Jane's got a secret (mf+/f+) *STORY UPDATED 23/02*

[RopeBunny]

009.

Thrashing, fighting to surface, to escape oblivion. Screaming and gasping for breath, gripping the sides of the bathtub without even being aware.

Floundering and falling back, too disorientated to grasp reality, swallowed back down into the cold embrace.

Swallowed.

Panicking, mouth open water flooding in, coughing as I break the surface, a tidal wave pushed ahead, a bow wave and I don't so much climb as flop out, tangled heap on cold tiles body soaked hair plastered. Drawing breath and.

"You should have listened."

Screaming, as Livyatan's calm yet unintentionally menace filled words intrude.

Trying to rise and slipping, body unresponsive. Sudden touch, contact and I flail, battering and shaking off warm hands, convinced in these confused moments I'm still there.

Teeth.

Chomping down and.

"If you die, I will be free. And I will avenge you. Understand I do not wish for you to die. But, if you die, then you. Will. Die."
"Coward." Anger, and fear. Incoherent nothing yet aligning inside I scream into my friends faces, not seeing them.

Not aware.

"Where were you." Anger, rage, emotion puddling out as though joining the pool of water slowly spreading across Sarah's bathroom floor. I feel empty, hollowed out by the seesawing of bondage to beach to the argument I couldn't hope to win to now. "I." Choking back a sob, feeling warmth envelop me. "I needed you," quiet now, spent, "and you weren't there."

Blinking, reality belatedly settling in. Charley, body pressed close, embracing me, a wrapped fluffy pink bath towel between us, forehead resting on mine.

And behind her framed in the open doorway: Abbey, looking confused. Unsure.

And beside her: Sarah. Tight purple spandex shorts fully exposed due to her change of top, baggy tee swapped out for a too small pale yellow vest top, clinging to every curve of her braless D cups, rounded belly almost entirely exposed. Rope binds Sarah's wrists securely behind, pinning them to her waist, whilst a second pinches and spreads her breasts. Teeth biting down on the oversized knot of a thick woolen scarf gag, wrapped and tied off behind her head.

"It's okay it's okay." Charley's whispered words. "You're safe it's okay." And I just. Can't hold back the crazy, laughter bubbling up and out, mixed in with exhausted sobs. Spent, lost.

How will I ever be safe again?

Charley offers to leave with me, a kindness that threatens to overwhelm my fragile emotions.

"No."
"No?" Halfway down the path with me, front door left open, Abbey and Sarah inside. "I thought, well." A shrug. "Company?"
"I need a couple of days." Making eye contact. "Please."

But I can't settle, can't relax. A weekend spent prowling, a caged beast. And on Monday, halfway to school I stop.

Spending close to five minutes just standing, head bowed. Silent whilst a war rages internally, following which I curse, loudly.

Stepping through the railway huts door almost two hours later, muted shadowed pallete of the Never Sunset opening up before me.

Livyatan like a coiled spring inside. Anticipation, like a winner who knows they have, only waiting for the confirmation of a name read out.

I'll never be safe, unless I....

Reaching the field, my Legion, my Blade.

And I don't have to touch Western Sorrow in the Rain to gain the powers, but doing so would make my intentions pretty fucking clear.

Messenger bag slipping off my shoulder, stepping forwards, closer. Closer, to the Blade, but stopping a couple of metres off. Arms crossed, suppressing a shiver and forcing my breathing to even out.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Livyatan was right. The Shark, my 'old friend' was right. I need to be prepared, ready.

Don't I?

Two times now I've been recognised for what I really am, for the truth buried and trapped inside me. Two times, and on both occasions it's been a friendly.

But there are enemies out there, and if a friend can find me....

I need to be prepared.

I don't want to die. And I don't want to drop the barrier, but if a third shows up, not a friend....

I don't want to die, so I need to be prepared.

Don't I?

The Blade- hanging, suspended within otherworldly fire -seems, feels as though it calls out to me, soft, not pleading not begging yet my hand itches. Twitching muscles down my right arm and fingers as though drawn to those strange gunmetal alloys.

"Jane." Hand in motion, reaching but stopped by Charley's low tones. "Don't."

Turning, finding my friends. Charley, out in front one hand reaching as though in echo of my own gesture towards the Blade. And behind her Abbey and Sarah, eyes wide and standing close together, almost huddled.

"Wait." Taking a step closer. "Please."
"For what?" Bitterness, because I really don't want to, but my options are beginning to run pretty fucking thin. "I can't see any other way."
"But." Looking down at her hand, back at me. "You'll drop the barrier. Right?"
"I have to."
"Well, how do you even know it'll be okay?"

Livyatan's word, and a feeling deep within. I might not have access, but I can sense enough, am aware of enough to know the truth of things: I drop the barrier, everything flows through, away from him, into me.

"I'm sorry, Charley. But I've-"

Words drowned out by the sudden roar of thunder, an artillery barrage of crashes and bangs as lightning, blinding white beams arching and stabbing down from directly overhead. Striking the ground between Charley and me.

Rolling rumble in their wake, blinking vision back to usefulness and finding.

"The fuck...?"

A woman, floating inches off the floor, the exact scorched earth and grass spot as though she rode the lightning down. Naked save a very small string and mesh bikini, black, yet faintly pulsing, glowing. Curves, like a twelve with F cups standing proud, rounded and impossibly pert, barely concealed and kept in place by the tiny bikini cups.

Pale, almost vampire white skin and long hair, all the shades from whites through greys to traces of pure black, her mane undulating as though teased by a slight breeze. Her eyes, fixed on me are the pale blue of a bleached out summer sky, no whites, no pupil.

Seconds that seem to stretch out, giving me time to appreciate my doom, and then she nods, lips lifting to a smile.

"You fool."

And the storm comes.

And inside the storm are living, summoned things, the wind given solid tactile form. Attacking us, as their Mistress bids.

My friends are taken, scooped up and flung around like ragdolls, toyed and played with whilst the wind spirits bind them. Hogties, arched backs and pinned limbs, arms bound horizontal behind and breasts squeezed within school shirts pressed tight. Ankles crossed. Oversized looking black balls wedged between jaws forced wide, buckled tight.

Charley. Sarah. Abbey. Taken away, lifted and flung high into the sky, plucked, helpless to resist their kidnapping as a localised tornado touches down. Muffled screams and wide eyes.

And gone.

All of this occurring whilst I too am bound. Pushed and forced backwards by those same summoned spirits, their Mistress looking on, smiling, controlling without a word.

Pressed into contact with the pillar, rounded stone atop which my Blade floats, trapped and waiting. Kneeling, legs spread wide skirt riding up my white cotton thong with the somewhat cheeky red hearts on the front becoming visible. One leg forced either side of the pillar, ankles bound to the stone around back.

Arms wrenched behind, out and back. My back pressed to the cold hard stone, wrists and chest wrapped and bound tight to the pillar, forcing me to remain in this uncomfortable kneeling state, E cups squeezed above and below.

That same oversized black ball forced and buckled tightly in place. Teeth biting down, unfamiliar taste of rubber filling my mouth.

The storm departs, and she floats closer. Arms crossed beneath that huge perfect chest. Smiling, reaching out with one long slender leg to prod at my ballgag.

"Dddgggmmmff sssrrpppgggg." I rage, shaking. Struggling and bouncing. Trapped. Helpless. "Gggmmnndd tttrrsssppfff mmnnddhhhff."

Watching, helpless to do anything but watch as her smile grows, as she sinks slightly- still not touching the ground -lower, reaching out with the same foot. Trailing toes across my chest, prodding at my E cups, flicking bra and shirt covered but already becoming- traitor -visible nipples.

Taking advantage. Teasing.

"Livyatan." Her voice, from her own mouth lips moving. A change. Soft and feminine but with that same undertone of menace. "Or whatever sorry thing you are."

Stopping. And with a gesture my tie unknots, shirt opening, teased left and right whilst I rage some more. Impotent fury and she laughs as my white lace push up bra is exposed. E cups heaving whilst I struggle to control and contain my anger.

Hopeless anger. Pointless. I'm hers. Helpless, and she has my friends.

"I will give you two days, and upon my return you will surrender to me this realm. And everything resident within."

My Castle.

My Legion.

My Blade.

"Two days." Holding up two fingers, and then gone. Coming apart, becoming the wind even whilst she ascends.

Abandoning me. Alone, helpless.

Fucked.

[BlissfulMisery]

I'm on an island. Of course, looked at a certain way the whole world is just islands. Varying sizes.

Shower thoughts moment for Jane

a slight hump one rouge wave could easily swamp.

Should be 'rogue wave', but to be be fair an easy to make typo

Cannot really blame Jane for being fed up with it all, and trying to stand up for herself, but as she has already recognized, there is a certain inevitability to it all, as her 'friend' spells out here:

"Others will know you too. You. Girl. Will not be able to stand."
"And?"
"There are many who would welcome your disadvantage. Who would see weakness."
"And?"

Makes me think back to, and consider, Livyatan's motivations for all this - makes it all feel like a bit of a lark by a powerful entity, seeing what happens when you drag a mortal into your machinations. Or simply getting to experience a new feeling - powerlessness. Possibly a welcome change to a being used to power. Being the passenger for once, rather then the one driving events, as it were.

Or perhaps abdicating responsibility?

Just thoughts of course, will have to see what direction you end up taking this.

Charley offers to leave with me, a kindness that threatens to overwhelm my fragile emotions.

*Really* liked this line. Captures the moment/her vulnerability well.

-

As for the rest of it... well of course we have the 'mandatory bondage TM' since it is a bondage story

But more seriously, seems Jane (and her friends) are in real trouble. Livyatan of course being as useless as usual, not even bothering to warn or inform in any way. Again, makes me think back to the constant offers, yet claiming that it is ultimately Jane's choice. While essentially (via inaction) setting the situation up such that she ends up backed into the proverbial corner.

Again makes me speculate that this is some sort of convoluted self justification on Livyatan's part. A sort of 'well see, I have no choice - another in my place would make the same decisions under the same circumstances'. Again, a sort of abdication of responsibility for ones choices, or the potential consequences of them.

But of course, perhaps I am reading into it too much

Regardless of how it all plays out, interested to see where it goes. Wonder if Jane will finally force some proper answers out of Livyatan. Or if she will find some other clever way to turn the situation around (as protagonists are want to do, since you know, it would be a bit of an anticlimactic story otherwise).

[RopeBunny]

Final three chapters below, why it's taken so long to post. Not a massive amount of TUGs there, at the end, so I wanted to post it all as one.

Regarding this.

But more seriously, seems Jane (and her friends) are in real trouble. Livyatan of course being as useless as usual, not even bothering to warn or inform in any way. Again, makes me think back to the constant offers, yet claiming that it is ultimately Jane's choice. While essentially (via inaction) setting the situation up such that she ends up backed into the proverbial corner.

Again makes me speculate that this is some sort of convoluted self justification on Livyatan's part. A sort of 'well see, I have no choice - another in my place would make the same decisions under the same circumstances'. Again, a sort of abdication of responsibility for ones choices, or the potential consequences of them.

But of course, perhaps I am reading into it too much

Regardless of how it all plays out, interested to see where it goes. Wonder if Jane will finally force some proper answers out of Livyatan. Or if she will find some other clever way to turn the situation around (as protagonists are want to do, since you know, it would be a bit of an anticlimactic story otherwise).

Some good points made, and I'm afraid I've been somewhat remiss.

Trouble is for almost everything I write all I start off with is a vague plan, a beginning and some cool stuff I want to happen, and an end. And whilst I like this, enjoy the ability to bend and shift the story, it does make for some gaping plot holes.

In this case the Livyatan angle.

So, the first chapter below, I rewrote most of it, adding a ton more dialogue, explanations.

Hope it all works, comes together.

Hoping you don't all see the end twists coming a mile off. Would be a shame

[RopeBunny]

Interlude.
Sorry.

"I am sorry."

Livyatan, who doesn't need a mouth to speak, menace filled- regardless of the message or advice or comment delivered -tones slinking through the inside of my head.

I haven't mastered, haven't and won't even try to inner vocalise. I can think, an inner monologue running almost as though I am talking, to myself, inside. But that isn't specifically directed towards Livyatan, wherever within me he resides. I don't know how to do that.

And right now I can't speak.

Because of the Ever Raging Wind.

I've been bound kneeling, back against the same stone pillar Western Sorrow in the Rain floats atop. Legs spread wide ankles lashed in place, arms pulled back wrists forcibly touching, shoulders straining at the angles I'm placed in, wrist ropes wrapping my waist, chest bound too.

I'm ballgagged, skirt riding up and school shirt opened, thong and bra exposed yet my anxiety comes more from the fact of the Forgotten Legion, stood sentinel behind me.

That I can't see them. The creeping unfounded but no less real worry they're moving. Drifting closer.

She took my friends, the Wind. Charley. Sarah. Abbey, all hogtied and kidnapped, spirited away. Tools, meant to force my compliance because in two days the Wind returns.

And I'm supposed to surrender everything to her, be a good little trussed up girl and make the trade.

I feel so helpless. So stupid, cursing fate, that it took me so long to arrive at the- inevitable, surely? -decision. That, moments away from dropping the barrier and completing what Livyatan began in a hospital room over five months ago. A matter of seconds, a minute at most.

It all comes down to inches, the smallest of margins.

The Ever Raging Wind could've, easily, been too late.

Instead.

"Rrrsssttrmmdddd fffpphhhnnmm." Raging, shaking myself within the tight ropes. Anger and frustration, fear too, this new world opened to me is nothing I understand, so much power, casually wielded.

And all I wanted to do was live.

"Dddggff mmnnrrss pppfffgghhmm." Hands flexing uselessly behind me. Fighting but getting nowhere.

I could take the power, use it. Free my friends and win, but fear of that huge unknown: what happens after I say yes, it freezes the thought.

Can I even...?

Slumping, defeated.

"This." Some while later and I blink, head coming up despite there's nothing new to see, the voice is inside. "I did not forsee this."

"The path unwalked." Followed by an audible sigh which gives me pause. Have I ever, once, heard Livyatan express any emotion beyond calm menace, assurance.

"For all that I have lived. And lived long, I have never walked within this world. I was." A pause, thoughtful, it feels like.

"Curious. But I am a thing made of shadow and darkness. Impossible, until you."

"The bargain: fair. By adding myself to you I would save you, and you would become me. My knowledge and power but as you. Until death and I would be free. And I would have walked, and seen, and lived a different time. But."

Another sigh and I blink, somewhat spellbound by it all, because yes we've talked but I've always kept clear of this aspect, not wanting to step too close to the fact of our shared existence. Lest Livyatan simply takes control.

As I've always secretly thought he could.

But I guess- trussed up and easily bested, which I doubt he'd of allowed, were he actually able to intervene -not.

"You chose not. A refusal of me I was not aware could be made. And so we sit, separate and all that I am is denied you, is locked away from both of us. And I am sorry."

"I did not forsee this, but now you are a target. However, there is hope. You can not. Must. Not. Surrender. The Ever Raging Wind has overstepped, and, if you would only...."

Unsaid, even now Livyatan, unwilling to voice the offer.

And then he does.

"You can retrieve your friends. I knew, in that room of tubes and pumps and machines and you dying. What you could become."

"All will be well. You can win, save them. Take my life and live it. Be Livyatan, a new direction of your choosing for an old God. Be you. Knowledge and power, my blade. Freely given. Still. Now, here. Take it, all will be well."

"I promise."

And, you know what. I'm scared shitless, but God- ha -hates a coward.

Eyes closed, I drop the barrier. Mental arms thrown wide. Running along before an imaginary control panel, smiling, laughing, flicking switches and pulling levers. Come in the water's lovely an-

"Thank yo...." Fading out as I feel everything. Every. Fucking. Thing. Come flooding across the now non existent divide. Tingle growing, numbness spreading like an itch I can't scratch. Force, pure power ripping through me, an explosion and suddenly

I'm

standing, and free. Smirk on my face, lips spread wide, wider then humanly possible as I feel around inside: knowledge, not just centuries worth of lived history but the how of what I'm now capable of.

Like second nature, to prove which I jump, straight up slight bend at the knees and push, muscles bunching and a rush of air. Laughing, sheer joy as I pause above the treeline, floating effortlessly.

Coming slowly back down, turning a circle arms out, looking down at myself. At what I've become.

Limbs turned black as fresh tattoo ink, black as the darkest patch of nothing. From fingers and toes to above elbows and knees. Solid black, after which the colour fades and twists apart, original skin revealed. Black hair too, running my hand through, letting it fall back out of sight.

Sight, even without looking I know my eyes now mirror my forelimbs in colour. Sharp teeth filling my mouth, pressing my tongue gentle against one, feeling the newness of the shape.

And I get it, the knowledge- freely given -making everything clear: Livyatan's voice, dying and fading out because now I truly am Livyatan. In every and any way, no more voice because for Livyatan to speak now.

It'd be me speaking.

Until death, as he'd said: when I die, Livyatan will be free.

Taking a moment to adjust clothing, shirt closed but leaving the collar open, tie loosely knotted, skirt smoothed back into place.

And- eyeballing my blade -time.

Brief flare of heat across my arm, penetrating the flickering prison that rises from the pillar, broken ropes strewn all around its base. Grasping the blade, of my blade. Pulling Western Sorrow in the Rain free, black leather scabbard and associated dark brown belt harnesses shading into being around it as I do.

The whole ensemble sitting low on my left hip, pommel jutting up and out, an easy right handed draw.

Pausing, taking a moment to feel out a plan, because I am doing this. I will not surrender, I am not some meek thing to roll over and play nice.

"I am Livyatan. The Once and Forever. Ruler of the Never Sunset. Commander of the Forgotten Legion, Keeper of the blade Western Sorrow in the Rain. Friend t-"

"Huh?" Realising my voice had begun to drop, still very much mine, but it seems, when I want, there's a whole depth of rumbling menace I can layer on. Which is. "Fucking awesome." I decide, nodding. Grinning.

Thinking: what I want to do, what I need?

What I owe.

And moments later finds me walking on Brighton beach under a nightime predawn sky, looking out to sea and idly kicking aside stones as I approach the gently rolling surf, where I hunker down and draw enough of the blade to press a finger against. Quick stab of pain, drawing blood which I use to paint a complicated pattern of circles and symbols upon the sand. Quickly, between one wave and the next, the water coming to claim and wash away my summons.

He doesn't keep me waiting.

"So." And sharks, small s sharks I'm pretty sure the bigger species can't simply stop, and as the Shark surfaces, close, sheer bulk dominating my view I can see why.

Fuck.

"Old friend."
"I'm here to say. Sorry." Dropping to one knee, head bowed one hand resting on the pommel. "For not understanding. For not accepting good advice. But. I am whole now. And I would not wish to throw away what we two have worked to achieve." Taking a moment, to swallow and fuck it. I risk it. "Old friend."

The silence, stretching, loaded. And in my prone state, submissive stance if the Shark lunges I won't be able to defend.

"I am glad to truly see you."
"Yes." Standing, giving a nod of acknowledgement, thanks.

"You come to me for help, I think."
"Not for direct aid." Pacing, pent up energy, adrenaline surging in light of the fight to come. "But. I don't know where she is?"
"The Temple of Chimes."
"Of course." Where else, really? "Thank you."
"I can not directly, there are rules. However you shall have what aid I can render."
"Old friend, I am grateful."

Slight bow of that ship sized head, small shifting of the mouth and you'd swear there was a- fucking terrifying -smile. For a moment.

And then gone, diving down, through the shallow surf and the hard rock. Elemental of Water and Earth, passing through both without effort.

I leave too, whatever help the Shark may provide I can't wait. My friends need me, and with a thought the darkness erupts all around, taking me away.

[RopeBunny]

010.
Finale.

Okay, I can hear you. Some of you, asking.

So, you're Livyatan then?

No, I'm Jane.

I have new knowledge and power, inherited. But I'm me, Jane. And when I die, many years from now, that's what my gravestone will say: Jane.

"The Once and Forever. Ruler of the Never Sunset. Commander of the Forgotten Legion, Keeper of the bl-"

Having to stop before I burst out laughing, and besides which I really ought to be keeping quiet, this is a covert rescue mission after all.

The truth is, I'm still me. I still think like me, feel and- skin, hair and eyes aside -look like me. But the joining with Livyatan upgraded, enhanced me. It's like a second persona, like: I can be 'normal' or I can effortlessly shift up several hundred gears, and depending who I meet, depends on which I'll need to adopt.

There's no voice, Livyatan in his current form is no more. It's all me now, until death there is only Jane.

And, well. I can- still -hear you. Some of you, asking.

Why don't you just wake the Legion?

Well, firstly, what part of 'covert rescue mission' involves marching several hundreds of thousands of the dead through the front door? First sign of me, that I'm not playing by her rules: she'll kill my friends.

So no Legion.

I stopped at the Armoury first, before coming here. A vast hall within my castle, row upon rank of weapons and armour, trophies won and gifts freely given. Scattered throughout, various equipment.

Such as the robe I'm now wearing: hooded and sleeveless, black as my new skin and worn open like an unzipped ankle length coat. Beneath which my school uniform of short sleeved white shirt, collar open blue tie loosely knotted. Black skirt and dark brown slip on boots with no heel.

Western Sorrow in the Rain belted and hanging off my left hip, and what the robe does is mask my signature, because we can all sense power, like vague sonar, like a ping whenever something else is close. No clue what, or even where in any kind of exact sense, just that you're no longer alone.

Can't have the Ever Raging Wind aware of me, not until I'm ready.

Not until I've saved my friends.

The Himalayas, a vast sprawling range, mountains forever. Here lies the Temple of Chimes, and there are others, temples and places special to the Wind, as with all the Elementals.

Even Livyatan has a temple.

But here, Chimes, is as close to an Earthbound stronghold as the Wind has. A natural cave system, a mountain honeycombed, full of vast chambers and wide circular corridors. One huge entrance on either side of the mountain, no doors the whole structure open, the wind freely roaming throughout, sighing and keening. Moaning. Brushing against scattered clumps and individual stalactites, each full of holes, contact that changes the pitch of the winds passage.

Creating soft harmonics, eerie and unnerving, the skin on my back constantly prickling.

It's taken over a day to get here. Cautiously, carefully, slowly. Doesn't help that we've never been friends, the Wind and me. No invite for Livyatan to the Temple of Chimes, ever, so I'm operating blind.

And this place- basically the whole inner diameter of a mountain -is fucking huge.

No handy map either. But I do have the Sniffer. A made thing, summoned, a small patch of shifting darkness that slinks and prowls across and above the floor. Occasionally up the walls and across the ceiling. Wolf like in form and shape although it constantly blurs at the edges, limbs bending or shifting unnaturally, losing consistency before reforming.

Too small and too little invested power to trip the Winds senses. Sonar. The Sniffer is a hunter, tracking the scent of my friends, taken from schoolbags left behind when the Wind kidnapped them from the Never Sunset.

Over a day, plus time spent bound to the pillar, time talking with the Shark, prepping and organising. I'm down to mere hours, less then a handful before the Wind returns, expecting to find me still prisoner, ready to bend the knee and surrender all I am, all I have to her.

Not happening.

Bare rock abounds, the surfaces uneven yet roughly shaped and in some places carved stone or brick has been laid down: parts of a wall and floor, half a corridor the pattern maze like and seemingly random. Throughout Chimes, placed by necessity iron cauldrons sit, fires burning within, lighting the vast space to some degree the flames tinted blue. Magic, fire which doesn't require coal or regular fuel.

There are people here. Those called in service, the occasional worshipper on pilgrimage. But the scale, the size of Chimes lends itself well to avoidance. Sniffer alerts me, those three times I stray too close, and backing into the nearest puddle of shadow I merge, ghosting out of being.

Nothing to see here.

And.

Finally.

There. In a chamber much like all the other chambers, over in one corner a pen of sorts, a wooden fence erected in much the same manner you'd find in a farmyard. Keeping livestock in, or in this case preventing my still hogtied friends from wriggling away.

Which thought, and it probably shouldn't but I can't help the small smile growing then dying on my lips.

All three of them, and thank fuck she kept them together. Likely wasn't expecting any kind of rescue attempt, so why split up or hide them. Charley, Sarah and Abbey, still wearing the same school uniform as me, still tightly roped into hogties, wrists pinned to ankles, chests squeezed. Oversized black ballgags fill the mouth still, three pairs of eyes going wide as I vault the fence.

Sniffer called back, absorbed as I jogged across the chamber, and I'm bending down over Sarah, closest to where I'd landed, leaning in to check on her-

"This area is not your concern."

Damn. Grimace as I straighten, one hand going instinctively to my sword.

So. Fucking. Close.

Turning, putting my friends at my back, putting myself between them and the Ever Raging Wind, slowly floating closer, frowning. Hair still gently undulating, still virtually naked save that black string and mesh bikini, doing a terrible job at containing those huge perfect breasts.

"You are not permitted here, traveller."
"Is that right?"
"Yes...." Frowning some more at the smile I can't stop from spreading. Wider and now too wide. Showing teeth.

Head cocked to one side. Looking me up and down, and the robe doesn't blur or otherwise hide my appearance. She can see my changed skin, by blade.

And it's worth everything to see the realisation crash into and roll over her. Understanding of who I am. What I am now.

"You."
"Me." Sword still sheathed, a small nod of recognition. "I've come for my friends."
"And." Pausing, she's about a dozen metres away now. Looking at me whilst I look back. "What if I do not wish to return them?"

Challenging me. And fights at this level are rare, Dark Gods and Elementals, we aren't exactly all friends but you learn to stay out of each others way. To avoid a conflict that could, fairly easily, level whole cities.

But she's already overstepped. Already committed to this, taking or at least starting down the path to taking what is mine by right. To back down now, unlikely.

Which I'd known before coming here, this would only ever end one way. I'd merely hoped to get my friends clear first, before tracking down and facing the Wind.

So much for planning.

"Then I will end you."
"Will you now." Amused, thinks she's better, faster, stronger then me, and maybe she is? "Little Livyatan. The Sharks favourite pet."

Insult enough to make me bristle, almost. Almost drawing my blade right there, and she sees. Small nod at a point scored.

"Are you so eager to die this day?"
"Are you?" Taking a breath, rolling my shoulders and calming back down, finding an easy smile. Like I know a secret.

And maybe I do?

Her turn to falter, smile dropping to a frown and. Do I?

Reaching up the Wind draws her weapon out of the air, calling it forth. Darkness Reaps the Maelstrom, a scythe, long curved handle of black wood, stronger then oak by far, from the Forest where trees talk, are alive in a whole new way. Curved blade made of the same gunmetal alloys as my sword, covered in symbols that, like mine glow and pulse. The whole weapon standing close to seven feet tall.

Baring her teeth, a gesture I return, drawing Western Sorrow in the Rain, bringing it up into a two handed high guard.

The Wind comes, scythe held out wide and one handed, streaking in at speed and I leap, up and forward sword already swinging down and across to block. Coming together with a crash like thunder, weapons locked. Snarling in each others faces.

And break. A flurry of blows, blocked, sword singing at each contact sparks flying. The fight raging one way then the other, the Wind forced into temporary retreat as I unleash a counterattack.

Again and again we clash, backwards and forwards, the advantage taken and lost and taken. Too fast to follow, block and parry on pure instinct.

Thrown clear across the room by an outstretched hand, a muttered word and hurricane force winds fling me against the far wall. Slumping to the floor only to feel pain lance across and through me moments later, screaming as summoned lightning tears down through me.

And she laughs. Bitch, and despite the pain I grin, coming to my feet and

an eyeblink later, exploding out of the opened darkness, having stutter jumped the gap and suddenly I'm close. Too close right inside her guard and already swinging. The Wind managing, somehow to batter and fend off my first half dozen blows but then I feint, dipping low and too late she sees my grin widen into a snarl. Too late, her block committed, my upward sweep catching. Contact, Western Sorrow slicing up through her face on the right side cutting clean through top and bottom lip, pulverising her eye which goes instantly dark. Winking out.

And the Wind screams, pain and rage as I back off. Taking a moment to breath.

"You...?" Staring down at her bloody hand. Her blood, looking at me, something like disbelief.

"Walk away." Spent, aching. Tired but I stand tall, blade held ready, two handed, low, ready to block or attack. "We can walk away. No winner. No loser. Say stop. Now."

Everything seems to hang, scales tipping and wavering. She's stronger then me, that hierarchy isn't just a pretty diagram. Elementals outrank Dark Gods and whilst yes, I'm holding my own. Gaining ground, but I'm losing it too, losing more then I gain.

Another summoned storm, three. I don't think I can last long enough to take her down first.

With no warning she comes in swinging, rage written plain across her face, scythe swinging a wide arc crackle of lightning across the blade, a killing stroke and on instinct I reach down inside.

For my ancient form, for whilst I can, and do shift and change, a thing of formless shadow. Until recently.

There is only one shape I was born to.

Crying out in pain, feeling skin tear and change, bones and muscle growing and shifting inside, and I've never held such a solid form before, am completely unprepared for the pain of what should be a seamless transformation.

A cry which becomes a roar, loud enough the anger unleashed, sound bouncing and echoing throughout the vaulted space, the Ever Raging Wind flinching, pausing.

Forced to back off lest I swamp her. Growing, becoming longer, a serpent all midnight coils that blur and change at the edges, much like the Sniffer. Dragon like head, all teeth and spikes, I rear up and back, letting go a second deafening roar.

Come on then bitch, you wanted Livyatan, here I am.

Shaking herself, finding a grim smile and swinging the scythe between us, back, forth.

Coming in, swift and I surge forward to meet her, teeth bared. Less need to dodge, skin like armour plates her strikes simply bouncing off.

Mostly.

And my size tipping the balance, changing the tempo and logistics of the fight, the Wind forced to new tactics. Faltering.

Bluffing. Sneaking, fucking, bitch. Luring me in until, overextended, committed, and from nowhere her counter attack catches me cold. A flurry of blows each one landing, cutting and tearing at me.

Crash of thunder overhead, called down and striking me. Once. Twice, vision going white at the edges, numbness spreading. Cold, and in desperation I lunge, mouth gaping wide, swallowing her whole, scythe dropped as hands come up in a useless warding gesture.

Done.

Finished.

Not, finished. Smell of ozone rapidly filling the air, build-up of heat inside. Crackle like a thousand tiny pinpricks down my right flank. The Wind, charging.

Panicking, nothing left, no moves to play and I'm doomed. Reaching down and back, casting a link to my Armoury and yanking out the first useful looking thing I find.

Not thinking.

Snapping it into being around the Wind, too focused to notice until it's far too late, a single cry of surprise and outrage before she's cut off, and all whilst I shift and shrink, reversing the transformation and becoming Jane who is Livyatan even so again.

Sucking in a breath and holding back several choice curses, no less painful in reverse and besides which I'm now sporting several scythe inflicted cuts: down the left side of my face and neck, right forearm a second long trailing line, and my right leg, the upper thigh bisected with a jagged diagonal cross, one side of which runs down well below the knee.

Western Sorrow in my right hand, held low I honestly haven't the energy to bring it up, and beside me: Erza's Tank.

Coffin sized yet rectangular in shape, all right angles. Glass panels, which aren't glass, surfaces gone milky white and opaque, thick bronze coloured metal framework holding the panels in place, screws looking rusty and aged. The lid hinges, locking with two large bronze padlocks for which no keys exist.

And inside, trapped, locked in place at neck and waist, arms pinned at the wrists and legs at knees and ankles, ridged metal half hoops. Held immobile. The Ever Raging Wind. Erza's Tank was made to trap the Shark, given to me after the- failed -attempt, because who else could be trusted with such?

It is, easily, capable of containing an Elemental.

"Well," letting out a shaky laugh, lifting one hand to wipe sweat from my forehead, "thank fuck."
"Fffdddddgggggmmmmnn."
"Right." Laughing again, so fucking tired. Realisation dawning that my friends, all three of them, two of whom didn't even know I was, what I am.

They all just saw that. The fight, what I did, what I became.

What am I going to say?

Noticing, belatedly that I'm naked, apart from the robe, which like my sword is magic and therefore became absorbed into me when I became a serpent. Looking hurriedly around and, thank fuck, finding a messy pile of my uniform and the scabbard.

Better get dressed, then I'll sort out my friends.

[RopeBunny]

Epilogue.

Later.

Dressed, alone. Sword sheathed, sat on Erza's Tank her, the Winds scythe propped against my right shoulder. Feeling mellow, contemplative.

The post fight comedown, still having a hard time believing I'm not only alive, but that I won.

And there will, no doubt, be repercussions for locking up the Ever Raging Wind, but I can't make any of that matter right now. I should move on though, back to the Never Sunset, to stow weapons and the Tank, after which.

"Fuck?" Laughing, a tired worn out sound. Isn't it time for school?

More time passes, and I really will, I swear, stand up. Soo-

Standing, fatigue forgotten. Turning to face the suddenly perceived new threat, sonar pinging. Something coming. Gripping Darkness Reaps the Maelstrom, two handed held low in front and horizontal as I sight them.

Two figures, approaching having clearly spotted me too.

One of them pointing and.

"The fuck?" Shouted across the distance, because that has got to be the most bizarre team up I've ever seen. Ever.

Echo, one of the five Nightmares: the Darkness which Stares Back. Around my age and proportions, which is unexpected, for a Nightmare to inhabit a living host? Black hair. School skirt and white trainers, blue shirt removed and tucked neatly into her waistband, grey sports bra holding in C cups. Five tentacles of utter darkness, two on the right three from the left side of her back, curved around like talons, protective. Mouth set in a grim line, hands flexing as though poised for a fight.

And beside her. The Rope Bunny? Another mid teens school girl, blue shirt on plus a garish yellow tie. Blonde and slim, D cups pressing at fabric. Smiling, wide and just on the borders of crazy, like the whole world is a show for her personal amusement. Dawns Overture, a nineteenth century Baker rifle with a swirl of symbols down the long barrel, held against her chest, one hand resting on the trigger.

"Livyatan?"
"Rope." And I'd heard rumours, but hadn't gotten around to checking. Is she really trapped in there? "Bunny?"
"Right he-"

Instantaneous, the change so sudden it almost triggers my post fight adrenaline still sloshing reflexes. Like a ripple her skin and clothing changes, swallowed up and covered by a fluffy pink bunny onesie, oversized pointed ears and the blonde girls grinning, cheeky face framed by the hood. Front cut low, very low, tops and most of the sides of her D cups on full view.

"-re. Who else did you ex-"

And back again, onesie shredding and fading equally fast but I catch the slight flinch, this time. Pain involved much like my own change.

"-pect?"
"And." Regarding the other girl. "The Nightmare Echo: the Darkness which Stares Back?"
"Charlotte." Offering up a quick smile, clearly still on edge. "Hi."
"Kayley."
"Jane." Shaking my head immediately after. Huffing and the Bunny giggles. Because of course she does.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Waving the question away even whilst Charlotte. Really? Opens her mouth. "How the fuck are you two even friends?"

Does the Rope Bunny even have friends? Can anyone tolerate that level of crazy for long enough to grow attached?

And the Nightmares, generally you don't get that close to anything that malevolent. Not if you want to continue breathing.

"Long story." Kayley? Bizarre, but, fine. Waving the whole why of how it came to pass away. "Point is." Letting go her rifles barrel and leaning in to pull Charlotte into a one sided hug.

Brief spasm from the tentacles on that side, as though readying to attack. But they don't.

"We're your backup."
"What?"
"S' true." Charlotte, and the weirdness continues as she puts an arm around Kayley, tentacles mirroring the gesture widening slightly to protect the Bunny too, even after the girls release each other. "Sorry we're late." Brief laugh. "Couldn't get out of English."

Which, the absurdity of it all, all this power held, trapped? Something, so much power contained within three school girls.

What idiot decided that was a sensible way to run the world?

"Well." Lowering the scythe, letting go my left hand so the blade rests on the rocky floor. Got to trust someone at some point. "You're too late, but. Thank you."
"Too late?" The Bunny, a moment of seriousness and I'm sure she'll make up for it soon. Looking around whilst Charlotte breathes out, visibly climbing down off her pre fight adrenaline surge. "You mean...?"
"I took care of it." Pointing with the scythe, at the Tank. "Of the Wind."
"She's...." Looking from me to the Tank.

I nod, tiredness sweeping back in, now the threat of a second fight has vanished. So this is, was the Sharks help.

We swap numbers, and I've got about three dozen questions. For each of them. And I can see from the Bunny's face, her appraising and thoughtful look whenever she thinks I'm not looking, that she has questions too.

Charlotte mostly just looks tense, as though the Nightmare isn't actually in control of herself?

The Bunny insists on hugging, because of course she does, and it's only a little weird.

But.

Maybe, it's good to have- find -friends?

[BlissfulMisery]

Trouble is for almost everything I write all I start off with is a vague plan, a beginning and some cool stuff I want to happen, and an end. And whilst I like this, enjoy the ability to bend and shift the story, it does make for some gaping plot holes.

In this case the Livyatan angle.

So, the first chapter below, I rewrote most of it, adding a ton more dialogue, explanations.

Hope it all works, comes together.

Hoping you don't all see the end twists coming a mile off. Would be a shame

Figured it was something of the sort.

I can definitely see where you tried to 'stitch it back together', and I think it is a bit clearer now, although now there is the opposite problem of it having been explained earlier that there is/would be a consequence to accepting the power. Which seems to have been tossed by the wayside, or at least delayed for an indeterminate amount of time.

Not *exactly* a problem per-say, but it is a bit of a loose end to leave the story off on.

But I suspect that is just you intentionally leaving some room for future storytelling, if you decide to eventually reuse the character/start another tale.

But here, Chimes, is as close to an Earthbound stronghold as the Wind has. A natural cave system, a mountain honeycombed, full of vast chambers and wide circular corridors. One huge entrance on either side of the mountain, no doors the whole structure open, the wind freely roaming throughout, sighing and keening. Moaning. Brushing against scattered clumps and individual stalactites, each full of holes, contact that changes the pitch of the winds passage.

Creating soft harmonics, eerie and unnerving, the skin on my back constantly prickling.

Liked the description - evocative!

Which, the absurdity of it all, all this power held, trapped? Something, so much power contained within three school girls.

What idiot decided that was a sensible way to run the world?

Not technically a fourth wall break, but feels like one

And of course the direct callback to your various other stories in this universe

Irony being is that here we are seeing what I suspected would have been the end result of a previous (unfinished) tale involving Echo and the Bunny that you had started a long time ago. A bit of time jumping, from the readers respective, but again, nice to see.

Maybe, it's good to have- find -friends?

The more the merrier, right?

Certainly felt like the pace sped up drastically towards the end - it was quite slow for a while, and then 'everything' happened in the last few chapters. Although I sort of understand why it turned out that way.

Either way, I really enjoyed tale! Conclusion was perhaps a tad predictable, but there were not a lot of other ways it could have gone (while still making sense/not being horribly anticlimactic). Personally enjoyed the slower chapters at the start more, but I suppose I just like the sense of mystery - the thing with 'reveals' is that once you know everything it is easier to get hung up on little nagging doubts and nitpicks, even if they do not actually matter. Plus the thing with speculation is, due to its very nature, everything 'feels right' in it

Pseudo-philosophical musings about the nature of reading stories aside, excited to see what you come up with in the future!

[RopeBunny]

And of course the direct callback to your various other stories in this universe

Irony being is that here we are seeing what I suspected would have been the end result of a previous (unfinished) tale involving Echo and the Bunny that you had started a long time ago. A bit of time jumping, from the readers respective, but again, nice to see.

Most likely yes. You're correct I did start a Bunny/Nightmare tale, which unfortunately suffered under a lack of motivation, which does occur at times. I love writing, I'm happy to and will no doubt continue to write, but sometimes motivation isn't there, and so a tale flounders.

But I suspect that is just you intentionally leaving some room for future storytelling, if you decide to eventually reuse the character/start another tale.

Probably will, reuse. Have some ideas regarding a part two. You're right in saying things did begin slowly then speed up, and I couldn't drawn the story out, taken longer but then I'd risk losing the will to write it.

A balancing act really. Wanting to write and enjoying writing versus how long I can keep going for.

Still, overall I'm glad you enjoyed. And whilst I will think on a part two, I might go a different way first.

I'll have to think.

[BlissfulMisery]

You're right in saying things did begin slowly then speed up, and I couldn't drawn the story out, taken longer but then I'd risk losing the will to write it.

A balancing act really. Wanting to write and enjoying writing versus how long I can keep going for.

Yes, the eternal unfortunate balancing act :/

Do empathize with the dilemma, hence my comment about 'understanding why it turned out this way'.

And whilst I will think on a part two, I might go a different way first.

I'll have to think.

Again, figured as much. Generally best to take a break from the specific thing for a while, let the motivation/excitement/ideas build up before tackling it again.