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Danger In New Horizons (Chp 3 New*)
CATCH UP FIRST! Read Chapter 1 AO3 |Tip Jar💰- If you want to buy me a Witches Brew | Story MasterList
Warning: Enemies to Lovers/ House Arrest/ HEX AU Bee Talk/ Misunderstanding / Jealousy / Agatha is conflicted / House on Fire / SLOWBURN / Enemies to Friends to Lovers / PlotPlotPlot / Ag-Rio-Reader Endgame / Requested Story / Blood Magic and Gore / Flirting and Magic / 18+ - Request by @rubyblue02
“The honeys gone,” you grumble looking around the kitchen as it stitched back together. No longer jars next to the sink. Your world that you had so carefully constructed all gone.
Agnes' fingers are still in the air - her mind still tracing over your dimple, as it’s smoothed out once more.
The black and grey kitchen dressing her once again in Agnes' old fashioned dress.
She says nothing in a state of shock.
You walk around the kitchen. Wondering if Vision realizes what’s happened. That Wanda has changed the plot once again.
“I ate a charred hamburger for nothing. I don’t even eat meat.” You complain and then glare at the clock. The stupid cat clock, with it’s stupid tongue and eyes. Fuck this clock.
“You are alright?” Agnes asks, her hands touching the smooth dress she’s now in.
“Yeah, peachy keen.” You pout.
“I need to check -“ she points down at the basement and you shrug.
“Right of course.” You give her the out, knowing she wouldn’t want to talk about all that honesty.
Meteor moments aren’t supposed to last this long.
It seemed the rules were changing for more than just your roommate situation.
Whatever Wanda was going through, it needed to go backwards. But why?
Was it the BBQ gone wrong? Did she get into an argument with Vision?
You chuffed and plopped down onto the floor.
Your body ached once more, blood magic reminding you of the physical pain hurts less than the emotional.
Agatha said all of that and then…then the earth split.
You’d jumped into her arms, only wanting to be with here.
All of that was romantic and shit, but it didn’t change that Agatha’s one purpose for being here was to drain Wanda.
The second the earth stitched back together Agnes went back to her part to play.
If you got sentimental about all of those words…well then you’re just as much of a fool as Vision.
You need booze, but something tells you that whatever beer or hard liquor that might have been in the house is no longer in this episode.
Candy just wasn’t gonna hit this heart ache today.
Tears were so close to falling but you wouldn’t start now, you sniffle and stand up. Moving with purpose towards the bedroom you’d once hauled up in.
Agatha walked out of the basement, her glamor not yet fixed on her black fingers.
“Where are you going?” The anxiety in her voice was so thick you can almost feel the texture of it.
“Back to my corner of house arrest, that okay with you?” You say snidely and Agatha’s face instantly sours at your mood, but it quickly falls away to her icey fake Agnes.
“Whatever you say Dear.” Her eyes don’t match the mask and you don’t get the outlet you’d like from it.
But you bound up the steps and close the door once more.
The only friends in the room are between spines, on yellowed paper.
You ignore them, remembering how you’d told Agatha that you’d both been covenless witches. That that was how it should stay.
This was exactly why - if people only ever disappointed, what was the point of trying.
You climb into the bed and curl the blankets over your head.
What a powerful blood witch.
What a over 200 years of being on this earth, and you were hiding under the blankets.
Fuck this was pathetic.
You stay in the blankets for hours, haunted only by the inner anger that thrashes about the wall of your mind.
You don’t notice the change of day, you don’t meet Agatha’s favorite part - the sunrise.
You don’t want to see it in monochrome, or if by freak of accident it does swuirl in the sky. It’s blues, peaches, and pinks bleeding together to prove that the little Annie was full of shit. The sun does come out - well to hell with that orphan.
No one who’s heart is breaking should ever be subjected to a kind sky.
You’d wish’d it thundered, poured, that the sky opened up with end of day type storms.
But Wanda’s world in this Hex was…..plastic.
You wouldn’t be gifted such kindness as a rainy day.
A soft knock against your door was almost so careful you thought you’d imagined it.
But the creak of the door opening boldly leaves no question - Agatha’s standing in your room.
“Good news…Wanda’s going to bring us back in color. I mean she has to, she’s pregnant and she’s gonna want that epidural.”
The joke is met with silence.
“I um, I owe you for eating that burger. I made those lentils you liked…You should probably do something for your pain and…” Agatha trails off and you don’t move an inch.
“You know it’s easier to do this honesty thing when I can see your face.”
You won’t give her the satisfaction.
“Listen, none of this was my plan. I’m just - damn it. Don’t make us go backwards like this - I don’t. We can’t go backwards, we can’t go back to…to being strangers.” Agatha’s voice trails off softer, the idea of strangers makes you both sick.
Still you stay angry, unable to give into the witch. They were probably just a lateral move, nothing about you.
“Okay, guess you’re back to being Boo Radley. Okay fine, but I think I have a plan. I mean what if I could just get Wanda to release the towns people, stay here with her child…stay here with - with her love. Then, then…” Agatha trailed off and you held your breath.
Was she says you two could stay here?
Did she want that?
Did you want that?
Holy shit?
“Okay, well, when you are ready to come out of your blanket cave…Let me know.” The witch sighed defeated by your ability to hold a cold shoulder just as well as her. She left the door open but walked out.
You stayed there listening to her walking around the house.
Unable to find where you feelings started and the silence choked you in it’s vice grip.
Agnes left the house, bound for Wanda. The second the door clicked you sprung out of the bed, tripping on piles of books on the floor but over to the radio.
The black and grey set only supplied the radio, was annoying.
But you heard the theme music, the opening of the show.
You listened as Wanda pretended pregnancy was as easy as Lucille Ball did.
The jokes, the laugh track, Vision’s part was wary. He was playing the part but something inside of him was putting together that this was off.
You couldn’t tell if he knew exactly what it was or if he’d even noticed the change in decade.
The doorbell rings, the joke about nosy neighbors.
Wanda opens the door to Agnes who has - what the radio Vision explains as casteroil.’
“Nothing induces labor faster!” She supplies and then there’s a pause to which she adds. “Dear you are about ready to pop!”
“Well, we don’t need to speed this anymore than it already is.” Vision adds breaking his character to prove that yes- this pregnancy isn’t normal.
“Agnes, how in the world did you hear about this?” Wanda plays along but then there’s a blip in the soundtrack, the laugh track layers in.
What the hell was that?
“Wanda, we must get you to bed! Rest is the best thing for a lady in your condition.”
“Agnes, do you think I’m dumb?” Wanda’s voice doesn’t have the sweetness of the sitcom and the static breaks over the radio.
You sprint down the steps into the kitchen, looking everywhere for the ring glamor.
Where the fuck was the glamor Agatha had made.
You are panicking the overwhelming sound of static still cracking on the radio upstairs.
You take the steps two at a time and then wrench open Agatha’s bedroom door, not taking a moment to think of her privacy.
You see the ring on the pillow, something Agatha had held in bed, alone and afraid. You climb onto the mattress and slip it on.
As you turn to run downstairs you can see Ralph in the mirror.
Good fuck, now your legs had to carry you faster.
You just about fall down the steps and leave the front door open as you jump over Agnes flowers. Then don’t knock as you bust into Wanda’s house.
Making all of them turn to you, the tension palpable.
“Ralph?” Vision asks, seeing even through the glamor your disheveled state.
Agnes appears positively stunned you are standing there, but Wanda’s angry. The room has red magic contrasting the black and white set.
You swallow and figure it out quick.
“Hone I tried to heat up the food, turns out I can burn food even with the microwave. Now I haven’t a fuzziest where the fire extinguisher is. But your mother’s tea towels may have been collateral.” You sigh like a dumb man and the laugh track makes a high pitch noise before it’s like the lights come back on in the living room - the high beams.
Telling everyone the set is back on, they’re live once more.
“Oh dear, Ralph! You caught my kitchen on fire, again! You know maybe I’ll start making you eat only candy while I was gone!” Agnes jokes again but heads for the door.
You understand it clearly. You’d told your witch about the food coloring in the m&m's. Specifically the red dye. Agatha was speaking through Agnes talk - code red.
Code red.
You’d come just in time.
“Well, we should all come and help!” Wanda played her part, but you noticed something was off, something angry and ugly inside of the sitcom witch.
“Wanda, why don’t we let Rlaph take his beating in peace?” Vision turns the charisma back up.
You’re thankful, three against one, three against the Scarlet Witch though, still not great odds.
You take Agnes' hand, and it throws her for a minute.
Your skin touching, the sparks of a love neither of you could admit beyond the sacred ten seconds of honesty.
You trail out of Wanda’s house, and the two of you quickly speed walk back to your house.
Agnes closes the door and eyes the kitchen.
“We need a fire.”
You’re already walking back to it and opening drawers so hard they fall to the floor.
Both of you silently understand that magic can’t start it - Scarlet Witch will smell it. Know that this is a witch home.
You find nothing - you don’t cook in here, and it shows. Agatha moves to the drawer next to the oven for the matches, and she strikes it.
The match breaks from her hard hold - her anxious shaking hands failing her.
You grab two kitchen towels and set them in a pot that hangs above the kitchen island.
Setting it on top of the microwave.
Agatha strikes another match and it lights she places it against the tea towel and it slowly burns. Not fast enough, not fast enough for this sitcom at all.
You open the back door and spin around to see if anyone is watching, then grab the lighter fluid next to the grill neither of you have ever used.
You come back inside and squirt it into the flame like it’s ketchup.
Big flames grow, and you both step back.
You twist behind you again to see that the kitchen window isn’t drawn you go to close it but Agatha grabs your hand.
“Let her see, she needs to see the flames.” It’s an ominous thought.
“You ward the basement?” You question, and she thinks for a second.
“It’s fine, besides she’s never bult a firestation. This will take her a minute.”
“What happened?”
“How did you know?”
You both speak at the same time.
“Radio.” You answer but you tilt your body to the side to see out the window, no ones coming still.
“I thought you-” Agatha stops, but her hold on your hand doesn’t slack.
“What happened?” You repeat, not wanting to talk about your shared feelings in this moment.
“She found magic in the Hex. I don’t know how, I don’t even know if it was me. But there can’t be another witch in here, I’d know.” Agatha’s face turns to the grey flames, she’s irritated at herself, she’d missed something.
“What was it?” You push and Agatha shook her head and shrugged.
“I don’t know but she’s paranoid, at first I thought it was S.W.O.R.D they’ve been flying drones and trying to get in. But this was different, she knew it was magic.”
“I’m guessing she won’t go for it being an Avenger on the outside?” You say weakly and Agatha’s lip curls up at your attempt to fix it.
“Not likely,” she agrees and you move your hand in her hold until your fingers are laced.
Neither of you speak, you watch the flames building.
“Think this set is flame retardant?” The microwave is gone, glass broken, corners dark black like the darkhold. The countertops ablaze as they reach the sink.
“No, but if we don’t have a charred house we might not get away with your lie.” Your witch’s gaze goes to the window again.
Both of you silently wondering if she’s building a fire house, or finding firefighters for you. You realize this was a probably making Agnes look more guilty than before.
“Sorry I-” You say knowing this was a lame lie.
“No-no don’t apologize. Wanda stopped the program, she actually paused it. The set lights dimmed, the laugh track gone - it’s like she was having everyone take five. But Vision was bearing witness, and he was so scared.” Agatha’s wearing Agnes clothes but her exhaustion contrasts so much with it all.
“Think we’ll get another house?” You question as the flames build from the microwave to the wall, curling the wallpaper.
“I think she’d rather let us burn in here.”
“How historically accurate.” You say and regret it the moment you let it out, remembering from Agatha’s meteor moment one night by the fireplace the story of her and her mother.
“I don’t think her Avenger outlook would allow it.”
“Tell that to our neighbors.” You interject and now Agatha twists to look at you and now the fire flicking against the cupboards.
“Lose your crush?” She jokes, but you see the underlying jealousy.
“I never had a crush on the Scarlet Witch and her sitcom of mediocrity with her toaster DIY husband.” You defend but Agatha just laughs and you can tell she doesn’t buy it.
“You felt awfully bad for her when you saw the baby bump.”
“Well I was worried she’d killed you so - no. Not liking this episode.”
The quiet stretched.
“Thank you for that by the way.”
“Lighting our house on fire, sure anytime.” You shrug at the lameness of the joke.
“You came in at the perfect time actually, Vision was defending me. Then he said something about the strangeness of their home. Then you burst in, making Vision think his darling wife had done it.” Agatha tilts her head to the side as you both watch the burn spread.
“I didn’t do it for your plan.”
“No, I know that.”
You both sit with that.
“I need to get you out of here.”
“What?”
“It’s too dangerous, you didn’t sign up for any of this.”
“How are you going to explain that?”
“I’ll say you left me for a younger woman.” Agatha laughs self deprecating.
“No.” You said it so quickly it scares both of you.
“What?” Agatha’s confusion is almost comical.
“No.” You repeat, a bit of heat from the house burning making you sweat. Yeah; the house is why, sure.
“You-“ Agatha’s almost angry now.
“I’m not leaving you here with her. You could use the back up, like today!” It sounds stupid, fuck it sounds desperate. Why were you doing this, a ember bounced off the burnt cords towards your arm. Agatha watched it and you don’t feel a thing.
Centuries of chronic pain and yet all you can feel is Agatha’s hand.
She seems to be overwhelmed and drops her hold.
You miss it instantly.
“That’s sweet of you. But I’m not in need of a white knight. I am an infamous witch killer remember?” Agatha’s fists clench and you don’t see it. Too focused on this fake version of the witch.
One that probably watched their coven die around her.
You’ve never been more afraid, but not of death - of loving someone more than they want. How do you ask to be wanted?
“Yeah and I’m a himbo. You can wear whatever disguise you want. It’s okay to…to need someone.”
Agatha steps forward and your mouth opens, fucking submissively. But she doesn’t kiss you, just takes off the ring and puts it on the surface currently not on fire.
“And you think what? That I need you?” She says walls in place. Her face looks back at the wedding ring. And you wished you could read minds like she did.
Why is it Agatha didn’t just cheat and read yours?
“I think you don’t need a coven. But maybe, just maybe a partner in crime…maybe that wouldn’t hurt. I mean Bonnie had Clyde right?”
Agatha’s demeanor shifts and her face turns back to the house in fire. Her plans literally and figuratively up on some.
When did you do decide to burn together? Why weren’t either of you stopping it.
Your gut twisted with all of the possibilities.
“You’re Clyde in this sinarrio ?” Agatha jokes, rolling up her sleeves.
“If the pantsuit fits.” You remind her, thinking of Ralph like a theoretical easy scapegoat.
“Oh, please.” Agatha laughs and you missed the sound.
“Starsky and Hutch?” You grin, wanting to flirt, needing to flirt.
It’s a good thing you don’t have a smoke detector.
The flames are now moving to ignite the ceiling.
It’s a little too symbolic of the tension of two witches dancing around love in a small space.
“You are incorrigible.” Agatha’s gaze strokes the fire. Magic crackling just under the surface.
Had no one ever picked her?
“The creature of the black lagoon and Addams!” You list delighted that she’s having fun now.
In your burning house in a sitcom, neither of you were the star of.
“I’m ignoring you now.” Agatha’s sing song voice adds as she is moving back to the grey flames, turning everything black around it.
Somehow this burn didn’t hurt, instead feeling closer to a tactical burn, something that grows back twice as strong.
Agatha goes to the fridge and pulls out a thing of lemonade and throws it on the flames currently eating at the sink. Setting the glass down and you can’t help but feel giddy.
“Don’t go! What’s more intimate than watching a home burn together. The look of fire reflecting in your irises!” You tease but cough and the ash filling the air and Agatha rolls her eyes and turns the charred sink on. Then locates a cleaning bucket under the sink.
You curl around her to get a plastic pitcher from some container party. Filling it once she’d thrown the water onto the flames.
It took two witches doing it the old-fashioned way, entirely too long.
Most of the kitchen was burnt, even the fridge had scorched marks.
“The 1950s didn’t have take-out pizza.” You say and Agatha laughs fully again and you swear you’ll do anything to hear her keep going.
She finds the kettle and sets to filling it.
“Let’s start with tea.”
You set up shop in her basement with tea and flavorless crackers.
Agatha hesitated as you walked in, you wrote it off as being caged around her villain hangout. When in reality the color that cast in this bit of magical space made it easier for the older witch to see her dimple once more. The bit she’d coveted and missed in the shades of grey. The slight bit of your hair that was darker than the other patches. The scars she’d mapped out - Agatha had missed you in technicolor.
“Can’t wait for them to figure out salt.” You grumble and sit cries cross on the floor. Not noticing the lovesick woman who was ogling you two feet away. You’d set up your snacks and tea and tried to get comfortable.
Your back hurts, your hips ache, and you try stupidly not to fidget.
“You’re not doing well.” Agatha sees, because she seems to see everything.
“It’s fine.” You lie, but don’t move as your body criples in pain. It’s not that you don’t want her to be right, because she’s right. It’s simply that now was not the time for such an intimate reality.
“It’s-”
“Explain the hex.” You wave your hand dismissively - cutting her off and she swallows and cracks open a grimoire. You try not to let your magic callus in your fingers as you can tell the darkhold is near. You don’t want to see it, and the witch who seems to enjoy your company doesn’t press the issue.
You two get to work in this basement of old magic.
The most ancient way of getting to work - two crones in hiding, reading secret text and practicing witchcraft. Being over 200 didn’t curb your enthusiasm with magic, the glint in Agatha’s eye as she showed off her collection of grimoires told you, she felt the same.
Though it didn’t matter how much ancient text, grimoire spells, or potions.
Chaos magic was simply different, as was it written by all the old crones who spoke of the scarlet witch. How annoying, for these books to speak of your neighbor like the ender of worlds and the creator of ruin.
When she was really playing puppet show with her ex vibrator with legs. But that was Oracle work for you.
After a few hours, you are lying flat in the cold ground, tea gone, snacks gone. While Agatha paces and sighs. Covering her eyes as she rubbed at her temples. A headache of grand proportions coming to fruition. You’d lost track of time, unsure on what the upstairs sitcom world even looked like anymore.
“Chaos magic isn’t easily contained, but runes and a witch fight isn’t a horrible idea.” You say, before you can counter, Agatah finishes your thought. Not from reading your mind, but rather this new creepy thing where you were both on the same page. A strange new way of being, domestically connected in thought.
You hoist yourself up on your elbows to look at her hunched-over form.
“You think it’s too risky with the chaos magic. It’s hard to predict, making Wanda a force where planning is irrelevant because of the variables. You’re absolutely correct.”
“Now that’s what every husband wants to hear.” You say and Agatha actually moves her hand away from her face to glare at you.
“Easy Ralph.”
“Apologies, Agnes, please continue.” You say laying back down, not because you wanted to. But this level of flirting was doing things to your face that needed to be shielded. You bring your forearm over your eyes to drape it like you would on a sunny day.
“I think I liked Atticus Finch better.” Agatha groans, taking her hairpins out, and unbuttoning the back of her dress. Nothing about it was comfortable.
You were still in a button-down and trousers, which wasn’t comfy but it wasn’t a 50’s bra that’s for certain.
“Atticus….” You say with your eyes closed.
“Yes, Boo?” Agatha’s smirk could be heard without being seen. You uncover your eyes but throw your hands in the air.
“No, not the characters - the book. That’s your plan, you’re hoping like Atticus that the consistency of showing Wanda she’s wrong will bring her to a humane answer.” You reason, too much of a bookworm not to make the connections.
“That’s a stretch even for you Ralph.” Agatha says and you hear fabric move but are far too chicken shit to look.
“You’re struggling with yourself. Part of you longs for Wanda’s hex. That’s why you haven’t upped the game. It’s not that you’re scared of her - you want her story to break of course. But why are you playing the long game?” You’re getting too warm, to close to the truth.
“I’m not.” Agatha answers too fast, and you lift yourself up on your elbows again to see Agatha - not Agnes. She’s wearing a slip that’s purple - you can tell from down here. You gulp as her long long curly hair is out of the tight 50’s buns. Her breasts are pushing against the slip - bra gone.
She was in the middle of unlatching her garters under the slip and you fell back to the floor with a plop.
“Easy does it Ralph, you’ll get a bloody nose.” She teases fliratiously and you can’t ignore how aroused you are.
“I’m fine.” Your voice cracks - now that was humiliating.
“Dinner time?”
You see the crack now in her plan. You cover your eyes with your palm but sit back up. SO you can talk towards her and not get distracted by….the woman underneath Agatha’s hard exterior.
She laughs lowly at your prudeness.
“You changed the game, not Wanda. She found something she wasn’t supposed to. But you showed me all the rules all these books. Trying to explain - but you didn’t need my help. You wanted me to understand! To see it without you needing to say it! The reason - the why you’re doing it.” You’re on a roll so fast your tongue can’t slow down as you're more confident on your logic.
But the closer the truth comes the less you want to say it outloud.
Agatha makes a shuffling sound and you don’t stop speaking.
“You’ve changed the game. Not Wanda - Wanda’s response is paranoia, yes! But you could have made her angry today. You could have made her blast you with magic. You were in her house yesterday. You’ve set the runes in her home! You just need to set the last one! You’ve been doing it around town this whole time. For whenever the fight breaks out! You could have gotten her to blast you today and this could have all ended but-but”
Agatha’s weight lands on your lap, and you jerk to attention just as her hand removes yours.
Her face is so close to yours, her hair tickling your neck. Her breath on your lips, her knees on each side of your hips.
For being an infamous witch killer her placement on your lap is far closer to a black cat purring.
“Say it.” Agatha states, her pupils are blown. She’s as far gone as you are, but fuck does she look better at doing it.
Your mouth is suddenly rendered mute.
Agatha’s eyes flick between your lips, that dimple, and your irises. Like she’ just needs you to set both of you free.
“Why didn’t you take her - end this fucking season of TV. You don’t need it in color. You had a witch fight at your fingertips. Vision wouldn’t have stood a chance, it would be you and her. Just as you’d planned it from the start?”
“Don’t play coy. Not now, say it.” Agatha whispers against your lips.
In this moment, you were sure this is why so many mortals must have feared witches.
Because Agatha had you wrapped around her finger.
Blood witch for 200 years had nothing on Agatha’s creamy thighs, how your hands could reach out and hold her ass.
Make her shift impossibly closer to you.
You can’t say it though.
You just don’t have the strength, and as Agatha waits, you see she’s refusing to say it either.
Why should she? She’d already declared her love for you less than twenty-four hours ago.
It was your turn; all you had to do was reach out and take the chance.
“Agatha, end this.” You say instead and you hope it’ll push her away. But it doesn’t, the witch simply tilts her head, her face straining with pain.
“You said I showed you how it’s done. Our meteor moment…” Agatha says it so softly your soul might actually wheep in your chest. Where your heart had once been, but is no longer in your employment. No, your heart was wherever this feared witch had put it. Harkness owned your beating heart and you would not ask for it back.
“Agatha, this isn’t that.”
“Ten seconds.” She pleads, her hands so close to reaching out and touching your face, caressing. Milliseconds away from breaking from simply roomates of doom to so much more.
There’s a loud booming siren and both of you flinch from the noise.
“The bitch.” Agatha says so fast, so honestly that you can’t help but agree.
“It’s been hours, what is she hoping her new characters will find? Our bodies would be closer to Visions hamburgers by now.” You groan as Agatha lifts herself off of your lap. Then heads up the stairs, her hand waiving and the uncomfortable Agnes attire returns.
You miss Agatha instantly; you weren’t Ralph. You wanted that witch, with her wild, untamed hair, her lips so close to yours.
You sighed, and closed your eyes.
Yeah, you were the coward for sure.
That’s when the water started to pour down the basement, you really hated that fucking redhead.
The new firefighters were very underwhelming, in full old school costumes, three of them. Well, the only three that Wanda could produce hit your house with water hoses.
Agnes pretended to be thankful, while you waited in the basement.
You bit your thumb until it bled and then smeared the door.
Agatha’s magic hid the basement, yours hopefully hid the entrance and stopped the water from pouring in.
You waited what felt like an hour as you tried not to use magic to dry things.
But picked up your little picnic of tea and empty boxes of crackers.
When Agnes busted back downstairs, the hair on the back of your neck stood at attention.
She looks perfect in her apron and fake caricature.
But you could tell from her overall tenseness that Wanda and Vision were upstairs.
“Ralph Dear, leave the firefighting to the grown ups who can lift more than a beer can.” She says and you glare letting your arms hand alittle too low.
You mouth to her ‘gee thanks.’
But she pulls from her apron pocket a wedding ring and throws it at you.
You’re amazed you can catch it, but instantly your hand spasms.
Agatha see’s it, or rather Agnes does and her worry makes you feel guilty.
You slip on the ring as your body betrays you.
“Dear, I just need to find that one magazine!” You say eyebrows lifted and Agatha doesn’t find that funny one bit. As she stands at the middle of the basement steps.
“Darling, I’m sure Mrs. August will have another issue.”
You snort and start up the steps, Agatha puts her hand to stop you from walking up.
“What was that?” Her tone that of a wife who just caught their partner in a lie.
Only you weren’t lying; you just weren’t sharing the truth of your chronic pain.
“Hand cramping with the weight of our martial ring. Sometimes I hate your cassarole.”
“Stop it,” Agatha chastises but the sound of Wanda upstairs cuts you off.
“Do you two need any help!”
“No!” You both say in unison but return to share a glare.
“We don’t have time for this.”
“They want us to stay in their guest bedroom….We-”
“Would be delighted to spend time with our lovely neighbors. Now is your shot, now go before they walk down here and find out Agnes enjoys the occult. Not the way this episode should end.” Your eyebrows furrow in upset, you keep the hand in pain behind your back.
It’s enough to make your ears ring, Agnes doesn’t have a chance to push further as you bound up the steps.
You hear Vision and Wanda arguing in your living room and stop abruptly. Agnes just about runs into you.
“What are you waiting for?” Your witch hisses behind your stopped form.
“She’s going to change it again - the decade. Can’t you feel it?”
Agatha grabs your hips, a place that feels like it was carved for her to hold.
You try not to make any noises as she holds onto you tight.
“Why, how can you tell?”
“Her chaos magic, it’s bent on emotion right? She’s a child, she’s upset. The dolls aren’t all playing house like she’d like. Vision is asking too many questions. She needs to end the episode - but she can’t until all her toys are put back. Only he doesn’t want this.” You saw low and hear Vision in that moment raise his voice.
The sound of something breaking makes Agatha’s nails dig into your hip harder, as though she’s ready to yank you back into the basement and barricade you there.
“Let them fight. This can only end with more chaos.” You weigh the possibilities in your head but Agatha’s hands start to glow purple around you.
“Don’t, if you distract them they’ll turn on you.”
The use of magic already could have spooked the Scarlet Witch.
“If you are hurting like I think, you’ll not be able to shield yourself from this - we need to go back in the basement.”
“You want her magic, we gotta move when she’s most vulnerable.” You push, confusing even yourself. You’d hoped no one would get hurt, even though you’d done your fair share of hurting others. But now why did you need this hex to end so badly?
“What happened to she’s pretty and pregnant?” Agatha’s voice is angry and you don’t understand why, you do really but you won’t admit it.
“She’s vulnerable; this is your moment. What are you doing?”
Now it’s two couples fighting a burnt and sopping wet house.
The color starts to fizzle like a heat wave through the shamble of a home. You open the door just as Agatha wraps an arm around your waist to bring you back to the stairs.
You could joke about how now that you were in color once more - you two would have to share a bed. No longer two single beds in a room, you could have made a lot of jokes in the quiet of the hallway.
But you push forward, so Agatha has no choice but to follow.
Once in the living room once more you see a new set, yet some things are still stuck in the past. A half-remedy spell - Wanda’s not done yet, and now she has an audience.
You see, Vision has run off, you couldn’t trust appliances nowadays.
Wanda is quick to wipe at her eyes and wave her hand, then you’re back in the 80’s. No questions asked, you grin, ready to play Ralph.
Wanda’s demeanor is no longer that of the kind host. Now when she spots you, she asks what the camera would not have allowed;
“It was you who left the beer can, wasn’t it? You did the spell.”
Read More Danger In New Horizons Here! | Read More Stories on AO3 & MasterList
The plot is plotting at last. Time to kick the Eventide gears into overdrive, I think!
JITD Episode 24 (non-final) Script Synopsis
Episode 22
Episode 23
"A New Chapter"
Name changes: the Louvre -> "la Rive Droite" (the right bank of the Seine. Will call if Seine for brevity), Wei Wenchuan -> Wei Wenxuan
Shot of new broadcast: famous entrepreneur WZH and son suspected of hiring to kill, using the Beehive and other entertainment establishments to keep and harbor escaped convicts. 27 felons have been exposed, and the Wei image is shattered.
Voiceover from the Demons: this is a day full of surprises, this day is the end of past events... and is also the beginning of future events.. it revealed some shocking truths, but also made people further perplexed...
Pei su and Du jia finish listening to the end of the chapter of Demons from the Reciters. Pei su asks what Du jia wants to do, now that Du guosheng admitted to everything and all they are waiting for is the court verdict. Du jia jokingly asks Pei su if he can't afford his large appetite anymore, and Pei su takes a look at SID and says of course, even he must mooch off of someone else for food.
Du jia grows serious and parallels trauma to drugs. Sometime he wonders why he turned out the way he is, to the point where he doesn't recognize himself anymore. He feels like an outsider to "ordinary" people, unable to achieve "ordinary people milestones". Even when the criminal has been caught, the fear, distrust, and insecurity remains. Pei su is silent but Du jia tells him he loves talking to him. Pei su replies that normally out of social courtesy, he should reply with some comforting words. But he doesn't want to say them.
Pei su tells Du jia everyone is shaped by their environment, and Du guosheng has shaped part of Du jia's flesh and blood. If it were Pei su, he would carve that piece out. He is not the one staring into the abyss; he is the abyss. Pei su gives Du jia a sinister smile.
LWZ honks his car from across the road and Pei su turns to gesture to LWZ that he will come in a moment, then tells Du jia to drive his car away. Pei su gets into LWZ's car and they go home.
Montage of scenes:
Tao ze on a date with Tang ning. They are watching a horror movie, and they hold hands after a jump scare.
After work, XHY offers to treat Lan qiao as thanks for last time (taking down WZH). They go for hotpot.
In the hospital ICU, the doctor tells Yang xi that her mother survived, but is not in good condition and that she should prepare for the worst.
Pei su standing at the window, watching LWZ leave, then makes a call.
It's night. At the graveyard, LWZ and Du ju stand in front of Huo xiao's grave. After, they go for a drink. LWZ complains and asks for a raise - it's hard making money for a family. LWZ asks Du ju to tell him more about Huo xiao. Du ju tells him that Yang zhengfeng, Huo xiao, Zhang zhaojin, and Pan yunheng were all his classmates and they were close friends. Once they began working, Yang was the most experienced. Zhang would pay for everything every time they met up (his younger brother is a rich businessman). Pan had the worst temper. Huo xiao was the youngest of the 5, and completed a masters degree during his spare time. The 327 case was the first big case Huo xiao took on after being promoted to vice team leader.
LWZ asks Du ju about what happened that night at the Seine. Du ju recalls that after they discovered Du guosheng's fingerprint, they searched for security camera footage but found none. Huo xiao never gave up. Flashback: Du ju receives a call from Yang telling him Huo xiao has died. At the morgue, the police informant Laomeizha tells them Huo xiao often faked fingerprint evidence, and would use it as an excuse for extortion.
Laomeizha was the only survivor of the Seine fire. Du ju tells LWZ that Laomeizha had worked with the police on many previous cases, and they saw him as a brother. Besides Laomeizha's testimony, Huo xiao's autopsy also showed he was in an altercation with the Seine's manager. They also found a stack of fingerprints in his home. At the scene of the crime were remnants of a notebook with Huo xiao's handwriting, which listed recent businesses Huo xiao visited. Everyone involved testified that they'd received threats from Huo xiao. At the location where Du guosheng's fingerprint was first spotted, a bartender recognized Laomeizha.
LWZ questions where the money is, if that's what Huo xiao's motive was. Du ju answers that they did find money in Huo xiao's home, along with medical results. His mother was diagnosed with cancer.
LWZ asks why Huo xiao had to act alone. Du ju goes silent. Du ju admits that if Huo xiao was wronged, then it means there is a mole in their team.
In the car, LWZ calls his father, asking for documentation of the initial Zero Degree project.
Morning, at SID. The team are holding a meeting. LWZ sums up the events of the Du guosheng case, and highlights that they will reinvestigate the Seine fire case. Some team members complain about not having new years' break. LWZ continues: ten years have passed, and all the evidence and people involved are gone. Huo xiao has no remaining family members to bother them. But if SID cannot be a place where no one cares about right and wrong.
At LWZ's apartment, Pei su steps out of the bedroom wearing a full SID uniform.
The SID team continue their briefing on the Seine case. WZH refuses to admit that the Seine was a part of his industry. There might be other people involved. "Laomeizha", real name Yin chao, had broken contact with the police and left the city for many years. Tao ze and Xiao wu leave to go find him. LWZ asks XHY to investigate some people: "greetings to shatov", and the suspicious Lunyuncheng security guard that likely switched out the security tapes twice.
Pei su arrives at the door and sees Lan qiao listening in on LWZ and XHY's conversation. Lan qiao doesn't want to be left out of their operation, so LWZ asks her to work with XHY.
LWZ takes a look at Pei su all suited up and asks what special occasion it is. Pei su jokingly mimics Lan qiao, complaining about being left out. LWZ fixes his police badge. From now on, Pei su will be a part of their team. LWZ asks Pei su to always tell him what he's doing and where he's going. Pei su replies he will advance and retreat along with the team. LWZ flicks his forehead and says SID only advances, never retreats.
Pei su shows LWZ drone footage of a man suspected to be A13. Du jia made another visit to the village at the ecological park, and found evidence of Shepherd Dog being monitored. If SID hadn't captured the Shepherd Dog, the Reciters would have killed him. LWZ points out if the Reciters' goal is to expose Huo xiao's wronging, only monitoring Shepherd Dog was not a foolproof plan. Pei su smiles at LWZ, and LWZ realizes the Reciters must have had planted people in the ecological park, the most likely one being Yizhiyan, who had the most contact with Du guosheng.
LWZ rushes off to interrogate Yizhiyan, but remembers something, and puts a pile of case documentation into Pei su's arms. He tells Pei su to bring them home and he will sort them out when he has the time. Pei su smiles watching him leave, and picks up some loose sheets that fell out. Closeup shows interrogation notes from Wang xiao and Liang yujin. Pei su seems to realize something.
LWZ and Xiao wu interrogating Yizhiyan. Yizhiyan tells them the Beehive gave him an order to poison Du guosheng, but "they" asked him to keep Du guosheng alive, and in return "they" will send him somewhere safe. Yizhiyan confesses he only knows one person from that organization, A13, and confirms it is the man in the drone footage.
Pei su is waiting for LWZ outside the interrogation room. Pei su points out that the day Wang xiao overheard Liang yujin and her friends talking about WWC's birthday party, Liang yujin was not actually at school. But Liang yujin confirmed what Wang xiao overheard was true.
Pei su and LWZ head to Yufen to look at security camera footage. On that day, a janitor had followed Wang xiao into the bathroom. The janitor was carrying a high quality voice recording and audio playing device. What Wang xiao overheard in the bathroom was just an audio recording.
The security guard at Yufen is startled - he does not recognize this janitor as staff. LWZ texts XHY for him to also investigate the janitor.
Tao ze and Xiao wu arrive out of town to find the whereabouts of Yin chao. A local policeman, Kong weichen, greets them. They go and visit Yin chao's twin brother, Yin ping, who is reluctant to let them into his home.
XHY is quick to reply with information on the janitor (Zhu feng), because she has a criminal record. 20 years ago, Zhu feng's newlywed husband was out buying groceries when he was stabbed to death. The culprit had an intellectual disability and was placed in a facility. However, the records for this case is not complete, and some information is sealed - only someone Du ju's level can access it. LWZ asks why, and Pei su is the one who answers: this was one of the cases from the initial Zero Degree project.
In the Dark
Chapter 41 of Say My Name (Say it Twice) is here! Read it below, or over on AO3.
After an intense and blissful night, the team head out to Arlathan Crater.
Lucanis blinked, and for a moment the persistent dark confused him. He was warm, practically floating in a sea of comfortable heat, and the fragrance of soap mingled with sweat and a new scent – warm and a little acidic.
Sexxxxxxx, Spite hissed.
Memories of the night before flashed through his mind. Rook, topless, his hands on her chest. Rook, in his bed, writhing while he touched her. Rook, crying out his name as her body clenched around his fingers.
So, that hadn’t been a dream. It was real, as real Embria was now, lying fast asleep in his arms. His forehead was pressed against the back of her neck, his nose burrowed between her shoulder blades. She was so warm, her skin so soft against his that he had to struggle against the urge to run his hands all over her. To wake her up and do it all over again. But, he needed to let her sleep.
He had a feeling she was going to need it.
Lucanis climbed off the cot, lit a couple of candles, and dressed in the mostly dark pantry. His shirt and waistcoat were rumpled, but they would do for the time being. He also gathered up Embria’s clothes and stacked them neatly beside the bed. He doubted she would wake before he returned, but… just in case.
Then he stepped out into the dining hall and started a fresh batch of coffee. He could tell by how rested he felt that it was morning. Spite let him sleep most nights these days, particularly after time spent with Rook. But, they’d had a relatively early evening, so he wasn’t sure if anyone else in the Lighthouse was up yet.
He stared at the percolator as the coffee brewed, his mind wandering over last night’s events. True to her word, Embria hadn’t pushed. She’d let him set the pace and gladly met him where he was comfortable. They might be going slow, but they were making the most of it.
At least, he thought they were. He hoped she felt the same.
Behind him, the dining hall door opened. He glanced over his shoulder to see a disheveled and tired-looking Bellara enter the room. She approached the hutch and raised a brow at him as she reached for her tin of tea.
“Long night?” She asked. Her tone made it clear she had some guesses as to how his evening had gone. Very inappropriate and potentially accurate guesses.
He snorted. “You’re one to talk.”
She frowned. “Yeah,” she said. “I couldn’t sleep much.”
He watched her as she filled her kettle and set it on the stove to boil. “Everything all right?”
“Oh, you know.” She shrugged. “My gods have teamed up with a racist cult to snatch up my people to use in a massive blood magic ritual so they can take over the world.”
Lucanis grimaced. “Right. That.”
She sighed. “Sorry, Lucanis.”
He shook his head. “Don’t be. That was careless of me.”
She gave him a little smile. Then frowned with worry. “How’s Rook holding up?”
He shrugged. “She was on edge last night,” he said. He looked into his cup and tried to control his blush. “She’s still sleeping.”
Bellara nodded, still watching her kettle, and then his words reached her. Her head turned so fast to look at him, her mouth open. “Wait,” she said.
The heat in his cheeks increased and he had to look away from her.
She hurried over to him, practically skipping in her excitement. “Lucanis!” She hissed, mindful this time of Rook asleep beyond the wall behind them. “Tell me. Everything!”
He scowled. “No.”
“Okay, okay. Fine,” she said. “You don’t have to tell me everything. But, like… something?” She gave him big, sad eyes and wobbled her lower lip at him. “Please? Harding won’t tell me anything about her and Taash and the last time I tried to ask Neve about Davrin she almost encased me in ice.”
He gave her a pained look. “Why don’t you ask Rook?”
She pouted at him. “I have!”
“And?” He poured himself a cup of coffee and took that first, blissful sip.
“She said no, because you’re a private person, or whatever.”
He chuckled. “And there you have it.”
She tilted her head back in frustration. “Ugh! You’re the worst!”
He hid his smile behind his coffee cup. “Have you asked Emmrich about Strife, yet?”
Bellara turned wide eyes on him. “What?!”
Lucanis grinned. “Or, better yet, ask Strife about Emmrich.”
She laughed. “I don’t want to get stabbed!”
“You think I won’t stab you?” He did his best to sound hurt.
She snorted at him. “I know you won’t.”
He sighed. “Fair.”
The kettle whistled, and Bellara bounded over to it to start brewing her tea. A moment later, the dining hall doors opened, and Davrin stepped through them.
“Hey, you two,” he said. “Have either of you seen Rook?”
Lucanis took a sip of his coffee. “She’s sleeping. Why?”
Davrin blinked at him and then grinned. “About damn time!”
“Mierda.” He rolled his eyes. “Must everyone on this team have an opinion on my love life?”
Bellara grinned at him. “It’s how we show we care.”
Davrin shrugged. “I mean, good for you, I guess. But I was mostly rooting for Rook to finally land her quarry.”
Lucanis frowned in disgust. “I am not prey.”
He pointed at Lucanis. “And that’s how you know it was a good hunt. You never saw her coming.”
Bellara tilted her head back and forth. “Pretty sure he did last night,” she murmured into her tea cup.
Lucanis choked on his coffee while Davrin guffawed.
“Mierda! Can we please talk about anything else?” He glared at each of them, and while Davrin was still laughing, Bellara at least had the decency to look contrite.
“Right,” Davrin said once he got his laughter under control. “I was looking for Rook because Strife and Irelin are here.”
“Already?”
“Word must have got across Arlathan fast,” Bellara said.
Lucanis sighed, then turned to pour Rook’s cup of coffee. “Can you two keep them busy for a little while?”
“You got it,” Bellara said. “I have some questions for Strife and Emmrich, after all.”
“What kind of questions?” Davrin asked as he and Bellara headed toward the courtyard, and Lucanis returned to the pantry.
To his surprise, Rook had actually slept through all the commotion only a wall away. He was beginning to suspect she was a deep sleeper, a trait he’d never had even before the Ossuary. Even before House Velardo’s coup attempt. His mother had joked that even as an infant Lucanis had been the most vigilant member of their family.
“Embria.” He put a hand to her shoulder, gently shook when she didn’t wake.
She moaned, eyelids fluttering as she frowned. “Why are you up?”
He chuckled. “Because it’s morning.”
“So?”
“I brought you coffee,” he said, his voice lilting to entice her.
She cracked an eye open at him. “What else?”
Lucanis blinked. “A kiss?”
Embria hummed as she considered his offer. “Two kisses and it’s a deal.”
He shook his head, but couldn’t help his smile as he ducked down to kiss her. Twice. Then he handed over the coffee as she sat up, careful to keep the blankets wrapped around her chest.
“So,” she said once she’d had a few sips of coffee. “Last night…”
He tilted his head at her, suddenly worried that something was wrong after all. “What about it?”
“How are you feeling about it?” She asked. “Any concerns or questions or… regrets?”
“Regrets?” He tilted her chin up to look at him. “Rook, it took all my strength not to wake you for another round this morning.”
She chuckled at that, relief loosening her spine and shoulders. “Okay,” she nodded. “Good.”
“What about you?” He asked. “Are you having any regrets?”
“No, Lucanis. Not at all.” She shook her head. “In fact, I’m not opposed to that round two if you’re still up for it.” She grinned at him, a little bashful, but earnest.
He groaned. She would be the death of him, and now he had even more reason to dislike Strife. “There’s no time,” he said. He winced as he glanced at her. “Strife and Irelin are here.”
She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “Wow,” she said. “That was fast.”
He nodded. “Bellara and Davrin are with them now. They should buy you enough time to get ready.”
Embria drank her coffee, her eyes far away as she no doubt thought about the day ahead. Finally, she nodded and took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. “Okay,” she said. She stood, letting the blankets fall away to reveal her bare skin once again. Lucanis watched as she dressed, unwilling to lose a moment of the sight of her mostly naked in his room.
Finally, she hauled on her overcoat and turned to face him. “Let’s do this.”
Lucanis hated everything about this. From their clothes to Neve’s disguise, to the magic so thick in the air his eyes burned. But, what he hated most was how well Rook played her part – keeping close to Neve, a deferent tilt to her chin, and how she avoided eye contact with everyone, even him.
These Venatori scum barely even let their gaze grace over her. Even worse were the few who did look at her. Whose gaze lingered and assessed her as if eyeing a cut of meat hanging in a merchant’s stall.
Kill. Them, Spite seethed. Kill. Them. ALL!
Lucanis took comfort in the fact that, once they’d saved the Dalish, there’d be a trail of Venatori corpses in their wake.
Ahead of them, a crowd of cultists had gathered to peer down into a ruin. A terrible, inhuman sound pierced the air. A cry of immense pain, desperate and keening.
Rook’s head snapped up. “Halla,” she said. She glanced at him and then Neve. “What are they doing to the halla?”
Neve’s frown promised it was something bad, even for blood mages.
Still, Embria moved forward, peering between shoulders to get a line of sight to the ritual. Lucanis followed her, unwilling to let her out of arm’s reach with so many cultists around. Though, he knew to touch her here with anything even resembling kindness would be blood in the water to these sharks.
“We don’t have to watch,” Neve murmured. Her voice was tight, unnerved by the torture playing out before them.
The halla floated in the center of the ruin, blood swirling around it in a sadistic echo of the water that swirled through the air in Arlathan Forest. The deer bleated and moaned as its body warped and crumpled under the force of the mages’ power. It was a familiar scene. Zara and Calivan had mutilated many bodies in an effort to release their demons. But this helpless beast, the symbol of the Dalish, being tortured solely for the entertainment of the Venatori?
This was a whole new kind of vile.
Embria’s body shuddered and thrummed a hair’s breadth in front of his as she watched. It took all of his control not to touch her, to try not to soothe her. Finally, she turned her face away. Her eyes were closed, but she hadn’t been able to keep her tears from falling.
Lucanis did not look away. He watched, even as his guts churned and his blood roared like waves in his ears. He paid witness to the horror – one he knew so, so well – until the poor halla exploded in a spray of blood and gore. Then he put his mouth to Rook’s ear.
“We will kill them all,” he whispered. “They will pay, one way or another.”
She looked at him and he watched as the horror hardened to fury in her eyes. She nodded once, then glanced at Neve. “Let’s go.”
Rook was not much of a planner, but what little plan they did have went to shit the moment Elgar’nan and his archdemon showed up. The self-proclaimed god had sensed them, had found their minds in the crowd and tried to ensorcel them all. It was only thanks to Bellara and Neve’s quick thinking that they’d managed to break free.
So, now the plan was changing on the fly. Luckily, Lucanis was used to jobs going sideways – not one of his contracts with Illario had ever gone to plan.
“So, what’s the plan?” Neve asked.
“Uh,” Rook said as they scurried through the ruins, trying to avoid the Venatori hunting them.
“Rook!” Neve said.
“I’m working on it!”
“Work faster!” He shouted as he parried a ball of energy from a mage that had appeared in the hall behind them.
“Right!” Lightning erupted from Rook’s orb – arced around the ruin between several Venatori. “Same plan,” she said. “Save the Dalish, then get everyone out of here.”
“That’s not a plan, Rook,” he said.
“More like goals,” Neve added as she summoned a blizzard down on their enemies.
“At least they’re good goals!” Rook parried another blast of magic, only to have a Venatori executioner appear behind her.
Spite launched them toward her, just in time to catch a sickle on his dagger. Rook took advantage of his aid and slashed at the Venatori before spinning away in a magical burst of feathers and knives. The cultist fell to her magic and his blades, the last of this wave of enemies.
Mierda, protecting Rook was turning into his most difficult contract yet.
“Thanks, Lucanis,” she panted as she jogged over to him.
“Thank Spite,” he said.
She pressed a kiss to his cheek and grinned. “Thanks, Spite!”
His vision went violet as Spite took over. “Protect. Rook,” he said. “Kill. Them. ALL!”
She patted his cheek. “Or at least as many as we can along the way.”
Spite growled his disagreement, but released control back to Lucanis without protest.
“Right,” Neve said, peering back at them from over her shoulder. “Not sure I’ll ever get used to that.” She raised a brow and tilted her head toward the end of the hall. “Shall we?”
Rook nodded, and they all took off into a new section of the ruin.
“Mierda, how big is this place?”
“At its height, the Elven Empire spanned all of Thedas,” Rook said. “If this place belonged to the Evanuris in their heyday, it’ll be humongous.”
“They certainly weren’t keen on subtlety,” Neve said.
Rook scowled. “Especially not Elgar’nan.”
Spite growled at the mention of the would-be god. “Tried to. STEAL. Lucanis!”
The elven god had certainly offered up pretty things when he’d spoken into Lucanis’s mind, but not one of them was worth the price. “I’d rather die,” Lucanis said.
Rook gave him a sharp look. “Elgar’nan isn’t getting anyone today,” she said. “Come on.”
She led them through what looked like the courtyard of a ruined temple. It was suspiciously quiet, after all they’d battled to get there.
“Be ready,” he said.
They passed a platform, its tile cracked and overgrown, with a gleaming diamond-shaped construct at its center. Then they met with a gate.
“Ugh!” Rook shoved against the metal, but it didn’t budge. “It’s locked!”
“Rook!” Harding called from the other side of the gate.
“Harding? Are you okay? Where is everyone?”
“We’re all here,” Bellara called from further back.
“Whole and hale,” Emmrich added.
Lucanis watched Embria’s shoulders drop, and for a moment she seemed so relieved she looked unsteady on her feet. He reached for her, but she waved him off.
“Can you guys get this gate open? We’re stuck!”
“Leave it to us,” Davrin said.
“And if we can’t unlock it, maybe I can burn it down,” Taash said.
“Let’s try the old-fashioned way first,” Harding said. “Sit tight, Rook. We’ll get you through in no time.”
Of course, it took substantially longer than that, all while wave after wave of Venatori tried to make the most of the fact that they were cornered.
“Harding!” Rook shouted. “We can’t keep this up much longer!”
Spite disagreed. Lucanis felt the demon’s glee coursing through him, rapturous laughter threatening to bubble up with each cultist that fell beneath their blades.
YES! He shouted. Yes, yes, YES!
“Almost there,” Harding called.
Lucanis panted and glanced at Rook. She looked pale. She’d been slinging a lot of magic around and there was a gash in her leather overcoat.
She caught him looking and shook her head. “Already healed,” she said.
“And your potions?”
She looked away. “I have a few left.”
“Rook.”
“It’s fine, Lucanis.” She put a hand on his arm. “We just need to–” she looked over her shoulder at the rest of the team “–GET THROUGH THIS GATE!”
“We’re working on it!” Taash yelled back. “Elven vashedan!”
Lucanis felt like he had finally caught his breath when the construct in the center of the platform came to life.
“Look out,” Neve called.
Rook shoved Lucanis as she rolled away from him. They both narrowly missed being smashed by the machine’s massive mace.
“Rook?”
“Fine,” she called. “Focus!”
She was right. If he wanted to protect her, he needed to keep his head in the fight.
The construct was a trying enough opponent, but the endless tide of cultists made the fight truly daunting. Even Lucanis was beginning to tire, Spite’s glee wearing down into frustration.
“Just a little more,” Rook called. Her voice was strained, maybe even pained. He couldn’t see her through the chaos of the battlefield. Snow and ice, lightning and fire, and the sickening iron tang of blood magic filled the air. His eyes itched and burned and a dull ache thumped at his temples.
He spun at the construct, and a great explosion followed as his knives connected and reacted to Rook’s magic. The machine fell to the ground, finally still while electricity danced across its body. Neve slung ice daggers at the last remaining Venatori while Lucanis scanned the courtyard for Rook.
“Harding?” She called. There, on the ground. She was on her hands and knees, panting.
Lucanis ran to her, Spite’s wings flapping to speed them across the courtyard. “Rook?” He asked, falling to his knees before her.
“I’m okay,” she said. “Catching my breath.” She looked up and gave him a shaky smile.
“Mierda, woman,” he said. He took her hand and hauled her up onto her feet. Then the gate finally screeched open behind them.
Rook’s head fell back and she let out an exhausted laugh. “Thank. Fuck.”
Neve snorted at that. “Let’s go,” she said. “Before more Venatori show up.”
“More?!” Rook asked.
Lucanis growled. “There are always more.”
“Like rats,” Neve said.
“Or roaches.”
“Crush. Them!” Spite added. “Kill. Them!”
Rook patted his chest. “You’re doing a great job of it so far,” she said.
Spite preened at the praise, and Lucanis took over again before the demon could purr in front of all of their friends.
Rook turned to face the rest of the team. “Good job, you guys.”
Harding winced. “Sorry it took so long.”
Taash loomed behind her, arms crossed. “Vashedan.”
Rook looked around, meeting the gaze of each of their friends. “We saw a section of the temple blocked off by the Venatori,” she said. “I think it’s where they’re keeping the Dalish.”
Bellara frowned. “That might explain the strange magical energy up ahead.” She gave Rook a worried look. “And lots of it.”
Rook nodded. “Sounds like our ritual site,” she said. “Bellara, you and the others find Strife.” She glanced at Neve, and then Lucanis. “We’ll keep going and see if we can’t free our people.”
Bellara and Davrin both looked like they wanted to argue. Lucanis didn’t disagree with them. It was their people in danger. But, he didn’t think he could handle letting Rook walk into this fight without him.
He was glad she wouldn’t make him try.
The team split up, and Neve and Lucanis followed Rook into the temple proper. Even rundown and abandoned, the temple was impressive – fountains lined with glittering tiles, tall, arched ceilings, and statues of wolves everywhere.
“Well, look who it is,” Neve drawled.
Lucanis glared at her.
She raised a brow. “What? Just stating the obvious.” She gestured around the room. “He has quite the presence.”
“Which means this temple is old,” Rook said. “From before he separated from Mythal and the other Evanuris.”
“Why is Elgar’nan holding his ritual here?”
Lucanis snorted at that. “These gods are petty,” he said. “He’s taunting Solas.”
Rook frowned. “Sounds about right.” She glanced around, her gaze wary. “Keep an eye out,” she said. “It’s too quiet in here.”
Lucanis rubbed at one eye, the itching and burning sensation worsening as they passed through a doorway at the back of the room and into a hall cloaked with grey mist.
Wrong, Spite hissed.
“Rook,” he said, stopping beside a long-dry fountain. “We don’t like this.” He glared at the mist. Was it… whispering? “Bellara was right, there’s a lot of magic here.”
“Too. Much.”
She slid her hand into his. “Are you all right?”
He nodded and blinked. “My eyes are burning,” he said.
“Be ready,” she said to Neve.
“Always,” she replied.
Embria gave him a fragile smile and squeezed his hand. Then she released him and stepped into the mist, Neve and Lucanis following her into the dark.
True.. perhapes if you bloodbond him the next time you meet it'll be easier to stop him from running away
ahhh… an idea I may take into consideration…
Earth pony Ivypool?
Local 1/4 zony teen is
terrified
the local towns are besieged by umbrum infected ponies, she just got CURED of being one of them, her father Birch Branch just turned into a monster and ran off into the woods, her sister Mourning Dove is maybe possessed?!? By some ghostly magic spirit thing claiming Dove is going to be an ALICORN!?! Mayor Flaming Comet claims everything is under control but it's NOT!!!
And Ivy doesn't know WHAT her talent is, but she screams to the moon for help
and a princess, one who knows what it's like to be the overlooked sister, answers