In The Department it was originally one of the Dept guys who shot Andy. There was supposed to be a confused melee during which several shots were fired and Andy went down. Nobody ever knew which of them accidentally winged him (except Andy...he knew) although it was going to be heavily implied that it was Cade grabbing the opportunity to get him back for the thing with his wife. *But* that was just what everyone else assumed...and Cade was terrified that he HAD actually been the one who did it, purely on accident, and that no one would ever believe it wasn’t intentional. At the end Andy was going to finally tell Greta who it was as she was leaving Weemeetwa.
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I had a lot of ideas about the recent chapter of The Flame of Tech Duinn that never made it in. One of the original ideas was that Diaval would meet a 'personification' of the Moors in the form of a creature or using the shape of a prior incarnation of the Phoenix known as the Summer Queen (for the sake of fae lore!). I dismissed that, preferring not to anthropomorphise it and let Diaval sort of discover things for himself instead of having someone tell him about it.
He was also supposed to meet the original Phoenix for himself and it's one of the few scrapped ideas for the series that actually got written. I removed it for a number of reasons, some of which I can't go into yet, though one is that the purpose of the jump back in time was to claim the torch and the Phoenix appearing after seemed kind of pointless. But here it is in case anybody wants to read this useless little excerpt!
A giggle sounded from the trees.
Urged back into focus, Diaval scrambled up onto his feet and back behind the tree again, only peeping out from behind it moments later. It was not out of fear but an acknowledgement of his own nakedness. While Mori’ka hadn’t even seemed to notice, it seemed highly disrespectful to present himself without attire and caked in dirt before … the original Phoenix, who he did not know, and who he assumed was the golden-eyed one peering back at him from the shadows of the trees.
He gulped. Diaval was really quite done with the Forest of Dreams for a good, long time, for it had no qualms with bringing him face-to-face with a raven spirit that belonged in his very nightmares - and now here was the Phoenix, too, who looked much like Maleficent but was not Maleficent. She glowed like gentle candlelight, offering warmth in that deep, dark place of the Moors.
He had the torch. It was really about time he went and took it to the woodland castle, but he suspected the castle would look very different and boast occupants that he did not know. How was he supposed to activate the ring again?! Darting behind the tree once more, he reached out a foot and tried to dip a toe into the Dark Pond, but he was just shy of it so ended up waving it about like an utter fool.
The Phoenix laughed lightly again. Diaval poked his head around the tree and saw her approaching, her smile radiant and alight in her expressive eyes.
“Is that you, Mori’ka?” She called out. There was an unsung song in her voice, one of hope, and Diaval truly hated to be a disappointment.
“Um - no!” He replied quickly, willing the fairy ring to do something. “Just another raven! Really!”
“That sounds like something Mori’ka would say.”
“I swear, Your … um, Magnificence, he’s just flown off towards the north! You’ll catch up with him in no time. I’m just here to hide the torch.”
The Phoenix, wearing the shape of what would come to be passed down to her children through generations, made a thoughtful little sound and did not cease her approach. She playfully leaped towards the crooked tree and poked her head around it to look at him, so luminous that she was almost blinding. She was young, Diaval realised. Perhaps younger even than Maleficent currently was.
“You are not him,” she said with certainty once she was done appraising him closely. “What a strange raven. Why is it that your kind hides from me while the others sing my praises in the sun?”
“Bein’ out there is sometimes a dangerous place for ravens ‘cause of how we look and sing. It’s nothin’ personal,” Diaval insisted, desperately stretching a foot towards the ring again. “Nobody else knows to appreciate our beauty for what it is.”
“I do,” the Phoenix said with a pout, and then she peeped around the tree a little more, trying to see more of him. “I thought to ask if you would like your wings back, but your soul seems remarkably at home in that body. How curious …”
Diaval moved to keep most of him well and truly concealed, and he was sure to keep the torch as far away from the woman as he could. Still, he kept his gaze on her, her presence suddenly filling him with hope.
“Your Great Shininess, I just want to go home. It’s a safe place. I’ll look after the torch and make sure no one evil takes it, I promise. I just want to get away from here and see my family.”
“I cannot help you. I have lost my ability to use the fairy rings,” the Phoenix murmured with a touch of sincere sorrow. She looked at him, and it was as though those bright, golden eyes could see through to the very core of him, even if it was evident she did not truly understand what she was seeing. Her features shifted between confusion and concern quite rapidly. “How mysterious these Moors are. This dreamlike place has ensnared many a lost soul. Do not let it claim you, too, no matter how dire things may seem.”
Diaval stared. He was not sure what it was she could see, if anything at all. It made him even more nervous than he already was. His raven-self, though beautiful, was something so small in comparison to her. She could break him into his tiniest components with a mere thought.
“You don’t deserve that,” the Phoenix said with a smile, and it took Diaval a moment or two to realise that she had directly answered his thoughts.
Maleficent very rarely did that. So much so that he sometimes forgot that she was capable of it. She never would have intruded on his thoughts without permission or unless absolutely necessary. It was alarmingly dangerous for the Phoenix to do so, so he stared blankly at her and tried to think of nothing else, nothing of his past or the future or anything that would compromise any of it.
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