his little sister. "Nobody could read with a nuisance like this around."
Muse glares, no bite accompanying the expression. "How's it feel being the biggest idiot here?"
Jacks ruffles her hair, forcefully messing with the shifting locks. "Not that noteworthy to be called big by the smallest pest there is."
Muse ducks under his palm. She swings at him, Jacks dodging with a practice that only could be acquired from getting hit by that same fist hundreds of times. Jacks hops around her, back to the doorframe, mocking her. And the siblings leave the room, chasing and getting chased.
Evangaline looks after them; she's never quite gotten a handle on those two siblings. But, she slides her eyes towards the book. She then realizes that all the ways Jacks directed his sister's gaze with his teasing, he always kept her from looking at this fireplace. Maybe, he had a reason for not caring about that story. It seemed like he could be a better brother than she thought.
There's a crash in the adjacent room. Well, not by much. But, anyone could see they were a duo.
