flotilla: (It's a distant dream that I love [Eliza])
She screams.

Loud against the wind in rage. How much longer must she suffer through the night for a hope she's lost long ago? She clutches her trick ax, teeth grit as she unlocks the handle and extends it -- her fingers burning for blood to be spilled. The first beast that met her blade howled in pain, the sound piercing as it echoed through the woods. Muscle and sinew tearing from joints as she swung down upon the next, eyes focused ahead.

She would get through the night, determined, knuckles turning white against the handle while she stalks her next victim. She could count the seconds of their patrols now --their steps, their grunts-- watching the torch light as it shifts through the trees as if it was all second nature. She could hear their murmurs as they look for her, unknowingly walking into her trap. She lay in wait now as dogs would sniff around bushes and trees, pulling the trigger to stun and kill.

She was getting good at this.

Her madness, they told her, could be healed. But was it really madness?

"Fear the old blood, Elisabeth." She mutters to herself, tracing her fingers along the surface of a moss covered wall. "Fear the old blood. Remember you are not a beast but a hunter. The night is not over. You will be fine."

A hunter must hunt.
flotilla: (Be an it is [Luci])
"So, how long did it take you to make these?"

Marinette couldn't help but grin at her new found friend, chuckling as his cheeks went pink. He taps his claws to his lips, truly putting thought into what he was going to say next instead of letting his words run wild. She likes this side of Chat, she realises. Playful, smart, gentle Chat who doesn't always have a pun for every sentence. The Chat that isn't overly flirtatious because a certain Lady happens to be by his side. She had noticed that he had a tell (she swore the ears on his head twitched, but it was the slight scratch of his claws on the top of his hand that gave him away) when he thought of something truly genius, but this time? This time he simply smiles back at her, setting his hand back down on the roof as he leans back, stretching his legs.

"Honestly? I made three batches of cookies. These were the best of the bunch." He chuckles, inspecting one of the chocolate chip cookies with a careful turn.

He was immensely satisfied.

"You know. My parents run the bakery. I'm sure they wouldn't mind if I brought the Chat Noir down to learn how to bake cookies." She couldn't stop giggling at the idea. Heart racing, cheeks flushing -- why did the idea make her a little nervous?

Wide-eyed, he can't help but moving close to her, grabbing her hand in excitement. "That's a great idea!"

"W-What?"

"Yeah! It'd be purrfect, Princess!" He exclaims, leaping to his feet. "I imagine I could impress a few people with my new found baking skills." He winks.

"Impr-- Who are you trying to impress?" Words she wishes she could take back, sounding too offended, hurt ... jealous? "Er uh..."

"Well Ladybug for one." He didn't seem to notice, gesturing with his hands. "And well? You."

Did she hear him right?

"Me? You don't have to impress me-" She sputters, eyes wide.

"You're like my best friend, Marinette." He moves to sit down beside her. "Of course I want to impress you."

The idea he wanted to impress her, the Marinette her, was shocking. She was nothing like Ladybug (strong, confident, heroic Ladybug) and she understood why he would want to impress her but why would he want to impress her? Ladybug was his partner, someone he loved (very much so. He couldn't stop complimenting her even as he sat next to her alter ego, babbling for hours about how wonderful she was -- putting her on a pedestal much to her hidden displeasure), someone he could feel comforted by and be loyal to. So why her? She couldn't stop dwelling, biting her lip in thought as silence fell between them.

It was an intoxicating feeling.

He looked so pleased with himself over it too, grin plastered on his lips, staring up at the sky. He was confident, content as he eased into comfortable silence with her. He'd been coming to her house nearly every day now, sometimes to just sit and listen to her problems at school ("I am so tired of dealing with Chloe!" "She can be a handful I hear... but if you give her the attention she wants, then you're no better then she is."), sometimes to make sure she was okay after an akuma attack ("You need to be more careful!" "I was careful!" "You were almost a Marinette sandwich!"), but he always found himself drawn to her bright beautiful smile.

Had she ever thought of Chat as anything but a flirt and her friend? As anything but her partner? Hero of Paris who took the the bad luck from his Lady so she could save the day? He was sweet, too sweet some times -- especially when he was concerned. Gentle when he needed to be, ruffled under the collar when he wanted to protect her. She wasn't some damsel in distress and he never treats her as such.

She likes him.

No. Maybe? No.

Yes?

Yes.

Heart beating faster, a dawning realisation: she likes him as more then a friend. More then Adrien? She couldn't tell -- her emotions tangling in a knot in her heart. She likes him. He was always there with her, making her laugh, smile, cheering her up on the bad days -- more then she likes to admit lately. A constant in her life in and out of the hero life and she couldn't think of anyone else she wanted to spend her days with.

"So," He broke the silence, cautious as he moves his hand to nudge against her slightly. "How about those cookies?"

"Cookies?" She snaps out of her daze, staring up into his green eyes. "OH, right. Yeah, well... do you have some time now or...?"

"What time is it?"

"Four?"

"I have time."

His smile! She could met under his smile. "G-great! Come with me then. I guess we could see what my parents have in the kitchen. I mean I am pretty sure we have everything for cookies-- we'd be a terrible bakery if we didn't I-- am I rambling?"

"Yep." He chuckles, before putting an arm around her shoulders. "Don't worry about it, Marinette. Why don't we go downstairs and see what we can do?"

"S-sure! Yep. Downstairs." Chat Noir was going to be in her house, and see all of the photos of Adrien -- all the photos of Adrien!! Her hands rest on her cheeks, suddenly panicking over the idea of Chat seeing the magazine clippings of the hot model from her class. She could handle Chat teasing her about her crush when it was just words. But photos? Not on her life, she'd never live it down!

"B-But give me a moment! I'll have to see if my parents are upstairs. I mean I don't know how they'd react knowing you're here baking cookies, with me. With uh... no heads up! Yeah. I'll be right back!"

She practically falls back into her room as she rushes to deal with the photos on her wall. She trips as she leaps off her bed, barely managing to not fall on her face as she stands sharp looking around. She had fifteen pictures of Adrien, not including the one she framed last year. How could she get them all taken down in record time without Chat wandering into her room? She shakes her head, fists clenched in determination as she plans her next action.

"Tikki!" She waves down her friend from her perch on her desk. "I need your help." She says quietly as her kwami floated nearby.

"I'm sure he won't mind." Tikki smiled, pulling down the photos anyway as Marinette frantically rips a few off the wall.

"Oh yeah, he won't mind HUNDREDS OF PICTURES of Adrien Agreste all over my room! I mean look at this!" She motions to one in particular -- a Vogue portrait from six months earlier. "This isn't normal for a teenage girl who likes fashion! If there were other models--"

"You could say you admire the Agreste line--"

"Nope. No. It wouldn't work! He'll just tease me endlessly! I'll just put them all up again once he's gone." She stuffs them into the drawer of her dresser.

"Oh Marinette! Just be yourself." She flies over, snuggling against her face. "I'm sure he'll understand! I mean he's been in here before."

HE'S BEEN IN HERE BEFORE. HE'S PROBABLY SEEN THEM. OH MY--

"Princess?"

"ER- uh Yes? Right! Come on. We should be good, Chat!"

"Great!" He slides down, missing her bed completely so he wouldn't get his boots on her sheets. How thoughtful. "I was starting to think you forgot about me."

That grin! How dare he. "How can I forget someone like you?"

Hands behind her back, she can't believe she just said that, smirk across her lips as he steps closer to her, bending down to her eye level. He can't stop grinning, leaning close, closer than he's been before. She could feel his gaze on her face, her lips, back to her eyes are she admires his for a little longer. Her heart was racing, wondering what he was going to do. Had he always been this handsome? Why hadn't she noticed it before? How would this change their relationship when she ran across roof tops with him as Ladybug?

What would this change?

"Well I don't know Princess. They do say I'm the cat's meow." He says with a grin, leaning forward to kiss her, eyes closed.

She pushes his face to the side, a mess of giggles spilling from her lips How dare he! "I can't believe you ruined the moment! Come on, kitty. Let's go make cookies."

She takes his hand, unable to stop giggling as she drags him into the hall down to the kitchen.
flotilla: (Wishing you were some how here [Sayuri])
Same routine every morning: lay out her outfit, shower, brush teeth, get dressed, perfume, mirror check. Sometimes she twirls, others she leans in close to check her face for blemishes or makeup mistakes. Deep breath, she rubs her temples, trying to focus on the day at hand. It had taken her weeks to finally convince her dad to let her borrow his credit card (especially after the fiasco involving getting a replacement Ladybug replica yoyo) so she could get a gift for Sabrina. Something simple she couldn't shut up about for the last few weeks but she couldn't afford it (after all Chloe admits she did tell her to buy it herself).

When her birthday came and went, she couldn't hear the end of it. Small whispers of how she wished she could have gotten it. How she's saving up for it but her father needed something or another -- she stopped paying attention when she talked about how she was considering stashing away her savings to buy her father a gift for his birthday.

The first problem she encountered was where on earth was she going to find it?

The internet was no help -- apparently everyone has decided to mark the price up well over the market retail price and she was not about to spend more then retail for it. It was already expensive enough as it is! She wasn't even going to use it for it's intended purpose! Chloe decided that despite the fact she could pay double (even triple) the amount, she was putting her foot down.

She would only pay the retail value -- or less if she could help it!

"Hey Daddy~?" Hands behind her back, she stepped into his office, making sure he wasn't on the phone. Mayor of Paris often had him busy -- and forgetful when he was busy.

Lucky for her, he looked up from his paperwork with a smile. "Yes, Chloe? I'm a little busy..."

"I know." She closes the door behind her, quickly crossing the room to take a seat across from him. "That's why I'll make this quick. I need to go to FNAC so I need the credit card."

"FNAC?"

"Fédération Nationale d’Achats des Cadres."

Hesitant pause, wondering if he caught onto her before he rifled through his wallet as the phone rang, and handed over the card. She took it slowly, trying to contain her excitement. Letting her go to an electronics store with a credit card was likely the worst idea anyone could ever have, but her father gave her a smile, waving her off so he could get back to work, answering the phone simply "Bourgeois". She skipped out quickly before he could change his mind.

Yoyo incident forgotten.

Thirty minutes later she was browsing through the store, phone in hand as she searched for her prize. The perfect present for Sabrina was a must, a mission she must succeed at (proof she pays attention, listening to her when she rambled to her in class). She wouldn't let anyone think of her as spoiled any more (she admits she is. Admits she's spoiled by her father but that doesn't mean she can't change now -- she could be a better person). She pouts, unable to locate what she's looking for as she paces up and down the eyes, eyes scanning shelves for even the slightest glimpse of a display box.

"Excuse me, miss. Can I help you?"

"EEEE!" She practically leaps out of her skin, spinning around to face the employee. "Er, yes! Yes. I need help finding something. I called earlier and someone said you had it."

The last time she said that she lied, just trying to get what she wanted.

She stopped lying this time.

"What is it?"

"The HTC Vive. It's for a friend of mine and I've been looking for it for weeks! I can't believe everyone else is out."

"It's a popular item, miss. I'll see if we have it in stock. I'll be back shortly."

"Good!" Wait, no that wasn't right. Try again, Chloe, you can do this. "Sorry, thank you very much! I'll just wait here."

She was getting better at this being polite business, at least she thought so. Please, thank you, calmly asking for things -- it was difficult to unlearn so many negative behaviours she developed over the years. She just wanted the attention, especially after her mother passed, she didn't care how she got it. Any attention was better then nothing at all. It's been weeks, months as she thought more about her words, her actions, her body language (things she never thought she needed to remember from private education about etiquette and proper manners).

She didn't move from the aisle, pacing back and forth looking at the various electronics along the shelving. Who knew there were so many parts to a computer? Hard drives, mother boards, fans, inter-coolers -- she never knew how much was involved in building one! Had Sabrina told her before? Likely. Maybe she should really pay attention to what she rambled on about -- it actually looked a lot more intricate in person!

Chloe did her best not to be impatient, tapping away on her phone (foot tapping on the ground. What was taking him so long?) hoping to schedule a lunch date with Sabrina. Hopefully she wasn't busy with her programming homework. She huffs, toying with her hair before she eyes the employee walking back to her.

They looked nervous, bracing themselves for a riot of one as they approached.

"I'm really sorry, miss--"

"Okay?"

"We've actually sold out of the item in store."

Braced, wincing, they waited for her to yell. Don't you know who I am? It didn't come. She held her purse in hand, staring at poor employee for a moment, before shrugging. She'd get her hands on it eventually -- even if it meant importing it from (ugh) America.

"Okay."

"....Okay?"

"Okay."

Sigh of relief, they straightened out, giving her a small smile. "We may be able to order it online?"

"Actually that might be easier." She returns the smile, glancing down to her phone, then back up to the employee. "If we can do that now, we could send it to Grand Paris Hotel. It's supposed to be a surprise, after all."

Showing up to lunch with a large bag from Fnac would get so many questions.

"Great! Follow me. We'll get that taken care of."




An hour later she was running late to her lunch. She runs into the building, clutching a few papers tight as she looks around for her friend. Sabrina sat close to the window, wistfully looking out the window with her hand on her cheek. She looked disappointed. Worried? Her heart sank as she slowly walks over to the table.

"Sabrina?"

"Chloe?!" She turns, smiling. Excited.

Better. "Hey! Sorry I'm late, I was...well. Here." She shoves the paper to her, before taking a seat across from her. "Don't say I didn't get you anything."

She waves her hand as she turns her head to the window, eyes nervously glancing back to her red haired friend as she waited for her to read it. Brows knit, curious, teeth biting lips as she read slowly what exactly it said on the page. She hoped she would be excited, elated, but she just looked perplexed. How vexing, but she took a deep breath. Calm. It's fine. You haven't done this much before. You can explain.

"Chloe...you didn't have to do this." She was floored, her eyes glued to the order confirmation.

"Of course I did." She scoffs, crossing her arms, before relaxing, trying. "I...you're my best friend. I've been kind of a--"

"Awful."

"Yeah and---"

"A bitch."

"Wow." Chloe giggles, unable to control herself. She never knew Sabrina had it in her! "Yeah, I've been a royal one. But this is for all of the birthday's and Christmas gifts I should have gotten. You're trying to design that one game right?"

"You were paying attention?"

"Of course I was! I mean, what kind of friend would I be?" She smiles, softly. "Look I want to start over -- which means no more doing my homework. Got it?"

"Thank you so much." She was tearing up. "Got it. I won't do your homework. Except... didn't you want to get Adrien that jacket?"

"Already done. I swear I've gotten better at dates. I didn't forget his birthday this time. It's not even designed by his father, so hopefully that makes his week." She flags down a waiter, desperate for coffee.

"Good for you, Chloe!"

She was genuinely happy for the step forward. At least, it sounds like she was. She'd take it either way. She smiles again, the weight on her shoulders finally feeling lighter. She could actually have normal conversations with Sabrina without it seeming like she was beneath her. She was equal, and while she knew it would take a while for it to bleed into her school life, she was actually happy for the start.

It was nice to start over.
flotilla: (Light up the dark [Luci])
Run. She gasps, leaping across buildings, desperate to stop another attack. No more destruction, she thinks, no more hurt or pain -- she wishes she could reach them with words. Wait. Stop! Please I just want to help. Too late. Too late they scream, clutching the book tight, pages falling from the spine in waves. Sharp movements, jilted love -- it was love, it was love it was love! She clutches her yoyo tight, eyes ahead as she swings it out, catching them by the foot to topple them over. Pages scattered across the pavement, her eyes only on one as she bends down and lifts it. A story, so simple, dedicated to a love lost - it broke her heart. She sighed, ripping the page.

Then? It was done.

Silent. Tears streaming down their face -- It was love. I'm sorry.

Akuma caught, destruction fixed, but her mind heavy with thought.

When night settled across Paris, she was alone on the rooftop of her home. Arms crossed over the railing, cheek pressed against her forearm, wondering what she could have done better to prevent what happened. Words to calm down another one of Hawkmoth's victims might have worked. Inhale. Breath. Exhale. Think. Maybe she could talk to Master Fu about what more they could do. Could she and Chat really continue forward without help? It took all of their skill and cunning to catch up to the Page Master, facing their creative force head on when all other options ran out. She taps her fingers on the side of her mug, another deep breath as she lifts her blue eyes to the night sky.

At least she can have a moment of calm in it all. As long as tomorrow was a good day. That Chloe wouldn't cause trouble. That Hawkmoth wouldn't find another victim, as long as--

"Princess? You look a little down tonight."

Startled she looks up towards the chimney stack behind her, then sighs.

"I'm fine, alley cat. Thanks." She looks back towards the street below. "What are you doing out so late?"

They never stayed out so late.

"Couldn't sleep." She didn't turn to the sound of leather sliding against metal as he made his way down to her. "Thought some fresh air might help me out - running across roof tops takes a lot out of you." He grins at her, Cheshire grin as he leans against the railing with her, elbows propped up against the cool metal.

A mask over a mask. He looked tired, lucky that his mask covered his face enough to keep from looking too dead. Unlucky that his posture betrayed him, practically slumped against the railing, looking as though he was finally relaxed. He shifted, rolling his head across his shoulders while looking up at the night sky.

"But, fresh air doesn't beat good company." He finally breaks the silence, taking a deep breath.

Exhale.

"Well, I don't know what kind of company I'll make." Smile. A quizzical expression crosses her face, before she looks at his lips. "Aren't you cold?"

"Not really."

"Not really? That means you might be kind of cold." She rolls her eyes, before tapping his nose. "Stay right here, I'll be right back."

She quickly turns to run over to the ladder leading back down into her bedroom. She bounds to the main floor of her room, moving too fast, falling, rolling -- staring at her ceiling with a sigh. Of all the times to not stick the landing is when her stray cat was visiting. At least he (hopefully) didn't see her completely miss her footing. Once on her feet she rubs her lower back, the slight aches fading while she approaches her desk. The black scarf sat upon her desk, knit together with care. A Secret Santa gift originally meant for Chloe (the idea that it was reversible. One side to represent her alter-ego Antibug, the other to show her Ladybug love) but with time still left, she figured she could start over.

It was a wonder why she was putting so much time into her mystery gift to Chloe who likely wouldn't appreciate it -- and she figured starting over and knitting the spots on would be a better idea.

Back up the ladder, she peeks up to make sure that he's still there waiting.

He twirls the end of his tail, looking up at the stars lost in thought. His expression obvious that he couldn't stop thinking - on a constant loop. She watched, curious as he tilts his head back, sighing, fingers tapping against the railing never at peace. He seemed tense, ready to leap at the first sound.

"Hey! Sorry it took me so long." She climbs up, trying her best not to startle him. "Found it."

He smiles, cautious, drained of the energy he had before she had left. She tries her best to read his expression (unfortunately gone before she had the chance) knowing full well he was lost in thought. She walks over, caressing the knitted scarf carefully, before draping it over his shoulders. She stood slightly on the tips of her toes as she pulls it around his neck carefully, not even daring to look up at him. She knows her kitty all too well, and wasn't going to let him see her flustered.

"Got a lot on your mind?" He must have. "You can talk, you know."

Who was she going to tell?

"I don't know. I mean how do I know it's not going to end up on the Ladyblog as a secret source." He winks, admiring the scarf.

Marinette rolls her eyes. "I promise I won't tell Alya any super hero secrets you tell me." She holds her hand up, shaking her head at the very idea. He eyes her, looking her up and down. Did he really think she would lie to him? She pouts, before she spots the flash of a smile.

"All right, Princess. I trust you."

She held her breath, waiting.

"Do you wonder if sometimes...what we do is not enough?"

"We?"

"Ladybug and I." He leans over the railing again, looking across the city. "I feel like I could do more to help her, that sometimes I'm just...dragging her down."

Minou...

"I don't think you're dragging Ladybug down."

He scoffs. "I think you're too focused on the Ladyblog." A slight tease, hiding what he really wanted to say.

"No! Really, Chat, I don't think you drag her down." Sometimes she feels she holds him back. He has so much potential.

"I don't know." He sighs again, ears seeming to flatten against his head. "But seriously. She does so much good for Paris. I wonder if I'm not doing enough to help her and support her."

"Shush." How much doubt can one person hold? She rests her hand on his shoulder "Ladybug is lucky to have you. You're partners right? I don't think she could do this without you."

They both had their doubts. Worries and dreams that barely in reach - hands extended trying to hold on to fraying threads despite Hawkmoth's constant barrage of villains. What would be left in the wake of the war? Would their scars heal?

"And how would you know that?" He tries to tease, it falling flat on his tongue as he leans close to her.

"I uh..." She blushes, hesitating to explain herself. "I just know! I mean come on, you two are a team, right?" She shoves him back, palm against his face. Stop changing the subject. Stop doubting yourself. You're important, Minou.

"Yeah, yeah." He actually laughs. "We're a team. A team where I am just weight on her shoulders holding her bac-- HEY."

"Okay kitty, no more of that. You're important. You're part of that team. It's not just Ladybug who is a hero, you are too." She releases his ear, stubbornly looking up at him. "So....why don't you come inside, warm up, eat a few cookies and watch cartoons with me."

"Wait- what? Mari I don't know."

She presses her hands to his face. "You. Me. Cookies. Cartoons. Blankets. Warmth -- you have four ears kitty keep up." She teases, tugging on the cat ears. "So...come on. You don't want to freeze, do you?"

He watches as she heads back down into her room, motioning for him to follow. A small chuckle leaves his lips, before he goes to follow. He could feel the warmth of her room as he knelt by the skylight before he hopped down onto her bed, then to the floor. Little things he noticed about her room took him by surprise, things he supposed he should have expected (pictures of friends, family -- she looked so happy and natural). It was the photo of himself sitting on her desk that made him smile. Maybe he'll give her a better one, one that wasn't ridged or scripted - something warm.

Something that made him feel like home.


"All right, Princess. I guess you're right."

She made him feel important.
flotilla: (Be an it is [Luci])
She runs. Twigs snap beneath her feet, struggling to find purchase as she scrambles up the hill. She tried, and failed to remove the boar from the river -- now she ran, hoping it didn't follow her back through the woods tireless and hungry. Cursed beasts! She slips, sliding down a hill when reflex kicks in -- she grabs hold of a thick root bursting from the ground. Elizabeth stares up, barely hanging on, then down at the boar below.

It was luck this time, she realises as she pulls herself up. The boar could not climb the slope -- she would live another day.

“A hunter must hunt.” She whispers to herself, her hands shaking as she seats herself among the brush. “A hunter must hunt. A hunter must hunt.”

What a mess you’ve been caught up in.

She longed for the safe haven of the cathedral with the dweller and the old woman. Longed to go back in time to the loud screeching of inmates begging for release (begging for salvation, something to help numb their psychosis enough to pretend to be lucid). Search for the pale blood - fear the old blood. She doesn’t know what to believe any more as she sits among bushes, running her fingers down the feathered cloak she received.

“A hunter must hunt.” Words foreign on her tongue, blood on her lips dry as she readjusts her beak upon her face.

Deep breath. Slow, exhale, she was thankful for the spices she pulled from an abandoned house that still had a sweet smell. It pulled at her heart, calming her lungs that filled with air. Sage made the blood less noticeable as it drenched her feathers.

What’s wrong? A hunter, unnerved by a few beasts?

“No.” She mutters to herself, finally rising to her feet, ax in hand. A small audible click rang in her ears as she activated the switch blade -- such a handy weapon, she thinks.

A hunter must hunt.
flotilla: (It's a distant dream that I love [Eliza])
Scraped knees don't bother her any more, she tells herself as she stares at her reflection in a full length mirror. Scraped knees, bruises up her thighs, split lip -- she shouldn't have said a lot of things to end up like this (she tells herself over and over again she can drop the act any time but the attention -- oh she loves the attention) but here she was. Kicking, screaming, hair pulling, the swift punch to the face, and she was lucky she didn't walk out of there with a black eye. She inhaled slowly, steadying herself.

Did it matter in the end?

The bullying was only self destructive. A way to act out, to seek attention because even negative attention meant she would be noticed. She clawed her way to the top of the social ladder not because she was rich but by putting everyone beneath her. She would eventually be alone again. It was no surprise that it finally came to a head and ended up with her sent home.

She left wordlessly as her father yelled at her in the car. ("You're my daughter, you need to represent the people as much as I do. Can you imagine the headlines tomorrow in the paper? Go upstairs and clean yourself up.") Arms crossed, pout on her lips, she stormed up to her room, doing her best to ignore the ringing in her ears.

She changed her outfit, sneering at the spatter of blood on the sleeve of her yellow blazer as she shoved it in her laundry. Her white blouse was ripped over her hair, white jeans toss into the pile a she tore through her drawers for something to relax in. Black shorts, yellow tank top, deep breaths because the last thing she needs was to leap off her roof for revenge. Revenge on what anyway? Revenge knowing she was in the wrong? Revenge on a classmate because she pushed them too far?

"Well... at least I don't have to look at them any more." A hollow victory, she realises, as she walks over to the closest chair to sit down.

Why couldn't she be like Ladybug? Selfless, liked, helpful - why couldn't she drop the act? She struggled to change (not a struggle to change, a struggle to find a day where she could be herself), struggled to express even the slightest wish that she wants to be nice. Her best friend barely acknowledged her any more and who could blame him?

She could barely look at herself in the mirror and be proud.

She stares at her knees, her hands, touching her lip in thought. Maybe she could go back and claim they knocked some sense into her. Wouldn't that be a laugh? Chloe finally learning her lesson because someone punched her in the face.

"I wish you were still here." She whispers, scrolling through her phone. "Maybe you could give me advice."

She was tired of monetary attention. Exhausted that she had to pull a variety of stunts for her father's attention. Sabrina even seemed to give up on her, and she couldn't lose anyone else. If Adrien stopped talking to her completely she wasn't sure what she would do. He seemed ready to move on since he befriended Nino.

Chloe wasn't about to become one of Hawkmoth's puppets again either. So she tried to get her mind off of her current situation. Shopping online wasn't helping. The fact she was certain that Ladybug (who normally could cheer her up, she was so uplifting and sweet) and Chat Noir were watching her place from afar, ready for her to make the wrong move. She's already made a wrong move. Her whole life was one wrong move.
flotilla: (How can there be so much pain? [Luci])











➵Homeless
Character List

Yuri Plisetsky
Yuri!!! on Ice
( JOURNAL )

Camilla Macaulay
The Secret History
( JOURNAL )

Thanatos
Greek Myth
( JOURNAL )

Keith [Kogane]
Voltron Legendary Defender
( JOURNAL )

Garnet Til Alexandros XVII
Final Fantasy IX
( JOURNAL )

Elisabeth Dalton
Bloodborne
( JOURNAL )

Adrien Agreste
Miraclous Ladybug
( JOURNAL )

Chloé Bourgeois
Miraculous Ladybug
( JOURNAL )

Dr. Liara T'Soni
Mass Effect
( JOURNAL )

Cleo de Nile
Monster High
( JOURNAL )

Link
Breath of the Wild
( JOURNAL )

Prince Sidon
Breath of the Wild
( JOURNAL )

Goro Akechi
Persona 5
( JOURNAL )

Satoshi Nakamura
Persona 5
( JOURNAL )

Maya Amano
Persona 2
( JOURNAL )

Tatsua Suou
Persona 2
( JOURNAL )
flotilla: (Be an it is [Luci])
One
Two
Three
Four
Five

Two years he lived in the rundown apartment. Two years he found that living was just another word for barely surviving, but it was what it was. There was nothing he could change. He did finally tear down the cracked, flaking wall paper, washing the walls of grime that built up from years of being uninhabited. Fresh paint was hard to come by, but he tried white because colour was just too expensive. Monotony weighed him down and days would go by where routine was so ingrained he was not a man, but a machine.

He felt alive for the first time when he met her.

He could write a book on her beauty, he found. The way the false sun shone on her face, the brightness in her smile when she saw him - it was refreshing. And he knew, or assumed (just the right amount of assuming, he hoped) that she only smiled because of her work, but he hoped maybe that once it was because she enjoyed his company. He smiles back at her every time, and his heart melts at the first and only real kindness he receives in the land of hope. She is a woman of Ser'adi, living on what means she can because it is all she knows, but he believes she knows better.

With renewed interest in his mission as Hassm, he spoke to her every day. He thanked the moon for watching over his home, and the sun for life, and then the stars with blessing him with the will to take the step outside of his home every morning. Most of all the thanked the earth for the courage to move forward out of his hollow shell he called his life.

He dresses himself with care, wrapping his torn ḥaṭṭah around his head. What is life but a journey of great deeds? He needed to prove he was worth this life he gained, and for that he would journey to prove his self worth. Hassm died for a reason - and he took his name, his life, his footsteps every day wondering why that was. He hoped his goddess was looking out for him. Holding his breath, he steps out into the hall, waiting for the taunts and slurs that usually begin his day.

By the fates he must be lucky, there were none.

He heaves his pack over his shoulder, locking the door behind him as he started toward his job. Down the stairs, passing other tenants with his head bowed, making as little eye contact as he could. One day, he told himself, he would could hold his head high. The street was oddly quiet, merchants bored leaning on stalls as they tried to call over anyone they saw (except him. Sand rats don't bring any business they say) to bid them to buy their wears. He half-listens to conversations, lies upon lies to prove their product would cure (love, hair loss, weight), and half truths on where they managed to find it. Peddlers traveled from all over the world, spinning stories of starry nights with love and loss - their hope lost upon the steps as his was. Ser'adi sucked the life out of them.

"Hassm!" He turns, her voice honey in his ears. "Hassm I have that tool you asked for."

She coaxed him over, smile wide as she looked up. Her wide brown eyes lite up seeing him (he hoped, maybe it was the promise of water given back to the city). Her cocoa coloured hair was pulled back in loose pony tail, trailing over her shoulder in waves. He could stare at her for hours, listen to her voice as she spoke of her life and family.

"Farrah... thank you." He could barely muster much else, words stuck in his throat as he pulls a few paper bills from his pocket. "Is this enough?"

"Fix the water and it will always be enough." She gingerly takes the bills from his hand, counting them slowly. "Do you think you will be able to now?"

"I do." He was certain, looking at her he was certain. "Maybe not today, too soon to tell, but soon I can feel it." In his aching bones from when the landlord threw him back into his apartment, he could feel that he was close.

She giggles, bills carefully folded and shoved into her apron pocket. "Good. When the water is back? I will cook dinner."

Dinner? He stood still, a little startled by the sudden invitation into her life.

"Don't try and get out of it. Dinner, and tea. We will feast as if there was no shortage." Farrah placed her hands upon her hips, then waved him off. "Now go!"

Beneath the hopeless city, he would breath life into old pipes.
flotilla: (How can it be so cold without you [In])
One does not fight the dead without a plan.

Sword raised, he stood before them - hundreds of skeletal warriors descended on the town. Fire engulfed houses, people trapped inside screaming for help (more rushing to escape, children unable to understand). What could he possibly do to save his friends and family from agonizing death? Sweat beaded along his forehead, hands gripping the hilt tight as he charges forward, screaming as he drew close.

"Arhothul! I know you're out there. Damn it all." He cried as he takes off the head of one construct. It didn't do much but delay, but he needed to get close to it's more human master.

Slicing through skeletons was the easy part. Bones no longer held together by muscle, falling to the ground, dust and ash. Hallow screams (some laugh. the audacity of this human who believes he could stop them) rung in his ear with strings of curses as he tries to get close to the cloaked figure in the centre of town. His body ached as he fought his way forward, muscles he hasn't used in years were on fire - but he had to persevere.

Arhothul stood still, hood hiding his features, hands at his side as he inspected his work. Sloppy. He realized it would alert the kingdom of his arrival, holding back just enough to allow the villagers to flee. All according to plan. He smirked turning to his body guard amused at the approaching attack.

"Risham. Destroy him. ...then we'll retreat to force the attack." He spoke, anger edging into his voice. "Then string him him up in the trees, he'll be our example."

The words dripped from his lips, sweet as honey in a language dead - only remembered by those who breath purpose back into old bones. He doesn't advance, watching as his guard draws his sword in time to parry the attack. The clash of metal rang in his ears as he turns from the scene, ignoring the shouts behind him.

"Damnit! Arhothul! Get back here." Another swing. He gritted his teeth, sweat rolling down his face. "You bastard. Fight me!"

Wordless, Risham put on the pressure, never faulting in his steps. Clean cuts, blood speckling the dirt - two steps forward and he thrust his sword deep, barely grazing skin as his opponent leapt back. Effortlessly he thrust again, ready to drive him clean through and leave him to bleed out in the burning village. The knight stumbled back, Risham's blade rending - he clutched his stomach. He narrowed his eyes, glowering as the abomination shambled forward. How much more could he take?

"Damn it all." He spat on the ground as the construct stopped before him ready to strike. "At least let them hang me with my name. Give me dignity in death. I am Franklin Alabaster, Knight to the King-"

There was no glory in pretty speeches. He choked on blood, unable to breath as the pain bloomed from neck to stomach. He knelt forward; the only thought on his mind was his failure to his kingdom. Risham stood over him inspecting his work. It was easy enough to follow orders in the end while his master watched safe from a distance. Their next step would bring them to the kingdom to dismantle the mad man on the throne.

Arhothul would take what was his.
flotilla: (Default)
Time. Time. Time. Time.

Over and over again, the walls covered in bright blue ink as she writes. Time haunted her now, her mind a frazzled mess, her heart beating wrong. All wrong. She bites her lip, eyes moving from one word to the next -none of it made sense! None of it, the word, the shape, it made no sense! She wanted to scream but what would screaming do!

"Avela... hey we're heading to Venus- woah." Niav leans in the doorway, startled. "You okay?"

"I don't get it! Niav I can't think, I can't think it's awful. My heart beats, I hear singing in my head, chirps and buzzes and Time. Time is the answer and I don't know..." She bites her lip again, turning to face the human woman.

"You really wrote Time a lot. Not sure what it adds up to?" Cautious, Niav had to be cautious with her words around Avela. She was fragile, broken, something wrong with her mind but she couldn't place it.

Worried, she starts looking over the writing. Erratic, large, small, her handwriting was difficult to read. Bold, one word stood out among all the Time. CONFLUX circled eight times in green, arrows pointing at it. What was Avela up to? She stops, noticing Avela's gaze had not broken, watching her worried, scared, waiting for something. Something bad, she assumed. She wondered if Niilo had been by.

"Tell me what does that mean?" She points at her circle, and her eyes go wide.

"Conflux... it's a word that came up in the archives on Venus. I think it has to do with the Vault of Glass. Vex. It's Vex but I don't understand. I'm so close to understanding."

"Don't go saying things like that." Niav says softly, shaking her head. "Not so loud, at least."

"We're puppets on a string dancing for a dead orb in the sky! What is wrong with understanding if it helps us fight the darkness." She slams her hands down on her desk, then covers her face, tapping her palms against her temples. "Stupid, it's stupid! Dangerous. We're in danger and I can't-"

"Breathe, it's okay. Just breathe." How much had she had to drink? Her lack of balance and her ranting betrayed her. "Deep breaths, okay Avela. Stay with me. Talk to me about the Vault."

"Okay." She takes a deep breath, steadying herself, slowly walking to her step stool and takes a seat. A pause, silence, a moment of clarity as she dumps her box of cigarettes on the counter and lights one end. Deep breath, smoke exhale. "It's... Time. At least that's what I can tell. Time, lost time. People go in and out and it's never the same."

"Is it on Venus?"

"Under Venus. In Venus? Like the Black Garden in another time - there's a spire we activate. They're doing something so surreal." She waves her hand a bit, tapping ash, missing the tray.

"Then we stop the Vex." Niav nods, running her fingers through her dark purple hair, watching as Avela hung the cigarette between her lips as she pulls her hair up into a loose bun. "So how do we do it?"

"We need people."
flotilla: (Default)
I wanted to write tonight. So I did. It's short, sad, and probably isn't the best of work but it's out there.

Who am I without her? )
flotilla: (Wishing you were some how here [Sayuri])
I think I find I enjoy writing in a journal at least once a month. While it feels like an empty effort at times, I at least enjoy looking back and reading my thoughts on occasion.

I'm exhausted, finding it hard to push forward recently. I'm afraid I don't know why. I feel like I'm sinking and I'm struggling to stay floating. I don't know what to do without wondering when it'll end so I can just go through the movements with a smile. Tomorrow is going to be a difficult day of work, despite how much I want to try and do my best.

I just have to remember to smile. That's all.
flotilla: (Default)
I wrote this the other day...and I'm not sure where I am going with it but I do intend to finish it. So here it is as a work in progress.



Love is hard, but if you don't try then there was no point in loving at all. )
flotilla: (End of the line [Ginger])
Finally. Took me a while to write this much out. It needs a lot of work, and I'm working on the second part now. I just felt accomplished that I wrapped it up enough before pushing forward too far on the second part.

When I breath does it show that the more I learn the less I know? )
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