ABOUT     READ     SHOP    

Bit's and pieces.


Bit's and pieces of stories I think up.


Child of Wolf and Tree
Wolf's Fern enjoyed visiting Bailon's Pass, the mountain range that isolates her tribe from everything else, these days. Not because she suddenly found an liking for Arehe or the rooks themselves.
It's the view to what lies beyond Bailon's Pass.
It's changed.
She likes change.
One wouldn't think it, but that Timeless like change as wall.
Bailon's Children, the boring and quiet elves that live as a tribe within a tribe, don't.
Wolf's Fern was a Timeless.

Wolf's Fern can hear them talking below.

When she was a child she would often ask the ancient ones about the Shortlings,something Maphara called them, they used to live with.
Little Sun would give her a look that spoke of a ancient hatred.
Marakka shrugged

Khistal taught her a mean song once.
She likes meanness too.
"They sing and they cry,Timmain! Why did you leave us to die? " Wolf's Fern sings at the white wolf.

Zharo, Merheen and Chenah remember the bright and good days.
They also remember the lessons the darkest day taught them and have passed it on to their children.

Bailon's Children don't have Bailon to tell them what to do anymore.
The old and kind High One died loooong ago, leaving his children to either die, struggle or join their mad and powerful cousins.
Bailon's Children are an tribe within an tribe.
Too weak and unwilling to fight with the world.
Fighting the world has become part of what the Timeless are.
Bailon's Children have come to abhor change while the Timeless abhor stagnation.


Curse you, Curiosity...

The sea near the Cliffs of Jirora always looked inauspicious, cold and grim.

Millenniums ago Jirora, a Firstborn, had thrown herself off the cliffs to free herself from the the two mooned prison planet, leaving her two day old son to be raised by his fathers tribe, the Timeless.

Millenniums later her son, Res looked out over the sea that likely looked as gloomy as the day his mother stepped over the edge.
The brown haired elf's gaze traveled to the far off fog islands his uncle had been pestering him with the last couple of days.
"You still don't believe me?"
Speak of the tribe's demon...
Res turned to look at his now black and orange clad uncle as he made his way towards him.
It was an odd and somewhat jarring sight, seeing Beyond in something that wasn't purple and green. The blue-purple colour around his eyes was missing as well.
"Even after I've spent four days describing her?" Beyond went on with an odd smile. Res looked back at him blankly and kept silent.

The usual ever active trickster of the Timeless sometimes found himself stuck in dull and lazy mood that could keep him in a state of abeyance for a day or a decade.
Merheen said it was the price for all the plotting, chaos and tricks his great-great grand son spent his time on.
This time it had struck the trickster half a year ago.
His uncle tends to be so exhausted he doesn't complain about this dull mood.

"Did I forget to mention she has these odd little skulls she uses as jewelery? Weird little things. Round little skulls, two big eyes and only three very sharp teeth. Not something I've ever seen before."


In a cage, spacious and grand, filled with flowers,small trees and a little lake sits a Preserver.
It hums and sings a tune so dark and mad it makes it's own kind happy it's in a cage.
Yipyap and Chatterbug fly by often and bring glowing flowers and pretty gems to brighten up the dark mind of the one who resides within a false world.

The Timeless all talk to it every day. Even the one who cannot stand the sight of the colorful beings.
They hardly ever get an answer from the one in the pretty prison. It hums and sings and speaks with words that hurt the mind of others.
They still visit it though.
Merheen hums along with it when he's near while Marakka tries to memorize every mean word in it's song.
Zharo asks what's worse; The World outside or the little fake world it's in now.
Darkfire has staring matches with it and remarks how similar it is to to her hellion son Beyond.
Beyond makes it giggle by telling it horrific stories.
Jarkaan makes it cheer as he grumbles about how he despises one of the Nine and puts curse upon curse on her name.
Dream-Whisper goes over what she should put in her next poison. Wolf's Bane or Man's Bane? Or both?

The other Preservers can't remember what it's real name is.
"Much Old-Much Angry-Thing" Applesnatcher calls it,miffed, while Chenah puts a small ball of bight metal into the cage. Two small, pale ice blue hands instantly size the ball and the flutter of wings can be heard.

The Timeless have several names for it.
'Bonegrabber' for it's hat made of small pieces of bone.
'Tatteredwing' for it's tattered looking white and dark blue wings.
'Madchild' for it's fondness of ripping the legs off bugs.
'Glow' for it's nearly luminous pale ice blue skin.
'Worse then Beyond' for being...well, for being worse then Beyond in one or two areas.

It sings and hums and waits for someone who doesn't bother to ask WHY it's in there and just smashes open the walls of it's world, thinking the Preserver is being mistreated.
They're sure to come. Riding on wolves and with Death in their blood.
Smash smash.
The Preserver in the false world smiles and puts a new piece of bone it's hat.
Smash smash.


Just some dialog. Key speaker is a new female character. The other is Beyond.
Res takes Beyond's place in number 4, tho.
'I'd love to fall over the edge of an cliff with you. Just to see which emotion sizes you the most. Fear of death or utter fury aimed at me.''
''You really should be more thankful. I listen to you,see you when others ignore you. I'm almost sure I pay more attention to you then your own mother has.''
''*Sigh* A treestump has payed more attention to me then Darkfire has.''
''You know, I'm sure I can make you chase me up a mountain, through the green canyon that lies nestled among it's walls and down the mountain's other side.''
''And you plan to make this happen...how?''
''Easy. I steal this bag you're so found of and fly away with it.Then you start running after me.''
''Wait...You're not...Beyond.
''Why...are you wearing your uncle's clothes?''
''High Ones, you're actually real? I thought Beyond had been eating Dreamapples and just thought you up.''
''Why are you wearing your uncle's clothes?''
''My uncle seems to find involving his family members in his little games hilarious. That, and I'm the only one he can bully into this type of thing...''
''...If you're masquerading as him... then where is he?''
''I have no ida-Ohhhh! What's that on your head? A skull? Never seen any animal with that kind of skull! May I take it? Oh wait! What kind of animal does your clothes come from? Looks like very fine material!


Zarvee finds her would be killer interesting to say the least. Beyond sighs and attempts to cover his ears with a pillow as the cinnamon haired woman starts on yet another nearly endless rant over an Shortling who's manege to become the focus of her universe.
By attempting to murder her. And failing to do so.


Beyond glares at the brown haired woman in front of him.
She just smiles back at him and fiddles with an tiny insect skull she uses as jewelry.
That smile she sends him is one she's stolen from him.
He's almost sure of it.
It's the smile that makes humans scared, his elders vigilant and the youth curious.
It's one of his weapons and it's always worked as it should.
All Timeless have weapons of some sort. They are brought up to win and dominate.

Res scares people by simply going wide eyed and saying ''Oh! What is that?
May I see?'' before he tackles and somehow hog ties them, so he can study what has caught his eye.
The first troll he ever saw still runs away from him whenever he sees him.

Zarvee, a girl with a more wicked then his own, makes one wish she was as maiden like and frail as she looked.

Arehe's motionlessness unnerves who ever he's up against.



''What...what are you going to do when you find Firestorm?'' Buniq asked as she ran to catch up wit the orange haired elf.
Beyond just raised an eyebrow and gave her an puzzled look.
''I'm going to take his skull and give it to Darkfire.
''I mean...''Buniq started again what

''What did you find?'' She asked as she land on the rocky ground.


Beyond goes looking for the remains of his long gone half-brother, Firestorm, in an attempt to mend things with Darkfire. He finds five skulls in total, the four other belong to those who followed Firestorm.
When does it take place?
Likely in end of Freefoot’s time.

What is Beyond like? Is he Beyond or Strife?
He’s Beyond. He was force healed already in Skyfire’s time. (Before both Buniq and Smokefeather’s birth)
Has Beyon actually come into his Beyond persona?
What’s his mood like in this story?
He’s likely in the end his ‘down’ mood. He doesn’t wear purple or green.
He actually does wear that.
Who goes with him?
Some of the fairly younger elves. He doesn’t get along with the older ones.
Most likely:
Buniq,Ta and Smokefeather.
How old are they?
They’re still in their teens. Big part of the tribe has been wrapstuffed for a very long time due to very bad weather.


Ice-Eye might be one of Timmorn's children, her legs might be slightly deformed, she might only have three toes on her feet, but she would never be seen as one of them.

The Hunt, her father's people, scare her. They confuse her as well.
They say their pureblooded cousins are worthless.
They even say the same thing about the High Ones.

She doesn't understand the wolves body language or their sounds.

She has many siblings. Most of them don't like her and will growl and snarl at her for no apparent reason.
But she has siblings five who like her.



My name lost it's importance a very long time ago. It's inside my mind, on the dark, near the outer fringes and never makes a move to come closer.
Those of my own kind I run into always ask what my name is.
And I have no answer for them any more.
It's not important.


"Are you hard of hearing? I said we deal with elves, trolls and even humans."
"But...we are elves."
"When did your kind start thinking that? I knew your ancestors, girl. They'd ripped out your throat had you called them 'elf'. They considered the High Ones and their pureblood children so worthless they would rather lie with one of their own wolfborn siblings, then their weak and worthless purebloods."


Ice-Eye smiled as she pulled the quiver on her shoulder and picked up her bow.

She loved hunting.

She love hunting with her tribe even more.

Today was a special day.

Winter was coming.

Every firth or tenth year the winter season in the Shadowgrounds area were prone to getting drawn out by months and had been known to last for nearly a full year at times.

The massive amounts of snow they got tended to make it near impossible to hunt, so every firth or tenth year The Timeless had an Big Hunt that would fill their food chambers.

'I'll take Beyond with me.' Ice-Eye said quickly, stepping up besides the sneering Sun-Spear.

Darkfire raised an eyebrow while Sun-Spear opened his mouth to argue.



The green and purple clad elf eyed her and started to walk around her. Studying her further.
''Hmmm...Don't think a spear or bow will do you any good.


-Rellah is alive and well.
-The Scream (I can't remember what it's actually called.) didn't happen.
-Palace get's un-grounded none the less. Goes to the Wolfriders and the Sunfolk to show it off and what not.

Pike scrambled for the nearest and widest tree he could find as heard rocks sailed through the air around him.

Why Cutter had decided to go looking for another elf tribe Rellah said had been neighbor to the Wolfriders in Timmorn's time, was beyond his understanding.
Especially since Rellah has also said the tribe had been both unfriendly,downright dangerous and had been hostile towards wolfblooded kin.

Longbranch had mentioned them once. He had thought them nothing more then a barely remembered dark myth.
Had the older elf still been around, Pike would gladly have told him they were very much real and and just as unfriendly, dangerous and hostile as they had been in Timmorn's day.

Earlier that day, The Palace and Wolfriders had come to an area fairly closed to the ruins of Blue Mountain, that was called the Shadowgrounds by the humans that happened to live there.
Rayek had tried to bring the Palace closer to one of the three gigantic forests that that marked the land.
But something had hindered it. No matter how much the dark skinned elf had tried to move the Palace further into the land, the Palace had moved from the cliff it had first landed on.

The elf squatting in front of him was clad in dark red cloths and regarded him with with bored and cold dark green eyes.

'That woman is crazy!'
'That happens to be my sister.'
'...Oh.Eh, sorry?'
'Oh no no. You're absolutely correct.'


'...You ate one of your apples again.' Arehe groaned.

'All angry-angry-ANGRY, twisted up inside. Rejected.HURT.Felt such pain you became ice and rock. She did this, her hate made you cold and. I'll undo it. Ice will melt and rock will BREAK.'

'Mmm...I think I can give you what she couldn't-'
'-Wouldn't-' Arehe bit in quickly, pressing the back of his head further into the rocky floor.


The skies have become dark seem to be shedding tears.

Leetah was suddenly very happy she couldn't see the eyes that belong to the elf woman in front of her.
Waves of absolute rage and unreason emanated from her.

'He doesn't deserve it.'' She snarled out, dripping with hatred slipping past the woman's dark coloured fangs.

'Those who decry and belittle the High Ones,their children and their abilities, have no right to use their powers or be touched by them.' She continued stepping towards her


I'm called Feverfew by the Forest Dwellers.
I have several names, since nobody has managed to drag out off me the name my long dead parents gave me in the dark days.

My other names are Wayfarer, Yawn-Sloth Sleeper,Hide-Eyes and Bitterberry.

It's been ages since I used to be 'Bitterberry', though. Not since days of one named Tanner, have I bothered to be near those furthest removed from the High Ones.

By the rules of this world, and with time as his kind's enemy, he died long ago.

Time marches on and on and on at a steady pace.
It never falls, staggers or slows.
An rejected Recognition, however seems to be able to slow it down to a crawl.
Of course it just a trick of my mind and body, but it works annoyingly well.
Far to well, actually.

Thyle has come to my hut again. He's very agitated.
He's bemoaning the fact he didn't Recognize his beloved Krad.
He's wasting everybody's time.
He's espicially wasting MY time.

I had plans to go back to the Mistsingers.
I WANT to go back to them. They get so... annoyed with me and my wild appearance and make such a fuss over it that it becomes hilarious.

But of course, they're obsessed with making things match their elders oldest memories...
To them I look like their antithesis. What they dread could happen to them or their children.
What scares them most is the fact I'm just as old as them and just as pureblooded.

Their tanner, named Tohrana, will yell ''Girl, do you even remember what eyes, hair and face your parents gave you?! Or have your Selfshaping powers erased it altogether in favor of this beastly look?''
at me when I show up and she starts dragging me towards her stone hut to make me 'right looking' cloths, while the rest of the tribe flees in sheer terror of the angry and ancient tanner.

Now my plans are ruined because of the youth who's currently walking in circles on my floor while I just site and wait in pelt covered chair.

I don't mind Recognizing or bearing children.
I've done it plenty of times and I've never had problems.
Except with this one.
...No make that two.

There was that one elf maaaaany years ago, who I Recognized in the middle of the night, who flat out refused me because I apparently 'look like a mix between a wild animal and a barbarian'.

Now, I could just have proved to ham that I'm stronger then either by beating him into the ground, but I didn't particularly care about him, so I just told him I was leaving at sunrise, and it was up to him if he wanted to bring things in order.

He didn't take me seriously.

I think it took about 2 days before he actually realized I had in fact left his group's territory.
It took him nearly 8 days to catch up with me.

I remember thinking it was hilarious to see a once mighty, angry and arrogant High One look so broken and tired.
I'm not sure what's his name is any more.
Hagen? Hikan? Kaken?
Gah. Doesn't matter.

Now there's Thyle.
He was so...unlucky to Recognize me two days ago and he's not very happy about it.
Don't dare give me that look. He said it himself.

He even yelled 'You?!NO! Not you! I want to Recognize my mate!' at me when he finally realized what had happened.
If you ask me, I'm unlucky enough to have Recognized a youth the truly thinks Recognition is something brought on by love.
It isn't.
It's boiling blood and flesh screaming for another's flesh and demanding a roll or two in the furs.

Sure, Recognition can create or make love bloom in those it touches, but it's rarely love that sparks Recognition.

When it does spring from love, you're just damn lucky.

For one second, I find myself considering just knocking him out, tying him up and be done with it.
Then I slap myself on the side of my head for thinking about crossing one of the last lines I have left.
I'm not so annoyed or so far gone I'd go and do something that drastic.
Or human-like.

Thyle does notice the slap that nearly sends me flying out of my chair and stops complaining for a second to see just what in his ancestors warrior blood I'm actually doing.

'Eh...Why did you just do that?' He asks and raises an eye brow.

'Your.. endless complaining bores me, Thyle. I have to keep awake somehow.' I say, giving him the friendliest smile I can muster.
Not that I can muster much. Thyle's general nearness is making my blood sing and I'm likely to soon stop thinking about anything but him.
I had planed to just let the boy be until he'd come to his damn senses. But nooooo. He comes to me, not to answer Recognition's call, but to complain.
It's damn near impossible to steer away from him when when he's in MY damn hut, complaining about OUR Recondition to ME.

Oh and now he brings up dear little Krad.
I know I'm no long in absolute control of myself when I feel my nails turn into claws and I hear them dig into the tree the chair is made of.
Krad, Krad, Krad. He's brought her up countless times in the last two days.And I'm beginning to consider the girl to be my rival.
''Krad is my Lifemate! She's my soul mate!'' He said yesterday.
Recognition doesn't care about that,little boy. It never has and it never will.
My little boy for the time being.

I'm not sure what it is but something snaps me out of my downward spiral toward having only one thought...
....I wonder how Krad is taking this? Is she handling this better then little Thyle is?

Is she worried I'd twist her boy's head so much she get abandoned?
I'm almost sure I could.
I've been wandering on this world since the dark days.
I know ever trick that that can drive any man mad.
Stop complaining, and I'll drive you mad as wall, Thyle.
Shartos, I'll give Krad go too and drive her mad as well.
You know, I'll be nice and tell you to just think about Krad when you finally give in.
I'll be thinking about Beyond, Res and Caniko.

He took off.

For a second I'm actually surprised. I actually scared him enough to make him run.
Who'd have known? Shift a bone here and there, a flex of a clawed hand and -puff- off runs Thyle.

Thyle has annoyed me very much today.

I'm sure chasing him half off a cliff will make me feel much better...

The door's cover hasn't even closed before I leave my chair and take off after him.


Trees, rocks and other plants past wip by me while I search the ground, looking for Thyle's tracks.
Not that he's hard to track.
Footprint here, broken twigs and branches there.
Riv's yell of surprise and anger at nearly being knocked to the ground up ahead tells me three things.

One, Thyle is horrible at fleeing with outleaving tracks.
Two, Riv is going to beat Thyle to a pulp the next time she sees him and he's likely not getting anything to eat today if Riv has anything to say about it.
And third, today is going to get better.
At least, I think the third to myself as Riv throws an apple after the retreating Thyle.
She doesn't miss.


The floor that isn't a floor lunges, shatter and is forever broken by sheer panic.
Time starts moving again.
And it moves fast.

''What we are-''
''Were. You're nothing in this world.''


'This is almost worse then the time I broke my leg...'
'What did you do? Get into a fight with a bear?'
'Actually I got trapped between a veeeery angry bear and a tree. Leg didn't like that very much.'
'Tislen's tassels,I was joking...'
'Leg didn't think it was funny at the time. Took aaaages to heal up right.'
'Are you some kind of idiot?'
'No no no no...My brothers are all idiots, while my sisters are genuineness. '


'Don't you see what's happening here?! They are out breeding and outnumbering you! Soon the rule of 'hunters get first and best' will become 'Wolfblooded get all.''

'TIMMAIN CRIPPLED YOU! She didn't make you stronger! She's made you utterly dependent on savages that wouldn't care if you all died this second!'

'You are not my brother. You are not my kin. You are nothing.'

'No, it doesn't.' Little Sun said quietly.
'It only stops when they're all dead.'


Well this was certainly not something he had expected to happen.
Merheen thought to himself as he looked around to get a closer look at his captures as he was being rocked ever so slightly from side to side.
Getting captured by humans, tied to a-what was it called?-preystick?- and then be taken to the half-bests camp to get slaughter wasn't unheard of.
But getting caught by his own kind like this?
‘’ OUR KIND? THEY'RE ANIMALS!" A voice he associated with Chenah yelled in the back of his mind.
He was currently tied to a preystick, which was being carried by two very annoyed male Wolfriders while three others either rode along on their wolves or walked.
Merheen wasn't sure how he should feel about this.
‘’Insulted…No. Scared. Timmain’s offspring have obviously degenerated so much they have started to feast on those who had come before themselves.’’ The Chenah voice said darkly.
Merheen shook his head. He couldn’t have heard that right.
‘’They are going to eat you, Merheen. They’re going to slice your throat open, howl at the moons as it spills out and then they will pick your bones clean for flesh. ’
‘’Erh…’’Merheen said out loud, looking up at his tied hands with a now half worried expression.
The ‘Erh’ seemed to catch the attention of one of the men.
Chenah, if she could even get in a situation like this without first giving everybody involved a sound thrashing, would be furious and thinking up a thousand ways to get back at her captures and then go with the meanest and most painful punishment she could think off.
Zharo wouldn't end up like this at all. Any sign of trouble would result in a show of power or a thrashing.
Even if the trouble were others of their kind.

It couldn’t be long before they reached the shortlings camp.
He would rather not get eaten.
Think of something…get them to slow down…distract them…
"You know, if we ever got the Palace back and got it to fly again...you and the rest of Timmain's children would likely stay here." Merheen suddenly said as a memory from the past emerged from the depths of his mind.
That made the white haired hunter look down at him in puzzlement.
"What? Why?"
"Because you and your kind are tied to this world. I doubt you could stand to be anywhere else."
‘’I mean, your kind was born and breed to live and thrive here. It wouldn’t make much sense to bring your kind to the stars…’


Chusi ... I'm stuck with short and "i" at the end for the boy ... Unhappy
18:40 Embala:
somethig like Walking-With-Spirits or Spiritwarrior as adult name
18:51 Embala:
Or Walks-among-Us as the Timeless name ... Ataciara (Atacary)
18:52 Embala:
Illiivat (Illjavat) - YoungOne-Who-Learns
18:58 Embala:
Personally I like 1. Touched, 2. Walking-Among-Spirits and 3. YoungOne-Who-Learns for the meanings. Needs sound-names for 1. and 3. ...
19:00 Embala:
Another adult name could be Hard'ToScare or Ghostwisperer (someone who can handle the "ghosts" of Nightmare Forest.
19:15 Embala:
I don't think the Jenhna or Timeless would point out the fact that he has saved Ennits.


Cillian Frost, the notorious leader of the 3rd Street Saints, was currently wondering if the car type called Bootlegger was cursed or all the gods of the worlds simply didn't want him to 'acquire' one and drive it to the nearest chop-shop.

Wondering about that sort of thing on while lying on his back in the middle of the rain drenched streets of Bridgeport might have been an bizarre place to do so, but he honestly didn't feel like getting up at the moment.

Then again, he had done more bizarre things in his life.

Like the time he had been running himself ragged after Maya, leader of the Corona gang, in Sunset Park and suddenly decided to jump into the park's lake for absolutely no reason.

Of course, he might have done it because there had been a person dressed up as gigantic blue sheep out there and he, in the spur of the moment decided to try and help the bloke drown.

But in all honesty He couldn't remember why he had done it. The only thing that come of that bizarre story was an annoying cold and a absolutely infuriated Maya who was pissed over the lack of attention he was giving her.


Title: Nag, whisper, echo.
Universe(s): HP and batman crossover.
Year: 3ed. 

As he was busy being half-conscious and stuck in a tree, Harry mused over how...funny...it was he had had a notion this would happen. And then let it happen.

He had gotten up this morning and hadn't felt like he wanted to partake in the Quidditch match today. He'd rather have stayed in his bed and get a nagging whisper of voice to stop nagging with words he couldn't actually hear.

But noooo.

Flitwick had somehow-somehow-gotten the better of him. Smiled the right way, looked at him with eyes looked genuinely friendly, a look that didn't annoy him or made him what to annoy.
Wasn't sure which of the two it was, but he had gone to the damn match.

Turned out his notion had been right. He should have stayed in bed. Should have pulled the covers over his head and gone 'LALALALA I CAN'T HEAR YOU!' when Flitwick had showed up.

Of course, he could just have said he was hearing voices. But he had the strange thought Flitwick wouldn't have thought that was strange or unusual when it was said by Ravenclaw’s Scare.

The sky had been gloomy and looked like an impending doom was on its way. Any other day he'd be thrilled, curious...but today just felt like it was going to be a phenomenally bad day.
And it was the Dementor's fault.
If there was one thing that could bring him down, it was them. Rather literally, since they had managed to make him crash into a tree in the Forbidden Forest half way into the match. A stray Bludger had helped with the crash, making him lose his hold on his broom. He couldn't for the life of him remember where it had hit him. His mind had been ripping itself apart at the time.

The effect of the Dementors seemed to make a beeline in his mind, bypassing the chaotic jumble of thoughts, that legilimency, according to Dumbledore, couldn't sort out, straight to that part of his mind that was closed off with chains and seven locks and had both a dresser and a piano pressed up against it.

It suddenly occurred to him his mind wasn't the chaotic jumble of thoughts 'that legilimency couldn't sort out' at the moment. His thoughts and memories weren't 'moving' as they typically did.
This was absolutely horrible. Disastrous even.

Since he had gotten back to Hogwarts, the presence of the Dementors had started to mess with him.
Today they had removed the piano and the dresser, ignored the locks, snapped the chains and opened the door.
And unleashed something he had no control over. Something he couldn't ignore or fight.
''Not Harry! Please, no, not Harry — I'll do anything!''
A plea.
From his mother.
Lily Potter.
Pleading for her son's life to be speared.
Said pleading hadn't worked and the woman had in the end sacrificed her life to save her son.
Out of love, Dumbledore said some years ago.

At the time he had heard that, he had just glared at the headmaster, pushed the information out of his head, snatched up the old man’s bowl of candy, and quietly told him it now belonged to him and went over to sit near the door to the headmaster's office. Said door was at the time locked and said headmaster actually had no intention of letting him out before having a chat with him about his parents. He had spent the next hour ignoring the blasted man, eyeing Godric Gryffindor’s sword, and coming to the conclusion if he wanted to steal a sword he'd steal one from the living suits of armor.

The only reason he had be able to get out of the office was due to Cornelius Fudge suddenly showing up in the fire-place and demanding to know how he should handle a very bizarre, totally magic less situation in which people seemed to be laughing themselves to death, gigantic plants were taking over half of Dagon Alley and the other half was filled with some kind of gas that caused people to start hallucinating and run around screaming in fear.
Harry had wondered why three of his mentors had decided to come to London and cause chaos out loud when he gotten halfway out of the door and had taken off before Dumbledore had the chance to stop him.

The less he heard about his parents or any other person he was related to, the better. It had been so since he was six or seven years old.

The confusion, shock, over the discovery of who had said the plea had already been pushed to the bottom of his mental 'to be investigated, reviewed and then promptly tossed to the side and ignored'-inbox.

Family didn't mean love. It meant pain. Broken arms and broken glasses, bruises, starvation, ridicule and hatred.

He had heard hundreds of pleas in his life. It was a byproduct of the life he had lived and the people he shared it with.
Nevertheless, this specific one bothered him so much more then any he had ever heard. It tore into his mind, made it shake, break and crumble.
In addition, made him lose consciousnesses. Not a good thing when he lived the life he did. If these things ever came to Gotham, he'd be utterly screwed.
Dementor showed up, floored him...if Two-Face happened to be there as well with a gun and a bad coin he'd be dead.
No more Apprentice, Aiden Sage or Harry Potter.

He didn't mind dying. Didn't fear it. Death would be a gift of gifts. The prize for completing the trial called Life.

He just had better things to do then die to somebody like Two-Face.

That and he liked being the Apprentice.
He even liked being Aiden Sage when he had to.
Being Harry Potter was...well...interesting. Even if he was stuck with people who enjoyed drinking pumpkin juice to a ridiculous degree and used 'I' platforms to teach you how to fight. This, by the way, was the most absurd thing ever.

Thinking all of this seemed to loosen the hold near-unconsciousness had on him and he managed to open his eyes.
Some part of his mind rather dimly remarked on how bizarre Hogwarts' upside-down trees looked. Harry shook his head and looked up at himself to see a tree branch curled around his ankle. One of the 'gifts' from Poison Ivy that had steadily become more and more useful in the last couple of years. A minor ability to talk to plants. Beside helping him in some odd situations, it also made herbology classes a bit more interesting when a Mandrake started cooing instead of wailing at you.

Harry turned his head towards the ground, in hopes of not being that far up.
Only thing that seemed to be in his favor this day was the fact he was only two meters away from the ground. Now, if he could just get the tree to let him go. Normally, they'd do as asked, but sometimes they would be absurdly clingy.

'Um, tree? You can let me go now.' He said out loud, breaking the silence of the forest.
What sounded like echoes of a hundred whispering voices answered with something that was hardly recognizable as words and the branch's hold loosened.
And there came the ground.
Ivy would be pleased. He was bonding so much with nature today, Harry thought to himself as he spat out a pebble he somehow gotten into his mouth when he landed.

He was about to get up when the plea suddenly started up again. Causing his mind to crack and crumble and forced him back down, groaning.
Either the Dementors were coming near him or his mind was just beginning to replay the damn thing.
For some bizarre reason he had the notion the latter option was the right one.

'Not Harry! Please, no, not Harry — I'll do anything!'
'Shut up.'
'Not Harry! Please, no, not Harry-'
'Not Harry! Please, no-'
'Get out of my head Lily Potter. You're breaking it.' He groaned, pressing his head against the ground.
Harry turned to lie on his back and put his hands on his forehead in an attempt to push the plea down and away. If there was something he head incredibly much since he entered the Wizard world it was how much he resembled either his parents or how proud they would be if they knew how he had turned out.

'Your father-'
'Your mother-'
'You parents-'

Typically from people that just happened to meet him and judged him by the fact he had somehow destroyed an evil dark lord as a baby. Alternatively by those books Granger had mentioned to him.

Although, 'proud' typically changed into 'horrified' or 'disappointed' if the person actually decided to stick around and ACTUALLY talk to him for at least five minutes.
Wasn't really his fault. The Wizarding world seemed to have its own idea about how Harry Potter was as a person.
His family had destroyed the person, leaving it to the Joker, Poison Ivy and the rest of his mentors to rebuild him and in the end let him be what he wanted to be.
How bad, how horrible, how monstrous did your blood relatives have to be when five of Gotham's biggest villains treated you better?


He hated it. Hate it with the same intensity Joker loved fighting the Bat.
He hated family. Had done so since he had fled from a murderous Vernon and ran through the snow-covered streets of Gotham and ended five years of torment.
‘Your parents-'
Parents? He didn't have and never had had 'parents'. He had mentors.
Mentors that seemed to like him more then any person he had any blood relation to.
And treated him much better too.

The plea finally dimmed and ceased. The chaotic jumble of thoughts and memories that was his typical mindset began to move as it always did.
Up, down, right, left, through dimension V-3z and dimension Alpha-Cupcake...

Harry finally got around to getting up from the ground when he was sure the plea had retreated to the place it had stayed for so long. He got up, rather unsteadily, since his left leg hadn't been too happy with the sudden stop the tree branch had provided. Harry took a step and quickly come to the conclusion his leg would very much like a rest and let one of other gifts Ivy had given him work it's magic. Harry decided sitting on a nearby log of wood for 15 minutes or so would work wonders for his leg and made his way over there.

It was only a tiny meter away from him, but his leg still managed to promise it would damn well detach itself and start beating him over the head if he kept walking on it.
As he sat down, Harry mumbled doing that would just make things worse for the leg. Of course the leg wouldn't care. It was just like the rest of him on the matter. Somebody cause him pain, he'd take it out on that person. Which in this case was himself.
He concluded that he really had to try to figure out how to levitate or something like that…

Still with one hand on his forehead and the other now on the log, he looked up to the sky. Still grey and gloomy. Couldn't have been long since he crashed. Maybe three-four minutes. They might not have noticed he crashed. He had heard screams, seen lights from spells as he had lost control over the broom and fallen towards the forest. The teachers probably had their hands full with panicky students and Dementors.

On the other hand, he supposedly had a mass murderer after him, Harry thought some ten minutes later. At least he thought it was ten minutes later, if the decreasing pain his leg was a good way to judge time.
Of course, some of the teachers did know he was more then able to take care of himself. Knew he didn't need six or so people keeping an eye on him. Now if they could just tell Fud-...
Actually, the thought of that many people spying on him made him a bit paranoid and made him feel more then a bit uncomfortable. Better just stop thinking about that or he'd go around and jab the living suits of armor and order them to stop spying on him because that was just plain rude.
Harry shook his head and looked down at his left leg as he felt something knit back to something it had previously been connected to. Wasn't sure what that happened to be.
Five minute left, then.

He wasn't sure what, but something had reminded him of something horrible.

He still had people he had blood relation to.
People who hadn't been nice good or nice to him whatsoever.
Which, if he had understood Dumbledore correct, WAS something family members were supposed to do.

''Family forms nearly unbreakable bonds, not only by blood but through emotion.'' Dumbledore said, one of the times he had been lucky enough have Harry in an situation where he couldn't get away from the old codger.
Harry had spent the rest of the day kicking himself for not telling the headmaster there had been no family bonds between him and the Dursley’s and the only emotions they had ever shown him was anger, hatred, annoyance and all consuming fury.

Granted, the all-consuming fury was something he had only seen from his uncle the day the bastard had nearly beaten him to death.
Still, his aunt and cousin had mistreated him badly. Vernon might have been the most violent of the three, but the others had had their own way of making his life hell.
Perhaps...if he tied up some lose ends it would stop this plea?
Had to. Most of the problems he had in life always seemed to have something to do with his family.

A tiny voice, one he associated with a nicer, rule bound, 'good'-Harry, very quietly said 'No, it won't. You have to let it go and move on with your life.' from the shadows of his mind. He promptly ordered it to shut the hell up and locked it away in it's box.

Harry regarded the sky again.
Still no teachers.
He looked down to his leg and shook it from side to side.
No lingering pains, no threats of detachment followed by a sound head bashing.

With a smile that typically scared most of his fellow students, Harry get up from the log of wood and started walking towards the castle, while he wondered how he was going to get away from it later that night.


'You sent me there?'
'To ke-'
'You sent me to the monsters?'


'Oh.' Secondary took a step back and tilted his head to the right.
Harry couldn't see most of his expression due to the hood hiding it.


A little black haired boy with bight green eyes ran down the snow cowered streets of a city his uncle had called 'Gotham'.
The black haired boy didn't care about the city's name or why his aunt and uncle had brought him there. He could understand why they had brought Dudley, his cousin, along. They always took Dudley with them on trips, while he got left with the Dursley's neighbor,Mrs. Figg.
They did everything for Dudley.
If Dudley wanted a specif toy in toy store they got it for him. If he wanted five other toys, he'd get those too.

Dudley's cousin, the black haired boy, who's name had hardly ever been used in the household, never got anything.
Hardly got any good food.Never got new cloths, never got any toys.
Not even for Christmas or his birthday.
He could remember when his birthday was actually.

'Look at you...'The green haired man said, putting pressure on the last word and began to walk closer to Harry, poison green eyes locking onto the small boy in front of him.
He brandish an rather small knife that to Harry, looked like a potato peeler.
'A child, supposedly the most loved, most precious to society. And yet, you're out in the cold, bleeding and bruised. '


'You know what some so-called gods really were, Apprentice? Wizards. The ancient type. Real primeval ancients that could bend the elements to their will.'


Harry stared at his green haired mentor for whole minute in the hope he had been joking.
'You want me to go trick-or-treating with a group of children?' He asked, looking at the group of children as if they were monstrous aliens.
'Dressed like this?'
'It struck me as fitting.'


Harry firmly believed Joker wouldn't care if he died before his eyes.
The green haired man with the war paint doesn't care for anything but chaos and anarchy.


Something tall and lanky walks into the room, stealing the light and leaving the figure a dark shadow.
Miss Valei has been in Gotham long enough, has seen enough pictures in the newspapers to recognize the man from his silhouette.
The Joker was tall, lanky man with wild, green shoulder length hair and poison green eys that seem to regard nearly all things with annoyance and boredom.


'Look at you...'The green haired man said, putting pressure on the last word and began to walk closer to Harry, poison green eyes locking onto the small boy in front of him.
He brandish an rather small knife that to Harry, looked like a potato peeler.





Wolves Fern










'Darkfire's eyes were golden,but somehow immensely cold. Cold,acute and imposing. And now they were fixated on him, Zehrus, of all people. '


'You claim to be better off, but look at you! You are beyond miserable! And sleep deprived! Wanna switch for a day or two? They'd never notice the differences!'

'How can you misinterpret admiration to be fear? That man taught me everything I know.

'Fire has no mind. I should know. I spent around two weeks being fire. Seriously, I was kept in a ceramic bowl and fed all sorts of things.'


'Look at you...A child, supposedly the most loved, most precious being to society. And yet, you're out in the cold, bleeding and bruised.'


Title: Break
The sound fire makes when it explodes from a fireplace is ear shattering.
It swallows up the scream made by a little black haired boy who's mind has just snapped. All other sounds have vanished.

It's louder than the roar of one of those make-believe lizards the boy's aunt very adamantly says aren't real. She looks so panicked when somebody mentions something that in no way can be real. She would start talking with a hysteric and high pitched voice that would hurt one's ears.

The little boy never did understood why his aunt was so...scared by things that either belonged in fantasy books or television.

The voice of the fire is louder than his aunt's has ever been.
But...it is by far more friendly sounding then she or anybody else the little black haired boy has ever met.

Fire has eyes all over it. It sees everything. And all it sees is food. It lives to devour all in its path. In this second it wants to devour the fat man who screams like a walrus and fights to stop it from eating his arm.

The little boy is pressed into a corner, staring at the flames with eyes that are horribly empty.
Time seems to have become oddly slow. He sees the fire move up the wall. Slowly and calmly, as if it was made of thick water. His burning uncle, now a meter away from him, moved equally slow.

A second ago everything had hurt.
His right ear had felt as if it had been torn in two, his throat had felt like it had been crumbled, his chin had felt as if it had been pulverized.

Now he felt numb. His mind felt as if it had been burned away by confusion and anger.

He didn't know what has set his uncle off. Maybe nothing. Maybe he had just gotten tired of his nephew and decided nobody in the world would notice if he just disappeared.
He hadn't known why they had left Surrey a week ago and taken a trip to a gigantic city in the United States.
His uncle had been talking about a deal his company had made with another company...

It didn't matter. He was numb and the world was far away. This numbness was by far better then the life his relatives had allowed him to have. If the fire didn't kill him, then his uncle absolute would. The boy slumps further back into the corner, not caring anymore.
Death was the only way to escape this hellish life.
He couldn't run away from it.
''Have you actually ever tried running away?'' whispers a voice in the back of his quiet mind.
The boy blinks.

Suddenly, sound and time returned. Now he heard the panicked screams of his uncle, aunt and surprisingly enough his cousin.
He couldn't see them. Didn't know where they were.
He doesn't even have time to guess.
His legs suddenly spring to life and secure a firm footing and forced the rest of him up from the corner. He bolts for the rented house's door.