Stronger With Those Daddy Issues

[missrecalled_mods]

Waking to bird song isn't exactly shocking in Auradon, but it seems... louder than usual on the first morning of the event. And there is a reason for that. Auradon has been visited by a rather large flock of Golden pheasants. An odd flock as experienced birders might notice there are only the brightly coloured males in evidence. But there isn't much time to think about that because with them comes... a complication.

Now this is Auradon, of course, so the only mess the birds are dropping are bright colourful feathers. But the feathers, like the flowers last month randomly trigger a memory. Once again the memory shows in 3D, looking the most solid to the one who touched the feather - and unwittingly contributed the memory. No one can interact with it, and no matter how solid it looks, the figures and places and things in the memory can be walked through with ease. Well, physical ease, anyway. The memory, once again, will not be from the perspective of the one it belongs to; they and their companion or companions will be observing from a third party perspective, thus allowing a person to see their own face in the memories without the aid of a mirror.

The memories this time are memories of fathers and paternal figures. Generally good memories. After all, this is Auradon.

If one interacts closely with the birds or their feathers they might also have strong vivid dreams of their paternal figure. Again, genrally happy dreams given this is Auradon. While the birds will fly away after two weeks, and the feathers will lose their power to share memories at the same time, for every day spent handling the birds or feathers during the event, the character might have up to that many day of intense dreams after.

Comments

Ma'am Not Appearing In This Post

[mal_contented]

While one or two people might have noticed a purple haired person slamming all windows in the castle shut tight on the first day, attempts to contact Mal in person will be met by a polite but apologetic Ben, with the news that Mal isn't feeling well and would like some alone time. No remarks will be made about the occasional crashing sound.

All attempts to reach her via the network will go to voice mail. Feel free to leave those messages here.

NPC Ben

[missrecalled_npcs]

With Mal unavailable, Ben will do his best to be around for the people and to calm down any fears they might have.

Given how busy he has been, this is probably the most he's been available since Mal's coronation.

Bugging him~ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ʚїɞ εїз ྅༏༊ 🦋

[queen_butterfly]

She's all smiles as she cradles one of the pheasants to her chest, leaning her head down slightly, planting traces of kisses on its soft head and murmuring quietly to it. There's no fear to quell here, just an animal lover happily loving on a happy, oddly cuddly animal.

But she seems to want to talk to him, all the same, straightening up a little as she spots him and heading over. "Well, good day, young Ben!" Someone was in a lovely mood, clearly. The bird she was holding fweeped at her, peeking up as the attention it was getting paused. "These birds reminded me, I meant to ask earlier about the pigeon coops. Specifically, that I cannot find any. Have they, perhaps, gone missing? Ought I construct a few for us, to help collect fresh eggs?"

Re: Bugging him~ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ʚїɞ εїз ྅༏༊ 🦋

[missrecalled_npcs]

"Pigeon... coops?" he asked, startled for a second, then he shook his head, smiling. "In Auradon, most birds tend to be friends or companions or sidekicks. So we try to avoid insulting them. Cages and things like that are kept only in specific areas that those who are friends know to avoid. We don't have access to any of those here though, that would be out on the farms. We've all agreed not to eat each other here. While some creatures are aware that others eat their kind, we try not to make that too obvious in the capitol, since everyone needs to feel comfortable coming to see the king and queen."

Enki | Star Trek OC | OTA

[under_the_raptors_wings]

Enki had... honestly had no real reason to think much about the flowers previously, though once he'd realized what they did he simply had steered clear of people who interacted with them unless actively invited.

This time? Look, he was going to interact with birds he hadn't seen before. They were... quite colorful and perhaps where they foraged he might find a place to forage also. So he went out to where several were perched in bushes, curious.

Now, given that the flowers hadn't had any effect, the vision starting before he even reached them caught him entirely off guard.

It was dark around the boy who sat in a meadow. And on his lap sat a... look who even knew what that thing was. It looked vaguely feline, vaguely reptilian, quilled between armored plates, had an unreasonable quantity of eyes(5), and an only slightly less unreasonable qty of barbed tails(2). The boy himself was... difficult to mistake. The familiar burn scar distribution was old even then, though there were a few scars gained since this moment. His hair was longer too, but not long enough to hide how patchy it was at the sides and back. In the background the night-sky boasted... well, it was too large to be a moon, it looked more like this must be the moon and that the planet, a bright green blue with gold and blue flecks around it, said flecks circling the sky and disappearing behind the horizon.

The animal looked up when an adult approached, giving a warning growl sound, but paused when the boy shifted his hand, looking up also.

"Can you explain what brings you out here this late, Enki?" The first thing of note was how he pronounced Enki varied from what Enki usually used, An-Kay rather than En-Kie. The man's age was impossible to determine and he had pointy ears like Enki's but he was very pale, the greenish undertones visible in his skin and he lacked the forehead ridges. The man was very tall, kept his straight black hair in a short bowl cut, and when he moved he wasted no energy on excess movement. He stood still, waiting for an answer, an eyebrow raised. He didn't say he disapproved, but he didn't need to.

"Oh... umm, T'kahr Skisan." A small half bow over the cat(?) "I had a nightmare and knew Ryill would calm me."

"And in doing so you broke the rules. Do you know why students are not allowed outside after hours?"

"Of course, but I won't get hurt. You know I will not." The boy let the cat(?) off his lap so he could stand and she went away, melting into the shadows.

"Perhaps not, but if I allow you to break the rules, I will have to allow the others. Would you wish to take responsibility for what happens to the others?"

The boy flushed a deep bronze. "Dhat, sir. But..." Skisan held up a hand, and the boy went silent immediately, looking down, visibly irritated.

"No. I believe I can teach you a better way to handle them. Was this another one where you dreamt as someone else?"

The boy hesitated and then nodded.

Skisan nodded, clearly having expected that. "Come, We will go back inside where we can work on some meditation. You will then spend your free hours tomorrow and the next day working on these exercises. Understood?"

The boy wrinkled his nose but nodded, "Ae, sir." As the pair headed away the vision faded.

It took Enki a moment to recover from... confusion more than anything. He'd forgotten how often he used to get nightmares like that. (Now he had nightmares all the time, but they weren't nearly as confusing as those had been. In hindsight they were far less confusing. And now he knew that Skisan had definitely known he was half V'Tosh.)

He looked around to see if he'd subjected anyone else to a memory, not that it was a bad one, it mostly angered Enki because of context, but... it was the principle of the matter.

Have a Kyoko?

[souls_of_roles]

Kyoko saw the memory and had a question. Eyes wide as she rushed up to Enki. "Was that a fairy!?"

Rally, did you expect anything else at this point?

[under_the_raptors_wings]

No. He really didn't expect anything else, but flinched anyway. More that someone had seen it at all than anything else. He also knew that nothing he said would convince her that Skisan was not a fairy. So instead, he deflected a bit. "Ryill? Dhat, she was a phiqat." He gave a small smile then. "I forgot how small she used to be."

Nita Callahan | Young Wizards | CRAU

[unfavorableinstigation]

Now, them being birds, Nita was half in mind to just talk to them; if the flowers hadn't gotten the message from her, perhaps animals could.

Then a feather landed on her shoulder, and she saw red.

It wasn't what they made her see, just that they had the same effect. The same as-

Well, one could find Nita as close to a reliable source of (salt)water as she could get at this time, etching out a particularly large spell diagram.

From the look in her eyes, she had plans.

And rage, lots of rage.

Kyoko | OTA | Warning for some mild toxic masculinity, and family angst. PT 1

[souls_of_roles]

"OH!" Those feathers were so pretty! And she could do so much with them, she was sure. Never one to waste anything that could be useful - especially if it was free. But of course that gave lots of opportunities for memory triggers. With each, Kyoko stilled, watching, unaware if anyone had joined her...

For those who have already figured out the pattern of these events, Kyoko's memories this time, might be confusing, however.

The first Morning

The scene was a lovely hotel suite bedroom. It was lavish. Lovely. Only the lack of personalization made it seem to be a hotel not a home. Well, that and the phone with the hotel log on the night table.

Neither of the people in the room seemed to be Kyoko, though the young boy, early to mid teens, looked as though he could have been related to her. His hair and eyes were the same colour, but there was a youthful energy to the eyes that Kyoko didn't have. Th hair might have ben about the same length, but it was mostly slicked back with just a few fly away bits, which made it hard to tell. He moved lightly on his feet, more like as close to floating as a human could get than lik walking. He wore a black shirt partially buttoned open and the neck to show off a cross necklace, jeans, and a hoodie tied around his waist.

The other person in the room was a blond man, laying in the bed, clearly still asleep.

The young boy bounce-floated into the room, bounding with energy. "Dad. It's morning. Dad, wake up. You have some TV work starting at eight."

"Mmmm...." the man murmured, rolling over with an arm over his eyes. "Five more minutes."

"N-O. Wake up now! Time to eat," the boy insisted. He rushed to the window and dragged the heavy curtain aside to let in early morning light. By the light it was too early for anybody to be that awake without caffeine. "You need at least an hour to get there. Otherwise you'll be late." Then the boy was distracted by something outside. "Oh... a bird! A bird just flew in front of me! Just what you'd expect on the top floor. What do you call that bird in Japanese?" He asked, so hyper his words were going a mile a minute. His back to the man he didn't see the warm contented smile on his father's half asleep face. "Suzume? Hmmmm..." the boy shook his head. "What? Surume? Dried squid?"

The man chuckled, finally opening his eyes. "No," he said, smiling at his boy. "S...." He froze, looking at his son in something like shock. The hand that had been moving off his face was frozen in mid motion.

The boy turned back to his father, with the brightest smile on his face. "S...?"

The man kept staring at the boy in shock, like something unbelievable had just happened.

Confused, the boy's smile turned to concern as he turned to fully face his dad, one hand on his hip. "Dad?"

That seemed to startle life back into the man, though he looked even more stunned than before. "Uh... um. No... nothing..." he mumbled. "Well.... I guess I'll wake up. I'm hungry."

Relived, the boy laughed. "You must be. Breakfast is ready, so hurry!" He raced from the room towards the suite's kitchen. He pulled a huge... something from the oven, bouncing around as he then poured what... was probably supposed to be eggs on a huge plate. He then cut a slice off of the thing from the oven and put it on a small plat, covering it in jam. A smaller plate of eggs - these mad slightly better, and some vegetables. Then he prepared two cups of coffee.

The man came in, toweling off his hair as he was pouring the second cup.

"Dad. coffee?" the boy offered. When the man nodded, he set the cup on a saucer with a spoon beside the plate with the huge something.

The boy was too busy fussing with breakfast to notice the way the man stared at him studied him. Even as thy both sat down and the boy, calm for the first time, started to eat. Finally, as he he ripped his slice of somthing apart, the boy looked up and noticed. "Why... are you staring at me?"

"Hmm?" the man asked, startled at being caught out. "Uh... no." He stared another moment then his features softened. Settled into the expression of on trying to seem firm when he is really amused at someone he loves. "Well... um. May I ask you something, Kuon?"

"What?" the boy asked.

The man held up the huge something, and now his expression was almost comical. "What... is this?"

"What?" the boy asked, puzzled. "It's bread. Just like it looks like."

Now the man looked almost gray faced as he started at the so-called bread. "You could've at least... sliced it... or toasted it..."

"Cuz... dad would eat it all, right?" the boy asked, sounding eager and hyper again.

The man was silent a moment before mumbling "Well, yes, but..."

Th boy cut him off. "I didn't hav time slice and toast it all. I... spent all my time cooking the eggs."

"Ah..." the man said, but his face lightened as though he realized something pleasant.

The boy, Kuon, watched his father, eager. Sweat formed on his face and he started to flush a bit. He started to look down, shoulders hunching in a bit. So he wasn't watching when the man got a bunch of the eggs up on his fork and took a big bite.

The crunching sound, however, got the boy to look up, devastated. "D...dad?" he asked, shaken.

"Hmm?" the man asked, seeming to be enjoying his crunchy eggs. He was almost smiling as he chewed. And chewed. And chewed.

"That sound..." the boy asked, unsure now, "was that... egg shells?"

"Yeah," the man said as he swallowed. He gave Kuon a bright smile and a chuckle. "It's alright. They're full of calcium. Kuon you're... a real smart kid!" He gave him a thumbs up. "You are my son!"

The boy, rather than looking relieved looked mortified and shocked. Desperate, he stammered out "Y.. you... don't have to force yourself... dad... You don't have to eat it."

The man's expression shifted to concern as the boy spoke.

"It doesn’t taste good, right?" Kuon continued.

"Why not?" the man said. The boy's face filled with painful hope. "You tried so hard.. to make all this for your dad. Of course it's good." With that he took another bite, and did genuinely seem to enjoy it.

Th boy still looked confused and stricken and hopeful, but mostly just bewildered.

"It's delicious," the man said.

The boy flushed, eyes wide. But then his eyes half closed as they welled with, and then spilled, tears. He tried to stop them, but they kept coming. "I'm sorry..." he said, gasping as if breathing were hard. "I'm happy I just... don't know... how to express..." in the last few words his voice cracked. Sounding almost... almost like Kyoko's voice.

"Kyoko?" the man asked, setting setting down his fork.

As if the name released something, she put her hands over her face and scrubbed at her tears before pressing hr hands into her legs, looking down. Something subtle in how she held herself now, something about her expressions made Kuon vanish until it was clearly Kyoko in Kuon's clothing. It wasn't magic, but whatever it was, was subtle.

"My... my family..." Kyoko said, and it was clearly Kyoko's voice now, "is just my mother and me... But since I was little... We haven’t gotten along very well," she confessed, still crying. "This... is the first time... someone... has been nice to me... when... I messed up... So I don't know.... what I should do... I'm sorry.... When I'm... supposed to be acting.... I'm sorry..." the memory faded there.

"NO! My shining memory! Come back!" she begged. She fell to her knees, hands over her face. "Come back," she begged in a whisper. "Magic, please bring the memory back, I want to be the Kuo boy again. Please....


--------------

Kyoko later was either told or figured out that sh could possibly bring the memory back, by touching more feathers. So for the rest of the event she would be able to be found gathering them desperately, filling bag after bag with feathers, hoping for another memory to trigger.

------------

A limo. Kuon, still in the same clothes shard a bench in the car with his father who was now in a striped suit with a black shirt. Two other people, with the look of guards, shared the back seat with them clearly trying to pretend they weren’t there.

Kuon was staring out the window, looking bored. "Ka udon."

"It's chikara udon," his father corrected.

"Snack Ta Gure," Kuon offered.

"Yugure," his father corrected.

"Hohohoho-o"

"That's Hayashi Mokizai."

Flushing a bit, Kuon gripped the window and scowled. "I... just hate Japanese."

Behind his back, his father was fighting to keep his laughter silent. So far he was succeeding.

"In Japanese," Kuon continued, "why do characters that look the same read differently? Or words have different meanings? Kumo and kumo and hashi and hashi for example. The stingy personality of Japanese people who use one room as the living room, the dining room, and the bedroom really shows in the Japanese language." He flopped back in his seat as his father crossed his arms and his legs, looking stern and a little disappointed.

"That's not true, Kuon," he scolded firmly. "That's not stingy. It's practical. There's no waste."

Kuon huffed, sulking.

"Hey, Kuon. Why don't you learn Kanji... instead of calling it boring?" Kuon turned his face away from his father, who kept trying. "There's a lot to kanji. It's interesting."

"No thanks. Cuz.. it won't help a bit when I'm a grown-up. Learning the language of a small country like Japan. If I'm gonna learn kanji, I wanna learn Chinese."

His father doubled over trying not to laugh out loud. The guards were really trying to not exist, from their expressions.

Kuon glanced over, seeing him doubled over. "What's wrong, dad?"

And like that laughter became crocodile tears. "Uh... no... nothing..." Then the crying seemed more real. Over dramatic, but real. "I'm sad that Kuon isn't interested... This is the country your dad grew up in..."

Kuon looked alarmed and shocked. All pout was gone as he started to reach, desperate. But his hand faltered, hesitated, stayed in place. He stared at his father who had a hand over his face. "Fath... I... I'm s...." Kuon's voice became Kyoko's for just a moment. The stricken look, hers.

The man glanced between his fingers, but when he saw Kyoko there, looking afraid and devastated. at first his glance was curious, as if to see why "Kuon" stopped talking. But then concern too his expression when he saw her paralysis. Her pain. A look of sympathy on his face, a moment of compassion, and then... he reachd out and flicked her on the forehead.

She reeled back, at the moment not seeming much like Kyoko or Kuon. Mostly whoever it was in there just seemed confused and surprised. And confused.

The grin on the man's face was almost sadistic as he sat back. "I lied... you fool."

Kyoko/Kuon still looked confused, but a little less stunned.

"What's wrong, Kuon?" The name seemed to snap her back into Kuon fully. A confused Kuon, but Kuon. "I lied to you, teased you, and flicked my finger against your forehead." he pointed at Kuon. "You have the right to get mad and fight back. If you're a man... show your guts and fight back when someone gets at you."

Kuon blinked, still a bit stunned, but less hesitant. Less unsure.

His father grinned a bit as Kuon leaned forward a bit. Then h mad a bring it gesture and hope filled Kuon's face and eyes with a light flush. Like when he was waiting to see his father eating breakfast he made.

Kuon lunged to try and flick his father's head, but his father grabbed his arm and slid his face away. Then he chopped Kuon on the back of the head before letting the boy go.

"?! Why...?" Kuon asked, hands going to the back of his head as h stared at his father with wide eyes. "Why're you fighting back?! I'm the one who can fight back, right?!"

"You fool...When a man knows someone one is out to hit him, h's not going to let himself get hit without resisting. That's what weak cowards do. Your dad is strong." Despite still sitting, he seemed to loom large over Kuon as the guards exchanged a look. "Your dad only lets someone who's stronger hit him!" His eyes and bearing mad it clear he had no intention of losing or backing down."

"What the..." Kuon mumbled, shrinking a bit. "That's not fair..." Then, stronger, "You had no intention of letting me fight back from the start."

"What are you saying?" his dad asked, looking more relaxed again. "If you want to fight back, do it. Surprise attacks. Weapons. Whatever." He glanced at Kuon. "I give you special permission... because you're my son."

Kuon looked stunned again. "I'm... special? Really? I can really... do anything?"

The guards did not look amused.

"Yes," the father said, crossing his arms and leaning back. A picture of confidence.

"You'll... let me?"

"A man never goes back on his word. So.. don't worry."

Kuon stared at his father, something growing within him as his exprssion slowly evolved from hope to impish mischief.

The man opened his yes and glanaced over, then looked more openly, smiling. "You'r... starting to look pretty good... you naughty brat."

Kyoko | OTA | WarniRe: Kyoko | OTA | Warning for some mild toxic masculinity, and family angst. PT 1

[souls_of_roles]

--------------

Severance?
In the hotel kitchen again, Kyoko and the man were cooking what looked like enough food for dozens of people. Kyoko was clearly Kyoko again, not the Kuon boy. She was also cooking well again, like Kyoko. And she was clearly sad about something, brooding as she worked.

"Well... I'll leave this for now..." he said, stepping away from a huge wooden tub of rice. "And I'll chop the other stuff."

Kyoko jumped back in shock as he started slicing at top speed with all the natural skills of a professional chef.

"T...Teacher! You're good! Why?!"

"Hm?" he asked, then he laughed. "I told you my wife loves having the family eat together. And she really loves home cooking," h said with a soft friendly smile. He was clearly in a very good mood. "When she and I cook, we each cook something by ourselves, even if it's just one dish. So I can cook, more or less."

"Wow," Kyoko said. "If you can cook so well... why was I assigned to be with you? To cook for you?" She was so confused. "Teacher could've cooked everything..." he had the startled look of someone caught out in a lie. "Because I mad food that ordinary people eat."

"Th-that's because I was here for work and vacation. Have you seen a fool go on an incentive trip and cook his own meals?"

"Ah.. I see. You're right," she said, nodding. Then she have a small laugh as he started a slower chop. "But... teacher... you must be busy with work. Yet you cook too. You're really amazing. You're a good husband and a good father. You're a god-father," she said with a bright smile, looking up from her own cooking.

He narrowed his eyes at what he was cutting. "Call me a good father. I've no intention of becoming a mafia don. My motto is love and peace."

"Isn't it like being the mother of the world? It's cool," she said, "You're like a legendary father."

"Too bad, but my love isn't big enough for the whole world. The only one who can do that is the boss."

"Com oooon," she whined at him, looking over from her share of the cooking. "That's not true. Teacher. To me, you're already a legendary father." He flushed, glancing at hr, but she was looking down at what she was cutting as she spoke. "I've... never thought even once... that I wanted a father... But I'd like to... have had... a father like you...." Her words were spoken slowly and sad as she focused.

His expressions as she spoke moved through surprise, to mild embarrassment, to sympathy to... something very like love. Not that memory Kyoko had seen any of that.

"Y... WHAT ARE YOU BABBLING ABOUT?!" He shouted, startling her.

She stepped back from the cooking, not looking at him, not seeing his expression of warmth that didn't match his shout or his stern tone. "Y-yes, you're right! I'm sorry! I dared to dram about something I don't deserve..." she started, about to bow. But his words aborted the gesture.

"You're telling me now?" His voice was still stern.

She finally looked up and was clearly shocked at the look on his face.

"I'm your father... and you're my child. I don't remember... severing our ties... as father and son... You're not... going.. to call me... father anymore?"

She sniffled as the memory faded. She scrubbed at her face.

[gregorydeegan]

The first

Okay, the feathers were odd. But they seemed harmless enough. And he could use an awesome new outfit for rocking out in. Why not feather tassels? But as he started gathering feathers he found himself in a ruined town. Few buildings stood at all, and those few hardly did. But he knew this town. "Barthis!" He turned to a specific direction, but when he saw himself he realized more or less what this had to be. "Another vision! A few more like this and you can call me Dominic."


The village was in bad shape. People milled around, unsure, as Greg stood outside talking with an older man in a bright pink coat.

"I admit," the man was saying, "it's kind of weird to see you up on both legs."

"I admit," Greg replied, "it's still kind of weird being up on both legs."

"Yeah," the man said with a broad smile, "But it hasn't stopped you. Nothing's ever stopped you, kiddo. I've always admired that about you." He gripped Greg's hand. "No matter what comes of this, I want you to know that I'm very proud of you."

"Thanks, dad."

His dad's grin grew. "I also want you to know that I brought our Axes."

Greg's returning grin was almost feral as they moved from a handshake to a prolonged fist bump. "ALL RIGHT!"

"Wait right here," his dad said before heading back the way he seemed to have come from before.

Greg nodded. "I... I wish I knew how we're going to pay all of this, dad... I don't want to go to jail."

"You're not going to jail," he said firmly, grabbing two acoustic guitars with straps from behind on of the crumbled walls with a bunch of bags an other supplies there as well. "We'll figure this out, Greg. But for now, you have a different axe to grind." He handed one of the guitars to Greg.

He gave his father a weak grin that grew stronger as he settled his guitar in place, strap over on shoulder, hands sliding easily into place. By the time they lightly tapped the headstocks of their guitars like a musical fist bump his smile was full and genuine. Hi father startd playing and within a moment Greg had joined in. They didn't have to discuss the song. They were that in tune with each other.

Something of their personalities could be seen by those watching. Both closed their eyes as they played, but while they played the same song at the same pace, everything about Greg spoke to hard rock or heavy metal. His expression, his stance, his energy. Donovan's expression was more placid. If you couldn't hear the music you could presume he was playing a gentle ballad. But their song was the same, and their notes were almost indistinguishable. It was like the same guitar was playing twice, rather than two people playing together.

Their eyes closed, neither seemed to notice how they drew the milling people from all across the ruined town to them. They were unaware of their audience. One of those people probably looked odd to anyone not from the Train or Nautilus, for he was a man made of patchwork skin tones stitched together, dressed like a pirate.

Two people, a man and a woman, stood nearby in the doorway of one of the few intact buildings. "I didn't know Gregory could play guitar," the woman said, watching them rather than the man she spoke to.

He chuckled. "He's Donovan's son. Does it really surprise you?"

"Well, no. I suppose not," she admitted. "But... my God... I had no idea how amazing Donovan was."

"He has that effect on people, take a look," he said, nodding to the gathering crowd.

For a few moments more, the guitars played as one, then without so much a change in expression, the man in pink's pace changed, tempo changed. He was playing the same song, but now far more in a rock and roll style.

Greg's grin grew and he dove into it, catching up then overtaking his father. His father's tempo caught up for just a moment synchronizing before dropping back playing a support melody as Greg's song soared through the air. Greg's eyes opened a moment, locked on his father's face, before he closed them again.

Eyes closed, they began to move as they played. Small subtle movements for Donovan, slightly larger ons from Greg that flowed so well with how his hands and arms moved that they were subtle as well. At the exact moment they came back to back the song came to what was clearly its natural end, with the pair playing the last chord in perfect sync once more. They grinned, Greg a little winded, as thy took in the now cheering crowd around them.

"Hey! Look at this! We really drew a crowd!" Greg said, excited.

"A little music can do wonders for morale," his father said.

Greg gave his dad a sly look. "I think they want more 'morale' from us, dad."

Donovan chuckled. "Pretty soon we'll have to start -"

"Charging!" they both said at the same time, both stunned for a moment before they turned to each other with the brightest smiles.

Greg grinned. "Well, if that's what's happening, I wonder how many of these things I need to catch to give everyone here a real show...." He eyed the feathers then turned to whoever was near. "If you know anyone who likes good music, bring them here, I'm going hunting for a specific memory...." He grinned.

-----------

Battle of the banned?

Later, with whoever came to see what he was on about, Greg grinned. "So if this is happy memories with our dads, and it seems like it is, then I'm trusting to luck to find the memory I want to share with you all! The battle for Barthis. We charged then, but here it is a sort of... free for all...." He grinned at his own word play, then started gathering feathers.

Was it simple chance? Was it will? Deegan luck? Some latent psychic ability? His brother's long reach? Non of the above? The world may never know. But ten feathers in, a memory started. And it was exactly the one he had wanted.

A huge crowd. It was the same ruined town except that there was a huge stage with a roof set up in the town square and a throng of people gathered before the stage to watch the show. While most were human looking, but there were a few orcs in cloaks trying to hide their green skin and tusks to blend in. As for the humans they were an odd cross section of humanity. Clothes of all different styles and fashions. Different ages, different temperaments. Near the front was a man with a striking resemblance to Greg's father, of an age to be a brother or cousin to Greg with a cane, a prosthetic leg, small armless glasses and a very striking striped scarf over a threadbare sweater, even though most people were dressed for cooler weather. Beside him was a lovely young lady who seemed human in every way other than her sharp orc like fangs. And with them was an older woman who held a long staff with a gem in it, who seemed to thrum with power, even standing still. Near the back was a knight of some sort, without a horse, dressed in black armor. At som point during the concert, near the end he and a woman in a long dress would slip off alone, not that anyone could tell that from this moment.

Suddenly a man seemed to appear on the roof of the darkened stage. The evening was clear and cloudless. Despite that lightning split the night illuminating him, showing him to be a wild haired older man in an impressive suit and ascot with what looked like a conductor's baton. He lifted it to the lightning. The bolts struck his baton, shattering it. Lightning flew from the pieces to hit the top of the stage, lighting a string of lights over the top. Not enough to let anyone see the band yet, but enough to ensure everyone knew this was all part of the show and was now watching.

Another bolt of lightning, a large one, struck the man in the chest, his eyes closed, his arms wide. "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN... LET THE SHOW... BEGIN!" On the last word he opened his eyes. Lighting burned and crackled in the sockets before gathering in his hand. "And now, without further ado..." he threw the lightning ball at the stage. "OBLIVION FOLDER!"

On the stage was Greg in a pink fringed jacket over a pink shirt and dark slacks with his guitar. His dad wore bright pink pants, and an open black vest that showed off his elaborate chest tattoo. The drummer was a green skinned orc in a white top and blue sideless skirt. The final member, also on guitar, was the patchwork man. In place of his pirate gear he wore a very colorful outfit that celebrated his mixed skin tones. Pink pants, yellow sleeveless shirt, pink bandana, purple and pink wrist wraps, green cloth belt that fluttered as he moved, blue scarf.

The concert went on for hours. The drummer didn't seem to be hitting the drums at all, rather her padded drumsticks were making shockwaves of the air, using that to punch the taut skins.

At one point near the middle the pace changed, possibly to give Greg's throat a break.

It didn't take them long to get back to high energy songs, though.

Then it was time for the drum solo. Except that when she shouted to begin, an orc in the audience shouted back. Melina, the drummer shouted a challenge. And the strange orc

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<b>The first</b>

Okay, the feathers were odd. But they seemed harmless enough. And he could use an awesome new outfit for rocking out in. Why not feather tassels? But as he started gathering feathers he found himself <i> in a ruined town. Few buildings stood at all, and those few hardly did.</i> But he knew this town. "Barthis!" He turned to a specific direction, but when he saw himself he realized more or less what this had to be. "Another vision! A few more like this and you can call me Dominic."

<i>
The village was in bad shape. People milled around, unsure, as Greg stood outside talking with <a href="https://static.wikia.nocookie.net/dominicdeegan/images/3/3b/Donovan_Deegan.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20120417041248">an older man in a bright pink coat</a>.

"I admit," the man was saying, "it's kind of weird to see you up on both legs."

"I admit," Greg replied, "it's still kind of weird <b>being</b> up on both legs."

"Yeah," the man said with a broad smile, "But it hasn't stopped you. Nothing's ever stopped you, kiddo. I've always admired that about you." He gripped Greg's hand. "No matter what comes of this, I want you to know that I'm very proud of you."

"Thanks, dad."

His dad's grin grew. "I also want you to know that I brought our Axes."

Greg's returning grin was almost feral as they moved from a handshake to a prolonged fist bump. "ALL RIGHT!"

"Wait right here," his dad said before heading back the way he seemed to have come from before.

Greg nodded. "I... I wish I knew how we're going to pay all of this, dad... I don't want to go to jail."

"You're not going to jail," he said firmly, grabbing two acoustic guitars with straps from behind on of the crumbled walls with a bunch of bags an other supplies there as well. "We'll figure this out, Greg. But for now, you have a different axe to grind." He handed one of the guitars to Greg.

He gave his father a weak grin that grew stronger as he settled his guitar in place, strap over on shoulder, hands sliding easily into place. By the time they lightly tapped the headstocks of their guitars like a musical fist bump his smile was full and genuine. Hi father startd playing and within a moment Greg had joined in. They didn't have to discuss the song. They were that <b>in tune</b> with each other.

Something of their personalities could be seen by those watching. Both closed their eyes as they played, but while they played the same song at the same pace, everything about Greg spoke to hard rock or heavy metal. His expression, his stance, his energy. Donovan's expression was more placid. If you couldn't hear the music you could presume he was playing a gentle ballad. But their song was the same, and their notes were almost indistinguishable. It was like the same guitar was playing twice, rather than two people playing together.

Their eyes closed, neither seemed to notice how they drew the milling people from all across the ruined town to them. They were unaware of their audience. One of those people probably looked odd to anyone not from the Train or Nautilus, for he was a man made of patchwork skin tones stitched together, dressed like a pirate.

Two people, a man and a woman, stood nearby in the doorway of one of the few intact buildings. "I didn't know Gregory could play guitar," the woman said, watching them rather than the man she spoke to.

He chuckled. "He's Donovan's son. Does it really surprise you?"

"Well, no. I suppose not," she admitted. "But... my God... I had no idea how amazing Donovan was."

"He has that effect on people, take a look," he said, nodding to the gathering crowd.

For a few moments more, the guitars played as one, then without so much a change in expression, the man in pink's pace changed, tempo changed. He was playing the same song, but now far more in a rock and roll style.

Greg's grin grew and he dove into it, catching up then overtaking his father. His father's tempo caught up for just a moment synchronizing before dropping back playing a support melody as Greg's song soared through the air. Greg's eyes opened a moment, locked on his father's face, before he closed them again.

Eyes closed, they began to move as they played. Small subtle movements for Donovan, slightly larger ons from Greg that flowed so well with how his hands and arms moved that they were subtle as well. At the exact moment they came back to back the song came to what was clearly its natural end, with the pair playing the last chord in perfect sync once more. They grinned, Greg a little winded, as thy took in the now cheering crowd around them.

"Hey! Look at this! We really drew a crowd!" Greg said, excited.

"A little music can do wonders for morale," his father said.

Greg gave his dad a sly look. "I think they want more 'morale' from us, dad."

Donovan chuckled. "Pretty soon we'll have to start -"

"Charging!" they both said at the same time, both stunned for a moment before they turned to each other with the brightest smiles.</i>

Greg grinned. "Well, if that's what's happening, I wonder how many of these things I need to catch to give everyone here a real show...." He eyed the feathers then turned to whoever was near. "If you know anyone who likes good music, bring them here, I'm going hunting for a specific memory...." He grinned.

-----------

<b> Battle of the banned?</b>

Later, with whoever came to see what he was on about, Greg grinned. "So if this is happy memories with our dads, and it seems like it is, then I'm trusting to luck to find the memory I want to share with you all! The battle for Barthis. We charged then, but here it is a sort of... free for all...." He grinned at his own word play, then started gathering feathers.

Was it simple chance? Was it will? Deegan luck? Some latent psychic ability? His brother's long reach? Non of the above? The world may never know. But ten feathers in, a memory started. And it was exactly the one he had wanted.

<i>A huge crowd. It was the same ruined town except that there was a huge stage with a roof set up in the town square and a throng of people gathered before the stage to watch the show. While most were human looking, but there were a few orcs in cloaks trying to hide their green skin and tusks to blend in. As for the humans they were an odd cross section of humanity. Clothes of all different styles and fashions. Different ages, different temperaments. Near the front was a man with a striking resemblance to Greg's father, of an age to be a brother or cousin to Greg with a cane, a prosthetic leg, small armless glasses and a very striking striped scarf over a threadbare sweater, even though most people were dressed for cooler weather. Beside him was a lovely young lady who seemed human in every way other than her sharp orc like fangs. And with them was an older woman who held a long staff with a gem in it, who seemed to thrum with power, even standing still. Near the back was a knight of some sort, without a horse, dressed in black armor. At som point during the concert, near the end he and a woman in a long dress would slip off alone, not that anyone could tell that from this moment.

Suddenly a man seemed to appear on the roof of the darkened stage. The evening was clear and cloudless. Despite that lightning split the night illuminating him, showing him to be a wild haired older man in an impressive suit and ascot with what looked like a conductor's baton. He lifted it to the lightning. The bolts struck his baton, shattering it. Lightning flew from the pieces to hit the top of the stage, lighting a string of lights over the top. Not enough to let anyone see the band yet, but enough to ensure everyone knew this was all part of the show and was now watching.

Another bolt of lightning, a large one, struck the man in the chest, his eyes closed, his arms wide. "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN... LET THE SHOW... BEGIN!" On the last word he opened his eyes. Lighting burned and crackled in the sockets before gathering in his hand. "And now, without further ado..." he threw the lightning ball at the stage. <a href="https://www.dominic-deegan.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/02/1066_20051203.gif">"OBLIVION FOLDER!"</a>

On the stage was Greg in a pink fringed jacket over a pink shirt and dark slacks with his guitar. His dad wore bright pink pants, and an open black vest that showed off his elaborate chest tattoo. The drummer was a green skinned orc in a white top and blue sideless skirt. The final member, also on guitar, was the patchwork man. In place of his pirate gear he wore a very colorful outfit that celebrated his mixed skin tones. Pink pants, yellow sleeveless shirt, pink bandana, purple and pink wrist wraps, green cloth belt that fluttered as he moved, blue scarf.

<a href="https://www.dominic-deegan.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/02/1067_20051204.jpg">The concert</a> went <a href="https://www.dominic-deegan.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/02/1071_20051209.gif">on for hours</a>. The drummer didn't seem to be hitting the drums at all, rather her padded drumsticks were making shockwaves of the air, using that to punch the taut skins.

At one point near the middle the <a href="https://www.dominic-deegan.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/02/1069_20051206.gif">pace changed</a>, possibly to give Greg's throat a break.

It didn't take them long to get back to <a href="https://www.dominic-deegan.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/02/1071_20051209.gif">high energy</a> songs, though.

Then it was time for the drum solo. <a href="https://www.dominic-deegan.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/02/1072_20051210.gif">Except that when she shouted to begin, an orc in the audience shouted back.</a> Melina, the drummer shouted a challenge. And the strange orc <a href="https://www.dominic-deegan.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/02/1073_20051211.jpg>answered.</a> (Warning for one bad word.) The other orc leapt onto the stage. The drummer moved to a long staff and the two did a <a href="https://www.dominic-deegan.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/02/1074_20051212.gif">duet</a> of drumming and dance. The dancing! The drumming! It was <a href="YOUR LINK HERE">a hit.</a> With an <a href="https://www.dominic-deegan.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/02/1077_20051221.gif">unexpected development</a> when the drummer leapt, as no human could, into the crowd to hug one of the other orcs. When she returned, Greg invited the dancer to dance for the rest of the show, and the crowd went wild with glee over the idea.

The concert went long. A few people, like the one legged man and the girl with the fangs left for a bit, missing when Greg tossed his jacket to the crowd in a fit of adrenaline.

On and <a href="https://www.dominic-deegan.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/02/1089_20060103.gif">on</a> the concert went. Long into the night. And the crowd loved it, most of them sticking through to the very end. And with the dimming of the stage lights, so too dimmed the memory.</i>

"Wow... I... wow. Shame it ended when it did...." Greg shook his head. "And I didn't realize Dominic and Szark and Luna left the concert for a while. Wonder why. And did you see where he had his "I'm having a vision" face? I missed that from the stage. A little mixed that Siggy left in the middle... but why did Jayden? Oh well, I won't tell you what happened after the concert, after al, I'm not one to kiss and tell....."

------------

Greg | OTA | Warning for bad puns, bones, injury, little kids being creepy little snots. | Part 2

[gregorydeegan]

Lessons

Greg was generally a happy person and he loved his family. Especially his parents. And he and his father had always been super close. So He'll be spending pretty much the whole event chasing feathers, hoping to trigger more memories. Memories like....

A fairly decent sized living room, though low tech compared to the worlds most of the Missrecalled were from. There was what was probably a sofa, but its cushions were rearranged into a structure anyone who visited the room Greg had claimed here would know all too well. A couch fort. Little Greg, and he was little in the memory, maybe ten, maybe younger, was not in the couch fort. He was sitting on a chair too tall for him, at a table, drawing. Leaning against the table was a child sized walking stick forked at the top to work as a crutch. In a corner of the room an older boy with long black hair was playing with what looked like small bones.

an man in a bright pink shirt and pants walked in. He stood beside Greg. "Whatcha doing, kiddo?"

"Workin," he said, lisping a little from a lost tooth. Hints of darkness, like blackened veins showed from the cuff of his pants on one leg, poking out of his sleeve a little on the same side and up out of hie collar.

"I see that. What are you working on?" he asked taking a seat beside his son.

"Comic book," Greg said. He held up a page of a childish drawing of a stick figure in a cape laying down. Or flying. Or jumping? It was a kid's drawing, adults trying to figure it out are just doomed to be wrong by nature. "Dom'nic read me his c'mic book last night, an I wanted to draw my own."

His dad smiled warmly and ruffled his red hair. "Wonderful. A lovey way to tell a story. What's your comic book about, kiddo?"

"It's about a lil boy named Greg. An Greg has a secret. When he says his secret word, abrakaboom, he gets super powers an can fly around and save people."

"That's wonderful, Greg," he said warmly, kissing his son's hair. "What about my super Greg though?"

"Huh? What about him?" Greg asked.

"Have you been practicing your powers today?"

"Uh huh!" he said happily, dropping his papers and pencils. "I learned a new trick! Wanna see it daddy?"

"I would love to see it, my boy."

"OKAY!" With a lot of effort, and clearly a lot of pain, little Greg twisted and picked up his walking stick. He threw it towards the older boy.

"HEY!" the older boy protested. "You hit me with that I'm gonna leave a dead foot in your pillow!"

"Jacob!" a female voice scolded from the other room.

Jacob flinched but also glared at the doorway.

Greg frowned. "How would you put a live foot in my pillow?"

"Never mind that," their father said quickly. "How is throwing away your walking stick a trick?"

"Oh, it 'snot. This is!" Greg focused on the stick. And focused. And focused. Then he slumped. "I can't do it."

"Do what, exactly?" his father asked.

"Float it to me," Greg said.

"That's not how white magic works, dummy," Jacob muttered.

His father gave Jacob a look for a moment then looked back to Greg. "Hav you don it before and it worked?"

"Yeah huh."

"When?"

"Last night!" Greg said, proudly.

"So it was a dream then?" Jacob asked, sneering a bit.

"Uh huh!" Greg said cheerfully.

"Well, we learn new things about magic all the time. Maybe there is a white magic spell that will let you move things with the force of your mind, and maybe you'll be the on to figure it out."

"YEAH!" Greg said. "I just gotta practice lots!"

"Yes, but maybe not with your walking stick?" his dad suggested gently. "You should keep that with you."

"Okay, daddy! I'll go get it!" He started to squirm his way out of the chair.

"Greg! You need your walking stick to..."

"I know daddy! that's why I'ma get it!" He held onto the seat as his feet hit the ground. He took one step to the walking stick and... collapsed. He began crying at once, as kids often do.

His father sighed and got his walking stick and then knelt beside him. "Alright, let me see, where does it hurt new?"

Little Greg looked up at him and poked himself in the chest, over his heart. "Why didn't you catch me, daddy?" he sniffed, voice hurt and accusing.

"Because," his father said gently, "I can't always catch you."

"Can too! You were just being mean! You hate me!" he sobbed. He grabbed his stick from his father and used it to hobble over to the couch fort. He squirmed inside.

His father sighed and walked over, then sat beside the couch fort. "You know I don't hate you, Greg."

"You coulda caught me!"

"I could have," he agreed. "Do you remember last month when Mr. Miller stayed here for a while?" he asked after a moment.

Greg peered out from between two cushions. He nodded. "He took my bed and I got to sleep in my couch fort the whole time!"

"Yes. Do you remember why he was here?"

"Um..." Greg said.

The other boy inched a bit closer. "Cause his daughter messed up her elemental homework. She messed up a fire spell and got hurt and destroyed a whole wall in his house," he said.

Their father nodded. "That's right, Jacob. He stayed with us while we helped him fix his wall."

"Couldn't momma have fixed it with magic?" Greg asked.

"Of course she could've, st.... silly," Jacob said changing words quickly. "Momma is the most powerful mage there ever was."

"Then why didn't she?" Greg asked.

"Because what then?" Donovan asked.

"I don't understand," Greg said.

"What then?" Jacob mocked his father. "Then he'd have had a fixed wall. And I wouldn't have had to share my room with him. He snores!"

Another boy, between Jacob and Greg in age, carrying more books than he could easily handle, came in. "Teach a man to fish?" he asked, putting his books on the table. When their dad held open his arms, he went and sat in his dad's lap. Their dad offered an arm to Jacob who ignored it.

"That's part of it, Dominic" their dad said.

"Teach a man to fish?" Greg asked.

A small orange cat head poked out of the space behind the sofa, followed by the rest of the cat's body. "Fish? Did someone say fish?"

"'Lo, Spark," Greg said.

"A story about fish, Spark, not actual fish," the father said.

"I got up fur a fish tale?" disgusted the cat left the room.

The father chuckled. "Anyway, the saying is give a man a fish you feed him for a day, teach him to fish and he can eat for life."

"Think we can teach Spark to fish?" Dominic asked pushing up his glasses as they slid down his face. Like his green sweater they were too big for him.

Their father laughed. "If ever there was a cat-fish it would be Spark. But what the saying means is that if you give a man a fish, he'll be hungry the next day and you'll have to give him another. Give him a fish every day, and soon he can't survive without you." Something glinted in Jacob's eyes at that, but none of them noticed. "IF you teach him to fish however, he doesn’t need you any more. Your mom could have magicked the wall complete but then what happens the next time there is a broken wall?"

"She fixes that too, it is easy for her!" Jacob insisted.

"So every time a wall falls, your mother should stop her own work to go fix it? While those of us without magic sit here helpless and lazy?" their father asked.

"Why not? She can! She's just bing selfish with her power!" Jacob said.

"JACOB DEEGAN!" their father snapped. Then, calmer, "You know your mother isn't selfish. In fact, helping him rebuild the wall the manual way was more effort for her and I both than her magicking it fixed. She selflessly gave him far more time than if she had cast a spell."

"Then she's stupid?"

"Jacob," the father said sharply.

"I think... she wanted him to learn how," Dominic ventured.

"Very good. Your mother is a teacher to her core, and that is part of it."

"What's the rest?" Greg asked.

"While we taught him how to build a wall and worked with him, he also learned more about us, and we learned more about him. Like the fact that his wife had to take their child out of town to find a strong enough healer to tend to her burns, so even if his home were physically whole, he'd be there alone. He couldn't go join them because his job here is important to keep us all safe. So he'd have been home all alone. But this way he got to come hav dinner with us, and stay with us. And he learned how to build a wall and do repairs on his house, with the skills he has inside himself, and basic tools he can easily get anywhere."

"Daddy?" Greg asked.

"Yes, Greg?"

"Are you just tryin to distract me so I stop being mad you didn't catch me?"

He chuckled. "Not this time, kiddo. The wall, and your stick, they're the same."

"I thought Mister Miller's wall was stone..."

Their father laughed. "It is, Greg. That's not what I meant. When you were a little kid, even littler then you are now, and you were first learning to walk. You fell down a lot. What do you think would have happened if every time you were about to fall, your mother and I caught you?"

"I'd have less ows?"

"You never would have learned to walk. Then whenever you wanted to go anywhere... you'd be stuck unless we carried you. What would happen then if we were busy and you needed the bathroom?"

Greg thought about it, but then he shook his head. "But I can't walk on my own. I need my stick or I fall down."

"Yes, that is the sticking point," their father said.

Dominic looked up at him horrified. Jacob looked disgusted. Greg giggled.

Their father grinned, then sighed. "You need the walking stick now, yes," he said. "But a stick isn't a person it doesn't get busy. That's not your parent, it is an actual crutch. And if you are in the woods and it falls in the water, you can grab any other stick to use. Maybe it won't work as well, maybe it will work better. But you can always find another crutch so long as you've learned what makes a good one. And you learn that the way you learn everything. By trying, failing, trying again, failing in a different way, and up and up until you stop failing."

"So by falling down I'm failing up?" Greg asked.

Jacob smirked, Dominic face palmed.

Their father grinned. "Well put my boy. I can't catch you every time you are going to fall because there are lessons you would not learn if I did. How to fall so that it hurts less. That you need to hold something when you stand so you don't fall at all. And how to get back up. When you were first learning to walk, every time you fell down you got right back up. That is an amazing trait, Gregory. I don't want you ever to lose that. Even now, when most kids your age are playing with toys all day, you do homework for your mom in white magic. Why?"

He smiled brightly though the sofa cushions at his dad and brothers. "Cause the healer woman, who is very pretty, she says that white magic is the strongest magic an if I get good enough at it, maybe one day I don't hafta go to her every week and maybe even..." His little eyes went wide. "She wasn't trying ta get rid of me?"

"No she wasn't," their father said. "Like us, she wants you to be able to stand on your own two feet for your own sake. Step by step."

Dominic groaned. "Daaaaaaddy," he whined. "That joke was lame." He seemed to realize what he said, cause he glared at a wall like it had offended him.

"Put your foot in your mouth did you, Dominic?" their father teased.

"So..." Jacob said, cutting in, stepping a little closer, "magic should never be used to help people?"

Their father gave him an odd look. "How is that the lesson you took from this, Jacob? Of course you should help others! But sometimes what helps the most isn't what seems to be the most obvious. Like when your mother helps with your anatomy homework. She knows the answers an could do it for you, but that wouldn't help you. It would make things worse for you in the long run."

"You're saying it could cripple me?" Jacob asked with a smirk.

Greg giggled. He was the only one who did, and that clearly confused him from how he stopped and looked at his dad and brothers.

Their father sighed. "It is a hard lesson, and one that you learn most by seeing it in practice. I know, why don't you each find a story for me, for tomorrow, about someone who helped someone else by seeming not to help."

Jacob snorted, disgusted and gathered his little bone toys and stalked out of the room. Dominic looked intrigued. Greg pushed two cushions aside to shove his head through. "Daddy, are songs that tell stories okay?"

"Always, kiddo, always."

"Wow... context... really does change everything," Greg said softy, rubbing at his leg on the side that had been darkened in the memory.

Aqua | OTA | Warning for KH and 1d10 emotional damage. Part 1

[aquawayfinder]

A Calm Before The Storm

Aqua has seen a great many odd things in the years since she left home. So she was fairly certain that something more than there being many birds was actually happening here. She thought she was prepared for anything. As it turned out... she was wrong. Touching a feather led her to learn just how wrong she was.

The memory shimmered into place. A courtyard before an impossible seeming castle.

But Aqua noticed none of this, nor the younger version of herself behind where current Aqua stood. All she noticed all she had eyes for...

was the man who stood with his back to her, looking out across the distance. But he smiled. "Aqua, is that you?" he asked, turning to glance back.

"Master!" Hr voice cracked and she ran toward shim, leaping to tackle hug the man who was all the parent she ever had. Ever wanted. Ever needed. Tears were in her eyes.

Tears of a different sort as she fell through him and landed hard on the grass beyond. She turned to see what had happened, rubbing her abraded face, eyes watering now from impact. Hr face was dirty and if not for healing magic she'd be in for some nasty bruises. She had thrown herself with full trust that he'd catch her. But now... Now seeing her past self, seeing him looking at that past self she understood why h didn't. Why he couldn't have. He wasn't truly here. The her he saw.. Wasn't the her she was now. She couldn't have him back. All she could do was watch.

Still, it was more than she'd had in years, and she drank in the sight of him, the soothing sound of his voice.

The younger Aqua hesitated just a moment then strode forward. "Master."

He chuckled. "I know who I am, but what troubles you, Aqua? I am surprised to see you out here."

She gave a weak smile but nodded and gave him a hug. When he tucked an arm around her shoulders, she let him. "Terra is watching him, Master Eraqus. But..."

"But?" he asked kindly.

"I'm afraid."

"Are you out here because you are afraid?"

She shook her head, considered, then nodded. "I did not run away from my fear," she said finally. "But I cam out here to find you, to talk to you, because of my fear."

"I see. And I think I can guess at the fear. Or would I be mistaken?"

She looked shocked and scandalized at the thought he could ever be wrong. Her expression made him laugh.

She shook her head. "You... You wouldn't be wrong. Master... He will wake up, won't he? Ventus?"

"With our hearts calling to his, it would be very difficult for him to not, I suspect. He will awaken soon, I am sure. And then he can join you both in your training."

She gave him a smile and nodded. "I won't let him fall behind."

Eraqus laughed. "I will take care of him, young Aqua, never fear. You look to your own training. It won't be long before you are ready to take your Mark Of Mastery exam. And once you are a Master you'll have plenty of students to fuss and worry over."

"And to love..." She whispered.

"And to love," he agreed. "Just as I love you and Terra as though you were my own children. And I could not be prouder of you two."

"And... Ventus?"

"Will be Ventus. We will know his heart soon enough. But I suspect I know yours now. You wish to return to his side?"

"You said our hearts reaching for him will be the Light that guides him. Though sometimes I think it would take a miracle."

Another chuckle as he kissed her hair. "And what exactly do you think a heart is, my child? Or the connection between hearts?"

She gave him a bright smile and nodded before ducking out from under his arm. She started to dash for the castle but skidded to a stop, turned. She summoned her Keyblade, crossed it over hr chest and bowed. Then she turned once more and ran inside.

Eraqus watched her go, love and pride in his face.


"Master," she whispered as the memory scene faded. She rested a hand over her own heart. "A miracle indeed..."

Aqua | OTA | Warning for KH and 1d10 emotional damage. Part 2

[aquawayfinder]

Childhood fears

Aqua would experience as many memories played before her as she could. And she is always willing to share them. Even the most deeply personal....

A much younger and different looking Aqua, a girl with hazel eyes and long brown hair was curled up against an only slightly and less scarred version of was the the man from her other shared memories. She was curled against him. She wasn't sucking hr thumb or hugging a stuffed animal, but the little girl very much looked like she wanted to.

He was gently smoothing her hair. "It is okay little one, did the storm scare you?"

She shook her head adamantly. A little too hard. Her brown hair was plastered to her face and neck with sweat, but she almost clocked his chin with the top of her head.

"You know honesty is important," he said gently. "I will not be angry with you for being afraid. Many people are scared of storms. Especially at your age. There is no failure in it."

She swallowed hard and shook her head again. "It's not the storm," she mumbled. "If it was I woulda crawled in with Terra."

"Alright then, what are you so afraid of? You've been pale as a sheet since we came off of the roof when the weather declared an early end to meditation and an early bed time. And now this night terror."

The little girl swallowed hard, trying to figure out how to put voice to her fears, it seemed. After several soundless attempts she managed to get a few words out. "....the roof..."

"What was that, little on?"

She took a deep breath, then with the look and sound of a scared kid trying to sound brave, she said "We never meditated on the roof before...."

"Ah. So is it just that roof or...?"

She shook her head and fiddled with his shirt a bit before looking up with wide eyes. "Are... Ar you gonna send me away, Master?"

"What?" he asked, stunned. "Why would you think I would my dear one?" He stared down at her worried.

"Cause I'm afraid..." She whispered. "You're teachin us to be ma... Ma...masters..." She swallowed hard again. "An... And Masters" she hiccuped "aren't scared of nothin..."

"Anything," he corrected gently. "The proper way to say it would be that Masters aren't scared of anything. But that would still be wrong. Because everyone gets scared little one. Everyone. Even Masters."

"Nuh uh!" she said quickly.

"What did I say about honesty, my little dear? Would I lie to you?"

She hesitated then shook her head. "No... But you aren't ever scared." She looked down at her little hands, picking at the hem of her sleep pants.

"Of course I am," he said. He used two fingers to tilt her chin up gently so she was looking at him. "I'm scared, for example, that you might do something foolish and try to run away and I would lose your kind heart and bright eyes in my life."

Those eyes went wide. "But... You don't act scared...." Not an accusation, a confusion.

"Because I have Mastered my fears. Mastery is not having no fears, little one, Mastery is taking what the fears have to teach us, learning from that, and using that to stop the thing we are afraid of from stopping us."

"Lessons... From fear? What can being afraid teach us?" she asked, growing more curious and less upset. The teaching was distracting her. That, and the implied promise that she still belonged here.

"Well, for me, I learned that I am afraid of you running away. So I will learn from that that I need to find out what might make you want to and address those concerns before they can drive you away, so that you will know that this will be your home as long as you wish it. even when you're all grown up, a Master wandering the wider world."

Her eyes were bright at the thought of that. Then she shook her head and hunched in again. "But I'm scared a' fallin down... Nothing to learn from that," she said, voice getting smaller with each word.

"Of course there is. There are a lot of lessons to learn there. Like if you are scared of falling of of heights. Because I suspect, little one, it is the height and not the fall that scares you."

"Why...?" she asked glancing up again.

"Because you fall down all the time when you and Terra get scrapping."

"We're not scrapping!" she protested. "We're trainin!"

"Oh are you now? And when you shoved him in the mud last week and then put som of it down his shirt? That was training?"

She looked down and squirmed. "You weren't supposed to see that, Master," she mumbled. Then she winced. "Are... You mad?"

"That you tried to pass it off as training? A little. But I'm more amused, dear heart. I was a kid too, and I also had brothers."

"Never! You weren't a kid ver! You're teasing!" she protested, eyes wide once more.

He laughed as the vision faded.

Tears rolled down her face as the vision faded, but there was a smile there too. "Terra, where are you now? Ven...." she whispered.

[cheep_soongbird_knockoff]

While they had been looking for her, Rren had not meant to catch one of Aqua's memories. They weren't sure they'd be welcome to, not after the way they'd parted. But they also couldn't let the way they'd left things stand. Not after getting memories of H'Naal. No, the memories themselves hadn't been bad, but the emotions that had accompanied them? Absolutely. They hadn't realized before how deep the sense of abandonment ran, because they'd never let themself feel it.

And now that they couldn't not feel it. They couldn't leave off by abandoning a friend, no matter how hurt they'd felt at the time. So they cleared their throat awkwardly and approached Aqua as the memory of a much younger her faded. "H-hi..."

Aqua | OTA | Warning for KH and 1d10 emotional damage. Part 3

[aquawayfinder]

Delay Tactics

Aqua, closer to how she looked now, though much younger in the eyes and far less confident, sat at the edge of a roof, her hands clinging to the bricks, her skin sick pale as she looked down below her. Her short blue hair ruffled in the breeze.

In the courtyard below, a kid a little younger than her - with spiky hair - was helping a dozen younger students with a simple Keyblade exercise while older kids worked with training dummies. One person, either an older student or a young something else stood off to one side, working on his own with a grim determination.

was the The same man from the other memories, but with as few scars as he had when she was a child, came to stand beside her.


"Aqua..."

"Master," she said, glancing up at him then quickly away, down to her knees.

"Master Stars said you wished to speak to me, I admit I was surprised when he told me where you were to be found. May I join you?" When she nodded, he sat beside her. "Aside from the obvious, what troubles you, young Aqua?"

"Young..." She repeated. Then she tightened her grip on the bricks. "I think Terra is wrong, Master. I think we should wait, take our Mark of Mastery exam with Ven, when he is ready. We should not be tested tomorrow."

"We've allowed you two to put off many parts of your training, while accelerating his so that you three could remain together, but some things must happen in their natural time, Aqua. The time is now for you and Terra. Ven has two years yet, at least. Or is there some other reason you wish to delay?"

"Additional, not other." She looked away.

He rested a hand on her shoulder and she yelped slightly, then flushed. "S...sorry," she mumbled.

"Should I guess the other then?"

"You don't need to," she said. "We both know only one of us is passing the exam tomorrow," she said, a bit bitterly. "One or none, but not both."

"Crystal's vision power are still new, she is still training it. Neither you, nor she, yet know enough of the Mastery of it to make such a decision based upon it. It sees in cloudy ways often and misses much."

"It isn't just that, Master Eraqus.... I hav every faith in Terra. He will be a Master by tomorrow night, and a good one. But I am not yet ready." A deep breath. "And maybe I never will be. There are other paths open to me, I know. I can teach without taking the exam. And not everyone takes it at this age. I still have much work to do before I will be ready to be a Master. I know this. And so do you."

"I know no such thing, Aqua. I think you are ready or I would not have put you on the schedule for the exam, even if that meant you and Terra tested separately. I have faith in you both. Is this because one of the old Masters is returning to sit as a judge?"

She started to shake her head, then stopped herself. "No. You've told us so many stories of your day training with Master Xehanort that I have wanted to meet him."

"So if it is not my old friend, and it is not about Ven, not truly, what is this actually about, Aqua?"

"Must I say it, Master? Why these games when you know the answer?" she asked, voice sad.

"Because I do not know the answer. But I suspect that if I accept your request without knowing the answer I will do you more harm than I would if I broke your legs."

"Legs heal," she murmured.

"They do indeed, especially with the aid of talents such as this Isle, and your Keyblade, hold. Hearts heal as well, though there is no special power for that." He smoothed back her hair gently. "You are my heart's daughter. Will you tell me what is upsetting you so? Why do you think you are not ready?"

She took a deep breath. "I've not Mastered my greatest fear. I will fail the test because of it. I am still afraid of heights. Enough so that I freeze."

"And yet you are here."

"Terrified to move," she countered.

"Perhaps. But Aqua, dear one, Mastery is not the end of the journey. It is a mile marker. A part of a longer harder road. And I suspect that this is not your worst fear. I can think of things that scare you far more than heights."

"You are wrong for once, my Master. This is my greatest fear. And nothing I have done has taken it from me."

"Really?" he asked, stroking his chin. "And if Ven, down there, were to be terribly hurt..." She lurched, looked stricken, he continued, "And you were all the way up here... You know the fastest way to get to him isn't the stairs... Would you let him die while you take the safe way down?"

She shook her head, eyes locked on the spiky haired older student now.

"And if Terra pushed himself too hard and punched that wall, shattering his hand... Would you leave him in pain for the extra time it took to use the stairs?" He kept speaking as her eyes locked on the old student or young something else working on his own. "Come to think of it, how did you get up here exactly?"

She mumbled something, gaze lashing between the two males below her attention had been called back to.

"What was that, my dear?"

"Glider," she mumbled a bit louder.

"Really? When there are stairs? Indoor stairs? Why, I wonder? Could it be that you are still testing yourself? And that you passed?"

"I'm terrified, Master."

"Ah yes. But you know what else you are, Aqua? Here. Yes, you're afraid. But if someone needs you? You'll do what you have to do for them, even though you are afraid. Just like you did coming up here today."

"Who did I help coming up here?" she asked, confused, and still shaken.

"You. You helped you. And I thank you for that, since you aren't ready to. But for now, I think we should go inside. You have a big day tomorrow. Mark of Mastery Exam. Unless you're planning to run away?" he asked offering her a hand.

She hesitated then pealed hr hands off the roof's edge and took his hand, trying not to look down as he helped her to her feet and the memory faded.

Mallia - open to all - Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ʚїɞ εїз ྅༏༊ 🦋

[queen_butterfly]

Mallia was having fun, seeming happy enough to prompt a close repeat of the previous month's imagery, more or less, though it seemed this time, the elves pictured were at least nominally outwardly male. There wasn't a whole lot different, past that detail.

Which, really, probably said a few things to an attentive observer about their society. If someone looked good wearing something, they looked good in it, and that was that. Long or short hair, dresses and skirts, robes, pants, various items of jewelry... male or female, it was all just aesthetics, wasn't it? And none seemed to wield weapons, in these visions or the previous ones. Perhaps that simply wasn't a thing that happened while crossing paths with the fluttery little insects?

What was she doing this time, to prompt the magic scenes? She was probably actively collecting the feathers as they dropped or she came across them, gently adding them to a spare pillowcase she'd found, or else she was singing or whistling something, her hand outstretched, patiently coaxing one of the brids to her like a true Disney princess one might expect a kid to try doing. In fact, she might've even taken on the appearance of a child again, to aid her efforts at it... and funny enough, she might've even been succeeding, in drawing them in. She was smiling, enjoying the chance to visit with and gently pet and even try feeding the wildlife, and it showed.

((Feel free to suggest a prompt, too! She is hiding nothing here, happy to play.))

Golden Memories - OTA

[hotheadwarmheart]

So... there were birds now. Far to many of the same kind of birds to be anything other than some sort of magical shenanigans going on. Still, they weren't literally coming out of the woodwork like the flowers had been, so they were at least somewhat easier to avoid.

Their feathers, however, were not. They were pretty and colorful, sure, but that didn't mean anyone wanted to be forever brushing them off their chair, picking them out of their laundry, or sweeping the floor clear of them. Lea did opt to keep a few of them; assuming they stuck around after the birds themselves left, there were a few things he wanted to try with them. But for the most part, they were just a minor nuisance, much like the their owners.

Somehow though, he wasn't entirely surprised when picking a feather out of the visor of a random suit of armor in the hallway resulted in the scene suddenly shifting. To a backroom workshop that- if not nearly as familiar as his old home- he still remembered well.

**********************************

"This is actually pretty cool," the twelve year old Lea of memory said, watching his father retrieve a clay crucible of molten metal from the workshop's small furnace with a pair of tongs.

"No actually it's very hot," his father- a man whose reddish hair was beginning to show the first traces of gray, but whose neatly trimmed moustache was as vibrant as ever- said, grinning when young Lea rolled his eyes at the joke, "so be careful. You got your gloves and safety goggles?"

"Yep," the tween said, pulling his goggles down into place from where they'd been partly hidden by his spikey hair and retrieving his protective gloves from the nearby table before putting them on. "What do you want me to do?"

"See that vial of blue powder there on the desk?" his father said, indicating a rack of what looked like sealed glass test tubes full of colored glitter with a nod of his own goggled head.

"This one?", Lea said selecting a vial whose contents were pale blue. Despite his father calling it a powder, a closer look would reveal the contents to be closer to fine sand, and the grains didn't just glitter, but gave off gleams of their own light. "What is it?"

"Powdered frost shards," Lea's father said, taking the crucible over to a worktable but not setting it down onto the rack meant for it just yet. A mold for what looked like a bracelet sat open on the table. "We're making a Blizzard Armlet. So do you know why I asked for your help with it?"

"Because any metal you're adding frost shard to is gonna cool off really quickly," little Lea said, bringing over the vial. "So you really need two people: one to add the powdered magicite to the metal, and the other one to poor the metal into the mold before it get too stiff."

"Got it in one," his father said with a smile. "I see you've been doing your homework."

"Not willingly, but yeah," little Lea said before taking the cap off of the vial and setting it aside. "I'm guessing you want me to pour the shard powder in?"

His father nodded. "Pour it in gradually," he said. "That's the secret to a well-made accessory; you need to give the magic time to permeate the metal."

Little Lea nodded and carefully began to pour the contents of the vial into the crucible of molten metal as his father instructed. At first, nothing seemed to happen aside from the grains of crystal melting away almost instantly. But after a moment, the metal in the crucible changed color from the red hot molten metal it had been to something that looked akin to mercury; still molten but taking on a lovely silvery color.

As soon as little Lea had poured the last of the contents into the crucible and moved his hand, his father carefully tipped the contents of the crucible into the waiting mold. Only when that was done and the mold set did his father put the crucible on its stand to cool and set down his tongs. "Now we just need to wait for it too cool and harden enough for me to put the details and the setting in," he said. Then turning to little Lea, he smiled. "Thanks, by the way. We make a good team."

Little Lea chuckled and made some sort of comment about 'helping the elderly' as the memory faded, adult Lea focusing on the sight of his father's smile until the last.

*******************************************

"Yeah...", he muttered once the last of the memory had faded, leaving him once more in the hallway. "A pretty good team..."

Re: Golden Memories - OTA

[gregorydeegan]

"That's your old man? I like him," Greg said with an easy smile. "He missed a few opportunities for good puns in there, but anyone can learn that with time." He pushed off the wall he had been leaning on and offered a hand, having no clue the other redhead had cause to know his face, though not with his hair and eye colour. He could have been Gar's identical twin. Or Gar with hair dye, contact lenses, and a noticeable lack of animal themed clothing. "I'm Greg, by the way."

[hotheadwarmheart]

Lea almost did a double-take when he saw the young man's face. He knew that face. Well, kinda. The question was, relative, alternate universe double, or both? It was a mark of how crazy his life was that none of these options would be too surprising.

Well there was one way to find out, he supposed. "Yeah," he said. "That was my dad. And he was a good guy. Tended to save most of the dad jokes for when we weren't handling molten metal though."

"My name's Lea. And this might come off as a weird question, but you don't know someone named Gar, do you? Pretty sure it's short for Garfield."

A Hunting We Will Go

[smilingarmor]

After the last strange event and the dreams it had brought him, not to mention what he'd seen and heard from others Sylv had a fair idea what sort of things the sudden arrival of a flock of pheasants might portend. But while it was hardly something he was looking forward to, the birds did present an opportunity to enhance their food supply that he couldn't pass up. Thusly, he checked among the school's sports equipment and discovered that they did indeed have bows and arrows; while they'd been replaced on the battlefield by the crossbow, he'd still learned to hunt with a more standard bow in his youth, and now intended to bring those skills to bear.

Given their numbers and relative lack of wariness around humans, it wasn't all that long before Sylv had several neatly shot braces of pheasant, ready for plucking and butchering. He wondered if he should go for an even dozen birds before packing in for the day and retiring to go dress his catch, absentmindedly plucking a stray feather from his hair. But that was all it took, and in a moment, the relative quiet of the school grounds was replaced by the cheering of a crowd, and the sights and smells of Auradon replaced by those of a Valorian courtyard in midsummer...

********************************

A ring of onlookers, many of them obviously knights, surrounded a sword arena where a match was taking place, cheering the two combatants on, their cheers not quite managing to drown out the sounds of the bout itself. One of the combatants was a tell and well muscled young man with light purple hair, wielding a large, two-handed sword. The other? A boy with short, dark hair and gray eyes, who couldn't possibly be older than twelve, wielding a slimmer, lighter one-handed sword. On paper, such a bout would seem to be a blatant mismatch, but surprisingly, not only was the by holding his own, but he seemed to have his older opponent on the back foot.

"Come on, Hendrick, pull it together!", one of the onlookers shouted. "That's it, Senorito Norberto! You've got him!", called another.

The boy danced lightly out of the way of his opponent's more ponderous strike before coming back with a a fluid riposte. The young man successfully parried it though, sending the boy skidding back from the sheer force of the blow, barely managing to keep his feet. "You've been holding out on me, Hendrick," the boy said in a Valorian accent, a rather familiar-looking smile spreading across his face. Though clearly exerting himself, he didn't look to be even close to out of breath. "I always got you with that one in training."

Hendrick smiled slightly himself as well. "I wouldn't dare to give you less than my best," he said. And though he was still breathing well too, it was clear the great weight if his sword was beginning to take its toll. "Not with your father watching."

They both stole a quick glance at Don Rodrigo, a burly man with dark hair the same shade as the boy's, though his was showing tinges of gray at the temples and was accompanied by a somewhat bristly moustache. He cut an imposing figure in chainmail and tabard, and stood on a raised dais with several other important-looking individuals, a bit apart from and above the general crowd.

"Well," the boy said. "Far be it from me not to give Papì a good show..." The bout went on for a little while longer, advantage shifting back and forth with each clash of blades, before it eventually ended decidedly in the boy's favor, Hendrick on the ground on his back with a slim sword pointed at his chest.

Cheers erupted from the gathered crowd and several pouches of coins surreptitiously changed hands. The boy, meanwhile, grinned down at his defeated opponent for a moment before moving his sword and offering him a hand up. Hendrick waved it off, but smiled as well, getting back to his feet on his own before both of them went to stand before the dais. In unison the two bowed, straightening back up to see a proud smile on the Don's face. "Well done, both of you," he said, "you'll make fine knights one day. Though there'll be none finer than my Norberto, I think!" He chuckled warmly before turning to one of the others on the dais. "What did I tell you, eh Paulo? A chip off the old block!"

Paulo himself chuckled as well, shrugging lightly in admittance of his apparent error. "I must admit, Rodrigo, I thought you were exaggerating. But the boy truly is a prodigy with the sword. I daresay his skills may eventually come to surpass your own one day."

At this, Don Rodrigo actually laughed for a moment. "Hah! My boy has a long way to go before he can can make that claim!", he said. "But it's good to know that the apple hasn't fallen far from the tree. Norberto will make a fine Don for Puerto Valor one day, won't you boy?"

Norberto's previously happy and triumphant smile had been gradually growing more forced-looking all during his father's conversation with his friend, especially if one knew Sylvando and had put two and two together. But Don Rodrigo apparently didn't notice as Norberto replied, "Sì, Papì. A fine Don."

Norberto then cleared his throat and added, "Well then, I should go and wash up. I'll need to wash and change before the feast later, and it wouldn't do to keep Servantes waiting." Without waiting fir a reply he sketched another quick but elegant bow before turning and heading back toward a nearby villa. That, Don Rodrigio did seem to find odd, as he gazed at his son's retreating back for a moment, expression thoughtful, but then he shook his head as if dismissing some thought before turning back to his conversation with his friends.

Hendrick watched him go too, and kept staring at his friend's back for awhile after Don Rodrigo had turned away, thus being perhaps the only one present at the time to notice the way Norberto's shoulders briefly slumped as he paused at the gate of the sword arena's grounds. Those watching the memory play out could see the conflicted expression on the boy's face. But a moment later he shook himself, straightening up and continuing back the villa, the memory fading as he opened the door to go inside.

*************************************************

As the world around him return to its usual self, Sylv sighed seeming less chipper than his usual self. "Well it could be worse, I suppose," he said to himself. "It could have been the night I left..."

[queen_butterfly]

She wasn't hiding; far from it, she'd merely been standing among some trees, quietly cooing to a colorful shape nestled against her as she petted it... and by the time the vision went away, she'd stepped out more from the foliage, openly watching with a puzzled look.

"I don't entirely understand," Mallia admitted softly, her fingers still playing over the quiet bird's feathers as it re-settled itself a little against her chest, peeking over her shoulder. "But I've often found others' expectations for one's future to chafe, when too insistent...."

Re: A Hunting We Will Go

[souls_of_roles]

After seeing all of that, Kyoko's eyes widened. And the person most likely to be his performer buddy fixated on perhaps the worst part. "YOU CAN USE A SWORD THAT WELL? PLEASE HELP ME TRAIN, SENSEI!"

Look, if she was stuck here, she had better have improved by the time she got back, right?

Re: A Hunting We Will Go

[aquawayfinder]

Aqua rested a hand on his shoulder. "Are you alright?" she asked gently. "If you need to talk, I'm here."

Re: A Hunting We Will Go

[gregorydeegan]

"Not sure he got the thrust of your concerns," Greg said, leaning back against a wall, grinning like an idiot. If he learned anything at all from his father it was to pun at people when thy were hurting. Because then they laughed, or were distracted from their concerns enough to glare, or... well.... Best way to forget your headache was to drop a hammer on your foot.

"Did you get to make your point later?"