#plot movement

She's standing on the far side of the Steps when he finds her again, arms folded in her usual fashion, but her armor is missing. Sent off, like as not, the damaged plate dented and cracked under the force of a great axe's heavy swing and in rather dire need of repair. She's instead standing in a cotton blouse, thin enough that the light of her crystal shines through it, and a pair of breaches and her thigh-high leather boots, a gash still ripped in the left and revealing the stitched and cauterized wound that had wrent the leather in the first place. Her red hair is cascading, long and wild down her back to just at the middle, rustled by the wind. He strolls to stand beside her, gazing over the edge of the bridge to the murky, misty depths below where light nor eyesight could not pierce.

"So?" he says at length, hands in his pockets and one eyebrow raised curiously.

"Plans are set. When the Speaker comes, we let him do it."

He eyes her with a mixture of scrutiny and obvious doubt. "Sounds like a quick way to see yerself killed, luv."

"I won't be dying." The simplicity of the statement throws him a moment. There isn't confidence, or any manner of boast in her statement. It simply is. He quirks an eyebrow and runs his tongue along the front of his serrated teeth, watching her for several long minutes.

"Hm. An' what role, pray tell Commander, do you 'ave for me in this little plan o' yours? Continue to be yer shadow? Not sure I'll want tah be in the room wit' ya when you're comin' down like that."

She shakes her head. "No, something else. I want you to steal something."

His eyebrows lift in clear surprise and he looks at her with sudden suspicion. "That bein'...?"

"Information. Find out how the Jailer gets his orders, the manner of delivery by which he receives them, and if possible, a way to hijack it."

His suspicion gives way to a wicked sort of delight and that wide, jagged grin spreads across his face. "So yer takin' my suggestion, then?"

"I am. Lock 'im up tight, set by the Jailer's chains. We won't be breaking him out."

"You tellin' the rest?"

She pauses a moment. "No. Not all of it, anyway. They don't need to know about losing the glass, and they don't need to know that I'll be going through withdrawal, or that we're planning on using this as an opportunity to find an absolute cure. Not just filterin', not just removing the shards and praying. A real cure, and perhaps if we're lucky, a vaccine."

She holds a hand up, a pair of thick envelopes clutched between her index and middle fingers. "For the left and right hands. There will be a network-wide missive delivered by raven later on today as well, but see to it that these arrive at their destinations without interception or fault, aye?"

She hadn't been thinking at all about warning signs.

Her Latin was good, taught from an early age, and the spell's words were simple. Every book she read had said it was not as hard as it appeared. Of course, it would always be more difficult at such a grand scale... but she knew this was her chance to prove herself. So many respected Gundam, thought of them as powerful and grand, and this was her chance to garner that same respect. Not for her princess antics, but as her own person...

Her own witch.

And when the bright light came, when the glowing matter slid out of everyone's throats and down its rightful body, her heart beat so fast she felt close to exploding. A wild grin came upon her face, and a rush of wind came up from the circle, floating her hair, whipping it against her cheeks, her shoulders. It was long again, and she knew she was in her rightful body; she could see Kuzuryuu across from her. In a rush of excitement she reached beside her for Kazuichi's hand, and then--

CRACK. 

So after this Read More is a small exert from my silly story thingy, and yeah it's not the greatest, but it's what i'm up to right now,

Jerking awake from a light doze, Zebediah looked up to see Ezekiel leaning against the wall opposite of him, smiling at him. The smile seemed off, though – not quite up to Ezekiel’s usual cheer.

It put him on edge.

“I mean, you got your store, and it’s doing well. You got your baby – she’s a beaut, she really is. You’ve got me, and I’m the only family you got left to call yours, yeah?” Grin widening, Ezekiel nodded and shrugged his shoulders as if this were all old news – that he was just repeating well-known facts. “And you got Doctor Allen Townsend. A doctor, and a good one at that. One of the best Westfield’s got, I’d wager. And hey! He just happens to have a heart of gold and a smile like the sun.”

Zebediah blinked slowly at his cousin, head canting to the side as he tried to reason out why Ezekiel was talking about this. When had he come into the flat, anyhow? Why was he here?

…What time was it?

“I mean, it’s like for every shitty thing that happened to you, something good’s happening! Son dies and Annie leaves you? You got your shop and car! Ben kills himself? That’s when I enter the picture! Kill a guy and then you,” here Ezekiel mimed drinking from a bottle and popping some pills, “well, there’s Allen. For every fucked up deal in your life, you got a little sunshine. S’gotta be nice.”

“Ezekiel, why are you bringing up this shit?”

“I’m just saying, man, that it just seems like maybe life’s lightening up on you. Maybe God’s decided you’ve had enough trials – it’s time for your reward.” Ezekiel paused here, and that smile twitched a bit. “…or maybe not.”

“…what?”

“Well, I mean. Yeah. You got the store. And you got the Impala. And I’m still around. But we’ve been here for a while – we’re not going away. Not unless something big happens. But Allen…” Here Ezekiel trailed off, and he pushed away from the wall, walking over to Zebediah’s armchair and circling it quietly – predator around prey. “Well, Allen doesn’t have to stick around, does he? What’s holding him to ya?”

“…he loves me,” Zebediah said softly, rubbing his forehead. “And I love him. Zekiel, you’re never this pessimistic—”

“Ah, love. Pretty word, isn’t it. William writes about love, you know. About its ups and downs. About the in-betweens. The explosive sex that’s hidden within. He writes some good sex scenes – you’d be impressed.” Grinning, Ezekiel shrugged. “But, you know…love’s just a word. Your mom and dad loved each other, right? A lot, I’d wager. Got married and had you! …then your dad found Jezzy, and, well, there went that love. Out the window!”

Ezekiel stopped pacing behind him, hands settling on his shoulders as he leaned closer to talk into his ear.

“And then there was Rachel. Pretty little Rachel – you were crazy for her. But mummy and daddy scared you off from relationships – they didn’t last, and you were a product of that. Would you last with her?” His breath was hot, and it made him uncomfortable to feel. Too close, too close – to so many things in that moment. “So now she hates you. Gotta burn, man, gotta burn.”

Fingers drumming on his shoulders, Ezekiel seemed to make himself comfortable.

“And then Annie. Oh, you were in love. And then your baby boy smothered in his sleep and Annie lost her marbles. And she left your ass and took half you money – due to that alien in the suit and bowtie. And she was gone, and that love was dead. Love seems to die around you, Zebediah. Everything you love seems to go away. Your parents – daddy’s dead and so’s Jezzy~. Your dog – poor Gordo. Your mom despises you. Rachel hates you. Annie hates you. Who knows how long I’ll last – maybe a little longer since I got William to protect me from your poison love.”

“Zekiel…”

“But what about Allen? Are you sure he’s really in love with you? You’ve never even been on a  proper date – well there was ice skating. And that time at the museum. But not much else. How many people know you’re dating him? Has he even told his family?” A pause. “His baby brother knows, but he didn’t tell him, Richard just found out. That’s got to sting – it’s like he’s ashamed of you.”

“Stop talking, Ezekiel.”

“Maybe he is! Maybe he’s really just so ashamed to be caught breathing around you. After all, he’s a doctor. Highly educated. Sophisticated. Socialite and old money and all that. His house costs more than your life insurance. Why the fuck would he want to be seen with you? Barely passed high school. Didn’t even try college. You own a gun store – you sell guns. For a living. You’re not doing anything progressive for life, no matter what Mr Bob Hill, retired military who fought in Vietnam, has to say. You can’t cook; you can barely afford your groceries. And God, your drinking. You’re poisoning yourself. It’s a slow, painful, unnecessary suicide.”

“Shut up, Ezekiel.”

“What does he see in you, Zebediah Walker?!” Hands squeezed and Zeb winced. “What the hell does he see in such a fucking loser like you?! Wait.” An enlightened term came to his voice, and Zebediah almost threw up when he thought the word ‘enlightened’ because it reminded him of who Ezekiel was tangoing with these days. “What if he sees nothing in you? Oh my God, Zeb, what if he’s just using you?”

“…what?”

The question was weak. Ezekiel had pinpointed something that had come to him in the middle of the night, burrowing into his skin and breeding maggots into his mind.

“Think about it! High class, rich, sophisticated Doctor Allen Townsend, suddenly interested in middle class, poor, crass and crude Just Zebediah Walker? That only happens in William’s romance novels! No way, he’s totally using you. It’s so a scam. He’s experimenting before he finds some bitch to breed with and have more little genius Townsends to continue the family name. That’s how those families work, you know. There’s no such thing as ‘love’ – it’s all business.”

“No, you’re wrong. Allen’s not even capable of something like that – you know him, he’s too…gentle…for something like that.”

“So we think. We only know about Allen from Allen. He’s probably just having some fun – that rebellion before he finally realizes what he needs to do. Prodigal son – running off with daddy’s money and spending it all before he goes back ‘cause he feels bad. And the Townsends will be fine again and you’ll be left alone. Makes you wonder – did the prodigal son have a girl? Did he love her and cherish her and then dump her when it was convenient? Wouldn’t that be funny?”

Zebediah merely shook his head, arms wrapping around his stomach slowly as he tried to ignore the other’s words.

“Well, it makes sense, Zeb, you know it does. Why would a family like the Townsends – old money, high status, refined tastes in everything you lack – be interested in a family like the Walkers? We’re old, but we’re not classy. We’re old farmers, black smiths, and mechanics. We’re old news – we don’t even have a street named after us in Westfield anymore. You have nothing to offer Allen.”

“…I have myself.”

“Oh, yeah, there’s that.” Ezekiel nodded, and Zebediah relaxed a little, thinking Ezekiel might be going back to normal now. “But that just means you’ll hurt him. You break everything you touch, Zebediah Walker. You kill everything you love.”

Zebediah twisted in his seat to face Ezekiel, opening his mouth to shout a retort – to tell him to shut up – to tell him to get lost—

— And he jolted awake, tangled in his sheets, breathing heavily and sweating like a man who had just run for miles. Pressing a hand to his eyes, feeling dried remnants of tears, Zebediah scrubbed at his cheeks and shook his head roughly, hitting his forehead with the heel of his palm.