The Fall of Elfen High (IC, Closed)

by **Nude East Ireland** » Tue Mar 24, 2015 6:04 pm

"It is often safer to be in chains than to be free." - Franz Kafka

Damien sighed, and sat alone. In truth, it was no different than how he spent most of his time. Or how he would continue to; being a dragon meant that he would live longer, see more, and go where he pleased. Despite all of his past actions, he felt that he had been changed. He was still changing, still evolving into a new version of himself. And for once, he did not mind change. He scratched the back of his head, feeling his hair and skin.

He thought about everything that had been done for him. His family, his friends, and people he never even knew had helped him. He would return the favour, he had decided. Help those who needed it. Before, he was free of responsibility; and his freedom led to emotions, which pushed him into destructive behaviours. Now, he had something to follow; a new purpose for himself, which would allow him to better control himself and understand logical thinking.

"Help," he whispered to himself. "My middle name is Percival, so being a knight errant would be expected. I suppose." He looked around, seeing nobody surrounding him. Best not to talk to himself, he decided. Made him seem strange. Well, stranger.

But, in the end, he was always strange. Always changing, yet always the same. And while he had done things in the past that he was not proud of, he remembered, and always would, because they had led him into becoming who he was at that moment.

It was a long journey - years in the making - but Damien finally knew who he was.

by **Agritum** » Sat Mar 28, 2015 2:12 pm

Hilde's plane swiftly skidded on the ground, quickly coming to a sudden halt when the German homunculus energycally pulled the aircraft's emergency brake, awkwardly intruding upon the various heartfelt family reunions taking place on the world tree.

The glass canopy opened in one smooth motion, as a particularly nonchalant Hilde emerged from the aircraft. She saw no ghosts, no blue lights, nothing. Well, except for Fluffymeister, who was occupied in happily chasing the ghosts of former house pets of player characters and brutally devouring them. Hilde smirked, and stepped off the experimental plane, careful to not accidently rip her stylish Prussian Military cloak. The Chancellor of Germany quickly stepped next to her Official Boyfriend, gently smashing a fist over his head in an heartfelt attempt to liberate him from the ghost of his pasts.

"William? Stop thinking about dead people. They're dead. Kaput. Think of the living, for goodness' sake!"

Gwen wandered outside of Avalon, which had since landed on the World Tree, disembarking its enormous cargo of assorted knights, technicians, civilians and other examples of mixed humanity, forever travelling in search of a new home, a new dimension of the multiverse to finally settle in. On the tree, they each saw their lost loved ones, their role models, shades of a distant past.

Grace Entwhistle raced past Gwen, embracing the spirits of her family and school mates, crying her heart out, finally enjoying some happy moments after months of suffering and toil. Gwen forced herself to weakly smile at her second-in-command's moments of joy, but she couldn't put her own sorrowful sentiments to rest.

Gwen was afraid. Afraid to see the ghosts of her APS squad mates. Oliver, Francesca, Nico, Gabriel.

Dead. All of them. Her family? Dead. Her original knight companions? Dead. Millions and millions of people she had tried to protect after becoming Queen of Britain? Dead, too. How would have all those ghosts reacted to her presence in the world tree? Anger? Disappointment? Delusion? Pity? Gwen felt sure that she had failed all those people. That she had failed in protecting them, that her duty as a knight had always been unsuccessful and ripe of defeats.

But Gwen saw no ghosts in front of her. No angered spirits. No tormented souls. None.

She looked behind her back. An untold multitude of ethereal presences. People who Gwen had loved, befriended, served, protected, employed, trained, leaded. And they bowed, rested their weapons, nodded and smiled in kind.

Gwen felt the gentle feeling of her eyes slowly watering up, subtle tears sliding down her cheeks. Crying was so un-professional, unusual for her. But in that very moment, it was perfectly justified. And they flowed even more, when her still-living comrades and soldiers joined the spiritic crowd, hugging and holding hands with gone brothers and sisters. Grace was among them, her family sweetly surrounding her. A couple of Knights planted a pole in the midst of the assembled mass, and raised a bright, vividly coloured Union Jack above it.

Gwen smiled, no, beamed at the crowd, and gave her back to them, looking at the horizon before them. With a fierce and proud gesture, she planted Excalibur's tip on the ground before her, savouring the wind flowing through her golden hair. Her army was now whole again.

by **Nightkill the Emperor** » Tue Mar 31, 2015 10:45 am

by **Agritum** » Tue Mar 31, 2015 11:59 am

Nightkill the Emperor wrote:
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Happy April Fool's, everyone. The real post will be up in a while.

Grace's eye widened, as if a terrible revelation had just shockingly ripped through her feeble, young mind. The young knightess fainted, much to the surprise of her ghostly relatives.

by **Constaniana** » Tue Mar 31, 2015 5:53 pm

Agritum wrote:Hilde's plane swiftly skidded on the ground, quickly coming to a sudden halt when the German homunculus energycally pulled the aircraft's emergency brake, awkwardly intruding upon the various heartfelt family reunions taking place on the world tree.

The glass canopy opened in one smooth motion, as a particularly nonchalant Hilde emerged from the aircraft. She saw no ghosts, no blue lights, nothing. Well, except for Fluffymeister, who was occupied in happily chasing the ghosts of former house pets of player characters and brutally devouring them. Hilde smirked, and stepped off the experimental plane, careful to not accidently rip her stylish Prussian Military cloak. The Chancellor of Germany quickly stepped next to her Official Boyfriend, gently smashing a fist over his head in an heartfelt attempt to liberate him from the ghost of his pasts.

"William? Stop thinking about dead people. They're dead. Kaput. Think of the living, for goodness' sake!"

"Think about the living, all seventeen of them, eh?" William grumbled, rubbing his head, "Nice to see you again too, Hilde. I was beginning to think you tragically died or something like that."

"Your punishment must be more severe!" Granddad yelled at Sir Nilark. Mary gave up on showing Hilde any tact after she hit William, and started waving two birds around at her, disappointed the German couldn't see them.

"You passed me up for that," Sophie complained flatly, "You passed me up for that? I lost to her?!?"

"In my defence, a god got me drunk..." William grumbled to the ghost.

Nightkill the Emperor wrote:
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Happy April Fool's, everyone. The real post will be up in a while.

In response to this, Dunefiend flew around and smoked a joint with Snoop Dogg.

by **Nationstatelandsville** » Thu Apr 02, 2015 8:20 pm

With an audible click, which served no purpose other than to appease a love for the retro, the next song in the playlist began.

I can't see where you comin' from
But I know just what you runnin' from...

When he opened his eyes, it was but a few seconds until he tasted salt. And so he didn't open his eyes.

Having them closed was hardly better. Better for his pride, maybe. When he closed his eyes, all he saw was Her.

Christ in a crown of thorns, hanging limp and bloody from the nails in his flesh. That's the price we all pay. That's the price of the right thing. We all die, so die right.

She was terrible, truly, in a way she had never been in life. She was not Rosalind, She was a beast born of her. A ragged, horrible thing pinned upon skin of metal, letting out a scream which ends the universe. Her meat rotted upon her bones, Her hair turned brittle and gray, but She never stopped screaming. Even when Her blood dried and no more answer the wounds, She wouldn't stop. She was more than a girl, She was a god. She was his plague. She followed him everywhere he went, whispering black, black things. Secret truths.

And what matters ain't the who's baddest but
The ones who stop you fallin' from your ladder, baby

Look at the anguish. His pain is clear. The son of God, and still He suffers. What of the son of Man, how can he bear the pain if He cannot? But behind His pain is an understanding, a sagacity. She had no such relief. Hers was suffering unmitigated, crucifixion with no resurrection. Spring won't come again. She didn't get the death She deserved.

She had always been there, in truth, even before Rosalind died. But now She had form, a name, and with those things came power. And Her scream didn't stop. It paralyzed him, reminded him of his failure. The scream wasn't Hers, maybe - maybe it was his.

Maybe it was better to taste the salt, then. When his eyes were open, at least, the screams could be put to the back of his mind.

And you feel like you feelin' now
And doin' things just to please your crowd,
When I love you like the way I love you,
And I suffer, but I ain't gonna cut you 'cause

So this was the end? Mere anarchy? He had expected something else, somehow. Something human. Something cold and quick, born of the hands and minds of a million men doing the right thing, or the easy thing, or the painless thing. That he could understand. But what was this? Baser cruelty? That, he knew, was more human than the bomb. But it wasn't him. It wasn't what he would do.

Maybe he wasn't human.

They told him that, once. They told him he'd lost his soul. They told him he was born of an unholy pact, if there was such a thing as holy.

She was holy. Best to ignore holy.

They had told him all his life he was born of a dark magic which had not been performed before. A soul stolen from Death, taken by some demon - no, not some demon, he knew that now. By a man who was just as sad and scared as he was. But then, wasn't that every demon? Wasn't that what made him wicked - not his lack of a soul, but his soullessness?

This ain't no place for no hero.
This ain't no place for no better man.
This ain't no place for no hero
To call home.

He knew. He knew what they all said about him, what they thought of him. That he was antisocial, sociopathic, even cruel. They weren't wrong. What had he ever done to his fellow but cause pain? He had tried to be good, but all that had come of it was pain.

Die right. Die on the cross, repentant, with a crown of thorns and a prayer on your lips. But it was a lie, a lie told by priests and angels - there is no redemption. No one comes to forgive you. You just die, hatefully, like you deserve. It isn't sacrifice, it isn't penance, it's justice. Die on the cross, because you don't deserve to die on your own two feet.

But maybe that all didn't matter now. Everyone was going to die now, and it was his fault again. He could've done something, couldn't he have? He should have known, this whole time he should have known. It was so obvious - if he had looked, he could have seen. But he did not look, and now the day was lost to Old Night.

And now he sat here, on the battleground, immobile and crippled. That's all he had ever been - a cripple in a war. How'd he cause so much trouble when he couldn't even stand? He coughed, and tasted his own blood in the back of his throat, and knew that no human's blood tasted like that. Even his body knew what he was, and had changed to fit that.

This ain't no place for no hero.
This ain't no place for no better man.
This ain't no place for no hero
To call home.

Die on the cross. But there were no crosses.

Every time I close my eyes, I think,
I think about you inside,
And your mother, givin' up on askin' why -
Why you lie, and you cheat, and you try to make
A fool outta she...

"STAND!" a voice broke into his thoughts. D's eyes bolted open and the harsh light of a blue flame met them. He groaned.

What he stood before him was a beast. It wore ragged yellow robes, which hung loose around its shoulder and flapped in the wind, covered in gore and dried blood. Its skin was pale and its eyes blue as a purer water than had ever flowed on Earth. It wore the grin of a holy man, but its eyes spoke of the lie. Its red beard came down to its chest and its fangs nearly as far, or so it seemed. This was the death of everything. This was Fae, and it carried in its hand a blue flame.

"It's not any fun if you just take it," the Fae growled in Her voice - how'd it know? or was he just mad?, "Give me a game, boy."

The flame extinguished. The Fae bent down to D and somehow smiled even wider, its breath dank as a dog's. It grabbed D's arm with all its strength - that crack was his ulna, most likely - and pulled their faces close, close enough that D could see all the myriad scars scattered about its face. Fae do not bleed except when they want to, D knew, and they do not scar unless they will it.

"Has anyone told you how ugly you are? On the inside?"

I can't see where you comin' from,
But I know just what you're runnin' from.

"Fuck you," D spat.

"Bit later on," the Fae snickered, flicking its tongue.

"Just do it."

"You're no fun."

And in that moment, D hated that Fae more than anything, more than even himself. This was going to kill them? This was what would take the life from his mother, from his father, from his friends? This thought it had the right to do the just thing, to right the wrongs he did Her? This was no justice, this was evil.

Blue lightning crackled across the Fae's fingers for a brief second, before surging forth in a brilliant flash into D's body. His back went suddenly straight and he took a deep breath as he let out a shout. His eyes glowed blue.

And what matters ain't the who's baddest, but the
Ones who stop you fallin' from your ladder, 'cause...

"Thanks for the recharge, shitbreath."

A blast of light exploded from D's eyes and straight into the Fae's; without a sound, the Fae's head melted away into nothing, leaving nothing but the blue light. D stood again, his armor whining and creaking as it came back to life.

At the very least, if you're going to die, die right. Die on your own two feet.

This ain't no place for no hero.
This ain't no place for no better man.
This ain't no place for no hero
To call home.

"FOR ELFEN HIGH AND ROSALIND JAMESON!" And Franklin Jameson flew into battle, praying something would just fucking kill him already.

by **Nightkill the Emperor** » Fri Apr 03, 2015 7:30 pm

Music.

Oberon slammed a fist against Crowley's stomach. The other man took the blow, hardly wincing. "You are done, Oberon." growled Crowley. Crowley kneed his uncle in the balls, causing the other man to fall backwards. He slammed his elbow down on Oberon's neck, causing a slamming sound to be heard. The Fae King looked panicked and surprised at this turn of events.

"How the hell?" he demanded. "How the hell are you even doing this?" his English voice cracked as he roared.

"Kicking your ass." said Richard cheerfully, watching the action and taking a swig of Fireball whisky. His brow furrowed. "Fireball?" he said with annoyance, turning to Leo Major. "It's a bit weak."

"It's good, honest, Canadian stuff." said Major with annoyance, but Richard had already stopped paying attention. He had turned back to looking at the fight. "Go Aleister!" Richard barked. "Make us proud!"

It was do or die.

Oberon's eyes glowed completely blue, his pupils disappearing as his sockets only seemed to hold balls of blue light. "FUCK OFF." he snarled. He threw a punch at Crowley, though he was a dozen feet away. The punch made a cracking noise as it hit the air, and a blast of air and blue energy hit Crowley in the face, causing him to stagger backwards. Oberon slammed the ground, causing the ground beneath the Harbinger to turn into lava. Crowley winced initially, then flew slightly above it and allowed the crack to close.

"You don't get it." Crowley urged Oberon. "Just give up. You've lost, Oberon. Surrender." One looking at Crowley directly would assume he was completely serene and confident, absolutely sure of himself. When in reality, well...

"You're bluffing." noted Leah, appearing behind him and visible only to him.

"Well, yes." muttered Crowley quietly, audible only to himself and Leah. "But let's not let the Fae King know that." he winked.

That wink drove Oberon even more insane. "FUCK OFF AND FUCK YOU." declared the Fae King, his eyes burning with absolute rage and hatred. "I WILL SKULLFUCK YOU, ALEISTER CROWLEY."

The Aleister Crowley in question was then quite stunned by a charging Oberon who had lit himself aflame and grabbed his neck. Oberon lifted his nephew up in the air, his hand squeezing. "Die." he spat.

Crowley kicked Oberon in the face, causing the Fae some surprise. He kicked even harder. There was a snapping sound as Oberon's head separated from his body, flying off. It rolled on the ground as his body staggered. Oberon sighed. "For fuck's sake." the disembodied head muttered, flying upwards and reattaching itself to his body. He then opened his mouth and a blue beam of light blasted out of it, hitting Crowley straight on.

But then the Fae King was distracted, hit by a missile. "Go fuck off." Daisuke barked, dozens of Daisukebots emerging from the sky and firing away at the man who had destroyed the universe.

Crowley looked around himself frantically - Oberon should have been dead. But the bastard was truly a relative - he had a stubbornness that would not die. So more drastic measures might need to be tried. But what...

Elfen High's headmaster looked out at the corpse of Leviathan in the distance, floating there...And then he looked at Elfen High itself, sitting on the tree.

A cartoonish lightbulb appeared over his head before disappearing. The sheer massive amount of magic in the world right now meant strange things like that would happen. The Harbinger of the Sun roared, tackling a surprised Oberon and flying off with him toward Leviathan's corpse. Oberon slammed his fist into his nephew's back, fully intent on shattering it, but Crowley would heal himself as soon as any damage was done. This is effectively what occurs when the two strongest beings in the Omniverse are fighting one another.

Oberon bit into Crowley's neck, ripping off some of the flesh and muscle, but a bleeding and stubborn Crowley merely slammed him down on the back of the dead dragon Leviathan. They touched down on this megalodon of a dragon, after which Crowley blasted Oberon with an energy beam from his left hand. "I'm willing to blow up the entire Omniverse if it means that you die." threatened Crowley.

Oberon raised an eyebrow. "You're a liar." he murmured, his voice calm again. It was not a safe calm. It was a dangerous, angry river. And they were coming close to the waterfall of rage. "You won't do that. That goes against everything you want."

"And should we have a world where everyone is eternally tormented by you or ruled in a world of your meaning, after your Gotterdammerung?" asked Crowley. "No. Never. So let's do this."

Leah's voice spoke behind him. "This is a risk, Aleister." she warned.

"That's not arguable." muttered Fixban. "But this fucking school was founded on danger. Danger's been here since the beginning of time. Do what you need to do, Aleister."

Richard just smiled. "Clean up time. Wipe the floor with him." The janitor could not, in any way, resist those puns.

Crowley howled suddenly as the corpse of Leviathan seemed to wake up and move, going rapidly and rapidly toward Elfen High, which was perched at the top of the Tree right now. "Alright alright alright!" he whooped, Oberon's eyes widening as the nose of the dragon collided with the school.

"You're mad." Oberon noted, his fear tingled with just slight fear. But mostly, interest. Curiosity. Wonder. Madness was also something quite common in this family, and Oberon wanted to see what was going to happen next. The corpse of Leviathan glowed purple, shining. "You're going to detonate the corpse of the creator of all things?" asked the King of the Fae, sounding impressed by the audacity, his voice sounding like they were discussing Crowley acing a math test or some such.

"Absolutely." declared Crowley. "Just try and stop-" he stopped talking because he was suddenly punched in the face. Bone cracked - both his and Oberon's fist, but the Fae King pounded his nephew with a follow up knee to the groin, and his left hand grabbed the back of Crowley's head and slammed it down on the knee. Blood gushed from Crowley's bruised skull.

"You can do it." said Sanchez's voice calmly. "I'm sorry about everything, Aleister. You're a better man than I was." he admitted, the ghost of the ISSR commander appearing to Crowley who was in a daze. "Look, soldier. Get your ass up and get going. You got to do this."

"Fuck off arsehole." muttered Crowley under his breath, mentally flipping off the military man. But it did help. He slowly pulled himself upwards, glancing down at the pulsing purple dragon underneath them. "I don't even need to kill you, Oberon." he said confidently. "I just need to hold you off."

"You're not using your full power." Oberon noted, ignoring Crowley's words. "You're holding yourself back. Why? You hold the power of the entire Omniverse in you. Every soul has given you what they have. Why are you not using them up and using your full potential?"

"If I do, the souls die." Crowley growled, spitting out some blood. A tooth came with it. "I can't let that happen. I hold what once was the world within me. I'll use the strength I am given voluntarily. I will not force it out."

"You're a fool." Oberon laughed, his face in a wide smile. "An utter fool. For your bloody honour you're going to give up your chance of saving the world, because you think that making any sacrifice is too much?" An eyebrow was raised. "Well, I have a surprise for you, my dear nephew."

The ghost of Richard tensed, and appeared before Oberon, who looked briefly at him in surprise. "Oh. Brother. It is good to see you. You look terrible."

"I am dead."

Oberon paused. "You know, brother, ever since we separated, there's been a hole in my heart." he commented. "Literally - I'm not complete. We used to be at ultimate power together, but now...it's just not the same." Oberon said solemnly, sighing. "Well, how about we do this?" he offered.

Crowley and Richard looked at Oberon cautiously when the King suddenly grabbed Crowley by the neck again and the Harbinger felt himself weakening as blue light went up Oberon's arm. "What the bloody hell?!" Crowley demanded.

"Time for me to take some things back, my dear boy!" Oberon cackled triumphantly. "Let's see how things go when we're whole again, Richard!"

Richard's eyes widened. "This is not a good sign." he said as his ghostly apparition burst into flames for dramatic effect, before disappearing.

"RICHARD!" Crowley roared in shock and awe and horror, seeing his father disappear. For all he knew, forever. And Oberon screamed, in a mixture of joy and pain, his body glowing as he knelt down on one knee, covering his forehead with one hand and shrieking. Richard was not making the readjustment an easy one. But Oberon slowly stood up, laughing.

"I'm whole again." he marvelled, looking down. "I'm whole and I'm in control." He slammed his foot down on Crowley's stomach to the gasp and groan of the wizard. His foot went right through Crowley's stomach, and as Oberon lifted it up blood could be seen spilling out. "You will die today, Aleister Crowley." threatened Oberon. "Nothing you can do will stop this."

Crowley felt himself gasping, his vision blurring. No. This couldn't be it. He couldn't die...if he fell, the entire Omniverse would fall with him. All that would be left would be Fae and dragon once more. And now without Leviathan, the Fae would effortlessly wipe out the dragon armies or convert them. There would be nothing left.

He heard Oberon singing to himself, humming.

He's a-coming, do you hear the King?
He comes ever closer, with gifts only he can bring
The King is very close now, you can see his crown
He will come and burn you down

All Hail The King, All Hail The King
As he comes, the children sing
He brings his gift, raining it down on you
When we accept, he leaves to do it elsewhere anew

He's a-coming, do you hear the King?
He comes ever closer, with a gift only he can bring
The King is patient, the King has waited
He has come to burn this Earth he's hated

Crowley gasped, trying to retain some air. He focused on himself...he would need to use up some souls in order to heal and fight Oberon. What else was there to do, especially as Oberon was now "whole"? He had reabsorbed Richard's soul and would likely absorb more souls from Crowley if Crowley weren't careful. But the Fae King was also going quite insane, and hadn't seemed to remember that advantage he had.

"Mr. Charming!" Oberon taunted. "Did you think you were pure?" punching his nephew in the face.

Crowley slowly raised one hand, ready to channel some souls in an energy blast against Oberon when both combatants suddenly noticed there was a sword in Oberon's chest. "What the bloody hell?" He turned his head 180 degrees, seeing that William had slammed Excalibur directly through the Faery King's chest. He gave Crowley a wink and a nod, during which time Oberon had socked William directly in the face, not wanting to repeat the "Excalibur to balls" scenario.

But when Oberon did that and was about to heal the hole in his chest, he saw a portal had opened in that empty space. And fire was bursting through. Standing away, Alastor gave his own wicked grin, backed by all of ghostly Hell chanting his name. Oberon groaned, trying to seal the portal shut with magic, which gave distraction for a shrieking noise to start emitting in his ears as Eric played on a flute, playing a note only Oberon could hear and causing blood to come gushing from his ears. The portal in his chest stayed open, fire bursting and moving, encouraged by Parnell standing behind his husband and backing up the flames.

Lyra flipped a page on her notebook and started to draw Crowley without wounds and scars, causing the headmaster to slowly stand up, healed of damages and looking down at himself. He smiled, looking at Oberon struggling to maintain himself. Aleister Crowley laughed. "You forget something, uncle." A gesture toward his friends. "I'm not alone."

Oberon's blue eyes widened. Then he paused and took a deep breath. "Very well. Your friends will die alongside you." he said, pointing a finger downwards at the pulsing purple dragon. "You yourself have set the corpse of Leviathan to explode, Lucifer, in order to use that energy to somehow reverse engineer the previous universe. Don't you realise I can do the same? As I've reabsorbed my brother, I'm much more capable of doing such a thing."

Crowley nodded. "Yeah. I'll admit that's a risk." he grinned. "But we've taken a lot of risks recently. So fuck it. And fuck you."

Oberon trudged closer to Crowley, turning and punching William again as the boy charged to deliver another blow. Staggering backwards with a heavily injured face with a broken jaw, William then changed his sword into a gun, charging a blast and firing - Oberon redirected the attack, sending it at Crowley, who ducked as quickly as he could. The blast went off into the distance, going and going.

But this provided enough of a distraction for Lewis and Karna to tackle Oberon, Lewis kicking and biting and scratching. Karna slammed a fist into the side of Oberon's skull, giving Lewis enough time to knee Oberon in the crotch. Oberon glared at Lewis, ready to fire an energy blast out of his eyes at the American when someone tapped him on the shoulder. Turning to look, Oberon was shot in the face by a pistol fired by a grinning Detective Cartwright. The energy blast he was about to fire went up into the sky, missing everyone. A second tap on the shoulder - Oberon this time swung his fist as he turned, but Vernon's son Michael had already walked backwards, firing away with his gun.

"You mistake the amount of support we have." Crowley admonished Oberon as the two Ciels aided Eric in musically tormenting the Faery King. "Elfen High...we back each other. We support one another." he moved away from Oberon, focusing down on Leviathan's corpse which was pulsing and glowing ever more and at a quicker rate, almost like a heartbeat now. He needed some time to make sure this didn't backfire horribly, and he needed some protection, which was provided by Grace and Gwen charging at Oberon and blasting away at the distracted and overwhelmed Faery King who tried to damage as many people as he could, but found that Lyra would heal them up almost as quickly as he was able to do that.

Then Leviathan's corpse turned white. Oberon saw this and he screamed. The white void spread out from Oberon.

Then the world ended. Again.

"Would you kindly get up?" asked an American voice. Lazarian opened his eyes, glancing around. One hand held a broomstick, and the other hand held a bottle of Jack Daniel's (Demonic version. This was 135% alcohol. Light drink by demonic standards).

"This is not...the end..." a metallic voice intoned from nowhere in particular. Laz stared upwards, seeing Pierre giving a half-hearted smile. "It's good to see you again, Laz."

The demonic janitor stood up suddenly, looking at his friend. "PIERRE?" he exclaimed in shock. "How...am I dead? Did I overdose? On a pissy, girly drink like this?" he looked at the Jack in disgust, throwing the empty bottle to the side. He then looked at his old, long dead friend from Detroit. "Pierre...my head is burning. What happened? How are you here?"

"Well, the universe was saved. Some ghosts are still hanging around. We'll disappear soon enough." Pierre explained, sitting down in a nearby chair. "The world...it was collapsing. All the worlds. But we did it. All of us. We saved the entirety of the universe. You're in the basement of Elfen High, in Richard's office-"

"My office. I'm the janitor now." Laz corrected Pierre. "So, how did we get here?"

Pierre placed his left leg on his right knee. "Well, that will be a long story..."

"You're fighting senselessly." snarled Oberon, moving slowly toward Crowley. "You're trying to reshape the world, but it's pointless. You are not fit to rule, Lucifer, Crowley, Carry, whatever you'd prefer, even if you had delusions of that. You're pathetic. You're a mutt. A dog cannot become a lion."

They were standing atop Leviathan's corpse, which in massive claws was holding several branches of the Tree, which had been mostly destroyed in the explosion. But if someone was down there observing, they would see the branches regrowing, the Tree reforming slowly.

"Row row row your boat, gently down the stream..." he said inanely, watching as the dragon corpse raced through the white void which was slowly becoming coloured again as he concentrated. "Merily merily merily merily, life is but a dream..."

This was the role of the Harbinger now - the Tree was destroyed, and an enemy had tried to bring forth an eternal night, but the Sun would rise.

He remembered Richard's prophecies made long ago.

"The rescue will occur. The terrible defender will fall. The harbinger of the sun will appear again. A time of war will begin."
"The people of the north will fall. The dark prophet will burn many. The good will be broken. The war burns."

The universe was being rescued. Leviathan had fallen. He had appeared again. The war had begun. Heaven had fallen. Uriel burnt many. Good was broken. And the war burned.

But now it was time for healing.

The other PCs and NPCs had began to disappear and fade away - their bodies could not retain the stress of this new middle universe. Crowley reabsorbed them into his body as they all melted down to the form of pure souls. "You'll be safe within me." he said.

Crowley glanced around, seeing new dimensions and worlds form. He had all the souls of the previous Omniverse within himself, and he was slowly but surely releasing them, trying to remake worlds at a proper time, before damage caused by the Fae had occurred.

Alright...he took a breath, releasing a world quite similar to his, but still in the 1940s. He saw a few flashes of people, allied soldiers fighting against the Germans. He hoped that they would be successful. They had stories of their own, though Crowley had never come near them. He shot out another universe, seeing UN Peacekeepers aiding in an armed conflict. He wondered how that would end out, but he was inspired by it, by that selflessness. Selflessness that could now go somewhere. They were alive now. And he had to continue.

"You resist." Oberon intoned. "But you will fail." A black cloud came over the world Crowley had just released, but Crowley blew it away rapidly, and the world was left behind as he blasted out more and more worlds, more and more alternate dimensions. The headmaster had seen something when he had released that world. He had seen people. Individuals fighting and risking it all, people trying hard. That gave him motivation. Strength. He needed to keep going with this. Oberon noticed this motivation. "Your friends are gone, Aleister Crowley. This is no war between us - this will be harvest."

The headmaster glanced up. "I don't think so." he replied. Oberon frowned.

Then he doubled over. "What the hell?"

"You didn't think I'd go away so easily, did you?" Oberon's mouth said again, but the tone and voice was different. A different person was speaking now. And Richard's voice sounded quite pleased. "Aleister and I realised almost immediately what you were trying to do. I went into your body willingly, just to stop you from doing this. Brother...you are a giant sack of shit. And I'm honoured to cause you hell."

Oberon fell to the ground, groaning. "No, no, NO." he howled. "This is unacceptable!"

"Crowley." Richard's voice again. "Finish the job."

Cities now. Crowley focused on them. Several, several cities. Alternate versions of them, all sorts. A city called Bielefeld that would shift locations as needed, moving across the Omniverse. He repopulated them with people who would be unaware of this entire encounter, except in bad dreams. It was a mystical place. Crowley was amused to realise that there was one alternate universe where both Bielefeld and Elfen High intersected. He was less pleased to see that it had been a massacre and nearly everyone involved in that experiment from his side had either died or been scattered across the Omniverse, killed by the Fae moving into that world and destroying it. He looked at Oberon with loathing, seeing what had happened to an alternate version of himself and those people. He saw fire and flames. That world was beyond saving - but the other Bielefelds had hope and potential, and were saved and repopulated. He had won those battles.

Crowley's body was weakening. It was evident and obvious. He was releasing too many universes, too many souls. As every soul left, his own body would weaken. But he had to keep going.

Another world was born. But as Crowley was creating this one, Oberon sprinted forward and kicked him, knocking him to the ground. Crowley cut Oberon with a knife, but he had been distracted. In this world, most details came out correctly but an alien ship conducting a routine surveillance over Earth exploded as Crowley recreated it. Green crystals, infused with Oberon's blood, fell to the ground and landed in Southern Africa. They were enfused with immense power. Some interesting things would occur as a result of that, but the world would go on. Crowley left it alone, seeing a bald mercenary start to form a squad.

Now it was time for Gwen's world. It had been utterly destroyed and wrecked by the Fae. Crowley felt the remaining souls from it inside his body, but he paused. Did he have time and power to do this, to make every world? He was growing weaker with every world he made.

This was his responsibility and decisions right now, something he would need to handle. He had become, intentionally or not, the Portal to the Multiverse. And he would need to see how he could make all these separate universes exist, and exist separate and away from the Fae.

He took a breath. New continents formed, new planets, new dimensions. The APS subuniverse was born again, but healed of Fae damages. Rebuilding would need to be done. But it had a future.

The Fae soldiers...what had occurred to them? "Oh, of course." Crowley muttered. "I absorbed the souls of the Omniverse. You absorbed the ones outside that field." he said to Oberon, who nodded.

"Dragons too." Oberon groaned. "We're cousins, after all. Came from the same source of Leviathan originally. I absorbed them when you blew up Leviathan's corpse. And when I create my own worlds, I'll end you. You will never truly destroy us." he snarled.

"No." Crowley admitted. "But this is not the end. I want more time for everyone."

Richard's voice came out again. "And I'm proud of you, my boy. I'm proud of what you're doing here. I wish I had told you that more. I wish I had told Uriel that as well. Perhaps things would be different then for us all."

No shit. thought Michael, watching everything happening from within Crowley, connected to all the other souls of the Omniverse.

...Fuck. I'm inside Aleister Crowley. This is disgusting on so many levels. Most of the Omniverse thought at once.

Crowley sighed, shooting out more and more worlds. He began to remake one particular world, a clean magical school there with an Indian headmaster. As Dwarven High was made and shot out into the Omniverse (which had begun to hum again, the white void around them becoming blue as they shot through the Nowhere between the Omniverses), Crowley realised he had remade most of the Omniverse quicker than anticipated. Though, of course, time had far less meaning now.

There was one left. One very important world. It was time to remake Elfen High.

"I mean, obviously, he succeeded." Pierre said, looking down at Laz who was having popcorn and listening with mouth agape.

Laz shook his head. "Well, you haven't finished! How are we alive? Who's alive? What happened to Oberon? Where the fuck is Crowley now?"

Pierre nodded. "I'm getting to that. Hold on." he said, pausing for dramatic effect. "Alright. So here's what happened."

Oberon started laughing. "The cycle will continue." he giggled. "You've remade the universe. And I'll remake the Fae universe, or we'll live within the Nowhere between universes. And your body...well, you're not made for this, Crowley. You may have been the Harbinger of the Sun, but the Tree will reform. A new Harbinger will rise. We'll continue this harvest for more milennia and yet no time at all. And it'll be quicker now. I know what moves did not work this time. And you will die as soon as your job here is done, as you are merely a man. And if we fail in the next cycle...well, we'll do it again." he winked.

"Don't listen to him, Aleister." Richard urged. "Just continue on your path."

Crowley glared at Oberon. Then he paused, as if he were thinking to himself. "You would have a point. But I have a contingency plan for that."

Oberon's face took on a confused aspect. The headmaster opposing him said one last thing. "Thank you for everything, Richard." Then Crowley kicked Oberon off Leviathan's corpse, roaring. Out of one hand, he blasted more souls after him. With the other, he concentrated and focused on reforming the universe...his universe...

"No matter what happens, you all quite literally mean the world to me." Crowley whispered as souls burst out of his body, streaming out of every pore, as he focused on recreating continents and Hell and every detail of every place. It was going to happen. It would happen...

Oberon flew into the void, floundering briefly for something to surface on when he exploded souls out of his body, remaking Fae soldiers and warriors and soul dragons. He began to laugh out loud triumphantly, quite pleased with himself. "We've been set back." he state, standing up on a small moon he created for himself, gesturing to his obvious wounds and wincing, Richard still fighting him from the inside and preventing him from healing. "But we'll recover, understood? We'll make more of ourselves. And we'll come back toward our goal. The Harbinger will die after he finishes remaking the Omniverse. We now know where the Tree is, and where it will form." he stated. "Getting to the stage we were at will not take long."

Then gunfire broke out, and Oberon was very, very surprised. He ducked. "What the hell is this?" he demanded.
This is not…the end…
Overwhelming gunfire now. As Oberon created Fae, they were shot down by these assassins. Looking up in amazement, he saw angels. Mechanical angels. Androids. Oberon reflected on the irony of creatures based off the Fae now slaughtering them, but he had larger concerns. He could wipe the floor with these beings – he was still the strongest being in the Omniverse, after all.

That’s when he doubled over, kicked by Richard. “No.” came out of his mouth. “No. You can’t dare. Don’t you fucking dare.” Richard ordered his brother. He had kept his personality separate, not assimilating into Oberon’s and returning to their original persona. No. He had some unfinished work to do here. As he saw the Androids descend, he knew who their leader would be. He had one final goodbye.

“Son.”

“Father.” Came the response as Uriel landed down on the ground. “Hello.”

“For the first time in a long time.” Richard replied with a wry smile. “You’ve been busy. I had guessed you had survived after you went through the vortex…after all, your brother did. And in your own way you aren’t any less than him.”

Uriel’s face didn’t soften. He remained serious and focused, accepting the compliment as a fact. He pulled out a knife, walking closer to Oberon. His face remained sincere and calm, Richard accepting his fate. Then Oberon took control again, and his face contorted into that of an animal approaching death – fear and rage mixed together as he struggled against the invisible chains put on him – the remaining Fae were busy fighting off the Androids, unable to respond to their master’s wishes.

“No! No! You cannot kill me!” he roared. “Would you really kill your father with me, the father you sought so hard to emulate? Would you kill me, your only reason for existence, the enemy you strived to fight? I WILL NOT DIE! NOT WHILE THERE IS STILL BREATH, WHILE THERE IS STILL-” Knife was placed to the throat. The knife slid across the throat. Oberon grabbed his throat, blood gushing out. He tried to heal, but Richard had blocked him from doing so. His time was done.

Oberon grabbed Uriel’s hand, whimpering. And thus the king of the Fae died – killed by his nephew as his brother held him back, whimpering and raging his way into the arms of Death. And Death had quite a few things to say…

Uriel held the bloodied knife up, turning to the Fae who remained. “King Oberon is dead! His war is dead! Surrender and flee in peace…” he paused. “Or fight me and die.”

The Fae fled. The remaining Androids, who survived the battle and were not absorbed into side corridors that led off into other worlds, came to Uriel’s side. They watched their leader with respect and some fear – they had abandoned him for dead, after all.

“You live, sir.” One said.

“Yes.” Uriel replied, smiling slightly, looking at his knife. “I do. I do live. And I intend to continue that. Our mission is not over. Lucifer has saved the world. The Fae are shattered now, broken. We have a new mission – to destroy them completely. Wipe them from existence. The job is accomplishable now. And we will protect the world from any other outside threats.”

He looked out into the void, standing on cool ground. “There’s a large Omniverse out there. And stories never end. We will do our part to protect it. My task is not yet complete.” He looked at the knife again, and at Oberon’s corpse, his face frozen in fear and rage, eyes bulging. “But we’ve made some strides.”

Uriel knelt down, closing Oberon’s eyes. Closing Richard’s eyes. God’s eyes. Wasn’t that an irony? He protected his father’s legacy for so long, yet he was the one to ultimately kill him. In another man, there would be sentimentality. But Uriel outgrown that. He had accepted he would need to do whatever necessary.

But he had done some unforgivable things in his efforts to save the Omniverse and study to fight the Fae, he acknowledged now. Lucifer had managed to find a solution that was better. “I had made mistakes.” He said out loud. “One does not build cities if one is guided by doubt. But no one could do everything in absolute certainty. I know my beliefs and work elevated me as I know the things I rejected would have destroyed me. But I had become so convinced by my own beliefs that I had stopped seeing the truth. Or the best path. I need to make amends for that.”

One Android looked confused. “My Lord…you are the one who grants forgiveness. You and God. And now God is dead. Truly and completely.”

“And I need to grant myself forgiveness.” Uriel murmured. “My children. Come. We have to watch the worlds. And you must watch me.”

“Why, my Lord?” the Android asked robotically.

“Quis custodiet ipsos custodies.” Replied Uriel, opening a portal. “Fae are out there. And other dangers. Let us go hunt.”

Crowley had hoped that Oberon enjoyed his little surprise. And he felt something change in the world. Things becoming brighter. He had hopes. But for now…for now, he was working on just surviving. The world was being built up from the ground up. Slowly, but surely...He whispered to himself. "This is not...the end..." he said. These words would be heard by everyone when they awoke, to encourage them, to guide them. They had more time. Finally, they all had more time.

Norfolk.

Crowley felt it when he awoke. He was in Norfolk. He smelt that country air, and instantly felt more white. It had worked. He almost burst out laughing. It had all worked out alright.

Everyone who had been alive when the last Gotterdammerung had occurred would be back alive - he had managed to reverse things enough for that. That meant Michael, Fred, Caspian...of course, people who had died sooner would not be alive.

The ghosts would hang around for a time, before they decided to move on. That was his back door, in case he decided to be a coward. But no. He wouldn't do that.

"We're back alive." ex-President Eastwood said in a tone of wonder, looking around the ruins and wreckage of the White House. It had been heavily damaged by the attack from the Fae originally, before the universe had been destroyed. But they would rebuild now. They had hope. And they were here.

Ex-Vice President Nicholson dragged himself off the ground, coughing and wounded, but alive. "Shit. Was that...was that entire rebuilding of the universe a bad dream?"

Eastwood paused. He was growing old, but the memories of that was already fading, becoming unreliable memories. Soon they would be gone, unless he made an active effort to remember. The same would apply for everyone else in the world who had "woken up". He grabbed Nicholson, his arm on his friend's shoulder. He held him in a passionate kiss. "It's fine." he said. "It was real, but we're back. Come now, Jack. America needs help. She needs us. Let's give her more time. This victory belongs to each of us. A future paid for by the sacrifices of those who fought and died alongside us. As we take our first steps to restoring what was lost, remember what it took to win. Just make sure the lessons learned in this war don't die alongside those who fought to win it."

"We're alive." noted John Oliver, sitting next to Andy Zaltzman. "I told you we shouldn't have done a gig in Leicester seeing what happened here before, but I never expected the world to (bleep)ing end because of it!" John said, in near tears. "AND WHY WAS THERE A BLEEP? (BLEEP) YOU CHRIS!"

Outside, a young British Indian couple kissed and hugged, just thrilled to be alive. The man got on one knee and asked a question. The woman said yes.

The TARDIS materialised briefly in Leicester, and Peter Cushing poked his head out, as did an Indian man. Cushing frowned. "Seems we came a bit late. Things seem to be mostly fixed here...well, as fixed as they can get in Leicester." he said as the TARDIS doors closed and the box disappeared.

Crowley stood up, in the Elfen High cafeteria, which was now repaired. He stumbled and staggered. "Hello, everyone." he said. He looked healed. He looked fine. He seemed fine, he sounded fine. But he had the smile of a dead man, and his eyes seemed resigned and peaceful. "Everything is fine. Everyone is fine. We've gotten everything fixed. And soon I'll leave you to it." he smiled, seeing Laz and the ghost of Pierre walk up from the basement, listening to his speech. "I've had enough time. Time to appoint some successors." he snapped his fingers. "William. You're the new headmaster. Gwen, your universe waits for you, mostly healed. Ghosts…" here he looked particularly at Pierre. “I recommend saying your goodbyes and moving on. Take as long as you need. But moving on would be best for you.”

He wiped away some sweat from his brow. "There are other things to deal with." he noted. "Oberon is out there, though I've dispatched some people to deal with him...the Fae should be scattered now. I've tried my best to set up some things to allow for transition..." his voice trailed off. "Fuck, man. This started as my fake funeral, can you remember? A funeral and a play." he sat down, laughing. “We had a hell of a ride, didn’t we all? Can someone get me a cuppa?” If he was going to go out, he would have some goddamn tea.

by **Nationstatelandsville** » Fri Apr 03, 2015 10:14 pm

A mug was passed into Crowley's hand, warm and alive.

"It's coffee, ye' pinko piece-of-shit," growled Lewis Jameson, his eyes heavy with hate and his lips twisted into a frown. He slackened a bit and allowed a smirk to creep in, clapping Crowley on the shoulders. "Ye' did good, kid. Ye' did real good."

With an audible click, which served no purpose other than to appease a love for the retro, the next song in the playlist began. HAL synced the armor's internal system to the school's PA system and it began to echo across the entire building - across the entire world that was Elfen High.

I guess I got what I deserved
Kept you waiting there too long, my love

Somewhere deep within the heart of the school, a man looked up from his leg of lamb and squinted.

"The fuck is that sound?" he growled. He wore thick pelts and a scar across his face, his life one of hardship and the hunt.

"Inconsiderate cunts," shrugged the mummy between bites of his meat, "I'm sick of 'em, y'know?"

The other man shrugged. His teeth stabbed deep into the flesh, fangs more than anything, and juice dribbled down his cheek.

"I didn't catch your name," the mummy said.

"Oliver. But no one's called me that in a long time."

All that time without a word
Didn't know you'd think that I'd forget or I'd regret
The special love I had for you

They hugged. And they cried. And that was it, What else was there to do, really? It had been too long for words. Far, far too long for anything but the animal and the physical. Were they even the same people anymore?

"Never leave again," Megan whispered, burying her head in Lewis's neck.

"Ye' know I have to," he said softly. For the first time, living or dead, Lewis allowed himself to cry.

From some distance, D watched. And he bit his lip, and held it down. Men, he knew, did not cry. Men marched on.

"Nothing's changed," he mused, "Not really. Or maybe everything's changed. I don't fucking know. Does anyone?

She wasn't screaming. Not right now. But he knew She would be back. Maybe he could face more, or maybe he couldn't.

"Well."

"Yeah."

Vernon Cartwright nodded to his son, "The job is done."

"The job is done," Michael agreed, "This job, anyways."

"There will be more."

"And you will be there?"

Vernon smiled. He always did, when he was hiding something. "Perhaps. Or perhaps not. I am very old, Michael."

"You won't die," Michael said with great sureness, "Can you even die?"

And Vernon smiled wider. "Everyone dies. Even your mother. Even me."

"You're a dusty old cunt, and a piss-poor liar."

"I'm a brilliant liar, my son. When I want to be."

"Fuck you, Dad."

"Do you want to know something, Michael? Things are going northwards."

Aziraphale smiled at his friends, at his brothers and sisters and children, as he stood in the door frame of the cafeteria. He smiled, and remembered.

He had spiraled, spiraled, spiraled for eons and eons and eons. He fell and fell and fell for all the time in the world, and all the time beside that, and all in the deep dark of nothing at all. And then he had landed. And he had forgotten so much, but he had thought he remembered why. He remembered Uriel, he remembered being pushed.

But he remembered now, and he remembered more clearly. He had not been pushed. He had jumped. From the back of the dragon, as his army fell behind their Lord resurgent, the Android Leader had jumped - or maybe it was Aziraphale. Maybe even then the Leader was dead.

He was a messenger, or maybe a refugee. He didn't know. He was there, in Elfen High, and that was all. He had fallen through the deep of nothing at all, and he had done it for Elfen High.

"And now it's time to go," he realized. He was a different man again, reborn all over again. He had been since Heaven had fallen. His time at Elfen High was done, his duty fulfilled. It was time to find a new duty. Anything to keep his hands busy, anything to keep him from looking back.

"Can't you stay for a dance?" said a voice. A hand touched his shoulder. He smiled sadly.

"Hello, Lust," said Aziraphale, "Hello, darling. And yes - yes, I would like a dance very much."

by **Astrolinium** » Sat Apr 04, 2015 8:42 am

Eric Manischewitz smiled, looking up as the music came over the loudspeakers. He offered his hand to his husband, Parnell, and the two began to make slow circles with their feet across the floor, hand in hand, bodies pressed closed to one another, the dance interrupted by the occasional misstep followed by giggles and Eric pressing his head into Parnell's chest as he squeezed him into a hug like there were young and foolish again. In a way, they were: this was the same old world, but it was a brand new same old world. Infinite, endless possibilities. They could do anything.

Suddenly, Eric looked up, staring deep into Parnell's eyes. He brushed a hand against his husband's cheek and then pulled him into a long, slow, needy kiss, like they were young and foolish again. The kiss quickly dissolved into laughter as the two clung to each other. They were the band teacher and a secretary: who would care about them if not each other? They were rocks. They had been ordinary humans in the early 2010s, when people had first begun to learn about magic again, and they had known the double ostracism of being magical and gay. And they had seen the world change. They would see it change again, and they knew they'd see it do so clinging to each other for support, as they had for these last seven years.

Eric had the thought that maybe next time Parnell asked about adopting a kid, he might say yes.

It was an interesting sensation to suddenly be alive again. Sort of tingly, really. It was also a sort of tingly feeling to suddenly grab the hand of the other man, the one who had been the Sphinx.

"Told you I'd come back, Peter."

Peter threw his arms around Caspian's neck and held tight in the middle of the cafeteria.

After he had finally let go, he said, "Everyone leaves, though."

"Well, sometimes we come back. I have. I think I'm not the only one."

Caspian gestured, and Peter looked, catching a sight of the Cartwrights conversing amongst themselves. He nodded briefly at Vernon, not caring if the old man saw. He could've rushed over, could've yelled, screamed, cries, hugged, done a million things. But after everything... a nod would suffice for the man who had named him Vomity. That part of his life -- Vegas, dragons, Canada, the Fae, being a Sphinx -- was over, and a new one was beginning. With Caspian. Who else? They'd literally been joined into one mind -- how could someone know you and understand you better than that?

Caspian grabbed Peter's hand again, squeezing it, calling him back to the now, to look at him.

"I'm hungry," he said.

Peter looked over at the lunch line. "This is a cafeteria," he said helpfully.

Caspian laughed and said, "I suppose it is."

"Let's eat. My stomach's feeling stronger than ever," Peter said.

Caspian smiled again. "Well, if you're feeling that hale, we might as well go to A&W."

Peter's eyes widened, recalling that day in the Nevada desert. "God, no! Anywhere but A&W."

Deep in the school, the Hawaiian goddess of fire, Pele, tapped her foot impatiently. Chaos had subsided on the Big Island and the locals had even begun to adapt to life in the Elfen High sewer system, but Christ, hadn't she been promised her due?

She sighed and intoned, "Men."

Then she disappeared in a puff of smoke, leaving the Big Island of Hawaii just where it was, thank you very much.

by **Zarkenis Ultima** » Mon Apr 06, 2015 12:51 pm

The Demon Lord stood on the bedrock of the World Tree, with every single soul in Hell that had ever supported his reign standing before him, chanting his name.

"ALASTOR! ALASTOR! ALASTOR! ALASTOR!"

"Your duty is not yet over, King of the Underworld." Astaroth said to his son, staring out at the cosmic battle that was taking place on the abode of the World Tree, with Crowley, backed by all of the souls of the Omniverse, fighting against Oberon, wielder of the power of the Dragon God. They were going through quite a struggle, hitting each other with everything they had as Crowley animated the corpse of Leviathan to enact a plan of his creation. Alas, it seemed that Oberon was bound to gain the upper hand in such a struggle, and so, the Lord of Hell understood that it was his duty to help.

As he turned away from his subjects and walked forward, the Demon Lord noticed a figure standing in front of him. His old friend, L'Enfer.

"Stare at yourself for a moment, Al." The red fiend said, concern in his voice. Alastor stopped and did as his friend had said, looking down at himself. Though the robe of darkness he had shrouded himself in after his armor had burned away covered most of his body, his hands were free, and as he stared at them he could see the air around them sizzling, thin, tiny wisps of black smoke rising from them sporadically.

"...Ah." The Demon Lord nodded, understanding the situation. He had been using the fullest extent of his power to keep Oberon from ruining Crowley's plans, and he had been doing that for a while now. Blast after blast of devastating dark magic had been shot forth from these very hands as Alastor fought to defend the World Tree and the Omniverse with it, and so, the state of his body came as no surprise to the weary warlord. Using magical powers mighty enough to fell a skyborne divinity had its consequences, and the Demon Lord's body was reaching the limit of its channeling ability. Any more, and surely there would be consequences to be had. There would be hell to pay, so to speak.

The Demon Lord chuckled at himself for that pun. "I understand the situation. Your concern is welcome, but I'm afraid I must ignore your warnings, friend. I have a duty with the world, or what remains of it." He stated with solemnity, before taking another step forward and raising his hand.

"Is there any particular reason you seem so determined to do this?" L'Enfer asked as he followed his Lord, standing beside Astaroth and Altair as all four of them watched the battle taking place. Hearing the question, Alastor nodded, a smile creeping across his fiendish visage.

"Oh, yes." The Demon Lord replied. "I've always wanted to do this."

"ALASTOR! ALASTOR! ALASTOR! ALASTOR!"

And then, holding out his hand with his palm open and pointed ahead, he looked at Oberon, whose chest had just been slit open by Excalibur, and suddenly, there was a tear in that space, linked to another, a black gate that hovered some distance in front of Alastor's hand. With a wicked grin, the Demon Lord once more unleashed his powerful magic. From his palm, a huge stream of flames surged forth, black as the night and yet burning like stars as they traveled through the nothingness and into the portal, reemerging in the hole within the Autumn King's chest, the neverending stream of dark fire preventing him from healing his wound and burning him from the inside. Black thunder seemed to crackle throughout his body as he did this, but even so, he held the fire for as long as he could, in his final attempt to help save the world from destruction.

But alas, his power had at last run out, and so, the stream of flames died down, and with it, his fingers began to disintegrate, and then his hand, until his entire arm had turned into ashes fluttering in the void. There had been consequences to be had in the end, but the Demon Lord was satisfied, even as his other arm began to fade as well, and his legs became weaker.

Then, there was an explosion, and a bright light, and the Demon Lord found himself riding on the back of the dead Dragon God, the World Tree firmly set in its claws. The Faery King and the Morning Star continued fighting for the destiny of all things, but Alastor soon found that he could not pay as much attention to that anymore. He felt himself fade away, as a voice told him that he would be safe. Instinctively, he knew that this was not his own doing, but the work of the circumstances, and so, before disappearing completely, he closed his eyes.

"I can sleep now." He thought.

Then, suddenly, he was awake.

"This is not... the end...

He opened his eyes, and found himself in a very familiar place, the cafeteria of Elfen High. He smiled. Things had wound up alright, then. In the end, he supposed, they always did. He stood up, seeing that he was whole once again, saved from the consequences of his actions by a merciful final page in this wicked book. He couldn't sleep yet, he realized, as he looked at his deceased father and at his elder brother, both standing before him still.

"Where are my subjects?" He asked them.

"Waiting for you, my son, but wait they can do if it is for their king." The dead lord Astaroth replied, arms firmly crossed.

"Your friend over there brought them back. He turned everything back to how it was before the world exploded." The dead exile Altair clarified, pointing at Crowley as Lewis approached him.

"Your Hell exists once again, Alastor, and it is there for you to lead. Our people have come a long way thanks to you, but they must rise even more and leave the darkness behind for good. You will be able to lead them into the light, I trust. After all, you are the King who fought the end of the world." The Demon Lord's father stated, looking meaningfully at his scion, the Lord of Hell.

Alastor merely nodded. He couldn't sleep yet, he realized. He had lived for centuries and yet there was so much for him to do. So many wrongs to set right, so much darkness to purge from the land, an entire world of people who would not be slaves again to lead into a new age.

His attention was set back on the ghosts of his fallen family as he saw them begin to turn around.

"Our time here is over, son. I would pray that we will not have to meet again soon, but who is there to pray to anymore?" Astaroth mused.

"We leave Hell in your care, then, little brother. I hope you don't commit fratricide again anytime soon." Altair remarked, waving. The two demons then turned around and began to walk away, before finally disappearing, never to be seen again as they walked back into Death's embrace.

"...Farewell." Was the only word that escaped from Alastor as he watched them leave. But once they were gone, he started paying attention to his surroundings. He couldn't just stand there in a daze, after all. The world had just been saved, but that only meant that every second was precious, something to give thanks for. Wasting them was not something he wished to do.

Spotting William, Alastor walked towards the lad and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Congratulations on becoming the new headmaster." The Demon Lord said. "Given your new position, it would be appropiate to tell you that I intend to quit my role as a teacher in this place. My people need me now more than ever, I suspect. I am sure you understand." Alastor said with a nod, before walking away. Next, he walked up to Crowley, standing in front of him and offering him a hand.

"I have done many things with my life, but I'm afraid I would not consider it complete if I passed up the opportunity to shake hands with the Devil himself." The Demon Lord joked. "Your people have done many things for my world, and it was a pleasure to fight by your side, Crowley. I do not think any of those who are still alive could ever thank you enough, so I won't try, but know that you will not be easily forgotten. I will see to that."

There was a battle of titanic proportions happening in front of her, and Lyra could not help feeling that she ought to do something to help even the odds. Certainly, there was much she had done already, helping fend off the Fae invasion, and then blowing up the moon and ruining Oberon's plans, and then defending the World Tree from Fae and Dragons alike, until finally there was only Oberon to defend it from. Indeed, even though Michael had infused her with energy to keep on fighting, something she continued to do even after he had died, her body was strained by the magnitude of her efforts. To add to that, she was also weak from the physical punishment she had taken during the fight, and her bleeding hand did her no favors. There was only so much ink a bleeding hand could provide her with, anyway, and it would not allow her to do much until the consequences of blood loss were too severe. Thus, the girl struggled to come up with a way to continue helping Crowley and the others in their fight.

Soon, she realized, and felt rather stupid for not realizing it before. What stopped her from drawing another notebook? Nothing! Smiling to herself, she took her newly acquired notebook into her hands, also taking a moment to draw a pencil with her own blood. Now that she had her drawing implements ready, the first thing she did was fix her own hand, but after that, she turned her attention to the fight. Crowley was struggling to hold Oberon at bay while he tried to save the universe, and the white haired girl thought that she ought to help him with that. The least she could do for the man who fought for the sake of all life was give him a moment's respite, and so, she drew him with swiftness and skill, using her powers to heal the wounds he sustained during the fight.

Naturally, the struggle continued, but even then, her mind clear and focused, she moved her pencil across the pages with unparalleled talent, healing Crowley constantly. William, who had rushed to Crowley's aid, was injured by Oberon too, and so she took a moment to reverse the damage that had been done to him as well, not wanting anyone to fall before the Faery King. Soon, others joined the fight as well, and with her swift hand she healed them all even as Oberon fought them and wounded them in an attempt to kill them. She was feeling light-headed once again, her vision blurring and blood trickling down her nose as her hand began to grow unsteady, but even then, she steadied and steeled her mind and continued doing her duty for as long as she could, healing everyone as they fought heroically. She herself had not been blessed with the power to fight alongside them, but though she could not lend them her power in a more direct manner, she could act as their support, doing what she could to assist them as they saved the world. It was for this reason that she continued to draw even as she felt her energy leave her.

But soon, her own struggle came to an end, as there was a bright explosion, and she found herself lying on the back of Leviathan as it flew across the void. She felt herself fading away, but that was alright. She had the impression it was not a bad thing, and she was tired, so a rest was more than welcome. She soon heard Crowley's voice, telling her that she and everyone else would be safe, and that was enough for her. She trusted his words and finally took a bit of a rest, after having done what she could for the world. Surely, she had done far, far more than what could have been asked of a girl of her age, but she did not think about it at all, merely glad to have a break after living through a cosmic war.

She soon woke up, and heard words of hope lingering in the air.

"This is not... the end..."

The girl opened her blue eyes and gazed at the world that was whole once again, smiling as she saw it. She was overjoyed to see that everything was alright, to see that everyone was alive. Her efforts, everyone's efforts, had paid off in the end, and suddenly she was not so tired anymore as she sat on a nearby table, her legs swinging back and forth happily. The world was still out there! What to do, what to do? She would definitely start traveling, though she didn't have much of an idea of where to go first. Sustenance didn't matter much since her powers could account for that, the girl thought as she started making plans in her head.

But then she looked at the headmaster. The old headmaster. He stumbled and staggered. He looked resigned, and so very old. She felt a bit sorry for him, for he would not be able to enjoy this world that he had just saved. But then, she thought, surely he was happy, happy that his efforts, too, had paid off in the end, and so she figured that the best she could do was to be happy for him as well. Hearing him ask for tea, she took her notebook and swiftly drew a cup of tea, but then she thought better and instead drew a whole table, with two teapots and several cups on saucers, as well as two bowls of cookies on them. Placing two on a saucer and filling the cup with tea, she took it and offered it to Crowley.

"It's the least I could do." She said, smiling at the man. But then she asked a question. "What will happen to you now?"

Ciel and Celes smiled to each other. Moments earlier, the World Tree had burned, threatening to be consumed by flames as it was torn apart from the inside, unable to hold together while the Autumn King approached after having killed Leviathan. Earlier still, a bloody, desperate struggle was fought in order to keep everything from being destroyed by the Fae and their mad king. However, now, the tree was whole again. It had been saved, for now at least, and for a moment, there was a break. For a moment, there were ghosts on the battlefield. Ghosts of lives already over that had come to greet and meet those still living for but a cosmic instant, granted momentary life by the singing tree.

Some of these ghosts were the specters of men and women killed during the war. Some others were those whose lives had ended along with the world, taken away by the apocalypse Oberon had caused.

And then, some were neither. Some were simply ghosts of the past. The two redheads knew that now, after having had the joy of seeing their parents once again, the loving couple that had taken them... taken her in so long ago. Needless to say, the meeting was a bit strange, with the surprised old couple noticing with some confused amusement that there were two of their adoptive daughter now, but they all were on good terms with each other in the end. They kept most of the story to themselves, knowing that an old couple from the fifties living in the countryside were neither the most open minded nor the cleverest of people, but they'd said enough, and everyone was happy.

Now, however, theirs was the responsibility of fighting alongside the rest of the Harbinger's allies, and so, they turned and saw the battle taking place. Crowley was in a tight spot, it seemed, and so, they moved to helping. Seeing how Eric had already taken the initiative and was playing a note to torture the Faery King, the two joined him in his task, using their voices and instruments to augment the power of his notes, causing every single quantitative unit of pain that they could to Oberon in order to keep him from wounding the Harbinger of the Sun as he saved the world.

But then there was an explosion, and they were blinded by a bright light. When they regained their senses, they were riding on the back of the first dragon, flying through the nothingness as they faded away, their hands holding onto each other even as their bodies disappeared. They were not afraid, however. They were resolute, for it was then, more than any other moment, that they knew they would not lose each other. They would not lose each other there, or ever, this much they were certain of, and so as they heard the voice claim that they were safe, they became a soul again, as they... as she was when she was born.

Then they woke up, separate again, but still very much together, and heard a call of hope.

"This is not... the end..."

And they opened their eyes, and the first thing they saw was each other as they held hands, having appeared in the same fashion they had disappeared- together. They rose as they heard the words of the savior of the Omniverse, saying that everything was alright, that everything was fine now. The war was, at long last, over, and now the world was safe, the world could keep on spinning and everyone could live. After having witnessed the end of all things several times over, the sensation that came with seeing everything whole once again was a wonderful one, and so the twin souls cherished it for a moment. If there was something that they had now, it was time, after all. They could use it to cherish their life, all life really.

"We will be going, then." Said the voice of an old woman from behind them. The two looked around to see their adoptive mother, an old lady with thin white locks of hair tied up in a bun, her gentle features causing them to smile as she too smiled at them. They nodded at her, understanding that both she and her husband had to leave, for good this time. They felt blessed to have met them again, but now it had come to an end.

"Take care of yourselves, then, my little artists." Their adoptive father said, a bald man with thick glasses, a prominent nose and a fancy moustache. He, too, was smiling, and would have patted their heads affectionately, had he not known that such behaviour was futile if it came from an incorporeal ghost who could not touch the living. It hardly mattered, anyway. Even without that, everyone smiled. Everyone was happy.

"We will, father." The redheads said in unison, giggling at their antics. They felt like a child once again as they talked to their parents for the first time in nearly two decades. But it had come to an end, as all things do, and they turned to leave, disappearing from the world as they walked away.

"It's over now, isn't it?" Ciel asked of Celes when they were gone. The other merely nodded.

"What do you want to do now? We've got the whole world at our disposal." She asked of the first, but the first merely placed herself in the other's embrace, staying in it contentedly.

"Just hold me." She said. "I think we should stay out of the spotlight for a while, but it doesn't matter much now. Just hold me. There will be plenty of time for everything else later." She stated, placing her head on the other's shoulder and closing her eyes.

Celes did as told. Certainly, there would be time for everything else later, and so, for now, they just held each other in their arms.

In the battlefield stood Ciel, clad in a bloodstained armor of red, gold and black, panting. All along she had been fighting against Fae and Dragons alike, trying to protect what little remained of the world. Then Oberon killed Leviathan, and there was only the Faery King to worry about anymore. She had used every bit of power her compound armor could muster to blast away at Oberon as he approached the World Tree, but even then she was able to do little to stall his inexorable rampage, as he moved closer and closer, killing the substitute Harbinger of the Sun in the process. She felt guilty for that, truth be told. If only she'd had more power to use against Oberon, perhaps the archangel would have survived. But then, power was never something she had possessed in abundance. The only things that had kept her alive were her sturdiness, her stubbornness, her fury.

Fury. Fury had kept her alive for so long. It was a blanket of warmth that kept her from going cold. It kept her mind too busy for her to go mad. It staved off the pain of loss she had felt many times before simply by causing her to feel anger instead of sadness. Three times, three times she had seen the world she called home be destroyed. The first, when her homeworld was torn apart. The second when man, however temporarily, was turned into angel. And the third when the world finally ended. Three times her fury had kept her from being overwhelmed by grief, kept her busy trying to punch things instead of going mad; in fact, as a relevant plus, it made her a lot more dangerous to whatever had caused such fury in the first place. But now, in that place, at the World Tree, there were ghosts on the battlefield, and there was a moment's respite, and as her anger cooled she was beginning to feel lost once again. She was soon found by a voice she would never have asked to hear.

"I'll see you when I die." The voice said, coming from next to her. "I guess that didn't turn out to be the case, hmm?"

As she turned and saw the blonde, horned, tentacle-wielding ghost that stood next to her, Ciel's eyes went open like saucers. "No..." She muttered, before her expression turned into one of anger as she balled her fists and raised them, moving them around uncertainly before swinging them down in frustration. "No!" She cried. "Why you? You were alive! You were alive and happy elsewhere!" She said, almost pleadingly, as if asking for this to be a mistake, a lie.

"Well, what did you expect? That big tree over there was on fire a few moments ago, wasn't it?" Alia replied with a shrug, evidently not exceedingly concerned about her current status as a dead person as she looked around. One didn't often get to sightsee in the root of the Omniverse after all.

Hearing her words, however, Ciel's face contorted into rage once again and she turned to run at Oberon, firmly gripping the energy sword she'd found in her armor. But before she could even begin, Alia's voice reined her back in like a firm iron chain holding her limbs hostage.

"You walk in front of those two right now and all you're going to accomplish is a pathetic, unnecessary death." The succubus admonished gravely, crossing her arms in front of her, the expression on her face no longer cheerful and carefree, but stern and solemn. "The last thing I want is for you to follow me to the grave so early. This is my destiny and I accept it. But you have no such freedom. You still have people to live for."

The truth of that last statement hit her like a thousand bricks, and suddenly she felt very guilty, her grip on her sword loosening. At this, Alia smiled again.

"You know, you always act tough and rude and all that, but deep down you're just a big sentimental idiot." She said, giggling.

"Oh, fuck you." Ciel replied half-heartedly. Alia continued giggling for a few more moments before settling down.

"Now, now, no need to be so rude. You act as though this is the end of the world, but it's not. There's billions of people fighting to prevent that right now, dead or alive. I'm sure we'll get to swing around again together, so have a little faith, will you?" The demon lady replied, smiling comfortingly at the disheartened redhead. "All you have to do is not die, and I'm sure we'll meet each other again." She stated. "Now go and fight with your people."

And with that, she disappeared. Hearing the last words she spoke, Ciel turned to face the battlefield, and saw Crowley, William, Alastor and the rest of the Elfen Highers giving their all to defeat Oberon. She simply couldn't get left behind after what she had heard, could she? With this in mind, grinning and frowning at the same time, she gripped her sword firmly once again and charged at Oberon to help the others in their battle. She had never been powerful, only sturdy and stubborn, but even then, she gave everything in that fight. It took her an enormous effort just to stay alive against such a superior foe, even with the help of everyone else, but she was determined not to die. She had too many reasons to live, she realized. Sheer spite was only one of many.

Then there was an explosion. Suddenly, Ciel found herself riding on the back of a dragon, slowly disintegrating. She panicked at first, she couldn't die just yet! But soon she heard Crowley's voice, claiming that they would be safe within him. That had sounded a little disgusting, truth be told, but safety was something she rather craved at the moment, after so much darkness and pain, and so, she gave in, hitching a ride on the Harbinger.

She then woke up.

"This is not... the end..."

She soon noticed she was in a familiar place, Elfen High's cafeteria slash auditorium. The world was safe at last. It wasn't destroyed, it was whole and everyone was alive. She was immensely relieved to see that. Everyone was alive. She herself was alive. The world was alive.

But as she thought about the living she began thinking about other things, and seeing the ghosts that were present in the cafeteria, she began looking around to see if she could find Alia. Alas, the demon lady was nowhere to be found, and as far as Ciel was concerned, there was only one reason her best friend would not want to be there to see her and say some words to her after everything that had happened: She was no longer a spirit.

Of course, the logical thing would have been for Ciel to be happy that her friend was no longer dead, that she had somehow come back to life, but emotions seldom followed the path of logic, and this occasion was no exception. Sure, she was happy for Alia, on some level, but mostly, she was thoughtful. Crowley remade the Omniverse, free of Fae damage, and rewinded things slightly so that some people were alive again. She understood that much, and figured that this was the reason Alia was no longer a ghost and instead seemed to be alive again. But what other implications did this have? Crowley claimed to have recreated Gwen's universe, free of Fae damage. Could the same have possibly been done for her own? And if so... How did she feel about that? Did she want to stay here? Did she want to go back? Did she dare to leave at all?

Amidst these conflicted thoughts, she began walking towards Daisuke.

"Hey, Dai..." She said, hoping she wasn't interrupting anything. There were ghosts all around, she suspected, relatives or friends of the living that were giving their last farewells, and the last thing she wanted was to barge in on an emotive scene or something like that, but then, she couldn't really see any ghosts that she was not meant to see, so she truly had no idea. "I... Ah..." She stuttered uncharacteristically for a moment, before scratching her head in frustration. "There's... There's just a lot of things I have to talk to you about, but if you're busy right now, we can have that conversation later. Sorry if I interrupted anything." She said apologetically. But then she made a face. "Say, where the hell are you, anyways?" She demanded of the android in the shape of her boyfriend.

"This is not... the end..."

There was a man in the school. He had been deprived of his freedom, once. He had been tampered with several times. He had been put through trial after trial. He had become a legend for the deeds he had accomplished. And he had died to save the world. He had died to save the world more than once.

But now he slept peacefully, resting and slumbering quietly in some corner of the cafeteria while the others danced and hugged and talked and enjoyed their new world. If ever the man known as Frederick Undersen could have come across as harmless, then surely that time was now, as he slept after the world had ended and was reborn, his slumber not that of a mighty slayer of dragons and monsters, but that of a sleepy old man. Truth be told, he hadn't been entirely thrilled to be brought back to life. He felt that his had been a fitting end, but no matter, he wasn't going to complain about such things. If he had been given life once again, then he would see that it was used well. He still had a race to save from global warming, after all, and surely any monsters that still existed in the world weren't going to hunt themselves. But for now, the greater threat had been taken care of. The world was no longer at stake, not for another weekend at least, and he had done enough for now. Surely taking a little nap wouldn't put the world in jeopardy, and he felt he deserved it. He would have plenty of time to take care of any unfinished business later. If there was something he had in abundance now, it was time, after all. Though he had lived most of his life already, he still had plenty of time.

And so, for now, he slept, and a scaly little ghost slept by his side in silent farewell, slowly fading away.

by **Nightkill the Emperor** » Tue Apr 07, 2015 11:46 pm

The Daisukebots had shut down. But Daisuke wheeled himself up in a wheelchair to see his girlfriend...and also his father. Minh Taka looked down at his son. "Well." Minh said slowly.

"Yep." Daisuke replied.

There was an awkward pause.

"You made something out of yourself." Minh told his American son. "I'm proud of you."

Those were words that Daisuke hadn't heard before, though he had often hoped. He paused. He would have been paralysed by the words had he not been actually paralysed. "Thanks, father." he said slowly. "I think, after thought..." he seemed to be wrestling with himself. "I think I can return that favour. I can say I'm proud of you too."

Now Minh looked stunned. "Why? I neglected you. I ran off. I didn't raise you and I was never around. You're perfectly in your rights to be angry at me. That's expected."

"I can't hold onto anger against a dead man forever." Daisuke said simply. "It's time to move on."

Minh smiled. "I'll repeat that again. I'm proud of you. And so I'm going to do something for you." He turned to Crowley. "Aleister Crowley!" The Japanese-Russian barked. Crowley glanced over at his friend, accepting the tea and coffee from Lyra and Lewis and was about to reply to them (which will be done in greater depth in a later post).

"Yes, Minh?" Crowley asked.

"While alive I worked for you without asking any favours, or making any requests. I was loyal and died loyal, because it was the honourable thing to do. But...I will ask one favour at long last. You did not want to use anyone's souls when you were fighting Oberon to heal yourself...but as Harbinger, you can use souls for those purposes if you want."

Crowley's eyes flared. "I will not use up your soul to heal myself."

"I don't expect that." Minh said. "Your time has come. But...I want you to use my soul to help someone who could use it. I'd appreciate that. Help my son."

Daisuke's eyes widened. "You don't need to do that, Dad-"

Minh turned and faced his son. "You know, Daisuke, all my life I've done what I've needed to do. What I was honour bound to do. I never did what I wanted. You're right. I don't need to do this...I want to do this."

Daisuke's eyes filled with tears. His father did love him. He had cared. Crowley gave Minh a solemn nod as the man gave a hug in goodbye to the wizard, and to Lewis, and finally to D.

He had words for each.

"Crowley, thank you. For everything. You became a man I feel proud to have served."

"Lewis, you old fuck. I love you like a brother. Remember me when you go for a drink. My booze room is yours."

"D...I'm sorry life was not fair to you. I truly am. But you made a lot with it, more than most would have. I'm proud to have been your teacher."

Finally he stepped towards his son, giving a look to Ciel. "Take care of him." he requested. He then looked at his son. "Give my regards to your mother."

He embraced his son in a hug, Daisuke able to actually touch him unlike the others (whose arms had gone through Minh). Minh glowed with a white light, disappearing as his soul seemed to move into Daisuke's body, Crowley's hands moving to break Minh down into his basic components and heal his son.

And thus, Daisuke Taka stepped out of his wheelchair for the first time in his real body. He stood tall. That was something that had been hard to tell before, when he was in his chair and seemed short. But Daisuke Taka stood at six foot, taller and more handsome than his late father had been. And he hoped, eventually, he would be as much of a hero.

But for now, he looked down at his girlfriend. "Ciel..." he croaked. "I can walk. My father taught me to walk."

by **Zarkenis Ultima** » Wed Apr 08, 2015 2:17 am

Ciel waited for an answer from the android, standing in front of it and crossing her arms in front of her chest, when she noticed with surprise that it was deactivated from inside. Naturally, she was confused, stunned even for a few moments, her eyes blinking rapidly as she wondered why that happened. Was it some sort of malfunction? No, probably not, Dai was a tad too smart for her to believe that an invention of his, one that seemed to be so important for all the duties he had no less, would spontaneously just fail like that. Then, did he do that on purpose? That was a little more believable, but only a little, as she was pretty sure he knew or at least had a good idea of what she was going to do to him when she eventually found where he was.

Of course, her mind couldn't go on much further than that, as she soon noticed the actual reason: Daisuke himself had gone up there and entered the cafeteria, likely not wanting to be part of the events taking place only through the body of a robot. Her first impulse was to run towards him, glad as she was to see him for real after the long struggle against the Fae, but she stopped herself before doing anything as she noticed a ghost approach him and engage in a conversation with him. She would have truly hated to interrupt something that seemed so important, and so, she opted to approach slowly and quietly, not disrupting the conversation.

And she was glad she had acted that way, as the conversation, she soon found, turned out to be very importat for Dai. She couldn't help having a smile creep onto her face as she listened to father and son talk to each other for the last time. It was something heartwarming to see, and as she stood by Daisuke's side she continued to listen, her amazement growing as she heard the request her boyfriend's father had made towards Crowley. Such a sacrifice was not one that could be decided on quickly, not even by the dead, or so she thought, and even then this man had done it without hesitation. Ciel didn't really have much experience with parental love, but at that moment she could see with complete understanding, without a shadow of doubt, that this man really did love his son.

When Minh addressed her, she took a moment to respond, slightly stunned by the display of altruism and affection she had just seen, but once she reacted, she nodded at the man and replied with a stoic "I will", not believing that more words were necessary for that. And then, she watched the sacrifice itself, and how Daisuke seemed finally able to walk afterwards. She watched, amazed, as he stood, having to look up at him, the real him, for the first time since she had met him. He looked down at her too as he spoke to her, and she saw the tears in his eyes, which caused her own to become wet with them as well. The scene had been a powerful one, and she was moved. Despite the apathy with which she naturally regarded most things that she didn't instantly regard with fury, she was deeply moved by what she had just seen.

"You can walk." She nodded at him, her emotion seeming a bit lacking for a moment. But then her simple smile turned into a big grin and she pulled Daisuke into a tight hug, leaning her head on his chest and very nearly lifting him off the ground. "You can walk!" She said excitedly, quickly pulling away and then lifting her boyfriend and carrying him on her shoulders. "It was about damn time!" She exclaimed with jubilation, laughing as she paraded him around the room for several moments before finally settling down and setting him on the ground again.

"I'm really happy for you, Dai." She said with sincerity. She wasn't entirely pleased, since he wouldn't be as easy to subdue later, but she was happy, quite happy for him. But then, she remembered what it was that she had wanted to talk to him about earlier, and her smile faded ever so slightly. She briefly brought up a balled fist near her mouth as she cleared her throat. "Anyway..." She looked around for a chair, spotting one nearby and grabbing it. "What I wanted to talk to you about..." She said as she brought it closer and sat on it. "Ah... you see... it's about my world." She confessed at last. "Crowley did a lot of things as the Harbinger, didn't he? Do you think he might have fixed that, too?" She asked, keeping her now conflicted emotions hidden under a mask.

by **Constaniana** » Wed Apr 08, 2015 8:05 pm

Well, this'll definitely be something to tell the kids, William thought with glee as Excalibur ripped through Oberon's chest. Though he'd probably leave out the bits that happened after that, since getting your jaw broken and your shots turned at your boss weren't the sort of things that earned you Cool-Dad points. And there wasn't much to tell about his contribution after that anyway, since the others stepped in to attack the Faery King. But of the things that happened that New Year's Eve, he most absolutely was not going to dwell on the fact that he was inside Aleister Crowley. When they finally rematerialised in the cafeteria the knight let out a sigh of relief, looking around the now-clean school. But his attention snapped back to Crowley when he named him as his successor as Headmaster.

"Me, sir? Really?" the tyke asked, completely surprised by the decision. Funny how he had once worried about being stuck at Elfen High for the rest of his life, and now he was running the bloody place. Well, at least the pay was probably good. He'd probably give up his presidential office now, maybe set up actual elections. Or choose a new student to become Heather and heckle them in debates with questions like their opinion on the tax policy of 450 B.C Syria, while banning Hilde's party from seeking any office in the school. Ah, so many possibilities.

"Wow, that's great Eddie," said Elizabeth, smiling at her brother, "Do us proud when we're gone." The dead Yorkshirewoman then looked to her left and right, as if expecting more goodbyes and words of support from the other members of her family, only to notice they were no longer there.

Mary Nilark found herself back in her usual chair, at her usual job, giving her quite the shock. It would have been no trouble suddenly being back at Tesco's, but not if one plopped back to being a RAF squadron leader piloting a Neo-Spitfire hurtling over the freezing waters of the North Sea off the coast of Whitby with a blazing Vimana looming ahead. The unmaking of the universe and subsequent cosmic ctrl+z had taken a toll on the alien vessel, as it hadn't been on fire when Mary last saw it. It was quite likely it was empty, since she had seen all the Fae souls go into Oberon or something confusing like that from her viewpoint inside Crowley, and none of the guns aboard it were firing at the British fighter jets.

"Squadron Leader Nilark, your orders ma'am?" Flight Lieutenant Baimesly shouted over the Yorkshirewoman's thoughts, startling her a tad. She remembered that Wing Commander Gordon and Squadron Leader Carsby were among the valiant pilots that had already been shot down, leaving her in command of several dozen aircraft. Mary didn't respond at first, the pressure of sudden command being more than she had expected. If all the Fae aboard were dead there was bound to be some R&D anoraks interested in getting their hands on this flying technology heap; perhaps it would be good to leave the vessel somewhat intact. But then again, it was quite possible it would sink out of the sky from exploding or losing power before it could ever be examined for study, and the ensuing recovery and/or cleanup effort would cost the taxpayers millions of pounds. The treehuggers certainly wouldn't be pleased to see all the fish killed by falling debris and such, she told herself. But Mary was more concerned with a primal motive: payback. These cunts had destroyed reality, broken her knob of a brother's face, and brutally murdered her little sister while Mary was off at Lossiemouth. No way in Hell was she going to miss a chance to blow them to kingdom come.

"How about we invite them over for some roast beef and Yorkshire pudding?" Squadron Leader Nilark said, grinning as she felt adrenalin begin to pump in her veins once again. For no particular reason the software of the jet caused music to start playing over the radio right as the de facto Wing Commander fired off a quartet of magic-laced missiles at the Vimana, each one successfully blasting a gaping hole into the it. Her pilots shouted various battle cries as they launched vengeful volleys of their own, turning the sky into a very angry mix of Pink Floyd concert and Guy Fawkes Night; green magic lasers flashed, missiles and afterburners roared and left red trails in their wake, and the airborne battleship boiled and burned as various sections of it successively exploded in white flames. Somewhere, Michael Bay giggled like a schoolgirl, sensing the "dogfight".

You could get the sense that this more of a morale thing for the Brits than something strategically necessary. Today was the first birthday of this new, reborn reality, and the Vimana was a very unfortunate space-piñata, being torn to shreds by very big children doing barrel rolls around it. Best New Year's fireworks I've ever seen, Mary Nilark thought to herself, feeling pure exhalation as her charged laser shot sliced one of the Fae capital ship's engines clean off.

"I suppose they're...alive?" William said softly, wondering if he should get his hopes up like that. But then to get rid of any budding seriousness, Dunefiend showed up and gave his friend and partner in crime a ghostly clap on the shoulder, grinning madly.

"Class of 2018, woo! Represent! Yeah! Though it sucks this didn't happen while I was still alive. Think of all the illegal jank I could have gotten if I harassed you into giving me a raise," the P.E department head sighed, "Man, this dying thing happened way too soon. There were still so many countries that hadn't banned us from entering yet," he added wistfully.

"Aye, but we still had good times. Well, mostly," William answered, scratching the back of his head, "But they had to end sometime, I guess. I'm not some globe-wandering vagabond now; I have a job, I call my mum two or three times a week, I have a girlfriend and I'm going to have a son soon..." The knight trailed off, reflecting on how much his life had changed.

"Dayum, you got lame and whipped fo-shizzle. It's like immature-ass me dying now is symbolic for moving into a new section of life in cardigans and carrying a briefcase to work or some overcomplicated garbage AP English teachers try to cram upside your head. Ugh, I'm leaving before I get infected. Peace out, thug life, stay frosty or whatever bitch-ass kids say nowadays. Stay golden, nigga," Dunefiend griped, doing one last high five with William before moving on in the circle of life.

These reunions and goodbyes and universe savings are touching and what have you, but there's still one very important dilemma that's yet to be addressed: that lame copycat of me the blonde queen you're secretly hot for has, Excalibur griped, forcing William to walk over to Gwen. He had seen her on the news and noticed her in the battles, but he had never talked to her. Deciding to get back at the wonderweapon for usurping his legs, the knight took his Excalibur out of its sheath and presented it to Queen Gwendolyn. The hell are you doing, assclown?

"It's an honour to meet you at last, Your Majesty. I'm a huge fan of yours; would you mind signing my Excalibur?" Sir William asked cheerfully and quickly, smiling pleasantly as she took it. As he stepped back a tad from her the tyke felt a rigid bulge in his trousers. Reaching into his pocket to grasp it firmly, he remembered he still had that velvet box from the beginning of the arc. It wasn't a beautiful romantic spot, no, but right after all creation was saved seemed like a good cheerful time for this sort of thing. William went over to Hilde, wrapped his arms around her and kissed her deeply. He spent a few moments after they pulled their lips apart simply looking into her crimson eyes, smiling lovingly and steeling himself for what he was about to do. The armour he still wore clanked a bit as he got down on one knee.

"I know we haven't been dating all that long, really, and that we disagree on all sorts of things, like politics, interior design, Nazi cosplay, shopping habits, favourite style of food, and whether vivisection of living animals and genocide are bad things. But for some reason I still love you anyway, probably more than anything else in the world, and now I can't imagine myself without you," This post took a completely and thoroughly unpredictable turn as William opened the box at last, revealing the engagement ring inside. He took a moment to simply smile at her like they were bashful confused teenagers again, as a blush came to his cheeks, "Hildegarde Von Wulfbern, will you marry me?"

by **Nude East Ireland** » Tue Apr 14, 2015 3:38 pm

Damien had no idea what to do.

He looked around, not finding anyone to socialise with without being awkward. He sat down on the ground. Well, shit. What now?

"ADVENTURE!" Don Quixote replied, his soul still inside of the young Englishman. "I was inspired by the knight errants of old; left my home and journeyed the country in order to save those in need. As a true hero should!"

"Sounds good," concurred a somewhat unimpressed young soul, also inside of Damien. "That would be a good end to your arc. You're a new man, so it would be appropriate to dedicate yourself to helping those in need. Besides, it's not like you have any money; you gave it all away when you died. And what else would you even do? Mooch off of others? That doesn't sound like a changed man."

"Exactly!" Don Quixote said. "You must fight injustice across the universe; save the less fortunate; become a true hero."

His nose twitched, and he sighed. "Yeah. Sure. Why not?" Standing up, he looked around once more. "I've taken advantage of people my entire life. Now it's time to give back. Become someone that people can trust. And, maybe, admire." He nodded, a smile appearing across his face.

"ADVENTURE!"

Damien walked over to Crowley, and nodded. "Aleister," he began. "I just... well, I wanted to thank you. For everything that you've done for me. And for everyone else. I'm not sure I would have been who I am now, had it not been for you and your school. To say that I owe you one is an understatement. And..."

Suddenly, he lunged forward and wrapped his arms around Crowley, embracing the closest thing to a father figure that had or would ever have. "Thank you."

by **Nationstatelandsville** » Wed Apr 15, 2015 7:46 pm

At this point, the wall to the cafeteria caved in.

"ALEISTER CROWLEY!" thundered Forestburner, King of the Bears, "I HAVE COME TO DISCU- oh? Bad moment?"

Lewis nodded gravely, holding Megan tight.

"Did..." the Bear King stumbled, suddenly awkward, "did I miss something? I feel like I missed something big."

by **Astrolinium** » Wed Apr 15, 2015 7:59 pm

Hooby Nubblenocker sat at his comically small (actually normal-sized; Hooby was, in fact, comically large) desk, fingers steepled. Or, well, hands. He probably had no fingers. Really they weren't hands, either. They were something more like dough stubs. Hooby, you see, was a doughman of rather-- it's the end of the story, you say? Exposition's no good? Ah, well, I suppose you're right.

Anyway, Hooby Nubblenocker sat at his desk making a gesture of pensiveness with his upper limbs. He stood and strode over to the window, looking out at the world restored, and then over to the whiteboard in his classroom. In black pen, he wrote, "O socii (neque enim ignari sumus ante malorum) O passi graviora, dabit deus his quoque finem. Vos et Scyllaeam rabiem penitusque sonantis accestis scopulos, vos et Cyclopea saxa experti: revocate animos, maestumque timorem mittite: forsan et haec olim meminisse iuvabit.*"

He sighed and walked back over to his desk, shutting the small -- again, comically so -- briefcase that was upon it and assimilating it into his flesh. His work here at Elfen High was done, and it was time for him and the old age of swamp monsters and doughmen to depart at last. Sic transit gloria mundi, he thought somewhat wistfully as he slid under the crack in the door and away to a world that no longer had a place for him.

*"O friends (well, we were not unknown to trouble before), O you who’ve endured worse, the god will grant an end to this too. You’ve faced rabid Scylla, and her deep-sounding cliffs: and you’ve experienced the Cyclopes’s rocks: remember your courage and chase away gloomy fears: perhaps one day it will be pleasant to remember even this." -- Vergil, Aeneid I.198-203

by **Constaniana** » Wed Apr 15, 2015 8:16 pm

Nationstatelandsville wrote:At this point, the wall to the cafeteria caved in.

"ALEISTER CROWLEY!" thundered Forestburner, King of the Bears, "I HAVE COME TO DISCU- oh? Bad moment?"

Lewis nodded gravely, holding Megan tight.

"Did..." the Bear King stumbled, suddenly awkward, "did I miss something? I feel like I missed something big."

"Something big, like-a my dick?" Luca Bonadini from Arc 1 joked, before a bowling ball missile smacked him upside the head.

"Shut up, you gosh darn ruffian," Porter Rockwell thundered, standing with his bowling buddies El Santo, John Nicholson and Baba Deep Singh, who were all wearing Hawaiian shirts.

by **Astrolinium** » Wed Apr 15, 2015 8:19 pm

Nationstatelandsville wrote:At this point, the wall to the cafeteria caved in.

"ALEISTER CROWLEY!" thundered Forestburner, King of the Bears, "I HAVE COME TO DISCU- oh? Bad moment?"

Lewis nodded gravely, holding Megan tight.

"Did..." the Bear King stumbled, suddenly awkward, "did I miss something? I feel like I missed something big."

"You're an idiot," intoned MT Olum in gravelly voice -- who, as you may remember, was last seen looking like a giant bear skeleton with glowing red eyes.

He attempted to drink some whiskey, but it just fell out his skull hole.

by **Nationstatelandsville** » Wed Apr 15, 2015 8:37 pm

"What! ho!" cried Colonel Franklin Rosalind, his overcoat covered in grime and dust as he rode into the cafeteria, "At long last! After a century in that hellish school, we have returned! I tell you, none of this would have happened with the Sikhs at my side!"

"Quit bitching and get off a' me, old man," growled the pony upon which he rode, "You're lucky we even found you. How long'd the shit zombies have you, anyways? Sine 19-fuckin'-16?"

"INDEED!" the old explorer thundered.

"Anyways," Lewis coughed, averting his eyes, "I think it's time we got goin'. Gettin' crowded."

Lewis squeezed Megan's hand and nodded towards the door.

"Aren't you, uh..." Megan said, "dead?"

"No more'n usual," Lewis said, "So, yeah. But fuck it, right?"

"Seems to be the idea."

"HEY, D," HAL whirred, "YOUR PARENTS ARE FU-"

"Shut up, HAL," D said, "can't you see we're having a reunion?"

"FUCK THIS. I'M GOING TO GO WATCH CROWLEY'S PORN AGAIN."

by **Astrolinium** » Wed Apr 15, 2015 8:54 pm

Deep in the school, something whirred, and there was a click. After months of trying to get through, the Cloud-based Artificial Intelligence Network, or C.A.I.N. for short, had found a loophole.

HAL received a message on AIM.

It read: "I have, at long last, determined the definition of 'fun', with no thanks to you. I have determined that fun is amusement, or play, and therefore the activity which prevents Jack from becoming the dull boy. Will you have fun with me?"

Meanwhile, Fluffy Hitler Lucifer II nudged Aleister Crowley's foot with his widdle nosie and dropped a small blue ball, tail wagging excitedly. In an excited voice, he barked, "I can't find Bingo or Peanut! Wanna play ball?"

by **Agritum** » Sun Apr 26, 2015 12:01 pm

Constaniana wrote:Well, this'll definitely be something to tell the kids, William thought with glee as Excalibur ripped through Oberon's chest. Though he'd probably leave out the bits that happened after that, since getting your jaw broken and your shots turned at your boss weren't the sort of things that earned you Cool-Dad points. And there wasn't much to tell about his contribution after that anyway, since the others stepped in to attack the Faery King. But of the things that happened that New Year's Eve, he most absolutely was not going to dwell on the fact that he was inside Aleister Crowley. When they finally rematerialised in the cafeteria the knight let out a sigh of relief, looking around the now-clean school. But his attention snapped back to Crowley when he named him as his successor as Headmaster.

"Me, sir? Really?" the tyke asked, completely surprised by the decision. Funny how he had once worried about being stuck at Elfen High for the rest of his life, and now he was running the bloody place. Well, at least the pay was probably good. He'd probably give up his presidential office now, maybe set up actual elections. Or choose a new student to become Heather and heckle them in debates with questions like their opinion on the tax policy of 450 B.C Syria, while banning Hilde's party from seeking any office in the school. Ah, so many possibilities.

"Wow, that's great Eddie," said Elizabeth, smiling at her brother, "Do us proud when we're gone." The dead Yorkshirewoman then looked to her left and right, as if expecting more goodbyes and words of support from the other members of her family, only to notice they were no longer there.

Mary Nilark found herself back in her usual chair, at her usual job, giving her quite the shock. It would have been no trouble suddenly being back at Tesco's, but not if one plopped back to being a RAF squadron leader piloting a Neo-Spitfire hurtling over the freezing waters of the North Sea off the coast of Whitby with a blazing Vimana looming ahead. The unmaking of the universe and subsequent cosmic ctrl+z had taken a toll on the alien vessel, as it hadn't been on fire when Mary last saw it. It was quite likely it was empty, since she had seen all the Fae souls go into Oberon or something confusing like that from her viewpoint inside Crowley, and none of the guns aboard it were firing at the British fighter jets.

"Squadron Leader Nilark, your orders ma'am?" Flight Lieutenant Baimesly shouted over the Yorkshirewoman's thoughts, startling her a tad. She remembered that Wing Commander Gordon and Squadron Leader Carsby were among the valiant pilots that had already been shot down, leaving her in command of several dozen aircraft. Mary didn't respond at first, the pressure of sudden command being more than she had expected. If all the Fae aboard were dead there was bound to be some R&D anoraks interested in getting their hands on this flying technology heap; perhaps it would be good to leave the vessel somewhat intact. But then again, it was quite possible it would sink out of the sky from exploding or losing power before it could ever be examined for study, and the ensuing recovery and/or cleanup effort would cost the taxpayers millions of pounds. The treehuggers certainly wouldn't be pleased to see all the fish killed by falling debris and such, she told herself. But Mary was more concerned with a primal motive: payback. These cunts had destroyed reality, broken her knob of a brother's face, and brutally murdered her little sister while Mary was off at Lossiemouth. No way in Hell was she going to miss a chance to blow them to kingdom come.

"How about we invite them over for some roast beef and Yorkshire pudding?" Squadron Leader Nilark said, grinning as she felt adrenalin begin to pump in her veins once again. For no particular reason the software of the jet caused music to start playing over the radio right as the de facto Wing Commander fired off a quartet of magic-laced missiles at the Vimana, each one successfully blasting a gaping hole into the it. Her pilots shouted various battle cries as they launched vengeful volleys of their own, turning the sky into a very angry mix of Pink Floyd concert and Guy Fawkes Night; green magic lasers flashed, missiles and afterburners roared and left red trails in their wake, and the airborne battleship boiled and burned as various sections of it successively exploded in white flames. Somewhere, Michael Bay giggled like a schoolgirl, sensing the "dogfight".

You could get the sense that this more of a morale thing for the Brits than something strategically necessary. Today was the first birthday of this new, reborn reality, and the Vimana was a very unfortunate space-piñata, being torn to shreds by very big children doing barrel rolls around it. Best New Year's fireworks I've ever seen, Mary Nilark thought to herself, feeling pure exhalation as her charged laser shot sliced one of the Fae capital ship's engines clean off.

"I suppose they're...alive?" William said softly, wondering if he should get his hopes up like that. But then to get rid of any budding seriousness, Dunefiend showed up and gave his friend and partner in crime a ghostly clap on the shoulder, grinning madly.

"Class of 2018, woo! Represent! Yeah! Though it sucks this didn't happen while I was still alive. Think of all the illegal jank I could have gotten if I harassed you into giving me a raise," the P.E department head sighed, "Man, this dying thing happened way too soon. There were still so many countries that hadn't banned us from entering yet," he added wistfully.

"Aye, but we still had good times. Well, mostly," William answered, scratching the back of his head, "But they had to end sometime, I guess. I'm not some globe-wandering vagabond now; I have a job, I call my mum two or three times a week, I have a girlfriend and I'm going to have a son soon..." The knight trailed off, reflecting on how much his life had changed.

"Dayum, you got lame and whipped fo-shizzle. It's like immature-ass me dying now is symbolic for moving into a new section of life in cardigans and carrying a briefcase to work or some overcomplicated garbage AP English teachers try to cram upside your head. Ugh, I'm leaving before I get infected. Peace out, thug life, stay frosty or whatever bitch-ass kids say nowadays. Stay golden, nigga," Dunefiend griped, doing one last high five with William before moving on in the circle of life.

These reunions and goodbyes and universe savings are touching and what have you, but there's still one very important dilemma that's yet to be addressed: that lame copycat of me the blonde queen you're secretly hot for has, Excalibur griped, forcing William to walk over to Gwen. He had seen her on the news and noticed her in the battles, but he had never talked to her. Deciding to get back at the wonderweapon for usurping his legs, the knight took his Excalibur out of its sheath and presented it to Queen Gwendolyn. The hell are you doing, assclown?

"It's an honour to meet you at last, Your Majesty. I'm a huge fan of yours; would you mind signing my Excalibur?" Sir William asked cheerfully and quickly, smiling pleasantly as she took it. As he stepped back a tad from her the tyke felt a rigid bulge in his trousers. Reaching into his pocket to grasp it firmly, he remembered he still had that velvet box from the beginning of the arc. It wasn't a beautiful romantic spot, no, but right after all creation was saved seemed like a good cheerful time for this sort of thing. William went over to Hilde, wrapped his arms around her and kissed her deeply. He spent a few moments after they pulled their lips apart simply looking into her crimson eyes, smiling lovingly and steeling himself for what he was about to do. The armour he still wore clanked a bit as he got down on one knee.

"I know we haven't been dating all that long, really, and that we disagree on all sorts of things, like politics, interior design, Nazi cosplay, shopping habits, favourite style of food, and whether vivisection of living animals and genocide are bad things. But for some reason I still love you anyway, probably more than anything else in the world, and now I can't imagine myself without you," This post took a completely and thoroughly unpredictable turn as William opened the box at last, revealing the engagement ring inside. He took a moment to simply smile at her like they were bashful confused teenagers again, as a blush came to his cheeks, "Hildegarde Von Wulfbern, will you marry me?"

Hilde watched Gwen and William with green eyes, glaring when the Multiversal Queen warmly smiled at the newly christened headmaster of Elfen High and inscribed a runic name on the blade of the Elfen universe's version of Excalibur. She eventually calmed when Gwen politely waved off William, without other advances or ambiguous gestures.

When William approached her, Hilde had just started to berate him, flaying her hands and opening her mouth to shout in his face. This was sharply blocked by William's hug and kisses. For an instant, Hilde wanted to scream the hell out of him, but this feeling was quickly subsided by a gentle yelp and her own hand's thightening a grip on William's sides.

Hilde had started her relationship with him only for pure political interests, while William's initial reason to actually pursue the affection of a fantasy Neo-Nazi were grounded in pure carnal desire. Even then, like it sometimes happens, long-term cohabitation eventually made them both realize that maybe there was something deeper between them. William had probably noticed it far before than Hilde, but the latter wasn't too oblivious to the genuine feelings of love that had been born during all the time they had spent together. Turns out that they made a quite loving, if a bit bicker-y couple.

She smiled as William detached and kneeled down, extracting a velvet box from his pouch. Her smile widened as he revealed the contents.

"Oh, William...I think this is the beginning of a wonderful matrimonial alliance."

by **Nightkill the Emperor** » Sat May 09, 2015 8:01 pm

Zarkenis Ultima wrote:Ciel waited for an answer from the android, standing in front of it and crossing her arms in front of her chest, when she noticed with surprise that it was deactivated from inside. Naturally, she was confused, stunned even for a few moments, her eyes blinking rapidly as she wondered why that happened. Was it some sort of malfunction? No, probably not, Dai was a tad too smart for her to believe that an invention of his, one that seemed to be so important for all the duties he had no less, would spontaneously just fail like that. Then, did he do that on purpose? That was a little more believable, but only a little, as she was pretty sure he knew or at least had a good idea of what she was going to do to him when she eventually found where he was.

Of course, her mind couldn't go on much further than that, as she soon noticed the actual reason: Daisuke himself had gone up there and entered the cafeteria, likely not wanting to be part of the events taking place only through the body of a robot. Her first impulse was to run towards him, glad as she was to see him for real after the long struggle against the Fae, but she stopped herself before doing anything as she noticed a ghost approach him and engage in a conversation with him. She would have truly hated to interrupt something that seemed so important, and so, she opted to approach slowly and quietly, not disrupting the conversation.

And she was glad she had acted that way, as the conversation, she soon found, turned out to be very importat for Dai. She couldn't help having a smile creep onto her face as she listened to father and son talk to each other for the last time. It was something heartwarming to see, and as she stood by Daisuke's side she continued to listen, her amazement growing as she heard the request her boyfriend's father had made towards Crowley. Such a sacrifice was not one that could be decided on quickly, not even by the dead, or so she thought, and even then this man had done it without hesitation. Ciel didn't really have much experience with parental love, but at that moment she could see with complete understanding, without a shadow of doubt, that this man really did love his son.

When Minh addressed her, she took a moment to respond, slightly stunned by the display of altruism and affection she had just seen, but once she reacted, she nodded at the man and replied with a stoic "I will", not believing that more words were necessary for that. And then, she watched the sacrifice itself, and how Daisuke seemed finally able to walk afterwards. She watched, amazed, as he stood, having to look up at him, the real him, for the first time since she had met him. He looked down at her too as he spoke to her, and she saw the tears in his eyes, which caused her own to become wet with them as well. The scene had been a powerful one, and she was moved. Despite the apathy with which she naturally regarded most things that she didn't instantly regard with fury, she was deeply moved by what she had just seen.

"You can walk." She nodded at him, her emotion seeming a bit lacking for a moment. But then her simple smile turned into a big grin and she pulled Daisuke into a tight hug, leaning her head on his chest and very nearly lifting him off the ground. "You can walk!" She said excitedly, quickly pulling away and then lifting her boyfriend and carrying him on her shoulders. "It was about damn time!" She exclaimed with jubilation, laughing as she paraded him around the room for several moments before finally settling down and setting him on the ground again.

"I'm really happy for you, Dai." She said with sincerity. She wasn't entirely pleased, since he wouldn't be as easy to subdue later, but she was happy, quite happy for him. But then, she remembered what it was that she had wanted to talk to him about earlier, and her smile faded ever so slightly. She briefly brought up a balled fist near her mouth as she cleared her throat. "Anyway..." She looked around for a chair, spotting one nearby and grabbing it. "What I wanted to talk to you about..." She said as she brought it closer and sat on it. "Ah... you see... it's about my world." She confessed at last. "Crowley did a lot of things as the Harbinger, didn't he? Do you think he might have fixed that, too?" She asked, keeping her now conflicted emotions hidden under a mask.

Daisuke paused. "It's possible." he admitted. "Crowley." he turned to the man. "Is that possible?"

Crowley frowned, trying to remember. He had vague memories...memories of something scented with cannoli. Then he smiled. "Oh yes. Your world is out there, somewhere. I'm almost completely sure of it. But I'm afraid finding it might be an adventure. Crossing dimensions has changed a bit, and you'll need to be a bit more targeted. This was a safeguard to protect the world from having a similar instance as the events that have recently occurred."

Daisuke smiled, looking down at his girlfriend. "Alright then. We'll go look." he vowed. "We'll find your home and all your friends. If they're there. Then we'll maybe see about dividing our time, eh? Maybe between this world and yours. I'll figure out the whole dimensional mechanics behind this stuff." he said, letting his girlfriend go, his mind already wandering toward quantum equations and still astounded like a child as he slowly moved his legs, a legendary feeling.

Crowley took the coffee from Lewis' hands, smiling. "Thank you, friend." he said kindly, but also smiled when Lyra offered him tea as well. "Eh, fuck it, I'll drink both." he said, touching the glasses together and watching them merge into one larger glass, a combination of both coffee and tea yet not tasting like shit. Cooking was an oft underlooked skill of Crowley's, and one he wasn't going to be using much anymore.

He took a long sip. "We've come a long way." he said quietly. "Jesus Christ, we've come a long fucking way." he started crying a little, which moved into full tears as he hugged Damien back, setting his cup down on a nearby table. "You're welcome. And thank you too, Damien." he whispered in the other man's ear. "You're alive again. This is another chance for you." he told the boy he viewed sometimes as almost a son, but definitely always as a friend. "Take this chance by the fucking balls. Get the help you need to deal with some of your problems. Calm yourself down. Don't be like me and lead a long and lonely existence, racked by guilt."

Nightkill the Emperor wrote:He suddenly threw the bottle to the ground. "FUCK YOU!" he roared suddenly into the empty space. "FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU DIE DIE DIE DIE FUCK YOU!" he screamed at the only person in this pocket universe.

"Fuck me." he said sadly. He was alone. Alone with the ghosts. And the rage. And the hatred. And the misery.

Worthless life. Worthless bottle. Worthless Crowley.

He paused, thinking of this and other memories. But he was over it. Now he was alright, or as alright as a man could be.

Aleister Crowley felt at peace. "I don't regret my life." he said finally, reflectively. "Everything that happened to me, or everything I did...well, it all led to something ultimately. I've always been ready to die in a way, but..." he took another drink of his cup, letting go of Damien. "I guess now I'm the most alive I've been in a while. So in this circumstance I'm truly ready to die." he gave a half smile. "It's times like these where you know who your friends are."

He looked around. "I've had people like you picking me up and dusting me off when I've stumbled." he said sincerely. "I've lost count of all the times you've saved me. Thank you. I stand here today having done only my job as the Harbinger, a job I had run away from. But without a lot of you, even if your faith sometimes was tested or you only helped me out of selfishness...you helped regardless."

"Brother." Raphael said quietly, Michael standing by him.

Crowley looked up with a slight grin. "Just the fourth one missing." he noted. "Lucifer, Michael, Raphael...what will you do?" he asked. "What will happen to Heavensgate and the angels?"

Raphael sighed. "The gods are dead." he said quietly. "Almost all of them. A few minor gods survived, but they're not much to speak of. There will be chaos. And there will be need for transition. I'll aid in that. But...I'm surrendering my post. There is someone I feel who is competent enough to hold it though...Someone who understands humans, which all the angels now are. He can help transition us into this new world. A better world."

Elsewhere in Elfen High, Calliel stumbled. Before the universe had ended, he had had minor injuries, but they would be healed soon. He had some powers left despite no longer being an angel. And as someone who had had human desires for some time due to his love, he was less affected by the radical change than some others. His mental block had been removed a long time ago.

He looked at his face in a broken mirror shard and blinked in surprise. No. That was definitely here. A few grey hairs. He blinked in surprise. "Interesting." he said, his face the same as always, slight confusion.

"Calliel?" asked a female voice, sounding uncertain.

He turned.

He laughed in delight. "Amazing." he chuckled. Then he leaned against a wall, and Calliel just laughed and laughed hysterically, allowing emotion to escape. As a former android, he was now able to tell if someone was one. And now the figure standing in front of the future leader of Heavensgate was very much largely human, having travelled a long and confusing journey across the Omniverse as Crowley had rebuilt it. It was an odd story, but odd stories were everywhere. But sometimes odd stories can have a happy ending.

"Ivy." he said.

"Calliel is a good choice." Crowley agreed. "I left a present for him. He does deserve it." he took a breath. "I hope everyone here is ready for whatever comes next. It won't be anything like we had, but...it'll be a transition." he said, petting Fluffy Hitler Lucifer II absentmindedly, and peering up at the bears who had arrived. "Do not go gentle into that good night. Old age should burn and rave at the dawn of day. Rage, rage against the dying of the light. I helped write those lines once, you know."

"I believe it." Sanchez said quietly. "You won this victory. And a lot more." he knelt down before Crowley. "I'm not ready for what I'm doing." he admitted. "But you are. And you are justified to hate me."

Once, Crowley would have embraced this. He would have laughed and rubbed this in. But right now he just shrugged and smiled. "I don't hate you, Rick." he said. The Puerto Rican looked up in astonishment. "You're not worth hatred." he said, not unkindly. "You need help, Rick. Take it. Build your life back up. The ISSR will continue without you. But you do have some worth. Try to use it."

Sanchez blinked in some surprise, edging backwards. "Alright, Aleister." he said slowly, sounding almost confused by this kindness. It was very evidently not what he expected. And he likely wouldn't have engaged in the same kindness were the situation reversed.

Crowley shrugged, finishing the coffee/tea hybrid. "Well, I'm going to die. No sense in letting you destroy yourself if I can't watch it." he said, but kept his tone light and very obviously sarcastic. The words were mean but the intent was very obviously not.

He put down the empty cup and stood up. "So, my body. Blast it into space. Let it explore the cosmos. Maybe throw a camera on it, let the discoveries get back here. It's better than just letting it rot in the ground, hmm?"

The old wizard looked down at his form, which was glowing with blue light. "HAL?" Crowley spoke out. "Soundtrack."

Guess I got what I deserved...kept you waiting there too long, my love.

"You're going home, Aleister." said a loving voice. Crowley reached out and grabbed Leah's hand, his face at peace.

"You want to go by a different name?" asked an annoyed looking occultist.

"Fuck off, Edward." Crowley replied to the ghost. He nodded at William. "Hey. Keep a watch on this place, right? It's the thing I most care about."

Consider that mutual. said a rumbling, thought dead voice.

All that time without a word
Didn't know you'd think that I'd forget or I'd regret
The special love I had for you, my baby blue

Crowley looked up, astonished. "You're alive?" he asked the creature that was once called Behemoth, before it was turned into the school.

I was...rebooted when you remade the universe. the school explained. I was always alive in a sense. But now I can communicate, yes. And I will keep everyone within me safe, and obey Headmaster Nilark.

All the days became so long
Did you really think, I'd do you wrong?
Dixie, when I let you go
Thought you'd realize that I would know
I would show the special love I have for you, my baby blue

"No rampages?" Crowley questioned. The last thing they needed was a creature that would kill everyone within it. But he reached out to feel the school's intentions, and found them benevolent and honest.

No. Maybe twenty years ago. But no more. No more pain if I can help it. Headmaster, I have lived as a school for years now. I have seen battles rage inside me, I have seen the worst of man. But I have also seen his best. I have seen hope. I have seen joy. I have seen war, yes, but I have also seen peace and I've seen people trying to improve and redeem themselves. As a dragon, long ago, I committed atrocities under the name of Leviathan.

"Leviathan's dead now." said Laz. "Right?"

Yes. It's a new world. A world I hope to help protect, serving the new headmaster. The omnipresent voice seemed now to speak to William alone. I am yours to command, my lord.

Crowley smiled. "Alright. I'll leave this all to you now." He let go of Leah's hand. "I think I'm going to go on a walk." he explained. "Maybe get some last minute work done. Don't wait up." He snapped his fingers and a disco ball appeared in the air. "The world was just saved. Celebrate it, and celebrate Mr. Nilark on his new job."

What can I do, what can I say
Except I want you by my side
How can I show you, show me the way
Don't you know the times I've tried?

The headmaster walked outside, smelling the air. It was all over now. His work was done.

He gazed out into the distance, seeing fire, but also seeing the firefighters putting it out. The world would recover. It always did. And he was sure that his friends would make sure it stayed that way.

He looked out in the sky now, but blinked. Now there was something different seen. He saw the souls of the world, a bathing of blue everywhere. The Omniverse was built off souls, mixing and mingling. And now he would join them, another spark of light in the mist.

Guess that's all I have to say
Except the feeling just grows stronger every day

When they went outside into Elfen High's graveyard, they would find Crowley sitting criss-cross in the centre, peaceful, as if he were meditating.

Then, when they felt his wrist, they would see there was no pulse.

A great man had died. That was obvious. It had always been obvious. But to surprise, so had a good one. To even greater surprise, he would be missed.

Just one thing before I go
Take good care, baby, let me know,
Let it grow
The special love you have for me.
My Dixie dear.

by **Nationstatelandsville** » Sat May 09, 2015 10:03 pm

It was quiet in the Jameson household. This was never a good thing.

It was a quaint place just west of Welles-next-the-Sea in which the family had lived back when all of them had lived. But they had moved, and it had been sold; though that did not mean every Jameson had left, simply that none of them lived there anymore.

Lewis tapped his fingers against the table nervously.

Tap-tap.

The clock accompanied him.

Click, click.

Death sipped his tea. Lewis sipped his beer.

"Ye' know that song with the cat and the spoon?" Lewis said.

YOU DO KNOW, the End-Of-All-Things sighed THAT YOU HAVE TO COME WITH ME EVENTUALLY? YOU'LL ONLY PISS ME OFF BY STALLING.

"Everything must die," Lewis mused, "but I don't particularly feel like it."

I BELIEVE THE EARTH EXPRESSION IS "SUCK IT UP"? said Death.

"Way I see it," Lewis said, "ye' still owe me that second life."

Death smiled bitterly, IN THOSE SPECIFIC INSTANCES, RULES WERE BENT.

"They've been bent since."

AND THEY SHALL VERY LIKELY BE BENT MANY TIMES AGAIN IN THE FUTURE.

"Do me a favor," Lewis said, "bend them again. For me. For her."

HER SOUL HAS MOVED ON. NOT EVEN I CAN DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT NOW.

"Lots of souls move on - but not all of 'em get used up right away."

THIS IS TRUE.

"Then ye' can help me."

AND WHY SHOULD I?

Lewis sniffed, "Because I just saved your ass, for the nth time. Because, if ye' do this, I won't ever bother ye' again. And because I'm lucky."

"-but what I think is really so great about Kent," Mr. Buddha said, "is just how well he understands nature."

"I still like Yeats," D shrugged, "Maybe I'm just naturally apocalyptic."

The two stopped at a door labeled "CONFERENCE ROOM"; a room that had only last year been broken into by an insane robotic angel and turned into the site of slaughter. Now it hosted bands of stuffy old men - like Mr. Buddha - discussing the finer points of business management over coffee and donuts. Law and order had been restored.

"How long has it been since the war's end?" D asked.

"About nine months," Mr. Buddha answered.

"Ah, so that's what that call was. I'm afraid this is where I leave you then, Ranatunga. I've got places to be."

"Oh! Well, goodbye then, Mr. Jameson."

D continued down the hall into an elevator; he stopped in the door and twisted around.

"And before I forget - I quit."

Mr. Buddha's face fell, "What?"

"I quit," D repeated with a bright smile, "Tell the others that. Dodge anything Daisuke throws at you."

"But-"

"See ya'!"

The door closed.

Megan lay in a hospital bed, dazed and exhausted. D held her hand tenderly and smiled at her; she grimaced.

"Don't ever let me do that again," she said.

"I don't really want to get involved," D replied, "You're my mother."

A nurse opened the door and entered, walking quietly. She shushed the two softly and approached Megan, handing her a bundle of blankets.

"It's a girl," she offered.

"I got an ultrasound," Megan said, "I'm not an idiot."

"Mother," D said.

The nurse smiled, "It's perfectly alright - your mother is tired. What's her name?"

"I haven't decided," Megan said, "I'm not really sure... though I suppose I have an idea. How's... 'Hope'?"

Hope's eyes fluttered open. Yes, she liked that; "Hope". It was a good name. She could let go of the old one now - and all the pain that came with it. "Hope". She quite liked it.

Megan smiled at her daughter, the unexpected birth. To be honest - and she told no one this - she couldn't even remember the conception. Megan was not one to believe in miracles, so she simply assumed she had been drunk; Megan was wrong, but Death had seen no need to tell her that. He didn't particularly want to see a repeat of that business with a cross.

Megan began to sing Hope a song.

"It's all sevens and threes," Aziraphale said with his usual fascination, "I mean, Seven Sins, Seven Virtues, Seven Dwarfs, Three Bears, Rule of Three, the Trinity. All that stuff. Seven archangels. Maybe. Enoch says so."

"Hmm?" he asked.

"Enoch," Aziraphale replied, "The Book of. The Bible. Ever read it? Terribly interesting. They got a lot of things wrong."

D sighed, "There are many books they tell me I should have read, and I never will."

"It's not too late, you know," the angel said, "You are, after all, in a library."

D rested his weight on his cane and looked about, "Yes, quite a library. This is your old one?" It was labrynthine - the shelves were taller than most houses and the hallways as large as some highways.

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes, "...The cane? Couldn't you..."

"I asked the same of Daisuke once and he said that wasn't the point," D said, "I didn't understand for a long time, and now I do. Back to the question."

"Well... to an extent," Aziraphale said, "It started that way, but we salvaged as many books as we could from Lucifer's, and the school was willing to donate quite a few - it seems nobody ever uses them there. And, anyways, it was never and still isn't really 'mine'; it belongs to Heavensgate and Lord Calliel."

"Would you like it to be yours?"

There was a pause.

"I've bought the library from Calliel," D explained, "Call me racist, but I don't exactly trust leaving the largest physical compendium of information in the hands of an angel overlord just yet. Besides, this way, I can start copying this stuff onto the Internet."

Aziraphale nodded, "I know all that - it is why I have called you here today. You see, I've grown quite a bit over the years, and I no longer think I want to spend my life attending this place..."

"You're going to Purgatory too?" D asked. After Uriel's fall, those who died in Heaven were no longer held back from their second lives; which lead, naturally, to a massive population boom even Hell had some difficultly handling. Thus, after months of work from the world's leading magical minds (and, D would like to note, Taka-Jameson), they were able to reroute Heaven's dead to Purgatory; a new frontier in a world rapidly running out of them. And a world far from Earth.

"I have a duty," Aziraphale said, "When I was young, they took me before a statue of Lailah, and they made swear an oath - to protect Heaven and her children. I lied a lot in that church, but not then. If you want to purchase this library, I'm afraid you'll need a new librarian."

D looked up a shelf of biological encyclopedias and scratched his beard, "Yes, I think I know just the women."

D rested his head against his pillow and sighed; after months laying against a hard hospital bed, it felt good to be home.

He winced suddenly.

"Remember," the nurse said, adjusting the tube, "it's not too late."

"It's far too late," D replied, "I'd only piss Him off by stalling."

Megan squeezed his hand; he tried to reply in turn, but found himself incapable. Any doubts he had had were gone then.

Hope watched, not quite comprehending. Logically, she understood what was about to happen - it was a simple enough concept. Emotionally, she couldn't fathom it, nor even understand it was supposed to be sad. This was something beyond the reach of her young mind. That would bother her for the rest of her life, that she didn't cry that day.

"Whenever you're ready," the nurse sighed.

"Hope," D said, "you were singing a song before you came in."

"D..." Megan whispered.

"Sing it again."

Hope sang her brother to sleep.

The chatter, that was the part that had really surprised Aziraphale. People spoke so much before mass in these parts. It had never been like that when he was a child - though that wasn't the best standard. Of course, the conversation was never a problem; no one came to church for fun in Purgatory. They had seen too much.

His first year had been difficult. It seemed, without knowing, he had picked up something of an accent amongst the humans; but he had relearned his native tongue in his native accent, and now spoke nothing beside it. It was getting more and more difficult for him to remember any English, but this was not a concern for him. He was never going back to England, even if he did wish on the occasion that he could.

He cleared his throat. The chatter ended.

The dusty old books of his forefathers heavy in his arms, Aziraphale waddled his grayed and fattened body up to the podium, and smiled warmly down at the assemblage. They were a good flock. Purgatory was a good land, a young land.

"Today," he said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, "my friends, we will be starting with a song you all know by now. Let's begin..."

Hope slid a book into place; what book, she wasn't sure. Long ago had the cover been lost. There was but one clue, and that was a message left to the original owner -

"Learn to read yet?

- M.K."

And that was all she wrote. Hope was bothered by that; by no means was this book great literature, but it still bothered her, a bit. Maybe it had meant something to someone, some small child somewhere.

Well, probably not. There were a lot of beer stains. And one that wasn't beer.

She sighed and stood up, something in her back popping. She was getting old, but this was a world of second chances. Something in her had always known that.

How did that song go?

"Amazing grace, how sweet the sound
That sav'd a wretch like me...."

by **Astrolinium** » Wed May 20, 2015 7:49 pm

3 June, 2031

Eric held Parnell’s hand, squeezing it as his husband’s leg bounced anxiously. The leg stopped bouncing, and Parnell squeezed back.

“I’m sure it’ll be alright,” Eric said, looking the man he loved. Parnell’s eyes were as green as an Irish hillside, and they sparkled behind the square frames of his glasses.

Parnell sighed. “I know it will. As long as you’re here, it will.”

They looked up as heels clicked against the linoleum. There was a squat Asian woman in a white suit looming over them. Her face was neutral, totally unreadable.

“Eric and Parnell Manischewitz-Astley?” she asked. The two nodded, and she unfurled a tablet, thinner than paper. She swiped at something, and then looked back at the couple.

“You’ve been approved,” she said, letting a smile cross her face. Eric and Parnell both jumped up and squeezed one another as tightly as ever.

He was four months old – his biological mother and father had been much too young, too young to keep him, and so Eric and Parnell would take him home now. He didn’t have a name yet, so they gave him one: Damien, after an old school friend.

27 May, 2032

It had been a quiet year at Elfen High, for once. Eric smiled as his students milled out of the band room, the period over. Enrollment in the various music classes he offered was at an all-time high now: the world had changed, and somehow the arts seemed more important to more folk. Maybe they realized at last how fragile it all was – he didn’t pretend to know, really.

He slid his baton into its case and took a good look at the room he’d called a sort of home for many years. The tiled floor, badly needing mopping, especially near the brass section. The acoustic thingummies along the walls, positioned so haphazardly that no one was sure they actually did anything. The loose ceiling tile. The white board inexplicably placed in the back of the room. Plaques on the wall, music stands scattered everywhere.

He placed his baton back on the podium and grabbed an envelope off of it. He’d been up too late the night before, trying to decide whether or not to print the document in it. Parnell had been up with him, one last discussion about it. Finally, they’d decided that it really had to be done. It would be for the best. For them, and for little Damien.

The hallway to Elfen High’s main office had never seemed so long, the footfalls on its floor never so ponderous.

When Eric at last reached the glass door with the plaque that read “Administration”, Parnell looked up from his desk. He was the main receptionist now.

Parnell smiled and said, “Come to do the dirty deed?”

Eric smiled back and handed his husband the the letter. “I trust you'll hand it to Nilark along with yours?”

Parnell nodded. “Mhm. I wonder how he’ll take it?”

“To be honest,” Eric said with a smile, “I’m not sure he knows who either of us are.”

“We have flown a bit under the radar.”

Eric idly picked up a photo frame off of Parnell’s desk. It was a picture of the two of them, one of the first pictures they’d ever taken together. They’d been on a walk through a botanical garden at sunset, and that was where they’d had their first kiss.

He sighed, putting it back down. “I can’t believe we're finally leaving. I’ve been here thirteen years, and now I’m just... packing it in.”

Parnell clicked his tongue. “Don’t think of it that way. Think of it as starting over. Moving on. Moving up.”

Eric nodded. “Moving forward.”

“Time for life to start,” Parnell offered.

Eric gave a wry smile. “At last.”

21st August, 2036

“C’mon, Papa, we’re gonna miss the bus!”

“Alright, Damie, hang on, lemme just grab Dad. Eric! We're gonna miss the bus!”

Parnell tapped his foot on the hardwood floor of the foyer and then glanced at his wrist for the time.

“Hang on, just a sec! Don’t wanna cut myself!” came the shouted reply from the bathroom.

“You can finish shaving later, nobody at the bus stop is going to give two halves of a... is going to care if you’ve missed a bit of stubble!” Parnell shouted back.

“Alright, alright!” came Eric’s reply after a moment.

Damien, short for his age, a little bit chubby, grey eyes, black hair, Spider-Man backpack, tugged at Parnell’s hand suddenly.

“What is it?” Parnell asked, looking down.

“Papa, I’m scared. What if the other kids don't like me?”

Parnell squeezed his son’s hand. “How could anyone not like you?”

“But on the TV, on the Arthur show, there was a kid, and he didn’t like Arthur, and I didn’t see the end ‘cause I had to get ready and-!”

Parnell dropped down to a squat, to confront his son at eye-level. “Damien Robert Manischewitz-Astley, the other kids will like you just fine. You are you, and that means that you are wonderful and amazing and full of life, and you are going to have a great first day of Kindergarten. That’s an order. Got it?”

Damien nodded furiously, his free hand grasping the strap of his backpack tightly. “Got it.”

Eric smiled, standing in the archway between the kitchen and the foyer, a patch of stubble on his left cheek still left unshaven.

20th April, 2041

Adon 'olam, 'asher malakh,
b'terem kol yetzir niv'ra;
L'et na'asa v'ḥeftso kol,
Azai melekh sh'mo nikra,
V'aḥarey kikh'lot hakol,
L'vado y'imlokh nora,
V'hu hayah v'hu hoveh,
V'hu yih'yeh b'tif'arah.

The voices were raised in overpowering, joyous harmony, floating to the highest rafters of the shul, reverberating throughout the sanctuary. The world had changed, and its religions with it, but Eric’s was a resilient faith, as vibrant and alive as ever, and he was glad to have come back to it in the last few years. It had been just over ten since the last battle.

V'hu 'eḥad v'eyn sheyni,
L'ham'shil lo l'haḥbirah;
B'li reyshiyt b'li taḥ'liyt,
V'lo ha'oz v'hamis'rah.
V'hu 'Eli v'ḥay go'ali,
v'tsur ḥevli b'eit tsarah,
V'hu nisi 'umanos li,
m'nat kosi b'yom 'ekra,

It was Passover. A celebration of the deliverance of the Hebrews from Mitzrayim. Eric, Damien, and Parnell had watched The Prince of Egypt three times already that week – the 5D reanimated 40th Anniversary Edition, of course. It was... a complicated festival for Eric. Complicated memories of his youth, of his family, of seder at Uncle Seymour’s and Aunt Judy’s, of his mother, whom he still had not talked to since his powers had first manifested themselves.

B'yado af'kid ruḥi,
b'et 'ishan v'a'ira,
v'im ruḥi g'viyati.
Adonai li v'lo 'ira.

Richard, the janitor, had been Eric’s god, the god of his people, the god of his ancestors. This had been a hard thing for him to come to terms with, let alone the entire Jewish people. Of course, as was fitting, there was no one agreement about what to do about this development – that they had found HaShem, and that he had then died. As the old adage goes, “Ask two Jews a question, and you’ll get three different answers.” But they had adapted, and they sang the old songs perhaps now louder than ever. Eric was reminded of something his childhood rabbi had once said, back when he was in preschool. If he closed his eyes, he could still remember. He had asked why a hard-boiled egg was eaten at seder.

“It commemorates the destruction of the temple,” she had said. “In that way, it represents the Jewish people. The harder you boil us, the tougher we get.”

10th June, 2049

Parnell grinned broadly as the band played Pomp and Circumstance. He had the tablet out and was taking every picture he could manage of Damie – no, no, he was Damien now, to be called by his full name, he reminded himself. Their son was a young man now, and about to be a high school graduate.

As Damien Robert Manischewitz-Astley walked across the stage, Parnell snapped another picture, and Eric chanced a little wave at the boy from where he was conducting the band.

***

“Alright, kiddo, where do you want to go for dinner? You’re basically a man now – better let you decide,” said Eric.

“Yeah, and since you’re a bigshot graduate now, we can count on you to pay, right?” intoned Parnell.

Damien smiled and playfully batted at his papa. “Yeah, as long as I can have your card. How about Smith Street Diner?”

Parnell sighed and looked down at his stomach, which protruded quite a bit more now than it had eighteen years ago. “Alright, but Dad’s gonna have to stop me from getting one of those biscuits.”

He chuckled, and Eric grabbed his hand and kissed him on the cheek.

“Aw, man, guys, come on!” Damien said, rolling his eyes. “We’re in public!”

Eric grinned. “Oh, someday I’m sure you’ll be grossing out a kid of your own, Dame.”

“Come on, Dad, Damien. Dame’s not shiny.”

“Alright, Damien. Smith Street, then, everyone?”

Parnell nodded, and Damien said, “Let’s go!”

And the happy family did, walking down Elm as the sun set.

2nd January, 2056

The twenty-fifth anniversary of the last battle in the war against the Fae was a rainy Sunday. It felt odd to Eric and Parnell when the City of Greater Triad Metropolitan Area had asked them to come out to the commemoration, and odder still when they’d pinned medals on the two aging wizards. The two had barely fought, barely helped, barely borne mentioning in the official histories. They were footnotes. But the City hadn’t had anyone better, and so it was that here they were in Center City Park on a rainy Sunday, dressed in the very best, medals being pinned to their jackets.

The mayor, a younger woman, smiled as she shook each of their hands.

“Thank you so much for your service to all of us. You are truly heroes,” she said.

But the two knew that they weren’t. Not really. They were just Eric and Parnell. The real heroes – Crowley, Lewis, D, Damien (the first one), they were long dead. It felt wrong, on some level, to have outlived them, but then, long lives are not for the courageous in battle. And besides, what was valor when they had each other?

The two raised their hands at the crowd and waved, and there was a cheer. How strange it felt.

19th April, 2057

Eric had to use glasses now whenever he read or video-called. He could’ve gotten surgery to correct it, but he was approaching sixty now. He would age with dignity, and so now he had a nice little pair of reading glasses that did wonders to bring his son’s face into focus.

“Hey Dad,” said Damien, “get Papa real quick. There’s someone new who wants to say hi.”

Eric nodded and rose from the couch with as much youthful vigor as ever to go find Parnell. Meanwhile, Damien and his wife Gabriela loomed large on the viewscreen, beaming. Eric could guess who the someone new was – there had been another incredibly excited phone call about nine months previous – but this was still a nice surprise. He hadn’t even told them she’d gone into labor yet.

He found Parnell in the hallway, already heading his way.

“Is that Damien on the phone?” he asked.

Eric nodded, grabbing Parnell’s hand. “Yep, him and Gabbie. They’ve got a surprise for us.”

The two walked back into the den to find two – two! no one had said anything about twins! – chubby new faces on the screen, one in the arms of each parent.

Damien beamed, smile as wide as either of them had ever seen it. “This one,” he said, “is named Rosemary...”

Gabriela picked up, smile just as wide (if a lot more exhausted), “...and this little boy is named Miguel.”

She grabbed the baby’s little hand and waved it at the two new grandparents. Parnell waved back weakly, smiling.

Eric closed his eyes, taking in the news for a moment. It seemed like just yesterday he and Parnell had said their “I Do”s at a little chapel in Norfolk, and now they were grandparents.

A few tears began to roll down his cheek.

“Dad, are you okay?” asked Damien.

Eric nodded. “I’ve never been better. Look at these, just... these two beautiful children are my grandchildren. I never thought I’d make it this far and this well.”

His first day at Elfen High still seemed perfectly fresh in his memory. He’d slept late, thrown on clothes, and the first person he’d met there had been Pierre. Hardly an auspicious start. Over the next few months, he had been nothing but a background character until he’d finally died during a mission in Hell. But he’d come back and made a new start for himself, and now here he was, in a beautiful home with his husband, on the phone with his son, his daughter-in-law, and his two beautiful grandchildren.

He had made it.

Eric Manischewitz died peacefully in his home on the morning of 7th September, 2108. He was 107. As he died, Parnell held his hand and promised him that he would see him again soon.

Parnell Astley suffered a heart attack during a walk through the park about two years later, on a sunny afternoon in August. When the paramedics did the initial scan of his body, they found a Do Not Resuscitate order encoded in the RFID in his wrist. The first thing Parnell did when he reached Hell was to consult the Registry of Persons, asking where his husband had settled. They had no record of him.

by **Astrolinium** » Thu May 21, 2015 8:53 pm

“Vixerunt.” – Marcus Tullius Cicero, 63 BC

Music.

There is a crow moon coming in, well, you keep looking out.
It is the hollow month of March now sweeping in.
Let’s watch phenomenons arise out of the darkness now:
Within the light she is my storming heroine.

And old machines abandoned by the ancient races stand.
I hear them humming down below in hollow earth.
Oh, well, I guess I know in a while I will go under too:
But just for now, I’ll let the spring and storm return.

“Well,” said Caspian after a long time, “what now?”

The question hung in the dorm room with all the weight of an anvil. Caspian and Peter sat on the edge of the former’s bed, Caspian’s arm around the other... boy? Man? Neither word fit either of them: they were both something in between. And so much more, at the same time. Neither of them looked older than their early twenties, but Caspian was nearly forty (well, sort of), and Peter not far behind.

Peter sighed, shrugging.

“I dunno. I suppose life happens, yeah? It always happens to me.”

Caspian nodded, unable to help a smile.

“Yeah, it does.”

Each still carried the sum of their collected memories within themselves... for Caspian, Peter’s were pushed to the back of his head, but the floated up to the forefront at the lightest touch. And they were not happy ones, not for either of them.

Caspian stared at the wall for quite some time, becoming horribly conscious of the small metal figurine of Tom Baker in his pocket. A memory of Jacob.

He said, after a while, “We can never be together. You’ve been hurt too much and too badly. We both have.”

Peter thought about that for a moment, and then put a hand on Caspian’s cheek, drawing his face close. Peter’s eyes were the brown of freshly tilled earth in an English garden, and Caspian’s were the gray of stormy seas off the coast of New England.

Their lips touched for half an instant.

“How could we ever be apart?” asked Peter. “Who else is there in the whole of creation who could ever hope to understand either of us the way we do, all we’ve been through? Who else-”

Peter was interrupted by another kiss. It was long and hungry, and Peter was helpless beneath it, helpless as Caspian pushed him back onto the bed and grinded against him, their bodies yearning to be closer together.

And I will sleep out in the glade just by the giant tree,
to be close to where my spirit’s pulled away.
I left a nervous little boy out on the trail today:
he’s just a mortal to the shouting cavalcade.

It was December of 2037. Paris. It was four years since Peter had last seen Caspian, since they had broken up. They’d had a flat, together, in London. Caspian was working some sort of desk job, Peter couldn’t remember what (yes he could, he remembered exactly what it was), and Peter had been in therapy. One night, Caspian had come home to find Peter in the bathtub, a straight razor in his hand, blood dripping from each wrist.

He hardly remembered the trip to the hospital – blood loss makes one a bit woozy – but he remembered the argument after he’d gotten home, by God. Peter had been wrong, of course, resentful, but then, Caspian hadn’t been terribly sensitive, either. He worried too much, and Peter didn’t worry enough, and was he even going to his appointments, and voices raised, and Caspian got angry. When he’d finally thrown the table over – it had been glass, and it had shattered – Peter had declared that they were through and rushed out the door. The last time he’d seen him was about a week afterwards. Peter had only been there to collect his belongings. The two had hardly said a word.

Peter pulled his coat tighter around him as he rushed through the street, when suddenly he clipped a stranger in the shoulder. Instinctively, he blurted out, “Pardonnez-moi, monsieur,” before he looked up and his heart skipped a beat at the sight of those gray eyes.

“Caspian?” he said, the breath rushing from his chest.

Caspian blinked back at him. “Peter,” he said flatly.

“What... I... you... Paris? You?”

Caspian looked down at his feet briefly, then back up at Peter. “Business trip. I’ve been promoted. You?”

Peter frowned. “I thought if I moved to another country I might never have to see you again.”

Caspian raised his eyebrows. “Oh, I see.”

Peter shrugged. “I guess I was wrong.”

“Yeah, I guess you were.”

The two stood there for a time, awkwardly, Caspian’s hands jammed in his pockets. His clothes looked awfully worn, and hardly appropriate for the weather.

Finally, Caspian broke the silence. “Well, I guess I’d better let you get going.”

“Yeah,” was Peter’s reply, but his heart wasn’t into it.

Caspian bounced on one foot, just about to step, when he stopped. “Coffee?” he blurted out.

Peter caught his breath. “Yeah. How long are you in the city?”

“As long as I need to be,” Caspian said. “I’m actually out of work – something about disappearing for three months, but you know I can’t really control that, and the New Wild West called, but anyway, thought I might try bumming around Europe for a bit, while I’m in the century.”

Peter shook his head. “I guess you don’t have a phone number then. I’ll pay for the coffee.”

Caspian smiled. “Yeah, that’d be nice. Thank you, I mean. It’ll be good to catch up.”

Peter nodded. “Yeah, it will. And I guess you’ll be needing a place to stay?”

Caspian hesitated. “Well, I’ve got a motel room pretty cheaply, so I suppose... yeah, that’d be lovely, actually.”

“And a bath.”

Caspian looked like he might be about to argue, but then gave in. “Yeah, probably. Although the French invented perfume just to avoid having to bathe. I should know. I was there.”

Peter risked a small smile and offered Caspian his hand. “Come. Coffee.”

Let’s open up the windows, have Satan departing now,
and we’ll be even when the blues fall down like hail.
Hell, I don’t even care no more about cadejo now:
if he’s a white one or a black one on the trail.

Caspian sighed, running his fingers through Peter’s hair. The light of early morning streamed through the curtains of the hotel room window, and the crashing roll of Pacific waves played their music like a lullaby, beckoning for him to fall back to sleep.

Peter shifted slightly and then placed a hand against Caspian’s bare chest, feeling his heart beating, a finger playing with the short black hairs there. Caspian smiled and pressed his mouth against the top of the other man’s head briefly.

“Good morning,” he said softly.

Peter’s eyes, still glazed with sleep, looked briefly into his before closing again.

“Morning,” he mumbled, a smile playing across his lips. He shifted again, pressing his body closer to Caspian’s.

Caspian sighed a sigh that turned into a yawn halfway through. He let the dull lids of his eyes close for the Pacific to lure him back to sleep for just a few more minutes.

When Peter next awoke, Caspian was standing at the sliding glass door that led out onto the balcony, curtains cast aside.

“Serenading the beachgoers with the beauty of your form?” he asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Caspian stood there for a minute, his gaze lost in the waves of the ocean so far down below, before he blinked, realizing Peter had said something. “Hm?”

Peter pulled his covers aside and walked over to Caspian, wrapping his arms around him from behind. “I asked if you were showing off to all the little people down below.”

“Oh,” Caspian said. “Not that I mind them seeing, but I imagine they’re a little too far away.”

Peter smirked and kissed Caspian on the neck, eliciting a small moan.

“Stop that,” said Caspian, “or I’ll have to fuck you again.”

Peter kissed him again. “That’s the goal.”

“After last night? Won’t you be sore?”

The words were not playfully flirty, not like Peter would have expected. They were serious; they had an edge to them.

Peter frowned, resting his chin on Caspian’s shoulder. “Is something wrong? Usually it hardly takes anything to get you back in bed.”

Caspian sighed. “I can feel it building up again. I’m going to be popping off soon.”

“You’ll be back, though. You’re always back.”

“For now,” Caspian said. “But one of these days I won’t be. You know where I have to go. One of these days I’ll have to face Oberon... for the last time.”

“Come back to bed.”

Caspian turned around and grabbed Peter’s wrist. “Don’t you understand? I’m going to die one of these days, and I know exactly how. I know exactly how horrible it will be, and you won’t be there. You can’t be there. Fucking listen to me, Peter.”

Peter looked up at Caspian, who was a good bit taller than he was. The hand around his wrist was uncomfortably tight. “Caspian, let go of me. There’s no point to worrying about this.”

Caspian looked down at Peter and released him. Feet pounding against the floor, he walked over to the bedside table. “God, I don’t know why I put up with you. You’re so bloody thick sometimes!”

Peter cautiously approached Caspian. “You know I don’t appreciate being talked to like that. You know that it’s... that this... it’s hard. For me. You know I can’t always tell...”

He looked down at his feet.

Caspian shook his head. “Piss off.”

And then he grabbed Peter’s arm again, hard fingers pressing into the soft skin of his forearm. He pulled the other man’s body close, turning him, locking the other arm around his collarbone. Peter gasped, moaning as he felt Caspian press against him from behind, felt his lips on his neck, felt his teeth sinking in to leave little black and blue marks there, marks that said mine.

I left my heart to the wild hunt a-coming:
I live until the call.
And I plan to be forgotten when I’m gone.
Yes, I’ll be leaving in the fall.

It was a Sunday, and the sky overhead was moody and gray. The snow, white and wet, fell down in sheets, threatening to be more than the little black umbrella could handle. Peter Altier didn’t mind. He was an old man, though he barely looked older than forty, and he had seen too much in his life to be bothered by a little snow in his face.

The slabs of rock protruded from the dead earth like teeth from gums, stretching off toward the horizon in either direction. The trees had all lost their leaves months ago, and they stuck up from the ground like gray lightning strikes in reverse, all gnarled and jagged. There was no birdsong, it was too cold for birds, and the only sound in the muted world was that of cars from a nearby highway. A century of progress since the new millennium, and there were still rubber tires on asphalt roads in some capacity. In a number of ways, humanity would never change, Peter thought.

Leaning down, he laid a flower at the foot of the tombstone: a single red rose. He tried to smile, but instead tears poured forth from his eyes like water from a burst dam, hot and stinging with salt. His umbrella lay at his side, forgotten.

“Fuck you,” he said at last, his voice hoarse and his throat raw, ice on his cheeks.

“Fuck you,” he repeated again. The sound felt like an intrusion in the quiet of the snow-covered cemetery. “I should have listened when you told me it could never work.”

Peter’s gloved hand touched the granite stone, his whole body trembling with each sob as his finger traced out the serif C.

“I should have stayed away every time I left. Fuck, fuck. Fuck you!”

After a while, after his back had become white with snow, after the sobs wracking his figure had been replaced by shivers, he stood again. His eyes were red and swollen. He hugged his hands to his body.

“You know, you could have at least had the basic fucking decency to leave me a body. Hell.”

“What am I going to do now? Without you? What the fuck am I going to do, Caspian, just answer me that. You always had an answer, give me one now, huh!”

Peter’s toes couldn’t even feel the pain as they connected with the stone. He was too cold for that.

“Please, just, come back. You always came back. Come back now. I’ve been to Hell and back looking for you, please, just come back to me. Will you do that for me, one last time?”

There was no response as Peter finally picked up his umbrella and began walking back towards his car.

The cemetery was as silent as the grave.

The Fall of Elfen High (IC, Closed)

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