#scribbling do

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

A future he’d awakened to what felt like centuries ago for him - the future he thought he changed; and every time he closed his eyes for slumber only to open them again, hoping it was a nightmare just to see reality laid bare.

Something must have occurred on the First, but how? How could that be possible after all they’d done? All they’d suffered, all the pain, the Light - that accursed Light the Warrior had taken unto themselves, all for naught!

Because the petals had bloomed - Black Rose was spread.

‘Twas some stockpile hidden elsewhere in the Empire, stored and set to be released just when the Source thought of peace. The colder climes were spared the worst of it, sparse vegetation and sporadic wilds too cold for the potent gas, but that did not mean it didn’t linger. As for other realms where life flourished…

Desolated, choked, no breath for the dying to scream or wail…

Corpses left in wake as all attempted to flee unto the cold where more froze to death. And his friends… the Scions… the vaulted Warrior of Light…

Himself, Estinien, Tataru, and Alisaie were all that remained, protected from Black Rose’s unrelenting hunger by the crystals of Mor Dhona - sheer luck that their aetheric density proved to overwhelm the stagnation. They’d tried to help as the others did, all bound North, but outrunning which could not be seen but inhaled once. This could not - nay, this would not be how it ended.

Rising to his feet, careful as not to jostle or disturb the few comrades he had and remained in their own slumber, he approached the window and peered outside, crimson eyes fixed upon what had helped him save the realm before, blue crystalline structure yet again a beacon before him. Again and again… if he must, he would.

Sundered souls meant to stretch across ten and three with the Source making fourteen. Fourteen schisms and yet, one could be further divided in two or more - or one could just be divided on the singular Reflection. It’s why being apart seemed to ache so, and why being close made them feel complete.

One soul, two bodies.

A division of strengths, of weaknesses, of power.

Why the grimoires revealed the truth when they were used in sync.

… Why they couldn’t use them before others again.

Only once would they be able to do it - draw upon their powers channeled through the grimoires to rewrite reality or correct an errant wrong. Should there be no other way, they would, but right now, there was no need. Things were going according to pace in this reality and they didn’t want to change it.

She was in the library again.

Or had she always frequented the library before and he hadn’t paid much attention? 

G’raha wasn’t certain, but he saw her browsing one of the shelves, her brows furrowed and eyes narrowed in concentration as she scanned either the filing numbers or the author names… or mayhap the titles. She was looking at something - looking for something, and she could ask; it was his job after all, but she didn’t. Moving on down the row, he frowned. Should he offer to help? Would that be alright? Gods this felt awkward.

“You know she’s studying aetherical manipulation and reconstituting form.”

“What–!?”

Back stiff, G’raha’s fur was standing as his head snapped to the side, and a breath escaped him as he noticed Alphinaud. Now when did he get here?

“Gods, you scared me. Why would she be studying that?” It sounded like the concepts behind Aetherytes and teleportation magicks which was already documented and cataloged upstairs and several shelves over. Also, why did that sound familiar? Could they have had that discussion? Trying to think harder about it, he felt his face begin to burn remembering those single night’s events instead. He swears, if they talked for bells about it at a party and then slipped away for - of all things. Was he that terrible at facilitating a conversation that wasn’t related to work?

“Let’s just say someone’s historical lecture regarding Tempering and creation magicks may have struck a chord. She’s always been exceptional manipulating her own aether, but she oft prefers it for combative needs. I’m not sure what brought this on.”

“Lecture…? Wait, my theoretical lecture?” He knew the professors had paid attention, but he hadn’t remembered seeing any students engaged in the audience - or hadn’t thought. Honestly, from an outsider’s perspective, understanding the rise of Tempering in ancient civilizations probably didn’t sound that interesting, or how the use of those victim’s aether recreated a crude use of creation magicks known only to their original ancestors. He only picked the subject because of the recent rise in illegal practices, mainly within cults. Yes, none of that sounded inspiring… “... I feel like I’m missing something.”

“I would advise asking her, but Alisaie’s one who rarely divulges her intentions. Not for the lack of trying, but we couldn’t both be gifted with certain social graces.”

“Just as we couldn’t all be gifted with certain physical aptitudes.”

A stack of books was set hard upon the counter, making both Alphinaud and G’raha jump. Slitted red eyes met equally fiery blue gaze, Alisaie Leveilleur standing there with both hands pressed on the counter and practically towering over G’raha. Yes, right, twins - she was the same height as Alphinaud and while she had more delicate features, she was far more physically imposing. And that should not arouse him, but…

“Now, if you’re done discussing what I’m doing, I’d like to check out,” she said, pushing the small stack forward. “And, dear brother, if you want to know, perhaps take more vested interest in my subjects than your next debate. Besides, wouldn’t you like to know how you can use it for your own goals just as you do with people? You and the rest of your insufferable group.”

G’raha’s ears flattened and he looked between them, noting Alphinaud’s indifference to Alisaie’s glare. If he recalled a passing rumor correctly, the two had long since had a strained relationship, but the reasons behind it were unknown. Before him, that rumor seemed true - and he didn’t like being present to witness it.

The group she was referring to, was it the Braves?

He scanned each book for checkout and informed her they were due in three weeks, breaking the tension between them. That was, until he found she’d slipped a paper into his hands. She was walking away before he could ask, but he heard her brother scoff.

“So, she’s picked you next.” G’raha tilted his head, not understanding. Alphinaud smirked, “Don’t think too hard about it. You’ll be gone like the others before soon enough.”

Adrien’s father always told him stories about the royal family while he was growing up; how they were improper, how they didn’t care for the people, and how the kingdom suffered. It was only after he grew older and managed to get a position within the castle - at the Princess’s side no less - that he began to learn that perhaps his father was wrong.

The King and Queen were warm and welcoming, and tended to always be smiling. People were their priority and did their best to see everyone was fed and housed, and could live their lives with ease. They saw to their people’s needs; they listened when their people spoke of trouble and woe.

Those they didn’t listen to were often the noble lords and ladies who usually seemed to complain about not having enough coin in their coffers or desiring some expensive and unneeded location solely for themselves - a waste of land and resources. It was almost embarrassing to see his father silently among them, but he had an appearance to maintain.

Adrien - as ordered by his father - was supposed to be within the castle, finding any secrets that might discredit the royal family and give the kingdom reason to overthrow them potentially.

However, that was five years ago, and besides Princess Marinette maybe still needing to work on public speaking and subtly, there was no real fault. She was so different from the noble ladies he’d often met with and had to be polite to; they who wanted to be royalty but could never act like it. They saw only the coin and not the true responsibility that came with it - the one which Marinette seemed to fret over every other day besides her private lessons and schedule. It was his duty to keep her punctual and mentally prepare her for the tasks ahead, one of which was to make sure she was calm and happy because she always presented herself the best then.

If only he could always be by her side, but his father - he could feel his ever-looming presence.

His head was throbbing and the sunlight burned his eyelids as he attempted to sleep on. Groaning, he decided to turn over in order to sleep on, tail lashing beneath the tangled bedsheets. This hangover would be sobering G’raha’s problem in another bell or so; present G’raha needed more sleep. Ah, if only his bed was this comfortable all the time, and he could wash it more often to smell this pleasant, but being a file clerk didn’t actually grant that much time off.

Mmm, light and floral, mayhap like a spring rain with just the hint of something saucy beneath - ha, single life…

He snuggled more into his pillow, feeling a pleased purr rise from his chest and throat. Soft, silky, and warm; he wrapped his arms around it and chirred faintly.

“Mhmm…”

… His tail stilled. That wasn’t him; that sounded fairly… feminine.

Forcing heavy eyelids to part one after the other, his focusing eyes made out pale - pale pillowcase? His own was grey… and his sheets were grey too, not creme? Pink? Some manner of pastel, but his fingers twitched. It didn’t feel like he was holding a pillow - not by the texture. And it felt firm in some way. His legs were tangled by sheets, but he became aware of nudging against something solid.

Blinking again, he was discerning shapes like a long, pale neck and that curl at the collar. White strands - hair that was definitely not his considering how flaming red it was. Glancing up, he soon looked down because he was not pressed against a pillow - or between pillows (though the softness was comparable). G’raha’s eyes grew as memories slowly trickled back from the office party; of white hair, creamy skin, and blue eyes. She’d stood out because she didn’t exactly work in the office, but she sponsored quite a number of expeditions and researches. The talking, the kissing, walking out the door and…

His ears shot up at several knocks, and G’raha found himself the victim of a tight hug as long, slender arms pulled him in, smothering him against that soft chest again.

“Alisaie, father expects us by the noon bell. I advise you wake and ready yourself… and you know how he feels about you bringing ‘companions’ along.”

G’raha tensed.

That was Alphinaud who he’d met frequently in the University’s library. Alphinaud’s last name was Leveilleur which was the last name of one of the University’s Regents, Fourchenault Leveilleur. He’d mention mayhap once or twice having a twin sister by the name of…

There were plenty of superstitions that surrounded sailing, but considering he had Plagg on board, Captain Noir had learned to live with it.

Now, he’d thought having the embodiment of luck aboard might somehow negate that misfortune a little, but it almost seemed like it negated what misfortune he already turned away. Why else would they be attempting to flee from another pod of mermaids? It seemed like they would be informed.

“It has nothing to do with being informed,” Ladybug explained as the ship’s sails finally caught the wind. The distance between them and the pod was growing, Plagg beside her looking on, bemused. “Pods outside of the one I was born to will attempt to take me for the good of their own.”

“Does this deal with that ‘certain day’ you were talking about?” Chat Noir asked, glancing back her way.

Were they speaking face-to-face, she would only have to nod. However, because they weren’t, she supposed she had to answer.

“Yes.” A pause. “... How much do you know about mermaids, Captain?”

“Enough that I avoid them - well, most of them.”

“Hm…”

She watched the others fade to the waters; the ship must have gone beyond their territory. Maybe now, she could tell him. Or, not all of the truth.

“... My birth in a pod means power will come to them once that day arrives. As such, others will attempt to capture me unless I remain in my pool. However, that day only arrives now, after about twenty turns around the sun. Living on that island only, hearing only tales of the lands and seas I would never see… I know it was selfish to ask, but Tikki did give permission. I’m sure because Plagg is with you.”

“Hmph…” Captain Noir snorted, but fell silent himself. Trapped then; he understood that all too well. “... Guess that’ll just make this adventure a little more exciting~ Don’t worry, My Ladybug. The world tour continues! Though, some stops, time may be of the essence; remember that.”

Twelve Academy appeared as little more than a formal school teaching those that came the myriad of ways individuals could apply and utilize their aether, whether it be through magicks or mechanics. However, housed within its walls were the soul crystals. Created years ago by the mysterious individual known as Azem the Wanderer, these crystals were capable of granting their holder the knowledge of each and every hand before that held the crystal along with a fraction of Azem’s own power. Should one hold every crystal, they would take unto themselves the very strength of Azem themselves.

Though, ‘twas only a legend. No one had ever wielded all the crystals before - or, no one had survived taking onto their soul such power.

What would one do if they could?

Why would anyone need such strength?

Not that he needed a reason for that strength because a job was a job, and Meteor would see it done. Sneaking into the labyrinth beneath the Academy had not been simple, and making his way to a singular crystal had been a challenge as well. No more traps seemed to bar his way as he approached the crimson crystal that appeared to bear the symbol of an axe.

Soul of the Warrior - it alone would grant untold physical power from what he’d been told.

This would pay his debts and then some…

Taking the crystal into his hand, he grinned - but then, gasped, stumbling as his head began to swim.

“Shepherd to the stars in the dark…”

“W-What…? Who’s…?”

Who was speaking? The crystal felt like it was burning his palm, but that was minuscule compared to the images that flashed in his head - of a greataxe in hand and heavy armor weighing on his shoulders. Memories of wars, of bodies, of rage coursing through his veins that felt so inhuman, but then campfires, calm, and smiles upon faces he could not fully discern. So many places, so many people, and then…

“The Soul of the Warrior beats with the hearts of the fiercest beasts I ever encountered. I honor their lives and take unto myself their strengths to protect all that I love.”

Gasping, Meteor’s eyes snapped open. He was sitting on the ground, but a curious glance to his palm revealed the Soul of the Warrior still there. “Their strengths… to protect…” Was that… Azem?

“Well, that’s a surprise. To even hold the Soul of the Warrior…”

Meteor’s head snapped up just in time to see seven figures standing before him and the magick conjured. The spell caught him before he could move and immediately, his eyes felt heavy, and his body leaned to the side.

“Let’s take him to Master Louisoix. He should know what to do…”

Juleka was distraught when she heard the news.

Rose was set to wed a young man named Ali.

Not that they had said anything about their relationship. Luka, her mother, and a few others who had managed to put it together realized the two women were rather engaged with each other - not that they could put it on paper sadly. She had been hoping though, with her funds from the beautique, that one day she would be able to afford them a small home where they could be together despite the inability to be together.

And now, to hear this… Juleka looked down at Rose’s hands holding her own, warm skin in contrast to her own pale - just as Juleka’s black gown contrasted Rose’s pastel pink one.

“... Where will you be going?”

“No where, Juleka. Ali’s employed at the local hospital,” Rose explained, doing her best to smile. “He works with all the children that suffer a similar condition to mine. That’s really the reason my parents sought the arrangement.”

“Hm…”

Which was… well, Juleka completely understood. Why not a husband that could care for their daughter financially and medically? And Rose would love going to the hospital and visiting children with him. Still, Juleka’s heart was sinking.

“Ali and I talked about it. Right now, we’re more going into this wedding as friends for the sake of our parents,” Rose continued. “In fact, I think Ali has a boy he fancies… Anyway, this new house we’ll be moving to has another room. I might have made a suggestion on who could move in.”

“You did?”

Juleka tossed her thoughts, trying to imagine who Rose would invite to live with them. She felt the smaller woman squeeze her hands.

“He really can’t wait to meet you! Well, that’s if you don’t mind living with us?”

“... Wait, me?”