#timeshackled

         The last thing he needs, or wants is to be fussed over. He shakes her off, moving to stand. His wounds are not life threatening, he can fix them on his own, as he’s always done. “I don’t need help,” he snaps. “I’m sure someone else could use it.”

@timeshackled

The Ball had been in full swing for about an hour now. His brothers had women they were dancing with, and he was left alone. None of the women so far had caught his eye, and he was truthfully getting bored. He picks up a wine glass as it was offered to him from a servant. The strong scent of blood was within it, along with the normal wine.

It had been a gift from his brother, to stave off his hunger until after the party. He sips it, slowly, making his way upstairs to the balcony above, watching the party below.

That was when he saw her. The woman in red. He makes his way down the stairs again, finishing off the glass of blood wine and handing it off to a servant. "A bit late, are you not, Miss Fraser?" He spoke, softly, storm grey eyes glimmering in the low light. They flashed red in the light, though it could be attributed to the lighting.

Adrian had refused to go down in his ritual battle with Apocalypse. He has much to prove, not just to the first mutant but to himself. It would have been easy to go down after the first time the blade cut his flesh. It would have been the dishonorable thing to do. The first cut was across his chest, blood running down his front. The second cut had been along his arm, yet still he did not fall. 

It was the third hit he took that brought him to his knees. Adrian fell as the sword nearly severed his shoulder. He held himself up as best he could, shaking, blood loss severe. His healing factor meant the first two strikes were healing; and still he did not fall. Adrian stood, shouting his defiance as he charged, taking another hit. This time his side. Adrian’s good hand held in his guts, while the nearly useless arm picked up the sword. He couldn’t swing it, yet still he remained on his feet. Defiant, strong. 

The last thing he remembered was the sensation of a sword piercing his chest.

When he awoke, crawling out of an egg, Xavier restored his mind, and Adrian felt whole. The first thing he did as he stood was look at his arm, where the Purifier tattoo had been. Clear, perfect, skin. Unblemished. Grinning like a fool, covered in orange slime, Adrian walked naked into the light of day. The crowd that had watched his Crucible was assembled, cheering as Storm asked, “how do I know you?”

He tentatively put a hand on his arm, where he had once been marked. Tears fell, freely, and he proclaimed, “because I am clean!” Storm embraced him, undaunted by the mess still on his body. She took his hand and raised it, proclaiming, “this is my brother, Halcyon! I know him! And what is he?!” The crowed roared back, “mutant!” Adrian walked forward, lifting into the air, his inner light shining out. He radiated light, and power, before setting back on the ground, where the magnificent Claire waited with a pair of pants, which he gladly took with a laugh.

      𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐄𝐯𝐢𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐰𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞. When Henry Green stepped into her train car with a smile, a twice-folded newspaper and a charcoal circle on the article in question, Evie’s eyes drifted from one article to the next. She cut the article into a square and glued it to wax to her notebook. 

      The article was an advice piece, one that offered the use of tinctures, herbs, and elixirs as medicine to those inflicted by illness-- specific ones at that. Evie’s knowledge resided in the use of blades, self-defense, and stealth, but she held an interest in the advancements of medicines and the medical world. An interest that never became a hobby because of her goal to extinguish Templar control in London. But, from what she could gather from the article, maybe newspapers would be a new avenue for information. The medical knowledge listed and written might be of some connection to the growing increase of soothing syrup.

      On Henry’s suggestion, he directed her to an apothecary shop, a woman that had scandal stuck to her name. It’s said that her practice was radical and there was a concern for outrage, and maybe she would know a thing or two about the man in the article. Both of them used methods unheard of.

      Evie opened the door and passed the walkway to enter the apothecary shop. She entwined her hands together and rested them above her stomach, a smile lifting the corners of her lips.

       ❝ Hello, Miss. I was wondering if you had anything in stock that can lessen a head throb? My companion has been complaining about it for the past few days and I was wondering if you had a remedy for it. ❞ Henry nor Jacob or any other associate of hers was dealing with a headache, but Evie didn’t want to immediately seek answers from her on the newspaper article. Not yet.

Because I got to the part in the books, I thought I’d write this and make you suffer. Even if I already told one of you about it. @gleannan @timeshackled​

“Daddy?”

I felt the hairs on my arm as they rose at the voice. It felt familiar and yet...different. As if, if my daughter had a soft accent from her father. Still, as I turned and looked at Margaret, I saw the slanted eyes like Jamie’s. I knew those eyes anywhere, even as there was something about them I couldn’t place. I couldn’t help the small whisper, “Bree?”

The face turned towards me, sadness almost taking over it. “Mama,” came my daughter’s voice from the oracle.

"Brianna?” Jamie spoke, and she turned her head sharply again.

“Daddy. Daddy don’t you know who I am?”

I felt my own face flush, as Jamie’s went white and I could see the way his mouth formed the word “Jesus” though no sound came from it. 

The crack of tears threatening to escape was thick in my voice as I spoke again, “Faith.”

That was why I couldn’t quite place the voice. That was why the eyes were ever so slightly different. She turned back towards me. “Ah never left you, mama. Ahm always with you.”

Jamie took a step closer, drawing her attention away. I felt my heart squeeze painfully in my chest as water welled in my eyes.

“Don’t let Mama go alone,” she pleaded. “Go with her. I’ll keep you safe.”

There was silence, nothing more than the sounds of crackling fire as both of our minds tried to process what was happening. My faith. My little angel I had never gotten to raise. 

@timeshackled​

Fey was perched on a tree, resting after a long day of causing mischief and havoc. It was a cool night and the cold air made her pixie like wings twitch. The sprite let out a sight before looking up to the night sky, for some reason star gazing always seemed to calm her down. But her attention was drawn to something on the ground below.

           A MESS OF FIERY CURLS  ━━ moving down her shoulders, carefree; the woman now in front of her was, for a long time, a blur in her mind. her voice, on the other hand. . . Faith Fraser had turned two years old of age when the second rising made its call, being left at home, at Lallybroch while both her parents && older brother made their way into a dangerous bloody war. her Da did his best, there were no doubts regarding that; keeping her mother’s memory alive for her && Fergus.

When the man she most loved in the entire world arrived unnannounced in Paris, his first born expected everything but having the final part of her life’s puzzle complete. Her father excused himself to have a conversation with cousin Jared, leaving them be, allowing them to built a bound they were robbed off. ❝ Is it tru’ then? the feiry stones? . . . I, I’m sorry, Ma. I. . . ❞ the familiar accent she shared with the man who sired her made presence as she forced her voice to come out.  ❝ . . . but why ye left me? & what about Da? he suffered. . . & I needed my Ma, for twenty years I did. ❞

@timeshackled​  :  “ I cannot explain how I have this cursed magic to go through time, I didn’t even realize I had it until recently!”