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I'm Waking Up: Origin Stories.
You’re an old man who had a nasty run-in with Something That Went Bump in the Night, and once believed that the only way to make sure that you never had another problem like that again was to pick up a gun and shoot supes in the face before they killed you or hurt your family – and then some government shitheads called you up and told you that they’re your friends, you all have to get along. They took your weapons, sent you to some fucking program that felt too much like Alcoholics Anonymous. You hang up on them every time they check on you, but they still know exactly what you’re doing, every second of every day.
You’re a house wife in a quiet little town, accustomed to turning a blind eye towards the strange things that happened to people after dark because the local police either didn’t have a clue or were letting those things happen in the first place – and then some nice people in coats came in from God Knows Where, arrested some crooked cops, and made it all go away.
You make a new batch of cookies every Sunday, to give to the coated fellows who still hang around at the street corners downtown; some of them are young, so very young, and remind you of your younger brother. Your little ones want to be just like them someday.
You’re the kid who learns Judo rather than Track and Field after Math every day (Teacher Felipe says that you have to know how to defend yourself), then takes a quiz all about vampires, fairies and werewolves in Occult Studies. Every Wednesday, you tumble around with your classmates, and get mad whenever your best friend does his Superman thing and beats everyone to the top of the hill by flying there. Every Friday, a guy with more guns than you have teeth comes to school, takes over PE classes, and talks to everyone about what he does for a living. Sometimes, he takes “special kids” with him to another school, for special people like them. You hope that he won’t take your best friend away.
You’re the manager of one of the biggest call centers in the country. You’re happy because life’s been great ever since you opened your doors to the local vampire community. They’re damned good at their jobs, and you don’t have to deal with the HR nightmare of overtime, of medical bills and lawsuits anymore. And you feel safe, because you know that if one of them ever steps out of line, you know exactly who to call.
You’re the girl who leapt through time, who met a handsome stranger who took you to a fantastic place full of talking trees and flying fish, the girl who was loved and fucked and tossed aside when you started getting boring.
You came home and found that your house wasn’t your house anymore, that your parents have been dead for decades and all of your friends were old and gray while you haven’t aged at all.
They found you crying on a swing. They told you what happened, and helped you set things right.
You’re the drunkard at the local bar who sees monsters in every face, and still remembers what it was like years ago, when you didn’t have to be afraid of the dark, or wonder what’s beneath all the human skin and human smiles of every person you meet. The Truth fucked you up, you see. You wish that once upon a time, you had the better sense not to listen.
o r i g i n s t o r i e s.
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You weren't this shy on the road. We can't exactly talk like this, you know.
[ Because he may be the Blade King, but that isn't the only thing that defines him. ]
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I... [ her voice seems too loud, so she flinches and tries again. ]
I do not know what to ask for. [ She's back to whispering, just like that first day. ] All I have ever known is gone now.
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You said you wanted to serve me. Is that still true?
[ He can feel Tala and Selene watching him. Brianna, though, does not seem to care. Either she is not concerned, or she is making a big show out of pretending that she isn't.
They know his tendencies. He knows his tendencies. He also knows, though, that since that night when this girl curled up at his side, he hasn't been able to stop dreaming of Yamatai and of what the Lightless Lands used to be in the past every time he goes to sleep. ]
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She ducks her head again, wrings her hands tight beneath her cloak and answers softly: ] Yes.
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[ His voice is even softer in this moment than it has been since they started talking.
Choice. Freedom. The freedom to choose. It does not matter how old one is. Everyone deserved to have that. ]
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I do not know anything other than the skills I was forced to learn. [ The chores she used to do before fighting became her life.
She wrings her hands tighter and squeezes her eyes shut. She can feel the burn of pressure where her fingertips dig into her skin. ]
But I can learn. [ Begging is not beneath her. She does not wish to stray from your side. ] I can learn.
[ She whispers that last part, and quietly hates how her voice trembles. ]
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Maybe they'll be able to fix that with time. ]
Very well. I think, though, that I might be in need of a bodyguard. One that is also good at keeping my house in order.
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She lifts her gaze to his, but keeps her chin low. She knows her place in the scheme of things. She is small, but she can fight. And she will do what she can to ensure that he will never have cause to voice complaint. ]
Thank you, my King.
[ She ducks her head again. Her eyes are wet. But she has cried too much in front of her leige lord already. ]
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[ A smile. ]
And now you're going to need a name. You don't remember ever having one, do you?
[ Many of the other tributes were the same. ]
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Under the Masters, she learned to know when she was wbeing called even when she had no name to go by. Names were for important things and people. She was neither. ]
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[ He's been thinking about it since that night that you fell asleep against him for the first time. Things clicked after the way you stared at the wolves of his realm. ]
I think that you'll be able to figure out what it means on your own.
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She's murmuring the name now, turning the sound of it over in her mouth.
Lyall.
She's lifting her gaze back to yours now. That you've just give her something incredibly precious is written in her eyes. ]