Magical Girl Noir Quest Wiki - User contributions [en]

-Wendy- soft

2015-05-01T20:11:25Z

NECOchama:

---APARTMENT 666, NINTH OFFICIO HOUSING FACILITY – SEVERAL HOURS AFTER THE WARMASTER’S IMPRISONMENT---

[[File:Personal_venenum.jpg|350px|thumb|left]]The distant scent of lime and papaya hung in the air like a gentle fog. I could feel her hands – small and slender, soft and gentle – grazing across my skin, over the half-assed bandage job I’d done, over fresh scars and a few old ones, neatly-manicured fingernails tracing across each with a hypnotic sort of expertise. The gauze was matted against my skin, and it stuck uncomfortably as she unwound it – my whole right arm and a chunk of the left, a makeshift packing job around my midsection, and down a leg.

Jade Nakajima had the patience and grace of someone who’d done this thousands of times already – sometimes for me, sometimes for Amber. Usually for Nico, back when they worked together. Guess she was a Venenum for the Seventh, though you’d never guess she was a magical girl at all looking at her.

…Felt good to get the burns aired out, even if it stung. I could change the shape of the arm, imagine it was something else, but when it snapped back to normal, it still hurt like hell. Didn’t get better when she was cleaning it, but for the sake of not making shit weird, I did my best to sleep through most of it.

You can sleep through a lot of shit if you practice enough.

…Well, if I slept through it too hard, I wouldn’t be talking about it. Probably wouldn’t tell her, but it felt nice being pampered a little without…y’know. Without any implications. If she saw the little smile on my face, she didn’t say anything.

…Shit! Yeah, she saw it. And rather than say something, all she did was tighten the new bandages on my fucking arm harder. My eyes snapped open and I stared up at her, and she gave me the tiniest, shittiest little smirk. ...If nothing else, it was a lot cuter than anything Nakajima…the other Nakajima…usually managed.[[File:Health_pickup.jpg|350px|thumb|right]]

The bandages – the ones Jade used – were unique. It was something she’d learned to put together when she was with Nicole, a sort of…extension of her magic, I guess. Gauze carefully bathed in a poultice of clean water and blood. Hers, not just any dumbfuck’s. That was her thing. Bodily fluids. Some shit about energy transfer, usual healing crap. Not really my field.

…She could kiss a cut and make it better if she set her mind to it. Never did. Didn’t like people enough for that, she’d rather bleed than get that close to them. Didn’t really blame her.

“That’s the worst of it,” she murmured in her usual airy, disinterested tone. “Do you feel any better?”

“I can’t feel my hand.”

“That means it’s working.” Moments like this reminded me that Jade was nobody’s damn nurse. …Probably learned it from Nicole, that she couldn’t afford to take shit from her patients.

I pushed myself to my feet, wobbling a little. Took a second of clenching and unclenching my fist to loosen the bandages up and get my blood flowing again. A second later, Jade thrust an ice-cold juice box into my hand. …I was hoping it would be like, apple juice or something, but judging by the smell and the fat little bat on the front…

“Finish the whole thing.” Her eyes met mine for a second. …Couldn’t tell what she was thinking, but it might have been worry. …Or [[File:Nyaa.jpg|350px|thumb|left]]maybe I’m just that lonely.

...

…I need a girlfriend, Christ.

“Wendy. Finish the-“

“-whole thing, yeah.” She smiled and patted me on the head, and…can’t say I hated that.

“You’ll be fine in a few days as long as you don’t push yourself too hard. Which I’m certain you won’t.” She turned to head back out to the living room, and I tried to get a good look at her ass through her-

Alright, get a fucking grip, Cooldown. This is pathetic.

...It took a little courage to test out the juice box. Didn’t exactly love it – this wasn’t my first fresh blood rodeo, though, and it was a little refreshing. Coppery and syrupy, and it tingled on my tongue from what I assumed was all the magic or…I don’t know, maybe that’s how maids tasted. Or she mixed painkillers in. Like, really good painkillers.

…That’d be nice. Just blank out for the day, catch up on sleep. Nobody could walk out of Wonderland without needing to pass out for a few days. Not even me. Maybe especially not me.

------

Dunno how long I was out before Jade was shaking me awake again. Thought she was room service for a minute, she might have slapped me. …When I came to, she told me someone was asking for me at the door. It was about the last person I expected.

“Can…can I come in?” Green – what’s-her-DDs, Midori whatever – was standing at the door, shuffling her feet, squeezed into bike shorts that were a little too small for her and a hoodie that she probably thought made her look flatter. It didn’t.

[[File:Fuck_me.jpg|350px|thumb|right]]I’d like to say I slammed the door in her fucking face. I almost did. I wanted to. …I don’t know. I was just…tired. Maybe I wanted someone to talk to that might talk back a little. Jade was cool and having a maid around was kinda hot, but she wasn’t exactly chatty.

…Maybe I just figured talking with Green would let me figure out Kong’s deal faster than trying to talk to Kong would.

I let her in without a word, motioned her back to my room – I knew better to try and kick Jade out when her weird samurai tokusatsu show was on. She didn’t seem all that thrilled about it, but she warmed up a little when I offered her some brownies.

(Good ones were on the bottom shelf of the fridge. She didn’t get those. Those were for me. And Jade. And a weekend where we didn’t need to do anything.)

It took her a long time and about three brownies to get to the fucking point, but I dunno, I didn’t mind that much. She had kind of a cute look to her, not that I was checking her out exactly – nibbled on her lip a little when she was thinking about what to say, kept fussing with her hair. Seemed like she didn’t get out much more than Annie did – had to be foreign, or maybe half or something. Her skin was lighter than mine, and her eyes…

Actually, she kinda reminded me of Ol’ Batshit, but instead of scary she was just, you know…awkward.

“…I want to know what happened on Sempai’s mission.” Rookie spat it out eventually, quiet and even. My fingernails dug into my palms as I resisted the urge to snap at her about how I didn’t fuck her stupid girlfriend.

“I didn’t fuck your stupid girlfriend, Green.” ...Never been good at resisting urges. She gave me a sharp look – surprisingly sharp, on a face like hers – and bit back her retort.

“You’ve got some fucking chip on your shoulder, but I’ve been trying to back off. Alright? She still grabs my ass and shit, it’s hard. It’s like she can’t recognize me without feeling me up.” …That wasn’t fair, and it’d probably get her in trouble later. I didn’t really care. I was about to continue when Green cut me off.

[[File:And_fuck_you.jpg|350px|thumb|left]]“I trust Sempai…I don’t think she’d do that to me.” Her voice was even and stern, but those big, red eyes bored into me like a fucking laser. “I just want to know what happened to her. How she ended up…like that.”

“With big fucking skeleton wings powered by the screaming souls of the damned.”

“What!?” She looked mortified, and I couldn’t help but smirk. Yeah, she was that kind of person…too pure for all this bullshit. Or maybe just too…green.

Heh heh.

“Your girlfriend’s retarded. Like, serious brain problems. So we’re fighting through asstons of fucking demons – like real honest to shit demons, not…you know. Not like the kind you see on TV, or the kind you dream up in the middle of the night. Shit’s fucked in the special way Wond…the Akashic Realm fucks shit.”

…Already looked like I lost her.

“…It’s basically like…Double Hell. It’s where common sense and all the good in the world go to die.” Dug a cigarette out and lit it. She seemed kinda…into that, almost more than what I was saying, just stared at me while I lit the damn cigarette. Maybe she was a pyro. …Or just afraid of fire. She edged away a second later.

“Don’t try to imagine it, just like…There’s a lot of the fuckers. We left Sakura behind to deal with Red Bitch-“

+After you got punked.+ An unwelcome piece of imaginary shit chimed in while I was trying to explain.

“Shut the fuck up, Nico.” Green screwed up her face and I winced as I realized I said it out loud.

“I didn’t…say anything…? And that’s not-“

“You wanna hear this or not?” I took a long drag on my cigarette and hunted for my place again.

“Arright, so we sent Mickey back after her. It was just me, Miss Tomoe, and…Matsuda. We pick up on What’s-Her-Stick and we confront her, and the first two things Matsuda tries to do are fucking…chat with her and hand her soul gem over.”

“…You’re lying.” She scowled at me, and I growled back.

“Fuck off. Why would I lie about how fucking stupid your girlfriend is? Does she not do completely pants-on-head retarded shit around you? Because she has brain problems with a capital fucking handicap space.”

…That one went over her head, but she settled into a low frown.

“So she hands her soul gem over and…like…explodes into being Satan.”

She frowned harder.

“...You know. The Shieldmaiden. Harbinger of the apocalypse. Celestial rapist. The…Nemesis of the Golden Land or…something like that. Christ, I know you guys have church pamphlets in the lobby, did you seriously never read one? This is basic shit.” I didn’t read the pamphlets either. I was pretty sure Annie made half of her sermons up on the spot anyway.

…Yeah, I wasn’t winning her over with this.

“Look, anyway, she went all batshit, suplexed what’s-her-face into the ground and it was fucking awesome, we got the bitch stick, something something power of shitty J-pop, and we left. And then that Culexus died, and your Incubator started shitting and crying everywhere and shoved Matsuda into lockup.”

A minute passed before she offered anything at all.

“You’re…not good at reports, huh…”

“You want a report, ask Mickey. The fuck are you even here? I hate you. You come here just to eat my brownies or something?” …Didn’t hate her that much. She smelled pretty nice. Kiwi shampoo I think, something kinda familiar, but I couldn’t really place it.

This time it seemed like she actually got the joke – her expression softened a little.

“Well…Everyone else is injured, busy, or Sempai. You don’t seem to really do anything, so I figured you’d be free.” She reached for another brownie. I put my cigarette out on it an inch from her fingers before I took it for myself. Yeah, fuck you, Green.

“I do the paperwork Miss Tomoe doesn’t have time for and Matsuda doesn’t fucking bother with. …Least, that’s what it’s turning into.” She took a different brownie instead, but I felt like I won a moral victory.

“You..? Paperwork? …Wait, you’re really Tomoe-san’s assistant?” Her eyes widened as she popped a hunk of brownie into her mouth. I swallowed mine.[[File:Secret_ingredient.jpg|400px|thumb|right]]

“Fuck did you think?”

“…Well, I thought you two were effing.”

…Effing.

“Effing?”

“…Fucking.” Green corrected herself with an irritated little scowl. …Surprisingly cute. “I thought you two were kind of a thing. Like, pet play…or something. After the meeting-“

“She was worried I’d get carried away and hurt someone. Someone that pissed me off. Like you.”

She fidgeted a little, staring down at her lap.

“…I’m not sorry.”

“…Hey. Lemme ask you something. …She even give a shit? Was she even mad?” I wasn’t gonna like the answer, but somehow we’d gotten over to this.

“…We talked about it.” Green was a shitty liar. “Later,” she added. “A lot happened that day, so…”

“Yeah. Sure. I bet she spanked you and then it was all okay, right?”

“…S…something like that.” Her cheeks flushed a little, and I felt my knife squeeze into my hand. I could kill her. I could kill her right here, ditch the body. Wouldn’t be hard to pin it on some mindfucked remnants of staffbitch’s followers.

…I didn’t.

…Bros before hos. Matsuda and I were…it was complicated, yeah. But I wasn’t some stupid crazy slut in some cartoon that’d just knife someone for being inconvenient. We were getting along okay, and that was…enough…for now.

I followed her gaze, figured she must have seen my knife. I wasn’t really hiding it. Glanced down at her hands and caught a glimpse of steel between her fingers, too– butterfly knife, maybe, or a switchblade. Probably a switchblade, carefully covered with one hand while she fidgeted …Wasn’t as shitty a liar as I thought, if she could keep that expression up while she pulled that out of her hoodie.

…Nice thighs, too.

“…You need anything else?” I pushed myself to my feet and shoved the rest of my brownie into my mouth, letting my knife dissolve back into the sea of my subconscious or whatever. She made a little noise, a negative, and did the same. …Her mouth was full, she stole the last fucking one when I turned away.

I saw her to the door, and she finally offered me an awkward smile.

“Um, thanks…I know this was weird. I guess…I mean, you’re not as bad as I thought.”

“Yes I am. Get fucked.” I offered her a half-assed little wave before closing the door on her.

…Should have just stabbed her. When’d I get so soft…?

-Wendy- soft

2015-05-01T18:40:26Z

NECOchama: Created page with "---APARTMENT 666, NINTH OFFICIO HOUSING FACILITY – SEVERAL HOURS AFTER THE WARMASTER’S IMPRISONMENT--- leftThe distant scent of ..."

---APARTMENT 666, NINTH OFFICIO HOUSING FACILITY – SEVERAL HOURS AFTER THE WARMASTER’S IMPRISONMENT---

[[File:Personal_venenum.jpg|350px|thumb|left]]The distant scent of lime and papaya hung in the air like a gentle fog. I could feel her hands – small and slender, soft and gentle – grazing across my skin, over the half-assed bandage job I’d done, over fresh scars and a few old ones, neatly-manicured fingernails tracing across each with a hypnotic sort of expertise. The gauze was matted against my skin, and it stuck uncomfortably as she unwound it – my whole right arm and a chunk of the left, a makeshift packing job around my midsection, and down a leg.

Jade Nakajima had the patience and grace of someone who’d done this thousands of times already – sometimes for me, sometimes for Amber. Usually for Nico, back when they worked together. Guess she was a Venenum for the Seventh, though you’d never guess she was a magical girl at all looking at her.

…Felt good to get the burns aired out, even if it stung. I could change the shape of the arm, imagine it was something else, but when it snapped back to normal, it still hurt like hell. Didn’t get better when she was cleaning it, but for the sake of not making shit weird, I did my best to sleep through most of it.

You can sleep through a lot of shit if you practice enough.

…Well, if I slept through it too hard, I wouldn’t be talking about it. Probably wouldn’t tell her, but it felt nice being pampered a little without…y’know. Without any implications. If she saw the little smile on my face, she didn’t say anything.

…Shit! Yeah, she saw it. And rather than say something, all she did was tighten the new bandages on my fucking arm harder. My eyes snapped open and I stared up at her, and she gave me the tiniest, shittiest little smirk. ...If nothing else, it was a lot cuter than anything Nakajima…the other Nakajima…usually managed.[[File:Health_pickup.jpg|350px|thumb|right]]

The bandages – the ones Jade used – were unique. It was something she’d learned to put together when she was with Nicole, a sort of…extension of her magic, I guess. Gauze carefully bathed in a poultice of clean water and blood. Hers, not just any dumbfuck’s. That was her thing. Bodily fluids. Some shit about energy transfer, usual healing crap. Not really my field.

…She could kiss a cut and make it better if she set her mind to it. Never did. Didn’t like people enough for that, she’d rather bleed than get that close to them. Didn’t really blame her.

“That’s the worst of it,” she murmured in her usual airy, disinterested tone. “Do you feel any better?”

“I can’t feel my hand.”

“That means it’s working.” Moments like this reminded me that Jade was nobody’s damn nurse. …Probably learned it from Nicole, that she couldn’t afford to take shit from her patients.

I pushed myself to my feet, wobbling a little. Took a second of clenching and unclenching my fist to loosen the bandages up and get my blood flowing again. A second later, Jade thrust an ice-cold juice box into my hand. …I was hoping it would be like, apple juice or something, but judging by the smell and the fat little bat on the front…

“Finish the whole thing.” Her eyes met mine for a second. …Couldn’t tell what she was thinking, but it might have been worry. …Or [[File:Nyaa.jpg|350px|thumb|left]]maybe I’m just that lonely.

...

…I need a girlfriend, Christ.

“Wendy. Finish the-“

“-whole thing, yeah.” She smiled and patted me on the head, and…can’t say I hated that.

“You’ll be fine in a few days as long as you don’t push yourself too hard. Which I’m certain you won’t.” She turned to head back out to the living room, and I tried to get a good look at her ass through her-

Alright, get a fucking grip, Cooldown. This is pathetic.

...It took a little courage to test out the juice box. Didn’t exactly love it – this wasn’t my first fresh blood rodeo, though, and it was a little refreshing. Coppery and syrupy, and it tingled on my tongue from what I assumed was all the magic or…I don’t know, maybe that’s how maids tasted. Or she mixed painkillers in. Like, really good painkillers.

…That’d be nice. Just blank out for the day, catch up on sleep. Nobody could walk out of Wonderland without needing to pass out for a few days. Not even me. Maybe especially not me.

------

Dunno how long I was out before Jade was shaking me awake again. Thought she was room service for a minute, she might have slapped me. …When I came to, she told me someone was asking for me at the door. It was about the last person I expected.

“Can…can I come in?” Green – what’s-her-DDs, Midori whatever – was standing at the door, shuffling her feet, squeezed into bike shorts that were a little too small for her and a hoodie that she probably thought made her look flatter. It didn’t.

[[File:Fuck_me.jpg|350px|thumb|right]]I’d like to say I slammed the door in her fucking face. I almost did. I wanted to. …I don’t know. I was just…tired. Maybe I wanted someone to talk to that might talk back a little. Jade was cool and having a maid around was kinda hot, but she wasn’t exactly chatty.

…Maybe I just figured talking with Green would let me figure out Kong’s deal faster than trying to talk to Kong would.

I let her in without a word, motioned her back to my room – I knew better to try and kick Jade out when her weird samurai tokusatsu show was on. She didn’t seem all that thrilled about it, but she warmed up a little when I offered her some brownies.

(Good ones were on the bottom shelf of the fridge. She didn’t get those. Those were for me. And Jade. And a weekend where we didn’t need to do anything.)

It took her a long time and about three brownies to get to the fucking point, but I dunno, I didn’t mind that much. She had kind of a cute look to her, not that I was checking her out exactly – nibbled on her lip a little when she was thinking about what to say, kept fussing with her hair. Seemed like she didn’t get out much more than Annie did – had to be foreign, or maybe half or something. Her skin was lighter than mine, and her eyes…

Actually, she kinda reminded me of Ol’ Batshit, but instead of scary she was just, you know…awkward.

“…I want to know what happened on Sempai’s mission.” Rookie spat it out eventually, quiet and even. My fingernails dug into my palms as I resisted the urge to snap at her about how I didn’t fuck her stupid girlfriend.

“I didn’t fuck your stupid girlfriend, Green.” ...Never been good at resisting urges. She gave me a sharp look – surprisingly sharp, on a face like hers – and bit back her retort.

“You’ve got some fucking chip on your shoulder, but I’ve been trying to back off. Alright? She still grabs my ass and shit, it’s hard. It’s like she can’t recognize me without feeling me up.” …That wasn’t fair, and it’d probably get her in trouble later. I didn’t really care. I was about to continue when Green cut me off.

[[File:And_fuck_you.jpg|350px|thumb|left]]“I trust Sempai…I don’t think she’d do that to me.” Her voice was even and stern, but those big, red eyes bored into me like a fucking laser. “I just want to know what happened to her. How she ended up…like that.”

“With big fucking skeleton wings powered by the screaming souls of the damned.”

“What!?” She looked mortified, and I couldn’t help but smirk. Yeah, she was that kind of person…too pure for all this bullshit. Or maybe just too…green.

Heh heh.

“Your girlfriend’s retarded. Like, serious brain problems. So we’re fighting through asstons of fucking demons – like real honest to shit demons, not…you know. Not like the kind you see on TV, or the kind you dream up in the middle of the night. Shit’s fucked in the special way Wond…the Akashic Realm fucks shit.”

…Already looked like I lost her.

“…It’s basically like…Double Hell. It’s where common sense and all the good in the world go to die.” Dug a cigarette out and lit it. She seemed kinda…into that, almost more than what I was saying, just stared at me while I lit the damn cigarette. Maybe she was a pyro. …Or just afraid of fire. She edged away a second later.

“Don’t try to imagine it, just like…There’s a lot of the fuckers. We left Sakura behind to deal with Red Bitch-“

+After you got punked.+ An unwelcome piece of imaginary shit chimed in while I was trying to explain.

“Shut the fuck up, Nico.” Green screwed up her face and I winced as I realized I said it out loud.

“I didn’t…say anything…? And that’s not-“

“You wanna hear this or not?” I took a long drag on my cigarette and hunted for my place again.

“Arright, so we sent Mickey back after her. It was just me, Miss Tomoe, and…Matsuda. We pick up on What’s-Her-Stick and we confront her, and the first two things Matsuda tries to do are fucking…chat with her and hand her soul gem over.”

“…You’re lying.” She scowled at me, and I growled back.

“Fuck off. Why would I lie about how fucking stupid your girlfriend is? Does she not do completely pants-on-head retarded shit around you? Because she has brain problems with a capital fucking handicap space.”

…That one went over her head, but she settled into a low frown.

“So she hands her soul gem over and…like…explodes into being Satan.”

She frowned harder.

“...You know. The Shieldmaiden. Harbinger of the apocalypse. Celestial rapist. The…Nemesis of the Golden Land or…something like that. Christ, I know you guys have church pamphlets in the lobby, did you seriously never read one? This is basic shit.” I didn’t read the pamphlets either. I was pretty sure Annie made half of her sermons up on the spot anyway.

…Yeah, I wasn’t winning her over with this.

“Look, anyway, she went all batshit, suplexed what’s-her-face into the ground and it was fucking awesome, we got the bitch stick, something something power of shitty J-pop, and we left. And then that Culexus died, and your Incubator started shitting and crying everywhere and shoved Matsuda into lockup.”

A minute passed before she offered anything at all.

“You’re…not good at reports, huh…”

“You want a report, ask Mickey. The fuck are you even here? I hate you. You come here just to eat my brownies or something?” …Didn’t hate her that much. She smelled pretty nice. Kiwi shampoo I think, something kinda familiar, but I couldn’t really place it.

This time it seemed like she actually got the joke – her expression softened a little.

“Well…Everyone else is injured, busy, or Sempai. You don’t seem to really do anything, so I figured you’d be free.” She reached for another brownie. I put my cigarette out on it an inch from her fingers before I took it for myself. Yeah, fuck you, Green.

“I do the paperwork Miss Tomoe doesn’t have time for and Matsuda doesn’t fucking bother with. …Least, that’s what it’s turning into.” She took a different brownie instead, but I felt like I won a moral victory.

“You..? Paperwork? …Wait, you’re really Tomoe-san’s assistant?” Her eyes widened as she popped a hunk of brownie into her mouth. I swallowed mine.[[File:Secret_ingredient.jpg|400px|thumb|right]]

“Fuck did you think?”

“…Well, I thought you two were effing.”

…Effing.

“Effing?”

“…Fucking.” Green corrected herself with an irritated little scowl. …Surprisingly cute. “I thought you two were kind of a thing. Like, pet play…or something. After the meeting-“

“She was worried I’d get carried away and hurt someone. Someone that pissed me off. Like you.”

She fidgeted a little, staring down at her lap.

“…I’m not sorry.”

“…Hey. Lemme ask you something. …She even give a shit? Was she even mad?” I wasn’t gonna like the answer, but somehow we’d gotten over to this.

“…We talked about it.” Green was a shitty liar. “Later,” she added. “A lot happened that day, so…”

“Yeah. Sure. I bet she spanked you and then it was all okay, right?”

“…S…something like that.” Her cheeks flushed a little, and I felt my knife squeeze into my hand. I could kill her. I could kill her right here, ditch the body. Wouldn’t be hard to pin it on some mindfucked remnants of staffbitch’s followers.

…I didn’t.

…Bros before hos. Matsuda and I were…it was complicated, yeah. But I wasn’t some stupid crazy slut in some cartoon that’d just knife someone for being inconvenient. We were getting along okay, and that was…enough…for now.

I followed her gaze, figured she must have seen my knife. I wasn’t really hiding it. Glanced down at her hands and caught a glimpse of steel between her fingers, too– butterfly knife, maybe, or a switchblade. Probably a switchblade , carefully covered with one hand while she fidgeted …Wasn’t as shitty a liar as I thought, if she could keep that expression up while she pulled that out of her hoodie.

…Nice thighs, too.

“…You need anything else?” I pushed myself to my feet and shoved the rest of my brownie into my mouth, letting my knife dissolve back into the sea of my subconscious or whatever. She made a little noise, a negative, and did the same. …Her mouth was full, she stole the last fucking one when I turned away.

I saw her to the door, and she finally offered me an awkward smile.

“Um, thanks…I know this was weird. I guess…I mean, you’re not as bad as I thought.”

“Yes I am. Get fucked.” I offered her a half-assed little wave before closing the door on her.

…Should have just stabbed her. When’d I get so soft…?

File:Secret ingredient.jpg

2015-05-01T18:31:28Z

NECOchama: Next time I'm gonna make jizz the secret ingredient. Probably eat 'em even faster.

Next time I'm gonna make jizz the secret ingredient. Probably eat 'em even faster.

File:And fuck you.jpg

2015-05-01T18:30:38Z

NECOchama: at all

at all

File:Fuck me.jpg

2015-05-01T18:30:17Z

NECOchama: Neither of them wants to be here

Neither of them wants to be here

File:Nyaa.jpg

2015-05-01T18:29:35Z

NECOchama: wendy a cute

wendy a cute

File:Health pickup.jpg

2015-05-01T18:29:10Z

NECOchama: A Santa Destroy health pickup, courtesy of Jade's blood magic

A Santa Destroy health pickup, courtesy of Jade's blood magic

File:Personal venenum.jpg

2015-05-01T18:28:28Z

NECOchama: For [Wendy] soft, Jade bandaging Wendy up after Homugate

For [Wendy] soft, Jade bandaging Wendy up after Homugate

The Account of the Damned

2015-04-15T19:25:08Z

NECOchama:

<center><blockquote>''"Her stubborn refusal to understand the gravity of a situation was always one of the High Marshal’s strong points."''</blockquote></center>

{| class="wikitable" style="margin: auto; margin-right; text-align: center;color: black; background-color: grey;" width="30%"
| colspan="2" | '''Writeup Info'''
|-
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| '''Title'''
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| Account of the Damned
|-
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| '''Genres'''
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| Drama, Tragedy, Black Humor
|-
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| '''Author'''
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| Wendy Cooldown
|-
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| '''Timeline'''
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| Approx. January 20XX-1 to present day
|-
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| '''Canonicity Status'''
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| Canon
|-
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| '''Completion Status'''
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| Ongoing
|-
|}

==Synopsis==
====Account of the Damned====
The story of the leader of the Black Templars, Raleigh Alondight, as she struggles to fight through her own PTSD, battles the loss of almost all of her division, and cuts through the politics of her own Officio with a leg-wheel.
====Account of the Damned Gaiden====
A side-story focusing on the new Templar recruits as they train under Raleigh Alondight and Enyo Karasawa. (COMING SOON)
====A King Must Stand Alone====
An abandoned attempt at exploring the same concept and characters through Arturia Pendragon instead; may be picked up again at a later date.

=The Account of the Damned=

===[[The Account of the Damned Chapter 1: Four Hours]]===
{{:The Account of the Damned Chapter 1: Four Hours}}

===[[The Account of the Damned Chapter 2: Saws]]===
{{:The Account of the Damned Chapter 2: Saws}}

===[[The Account of the Damned Chapter 3: Shards of Red]]===
{{:The Account of the Damned Chapter 3: Shards of Red}}

===[[The Account of the Damned Chapter 4: Bad News]]===
{{:The Account of the Damned Chapter 4: Bad News}}

=Account of the Damned Gaiden=
"...Nothing here."

=A King Must Stand Alone=
{{:A King Must Stand Alone}}

[[Category:Second Officio]]
[[Category:Account of the Damned]]

The Account of the Damned Chapter 4: Bad News

2015-04-11T18:05:06Z

NECOchama:

'''---THE FOLLOWING HAS NOT BEEN POSTED IN-THREAD YET; IT MAY BE SUBJECT TO MINOR CHANGES OR ART ADDITIONS---'''

For the dozenth time, the awful screech of metal on metal tore through my senses, sent my heart roaring out of my chest. For the dozenth time, my arms were crushed under a colossal, whirring blade as my shield was forced back against me. For the dozenth time, my wheels tore impotently at the gore-slicked ground, blood coating the delicate machinery and…well, if it weren’t a dream, I imagine it would screw it up something terrible, magical or not.

Today I was a little more lucid, though today wasn’t exactly an ordinary stress dream. I pushed back against the massive blade and shouted for Dr. Liddell to do whatever the hell she planned to do, and an eternity later, as I felt the bones in my legs start to snap under the pressure, my heart skipped a beat and the world around me faded into tones of dreary gray. The teeth of the chainsaw stopped, as did the enormous pressure, and cautiously I rolled out from under my shield. It was still propped up in the same way it had been before, a thousand grayscale sparks frozen in the air around it, tilted impossibly in sheer defiance of gravity and common sense.

“…So can you fix it?” I could barely force the sounds out. Maybe I lost a rib or three somehow, too? …Stupid bloody dreams, never make any damn sense.

“Can I?” She bounced on her heels, a vision in blue and white in the midst in a sea of nothing. Her eyes had a way of piercing right through you in a way that stuck with you as much as any dream might. Her general refusal to be helpful in any way aside from the most oblique ones tended to stick with me almost as much, but she was a specialist, and apparently the best we had.

I stared at her for a moment, then straightened up, cracking my back and trying to dream up a mended skeleton. It didn’t really work, so I glided over to her instead, my wheels cutting through the blood-turned-mercury around them.

“If you dragged me here just to waste my time, Doctor, I’ve really got about a thousand other things I ought to be doing.” Like literally anything but this. She tutted at me, and I resisted the urge to hit her with the flat of my sword.

“I’ve seen all I have to see, but have you? Did you find the answer on the back of that old wheel, then? Something you didn’t see the first twenty or thirty times you had this dream?”

“…No.” I sighed.

“Then I wonder which of us is wasting the other’s time.” After a moment, then, she relented a little. “I’ve frozen the creature, so do what you feel is necessary, preferably before you do a hundred things that aren’t.”

I think I actually hate this woman.

“Can I just…kill it, then? Since you’ve got it all frozen here?” I looked to the thing, the…I don’t know. I’d never really done that before. It had been nothing but a black mess of claws and teeth and hatred to me. I don’t rightly think I could recall what it had looked like then, either, in the Barrier.

It didn’t seem right, somehow. More than the obvious. Something about it was different. One of its eyes (I hoped that was an eye) seemed to follow me, even as if it was frozen. As though it might bear down on me at any moment.

“If you could do that, then you wouldn’t need me, would you?” She lifted her skirt and began to wade through the silvery mess of gore below us.

“Fine. I can’t just kill it. Can you?” I wheeled after her, forcing my body to heal itself as much as I could offhand. Wonder if doing that in a dream actually uses magic. Probably does. Bloody loopholes.

“Yes and no. I don’t particularly care to invade minds, and I certainly don’t care to reshape them. Bit too much like a doctor’s work, that.” She came to a stop behind the beast, and I frowned at her as I pulled up to her side.

“Aren’t you-“

“Doctors take classes, High Marshal. Doctors work in institutions. I’ve no interest in either; I have wits and experience and nothing else.”

“And magic.” She gave me a dirty look for that one before continuing.

“If you want someone to stab the trauma out, I can recommend you to the American Callidus Prima.” She spoke slowly, deliberately, unblinking as her gaze bored holes into me. “I cannot, however, recommend the Prima to you - be a bit like excising a tumor with a shotgun, I think.”

“You don’t think it would go well?” I didn’t know the girl in question all that well myself, but I knew her enough to take the suggestion with the grain of salt Liddell was offering.

“Well, you wouldn’t have a tumor anymore.” She shrugged, then turned her attention to the ugly, berserking behemoth, now that we’d made our way around to its backside. “I’ve noticed something. Haven’t you?”

“You were just…” I bit my tongue. Not literally, right then, but I realized she’d only get more obnoxious if I let her. Instead, I followed her gaze toward the creature, toward white, wavy hair drenched in blood, a jagged crown perched atop its head, toward…enormous, barbed wheels beneath it-

“Piss.” I sat up on the couch in Dr. Liddell’s office, the skin and…metal…under my prostheses burning like mad. The doctor was staring intensely at me, as if mentally noting every small movement I made.

“Piiiiss,” I added for emphasis. “This is one of those fucking…psychological things, isn’t it.” I hugged myself tightly, squeezing the flesh left on my arms with steel fingers.

“It didn’t go well, I take it.” She reached for a notepad and sat back in her seat.

“You were just…you…” I hate this.

I hate therapy.

I think I hate psychiatrists.

And I hate dreams.

---

I cut my appointment short (citing an overwhelming urge to strangle someone) and was curtly reminded to be back before she had to start hounding me again, then given some self-analysis homework which I frankly had no intention of actually doing.

(If I heard about that homework from Enyo again later I planned to make good on that strangling bit, too.)

No, lucky me, after an obnoxious trainwreck of a therapy session I’d finally decided to make good on paying El a proper visit, which I hadn’t really done since I got mobile again. We talked a bit while I was laid-up, but that was mostly shallow mockery and trading barbs – she asked me how the rest of the Templars were, and I asked her why there wasn’t a bloody report about the Japs’ operations in Russia in my stumps already.

…Come to think of it, she still hasn’t given me a followup about that. One more thing on the miles long to-do list. Fantastic.

I tried to force a smile as I crossed the threshold into Elcarys’s chamber, an enormous white room that was, I think, just magicked to seem bigger than it was. The whole place was flawless, a tea room from a fairy tale with a floor I could see myself in. There was an inky black carpet, too, leading to a grand, open window, a tea table, and the devil herself.

It was wide open, filling the room with a refreshing breeze and making the whole thing sparkle in the bright summer sunlight, which was damned impressive given it was barely spring and had been raining for two days. But El liked things perfect and atmospheric, and bad mood or not, I couldn’t help but appreciate the décor right at that moment.

“Don’t step on the flooring, you’ll scratch it,” she murmured idly as she gazed out at her own sunny illusion. I settled into the chair opposite her after I made my way over, and was pleasantly surprised to see she’d already made tea – Darjeeling, my favorite. She’d poured it already, too, and…it was almost certainly an illusion.

I sipped at it anyway while I thought about what to say. Tasted fine enough, illusion or not. I was surprised when she was the first one to speak.

“Since you’re here now, does that mean you’re done feeling sorry for yourself?” …Ouch. “I suppose having Enyo to feel sorry for you instead helps.” Double ouch. She was in a fantastic mood today, too.

“I don’t think I’ll be done for a while, El, don’t you worry. This pity party is lasting all week, at very least.” Her lips cracked into a faint smile, and I relaxed a bit.

El was…complicated. Our relationship was complicated. Her thing with Enyo, also complicated. I knew she’d be sulking about us hooking up eventually, but I expected at very least some terrible nightmares first. …Some fresh, new ones.

She called herself a Succubus, and named her squad the same. Got a lot of disapproving looks from the crowd at the Second, but what didn’t, really? The Callidus here already caught plenty of hell just for doing their job – the usual garbage about how ignoble and heretical it was, except for when we needed them for something.

…The Templars got the same kind of treatment, now and again, so as much of a bitch as El could be, I wasn’t entirely without sympathy.

“I’m going to assume you’re here to ask a favor. Did Liddell send you? Are you here for a new dream?” That wasn’t a bad idea. Liddell to help understand dreams, that American girl to kill them, and El for new ones.

I had to mull her offer over a bit. She was in a bad mood, so it was entirely likely she was laying out bait to screw me later. On the other hand, just about anything she could dream up would be a nice change from the new, existential horror of facing down a monstrous, broken version of myself every night.

“Yes. Well, no, I didn’t really come here to ask, but if you’re offering…”

“Oh, I wasn’t offering,” she purred, her usual smirk finding its way back on her face. “But it’s nice to know you need something from me.” I couldn’t help but smile a little. At least this way, the tension lifted a bit.

“If I need anything, it’s a report on-“

“The Japanese, yes, yes. It’s…you might call it a hornet’s nest. Very delicate work. Spying on another Officio isn’t as simple as a wiretap and a night of passion.” She took a sip of her tea, then snorted. “Well, it might be now, with the state their Warmaster’s in. And with all the Culexus dead. Who’s going to stop me? Karasawa?”

She finished her tea in one go, then pointedly refilled her cup. Naturally, she brought the teapot as high as she could manage just to show off a bit – I watched for a splash over the side, but there wasn’t a drop. Probably still wasn’t real.

“The only thing Karasawa can catch is a bucket of ice cream. And while I may be cold, sweet, and tasty…”

“You’re not ice cream. Got it.” I nodded. “So, ah…you plan on going yourself, then?”

There was a long, awkward pause, and she raised her cup to her lips.

“…Not as such, no. Somebody needs to hold this place together while everyone who matters is traumatized or hysterical.” Ah, yes. The old standby for when El didn’t REALLY want to do her job. …Hard to blame her, really, after everything the Ninth had done recently. It was probably worse over there than it was over here, what with Lady Malal.

…For once, she had a point, as much as I wanted to press the issue. Arty was a wreck, I’d barely even seen Gerty since I got back, and Enyo and I were completely irresponsible whenever we could get away with it (which wasn’t nearly often enough).

We made something amounting to small talk for a bit after that, the awkward kind that you have with someone when you haven’t spoken to them for a while and you both damn well know you could have but you kept putting it off.

…Well, about half of it was cripple jokes, but that’s just something to get used to. It could only sting so much, really, with all the work Enyo put into my prostheses.

She was probably still angry when I left, but she’d get over it. I made a mental note to try and do something nice for her.

---

I was astonished when I returned to my room to find that my bed had grown an impressive tumor, the kind where the drapey bits of ceremonial robes and a few locks of forest-green hair poke out from under the blanket. The roughly little girl-sized kind. It wasn’t the first time, at least.

The High Inquisitor was hiding again – nobody but Arty would seriously try to find her here, and anyone who visited me would know enough to just leave her alone if they caught her. Poor thing was probably exhausted from all the hell she’d been through since Walpurgisnacht, it was a wonder she hadn’t run off into the countryside.

A more mature and less exhausted person might gently call her name. Today that was…not me. Gerty had been one of my closest friends since we’d contracted, but, ah…

Well, fuck it. I leapt onto the bed, directly onto the center of that little tumor, and immediately regretted it as about a fucktillion volts or amps or whatever the hell you measure it in coursed through my body, sending me into a twitching mess on the floor.

Didn’t last long, of course. My cybernetics were insulated, and I was a good bit tougher than to be put down by one of Her Grace’s cranky shocks. I was fairly confident that at least one of us didn’t piss herself, too.

I pulled myself up onto my knees as she sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes with a sleeve. …She was one of the only people here smaller than I was, truth be told; the Incubator had contracted her at nine, and she hadn’t changed much in the five or so years since. She stared down at me with bleary eyes, then around the room.

“…What time is it?”

“Oh, no, I’m fine, don’t fret too much. Just a bit smoky.”

“I know. Time?” Her eye found my alarm clock on the nightstand, and her features twisted into a frown.

“I left my watch at home. You might be sleeping on it.” Despite my best efforts, I was rapidly running out of patience for Gerty’s nonsense today. She took a deep breath, then sighed.

“Yes, yes, I’m sorry. I should have asked. I meant to take a nap, but…”

“But that was hours ago.” She winced at that and looked away, hands fidgeting in her lap. I settled in next to her and ruffled her hair. I’m always relieved anymore whenever I don’t catch a few strands in my finger joints or…something. I’m sure Enyo thought of that, but even so.

“The world won’t end if you take a break once in a while. God knows Hash won’t be done sucking on his brother’s tit until we’re long dead,” I continued, but all she did was wince again and try to pull her robes up around herself, as if to hide in them a little more. “…Right?”

“…We have to look presentable for the other Officios. If that awful dog-woman senses even the smallest hint of weakness…”

“Lady Russ isn’t that bad.” I lied. I had to, though; I’d be begging Her Alphaness a favor, myself, and I was looking forward to that almost as much as my next therapy session.

“Fine, but the Americans-“

“-have a new Warmaster, who I’ve heard is actually quite nice.”

“And it’s the first time we’re meeting. This will be her first impression of the Second, and if it goes poorly-”

“-then we’ll have lost the incredibly valuable opinions of screaming madmen. I’m sure we’ll live.” She scowled up at me, and I met it with a grin. Her Grace didn’t like being interrupted OR corrected, but at least she looked a bit less miserable.

“…The Chinese will also be here,” she added after another minute, tearing her eyes away from mine. “And their Eversor Rank Leader.”

…The old Marshal, under Lady Erebus. It wasn’t as though I hadn’t met her since her excommunication – the old guard came together once a year, outside the watchful eye of the Church, to mourn our dead. But Valentina Tenko was…at times, a hard person to deal with, for me especially. I wasn’t looking forward to seeing her, not after my own…

Not after throwing away the lives of nearly everyone here that would still look her in the eye.

“…Don’t worry about me, Your Gertiness. It’s probably better to swallow that pill early, anyway. I just hope the Spiritual Liege doesn’t screech too much with that awful accent of hers. I can still hear it in my damned nightmares after the last meeting.”

The High Inquisitor giggled and kicked her feet against the side of the bed, though it didn’t last long.

“…Actually, I needed to talk to you about something else, too.” Her voice was a little quieter than usual, and she stared down at her feet. She may have been trying to wiggle them out of her robes so she could look at her boots.

“Are you…” She fumbled with her words, something I’d only seen from Her Grace a handful of times. “…You’re working on rebuilding the Templars right now, I understand, but I need to ask something of you.”

“Spit it out, Your Grace.” She was uncomfortable enough with the request to dance around it all day. I fiddled with a lock of my hair and started carefully wording my refusal.

I was absolutely certain she was about to ask me about sex.

“I’d like you to act as Regent for a while once the other Officios leave.” Oh thank the Lady.

…What?

Gerty bit her lip, refusing to meet my gaze. She was quiet and still, the most afraid I’d seen her since the day she was promoted to High Inquisitor.

“Arturia’s not…well. She won’t tell me anything, and I can’t pretend she’s fit to lead right now. I had my concerns even before that, about whether she was…mature enough, you know.”

Gertrud von Egisheim was four years my junior and two years Arty’s. She wasn’t High Inquisitor because she was cute when she was angry, though – truth be told, she was probably one of the Warmasters I admired most, out of the ones I’d known and the ones I’d been forced to read and recite about as part of my training here.

She wasn’t wrong about Arty, on either count. Still, going over her Equerry’s head was…cold. This was also not shit I particularly wanted to deal with, and Her Royal Majesty would throw an absolute fit when she found out, no matter what state she was in.

…Wait.

“So…what’s stopping you from running the place, exactly?”

She scowled at the ground, and I knew the answer almost immediately.

“Hashmallim contacted me a few days after Walpurgisnacht. He…ah, he told me it was time to ascend to the First, and to give him a list of recommendations.”

It was the cat.

When it was bad news, it was always the fucking cat. We heard from him all of twice a year, and it was always either a fresh wave of contracts from his…abbeys…with no sense of the real world or it was something like this.

He was stealing our Warmaster out from under us when we were already hurting more than we had as long as I’d been at the Second, and I’m certain he barely considered it past ‘this is what my brother would like’.

“Please don’t tell me you signed everyone but me up to go to the fucking moon, Gerty.” She winced again. “…Sorry. Sorry. I just…”

“…I know. He told me the First is relaxing its standards on conscripts. I think they’re trying to gather up anyone that might be able to…ah…to survive their procedures. It might just be panic from Walpurgisnacht, but…”

“…but they’re preparing to mobilize against something. Bloody wonderful.”

She nodded a little, playing with her sleeves. …It’s hard to forget Her Grace is basically a kid in a lot of ways. It really just made me angrier.

“…So what’s the damage? Who else is going? Hesselius? Laura and Liz? Oh lord, is that why El is slacking on dealing with the Japs? Is it Liddell? Can it be Liddell?”

“…You. I recommended you, that’s all. …He doesn’t think you’re in any shape to make it, so I suggested a…trial period.”

“…Alright.” I didn’t know how to feel. I don’t think I felt anything, just…cold. I wasn’t mad, I don’t…really think it was her fault, but… “And this all wasn’t worth mentioning, oh, I don’t know, weeks ago?”

“Did you want me to slip a note into your bedpan, Alondight?” She snapped, and I shut my mouth. “What was I supposed to do? You know how he gets, if he got it in his head that I was obstructing the First, he’d have me retired. By you, if I was lucky.” She stared up at me, dark eyes crackling with electricity.

“Do you think I want to go to the-the fucking moon, Raleigh? I don’t even like going into the city. I’ve just been trying to think of a way to get out of it without throwing myself to the Akashic. Or locking myself in the library where nobody will see me for a thousand years and I’ll be some terrible sunlight-averse mutant speaking a dead language.”

Her voice grew louder and higher and squeakier as she spoke. She leaned in closer to me, then seemed to lose all of her energy at once.

“…Just tell me if you’ll do the job. If not, I’ll…ask Cosette. It’s only until Arturia’s fit to run the Officio again.”

“And to prove to Hashmallim you deserve a snuggle buddy up on the moon.” I didn’t really intend to let it go. I still didn’t know what to think, but I didn’t want to let it go. She stared coldly up at me, and I forced a smile and waved dismissively.

“Fine. Regent it is. Just for a bit, though, and no promises on the moon thing. I’d fancy my chances against just about everyone here, if he did get mad. Hell, it would be quite a way to die, wouldn’t it? Battling the legions of our furry overlords in the name of freedom.”

Gerty cracked a smile, and it made it that much easier to hold my own.

“I may come and get you myself if it’s too bad up there. You’re…you know.” One of her two friends, aside from Arty. I just nodded.

…I’d probably do the same.

“…So who gets to tell her you’re leaving?”

“That would be excellent practice for the new Regent, wouldn’t it?” She pushed herself to her feet and smoothed some of the wrinkles from her robe.

I patted her butt, and she made a face back at me.

“…What? I need to practice for my harem of concubines. A Regent must have concubines. It’s the first decree I’m instating when you leave.” The High Inquisitor’s face hardened as I apparently crossed a line. I could only shrug.

“If you tell Arty, I’ll put down the newspaper in the guest quarters for the Sixth. I’ll even change it every day.”

“…Deal.”

---

A knock on my door roused me only an hour or so after I managed to sleep, and I drifted over to it, stumbling in my nightgown and not a whole lot else.

“...High Marshal.” A bouquet of flowers nearly took both of my eyes out the moment I opened the door, and they called me by title, soft and hesitant. “…I’m sorry. About the other day.”

…Oh. It was Enyo. What was she…

Oh! Right. Right.

“Already forgot about that. Tired. Put them in a vase and join me in bed. S’an order.”

…I hadn’t quite drifted off again when I heard the heavy thunk of Enyo removing her prosthetic, then the much gentler noise of her setting it on my nightstand. One arm curled around my midsection, and I felt a little bit of the stress from dealing with every other bloody person in this Officio melt away.

“…Missed you.”

“Shh. Go to sleep, Enyo…”

Tomorrow would be…better. It couldn’t be much worse.

The Account of the Damned Chapter 1: Four Hours

2015-04-11T00:09:47Z

NECOchama:

---WALPURGISNACHT, 20XX-1---

Four hours before our appointed time of death, it was sweltering, bumfucking hot. That wasn’t to say it was hot outside – strictly speaking, Japan was rather nice this time of year – but rather, that we weren’t afforded any kind of adequate preparatory facility and had spent the last twelve hours and change in full armor. We were hoping to be afforded the time to shower and stretch when we reached the Officio, but right at that moment, most of us would have settled for some water and a toilet break.

The latest travel travesty (travelsty?) and, in any other situation, grave insult that would surely require blood reparations or somesuch (I’ll have to check the handbook if I make it back) was a bus, a normal civilian fucking bus, now loaded with thirty-six women in ebon-black armor and one pasty middle-aged man trying desperately to pretend he understood what was going on. To make matters worse, he had the dubious fortune of having Trinity sitting within glaring distance – she had all the charm of a sock filled with poisonous spiders even on the best of days (with a disposition to match).

Admittedly, that wasn’t entirely unintentional. Call it passive-aggressive if you will, it-

Well, it was just passive-aggressive, mostly. Freak the locals out enough and the Ninth won’t book half of the glorious salvation of the world on a Lady-cursed civilian bus.

“…Ma’am.” Enyo must’ve noticed the look on my face as I began to wonder how long I’d have to hold one of my wheels against the floor to saw through it. “We’re passing the tower.” I glanced to her, and she gently tapped the window with her finger.

[[File:Midori - kafkaesque.jpg|400px|thumb|left]]She started to go on about it, but honestly, it went rather over my head. I nodded as she talked, something about a world monument project, and Mitakihara as the pinnacle of humanity’s cultural achievements. They’d tried to replicate a lot of the world’s most recognizable landmarks, but…even when I tried to appreciate it, something just seemed wrong.

Maybe it was the air, or stale candy from the flight, but the sour taste in my mouth seemed to overwhelm everything else, even the glittering parade of landmarks that we’d passed by. It was probably the dying bit, actually, or the look on Enyo’s face.

She hadn’t been home in years, I dimly realized. She hadn’t been home for years, and it was for this. Probably all she could do not to cry.

“Oi,” I interrupted her, nudging her side. “D’you wanna visit your family while we’re here? I won’t tell the High Marshal, she’s got her head up her arse today anyway.”

The look she gave me was priceless, a mix of tired surprise and a pinch of anger, chased away by her usual cool, sulky expression.

“I have already thought about it, and I have no intention to. …Noriko isn’t a strong girl, High Marshal. She doesn’t need to know about any of this, least of all see me when I’m about to die.”

“And the…others?” I added quietly, busying myself with what was left of the two bags of rather squished macarons I’d prepared for the trip.

Bugger. This was probably a metaphor for something. A macaron, sat on and crushed, squeezed between ebon-black talons and eaten by a dead woman. A bit chewy and unsatisfying. If I knew what Kafkaesque meant, this would probably be it. I chewed in silence before awkwardly offering the bag toward her. She didn’t take any.

“…I would rather be allowed to at least pretend I’m going to die a hero.” I winced at that and swallowed.

“I’m getting a bit sick of that ‘oh, poor me, I’m going to die’ thing. D’y’know, El hissed at me until I promised to bring you back alive. It was almost like she had feelings for a second, there. Scared the piss out of me, sure as anything. Do you think I’m going to go back there and tell her I couldn’t save you?” I narrowed my eyes, hardened my stare. No doubt the half-purged remains of a slain dessert pinched between my claws only strengthened the image of deadly seriousness I was projecting.

“No. I think we’re both going to die, Ma’am,” she mumbled coolly, like it was a sodding option.

“Would you call me an oathbreaker, then, Marshal? A liar?”

“…No, Ma’am.” She cracked the tiniest hint of a smile.

“Damn right. I expect you, the Princess, and Callahan back, at least. Somebody needs to tame that woman.” It hurt just a bit. El…well, El was complicated. Not something I wanted to think about right then, and certainly not something I wanted to bring up with Enyo in any kind of depth.

“Ma’am. Yes, Ma’am.”

A quiet giggle, barely audible over the sound of the bus under us (and the gentle whirr as I idly spun my wheels) grabbed Enyo’s attention and mine, and we both sniggered along with it. Callahan was sitting across from us, faceplate raised as she nursed a thermos of lukewarm tea. She looked like hell warmed over – ashen-gray skin with faded, mint-colored hair flowing from the back of her helmet - which by her standards was rather good, actually.

No hint of fear, of course, or remorse. Vivian was older than the rest of us put together, there was really no denying it – she was an old, haggard veteran when I enrolled, she had been an old, haggard veteran when High Marshal Erebus was still with us, and not even the Librarians seemed entirely sure when she’d contracted. She’d seen a thousand witches come and go and more than her fair share of Walpurgisnachts, or so they said.

Met her husband once – nice gent, looked like a dead man walking, same as her. Must have been ninety or so, and he had the most glorious moustache-

Right, no. I’m not going to spend the last few hours of my bloody life thinking about moustaches. Amazing what comes to mind, though, isn’t it?

“Ah, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she chirped in her quiet, raspy way. “It’s just…I’m happy you can hold your chin up through this, High Marshal. Not many women in our position can.” It was a little hard to buy from someone who had been all smiles for the entire time I had known her, but one doesn’t complain. “I couldn’t, to be honest. When all I needed to worry about was myself, sure, but never when I had to lead.”

“Her stubborn refusal to understand the gravity of a situation was always one of the High Marshal’s strong points.” Enyo smirked over at me. I kicked her in the ankle with a wheel, letting it spark off her armor with a momentary screech.

---

Three hours before our appointed time of death, it was unreasonably crowded. The Ninth in all their shortsighted, skinflint glory had made no particular amount of room for the Templars in their Officio, not even for a few short hours, and the lot of us were already tired and restless. Even Enyo was starting to show her irritation, and a small group – O’Connell, Sinclair, Avery, and (of course) Trinity – seemed to be doing their level best to hate the entire country out of existence.

Callahan remarked that when she joined the Templars, they called that sort of attitude ‘initiative’. I wish I could say she was joking, of course, but I spent most of my time as a trainee in a bunk with ‘MY ARMOR IS CONTEMPT. MY SWORD IS HATRED’ gouged into the ceiling, and after a while, it only bothered me because they skipped a bit of the mantra. I suppose whoever did it just didn’t use a shield.

As exasperating as it was to have some of the fine women under me behaving like children, though, the worst was easily the Princess. Which was no particular surprise.

Mordred was fairly new to the Templars – she’d barely seen ten grief seeds, and most of her training was still theoretical. Fresh out of the abbey, just like her sister was the first time we’d met, only ten times worse; Arty was stuck up – IS stuck up – and had a steel rod up her arse twice the size of her sword, but she had the aura of a ruler. She was someone you could respect, even then, someone with a certain noble bearing. Supposedly, every Pendragon was like that in some way or another; Arty carried herself like a hero, Nero’s love for the people that followed her was boundless if a bit inscrutable, and Mordred…

…I hadn’t quite figured Mordred out yet.

She was violent, at least. Had a bit of a sister complex, I think; she was the sort of recruit you’d have trouble with no matter what you did with her, and it was made all the worse by her family’s blood and the expectations it set for her. The little brat had been pouting furiously since we’d settled in, and had begun pacing as of a few minutes ago, grumbling about the grave insult to our station and Officio, as if that were any sort of concern right now.

“Princess,” Enyo let out a low grumble. “Sit down. Please.” Of course, she picked up on it before I said anything – if anyone could tell when I was about to snap, it was Enyo.

“Marshal, surely you don’t intend to defend these blaggards? Ordinarily we’d be chomping at the bit to execute-“

“Princess.” Sharper, now. …Ah, I knew what was coming next. She turned her gaze to me instead.

“High Marshal,” the Princess barked with just the slightest whine in her voice. “Surely you don’t endorse submitting to these heretics?”

Vividly, I recalled a scene from my own days as a cadet – Arty had said the same thing to High Marshal Erebus once, just once. Near verbatim, with nearly the same tone. The High Marshal backhanded her so hard that the High Inquisitor received a call from Rome just a few minutes later, with the Empress complaining of a migraine. I still think of it now and again.

I’d never tell Arty, of course, but sometimes that thought gets me through the day.

“High Marshal? You agree with me, don’t you?” She really had no idea. I’ve always caught hell for my, ah, questionable sense of gravitas, but Mordred was really, truly ignorant of the situation. I opened my mouth to snap at her, then thought better of it. It couldn’t be helped.

“I’ve already begun composing my letter of complaint, Pendragon. I shall send it the moment we return home from our certain demise.” I reached up to rub my temple with my knuckles, curling the claws of my gauntlet away from my head. Headaches were not typically a problem for me, but once in a while…

“With all due respect-“

“Ah! Since you’re so keen on the subject, do you have any recommendations as to which perfume we ought to spritz it with? Would you like me to use your signet ring for the wax seal?”

Silence. I admit, my self-control may have lapsed a bit.

“How about we send them a dildo with which to fuck themselves? Sounds like a good time, eh? Eh?” No response, just a silence rapidly building into a cold anger. “No? No to the dildo?”

“Ma’am.” Enyo nudged my side, and I relented with a sigh.

“…Everyone’s tempers are running high, Pendragon. I understand you’re frustrated, and none of us are going to argue that this isn’t an insult, given we’re about to put our lives on the line to protect the Ninth’s Culexus unit, but you are not helping. For that matter, neither am I. Now is not the time to put our pride before the mission.”

“Ma’am.” The fury in Mordred’s eyes didn’t relent even a bit.

“Those of us who return home can report, and the King and the High Inquisitor can sort out how to deal with this relations disaster. But this is not the time, Pendragon. This is the literal opposite of the time. For the time being, we’re going to bite the bullet, smile to the Ninth’s Culexus when we meet them, and kill ourselves a giant damned witch.”

“Ma’am,” she seethed as she sat back down. Pouted just like her big sisters, only not quite as cute.

---

Two hours before our appointed time of death, we met with Lady Malal, leaving Callahan in charge in our absence. Left her my card, too, with the quiet recommendation she order pizza, or ice cream, or something to get everyone out of their own heads. Not a luxury Marshal Karasawa and I could afford, nice as it would have been, and she wasn’t too keen on letting me see her sister, either.

Shame, I’d heard she was a looker. But I wasn’t going to press it, not now. Maybe that would be what I’d do if I made it back: sleep with Enyo’s sister. Good a reason to come back as any, right? March off to war, and fight all the harder to return to your girl back home. That you hadn’t met yet.

I worried then that I’d started to crack. …Really, the whole time, I’d been trying to think of everything but Walpurgisnacht. It was what it was: a horrible, grim, cackling reality that was going to claim the lives of fifty-four brave women today, bare minimum. I should have let them stay. I should have forced them to stay. If we were already destined to die, it ought to have been me and Enyo, and that ought to have been enough. And it wasn’t, and it was all I could do not to scream.

…Dame von Seckendorff, please, please protect these brave, stupid girls. I don’t know if I can, and Erebus’s bloody Lady surely won’t. Please let some of them go home alive. Just one would be enough.

“…She’s here.” Enyo stiffened up next to me, and I followed suit, locking my wheels in a practiced but precarious balance as Lady Malal marched toward us in long, hurried strides.

…Just one. Please.

A King Must Stand Alone

2015-04-10T22:58:51Z

NECOchama: Created page with "---THE FOLLOWING IS OF DUBIOUS CANON FOR ITS SHEER OUTDATEDNESS; IT'S BEING INCLUDED MOSTLY BECAUSE SO MANY PEOPLE HAVE SEEN IT THAT IT WOULD BE CONFUSING TO OMIT. IF THERE IS..."

---THE FOLLOWING IS OF DUBIOUS CANON FOR ITS SHEER OUTDATEDNESS; IT'S BEING INCLUDED MOSTLY BECAUSE SO MANY PEOPLE HAVE SEEN IT THAT IT WOULD BE CONFUSING TO OMIT. IF THERE IS A POINT OF CONFLICT RE:CANON, ACCOUNT OF THE DAMNED TAKES PRECEDENCE---

My name is Arturia Pendragon, though you’ve likely surmised as much. Until recently, the Equerry to the High Inquisitor of the Second, Her Holiness Gertrud von Egisheim, and known by and large as Her Majesty the King, though it refers not to the country as such, or any country in particular, so much as it implies a certain Divine Right; to be the King means to carry the blood of a Ruler of Men, who stands above the authority of all but God and the Lady.

My bloodline is not the subject of this story, for now, though in some time it will be. This is a story instead of Heresy most foul, of a veil obscuring the hearts and minds of the finest magical girls in the world. Of a foolish young woman who, in her pride and naiveté, averted her eyes from the Truth for far too long to stop its inevitable march.

This is my story, and the story of my honored sister, and of the Blessed Lady and the Holy Second Inquisition. I would like to say it began quite a while ago, with my sister’s ascension to the head of the Holy Fourteenth Officio – the claiming of her birthright as Emperor – but for brevity’s sake, I will begin much later than that, with the Heresy of the Ninth Warmaster under the looming of Walpurgisnacht. Looking back now, even before that wretched night, it was the stone in the pond that would send out ripples for months to come.

I was discussing her most recent Heresies with the Ninth Equerry, the Culexus Malal…

---

“I apologize. I apologize on behalf of Kharn, and on behalf of the Ninth Officio. But there’s really only so much I can do.” Her voice-disruptor made her apology sound halfhearted, casual. That could have been the seething, foaming rage that I had barely kept contained, however. It wouldn’t do to get angry at an Angel of the Blessed Lady, and though she dismissed Her Grace’s torment so casually, she was hardly at fault.

“It was inevitable. It’s kind of something Kharn does. It…I’m sorry, do you…need to use the bathroom?”

My sword hand clenched reflexively. It was not ‘inevitable’. Her Grace was, until she was violated some hours ago, a pure maiden – the very model of a magical girl. For a second-long eternity, I simply bit my lip (nearly hard enough to draw blood, I would say), torn between the duty of defending my lady and respecting the authority of an objective superior in the ranks of the Blessed Lady.

The Culexus just stared impassively at me through blackened visor.

I set my jaw as my eyes flicked toward where I could only assume hers were, and as calmly as I could, I began to elucidate the Angel on Her Grace’s virtue, and the importance of vigilance and care in our daily lives as magical girls, so as not to cast ourselves from the razor-thin line on which we walked. Surely, she knew this better than even I did, but the Ninth Warmaster clearly needed more than a simple reminder. She walked a Witch’s path already, and even in the event that she did not fall, surely her distinct and unsettling lack of virtue would-

After a scant few phrases, thirty seconds at most, something reflected in Lady Malal’s visor caught my eye – a flash of a girl with pale-gold hair, shorter than even the Japanese in front of me, chest puffed out and mouth moving silently in time with my speech.

It was Raleigh, of course. Raleigh Alondight, the High Marshal of the Black Templars, known to most simply as the Black Knight. She was Her Grace’s most trusted friend, myself aside, and held the distinction of being the most distinguished low-blooded magical girl in the Second’s illustrious history, dating well before the Officio Assassinora were officially sanctioned. She was also quite determined to test my already terribly thin patience today, it seemed.

I resisted the urge to backhand her as I whirled around – an urge that came up unreasonably often with Raleigh, and one I truly believe only a noble-born woman could resist so often. She gave me a wide grin and a little wave, though judging from the look in her eyes, I suspect that for whatever unfathomable reason, this was calculated. Raleigh was not often a fool, despite repeated evidence to the contrary.

“You know she was the one that invited the Warmaster into her chambers, don’t you?” her quiet, lilting voice sang a song that seemed to be designed specifically to get under my skin. “You weren’t protecting her, Arty. You walked in on her.”

My sword hand twitched again.

“She hasn’t left it, you know. Thankfully, the Warmaster was there to comfort her. It’s great, she does this thing with her tongue…” As she stuck out her own tongue and began trying to imitate some arcane motion, I found myself oddly hypnotized by the prospect. I could nearly grasp what she was trying to do, but…that wasn’t normal. It couldn’t be, not even Elizabeth – not even Elcarys – could perform such an act.

…Maybe Elcarys could have, but I wouldn’t want to be the one to find out, and were I to ask Raleigh, I was certain I would hear in excruciatingly uncomfortable detail just precisely how far that tongue could go.

(Neither of those are people you need yet concern yourself with – all will be explained in time, though not today, and sooner rather than later. It would be rude to simply toss names about with no promise of explanation.)

It occurred to me all too late that I was in the middle of an important clarification, but when I looked to the Culexus, she was well on her way down the hall, attention wholly absorbed by the electronic assistant she carried. Raleigh gave a snigger and a shout, a ‘You’re welcome!’ that echoed through the halls of the Officio. I tried to wither her reckless enthusiasm with a glare, but she laughed all the harder.

“Arty. Arty, you really haven’t got a clue, have you? Well, don’t worry. I’m sure she didn’t really think you had to use the bathroom. Kings don’t poop, and all.” We do so-Why is this even up for discussion.

I adjusted my glasses, my hand drifting without pause to my temple to fend off an oncoming headache. I didn’t expect professional behavior from the High Marshal without direct Witch involvement, but she could have at least taken pains not to make us look even worse than this ridiculous scandal already had, thanks to the heretical mongrel leading the Ninth Officio Assassinorum. Why Lady Malal isn’t simply leading the Officio-

“You’re doing that thing again. Where you talk to yourself.”

I was talking to her.

“Well. I wasn’t listening, because you were doing that thing again. No disrespect intended, Your Majesty, but you need to calm down. They’ll be gone tomorrow, then you’ll have only one superior to tiptoe around again, and we can put this particular bout of minor heresies behind us. Speaking of tiptoeing around superiors…” She turned stiffly toward the hall opposite where Lady Malal had gone, and began to march, pausing after a moment to beckon me after her. “She needs to talk to you.”

…Ah, Milady is finally in a condition to speak?

“No, I’m going to get her to unlock the door, and you’re going to shove in before she can close it. May want to strap your armor on, Her Grace is still quite handy with the lightning.”

This boded well already.

---

“Imbecile! Fool! Dastard! Deviant! Heretic!” I was grateful, I supposed, that she only had a few pillows to hurl at me, when she saw my face, though with the tone she used, her words hissed out through cracked and broken voice, I expected divine lightning instead. Her voice squeaked as the parade of insults moved on, the High Inquisitor’s face glowing a bright red, as though her head threatened to explode at any moment.

Though she had elected to remain outside, I could swear I heard Raleigh laughing through the door.

Her Grace – just Gertrud, in our younger days – had always been temperamental. She is, despite that, one of the cleverest and most charismatic people I’ve ever the privilege of knowing, to be sure, and…certainly, she is among the people I care for the most in this world.

That said, I have met nobody since that could throw such a tantrum over nothing as Gertrud, when she was so inclined, which seemed to be most any time we were alone. I suppose how angry she seemed was a measure of trust, in a way; only recently had she allowed herself to show her anger in front of Raleigh, having previously only done so in front of my sisters and I. Never in front of the other knights, not even when we were trainees, and certainly not in front of the Lady’s Messenger.

One would be hard-pressed to believe that under her smooth and graceful countenance was the heart of an incorrigible, offensive, pillow-hurling brat.

“WHAT?” She squeaked so loudly that I was certain the window-glass cracked. …I repeated myself, louder. Perhaps she hadn’t heard it.

“How…how DARE you! HIGH MARSHAL! RALEIGH! I know you’re out there! Throw this foul, perverted heretic in the dungeon!” I breathed a sigh of relief, exaggerated…mostly out of pettiness, I admit. It was only the dungeon, she couldn’t have been that upset.

At that, she made a noise, one for which I had come to know her – a high, unexplainable sound, a combination of a cracked scream and a squeak. A small buzz began to tug at the edge of my senses as Her Grace crackled, her hair standing lightly on end. Like a cat’s, come to that.

If Raleigh WAS out there, she had (wisely) deemed it safer not to get involved, and for that I was grateful.

I strode over to Her Grace’s – to Gertrud’s – bedside, as she crackled and squeaked, and as she raised her hand to smite me, I took it in both of mine, then dropped to a knee. She had my sincerest apologies for the misunderstanding. I had only feared the worst, with the Warmaster Valnikov’s continual heresy.

Her fury seemed to dissipate all at once, though her face still carried a cherry-red color. Her hackles dropped, and the numb, buzzing sensation in the depths of my heart was… …Well, at very least the electricity seemed to subside. Gertrud stared down at me, seemingly unsure how to respond.

…This was the real reason I was grateful Raleigh had left. This expression was one reserved for me, and one I would gladly claim for myself.

“…I don’t…need you to come running whenever you believe something may happen to me. I’m a Warmaster, you know. The High Inquisitor of the Second. The voice of the Blessed Lady’s will. I have no need of foolish kings that play at gallantry.” She squeezed my hand as she answered, her eyes flicking toward a distant corner of the room that was no doubt extremely heretical at that particular moment.

Of course, Your Grace.

---

The rest of the day passed without incident, mercifully, and we spent it in discussion of personal matters, a rarity as of late. The next few weeks would have us tied up in meetings, thanks in no small part to the Ninth Officio’s recent and extremely unusual fascination with Siberia, to say nothing of the looming Walpurgisnacht.

Almost worse, so I thought at the time, was the inevitable diplomatic mission to the Palace of the Holy Emperor in Rome, to request their aid as a second line against the flood of Witches that would pour from the Akashic Points scattered around the country. It would be yet another chance to see our officers poisoned with hedonism, to see my sister tear Her Grace from her sacred mission for the sake of vanity and sloth, and, though I would never have admitted it then, another opportunity for Nero to highlight my own inadequacies in a feast of gold and excess.

In light of that…it felt as though Walpurgisnacht could not come soon enough.

The Account of the Damned

2015-04-10T22:57:03Z

NECOchama:

<center><blockquote>''"Her stubborn refusal to understand the gravity of a situation was always one of the High Marshal’s strong points."''</blockquote></center>

{| class="wikitable" style="margin: auto; margin-right; text-align: center;color: black; background-color: grey;" width="30%"
| colspan="2" | '''Writeup Info'''
|-
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| '''Title'''
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| Account of the Damned
|-
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| '''Genres'''
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| Drama, Tragedy, Black Humor
|-
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| '''Author'''
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| Wendy Cooldown
|-
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| '''Timeline'''
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| Collectively, the lead-in to Walpurgisnacht up to (eventually) present day
|-
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| '''Canonicity Status'''
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| Canon
|-
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| '''Completion Status'''
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| Ongoing
|-
|}

==Synopsis==
====Account of the Damned====
The story of the leader of the Black Templars, Raleigh Alondight, as she struggles to fight through her own PTSD, battles the loss of almost all of her division, and cuts through the politics of her own Officio with a leg-wheel.
====Account of the Damned Gaiden====
A side-story focusing on the new Templar recruits as they train under Raleigh Alondight and Enyo Karasawa. (COMING SOON)
====A King Must Stand Alone====
An abandoned attempt at exploring the same concept and characters through Arturia Pendragon instead; may be picked up again at a later date.

=The Account of the Damned=

===[[The Account of the Damned Chapter 1: Four Hours]]===
{{:The Account of the Damned Chapter 1: Four Hours}}

===[[The Account of the Damned Chapter 2: Saws]]===
{{:The Account of the Damned Chapter 2: Saws}}

===[[The Account of the Damned Chapter 3: Shards of Red]]===
{{:The Account of the Damned Chapter 3: Shards of Red}}

===[[The Account of the Damned Chapter 4: Bad News]]===
{{:The Account of the Damned Chapter 4: Bad News}}

=Account of the Damned Gaiden=
"...Nothing here."

=A King Must Stand Alone=
{{:A King Must Stand Alone}}

[[Category:Second Officio]]
[[Category:Account of the Damned]]

The Account of the Damned Chapter 4: Bad News

2015-04-10T20:56:34Z

NECOchama:

'''---THE FOLLOWING HAS NOT BEEN POSTED IN-THREAD YET; IT MAY BE SUBJECT TO MINOR CHANGES OR ART ADDITIONS---'''

For the dozenth time, the awful screech of metal on metal tore through my senses, sent my heart roaring out of my chest. For the dozenth time, my arms were crushed under a colossal, whirring blade as my shield was forced back against me. For the dozenth time, my wheels tore impotently at the gore-slicked ground, blood coating the delicate machinery and…well, if it weren’t a dream, I imagine it would screw it up something terrible, magical or not.

Today I was a little more lucid, though today wasn’t exactly an ordinary stress dream. I pushed back against the massive blade and shouted for Dr. Liddell to do whatever the hell she planned to do, and an eternity later, as I felt the bones in my legs start to snap under the pressure, my heart skipped a beat and the world around me faded into tones of dreary gray. The teeth of the chainsaw stopped, as did the enormous pressure, and cautiously I rolled out from under my shield. It was still propped up in the same way it had been before, a thousand grayscale sparks frozen in the air around it, tilted impossibly in sheer defiance of gravity and common sense.

“…So can you fix it?” I could barely force the sounds out. Maybe I lost a rib or three somehow, too? …Stupid bloody dreams, never make any damn sense.

“Can I?” She bounced on her heels, a vision in blue and white in the midst in a sea of nothing. Her eyes had a way of piercing right through you in a way that stuck with you as much as any dream might. Her general refusal to be helpful in any way aside from the most oblique ones tended to stick with me almost as much, but she was a specialist, and apparently the best we had.

I stared at her for a moment, then straightened up, cracking my back and trying to dream up a mended skeleton. It didn’t really work, so I glided over to her instead, my wheels cutting through the blood-turned-mercury around them.

“If you dragged me here just to waste my time, Doctor, I’ve really got about a thousand other things I ought to be doing.” Like literally anything but this. She tutted at me, and I resisted the urge to hit her with the flat of my sword.

“I’ve seen all I have to see, but have you? Did you find the answer on the back of that old wheel, then? Something you didn’t see the first twenty or thirty times you had this dream?”

“…No.” I sighed.

“Then I wonder which of us is wasting the other’s time.” After a moment, then, she relented a little. “I’ve frozen the creature, so do what you feel is necessary, preferably before you do a hundred things that aren’t.”

I think I actually hate this woman.

“Can I just…kill it, then? Since you’ve got it all frozen here?” I looked to the thing, the…I don’t know. I’d never really done that before. It had been nothing but a black mess of claws and teeth and hatred to me. I don’t rightly think I could recall what it had looked like then, either, in the Barrier.

It didn’t seem right, somehow. More than the obvious. Something about it was different. One of its eyes (I hoped that was an eye) seemed to follow me, even as if it was frozen. As though it might bear down on me at any moment.

“If you could do that, then you wouldn’t need me, would you?” She lifted her skirt and began to wade through the silvery mess of gore below us.

“Fine. I can’t just kill it. Can you?” I wheeled after her, forcing my body to heal itself as much as I could offhand. Wonder if doing that in a dream actually uses magic. Probably does. Bloody loopholes.

“Yes and no. I don’t particularly care to invade minds, and I certainly don’t care to reshape them. Bit too much like a doctor’s work, that.” She came to a stop behind the beast, and I frowned at her as I pulled up to her side.

“Aren’t you-“

“Doctors take classes, High Marshal. Doctors work in institutions. I’ve no interest in either; I have wits and experience and nothing else.”

“And magic.” She gave me a dirty look for that one before continuing.

“If you want someone to stab the trauma out, I can recommend you to the American Callidus Prima.” She spoke slowly, deliberately, unblinking as her gaze bored holes into me. “I cannot, however, recommend the Prima to you - be a bit like excising a tumor with a shotgun, I think.”

“You don’t think it would go well?” I didn’t know the girl in question all that well myself, but I knew her enough to take the suggestion with the grain of salt Liddell was offering.

“Well, you wouldn’t have a tumor anymore.” She shrugged, then turned her attention to the ugly, berserking behemoth, now that we’d made our way around to its backside. “I’ve noticed something. Haven’t you?”

“You were just…” I bit my tongue. Not literally, right then, but I realized she’d only get more obnoxious if I let her. Instead, I followed her gaze toward the creature, toward white, wavy hair drenched in blood, a jagged crown perched atop its head, toward…enormous, barbed wheels beneath it-

“Piss.” I sat up on the couch in Dr. Liddell’s office, the skin and…metal…under my prostheses burning like mad. The doctor was staring intensely at me, as if mentally noting every small movement I made.

“Piiiiss,” I added for emphasis. “This is one of those fucking…psychological things, isn’t it.” I hugged myself tightly, squeezing the flesh left on my arms with steel fingers.

“It didn’t go well, I take it.” She reached for a notepad and sat back in her seat.

“You were just…you…” I hate this.

I hate therapy.

I think I hate psychiatrists.

And I hate dreams.

---

I cut my appointment short (citing an overwhelming urge to strangle someone) and was curtly reminded to be back before she had to start hounding me again, then given some self-analysis homework which I frankly had no intention of actually doing.

(If I heard about that homework from Enyo again later I planned to make good on that strangling bit, too.)

No, lucky me, after an obnoxious trainwreck of a therapy session I’d finally decided to make good on paying El a proper visit, which I hadn’t really done since I got mobile again. We talked a bit while I was laid-up, but that was mostly shallow mockery and trading barbs – she asked me how the rest of the Templars were, and I asked her why there wasn’t a bloody report about the Japs’ operations in Russia in my stumps already.

…Come to think of it, she still hasn’t given me a followup about that. One more thing on the miles long to-do list. Fantastic.

I tried to force a smile as I crossed the threshold into Elcarys’s chamber, an enormous white room that was, I think, just magicked to seem bigger than it was. The whole place was flawless, a tea room from a fairy tale with a floor I could see myself in. There was an inky black carpet, too, leading to a grand, open window, a tea table, and the devil herself.

It was wide open, filling the room with a refreshing breeze and making the whole thing sparkle in the bright summer sunlight, which was damned impressive given it was barely spring and had been raining for two days. But El liked things perfect and atmospheric, and bad mood or not, I couldn’t help but appreciate the décor right at that moment.

“Don’t step on the flooring, you’ll scratch it,” she murmured idly as she gazed out at her own sunny illusion. I settled into the chair opposite her after I made my way over, and was pleasantly surprised to see she’d already made tea – Darjeeling, my favorite. She’d poured it already, too, and…it was almost certainly an illusion.

I sipped at it anyway while I thought about what to say. Tasted fine enough, illusion or not. I was surprised when she was the first one to speak.

“Since you’re here now, does that mean you’re done feeling sorry for yourself?” …Ouch. “I suppose having Enyo to feel sorry for you instead helps.” Double ouch. She was in a fantastic mood today, too.

“I don’t think I’ll be done for a while, El, don’t you worry. This pity party is lasting all week, at very least.” Her lips cracked into a faint smile, and I relaxed a bit.

El was…complicated. Our relationship was complicated. Her thing with Enyo, also complicated. I knew she’d be sulking about us hooking up eventually, but I expected at very least some terrible nightmares first. …Some fresh, new ones.

She called herself a Succubus, and named her squad the same. Got a lot of disapproving looks from the crowd at the Second, but what didn’t, really? The Callidus here already caught plenty of hell just for doing their job – the usual garbage about how ignoble and heretical it was, except for when we needed them for something.

…The Templars got the same kind of treatment, now and again, so as much of a bitch as El could be, I wasn’t entirely without sympathy.

“I’m going to assume you’re here to ask a favor. Did Liddell send you? Are you here for a new dream?” That wasn’t a bad idea. Liddell to help understand dreams, that American girl to kill them, and El for new ones.

I had to mull her offer over a bit. She was in a bad mood, so it was entirely likely she was laying out bait to screw me later. On the other hand, just about anything she could dream up would be a nice change from the new, existential horror of facing down a monstrous, broken version of myself every night.

“Yes. Well, no, I didn’t really come here to ask, but if you’re offering…”

“Oh, I wasn’t offering,” she purred, her usual smirk finding its way back on her face. “But it’s nice to know you need something from me.” I couldn’t help but smile a little. At least this way, the tension lifted a bit.

“If I need anything, it’s a report on-“

“The Japanese, yes, yes. It’s…you might call it a hornet’s nest. Very delicate work. Spying on another Officio isn’t as simple as a wiretap and a night of passion.” She took a sip of her tea, then snorted. “Well, it might be now, with the state their Warmaster’s in. And with all the Culexus dead. Who’s going to stop me? Karasawa?”

She finished her tea in one go, then pointedly refilled her cup. Naturally, she brought the teapot as high as she could manage just to show off a bit – I watched for a splash over the side, but there wasn’t a drop. Probably still wasn’t real.

“The only think Karasawa can catch is a bucket of ice cream. And while I may be cold, sweet, and tasty…”

“You’re not ice cream. Got it.” I nodded. “So, ah…you plan on going yourself, then?”

There was a long, awkward pause, and she raised her cup to her lips.

“…Not as such, no. Somebody needs to hold this place together while everyone who matters is traumatized or hysterical.” Ah, yes. The old standby for when El didn’t REALLY want to do her job. …Hard to blame her, really, after everything the Ninth had done recently. It was probably worse over there than it was over here, what with Lady Malal.

…For once, she had a point, as much as I wanted to press the issue. Arty was a wreck, I’d barely even seen Gerty since I got back, and Enyo and I were completely irresponsible whenever we could get away with it (which wasn’t nearly often enough).

We made something amounting to small talk for a bit after that, the awkward kind that you have with someone when you haven’t spoken to them for a while and you both damn well know you could have but you kept putting it off.

…Well, about half of it was cripple jokes, but that’s just something to get used to. It could only sting so much, really, with all the work Enyo put into my prostheses.

She was probably still angry when I left, but she’d get over it. I made a mental note to try and do something nice for her.

---

I was astonished when I returned to my room to find that my bed had grown an impressive tumor, the kind where the drapey bits of ceremonial robes and a few locks of forest-green hair poke out from under the blanket. The roughly little girl-sized kind. It wasn’t the first time, at least.

The High Inquisitor was hiding again – nobody but Arty would seriously try to find her here, and anyone who visited me would know enough to just leave her alone if they caught her. Poor thing was probably exhausted from all the hell she’d been through since Walpurgisnacht, it was a wonder she hadn’t run off into the countryside.

A more mature and less exhausted person might gently call her name. Today that was…not me. Gerty had been one of my closest friends since we’d contracted, but, ah…

Well, fuck it. I leapt onto the bed, directly onto the center of that little tumor, and immediately regretted it as about a fucktillion volts or amps or whatever the hell you measure it in coursed through my body, sending me into a twitching mess on the floor.

Didn’t last long, of course. My cybernetics were insulated, and I was a good bit tougher than to be put down by one of Her Grace’s cranky shocks. I was fairly confident that at least one of us didn’t piss herself, too.

I pulled myself up onto my knees as she sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes with a sleeve. …She was one of the only people here smaller than I was, truth be told; the Incubator had contracted her at nine, and she hadn’t changed much in the five or so years since. She stared down at me with bleary eyes, then around the room.

“…What time is it?”

“Oh, no, I’m fine, don’t fret too much. Just a bit smoky.”

“I know. Time?” Her eye found my alarm clock on the nightstand, and her features twisted into a frown.

“I left my watch at home. You might be sleeping on it.” Despite my best efforts, I was rapidly running out of patience for Gerty’s nonsense today. She took a deep breath, then sighed.

“Yes, yes, I’m sorry. I should have asked. I meant to take a nap, but…”

“But that was hours ago.” She winced at that and looked away, hands fidgeting in her lap. I settled in next to her and ruffled her hair. I’m always relieved anymore whenever I don’t catch a few strands in my finger joints or…something. I’m sure Enyo thought of that, but even so.

“The world won’t end if you take a break once in a while. God knows Hash won’t be done sucking on his brother’s tit until we’re long dead,” I continued, but all she did was wince again and try to pull her robes up around herself, as if to hide in them a little more. “…Right?”

“…We have to look presentable for the other Officios. If that awful dog-woman senses even the smallest hint of weakness…”

“Lady Russ isn’t that bad.” I lied. I had to, though; I’d be begging Her Alphaness a favor, myself, and I was looking forward to that almost as much as my next therapy session.

“Fine, but the Americans-“

“-have a new Warmaster, who I’ve heard is actually quite nice.”

“And it’s the first time we’re meeting. This will be her first impression of the Second, and if it goes poorly-”

“-then we’ll have lost the incredibly valuable opinions of screaming madmen. I’m sure we’ll live.” She scowled up at me, and I met it with a grin. Her Grace didn’t like being interrupted OR corrected, but at least she looked a bit less miserable.

“…The Chinese will also be here,” she added after another minute, tearing her eyes away from mine. “And their Eversor Rank Leader.”

…The old Marshal, under Lady Erebus. It wasn’t as though I hadn’t met her since her excommunication – the old guard came together once a year, outside the watchful eye of the Church, to mourn our dead. But Valentina Tenko was…at times, a hard person to deal with, for me especially. I wasn’t looking forward to seeing her, not after my own…

Not after throwing away the lives of nearly everyone here that would still look her in the eye.

“…Don’t worry about me, Your Gertiness. It’s probably better to swallow that pill early, anyway. I just hope the Spiritual Liege doesn’t screech too much with that awful accent of hers. I can still hear it in my damned nightmares after the last meeting.”

The High Inquisitor giggled and kicked her feet against the side of the bed, though it didn’t last long.

“…Actually, I needed to talk to you about something else, too.” Her voice was a little quieter than usual, and she stared down at her feet. She may have been trying to wiggle them out of her robes so she could look at her boots.

“Are you…” She fumbled with her words, something I’d only seen from Her Grace a handful of times. “…You’re working on rebuilding the Templars right now, I understand, but I need to ask something of you.”

“Spit it out, Your Grace.” She was uncomfortable enough with the request to dance around it all day. I fiddled with a lock of my hair and started carefully wording my refusal.

I was absolutely certain she was about to ask me about sex.

“I’d like you to act as Regent for a while once the other Officios leave.” Oh thank the Lady.

…What?

Gerty bit her lip, refusing to meet my gaze. She was quiet and still, the most afraid I’d seen her since the day she was promoted to High Inquisitor.

“Arturia’s not…well. She won’t tell me anything, and I can’t pretend she’s fit to lead right now. I had my concerns even before that, about whether she was…mature enough, you know.”

Gertrud von Egisheim was four years my junior and two years Arty’s. She wasn’t High Inquisitor because she was cute when she was angry, though – truth be told, she was probably one of the Warmasters I admired most, out of the ones I’d known and the ones I’d been forced to read and recite about as part of my training here.

She wasn’t wrong about Arty, on either count. Still, going over her Equerry’s head was…cold. This was also not shit I particularly wanted to deal with, and Her Royal Majesty would throw an absolute fit when she found out, no matter what state she was in.

…Wait.

“So…what’s stopping you from running the place, exactly?”

She scowled at the ground, and I knew the answer almost immediately.

“Hashmallim contacted me a few days after Walpurgisnacht. He…ah, he told me it was time to ascend to the First, and to give him a list of recommendations.”

It was the cat.

When it was bad news, it was always the fucking cat. We heard from him all of twice a year, and it was always either a fresh wave of contracts from his…abbeys…with no sense of the real world or it was something like this.

He was stealing our Warmaster out from under us when we were already hurting more than we had as long as I’d been at the Second, and I’m certain he barely considered it past ‘this is what my brother would like’.

“Please don’t tell me you signed everyone but me up to go to the fucking moon, Gerty.” She winced again. “…Sorry. Sorry. I just…”

“…I know. He told me the First is relaxing its standards on conscripts. I think they’re trying to gather up anyone that might be able to…ah…to survive their procedures. It might just be panic from Walpurgisnacht, but…”

“…but they’re preparing to mobilize against something. Bloody wonderful.”

She nodded a little, playing with her sleeves. …It’s hard to forget Her Grace is basically a kid in a lot of ways. It really just made me angrier.

“…So what’s the damage? Who else is going? Hesselius? Laura and Liz? Oh lord, is that why El is slacking on dealing with the Japs? Is it Liddell? Can it be Liddell?”

“…You. I recommended you, that’s all. …He doesn’t think you’re in any shape to make it, so I suggested a…trial period.”

“…Alright.” I didn’t know how to feel. I don’t think I felt anything, just…cold. I wasn’t mad, I don’t…really think it was her fault, but… “And this all wasn’t worth mentioning, oh, I don’t know, weeks ago?”

“Did you want me to slip a note into your bedpan, Alondight?” She snapped, and I shut my mouth. “What was I supposed to do? You know how he gets, if he got it in his head that I was obstructing the First, he’d have me retired. By you, if I was lucky.” She stared up at me, dark eyes crackling with electricity.

“Do you think I want to go to the-the fucking moon, Raleigh? I don’t even like going into the city. I’ve just been trying to think of a way to get out of it without throwing myself to the Akashic. Or locking myself in the library where nobody will see me for a thousand years and I’ll be some terrible sunlight-averse mutant speaking a dead language.”

Her voice grew louder and higher and squeakier as she spoke. She leaned in closer to me, then seemed to lose all of her energy at once.

“…Just tell me if you’ll do the job. If not, I’ll…ask Cosette. It’s only until Arturia’s fit to run the Officio again.”

“And to prove to Hashmallim you deserve a snuggle buddy up on the moon.” I didn’t really intend to let it go. I still didn’t know what to think, but I didn’t want to let it go. She stared coldly up at me, and I forced a smile and waved dismissively.

“Fine. Regent it is. Just for a bit, though, and no promises on the moon thing. I’d fancy my chances against just about everyone here, if he did get mad. Hell, it would be quite a way to die, wouldn’t it? Battling the legions of our furry overlords in the name of freedom.”

Gerty cracked a smile, and it made it that much easier to hold my own.

“I may come and get you myself if it’s too bad up there. You’re…you know.” One of her two friends, aside from Arty. I just nodded.

…I’d probably do the same.

“…So who gets to tell her you’re leaving?”

“That would be excellent practice for the new Regent, wouldn’t it?” She pushed herself to her feet and smoothed some of the wrinkles from her robe.

I patted her butt, and she made a face back at me.

“…What? I need to practice for my harem of concubines. A Regent must have concubines. It’s the first decree I’m instating when you leave.” The High Inquisitor’s face hardened as I apparently crossed a line. I could only shrug.

“If you tell Arty, I’ll put down the newspaper in the guest quarters for the Sixth. I’ll even change it every day.”

“…Deal.”

---

A knock on my door roused me only an hour or so after I managed to sleep, and I drifted over to it, stumbling in my nightgown and not a whole lot else.

“...High Marshal.” A bouquet of flowers nearly took both of my eyes out the moment I opened the door, and they called me by title, soft and hesitant. “…I’m sorry. About the other day.”

…Oh. It was Enyo. What was she…

Oh! Right. Right.

“Already forgot about that. Tired. Put them in a vase and join me in bed. S’an order.”

…I hadn’t quite drifted off again when I heard the heavy thunk of Enyo removing her prosthetic, then the much gentler noise of her setting it on my nightstand. One arm curled around my midsection, and I felt a little bit of the stress from dealing with every other bloody person in this Officio melt away.

“…Missed you.”

“Shh. Go to sleep, Enyo…”

Tomorrow would be…better. It couldn’t be much worse.

The Account of the Damned Chapter 4: Bad News

2015-04-10T20:56:20Z

NECOchama:

---THE FOLLOWING HAS NOT BEEN POSTED IN-THREAD YET; IT MAY BE SUBJECT TO MINOR CHANGES OR ART ADDITIONS---

For the dozenth time, the awful screech of metal on metal tore through my senses, sent my heart roaring out of my chest. For the dozenth time, my arms were crushed under a colossal, whirring blade as my shield was forced back against me. For the dozenth time, my wheels tore impotently at the gore-slicked ground, blood coating the delicate machinery and…well, if it weren’t a dream, I imagine it would screw it up something terrible, magical or not.

Today I was a little more lucid, though today wasn’t exactly an ordinary stress dream. I pushed back against the massive blade and shouted for Dr. Liddell to do whatever the hell she planned to do, and an eternity later, as I felt the bones in my legs start to snap under the pressure, my heart skipped a beat and the world around me faded into tones of dreary gray. The teeth of the chainsaw stopped, as did the enormous pressure, and cautiously I rolled out from under my shield. It was still propped up in the same way it had been before, a thousand grayscale sparks frozen in the air around it, tilted impossibly in sheer defiance of gravity and common sense.

“…So can you fix it?” I could barely force the sounds out. Maybe I lost a rib or three somehow, too? …Stupid bloody dreams, never make any damn sense.

“Can I?” She bounced on her heels, a vision in blue and white in the midst in a sea of nothing. Her eyes had a way of piercing right through you in a way that stuck with you as much as any dream might. Her general refusal to be helpful in any way aside from the most oblique ones tended to stick with me almost as much, but she was a specialist, and apparently the best we had.

I stared at her for a moment, then straightened up, cracking my back and trying to dream up a mended skeleton. It didn’t really work, so I glided over to her instead, my wheels cutting through the blood-turned-mercury around them.

“If you dragged me here just to waste my time, Doctor, I’ve really got about a thousand other things I ought to be doing.” Like literally anything but this. She tutted at me, and I resisted the urge to hit her with the flat of my sword.

“I’ve seen all I have to see, but have you? Did you find the answer on the back of that old wheel, then? Something you didn’t see the first twenty or thirty times you had this dream?”

“…No.” I sighed.

“Then I wonder which of us is wasting the other’s time.” After a moment, then, she relented a little. “I’ve frozen the creature, so do what you feel is necessary, preferably before you do a hundred things that aren’t.”

I think I actually hate this woman.

“Can I just…kill it, then? Since you’ve got it all frozen here?” I looked to the thing, the…I don’t know. I’d never really done that before. It had been nothing but a black mess of claws and teeth and hatred to me. I don’t rightly think I could recall what it had looked like then, either, in the Barrier.

It didn’t seem right, somehow. More than the obvious. Something about it was different. One of its eyes (I hoped that was an eye) seemed to follow me, even as if it was frozen. As though it might bear down on me at any moment.

“If you could do that, then you wouldn’t need me, would you?” She lifted her skirt and began to wade through the silvery mess of gore below us.

“Fine. I can’t just kill it. Can you?” I wheeled after her, forcing my body to heal itself as much as I could offhand. Wonder if doing that in a dream actually uses magic. Probably does. Bloody loopholes.

“Yes and no. I don’t particularly care to invade minds, and I certainly don’t care to reshape them. Bit too much like a doctor’s work, that.” She came to a stop behind the beast, and I frowned at her as I pulled up to her side.

“Aren’t you-“

“Doctors take classes, High Marshal. Doctors work in institutions. I’ve no interest in either; I have wits and experience and nothing else.”

“And magic.” She gave me a dirty look for that one before continuing.

“If you want someone to stab the trauma out, I can recommend you to the American Callidus Prima.” She spoke slowly, deliberately, unblinking as her gaze bored holes into me. “I cannot, however, recommend the Prima to you - be a bit like excising a tumor with a shotgun, I think.”

“You don’t think it would go well?” I didn’t know the girl in question all that well myself, but I knew her enough to take the suggestion with the grain of salt Liddell was offering.

“Well, you wouldn’t have a tumor anymore.” She shrugged, then turned her attention to the ugly, berserking behemoth, now that we’d made our way around to its backside. “I’ve noticed something. Haven’t you?”

“You were just…” I bit my tongue. Not literally, right then, but I realized she’d only get more obnoxious if I let her. Instead, I followed her gaze toward the creature, toward white, wavy hair drenched in blood, a jagged crown perched atop its head, toward…enormous, barbed wheels beneath it-

“Piss.” I sat up on the couch in Dr. Liddell’s office, the skin and…metal…under my prostheses burning like mad. The doctor was staring intensely at me, as if mentally noting every small movement I made.

“Piiiiss,” I added for emphasis. “This is one of those fucking…psychological things, isn’t it.” I hugged myself tightly, squeezing the flesh left on my arms with steel fingers.

“It didn’t go well, I take it.” She reached for a notepad and sat back in her seat.

“You were just…you…” I hate this.

I hate therapy.

I think I hate psychiatrists.

And I hate dreams.

---

I cut my appointment short (citing an overwhelming urge to strangle someone) and was curtly reminded to be back before she had to start hounding me again, then given some self-analysis homework which I frankly had no intention of actually doing.

(If I heard about that homework from Enyo again later I planned to make good on that strangling bit, too.)

No, lucky me, after an obnoxious trainwreck of a therapy session I’d finally decided to make good on paying El a proper visit, which I hadn’t really done since I got mobile again. We talked a bit while I was laid-up, but that was mostly shallow mockery and trading barbs – she asked me how the rest of the Templars were, and I asked her why there wasn’t a bloody report about the Japs’ operations in Russia in my stumps already.

…Come to think of it, she still hasn’t given me a followup about that. One more thing on the miles long to-do list. Fantastic.

I tried to force a smile as I crossed the threshold into Elcarys’s chamber, an enormous white room that was, I think, just magicked to seem bigger than it was. The whole place was flawless, a tea room from a fairy tale with a floor I could see myself in. There was an inky black carpet, too, leading to a grand, open window, a tea table, and the devil herself.

It was wide open, filling the room with a refreshing breeze and making the whole thing sparkle in the bright summer sunlight, which was damned impressive given it was barely spring and had been raining for two days. But El liked things perfect and atmospheric, and bad mood or not, I couldn’t help but appreciate the décor right at that moment.

“Don’t step on the flooring, you’ll scratch it,” she murmured idly as she gazed out at her own sunny illusion. I settled into the chair opposite her after I made my way over, and was pleasantly surprised to see she’d already made tea – Darjeeling, my favorite. She’d poured it already, too, and…it was almost certainly an illusion.

I sipped at it anyway while I thought about what to say. Tasted fine enough, illusion or not. I was surprised when she was the first one to speak.

“Since you’re here now, does that mean you’re done feeling sorry for yourself?” …Ouch. “I suppose having Enyo to feel sorry for you instead helps.” Double ouch. She was in a fantastic mood today, too.

“I don’t think I’ll be done for a while, El, don’t you worry. This pity party is lasting all week, at very least.” Her lips cracked into a faint smile, and I relaxed a bit.

El was…complicated. Our relationship was complicated. Her thing with Enyo, also complicated. I knew she’d be sulking about us hooking up eventually, but I expected at very least some terrible nightmares first. …Some fresh, new ones.

She called herself a Succubus, and named her squad the same. Got a lot of disapproving looks from the crowd at the Second, but what didn’t, really? The Callidus here already caught plenty of hell just for doing their job – the usual garbage about how ignoble and heretical it was, except for when we needed them for something.

…The Templars got the same kind of treatment, now and again, so as much of a bitch as El could be, I wasn’t entirely without sympathy.

“I’m going to assume you’re here to ask a favor. Did Liddell send you? Are you here for a new dream?” That wasn’t a bad idea. Liddell to help understand dreams, that American girl to kill them, and El for new ones.

I had to mull her offer over a bit. She was in a bad mood, so it was entirely likely she was laying out bait to screw me later. On the other hand, just about anything she could dream up would be a nice change from the new, existential horror of facing down a monstrous, broken version of myself every night.

“Yes. Well, no, I didn’t really come here to ask, but if you’re offering…”

“Oh, I wasn’t offering,” she purred, her usual smirk finding its way back on her face. “But it’s nice to know you need something from me.” I couldn’t help but smile a little. At least this way, the tension lifted a bit.

“If I need anything, it’s a report on-“

“The Japanese, yes, yes. It’s…you might call it a hornet’s nest. Very delicate work. Spying on another Officio isn’t as simple as a wiretap and a night of passion.” She took a sip of her tea, then snorted. “Well, it might be now, with the state their Warmaster’s in. And with all the Culexus dead. Who’s going to stop me? Karasawa?”

She finished her tea in one go, then pointedly refilled her cup. Naturally, she brought the teapot as high as she could manage just to show off a bit – I watched for a splash over the side, but there wasn’t a drop. Probably still wasn’t real.

“The only think Karasawa can catch is a bucket of ice cream. And while I may be cold, sweet, and tasty…”

“You’re not ice cream. Got it.” I nodded. “So, ah…you plan on going yourself, then?”

There was a long, awkward pause, and she raised her cup to her lips.

“…Not as such, no. Somebody needs to hold this place together while everyone who matters is traumatized or hysterical.” Ah, yes. The old standby for when El didn’t REALLY want to do her job. …Hard to blame her, really, after everything the Ninth had done recently. It was probably worse over there than it was over here, what with Lady Malal.

…For once, she had a point, as much as I wanted to press the issue. Arty was a wreck, I’d barely even seen Gerty since I got back, and Enyo and I were completely irresponsible whenever we could get away with it (which wasn’t nearly often enough).

We made something amounting to small talk for a bit after that, the awkward kind that you have with someone when you haven’t spoken to them for a while and you both damn well know you could have but you kept putting it off.

…Well, about half of it was cripple jokes, but that’s just something to get used to. It could only sting so much, really, with all the work Enyo put into my prostheses.

She was probably still angry when I left, but she’d get over it. I made a mental note to try and do something nice for her.

---

I was astonished when I returned to my room to find that my bed had grown an impressive tumor, the kind where the drapey bits of ceremonial robes and a few locks of forest-green hair poke out from under the blanket. The roughly little girl-sized kind. It wasn’t the first time, at least.

The High Inquisitor was hiding again – nobody but Arty would seriously try to find her here, and anyone who visited me would know enough to just leave her alone if they caught her. Poor thing was probably exhausted from all the hell she’d been through since Walpurgisnacht, it was a wonder she hadn’t run off into the countryside.

A more mature and less exhausted person might gently call her name. Today that was…not me. Gerty had been one of my closest friends since we’d contracted, but, ah…

Well, fuck it. I leapt onto the bed, directly onto the center of that little tumor, and immediately regretted it as about a fucktillion volts or amps or whatever the hell you measure it in coursed through my body, sending me into a twitching mess on the floor.

Didn’t last long, of course. My cybernetics were insulated, and I was a good bit tougher than to be put down by one of Her Grace’s cranky shocks. I was fairly confident that at least one of us didn’t piss herself, too.

I pulled myself up onto my knees as she sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes with a sleeve. …She was one of the only people here smaller than I was, truth be told; the Incubator had contracted her at nine, and she hadn’t changed much in the five or so years since. She stared down at me with bleary eyes, then around the room.

“…What time is it?”

“Oh, no, I’m fine, don’t fret too much. Just a bit smoky.”

“I know. Time?” Her eye found my alarm clock on the nightstand, and her features twisted into a frown.

“I left my watch at home. You might be sleeping on it.” Despite my best efforts, I was rapidly running out of patience for Gerty’s nonsense today. She took a deep breath, then sighed.

“Yes, yes, I’m sorry. I should have asked. I meant to take a nap, but…”

“But that was hours ago.” She winced at that and looked away, hands fidgeting in her lap. I settled in next to her and ruffled her hair. I’m always relieved anymore whenever I don’t catch a few strands in my finger joints or…something. I’m sure Enyo thought of that, but even so.

“The world won’t end if you take a break once in a while. God knows Hash won’t be done sucking on his brother’s tit until we’re long dead,” I continued, but all she did was wince again and try to pull her robes up around herself, as if to hide in them a little more. “…Right?”

“…We have to look presentable for the other Officios. If that awful dog-woman senses even the smallest hint of weakness…”

“Lady Russ isn’t that bad.” I lied. I had to, though; I’d be begging Her Alphaness a favor, myself, and I was looking forward to that almost as much as my next therapy session.

“Fine, but the Americans-“

“-have a new Warmaster, who I’ve heard is actually quite nice.”

“And it’s the first time we’re meeting. This will be her first impression of the Second, and if it goes poorly-”

“-then we’ll have lost the incredibly valuable opinions of screaming madmen. I’m sure we’ll live.” She scowled up at me, and I met it with a grin. Her Grace didn’t like being interrupted OR corrected, but at least she looked a bit less miserable.

“…The Chinese will also be here,” she added after another minute, tearing her eyes away from mine. “And their Eversor Rank Leader.”

…The old Marshal, under Lady Erebus. It wasn’t as though I hadn’t met her since her excommunication – the old guard came together once a year, outside the watchful eye of the Church, to mourn our dead. But Valentina Tenko was…at times, a hard person to deal with, for me especially. I wasn’t looking forward to seeing her, not after my own…

Not after throwing away the lives of nearly everyone here that would still look her in the eye.

“…Don’t worry about me, Your Gertiness. It’s probably better to swallow that pill early, anyway. I just hope the Spiritual Liege doesn’t screech too much with that awful accent of hers. I can still hear it in my damned nightmares after the last meeting.”

The High Inquisitor giggled and kicked her feet against the side of the bed, though it didn’t last long.

“…Actually, I needed to talk to you about something else, too.” Her voice was a little quieter than usual, and she stared down at her feet. She may have been trying to wiggle them out of her robes so she could look at her boots.

“Are you…” She fumbled with her words, something I’d only seen from Her Grace a handful of times. “…You’re working on rebuilding the Templars right now, I understand, but I need to ask something of you.”

“Spit it out, Your Grace.” She was uncomfortable enough with the request to dance around it all day. I fiddled with a lock of my hair and started carefully wording my refusal.

I was absolutely certain she was about to ask me about sex.

“I’d like you to act as Regent for a while once the other Officios leave.” Oh thank the Lady.

…What?

Gerty bit her lip, refusing to meet my gaze. She was quiet and still, the most afraid I’d seen her since the day she was promoted to High Inquisitor.

“Arturia’s not…well. She won’t tell me anything, and I can’t pretend she’s fit to lead right now. I had my concerns even before that, about whether she was…mature enough, you know.”

Gertrud von Egisheim was four years my junior and two years Arty’s. She wasn’t High Inquisitor because she was cute when she was angry, though – truth be told, she was probably one of the Warmasters I admired most, out of the ones I’d known and the ones I’d been forced to read and recite about as part of my training here.

She wasn’t wrong about Arty, on either count. Still, going over her Equerry’s head was…cold. This was also not shit I particularly wanted to deal with, and Her Royal Majesty would throw an absolute fit when she found out, no matter what state she was in.

…Wait.

“So…what’s stopping you from running the place, exactly?”

She scowled at the ground, and I knew the answer almost immediately.

“Hashmallim contacted me a few days after Walpurgisnacht. He…ah, he told me it was time to ascend to the First, and to give him a list of recommendations.”

It was the cat.

When it was bad news, it was always the fucking cat. We heard from him all of twice a year, and it was always either a fresh wave of contracts from his…abbeys…with no sense of the real world or it was something like this.

He was stealing our Warmaster out from under us when we were already hurting more than we had as long as I’d been at the Second, and I’m certain he barely considered it past ‘this is what my brother would like’.

“Please don’t tell me you signed everyone but me up to go to the fucking moon, Gerty.” She winced again. “…Sorry. Sorry. I just…”

“…I know. He told me the First is relaxing its standards on conscripts. I think they’re trying to gather up anyone that might be able to…ah…to survive their procedures. It might just be panic from Walpurgisnacht, but…”

“…but they’re preparing to mobilize against something. Bloody wonderful.”

She nodded a little, playing with her sleeves. …It’s hard to forget Her Grace is basically a kid in a lot of ways. It really just made me angrier.

“…So what’s the damage? Who else is going? Hesselius? Laura and Liz? Oh lord, is that why El is slacking on dealing with the Japs? Is it Liddell? Can it be Liddell?”

“…You. I recommended you, that’s all. …He doesn’t think you’re in any shape to make it, so I suggested a…trial period.”

“…Alright.” I didn’t know how to feel. I don’t think I felt anything, just…cold. I wasn’t mad, I don’t…really think it was her fault, but… “And this all wasn’t worth mentioning, oh, I don’t know, weeks ago?”

“Did you want me to slip a note into your bedpan, Alondight?” She snapped, and I shut my mouth. “What was I supposed to do? You know how he gets, if he got it in his head that I was obstructing the First, he’d have me retired. By you, if I was lucky.” She stared up at me, dark eyes crackling with electricity.

“Do you think I want to go to the-the fucking moon, Raleigh? I don’t even like going into the city. I’ve just been trying to think of a way to get out of it without throwing myself to the Akashic. Or locking myself in the library where nobody will see me for a thousand years and I’ll be some terrible sunlight-averse mutant speaking a dead language.”

Her voice grew louder and higher and squeakier as she spoke. She leaned in closer to me, then seemed to lose all of her energy at once.

“…Just tell me if you’ll do the job. If not, I’ll…ask Cosette. It’s only until Arturia’s fit to run the Officio again.”

“And to prove to Hashmallim you deserve a snuggle buddy up on the moon.” I didn’t really intend to let it go. I still didn’t know what to think, but I didn’t want to let it go. She stared coldly up at me, and I forced a smile and waved dismissively.

“Fine. Regent it is. Just for a bit, though, and no promises on the moon thing. I’d fancy my chances against just about everyone here, if he did get mad. Hell, it would be quite a way to die, wouldn’t it? Battling the legions of our furry overlords in the name of freedom.”

Gerty cracked a smile, and it made it that much easier to hold my own.

“I may come and get you myself if it’s too bad up there. You’re…you know.” One of her two friends, aside from Arty. I just nodded.

…I’d probably do the same.

“…So who gets to tell her you’re leaving?”

“That would be excellent practice for the new Regent, wouldn’t it?” She pushed herself to her feet and smoothed some of the wrinkles from her robe.

I patted her butt, and she made a face back at me.

“…What? I need to practice for my harem of concubines. A Regent must have concubines. It’s the first decree I’m instating when you leave.” The High Inquisitor’s face hardened as I apparently crossed a line. I could only shrug.

“If you tell Arty, I’ll put down the newspaper in the guest quarters for the Sixth. I’ll even change it every day.”

“…Deal.”

---

A knock on my door roused me only an hour or so after I managed to sleep, and I drifted over to it, stumbling in my nightgown and not a whole lot else.

“...High Marshal.” A bouquet of flowers nearly took both of my eyes out the moment I opened the door, and they called me by title, soft and hesitant. “…I’m sorry. About the other day.”

…Oh. It was Enyo. What was she…

Oh! Right. Right.

“Already forgot about that. Tired. Put them in a vase and join me in bed. S’an order.”

…I hadn’t quite drifted off again when I heard the heavy thunk of Enyo removing her prosthetic, then the much gentler noise of her setting it on my nightstand. One arm curled around my midsection, and I felt a little bit of the stress from dealing with every other bloody person in this Officio melt away.

“…Missed you.”

“Shh. Go to sleep, Enyo…”

Tomorrow would be…better. It couldn’t be much worse.

The Account of the Damned Chapter 4: Bad News

2015-04-10T20:55:41Z

NECOchama: Created page with "---THE FOLLOWING HAS NOT BEEN POSTED IN-THREAD YET; IT MAY BE SUBJECT TO MINOR CHANGES OR ART ADDITIONS--- For the dozenth time, the awful screech of metal on metal tore thro..."

---THE FOLLOWING HAS NOT BEEN POSTED IN-THREAD YET; IT MAY BE SUBJECT TO MINOR CHANGES OR ART ADDITIONS---

For the dozenth time, the awful screech of metal on metal tore through my senses, sent my heart roaring out of my chest. For the dozenth time, my arms were crushed under a colossal, whirring blade as my shield was forced back against me. For the dozenth time, my wheels tore impotently at the gore-slicked ground, blood coating the delicate machinery and…well, if it weren’t a dream, I imagine it would screw it up something terrible, magical or not.

Today I was a little more lucid, though today wasn’t exactly an ordinary stress dream. I pushed back against the massive blade and shouted for Dr. Liddell to do whatever the hell she planned to do, and an eternity later, as I felt the bones in my legs start to snap under the pressure, my heart skipped a beat and the world around me faded into tones of dreary gray. The teeth of the chainsaw stopped, as did the enormous pressure, and cautiously I rolled out from under my shield. It was still propped up in the same way it had been before, a thousand grayscale sparks frozen in the air around it, tilted impossibly in sheer defiance of gravity and common sense.

“…So can you fix it?” I could barely force the sounds out. Maybe I lost a rib or three somehow, too? …Stupid bloody dreams, never make any damn sense.

“Can I?” She bounced on her heels, a vision in blue and white in the midst in a sea of nothing. Her eyes had a way of piercing right through you in a way that stuck with you as much as any dream might. Her general refusal to be helpful in any way aside from the most oblique ones tended to stick with me almost as much, but she was a specialist, and apparently the best we had.

I stared at her for a moment, then straightened up, cracking my back and trying to dream up a mended skeleton. It didn’t really work, so I glided over to her instead, my wheels cutting through the blood-turned-mercury around them.

“If you dragged me here just to waste my time, Doctor, I’ve really got about a thousand other things I ought to be doing.” Like literally anything but this. She tutted at me, and I resisted the urge to hit her with the flat of my sword.

“I’ve seen all I have to see, but have you? Did you find the answer on the back of that old wheel, then? Something you didn’t see the first twenty or thirty times you had this dream?”

“…No.” I sighed.

“Then I wonder which of us is wasting the other’s time.” After a moment, then, she relented a little. “I’ve frozen the creature, so do what you feel is necessary, preferably before you do a hundred things that aren’t.”

I think I actually hate this woman.

“Can I just…kill it, then? Since you’ve got it all frozen here?” I looked to the thing, the…I don’t know. I’d never really done that before. It had been nothing but a black mess of claws and teeth and hatred to me. I don’t rightly think I could recall what it had looked like then, either, in the Barrier.

It didn’t seem right, somehow. More than the obvious. Something about it was different. One of its eyes (I hoped that was an eye) seemed to follow me, even as if it was frozen. As though it might bear down on me at any moment.

“If you could do that, then you wouldn’t need me, would you?” She lifted her skirt and began to wade through the silvery mess of gore below us.

“Fine. I can’t just kill it. Can you?” I wheeled after her, forcing my body to heal itself as much as I could offhand. Wonder if doing that in a dream actually uses magic. Probably does. Bloody loopholes.

“Yes and no. I don’t particularly care to invade minds, and I certainly don’t care to reshape them. Bit too much like a doctor’s work, that.” She came to a stop behind the beast, and I frowned at her as I pulled up to her side.

“Aren’t you-“

“Doctors take classes, High Marshal. Doctors work in institutions. I’ve no interest in either; I have wits and experience and nothing else.”

“And magic.” She gave me a dirty look for that one before continuing.

“If you want someone to stab the trauma out, I can recommend you to the American Callidus Prima.” She spoke slowly, deliberately, unblinking as her gaze bored holes into me. “I cannot, however, recommend the Prima to you - be a bit like excising a tumor with a shotgun, I think.”

“You don’t think it would go well?” I didn’t know the girl in question all that well myself, but I knew her enough to take the suggestion with the grain of salt Liddell was offering.

“Well, you wouldn’t have a tumor anymore.” She shrugged, then turned her attention to the ugly, berserking behemoth, now that we’d made our way around to its backside. “I’ve noticed something. Haven’t you?”

“You were just…” I bit my tongue. Not literally, right then, but I realized she’d only get more obnoxious if I let her. Instead, I followed her gaze toward the creature, toward white, wavy hair drenched in blood, a jagged crown perched atop its head, toward…enormous, barbed wheels beneath it-

“Piss.” I sat up on the couch in Dr. Liddell’s office, the skin and…metal…under my prostheses burning like mad. The doctor was staring intensely at me, as if mentally noting every small movement I made.

“Piiiiss,” I added for emphasis. “This is one of those fucking…psychological things, isn’t it.” I hugged myself tightly, squeezing the flesh left on my arms with steel fingers.

“It didn’t go well, I take it.” She reached for a notepad and sat back in her seat.

“You were just…you…” I hate this.

I hate therapy.

I think I hate psychiatrists.

And I hate dreams.

---

I cut my appointment short (citing an overwhelming urge to strangle someone) and was curtly reminded to be back before she had to start hounding me again, then given some self-analysis homework which I frankly had no intention of actually doing.

(If I heard about that homework from Enyo again later I planned to make good on that strangling bit, too.)

No, lucky me, after an obnoxious trainwreck of a therapy session I’d finally decided to make good on paying El a proper visit, which I hadn’t really done since I got mobile again. We talked a bit while I was laid-up, but that was mostly shallow mockery and trading barbs – she asked me how the rest of the Templars were, and I asked her why there wasn’t a bloody report about the Japs’ operations in Russia in my stumps already.

…Come to think of it, she still hasn’t given me a followup about that. One more thing on the miles long to-do list. Fantastic.

I tried to force a smile as I crossed the threshold into Elcarys’s chamber, an enormous white room that was, I think, just magicked to seem bigger than it was. The whole place was flawless, a tea room from a fairy tale with a floor I could see myself in. There was an inky black carpet, too, leading to a grand, open window, a tea table, and the devil herself.

It was wide open, filling the room with a refreshing breeze and making the whole thing sparkle in the bright summer sunlight, which was damned impressive given it was barely spring and had been raining for two days. But El liked things perfect and atmospheric, and bad mood or not, I couldn’t help but appreciate the décor right at that moment.

“Don’t step on the flooring, you’ll scratch it,” she murmured idly as she gazed out at her own sunny illusion. I settled into the chair opposite her after I made my way over, and was pleasantly surprised to see she’d already made tea – Darjeeling, my favorite. She’d poured it already, too, and…it was almost certainly an illusion.

I sipped at it anyway while I thought about what to say. Tasted fine enough, illusion or not. I was surprised when she was the first one to speak.

“Since you’re here now, does that mean you’re done feeling sorry for yourself?” …Ouch. “I suppose having Enyo to feel sorry for you instead helps.” Double ouch. She was in a fantastic mood today, too.

“I don’t think I’ll be done for a while, El, don’t you worry. This pity party is lasting all week, at very least.” Her lips cracked into a faint smile, and I relaxed a bit.

El was…complicated. Our relationship was complicated. Her thing with Enyo, also complicated. I knew she’d be sulking about us hooking up eventually, but I expected at very least some terrible nightmares first. …Some fresh, new ones.

She called herself a Succubus, and named her squad the same. Got a lot of disapproving looks from the crowd at the Second, but what didn’t, really? The Callidus here already caught plenty of hell just for doing their job – the usual garbage about how ignoble and heretical it was, except for when we needed them for something.

…The Templars got the same kind of treatment, now and again, so as much of a bitch as El could be, I wasn’t entirely without sympathy.

“I’m going to assume you’re here to ask a favor. Did Liddell send you? Are you here for a new dream?” That wasn’t a bad idea. Liddell to help understand dreams, that American girl to kill them, and El for new ones.

I had to mull her offer over a bit. She was in a bad mood, so it was entirely likely she was laying out bait to screw me later. On the other hand, just about anything she could dream up would be a nice change from the new, existential horror of facing down a monstrous, broken version of myself every night.

“Yes. Well, no, I didn’t really come here to ask, but if you’re offering…”

“Oh, I wasn’t offering,” she purred, her usual smirk finding its way back on her face. “But it’s nice to know you need something from me.” I couldn’t help but smile a little. At least this way, the tension lifted a bit.

“If I need anything, it’s a report on-“

“The Japanese, yes, yes. It’s…you might call it a hornet’s nest. Very delicate work. Spying on another Officio isn’t as simple as a wiretap and a night of passion.” She took a sip of her tea, then snorted. “Well, it might be now, with the state their Warmaster’s in. And with all the Culexus dead. Who’s going to stop me? Karasawa?”

She finished her tea in one go, then pointedly refilled her cup. Naturally, she brought the teapot as high as she could manage just to show off a bit – I watched for a splash over the side, but there wasn’t a drop. Probably still wasn’t real.

“The only think Karasawa can catch is a bucket of ice cream. And while I may be cold, sweet, and tasty…”

“You’re not ice cream. Got it.” I nodded. “So, ah…you plan on going yourself, then?”

There was a long, awkward pause, and she raised her cup to her lips.

“…Not as such, no. Somebody needs to hold this place together while everyone who matters is traumatized or hysterical.” Ah, yes. The old standby for when El didn’t REALLY want to do her job. …Hard to blame her, really, after everything the Ninth had done recently. It was probably worse over there than it was over here, what with Lady Malal.

…For once, she had a point, as much as I wanted to press the issue. Arty was a wreck, I’d barely even seen Gerty since I got back, and Enyo and I were completely irresponsible whenever we could get away with it (which wasn’t nearly often enough).

We made something amounting to small talk for a bit after that, the awkward kind that you have with someone when you haven’t spoken to them for a while and you both damn well know you could have but you kept putting it off.

…Well, about half of it was cripple jokes, but that’s just something to get used to. It could only sting so much, really, with all the work Enyo put into my prostheses.

She was probably still angry when I left, but she’d get over it. I made a mental note to try and do something nice for her.

---

I was astonished when I returned to my room to find that my bed had grown an impressive tumor, the kind where the drapey bits of ceremonial robes and a few locks of forest-green hair poke out from under the blanket. The roughly little girl-sized kind. It wasn’t the first time, at least.

The High Inquisitor was hiding again – nobody but Arty would seriously try to find her here, and anyone who visited me would know enough to just leave her alone if they caught her. Poor thing was probably exhausted from all the hell she’d been through since Walpurgisnacht, it was a wonder she hadn’t run off into the countryside.

A more mature and less exhausted person might gently call her name. Today that was…not me. Gerty had been one of my closest friends since we’d contracted, but, ah…

Well, fuck it. I leapt onto the bed, directly onto the center of that little tumor, and immediately regretted it as about a fucktillion volts or amps or whatever the hell you measure it in coursed through my body, sending me into a twitching mess on the floor.

Didn’t last long, of course. My cybernetics were insulated, and I was a good bit tougher than to be put down by one of Her Grace’s cranky shocks. I was fairly confident that at least one of us didn’t piss herself, too.

I pulled myself up onto my knees as she sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes with a sleeve. …She was one of the only people here smaller than I was, truth be told; the Incubator had contracted her at nine, and she hadn’t changed much in the five or so years since. She stared down at me with bleary eyes, then around the room.

“…What time is it?”

“Oh, no, I’m fine, don’t fret too much. Just a bit smoky.”

“I know. Time?” Her eye found my alarm clock on the nightstand, and her features twisted into a frown.

“I left my watch at home. You might be sleeping on it.” Despite my best efforts, I was rapidly running out of patience for Gerty’s nonsense today. She took a deep breath, then sighed.

“Yes, yes, I’m sorry. I should have asked. I meant to take a nap, but…”

“But that was hours ago.” She winced at that and looked away, hands fidgeting in her lap. I settled in next to her and ruffled her hair. I’m always relieved anymore whenever I don’t catch a few strands in my finger joints or…something. I’m sure Enyo thought of that, but even so.

“The world won’t end if you take a break once in a while. God knows Hash won’t be done sucking on his brother’s tit until we’re long dead,” I continued, but all she did was wince again and try to pull her robes up around herself, as if to hide in them a little more. “…Right?”

“…We have to look presentable for the other Officios. If that awful dog-woman senses even the smallest hint of weakness…”

“Lady Russ isn’t that bad.” I lied. I had to, though; I’d be begging Her Alphaness a favor, myself, and I was looking forward to that almost as much as my next therapy session.

“Fine, but the Americans-“

“-have a new Warmaster, who I’ve heard is actually quite nice.”

“And it’s the first time we’re meeting. This will be her first impression of the Second, and if it goes poorly-”

“-then we’ll have lost the incredibly valuable opinions of screaming madmen. I’m sure we’ll live.” She scowled up at me, and I met it with a grin. Her Grace didn’t like being interrupted OR corrected, but at least she looked a bit less miserable.

“…The Chinese will also be here,” she added after another minute, tearing her eyes away from mine. “And their Eversor Rank Leader.”

…The old Marshal, under Lady Erebus. It wasn’t as though I hadn’t met her since her excommunication – the old guard came together once a year, outside the watchful eye of the Church, to mourn our dead. But Valentina Tenko was…at times, a hard person to deal with, for me especially. I wasn’t looking forward to seeing her, not after my own…

Not after throwing away the lives of nearly everyone here that would still look her in the eye.

“…Don’t worry about me, Your Gertiness. It’s probably better to swallow that pill early, anyway. I just hope the Spiritual Liege doesn’t screech too much with that awful accent of hers. I can still hear it in my damned nightmares after the last meeting.”

The High Inquisitor giggled and kicked her feet against the side of the bed, though it didn’t last long.

“…Actually, I needed to talk to you about something else, too.” Her voice was a little quieter than usual, and she stared down at her feet. She may have been trying to wiggle them out of her robes so she could look at her boots.

“Are you…” She fumbled with her words, something I’d only seen from Her Grace a handful of times. “…You’re working on rebuilding the Templars right now, I understand, but I need to ask something of you.”

“Spit it out, Your Grace.” She was uncomfortable enough with the request to dance around it all day. I fiddled with a lock of my hair and started carefully wording my refusal.

I was absolutely certain she was about to ask me about sex.

“I’d like you to act as Regent for a while once the other Officios leave.” Oh thank the Lady.

…What?

Gerty bit her lip, refusing to meet my gaze. She was quiet and still, the most afraid I’d seen her since the day she was promoted to High Inquisitor.

“Arturia’s not…well. She won’t tell me anything, and I can’t pretend she’s fit to lead right now. I had my concerns even before that, about whether she was…mature enough, you know.”

Gertrud von Egisheim was four years my junior and two years Arty’s. She wasn’t High Inquisitor because she was cute when she was angry, though – truth be told, she was probably one of the Warmasters I admired most, out of the ones I’d known and the ones I’d been forced to read and recite about as part of my training here.

She wasn’t wrong about Arty, on either count. Still, going over her Equerry’s head was…cold. This was also not shit I particularly wanted to deal with, and Her Royal Majesty would throw an absolute fit when she found out, no matter what state she was in.

…Wait.

“So…what’s stopping you from running the place, exactly?”

She scowled at the ground, and I knew the answer almost immediately.

“Hashmallim contacted me a few days after Walpurgisnacht. He…ah, he told me it was time to ascend to the First, and to give him a list of recommendations.”

It was the cat.

When it was bad news, it was always the fucking cat. We heard from him all of twice a year, and it was always either a fresh wave of contracts from his…abbeys…with no sense of the real world or it was something like this.

He was stealing our Warmaster out from under us when we were already hurting more than we had as long as I’d been at the Second, and I’m certain he barely considered it past ‘this is what my brother would like’.

“Please don’t tell me you signed everyone but me up to go to the fucking moon, Gerty.” She winced again. “…Sorry. Sorry. I just…”

“…I know. He told me the First is relaxing its standards on conscripts. I think they’re trying to gather up anyone that might be able to…ah…to survive their procedures. It might just be panic from Walpurgisnacht, but…”

“…but they’re preparing to mobilize against something. Bloody wonderful.”

She nodded a little, playing with her sleeves. …It’s hard to forget Her Grace is basically a kid in a lot of ways. It really just made me angrier.

“…So what’s the damage? Who else is going? Hesselius? Laura and Liz? Oh lord, is that why El is slacking on dealing with the Japs? Is it Liddell? Can it be Liddell?”

“…You. I recommended you, that’s all. …He doesn’t think you’re in any shape to make it, so I suggested a…trial period.”

“…Alright.” I didn’t know how to feel. I don’t think I felt anything, just…cold. I wasn’t mad, I don’t…really think it was her fault, but… “And this all wasn’t worth mentioning, oh, I don’t know, months ago?”

“Did you want me to slip a note into your bedpan, Alondight?” She snapped, and I shut my mouth. “What was I supposed to do? You know how he gets, if he got it in his head that I was obstructing the First, he’d have me retired. By you, if I was lucky.” She stared up at me, dark eyes crackling with electricity.

“Do you think I want to go to the-the fucking moon, Raleigh? I don’t even like going into the city. I’ve just been trying to think of a way to get out of it without throwing myself to the Akashic. Or locking myself in the library where nobody will see me for a thousand years and I’ll be some terrible sunlight-averse mutant speaking a dead language.”

Her voice grew louder and higher and squeakier as she spoke. She leaned in closer to me, then seemed to lose all of her energy at once.

“…Just tell me if you’ll do the job. If not, I’ll…ask Cosette. It’s only until Arturia’s fit to run the Officio again.”

“And to prove to Hashmallim you deserve a snuggle buddy up on the moon.” I didn’t really intend to let it go. I still didn’t know what to think, but I didn’t want to let it go. She stared coldly up at me, and I forced a smile and waved dismissively.

“Fine. Regent it is. Just for a bit, though, and no promises on the moon thing. I’d fancy my chances against just about everyone here, if he did get mad. Hell, it would be quite a way to die, wouldn’t it? Battling the legions of our furry overlords in the name of freedom.”

Gerty cracked a smile, and it made it that much easier to hold my own.

“I may come and get you myself if it’s too bad up there. You’re…you know.” One of her two friends, aside from Arty. I just nodded.

…I’d probably do the same.

“…So who gets to tell her you’re leaving?”

“That would be excellent practice for the new Regent, wouldn’t it?” She pushed herself to her feet and smoothed some of the wrinkles from her robe.

I patted her butt, and she made a face back at me.

“…What? I need to practice for my harem of concubines. A Regent must have concubines. It’s the first decree I’m instating when you leave.” The High Inquisitor’s face hardened as I apparently crossed a line. I could only shrug.

“If you tell Arty, I’ll put down the newspaper in the guest quarters for the Sixth. I’ll even change it every day.”

“…Deal.”

---

A knock on my door roused me only an hour or so after I managed to sleep, and I drifted over to it, stumbling in my nightgown and not a whole lot else.

“...High Marshal.” A bouquet of flowers nearly took both of my eyes out the moment I opened the door, and they called me by title, soft and hesitant. “…I’m sorry. About the other day.”

…Oh. It was Enyo. What was she…

Oh! Right. Right.

“Already forgot about that. Tired. Put them in a vase and join me in bed. S’an order.”

…I hadn’t quite drifted off again when I heard the heavy thunk of Enyo removing her prosthetic, then the much gentler noise of her setting it on my nightstand. One arm curled around my midsection, and I felt a little bit of the stress from dealing with every other bloody person in this Officio melt away.

“…Missed you.”

“Shh. Go to sleep, Enyo…”

Tomorrow would be…better. It couldn’t be much worse.

The Account of the Damned Chapter 3: Shards of Red

2015-04-10T20:45:22Z

NECOchama:

A week after I had been re-limbed, things were approaching…as normal as they were liable to get, though Enyo had to be beaten away with a stick before she’d leave me to resume my duties. And everyone else’s duties.

It felt like damn near anyone else of serious importance was laid up or drowning in paperwork, a terrible obligation that I had not managed to evade even the slightest by being conveniently crippled. Quite the opposite, really; since Arty was still out after her lengthy brush with the Grand Terrible Asshole of the World, and the High Inquisitor was ALWAYS up to her mosquito bites in paperwork even without the world ending beneath her, I had a stack that was literally as tall as I was waiting in the office once I finally returned.

Naturally, I had resolved to put THAT nonsense off as long as possible, load as much as I could on Enyo, and shred about half of the rest. The tactic had served me as well as any sword. No, for the time being, I…

Today, I decided I’d bug Arty.

Her room in the hospital wing seemed brighter than mine, as I stepped over the threshold. Her Majesty and the rest of the Pure Bloodline Crew had rooms set aside from them, the ones the sun caught just a touch better. The ones with slightly newer paint, slightly nicer beds. I would have resented that a few days ago, but I’d gone back to not caring now that I wasn’t stuck in a bed nearly soiling myself.

…Her hair was down, and it suited her. Didn’t see her that way often, it was…probably nearly as long as mine was, and you’d never guess. It looked a little pale, a bit too white – for that matter, so did she. Not quite all there at the moment, either, as she sat and stared out the window. It was hard to blame her - apparently the extraction team didn’t find her until a few days after Walpurgisnacht, just…standing there in the Point in a sea of grief seeds, murmuring. The squad with her was gone, but frankly, none of us were worried about whether Arty herself would come back.

And at the risk of sounding cold, we got a massive load of grief seeds out of the deal. Walpurgisnacht tended to be good for that, if nothing else.

I landed on the bed next to her with a pomf and a squeak, and she jumped, her hand snapping to where her scabbard would usually be. Whoops.

“Quite a welcome, Highness. You look, if I may, like hell warmed over.” I smiled and tried to play it off. She didn’t seem amused.

“It’s good to see you on your feet. In a manner of speaking.” When she spoke, it was slow and careful; she was biting back some barely-restrained irritation. Good, good. Arty was probably going to be alright. “We were…worried. That you wouldn’t be fit for duty anymore.” After a moment, she added, “Not that that’s…the only reason.”

“I know, I know. I’m not sure what I’d do, either, if it weren’t for…well.” I raised a blacksteel hand and wiggled my fingers. “…So, how’d it go? Run into any interesting witches? Mine, maybe? Always wanted to see what she’s like. Probably awesome.” Probably like a terrible monster of blood and steel and fucking chainsaws.

“That isn’t funny.”

“…No, it isn’t.” My smile faltered a bit, and there was a flicker of sympathy in her eyes.

“The truth of it is, I don’t remember much. Fighting with the puella I’d chosen to bring along with me, a…witch, of a rather personal nature. No, it wasn’t yours. …I’d rather not discuss it. And…” A flicker of hesitation, and the reassurance that Arty was still a terrible liar. “…I don’t remember much else before the extraction team arrived and I awoke back in the castle.”

I decided not to press her too much. Lord knows I didn’t want to talk about work too much, either.

“Didja talk to what’s-her-face yet, then? She know you made it out okay?” One of Arty’s…well, to be blunt, rare friends, apparently met her during one of those days we sent her off to the city to not work for a change. I think she was from the…Seventeenth? Sixteenth? Was there anyone in the Eighteenth? Couldn’t be the Fourteenth, probably wasn’t…bugger, doesn’t matter.

“…I’d like to wait for Doctor Liddell to finish picking my brain apart, and I’m sure we’re not the only ones with a lot to deal with.” I tried not to sigh, and made a note to get ahold of Frito or whatever her name was and let her know that Arty hadn’t kicked the bucket. Easier said than done. Without stealing Arty’s phone.

I made a note to steal Arty’s phone.

“She says you can’t avoid her forever, by the by,” she continued after a moment. “The doctor, I mean. I imagine she’ll start showing up in your doorway at night soon.”

I nodded absently – yes, that was about what I expected. Maybe best to bite the bullet. Or lock the-no, that wouldn’t work. Piss.

[[File:Hellwarmedover.jpg|400px|thumb|left]]A few minutes passed as Arty returned to staring out the window, something inscrutable bubbling through her mind. I did the same, with a bit more scruting.

I still wanted to pay Elcarys a visit, and…Enyo and I really needed to have a talk that I had no idea how to touch. This was a lot easier when we just killed witches, wasn’t it? …I wasn’t sure I had time for either today, or even in the immediate future. I’d have to check in with El before the Grand Post-WPN Dickwave, at least.

“…The flesh of the fallen angels,” Arty murmured, snapping me out of my little reverie. I had to ask her to repeat it, to make sure I’d heard it correctly. “You remember it, don’t you? From training?”

…Of course I did. It was part of the…rhetoric that the old High Marshall had been spouting, after she went nutters but before Gerty booted her and her cult out. The Lady Ahriman’s gospel. At length, I nodded, and she nodded back.

“It’s been on my mind lately. Since…” Her voice was uncharacteristically quiet, and I nodded again. …I could swear I’d heard whispers of it in my dreams, too, under the screaming. The little, niggling sounds that don’t even strike you as memorable until suddenly they’re crystal clear.

“…It isn’t normal, Raleigh.” She pursed her lips, and…well. I’d known Arty Pendragon a long time. We’d contracted at nearly the same time; we were basically kids when we started training in the Templars, and even then, I’d only seen fear on her face twice.

Three times, now.

“…The Realm’s hard on everyone. Walpurgisnacht, doubly so. You’re a bit fucked in the head right now because…Lady knows how long you were actually in there, or what actually happened. But you made it out, yeah? Just…” I tried to think of something adequate to say. A kinder lie, something at least a little convincing.

“Just don’t dwell on it. Something in there struck a nerve, happens to everyone. Even me, now and again.” I winked at that and patted her shoulder, and she bristled a little. Good. I had no idea what I’d do if she started crying or something. Probably check to see if I was in a barrier. Or if I’d died and hadn’t…I could be a witch RIGHT NOW and not even realize it.

No, that was not a rabbit hole I was at all comfortable with going down.

I forced a smile and pushed myself to my feet.

“I’ll be acting in your stead as an aide and whatnot, so if you need anything done in an official capacity…I can grossly misuse my new power and make it happen. Until you’re feeling fit to fly again, at least.”

She didn’t smile at that, either. As expected of Her Majesty.

---

It was cold, I realized. A delayed, dim sort of realization that sinks in after the weight of a situation fills you, after dread has ever-so-slightly loosed its grip on your heart. It was cold, and I had to laugh. Around me, splotches of red blossomed like scarlet flowers in bloody springtime. My hand…I could still feel it bleeding, feel a distant, awful pain, but there was no blood. Of course there was no blood. I couldn’t bleed anymore, not from there.

I could hear it – the awful, mechanical whir, the noise of senseless destruction. Now, though…now it was beautiful. It was the sound of dark salvation, a path for only the blackest of hearts. She was my savior now. She was as the Lady herself, silhouetted against the soft glow of the world around me.

“High Marshal, you...I need a decision.” Her voice echoed from the stygian darkness, and my lips cracked into a macabre smile.

“Burn them, Enyo. Every single one.” My claws were flaked with red, and each little movement of my hands made me want to stain them all the more.

“I…I can’t, High Marshal. We can’t.” Enyo’s deep, brown eyes, normally cold and intense, pleaded sweetly. “If we do this, the Second will…”

“Damn the Second, man!” I picked at the wax seal, trying to even it out a bit. It was too splotchy, and even if the Sixth wouldn’t notice it, Arty AND Gerty would, if they saw it. I eyed the paper shredder and wondered if I could throw the damn letter in from here. Probably. I could probably make it.

…There were shards of red wax all over my desk and I was pretty sure I’d accidentally mashed some into the wood hard enough to kind of stick. It only made me angrier.

“The High Inquisitor’s already signed off on the other letters of summons, but as her aide-“ Enyo started to parrot Officio policy at me, and I scoffed as loudly as I could to interrupt her, then scoffed again when she tried to continue.

And again after that.

“I know, I know. Bloody hell, though, can’t you take care of ANY of this? What if a fire just started? It wouldn’t be our fault if, you know, a wheel started sparking against the floor, or…whatever. We’re both cyborgs, those things are bound to happen.” We stared at each other for a second more, then she snickered.

“I’ll fake your signature on as much of it as I can.”

“Consider it an official command from your High Marshal.” Most of it, really, was crap Arty couldn’t sign off on right now – Second nonsense that oughtn’t have been my job, and nonsense that was keeping me from getting to more important Templar business.

Somewhere under the sea of requisition forms and protocol violations was a load of personnel files – roster information from our sister Officios, hopefully candidates I could get away with requesting. The Templars were down to two damned people, after Vivian’s temporary retirement and…

…Two. Even if only a couple of requests went through, we’d be in a much better place.

Hell, I’d even considered trying to round up High Marshal Erebus’s old gang, and see who I could skirt excommunication with. I may still give it a try. I started making a mental list of the old guard still kicking around, but Enyo broke my train of thought with a cackle.

“Are you reading these? This…You need to see this one.” I snatched the report she offered – protocol violation, probably just chewing gum during a…service…

“Enyo?” I managed after a minute of staring, trying to parse what I was looking at. “…How do you even fit a prayer book up there?”

“Apparently that’s the easy part.” Enyo snorted. I snatched up my pen and twirled it a bit, then scribbled down ‘NO FURTHER PUNISHMENT NECESSARY –RA’ across the page.

…

“D…D’ya suppose it was rolled up?” I couldn’t help it, it was still on my mind a few minutes later. “Like, with the cover taken off? Wouldn’t the paper stick like hell?”

“I suppose I assumed she just…jammed the whole thing in, I guess. Do you…did you want to try it?”

“…What?” I just stared at her.

“If you wanted to…experiment…I’d be willing to help.” The moment Enyo realized how weird this was, her face flushed a pretty pink. “…It’s natural to start to think about it, isn’t it?”

“Lady’s crystal snatch, Enyo, let’s just never talk about this again.” Ugh. Damn it. She was right, you just sort of start thinking about it. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to shake the feeling away.

“…Sorry.” …She slipped her arms around me, her chest pressing a bit against the back of my head. …Her chest is bigger than mine and that’s not even something I thought about until…that, the weirdness from the other day. My hands came to rest on hers, and we just stayed like that a minute.

“…It got weird, didn’t it?” I murmured out after a moment. “Not the prayer book bit.”

I’d never had a girlfriend before. I’d never thought about it too hard, even; the reality, I suppose, was that we’d fight for a while, try to make sure the new generation could, too, and die in a ditch somewhere. Made pursuing romance a bit strange. I wasn’t entirely sold on it even now, but I didn’t…

Well, thinking about it wouldn’t help any. Best to just go with it. That was often the difference between a knight and a pantywaist.

“…Come on,” she mumbled into my hair after another minute before dislodging herself from my person. “I can handle the rest of the disciplinary garbage. I’ll bring anything that looks interesting or questionable up with you, and you can get to the personnel listings for now. We can be done in a few hours.”

Aside from the part where I’d have to kiss serious ass to get transfers from any other Officio right after Walpurgisnacht, that was true enough. I flashed her a grin, and she leaned down to kiss my cheek.

…Alright. Review the Second’s Eversor and Vindicare divisions, then the Sixth, Seventh, Eighth, and whoever else we could get records from. That’ll turn up a few, at least.

No problem.

---

“Gabriel, Rosalin.”

It never ends.

“Eighth Officio, Las Vegas branch. Eversor. A boxer, apparently. Nasty temperament. Personal space issues. Consistently writes ‘punching the shit out of witches’ under her interests on surveys.”

“Mental health issues?” I interrupted Enyo, and she stared dumbly at me. She was just as tired as I was by now – I’d meant to get more done today, but we’d both been stuck in paperwork double hell all evening. As of about forty minutes ago, I’d decided to recline on the couch, and she offered to go through my ‘maybe’ pile of personnel files again. This was our fourth time through, and we’d sorted through all the Officios aside from…ugh…the Eighth.

“American.” Shorthand for ‘enough violent psychoses to require careful handling’.

“Fucking Americans. Next!” I closed my eyes, covering my eyes with my arm, cool metal barely padded by the silk sleeve of my casual shirt. “…No, leave her in the maybe pile. She hates witches a lot, apparently. That’s good. That’s great.”

“High Marshal, we need to narrow this down. We’ll be lucky to get one person from the other Officios right now. I think it might be better to, ah…”

“…to avoid people that are liable to go berserk in a pinch. Wouldn’t want another Kharn fucking Valnikov, I know.” My wheels whirred, buzzed angrily…then I realized I wasn’t transformed. …I clearly needed to get to sleep soon. “No, then. Next.”

“Graceland, Maple. Eighth, New York division. Vindicare, uses a riot shield and whatever’s handy. Seems to have-“

“Trouble working with a team, like every other American. Oh Lady, does she bite? Does she have rabies?” Enyo just snickered.

“You’re half-right. Astonishingly, she doesn’t seem to have any recorded mental problems-ah. She’s Canadian, maybe that explains it.”

“They go just as crazy once they defrost, mark my words. Sounds…alright, though. I’m not sold, but alright.”

Enyo breathed out a sigh of relief at that, and I would have smacked her for it, but she was over there and I didn’t much want to get up.

“Takahara, Hakufu. Santa Destroy, fantastic. A wrestler, can allegedly beat a witch to death with a school bus. Still a rookie, though, her file doesn’t have much to help either way.”

“They don’t always have school buses on the battlefield. Seems a bit limited, really.” I heard her crumple up a paper ball, and It donked off of my stomach a moment later.

“At least try to take this a bit seriously, High Marshal. You seemed to like the idea of bringing a rookie on a bit ago…”

“Serious answer, then? There’s probably some promise there, but I don’t want someone that probably spent most of her life sitting on top of an Akashic Point loitering about unless I know for certain what brain problems she has. And if I really wanted rookies, I’d be drawing more from the Second.” I sat up and stretched a bit, then snapped up the paper ball Enyo threw and started tossing it from hand to hand.

“Anyway, this is an opportunity to take a peek at other Officios’ training methods, hm?”

“So that’s a no, then.”

“We’ll present her to Springfield with our other requests, maybe we can get a freebie.” I shrugged, and Enyo nodded before snapping up one of the last papers in the pile.

“Wright, Dorothy. Santa Destroy-“

“Dammit.”

“…apparently the Wonderland Corps’ support unit. Creates shields and swings a battleaxe made by…oh. Oh my.”

“Right, yeah. That’s the reason I kept her in there. Are you rock hard right now?” I grinned over at her, and she nodded again.

Dorothy Wright was the Eighth’s contact with the Fourth, from what I understood – she used a modified Ironform they’d spent a not insignificant amount of their budget on a couple of years back. It might be the closest Enyo and I would ever get to one of those bloody toaster women without starting a war.

“…You think we have a chance in hell of getting her?” It was one of the few times in my life I’d seen Enyo look like a puppy begging for a treat.

“…No, there’s no way they’ll part with a Rabbit. But they’ll be much more eager to give us something else if we present her first. And if they DO give her to us…”

“…then I get to take her body apart?” Alright, it was getting a bit creepy. I shook my head.

“We’ll talk to her about it on the off-chance we get her to transfer. I’m sure she can offer up an arm and a leg or…something. She’s a bit of a marshmallow, from what little I know of her, so I bet we could talk her into taking off her chestplate for us.” And Enyo would get a chance to look at that sweet, sweet Fourth tech without them being able to do a damn thing about it. Or it’d cause a horrible diplomatic incident, probably for the Eighth for being so bloody careless.

Enyo slammed Wright’s sheet into the YES pile, but hesitated in picking up the last two.

“…High Marshal? I, ah. Actually, I slipped these last few in myself. They’re from the Ninth.”

For a second my blood froze. One of my arms started to itch in a way it really shouldn’t have been able to anymore, and I pushed myself up into a sitting position.

“Toss them, then,” I forced out after a second. “The Ninth isn’t going to give us piss all after we let their Culexus squad get fried.”

“You don’t need to talk to the Warmaster, but I think-“

“Enyo. Toss them.” I’m ashamed to say my voice squeaked. It wasn’t…I wasn’t ready for this. I’d skipped over them for a reason.

“…It’s Sayaka Miki and Kyouko Sakura. The First Knight and, I suspect, the Blood Knight. Their incarnations in our world. …You…remember, don’t you?”

…Yes, I remembered. The portent of our grand fucking victory. Piss on the First Knight. …I didn’t say it, just breathed deep and tried to keep a grip. Enyo continued after a minute.

“They’re some of the Ninth’s best Eversors. If we could get them to part with them it would…it could do a lot for the Templars.”

“Enyo. Enyo we are the Templars. Two of us. Taking in a stray dog would almost double our numbers. Anyone could do a lot for the Templars.” I fought very hard to keep the irritation off of my face. I don’t think it worked.

I just wanted her to drop it. Why wouldn’t she drop it?

“…You know what I mean, High Marshal. This isn’t an opportunity we should pass up. …Their woman hurt us very, very badly. If we call this reparations-“

I snapped.

“I don’t want them here. I don’t want anyone from the Ninth here. I don’t want to-I don’t want to fucking look at them.” …It was a pretty pitiful sort of whining, and I was ashamed of myself before it left my mouth. I pushed myself to my feet all at once, wobbled a bit on unsteady legs, and made for the door.

…I wanted her to stop me. I was really hoping she’d stop me. I wanted her to hug me and tell me it was okay, or that I was a silly bint, or something.

She didn’t.

The Account of the Damned Chapter 3: Shards of Red

2015-04-10T20:45:08Z

NECOchama: Created page with "The Account of the Damned ch. 3 – shards of red A week after I had been re-limbed, things were approaching…as normal as they were liable to get, though Enyo had to be bea..."

The Account of the Damned ch. 3 – shards of red

A week after I had been re-limbed, things were approaching…as normal as they were liable to get, though Enyo had to be beaten away with a stick before she’d leave me to resume my duties. And everyone else’s duties.

It felt like damn near anyone else of serious importance was laid up or drowning in paperwork, a terrible obligation that I had not managed to evade even the slightest by being conveniently crippled. Quite the opposite, really; since Arty was still out after her lengthy brush with the Grand Terrible Asshole of the World, and the High Inquisitor was ALWAYS up to her mosquito bites in paperwork even without the world ending beneath her, I had a stack that was literally as tall as I was waiting in the office once I finally returned.

Naturally, I had resolved to put THAT nonsense off as long as possible, load as much as I could on Enyo, and shred about half of the rest. The tactic had served me as well as any sword. No, for the time being, I…

Today, I decided I’d bug Arty.

Her room in the hospital wing seemed brighter than mine, as I stepped over the threshold. Her Majesty and the rest of the Pure Bloodline Crew had rooms set aside from them, the ones the sun caught just a touch better. The ones with slightly newer paint, slightly nicer beds. I would have resented that a few days ago, but I’d gone back to not caring now that I wasn’t stuck in a bed nearly soiling myself.

…Her hair was down, and it suited her. Didn’t see her that way often, it was…probably nearly as long as mine was, and you’d never guess. It looked a little pale, a bit too white – for that matter, so did she. Not quite all there at the moment, either, as she sat and stared out the window. It was hard to blame her - apparently the extraction team didn’t find her until a few days after Walpurgisnacht, just…standing there in the Point in a sea of grief seeds, murmuring. The squad with her was gone, but frankly, none of us were worried about whether Arty herself would come back.

And at the risk of sounding cold, we got a massive load of grief seeds out of the deal. Walpurgisnacht tended to be good for that, if nothing else.

I landed on the bed next to her with a pomf and a squeak, and she jumped, her hand snapping to where her scabbard would usually be. Whoops.

“Quite a welcome, Highness. You look, if I may, like hell warmed over.” I smiled and tried to play it off. She didn’t seem amused.

“It’s good to see you on your feet. In a manner of speaking.” When she spoke, it was slow and careful; she was biting back some barely-restrained irritation. Good, good. Arty was probably going to be alright. “We were…worried. That you wouldn’t be fit for duty anymore.” After a moment, she added, “Not that that’s…the only reason.”

“I know, I know. I’m not sure what I’d do, either, if it weren’t for…well.” I raised a blacksteel hand and wiggled my fingers. “…So, how’d it go? Run into any interesting witches? Mine, maybe? Always wanted to see what she’s like. Probably awesome.” Probably like a terrible monster of blood and steel and fucking chainsaws.

“That isn’t funny.”

“…No, it isn’t.” My smile faltered a bit, and there was a flicker of sympathy in her eyes.

“The truth of it is, I don’t remember much. Fighting with the puella I’d chosen to bring along with me, a…witch, of a rather personal nature. No, it wasn’t yours. …I’d rather not discuss it. And…” A flicker of hesitation, and the reassurance that Arty was still a terrible liar. “…I don’t remember much else before the extraction team arrived and I awoke back in the castle.”

I decided not to press her too much. Lord knows I didn’t want to talk about work too much, either.

“Didja talk to what’s-her-face yet, then? She know you made it out okay?” One of Arty’s…well, to be blunt, rare friends, apparently met her during one of those days we sent her off to the city to not work for a change. I think she was from the…Seventeenth? Sixteenth? Was there anyone in the Eighteenth? Couldn’t be the Fourteenth, probably wasn’t…bugger, doesn’t matter.

“…I’d like to wait for Doctor Liddell to finish picking my brain apart, and I’m sure we’re not the only ones with a lot to deal with.” I tried not to sigh, and made a note to get ahold of Frito or whatever her name was and let her know that Arty hadn’t kicked the bucket. Easier said than done. Without stealing Arty’s phone.

I made a note to steal Arty’s phone.

“She says you can’t avoid her forever, by the by,” she continued after a moment. “The doctor, I mean. I imagine she’ll start showing up in your doorway at night soon.”

I nodded absently – yes, that was about what I expected. Maybe best to bite the bullet. Or lock the-no, that wouldn’t work. Piss.

[[File:Hellwarmedover.jpg|400px|thumb|left]]A few minutes passed as Arty returned to staring out the window, something inscrutable bubbling through her mind. I did the same, with a bit more scruting.

I still wanted to pay Elcarys a visit, and…Enyo and I really needed to have a talk that I had no idea how to touch. This was a lot easier when we just killed witches, wasn’t it? …I wasn’t sure I had time for either today, or even in the immediate future. I’d have to check in with El before the Grand Post-WPN Dickwave, at least.

“…The flesh of the fallen angels,” Arty murmured, snapping me out of my little reverie. I had to ask her to repeat it, to make sure I’d heard it correctly. “You remember it, don’t you? From training?”

…Of course I did. It was part of the…rhetoric that the old High Marshall had been spouting, after she went nutters but before Gerty booted her and her cult out. The Lady Ahriman’s gospel. At length, I nodded, and she nodded back.

“It’s been on my mind lately. Since…” Her voice was uncharacteristically quiet, and I nodded again. …I could swear I’d heard whispers of it in my dreams, too, under the screaming. The little, niggling sounds that don’t even strike you as memorable until suddenly they’re crystal clear.

“…It isn’t normal, Raleigh.” She pursed her lips, and…well. I’d known Arty Pendragon a long time. We’d contracted at nearly the same time; we were basically kids when we started training in the Templars, and even then, I’d only seen fear on her face twice.

Three times, now.

“…The Realm’s hard on everyone. Walpurgisnacht, doubly so. You’re a bit fucked in the head right now because…Lady knows how long you were actually in there, or what actually happened. But you made it out, yeah? Just…” I tried to think of something adequate to say. A kinder lie, something at least a little convincing.

“Just don’t dwell on it. Something in there struck a nerve, happens to everyone. Even me, now and again.” I winked at that and patted her shoulder, and she bristled a little. Good. I had no idea what I’d do if she started crying or something. Probably check to see if I was in a barrier. Or if I’d died and hadn’t…I could be a witch RIGHT NOW and not even realize it.

No, that was not a rabbit hole I was at all comfortable with going down.

I forced a smile and pushed myself to my feet.

“I’ll be acting in your stead as an aide and whatnot, so if you need anything done in an official capacity…I can grossly misuse my new power and make it happen. Until you’re feeling fit to fly again, at least.”

She didn’t smile at that, either. As expected of Her Majesty.

---

It was cold, I realized. A delayed, dim sort of realization that sinks in after the weight of a situation fills you, after dread has ever-so-slightly loosed its grip on your heart. It was cold, and I had to laugh. Around me, splotches of red blossomed like scarlet flowers in bloody springtime. My hand…I could still feel it bleeding, feel a distant, awful pain, but there was no blood. Of course there was no blood. I couldn’t bleed anymore, not from there.

I could hear it – the awful, mechanical whir, the noise of senseless destruction. Now, though…now it was beautiful. It was the sound of dark salvation, a path for only the blackest of hearts. She was my savior now. She was as the Lady herself, silhouetted against the soft glow of the world around me.

“High Marshal, you...I need a decision.” Her voice echoed from the stygian darkness, and my lips cracked into a macabre smile.

“Burn them, Enyo. Every single one.” My claws were flaked with red, and each little movement of my hands made me want to stain them all the more.

“I…I can’t, High Marshal. We can’t.” Enyo’s deep, brown eyes, normally cold and intense, pleaded sweetly. “If we do this, the Second will…”

“Damn the Second, man!” I picked at the wax seal, trying to even it out a bit. It was too splotchy, and even if the Sixth wouldn’t notice it, Arty AND Gerty would, if they saw it. I eyed the paper shredder and wondered if I could throw the damn letter in from here. Probably. I could probably make it.

…There were shards of red wax all over my desk and I was pretty sure I’d accidentally mashed some into the wood hard enough to kind of stick. It only made me angrier.

“The High Inquisitor’s already signed off on the other letters of summons, but as her aide-“ Enyo started to parrot Officio policy at me, and I scoffed as loudly as I could to interrupt her, then scoffed again when she tried to continue.

And again after that.

“I know, I know. Bloody hell, though, can’t you take care of ANY of this? What if a fire just started? It wouldn’t be our fault if, you know, a wheel started sparking against the floor, or…whatever. We’re both cyborgs, those things are bound to happen.” We stared at each other for a second more, then she snickered.

“I’ll fake your signature on as much of it as I can.”

“Consider it an official command from your High Marshal.” Most of it, really, was crap Arty couldn’t sign off on right now – Second nonsense that oughtn’t have been my job, and nonsense that was keeping me from getting to more important Templar business.

Somewhere under the sea of requisition forms and protocol violations was a load of personnel files – roster information from our sister Officios, hopefully candidates I could get away with requesting. The Templars were down to two damned people, after Vivian’s temporary retirement and…

…Two. Even if only a couple of requests went through, we’d be in a much better place.

Hell, I’d even considered trying to round up High Marshal Erebus’s old gang, and see who I could skirt excommunication with. I may still give it a try. I started making a mental list of the old guard still kicking around, but Enyo broke my train of thought with a cackle.

“Are you reading these? This…You need to see this one.” I snatched the report she offered – protocol violation, probably just chewing gum during a…service…

“Enyo?” I managed after a minute of staring, trying to parse what I was looking at. “…How do you even fit a prayer book up there?”

“Apparently that’s the easy part.” Enyo snorted. I snatched up my pen and twirled it a bit, then scribbled down ‘NO FURTHER PUNISHMENT NECESSARY –RA’ across the page.

…

“D…D’ya suppose it was rolled up?” I couldn’t help it, it was still on my mind a few minutes later. “Like, with the cover taken off? Wouldn’t the paper stick like hell?”

“I suppose I assumed she just…jammed the whole thing in, I guess. Do you…did you want to try it?”

“…What?” I just stared at her.

“If you wanted to…experiment…I’d be willing to help.” The moment Enyo realized how weird this was, her face flushed a pretty pink. “…It’s natural to start to think about it, isn’t it?”

“Lady’s crystal snatch, Enyo, let’s just never talk about this again.” Ugh. Damn it. She was right, you just sort of start thinking about it. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to shake the feeling away.

“…Sorry.” …She slipped her arms around me, her chest pressing a bit against the back of my head. …Her chest is bigger than mine and that’s not even something I thought about until…that, the weirdness from the other day. My hands came to rest on hers, and we just stayed like that a minute.

“…It got weird, didn’t it?” I murmured out after a moment. “Not the prayer book bit.”

I’d never had a girlfriend before. I’d never thought about it too hard, even; the reality, I suppose, was that we’d fight for a while, try to make sure the new generation could, too, and die in a ditch somewhere. Made pursuing romance a bit strange. I wasn’t entirely sold on it even now, but I didn’t…

Well, thinking about it wouldn’t help any. Best to just go with it. That was often the difference between a knight and a pantywaist.

“…Come on,” she mumbled into my hair after another minute before dislodging herself from my person. “I can handle the rest of the disciplinary garbage. I’ll bring anything that looks interesting or questionable up with you, and you can get to the personnel listings for now. We can be done in a few hours.”

Aside from the part where I’d have to kiss serious ass to get transfers from any other Officio right after Walpurgisnacht, that was true enough. I flashed her a grin, and she leaned down to kiss my cheek.

…Alright. Review the Second’s Eversor and Vindicare divisions, then the Sixth, Seventh, Eighth, and whoever else we could get records from. That’ll turn up a few, at least.

No problem.

---

“Gabriel, Rosalin.”

It never ends.

“Eighth Officio, Las Vegas branch. Eversor. A boxer, apparently. Nasty temperament. Personal space issues. Consistently writes ‘punching the shit out of witches’ under her interests on surveys.”

“Mental health issues?” I interrupted Enyo, and she stared dumbly at me. She was just as tired as I was by now – I’d meant to get more done today, but we’d both been stuck in paperwork double hell all evening. As of about forty minutes ago, I’d decided to recline on the couch, and she offered to go through my ‘maybe’ pile of personnel files again. This was our fourth time through, and we’d sorted through all the Officios aside from…ugh…the Eighth.

“American.” Shorthand for ‘enough violent psychoses to require careful handling’.

“Fucking Americans. Next!” I closed my eyes, covering my eyes with my arm, cool metal barely padded by the silk sleeve of my casual shirt. “…No, leave her in the maybe pile. She hates witches a lot, apparently. That’s good. That’s great.”

“High Marshal, we need to narrow this down. We’ll be lucky to get one person from the other Officios right now. I think it might be better to, ah…”

“…to avoid people that are liable to go berserk in a pinch. Wouldn’t want another Kharn fucking Valnikov, I know.” My wheels whirred, buzzed angrily…then I realized I wasn’t transformed. …I clearly needed to get to sleep soon. “No, then. Next.”

“Graceland, Maple. Eighth, New York division. Vindicare, uses a riot shield and whatever’s handy. Seems to have-“

“Trouble working with a team, like every other American. Oh Lady, does she bite? Does she have rabies?” Enyo just snickered.

“You’re half-right. Astonishingly, she doesn’t seem to have any recorded mental problems-ah. She’s Canadian, maybe that explains it.”

“They go just as crazy once they defrost, mark my words. Sounds…alright, though. I’m not sold, but alright.”

Enyo breathed out a sigh of relief at that, and I would have smacked her for it, but she was over there and I didn’t much want to get up.

“Takahara, Hakufu. Santa Destroy, fantastic. A wrestler, can allegedly beat a witch to death with a school bus. Still a rookie, though, her file doesn’t have much to help either way.”

“They don’t always have school buses on the battlefield. Seems a bit limited, really.” I heard her crumple up a paper ball, and It donked off of my stomach a moment later.

“At least try to take this a bit seriously, High Marshal. You seemed to like the idea of bringing a rookie on a bit ago…”

“Serious answer, then? There’s probably some promise there, but I don’t want someone that probably spent most of her life sitting on top of an Akashic Point loitering about unless I know for certain what brain problems she has. And if I really wanted rookies, I’d be drawing more from the Second.” I sat up and stretched a bit, then snapped up the paper ball Enyo threw and started tossing it from hand to hand.

“Anyway, this is an opportunity to take a peek at other Officios’ training methods, hm?”

“So that’s a no, then.”

“We’ll present her to Springfield with our other requests, maybe we can get a freebie.” I shrugged, and Enyo nodded before snapping up one of the last papers in the pile.

“Wright, Dorothy. Santa Destroy-“

“Dammit.”

“…apparently the Wonderland Corps’ support unit. Creates shields and swings a battleaxe made by…oh. Oh my.”

“Right, yeah. That’s the reason I kept her in there. Are you rock hard right now?” I grinned over at her, and she nodded again.

Dorothy Wright was the Eighth’s contact with the Fourth, from what I understood – she used a modified Ironform they’d spent a not insignificant amount of their budget on a couple of years back. It might be the closest Enyo and I would ever get to one of those bloody toaster women without starting a war.

“…You think we have a chance in hell of getting her?” It was one of the few times in my life I’d seen Enyo look like a puppy begging for a treat.

“…No, there’s no way they’ll part with a Rabbit. But they’ll be much more eager to give us something else if we present her first. And if they DO give her to us…”

“…then I get to take her body apart?” Alright, it was getting a bit creepy. I shook my head.

“We’ll talk to her about it on the off-chance we get her to transfer. I’m sure she can offer up an arm and a leg or…something. She’s a bit of a marshmallow, from what little I know of her, so I bet we could talk her into taking off her chestplate for us.” And Enyo would get a chance to look at that sweet, sweet Fourth tech without them being able to do a damn thing about it. Or it’d cause a horrible diplomatic incident, probably for the Eighth for being so bloody careless.

Enyo slammed Wright’s sheet into the YES pile, but hesitated in picking up the last two.

“…High Marshal? I, ah. Actually, I slipped these last few in myself. They’re from the Ninth.”

For a second my blood froze. One of my arms started to itch in a way it really shouldn’t have been able to anymore, and I pushed myself up into a sitting position.

“Toss them, then,” I forced out after a second. “The Ninth isn’t going to give us piss all after we let their Culexus squad get fried.”

“You don’t need to talk to the Warmaster, but I think-“

“Enyo. Toss them.” I’m ashamed to say my voice squeaked. It wasn’t…I wasn’t ready for this. I’d skipped over them for a reason.

“…It’s Sayaka Miki and Kyouko Sakura. The First Knight and, I suspect, the Blood Knight. Their incarnations in our world. …You…remember, don’t you?”

…Yes, I remembered. The portent of our grand fucking victory. Piss on the First Knight. …I didn’t say it, just breathed deep and tried to keep a grip. Enyo continued after a minute.

“They’re some of the Ninth’s best Eversors. If we could get them to part with them it would…it could do a lot for the Templars.”

“Enyo. Enyo we are the Templars. Two of us. Taking in a stray dog would almost double our numbers. Anyone could do a lot for the Templars.” I fought very hard to keep the irritation off of my face. I don’t think it worked.

I just wanted her to drop it. Why wouldn’t she drop it?

“…You know what I mean, High Marshal. This isn’t an opportunity we should pass up. …Their woman hurt us very, very badly. If we call this reparations-“

I snapped.

“I don’t want them here. I don’t want anyone from the Ninth here. I don’t want to-I don’t want to fucking look at them.” …It was a pretty pitiful sort of whining, and I was ashamed of myself before it left my mouth. I pushed myself to my feet all at once, wobbled a bit on unsteady legs, and made for the door.

…I wanted her to stop me. I was really hoping she’d stop me. I wanted her to hug me and tell me it was okay, or that I was a silly bint, or something.

She didn’t.

File:Hellwarmedover.jpg

2015-04-10T20:41:36Z

NECOchama: ~Not posted in thread~ Raleigh desperately tries to fill a conversational void.

~Not posted in thread~

Raleigh desperately tries to fill a conversational void.

The Account of the Damned Chapter 2: Saws

2015-04-10T20:39:49Z

NECOchama:

---APPROX. TWO WEEKS AFTER WALPURGISNACHT---

The worst of it, I think, was the sound. The screech of metal teeth on my shield, stripping it away, carving into it at an unreal pace. It came back to me whenever the room went silent. I could feel the blood around my knees, could sense it sinking into the gears of my wheels. …I had to take them off at some point. I scarcely remembered. There was no point in trying to wade through the gore there with them.

Enyo brought one of those little plug-in fountains that keeps flowing as long as you make sure there’s water in it. It helped a lot. She tried a fan before that, but the white noise…well, it was just as bad. It just changed into something else when I’d sleep. Nasty business. Wish there was something to help with the laughter, though. The manic…fucking glee in her voice, the blood-drenched smile on her…its…face.

Didn’t matter that I only got to see it once or twice. It was there when I closed my eyes. That, and the faces of the dead. Of the fifty girls that died there. The girls I’d led to their deaths, and the Culexus that we couldn’t protect. Whenever I slept, I relived it all over again. Every second of every minute of every hour. Every wound opened anew. The pressure on my shield crumpled my arms, pulverized the bones as I tried to hold the thing’s enormous weapons back. As I prayed for Mordred to be ready one moment sooner, or for somebody to come up with a real plan.

It wasn’t theirs to come up with, though. It was mine.

I could have done better. Even through the pain of losing my arms, of having my legs torn away from under me, I could have done better. I trained under Erebus, supposedly one of the finest Templars the Second had ever seen. For fuck’s sake, I could best Arty – the fucking Equerry, the Pendragon destined to lead the Officio, or whatever that was about – in nine fights out of ten. I’d taken on both of the Karnstein Sisters at once, barehanded, and come out on top.

I couldn’t stop thinking about it, in my waking hours. As they ran their tests on what remained of my body, as Enyo wheeled me around and pretended the fresh air did any damn good. I went over the leaders I’d seen in my time, ran scenarios in my head.

High Inquisitor Kiryuin would have cut through a witch like that as though it were nothing, all by herself. Gerty – High Inquisitor von Egisheim – would have had a plan, a real fucking plan, going in there. She would have expected things to go wrong. And High Marshal Erebus…

She would have made us better, if she were there. Mordred wouldn’t have run. We would have fought like beasts, if she’d been leading us. But we didn’t. I wasn’t High Marshal Erebus, and so we scattered, and we died.

…She’d told me before. Lady Malal did. I knew we were supposed to die. I knew it. I suppose I thought I might defy the odds somehow.

I guess I did.

“High Marshal,” Enyo quietly interrupted my pity party. “Lady Hesselius would like to examine you in her…” She didn’t want to say ‘laboratory’. “…office.” She meant ‘laboratory’.

...That may have been the part I hated the most. Not Cosette, Cosette was fine. Bit strange, really, but you get used to that, working with magical types. No, the way Enyo lifted me up like I might break in her arms. Her perfectly bloody functional arms. Wasn’t even dignified, didn’t have enough knees left for that. She’d looked at me with nothing but pity since we’d returned. Couldn’t quite blame her, but it made me feel angry and disgusted all the same.

Least it wasn’t to use the bathroom this time.

She didn’t say a word as she placed me in a wheelchair and started me down the hallway. …Couldn’t even transform now, not without everything just sort of falling on the bloody floor. They wouldn’t heal, the legs she’d torn away, or the arms she’d crushed. Too powerful, they said. Left her – its – mark, its own special kind of black-steel rot that’d grown over the stumps.

What Cosette had been poking at most recently was whether it’d be possible to attach functional mechanical prosthetics, like Enyo’s. We had some of the best in the business at our beck and call, but if that poisonous…whatever it was made it impossible to connect properly, well.

That was the end of my career, as well as my spicy on-again off-again relationship with stairs.

The laboratory was a mess of half-melted candles and inexplicable circles, as it had been the day before, and the day before that, and the week and a half or so before that. Once again, Hesselius had books splayed all over the place, indecipherable by anyone but a Librarian or, I suppose, someone with an extensive knowledge of Latin, Arabic, and damned if I know, French or something.

She smiled her dark, almost insincere smile as Enyo wheeled me in and helped me onto the makeshift examination table that they’d set up for me. It wasn’t necessary, most of the time, to lay someone out like this, but I wasn’t good for much else since I got back. She slipped off without a word once she was sure I was as comfortable as I could be – even remembered to grab a pillow and everything.

I was sure she didn’t want to look at me. I couldn’t really blame her. I wouldn’t have wanted to look at my superior officer like this, much less a dear friend. The room dimmed to nothing but candlelight and an eerie light from beneath me, and Cosette crept into the edge of my view, mostly visible thanks to her unnaturally pale skin.

Librarians never did get out much. Or the dark oaths they swore sucked the color right out of them. The rest of us never were certain, and they liked it that way. Gerty was one, once, and she still didn’t have even the tiniest bit of a tan. Though she still didn’t go out much, damnedest thing.

“Have the dreams gotten any better, lately?” Bless her, she tried to make conversation as her long, black nails brushed over the skin on my legs, then the icy black metal that had fused to them. I could still feel it in a sort of distant, indescribable way as she traced a pattern onto one of my stumps, some hex or another that I’d long since bothered inquiring about.

“Well, I’m getting sort of used to them. Bit like rewatching an old classic again and realizing one of the license plates is a dick joke.” I tried to answer her as cheerfully as I could. She let out a breath that might have been a laugh, so I called it my win for the day.

“Have you reconsidered seeing Doctor Liddell about it? Cases like yours are-“

“-her specialty, I know.” Liddell was some sort of shrink, but I could scarcely understand a thing she said when she tried to be helpful, and the rest was typically just rude. It left us both with a headache, invariably, and that was really the only bit I had anymore that didn’t viciously complain to me every second of the day. “Anything new, or…?”

“I’ve ruled it out as a magical poison.” Right. Knew that. “It’s more like a disease. The kind that rots away at you from the inside.” Fantastic. I nodded up at her, urged her to continue. “And it goes deeper than your limbs.” She hummed idly to herself, settling on the edge of the table. I waggled one of my stumps at her, as though it would convince her to tell me more.

“It’s a bit more complicated than saying it’s already taken root in your soul, but for simplicity’s sake, let’s call it that.” Wonderful. That was almost assuredly worse than a death sentence. Cosette cackled out her quiet little laugh when she saw the look on my face.

“Give us a few weeks to make a cursory glance through the Record. If there’s anything that can be done, we’ll find it, High Marshal. No-one else in the world can compare with our understanding of witches.”

Witches, she said. I forced myself to sit up, an embarrassing ordeal in itself.

“Something distantly related,” she purred, as though it hardly mattered at all. “Think of this as the Betrayer’s kiss. Or, if you prefer, a memento of the greatest battle you ever survived.”

“I’ll always have the memories, Cosette. I don’t need a souvenir.” I could barely force the words out. …She laughed again, and if I could have strangled her, I would have. She knew it, too.

“I’ll see what I can do about it for now.” Gently she placed a hand on my chest, and somewhat less gently shoved me back down onto the table. “Now, let me see your gem…”

---

“…Didn’t go well, High Marshal?” Enyo had never been gentle, exactly, so things had been a bit awkward between us since she volunteered to cart me around everywhere I needed to be. Which was mostly one doctor or another, really. I’d have been more embarrassed if I had anyone left to impress, but even Arty was still out after her ugly brush with castle guard duty.

That wasn’t sarcasm, by the by. Not sure I would have traded my assignment for hers. Not on Walpurgisnacht, at least. Ugly, ugly business, and I was glad to get back and find her in more or less one piece. One thing about the whole bloody plan that went well, at least.

“The Head Librarian felt me up for an hour and then played with my soul gem like it was our first night off of training. It was magical.” I idly waved a stump up at Enyo, and she snickered. …Actually, it was like that not-quite-painful but really creepy feeling you get when the dentist scrapes your teeth, but all over my body, and it hadn’t quite gone away yet.

“I’m glad you haven’t lost your grating sense of humor, High Marshal.” She leaned in just enough to ruffle my hair. I tried to bat her hand away, but…yeah.

“Yes, well. Arms gone, optimism intact. Can’t afford to witch out; Arty’s got her head up her bum, Callahan’s a weenie, the Princess is a coward and I’m going to headbutt her into paste if I see her face again, and you…well, I suppose you’d spend all your time in the garage, drinking beer with the girls. So not altogether that different, eh?” I laughed. Enyo didn’t, just slowed down for a moment and gripped my wheelchair harder.

“I…really am glad you’re alright, but I’d rather you weren’t so flippant about your own demise. I…I really don’t know what I’d do without you.” Well this turned awkward. I looked up toward her for a second, then nodded, opting to focus on the foot I had so graciously stuffed in my mouth, and the feel of the chair’s wheel’s rolling over the stone flooring of the castle hallways.

…I’d wheeled through here ten thousand times, of course. I knew every bump in these floors. More than likely I could close my eyes and tell Enyo where she was taking me now, even if I didn’t have the layout of the castle all but memorized anyway. Wasn’t toward food, certainly not toward my room. Dr. Liddell’s office was near the hospital wing, and we weren’t headed there. Probably the hangar, then.

Good. Maybe she’d just load me in Maria and we could…I don’t know. Or strap me onto her bike, I suppose.

…The whole thing was bloody depressing.

I was sort of glad when she wheeled me directly into her workshop; the hangar itself seemed huge, unbearably huge, even with the Templars’ vehicles (and the Second’s) taking up most of it, and the Mechanica flitting about working on this and that. I didn’t…really want them to see me right now. Not more than a glance, not more than it took for Enyo to push me into the little office she used for finer work. Which was…

Which was all but buried in half-finished prostheses. Some of them rougher than Enyo’s arm, discarded lazily in a corner, some of them almost delicate, thrown away with careless frustration. I…it couldn’t possibly be the work of just a couple of weeks.

“Apologies for the state of the place, High Marshal. I haven’t slept much since we got back. I…well. You know how it is, I think. How one becomes fixated on a project.” I just stared at her as she started going through a few sets of arms and legs that she seemed to have set aside.

“I didn’t make all of these in just a week and change, don’t worry. Most of them are just shells, too. Rejects. They…well, they weren’t right.” Enyo’s voice had gone quiet. She almost seemed…embarrassed? “They need to be special. I’m not just…filling an order, or something. They’re for someone very important. To me.” She paused for a moment, then hastily added, “And to the Second. And the Templars.”

Well, that explained where she’d been slipping off to while everyone and their mother was having a look at my remaining bits. I tried to wheel my chair closer to the limbs she was poking through, but to my great consternation, it still did not move on spite alone.

“So did you figure out how to get around the metal bits, then?” Better to change the subject. Enyo’d started fiddling with the fingers on one of the more delicate-looking arms, squeezing them in her hand. The human one, usually. “Or do I get a remote control to operate with my tongue, or something?”

“Implants,” she murmured. “An inch or so up your arm and your thigh. It’s going to hurt, High Marshal, but it should make for an interface that will work just as well as a more direct installation.” She squeezed the arm in her hands tight. “...It may be better to simply wait until Lady Hesselius is done treating your condition. I’m worried we’ll have to rip the implants out for her to treat you properly, and once it’s cleared up we could do a much safer, more typical installation.”

I was fairly sure it wasn’t going to clear up; Cosette made it sound more like a curse than anything. A curse from Walpurgisnacht herself. The fact that I was alive was either extremely lucky, or…

“…You don’t think she can treat it, do you.” She’d forced a neutral expression onto her face, but her tone was quiet, a bit sad. I’d let my worry show for a bit too long, and she caught it. I did my best to laugh it off.

“I’m just sick of being wheeled around; I much prefer to do it myself. Bit of extra pain’s worth it, so long as you have a block of wood or a rag or something for me to bite down on.” A ghost of a smile returned to her face, and she nodded ever-so-slightly.

“…That’s typical of you, High Marshal. I…” A lengthy pause as she fidgeted with an arm, then carefully cleared the extra limbs from her table. “I’d prefer to do this personally. To make sure everything…everything installs correctly, with no complications.”

“No Venenum, then.”

“No Venenum. Apologies, High Marshal. It’s selfish, I know.” ‘No’ wasn’t an option here, it seemed. That was…

No, that was alright. I’d trusted her with more. Couldn’t be worse than losing them in the first place, right? I shot her the most reassuring smile I could manage as she lifted me from my chair, but it got harder and harder to keep up after I settled in, and as the familiar roar of a saw filled my ears.

“Grit your teeth, High Marshal,” murmured Enyo as she stuffed a strip of scrap leather into my mouth. “This is going to sting.”

---

“Pinky, left. Ring finger, left. Middle finger, left.” We’d done this a few times since the operation now; Enyo sat next to me on my bed and called out commands, eyes closed, listening for…any imperfection in the machinery, I suppose. There had been none so far; the operation hurt about ten times as much as I expected it to and there was a leather strap in her workshop that you could use for dental records because of it, but everything was working smoothly.

It was almost too smooth, and it bothered me a bit from the get-go. These were distinctly civilian prostheses. It was certainly Enyo that had made them, I didn’t doubt that for a moment, but it was territory I’d never seen her delve into before. My new arms and legs were slender and pitch-black, delicate and almost gentle. They matched up perfectly – or very, very close – with my stumps, and reminded me more of scandalous gloves and boots than fresh limbs. Not a single hidden chainsaw or laser or somesuch, either.

I wondered idly if Enyo thought of them the same way – more like accessories than weapons - as she ran her hands along them to test their sensitivity. …I could have done that myself, of course, but she’d hardly left my side since the operation, as though I’d run off and start punching holes in walls if left alone.

…Which was an entirely fair call, as I nearly snuck out to do just that the moment she drifted off. Be a bit of a pisser for the maintenance crew, but I was excited just to be able to punch things again. Also thought about clocking El a few dozen times for laughing whenever she’d stop by my room, but it wasn’t worth the trouble. Yet. She did send me a lovely manicure set, after all, and classy white heels I would have worn to a ball or something if I owned a dress to go with them.

Really, she was so enthusiastic about being a bitch that it was hard to hate her for it.

Still, I barely had a minute to immerse myself in thoughts-slash-fantasies-slash-plans of grinding the smug off of Elcarys’s face with my heel before Enyo reached across my lap and laced her fingers in mine.

“…High Marshal? Can you feel this?” …I wasn’t sure what she was getting at. We’d tested this already, just a bit ago, but her voice had gone quiet again. For a moment I worried that there was something wrong, but I nodded distantly all the same.

“…And this?” Her mechanical hand brushed against my knee, then continued up my leg, up to the still-fleshy part of my thigh. I furrowed my brow and nodded slowly.

In retrospect, I should have realized. I probably should have realized quite a bit earlier, actually. Weeks ago, maybe months. Maybe a year or two, I don’t bloody well know. She went far out of her way to make me new limbs so that I might feel normal. Something more than a Templar and a hero, something to let me stay just a little bit human. Then she spent two days groping me. Then…

Right then, she leaned in close, and our lips met. She kissed me, and I froze. It wasn’t my first kiss or anything, I turned in my V-card quite a while ago, but…I suppose I never expected it from Enyo. And not one like this, definitely – a hard kiss, a passionate, desperate kiss, as she squeezed my hand and my thigh.

…I squeezed back, after a few seconds. I didn’t quite know what to do, or how to feel. A lot of things…sort of flowed out at once, as she pushed me back on the bed, straddled me, as my shiny new arms slid around her shoulders.

That one I could definitely feel.

The Account of the Damned Chapter 2: Saws

2015-04-10T20:39:37Z

NECOchama:

The Account of the Damned, ch. 2 – Saws

---APPROX. TWO WEEKS AFTER WALPURGISNACHT---

The worst of it, I think, was the sound. The screech of metal teeth on my shield, stripping it away, carving into it at an unreal pace. It came back to me whenever the room went silent. I could feel the blood around my knees, could sense it sinking into the gears of my wheels. …I had to take them off at some point. I scarcely remembered. There was no point in trying to wade through the gore there with them.

Enyo brought one of those little plug-in fountains that keeps flowing as long as you make sure there’s water in it. It helped a lot. She tried a fan before that, but the white noise…well, it was just as bad. It just changed into something else when I’d sleep. Nasty business. Wish there was something to help with the laughter, though. The manic…fucking glee in her voice, the blood-drenched smile on her…its…face.

Didn’t matter that I only got to see it once or twice. It was there when I closed my eyes. That, and the faces of the dead. Of the fifty girls that died there. The girls I’d led to their deaths, and the Culexus that we couldn’t protect. Whenever I slept, I relived it all over again. Every second of every minute of every hour. Every wound opened anew. The pressure on my shield crumpled my arms, pulverized the bones as I tried to hold the thing’s enormous weapons back. As I prayed for Mordred to be ready one moment sooner, or for somebody to come up with a real plan.

It wasn’t theirs to come up with, though. It was mine.

I could have done better. Even through the pain of losing my arms, of having my legs torn away from under me, I could have done better. I trained under Erebus, supposedly one of the finest Templars the Second had ever seen. For fuck’s sake, I could best Arty – the fucking Equerry, the Pendragon destined to lead the Officio, or whatever that was about – in nine fights out of ten. I’d taken on both of the Karnstein Sisters at once, barehanded, and come out on top.

I couldn’t stop thinking about it, in my waking hours. As they ran their tests on what remained of my body, as Enyo wheeled me around and pretended the fresh air did any damn good. I went over the leaders I’d seen in my time, ran scenarios in my head.

High Inquisitor Kiryuin would have cut through a witch like that as though it were nothing, all by herself. Gerty – High Inquisitor von Egisheim – would have had a plan, a real fucking plan, going in there. She would have expected things to go wrong. And High Marshal Erebus…

She would have made us better, if she were there. Mordred wouldn’t have run. We would have fought like beasts, if she’d been leading us. But we didn’t. I wasn’t High Marshal Erebus, and so we scattered, and we died.

…She’d told me before. Lady Malal did. I knew we were supposed to die. I knew it. I suppose I thought I might defy the odds somehow.

I guess I did.

“High Marshal,” Enyo quietly interrupted my pity party. “Lady Hesselius would like to examine you in her…” She didn’t want to say ‘laboratory’. “…office.” She meant ‘laboratory’.

...That may have been the part I hated the most. Not Cosette, Cosette was fine. Bit strange, really, but you get used to that, working with magical types. No, the way Enyo lifted me up like I might break in her arms. Her perfectly bloody functional arms. Wasn’t even dignified, didn’t have enough knees left for that. She’d looked at me with nothing but pity since we’d returned. Couldn’t quite blame her, but it made me feel angry and disgusted all the same.

Least it wasn’t to use the bathroom this time.

She didn’t say a word as she placed me in a wheelchair and started me down the hallway. …Couldn’t even transform now, not without everything just sort of falling on the bloody floor. They wouldn’t heal, the legs she’d torn away, or the arms she’d crushed. Too powerful, they said. Left her – its – mark, its own special kind of black-steel rot that’d grown over the stumps.

What Cosette had been poking at most recently was whether it’d be possible to attach functional mechanical prosthetics, like Enyo’s. We had some of the best in the business at our beck and call, but if that poisonous…whatever it was made it impossible to connect properly, well.

That was the end of my career, as well as my spicy on-again off-again relationship with stairs.

The laboratory was a mess of half-melted candles and inexplicable circles, as it had been the day before, and the day before that, and the week and a half or so before that. Once again, Hesselius had books splayed all over the place, indecipherable by anyone but a Librarian or, I suppose, someone with an extensive knowledge of Latin, Arabic, and damned if I know, French or something.

She smiled her dark, almost insincere smile as Enyo wheeled me in and helped me onto the makeshift examination table that they’d set up for me. It wasn’t necessary, most of the time, to lay someone out like this, but I wasn’t good for much else since I got back. She slipped off without a word once she was sure I was as comfortable as I could be – even remembered to grab a pillow and everything.

I was sure she didn’t want to look at me. I couldn’t really blame her. I wouldn’t have wanted to look at my superior officer like this, much less a dear friend. The room dimmed to nothing but candlelight and an eerie light from beneath me, and Cosette crept into the edge of my view, mostly visible thanks to her unnaturally pale skin.

Librarians never did get out much. Or the dark oaths they swore sucked the color right out of them. The rest of us never were certain, and they liked it that way. Gerty was one, once, and she still didn’t have even the tiniest bit of a tan. Though she still didn’t go out much, damnedest thing.

“Have the dreams gotten any better, lately?” Bless her, she tried to make conversation as her long, black nails brushed over the skin on my legs, then the icy black metal that had fused to them. I could still feel it in a sort of distant, indescribable way as she traced a pattern onto one of my stumps, some hex or another that I’d long since bothered inquiring about.

“Well, I’m getting sort of used to them. Bit like rewatching an old classic again and realizing one of the license plates is a dick joke.” I tried to answer her as cheerfully as I could. She let out a breath that might have been a laugh, so I called it my win for the day.

“Have you reconsidered seeing Doctor Liddell about it? Cases like yours are-“

“-her specialty, I know.” Liddell was some sort of shrink, but I could scarcely understand a thing she said when she tried to be helpful, and the rest was typically just rude. It left us both with a headache, invariably, and that was really the only bit I had anymore that didn’t viciously complain to me every second of the day. “Anything new, or…?”

“I’ve ruled it out as a magical poison.” Right. Knew that. “It’s more like a disease. The kind that rots away at you from the inside.” Fantastic. I nodded up at her, urged her to continue. “And it goes deeper than your limbs.” She hummed idly to herself, settling on the edge of the table. I waggled one of my stumps at her, as though it would convince her to tell me more.

“It’s a bit more complicated than saying it’s already taken root in your soul, but for simplicity’s sake, let’s call it that.” Wonderful. That was almost assuredly worse than a death sentence. Cosette cackled out her quiet little laugh when she saw the look on my face.

“Give us a few weeks to make a cursory glance through the Record. If there’s anything that can be done, we’ll find it, High Marshal. No-one else in the world can compare with our understanding of witches.”

Witches, she said. I forced myself to sit up, an embarrassing ordeal in itself.

“Something distantly related,” she purred, as though it hardly mattered at all. “Think of this as the Betrayer’s kiss. Or, if you prefer, a memento of the greatest battle you ever survived.”

“I’ll always have the memories, Cosette. I don’t need a souvenir.” I could barely force the words out. …She laughed again, and if I could have strangled her, I would have. She knew it, too.

“I’ll see what I can do about it for now.” Gently she placed a hand on my chest, and somewhat less gently shoved me back down onto the table. “Now, let me see your gem…”

---

“…Didn’t go well, High Marshal?” Enyo had never been gentle, exactly, so things had been a bit awkward between us since she volunteered to cart me around everywhere I needed to be. Which was mostly one doctor or another, really. I’d have been more embarrassed if I had anyone left to impress, but even Arty was still out after her ugly brush with castle guard duty.

That wasn’t sarcasm, by the by. Not sure I would have traded my assignment for hers. Not on Walpurgisnacht, at least. Ugly, ugly business, and I was glad to get back and find her in more or less one piece. One thing about the whole bloody plan that went well, at least.

“The Head Librarian felt me up for an hour and then played with my soul gem like it was our first night off of training. It was magical.” I idly waved a stump up at Enyo, and she snickered. …Actually, it was like that not-quite-painful but really creepy feeling you get when the dentist scrapes your teeth, but all over my body, and it hadn’t quite gone away yet.

“I’m glad you haven’t lost your grating sense of humor, High Marshal.” She leaned in just enough to ruffle my hair. I tried to bat her hand away, but…yeah.

“Yes, well. Arms gone, optimism intact. Can’t afford to witch out; Arty’s got her head up her bum, Callahan’s a weenie, the Princess is a coward and I’m going to headbutt her into paste if I see her face again, and you…well, I suppose you’d spend all your time in the garage, drinking beer with the girls. So not altogether that different, eh?” I laughed. Enyo didn’t, just slowed down for a moment and gripped my wheelchair harder.

“I…really am glad you’re alright, but I’d rather you weren’t so flippant about your own demise. I…I really don’t know what I’d do without you.” Well this turned awkward. I looked up toward her for a second, then nodded, opting to focus on the foot I had so graciously stuffed in my mouth, and the feel of the chair’s wheel’s rolling over the stone flooring of the castle hallways.

…I’d wheeled through here ten thousand times, of course. I knew every bump in these floors. More than likely I could close my eyes and tell Enyo where she was taking me now, even if I didn’t have the layout of the castle all but memorized anyway. Wasn’t toward food, certainly not toward my room. Dr. Liddell’s office was near the hospital wing, and we weren’t headed there. Probably the hangar, then.

Good. Maybe she’d just load me in Maria and we could…I don’t know. Or strap me onto her bike, I suppose.

…The whole thing was bloody depressing.

I was sort of glad when she wheeled me directly into her workshop; the hangar itself seemed huge, unbearably huge, even with the Templars’ vehicles (and the Second’s) taking up most of it, and the Mechanica flitting about working on this and that. I didn’t…really want them to see me right now. Not more than a glance, not more than it took for Enyo to push me into the little office she used for finer work. Which was…

Which was all but buried in half-finished prostheses. Some of them rougher than Enyo’s arm, discarded lazily in a corner, some of them almost delicate, thrown away with careless frustration. I…it couldn’t possibly be the work of just a couple of weeks.

“Apologies for the state of the place, High Marshal. I haven’t slept much since we got back. I…well. You know how it is, I think. How one becomes fixated on a project.” I just stared at her as she started going through a few sets of arms and legs that she seemed to have set aside.

“I didn’t make all of these in just a week and change, don’t worry. Most of them are just shells, too. Rejects. They…well, they weren’t right.” Enyo’s voice had gone quiet. She almost seemed…embarrassed? “They need to be special. I’m not just…filling an order, or something. They’re for someone very important. To me.” She paused for a moment, then hastily added, “And to the Second. And the Templars.”

Well, that explained where she’d been slipping off to while everyone and their mother was having a look at my remaining bits. I tried to wheel my chair closer to the limbs she was poking through, but to my great consternation, it still did not move on spite alone.

“So did you figure out how to get around the metal bits, then?” Better to change the subject. Enyo’d started fiddling with the fingers on one of the more delicate-looking arms, squeezing them in her hand. The human one, usually. “Or do I get a remote control to operate with my tongue, or something?”

“Implants,” she murmured. “An inch or so up your arm and your thigh. It’s going to hurt, High Marshal, but it should make for an interface that will work just as well as a more direct installation.” She squeezed the arm in her hands tight. “...It may be better to simply wait until Lady Hesselius is done treating your condition. I’m worried we’ll have to rip the implants out for her to treat you properly, and once it’s cleared up we could do a much safer, more typical installation.”

I was fairly sure it wasn’t going to clear up; Cosette made it sound more like a curse than anything. A curse from Walpurgisnacht herself. The fact that I was alive was either extremely lucky, or…

“…You don’t think she can treat it, do you.” She’d forced a neutral expression onto her face, but her tone was quiet, a bit sad. I’d let my worry show for a bit too long, and she caught it. I did my best to laugh it off.

“I’m just sick of being wheeled around; I much prefer to do it myself. Bit of extra pain’s worth it, so long as you have a block of wood or a rag or something for me to bite down on.” A ghost of a smile returned to her face, and she nodded ever-so-slightly.

“…That’s typical of you, High Marshal. I…” A lengthy pause as she fidgeted with an arm, then carefully cleared the extra limbs from her table. “I’d prefer to do this personally. To make sure everything…everything installs correctly, with no complications.”

“No Venenum, then.”

“No Venenum. Apologies, High Marshal. It’s selfish, I know.” ‘No’ wasn’t an option here, it seemed. That was…

No, that was alright. I’d trusted her with more. Couldn’t be worse than losing them in the first place, right? I shot her the most reassuring smile I could manage as she lifted me from my chair, but it got harder and harder to keep up after I settled in, and as the familiar roar of a saw filled my ears.

“Grit your teeth, High Marshal,” murmured Enyo as she stuffed a strip of scrap leather into my mouth. “This is going to sting.”

---

“Pinky, left. Ring finger, left. Middle finger, left.” We’d done this a few times since the operation now; Enyo sat next to me on my bed and called out commands, eyes closed, listening for…any imperfection in the machinery, I suppose. There had been none so far; the operation hurt about ten times as much as I expected it to and there was a leather strap in her workshop that you could use for dental records because of it, but everything was working smoothly.

It was almost too smooth, and it bothered me a bit from the get-go. These were distinctly civilian prostheses. It was certainly Enyo that had made them, I didn’t doubt that for a moment, but it was territory I’d never seen her delve into before. My new arms and legs were slender and pitch-black, delicate and almost gentle. They matched up perfectly – or very, very close – with my stumps, and reminded me more of scandalous gloves and boots than fresh limbs. Not a single hidden chainsaw or laser or somesuch, either.

I wondered idly if Enyo thought of them the same way – more like accessories than weapons - as she ran her hands along them to test their sensitivity. …I could have done that myself, of course, but she’d hardly left my side since the operation, as though I’d run off and start punching holes in walls if left alone.

…Which was an entirely fair call, as I nearly snuck out to do just that the moment she drifted off. Be a bit of a pisser for the maintenance crew, but I was excited just to be able to punch things again. Also thought about clocking El a few dozen times for laughing whenever she’d stop by my room, but it wasn’t worth the trouble. Yet. She did send me a lovely manicure set, after all, and classy white heels I would have worn to a ball or something if I owned a dress to go with them.

Really, she was so enthusiastic about being a bitch that it was hard to hate her for it.

Still, I barely had a minute to immerse myself in thoughts-slash-fantasies-slash-plans of grinding the smug off of Elcarys’s face with my heel before Enyo reached across my lap and laced her fingers in mine.

“…High Marshal? Can you feel this?” …I wasn’t sure what she was getting at. We’d tested this already, just a bit ago, but her voice had gone quiet again. For a moment I worried that there was something wrong, but I nodded distantly all the same.

“…And this?” Her mechanical hand brushed against my knee, then continued up my leg, up to the still-fleshy part of my thigh. I furrowed my brow and nodded slowly.

In retrospect, I should have realized. I probably should have realized quite a bit earlier, actually. Weeks ago, maybe months. Maybe a year or two, I don’t bloody well know. She went far out of her way to make me new limbs so that I might feel normal. Something more than a Templar and a hero, something to let me stay just a little bit human. Then she spent two days groping me. Then…

Right then, she leaned in close, and our lips met. She kissed me, and I froze. It wasn’t my first kiss or anything, I turned in my V-card quite a while ago, but…I suppose I never expected it from Enyo. And not one like this, definitely – a hard kiss, a passionate, desperate kiss, as she squeezed my hand and my thigh.

…I squeezed back, after a few seconds. I didn’t quite know what to do, or how to feel. A lot of things…sort of flowed out at once, as she pushed me back on the bed, straddled me, as my shiny new arms slid around her shoulders.

That one I could definitely feel.

The Account of the Damned Chapter 2: Saws

2015-04-10T20:39:15Z

NECOchama: Created page with "The Account of the Damned, ch. 2 – Saws APPROX. TWO WEEKS AFTER WALPURGISNACHT 20XX The worst of it, I think, was the sound. The screech of metal teeth on my shield, strip..."

The Account of the Damned, ch. 2 – Saws

APPROX. TWO WEEKS AFTER WALPURGISNACHT 20XX

The worst of it, I think, was the sound. The screech of metal teeth on my shield, stripping it away, carving into it at an unreal pace. It came back to me whenever the room went silent. I could feel the blood around my knees, could sense it sinking into the gears of my wheels. …I had to take them off at some point. I scarcely remembered. There was no point in trying to wade through the gore there with them.

Enyo brought one of those little plug-in fountains that keeps flowing as long as you make sure there’s water in it. It helped a lot. She tried a fan before that, but the white noise…well, it was just as bad. It just changed into something else when I’d sleep. Nasty business. Wish there was something to help with the laughter, though. The manic…fucking glee in her voice, the blood-drenched smile on her…its…face.

Didn’t matter that I only got to see it once or twice. It was there when I closed my eyes. That, and the faces of the dead. Of the fifty girls that died there. The girls I’d led to their deaths, and the Culexus that we couldn’t protect. Whenever I slept, I relived it all over again. Every second of every minute of every hour. Every wound opened anew. The pressure on my shield crumpled my arms, pulverized the bones as I tried to hold the thing’s enormous weapons back. As I prayed for Mordred to be ready one moment sooner, or for somebody to come up with a real plan.

It wasn’t theirs to come up with, though. It was mine.

I could have done better. Even through the pain of losing my arms, of having my legs torn away from under me, I could have done better. I trained under Erebus, supposedly one of the finest Templars the Second had ever seen. For fuck’s sake, I could best Arty – the fucking Equerry, the Pendragon destined to lead the Officio, or whatever that was about – in nine fights out of ten. I’d taken on both of the Karnstein Sisters at once, barehanded, and come out on top.

I couldn’t stop thinking about it, in my waking hours. As they ran their tests on what remained of my body, as Enyo wheeled me around and pretended the fresh air did any damn good. I went over the leaders I’d seen in my time, ran scenarios in my head.

High Inquisitor Kiryuin would have cut through a witch like that as though it were nothing, all by herself. Gerty – High Inquisitor von Egisheim – would have had a plan, a real fucking plan, going in there. She would have expected things to go wrong. And High Marshal Erebus…

She would have made us better, if she were there. Mordred wouldn’t have run. We would have fought like beasts, if she’d been leading us. But we didn’t. I wasn’t High Marshal Erebus, and so we scattered, and we died.

…She’d told me before. Lady Malal did. I knew we were supposed to die. I knew it. I suppose I thought I might defy the odds somehow.

I guess I did.

“High Marshal,” Enyo quietly interrupted my pity party. “Lady Hesselius would like to examine you in her…” She didn’t want to say ‘laboratory’. “…office.” She meant ‘laboratory’.

...That may have been the part I hated the most. Not Cosette, Cosette was fine. Bit strange, really, but you get used to that, working with magical types. No, the way Enyo lifted me up like I might break in her arms. Her perfectly bloody functional arms. Wasn’t even dignified, didn’t have enough knees left for that. She’d looked at me with nothing but pity since we’d returned. Couldn’t quite blame her, but it made me feel angry and disgusted all the same.

Least it wasn’t to use the bathroom this time.

She didn’t say a word as she placed me in a wheelchair and started me down the hallway. …Couldn’t even transform now, not without everything just sort of falling on the bloody floor. They wouldn’t heal, the legs she’d torn away, or the arms she’d crushed. Too powerful, they said. Left her – its – mark, its own special kind of black-steel rot that’d grown over the stumps.

What Cosette had been poking at most recently was whether it’d be possible to attach functional mechanical prosthetics, like Enyo’s. We had some of the best in the business at our beck and call, but if that poisonous…whatever it was made it impossible to connect properly, well.

That was the end of my career, as well as my spicy on-again off-again relationship with stairs.

The laboratory was a mess of half-melted candles and inexplicable circles, as it had been the day before, and the day before that, and the week and a half or so before that. Once again, Hesselius had books splayed all over the place, indecipherable by anyone but a Librarian or, I suppose, someone with an extensive knowledge of Latin, Arabic, and damned if I know, French or something.

She smiled her dark, almost insincere smile as Enyo wheeled me in and helped me onto the makeshift examination table that they’d set up for me. It wasn’t necessary, most of the time, to lay someone out like this, but I wasn’t good for much else since I got back. She slipped off without a word once she was sure I was as comfortable as I could be – even remembered to grab a pillow and everything.

I was sure she didn’t want to look at me. I couldn’t really blame her. I wouldn’t have wanted to look at my superior officer like this, much less a dear friend. The room dimmed to nothing but candlelight and an eerie light from beneath me, and Cosette crept into the edge of my view, mostly visible thanks to her unnaturally pale skin.

Librarians never did get out much. Or the dark oaths they swore sucked the color right out of them. The rest of us never were certain, and they liked it that way. Gerty was one, once, and she still didn’t have even the tiniest bit of a tan. Though she still didn’t go out much, damnedest thing.

“Have the dreams gotten any better, lately?” Bless her, she tried to make conversation as her long, black nails brushed over the skin on my legs, then the icy black metal that had fused to them. I could still feel it in a sort of distant, indescribable way as she traced a pattern onto one of my stumps, some hex or another that I’d long since bothered inquiring about.

“Well, I’m getting sort of used to them. Bit like rewatching an old classic again and realizing one of the license plates is a dick joke.” I tried to answer her as cheerfully as I could. She let out a breath that might have been a laugh, so I called it my win for the day.

“Have you reconsidered seeing Doctor Liddell about it? Cases like yours are-“

“-her specialty, I know.” Liddell was some sort of shrink, but I could scarcely understand a thing she said when she tried to be helpful, and the rest was typically just rude. It left us both with a headache, invariably, and that was really the only bit I had anymore that didn’t viciously complain to me every second of the day. “Anything new, or…?”

“I’ve ruled it out as a magical poison.” Right. Knew that. “It’s more like a disease. The kind that rots away at you from the inside.” Fantastic. I nodded up at her, urged her to continue. “And it goes deeper than your limbs.” She hummed idly to herself, settling on the edge of the table. I waggled one of my stumps at her, as though it would convince her to tell me more.

“It’s a bit more complicated than saying it’s already taken root in your soul, but for simplicity’s sake, let’s call it that.” Wonderful. That was almost assuredly worse than a death sentence. Cosette cackled out her quiet little laugh when she saw the look on my face.

“Give us a few weeks to make a cursory glance through the Record. If there’s anything that can be done, we’ll find it, High Marshal. No-one else in the world can compare with our understanding of witches.”

Witches, she said. I forced myself to sit up, an embarrassing ordeal in itself.

“Something distantly related,” she purred, as though it hardly mattered at all. “Think of this as the Betrayer’s kiss. Or, if you prefer, a memento of the greatest battle you ever survived.”

“I’ll always have the memories, Cosette. I don’t need a souvenir.” I could barely force the words out. …She laughed again, and if I could have strangled her, I would have. She knew it, too.

“I’ll see what I can do about it for now.” Gently she placed a hand on my chest, and somewhat less gently shoved me back down onto the table. “Now, let me see your gem…”

---

“…Didn’t go well, High Marshal?” Enyo had never been gentle, exactly, so things had been a bit awkward between us since she volunteered to cart me around everywhere I needed to be. Which was mostly one doctor or another, really. I’d have been more embarrassed if I had anyone left to impress, but even Arty was still out after her ugly brush with castle guard duty.

That wasn’t sarcasm, by the by. Not sure I would have traded my assignment for hers. Not on Walpurgisnacht, at least. Ugly, ugly business, and I was glad to get back and find her in more or less one piece. One thing about the whole bloody plan that went well, at least.

“The Head Librarian felt me up for an hour and then played with my soul gem like it was our first night off of training. It was magical.” I idly waved a stump up at Enyo, and she snickered. …Actually, it was like that not-quite-painful but really creepy feeling you get when the dentist scrapes your teeth, but all over my body, and it hadn’t quite gone away yet.

“I’m glad you haven’t lost your grating sense of humor, High Marshal.” She leaned in just enough to ruffle my hair. I tried to bat her hand away, but…yeah.

“Yes, well. Arms gone, optimism intact. Can’t afford to witch out; Arty’s got her head up her bum, Callahan’s a weenie, the Princess is a coward and I’m going to headbutt her into paste if I see her face again, and you…well, I suppose you’d spend all your time in the garage, drinking beer with the girls. So not altogether that different, eh?” I laughed. Enyo didn’t, just slowed down for a moment and gripped my wheelchair harder.

“I…really am glad you’re alright, but I’d rather you weren’t so flippant about your own demise. I…I really don’t know what I’d do without you.” Well this turned awkward. I looked up toward her for a second, then nodded, opting to focus on the foot I had so graciously stuffed in my mouth, and the feel of the chair’s wheel’s rolling over the stone flooring of the castle hallways.

…I’d wheeled through here ten thousand times, of course. I knew every bump in these floors. More than likely I could close my eyes and tell Enyo where she was taking me now, even if I didn’t have the layout of the castle all but memorized anyway. Wasn’t toward food, certainly not toward my room. Dr. Liddell’s office was near the hospital wing, and we weren’t headed there. Probably the hangar, then.

Good. Maybe she’d just load me in Maria and we could…I don’t know. Or strap me onto her bike, I suppose.

…The whole thing was bloody depressing.

I was sort of glad when she wheeled me directly into her workshop; the hangar itself seemed huge, unbearably huge, even with the Templars’ vehicles (and the Second’s) taking up most of it, and the Mechanica flitting about working on this and that. I didn’t…really want them to see me right now. Not more than a glance, not more than it took for Enyo to push me into the little office she used for finer work. Which was…

Which was all but buried in half-finished prostheses. Some of them rougher than Enyo’s arm, discarded lazily in a corner, some of them almost delicate, thrown away with careless frustration. I…it couldn’t possibly be the work of just a couple of weeks.

“Apologies for the state of the place, High Marshal. I haven’t slept much since we got back. I…well. You know how it is, I think. How one becomes fixated on a project.” I just stared at her as she started going through a few sets of arms and legs that she seemed to have set aside.

“I didn’t make all of these in just a week and change, don’t worry. Most of them are just shells, too. Rejects. They…well, they weren’t right.” Enyo’s voice had gone quiet. She almost seemed…embarrassed? “They need to be special. I’m not just…filling an order, or something. They’re for someone very important. To me.” She paused for a moment, then hastily added, “And to the Second. And the Templars.”

Well, that explained where she’d been slipping off to while everyone and their mother was having a look at my remaining bits. I tried to wheel my chair closer to the limbs she was poking through, but to my great consternation, it still did not move on spite alone.

“So did you figure out how to get around the metal bits, then?” Better to change the subject. Enyo’d started fiddling with the fingers on one of the more delicate-looking arms, squeezing them in her hand. The human one, usually. “Or do I get a remote control to operate with my tongue, or something?”

“Implants,” she murmured. “An inch or so up your arm and your thigh. It’s going to hurt, High Marshal, but it should make for an interface that will work just as well as a more direct installation.” She squeezed the arm in her hands tight. “...It may be better to simply wait until Lady Hesselius is done treating your condition. I’m worried we’ll have to rip the implants out for her to treat you properly, and once it’s cleared up we could do a much safer, more typical installation.”

I was fairly sure it wasn’t going to clear up; Cosette made it sound more like a curse than anything. A curse from Walpurgisnacht herself. The fact that I was alive was either extremely lucky, or…

“…You don’t think she can treat it, do you.” She’d forced a neutral expression onto her face, but her tone was quiet, a bit sad. I’d let my worry show for a bit too long, and she caught it. I did my best to laugh it off.

“I’m just sick of being wheeled around; I much prefer to do it myself. Bit of extra pain’s worth it, so long as you have a block of wood or a rag or something for me to bite down on.” A ghost of a smile returned to her face, and she nodded ever-so-slightly.

“…That’s typical of you, High Marshal. I…” A lengthy pause as she fidgeted with an arm, then carefully cleared the extra limbs from her table. “I’d prefer to do this personally. To make sure everything…everything installs correctly, with no complications.”

“No Venenum, then.”

“No Venenum. Apologies, High Marshal. It’s selfish, I know.” ‘No’ wasn’t an option here, it seemed. That was…

No, that was alright. I’d trusted her with more. Couldn’t be worse than losing them in the first place, right? I shot her the most reassuring smile I could manage as she lifted me from my chair, but it got harder and harder to keep up after I settled in, and as the familiar roar of a saw filled my ears.

“Grit your teeth, High Marshal,” murmured Enyo as she stuffed a strip of scrap leather into my mouth. “This is going to sting.”

---

“Pinky, left. Ring finger, left. Middle finger, left.” We’d done this a few times since the operation now; Enyo sat next to me on my bed and called out commands, eyes closed, listening for…any imperfection in the machinery, I suppose. There had been none so far; the operation hurt about ten times as much as I expected it to and there was a leather strap in her workshop that you could use for dental records because of it, but everything was working smoothly.

It was almost too smooth, and it bothered me a bit from the get-go. These were distinctly civilian prostheses. It was certainly Enyo that had made them, I didn’t doubt that for a moment, but it was territory I’d never seen her delve into before. My new arms and legs were slender and pitch-black, delicate and almost gentle. They matched up perfectly – or very, very close – with my stumps, and reminded me more of scandalous gloves and boots than fresh limbs. Not a single hidden chainsaw or laser or somesuch, either.

I wondered idly if Enyo thought of them the same way – more like accessories than weapons - as she ran her hands along them to test their sensitivity. …I could have done that myself, of course, but she’d hardly left my side since the operation, as though I’d run off and start punching holes in walls if left alone.

…Which was an entirely fair call, as I nearly snuck out to do just that the moment she drifted off. Be a bit of a pisser for the maintenance crew, but I was excited just to be able to punch things again. Also thought about clocking El a few dozen times for laughing whenever she’d stop by my room, but it wasn’t worth the trouble. Yet. She did send me a lovely manicure set, after all, and classy white heels I would have worn to a ball or something if I owned a dress to go with them.

Really, she was so enthusiastic about being a bitch that it was hard to hate her for it.

Still, I barely had a minute to immerse myself in thoughts-slash-fantasies-slash-plans of grinding the smug off of Elcarys’s face with my heel before Enyo reached across my lap and laced her fingers in mine.

“…High Marshal? Can you feel this?” …I wasn’t sure what she was getting at. We’d tested this already, just a bit ago, but her voice had gone quiet again. For a moment I worried that there was something wrong, but I nodded distantly all the same.

“…And this?” Her mechanical hand brushed against my knee, then continued up my leg, up to the still-fleshy part of my thigh. I furrowed my brow and nodded slowly.

In retrospect, I should have realized. I probably should have realized quite a bit earlier, actually. Weeks ago, maybe months. Maybe a year or two, I don’t bloody well know. She went far out of her way to make me new limbs so that I might feel normal. Something more than a Templar and a hero, something to let me stay just a little bit human. Then she spent two days groping me. Then…

Right then, she leaned in close, and our lips met. She kissed me, and I froze. It wasn’t my first kiss or anything, I turned in my V-card quite a while ago, but…I suppose I never expected it from Enyo. And not one like this, definitely – a hard kiss, a passionate, desperate kiss, as she squeezed my hand and my thigh.

…I squeezed back, after a few seconds. I didn’t quite know what to do, or how to feel. A lot of things…sort of flowed out at once, as she pushed me back on the bed, straddled me, as my shiny new arms slid around her shoulders.

That one I could definitely feel.

The Account of the Damned Chapter 1: Four Hours

2015-04-10T20:37:31Z

NECOchama: Created page with "---WALPURGISNACHT, 20XX-2--- Four hours before our appointed time of death, it was sweltering, bumfucking hot. That wasn’t to say it was hot outside – strictly speaking, ..."

---WALPURGISNACHT, 20XX-2---

Four hours before our appointed time of death, it was sweltering, bumfucking hot. That wasn’t to say it was hot outside – strictly speaking, Japan was rather nice this time of year – but rather, that we weren’t afforded any kind of adequate preparatory facility and had spent the last twelve hours and change in full armor. We were hoping to be afforded the time to shower and stretch when we reached the Officio, but right at that moment, most of us would have settled for some water and a toilet break.

The latest travel travesty (travelsty?) and, in any other situation, grave insult that would surely require blood reparations or somesuch (I’ll have to check the handbook if I make it back) was a bus, a normal civilian fucking bus, now loaded with thirty-six women in ebon-black armor and one pasty middle-aged man trying desperately to pretend he understood what was going on. To make matters worse, he had the dubious fortune of having Trinity sitting within glaring distance – she had all the charm of a sock filled with poisonous spiders even on the best of days (with a disposition to match).

Admittedly, that wasn’t entirely unintentional. Call it passive-aggressive if you will, it-

Well, it was just passive-aggressive, mostly. Freak the locals out enough and the Ninth won’t book half of the glorious salvation of the world on a Lady-cursed civilian bus.

“…Ma’am.” Enyo must’ve noticed the look on my face as I began to wonder how long I’d have to hold one of my wheels against the floor to saw through it. “We’re passing the tower.” I glanced to her, and she gently tapped the window with her finger.

[[File:Midori - kafkaesque.jpg|400px|thumb|left]]She started to go on about it, but honestly, it went rather over my head. I nodded as she talked, something about a world monument project, and Mitakihara as the pinnacle of humanity’s cultural achievements. They’d tried to replicate a lot of the world’s most recognizable landmarks, but…even when I tried to appreciate it, something just seemed wrong.

Maybe it was the air, or stale candy from the flight, but the sour taste in my mouth seemed to overwhelm everything else, even the glittering parade of landmarks that we’d passed by. It was probably the dying bit, actually, or the look on Enyo’s face.

She hadn’t been home in years, I dimly realized. She hadn’t been home for years, and it was for this. Probably all she could do not to cry.

“Oi,” I interrupted her, nudging her side. “D’you wanna visit your family while we’re here? I won’t tell the High Marshal, she’s got her head up her arse today anyway.”

The look she gave me was priceless, a mix of tired surprise and a pinch of anger, chased away by her usual cool, sulky expression.

“I have already thought about it, and I have no intention to. …Noriko isn’t a strong girl, High Marshal. She doesn’t need to know about any of this, least of all see me when I’m about to die.”

“And the…others?” I added quietly, busying myself with what was left of the two bags of rather squished macarons I’d prepared for the trip.

Bugger. This was probably a metaphor for something. A macaron, sat on and crushed, squeezed between ebon-black talons and eaten by a dead woman. A bit chewy and unsatisfying. If I knew what Kafkaesque meant, this would probably be it. I chewed in silence before awkwardly offering the bag toward her. She didn’t take any.

“…I would rather be allowed to at least pretend I’m going to die a hero.” I winced at that and swallowed.

“I’m getting a bit sick of that ‘oh, poor me, I’m going to die’ thing. D’y’know, El hissed at me until I promised to bring you back alive. It was almost like she had feelings for a second, there. Scared the piss out of me, sure as anything. Do you think I’m going to go back there and tell her I couldn’t save you?” I narrowed my eyes, hardened my stare. No doubt the half-purged remains of a slain dessert pinched between my claws only strengthened the image of deadly seriousness I was projecting.

“No. I think we’re both going to die, Ma’am,” she mumbled coolly, like it was a sodding option.

“Would you call me an oathbreaker, then, Marshal? A liar?”

“…No, Ma’am.” She cracked the tiniest hint of a smile.

“Damn right. I expect you, the Princess, and Callahan back, at least. Somebody needs to tame that woman.” It hurt just a bit. El…well, El was complicated. Not something I wanted to think about right then, and certainly not something I wanted to bring up with Enyo in any kind of depth.

“Ma’am. Yes, Ma’am.”

A quiet giggle, barely audible over the sound of the bus under us (and the gentle whirr as I idly spun my wheels) grabbed Enyo’s attention and mine, and we both sniggered along with it. Callahan was sitting across from us, faceplate raised as she nursed a thermos of lukewarm tea. She looked like hell warmed over – ashen-gray skin with faded, mint-colored hair flowing from the back of her helmet - which by her standards was rather good, actually.

No hint of fear, of course, or remorse. Vivian was older than the rest of us put together, there was really no denying it – she was an old, haggard veteran when I enrolled, she had been an old, haggard veteran when High Marshal Erebus was still with us, and not even the Librarians seemed entirely sure when she’d contracted. She’d seen a thousand witches come and go and more than her fair share of Walpurgisnachts, or so they said.

Met her husband once – nice gent, looked like a dead man walking, same as her. Must have been ninety or so, and he had the most glorious moustache-

Right, no. I’m not going to spend the last few hours of my bloody life thinking about moustaches. Amazing what comes to mind, though, isn’t it?

“Ah, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she chirped in her quiet, raspy way. “It’s just…I’m happy you can hold your chin up through this, High Marshal. Not many women in our position can.” It was a little hard to buy from someone who had been all smiles for the entire time I had known her, but one doesn’t complain. “I couldn’t, to be honest. When all I needed to worry about was myself, sure, but never when I had to lead.”

“Her stubborn refusal to understand the gravity of a situation was always one of the High Marshal’s strong points.” Enyo smirked over at me. I kicked her in the ankle with a wheel, letting it spark off her armor with a momentary screech.

---

Three hours before our appointed time of death, it was unreasonably crowded. The Ninth in all their shortsighted, skinflint glory had made no particular amount of room for the Templars in their Officio, not even for a few short hours, and the lot of us were already tired and restless. Even Enyo was starting to show her irritation, and a small group – O’Connell, Sinclair, Avery, and (of course) Trinity – seemed to be doing their level best to hate the entire country out of existence.

Callahan remarked that when she joined the Templars, they called that sort of attitude ‘initiative’. I wish I could say she was joking, of course, but I spent most of my time as a trainee in a bunk with ‘MY ARMOR IS CONTEMPT. MY SWORD IS HATRED’ gouged into the ceiling, and after a while, it only bothered me because they skipped a bit of the mantra. I suppose whoever did it just didn’t use a shield.

As exasperating as it was to have some of the fine women under me behaving like children, though, the worst was easily the Princess. Which was no particular surprise.

Mordred was fairly new to the Templars – she’d barely seen ten grief seeds, and most of her training was still theoretical. Fresh out of the abbey, just like her sister was the first time we’d met, only ten times worse; Arty was stuck up – IS stuck up – and had a steel rod up her arse twice the size of her sword, but she had the aura of a ruler. She was someone you could respect, even then, someone with a certain noble bearing. Supposedly, every Pendragon was like that in some way or another; Arty carried herself like a hero, Nero’s love for the people that followed her was boundless if a bit inscrutable, and Mordred…

…I hadn’t quite figured Mordred out yet.

She was violent, at least. Had a bit of a sister complex, I think; she was the sort of recruit you’d have trouble with no matter what you did with her, and it was made all the worse by her family’s blood and the expectations it set for her. The little brat had been pouting furiously since we’d settled in, and had begun pacing as of a few minutes ago, grumbling about the grave insult to our station and Officio, as if that were any sort of concern right now.

“Princess,” Enyo let out a low grumble. “Sit down. Please.” Of course, she picked up on it before I said anything – if anyone could tell when I was about to snap, it was Enyo.

“Marshal, surely you don’t intend to defend these blaggards? Ordinarily we’d be chomping at the bit to execute-“

“Princess.” Sharper, now. …Ah, I knew what was coming next. She turned her gaze to me instead.

“High Marshal,” the Princess barked with just the slightest whine in her voice. “Surely you don’t endorse submitting to these heretics?”

Vividly, I recalled a scene from my own days as a cadet – Arty had said the same thing to High Marshal Erebus once, just once. Near verbatim, with nearly the same tone. The High Marshal backhanded her so hard that the High Inquisitor received a call from Rome just a few minutes later, with the Empress complaining of a migraine. I still think of it now and again.

I’d never tell Arty, of course, but sometimes that thought gets me through the day.

“High Marshal? You agree with me, don’t you?” She really had no idea. I’ve always caught hell for my, ah, questionable sense of gravitas, but Mordred was really, truly ignorant of the situation. I opened my mouth to snap at her, then thought better of it. It couldn’t be helped.

“I’ve already begun composing my letter of complaint, Pendragon. I shall send it the moment we return home from our certain demise.” I reached up to rub my temple with my knuckles, curling the claws of my gauntlet away from my head. Headaches were not typically a problem for me, but once in a while…

“With all due respect-“

“Ah! Since you’re so keen on the subject, do you have any recommendations as to which perfume we ought to spritz it with? Would you like me to use your signet ring for the wax seal?”

Silence. I admit, my self-control may have lapsed a bit.

“How about we send them a dildo with which to fuck themselves? Sounds like a good time, eh? Eh?” No response, just a silence rapidly building into a cold anger. “No? No to the dildo?”

“Ma’am.” Enyo nudged my side, and I relented with a sigh.

“…Everyone’s tempers are running high, Pendragon. I understand you’re frustrated, and none of us are going to argue that this isn’t an insult, given we’re about to put our lives on the line to protect the Ninth’s Culexus unit, but you are not helping. For that matter, neither am I. Now is not the time to put our pride before the mission.”

“Ma’am.” The fury in Mordred’s eyes didn’t relent even a bit.

“Those of us who return home can report, and the King and the High Inquisitor can sort out how to deal with this relations disaster. But this is not the time, Pendragon. This is the literal opposite of the time. For the time being, we’re going to bite the bullet, smile to the Ninth’s Culexus when we meet them, and kill ourselves a giant damned witch.”

“Ma’am,” she seethed as she sat back down. Pouted just like her big sisters, only not quite as cute.

---

Two hours before our appointed time of death, we met with Lady Malal, leaving Callahan in charge in our absence. Left her my card, too, with the quiet recommendation she order pizza, or ice cream, or something to get everyone out of their own heads. Not a luxury Marshal Karasawa and I could afford, nice as it would have been, and she wasn’t too keen on letting me see her sister, either.

Shame, I’d heard she was a looker. But I wasn’t going to press it, not now. Maybe that would be what I’d do if I made it back: sleep with Enyo’s sister. Good a reason to come back as any, right? March off to war, and fight all the harder to return to your girl back home. That you hadn’t met yet.

I worried then that I’d started to crack. …Really, the whole time, I’d been trying to think of everything but Walpurgisnacht. It was what it was: a horrible, grim, cackling reality that was going to claim the lives of fifty-four brave women today, bare minimum. I should have let them stay. I should have forced them to stay. If we were already destined to die, it ought to have been me and Enyo, and that ought to have been enough. And it wasn’t, and it was all I could do not to scream.

…Dame von Seckendorff, please, please protect these brave, stupid girls. I don’t know if I can, and Erebus’s bloody Lady surely won’t. Please let some of them go home alive. Just one would be enough.

“…She’s here.” Enyo stiffened up next to me, and I followed suit, locking my wheels in a practiced but precarious balance as Lady Malal marched toward us in long, hurried strides.

…Just one. Please.

The Account of the Damned

2015-04-10T20:21:38Z

NECOchama:

<center><blockquote>''"Her stubborn refusal to understand the gravity of a situation was always one of the High Marshal’s strong points."''</blockquote></center>

{| class="wikitable" style="margin: auto; margin-right; text-align: center;color: black; background-color: grey;" width="30%"
| colspan="2" | '''Writeup Info'''
|-
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| '''Title'''
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| Account of the Damned
|-
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| '''Genres'''
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| Drama, Tragedy, Black Humor
|-
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| '''Author'''
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| Wendy Cooldown
|-
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| '''Timeline'''
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| Collectively, the lead-in to Walpurgisnacht up to (eventually) present day
|-
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| '''Canonicity Status'''
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| Canon
|-
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| '''Completion Status'''
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| Ongoing
|-
|}

==Synopsis==
====Account of the Damned====
The story of the leader of the Black Templars, Raleigh Alondight, as she struggles to fight through her own PTSD, battles the loss of almost all of her division, and cuts through the politics of her own Officio with a leg-wheel.
====Account of the Damned Gaiden====
A side-story focusing on the new Templar recruits as they train under Raleigh Alondight and Enyo Karasawa. (COMING SOON)
====The Tale of Arturia Pendragon====
An abandoned attempt at exploring the same concept and characters through a different narrator; may be picked up again at a later date.

=The Account of the Damned=

===[[The Account of the Damned Chapter 1: Four Hours]]===
{{:The Account of the Damned Chapter 1: Four Hours}}

===[[The Account of the Damned Chapter 2: Saws]]===
{{:The Account of the Damned Chapter 2: Saws}}

===[[The Account of the Damned Chapter 3: Shards of Red]]===
{{:The Account of the Damned Chapter 3: Shards of Red}}

===[[The Account of the Damned Chapter 4: Bad News]]===
{{:The Account of the Damned Chapter 4: Bad News}}

[[Category:Second Officio]]
[[Category:Account of the Damned]]

The Account of the Damned

2015-04-10T20:09:09Z

NECOchama:

<center><blockquote>''"Her stubborn refusal to understand the gravity of a situation was always one of the High Marshal’s strong points."''</blockquote></center>

{| class="wikitable" style="margin: auto; margin-right; text-align: center;color: black; background-color: grey;" width="30%"
| colspan="2" | '''Writeup Info'''
|-
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| '''Title'''
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| Prose Magica
|-
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| '''Genres'''
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| Drama, Tragedy, Black Humor
|-
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| '''Author'''
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| Wendy Cooldown
|-
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| '''Timeline'''
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| Collectively, the lead-in to Walpurgisnacht up to (eventually) present day
|-
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| '''Canonicity Status'''
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| Canon
|-
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| '''Completion Status'''
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| Ongoing
|-
|}

==Synopsis==
====Account of the Damned====
The story of the leader of the Black Templars, Raleigh Alondight, as she struggles to fight through her own PTSD, battles the loss of almost all of her division, and cuts through the politics of her own Officio with a leg-wheel.
====Account of the Damned Gaiden====
A side-story focusing on the new Templar recruits as they train under Raleigh Alondight and Enyo Karasawa. (COMING SOON)
====The Tale of Arturia Pendragon====
An abandoned attempt at exploring the same concept and characters through a different narrator; may be picked up again at a later date.

=The Account of the Damned=

===[[The Account of the Damned Chapter 1: Four Hours]]===
{{:The Account of the Damned Chapter 1: Four Hours}}

===[[The Account of the Damned Chapter 2: Saws]]===
{{:The Account of the Damned Chapter 2: Saws}}

===[[The Account of the Damned Chapter 3: Shards of Red]]===
{{:The Account of the Damned Chapter 3: Shards of Red}}

===[[The Account of the Damned Chapter 4: Bad News]]===
{{:The Account of the Damned Chapter 4: Bad News}}

[[Category:Second Officio]]
[[Category:Account of the Damned]]

Write-ups

2015-04-10T20:08:25Z

NECOchama: /* The Second and the Black Templars */ Putting this all under the Account of the Damned umbrella

Write-ups are canon stories not written by Deculture and posted at the ends of threads. Some are strongly connected to the main plot, but many develop other people and places within the setting and only occasionally cross over into the quest itself.

The first official write-up came after thread 86 and detailed Wendy Cooldown, Chiaki's forgotten acquaintance from the 8th Officio in California. The second, Prose Magica by Archivalfag, debuted shortly afterward in thread 88, with the story of Odette and the 17th Officio in Toronto. Subsequent writers contributed writeups afterward, but as of March 2015, these are not considered truly canon.

Also relevant are the canon prequel, [[Magical Girl Noir Quest Gaiden - Forgotten Story]], and the [[Non-canon Write-ups]].

=== Wendy Cooldown ===

==== Wendy Cooldown and The Eighth ====

{|class="wikitable" style="line-height: 1.6em; width: 100%; border: 1px black solid;"
! style="text-align: center; background: #ADADAD; width: 18%"|Write-up Name
! style="text-align: center; background: #ADADAD; width: 7%"|Posted Date
! style="text-align: center; background: #ADADAD; width: 40%"|Description
! style="text-align: center; background: #ADADAD; width: 6%"|Wiki Article
! style="text-align: center; background: #ADADAD; width: 20%"|Appearing Characters
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/fHXVXFHV/ Luck and a Smile]</center>
|<center>14 April 2013</center>
|<center>Wendy meets the new Chiaki for the first time in a dream.</center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Wendy]], [[Chiaki]] </center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/WNgCF8Ly/ Home]</center>
|<center>29 April 2013</center>

|<center>Wendy meets "Kong" for the first time.</center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Wendy]], [[Annie]], [[Mary]], [[Kharn]], [[Malal]], [[Chiaki| Chiaki as "Kong"]] </center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/nLa0EjEz/ Hurricanrana]</center>
|<center>12 May 2013</center>
|<center>Wendy takes "Kong" out for burgers and a Baseball Game.</center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Wendy]], [[Sabrina Blackburn]], [[Chiaki|Chiaki as "Kong"]] </center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/f34VBksk/ Sugar Donut]</center>
|<center>19 May 2013</center>
|<center>Wendy takes Annie's sword to get it "fixed".</center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Wendy]], [[Mary]], [[Amber]] </center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/cAz9gBed/ Little Frilly Doll]</center>
|<center>21 May 2013</center>
|<center>Wendy gets to meet Kharn with Annie May.</center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Wendy]], [[Annie]], [[Kharn]]</center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/nprSFDBX/ Witch]</center>
|<center>22 May 2013</center>
|<center>Wendy and some of the Rabbits take out a Witch.</center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Wendy]], [[Viola]], [[Annie]], [[Eve Rivers|Eve]] </center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/sLP51X6m/ Buttermilk]</center>
|<center>23 May 2013</center>
|<center>Wendy and "Kong" go for a night on the town, Murderface style. Things happen. Pancakes are made.</center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Wendy]], [[Chiaki|Chiaki as "Kong"]], [[Charles]], [[Mami]] </center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/jbbV8KC0/ Ron]</center>
|<center>24 May 2013</center>
|<center>Alpha Team does Game night.</center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Wendy]], [[Mary]], [[Annie]], [[Amber]]</center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/e4sm5egh/ Movies-Excerpt from Sabrina Blackburn's Diary]</center>
|<center>27 May 2013</center>
|<center>Sabrina and Malal have some time off.</center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Sabrina Blackburn]], [[Malal]], [[Lily]] </center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/hw9YMb7p/ Squishy Pile:Excerpt from Sabrina Blackburns Diary]</center>
|<center>29 May 2013</center>

|<center>Sabrina gets a Culexus suit and tries out her powers.</center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Sabrina Blackburn]], [[Amber]], [[Malal]], [[Eightball]]</center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/nav6TYcu/ Blue Roses]</center>
|<center>3 June 2013</center>
|<center>Wendy and "Kong" go on a time-stop date.</center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Wendy]], [[Chiaki|Chiaki as "Kong"]], [[Mami]], [[Lily]] </center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/1UVqk3Cu/ Ponytail]</center>
|<center>11 June 2013</center>
|<center>Wendy and Nico go out and have "Fun".</center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Wendy]], [[Nicole]]</center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/5QB1VfLx/ Gardern of Sinners]</center>
|<center>16 June 2013</center>

|<center>Wendy and the Springfields garden with Miss Marigold.</center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Wendy]], [[Mary]], [[Annie]], [[Amber]], [[Marigold]], [[Lily]], [[Dorothy]]</center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/L8VFbSpc Green]</center>
|<center>4 August 2013</center>
|<center>A green-haired magical girl falls back into bad habits and hits the bar.</center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>????</center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/exjfuNND/ Walkie Talkie: Excerpt from Sub Zero Security Records]</center>
|<center>12 August 2013</center>
|<center>Sabrina has a heart to heart with Mary Sue. Pre-suiting. Then she gets a visitor.</center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Sabrina Blackburn]], [[Mary]] </center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/UcS35k7E/ Honest Feelings- Clip from Dorothy Wright's Video Diary]</center>
|<center>19 August 2013</center>
|<center>Dorothy and Amber dress up Viola so she can go see everyone's favorite Blonde Goddess.</center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Dorothy]], [[Viola]], [[Amber]] </center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/dimH1jcf Butterfly]</center>
|<center>1 October 2013</center>
|<center>Wendy visits a friend and has a bizarre encounter with a magical mask.</center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Wendy]], [[Jade]], [[Nicole]]</center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/xeHrWRP6 Blood and Cigarettes]</center>
|<center>5 October 2013</center>
|<center>Wendy goes to a concert and gets to see Chiaki fuck shit up.</center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Wendy]], [[Chiaki]], [[Dorothy]]</center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/q88md2KW Church Business]</center>
|<center>27 October 2013</center>
|<center>Wendy has to make a sacrifice.</center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Wendy]], [[Himiko]], [[Aki]]</center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/TGCkk4Z2 Stray Cat Taming]</center>
|<center>1 November 2013</center>
|<center>Wendy sees what Mami is capable of.</center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Wendy]], [[Mami]]</center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/rtNPNgua Raining Again]</center>
|<center>14 December 2013</center>
|<center>Wendy finds out about a broken promise.</center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Wendy]], [[Amber]]</center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/Kp0U6uZd Yuki-onna]</center>
|<center>31 December 2013</center>
|<center>Wendy gets what she really wanted for Christmas.</center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Wendy]], [[Chiaki|Chiaki as "Kong"]], [[Dorothy]], [[Mary]], [[Sabrina Blackburn]], [[Amber]], [[Nicole]] </center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/red9whZ3 Sayaka's Date: Sharp Blue Style]</center>
|<center>17 January 2014</center>
|<center>Sayaka and Amber talk about important things in a less serious setting.</center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Sayaka]], [[Amber]]</center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/canq166i dreamygrrl]</center>
|<center>31 March 2014</center>
|<center>Wendy gets cold feet composing an email to her favorite doujin author.</center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Wendy]], [[Annie]], [[Pinky]]</center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/TXPPUrTc bad barbecue]</center>
|<center>21 June 2014</center>
|<center>Wendy surveys the aftermath of the attack on the church, and, with Mami's help, is made ready to meet Chiaki face to face.</center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Wendy]], [[Amber]], [[Mami]], [[Aki]], [[Jade]], [[Yulia]], [[Shiraki]]</center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/M2ugac52 not a date]</center>
|<center>17 October 2014</center>
|<center>Wendy finally meets her favorite doujin author face to face. Sort of.</center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Wendy]], [[Uboa]], [[Midori]]</center>
|-
|}

==== [[The Account of the Damned]] ====

{|class="wikitable" style="line-height: 1.6em; width: 100%; border: 1px black solid;"
! style="text-align: center; background: #ADADAD; width: 18%"|Write-up Name
! style="text-align: center; background: #ADADAD; width: 7%"|Posted Date
! style="text-align: center; background: #ADADAD; width: 40%"|Description
! style="text-align: center; background: #ADADAD; width: 6%"|Wiki Article
! style="text-align: center; background: #ADADAD; width: 20%"|Appearing Characters
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/KHePSEc1 The Tale of Arturia Pendragon: A King Must Stand Alone Part 1]</center>
|<center>5 July 2013</center>
|<center>We meet Arturia and Company, shortly after she walked in on her Warmaster and Kharn... </center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Arturia]], [[Malal]], [[Raleigh]], [[Gertrud]] </center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/BLPeHrRW The Account of the Damned: Four Hours]</center>
|<center>5 May 2014</center>
|<center>The Templars prepare en-route to Walpurgisnacht. </center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Raleigh]], [[Enyo]], [[Vivian]], [[Mordred]] </center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/zv4biMwr The Account of the Damned, ch. 2: Saws]</center>
|<center>15 August 2014</center>
|<center>Raleigh deals with the reality of losing all her limbs. </center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Raleigh]], [[Enyo]], [[Cosette]] </center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/KPZjdWP1 The Account of the Damned, ch. 3: Shards of Red]</center>
|<center>26 January 2015</center>
|<center>Raleigh pesters Arty, then looks to bolster the Templars' diminished ranks. </center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Raleigh]], [[Enyo]], [[Arturia]] </center>
|-
|}

==== NECO Case Logs ====

{|class="wikitable" style="line-height: 1.6em; width: 100%; border: 1px black solid;"
! style="text-align: center; background: #ADADAD; width: 18%"|Write-up Name
! style="text-align: center; background: #ADADAD; width: 7%"|Posted Date
! style="text-align: center; background: #ADADAD; width: 40%"|Description
! style="text-align: center; background: #ADADAD; width: 6%"|Wiki Article
! style="text-align: center; background: #ADADAD; width: 20%"|Appearing Characters
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/iHMHvXw4 Case Log - 20XX (about three years ago) - Rabbit-Face]</center>
|<center>6 September 2013</center>
|<center> </center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Izumi]], [[Sayaka]] </center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/2FYmnNAs Case Log - 20XX (about two years ago) - Kharn]</center>
|<center>31 October 2013</center>
|<center> </center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Izumi]], [[Malal]], [[Kharn]] </center>
|-
|}

==== 20th Logs ====

{|class="wikitable" style="line-height: 1.6em; width: 100%; border: 1px black solid;"
! style="text-align: center; background: #ADADAD; width: 18%"|Write-up Name
! style="text-align: center; background: #ADADAD; width: 7%"|Posted Date
! style="text-align: center; background: #ADADAD; width: 40%"|Description
! style="text-align: center; background: #ADADAD; width: 6%"|Wiki Article
! style="text-align: center; background: #ADADAD; width: 20%"|Appearing Characters
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/9QW5eFtT (20th Agent Log) Escape from Sex Gulag]</center>
|<center>17 November 2013</center>
|<center>A callidus gets a game over and goes out for ice cream.</center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Satou]], [[Rin]]</center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/3WyEJe5u (20th Spymaster Log) Old Friends]</center>
|<center>27 January 2014</center>
|<center>Two old friends discuss their jobs and possibilities.</center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[["Severine"]], [["Monique"]]</center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/KFy7Qd0E (20th Spymaster Log) Yatagarasu]</center>
|<center>19 October 2014</center>
|<center>Two old friends discuss current events and possibilities.</center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Satou]], [[Vintage]]</center>
|-
|}

==== Iori Minase ====

{|class="wikitable" style="line-height: 1.6em; width: 100%; border: 1px black solid;"
! style="text-align: center; background: #ADADAD; width: 18%"|Write-up Name
! style="text-align: center; background: #ADADAD; width: 7%"|Posted Date
! style="text-align: center; background: #ADADAD; width: 40%"|Description
! style="text-align: center; background: #ADADAD; width: 6%"|Wiki Article
! style="text-align: center; background: #ADADAD; width: 20%"|Appearing Characters
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/atUskTfu Iori and the Noose]</center>
|<center>6 April 2014</center>
|<center> </center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Iori]], [[Ruri]], [[Hatachikawa-P]]</center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/ctdCsu8d Iori and the Sandwich]</center>
|<center>28 September 2014</center>
|<center> Iori is told to dance to Ruri's tune like everyone else. </center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Maki Albrecht Wakahisa]], [[Ruri Kirishima]], [[Iori Minase]]</center>
|-
|}

=== Archivalfag ===

==== [[Prose Magica]] ====

{|class="wikitable" style="line-height: 1.6em; width: 100%; border: 1px black solid;"
! style="text-align: center; background: #ADADAD; width: 18%"|Write-up Name
! style="text-align: center; background: #ADADAD; width: 7%"|Posted Date
! style="text-align: center; background: #ADADAD; width: 40%"|Description
! style="text-align: center; background: #ADADAD; width: 6%"|Wiki Article
! style="text-align: center; background: #ADADAD; width: 20%"|Appearing Characters
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/0CD6b9T6/ Prose Magica Part 1]</center>
|<center>29 April 2013</center>
|<center>We meet Odette, Gertrude and Lotte while a Magical Girl gets kidnapped.</center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Odette]], [[Gertrude]], [[Heidi]], [[Freida]], [[Lotte]] </center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/wKDADPM3/ Prose Magica Part 2]</center>
|<center>5 May 2013</center>
|<center>Odette heads back to base, meets Tyler and talks to Heidi.</center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Odette]], [[Holly]], [[Tyler]], [[Heidi]] </center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/W7mQmU0B/ Prose Magica Part 3]</center>
|<center>12 May 2013</center>
|<center>Therese wakes up and gets briefed. Odette has an episode and writes poetry.</center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Therese]], [[Tyler]], [[Holly]], [[Molly]], [[Odette]], [[Lotte]] </center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/e7yBtYat/ Prose Magica Part 4]</center>
|<center>19 May 2013</center>
|<center>Odette searches for clues to Freida's disappearance and gets an odd message, Theresa makes a speech to Freida's squad.</center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Odette]], [[Gertrude]], [[Holly]], [[Therese]], [[Fredrica]] </center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/cY64ryR9/ Prose Magica Part 5]</center>
|<center>22 & 24 May 2013</center>
|<center>Odette and Therese chat outside her apartment. Fredrica does some asking and fights with Tyler. Fubey talks with Holly and Odette finds something strange.</center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Odette]], [[Therese]], [[Fredrica]], [[Fubey]], [[Holly]] </center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/RrMnXMHQ/ Prose Magica Part 6]</center>
|<center>27 May 2013</center>
|<center>Megan and Mona get sent to interrogate a man by Fubey, what they find out is disturbing. </center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Megan]], [[Mona]], [[Fubey]] </center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/fjivLrQw/ Prose Magica Part 7]</center>
|<center>4 June 2013</center>
|<center>Odette wakes up with Lotte again, gets a call from Therese and has a chat. Lotte tells Therese something interesting. </center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Odette]], [[Lotte]], [[Therese]], [[Megan]], [[Mona]], [[Fubey]] </center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/xYmPNWBr/ Prose Magica Part 8]</center>
|<center>9 June 2013</center>
|<center>Odette and Lotte examine a room, then hang with Megan and Mona. Odette cries. </center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Odette]], [[Lotte]], [[Megan]], [[Mona]] </center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/p580h7Jk/ Prose Magica Part 9]</center>
|<center>16 June 2013</center>
|<center>The girls bust down a club and discover their quarry has escaped. </center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Odette]], [[Lotte]], [[Megan]], [[Mona]], [[Therese]] </center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/CPkPEJp7/ Prose Magica Part 10]</center>
|<center>23 June 2013</center>
|<center>Odette and Mona reach Mona's house in time to find Fennel. Things don't go well. </center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Odette]], [[Mona]], [[Fennel]] </center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/HWLYiEGu/ Prose Magica: Nightcall]</center>
|<center>17 July 2013</center>
|<center>We meet Khan, expert driver and Culexus of the 17th as she drives Fredrica and Gertrude, then gets an order no one wants.</center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Khan]], [[Gertrude]], [[Fredrica]], [[Molly]], [[Mona]] </center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/AMBMTdcC/ Prose Magica: A Spoonful of Sugar part 1]</center>
|<center>5 August 2013</center>
|<center>We meet Dr. Emma Strauss and her "Helper" as well as a...customer.</center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Emma Strauss|Dr. Strauss]], [[Milica]], [[Ofelia]] </center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/nZvu6Lvw/ Prose Magica Part 11]</center>
|<center>8 August 2013</center>
|<center>Therese rages, Molly talks to Fubey, Mona wakes up and talks to Meg, Lotte is up to something .</center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Therese]], [[Tyler]], [[Molly]], [[Fubey]], [[Mona]], [[Meg]], [[Lotte]], [[Surrey]] </center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/wyWqi3eq/ Prose Magica Part 12]</center>
|<center>2 September 2013</center>
|<center>Lotte reminisces as Odette continues to be missing. Then she plots more.</center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Lotte]], [[Harriet]], [[The Bartender]], [[Surrey]] </center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/43RT59yu/ Prose Magica Part 13]</center>
|<center>5 October 2013</center>
|<center>Odette beats up a surprisingly helpful girl.</center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Odette]], [[Brie]], [[Fennel]], [[Holly]] </center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/S0FKFefd/ Prose Magica: A Spoonful of Sugar part 2]</center>
|<center>4 November 2013</center>
|<center>A group of bounty hunters come to regret their choice of target.</center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Emma Strauss|Dr. Strauss]], [[Milica]], [[Jiang]] </center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/53nAcWWL/ Prose Magica Part 14]</center>
|<center>12 November 2013</center>
|<center>Odette wakes in a friendly setting. Her warmaster has some troubling thoughts.</center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Odette]], [[Lotte]], [[The Bartender]], [[The Russian]], [[Fubey]], [[Holly]] </center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/4RLDfcML/ Prose Magica: The Exile of Doctor Strauss part 1]</center>
|<center>29 November 2013</center>
|<center>Emma Strauss tactfully handles her retirement.</center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Emma Strauss|Dr. Strauss]], [[Thorne]] </center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/0XvsfS0F/ Prose Magica Part 15]</center>
|<center>9 December 2013</center>
|<center>A nightmare leaves Odette seeking comfort with her new roommate. Frederica gets promoted.</center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Odette]], [[Lotte]], [[Frederica]]</center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/r0ufpVcW/ Prose Magica Part 16]</center>
|<center>10 January 2014</center>
|<center>Odette sees a name she'd prefer to forget and pays visit to a prisoner.</center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Odette]], [[Holly]], [[Megan]], [[Mona]], [[Fennel]], [[Xiaomei]]</center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/95CcvRt0/ Prose Magica Part 17]</center>
|<center>6 April 2014</center>
|<center>Odette and Fubey meet with old friends, while sinister forces continue to brew in the background.</center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Odette]], [[Xiaomei]], [[Fubey]], [[Kelzang]], [[Heidi]]</center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/zPWb1Ksj Prose Magica Part 18]</center>
|<center>27 April 2014</center>
|<center>Therese tends to the duties of being a Warmaster and Odette makes a proposition. As it turns out, some sins aren't so easily forgotten.</center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Odette]], [[Therese]], [[Fubey]], [[Chloe]], [[Fredrica]], [[Lotte]], [[Harriet]], [[Holly]]</center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/6XZ1fxKu/ Prose Magica: The Exile of Doctor Strauss part 2]</center>
|<center>13 June 2014</center>
|<center>Emma Strauss meets with an accomplice.</center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Emma Strauss|Dr. Strauss]], [[Prime]] </center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/c4eWGS1j Prose Magica Part 19]</center>
|<center>26 July 2014</center>
|<center>The hooks must be destroyed.</center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Odette]], [[Holly]], [[Therese]], [[Tyler]], [[Fubey]]</center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/cRVyKYUF Prose Magica Part 20]</center>
|<center>5 September 2014</center>
|<center>Fubey and Odette come to an agreement. A villain is introduced.</center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Odette]], [[Fubey]], [[Prime]], [[Tilly]], [[Ingrid]], [[Shion]], [[Surrey]]</center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/GM4bWv4V Prose Magica: A Serious House on Serious Earth]</center>
|<center>26 January 2015</center>
|<center>Prime meets an acquaintance from the Church and discusses plans for the Seventeenth.</center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Prime]], [[Eliphas]]</center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/2cGhaJVN Prose Magica Part 21]</center>
|<center>1 February 2015</center>
|<center>Mona nervously waits for a call. The Bartender humors a magician.</center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Mona]], [[Meg]], [[Odette]], [[The Bartender]], [[May]], [[Lotte]]</center>
|-
|}

==== [[Kingdom of Flies]] ====

{|class="wikitable" style="line-height: 1.6em; width: 100%; border: 1px black solid;"
! style="text-align: center; background: #ADADAD; width: 18%"|Write-up Name
! style="text-align: center; background: #ADADAD; width: 7%"|Posted Date
! style="text-align: center; background: #ADADAD; width: 40%"|Description
! style="text-align: center; background: #ADADAD; width: 6%"|Wiki Article
! style="text-align: center; background: #ADADAD; width: 20%"|Appearing Characters
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/SKxB1mJ9 Pandæmonium]</center>
|<center>3 February 2014</center>
|<center>Thorne wakes up after the Varrigan City Massacre and runs into one of the most dangerous magical girls in the world.</center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Thorne]], [[Typhus]]</center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/z0weSvw6 Into the Wolf's Den]</center>
|<center>16 June 2014</center>
|<center>Thorne meets with an old acquaintance. Typhus has an adorable breakfast.</center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Thorne]], [[Typhus]], [[Gavrill]]</center>
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/SeGzJCjJ Red Sands of Paradise]</center>
|<center>9 August 2014</center>
|<center>Gavrill returns to the Blood God's Arena and relives her last gladiator fight.</center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Gavrill]], [[Kharn]], [[Emma Strauss|Dr. Strauss]], [[Thorne]]</center>
|-
|}

==== [[Blood and Iron]] ====

{|class="wikitable" style="line-height: 1.6em; width: 100%; border: 1px black solid;"
! style="text-align: center; background: #ADADAD; width: 18%"|Write-up Name
! style="text-align: center; background: #ADADAD; width: 7%"|Posted Date
! style="text-align: center; background: #ADADAD; width: 40%"|Description
! style="text-align: center; background: #ADADAD; width: 6%"|Wiki Article
! style="text-align: center; background: #ADADAD; width: 20%"|Appearing Characters
|-
|<center>[http://pastebin.com/36BbBRri The Morticians Part 1]</center>
|<center>8 November 2014</center>
|<center>The MS Pulchritudinous receives grim news.</center>
|<center>N/A</center>
|<center>[[Clare]], [[Fabulous Billie]], [[Joe]], [[Fran]], [[Nigel]]</center>
|-
|}

The Account of the Damned

2015-04-10T20:06:56Z

NECOchama: Created page with "<center><blockquote>''"Her stubborn refusal to understand the gravity of a situation was always one of the High Marshal’s strong points."''</blockquote></center> {| class="..."

<center><blockquote>''"Her stubborn refusal to understand the gravity of a situation was always one of the High Marshal’s strong points."''</blockquote></center>

{| class="wikitable" style="margin: auto; margin-right; text-align: center;color: black; background-color: grey;" width="30%"
| colspan="2" | '''Writeup Info'''
|-
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| '''Title'''
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| Prose Magica
|-
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| '''Genres'''
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| Drama, Tragedy, Black Humor
|-
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| '''Author'''
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| Wendy Cooldown
|-
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| '''Timeline'''
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| Collectively, the leadin to Walpurgisnacht up to (eventually) present day
|-
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| '''Canonicity Status'''
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| Canon
|-
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| '''Completion Status'''
| style="text-align: center;width: 30%; background-color: white;"| Ongoing
|-
|}

==Synopsis==
====Account of the Damned====
The story of the leader of the Black Templars, Raleigh Alondight, as she struggles to fight through her own PTSD, battles the loss of almost all of her division, and cuts through the politics of her own Officio with a leg-wheel.
====Account of the Damned Gaiden====
A side-story focusing on the new Templar recruits as they train under Raleigh Alondight and Enyo Karasawa. (COMING SOON)
====The Tale of Arturia Pendragon====
An abandoned attempt at exploring the same concept and characters through a different narrator; may be picked up again at a later date.

=The Account of the Damned=

===[[The Account of the Damned Chapter 1: Four Hours]]===
{{:The Account of the Damned Chapter 1: Four Hours}}

===[[The Account of the Damned Chapter 2: Saws]]===
{{:The Account of the Damned Chapter 2: Saws}}

===[[The Account of the Damned Chapter 3: Shards of Red]]===
{{:The Account of the Damned Chapter 3: Shards of Red}}

===[[The Account of the Damned Chapter 4: Bad News]]===
{{:The Account of the Damned Chapter 4: Bad News}}

[[Category:Second Officio]]
[[Category:Account of the Damned]]

Wendy Cooldown

2014-06-10T01:11:23Z

NECOchama: /* Trivia */

<blockquote>''"We were monsters before we were magical girls."''</blockquote>
{{Infobox
| imagecaption = Wendy Cooldown
| image = [[Image:Profile-Wendy Cooldown.png|200px]]
| aka = Miss Wendy Motherfucker, Vomit-tan
| appearance = [[Thread 84]]
| organization = Church of the Golden Land, Formerly Eighth Officio
| rank = Apostle, Formerly Callidus Prima and Aide to the Warmaster, as well as second-in-command of the Wonderland Corps. Eversor Division
| occupation = Magical Girl
| ability = Creation
| weapon = Kitchen knife with no name, customized beam katana with beam crossguard 'Bad Dream'
| height = 170cm
| dob = December 28th, 20XX (currently approx. 20 years old)
}}
'''Wendy Cooldown''', a mysterious and murderous acquaintance from Chiaki's muddy past as Murderface. She's supposed to be dead - she isn't. That seems to happen a lot these days.

==Character Summary==

Callidus. Sleepy American. Dream-flavored reality warper. Serial killer waifu.

===Physical Description===
* A moderately-tall American girl of part-Irish descent.
* She has a pale complexion with a small smattering of freckles that appear during the summer.
* She has dark bags under her eyes and looks constantly exhausted. Some would say 'haunted'.
* Her eyes are a coppery red-brown, roughly the same color as her hair.
* As a patient in the Helms Center and as a rookie magical girl, her hair was cropped short and messy.
* Currently, she leaves it in pigtails or a long braid. It fluffs out a little if it isn't cut or tied, giving her a decidedly sleepy look.
* Her build is fairly average, leaning slightly toward muscular, with the exception of her butt, enhanced(?) by years of fast food.
* Regardless of whether she's in-costume or not, she seems to have a deep love of a certain checkerboard motif, as well as pale reds and pinks. Most of her clothes have a small black and white checker patch, which she'd lazily define as a window.
* Her [[Soul Gem]] is an egg-shaped, pink-white pearl formerly set in bronze, and now set in an amalgam of metals. Typically it's clipped to her scarf.

===Personality===
* Wendy is, for the most part, a quiet but grouchy girl, characterized by a snarky attitude and a certain eagerness to stab.
* As a Callidus, Wendy is naturally predisposed toward stealthy work, but because of her nature and the way she was trained, she would be better described as an assassin than an infiltrator.
* Apparently she's worked to overcome a serious issue with anthrophobia, and her uneasiness with people still shows when she's upset, usually in the form of violent aggression.
* It can be difficult for others to differentiate between the people Wendy likes and the people she doesn't based on her behavior, which is somewhat antagonistic in most cases.

==Character History==

A former Callidus Rank Leader and, in her words, 'Ghetto Equerry' of the Eighth, Wendy's been in the game for a long, long time. She was contracted out of the Helms Center for Mental and Psychological Wellness nearly seven years before Chiaki Matsuda's amnesiac awakening at the beginning of MGNQ and was quickly recruited as a protégée of the current Warmaster at the time, Dahlia Marigold, along with Mary Sue and Annie May Springfield. The three of them would go on to become a driving force in the Officio with their collective strength and charisma.

A few months after [[Girl A]] was found in a witch's barrier and made a mess of several Third Officio squads, she and Wendy became acquainted, and after a time romantically engaged. This continued up to Wendy's death over a year later, though a page torn from Wendy's diary implies that she was planning to retire and propose several months later.

===The Death and Return of Wendy Cooldown===

In September of 20XX, roughly five to six months before the events of Magical Girl Noir Quest, Wendy was killed in an encounter with Nicole Touchdown, apparently consumed by the Golden Mask. Through a series of yet-to-be-explained circumstances, however, [[Pinky]] revived her, and the Wonderland Corps. split off to form the Church of the Golden Land, wherein Wendy now holds the dubious rank of Apostle.

She and [[Chiaki]] became acquainted again through a series of dreams after Chiaki and [[Midori]]'s barrier adventure in Siberia, and is implied to be the temporary head of the Mitakihara branch of the Church of the Golden Land.

==NECO Profile==
<pre style="width: auto; white-space: pre-wrap;">*CURRENT*
NAME: Wendy Cooldown
“…You’re going to sell this, aren’t you.”
OFFICIO: Eighth, in Santa Destroy
RANK: Aide to the Eighth Warmaster, Callidus Prima, ‘White Rabbit’ of the Wonderland Corps.
BIO: A veteran magical girl that’s gone through specialized Callidus and Eversor training. Wendy is looked up to by most of the girls in the Eighth as a killer and as a fighter, and is one of the most reliable agents its leadership turns to for accomplishing important tasks. Apparently multilingual, she’s started to act as a diplomat for the Eighth as well, providing a cool counterpoint to the Springfield Sisters.
ABILITY: Creation of a large number of visualized objects or creatures, used in conjunction with standard Callidus training for body modification.
WEAPONRY: A long, ever-present chef’s knife and a heavily-customized beam katana with beam crossguard.

STRENGTH C
SPEED S
MELEE S+
RANGED B
MAGIC S
TACTICS S+
CHARM B

TRIVIA

-Wendy has a close personal relationship with UAA ace Nicole Touchdown. The two have fought dozens of times on and off-duty, though which is the superior fighter is shrouded in mystery.

-She imports every volume of Miracle Midori x Murder Mayumi as it comes out, claiming that the version they get in the US is a ‘joke’. They stay hidden in a ‘shrine-like part of her closet’, according to our US agent!

-That may be because she’s got a saucy inter-Officio relationship with Murderface herself. This intrepid reporter finds that extremely unlikely, but the sources say what the sources say…

-UPDATE-

Deceased as of September of last year, KIA in an altercation with a high-ranking member of the United Assassins Association. The loss sent ripples through Santa Destroy’s mercenary scene and sparked a new, albeit short-lived conflict with the UAA resulting in more high-profile deaths on both sides.</pre>

<pre style="width: auto; white-space: pre-wrap;">*OUTDATED (2 years)*
NAME: Wendy Cooldown
“…Fuck off. I’ll shove that thing down your throat.”
OFFICIO: Eighth, in Santa Destroy
RANK: Aide to the Eighth Warmaster, Callidus Prima, ‘White Rabbit’ of the Wonderland Corps.
BIO: A quiet girl that’s been one of the Warmaster’s aides almost since contracting. Typically regarded with some trepidation by other magical girls in the Eighth, Wendy is actually one of the go-to people for Getting Things Done there. At least, if one needs to Get Things Done without leveling a city block. Apparently a girl of many natural talents.
ABILITY: Creation of a large number of visualized objects or creatures, used in conjunction with standard Callidus training for body modification.
WEAPONRY: A long chef’s knife and ellipsis moe.
STRENGTH C
SPEED S
MELEE S
RANGED B
MAGIC S
TACTICS S
CHARM C

TRIVIA
-According to rumor, Wendy Cooldown is an escapee from the Helms Center for Mental and Psychological Wellness. Is that really how they do things in America?

-Early in her career, Wendy Cooldown appeared on a popular American television show, Deathwatch, along with other up-and-comers from the United Assassins Association and the Ninth Officio.

-She used to work part-time at a Chinese restaurant, scaring off Triads and delivering spring rolls. Xie xie!
</pre>

==Trivia==
*Wendy's appearance and abilities are heavily derived from Madotsuki, the protagonist of the surreal, exploration-based horror game [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yume_Nikki Yume Nikki].
*Her unique ability is the creation or alteration of matter from dreamspace. As it's a power manifested partially by her subconscious, however, she doesn't always have full control over it. Her trademark kitchen knife is manifested this way, and she frequently uses it to create a broom with which to fly or to alter her physical appearance and the properties of her body. She can also create physical or semi-physical beings, but rarely does so voluntarily for a variety of reasons.
*Wendy's favorite flowers are blue roses. [http://pastebin.com/nav6TYcu blue roses]
*On her neck, she has a tattoo of the Wonderland Corps. emblem; it's usually hidden by her scarf, however.
*Although she and Chiaki were romantically entangled in the past, she seems to have a wandering eye, and a noted, possibly unhealthy interest in [[Mami Tomoe]].
*She and Amber Nakajima are apparently best friends, to whatever extent either is capable of that, and purportedly former roommates.

==Gallery==

=== Art by deculture ===
FILL IN LATER

=== Art by Nicehatguy ===
FILL IN LATER

[[Category:Characters]]
[[Category:Writeup Characters]]
[[Category:Eighth Officio]]

Wendy Cooldown

2014-06-10T01:08:43Z

NECOchama:

<blockquote>''"We were monsters before we were magical girls."''</blockquote>
{{Infobox
| imagecaption = Wendy Cooldown
| image = [[Image:Profile-Wendy Cooldown.png|200px]]
| aka = Miss Wendy Motherfucker, Vomit-tan
| appearance = [[Thread 84]]
| organization = Church of the Golden Land, Formerly Eighth Officio
| rank = Apostle, Formerly Callidus Prima and Aide to the Warmaster, as well as second-in-command of the Wonderland Corps. Eversor Division
| occupation = Magical Girl
| ability = Creation
| weapon = Kitchen knife with no name, customized beam katana with beam crossguard 'Bad Dream'
| height = 170cm
| dob = December 28th, 20XX (currently approx. 20 years old)
}}
'''Wendy Cooldown''', a mysterious and murderous acquaintance from Chiaki's muddy past as Murderface. She's supposed to be dead - she isn't. That seems to happen a lot these days.

==Character Summary==

Callidus. Sleepy American. Dream-flavored reality warper. Serial killer waifu.

===Physical Description===
* A moderately-tall American girl of part-Irish descent.
* She has a pale complexion with a small smattering of freckles that appear during the summer.
* She has dark bags under her eyes and looks constantly exhausted. Some would say 'haunted'.
* Her eyes are a coppery red-brown, roughly the same color as her hair.
* As a patient in the Helms Center and as a rookie magical girl, her hair was cropped short and messy.
* Currently, she leaves it in pigtails or a long braid. It fluffs out a little if it isn't cut or tied, giving her a decidedly sleepy look.
* Her build is fairly average, leaning slightly toward muscular, with the exception of her butt, enhanced(?) by years of fast food.
* Regardless of whether she's in-costume or not, she seems to have a deep love of a certain checkerboard motif, as well as pale reds and pinks. Most of her clothes have a small black and white checker patch, which she'd lazily define as a window.
* Her [[Soul Gem]] is an egg-shaped, pink-white pearl formerly set in bronze, and now set in an amalgam of metals. Typically it's clipped to her scarf.

===Personality===
* Wendy is, for the most part, a quiet but grouchy girl, characterized by a snarky attitude and a certain eagerness to stab.
* As a Callidus, Wendy is naturally predisposed toward stealthy work, but because of her nature and the way she was trained, she would be better described as an assassin than an infiltrator.
* Apparently she's worked to overcome a serious issue with anthrophobia, and her uneasiness with people still shows when she's upset, usually in the form of violent aggression.
* It can be difficult for others to differentiate between the people Wendy likes and the people she doesn't based on her behavior, which is somewhat antagonistic in most cases.

==Character History==

A former Callidus Rank Leader and, in her words, 'Ghetto Equerry' of the Eighth, Wendy's been in the game for a long, long time. She was contracted out of the Helms Center for Mental and Psychological Wellness nearly seven years before Chiaki Matsuda's amnesiac awakening at the beginning of MGNQ and was quickly recruited as a protégée of the current Warmaster at the time, Dahlia Marigold, along with Mary Sue and Annie May Springfield. The three of them would go on to become a driving force in the Officio with their collective strength and charisma.

A few months after [[Girl A]] was found in a witch's barrier and made a mess of several Third Officio squads, she and Wendy became acquainted, and after a time romantically engaged. This continued up to Wendy's death over a year later, though a page torn from Wendy's diary implies that she was planning to retire and propose several months later.

===The Death and Return of Wendy Cooldown===

In September of 20XX, roughly five to six months before the events of Magical Girl Noir Quest, Wendy was killed in an encounter with Nicole Touchdown, apparently consumed by the Golden Mask. Through a series of yet-to-be-explained circumstances, however, [[Pinky]] revived her, and the Wonderland Corps. split off to form the Church of the Golden Land, wherein Wendy now holds the dubious rank of Apostle.

She and [[Chiaki]] became acquainted again through a series of dreams after Chiaki and [[Midori]]'s barrier adventure in Siberia, and is implied to be the temporary head of the Mitakihara branch of the Church of the Golden Land.

==NECO Profile==
<pre style="width: auto; white-space: pre-wrap;">*CURRENT*
NAME: Wendy Cooldown
“…You’re going to sell this, aren’t you.”
OFFICIO: Eighth, in Santa Destroy
RANK: Aide to the Eighth Warmaster, Callidus Prima, ‘White Rabbit’ of the Wonderland Corps.
BIO: A veteran magical girl that’s gone through specialized Callidus and Eversor training. Wendy is looked up to by most of the girls in the Eighth as a killer and as a fighter, and is one of the most reliable agents its leadership turns to for accomplishing important tasks. Apparently multilingual, she’s started to act as a diplomat for the Eighth as well, providing a cool counterpoint to the Springfield Sisters.
ABILITY: Creation of a large number of visualized objects or creatures, used in conjunction with standard Callidus training for body modification.
WEAPONRY: A long, ever-present chef’s knife and a heavily-customized beam katana with beam crossguard.

STRENGTH C
SPEED S
MELEE S+
RANGED B
MAGIC S
TACTICS S+
CHARM B

TRIVIA

-Wendy has a close personal relationship with UAA ace Nicole Touchdown. The two have fought dozens of times on and off-duty, though which is the superior fighter is shrouded in mystery.

-She imports every volume of Miracle Midori x Murder Mayumi as it comes out, claiming that the version they get in the US is a ‘joke’. They stay hidden in a ‘shrine-like part of her closet’, according to our US agent!

-That may be because she’s got a saucy inter-Officio relationship with Murderface herself. This intrepid reporter finds that extremely unlikely, but the sources say what the sources say…

-UPDATE-

Deceased as of September of last year, KIA in an altercation with a high-ranking member of the United Assassins Association. The loss sent ripples through Santa Destroy’s mercenary scene and sparked a new, albeit short-lived conflict with the UAA resulting in more high-profile deaths on both sides.</pre>

<pre style="width: auto; white-space: pre-wrap;">*OUTDATED (2 years)*
NAME: Wendy Cooldown
“…Fuck off. I’ll shove that thing down your throat.”
OFFICIO: Eighth, in Santa Destroy
RANK: Aide to the Eighth Warmaster, Callidus Prima, ‘White Rabbit’ of the Wonderland Corps.
BIO: A quiet girl that’s been one of the Warmaster’s aides almost since contracting. Typically regarded with some trepidation by other magical girls in the Eighth, Wendy is actually one of the go-to people for Getting Things Done there. At least, if one needs to Get Things Done without leveling a city block. Apparently a girl of many natural talents.
ABILITY: Creation of a large number of visualized objects or creatures, used in conjunction with standard Callidus training for body modification.
WEAPONRY: A long chef’s knife and ellipsis moe.
STRENGTH C
SPEED S
MELEE S
RANGED B
MAGIC S
TACTICS S
CHARM C

TRIVIA
-According to rumor, Wendy Cooldown is an escapee from the Helms Center for Mental and Psychological Wellness. Is that really how they do things in America?

-Early in her career, Wendy Cooldown appeared on a popular American television show, Deathwatch, along with other up-and-comers from the United Assassins Association and the Ninth Officio.

-She used to work part-time at a Chinese restaurant, scaring off Triads and delivering spring rolls. Xie xie!
</pre>

==Trivia==
*Wendy's appearance and abilities are heavily derived from Madotsuki, the protagonist of the surreal, exploration-based horror game [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yume_Nikki Yume Nikki].
*Her unique ability is the creation or alteration of matter from dreamspace. As it's a power manifested partially by her subconscious, however, she doesn't always have full control over it. Her trademark kitchen knife is manifested this way, and she frequently uses it to create a broom with which to fly or to alter her physical appearance and the properties of her body. She can also create physical or semi-physical beings, but rarely does so voluntarily for a variety of reasons.
*Wendy's favorite flowers are blue roses. [http://pastebin.com/nav6TYcu blue roses]
*On her neck, she has a tattoo of the Wonderland Corps. emblem; it's usually hidden by her scarf, however.

==Gallery==

=== Art by deculture ===
FILL IN LATER

=== Art by Nicehatguy ===
FILL IN LATER

[[Category:Characters]]
[[Category:Writeup Characters]]
[[Category:Eighth Officio]]

Wendy Cooldown

2014-06-10T01:05:56Z

NECOchama: /* Character Summary */

<blockquote>''"We were monsters before we were magical girls."''</blockquote>
{{Infobox
| imagecaption = Wendy Cooldown
| image = [[Image:Profile-Wendy Cooldown.png|200px]]
| aka = Miss Wendy Motherfucker, Vomit-tan
| appearance = [[Thread 84]]
| organization = Church of the Golden Land, Formerly Eighth Officio
| rank = Apostle, Formerly Callidus Prima and Aide to the Warmaster, as well as second-in-command of the Wonderland Corps. Eversor Division
| occupation = Magical Girl
| ability = Creation
| weapon = Kitchen knife with no name, customized beam katana with beam crossguard 'Bad Dream'
| height = 170cm
| dob = December 28th, 20XX (currently approx. 20 years old)
}}
'''Wendy Cooldown''' is FILL IN LATER YEEEAAAH

==Character Summary==

Callidus. Sleepy American. Dream-flavored reality warper. Serial killer waifu.

===Physical Description===
* A moderately-tall American girl of part-Irish descent.
* She has a pale complexion with a small smattering of freckles that appear during the summer.
* She has dark bags under her eyes and looks constantly exhausted. Some would say 'haunted'.
* Her eyes are a coppery red-brown, roughly the same color as her hair.
* As a patient in the Helms Center and as a rookie magical girl, her hair was cropped short and messy.
* Currently, she leaves it in pigtails or a long braid. It fluffs out a little if it isn't cut or tied, giving her a decidedly sleepy look.
* Her build is fairly average, leaning slightly toward muscular, with the exception of her butt, enhanced(?) by years of fast food.
* Regardless of whether she's in-costume or not, she seems to have a deep love of a certain checkerboard motif, as well as pale reds and pinks. Most of her clothes have a small black and white checker patch, which she'd lazily define as a window.
* Her [[Soul Gem]] is an egg-shaped, pink-white pearl formerly set in bronze, and now set in an amalgam of metals. Typically it's clipped to her scarf.

===Personality===
* Wendy is, for the most part, a quiet but grouchy girl, characterized by a snarky attitude and a certain eagerness to stab.
* As a Callidus, Wendy is naturally predisposed toward stealthy work, but because of her nature and the way she was trained, she would be better described as an assassin than an infiltrator.
* Apparently she's worked to overcome a serious issue with anthrophobia, and her uneasiness with people still shows when she's upset, usually in the form of violent aggression.
* It can be difficult for others to differentiate between the people Wendy likes and the people she doesn't based on her behavior, which is somewhat antagonistic in most cases.

==Character History==

A former Callidus Rank Leader and, in her words, 'Ghetto Equerry' of the Eighth, Wendy's been in the game for a long, long time. She was contracted out of the Helms Center for Mental and Psychological Wellness nearly seven years before Chiaki Matsuda's amnesiac awakening at the beginning of MGNQ and was quickly recruited as a protégée of the current Warmaster at the time, Dahlia Marigold, along with Mary Sue and Annie May Springfield. The three of them would go on to become a driving force in the Officio with their collective strength and charisma.

A few months after [[Girl A]] was found in a witch's barrier and made a mess of several Third Officio squads, she and Wendy became acquainted, and after a time romantically engaged. This continued up to Wendy's death over a year later, though a page torn from Wendy's diary implies that she was planning to retire and propose several months later.

===The Death and Return of Wendy Cooldown===

In September of 20XX, roughly five to six months before the events of Magical Girl Noir Quest, Wendy was killed in an encounter with Nicole Touchdown, apparently consumed by the Golden Mask. Through a series of yet-to-be-explained circumstances, however, [[Pinky]] revived her, and the Wonderland Corps. split off to form the Church of the Golden Land, wherein Wendy now holds the dubious rank of Apostle.

She and [[Chiaki]] became acquainted again through a series of dreams after Chiaki and [[Midori]]'s barrier adventure in Siberia, and is implied to be the temporary head of the Mitakihara branch of the Church of the Golden Land.

==NECO Profile==
<pre style="width: auto; white-space: pre-wrap;">*CURRENT*
NAME: Wendy Cooldown
“…You’re going to sell this, aren’t you.”
OFFICIO: Eighth, in Santa Destroy
RANK: Aide to the Eighth Warmaster, Callidus Prima, ‘White Rabbit’ of the Wonderland Corps.
BIO: A veteran magical girl that’s gone through specialized Callidus and Eversor training. Wendy is looked up to by most of the girls in the Eighth as a killer and as a fighter, and is one of the most reliable agents its leadership turns to for accomplishing important tasks. Apparently multilingual, she’s started to act as a diplomat for the Eighth as well, providing a cool counterpoint to the Springfield Sisters.
ABILITY: Creation of a large number of visualized objects or creatures, used in conjunction with standard Callidus training for body modification.
WEAPONRY: A long, ever-present chef’s knife and a heavily-customized beam katana with beam crossguard.

STRENGTH C
SPEED S
MELEE S+
RANGED B
MAGIC S
TACTICS S+
CHARM B

TRIVIA

-Wendy has a close personal relationship with UAA ace Nicole Touchdown. The two have fought dozens of times on and off-duty, though which is the superior fighter is shrouded in mystery.

-She imports every volume of Miracle Midori x Murder Mayumi as it comes out, claiming that the version they get in the US is a ‘joke’. They stay hidden in a ‘shrine-like part of her closet’, according to our US agent!

-That may be because she’s got a saucy inter-Officio relationship with Murderface herself. This intrepid reporter finds that extremely unlikely, but the sources say what the sources say…

-UPDATE-

Deceased as of September of last year, KIA in an altercation with a high-ranking member of the United Assassins Association. The loss sent ripples through Santa Destroy’s mercenary scene and sparked a new, albeit short-lived conflict with the UAA resulting in more high-profile deaths on both sides.</pre>

<pre style="width: auto; white-space: pre-wrap;">*OUTDATED (2 years)*
NAME: Wendy Cooldown
“…Fuck off. I’ll shove that thing down your throat.”
OFFICIO: Eighth, in Santa Destroy
RANK: Aide to the Eighth Warmaster, Callidus Prima, ‘White Rabbit’ of the Wonderland Corps.
BIO: A quiet girl that’s been one of the Warmaster’s aides almost since contracting. Typically regarded with some trepidation by other magical girls in the Eighth, Wendy is actually one of the go-to people for Getting Things Done there. At least, if one needs to Get Things Done without leveling a city block. Apparently a girl of many natural talents.
ABILITY: Creation of a large number of visualized objects or creatures, used in conjunction with standard Callidus training for body modification.
WEAPONRY: A long chef’s knife and ellipsis moe.
STRENGTH C
SPEED S
MELEE S
RANGED B
MAGIC S
TACTICS S
CHARM C

TRIVIA
-According to rumor, Wendy Cooldown is an escapee from the Helms Center for Mental and Psychological Wellness. Is that really how they do things in America?

-Early in her career, Wendy Cooldown appeared on a popular American television show, Deathwatch, along with other up-and-comers from the United Assassins Association and the Ninth Officio.

-She used to work part-time at a Chinese restaurant, scaring off Triads and delivering spring rolls. Xie xie!
</pre>

==Trivia==
*Wendy's appearance and abilities are heavily derived from Madotsuki, the protagonist of the surreal, exploration-based horror game [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yume_Nikki Yume Nikki].
*Her unique ability is the creation or alteration of matter from dreamspace. As it's a power manifested partially by her subconscious, however, she doesn't always have full control over it. Her trademark kitchen knife is manifested this way, and she frequently uses it to create a broom with which to fly or to alter her physical appearance and the properties of her body. She can also create physical or semi-physical beings, but rarely does so voluntarily for a variety of reasons.
*Wendy's favorite flowers are blue roses. [http://pastebin.com/nav6TYcu blue roses]
*On her neck, she has a tattoo of the Wonderland Corps. emblem; it's usually hidden by her scarf, however.

==Gallery==

=== Art by deculture ===
FILL IN LATER

=== Art by Nicehatguy ===
FILL IN LATER

[[Category:Characters]]
[[Category:Writeup Characters]]
[[Category:Eighth Officio]]

Golden Weapons

2013-11-24T01:12:37Z

NECOchama:

<blockquote>''“What I can tell you is that the golden toys are important. They really really are, so you shouldn't throw them away! It's ideal if you collect as many of them, actually!" -Faust''</blockquote>

The golden weapons are powerful tools that grant their wielders access to even greater might than the chosen ones already possess by bestowing them with unparalleled clarity and focus in combat, assuming one can control them. They were created by the good side of Madoka and filled with most of her power, but she tricked Faust into believing they were her idea to turn whoever manages to gather them all into a worthwhile challenger. While the Blessed Lady only hands them to chosen magical girls, it is possible for regular humans to use the golden weapons if they can somehow acquire them. As tools of the Blessed Lady, the weapons can corrupt their wielders with her influence and make them fall prey to her madness, which makes them as dangerous as they are useful. A sign of this happening is the user's eyes taking on a black color. In some cases they also drain soul gem purity at a faster than normal rate, further increasing the risk of using them unprepared.

The weapons seem to have a will of their own, calling their wielders to use them, even making them reach out for the weapon unconsciously. Depending on the weapon's “state of mind”, they may feel unusually warm or cold to the touch, regardless of the surrounding temperature. If the original wielder dies, her soul remains trapped inside. A skilled user can communicate with it but needs to be cautious to prevent being manipulated. Once the wielder establishes contact with the weapon's soul, they can communicate on a mental level. The soul might even manifest as a ghost by consuming a bit of the wielder's energy. Using the connection to tap the weapon's power deep enough makes a tongue of colored flame dance in front of the user's left eye.

Chemical analysis of the material reveals that they are identical to their non-golden counterparts down to the last molecule and can be disassembled and reassembled easily. The only difference is their color and the fact that they mysteriously perform their purpose better than a regular weapon. They hit harder, reload faster and never jam or lose sharpness.

There are twenty golden weapons in total. Each one has a roman number engraved on it.
==Numbered Weapons==
===VIII===
;Desert Eagle
:Current Owner: [[Chiaki Matsuda]]
:Original Owner: Unknown
:First Appearance: Thread 5
:Given to Chiaki Matsuda by Faust as a freebie to help her in a way she would appreciate, because dying that early would "spoil the ending". Chiaki is shot with the gun before waking from an illusion cast on her, moments before the gun manifests in her hand in place of an Ingram MAC-10.
A Desert Eagle made entirely of gold, the emblem on the bottom was removed by Kirika Kure, revealing the roman number VIII upon inspection.
Chiaki constantly feels the allure of this gun while carrying it, as if it wants to be used. When she does, she enters a state of intense focus but risks losing ontrol of herself. Her eyes turn entirely black while this happens, her vision clouded in a bloody mist.
 While Chiaki holds this weapon for the longest time, she has not yet established contact with the soul inside, except for one occasion where she merely heard a voice similar to her own rambling incoherently.

===XI===
;Gauntlets: Ogre Arms
:Current Owner: Chiaki Matsuda
:Original Owner: [[Yuu Kotarou]]
:First Appearance: Thread 16
:Acquired after defeating Lance Kilgore who took them from another magical girl.
Golden bangles that look like average jewelery. They change shape depending on the current wearer.
 While Kilgore wears them, they are massive bracers bearing the image of eagles with the wings sculpted into the metal. They transform into golden gauntlets with the ability to create fire.
 When Chiaki wears them, they are elegant bangles. They transform into massive robotic gauntlets nearly her own size, reaching almost up to her shoulder, painted black with the gold shining through scratches and dents. The gauntlets' mechanical parts repair themselves during combat.
 Due to Yuu's gentle nature, she bonds easily with Chiaki and has proven herself to be a valuable ally instead of a potential risk when using one of the golden weapons.

===XV===
;Chain Axe: Blood God, Gorefather & Gorechild
:Current Owner: Chiaki Matsuda
:Original Owner: [[Kharn Valnikov]]
:First Appearance: Thread 54
:Blood God was willingly passed on to Chiaki when she was made Warmaster of the Ninth Officio.
The twin chainaxes Gorefather and Gorechild, the former being a bit bigger, can combine into one double headed chainaxe, which is refered to as Blood God Mode. Even apart they are already very huge, bearing three rows of chain teeth.
 While Chiaki has not used them herself, Kharn described Gorefather and Gorechild as playful in their desire to kill.

===XX===
;Katana: Muramasa
:Current Owner: Chiaki Matsuda
:Original Owner: [[Kirika Kure]]
:First Appearance: Thread 8
:Acquired after retiring Kirika Kure.
A one meter long katana, complete with an elaborate sheath made from ebony embossed with golden reliefs of dragons. The blade doesn't dull no matter what and is sharp enough to cut through other swords easily.
 Due to Kirika's own madness and her hatred for Chiaki, merely touching Muramasa fills her with a dangerously strong bloodthirst, making her lose sight of her surroundings and who is friend and foe.

==Unknown Numbers==
===#1===
;Musket
:Current Owner: Mami Tomoe
:Original Owner: Mami Tomoe
:First Appearance: Thread 26
An old fashioned one shot musket with elegant patterns engraved along it's length.
 In a flashback episode it is implied that Mami Tomoe has acquired and used a golden weapon, but used it only once. Her eyes changed color as well, but the effects were attributed to witch exposure at the time. During that same episode she unconsciously manifests a golden musket, but tosses it away unsued, afraid of the unusual gun. She manifests another one when the witch Charlotte is about to kill her, but is saved by Sayaka before firing.
===#2===
;Hequin Staff
:Current Owner: Oriko Mikuni
:Original Owner: [[Ahriman]]
:First Appearance: Thread 50
A golden hequin staff topped with a snake head, fangs bared to strike. It appears to amplify it's users magic powers, boosting them to extreme measures. Ahriman used it in her fight against Kharn, never letting go of it until it was forcefully removed from her grasp.
 Ahriman's soul resides in the staff since her death. She still uses her power from within to manipulate people that are loyal to her. At some time the staff was acquired by Oriko Mikuni. Whether Ahriman is controlling her or if Oriko acts on her own will is unknown.
===#3===
;Twin Scythes
:Nebiros and Belial
:Current Owner: Presumably Annie May 'Alice' Springfield
:Original Owner: Annie May 'Alice' Springfield
:First Appearance: Thread 80; writeup [http://pastebin.com/5QB1VfLx garden of sinners]
A pair of large golden scythes wielded by Alice Springfield; actual capabilities as of yet unknown.

===#4===
;Twin Revolvers
:Current Owner: Unknown
:Original Owner: Unknown
:First Appearance: Thread 80
===#5===
;Broadsword
:Current Owner: Unknown
:Original Owner: Unknown
:First Appearance: Thread 80
===#6===
;Hammer
:Current Owner: Unknown
:Original Owner: Unknown
:First Appearance: Thread 80
===#7===
;Hooks
:Current Owner:
:Original Owner: Fennel Vance
:First Appearance: Prose Magica
A set of arm sized golden hooks, four in total, connected by golden chains. They are either thrown or magically moved, directed by the users hands. The hooks can easily pierce walls and bodies alike.For further details see Prose Magica.
===#8===
;Mask
:Current Owner: Presumably Nicole Touchdown
:Original Owner: Nicole Touchdown
:First Appearance: writeup [http://pastebin.com/dimH1jcf butterfly]
A golden visor with a butterfly motif that enhances the user's senses, but makes them bleed profusely from old wounds. Full capabilities as of yet unknown.

Golden Weapons

2013-11-24T01:05:31Z

NECOchama:

<blockquote>''“What I can tell you is that the golden toys are important. They really really are, so you shouldn't throw them away! It's ideal if you collect as many of them, actually!" -Faust''</blockquote>

The golden weapons are powerful tools that grant their wielders access to even greater might than the chosen ones already possess by bestowing them with unparalleled clarity and focus in combat, assuming one can control them. They were created by the good side of Madoka and filled with most of her power, but she tricked Faust into believing they were her idea to turn whoever manages to gather them all into a worthwhile challenger. While the Blessed Lady only hands them to chosen magical girls, it is possible for regular humans to use the golden weapons if they can somehow acquire them. As tools of the Blessed Lady, the weapons can corrupt their wielders with her influence and make them fall prey to her madness, which makes them as dangerous as they are useful. A sign of this happening is the user's eyes taking on a black color. In some cases they also drain soul gem purity at a faster than normal rate, further increasing the risk of using them unprepared.

The weapons seem to have a will of their own, calling their wielders to use them, even making them reach out for the weapon unconsciously. Depending on the weapon's “state of mind”, they may feel unusually warm or cold to the touch, regardless of the surrounding temperature. If the original wielder dies, her soul remains trapped inside. A skilled user can communicate with it but needs to be cautious to prevent being manipulated. Once the wielder establishes contact with the weapon's soul, they can communicate on a mental level. The soul might even manifest as a ghost by consuming a bit of the wielder's energy. Using the connection to tap the weapon's power deep enough makes a tongue of colored flame dance in front of the user's left eye.

Chemical analysis of the material reveals that they are identical to their non-golden counterparts down to the last molecule and can be disassembled and reassembled easily. The only difference is their color and the fact that they mysteriously perform their purpose better than a regular weapon. They hit harder, reload faster and never jam or lose sharpness.

There are twenty golden weapons in total. Each one has a roman number engraved on it.
==Numbered Weapons==
===VIII===
;Desert Eagle
:Current Owner: [[Chiaki Matsuda]]
:Original Owner: Unknown
:First Appearance: Thread 5
:Given to Chiaki Matsuda by Faust as a freebie to help her in a way she would appreciate, because dying that early would "spoil the ending". Chiaki is shot with the gun before waking from an illusion cast on her, moments before the gun manifests in her hand in place of an Ingram MAC-10.
A Desert Eagle made entirely of gold, the emblem on the bottom was removed by Kirika Kure, revealing the roman number VIII upon inspection.
Chiaki constantly feels the allure of this gun while carrying it, as if it wants to be used. When she does, she enters a state of intense focus but risks losing ontrol of herself. Her eyes turn entirely black while this happens, her vision clouded in a bloody mist.
 While Chiaki holds this weapon for the longest time, she has not yet established contact with the soul inside, except for one occasion where she merely heard a voice similar to her own rambling incoherently.

===XI===
;Gauntlets: Ogre Arms
:Current Owner: Chiaki Matsuda
:Original Owner: [[Yuu Kotarou]]
:First Appearance: Thread 16
:Acquired after defeating Lance Kilgore who took them from another magical girl.
Golden bangles that look like average jewelery. They change shape depending on the current wearer.
 While Kilgore wears them, they are massive bracers bearing the image of eagles with the wings sculpted into the metal. They transform into golden gauntlets with the ability to create fire.
 When Chiaki wears them, they are elegant bangles. They transform into massive robotic gauntlets nearly her own size, reaching almost up to her shoulder, painted black with the gold shining through scratches and dents. The gauntlets' mechanical parts repair themselves during combat.
 Due to Yuu's gentle nature, she bonds easily with Chiaki and has proven herself to be a valuable ally instead of a potential risk when using one of the golden weapons.

===XV===
;Chain Axe: Blood God, Gorefather & Gorechild
:Current Owner: Chiaki Matsuda
:Original Owner: [[Kharn Valnikov]]
:First Appearance: Thread 54
:Blood God was willingly passed on to Chiaki when she was made Warmaster of the Ninth Officio.
The twin chainaxes Gorefather and Gorechild, the former being a bit bigger, can combine into one double headed chainaxe, which is refered to as Blood God Mode. Even apart they are already very huge, bearing three rows of chain teeth.
 While Chiaki has not used them herself, Kharn described Gorefather and Gorechild as playful in their desire to kill.

===XX===
;Katana: Muramasa
:Current Owner: Chiaki Matsuda
:Original Owner: [[Kirika Kure]]
:First Appearance: Thread 8
:Acquired after retiring Kirika Kure.
A one meter long katana, complete with an elaborate sheath made from ebony embossed with golden reliefs of dragons. The blade doesn't dull no matter what and is sharp enough to cut through other swords easily.
 Due to Kirika's own madness and her hatred for Chiaki, merely touching Muramasa fills her with a dangerously strong bloodthirst, making her lose sight of her surroundings and who is friend and foe.

==Unknown Numbers==
===#1===
;Musket
:Current Owner: Mami Tomoe
:Original Owner: Mami Tomoe
:First Appearance: Thread 26
An old fashioned one shot musket with elegant patterns engraved along it's length.
 In a flashback episode it is implied that Mami Tomoe has acquired and used a golden weapon, but used it only once. Her eyes changed color as well, but the effects were attributed to witch exposure at the time. During that same episode she unconsciously manifests a golden musket, but tosses it away unsued, afraid of the unusual gun. She manifests another one when the witch Charlotte is about to kill her, but is saved by Sayaka before firing.
===#2===
;Hequin Staff
:Current Owner: Oriko Mikuni
:Original Owner: [[Ahriman]]
:First Appearance: Thread 50
A golden hequin staff topped with a snake head, fangs bared to strike. It appears to amplify it's users magic powers, boosting them to extreme measures. Ahriman used it in her fight against Kharn, never letting go of it until it was forcefully removed from her grasp.
 Ahriman's soul resides in the staff since her death. She still uses her power from within to manipulate people that are loyal to her. At some time the staff was acquired by Oriko Mikuni. Whether Ahriman is controlling her or if Oriko acts on her own will is unknown.
===#3===
;Twin Scythes
:Nebiros and Belial
:Current Owner: Presumably Annie May 'Alice' Springfield
:Original Owner: Annie May 'Alice' Springfield
:First Appearance: Thread 80; writeup 'Garden of Sinners'
A pair of large golden scythes wielded by Alice Springfield; actual capabilities as of yet unknown.

===#4===
;Twin Revolvers
:Current Owner: Unknown
:Original Owner: Unknown
:First Appearance: Thread 80
===#5===
;Broadsword
:Current Owner: Unknown
:Original Owner: Unknown
:First Appearance: Thread 80
===#6===
;Hammer
:Current Owner: Unknown
:Original Owner: Unknown
:First Appearance: Thread 80
===#7===
;Hooks
:Current Owner:
:Original Owner: Fennel Vance
:First Appearance: Prose Magica
A set of arm sized golden hooks, four in total, connected by golden chains. They are either thrown or magically moved, directed by the users hands. The hooks can easily pierce walls and bodies alike.For further details see Prose Magica.
===#8===
;Mask
:Current Owner: Presumably Nicole Touchdown
:Original Owner: Nicole Touchdown
:First Appearance: writeup 'Butterfly'
A golden visor with a butterfly motif that enhances the user's senses, but makes them bleed profusely from old wounds. Full capabilities as of yet unknown.

Golden Weapons

2013-11-24T01:03:33Z

NECOchama: /* #3 */

<blockquote>''“What I can tell you is that the golden toys are important. They really really are, so you shouldn't throw them away! It's ideal if you collect as many of them, actually!" -Faust''</blockquote>

The golden weapons are powerful tools that grant their wielders access to even greater might than the chosen ones already possess by bestowing them with unparalleled clarity and focus in combat, assuming one can control them. They were created by the good side of Madoka and filled with most of her power, but she tricked Faust into believing they were her idea to turn whoever manages to gather them all into a worthwhile challenger. While the Blessed Lady only hands them to chosen magical girls, it is possible for regular humans to use the golden weapons if they can somehow acquire them. As tools of the Blessed Lady, the weapons can corrupt their wielders with her influence and make them fall prey to her madness, which makes them as dangerous as they are useful. A sign of this happening is the user's eyes taking on a black color. In some cases they also drain soul gem purity at a faster than normal rate, further increasing the risk of using them unprepared.

The weapons seem to have a will of their own, calling their wielders to use them, even making them reach out for the weapon unconsciously. Depending on the weapon's “state of mind”, they may feel unusually warm or cold to the touch, regardless of the surrounding temperature. If the original wielder dies, her soul remains trapped inside. A skilled user can communicate with it but needs to be cautious to prevent being manipulated. Once the wielder establishes contact with the weapon's soul, they can communicate on a mental level. The soul might even manifest as a ghost by consuming a bit of the wielder's energy. Using the connection to tap the weapon's power deep enough makes a tongue of colored flame dance in front of the user's left eye.

Chemical analysis of the material reveals that they are identical to their non-golden counterparts down to the last molecule and can be disassembled and reassembled easily. The only difference is their color and the fact that they mysteriously perform their purpose better than a regular weapon. They hit harder, reload faster and never jam or lose sharpness.

There are twenty golden weapons in total. Each one has a roman number engraved on it.
==Numbered Weapons==
===VIII===
;Desert Eagle
:Current Owner: [[Chiaki Matsuda]]
:Original Owner: Unknown
:First Appearance: Thread 5
:Given to Chiaki Matsuda by Faust as a freebie to help her in a way she would appreciate, because dying that early would "spoil the ending". Chiaki is shot with the gun before waking from an illusion cast on her, moments before the gun manifests in her hand in place of an Ingram MAC-10.
A Desert Eagle made entirely of gold, the emblem on the bottom was removed by Kirika Kure, revealing the roman number VIII upon inspection.
Chiaki constantly feels the allure of this gun while carrying it, as if it wants to be used. When she does, she enters a state of intense focus but risks losing ontrol of herself. Her eyes turn entirely black while this happens, her vision clouded in a bloody mist.
 While Chiaki holds this weapon for the longest time, she has not yet established contact with the soul inside, except for one occasion where she merely heard a voice similar to her own rambling incoherently.

===XI===
;Gauntlets: Ogre Arms
:Current Owner: Chiaki Matsuda
:Original Owner: [[Yuu Kotarou]]
:First Appearance: Thread 16
:Acquired after defeating Lance Kilgore who took them from another magical girl.
Golden bangles that look like average jewelery. They change shape depending on the current wearer.
 While Kilgore wears them, they are massive bracers bearing the image of eagles with the wings sculpted into the metal. They transform into golden gauntlets with the ability to create fire.
 When Chiaki wears them, they are elegant bangles. They transform into massive robotic gauntlets nearly her own size, reaching almost up to her shoulder, painted black with the gold shining through scratches and dents. The gauntlets' mechanical parts repair themselves during combat.
 Due to Yuu's gentle nature, she bonds easily with Chiaki and has proven herself to be a valuable ally instead of a potential risk when using one of the golden weapons.

===XV===
;Chain Axe: Blood God, Gorefather & Gorechild
:Current Owner: Chiaki Matsuda
:Original Owner: [[Kharn Valnikov]]
:First Appearance: Thread 54
:Blood God was willingly passed on to Chiaki when she was made Warmaster of the Ninth Officio.
The twin chainaxes Gorefather and Gorechild, the former being a bit bigger, can combine into one double headed chainaxe, which is refered to as Blood God Mode. Even apart they are already very huge, bearing three rows of chain teeth.
 While Chiaki has not used them herself, Kharn described Gorefather and Gorechild as playful in their desire to kill.

===XX===
;Katana: Muramasa
:Current Owner: Chiaki Matsuda
:Original Owner: [[Kirika Kure]]
:First Appearance: Thread 8
:Acquired after retiring Kirika Kure.
A one meter long katana, complete with an elaborate sheath made from ebony embossed with golden reliefs of dragons. The blade doesn't dull no matter what and is sharp enough to cut through other swords easily.
 Due to Kirika's own madness and her hatred for Chiaki, merely touching Muramasa fills her with a dangerously strong bloodthirst, making her lose sight of her surroundings and who is friend and foe.

==Unknown Numbers==
===#1===
;Musket
:Current Owner: Mami Tomoe
:Original Owner: Mami Tomoe
:First Appearance: Thread 26
An old fashioned one shot musket with elegant patterns engraved along it's length.
 In a flashback episode it is implied that Mami Tomoe has acquired and used a golden weapon, but used it only once. Her eyes changed color as well, but the effects were attributed to witch exposure at the time. During that same episode she unconsciously manifests a golden musket, but tosses it away unsued, afraid of the unusual gun. She manifests another one when the witch Charlotte is about to kill her, but is saved by Sayaka before firing.
===#2===
;Hequin Staff
:Current Owner: Oriko Mikuni
:Original Owner: [[Ahriman]]
:First Appearance: Thread 50
A golden hequin staff topped with a snake head, fangs bared to strike. It appears to amplify it's users magic powers, boosting them to extreme measures. Ahriman used it in her fight against Kharn, never letting go of it until it was forcefully removed from her grasp.
 Ahriman's soul resides in the staff since her death. She still uses her power from within to manipulate people that are loyal to her. At some time the staff was acquired by Oriko Mikuni. Whether Ahriman is controlling her or if Oriko acts on her own will is unknown.
===#3===
;Twin Scythes
:Nebiros and Belial
:Current Owner: Presumably Annie May 'Alice' Springfield
:Original Owner: Annie May 'Alice' Springfield
:First Appearance: Thread 80; writeup 'Garden of Sinners'
A pair of large golden scythes wielded by Alice Springfield; actual capabilities as of yet unknown.

===#4===
;Twin Revolvers
:Current Owner: Unknown
:Original Owner: Unknown
:First Appearance: Thread 80
===#5===
;Broadsword
:Current Owner: Unknown
:Original Owner: Unknown
:First Appearance: Thread 80
===#6===
;Hammer
:Current Owner: Unknown
:Original Owner: Unknown
:First Appearance: Thread 80
===#7===
;Hooks
:Current Owner:
:Original Owner: Fennel Vance
:First Appearance: Prose Magica
A set of arm sized golden hooks, four in total, connected by golden chains. They are either thrown or magically moved, directed by the users hands. The hooks can easily pierce walls and bodies alike.For further details see Prose Magica.

Wendy Cooldown

2013-11-12T04:07:40Z

NECOchama: Created page with "<blockquote>''"We were monsters before we were magical girls."''</blockquote> {{Infobox | imagecaption = Wendy Cooldown | image = 200px | aka = Miss Wendy Motherfuc..."

<blockquote>''"We were monsters before we were magical girls."''</blockquote>
{{Infobox
| imagecaption = Wendy Cooldown
| image = [[Image:|200px]]
| aka = Miss Wendy Motherfucker, Vomit-tan
| appearance = [[Thread 84]]
| organization = Church of the Golden Land, Formerly Eighth Officio
| rank = Apostle, Formerly Callidus Prima and Aide to the Warmaster, as well as second-in-command of the Wonderland Corps. Eversor Division
| occupation = Magical Girl
| ability = Creation
| weapon = Kitchen knife with no name, customized beam katana with beam crossguard 'Bad Dream'
| height = 170cm
| dob = December 28th, 20XX (currently approx. 19 years old)
}}
'''Wendy Cooldown''' is FILL IN LATER YEEEAAAH

==Character Summary==

FILL IN LATER

===Physical Description===
* A moderately-tall American girl of part-Irish descent.
* She has a pale complexion with a small smattering of freckles that appear during the summer.
* She has dark bags under her eyes and looks constantly exhausted. Some would say 'haunted'.
* Her eyes are a coppery red-brown, roughly the same color as her hair.
* As a patient in the Helms Center and as a rookie magical girl, her hair was cropped short and messy.
* Currently, she leaves it in pigtails or a long braid. It fluffs out a little if it isn't cut or tied, giving her a decidedly sleepy look.
* Her build is fairly average, leaning slightly toward muscular, with the exception of her butt, enhanced(?) by years of fast food.
* Regardless of whether she's in-costume or not, she seems to have a deep love of a certain checkerboard motif, as well as pale reds and pinks. Most of her clothes have a small black and white checker patch, which she'd lazily define as a window.
* Her Soul Gem is an egg-shaped, pink-white pearl formerly set in bronze, and now set in an amalgam of metals. Typically it's clipped to her scarf.

===Personality===
* Wendy is, for the most part, a quiet but grouchy girl, characterized by a snarky attitude and a certain eagerness to stab.
* As a Callidus, Wendy is naturally predisposed toward stealthy work, but because of her nature and the way she was trained, she would be better described as an assassin than an infiltrator.
* Apparently she's worked to overcome a serious issue with anthrophobia, and her uneasiness with people still shows when she's upset, usually in the form of violent aggression.
* It can be difficult for others to differentiate between the people Wendy likes and the people she doesn't based on her behavior, which is somewhat antagonistic in most cases.

==Character History==
===Wendy Cooldown===
FILL IN LATER

==NECO Profile==
<pre style="width: auto; white-space: pre-wrap;">*CURRENT*
NAME: Wendy Cooldown
“…You’re going to sell this, aren’t you.”
OFFICIO: Eighth, in Santa Destroy
RANK: Aide to the Eighth Warmaster, Callidus Prima, ‘White Rabbit’ of the Wonderland Corps.
BIO: A veteran magical girl that’s gone through specialized Callidus and Eversor training. Wendy is looked up to by most of the girls in the Eighth as a killer and as a fighter, and is one of the most reliable agents its leadership turns to for accomplishing important tasks. Apparently multilingual, she’s started to act as a diplomat for the Eighth as well, providing a cool counterpoint to the Springfield Sisters.
ABILITY: Creation of a large number of visualized objects or creatures, used in conjunction with standard Callidus training for body modification.
WEAPONRY: A long, ever-present chef’s knife and a heavily-customized beam katana with beam crossguard.

STRENGTH C
SPEED S
MELEE S+
RANGED B
MAGIC S
TACTICS S+
CHARM B

TRIVIA

-Wendy has a close personal relationship with UAA ace Nicole Touchdown. The two have fought dozens of times on and off-duty, though which is the superior fighter is shrouded in mystery.

-She imports every volume of Miracle Midori x Murder Mayumi as it comes out, claiming that the version they get in the US is a ‘joke’. They stay hidden in a ‘shrine-like part of her closet’, according to our US agent!

-That may be because she’s got a saucy inter-Officio relationship with Murderface herself. This intrepid reporter finds that extremely unlikely, but the sources say what the sources say…

-UPDATE-

Deceased as of September of last year, KIA in an altercation with a high-ranking member of the United Assassins Association. The loss sent ripples through Santa Destroy’s mercenary scene and sparked a new, albeit short-lived conflict with the UAA resulting in more high-profile deaths on both sides.</pre>

<pre style="width: auto; white-space: pre-wrap;">*OUTDATED (2 years)*
NAME: Wendy Cooldown
“…Fuck off. I’ll shove that thing down your throat.”
OFFICIO: Eighth, in Santa Destroy
RANK: Aide to the Eighth Warmaster, Callidus Prima, ‘White Rabbit’ of the Wonderland Corps.
BIO: A quiet girl that’s been one of the Warmaster’s aides almost since contracting. Typically regarded with some trepidation by other magical girls in the Eighth, Wendy is actually one of the go-to people for Getting Things Done there. At least, if one needs to Get Things Done without leveling a city block. Apparently a girl of many natural talents.
ABILITY: Creation of a large number of visualized objects or creatures, used in conjunction with standard Callidus training for body modification.
WEAPONRY: A long chef’s knife and ellipsis moe.
STRENGTH C
SPEED S
MELEE S
RANGED B
MAGIC S
TACTICS S
CHARM C

TRIVIA
-According to rumor, Wendy Cooldown is an escapee from the Helms Center for Mental and Psychological Wellness. Is that really how they do things in America?

-Early in her career, Wendy Cooldown appeared on a popular American television show, Deathwatch, along with other up-and-comers from the United Assassins Association and the Ninth Officio.

-She used to work part-time at a Chinese restaurant, scaring off Triads and delivering spring rolls. Xie xie!
</pre>

==Trivia==
*Wendy's appearance and abilities are heavily derived from Madotsuki, the protagonist of the surreal, exploration-based horror game [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yume_Nikki Yume Nikki].
*Her unique ability is the creation or alteration of matter from dreamspace. As it's a power manifested partially by her subconscious, however, she doesn't always have full control over it. Her trademark kitchen knife is manifested this way, and she frequently uses it to create a broom with which to fly or to alter her physical appearance and the properties of her body. She can also create physical or semi-physical beings, but rarely does so voluntarily for a variety of reasons.
*Wendy's favorite flowers are blue roses. [http://pastebin.com/nav6TYcu blue roses]
*On her neck, she has a tattoo of the Wonderland Corps. emblem; it's usually hidden by her scarf, however.

==Gallery==

=== Art by deculture ===
FILL IN LATER

=== Art by Nicehatguy ===
FILL IN LATER

[[Category:Characters]]
[[Category:Writeup Characters]]
[[Category:Eighth Officio]]

Chiaki Matsuda

2013-08-21T23:38:56Z

NECOchama: /* NECO Profile */

<blockquote>''"Chiaki Matsuda...? That kinda sounds stylish. A bit too cute for you, but hell, you've called yourself worse before. Other people have called you worse before.."''</blockquote>
{{Infobox
| imagecaption = Chiaki Matsuda
| image = [[Image:Profile-Chiaki_Matsuda.png|200px]]
| aka = Girl A, Murderface, Homura-chan
| appearance = [[Thread 1]]
| organization = Ninth Officio
| rank = Vindicare, Warmaster
| occupation = Magical Girl
| ability = Time Stop
| weapon = Shield, Firearms, Golden Desert Eagle
| height = 160cm
| dob = Unknown
}}
'''Chiaki Matsuda''', is the protagonist and main narrator of Magical Girl Noir Quest. A Magical Girl with drinking problems, she starts her adventure with a pack of cigarettes, some painkillers, a combat knife, a ruined "Shield-thing" and no recollection of who she is or what she's been doing. After deciding on a new name for herself, she goes to meet up with Mami Tomoe, and things get complicated.

==Character Summary==

An amnesiac of unknown origin, she was found gravely wounded and on the verge of death inside of a Witch's Barrier two years ago and rescued by Mami Tomoe. An engima to everyone, including herself, no Incubator would recognize having formed her Contract. How she became a Magical Girl remains unknown. She reluctantly works with the Ninth Officio, run by Kyubey, and is considered a valuable, if volatile, asset due to her powerful time-stopping ability and constantly relapsing amnesia. In the span of those two years of service for the Ninth Officio Assassinorium, she became the most notorious Magical Girl in the world, more famous and recognizable than Kharn Valnikov ever was. The details of this time, though ingrained into everyone else, are vague at best to her. However, despite the haze of unreliable memories, there is one memory that she always retains: she cannot forget having her heart ripped out by a pink haired girl with black eyes - a girl that plagues her nightmares.

===Physical Description===
* A japanese girl of average height. She appears to be in her late teens, though her actual age is unknown.
* She has a deathly pale complexion, with black hair and violet eyes.
* She has dark bags under her eyes and looks constantly exhausted. Some would say 'haunted'.
* Her eyes briefly turned black with a violet pupil after undergoing special treatment in Siberia.
* Her eyes are now violet with a bright red pupil.
* As Girl A, she had long hair kept in two thick braids.
* As Murderface, and later Chiaki, she kept her hair short. She currently wears it in a long ponytail.
* She's rather slim and has been described as "noodly".
* Almost always seen in her Magical Girl costume. She wears thick, red-framed glasses.
* Her Soul Gem is diamond shaped and held on the back of her right hand.

===Personality===
* Chiaki is characterized primarily by self-loathing.

==Character History==
===Chiaki Matsuda (Thread 1 - 42)===
[[File:Thread 1 Opener.png|200px|thumb|left|What do you call yourself?]] An amnesiac Magical Girl wakes up to find that she fell asleep in her costume again. She thinks back on how this used to matter at one point and realizes that she doesn't even care anymore. She's tired, feels like shit, and has forgotten her own name for the second time in a week.

She decides to call herself '''Chiaki Matsuda'''.

After messing around with her cellphone for a bit, Chiaki agrees to meet with Mami Tomoe at her apartment. However, she arrives there to find that a newly gestated Witch has taken Mami by surprise. A small altercation with Sayaka Miki occurs after which Chiaki disposes of the Witch with ease, but not before the Witch murmurs a strange name at her: ''Homura''.

Deciding that she'd rather not put up with Sayaka glaring at her, Chiaki steps out for a breath of fresh air and ends up at her favorite bar - a rundown old joint without a name and commonly referred to by the name of its owner: Charle's Bar. Kyouko Sakura shows up with a mission for her and they have a small conversation while Chiaki reads up on her newest assignment - playing bodyguard for Iori Minase, age 16, a popular idol. In the middle of their conversation, Chiaki begins to hallucinate and Kyouko is replaced by the pink haired girl with black eyes from Chiaki's recurring nightmares. The hallucination accuses Chiaki of being a fake and tells her that she will probably die during her upcoming mission. Chiaki retorts by telling the hallucination that she's dead; Chiaki shot her in the face before she ripped her heart out. The pink haired hallucination is amused by this and tortures Chiaki briefly before reality returns. Kyouko informs Chiaki that she was screaming about ''The Flesh of Fallen Angels''. Feeling disturbed by this, Chiaki leaves in a foul mood and heads off to her mission, leaving Kyouko behind.

Chiaki arrives at the hotel where Iori Minase is staying and has yet another argument, this time with the security detail already on site.

===Girl A (Thread 43 - 54)===

===Fragmented (Thread 55 - 83)===

===Warmaster (Thread 84 - Onwards)===

==NECO Profile==
<pre style="width:auto; overflow:auto;">*SURVEILLANCE-ONLY*
NAME: ‘Murderface’ Matsuda Chiaki
“-Fill in later-“
OFFICIO: Ninth, in Mitakihara City
RANK: Warmaster, Badass
BIO: Formerly the mysterious Girl A and the victim of numerous bouts of explosive amnesia, Murderface Matsuda is to the gloomy streets of Mitakihara what something something fill in with metaphor later.
ABILITY: Time stop, indomitable liver, a serious case of the grumps? [Dress this up later]
WEAPONRY: Signature weapon is a golden desert eagle, though it’s something she picked up just recently, isn’t it? [look into this more, golden desert eagle doesn’t fit her practical style. Amnesia-induced?]
STRENGTH C? [She’s a little noodly, so…]
SPEED ? [Timestop makes speed potentially infinity, base value unsure]
MELEE B? [She’s pretty small, isn’t she?]
RANGED S (SS?) [She’s a Vindicare Warmaster]
MAGIC SS [Timestop is inherently pretty SS]
TACTICS S? [Gokigenyou, motherfuckers!]
CHARM D? [Seems like she’s gotten better again lately]

[Need to observe more, whatever she was up to in Siberia it was a BFD]

TRIVIA
-Hiiii Murderface! We need to have a chat later nya~

-Murderface Matsuda is an ass man, and has a loyal sexcretary she keeps at her side at (almost) all times.

-She sort of has that dangerous trenchcoats-and-rain hero feel to her, right? We at Magical Girls Are Real take the official stance that she has lots of trouble with dames. But, the troubled type is sort of sexy…

</pre>

==Trivia==
*She thinks Iron Man is much more awesome than Captain America, despite not finding the alcoholism very attractive. [http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/19489889/#p19490352 Thread 1]

==Gallery==

=== Art by deculture ===
<gallery>
File:Thread 1 Opener.png|Thread 1 - Opener: What do you call yourself?
File:Thread 1 img2 checkok.png|Thread 1 - Chiaki attempts a smile
File:Thread 1 img3 shieldcheck.png|Thread 1 - Chiaki's Shield
File:Thread 1 img4 puzzled.png|Thread 1 - Chiaki is confused
File:Thread 1 img5 inventory check.png|Thread 1 - Chiaki's inventory
File:Thread 1 img6 messageread.png|Thread 1 - Chiaki checks her messages
File:Thread 1 img9 call.png|Thread 1 - Chiaki makes a phonecall
File:Thread 1 img10 mamiapartment.png|Thread 1 - Engage FPS mode
File:Chibi Chiaki.png|Hardboiled chibi
</gallery>

=== Art by grasblade ===
<gallery>
File:Grasblade - Nobody's Perfect.jpg|Nobody's perfect...
</gallery>

=== Art by Nicehatguy ===
<gallery>
File:Chikuwa Chiaki colorfinal.jpg|Chikuwaaa~
</gallery>

[[Category:Characters]]