Eldemore

"Well, we need someone to be the fake prostitute."

"Lieutenant Cara will do it, she's the only girl here," says the commander.

"Cara?" Asks one of the soldiers. "Who's Cara?"

"We have Lieutenant Carlos, if that's who you mean. And they're not a girl," adds another.

"I have pretty feminine hips, I could pull it off," says one, raising his hand, and a few others murmur in agreement.

"Alright, that settles it. Brutus will be the fake prostitute. We need lipstick, a razor, and about twenty gallons of shaving cream."

"You need to be upside down. You can't beat me unless you're upside down."

Mira just stares at him. At the controller. At the game where she just died, again. Back to him. Then she shrugs and flips upside down.

*A FEW ROUNDS LATER*

"How are you beating me?!"

"I don't know! It's your logic!"

"It's flawed logic!"

"This is a bad idea."

"Yup."

"We're going to die."

"Most likely."

"You're not listening to me, are you."

"Not really, no. Are you coming or not?"

"Of course this is a bad idea- all of my ideas are bad ideas, have you seriously not been paying attention the entire time you've known me, why do you still think I know what I'm doing."

He stares warily at the computer screen, leaning back slightly in self defense. "This isn't going to be like the sentient chair incident, is it?"

"Stop bringing up the sentient chair incident!"

Space- the final frontier. These are the voyages of the Star Ship- "Woah, guys, no, we can't start the story like this, this is copyright infringement, let's not get arrested before we even start."

"Willy, no matter how many times you say otherwise, the Sealer is not our child," Sorren says, sounding pained, dragging out each syllable for maximum sarcastic effect.

Willy gasps and covers your ears ineffectually with his hands. "Sorren! They can hear you!" he hisses, trying to level Sorren with a glare, but the corners of his mouth are twitching into a smile and Sorren just stares at him blankly.

He gives and exaggerated sigh and turns you around to face him. "I'm sorry you had to find out like this, Sealer, but you're adopted," he says with mock grief, face twisting into an odd mix of faked remorse and amusement.

"I know," you say, "It happened like last week."

Sorren groans and Willy laughs.

"See, Sorren? It's already been a week of being parents and we're still fine! We have Muzu, and Fiore, and now the Sealer! We're one big, weird family," he says, hugging you to prove his point.

"Can we go now? I'm hungry," you say, because Sorren looks like he's itching for one of his knives.

"Hi Hungry, I'm Dad," Willy says, looking like the Serva who got the cream, and you and Sorren groan in unison.

"But yeah, just because your mother isn't coming-" Sorren levels Willy with a positively murderous glare- "It'll just be you and Daddy Willy, all alone for lunch."

"You can't just gallivant around Silverport, Willy, we're supposed to be teaching the Sealer, not playing house," Sorren says, but it's mostly just a token protest at this point. "Besides, your-" he pauses, clearly distasteful of the name you've so far been referring to your blood bonded crowling- "Your Soulbird doesn't want you to go."

You scoop them close to your chest, looking at Sorren with a mildly horrified expression. "No they don't, they're fine with it. They're my bond, Sorren," you say, and the just-fledging baby peeps from where they are nestled safely in your hands.

"I think they want to go, and you're just a no-fun spoil sport," Willy teases, throwing his arm around your shoulders and inviting Fiore to hop atop his, motioning at Muzu to follow him as he steers you out the door. "Don't worry, Mom, I've got the kids this time," Willy laughs, Muzu lighting on your head only to roll in your hair like the very weird bird that he is, and you make a disgruntled noise, trying to disentangle him while Fiore paws at your hair, either trying to help or make it worse.

Sorren makes a pained noise and sags in defeat, getting up to follow you out the door.

"See, Sealer, I told you that would work," he whispers before throwing his other hand around Sorren's neck, hauling him into his side as you follow them down.

You don't think they're a very bad family at all.

The fires of war rage around her feet, her claws glint with the blood of her enemies and the enemy king smiles, teeth jagged and covered in the blood of his.

Her soldiers lay limp on the field around her- her heralds, her friends, her brothers and sisters- dead and dying and injured.

The queen roars her rage and sorrow, turns her gaze to the enemy left standing.

There is a change in the queen then- she was a monster, yes, but this was already known- she was human, after all, if only half of what one should be, half of a monster and half of something terrible.

Her claws seem sharper, her dual gaze angry as she raises her wings in what can only be a threat and the enemy soldiers cower, cower, cower, and the invading king laughs, laughs, laughs.

The fire glints off her teeth, the interlocking points of ragged crowns, sharp and inhuman and deadly.

The enemy runs and the queen- the terrible, angered, beloved queen- beats her wings and breathes her ice and the enemy king roars back at her, screams his delight and rage and bloodlust against hers.

There are many, many kings and queens and rulers in this world, but there wasn’t room for two here.

The Ancients do battle against the burning sky.