moon wolf, i’ll use your name as a surname and my favorite of celine’s as the first name! they’re all good names. and, like, weirdly anime. i love them!

~~

ENTER NAME==>

 

NAME ACCEPTED

You look at the clone of Ryan. His face is narrowed by concentration. He looks like he’s thinking pretty hard. It looks like he’s weighing options. You get it, honestly. Renaming yourself is a very hard choice to make! It feels weird to, like, try out multiple names, to be like “Whoops no call me this separate thing instead.” You’re sure he’ll pick a good name.

 

Ryan-Clone: My new name… Is friggin… Albatross.

YOU: Huh okay

Alex: …albatross? :0

Albatross: Albatross… Aryn.

 

Antimony abruptly sits up in Diana’s arms, smiling widely, her eyes half-lidded and glazed over.

 

Antimony: Well, that is a very specific name! Did you have one vested for a situation such as this one? I did!

Albatross: You had a name picked out for if you were cloned? That’s… really weird.

Antimony: ;D

Diana: Antimony: You are conscious again! 

Antimony: I wish I wasn't! 

 

Wren hurries over to Antimony, hovering over her, using a cell phone flashlight to make sure she isn’t concussed, massaging her head, basically being as overbearing as you can be while remaining “cute” and not becoming “obnoxious.” Alex and Sam, of course, further ruin a potential moment by opening their fool mouths.

 

Sam: Dude okay I can live with calling you Albatross, I was like 50% sure you were gonna name yourself Wolf or something.

Alex: Your name is a little bit… Silly?

Albatross: Shut up!

YOU: Alex, Sam, shut your mouths. We do not shame people’s expression of themselves in this group, okay? 

Sam: Yeah, sorry boss. 

Wren: Albatross, I for one applaud your decision to name yourself after a bird.

Diana: I applaud your cool name, kid :D 

Albatross: Uh, thanks.

Wren: Um, we should maybe tell you… The, uh, primary way that… Ryan… We’ll just. We’ll address him as a separate person, right gang?

 

You get the sense that Wren is not asking if that is what you’ll do but rather strongly suggesting that it ought to be. Your group all nods. 

 

Wren: His primary failing was having, a, like, unhealthy obsession with me? So, to be clear, I have no interest in you, at all. I’m a lesbian, I’m an adult, and honestly? When I look at you I mostly just want to swaddle you and teach you the ways of the world, and pack you a bag lunch. I mean, I see you and I just want to mother the crap outta you.

Albatross: :| 

Wren: So, my point is, honestly, figure yourself out? Pay attention to yourself, care for yourself. Don’t lose yourself in someone else, like Ryan did. Make friends. I’m sure there’s a girl out there for you… Or guy? I'm kinda getting guy vibes?

Albatross: I have never been more uncomfortable in my life.

Wren: But you can’t fixate on someone else! You need to love yourself! Build up a complete person for yourself to be, so you’re not subsumed in another person again.

Albatross: And I mean, my life has only been about one day, I guess, but most of it consisted of being beaten to death by an evil god.

Wren: I’d love to be your friend, but I don’t want to be in the position of being your only friend. Okay?

Sam: Uh, dudes, hate to interrupt this heart to heart, but we are in a flooding seabank. I don’t think we can really drive in this, so we should probably, maybe, start… Walking. 

Albatross: Can we loot a store and get me food?

YOU: I love looting, of course. 

Wren: Uh, I’m generally not pro-looting. But yeah, you should probably eat.

Albatross: Yeah, I’m a cloned body, I’ve never eaten. I’m kind of starving. 

YOU: Yeah, let’s get you some food.

Alex: Have we just, like, adopted a child?

Wren: YES.

Diana: YES.

Antimony: YES >:D

YOU: Kind of, I think. 

 

You leave the forest, walking down the long, cracked road. Sam walks by your side, holding hands with you casually. Wren carries Antimony, while she tries to recover. Diana walks next to Albatross, her protective instinct very apparent. That girl wants kids someday. Alex brings up the rear of the group. As you walk up the hill. You become aware of a strong breeze building…

~~

yo! the next… part? couple of parts, maybe? will be the end of chapter two of act three! it’s been a long trip! and a fun one! after that, it’s only act three chapter three and the epilogue! i’ll start work on chapter three after winter break, in the meantime i’ll be hard at work on that recap and a bunch of bonus content! i have some fun ideas :D 

 

No commands necessary!

BEGIN: END OF CHAPTER TWO ==>

And so you leave the forest. Your feet slosh through the water. The wind pushes heavily against you. The water is almost black. That’s… creepy. Your clothes would be getting wet, but hey, the rest of your clothes are pretty wet too. You were just swimming. Jeez louise, it is very cold. Sam walks next to you, leaning against you. He smiles at you.

 

Sam: You, uh… Ready for this? For… Fighting and stuff?

YOU: Eloquent as always, Sam.

Sam: Okay. Hey. I can be all eloquent, Tracy. Look, I can up and do anything I set my own mind to. I can do anything, okay? I am fully down and capable of the wicked eloquence-

YOU: You’re babbling, love.

Sam: Yeah okay correct ding ding ding.

YOU: …

Sam: Uh… I’m really nervous. To be fully honest. With you.

YOU: That’s perfectly fair.

Sam: Uh… Aren’t you?

 

Hm… No, not really. These people are your entire world. You don’t have anything to lose that isn’t walking with you, right now. But you recognize that this likely isn’t a helpful (or healthy) thing to say. 

 

YOU: Yes, a little.

Sam: Good. Sometimes I worry that you’re, like, I dunno. Batman.

YOU: Batman. 

Sam: Yeah like… Stoic, grim, zen-ish hero. Like, I dunno.

YOU: You’re absolutely right, Sam. I’m Batman.

Sam: Really.

YOU: Yep.

Sam: No way!

 

You walk down the road, and without the trees obscuring your vision, you get a better view of things. The black dome Apophis trapped in is still there, thankfully. It’s way off in the marsh. But even from such a distance, it looks… Weaker. Cracked. Blackness seems to almost be seeping out of it. And every five minutes or so, a bunch of clones are being shot out of it. It looks like some clones capable of flight are trying to catch as many of them as possible. They don't appear to be entirely successful in this venture, given that one just smashed through the building a few hundred feet in front of you. 

 

Speaking of, that’s Diana, Wren, and Antimony’s apartment, you think. You look ahead and also see what passes for “downtown” Emerald Springs, where you were before. It’s pretty far away, not as far as the Apophis Battledome though.

 

Antimony: There is food in our apartment, Albatross! We can get in, I will bet Wren has her keys!

Wren: I do! We can make you some food, Albatross.

Albatross: Um. Thank you. 

Sam: Hey, can you make me food too

Wren: We’ll see.

Sam: Hm. Alex, can you make me food. 

Alex: Why would I do that, Sam?

Sam: ‘cause we’re best friends.

Alex: Really? I’m your best friend?

Sam: Not counting my spouse, yeah. Did you not know this?

Alex: That’s so swee- Wait, you’re trying to get me to cook for you with flattery, aren’t you?

Sam: :D 

Alex AREN’T YO-

YOU: He’s being serious, Alex. You are his best friend.

Alex: oh

YOU: He’s just kind of a jerk :P 

 

You’re approaching the apartment now, and Wren is fidgeting with her keys. She sets Antimony down, and Antimony leans on her cane, smiling at her. 

 

Antimony: Thanks for carrying me, Antimony.

Diana: I wish I could carry you… 

Antimony: I think you are strong enough, it is just awkward, because we are about the same size. 

Diana: I am going to pick you up right now!

Antimony: Bad idea!

Diana: No, excellent idea! Get ready, idiot! 

 

Antimony flails around as Diana strains, trying to pick her up. Wren pulls her keys up and 

 

And a strong wind blows. A wet newspaper blows directly into Alex’s face, and she splutters, glaring and yanking it off. You look up, and the wind is tearing into trees, bending them over, roaring through the woods. The wind begins to funnel, centering itself above the town.

 

It reaches down, encircling a point like the finger of an angry god. A tornado, touching down in Emerald Springs. Grey, angry, narrow and tall. You stare transfixed. Everyone is staring. Rubble is floating up like broken angels and… Well…

 

YOU: Wren, I think you should probably hurry up with the keys, yeah?

Wren: Yeah, alright.

 

YOU HAVE JUST COMPLETED THE SECOND CHAPTER OF THE FINAL ACT OF THE TERMINAL

PART TWO (OF THREE)

WHICH WAS TITLED:

PRAY THAT YOUR CHILDREN DO NOT SING THIS SONG

THANK YOU

@celine: thank you thank you thank you! seriously, this makes me deeply happy to hear!

heeey guys! we are in intermission mode now, and i have some fun stuff for you!

im going to work on the recap, ofc! since ill be out of town after Christmas, imma try real hard to get it done prior to then!

ive also been writing a special "holiday special" for the terminal, starring the version of The Six that died fighting Apophis in the late 1800s! it's pretty fun, and it'll be done before Christmas as well.

finally, while im on my trip, and maybe prior to it as well, ill be writing some fun "album reviews" done by the characters. they're canon actually, im gonna say Wren had an online channel and they messed around on it with a music review show. it'll be fun! i love writing these little guys :3

PREPARE FOR STUFF O_O

heartbreaking: girl forgets the timeline to her own fictional universe. this incarnation of the six were active in the early 1900’s, not the late 18800’s, sorry :P 

btw, this isn’t strictly canon! it’s schrodinger’s canon, you can decide. if you preferred the more mysterious, less information provided nature of the WW1!Six, you can choose to ignore it’s canonicity and just headcanon in peace! but, i think you will like it :D mild, mild cw for minor transphobia. honestly, an unrealistically small mount of it given the time period, but i can't stand making my trans babies too uncomfortable :I 

~~

A RIGHT JOYOUS AND MOST JOLLY HOLIDAY SPECIAL IN THE DOMAIN OF YOUR MOST CLOSE AND LOVING FRIENDS, THE TERMINAL

In the year of our Lord, 1915, in that grand Island and the town upon it, green in stream and dark in forest, with great evergreens, cold rains, soupy mists, and rarely snow, that most cheerful and gladsome of times began. Christmas. 

Chen Tsang, THE SEER, sat in an armchair in the grassy field outside the Akkerman house. He sucked his own teeth, air whistling between his crooked teeth. He hissed, his skin wet with sweat, twitching madly. He could feel his eyes focusing and unfocusing. 

He has thought much about his Dual Aspects. (It always came back to duality with the young man. The split, the bifurcation. Since his transition into manhood, the dreadful concept had not relented, not for even a moment.)  The part of him that is a godlike, enlightened soul, and the flesh. In his Awakened peers, the two are well-balanced. The Awakened Aspect comes out when they need it, transforming them. In him, it is not so. At any moment… Any moment at all, it arises in a dreadful Attack. His ordinary view of time in its full swell is blackened, and The Future extends its black hand, wiping slates clean, possibility vanishing, devoured by the black mouth of his doom, his friend’s doom, his lover’s doom. He sees black waters, and hears wood burning and cracking. And The Future gazes at him, and it has only one eye, and that Eye is yellow, and hateful beyond measure. Chen almost screams. 

“You’re in your thinking chair.” 

“No, you’re wrong, I am in my wretched vithionthh chair. The thinking chair ith a few patheth left. Get with the timeth, my love.” 

Alistair Akkerman, THE SCRIBE, scoffed, shaking his head. His pale, thin arms flew out towards Chen’s shoulders, hovering over them cautiously. Chen gave a simple thumbs up, and Alistair gently touched his shoulders. Chen sighed, shaking violently. Alistair pushed his glasses up on the top of his nose, twirling Chen’s black hair affectionately.

“Are you having visions again, my love?” He asked, his voice quiet and sweet. Chen nodded. “Obviouthly.” “And what do you see?” “I thee what I alwayth thee, ‘my love,’” Chen snapped coldly. “Death. I thee death, dethruction, I thee a ship thinking beneath the Thound. Jormanguard fallth, but Thor ith poithoned.” Alistair sighs, kneeling down, resting his head on Chen’s knee. “You’ve been talking to The Hermit too much. Falling into his myth-quest theories.” Chen scoffed. “Ha, well, we are going to fight a god. Perhapth mythth are a little helpful, hm?” Alistair shrugged, laughing quietly.

~~

Samuel Akkerman, THE HEIR, walked briskly through his home, blood dripping from his hands. He held the popcorn string, the needle still tied at the end of it. His hands are cut from the needle. God help him, he is clumsy. The twelve-year old boy wrapped the popcorn string around the little evergreen tree. Thank God for gas lighting he thinks to himself, smiling and shaking his head. Otherwise, his hand would likely be impaled on the needle, not merely cut. Especially in this bleak midwinter time, when the sun set before supper was even being cooked, and a few clouds could, it felt, cheat one out of a day in its entirety. He would like to see these fancy electric lights that have become so popular recently, but that is simply out of the cards. He cleared his throat.

“Alistair?” 

He cringed. His voice was high and reedy, that sort of raw, high voice a person gets when they have a serious cold. No response came. Samuel hurried over to the window, looking outside. 

Alistair was out there, his head resting on Chen’s leg. Chen was sitting on a floral armchair, wearing an oversized yellow suit. Samuel shook his head. He wasn’t certain about the Tsang boy. He took no issue with his cousin’s… ways… Honestly, Samuel didn’t care. But there are better guys out there, (and sure, he’s willing to call Chen a guy if that’s what he really wants) are there not? Samuel shrugged. He didn’t care all that much, to be frank. It’s Christmas, good will, peace on Earth, eh. He lit the candles on the tree in the living room. He sighed. It wasn’t entirely the same, overseas from the rest of his family, but it had been years. He was getting used to it.

~~

The Woodsman, one of those grim, faceless, fungal creatures that populated the dark forests of Emerald Springs, fell to the ground, struck with a sound like a lightning strike. It had been killed by the same strike. THE KNIGHT, Rachel Ware, stood rigidly, their fur coat billowing at their sides. The glowing green paint, a substance they had taken from the green rivers, adorned their face, painted to resemble a skull. Their har, normally in a bun, was loose now, and their bow was pulled back and ready to strike. 

They lowered it, their lips puckering ever-so-slightly in disappointment. They placed their arrow back in the quiver. 

“You killed it.”

“You should have been faster!” 

THE APOSTATE crowed gleefully, the dizzying purple aura extending from her, her eyes still alive with the maddened fury of her aspect, her hair dirty blond and mussed. She leapt forward, her ragged grey cloak billowing behind her. “The weak protest their own weakness,” she hissed, giggling quietly, “When it would be better to strengthen themselves.” 

Rachel sighed, shaking their head. “I hold no desire to play your games, Apostate. Should I care that it is you who felled an opponent? My opponent has fallen. I simply cannot enjoy a kill done so... disgracefully.”

The Apostate grinned wider. “Ah. A code of honor. Is that a native thing?” Rachel’s expression soured. “My father is a full-blooded Swinomish Native, as am I. He is a Lutheran minister, and I was raised in town. No, I have no tribal code of honor, as much as I would like to be more active in the tribe. I simply believe that you are empirically disgraceful.”

Rachel gazed at the carcass of the Woodsman, smashed to pieces by the Apostate’s cruel strike. They shook their head. Unnecessary, completely unnecessary. 

The Apostate’s grin didn’t drop or alter, and she affixed Rachel with her dead stare. “Yeah. That’s interesting. What does your father think about the whole Two-Spirit thing? In that case. Is that you… what, trying to connect to the tri-?”

Rachel’s eyes flashed dangerously, and they felt a private sense of satisfaction as The Apostate stumbled over her words, stepping back slightly. They felt ashamed of that emotion, and suppressed it. The Apostate smiled nervously. “Well, I don’t mean to offend.”

Rachel looked at them coldly. “You cannot offend me. You do not hold any of these beliefs, in truth. You simply enjoy upsetting people.”

The Apostate scoffed. “What, Chen and Alistair? I don’t mock them because of what they are, I mock them because they’re effeminate ponces.” 

Rachel smiled softly. “I think you are likely projecting, my friend.” 

The Apostate glowered at Rachel, her eyes bugging out. Her voice came out in a high-pitched, enraged whine. “What do you mean? What does that mean? Please, explain the insinuation you’re making, Rachel!” The Apostate smiled very slightly. “Pick up some of the Woodsman carcass, please. Christmas dinner. Good eating.” 

Grumbling, the Apostate complied. She knew, to her private terror and confusion, that Rachel was at least partially right. She lacked the words, or perhaps the self-reflection, to put any name or face on what separated her from the ordinary mass of humanity…. Excepting her apotheosis, of course. But she knew that she felt a certain way about women most people would likely have found odd. She said none of this, as meaningful dialogue was not part of her repertoire, by any means at all. Instead, she hauled the largest chunk of the fallen monster through the forest, following her friend towards the Akkerman Estate. 

~~

It was growing dark then, yet Chen Tsang, SEER APPARENT, one-sixth of creation’s defense against the decrepit old serpent that refused to die, APOPHIS, remained on his chair, shaking quietly. To an observer only a few dozen paces back from the chair, it might have appeared that the young man was crying. It would appear doubly so in the waxing light of the evening, when the sharp dark lines of the day became smudged and faded, and doubly so beyond that, as his face was buried in the soft olive-green fabric of his lover’s jacket.

In truth, not one tear spilled from his eyes, which crackled with an unnatural yellow light. His lips were tightened over his jagged, crooked teeth. He breathed, shallow breaths from his neck moreso than his chest or lungs. He did not speak for a time, and Alistair remained patiently silent. 

“Thethe epithodeth pathth, they alwayth do,” he finally managed to say.

“Of course, my love. I will wait.” Chen smiled. “You are entirely too good to me, Alithtair.” Alistair laughed. “Why do you think I’m such a brat most of the time? Offsetting it, my dear.” Chen nodded, his eyes suddenly furious with concentration. “Do you… Ever think you are… Thplit? I have dreamth and vithions… They theem to be from a patht or future life. I am one thing, and then two, thplit down the middle, a thingle perthon in two athpectth. Or, that’th not right. Two pethonth in one athpect. Maybe.” 

Alistair thought long and hard. “Your visions… They’re not always literal?” Chen shrugged helplessly, another mad peal of twitches overtaking him. “Well… I know I am split. I am not simply me. I am every Scribe, reborn in new bodies over and over. I have been many people. I will likely be more. But… this does not sound much like you describe. Yours sound more dualistic.” Alistair smiled, gently ruffling Chen’s hair. “And of course, your own identity was split, once, but you are firmly a man, so it is unlikely that… And so again, I say our hermetic friend Nigel has poisoned your sweet, tiny brain.” 

Chen laughed softly. “Nigel. The Apothtate and Rachel are on a hunt. Your dithguthting little couthin ith inthide. We’re all here… ekthept…” Alistair shrugged. “He’s not coming.” Chen nodded. “I thuppothe he doethen’t thtrike me ath the Chrithtmath type.” Alistair laughed. “I’m an Agnostic Jew, I couldn’t care less about Christmas, or Hanukkah for that matter. I’m doing this to see my friends and make little Samuel happy. Nigel is just a nasty old man who doesn’t care much for any of us.”  “Yeth, well… I thuppothe that thith ith likely true.”

Alistair sighed, standing up and wrapping his thin arms around Chen’s shoulders from behind, leaning his head into Chen’s head. “You’re… You’re afraid of the future, aren’t you, dear?” Chen laughed. “No. No, not really. The future ith… The future ith beautiful, and full of hope, and it ith tho thpethifically becauthe the future ekthtendth further than I do, than my life doeth.” He paused, leaning into Alistair’s embrace, closing his eyes. “I’m only thcared of death.” 

Alistair frowned sympathetically, looking at Chen’s face. Chen’s eyes flickered open. “You look thtupid. Thtop making that fathe.” Alistair snorted, rolling his eyes. “I’ll just stop caring for you, I guess!” “Yaaaayyyy,” Chen muttered pissily.

“I’ll stop making sure you eat and sleep well!” 

“Yaaaaayyyyy.” 

“I’ll… stop kissing your ugly little face!”

“Well, okay, let’th not be hathty.”

Alistair smiled patiently. “You ready to go inside, then? Are you feeling okay again? I can keep waiting, if you need.” Chen nodded, and stood up, his bones creaking. “Inthide.” 

~~

Samuel Akkerman Smiled to himself as Alistair entered the house, dragging along Chen. “Hello, my dear cousin!” He said, grinning at Alistair. He glanced briefly at Chen. “Hello,” he said flatly. Chen sneered, his lips curling over his jagged teeth, and Alistair stifled a laugh. “Have you managed to keep the turkey turning in the fire?” He managed to ask with a straight face.

“Aye. Rachel and the Apostate are hunting as well, but they will likely bring home something disgusting,” Samuel opined. Alistair nodded solemnly. “It will likely be so.” Chen licked his lips and thought about eating an uncooked monster. Nothing made him feel more powerful, to be honest. It rarely tasted good, but the image it projected was something the young man aspired towards most fervently. 

“Nigel, I imagine, is not coming?” Samuel asked. “Alath, our hermetic friend thuckth eggth,” Chen replied. Samuel felt private relief. The old man scared him. His gaunt, aged face, his humorless smile. His eyes, wrapped in bandages, yet still alive with a furious SIGHT. It was enough to drive young Samuel, already a nervous young boy, into an utter state of panic. 

Alistair looked out the window at the figures approaching, Rachel with her face aglow with skull-paint, and the Apostate dragging the monster’s body behind her. “Look, my dear,” he said to Chen. “Our friend arrives! Ah, and also the Apostate.” 

Chen groaned. “I don’t want to thee the Apothtate…” “Few do,” Alistair said gravely. The Apostate knocked on the door, and Samuel hurried over to open it. 

“Hey kid, we have a monster carcass,” The Apostate rumbled, grinning widely. Samuel wrinkled his nose in disgust, and Rachel pushed past the Apostate, moving in the body. “Hello. Merry Christmas.” 

“Oh thweet, Thanta Clauthe ith bringing me a dead body for Crithtmath.” Rachel sighed. “Don’t be gross. It’s just like any other kind of meat.” “Alithtair, they’re calling me grothth!” Chen whined. “Perhaps you had ought to quit being a gross little loser then, my love.” “I don’t waaannaaa,” Chen whined, his voice louder and more consciously nasal.

The Apostate walked sluggishly to a couch besides an oil lamp, sitting down. She felt slow, and old, somehow. She knew she was young, but in the moment it was like she contained an inordinate amount of time itself. Her exhaustion felt somehow ancient. She grinned widely at Chen, who rolled his eyes. She shook her head muttering to herself, happy to have an excuse to stop trying to be friendly to the twitchy little creep. 

Alistair brought the turkey into the foyer, setting it on the dining room table. “My friends,” he proclaimed grandly, “The time has come to feast. Merry Christmas,” he continued, a speech on his mind and the tip of his tongue, but the Apostate and Chen were already eating, like starving dogs, and he knew they could not hear a word. So he fell instead into fond silence.

~~

The Woodsman was rubbery and cold like a mushroom. It had a fairly earthy taste as well. Alistair tasted a little, at Chen’s insistence. And while he almost spat it out in disgust, it did cause him to wonder slightly about the taxonomy of the creature. It was clearly biological, but perhaps it was of some entirely separate order of creatures.

The turkey was warm, and good, and it both tasted and felt like a turkey, which is what it was. 

~~

Between their few bites of Woodsman, Rachel Ware, KNIGHT IN WAITING, spoke quietly, their voice a lowered benediction. No one really listened, except Samuel Akkerman, who gazed at them, enraptured. “If my father were here, he would speak of tonight. He would say that the world groaned once, poisoned and sickened by its own sin, and that tonight marked the birth of hope. Hope for all men and women. And for myself, I would argue.” “Do you think that’s true?” Samuel asked earnestly, and Rachel smiled softly. “I think so. Maybe.” Then, “I am not sure.” And then, “But given our duty, it is perhaps a fitting thought.” Samuel shrugged, biting hard into the drumstick he held. “I’m not really sure what I believe,” he admitted. Rachel smiled again, sympathetically. “Nor I, young Akkerman. But you are twelve years old. You have time to decide.” Samuel laughed.

“You’re only about ten years older than me, silly! You have time too!”

“Perhaps.”

~~

In the end, there was quite a bit of meat left over, though the turkey was nearly gone. The meat was placed in the ice box, although a large portion of it was taken by The Apostate. Rachel left first, obligations at home. Younger siblings, an aging father. They knew the walk was long and tiresome, and it was dark, but they were, ultimately, used to it. The descent and ascent of the great hill in the center of Emerald Springs was an almost daily ritual. 

The Apostate lingered for far too long, sitting in their living room, having a cup of tea, brewed by the younger Akkerman. Then, having a second. And then a third. By the fourth cup, Chen was eyeing her with a growing frustration. 

“Oh,” she said, her tone cloying and sweet, pretending to only just notice the daggers being stared her way when she had been enjoying the sight for quite some time. “Were you waiting for me to leave?” 

“Yeth.”

“Got it,” she said, grinning lazily. “Private time, eh? With old Ali. Star-crossed lovers. Well, I think I’ll take my time.”

Chen glanced around, looking for Alistair. The young man was nowhere to be seen. Putting his younger cousin in bed. “You are a thtupid...” he began, and then he said a word that was commonly seen as very, very rude. The Apostate smiled widely. “And you’re ugly,” she said conversationally. “It’s sad, really. You used to be quite pretty, back when you could be persuaded to wear a dress occasionally.” Chen leaned forward in his chair, rage boiling his blood. “Jove’s Sakes, at least you smiled occasionally back then. Now you look so angry, constantly,” She continued, pointing at Chen’s face. “Yes, like right now! Oh, if you had a mirror-”

Chen stood up, and for a brief moment something very dangerous flashed in his eyes, but then a strange recognition settled in his expression. His features softened, and he smiled sympathetically. “I’m thorry thingth didn’t work out between uth the way you wanted them to,” he murmured softly.

The Apostate felt a burst of sick, black rage explode through her. “What are you talking about?” she screamed. “I think you thhould go now, but hey. Merry Crithtmath, okay? I’ll thee you thoon.” 

The Apostate opened and closed her mouth angrily, and then she slammed the teacup down on a coffee table. The hot tea splashed out, running down the side of the cup, and pooling beside it. She stormed out of the house, leaving the door wide open. Chen could feel the cold air being sucked out of the house. He hurried over and closed the door.

~~

Alistair finished putting the boy to bed. He left the room, walking down the hall and out to Chen. “Hey,” he said quietly. “What’th going on?” “Apostate left, hm?” Alistair asked, pushing his wire-rimmed glasses up to the narrow bridge of his nose. “Yeth. Made a little bit of a thtink, but that’th her nature, ithn’t it?” Alistair laughed, and nodded. “Sure is. You’re probably wanting to talk at me now, am I right?”

“Maybe not!” Chen said defensively. “I’m not alwayth out to talk your ear off! Maybe I’d prefer to thit in thilence and meditatthion thith hallowed Crithtmath Eve!” Alistair laughed, again, leaning his head on his shoulder. “Maybe… but maybe what I want for Christmas is to go to sleep listening to you prattle on like you love to do, in that nasally, lisping voice of yours.”

Chen tried not to smile, but failed exquisitely. “You’re mean,” he said, unconvincingly, and fondly.

“I know.”

“What’th your preferred thubject then, you jerk?”

Alistair yawned loudly. “Well, you’re always on about the future, aren’t you? It’s your favorite thing to whinge about. So go on, prophet-man! Prophesy for me!”

Chen spoke softly and evenly. “In the future… I am dead, and so are you. And decadeth pathth, but… but we don’t thtay dead. We come back, with no idea who we are. But we find each other, and we love each other to pietheth, all over again.” Alistair smiled. “That’s nice.” “Yeah. And we try again. We try to thtop Apophis. And it hurtth uth. A whole lot. And… And I don’t know if we will win, but…”

“But,” Chen continued, his eyes softening, “The future ith a better plathe. In it… Men like me are allowed to be men. And women with thimilar attributeth are allowed to be women. And people like uth are allowed to get married. I mean, lotth of thingth are thtill awful for uth, but… It’th better. The future ith alwayth better. I mean, ath far ath the future extendth, ath far ath time goeth, patht and prethent… Pefekthion doethn’t exitht.” Alistair grins. “I guess it’d be boring if it did. ‘Happily ever after'... Sounds dull.” 

Chen smiled. “Maybe you’re right, thweetheart. Regardlethth… Merry Chrithtmath.”

And so the two remained beside each other until Alistair fell asleep, and though Chen did not fall asleep that night, he would not have complained as he kept vigil over Alistair’s thin, sleeping frame. 

~~

“I’ve spoken with him. Put the ideas in his head.”

Nigel Sansbury, HERMIT APPARENT, spoke quietly, in his raw, reedy voice. He felt the thin fabric of the blindfold over his eyes, as usual. He felt it the way you might feel skin. It would have felt stranger were it absent.

“THE HAWTHORNE LAD?”

The figure asking the question was maybe eight feet tall, and about as broad as it was tall. The face, smooth and shiny, was hidden behind a green hood.

“Yes,” Nigel said. “A thoroughly unpleasant man. He doesn’t seem very… special. You say he is important?” “VERY IMPORTANT.” Nigel shrugged. “What interests me is that he’s even here. A jewish immigrant this far west in the Americas…” “HE IS EXACTLY WHERE HE NEEDS TO BE,” came the booming reply. That settled the matter. 

“Well,” Nigel began, pulling his robe of rags tight over his frail, aged frame. It was cold out here, in the forest. In December, no less. “What now?”

“NOW, YOU WILL PREPARE FOR BATTLE AGAINST APOPHIS. YOU WILL FACE HIM THE VERY MOMENT HE INCARNATES. OTHERWISE, HE WILL GROW IN POWER. YOU WILL RIDE A BOAT OUT TO FACE HIM. AND YOU WILL PERISH, AS WILL ALL OF YOUR COMPANIONS.” 

Nigel shook his head, frowning deeply. “Are you certain? Teacher, we are powerful. The Chen lad… he wields not only precognition but prophecy! With his guidance and The Apostate’s raw strength… and my… gifts…”

“NONE OF YOU ARE STRONG ENOUGH. NONE OF YOU WILL SUCCEED, NONE OF YOU WILL SURVIVE, NOR DO ANY OF YOU DESERVE TO. YOU ARE WEAK, HERMIT! THIS INCARNATION IS POISONED BY BITTERNESS, TURNED AGAINST ITSELF. BE PLEASED THAT YOU CAN INCARNATE AGAIN. THAT YOU HAVE ANOTHER CHANCE TO REDEEM YOURSELVES.”

“THAT IS WHY HAWTHORNE IS IMPORTANT. HE WILL BEGIN A LINEAGE, MISLED BY HIS IMPERFECT KNOWLEDGE OF YOU. THE LINEAGE WILL SPAWN A NEW HEIR AND SCRIBE. REJOICE, HERMIT! FOR DEATH WILL NOT BIND YOU. YOUR ROLE WAS PREDESTINED TO BE THIS WAY. WHILE THE KNIGHT SERVES THROUGH ACTION, YOU MUST SERVE THROUGH PASSIVITY. BE CONTENT IN WHAT YOU CAN DO.”

The Oracle turned and left, and Nigel set his jaw. Fine, then. He’ll do what he can. But tonight, he’ll hope that the doors of some dining halls are not yet closed, late as the hour may be. A man’s gotta do something to keep warm. As night nestles itself above Emerald Springs, Nigel walks silently down an unpaved road. 

~~

The songs you sing at Christmastime,

The stories that you tell

Well I knew them well…

(...)

Change will come…

-Exegetic Chains

the recap is pretty close to done! (keep in mind that im rereading the entire terminal to write it and having to go back and add flashbacks and... oh well, it'll be helpful, so it's all good! hope everyone is having a nice winter break! so far ive spent my break sick and bedridden lol.