Obscene Symphony

Avatar: Title Pending (lol)

The people of the Fire Nation have desire and will, and the energy and drive to achieve what they want.

_{“The Earth King took our kindness for weakness. That won't happen a second time.”}

_NAME

Zai Yao

_AGE

18

_BIRTHPLACE

Fire Nation Capital

_ELEMENT

Fire

_{APPEARANCE DETAILS}

A young man of average height, like many of his neighbours, Zai has clearly seen better days. While it is clear he was once fit and strong, his cheeks have grown sallow on long days and short rests, and a few visible ribs attest that it's been a long time since he's seen a hearty meal. His dark brown hair hangs limp and lifeless at his shoulders, chopped raggedly with a knife and often pulled back in a ponytail. He dresses like any Earth Kingdom peasant down on his luck, his clothes weather-stained and well worn, and often wears a wide-brimmed straw hat to ward off searching eyes. Underneath, although often rimmed by tired circles, his topaz eyes contrast his tired frame, remaining at all times sharp and alert.

_PERSONALITY

"Firebending has no training wheels. Learning requires boldness. You have to step beyond the limits of your control and trust in your ability to wrest it back again. Every time you bend, you walk a razor's edge between control and chaos. It is not for the faint of heart."

Zai is a true son of the Fire Nation: proud, strong-willed, and driven. What little that dares to stand between him and what he wants is met with ferocity and uncompromising resolve. Similarly, his experience shadowing his father in diplomacy has shown him to approach problems from many angles, and given him an appreciation for solving problems with words as well as actions.

However, most of his shadowing was done in talks with existing allies, and they rarely involved truly opposing interests - in almost all cases, a deal could usually be reached to mutual satisfaction. As such, his skill in diplomacy is still lacking when it comes to an obstinate adversary, and Zai can quickly become frustrated with them, too proud to concede too much in the name of compromise. Zai also knows that his instincts and discipline need work; try as he might, he is still vulnerable to letting his own feelings get in the way of getting a truly insightful read on a situation.

Above all, Zai loves his country and his heritage, and chafes bitterly under the yoke of the Earth Kingdom. The insult and betrayal of his father’s disappearance and his own attempted arrest festers in his heart, fueled more by every grueling day and hungry night he spends as a fugitive on their soil. On top of that, anxiety for the fate of his people plagues him, and combined with his stewing distrust and growing hatred for the Earth Kingdom, it is beginning to create a dangerous mix.

_BIOGRAPHY

“Dad, why do we get our food from the Earth Kingdom?”

“It’s a beneficial relationship, Zai. We have things they want, and they have something we want. By trading in this way, both nations are made stronger and more prosperous than they were before.”

Zai’s father was a highly ranked government official in the Fire Nation. As the dignitary of foreign affairs, he worked closely with the Fire Lord himself to arrange trade agreements and other dealings with the other three nations. It was a good gig; the nations had always been at peace and maintained amiable relationships, and it was rarely very difficult to finalize deals - there was rarely friction, and most of his job was just a matter of negotiating the minutiae to every party’s satisfaction. He travelled often and had many friends across the world, and considered himself very lucky.

Until things started getting… tense.

By the time Zai, his first son, was born, the Fire Nation’s relationship with the Earth Kingdom was starting to get a little strained. Prices of imported goods, especially food, began to rise, and proved something of a stumbling block for their relationship. It seemed like nothing at first - the Earth Kingdom had a weak harvest this year, the seas were rough that year, and so on - and later, reports of strife inside the Earth Kingdom seemed to confirm that the trade interruptions were simply the result of a series of unfortunate events befalling the Fire Nation’s long-time trade partner.

By the time Zai was 10, the effects of poor trade were becoming noticeable even in the Capital. Shortages were taking their toll even on the aristocracy’s dinner tables, and high inflation was sparking the beginnings of civil unrest. However, the people of the Fire Nation did not easily yield to stress, and their strong sense of unity and patriotism allowed them to band together and maintain order even as their situation grew more and more precarious.

Fortunately, as the son of a dignitary, Zai was shielded from much of his Nation’s growing suffering. He never went hungry, never felt unsafe, and never had to go without. He enjoyed a happy home life and a fine education, receiving firebending training from the same Master who trained the children of the Fire Lord. He took to bending readily and with great enthusiasm, and it wasn’t long before he became an accomplished firebender himself.

But as the years wore on, the Fire Nation’s position only got worse. Trade slowed to a trickle, and although Zai was still sheltered from the worst of it, his Nation’s hardships were always present to him. He was not blind to the suffering of his people; his heart hurt for them, and he wanted nothing more than to learn all he could from his father to follow in his footsteps and serve the Fire Nation.

When he was 17, his chance finally came to make a real difference. Things were becoming desperate for the Fire Nation, and increased reliance on the Water Tribe and Air Nomads was not enough to effectively ease the strain. Zai had shadowed his father for a few years on stop-gap measures with the two more friendly nations, but now the Fire Lord tasked him with his most important job yet: to visit the Earth King and negotiate an end to the trade interruptions. To his delight, Zai was allowed to accompany his father on the trip to observe his father working his magic when it mattered most.

Ba Sing Se was a marvel to behold, and Zai and his father received a royal welcome. Many meetings were held with Earth Kingdom representatives - of agriculture, shipping, fisheries, and many more - and before long, Zai’s head was spinning from the complexity of it all. It was over a month before the Earth King himself would meet with Zai’s father.

But when the time finally came to see the Earth King, Zai's father told him to stay behind. Confused and hurt, Zai tried to argue, but begrudgingly agreed to wait in their guest mansion in the Upper Ring, wondering why his father thought he was unworthy.

But his father never came back.

In a single evening, Zai turned from guest of honour to fugitive - and worse, he didn’t know why. He had to escape the clutches of the Dai Li in Ba Sing Se and flee on his own, his father’s royal escort nowhere to be found. By the time Zai reached the coast, and was turned away, he learned the horrible truth: the Earth King had declared war on the Fire Nation and launched a brutal assault, only barely held off with the help of their allies in the Water Tribe. As a result, the coast was locked down, and Zai was stranded.

It’s been a year since then, and Zai has been barely scraping by in a small Earth Kingdom village near the coast, forced to conceal both his identity and his bending under threat of internment. He does not know what became of his father, and he has no way to contact his mother. He watches anxiously from the other side of the sea, scratching for any information he can get on the status of his home, but powerless to do anything to help. All he knows is that somehow, he needs to find his father - and make the Earth King pay for what he's done.

_TRIVIA

• Zai’s favourite food is blackened eelfish. He’s yet to find it outside the Fire Nation.
• In the Earth Kingdom, he goes by "Sho."

Before any of you get any ideas

Obscene's Scratchpad

The people of the Fire Nation have desire and will, and the energy and drive to achieve what they want.

_{“The Earth King took our kindness for weakness. That won't happen a second time.”}

_NAME

Zai Yao

_AGE

18

_BIRTHPLACE

Fire Nation Capital

_ELEMENT

Fire

_{APPEARANCE DETAILS}

A young man of average height, like many of his neighbours, Zai has clearly seen better days. While it is clear he was once fit and strong, his cheeks have grown sallow on long days and short rests, and a few visible ribs attest that it's been a long time since he's seen a hearty meal. His dark brown hair hangs limp and lifeless at his shoulders, chopped raggedly with a knife and often pulled back in a ponytail. He dresses like any Earth Kingdom peasant down on his luck, his clothes weather-stained and well worn, and often wears a wide-brimmed straw hat to ward off searching eyes. Underneath, although often rimmed by tired circles, his topaz eyes contrast his tired frame, remaining at all times sharp and alert.

_PERSONALITY

"Firebending has no training wheels. Learning requires boldness. You have to step beyond the limits of your control and trust in your ability to wrest it back again. Every time you bend, you walk a razor's edge between control and chaos. It is not for the faint of heart."

Zai is a true son of the Fire Nation: proud, strong-willed, and driven. What little that dares to stand between him and what he wants is met with ferocity and uncompromising resolve. Similarly, his experience shadowing his father in diplomacy has shown him to approach problems from many angles, and given him an appreciation for solving problems with words as well as actions.

However, most of his shadowing was done in talks with existing allies, and they rarely involved truly opposing interests - in almost all cases, a deal could usually be reached to mutual satisfaction. As such, his skill in diplomacy is still lacking when it comes to an obstinate adversary, and Zai can quickly become frustrated with them, too proud to concede too much in the name of compromise. Zai also knows that his instincts and discipline need work; try as he might, he is still vulnerable to letting his own feelings get in the way of getting a truly insightful read on a situation.

Above all, Zai loves his country and his heritage, and chafes bitterly under the yoke of the Earth Kingdom. A stewing distrust and growing hatred for the Earth Kingdom has taken root in his heart as the insult and betrayal of his father’s disappearance and his own attempted arrest festers, fueled more by every grueling day and hungry night he spends as a fugitive on their soil.

_BIOGRAPHY

“Dad, why do we get our food from the Earth Kingdom?”

“It’s a beneficial relationship, Zai. We have things they want, like money and resources, and they have something we want. By trading in this way, both nations are made stronger and more prosperous than they were before.”

Zai’s father was a highly ranked government official in the Fire Nation. As the dignitary of foreign affairs, he worked closely with the Fire Lord himself to arrange trade agreements and other dealings with the other three nations. It was a good gig; the nations had always been at peace and maintained amiable relationships, and it was rarely very difficult to finalize deals - there was rarely friction, and most of his job was just a matter of negotiating the minutiae to every party’s satisfaction. He travelled often and had many friends across the world, and considered himself very lucky.

Until things started getting… tense.

By the time Zai, his first son, was born, the Fire Nation’s relationship with the Earth Kingdom was starting to get a little strained. Prices of imported goods, especially food, began to rise, and proved something of a stumbling block for their relationship. It seemed like nothing at first - the Earth Kingdom had a weak harvest this year, the seas were rough that year, and so on - and later, reports of strife inside the Earth Kingdom seemed to confirm that the trade interruptions were simply the result of a series of unfortunate events befalling the Fire Nation’s long-time trade partner.

By the time Zai was 10, the effects of poor trade were becoming noticeable even in the Capital. Shortages were taking their toll even on the aristocracy’s dinner tables, and high inflation was sparking the beginnings of civil unrest. However, the people of the Fire Nation did not easily yield to stress, and their strong sense of unity and patriotism allowed them to band together and maintain order even as their situation grew more and more precarious.

Fortunately, as the son of a dignitary, Zai was shielded from much of his Nation’s growing suffering. He never went hungry, never felt unsafe, and never had to go without. He enjoyed a happy home life and a fine education, receiving firebending training from the same Master who trained the children of the Fire Lord. He took to bending readily and with great enthusiasm, and it wasn’t long before he became an accomplished firebender himself.

But as the years wore on, the Fire Nation’s position only got worse. Trade slowed to a trickle, and although Zai was still sheltered from the worst of it, his Nation’s hardships were always present to him. He was not blind to the suffering of his people; his heart hurt for them, and he wanted nothing more than to learn all he could from his father to follow in his footsteps and serve the Fire Nation.

When he was 17, his chance finally came to make a real difference. Things were becoming desperate for the Fire Nation, and increased reliance on the Water Tribe and Air Nomads was not enough to effectively ease the strain. Zai had shadowed his father for a few years on stop-gap measures with the two more friendly nations, but now the Fire Lord tasked him with his most important job yet: to visit the Earth King and negotiate an end to the trade interruptions. To his delight, Zai was allowed to accompany his father on the trip to observe his father working his magic when it mattered most.

Ba Sing Se was a marvel to behold, and Zai and his father received a royal welcome. Many meetings were held with Earth Kingdom representatives - of agriculture, shipping, fisheries, and many more - and before long, Zai’s head was spinning from the complexity of it all. It was over a month before the Earth King himself would meet with Zai’s father.

But when the time finally came to see the Earth King, Zai's father told him to stay behind. Confused and hurt, Zai tried to argue, but begrudgingly agreed to wait for his father in their guest mansion in the Upper Ring, wondering why his father thought he was unworthy.

But his father never came back.

In a single evening, Zai turned from guest of honour to fugitive - and worse, he didn’t know why. He had to escape the clutches of the Dai Li in Ba Sing Se and flee on his own, his father’s royal escort nowhere to be found. By the time Zai reached the coast, and was turned away, he learned the horrible truth: the Earth King had declared war on the Fire Nation and launched a brutal assault, only barely held off with the help of their allies in the Water Tribe. As a result, the coast was locked down, and Zai was stranded.

It’s been a year since then, and Zai has been barely scraping by in a small Earth Kingdom village near the coast, forced to conceal both his identity and his bending under threat of internment. He does not know what became of his father, and he has no way to contact his mother. He watches anxiously from the other side of the sea, scratching for any information he can get on the status of his home, but powerless to do anything to help. All he knows is that somehow, he needs to find his father - and make the Earth King pay for what he's done.

_TRIVIA

• Zai’s favourite food is blackened eelfish. He’s yet to find it outside the Fire Nation.
• In the Earth Kingdom, he goes by "Sho."

Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

---

Maya didn’t offer much commentary after her initial contribution. She didn’t miss Edmund’s little remark, but his arguing with the rest of the assembly was more problematic. What had gotten into him? He’d been growing sourer over the past few months, but Maya thought he’d be capable of holding his tongue in a meeting of all current Scions. Her expression darkened as he continued to argue, but she let him speak - for now. With any luck, he’d gather enough rope with his bickering to hang himself with. She’d have to come up with a way to help him remember his place.

She’d never been all that interested in theology, but Lucas’ display would get a rise out of anyone, and Maya was no exception. The new Prophecy was shocking, but immediately Maya’s mind began to work. The red moon was probably a reference to a lunar eclipse (if it was anything other than poetry, anyway), but the mention of the Estoran star gave her pause. There was nothing she knew of suggesting any meaningful overlap of the Estoran star’s course and a lunar eclipse, but the Prophecy made them both sound concurrent. If she could figure out when the two coincided, maybe they would know exactly how much time they had.

Granted, unraveling this new prophecy wasn’t her top priority, but Lucas, darling that he was, offered her the perfect opportunity to kill two birds with one stone.

“I’ll go with you to Doumerc,” Maya volunteered first, rising from her seat. “It’s been a while since I took a trip home, and you’ll need someone who speaks the language.”

She wasn’t eager to go back to Doumerc, she’d admit - not the least with a bunch of Kaudian cultists crawling around. But oh, how they’d fawn over the Scion of Gravity when she finally returned home! Prime Minister Dumont would be like putty in her hands. What a perfect opportunity to help him decide it was finally time for Doumerc to stand up for itself.

---

@Hero

Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

---

The Scion of Earth continued bickering with the Prince, Princess Belle bickered with everyone, Dame Sara tried to make peace; while Jannick had never before been in a room with all the other Scions and Templars for anything beyond idle pleasantries, the charade was quickly growing old. If not for the cloud of dread looming ominously over the whole conversation, it would have sounded a lot like the half-interested arguing of siblings at the dinner table. But they weren’t arguing about sports teams or who to vote for as mayor, they were deciding the fate of the continent. As such, no matter how much Jannick would have liked to tune the conversation out completely, the uncomfortable stone in his stomach wouldn’t let him.

Of course, if Jannick had known what was coming next, he’d have preferred the bickering. Putting a decisive end to all talk of war, Prince Lucas stood, and with little ceremony, invoked a thousand-year-old prophecy before their very eyes. The first words were familiar; no Sunday School student in Veradis, let alone a Church Knight, could ever forget the Primordial Prophecy, and Jannick was sure he had it carved on the inside of his skull.

But where it was supposed to conclude, Lucas continued, chanting new revelation in a voice that was not his own.

Jannick’s faith was emaciated at best, but surely no one on earth could ever shake the deep-seated fear and awe that came from hearing the words of the Goddess with his own ears. This was no priest dourly reciting scripture; this was the living word of the Mother, breathed through one of Her Chosen right in front of him. Jannick’s eyes grew wide, and his breath caught; it wasn’t until his vision began to swim that he realized he wasn’t breathing. He stood as stiff as stone, struck with trepidation and wonder, afraid to move a muscle. Once more, he felt the eye of Incepta on him, scrutinizing his every move, watching his response to Her revelation.

Judging him and finding him wanting.

Jannick heard little of what the Prince said when he came out of his trance. His awe quickly grew to anger as the new words of the Prophecy echoed in his mind. He did not doubt their authenticity - nothing could fake the feeling of the Goddess’ presence - but he resented them. What cruel game was the Goddess playing? On the heels of such tragedy, to drop this bombshell on them - what sounded to Jannick like a warning of a world-ending threat. Would it have killed Her to reveal all that a little earlier? Why would a supposedly loving Mother keep such important information to herself until the eve of disaster?

Jannick set his jaw, looking coldly over the assembly. The same as he long suspected, the Goddess just liked to watch them squirm.

As if to confirm his suspicions, the first reply came from Allard, the snake’s words dripping with artificial honey in a shameless display of sycophancy. He sugar-coated insults for his fellow Scions - including Holly, which Jannick did not miss - in the guise of counsel, and recommended a course of action Jannick immediately opposed. As had always been the case, Jannick had no mind for politics or theology - he understood none of the prophecy beyond the incontrovertible truth that it was genuine, and had no idea how to respond to a national threat - but he was comfortable in the knowledge that if someone like Allard wanted to go one way, then he should go the other.

He had to resist rolling his eyes at Dame Sara’s fanatical outburst, but at least she was sincere - he could not say the same for Allard, who seemed to lie with every breath. But a gentle tap on his arm drew Jannick’s attention to Holly, stooping so she could whisper to him. She was theorizing that the “red moon” in the new Prophecy might refer to a lunar eclipse. Jannick nodded as he straightened, feeling pensive and overwhelmed. Holly betrayed no such trouble, at least on the outside. He was glad one of them had some idea what was going on.

That being said, while Holly’s theory sounded very plausible, he suddenly remembered a story told to him by a visiting Knight from the forests of Doumerc, who described how the sky would turn red for days, sometimes weeks in the midst of serious fires. That sounded end-times-y enough for a doomsday prophecy, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it.

For the moment, he kept that to himself, instead reaching for a second helping of Holly’s gift ham to encourage the others to take their share. But it felt out of place to say nothing, too.

“Princess Rosemary is a child,” he offered inoffensively, hoping to lighten up their otherwise bleak scenario. “But so was Prince Aaron when he ascended the throne, and look what he managed to accomplish. She’s his granddaughter; maybe she has that spark in her, too.” He offered the Princess an encouraging smile.

He wouldn’t speak for Holly, but if she allowed him, Jannick was willing to offer his strength to help Rosemary fulfil her part of the Prophecy, even if the Goddess short-changed her. An affection for her beyond mere patriotism, which he struggled to explain, spurred him to action. Fortunately, Holly seemed on board as well, if her icebreaker attempt was anything to go by.

---

@OwO @McMolly

Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

---

The New Year was just as strange for Jannick as it was for any Templar. On top of the fallout from the attack, there were three funerals to attend, a coronation, and only days ago, the (hushed) announcement of a new Scion of Lightning - it was the fastest replacement since Princess Rosemary herself was blessed. The Federation seemed to shudder under their feet as it changed so fundamentally and so quickly, and everyone walking on the shifting surface was liable to lose their footing.

But aside from political and ecclesial changes, Jannick’s private life changed too. He had kept his promise to Holly much like he’d kept his promise to Sir Ulrich as a kid - with much regret and inner complaining at first, but ultimately with grace - and made somewhat of a pest of himself ensuring that he always had eyes on her. He had taken it upon himself to bulk up her estate’s security, and wasn’t neglecting himself either. Holly stayed home a lot more than usual, which he knew was a dark sail on the horizon that he wasn’t sure how to handle, but in the meantime, it gave them the chance to practice Wind magic together. Granted, it was more Holly practicing and insisting that Jannick “just feel the groove of it, y’know?” but somehow, he’d managed to pick up a couple of things. He was no force of nature yet, but he could do more than funnel smoke into vents, which in his mind was an improvement.

And he certainly wouldn’t complain about Holly’s new homebody tendencies. Beyond the usefulness for training, Jannick wasn’t in a hurry to get Holly back into the spotlight. The dossier Irina sent out chilled him to the core, and he scarcely trusted the halls of Holly’s own estate, let alone throngs of worshipers and city crowds in the foreign countries Holly often frequented.

He was similarly in no rush to answer Prince Lucas’ summons, but Holly insisted that her duties as a Scion couldn’t be denied. They both packed light, but Jannick’s get-up was a bit heavier than Holly’s. Clad in his Templar uniform, extra magazines and a new set of throwing knives lined his belt and holster, and a billy club - more versatile than a blade, he thought - hung at his hip.

Holly’s host gift went over about as well as Jannick expected, although he did insist before they left (and still maintained) that if his mother had been hosting, a nice ham would have been better received than any fancy wine. When the gesture was curtly (or perhaps mercifully) ignored, Jannick offered Holly an encouraging smirk before showing her to a seat.

War was already the topic before the two of them arrived, and continued with a rising fervor that Jannick found… uncomfortable. He simply stood stiffly behind Holly’s chair, looking around at each Scion as they spoke, but not daring to offer his own two cents. He didn’t really have any to give; he never had a mind for politics, and the intricacies of international relations were far over his head. But the prospect of an all-out war with Kaudus still filled him with deep dread. His reasons weren’t well-considered or even particularly principled: he just had brothers at home, and nephews too, many of whom were either of fighting age or approaching fast. If the Federation committed itself to a war, a real war, they would probably end up in the thick of it.

Someone new arrived, and barely put a blip in the conversation. But Jannick’s attention was diverted, and his gaze darkened significantly when it fell upon Renault Allard, the new Scion of Lightning. Immediately, Jannick kicked himself. Dammit, he knew that stupid name sounded familiar when he got High Cardinal Margaret’s notice, but he’d neglected to follow up on his hunch, and now he paid the price.

Renault Allard was supposed to be serving a life sentence in Veradis Maximum Security Penitentiary. One of Jannick’s buddies had been on the team sent to apprehend him; they’d sent all the mages they had to confront Allard, suspected of stealing information related to banned curses. They stuck him with charges of high treason, apostasy, and about a million white collar crimes after the fact - everything they could find to bury him, not that it mattered all that much when the Church herself wanted to see him rot. He’d been the talk of the barracks for a month, and Jannick had seen his file in so many cautionary memos he could probably write it by hand.

And now he was a Scion.

Jannick shifted a little, subtly putting himself a little closer to Renault - between him and Holly. He didn’t trust that snake oil salesman grin as far as he could kick the teeth out of it, and he wouldn’t be letting him near Holly. It was a shame he was assigned Sir Chaudoir as his Templar; Jannick had been hoping to ask the mage for some real help with magic, but those plans would have to be scrapped now.

He had leveled Renault with a disapproving glare he’d perfected as a police officer when Edmund spoke up. His words were enough to bring Jannick out of his accusatory reverie - and they didn’t sit right with him. He frowned; he didn’t think Edmund was that type.

“Well, let’s not be hasty,” he insisted diplomatically, breaking his silence. He was a little surprised to see how much of a wreck the other Templar looked now that he was looking right at him. “I mean, ‘cowering’ is a little unfair, don’t you think? The first response in any situation like that is to run; trying to be a hero doesn’t help that much when it kills you.”

---

@OwO @McMolly; Talking to @webboysurf

Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

---

The tragedy-tinged New Year swept all normalcy away for Maya. Like some of her peers, she had been cutting back on her public appearances of late, and her social media was full of banal recycled content and closely-cropped selfies that were stripped almost entirely of any meaning: there were no more “Come with me to the Juniperus Gala!” mini-vlogs, no more elegant pictures in the Veradian snow or like-fishing selfies with fellow celebrities, and her presence at events was starting to go from “surprisingly absent” to “expectedly declined.” On top of that, Kaspar’s passing had affected her more than she expected it to, but it only stoked the fires of hate she harboured for the Kaudians - which had spurred an entirely unexpected and unholy alliance with Belle of all people, as they worked together via correspondence to gather support for a war.

Additionally, despite their (frequent) disagreements, Maya was stuck to Edmund like glue. Or perhaps, more aptly, she kept him stuck to her - she had never really gone anywhere without him before, but he often took a back seat, managing the whole of her security detail. Like at Giles’ manor, he would usually be in the venue, but maybe not in the room. But she would not make that mistake again: Now, Maya barely let him turn a corner out of her sight. His bedroom in Veradis Castle was adjoined hers by a door that was never locked, and he joined her no matter where she went; to the dining room, in the gardens, never more than a few hurried steps away and always in view. Maya very much preferred her Templar to be seen and not heard, which Edmund was usually happy to oblige, but their constant proximity had provoked more than a few tizzes in the past few months.

But not all changes were bad. Her new indefinite residence in Veradis Castle was proving very much to Maya’s liking. Royal accommodations were quite to her taste, especially since everyone from the scullery maids to the Prince himself bent over backwards at her every whim. Her rapport with the staff and the royal family was made even better by Maya’s magnanimous generosity with blessings; after blessing the castle and Prince Rowan’s infirmary (made even more meaningful by having received treatment there), she gave them out like candy to anyone who asked, and before long she regularly had a line forming at her apartment door full of staff members asking for blessings and intercessory prayers. Maya was happy to oblige; the staff adored her, and that translated into excellent service.

She even wooed Prince Rowan himself - chastely, of course. The two had developed a habit of taking afternoon tea together, the Prince initially eager to please his holy guest, and later joining with genuine interest. Sometimes, his daughter Rosemary would join them, wandering around the parlor and asking endless questions. Most recently, the two had been fascinated to hear Maya explain the movement of heavenly bodies and how their paths around the sun could be predicted over the course of thousands of years. If Maya was being perfectly honest (which was rare) she was half-pleased for the chance to delve into her old area of expertise again, even if it meant putting up with an irritatingly persisted six-year-old.

Needless to say, she was in no rush to depart from Veradis Castle, and certainly not for a summons from Prince Lucas. She had deliberately procrastinated her reply to his letter, but ultimately could not escape it. Functions with politicians and celebrities could be handwaved away without much fuss (although not, perhaps, for much longer) but skipping out on her duties as a Scion would threaten to chip her public image more than Maya could tolerate. So, with no small amount of complaining, Maya eventually packed her bags, Edmund, and a small army of security and made the trek to Lucas-Land.

Only to be barred from entry at the door.

Or, her security detail at least - all of them except Edmund. It was highly insulting, and Maya didn’t trust Lucas’ little magic tricks as far as she could spit to protect her, but she avoided throwing up too much of a fuss; she had no interest in appearing afraid, after all. So it was mostly just herself she grumbled to, under a flawless mask of appreciative smiles, until she finally made it into the interior of Lucas’ manor. She was lead to the dining room in a much fouler mood than she’d set out in - no small feat, considering her reluctance even to come - and to make matters worse, the first person her eyes fell on was Belle.

Despite their prolonged cooperation of late, it had all been through letters, and Maya still had a borderline instinctual reaction to seeing her in the flesh, not unlike looking upon a fly that had landed in her food. She almost had to swallow the feeling as she joined the other Scions, reminding herself inwardly that the enemy of her enemy was her friend - for now.

There was also the not-insignificant benefit that she walked in just as Sir Tyler was taking a dig at her.

Stepping around Scion Hollyhock - brandishing a pig’s leg, apparently - Maya made her way to the table and took her seat, taking a second to arrange her skirt. She was dressed for Estora’s warm climate in a midnight blue maxi dress, the dark chiffon layers contrasting starkly with the fairness of her skin and the brightness outside. She removed her matching wide-brimmed hat to reveal the subtle sparkle of dark gems cast through her hair.

A similar glimmer came upon her wine-coloured eyes, but darker; less beautiful, more dangerous. “Our casus belli was an open attack on the Goddess’ Chosen,” she added to Tyler’s remark, “and bloodshed has always been a perfectly acceptable price for defending Her honour. Preferably less of ours, and more of theirs.”

---

Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

---

A pit grew in Jannick’s stomach as the seconds stretched on without an answer. Oh Mother, he cocked it all up, didn’t he? He had probably broken whatever fragile trust he’d built with Holly over the past months, left her feeling alone, unprotected, at probably the worst time in her life to abandon her--

Click.

Jannick’s eyes widened as the door slowly opened, panic briefly replacing his guilt; suddenly any plan he had went out the window, as if he didn’t expect to get even this far. Inside, he was relieved to find Holly looking clean and comfortable in everything fuzzy she could find - and was suddenly very aware that he was still in his uniform, his hands and face still smeared with sticky dried blood. Honestly, it was fitting; he felt like he belonged in the gutter, and he looked like it too.

Holly turned away before he could see her face, already chattering about coffee. Jannick’s gut twisted again at the sight. It was the same thing she always did when things were tense: divert attention, change the subject, whatever it took to avoid a real fight. That convicted him more than any insult she could throw at him; at least if she was giving it back, he’d know things weren’t so dire.

“No thank you, it’s fine--listen, we need to talk,” Jannick pursued Holly toward the dining area, scooping around in front of her to cut her off. Remorse tinted his words, although he tried to speak as delicately as he knew how. “Could you just listen for a moment, please?”

“I can listen.” Hollyhock still didn’t turn to face Jannick. Instead, she had been digging around for various items in cupboards–a satchel of tea leaves, a plastic tube of instant coffee powder, a mug, and a can of condensed milk.

Jannick frowned as Holly blew right past him, but he supposed he had no right to be surprised. When she agreed, however, he stood a moment dumbfounded, once again apparently forgetting everything he’d planned to say. He took a few breaths, opened and closed his mouth a few times, changed his mind a few times more, before deciding that the sound of Holly banging around the counter was counterproductive to his efforts and took a step forward, putting his hand on top of the can she was fiddling with to make her pause.

“Thank you,” came his delayed response, and he once again stepped back, hesitating for a second before coming up with what to say.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” came his initial confession, the thing that had been weighing foremost on his mind. He shook his head. “I don’t blame you for running, I had no right-- I-- You handled tonight perfectly. Really, you did,” he insisted, trying his best to catch Holly’s eye. “This is on me; I’m the fuckup here, seriously. I should have followed you, but…”

Growing frustrated with his own inability to articulate, Jannick suddenly huffed, pacing a small circle and rubbing the back of his neck. No, no, this still felt all wrong. Some lame apology didn’t feel adequate for the guilt he was feeling. It ran deeper than being mean to Holly or failing to keep track of her; he needed to do something serious.

When the thought dawned on him, Jannick took a deep breath and set his jaw, as if bracing against the very idea. “Okay…” he said, mostly to himself, taking another deep breath to steel himself for what was to come.

After a second of mental preparation, Jannick did what he hadn’t done for many months, and for many years before that: slowly, as if easing himself into it, he sunk down to one knee, elbow on his thigh in the perfect (if a little stiff) image of a Knight kneeling before his liege. He bowed his head.

“Scion Hollyhock, I took an oath to protect you, and tonight I failed.” His face burned with embarrassment, but he powered through; he needed to do this. “I have no excuse. I was inept and cowardly, and I’m sorry. I only pray you’ll forgive me, and believe me when I say it will not happen again.” Jannick kept his eyes on the floor, half afraid to look up, wallowing in his own guilt. He embraced the feeling; it felt just, the least he deserved for such a screw-up.

Hollyhock stood in silence as Jannick gave his apology. It was palpable–another moment like the one at the door. While Jannick didn’t see it, he could hear it–the clattering of items being placed on the countertop, the huff of Hollyhock wondering what she should do, the sound of fingers running through hair, and the shuffling of approaching slippers.

“Criminy,” her informal words broke the silence, “you were really dressed down.”

Her shadow waxed around him as she squatted in front of her kneeling templar.

“Six months together and this is what you think of me?”

She rubbed the back of her neck as she looked away once again. Her thinking caused her to exhale again. She wasn’t going to run away this time. Not when someone was in front of her vomiting his guilt out. She faced him with resolution.

The Hollyhock in front of him was one that had cried her heart out alone. One that had eyes swollen and red. One that had exhausted herself out of shaking.

“I’m not a baby that needs to be coddled with affirmation,” she began, “and if I’m being a gobshite, I won’t hate you if you throw me over your shoulder and treat me like a sack of potatoes.”

With more vigor, she addressed the apology that came with Jannick’s position.

“If you think I’d suddenly be fine if you were an action hero, I’ll cane you. Right now, I feel like I’ll wake up from a dream. But that dream isn’t that I’m alone and in danger. It’s that people ‘round me are being shot and that bloody hands are grasping at my dress–I think you’d be a fool if you want to accept all of that.”

She looked away once again, this time with an embarrassed flush.

“‘Sides. I could have communicated like a normal human earlier.” It was difficult to tell if she was talking about her nodding and running off in the ballroom, her making a smug expression and running off to try to reclaim a drop of normalcy, or both. “Instead you have to deal with me always acting before I think.”

Jannick suffered for a while - rightly, he thought - while Holly contemplated her answer, nearly jumping at every little sound. When at last the silence was broken, he very nearly laughed; quite the dressing-down indeed, although Irina couldn’t say anything worse to him than he could say to himself. But hearing Holly’s normal attitude return, bit by bit, was a balm on his nerves.

He nodded humbly as she spoke, more open than ever to her criticism, although when she finally stooped to meet him, his heart fell. Her eyes were red and puffy, and he knew she’d never look quite the same even after the swelling went down. The horrors she described would stick with her, in some capacity, forever; that he knew quite well.

Jannick shook his head, but didn’t stand. Honestly, his legs were a little shaky, and he wasn’t sure if he could. But his joints complained about the position, so instead, he just shifted into a sitting position, remaining at eye level with Holly. “In this case, acting without thinking might have saved your life.”

Before she could retort again about banal affirmations, he held up a hand. “I’m serious. I’m not here to inflate your ego; when you’re in danger, I want you to run as fast as you can.” He shook his head again, this time at himself. “I don’t need to be an action hero. But I do need to be able to keep up; I’m going to get better with my Blessing, I promise.”

There was silence for a moment. Jannick leaned his head on his arm, wondering what else there was to say. He didn’t usually have to deal with victims after the incident was said and done; usually the social workers picked that up while he was still picking through a crime scene. And he was too young when he left home to have much experience comforting his siblings - not that anything this catastrophic had ever happened to them, for a mercy.

“I’m sorry this happened,” he said finally, shaking his head. The images still lingered before his eyes, too, and he knew they’d never go away. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that, Holly.”

“Shaddup,” Hollyhock said as she shot up to her feet and kicked Jannick’s knee. Though, it was difficult to call it a kick. The lack of malice and her oversized plush slippers made it more like he was being assailed by a teddy bear.

Again, she turned away so Jannick couldn’t see the expression on her face and shuffled back to the counter.

“Now do you want some tea, coffee, cofftea, or are you really okay?”

Jannick cracked a tiny smile at the kick. He doubted Holly was really okay - he noticed her hiding her face - but he expected she wouldn't be for some time. He was shell shocked for a long time after his first disturbing call as a newly-minted knight, and that was without being shot at. But he wouldn't force that out of her now; truth be told, he didn't really know how.

Instead, he got to his feet, groaning like an old man. “Never had ‘cofftea’ before, let's try that.”

Three parts coffee made from instant mix. Six parts tea. One part condensed milk.

It was sweet–brutally so.

---

Collab with @OwO

Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

Collab with @webboysurf

---

Maya had dunked her head under the water when she thought she heard thumping and clicking nearby. Heart in her throat, she surfaced quickly, holding her breath as she waited for the sloshing of the tub to quiet down so she could listen. She heard the door close, and someone plodding around in the apartment beyond the wall.

She willed herself to calm down, but it was futile; she knew, logically, that it could be the butler, another servant come to fulfill some order (although she didn’t remember any left to fulfill) or even Edmund, finally back from his long hiatus. But none of those very reasonable conclusions did anything to slow her heart, and she was stuck for a long while, fear gripping her as she listened to whoever was out there.

Two sharp knocks on the bathroom door made her jump, unable to hold in her gasp and the splashing that followed. “I'm back. I'll be in the other room if you need me, Maya.”

“Edmund!” Maya blurted out, heart fluttering as she swooned with the wash of relief his voice brought her. But she wasn’t disarmed long; soon renewed anger chased away her fear, and the whole host of grievances she’d spent the evening contemplating rushed back to the forefront of her mind. “Where have you been?! Get in here!”

Edmund sighed, taking a sip of his coffee. He questioned Maya’s judgement in letting him into the bathroom, but figured rather foolishly that she must be in some state of dress… certainly removing the makeup from the evening or going through her usual skincare routine. He tried the door, and was disappointed to see it open with ease. He instinctively took a step into the bathroom before his eyes adjusted to the scene in front of him. It took him a moment to register Maya was in the tub, and he froze upon that realization. His eyes screwed shut and he quickly turned around, facing the mirrored closet doors. By the time he registered that Maya’s reflection was still clear as day, he had been able to notice that she was clearly submerged in the water enough that he couldn’t see anything indecent. He shook his head as he turned back towards Maya, but refused to make eye contact as he looked off to the side. “Please show some modesty, Your Holiness.”

Maya rolled her eyes at Edmund’s discomfort. Didn’t he have better things to worry about right now? She certainly did. “Double the security team. If you go over budget, I don’t care,” she demanded, “and start making arrangements for a change of venue. We’re moving.”

She reclined back against the tub, settling back into the spot she’d been in before Edmund came back. Somehow, though, she managed to look no more relaxed. “First thing tomorrow I’m seeking an audience with the Prince. I am not going back to my penthouse anytime soon. Once I get his blessing, you’ll need to coordinate with the palace guard to bring in my security. Figure it out.”

“Oh, and if you get the chance, I also want Duke Giles’ head on a spike,” Maya added abruptly, her simmering anger suddenly and forcefully bubbling up in her voice. Her eyes burned into the opposite wall, and her fingers curled out before her, grasping an invisible neck. “And after that, I want an audience with every general who hates Kaudians so I can sponsor a war to exterminate their entire miserable kind.”

“Starting with that half-breed bitch, Sara,” she continued venomously, her searing glare turning on Edmund. “Never leave me alone with that savage again.”

Edmund made a mental note of the tasks Maya had given him. He could make some calls, but would need thorough background checks on any additions to the security team. They could easily get most of her stuff packed in the interim. As for getting the security team in, that was certainly going to be a fun conversation. He would have to pull on some strings, and hope his station had more pull than he thought. Duke Giles’ head was unrealistic… but Edmund's blood ran cold when Maya’s nationalistic fervor took hold. He held his tongue, figuring he could wait for Maya to calm down before lightly guiding her expectations away from Kaudus.

Then she went too far. Edmund's grip on the plastic coffee cup tightened, spilling hot coffee onto the tile floor. He hissed out in a loud, guttural tone, “Don't you ever speak about a Templar like that, you pompous punk. Especially when you do not know what in the Goddess’ name you are talking about. ”

Maya raised a judgmental eyebrow at Edmund’s spill, but didn’t get the chance to wonder about it before he insulted her. She gasped loudly, jolting upright in the tub. “How dare you!” she yelped reflexively, briefly caught between absolute shock and indignation that Edmund would say such a thing. But she wasn’t stuck for long.

“I don’t know what I’m talking about? I’m sorry, how long did you live side-by-side with those godless freaks?” Maya growled, the animus in her voice far outstripping Edmund’s. He had inadvertently tapped into a very deep well of hate. “When did your town install sirens so you could hide in your basement while they set shit on fire? How many armed Kaudians stormed your cargo ship? I’m sorry, I didn’t realize we were neighbours!”

She laughed cruelly, but it was cut short by a dark glare. “I know all about Kaudians,” she spat the word like a slur, “I know all the little tricks they pull, and I know what they’re after. I will not hide in basements anymore, Edmund. I will not cower under piers. And I will NOT be crawling around ceilings anymore to satisfy whatever bullshit affirmative action Fyodor is trying to pull.”

Unbeknownst to her, Maya was slowly rising in the tub as if to advance on Edmund, gripping the edge of the tub with white knuckles. “Do not tell me what I don’t know,” she spat, “I know quite enough.”

Edmund's eyes were rooted on Maya's, remaining unflinching despite her rising anger and rising form. All the emotion and shit over the years in service as her Templar simmered inside him. His tone and volume were pulled back into a calmer mood, though the sting of his words was filled with the same venom slung his way. “I never ran nor cowered, waiting for others to save me. I never had that luxury. And I am telling you now, the Kaudians did not attack you tonight. Blaming them only plays into the hands of others.” He kept his tone firm, holding his ground.

“Well, aren't you fucking special,” Maya snapped, finally realizing her position and sinking back into the tub. She really wasn't sure what Edmund expected a 22-year-old woman to do in the face of half a dozen armed thugs, but that was his problem.

“And what makes you think Kaudus wasn't behind tonight? Is that what your mutt friend told you?” She scoffed. “Who the hell else would be going after Scions?”

“I know who is responsible first-hand. But that information is classified.” His words were terse and simple, Edmund reverting back to his typical manner of speaking. He let go of the coffee cup, letting it splatter on the ground as he moved both hands behind his back in a sort of attentive stance. His left hand was balled into a tight fist, away from Maya's direct eyesight and only visible in the mirrored reflection of the closets behind him.

“Classified!” Maya almost laughed, throwing her head back as she settled back down into the water. Unfortunately, her bubbles were starting to pop. “I bet. Whatever; I don’t really care who it was. The Kaudians will be setting off fireworks when they get the news regardless. Make no mistake: they want to see all of us wiped off the face of the earth.”

She sighed, growing rapidly bored of this bickering. She was no less angry, but the heat of the moment was gone, and she had no interest in debating geopolitics; the tedious details only bogged her down. She wondered if Edmund shared the same outlook as that naive fool Theodore, who had more than once tried to dissuade her enmity toward Kaudus with insistences that “we mustn’t assume the worst in people,” and “the many shouldn’t be held responsible for the actions of a few,” but they never landed. Kaudians never seemed too concerned about individual blameworthiness when they came looking for a fight, and neither was she. It wasn’t worth discussing.

Ugh, and now she was more tired than anything. Her bath was starting to get cold, and she was ready for whatever semblance of sleep she could get tonight. The little glimpse she got of Edmund making a fist in the mirror was tempting, but not tempting enough; her mood for fighting was dwindling. He could fuck as many Kaudians as he wanted as long as he still did his job.

“Whatever,” she repeated, heaving a long, tired sigh. She waved dismissively. “Get out before you’re subjected to more indecency; I’m going to bed.” She didn’t wait for his response before pulling the plug on the tub and reaching for her bathrobe. “And get a maid in here to clean up your mess.”

Edmund took a deep breath, released the tension built up in his hand, and turned around to walk out of the bathroom. He stopped briefly in the doorway, his gaze turning towards the ground to avoid catching a sinful glance in the mirror’s reflection. He opened his mouth as if to speak, before simply shaking his head. “I’ll clean it myself, when you’re done here. No more servants unless I’m present.” His voice trembled for the briefest of moments at that, the most open sign of fear he had displayed all night. But he marched out of the bedroom, fetching himself another cup of coffee.

---

Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

---

After her unwelcome brush with Belle, Maya made straight for her room, helped along in her lightheaded and somewhat unsteady state by an attendant who led her by the arm to the apartment the royal family had prepared for her. She found the accommodations acceptable, for the most part: there was a parlour, a dining room, and of course a generous bedroom, all of the quality as she would expect. But she was most excited about the ensuite, and in particular, the large and luxurious bathtub. After the night she’d had, a bath was the very least she deserved.

There was a butler placed at Maya’s disposal, and she made good use of him. Before long she had ordered dinner, wine, and a bath drawn with whatever fragrant and relaxing bubble bath they could find. A swarm of servants fell upon the suite to fulfill her requests, which expanded to include a wireless speaker and a smartphone to replace the one that presumably smashed on Giles’ floor, and soon Maya was fed and submerged in a hot oat and lily bath, the ensuite filled with warm, fragrant steam and soothing music.

Not that any of it helped at all with her foul mood, as much as she tried to soothe it. Normally this would be just the thing to calm her: buried chin-deep in sweet-smelling bubbles, opening her pores, sipping her second glass of very nice rosé - and all in the house of the Veradian Prince, no less. But all Maya could think about was the absolute vile audacity of those godforsaken bear-fucking heathens to dare put her through all this trouble.

Every attempt to turn her mind from the events of the night only reminded her of yet another infuriating detail about it. When she tried to turn her mind to her social media, she was reminded that she was robbed of all the pictures she got when she was forced to drop her phone and fall onto the fucking ceiling. When she tried to think of the high society elbows she got to rub tonight, her mind turned to how they all probably saw her crawling around the ceiling in a panic. When she tried to focus on her new lavish surrounds, she was forced to recall how her own penthouse was probably already on the heathens’ radar, and how she probably couldn’t go home.

She made about a million phone calls once her temporary phone arrived (and once she’d interrogated the servant about the security of the palace 5G) mostly to the effect of packing her belongings and having them sent to Veradis castle. She had no intention of leaving; first thing in the morning, it was her intent to call upon the Prince himself and beg hospitality, citing the relative insecurity of her home in Juniperus. She never even contemplated the possibility that he might refuse - the Prince of Veradis would never bear the ignominy of refusing hospitality, especially not to a Scion who was resident in his country - and was already making arrangements for a long-term stay. Among the things brought to her, aside from her copious luggage, had been an ugly black bag Maya immediately recognized as belonging to Edmund. No way her butler would have mistaken it for hers, so he must have called it in. She vaguely recalled him referring to a “go bag” in the past, and that must be what he meant. She didn’t know what was in it, and didn’t care to check, but she hoped it was an entire arsenal of weapons now that she was clearly being hunted. If he lacked anything for her protection, she planned to buy him three to spare.

Maya certainly wasn’t going to be taking any more chances. She barely felt safe in the castle, let alone at home. If they could get to her in Duke Giles’ ballroom - and she practically quaked at the thought of that spineless fool - then they could get her anywhere. And she was beyond angry at that prospect. She was beside herself with rage, her fingernails at times digging crescent-shaped holes into her palms as she contemplated her situation. She simply could not tolerate what was done to her tonight. Not just the threat to her physical safety, which was more than bad enough, but presumably rectified with more security, a safer lodging, and a renewed resolution not to let Edmund out of her sight ever again; but with everything. Those masked gunmen - to Sheol with them all, and a slow and painful journey there - had humiliated her, reduced her to crawling around in terror mewling for her Templar, they had dared to lay their dirty half-breed hands on her, and she couldn’t even bear to think of what might have happened if they actually caught her. Would they have killed her? Kidnapped her? Held her for ransom? Defiled her? She hoped she would never know.

But worst and most reprehensible of all, they made her feel just as small and helpless as she had on the Larme years ago, staring down Kaudian gunmen on her father’s barge. She had wondered the same things then, too, unsure what a gang of savages would do if they caught her and dispatched her father. And they had made her flee, as shamefully as she had tonight; back then it was jumping into the water and cowering under the pier instead of crawling on the ceiling, but it was just as degrading.

Maya burned with hatred at the memory, wishing death and despair on her enemies in the surest and most vicious of terms, and wished she had her gun again - but maybe it was better she didn’t have it. In this mood, she could have put the bullets in them by hand.

But in the meantime, she had no bullets. Only the heady scent of lilies and a bottle of rosé to tide her over until she could throw every single one of her enemies into the sun.

---

@webboysurf

Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

---

Jannick walked the halls of Veradis castle after his smoke with more purpose than he expected. His chat with Bianca had been surprisingly fruitful, in a roundabout way; he couldn’t claim to remember much of anything she said, but it got him thinking about Holly, being a Templar, and the true weight of the responsibility he bore.

He’d admit - only inwardly - that he had always thought of Templars as the desk jockeys of the Church Knights. Their job always seemed to be “follow your Scion around, look pretty, try not to be late to any interviews” and then to reap lavish praise from all of Gaia when they were done. They lived in plush apartments and did what could be generously called escort work, never needing to face any real danger or difficulty. And, in Jannick's experience, his prior judgement was largely accurate.

Or rather, it used to be, until tonight. For the past six months, Jannick’s biggest challenge was reining Holly in and staying awake during meetings, but tonight shook the very foundations of his understanding of his role - and probably of the Ordo Templi itself. He was no scholar, but it must have been hundreds of years since any material threat to the Scions at large had manifested itself in Gaia, and now they were under all-out assault in the very heart of Veradis. Jannick was no small amount incensed that they would dare set foot upon his homeland, especially considering that just a year ago, he would have been part of the VPD response team sent to the scene, rather than stuck in the thick of it.

And stuck he had been. Irina was right - as Templars went, he was pathetic. It was one of many wake-up calls the New Year seemed to have in store for him: he needed to brush way up on his skill with magic, which essentially meant learning it from the ground up. Funnelling cigarette smoke into the nearest vent wouldn’t cut it anymore. Holly was hopeless in a fight, if she couldn’t run away from it; he was her only hope.

Doubly so, if his other wake-up call was correct. If Irina was to be taken at her word, and Jannick wouldn’t risk any other approach, then if he fell, he could not expect anyone else to come to Holly’s aid. He was, quite literally, her only hope. The only thing separating that scared little girl from the clutches of the enemy.

Jannick had resented his role ever since the day he got it; he ideologically opposed the idea of prioritizing a single person over the interests of all others simply because that person was somehow “special.” He thought the Church’s focus on the Scions was as much a joke as the supposed mercy of the Mother was - that their interest began and ended with the preservation of their crown jewels, their spectacle pieces, their pawns for use in dazzling and subduing a faithful audience, all while the Goddess watched on with little more than mild interest. But even if that was true - and Jannick had no evidence it wasn’t - it didn’t really seem to matter anymore. Because Holly was special; not because she was holy or magic or whatever else, but because she was in danger. And she needed him.

All she had was him, and if he had to forsake others to do it, then so be it. At least the rest of society had someone else coming for them if he fell.

The realization brought with it a deep and abiding shame. Shame that quickened Jannick’s feet to a run on his way back to Holly’s room, that urged him to make things right before they could no longer be righted. He was painfully reminded of every eye-roll, every exasperated sigh, every dismissive comment he’d ever made in the course of his employment - no his vow - to Scion Hollyhock. Suddenly he wanted to clobber that stubborn, petulant, self-absorbed Templar who spent his days wishing he was back at a police precinct instead of doing his job. He especially wanted to get a hold of the one who yelled at Holly in her most vulnerable moment and beat him senseless before he had the chance to open his mouth.

Instead, he stopped with a huff at Holly’s door, waving off the servant he’d contracted to lead the way (and uncharitably forced to run with him at a policeman’s pace all the way there). His bruises and sprains complained at him, but he paid them no mind; rather, he stared at the door for a moment as he caught his breath, flagging a little as the reality of what he’d resolved to do stared him in the face.

After a moment, he steeled himself, with a few colourful inward remarks about being a coward, and knocked twice on the door. “...Holly?” he called hesitantly, surprised at the hoarseness of his voice. He cleared his throat and continued more resolutely. “Holly, we need to talk.”

---

@OwO