Dislikes: Large groups or crowds, mirrors, swimming
Bio: Born on Theros, Octavia was often the black sheep(pun intended) of her community, due to her lack of interest in the hedonism and revels of most Satyrs. She often found herself alone in the woods, exploring, hunting, or gathering herbs to study.
She sparked at 15, when she was attacked while out in the woods by a group of Nylea's followers, who had chosen to interpret their God's ire for Xenagos and his ascension as a call to violence against Satyr kind and their revels.
Grievously injured, she Planeswalked to Innistrad, finding herself in the care of an elderly witch. There, she learned the basics of necromancy, studying the old shamanistic ways which predated Ghoulcalling and Stitching. Only months into her stay on Innistrad, her mentor was caught up in the Travails, and killed by the Flight of Moonsilver as a heretic.
Octavia planeswalked again to escape, eventually finding herself on Arcavios. Learning of Strixhaven, she took the opportunity to join Witherbloom college to continue her studies in necromancy and botany. She stayed there until the Phyrexian Invasion, when she, a long with other students, worked to repel the assault.
After the invasion, Octavia once again found herself unsettled, feeling unsafe in the place she had called her home for 3 years. Rather than stay and assist with the rebuilding efforts, she elected to travel the realms, trying to find someplace she could feel at home. Eventually, she ended up in Shiv on Dominaria, where she met the artificer Rain. Intrigued by him and his project, she elected to stay in the area for the time being, to assist him, and travel with him to find the parts he needs to repair the ship.
The letter had arrived in much the same way as my initial acceptance letter, which is to say, while I wasn’t looking. Somewhere over the course of my day, though I truly could not say when, an owl-shaped envelope with a Prismari seal simply began to exist on my desk. I’d spent a lot of the day not paying attention, burying myself in books and in friends, having planeswalked directly into my bedroom at Rix Maadi to avoid risk of interacting with… anyone I didn’t trust with my life.
Anyone I didn’t trust not to go to my father.
I believe my Prismari project presentation went well. The project I’d been working on and keeping secret all semester went off without a hitch, the donated and enchanted blood of a few dozen people able to perfectly replicate the blood inside the nearest person. It mimicked their movements down to the cell and I was still able to puppeteer it when I wanted to.
Even if Zamlasal’s was better and cooler and looked more impressive I believe it was absolutely enough to get me into the Prismari college. I have to believe that.
But, how the presentation actually went how many times I gripped the edge of the bucket and nearly threw up when it didn’t work how many days I didn’t eat trying to keep it from coagulating how many samples I threw and spilled and destroyed because they weren’t working isn’t why I’m avoiding my dad. He knows how the presentation went. Jezebel, his closest assistant, surely gave him an exceedingly detailed report.
And that report would have included Gesserith calling me she twice, which I just know he will make much too big a deal of. It would have included Mocca making the monumentally insane decision to physically take Jezebel’s hand off of my shoulder. It wouldn’t surprise me if Jez talked at length about Mocca needing the offending hand removed, and how I should have done that myself.
And now, here I am, stuck between the letter that decides my future and the world that I can’t move past. Alone in my old bedroom, avoiding my dad. A child again.
Mail finally came in. Bill. Hate mail. Death threat. Death threat. Monthly stipend. Advertisement. Coupon. Bill. Death threat. Woah, hey, letter from Mom. I’ll read that later. Coupon. …letter from Gouvle? Unexpected, but welcome. Ah, there it is. Shadowstep’s report card. I’ve been waiting for this. End of the school year was just last week. Finally came in.
“Shadowstep! Report card’s here!” I shout. I separate the good mail from the bad as I take my seat in the king’s throne (my recliner).
Shadowstep shows herself from her room. She walks around the couch, almost falling into the cushions. She’d usually jump over the couch. Maybe she’s just tired. I start fiddling with the envelope. “Your conferences went well. Your teacher said you’ve been a joy to have. Struggling a little but seeming to have a grasp on the core stuff, which is what’s important.” I look right at her, smiling. She seems uneasy, I’m just trying to make her feel safer. I finally open the report card and draw out the contents.
Look, Shadowstep signs to me. I tried really hard on all of my classes, and no matter what you see on there, I want you to remember that. Okay? Promise?
I laugh. “Yes, of course, promise. As long as you pass, that’s okay with me.” I carefully set down the progress reports that came in with the grades on the table. “Now let’s have a look-see here…”
MATH: B
LANGUAGE ARTS: A-
SCIENCE: C+
SOCIAL STUDIES: D
ART & MUSIC: A+
PHY ED: A+
Okay. Mostly good. The D is a little concerning. Science ain’t bad. Everything else is just fine. “Alright kiddo, mind telling me about your social studies grade?” I’m very deliberately keeping my voice soft. I really don’t want to make this too bad for her.
I just don’t get all the history stuff. It’s just, I can’t wrap my head around it. There’s so much and I can’t get all of it. I’m sorry, it’s just, I, and it, and I’m. I'm sorry.
I place a hand on her shoulder. "It's alright. The rest are okay. You have plenty of
good grades? What the fuck is this?” I saw such a familiar face. How many times had it been? Every damn time my report card came in, it’s this song and dance again. “Why the hell are your grades always this low?”
“They’re not, it’s just social studies. And may I remind you I’m getting A’s everywhere else.” My chest is out, shoulders are back. I can’t show fear. Not again, not after last time. “I think that maybe you need to
Breathe. It’s fine, I wasn’t good at social studies either. I was barely passing myself back in high school. I’m not angry.” Speak slowly. Voice low. Voice soft. I really cannot screw this up. “I just want to know why you didn’t tell me about it. I could have helped you, or we could have worked together.”
She starts panicking. I- I don’t know. I thought it’d be fine. I tried, I really did. Just please don’t be mad.
“Shadowstep, are you alright? You’re not usually this nervous. I’m not going to be mad at you. I’m here to help you, I just need to know how I can help you. We can ask Haruko for help. She likes you, she’ll help. I just want to know
why you’re always galivanting about on the town when you’ve got a test coming up? I bet you were at that little jazz club again. Who was with you? Was it Irina? Oh, you little manwhore-“
I’m getting tired of this. “I’ve already told you enough. We are FRIENDS. I go to that club to unwind and study. Better than trying to focus with you constantly
Breathing on my neck. You always seem like I need to be doing more and doing it better and I- I- I just can’t handle it all. Please, I just need a little bit of space.
My gaze softens. “Oh, honey, that’s perfectly okay. You know, I needed some when I was your age too. Maybe it’s time I let you go out on your own a little. AS LONG AS you have friends with you. I don’t want you going places alone. It’s too dangerous.”
Haven’t I shown I can take care of myself? I saved your life, you know.
“You did. And you are the best daughter I could ask for because of it. But still, you only need to get unlucky once, and then I might never see you again. So for you and me both, you’re taking someone with you if you decide to go out.”
She perks up a little. Even Marco? Marco was the Maestro kid that she became fast friends with. She had such an obvious crush on him. I’ve seen the doodles. I can’t keep an iron grasp on her forever.
“Yes, even Marco. But I don’t want any funny business between you two, I’ve
seen where this goes. You’ll start slipping, I know it. First social studies, next math, angels forbid you flunk language. No more girls, no more jazz, no more nothing until those grades are all clean shiny A’s. Do you understand me? Keep this up and I won’t even be able to call you my son. “
“You barely do that already! Every step I take is just another mistake to you. I am never going to be good enough for you, just give it up already!”
A fury lit in his eyes. “Why, you little shit. Don’t you DARE talk to me like that.” He took off his belt. “I’ll show you what it means to fail in this household!” He raised his arm. His belt came up.
I lower my arm. A hug comes down. “I love you, Shadowstep. Now, you’re not getting off Scott free. I’ll be asking Haruko to make sure you’re learning what you need to know over the summer. We’ll work out details later. But for now, go relax, grab a movie, your choice. You did well enough for me. We’ll just try harder next time, okay?”
She smiles. Okay. Thanks for understanding. I love you.
“Love you too.”
She picks out a very… modern film. Not my choice. Then again, I let her, I’ll deal with it. The plot’s fun, at least. A good plenty of jokes that I get that she doesn’t. We’re both awfully tired by the end of it. We both say our goodnights.
I slunk back into my bedroom under the cover of night. My arm’s bruised. I can barely stand. I just need him to stay asleep for long enough for me to grab a bagel and leave tomorrow. I’ll figure out a path then. I can’t stay out tonight. So I close the door to my bedroom
and tuck in to bed. A very rocky situation I handled quite well. We’ll address the core issues tomorrow, but she’s relaxed and I’m a good parent. I’ll just close my eyes, embrace the void, and drift off to my dreams.
And I end up… in my own home. Shadowstep’s there. I’m there. No big deal. I’m looking over her report card. B, A-, C+, D, A+, A+. I look down at her. “What’s up with this D here? I thought Haruko was teaching you. I thought you were studying. Why isn’t this at least a C? Was it really that hard”
She looks nervous. Yeah, the materials weren’t very good, the tests covered stuff we never talked about, I couldn’t have done better.
There’s a twitch in my eye. “Yes, you could have. We have plenty of resources. I’m right here, why didn’t you ever ask me?”
I didn’t think-
“Yeah, you didn’t, that’s why we’re here. We could have avoided all of this if you had just done better!” I shouted. My voice is getting agitated.
I tried, Dad, please, you know I try!
“Try harder! This shit? It’s not gonna fly any more. You’re grounded for a month.” The blood rushes to my head. I can feel myself getting hotter.
Her face sinks? A month?! This isn’t fair! I still passed! The orphanage treated me better than this! You-
“Me? I what? Put a roof over your head? Fed you? Tried to teach you how to succeed? And here you are, failing me. You’re a horrible kid, you know that? Never should have taken you in.”
She’s crying. A lot. I wish I never left the orphanage! You’re an awful dad! You’re worse than your dad!
My grasp tightens on my waist. “You. You take that back right now. I am nothing like him.”
You already are! I HATE YOU!
“You wanna disrespect me like that again?” The familiar clacking of metal. “You wanna talk shit to me while you’re in my house?” The sliding of the leather against denim. “I’ll show you what happens to ungrateful little SHITS-” I raise my belt up. “-WHO TALK TO ME LIKE THAT!” I bring my arm down.
I jolt awake. Just a dream. Only just a dream. It’s not real, it wasn’t real. I look around my room. Barely lit up, just my alarm clock illuminating the wall. What time is it? I look over. The clock’s too blurry. My vision is shaking. Why is my vision shaking? Why are my hands shaking? I can’t get them to stop. Get a hold of yourself, Gesserith. It was just a nightmare. Breathe. I can’t breathe. I need to breathe. I need to stop shaking. The ringing in my ears won’t stop. I can’t stop shaking. I can’t start breathing. Breathe, Gesserith, you need to BREATHE. I CAN’T BREATHE. GET A GRIP EDMUND. I can’t even grasp myself. I have a death grip on the mattress. My vision’s going dark. Not like this. Not like this. Not like this.
All these years,
No.
All these times,
Stop it.
All of these failures,
Breathe, Gess! Breathe!
And where do you end up?
GET OUT.
Right. Back. To me.
Get out OF MY HEAD.
You really are an Edmund.
Stop. Fucking. Shaking.
I always knew this would happen.
GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT
Like father.
GET A GRIP, GESSERITH. FIGHT THROUGH IT.
Like son.
“Get… out…”
You’re just like me.
“of… my… head…”
You never should have adopted her.
“You’re… not… real…”
You should never have been born.
My gasps barely get me air.
You’re a fucking disgrace.
“I’m… better…”
You’re so much worse.
“than… you…”
You’ve done so much more harm than I ever did.
The blood’s everywhere and nowhere and my head’s throbbing and my hearing’s shot and my eyes can’t see and my body’s trembling and
You killed me. You know it’s not that hard.
“I’ve changed.”
Why not just take whatever’s closest…
“I WON’T LET YOU WIN!”
…and do what I never could.
“I WON’T LET HER GO!!”
Let her be free of you.
“I’LL NEVER LET HER GO!!!”
My vision comes back. The ringing fades out. I take a full breath.
“I won’t ever let her go.”
The feeling comes back to my extremities.
“But you…”
Everything loosens up.
“It’s time for you to go.”
I can feel it. Clear as day.
“Goodbye, Eric. For good.”
My daughter bursts into my room. She’s horrified. DAD! I heard you screaming. You look pale. Are you okay? Do I need to call the med team?
I move my head up. Look her in the eyes. “I’m. Fine. I think. Just a. Just a nightmare and a. A whatsit. A panic attack. It’s over. I’m okay.” She tackles me in a hug. I hold her tight. “I’m alright. We’re alright. I promise.” We stay like this for what feels like hours. Maybe. My sense of time is a little skewed right now.
Shadowstep is the one that lets go first. I’m gonna go back to bed. You’re gonna be okay?
“Yeah. You can go back to bed. I will too. I’ll see you again in the morning, okay?”
Okay. Goodnight. I love you.
The shaking in my hands slows down. “I love you too, Shadowstep. Like nothing else. Remember that, okay?”
She looks back with a smile. Okay. I promise.
“Thank you. Good night.” She closes the door behind her. I pass out soon after. And this time, I stay asleep, dreamless and content.
A thank you to @jasper-graphics for the clock dividers.
Puddles formed on the muddy streets, people rushed by each other, hiding from the rain under their cloaks and coats. None noticed the woman using her cloak to cover her arm.
She had practice going unnoticed.
Her shoulder ached in the rain, it always did. She could feel the storm coming, a dull ache in the hours before the first drops would fall. The price of the gift given to her by her lord.
The woman walked towards the building the legion had commandeered, stepping into an alley nearby. She gave the immediate area a look. The upcoming holiday distracted the legion. She didn't anticipate anyone being nearby. Good fortune, for her and them.
She moved her cloak, stretching her arms experimentally, before leaping up easily to the second story and opening a window to slip inside. Taking a moment to close the window behind her, she made her way towards the main offices.
Her eyes scanned the desks, looking at correspondences. Useless drivel, like most legionary communications. She took the time to note the important details; positions of ships, rebuilding efforts after certain raids, and their theories on where “The Betrayer’s” forces were. She tucked a few of the letters into her cloak, before stepping to the desk she had been looking for.
A map. Several maps, all annotated. Legion positions, their numbers, the number of church support in the region. The amount of people they needed to protect.
The perfect tool for planning. She stowed these safely in her cloak as well. Walking over to one of the candles, she pulled out her firestarter to begin lighting it. The small flame fizzled, the damp of the day making the process difficult.
“Who’s there?” A voice called out from the hallway.
She froze. Had someone seen her come in? What took them so long to arrive if that were the case?
She looked towards the doorway and cursed. From the window to the desk was a trail of muddy footprints, clear as day. She hadn't considered it to cause an issue, since the entire place would be rubble by the time anyone could have noticed.
A stupid mistake, but one that could easily be rectified.
The door opened and the guard peered in. He didn't even get a chance to scream. Claws flashed, slashing his throat, panicked eyes looking up as he fell.
The demon didn't even let him hit the floor. She caught him, lowering him to the ground gently. No point in risking other guards investigating. She doubted any of his friends would hear the gurgling croaks of his death rattle.
Stepping over to the lantern the guard had been holding, she picked it up, smiled, and set it on the table next to the man. Then she simply tipped it over onto the papers on that desk. Her smile widened as the flames hit the oil of the lantern, burning hotter and faster.
No one noticed a young woman in a cloak leaving the rainy town. People came and went every day.
A Guide to Buying Gifts for the Man who wants Nothing
How do you shop for a man who has what he needs? How do you shop for a friend who only wants things you can't give them?
Octavia clicked though the calendar on her communicator, chewing on her thumbnail mindlessly. Koda's Birthday was soon. Her thoughts still swirled around her recent encounter with Rune and Crow. She needed to talk with him.
How do you know if you're friends with someone? How do you know if you were ever really friends?
She couldn't do a plant this time. It was a nice gesture, a gift she'd love to get, but not one anyone else really cared about. If she was using it to see if he even wanted to talk to her, it needed to be a good one.
How do you make your gift stand out from the crowd? How do you make sure you don't get something someone else is getting?
It couldn't be a knife. Everyone would be getting him a knife. Koda liked knives, and most people knew it. She wracked her brain, trying to find another good option. He liked men? Maybe one of those sexy calendars.
How do you know what will help someone change? How can you buy for someone you're not even sure if you know anymore?
No, that was stupid. And probably insensitive to his partners. She couldn't get a plant, because she was trying to be more thoughtful. She couldn't get a knife, because everyone would be getting Koda a knife. Plus, who even knew if Koda liked or wanted knives anymore! Sure, he was still a criminal, and the leader of a reckoner gang, but he also just finished fucking off to Kaldheim AND a boat in Torrezon for his health.
... That was unfair to Koda. It was a good thing he did, and for the best for his mental and physical health to get distance and a break, especially after Duskmourn, and his oni traits coming in, and losing his spark, and... Probably a lot of other things. A lot of those things people he had called his friends had done to cause him stress.
Herself included.
Koda was trying to change. He was trying to get better, to be better. So she couldn't get him anything she would have gotten him before. Nothing shallow or surface level. Something good. Something that would have meaning.
Something he could put together with his own hands, maybe.
Koda's sister was going to take him to the Cat Cafe for his birthday. She could work with that. It had taken her several days, and some help from Rain, but she'd finally gotten everything he would need together. Lots of tiny pieces, lots of glue, and a very large container for the end product. She had even gotten hand written instructions from a craftsman in Fiora who had sold her the kit she modified for the gift.
Octavia painted the finishing touches on the hull piece of the model ship. It didn't quite look like a ship from Torrezon, but she had done her best with what she could find.
She really hoped he liked it.
She really hoped he still liked her.
She really hoped that if they ever got around to having that conversation Rune recommended, that it wouldn't change either of those facts.
She took roost in the warm, barricaded monastery. Chionia had left, pursuing rumours of greener pastures, and with the sudden risk of the main Pestoxy arriving, to banish those so weak as to predate on three-dimensional, impure flesh and pain, she collapsed into a storage cupboard. The door slammed, the glistening of frost in the moonlit windows vanishing as she met Nothing.
He took a bow, reaching the edge of the world. The wooden sheet of stage curved outwards onto nothing, gazing out into nothing. The distance ran on, and no matter how far it would sprint an end wouldn’t be achieved, nor would his hope of eyes rise to meet him. He felt a leg buckle. Staring down, the grey suspenders he was wearing had vanished. His leg was a sewing needle, then so was the other. His fingers were pins, his palms scrap metal clusters. And suddenly, there was Nothing.
Her crown stopped fitting one day. Servants walked past her as if on a high-street, moving past a beggar. Hallways smothered every direction from the bedroom, these strands of unclear matter flaring and snarling, curving and cackling like eels, this mad crooning of a ball just out of reach. She grasped at a silver tray, knowing she deserved whatever was beneath it, yet there was Nothing.
A wall had collapsed in the refinery. It was the last running unit, taking fresh material from the sea and boiling it until metals were birthed from its output space. It turned its wheels to leave the brick cell, rolling through the paved streets to the pier. It attempted to gather the sea-soup, and yet the oceans gave Nothing.
I’ve heard these stories, since Beginning. And yet you haven’t told me why you die. Oh lawman, why do you believe yourself more than them? Perhaps civil unrest is your undoing, perhaps you’re no better than the princess. Perhaps what undoes you is hope, is the flourishing of the flower. Seeds into petals into fruit into death, no state you can comprehend as another. Maybe that shall show you Nothing.
It was a bright, beautiful day in Capenna, one of those days where even the Caldaia has packets of sunshine beaming down into it. Gesserith woke up from the sunlight, stretching for the day ahead. It was a very special day, after all. And now, he had a reason to share it with someone. As he exited his bedroom, he noticed Shadowstep, his adopted daughter, peacefully sitting on the couch, practicing newly-learned pyromancy. He sneaked up right behind her, going “BOO!” and coming down from over her. They both had a nice laugh as he went to cook up breakfast. Haruko emerged from behind him, taking her place at the table, large as she may be.
Over the sizzling of pancakes, he started talking. “Heya kiddo? We’re gonna be heading out on a trip today. Thunder Junction! It’ll be a fun day, I’m sure you’ll enjoy it. Maybe we can do a bit of Omenport shopping once we’re done.”
Shadowstep looked at him with joy. She signed, About time! Can we go look at your Sterling Company stuff? I want to see what you do! Maybe we can go see Uncle Huck and Priscilla! Her earpiece lit up, beaming her thoughts right to the people (and kami) around her. A very utilitarian gift from Biilziebub. She was practically vibrating with excitement, something Gesserith found absolutely precious.
“Sure kid, why not! Can’t guarantee Huck’ll be there, but I sure hope we can see him again.” Under his breath, he whispered, “Not that he particularly wants to see me.”
Breakfast was finally ready: Pancakes carefully laced with blueberries with some chocolate milk from Snilliam, with some sausage on the side. The chocolate milk had set him back a pretty penny. Apparently an item in high demand. But for today, he would spare next to no expense for his daughter. A great meal for the adventure he had planned for today. High in everything a balanced breakfast could ever need.
As he went to get dressed and prepare his backpack, he performed one final weapons check. He called his halberd, Lightbane, which emerged from the air with strands of shadows. Still sharp. Still enchanted. Still ready to fight. It had been acting up recently, appearing as it wanted without Gesserith’s input. Th’ich’che wanted him to uphold his end of the bargain. He hoped the old god would be so kind as to grant him compliance today. He observed his gauntlets, one of which housing his custom hidden blades. He flexed his wrist, ensuring both the inner pivot blade and outer stronger blade both operated properly before turning the safety on. Finally, he quickly glanced over his custom Oasis Hawk, a thunder pistol of a somewhat more recent make. Hefty thing, but he could handle it just fine. He hoped, deep down, he would not need them today. He strapped his pack together and reemerged to his family.
The three set out from Nido Sanctuary out to the Omenpath. Haruko floated behind the two, keeping a condensed form to not take up the whole sidewalk. Though most days they would catch a bus there, today Gesserith decided to walk out there, giving him a reason to enjoy the day and catch some fresh air before they brave the sands of Thunder Junction. ‘Just trying to make the day better before it’s time,’ he thought.
Walking through the city, Gesserith pointed out a few locations they hadn’t visited together, noting down some particular places that looked interesting. Shadowstep even chimed in at times, wanting to stop at a tailor and an ice cream parlor. While he wanted to stop, he knew they had to keep on going, so they kept walking towards the Omenpath. Eventually, they found that the road ahead was blocked, so they had to take a detour. The sunlight slowly faded out as they reached an area far more separate than Gesserith would have liked. The paved sidewalk gave way to a bumpier mass of shattered concrete, and the buildings abruptly changed from a clean brick exterior to pipework that delved deep into the heart of the city, farther than the eye could see. Shadowstep tugged on his arm. I don’t like it here. We should go back, she signed. Nodding, Gesserith turned about face to get back to the main route.
A series of shadows covered the ground as a sneering voice emerged. “Well well well, what do we have here? A Broker, so far out of his territory.” A gang of Riveteers closed in on the trio. “Where are you off to, Contract Boy? ‘Cause it sure ain’t back to the Sanctuary.” They started to chortle. “You know, I’m feeling pretty nice today. For today, and today only, you just have to pay a little toll. Then you’re home free.”
Gesserith positioned his daughter behind him. Haruko silently grew among the shadows, blotting out the remaining sunlight, though Gesserith didn’t notice. “First off, that name is reserved for friends only. Second off, Omenport.” He rustles in his pockets, finding a few coins. “Here, that’s your toll, right? Now let me and my kid be off. We have a day ahead of us and I just want to spend some time with my daughter.” He chucks a small bag at the fiends. “Now take it and let us by.”
The head Riveteer counted the coins. “Sure, that’ll do. Just watch yourself and your kid. And whatever that… dark blob is. Let’s go, boys.” They all headed out, laughing at each other for the easy score they just got. Gesserith was nearly snarling under his breath. Shadowstep was audibly snarling. Haruko was… floating, as Haruko does, though the shadows soon receded back into her form. Taking her hand, he guided Shadowstep out of the darkness back towards the path to Omenport with Haruko closer behind. Nothing else would get in the way of their trip.
As they stepped through the Omenpath, the bright sun immediately shined down overhead, the first thing that welcomes any visitors to Thunder Junction. The second thing was the sand immediately buffeting their faces and lungs. Or what would be a face, in Haruko’s case. A harsh welcome, sure, but one that informs travelers to prepare for the desert or die trying. Fortunately, Gesserith was well and ready for the environment, handing out a hat and bandana to Shadowstep and securing them, much to her chagrin. I’m old enough to handle this, you know, she beamed.
“Yes, you are. You are very capable. However, Thunder Junction is a very harsh place. I just want to make sure you don’t get swept up or end up in a coughing fit or get heatstroke or get stung by a scorpion or wander into a dragon’s lair or-” He looked down. She got the point. He led her towards the main town, filled with enough shops and saloons to power a small government’s economy. Omenport would be in a good spot if people could establish one. It could be a place of potential, yes, but one of order and stability as well. But alas, Gesserith had other matters to oversee, like enjoying the day with his daughter.
Shops, saloons, restaurants, and more dotted the sandy streets. Smithies and tailors prepared the travelers for the environment, and expedition markets made a home for all sorts of traders. To begin with, they went towards the tailor, to fit Shadowstep for some decent clothes for the environment. She hated every second of it — needing to sit still, having someone constantly nearby and grazing her to take measurements. But she did, since she knew it would both help her later and make her dad just that little bit happier. She ended up getting fit for a simple leather outfit, rugged and strong. It didn’t especially feel nice on her skin, but it was better than the sand and sun.
Exiting from the tailor, they passed by a few shops on their way to the Sterling Company outpost for the area. Many times Shadowstep wanted to stop and check out the wares, and that many times Gesserith said no and that they would return once they were heading home. The outpost was a steely thing, standing tall above the nearby buildings. It was gilded lightly since everyone knew the embellishments would get worn off in a week. Showing his ID to the entry clerk, Gesserith moved inwards to the armory and the board. He was hailed by a nearby mercenary. Her flashy Fioran fit was accented by the traditional silvered Sterling Company accents. A custom thunder pistol sat on her hip. “Hey hey, if it ain’t the Broker? How’s it going, chief? Who’s the pretty looking shadow over there? And… who’s the kid?”
Gesserith met her, shaking her hand and patting her back. “As I live and breathe, Mia! It’s been a while! How’s the wife? How was the vacation?”
“Oh, it was great! Avishkar is so pretty. All the lights and nature everywhere, it felt so good to finally get out of here for once, away from all the ‘politics’ back home too. But enough evading.” She pointed to the entourage in an accusatory fashion, like a detective in an old noir flick. “Who’s with you? Who are these dangerous foes? ANSWER ME!” She put on a mean face. The twinkle in her eyes never left.
Haruko floated forward and signed. Haruko, Kami of Restless Shadows. I am from Kamigawa, and I am bonded to both this idiot and someone else. She gently whapped Gesserith on the head. It is lovely to meet you. Haruko silently waved and bowed, projecting some very lesbian thoughts through the bond. Gesserith neglected to mention them.
“Hello, Haruko!” Mia gave a bright smile, dropping the act and shaking her hand. “You seem like a very lovely kami. Alright, Edmund. Clearly you’ve been around a little. Who’s the kid?” She gave a small wave to the young one behind the Broker.
“This, Mia, is my adopted daughter, Shadowstep.” He brought Shadowstep out from behind him. “Shadowstep, this is Mia. We’ve worked on a few bounties together. She is one hell of a shot. She could take the hat off a Slickshot here from across Prosperity.”
Mia laughed. “So THIS is the kid you’ve told me so much about. It is a pleasure to meet you, Shadowstep!” The two shook hands. “Alright, Edmund. Er, well, the older Edmund. What brings you out here today?”
“Any smaller bounties on the table today? Figured I’d show my kid here a little bit of the action. Something real small though. Trying to mostly relax today.”
“Here, I’ve got one. I was going to take it easy today, but you deserve it more, old man. You and your knees. One Slickshot, easy as pie. Take a look.” Mia called him over and brought him in close. She whispered, “Edmund, are you… sure about this? You could take the time off, you know. Relax, like you want to. Stay out of danger. Keep her out of danger. You don’t have to do this. Enjoy your trip and just go home.”
He gave her a glance. “I need to do this. I need to prove to myself that it will be fine. That it isn’t my fault. It’s just the one. I can handle this. I’ve gotten a lot stronger. I have learned quite a lot. I need to put this to rest.”
“Gess…” she whined.
“Don’t. She will be fine. I will be fine. Just let me take this job, and I’ll get it out of my system for good. Please,” he bargained.
A harsh silence stood between the two. Both stared down the other. Mia cracked first. “Fine. Take it. If I find you wound up dead, I’ll bring you back and kill you myself.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way. Thanks, Mia. I won’t let you down.” He picked up the bounty note, waving it at Shadowstep. “Alright kiddo, bounty acquired! Let’s go find us a no-good dirty rotten scoundrel!” Gesserith took her out and back into Omenport main. All Mia did was sit and look out with pity as she scrounged the board for a new bounty.
They rode off to the bar where he’d been informed the bounty laid. As they approached, he made sure Shadowstep was sticking close to him. The crowd standing outside was a lively bunch. Lots of jabber filled the air, none of which was particularly important. Before he was able to enter through the swinging doors, he was stopped by some ruffians. “Woah now, pal, you haven’t paid the entry fee yet. Boss only wants customers that can spend a little cash.” That sneering tone was similar. Too similar. Gesserith made some room to see his face. It was the same Riveteer from earlier who caught him in the alleyway. Gesserith’s face was recognized as well. “Well would you look at that. Same knucklehead needing to pay the tax twice in one day. Ain’t that something, boys?” The rest of them laughed alongside the leader. He put his hand out, waiting for the payment.
Gesserith sighed, just done with these idiots. Rifling through his pockets again, he groaned. “Look fellas, I’m on an outing with my daughter today, so I’m travelling light. I was going to get ice cream for both of us, but unfortunately, I need to collect this bounty. So here.” He puts another bag of coins in the outstretched palm. “Now let me and my kid through.”
An oddly long time was spent carefully counting out each coin. The leader replied, “Well, I don’t think this is enough to let you in, sorry bud. Come back again when you’re a little richer.” He put the purse in his pockets and turned his attention elsewhere. He failed to recognize the hand moving towards his shoulder, spinning him around to face Gesserith. A hand closed around his ever-so-snappable neck.
“Look here, punk. I’m not someone you want to mess with. You’ve already drained me twice today, and I’m here with my kid. Now you are going to let me pass. If I see you again, I’ll pay you double the missing amount, okay? I’m a man of my word. We don’t need to get into a fight here, just let me through.” Gesserith’s eyes bore a hole through the Riveteer in his grasp.
The leader shoved him off, taking a moment to recuperate behind a few of his goons. “You know what, old man? Sure. Fine. You can go. Hope you don’t see us again. Let’s go, boys.” Him and his gang walked off in a huff, glancing back multiple times. Gesserith checked to make sure his daughter was still okay. She was just fine, almost looking like she was about to draw her dagger herself. He looked at that look in her eye with pride. Part of it was just her instinct. But he felt that part of it was his influence. Hoped, even. He debated bringing her in to join him, letting her have a go. But for today, he sent her to stay close to Maynard, his horse, and with Haruko. He didn’t want to risk her. Maynard could fend off a small army if he tried. Hell, he’d saved Gesserith a few times. Haruko was a kami old and revered enough to do anything she wanted to. Shadowstep would be safe.
It was well-lit for a place out this far. Dingy and rank, yes, but well-lit. The floor stuck to his shoes as he walked past a few bight signs dotting the walls. Bills of various planes were stapled to the ceiling, floor, and seats. The rattle of dice nearby masked most of his steps as the crowd cried out in a loss. They were getting scammed anyway. Die goes into the lap; they can never win. He moved toward the bar and ordered a small glass of something weak. Had to stay sharp, after all.
He spotted the mark across the bar. They weren’t paying attention, trying to glance at a darts game and down the round of shots in front of them. An easy takeout. Moving easily through the crowd, he approached unnoticed. With a single blow to the back of the neck, they fell at once. He went straight to the process of cuffing them, tying them up, and bringing them outside. The bar practically cleared the way to let him through. People looked at the Broker with varying reactions. Some fear, some disgust, some contempt, some shit-faced drunkenness.
Haruko started talking to him telepathically from outside. “You made that quick. I figured you would have drawn that out a little. Made them feel it. Maybe I would’ve joined if you let me,” she sneered.
He walked for a moment before he replied. “Lazaro’s condemnation makes me… unsure. I don’t want to do more than I need to. If I do this for the public good – which I am doing – then I’m going about it the right way. I just need to be merciful and let the proper people deal with it. You’ll have your time again, Haruko. When someone deserves to see your true potential. Don’t waste it on this lowlife.” He felt a twang of pride come through as he got back to his family.
Once he got back to his kid and kami, he boasted. “That is how it’s done! In and out, and that there’s-” he plops the body on back of Maynard, “-a bounty. Now c’mon kid, let’s go turn this in. Off we get, Maynard. Hi-yah!” Haruko sank into his shadow. Gesserith brought his ankles in and cracked the reins, and Maynard shot forward.
And so they rode back to the Sterling Company outpost, delivering the bounty for a small reward, enough to have some fun later. Mia had left earlier to pursue her own bounties, so said a note stabbed into a table with a very fancy knife.
Shadowstep sighed from boredom and tiredness. She signed, Dad, what are we doing now? We’ve done the clothes thing and the work thing. Can we go shopping now?
“While I would like to, there is one last thing we need to do. I need to do, more accurately. But I really want you to come with me. It’s really important to me. Please stick it out just this little longer?” He asked sincerely, though she didn’t have much of a choice anyway.
She glared at him for a moment. …Fine. But you owe me after this.
“I owe you anyway. Now let’s go.” He guided her out and set off on a lengthy journey out into the wastes. Gesserith sang a few Capennan swing tunes on the way out to keep the ears busy and the minds calm.
They rode for some time, eventually reaching an inconspicuous pile of wood and stone. The remains of some sort of shack were being reclaimed by the desert as the wind continued to tear piece after piece away from the rubble. Three years gone since the building was destroyed. Since his family was destroyed. They dismounted, and Gesserith opened part of his pack to pull out some food and water for Maynard. Then he brought Shadowstep and Haruko over to the small spot, carefully laying out a few items: a candle, a book, and finally a framed picture. “This… this is why I brought you out here today.” His voice was far shakier and more solemn than it usually was.
Haruko hovered opposite the father and daughter, knowing everything that was going on. Shadowstep looked at him with some level of interest. She signed, Someone you used to know?
Gesserith was doing all he could to not break into tears. “Yes, she was very close to me. Sit down for a moment.” She sat on the sand, and he did the same. “Do you remember that story I told you, way back when at the orphanage? About me and my friend, Nadine, when we took out all those bad guys and rode off together?” She gave a very timid nod and a worried look. “…I lied. That isn’t how it went. We got out here, but we were overwhelmed. We were beaten. Tortured. Treated like prey. When it got down to the last guy, he was quick. I was tired. I couldn't handle it after I took a shot myself. I tried to save her. Nadine… I… I… I watched her die, right in front of me. But I sparked, right then and there. Ripped away from her. I was forced to run away. I failed.” He finally let go, allowing this side of himself to show. The side he kept far away from anyone. The side that could have weaknesses. Just as he did a year ago, he wept.
And just as someone else did a year ago, they comforted him. Shadowstep said nothing, only hugging him tight. Haruko covered the two like a blanket, finding a cool warmth to envelop them. He embraced her back, and they stayed just like that until it had all left his system. Even the unwavering must let out their emotions sometimes. Better than letting them consume you, driving you to cruel and unjust actions.
“I’m sorry, Shadowstep. I know it wasn’t my fault. I know I did all I could. But still, it haunts me. It’s why I’m always looking out for everyone. Because I’m scared that if I don’t, I’ll lose them too. Lose you. I can’t see someone else that close to me die again. I’m sorry for dumping all of this on you, girl. I thought I could keep it together. This is a very important part of me, and I wanted to show it to you, without all of, well, this.” He let out a short chuckle, finally cracking a smile. “Thank you for tolerating me and all of this. But now you know.”
With that, he reached for the sketchbook he laid out earlier. Pulling a pen from his coat, he started drawing in the sketchbook, capturing a fine angle of his daughter to record for tradition. The sand shifted beneath him, the wind stung at his eyes, but he had found his muse. It was a bit easier to draw human features rather than a rat’s, but both were near to his heart all the same. A shadowy hand on his shoulder grounded him. This time, he took even more care into capturing every piece of the visual before him. His canvas may not have changed, but the intent finally did. Finally, after a painstaking amount of time, he finally showed her the finished product: a beautiful monochrome portrait of his beloved daughter. Her eyes bright and full hope, her hair back with the wind, a gleam in her pupils showing the thrill of the hunt. And most of all, an ear-to-ear smile, brimming with her boundless energy.
She gently took it from his hands, poring over each little detail, captured perfectly. Eventually, she closed it, hugging her dad once again. The sand started picking up once again, but Gesserith did his best to keep his daughter safe while still holding her close. But seemingly, the sand moved right through them. In a moment of realization, he let go. His brow furrowed as he gazed at his environment. “No. No it couldn’t be… could it?” He gathered himself, sitting cross-legged on the ground. “If there’s a chance, then let’s hope Gouvle and Vasro taught me well.” Both daughter and kami looked at each other with confusion.
Gesserith took the sketchbook back and began performing a slow and delicate ritual. Movements he had practiced in the dead of night, hidden from anyone who would ask too many questions. A light blue emerged from the ground, and a series of circles began carving themselves out of the sand. Around him, the wind began to pick up, swirling around him slowly. Haruko was in front of Shadowstep, ready to protect her from anything that might go wrong. With an intense focus, Gesserith continued the ritual. Not all the parts were correct. His training, though constant, was no match for genuine experience. The spirit’s cooperation, though, was what mattered most. The sand whipped faster, reaching further towards the sky, almost purposefully avoiding everyone nearby. Carefully, the Broker spoke out to the desert. “Last year, I tried this, with no knowledge or practice of what I was doing. I thought you were gone. But now I know. You will come back to me, I promise. Please, come back. Please.”
The sand swirling around him began to rush past him, swirling in a large ball right above his makeshift shrine. Gesserith concentrated, barely moving other than speaking some nearly audible phrases and slow movements in his hands. In the final move, he carefully brought down his hands and opened his eyes. Looking up, the sand before him began to condense, drawing from the world around it. An arm emerged from the sphere, then a torso, and finally a fully formed body and head. A soft smile came from the sand spirit.
“Hey there, old man. It’s been a while,” she teased.
Gesserith gave a nervous laugh as tears flooded his eyes again. “Nadine. Nadine tell me it’s you. Please.” He broke down as he ran over to hug the girl.
Nadine embraced him back. “In the sand.” Her voice shook a little. “Hehe. I’ve missed you, Gesserith. I couldn’t just leave you hanging like that.” They both laughed through the tears.
After some time, she decided to start the conversation first. “Who’s the girl?” She drifted over to Shadowstep, who was having a very interesting time analyzing the spirit before her.
He finally got back up, still shaky. “That, Nadine, is my adopted daughter, Shadowstep. Shadowstep, meet Nadine, my other adopted daughter, at least in spirit. Pun not intended, this time.” The two shook hands. “And before you ask, the other one is Haruko, Kami of Restless Shadows. Her and I, and someone else, are all bonded through Kamigawan magic.”
Haruko gently waved again before staring at Nadine. She signed, Hello, Nadine. You seem very nice. And pretty.
Gesserith looked over. “Easy, Haruko. I can feel the lesbian from here. You’ve already had enough for one day, sheesh.”
“Wait, did you say feel?” Nadine piped in. “You two are connected?”
“Yeah, it’s part of being bonded. A telepathic connection. Almost like acting as one, if it ever comes to it. It’s a story I can tell you later.”
Shadowstep, feeling left out, chimed in. How did you two meet? What happened? The message hit everyone’s heads a moment later.
Nadine gave a sweet laugh in return. “I could ask the same to you, kid. But we met a while back, before this whole Omenpath deal. My parents weren’t exactly there for me, so he took me in, taught me the important stuff. I overheard your conversation earlier, and yeah. That’s the deal. It’s kind of weird being a spirit. Gives you a lot of time to reflect on stuff. Well, Gess, you’ve taken up drawing?” She glanced over at her old sketchbook.
“Only because of you, Nadine. I’ve made it a ritual, almost. But I think I have a better idea for how to carry it on. Hey, Shadowstep?”
What? she replied.
He holds out the sketchbook. “You’re an up-and-coming artist, right? Why not have something to write your ideas down? Have some inspiration? Maybe show all your friends at school?”
She takes a moment to consider it. But isn’t this really important to you? I don’t want to take it away from you, she asks.
“It is important to me. But so are you. What better way to show both than to give you something like that? I will be fine. I’m strong, don’t worry. You just take it and have fun. Just don’t lose it.” She finally takes the sketchbook. After taking some time to flip through it, she motions for Gesserith and Nadine to get closer.
Nadine looked puzzled. “What’s up kid, you wanna get us together in there?”
With a nod for a response, she drifted into a position to the side of Gesserith, placing her arm behind him, with his going over her shoulder. With some small talk passing through, it took Shadowstep a few minutes to complete her drawing, occasionally flipping back through the book for reference.
Eventually, she stands up, going over to the two, showing a drawing shockingly accurate for such a short time. Gesserith’s glasses glinted in the desert sun, and Nadine’s sandy trail wrapped around the Broker. Both stood tall and proud. “Jeez, kid,” Nadine said, “some talent you’ve got there. You could do some good work with that. Maybe someday you can come back here, and I could teach you a thing or three!” Nadine moved closer to her level and started pointing out certain parts she liked and giving criticism to others. She was going to become a well and true artist, before she died. The skill persisted, though, and so did she.
As the teaching continued, Gesserith looked out on the horizon. The wind had finally died down, but a cloud of dust approached in the distance. It was unnatural, though. A sound of thunder came from beyond, consistently moving towards them. He made out a figure in the distance. Then another. Then more, all coming out in a rough formation. He couldn’t tell who they were, but they weren’t Sterling, he could see that much. He hollered. “NADINE! HARUKO! Come over here, quick.” As they drifted over, he started pointing out the threat. “Hostiles inbound. Gotta be about 10 or so. What do we do?”
Nadine let out a sigh. “No other choice but to fight. Can’t run anywhere, it’s wide open. Any chance you know who they are?”
“Unfortunately, I have a hunch. Ran into some Riveteer knuckleheads earlier. Told them off, hoped that would do the trick. But here we are. Fuck, I don’t want to do this. Not now, not here, not today. Not with her. Damn it all, how do I do this?” He started violently pacing.
Nadine spoke calmly. “Well, you’ve learned a lot, haven’t you? You’ve grown. You’ve gotten stronger, you said so yourself. Three years ago, you fought your hardest to get us both out. You did everything you could. So do it again.”
“Last time I failed. Last time you died, and I was ripped away. Last time we lost. We need to run, find a way out that isn’t through THEM.”
“You know damn well running can’t work,” she fought. “Even with just a couple of them, they tracked us down. A full force like this will get to you in minutes. You have to fight.”
“I can’t. I won’t. I will not risk my daughter’s life.”
“And running away won’t risk it? Are you deaf or dumb, old man? You can’t run.”
“Damn it, I KNOW! I just, I can’t do it again. See it happening again, all in front of me. When I sleep, I still see your face, your arm reaching for me. I can’t handle that again. If she dies, I… I…”
Haruko stepped in front of the two, staring square at Gesserith. She spoke through the bond, but signing as well. “Listen to yourself. You’re refusing to work on the problem. You’re already scared to make the same mistake again. But the times have changed. You’re stronger. Much stronger than them. Show them why this is their last mistake, to underestimate you. Make them pay for threatening your family again.”
Gesserith gazed out at the incoming force, then looked at his family. His family. The people he cared about, and who cared about him. The people he loved. He swore to protect them, forever and always. As long as he drew breath, he would keep them safe from harm. That’s why he sparked, after all. From a sheer will to protect and serve others. He had never run before. He was always first to the lines, offering support where needed, whether in a medical uniform or geared for fighting. He was first to engage a threat, leading the charge. Even when he became the aggressor, throwing his force against the people who didn’t deserve it, he only relented when his friends knew he was wrong and dragged him back from the brink. Today would be no different. He would keep his family safe. No matter the cost.
He went over to his daughter. “Shadowstep, listen to me very closely. Things will not end well. I’m going to keep you with Maynard, away from the action. You are to stay there and away from everyone else. Keep your dagger ready. If I can’t make it out, take him and run towards Omenport. Find someone, get home, and call Vasro. Under no circumstances are you to follow me. Okay? Promise me.”
She started signing. But I can-
“No.” His voice ended it there. “You will get out of here alive, no matter what. And if the gods or angels or whatever cosmic force wills it, so will I. I swore I’d keep you safe. I will.” He pulls her into a hug, gently kissing her cheek. “I love you more than anything else, in this world or any other. Please, live.”
A small whisper came from her lips. “I love you too. Come back.”
“I will. But first, I need to make sure this doesn’t happen ever again.” He wiped a tear from her cheek, and rose, wiping his own face once he was out of view. As he walked out of earshot, he summoned Haruko and Nadine for a pre-battle plan. “Make no mistake about why we are here. This is an extermination. I ask that you let me command your power, both of you. I need to make sure they stay dead and gone. I will show them why they should have left us alone. Haruko, I need this to be me in control. Whatever we need to do, I need to put enough of myself into this so they know that they made this mistake. So I can show them what it means when they threaten my family. So I can feel the hope of escape leave their faces. So I know I can do this.”
Nadine turned in shock. “This isn’t like you,” she pleaded. “You don’t need to kill them all. What happened to the Gesserith that at least showed some mercy? What changed?”
Haruko floated in front of him. “Your condemnation,” she scolded through the bond. “You can’t. You won’t, or else Arturo won’t get to have anything left to eat.” She joked, but both could feel the hands of the vampire dads resting on his neck.
He debated for a moment, then turned to the Nadine. “I’m not sure what you’ve heard, Nadine. Whispers from Capennan visitors. But I tried that once. Killing everyone. Because I thought it would help. I was wrong, and I only stopped because some friends went into my head and pulled- no, forced me back. I got a second chance.” He paused, stroking his beard. “And now I’m paying for it slowly. A… an acquaintance of mine has put me on a… program. That I can’t kill anyone unless absolutely necessary. So if I come to a situation where I can leave someone alive, I will try. But I make no guarantees. If I don’t think it’ll be safe to run, I will continue until it is.” He flexed his wrist, observing his hidden blade still in its sheathe. “Nonlethal is not an option here. Not as it stands, not with this many.”
“…Fine. Just, please be in control.”
He let out a chuckle of a man seeing the noose before him. “I’m always in control,” he lied. “Now let’s get this done.” Nadine fell into the sand around her. Haruko retreated into Gesserith’s shadow.
Shortly after, the gang arrived. Gesserith took a deep breath before approaching them. As per usual, the Riveteer leader was the first to engage. “Well hello there, old pal! Gosh, it’s been so long since we’ve last seen each other. Say, my memory is a little fuzzy, remind me of our deal we made?” He flipped a hefty-looking knife around in his hand.
Gesserith looked at him, deadpan. “Next I see you, I pay double your tax.”
Some applause came from the peanut gallery. “Well done! Your head’s still there in your old age. Now, whatcha got? Where’s that bounty you collected from the one you nabbed from our turf?”
“I doubt whatever I have isn’t enough to cover what you want.”
“Good point. So let’s get right to the point.” He took out a cigar from his pocket and lit it up, taking a long breath. “You’ve got two options here. Option one: We take you and your kid back to Capenna, you work off your debt, and you’re home free. Option two: You resist, we beat you to a bloody pulp, and we take the kid with us, and we have a new initiate on our hands. That, or some hands to work in the steel factory. So what will it be?”
The Broker stayed calm. “Before I give you my answer, can I get your name? Just so I can make that personal connection. Helps with decision making, y’know?”
He shook his head, smile reaching across his long face. “For your last wish, sure. Name’s Ridill. I just know how to get things. Money, people, you name it, I can get it. But back to business. What’s your choice?”
Without a moment’s hesitation, “Option 2. I’m not going down without a fight.”
Ridill laughed. His posse started to expand around him. Gesserith looked at the uniforms surrounding him. Riveteers. Hellspurs. Slickshots. Must’ve taken a lot of pay to get them to work together like that. Though, for his reputation, some of them might have done it for the hell of it. Ridill tossed the cigar on the ground, blowing smoke out into the wind. “Final answer? We’ll make this hell if you don’t make this easy for yourself.” His boot landed on top of it, crushing out the weak flame.
Gesserith counted their numbers. Thirteen of them. It really was three years ago all over again. He straightened up. “Don’t you know thirteen is an unlucky number? You should turn around. I just wanted to spend a day with my kid. Don’t make me do this,” he challenged.
“There’s only one of you. Unlucky or not, we’re not going to lose this. Any last words, you sad excuse for a father?” The gang began to prepare their weapons.
The sun beat down upon Gesserith. “Before you all die, let me tell you who exactly I am. I am Gesserith Edmund, chief advisor for extraplanar relations of the Brokers.” He summoned Lighbane, his halberd. “I am bonded to Haruko, Kami of Restless Shadows.” Haruko emerged from his shadow, forming large dark objects on either side of him, her mask affixed to her body climbing ever higher with the shadows blotting out the light. “I am a planeswalker, who has witnessed the multiverse on a scale known to so few.” He affixed his bracers, turning the safety off on his blade. “On this very plane, I felled an archangel and stole its essence through my contracts and music.” He took a few steps forward. “I tried to remake Capenna in my own image and was stopped only because my friends were strong enough to make a difference.” He loaded his thunder pistol and turned the safety off. “I forged a deal with an old god out of a desire for power and recompense.” Lightbane hummed with an old power, its etchings glowing a bright purple and green. Shadowy tendrils lashed at the remaining light. “But above all else, I am a father. I saw one of my children die here, in my own arms, three years ago today.” Sand began swirling around him, creating a whirlwind of pellets. “I will not make the same mistake again.” At this moment, the void objects from earlier took form, attaching themselves to his back. With a beat of his wings, he rose into the sky. “You have threatened my family.” His arms stretched out to his sides, dust continuing to whip around him. “I am the angel of your death. Witness true strength unleashed.”
They brought up their weapons and fired relentlessly. Effortlessly, he brought up a shield and dove towards them, spear aligned with his body. Right as he got near the ground, he vanished with nothing but feathers of shadow left in their path. Shocked, the gang whipped around, scanning the area for the threat. Confused murmurs rang out. Suddenly, he emerged from the shadow of the Slickshot in the back. Rising, he swung his halberd along her spine, slicing straight and clean. She fell immediately. One.
Throwing the spear into the ground, he propelled himself to it with his Lightbane’s power, slamming into the sand. As the ground was torn up beneath him, it started whipping around him, throwing some of the gang to their feet. Through the gaps, he took aim at a Riveteer who was trying to get a clear shot. They were too slow. Two.
Taking hold of his halberd again, he charged towards a minotaur Hellspur. The minotaur held his ground, tanking the first blow. But before he could block another, his ankle was cut from underneath him from the halberd’s hook. With a kick to the knee, Lightbane’s tip pierced his head. Three.
Now he found himself back on the edge of the fight. A shot rang out, blazing past his ear. He could feel the heat come off the shot as it whizzed by, striking the rock behind him. He returned the shot by throwing his halberd, hitting square in the chest the same Slickshot that fired at him. Four.
With a beat of his wings, he flew forward and used the momentum to punch a viashino Riveteer in the jaw, knocking him away for some time. A fellow family member retaliated, finding a spot to kick Gesserith firmly in the chest. His head whipped around, grabbing the leg and tossing them up before throwing them back into the sand. The viashino recuperated, slashing out in a wild fury and drawing blood from Gesserith’s arm. He took the opportunity to yank an arm forward, breaking it and pulling the viashino close. A deep stab from his hidden blade cut deep into their scaly flesh. Five.
A cactusfolk Hellspur charged alongside another racoon Riveteer, melee weapons at the ready. Gesserith recalled his spear from the nearby corpse, throwing it past the both of them. The racoon jumped off the Hellspur, aiming for the head. Gesserith grabbed him out of the air, with his eyes fully glossed over in a Halo-tinted darkness. He tossed it aside to Haruko, who emerged from his wings and grabbed the raccoon, disappearing into the nearby shadows. Gesserith held a defensive position, amulet glowing bright with shield unwavering. Haruko soon reemerged and attached herself to her bonded human. The Riveteer did not. Six.
The cactusfolk spun around, sprouting thorns around Gesserith. Staying calm, he recalled Lightbane, but rather than bring it towards his hand, he let it move just barely past him. He brought his arm around again and again, with the halberd following along to the movements. Sand began to swirl around him in a vicious whirlwind. Taking flight once again, the sand swirl followed. Ridill gazed at the storm approaching and dove into cover nearby. But he wasn’t the target. Gesserith dove at an aven Slickshot, woefully unprepared for the target to also be flying. Gesserith kicked her in the chest, bringing her to the ground and following up by meeting them at Ground 0 and knocking her into the thorny swirl around them. Over the whipping of the wind, her screams could be heard as the thorns and sand tore into her skin and wings. When the storm subsided, all that remained was bone and scraps of feathers and skin. Seven.
Shocked by the efficiency seen before him, the cactusfolk started firing off thorns and thunder salvos in Gesserith’s direction. He effortlessly conjured a shield, marching forward with fury in his eyes. By the time he reached the Hellspur, they were exhausted. Dodging an extremely slow swing, Gesserith cut relentlessly until the cactusfolk before him was naught but prickly juice. Eight.
By this time, the tossed Riveteer from earlier had gotten back up, flanked by more family members. Ridill had found his place in the back, occasionally launching globs of nailbombs at Gesserith. He yelled from the back, “WHAT THE HELL! THERE WERE THIRTEEN OF US, HOW ISN’T HE DEAD? SOMEONE KILL THIS FUCKER!!” As he aimed another shot, his launcher was sniped out of his hand by Gesserith’s thunder pistol, causing him to take cover yet again. The guy up front had an improvised fist weapon with an attached jackhammer. Credit where credit was due, it was creative. But also vulnerable. As he made for Gesserith, the Broker was met with multiple pokes as he advanced and was forced to retreat. He took a swing, but because of the unwieldiness, it missed, diving itself into the sand. As the jackhammer pounded sand, Gesserith brought an axe kick down onto their back, followed by the halberd’s tip. Nine.
He took to the skies again. Out of ranged options, the Riveteers below could do nothing but hold a defensive position with the remaining four. Gesserith flew higher, using the sun to obscure his movements. At once, he dove, snatching one that was blinded from looking up and hauling them upwards once again. Once at the apex of his height, he began to spin, building up momentum to eventually slam them back down to the ground below. Ten.
One of the final few was a druid, bending what parts of the environment they could into a weapon. A pillar of sand shot up, trying to grasp Gesserith. But as it approached, is simply began to swirl around him, forming a protective spear. He threw Lightbane at Hellspur commanding it, causing the channeled sand to fire right at him. The halberd struck the ground and the sand rushed right behind it. Though the halberd missed, the sand found its way in. It filled the druid’s lungs as they collapsed, being choked from the inside. Eleven.
Without hesitation, he dove back down, performing an crisp stomp on the final one that wasn’t Ridill. The inertia plus the impact against the ground sealed the deal with a crunch that echoed across the battlefield. Twelve.
He stood up straight, wings outstretched in a manner Falco Spara would be proud of. Slowly, he walked forward, eyes locked with Ridill. “I should kill you where you stand, you whimpering dog. You aren’t deserving of a warrior’s death. But. I made a deal earlier, so I will give you three chances.” He kicked him over and willed the halberd to hang out right over Ridill’s head. “Run, I kill you. Piss me off any more, I kill you. Threaten to do anything other than what I tell you to do, I kill you. Now. You have three chances to explain to me why I should not consider you a future threat and let you go. Talk.”
Ridill continued to whine and whimper out of sheer fear. “P-p-please, please, don’t, please…” He shriveled up into a curled ball.
Gesserith knelt and smacked him hard across the face. Grabbing his shirt collar, he leaned in close. “Listen to yourself. Sniveling, begging for your life. Where’s that arrogance from earlier, hmm? Where’s that will to fight?” He dismissed his halberd, grabbing Ridill by his hair and pulling him to his knees. He took a step back, reloading his thunder pistol. “Ridill. I am giving you a chance to live. Why should I let you live? WHY?!” His rage was only tempered by the channeled spirits within him, and only barely.
Ridill continued to stutter. “Becau-cause I did-did-did-didn’t mean to- “
The pistol came to his forehead. “Didn’t mean to? Really? Sending a whole posse after myself and my daughter was just an accident? Telling them all to quote ‘kill this fucker’ was just a slip of the tongue? Bullshit. That’s chance one. Next excuse?”
“I’m young! Stupid! I don’t have anything to learn from! Haven’t been in school since I was 12!” Ridill started crying and shaking while staying as upright as possible under threat of a clean shot through his seemingly useless skull.
Gesserith hesitated. “Okay. Sure, I get that. Riveteers probably aren’t big on education unless it goes right back to their benefits, right? Right?” Ridill nodded, or did a motion as close to nodding as he could manage. “But it doesn’t take a genius to understand that when a man is trying to spend a day with his daughter, he doesn’t need to be jumped or extorted or attempted to be killed. Congrats, you’re down to your last chance. What’ll it be, Ridill? What will make your life worth sparing?” The pistol charged up, staying firmly on his head. Gesserith’s trigger discipline was the only thing stopping him from firing. He didn’t let Ridill know it, though. “Answer the question, Ridill? Why should you live?”
“I make things! Things people like! I can do more for people?”
“Like what?” Gesserith raised an eyebrow.
“Li-like parks! Yeah! I made one recently. Down in the Caldaia. The kids, they, they love it! I’ve done other things too. The uh. The bridge on 37th and Olorco? Yeah, I helped with that! See! I can live! Right? Please?”
Gesserith let out a little noise of curiosity. “Hmm. You like public works projects? Do you like seeing the joy it brings everyone?”
He nodded vigorously. “Yeah! It’s great! Please I promise that if you let me go, I’ll make more! A nice big shiny park! For you and your daughter! Real pretty! PLEASE I’M BEGGING YOU LEMME LIVE!!!”
His arm stayed firm as he breathed, slowly and deliberately. He locked eyes with the assailant. He saw fear. True, unadulterated fear. Something deep within him saw the opportunity. To push on the opening. To finish this. To make them pay. But then he felt a pair of eyes, far away from where he was. Eyes filled with hope. With ambition. With love. With a future that could be saved. With a future that could be shared. Together.
He lowered his pistol. “Here’s what you’re going to do. You are going to run straight home. You are going to inform Ziatora herself of everything you did. Everything. And if I don’t hear anything about a park or anything of that sort in the next two months, I will find you and kill you. I have already assassinated a Riveteer before. Do not think I cannot track you down and hunt you and kill you. Do we have a deal?” Ridill didn’t move. “Get the fuck up and look at me.” He grabbed his neck, hauling him up to stand and staring into those terrified eyes. They stared back. “Do. We. Have. A. Deal?” Ridill extended his hand, and Gesserith met it, letting go of the Riveteer. “Then it’s settled. Now go. If I see you again before I leave, you won’t.” Ridill bolted off, occasionally tripping over himself, never once looking back.
At this point, Gesserith finally loosened up, taking a sigh of relief. He then promptly collapsed, exhausted from channeling Haruko and Nadine, as well as pure physical exertion. He glanced over at his arm, still bleeding from the viashino’s slash earlier.
Shadowstep came running over, his pack with the medical kit slung over her shoulder. She rifled through the bag as she made her way to her father. She knelt and started attending to the wound, applying a cleanser that resulted in a lot of unsavory words coming from Gesserith’s mouth. Eventually the bandages were applied, and both rested for a moment, finally safe.
Gesserith spoke first. “That’s it. They’re gone. You’re safe. We’re safe. It’s okay. It’s all going to be okay, I promise.”
She signed back, You’re going to be okay. You are going to be okay, right? The worry was translated flawlessly by the earpiece.
He placed his hand on her shoulder. “Yes. In no small part thanks to you. Are you holding up okay? Are you hurt?”
Yes, Dad, I’m fine. Maynard and I stayed back, just like you told us to. I didn’t know you could do that.
He moves to stand up. “Thank you. Now, let’s go ho-urghhhh. Ough. Oww. Oh shit, everything hurts. Oh angels, why can’t I move?” He looked at his arms and legs, and by sheer force of will, commanded them. “Come on, up, let’s go, here we go, aaaaaand UP!” His ascent was quick, but staying up was harder. He clung to his halberd for support while slowly making his way to Maynard. Helping his daughter up, they mounted and rode off back to Omenport, practically sprinting the journey.
As he rode, he had to keep himself awake and vigilant, constantly trying to keep himself from falling unconscious while riding his horse back home. The occasional knock on the back of the head from his daughter didn’t hurt either. Well, it did, but only a little. The motion of Maynard’s gallops gave something else to latch on to. Anything, at this point. Haruko and Nadine were both silent. Nadine’s presence in particular slowly faded as they rode away from the ruins of Gesserith’s greatest failure and greatest success.
Riding past the Sterling outpost, they saw Mia on her way out to another bounty, seemingly already finished with her one from before. As she galloped over, she hollered cheerfully, “Heya chief! Haven’t seen you all day. How did that bounty… go… what happened to you?” She got close, carefully examining him, seeing every bit of torn clothing and bits of dried blood adorning his person.
Slowly losing the will to remain awake, he carefully answered, “Ambushed. Had to take care of them. Make sure she didn’t get hurt. I won. It just cost me a bit of flesh, blood, and the will to do anything else. Could I, uh, maybe use the Sterling medical unit?” The pain coming from his voice implied that it wasn’t a question.
“Oh gods, please, yes, let’s fix you up.” She glanced over at Shadowstep. “Alright, cooler Edmund. If it’s alright with you, I’m going to take your dad in for some repairs. Shouldn’t be too long. Is that okay? You can come in, if you’d like! We have snacks!” Shadowstep glanced at her dad, weary and barely able to sit upright, then gave a hasty nod. “Good, great. Alright chief, let’s get you in. Off we go.” She carefully guided him off his horse, taking him inside into the medical wing.
As she sat him down, she carefully examined the wound. Whatever the viashino did, it certainly left a mark. Aside from the flesh wound, it must have had some kind of poison excreted from it or something. The gash had already begun to fester in the short time it took to retreat to Omenport. “How in the world did you manage this? What did you even do?” As she unwrapped the bandages, he winced as his injury was exposed once again. The flesh was dark and off colored, with various bits of stuff leaking. “Who did this to you?”
“This is the most I’ve seen you worry about me, I think,” he joked. “I assume you’re looking for the longer version?”
“Please. FYI, this is gonna hurt.” As soon as the last word left her mouth, she dumped a disinfectant right onto the wound. Instant searing pain coursed through the area. A harsh scream nearly got out of his mouth, but he held it in and kept himself contained as to not startle Shadowstep. As he tried to contain his emotions, the lights and medical equipment began to shake around him. Mia gazed around with a mixture of curiosity and fear.
After the pain subsided, Gesserith carefully opened his mouth. “First of all, fuck you. Any warning would have been nice. Second, I’m bonded with a powerful kami. I’d bring her out, but she is probably extremely exhausted, as am I. I channeled both her and Nadine’s spirit at nigh maximum power. Third, the story. Some Riveteer fucks cornered us and extorted us back home. We got away, came here, did some stuff, ran into them again after we met. Lo and behold, they came after us with more people. It was either slavery or death. So I fought. The last one, their leader. I told Nadine I would consider saving the last if it made sense. So I made sure he was worth the saved shot. I hope he was.”
Mia stopped for a moment. “Okay, woah, slow down. Nadine?! Didn’t she die?”
“She did. A year ago, I performed a ritual to bring her spirit back. She disappeared soon after. I thought she was gone forever. But I guess it was just because she was newly summoned and because I wasn’t trained. So now I have a forever friend here. Dead, yeah, but better than dead and gone, I hope.” He pulled out a locket from his pocket. “Family’s just been a shaky thing for me, recently.”
“Says the man who fought off an army to save his daughter that isn’t even his own blood.” She finished up the stitches. “There, all done. SHADOWSTEP, YOU CAN COME IN NOW! And you, Gesserith, can have a drink from the cupboard. Consider it the treat for being such a good patient. And a good father.” She handed him a small bottle of gin.
Shadowstep emerged from around the door. Mia encouraged her to come in, pushing away the medical carts lying about with a variety of sharp objects. Shadowstep would’ve loved to grab a few, but alas, she was being watched. Old habits die hard. Are you feeling okay? she signed, thoughts reaching the room. I heard a lot of shaking going on.
He nodded his head in agreement. “Yeah. Blame her for not giving me any warning before doing stuff. Jerk. Anyway, I’m all patched up. I know I promised you some shopping today, but could we go home? I’ll make it up to you later.” The weariness in his eyes suggested he didn’t have much left in him. “But we should head back for now. Mia, thank you for this. It should nip this in the bud, minus the scarring. Next time, we’ll take a bounty together, all right? I’ll ease up on the solo missions for a while.”
Mia patted him on the back. “Atta boy. Now you two get on home. And Gess? Please, for your own sake. Take a break and relax for once.”
“YEAH, THAT’S WHAT I TRIED DOING TODAY.”
“Okay, yeah, true. Fine then, maybe go somewhere with more laws. Regardless. Have some fun, old man. Go live a life with your daughter. And Shadowstep? Get him up and moving sometimes, make sure his joints don’t rust over!” Both women started cracking up. Gesserith stood up, looking done with everything. Mia smiled. “Have a good night, you two. Sleep easy.”
“You too, Mia,” he responded, taking Shadowstep outside of the medical room, and outside to Omenport main. By now, the sun had nearly set, and the cold desert wind had begun to set in. The moon was barely visible. Shadowstep grew restless. She looked up at her dad with what looked like a primal fear in her eyes. “Right, that. This plane’s moon shouldn’t have any effect on you. Same as home. You’ll be okay. But I’ll hobble faster. We’ll bring Maynard back to the stables and then straight home. Is that okay?” She nodded and smiled, which was more than enough to keep his spirits up until they got home.
Through the Omenpath they stepped, and the sights and smells of Capenna circled them once more. A car horn blazed in the distance. A blinking sign ushered people to a nearby bar. But most of all, his daughter was with him, safe and sound.
Once they got home, he clicked on the lights. Pudge perked up, crawling from his little home to greet his dad. The furniture was just as clean as when they left. The dishes in the sink, less so. Not that he cared. The great window overlooking the city invited a host of miniscule lights to gaze out on, and many opportunities to ponder. If you could make it here, you could make it anywhere. He had already made it enough.
He dropped his pack, cleaned off his weapons, and poured some of the gin he had rightfully earned. Once Shadowstep had gotten into bed, Gesserith went in to say goodnight. As he took a seat next to her on the bed, he sighed, “Today was a very long day, huh? I promise, it’ll be better from here on out. No more of that, or so I hope to whatever powers may be.”
You were very cool today. I wanna learn how to do that someday, she signed slowly, falling to sleep.
“Someday, maybe. But that’s for another day. I’ll teach you to defend yourself right. Maybe Haruko can teach you kami channeling. But remember: That’s what I’m teaching you. Defense. What I did today only happened because it was either us or them making it out of there alive. If I ever hear you started a fight, not even Falco Spara will stop me from drop kicking you from here until tomorrow. Okay?”
Okay. I love you.
“I love you too. Goodnight, Shadowstep. See you tomorrow.” He turned off the light and closed the door behind him. He fed Pudge, gave him some scritches that had been sorely missing today, brushed his teeth, turned off the lights, and put on his sleepwear.
His bedroom seemed so much barer in the darkness. Only silhouettes of things like his dresser and desk were able to be seen. As he pulled shut the curtains, the light from down below slowly drained away as something deep within him began to pull him asleep.
He sat on the bed and looked at his hands. He had killed before. Many years ago, he did so out of duty. 3 years ago, he did so out of protection. He had done so recently, out of vengeance and spite. And he had done so once again, out of protection. He would’ve loved to talk to Haruko. But the channeling had left both kami and human exhausted. His own company would have to do. “Well. You’re home safe. She’s home safe. Nadine is still out there. A good day. You did what you had to do, Edmund. Your daughter is alive because of you. Talk with people in the morning. Talk to Lazaro. Sleep now. You’ve earned it.”
The exhaustion finally won over. His head and muscles gave out, Haruko fell out of his body, and sleep took him away. That night, he dreamt of a bird, soaring across the sands, over the place of his most recent triumph. That night, he dreamt of his friends. Of Nadine. Of his daughter. Of Koda and Haruko. They all looked at him with pride and acceptance. Some looked more disappointed than others, a feeling he knew all too well. Gouvle glanced over, seeing the sorrow and the joy laced in Gesserith’s face, and simply smiled in response. Lazaro’s gaze fell upon his sin-stained body. There was a deep contempt, but a hint of understanding behind the priest’s scowl. Arturo’s eyes narrowed in hunger, prepared to finally feast on the Broker who had wronged his son, his husband, and so many countless others.
But of everything he could feel, the only thing he remembered once he woke was love.
One. Under no circumstances is anyone, on any plane, for any reason, to go into Duskmourn. It will kill you, or at the very least leave you a hollowed shell of who you were wishing you had died. If you see a door with moths on it, report it to EVERYONE and keep people far away from it.
Two. I am going to be busy tomorrow, personal business. I will not respond to any messages or requests for help. I will address any and all concerns Monday. Thank you for the cooperation.
Renaissance sat in an office chair that felt...frankly, too nice for them to be using.
It was made out of real wood - the kind from a real tree that was grown in the real ground to full adult size, not the recycled composite stuff the Riveteers made and used. That meant it was either very old, or imported from another plane entirely, and therefore very expensive. Though, due to the lack of a stasis enchantment, it was...probably safe to assume the latter. At least lady Parnesse hadn't gone completely all-out with the furnishing...
Their office in the new Maestro headquarters was, much like their own apartment, not a place they spent a lot of time in. Most of their work was of a much more direct nature, requiring them to be out in the field with their agents rather than behind a desk. The space had been left mostly empty in the past two years...meaning it had been the perfect blank canvas for their current project.
Strewn across the desk was an assortment of papers. Documents, newspaper clippings, photographs - all of it concerning one man. A leonin in his late 50's. Retired from the front-lines, but still high-up in the management side of the Brokers.
Chester Winters. The Scarlet Angel's next target.
The more Renaissance learned about Chester Winters, the more they realized how perfectly he encapsulated everything they despised about the Broker Family.
First of all, he was disgustingly wealthy. He and his wife Wilma were rich - enough so that they lived not only in Park Heights, but in the high-end, newly-rebuilt, luxury boroughs of Park Heights, the parts reserved only for those with both money and connections to spare. The penthouse-mansion they shared was massive, taking up the top five floors of the skyscraper it was part of, and they’d clearly spared no expense. The security wards alone must’ve cost a fortune. At least ten times what Ren made in a whole month, probably.
They spent their lives in luxury and safety, their every need cared for, their every whim fulfilled. Meanwhile, their own son was fighting to keep his family fed and struggling to hold a job, all because they'd decided he wasn’t trying hard enough.
Speaking of, second - he was full of himself. He had the type of self-important attitude that made Renaissance’s eyes roll into the back of their head. According to what they’d been able to dig up, he’d been claiming for at least three decades that he was descended from royalty. Not the same kind as the Maestros, though, oh no – he’d always been careful to insist that his ancestors were of a different stock from Xander’s. A better, more noble kind of ruler. Whether it was true or not, the claim itself still made them chew their tongue in annoyance.
And third...
He had apparently always insisted on his children having children of their own, to carry on this “noble bloodline” of his. As anyone could guess, the children that fell outside of those expectations got less of his attention than the ones who didn’t.
Case in point...Ren's new neighbor. Clayton Winters. The saddest, most pathetic excuse for a Broker agent that Renaissance had ever seen, and that was saying something. A leonin naive enough to take in a teenage boy from Kamigawa when he himself was already struggling. But also one stubborn enough to stand up to the piece of shit that'd fathered him, and with enough guts to leave the Family over it, to boot.
Judging by both the adopted son and the large oni who had moved in with them shortly after the two had arrived, it was safe to guess Clayton was not interested in preserving his father's bloodline, at least not in a way the man would approve of.
Renaissance let out a quiet sigh, putting down the report they'd been reading over for the third or fourth time. All things considered, this had been one of the easiest targets to narrow down so far. The idea had practically fallen into their lap, in fact, with how willing Clayton had been to start talking about his troubles with the old man. Perfect timing, too - they'd been having trouble finding a suitable target ever since their last kill.
Wilma Winters would be attending a dinner-show with a group of friends, later this evening. Ladies' night, apparently, which meant Chester would be at home by himself for at least a few hours after she left. More than enough time for them to work with. But the real problem was the live-in servants he employed. If even one of them saw, or overheard a struggle...
The too-expensive desk chair spun as Renaissance pushed themself away from the desk, groaning and crossing their arms. They needed to get out of their own head. Less thinking, more doing. That was the only way they were going to get through this. Roughly, they stood up, swaying a bit from the continued motion of the chair. And...probably the compounding lack of sleep, but...that was a problem for a different time. Right now...they needed to focus. They needed to get to work.
Night had fallen on the city by the time Renaissance arrived in Park Heights. The air was cool and clear up here, a welcome change from the ever-present smog and smoke of the Mezzio and Caldaia. Far above their head, they could see the protective shield of Halo that surrounded the city, an ethereal shimmer in the darkened sky. Even though they couldn't see the stars, they could feel each and every one of them watching their every move, enraptured by their performance.
They had changed their outfit for the evening, wearing standard-issue Maestro formalwear and a pair of black leather gloves. Their coat and a clean set of clothes were waiting for them in a nearby safehouse, one they hopefully wouldn't run into trouble at, this time. The amulet with the Maestros' crest still hung around their neck, of course - that was a key part of this costume.
In their hand, they held an ornate silk masquerade mask, the only method of disguising themself they'd bothered taking - a set of six red angel wings, crossed over one another to cover the top half of their face, save for the gaps through which their eyes peered out. Delicate embroidery gave texture to every individual feather, and detailed beadwork made it look like the shoulder of each wing was dripping with fresh blood.
It'd taken them a full week to finish making the damned thing, even with the help of magic and undead stamina. It barely even didanything to actually hide their identity, with how easy to recognize their horns were, but...it was something, at least. A mental barrier, they supposed, more for their own sake than for their victim's.
The mask was the sort of artistic touch they'd always wanted to add during the first run of Scarlet Angel kills, but one they'd never gotten the chance to bring to reality...until now. Hell of a silver lining to this shitshow, but they'd take whatever wins they could get. Maybe someday they'd get to wear it in a less gruesome context.
With a quiet sigh, Renaissance donned the mask and straightened their back. They checked the time on the temporary communicator they'd brought, then took another few seconds to prepare themself, leaning their back against the wall of the half-demolished building they'd been waiting in. Deep breaths, Angel. In through the nose, hold, out through the mouth. Pretend that the audience doesn't exist.
After a moment, they stood up fully, eyes closed, inhaling slowly as they did so. Their back straightened, their hands floated out to their sides, and their head tilted back so their face was turned upwards, towards the night sky. Then, with one last exhale...their eyes opened, glowing pale gold in the darkness. A breath later, they seemed to fully vanish, the Benefactor's magic turning them completely invisible.
Show time.
For all the money the Winters had spent on security - the wards, the alarms, the lockdown procedures, the small team of guards keeping watch from the roof - none of it stood a chance against a sufficiently determined Maestro.
A pair of small constructs, built to resemble ladybugs, buzzed from the palm of an invisible hand over to an open window on the south side of the building. Settling on either side of it, they began to channel the enchantments housed in their cores to pull open a hole in the fabric of wards and alarm-triggers woven across the building. None of the threads could be broken, only stretched - that was the key to not setting them off. The bugs sent a mental ping to their owner when the job was done, and a moment later they vanished as they were scooped up and returned to an unseen pocket.
Their target wasn't hard to find once they had entered. The intel they'd gathered claimed Winters had a private gallery that he enjoyed spending his free time in. Sure enough, when they found their way to its location in the house, he was already relaxing inside, the door left wide open. It was closed and locked quietly behind the assassin as they slipped inside.
Renaissance had to suppress a noise of distaste when they looked around the gallery, though. Inside, rather than the paintings and statues they had expected, they found a collection of the strangest sculptures they had ever laid eyes on.
They were blocky, abstract shapes, with barely any texture on their surfaces at all, sitting at odd angles throughout the large, blank-walled room. There were flat sheets of metal, cut and bent into organic and nonsensical shapes; tangled structures of tubes, suspended from the ceiling with wires; giant blocks stacked on top of each other, looking like they could fall and crush the viewer at any moment. Though technically impressive feats of creation, they supposed, Renaissance couldn't for the life of them understand why someone would want to display such things in their own home.
In their disbelief, they failed to consider the possibility that they had led themself into a trap.
A throwing knife whizzed past Renaissance's neck, missing it by an inch, embedding itself in the side of the sculpture they had been examining. Spinning around with a hiss, they saw Chester Winters standing a few feet behind them, leaning his weight on a cane and staring directly at the invisible devil. He could see them, or at the very least, knew that they were there.
"Enjoying my gallery?"
His voice was even and well controlled, sounding unimpressed and almost bored. With a low growl, Renaissance dropped to a fighting stance and launched themself at the leonin, letting the invisibility fall away as they did so. Their pact knife collided with a glowing blue shield, conjured half a foot away from his face. The attack, at least, made Winters raise an eyebrow and crack a smile.
"Ah...Ambassador. Or, should I say...Scarlet Angel? To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Something flashed in his hand, and Renaissance just barely managed to dodge out of the way of the slash of his knife, hooves clattering against the stone floor as they skidded back. Chester twirled the weapon in his hand. The handle was the same design as his cane, which now lay unused on the floor beside him. A hidden blade, then. Smart.
"I don't think I need to answer that question, Mr. Winters," Ren growled, straightening themself back up. "You've read the papers. You know why I'm here."
Chester's smile twisted into a sneer. "I'm going to enjoy turning in your bounty."
The Maestro pressed the attack again. Their knife clashed against another shield, but this time they used the momentum to spin into a second attack, dodging his counter-attack and forcing Winters to stay on the defensive.
The two of them danced like this, trading blows back and forth, for a while. Too long, in Renaissance's opinion. Was he stalling for reinforcements to arrive? They'd better wrap this up quickly.They narrowed their eyes, and the air around the assassin began to shimmer strangely. When their blade hit yet another conjured shield...something that looked like glass shattered around them. Invisible shards rained down on the leonin, leaving gashes and cuts in their wake.
Chester Winters hissed in pain, stumbling backwards. And as he did so...his leg, the one on the opposite side of where he'd been holding his cane, twisted underneath him. He began to fall.
They had him.
A hand made of shadow flew forward, wrapping itself tightly around Winters' throat. He made a rough gagging noise as his fall was roughly stopped, and he was dragged back towards Renaissance. Their knife had been swapped for a pistol.
All they saw when they pulled the trigger was red.
Renaissance's breathing was still heavy and ragged by the time they finished their work.
The art created after a kill was an essential piece of any Maestro's performance. In certain circles of the Capennan art world, what a crime scene looked like when you left was just as important as whether or not you got caught, if not moreso. For most assassins, that meant leaving a calling card of some kind, either a literal object or a symbolic throughline to hint at a piece's creator.
But for the Scarlet Angel...
The thing that had made them such a sensation in the first place wasn't the imagery itself - although they had always prided themself on their painting skills. But it was the emotions they were trying to express that had truly captured the city's attention. Emotions so deep, so powerful, that their owner seemed unable to express them through anything but the medium of another's death.
...That was what the critics had always said, anyway. Renaissance had never been fully convinced.
Maybe it had been like that, once. Back when they'd first graduated as a real Maestro, when they thought they really could take out the entire Broker Family by themself, one higher-up at a time. But that had all been a long time ago when they'd first awakened their spark, let alone now. Now, it all just blended together in their memory into one big, red smear.
Their gloves were absolutely covered in blood.
Large, red angel wings spread out on the floor around Chester Winters' body where he'd been lain, in an empty spot in his own gallery. From the way he and the wings were positioned, it looked like he might have fallen from heaven, and died on impact with the ground. The hole between his eyes where he'd been shot did shatter the illusion a little bit, but sadly, that couldn't be helped.
Renaissance sighed wearily, straightening up to do one final check of the room. Everything was in its place. The diamond-shaped eyes they'd painted on the walls stared down at them mockingly. They frowned up at them in annoyance. They were already regretting using that particular symbol, the one they'd first seen sketched in Sir Epoch's grimoire as a student. It made them feel even more watched than usual. Too late to change their symbolic vocabulary now, though...
Grumbling quietly, they wiped their gloves off on their clothes, leaving dark red smears across any fabric that wasn't already black. Then, with one last glance around the room, they closed their eyes, and their body became invisible once again.
The Emperor. A regent on a silver throne, centered and authoritative. The art was crisp, all straight lines and right angles. Authority. Rigid boundaries. But the confidence of the ruler assured victory. A guiding hand to a safe future, not unkind, but firm.
Stability in structure.
The Queen of Cups. A matron at the head of the feast table. A ladle in one hand, serving from the pot under her other arm. The attendees are well-fed and joyous, celebrating while the queen smiles serenely in her duties. An ask to care, for those around you, for those who need it, for those who care for you. A call to act, no matter how small.
Stability through simplicity.
Two paths. To walk the path ahead, or to break from the steps of those who left before her.
She knew what the paths were. She had already been dwelling on them, between exploring Kamigawa and spending time on The Silverwing.
She had made friends on her sister's ship. She liked Ihrin. She enjoyed spending time with Saztagoro. They would watch movies, or talk about their adventures, or read the newspapers of other planes. But the rigidity of it grated on her. Everyone was locked into their cycles. The ship itself transited to many of the same places, stopping to pick up or offload supplies. Chores were done, repairs were made, and while it was no clockwork mechanism (like sometimes she suspected the captain wished for), it was suffocating for someone not already ingrained in the system.
Her presence now was like a fly in ointment, an eyelash in the eye, a burr in a hard to reach spot.
But it didn't have to be. The longer she stayed the more they all adjusted. She could make a place there. They would take her.
But would they want her?
The other path was less clear, but she felt it in her bones at night as she lay awake at her brother's place in Kamigawa. She could be out there. Rather than passing through these places, or remaining tied to Theros as she had been, she could go. Her siblings had built lives here for themselves. Proteus helped travelers at the Omenpath. Herminia split her time between helping at the orphanage and her duties as a heireia to a dead god. Octavia had her ship, and her crew. A family she had built on her own.
Nona wanted that. To build a place. To carve out her own niche somewhere where she wasn't just the little sister to someone else. To sink her teeth into home and never let go, leave somewhere forever scarred as hers. To know what it was like to have people who knew her for her.
But before there would be a home, there would be isolation. And that was terrifying. She had never been alone before, not truly.
Would she be able to survive on her own?
The choice tormented her dreams, kept her from her peaceful rest.
She had seen how Octavia's shoulders relaxed when Nona left the ship. She had enough to worry about, and the added anxiety of watching her little sister grated on her. Her sister was jumpy at the best of times, and her need to keep tabs on Nona made her flinch from every small noise.
Proteus and Herminia tried, but she spent most of her time alone, wandering Kamigawa. They had Chortos to raise, and work to do, and a million and one little tasks to keep them busy. There was no time left for her, and she was old enough take care of herself now. They had already done their job raising her when she was small.
She stared at the ceiling on the small room in the Cherry Blossom Orphanage. The shadows danced from the window, the night life of Kamigawa reflected into her room.
She would go.
She just needed to figure out how to tell them.
Dividers by @jasper-graphics, who also did a tarot reading for this!
Renaissance was ready, that night, when they awoke in the crumbling castle ruin. It was the first time they'd slept alone, after all, since the Scarlet Angel had returned.
Like always, the Benefactor seemed to wave their concerns away as easily as a cloud of smoke.
"I told you I wouldn't send you after her directly. I never said your own actions wouldn't have consequences."
Ren growled in the back of their throat, swishing their tail low against the ground.
"You knew this would happen. You orchestrated this on purpose!"
Their patron turned to smile at them.
"I did nothing of the sort, my champion! If you'll remember, that beast you've adopted-"
"Stop calling her that!"
His smile fell.
"Fine then. Your 'daughter', if you still insist on it."
He took a step forward. Ren stood their ground, but their ears slowly began to angle back.
"If you'll remember...she wasn't even in the picture when you agreed to pick up the knife again. So that's hardly my fault. And besides..."
He was right in front of them, now, smiling calmly down at them. They glared up at him in turn, refusing to back down.
"...did you really need me to tell you that people would be upset? I figured you'd be clever enough to see that was going to happen before now. Don't tell me you thought you could keep it from them forever?"
The muscle under Ren's eye twitched, but...some amount of their resolve left their eyes. Just a bit. They didn't say anything.
The Benefactor grinned.
"Really, though, isn't this best for everyone here?" He took a step past them and placed a hand on their shoulder, beginning to circle around them. Their posture stiffened. "Your beloved and the beast are kept safe, and now you have free reign to continue your performance."
Ren bit down on their own tongue. Even in this 'dream,' they could taste the blood in their mouth.
"...And what if I don't want to continue?"
The hand on their shoulder tightened its grip, just slightly. He was behind them, now, leaning down so his head was at a level just above and behind theirs. They could smell stale blood and rotting meat on his breath.
"Then I'll simply be forced to find more creative ways to motivate you."
Ren began to growl again, staring straight ahead. They opened their mouth to speak, but all that came out was a sudden grunt of pain. The bracelet around their wrist had begun to glow, and their right arm spasmed wildly as a feeling like getting shot with an arc spitter coursed through it. They gritted their teeth and grabbed the spasming hand...but then winced and cried out as the pain increased, bringing to mind the burning, stinging memory of their arm being dissolved in a sea of acid.
The assassin had soon collapsed to the cold stone floor, convulsing as the agony slowly spread up their arm and through their whole body. The Benefactor practically stepped over them to approach his throne again, unfurling a large pair of bat-like wings from his back as he did so.
"Now then." He sounded almost bored. "You will continue to do as I've ordered. I'll let you continue choosing your own targets, for now, but...hmm..."
He looked to the side, tapping his chin in thought for a moment. Then, he smiled.
"...that detective has become a real thorn in your side, hasn't she? I mean, it would make this all so much easier if she were...out of the way. Don't you think?"
Ren's eyes widened in fear. They were still on their knees and convulsing, their whole body wrapped around their arm. With the last bit of strength in them, they pushed themself up to meet his gaze again, one final scream leaving their lips...
Renaissance bolted up in their bed with a cry of pain and alarm. Tearing the covers away, they grabbed for their right arm, which was...
...no longer spasming. Shaking a little, sure, and still bearing the scars from the ritual, but...fully under their control. There was no pain anymore, either. The bracelet glittered innocently around their wrist.
Closing their eyes, they slowly forced their breathing to slow down. As they did so, they picked through what they could remember about when they were last awake.
There had been an argument. Mocca didn't want them in her apartment anymore. Not if they kept killing, anyway. She had a daughter to protect, now, after all.
Their daughter...
A rescue mission on Ixalan. Mocca had gone missing, and in the awful place she'd been taken...she'd bonded with a baby regisaur, one that had been given psychic powers by the lunatic holding them there. Litchi, they'd started calling her. She was smart, and curious, and energetic, and she loved to chase rats.
The adoption had been an unexpected wrench in Ren's carefully-laid plans. They hadn't expected someone so...vulnerable, to get caught in the crosshairs like this.
But they hadn't even considered changing the plan. Not in the slightest. It hadn't even crossed their mind.
And that scared them.
And now Mocca didn't want them around her. Which meant they'd had to sleep on their own last night.
Ren sighed, slumping forward and rubbing their palms into their face. They didn't even feel like they'd rested. The dreams from their patron didn't actually count as sleep, they guessed. Typical.
With a groan, they pulled themself out of bed and towards their shower. They had a long day of work ahead of them.
you know you’re too attached to a fictional character when something bad happens to them in a thing you’re writing and you just sit there afterwards feeling like you dropkicked a puppy
