Let Me Care - Mustang Sally x ReaderLet Me Care - Mustang Sally x Reader You sighed – through your mouth, since your nose wouldn’t let you. You sat at your table in your tiny apartment as you pulled out your phone and opened the texting page. You scrolled to the name Mustang Sally. You were really looking forward to seeing him for lunch, so this was the worst day to get sick. You texted, (Y/N): Sorry Mustang, but I’m not gonna be able to make it to (favorite restaurant) today, I’m sick. Can we postpone? You sighed once more as you waited for a reply. Logically, you knew it wasn’t a big deal, but you couldn’t help feeling tense when you couldn’t follow through with something. Anything, really. You got up to get some orange juice, and just as your glass was full, you heard the notification sound. You set your glass down on the table then checked your phone. Mustang: Of course. Sorry to hear you’re sick. How about Friday? You smiled as you texted back. (Y/N): Sure :)Mustang: Okay, I’m coming over.(Y/N): Wait, what?Mustang: You said you’re sick. I’ll take care of you for today. I’ll see you there, I’m about to drive and I don’t plan to lose my license, so I won’t be responding. You tried not to sigh a third time, and for once, your nose allowed it. You decided to treasure this moment of nasal freedom before taking a sip of orange juice. You had only gone on two dates with Mustang after knowing him a short time, and now he was heading for your home to take care of you. Did he like you that much? But then again, Mustang was always such a gentleman. Maybe Mustang was doing this out of obligation? You hoped not. The last thing you wanted was for somebody to feel obligated to care for you. “I can take care of myself.” you grumbled, “I SHOULD be taking care of myself, not being somebody else’s prob-” Your thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. You dragged your feet as you got up and answered. The mutant seahorse smiled as he looked down at you. You couldn’t help but smile back. Mustang just had that effect on you once you were in each other’s presence. Mustang just had a certain warmth in those mascara-clad eyes. “Hi.” said Mustang. “Uh, hey.” you replied. “Can I come in?” asked Mustang. “Oh, right, of course.” you replied, stepping aside. It was only once Mustang stepped inside that you remembered why he was here in the first place, “I mean…” “Hm?” said Mustang, turning to face you. “Uh...it’s just…” you stammered, “Don’t feel obligated to do this.” “Do what?” asked Mustang, “Look after you?” “Y-yeah…” you replied, “I mean, I appreciate it, but you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” “Why not?” asked Mustang, “I’m not going to make physical contact, so I won’t get sick.” You couldn’t help but chuckle. “What is it?” asked Mustang, “Please, can you tell me?” You took a deep breath before speaking. “I just...don’t want to become someone else’s problem. Especially when I can take care of myself.” Mustang just smiled. “What is it?” you asked. “You’re not a problem, (Y/N).” said Mustang, “I like taking care of people. You’ve seen how I love taking care of little ones. And most importantly, I care about you.” You were silent for a moment. “That’s true. Oh, and thank you.” “No need to thank me for caring about you.” said Mustang, “Now, how about you get some rest? The fastest way to get better is if you go to bed and let your body take care of itself.” “Alright.” you smiled with resignation. “Have you had lunch yet?” asked Mustang. “No.” you replied. “You have any chicken noodle soup here?” asked Mustang. “Yeah.” you replied. “Alright, I’m going to cook some for you.” said Mustang, “You go to bed.” “Yes, sir.” you said teasingly. You went to your room, flopped onto your bed, and proceeded to cough quite a bit from the impact. You turned onto your back and stared up into the ceiling. You couldn’t help the nagging feeling in the back of your mind. Did Mustang really want to care for you this bad? He didn’t just feel obligated? You tried to remind yourself about Mustang’s words, that they liked caring for others. Still, it bothered you to let someone else take care of you. A knock on the door pulled you out of your thoughts. “(Y/N)?” said Mustang. “Come in.” you said. Mustang walked in with a tray for breakfast in bed. On the tray was a bowl of chicken soup, a spoon, and a glass of orange juice. “I saw you had an empty glass of orange juice, so I thought I’d get some of that for you, too.” said Mustang. You couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks, Mustang.” “Of course.” replied Mustang as he put the tray over your lap, “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to let me know.” Mustang winked. “I mean it.” Mustang said softly. “Alright.” you said with a smile. “That’s good to hear.” said Mustang, “Alright, I’m gonna clear the kitchen counter.” Mustang got up and walked away. His pink tail was the last thing you saw before Mustang shut the door. You took a sip of orange juice, then a noodle from your soup. Maybe you’d allow this for a day, if for no other reason than to have Mustang around. It wasn’t very long until you began to nod off. You let your eyes droop shut.giftrophyScarecrowDakota sat next to his windowsill, strumming his guitar with a soft sigh. He looked out the window, frowning when he saw Lucia. How can he talk to her about how he felt? They've been together for a few years now, so this should be easy! He felt speaking with her was easy. They had common interests, she listened and cared about his feelings, but... Dakota wiped away the tears he felt forming. He loved seeing how happy she was, and loved hearing about her interests. Why was it so hard to ask if they could spend more time together like they use to? When they were kids, and when they first reunited. He loved the times he could spend most of his day with her. He shook his head, carefully setting his guitar against the wall. This always happened. He'd close himself off and distance himself. No matter who it was. He hated to admit it, but he knew he was scared, no terrified, of Lucia losing interest in him. Why he always distanced himself first. Losing her would be easier that way. He got up, trying to calm himself down, then left out the back door. Dakota headed out into the backyard toward the wooded area. He felt safe in his little spot. Plants and trees surrounding him, a vine swing made with his own plant magic. He took in a deep breath and sat on a log to think. Lucia was coming to visit her boyfriend. She noticed how he'd been acting different lately, and was wondering what was going on. She glanced at his window, frowning when she saw him lost in thought. What was wrong? She went into the house, saying a hello to Dakota's dad, then went to his room. When he wasn't there, she paused to think. He couldn't have gone far in such a short time. There's only one place he'd be that he showed her. Lucia made her way into the woods, searching for that special little area of Dakota's. She didn't normally go there without him, but she had to find out what was going on. When she found him, Lucia sat next to him on the log. “Dakota, what's wrong. You know you can talk to me, right? I've been worried about you since you started acting like this! Can we talk about it?”Waking NightmareThe first thing Cassius was aware of was the soft, melodic sound of faint carnival music, prancing through the air in a way the toon could only describe as playful.Opening his eyes, he found himself standing amidst a collection of trees in a strange, unfamiliar forest. Underfoot was a graveled path, lined with an odd fog at either side that lazily swirled within a gentle breeze. Where was he? This wasn’t his apartment- nor was it the library. His memory was fuzzy and difficult to grasp, as if he was attempting to catch smoke with his bare hands. The last thing he remembered was… Being seated at a desk, with his face buried in a book. He had been in his bedroom, reading something he’d taken from the library earlier that same day. He remembered eventually retiring and heading to bed, but… When had he ended up in a place like this? Crossing his arms, Cassius frowned, one hand raising up and tap tap tapping a finger against the side of his forehead. “I don’t sleepwalk, so I doubt that’s it.” He mumbled aloud. “… A teleportation mishap? No, I wouldn’t be capable of something like this. Not yet.” Perhaps he had dozed off, and this was all a dream? He wasn’t sure. It didn’t feel like a dream- it felt far too real. He could feel the gravel underfoot, a gentle breeze, a slight chill in the air- But then again, he couldn’t puzzle out some other explanation for how he had ended up here so suddenly. His thoughts came to a pause as he glanced around, realizing the scenery around him had changed- had he been walking without realizing it? In front of him was the entrance to… A carnival? That much Cassius could tell. The white and blue striped tents loomed behind this outer wall, standing tall in a way that was both inviting and imposing. The entrance itself was lined with two torches lit with deep blue flames that flickered and danced to some sort of silent rhythm. The torches illuminated a sign, which read “The Carnival of Wonders.” Other individuals were walking into the carnival as well, only adding to the strange yet inviting atmosphere. Distantly, Cassius could hear screams- but it was more the sort of screams one would hear at a haunted house or a particularly thrilling ride. For every scream came a batch of laughter soon after. What was this? Cassius was delightfully intrigued. Although some distant part of him screamed that this had to be some sort of trap or some supernatural threat, he felt far more curious about it than threatened. Plus, if it was something dangerous, then it needed some investigating. Perhaps he could poke around and see what this place had to offer. With almost a skip in his step, Cassius hurried down the gravel path, striding through the entrance to look within. He was greeted by the sight of… Well, a carnival. It was populated by a series of booths, stands, and tents, all lit by more of those blue, flaming light sources. There were games and prizes, stands selling all sorts of snack foods- there even appeared to be some sort of ride off in the distance. Certain individuals dressed in bright blues could be seen manning the stations. Everything was dotted by an assorted population of people- people that Cassius absently realized were each wearing sleepwear. Cassius himself was wearing his normal getup. (Had he fallen asleep in this?) The outfit consisted of a button down shirt, a red vest, a necktie decorated with a deep yellow gemstone, and a pair of dark pants… Embarrassingly, he realized his shoes had not made the journey. He was only in a pair of socks. Flushing, Cassius hurriedly stepped off to the side while reaching a hand behind himself, rooting around in his hammerspace (all toons- like himself- had one). He hoped nobody had noticed him, though the likelihood was very low. He was much taller than most, standing at nearly seven feet, and it gathered him unwanted attention far easier than he would like. Damn his growth spurts. Pulling out a pair of light brown dress shoes, Cassius stepped behind a small tent- then walked out on the other side with the outfit in its entirety. There. Now he felt a little more confident about walking around, especially in a place he was so unfamiliar with. He couldn’t shake off the feeling of there being so many eyes on him, silently judging, even if everyone else seemed to be going about their own business. Standing with his hands on his hips, the toon peered around, absently watching as other visitors to the carnival passed by- some holding various snacks, others hurrying to one of the available games. There were people of all shapes and sizes- toons and realkind alike. They seemed to be enjoying themselves- even as Cassius watched a brightly-colored figure in a mask pop out from behind a stand shouting “Boo!”, startling a group of kids that squealed in delight and ran away. Despite himself, Cassius felt… Out of place. He didn’t know where to start amidst all the terror and merriment. And on top of that, it seemed the majority of the carnival-goers here were moving in groups. Where could he go? Where should he go? Being in a place on his own felt… Hm. He shook his head, in turn trying to banish the feeling of loneliness that was creeping up on him. Though as he stood there, he abruptly stiffened, feeling goosebumps prickle across the back of his neck. Cassius was suddenly very, very aware that someone was standing behind him.Turning on a dime, Cassius spun around and first looked down- then he looked up, up, up. Standing before him, arms behind its back, was an individual who stood at an unfathomable height- well over eight feet, at Cassius’ quick estimate. That alone intimidated him- he didn’t like being looked down on, literally or figuratively. The figure was adorned in clothes Cassius would describe as fancy- perhaps even a bit over the top. The ensemble was decorated entirely with blacks and blues, with motifs and patterns that leaned predominantly towards the appearance of the wings of a butterfly. It was all topped off by a lavishly decorated top hat with an ace of spades nestled behind a decorative ribbon, and a white mask with two large holes, behind which were a pair of brilliantly blue eyes that almost seemed to burn like flames. Their unblinking eyes almost reminded Cassius of an insect. Was this guy on stilts?? Glancing down again confirmed that, no, this guy was just that tall. Was this how other people felt compared to him? “You seem… Lost. Or perhaps, concerned.” The figure commented, startling Cassius out of his own thoughts. “I… What?” “Have I misunderstood? You’re standing around, lingering like a shadow on the wall.” Cassius blinked, slowly lowering his shoulders. He felt a bubble of embarrassment at being caught out of sorts, but he quickly crushed it, forcing it aside and standing a bit straighter. “I’m not lost. I’m… Getting my bearings.” He articulated, speaking with purpose. He hoped it made him sound more sure of himself- usually it worked on the common folk back home. “Ah, my mistake then.” The other hummed, tilting their head ever so slightly. “If I may, might I recommend starting with something simple? There’s a ring toss to your left, and darts to your right.” Cassius rolled his eyes. “I can pick for myself, thank you.” He grumbled, absently glancing towards the games the much taller individual had mentioned. He didn’t like standing so close to this figure. They made him feel small. He forcibly kept his expression neutral, refusing to show that he felt unnerved in any way. “… Is there one that people tend to prefer?” “Mmm. The ring toss, typically.” The figure commented. “Though the darts are a close second.” “Right.” Cassius murmured, glancing towards the ring toss, absently watching as a group tried their hand at the game. “Is there anything other than the games?” “Oh, of course. We have a few rides, a haunted house- in fact, in a few hours we’ll be having a show in the main tent. Plenty of things to do.” “Hmm.” After an extended silence, Cassius decided that he had grown bored of watching others fail at the ring toss game over and over again- it seemed rigged in some way, but Cassius couldn’t make out the trick despite his careful studying. He cleared his throat and turned back towards the other. “Well… Is there anything else that you- What??” Cassius blinked at the spot next to him in bewilderment. That odd individual was just- gone. His disappearance had been completely silent. How had Cassius not noticed? There were no footsteps, no shifting of fabric, not even a shifting of the air or a shadow. He turned his head all about, eyes cast in every direction. “What? How did-?” … Oh great. He was being messed with. Just what he needed. The toon scowled around the scenery, keeping his gaze directed upwards for that freakishly tall masked figure. Well, fine. If he was going to be that way, then Cassius was going to do something else. Maybe there was a dunk tank Cassius could take his frustrations out on. Grumbling to himself, the toon stormed through the carnival, mood dramatically soured. He felt like he was being made to look like an idiot, and that in turn just made him feel angrier. Cassius moved throughout the carnival with a new sort of energy- a determination to force this into a more enjoyable experience. Through the power of spite, games were attempted, snacks were eaten, a haunted house was perused (it was admittedly a little impressive, even if the scares felt cheap at times)- Cassius even managed to find that dunk tank, which he tried time and time again until he got the delightful satisfaction of sending the toon taunting the visitors within it into the water waiting below. He had tucked the prize of a small stuffed cat deep into his hammerspace- the last thing he wanted was to be seen carrying that around. He was self conscious enough as it was. Throughout his meandering, Cassius made a few observations- for one thing, the carnival seemed to have an air similar to the festivals back home celebrating Halloween- while fun and play were the most obvious focus, there were also plenty of spooks and scares that kept him on his toes. For another- the vendors of all the booths and stands were each wearing their own white masks, and were dressed in blacks and vibrant blues. At least they wore some sort of recognizable uniform. He had even asked around with a few of the other carnival-goers- They each had arrived at this place in similarly odd ways. The common theme was everyone going to sleep or taking a rest, and finding themselves before the entrance of the carnival.Either this was something genuinely concerning, or this was one of the most detailed (and slightly disturbing) dreams that Cassius ever had. He mused over all this while seated near a stand that was giving out pastries and sweets, thinking to himself as he took a bite of his funnel cake. This seemed like the sort of thing that would have some darker truth hidden underneath, like the tropes his Father often warned him about. But everything here seemed harmless enough, even with Cassius feeling slightly on edge the entire time he’d been here. He hadn’t stopped peeking over his shoulder or peering at the crowd for that odd, tall individual. He wouldn’t be caught by surprise again. Cassius hummed, shoving the last of the funnel cake into his mouth, and wiping his hands free of powdered sugar with a handkerchief he quickly produced from behind his back. He wasn’t going to satisfy his curiosity by sitting around and eating snacks. It was time to do a bit more exploring around the carnival. He rose from his seat and began to wander, quietly following the subtle direction and rhythm of the crowd. While before everyone seemed to simply be milling about every which way, they now seemed to be moving towards a specific location.The toon followed quietly until he realized what everyone was heading to: a large tent near the center of the carnival. In fact, it seemed to be the largest by far. People were filing in, chattering to one another as they disappeared through the entrance. Curiously, Cassius followed along, joining the crowd and entering the tent to get a look at what was inside. This main tent was obviously meant for some sort of show. Dozens, if not hundreds of seats in stands circled around a large middle area. Said central area currently held a pair of those masked figures, who were currently doing some sort of comedy routine to keep the crowd entertained before the show properly began. Ah. This must be the show that the stranger from before had mentioned. Cassius glanced up at the seats, debating for a moment if he wanted to find a seat for himself, before eventually deciding to simply ghost near the entrance. If this event proved to be properly interesting, then he would consider lingering around and getting his own seat. He didn’t have to wait long. As he leaned against one of the wooden supports of the stands, the lighting within the tent began to dim, giving it a sudden darkness that left Cassius squinting in an attempt to make out any details. All at once, several small flames burst to life around the perimeter of the center, alighting in pair after pair until the blue flames were properly illuminating the space. A spotlight appeared from somewhere up high, pointing to the exact center of the ring. There was a brief pause, a baited breath- and then a burst of smoke spewed from the center, spreading out across the entirety of the central ring like an erupting volcano, covering the floor in a lingering fog. The spotlight remained in the center, where a figure dropped down from nowhere, disappearing under the smoke for a moment before slowly rising from the fog, unfolding to his full, eight-foot height. It was that awful stranger from before. Cassius groaned to himself, burying his face against the palms of both of his hands. Of course. Why would it have been anyone else? The ringmaster simply had to be someone the toon had decided he didn’t like. The ringmaster began to speak to the crowd, but whatever words were lost to Cassius. He had already stormed out of the tent, pushing past the few stragglers. He was given a few odd looks, but Cassius didn’t care. He wasn’t about to bother giving this place any more of his time or focus. There had to be some sort of exit to this place, right? All carnivals had one, and while he figured this one was a dream of sorts, Cassius assumed that there had to be some way out. His hurried footsteps crunched against the gravel as he stormed about, searching high and low for any sign of a way to leave- be it subtle clues and tricks or big, obvious signs that screamed “Come here to wake up and leave!” Cassius didn’t find any of that- what he did find, however, caused him to stop in his tracks, the idea of leaving forgotten. It was a tent- it was slightly different in design from the others, its interior darkened and mysterious. A sign at the front read “Fortune Teller.” Now that was intriguing. Was this the real deal, with proper use of divination magic? Then again, it could just as easily be a con like the rest of the carnival games were.The toon looked around for a moment, debating internally. Eventually, he nodded to himself, then began to stride towards the tent. Satisfying one more curiosity couldn’t hurt. Cassius crept through the entrance of the tent like a nervous shadow, ducking ever so slightly to fit through- it seemed that the design of the tent was meant for toons shorter than himself. Once inside, he paused, taking a moment to look around and study his surroundings. The entirety of the tent was decorated with dozens of different textures. Rugs covered the ground, one laid on top of the other, arranged in an organized chaos. There were enough patterns that Cassius figured that there must have been some gathered from every part of Einquell- and perhaps even some originating from realkind continents. There was a table at the center of the tent, covered in layers upon layers of table runners that each appeared to be made from a different cloth. In front of it was a simple yet refined wooden chair that seemed to be inviting someone to occupy it. Were it not for the pale blue light that illuminated the room, everything surely would’ve clashed with one another- but the effect gave it a monochromatic color scheme that seemed more mysterious than chaotic. And finally, sitting on the opposite side of the table was a figure. They were… Short. Or perhaps… stout? It was difficult to tell with the clothes they were wearing, which seemed to have just as many layers as the table and floor. They wore a cloak with a hood that concealed their features- in fact, the only thing visible through the darkness of the hood were a pair of sharp, green, pupiless eyes. It being the only other color in the room besides the blues drew more attention to them. “Ah… Welcome. I’ve been expecting you.” Cassius’ expression changed from curious gawking to flat irritation in an instant. “You say that to everyone who comes in here?” The hooded figure simply stared, unblinking. They lifted up one hand, gesturing towards the chair on the opposite side of the table. “Not everyone- only those curious enough to peek into what’s to come.” The toon signed, rolling his eyes, yet resigned himself to following the other’s silent direction, seating himself in the empty chair. As he did so, the fortune teller pulled out a deck of cards- shuffling them in smooth, practiced motions. Cassius was surprised to see that their wrists were adorned with a pair of shackles- there were even a few broken chains dangling from them. “So… How does this work?” Cassius asked, eyes flicking upwards from the cards to the void that served as the other’s face. The shuffling was paused for a moment, the cards carefully gathered into a neat, organized pile. “It’s quite simple.” They were shuffled again, the fluttering sound filling the room. “You ask your questions, and I turn to the deck for answers. Though be warned: the cards often tell you what you need to hear, not necessarily what you want.” Cassius frowned thoughtfully. Weren’t those the same thing? What Cassius needed and what Cassius wanted were interchangeable, that much he knew for certain. Though he found himself wondering if there was any actual magic involved in this reading- divination was a school of magic he had a passing curiosity in, but could never really grasp. His interests were more focused on… Other forms of magic. Regardless, he’d have to ask a question if he wanted to see it in action. He turned out the possibilities of what he wanted answered in his head: Would his life feel more stable in the future? Were his goals attainable? What sort of people would be in his future? Eventually, he settled on his decision, clearing his throat. “How can I prove myself worthy of what my father is withholding from me?” A soft hum sounded from the figure. The deck was straightened one more time. They rested a hand on the topmost card, before beginning to draw cards by and rest them on the table. Cassius watched as they worked, fingers moving with practiced ease. A card was set down then flipped over, revealing the illustration on the opposing side, then another would follow suit. Nine of wands, ace of swords (though this one was upside down), knight of wands, eight of wands, queen of pentacles. There was a pause, like one’s breath being held in a moment of tension. Cassius thought the other had finished setting down all the cards, but was surprised when they began setting down a few more. King of wands, eight of swords, the tower (this too was upside down), seven of pentacles, knight of pentacles. The rest of the cards were set down, and the fortune teller hummed thoughtfully. They stared down at the cards, studying them like one would study a page. “... Well?” Cassius pressed after the silence stretched longer than he liked, though it only earned him a gloved hand being lifted up sharply- a silent demand for silence. “Patience, little one.” Cassius scowled, an eye twitching quite toonishly. “I’m taller than you.” “It is not a comment on your height.” Confusion crept into Cassius’ frustrated expression, but it quickly settled into anger a moment later. “I’m not a child.” He spat venomously. Tilting their head, the other spoke evenly, their tone monotonous. “Perhaps you should consider changing your behavior then.” Spluttering like a fish out of water, Cassius’ hands gripped onto his knees, fingers digging like claws into the fabric of his pants. He felt like he was being picked apart and insulted for all to see, even though the tent only had himself and this strange fortune teller. Cassius’ anger was a volcano about to burst, even with his efforts of keeping a cool head. Brush it off. Don’t dwell on it. The fortune teller began to speak. “You stand in a position where you feel the need to prove yourself: not only for an inheritance, but for the family name. You believe you need an incredible feat of skill or heroism to prove yourself.” A beat of silence filled the room, and a sudden tension was palpable in the air. Cassius had straightened in his seat in surprise, eyes wide; his loosened grip re-tightened, this time into a pair of fists hidden underneath the table. “The cards speak of an abrupt change within your past- an argument or fight that has uprooted you and has left you to fend for yourself. Despite this, you seek to regain that lost wealth; to regain what you have lost. This isn’t possible.” “The hell do you mean, it isn’t-?!” Cassius began, only to be cut off again as the figure across from them lifted up their hand sharply. Their eyes were just as sharp as the motion had been. It was a clear warning, one that left the toon stewing in his seat. “Regaining what you’ve lost isn’t possible. ” They started again, keeping their hand up in front of them. They would not be interrupted again. “But you can instead turn your energy and set upon a different fortune. Seek out a new mentor- they will guide you when your life begins to change. You are stronger than you seem; and yet you restrict yourself by playing as the victim. If you are to make something of yourself, you must do more than what you’re expected to do by the chains of your past influences. If you put in the work, you will be able to make something stable for yourself- but this is only possible if you make the effort and put in the work. You cannot keep coasting on what has been handed to you. Take responsibility for-” The sentence went unfinished, seeing as Cassius had leapt across the table, tackling the fortune teller to the ground. Wooden furniture tumbled against the ground, filling the tent with a series of clatters and thuds- both chairs were sent sprawling, the table kicked over behind Cassius in an instant. Limbs were tangled together in bursts of motion, styles clashing, fabric torn. Cassius’ hands clawed towards the void that served at the other toon’s face, trying to grasp at where their throat could be- before he suddenly felt pain bloom from his gut. The figure beneath him had kicked up their foot, their heeled shoe digging into Cassius’ stomach like a blunt knife. He was so startled by how abrupt the pain was, Cassius instinctively moved away from the fortune teller, falling to the side as a hand clutched at his stomach. He snarled, his free hand pulling an umbrella from his hammerspace. Cassius stood, and a hurried incantation was spoken; the umbrella was struck against his own chair that had fallen over. A loud ringing filled the room as if a bell had been struck, filled with an energy and power that seemed palpable with harmful intent- and yet the fortune teller did not shrink back, unaffected by Cassius’ use of magic. The other, meanwhile, had taken advantage of Cassius backing off, rising up from the ground with both hands held up at their sides, a soft metallic clinking sound coming from the broken chains dangling from their wrists. “I will not tolerate this behavior.” They hissed- that monotonous tone from before was gone, replaced by a clear venom. “Cease.” Chains formed between the shackles on the fortune teller’s wrists, glowing a bright, sickly green. Cassius didn’t even get a chance to react before they shot forward like striking serpents, coiling around the toon in a burst of motion. His startled cry was cut off, and he found himself pulled to the ground, the chains weighing him down with incredible magical strength. Cassius was suddenly very, very aware of the kind of trouble he was in, which was only highlighted as his jaw was grabbed, gloved fingers gripping into his flesh and forcing him to look up and into the black void of the fortune teller’s hood. Horrifically, the darkness was filled with several more pairs of burning green eyes- and none of them looked particularly pleased. “You… Are not very bright.” They hissed, grip tightening. Cassius tried to struggle, but those chains did more than just hold him in place- they made it so his very body couldn’t move. It was like his animation had just paused. “And in need of a lesson.” They paused, pulling back from Cassius and straightening to their full height (Which admittedly wasn’t much- but with Cassius forced to his knees, it was all they needed to be the taller of the two in the moment). He brushed his hands against his outfit, straightening the fabric and correcting the disheveled appearance from their short scuffle. “This may be a dream-” They began, those many piercing eyes burning into Cassius’ very soul. “- But I can assure you: A greater nightmare will be awaiting you in the waking world. I will find you. And when I do, you will spend the rest of your life regretting your actions on this night.” “You will do no such thing.” If Cassius could jump, he would have- There was a third presence in the room, one that hadn’t been there a moment ago. There was a beat of silence, before it was broken again by the fortune teller. “Graves.” “Nirvana.” All at once, the magic surrounding Cassius dispelled, and he instantly took the opportunity to backpedal as far away from the others as he dared, gripping onto the umbrella he had pulled from his hammerspace. His focus snapped towards the new individual- and upon seeing who it was, he wasn’t sure if the arrival of this new individual was something to celebrate or something to fear. “Graves,” as it turned out, was that frighteningly tall freak from before- the ringmaster of the carnival. He stood at his full height, and Cassius realized that the tent had somehow grown to accommodate them. Nirvana- the fortune teller- had regained their composure. The void that served as their face was now populated by a normal amount of piercing green eyes, but even Cassius could see that they seemed more than frustrated by this development. “A lesson must be taught here, Graves. And seeing as how I was the one this child disrespected, I will be the one to choose the appropriate punishment.” Graves tilted his head, the mask he wore glinting slightly in the blue light of the tent, which seemed to have grown brighter in the presence of the ringmaster. “Ah, but you see- You were acting as Nirvana, and Nirvana is in my service, is she not?” One of Nirvana’s eyes twitched, her head bowing so slightly that Cassius almost didn’t notice it. They were silent, perhaps even stewing. Cassius, meanwhile, waited with bated breath for a moment before deciding that perhaps now would be the best time to take an opportunity to slip out. A quick glance over his shoulder was all he needed to locate the exit and begin planning his escape route- a route which he began to ever so slowly creep along, keeping his gaze directed at the others in the tent. “In this matter, it seems more fitting for the ringmaster to handle his punishment.” Graves remarked. The long, slender toon stared directly at Nirvana as he said this, as if to ensure his point was not lost on the other. The fortune teller did not move nor react, but Cassius could hear the venom building up in her voice. “You only wish to do so out of spite.” They accused. “I am merely protecting what’s mine.” “I do not belong to you.” “Oh, but you do.” Graves purred, and Cassius could feel the smile creeping across their face, despite the fact that their face was covered by a featureless white mask. This wasn’t a rescue- this was merely going from the frying pan and falling into the fire. Cassius bit back an expelling of grawlix and he hurriedly turned around and began crawling towards the exit, only to stop in surprise. The exit was gone, replaced by a mirror that reflected Cassius’ own wide-eyed expression of terror back at himself. The mirror also showed that, behind him, the ringmaster had turned his head to look at Cassius- blue eyes studying him like one would a particularly interesting insect. Cassius swore, the grawlix escaping his mouth. He turned around, frantically standing up from the ground, clutching the umbrella like it was his only lifeline.Nirvana took a step towards Cassius, a hand outstretched, which made him flinch and point the spell focus at the shorter individual. Abruptly, Cassius realized the floor was gone beneath his feet. Wait- was he being lifted up?! Indeed he was. Graves had reached a hand behind Cassius, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and scruffing him into the air. The toon instinctively kicked his legs and moved his arms, which only seemed to make the tense moment more akin to a lighthearted gag. “Ack! Put- Put me down! This is ridiculous! I won’t be manhandled by-” Graves shot Cassius a look that immediately got him to shut up, if only for a moment. “You are not in a position to be making demands of us.” Graves said flatly. “Your behavior was completely unwarranted. Childish, in every sense of the word.” “They insulted-!” “They were telling your fortune.” Graves snapped. “Do you yell at the grass for growing? Insult the clouds for rain?” “This is different.” “No, this is common decency. Only a child would throw such a fit at perceived insults.” “I am not a child.” “Then act like it.” Both Nirvana and Graves hissed at once- which caused them both to pause, glancing at one another before returning to the matter at hand. Nirvana turned their attention towards the other, much taller individual, rather than Cassius. “It isn’t too late to change your mind. I could think of a good number of fitting punishments.” Graves shook his head. “I believe I already have one in mind. Step outside for a moment- and please take care that no one will be around to overhear us. This could get… Loud.” What was that supposed to mean? Cassius could feel his blood run cold as Nirvana glared at Graves and gave a stiff bow. They then turned away, their cloak sweeping around them as they exited the tent through an entrance that suddenly appeared, then disappeared just as quickly. Cassius yelped as his umbrella was ripped out of his hands with surprising strength, then was dropped to the ground. The toon landed roughly against the carpeted flooring. He was backpedaling again as soon as he hit the ground, cursing aloud. “What are you doing?” He demanded, voice shaking. Graves did not answer, instead silently tilting his head in response, as if pondering something. “What is your name, little one?” “… What?” “Your name.” “I’m not going to-" “You don’t have much of a choice here.” “But- but why? What’s the point? Why not do whatever it is you intend to do and be done with me?” Cassius pressed. He had found that he had backed up against a solid surface, and began to stand up from the ground again, back pressed against whatever had stopped him. “It’s not that simple.” Graves was suddenly in front of him, his face mere inches away, red eyes boring into him- wait, red? Hadn’t they been blue? Cassius let out a yelp. “You’ve put me in a very difficult position. There must be consequences, and I think you would prefer this over whatever Nirvana intends with you.” Cassius grit his teeth, frantically looking left, right- anywhere else than directly in front of him and those burning, unblinking eyes. It was difficult but not impossible- those pools of brilliant crimson demanded so much attention, especially so close.He discovered that their surroundings had completely changed- they were still in the fortune teller’s tent, that much was certain- but everything had changed from shades of blue to shades of deep, foreboding reds. The colors reminded Cassius of fire- of blood. “Does- Does this have to happen? Can’t you just… let me go?” Graves snorted- either in irritation, or humor. Perhaps both. “Not possible. The sting must come when you go poking a hornet’s nest.” He hissed. Cassius noted that the other’s voice had changed- it was subtle, but the subtlety was not lost on him. Not when adrenaline was pounding through him, his heartbeat sounding in his own ears like a war drum. Graves’ voice was laced with something… different. Something heavy. Something other than just a change in tone. “Now. Tell me your name.” Cassius flinched, his attention forcibly pulled back to the other’s masked face. The other’s eyes seemed to glow in the abrupt darkness- the only light source in a suddenly dark room. Despite himself, Cassius found his posture loosening, with words forcing themselves out of his mouth. “C-Cassius…” The toon began, and soon the rest of his name came tumbling after. “Cassius Sorrel Yune Deed Blackmont. The Third.” “There. Was that so hard?” “N… No.” “Good. Let’s move on then.” Grave’s head snapped to the side, tilting abruptly with a loud cracking sound. It was followed by a series of sounds like smaller bones being cracked- krk, krk, krk. Horrifically, Cassius found a mouth was forming across the other’s face, starting just underneath the mask and spreading to either side. It seemed like a sharp, jagged smile was simply cracking into existence, a black fog dripping from the newly formed opening, which seemed to glow just as brightly as the other’s eyes. The toon’s heartbeat thundered in his ears- but it was being drowned out by something. A different heartbeat. Something loud, something powerful, something that overpowered his own and forced itself to be heard. Cassius tried to move, to scramble away- but something gripped onto his shoulders, stopping him dead in his tracks before he could even begin to run. They held him in place, holding him against whatever was behind him. “Hold still.” Cassius, despite himself, obliged- distantly, it felt wrong to be going with this with even a degree of willingness, but the thoughts were foggy and far off. What was happening? His head was tilted to the side, guided by… something. There was pain- sudden, sharp pain- on the side of his neck. Cassius cried out, but was cut off as something covered his mouth. What was happening? What was happening? He felt his energy, his vitality, draining from him. His neck felt warm and wet, slick with blood (He had no ink- he was a CGIan toon, after all). Graves held him still with not two, not three, but four different arms that kept him in place. Time slowed to a crawl. Though it was only for a minute or so, to Cassius, it felt like hours. The most terrifying part of it, perhaps, was the fact that Cassius’ heartbeat was fading- and fading fast. He didn’t- he didn’t want to die. Wasn’t this a dream? A nightmare? Why wasn’t he waking up? When Cassius’ legs finally gave out from under him, he was caught by the waiting arms of the ringmaster, and gently set on the ground. He felt so dizzy, his foggy mind on the brink of unconsciousness. He was distantly aware that the pain on his neck had stopped- it didn’t feel as sharp as before. Something was abruptly presented to him- but Cassius didn’t have the state of mind or body to even flinch. “Drink.” Something was pressed against Cassius’ mouth- and he could feel something warm, something wet. It smelled nauseating- the thick coppery scent was undeniable. It took effort, but Cassius shakily lifted a hand to the wrist that had been presented to him, dripping with blood. He pressed it into his mouth, letting the liquid seep within. He began to drink. The first sip was nervous, tentative- but it was soon replaced by a delirious fervor that demanded to be satiated. “Enough.” The wrist was pulled away from him, and Cassius found himself left wanting. He groaned, both of his hands reaching up and holding onto his head. That heartbeat- the one that wasn’t his- was still thundering on. It made his head hurt.He doubled over, still holding to his head, now against the ground in a kneeling position. All at once, the pain began. Something within him was boiling. His skin was freezing. His mouth felt like dozens of knives had been stabbed into his jaw. The pain shot through him like a bolt of lightning, and lingered like a tormented soul. There was a scream of agony- raw and unceasing. He realized it was his own. Every part of Cassius burned- he felt like he was on fire. He could practically feel the flames dancing across his skin, digging into him. His very core felt molten- he didn’t know where he ended and the flames began. He wanted it to stop- he wanted it to stop. And eventually, after what felt like an eternity, it did. And with it, came the black void of unconsciousness. -- - Cassius awoke in a cold sweat. He gasped loudly and shot up in bed, then immediately regretted the action. His whole body felt raw, like he had been forced through a full body workout without his knowledge. Even the act of breathing felt difficult, as if he had forgotten how to and was desperately trying to force it to work. “What… What.” Cassius was surprised by the croak that was his own voice. It sounded broken. His bed was a mess. The sheets were tangled around him- his pillow was on the floor. Next to it were dozens of ceramic pieces- the vase that had been on his nightstand had, at some point, crashed to the floor. How had he not woken up from it? Moonlight seeped into his room through a crack in the curtains of his window- and yet, Cassius found that he did not need it to see every detail of what was around him. That was… Odd. That felt wrong. Untangling himself from his bedsheets, Cassius moved himself out of his bed- keeping his movements slow and deliberate. He nearly buckled over as he tried to stand, but caught himself on the end table where the vase had once been resting.What… What happened to him? His body didn’t even feel like his own. He felt different. Everything ached- especially his jaw. And what was that smell? Blearily, Cassius looked over to the bed- and froze in horror. Everything was stained with blood. Was… Was that his blood? He stared at where the blood seemed to be collected the most- a particular spot near the headboard of the bed. Cassius reached a hand towards the side of his neck, and hissed in pain as he touched something that hadn’t quite healed. His hand came back red, but it was impossible to tell if it had already been covered in that horrifying hue. Standing in the darkness, Cassius tried to turn his mind to what could’ve possibly caused this. He remembered studying into the late hours of the night, then eventually retiring to his bed. He went to sleep, and then… The carnival. It all came flooding back to him all at once, the realization hitting him like a charging bull. Cassius felt nauseous. That… That couldn’t have happened. That was a dream, right? Then why…? Fumbling, Cassius reached a hand behind his back. After a moment, he pulled out a small hand mirror. Shaking, he held it up in front of his face. There was no reflection. The mirror was dropped, a crash filling the room as its broken pieces joined the ceramics upon the floor.The Long Way HomeEver since Inkopolis had grown more centralized and the monorail had been installed, most of the old trains that ran between it and the countryside had been closed. Most lines were intercity—if that counted for the cities swallowed under the name, if not jurisdiction, of Inkopolis—and underground stations were fewer and farther between than the overland routes. But a few still ran, maintaining stops out to Bluefin Depot and Saltspray Rig and Camp Triggerfish. Yes, the kettles could take her straight into the heart of the city—but scuffed up as she was, Agent gear still flashing, dragging a stolen suitcase for reasons better left unquestioned, it’d earn her more looks than she wanted to bargain for. And she didn’t feel like gambling a place to lie down. She hadn’t been sleeping lately, didn’t have the energy. Her eyes were half-shut and dull. Tired. Always tired, lately. So. She’s taking the long way home. Two fingers push one earbud in; a turn of her head, then the other; the high, soft collar of her jacket brushes against her cheek and her knuckles bump against her headset. She stands stiff and still, feet a hips-width apart. This station’s on the outskirts—abandoned, once, then reopened a few years ago without much explanation. It was a money sink, but no one in government had complained. Still, the trains here only ran thrice every twenty-four hours (10 AM, 6 PM, 2 AM, said the scratched placard on the wall), and nothing but silence echoed in between. A guest speaker drones on about humanity’s fourth world war in her ears. She watches the mounted analog clock tick closer to two and studies the walls—concrete, water-stained, covered with faded graffiti and posters whose features ended a long time ago. Some of the symbols that peek through look familiar: an octopus shape and an arrow painted in magenta, and a sticker she’s almost sure she saw on a parka in Jelonzo’s shop. Plain wooden crates loom in stacks in the corners: some are rotted, others splintered and scattered across the floor. The back of her neck prickles and she curls her lip instead. It slides down her spine like glacial surging, slow and cold and shivering. She scuffs her foot on the floor and ignores it, ignores the rumbling in her stomach, ignores the distant aching of her limbs. Her vest is frayed and her legs are bare and the station’s wet chill sinks its teeth in deep. So many electric lights keep flickering. It must have felt like home to them. Finally, the train roars in the distance. She’s almost there. (And it will be as cold and dim and beaten-down there too. But—she has to remember—it’s in these places that she thrives. Homes are no more than people and places she trespasses on. ) Camp Triggerfish’s Main Station is cleaner than this: a metal pavilion open to the elements, covered in summer-camp stickers and trinkets and crafts, raised on stilts like trellises that the weather force fields can’t stop vines from scaling. But it’s still another twenty-minute ride into the surrounding wild before she finds her cabin. Her footsteps will echo hollow on the diamond-plate platform, and she’ll push apart the undergrowth to find her bike, tie the suitcase down over the back wheel, and tumble into the valleys beyond. Oh, she says she’s not afraid—it becomes a mantra, a chanting, a war cry. Oh, she says she’s not afraid, but she’d be a liar if she said it wasn’t ‘cause she’s used to it.if dreams can come true, what does that say about nightmares?Plague Knight opens his eyes. The room is dark, too dark, and the ground he lays on is cold and unforgiving. Still, he forces himself up, even as the ground shakes. He hears his staff clatter to the ground. Looking up, in front of him he sees himself, robes flowing as his impossibly dark silhouette becomes enveloped by the Essences. Plague Knight lets out a wheeze-- the sound suppressed by the pressure in the room-- and tightens his grip on his staff as his Shadow absorbs them, form fluctuating as smoke fills the room. As he sets his eyes upon him, his better self lets out a screech. Plague Knight bobs and weaves through his attacks, though he fumbles with his bombs when trying to land a hit on it. Everything is so loud, he can only barely hear his heart pumping, his blood pounding, and his own labored breathing that only grows more and more unsteady as the fight goes on. It's all a blur. Everything happens so fast, he can barely process it all as its happening, but as his stamina begins to dwindle, as the other lands more and more hits, he begins to lose the will to keep going. A laser whizzes past him, barely grazing his arm, but even through the pain he presses on, running forwards and slashing at the glowing glass of the decanter. It lets out a wail, and as it drops to the ground, Plague Knight turns around and seesher staring at him he drops his staff,he calls her name,and as he rushes forwardthe force of her explosion strikes and everything goes white Plague Knight shoots upwards and gasps, the air trying to fill its lungs but failing as a suffocating, squeezing feeling encapsulates its body. Struggling to breathe, it glances around the room-- dark, far too dark-- and closes in on itself, scrambling back andhitting the ground. It hears the creak of the wood panels and clattering of the chains holding up its bed. It turns and pushes itself onto its hands and knees, taking in a shaky breath. It's fine. It feels its hands trembling, heart pounding in its chest, making it feel lightheaded. You're fine. It looks around the room. Research notes scattered along the ground, books piled up in the corners. It feels nebulous and ethereal, as if it's ended up in a place inbetween time and space, yet its body feels too heavy. The skin on its face crawls. It feels cold. Shivering, it stands, and slowly, it walks to its wardrobe. It pulls the doors open. Greeting it is an array of masks, most identical, but it knows the slight nuances and differences between each. Created by hand, none of them can be exactly alike; each have their own small, ultimately insignificant quirks and features.Yet, each one stares at it all the same.It reaches up and grasps at its face, claws digging into leather. It traces its claws along each seam and thread, feeling the wear and tear it's sustained. Still, despite everything, it remains intact. Built with strength and flexibility in mind, the walls that line the mask would have to take quite a blow to crumble. It closes its eyes and lets out a silent but weary sigh. The shadows settle.Little late for 7PMContent warning for violence and blood‐‐-----------------------------------------------------------------‐---------------------------------------------------------6 pm It's raining as always. The grey streets, only illuminated by orangish yellow light from the street lamps, are otherwise quite and seem empty. After all who would be outside at 6 pm when it's raining everyone is somewhere inside, either enjoying their evening at home or going into restaurants or clubs with their friends. Nobody has any reasons to be outside at this hour in rain. Except Neil. Neil has a reason. 6 pm he thinks, rolling back his sleeve to cover his watch. I have one hour for this. He starts walking leaving the metro entrance, he just came from, behind. If I am lucky I'll catch the metro in 18:30..., he starts planning way back in his head, if I do I should get to the other station at 18:40 and then I should be able to make the walk in 10 minutes and arriving there on time. he finishes the train thoughts and slightly smiles to himself* As he walked the street started to get darker functioning lamps starting to appear less and less. This was a sigh that he's in the right part of town. Well right for the thing he came to do not in general. He stopped at the corner of an entrance to a shady back ally. There was one weak wall light illuminating a door on the side of one of the buildings, with little roof over it. Neil stood at the corner of the ally. He could see inside but hypothetical person could've not seen him from the door. So he started waiting. The realisation of what he's planning to do, downs on him. He is going kill for selfish reasons. Not money or self defense. He's going to do it for completely sentimental and personal reasons. I am pretty sure I can classify this as self defense. He thought trying to justify it to himself Funny enough he used to look down on people who did this exact thing. The ones who killed because of emotions and grudges. Now look at where he ended up, one failed assassination attempt and whole lot of shenanigans later. But just because Neil had stupid reasons dosen't mean it wasn't reason. It was important to him and that gave him enough determination to go through with it. Suddenly there's a creek. The door open and out comes a man. What a luck, Neil thinks, this is exactly who I need. This man was an affiliate of the Boss with capital B. Leader of the most prominent organised crime group in Lyndin and probably the whole dimension #3. Neil had work with them before, they ordered some of his services, who did they wanted to eliminate again? Oh yeah! That one political candidate who wanted to reform the police force. This member wasn't too high ranking, but they'd probably notice if he just randomly disappeared. Neil started to think if he just used his ability quickly slith his throat and run off nobody would know, it would be easy. But the desire to just come up to him, make a friendly small talk and then strike him where it hurts the most and kick him till he's choking on his own blood, was just so strong. He has to pay for what he did to me. What he did to HIM . Neil snapped out of it, slightly rolling up his sleeve to check time, 18:15 well let's see what I can do in 15 minutes... or less... Neil started quietly walking to the man, he naturally walks very quietly, his line of work demands it, but today he was extra precise with his steps. He wanted this to be surprise. He came up close to the man. Standing under the same roof that that covers the door. Waiting for the man to notice. The man turned his head around, finally noticing someone's presences next to him, and slightly jumped. He opened his mouth and say, "Ugh Can I help you?" With little irrigation in his voice Neil looked at him through his glasses, "Good evening." He responded, "Neil Creal. I did business with your organisation some time ago." He offered his hand "Ohhhh I remember you!" The man said and shaked Neil's hand, "We hired you to kill, shit- what was that guys name, that one annoying guy who wanted more efficient cops or something like that." Neil nodded, "Yes I know who we're talking about! I took care of him!" He said with playful tone "Nice we're on the same page then!" The man smiled dropping probably dropping all the suspicion he had against Neil, "What brings you here today sir?" Neil gridded his teeth, "oh I came to ask about the Boss" that was a lie, "I heard your group got into some fight with the police recently, I wanted to know what was that about and if everything is ok" that was even bigger lie. He knew exactly what happened in the fight, what happened to HIM . And he didn't want to know if everything is ok at all, he in fact wanted everything to suck. "Oh yeah that!" The man reacted with amusement, "Some of the cops decided that they wanted to stuck their stupid noses in our business" he started telling the story with excitement, like a child telling you about the dead squirrel they found. "I actually shot one of them! The detective that's constantly on the news, you know that one. The one who can't shut up about getting rid of the crime in the entire dimension. You know he always seemed like giant egoistic asshole to m- AUGHT!!" he didn't get to finish his rant because Neil stabbed him in the guts with a pocket knife. "ENOUGH." Neil said firmly. "How dare you talk about HIM like that! You don't know anything!" He barked with nothing but a rage in his voice. The man snapping out the shock hissed in pain, " WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU! I thought we were on the same side!" He grabbed Neil's right arm, the same one Neil held the knife with. Neil saw red. He promptly kicked the man in to the stomach near the stab wound. The man proceeded to go and try to tackle Neil to the ground but Neil dodged and he fell over on the ground. Neil did not hesitated pulls out his knife once again and slights the man's throat. Blood started flooding out and the man started to cough, looking up on Neil from the ground . Neil looked back at him. Unimpressed, with disgust. And proceeds to kick him some more. After the man stopped twitching Neil kneeled down, to check his puls. No pulse. Good. Neil thought, standing up. He rolled up his sleeve again to check time. 18:25 Well he better go. Neil activated his ability and disappeared into the night. Adryel looked up from his TV screen to check time‐‐-----------------------------------------------------------------‐---------------------------------------------------------18:54 There's no way he'll make it here on time. Adryel thinked, Sitting up from his lying position on his sofa. It's weird he didn't let me know he'll be late, he continues the though, it's already pretty fucking weird that he's late at all. He stood up scratching his bandages. His whole chest and stomach were bandaged up, it was uncomfortable but it was necessary. At least there's now motivation for not searching 'abandoned' storage halls, head on without proper planning and back up. He walked over to the kitchen, the TV still playing in the background some stupid reality show, he turned on the light, and pulled out glass from the cupboard and proceeded to fill it up with water. As he drinked Mitoo started to brush around his leg. "What are you doing?" He asked with amusement picking up the dark blue cat with one hand, holding her like a baby. "Are you excited to see Neil too?" He said. Talking to an animal and expecting answers is normally seen as foolish until you actually get your own little guy and all shame goes out of the window. "Would be nice if he at least let me know he'll be fucking late but whatever" he rolled his eyes while Mitoo was still looking at him with her bright blue eyes trying to keep her last braincell inside of her head. The second he finishes the sentence his phone ringed. Adryel turned his head around setting the glass on the kitchen counter. "Well we about the wolf and the wolf learned how to use a phone" he said sarcastically, making his way back to the living room, Mitoo still in his hand like the baby she is. He picks up the phone. The time is 18:59. "Hey Adry!" Neil's voice can be heard from the other side. "Cut the politeness. Why are you late?" Adryel answered. It came out ruder than he intended, he has to really watch his tone more. "Well you know..." Neil said back and paused for a moment, "...the metro was late. sorry I didn't let you know sooner." "It's fine. I was just worried" Adryel said, he managed to clamed down. The anger he felt towards Neil's delay and failure to inform him about said delay faded away. "I am guessing you can't make it here before 7 pm?" He jokingly asked "Given it's 7 pm right now I don't think so." Neil said. Adryel couldn't tell his tone but he guessed he was joking too. "So when will you be here?" Adryel asked "I just arrived at the station I'll try to get there in 15 minutes" Neil answered "That's great" Adryel said trying to sound enthusiastic and failed. He was happy he truly was he just couldn't figure out how to say it properly. "Alright! I better be getting going now! Love you!" Neil said as his way to end the call "I love you too" Adryel said back. The beep announcing end of the call echoed from the other side and then there was silence. Adryel put his phone down and set Mitoo on the floor. And though, The Metro wasn't supposed to be delayed according to the online website. What the fuck was Neil up to? ‐‐-----------------------------------------------------------------‐---------------------------------------------------------Neil was standing in front of the public bathroom mirror, just finished cleaning his pants from blood. This funny little side adventure he just went on was way more messy than he expected. Thank the guardien his ability makes him invisible, he really didn't need the complications that come with being seen covered in blood. Getting ride from the blood on his hands and torso was easy. He always wears gloves so he just tossed those in a random dumpster on his way here, and he had second shirt with him anyway therefore he just changed. The pants on the other hand were problem. They weren't nearly as bloody as his hands and shirt but they still were little dirty from the kicking. He managed to scrub most of it off with toilet paper, the cheap soap he found in here and water but he still hopes Adry won't notice that his pants are darker down near the ankles. He didn't have any problem to clean his leather shoes though. Neil checks the time. 19:05 I better be going. He looks back into the mirror, pondering. Adry makes me do crazy things. And he doesn't even know about it. He contemplates, I wish he could know. I should take him out somewhere, as a sigh of how much I love him. I know what I should do! He brightness up at the idea, If he makes me fell like this, I should just ask him to marry me! He jumped a little from excitement, turns around grabs his suitcase and leaves the public bathroom. He quickly exited the metro station and started fast walking in the direction of Adryel's apartment. His mood greatly improved. The time was 19:06