Page is a WIP
All around me darkness gathers; fading is the sun that shone.
We must speak of other matters; you can be me when I’m gone.
Flowers gathered in the morning, afternoon they blossom on.
Still are withered in the evening; you can be me when I’m gone.
Legion
ˈlējən
a vast host, multitude, or number of people or things.
great in number.
A man known by many names, seen as many entities, existing in many places.
But also, a man.
Legion does not know when he began. If asked, he could not tell you who (what) he is. Legion is a plaything to the devil. He is an older brother to twin demons. He is an (ex)lover of the god Apep. He is the best friend of Time itself; immortal, to a point. He can die. He just won’t stay dead.
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Where do you begin with a man who has no history? Or, rather, with a man who has no beginning?
Legion was not really… ‘born.’ One could say he was created, but it is more accurate to say he just appeared one day, bursting through the shadows like bats from a cave. He was probably around at the very crest of time, although no one could say for sure – not even himself, as he has no memory of his early life. Sometimes he remembers little things during quiet, lonely nights, like the vast, empty feeling of stillness before there was wind, or the feeling of endless wind before there were trees and land and water to disrupt it. His memories escape him, though. There’s so much to remember when you’re so old.
He knows he had made a home in Hell, before there was a devil. He believes, perhaps wrongly, that Hell once belonged to him, that he created it to live in when there was nowhere else to exist. He had been a ruler, once. A creator of things and places. An amorphous creature with powers beyond comprehension.
But now, he is just a man.
He knows also that he became a favorite toy of Lucifer’s when the angel fell from Heaven and stole Hell from him, guided by the power of a god Legion didn’t worship. He lived and he died. He reincarnated. He was at the mercy of the whims of the Lightbringer. That is, until Legion made the decision to adopt two unbearably annoying, mischievous, obnoxious little twin demons as his sisters. Creatures so exhausting and so unwilling to die and stay dead that they were banished from Hell to walk the Earth, Legion with them. Of course, he was welcome back any time. Without them.
Legion’s time on earth, some might say, has been rocky. Though his sisters were by his side for some of it, he was more often alone, and preferred it that way. Having no place to go, he wandered the earth for millenia. It’s hard to kill a creature like him, and he simply kept on living, never aging. Falling in love and out of it. The thing about living so much life for so long, is that you often become bitter. And if you don’t become bitter, you love more deeply than anyone you could ever know. Legion has been both of these people.
There is a lot of life to fit into the story of him. His most recent escapade ended, like most of the others, in tragedy. Deeply, madly, painfully in love with Apep, the god of chaos, he had chosen a life for himself at the side of the snake, against the Sun God, desperate for the life they could build together. No one had done for him what Apep had. He had felt rescued. Hell, the god had eaten Lucifer. For him.
And then, Apep died.
Or, rather, he was killed. Destroyed by his own family, murdered for his plot against the Sun. Legion fell into disrepair. He grieved in the only way he knew how: withering away. A catatonic state. Becoming one with the shadows. Starving to death.
Oh, death. Oh, what bliss.
When Legion dies, he changes. Over time, over many deaths, his memory fades away, until he remembers only a couple of his past lives. He takes a new name, a new appearance, and begins life anew. Sometimes with the memories and personality of his previous self. Often, there are alterations. He remembers Apep. Remembers the muscle of arms around him while they stood upon the beach. Remembers the elation he felt when Apep asked him if they shouldn’t live together, in a towering castle in the middle of the Irish moors, away from each of their troubles. Remembers the fear and exhilaration he felt as the god pressed a knife to his neck in a playful, sadistic manner. He remembers that their love burned quick and fast and hot, not like a candle but like a struck match. Knows that now, it’s over. Now, his name has changed. His face, too. Knows he is no longer the same.
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Legion Lucifai
He doesn’t know what he is, but he calls himself a demon. After all, he is not the devil, and he is from hell. With no other words to describe him, and with striking similarities to other creatures of the same name, this is how he prefers to identify. After all, Legion eats humans to survive. Blood, bones, skin, soul and all. What is more demonic than that?
Legion can go a very long time without food, if he trains for it. Typically, he prefers to eat every couple of weeks. In previous lives, when he was stronger and when he had more power, he could live for years, even decades at a time without consuming anything. These days, he is not the same creature he was then, and he simply must have nourishment, or he becomes ravenous and weak. When not consuming food for sustenance, however, Legion prefers sweet things to eat. Human food does nothing for him, except that he likes the taste of it. Ice cream is his favorite.
In the same vein, human vices do nothing for him except act as a comfort. Legion smokes because it hurts his lungs. He drinks because it burns. If he does enough of one drug, he will begin to feel something.
Legion appears to be in his late twenties or early thirties. He stands at a moderate 6’3 when he looks like a human. Sometimes, he appears to be shorter. Though he does have a demonic form, he has found very little reason to actually use it, and so it remains essentially useless to him. His hair is the deepest brown; without direct sunlight, it appears black. His skin is ghostly pale, and his nails are often black and mildly pointed. He prefers the aesthetics of black clothing to almost all else, though he will sport a white shirt now and again, if the vibe calls for it. The only thing about his appearance that doesn’t change with his reincarnations are his eyes. They are black through and through, from pupil to sclera, with only a thin red ring around his iris. He sports deep bruising beneath his eyes, dark purple and blue, the bruising of a lobotomy victim. He hides his eyes beneath sunglasses for the part. Once upon a time, he had wings.
Legion is a playful and somewhat sarcastic character. Most often, he comes off as aloof and flirtatious (both things he actually is) but with a temper. He tries very hard to keep his cool, but it is in his demonic nature to run hot. He is exceptionally kind until he isn’t, playful to an alarming degree, and enjoys spending time with animals.
Legion is a musician. Actually, the better description of him would probably be a singer. He fell into the job after giving up his position in a large local drug ring, realizing that the high of performing on a stage for an enraptured crowd vastly outweighed selling drugs to rich snobs. Legion craves the attention of an enamored audience. His pop-punk style of both music and clothing earns him plenty of fans, and the tabloid stories of his rendezvous with both men and women keep them interested. His fanbase is small, and though he is considered more underground than mainstream, the fans are loyal. He has gained a cult following over the years. It is said that his music can change lives. People leave the concerts feeling more pleasured than when they came in. The feeling, they say, is addicting.
He lives in a London flat by himself. When not preparing for a performance, Legion often sleeps his days away and stalks out into the dark for the London nightlife. His natural way of consuming food is very conducive to night owl behavior.
Fun Facts:
Likes
Cats, flowers, sharp things, ice cream, shitty Chinese food, most men, fierce and powerful women, arguably bad animated movies, rain, the cold, cigarettes, bonfire smoke, iced coffee, scalding hot showers, blatant flirting, the taste of Vampire blood
Dislikes
Most dogs, most animal meat, hot coffee, yelling matches, vibrant colors, licorice, bitter foods, loneliness, injustice
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NPCs that often show up in Legion’s stories. Some of these characters I have written separately and others are only ever written with the purpose of advancing plot for Legion.
Anna
Legion’s manager and a siren. Anna has been around for as long as Legion has been making music. He saved her once, and since then they have been close friends. When he decided to quit his drug business and pursue music instead, Anna was the first to support his decision and help him grow his presence in the music industry. He doesn’t make any career decisions without her input. She manages all of his appointments, from modeling to interviews to concerts. Although she is a strict manager, she would never put Legion in a position that is too uncomfortable for him. She loves him dearly and would give her life for him. Anna is married to a gorgon woman, Navy.
Aki
Legion’s little sister. Aki presents herself as a thirteen year old girl with white skin, long black hair (picture The Ring), and a thin, emaciated body. She has fascinating eyes – silver most of the time, but opalescent when she’s using powers. She has no interest in love, relationships, or even, really, friendships. She is as creepy as a child can get, and although she appears as a teenager, her behavior often makes her seem much younger. It is important to note that despite this appearance, Aki is almost as old as her brother. She is the definition of evil and annoying. She loves causing mischief, murdering people (and animals!), and terrorizing humans. She carries around a puppet-like doll with her who holds a scythe called Mr. Happy. Some people say Mr. Happy is alive.
Aki is the twin sister of Keller, a beautiful blond-haired banshee. Aki loves her sister and her brother more than anything else in the world. Unlike Legion, she will kill upon the slightest inconvenience.
(Aki is my own character, but Keller is not, so she is not available to write or play at all.)
Lucifer
The devil. The lightbringer. The morningstar. Lucifer has always had an obsession with the demon. Their relationship is complicated. Legion is branded with Lucifer’s sigil, although what the angel really wants with him is hard to say for sure. Once upon a time, Legion was stronger than Lucifer, held more power over him. Now? Well, now it’s the other way around. Legion is Lucifer’s slave. Lucifer uses him as a toy, a sexual release, a punching bag.
Apep did eat him. Although Lucifer can regenerate and is immortal, it will take a while for him to return.
Uriel
In the 1980s, Legion (who went by a different name, Cassius) was considered a growing rockstar to rival other large bands at the time. He had the stage presence, the appearance, and gave just enough of a glance into his life that tabloids and fans thought he was scandalous and fascinating. However, all of that changed after he met Uriel. A man who had come to his shows, wormed his way into the demon’s life, and eventually into his heart. But Uriel’s intentions were cruel. Slowly, he dismantled everything Cassius had worked for, including his house, his job, and his friends. Uriel wanted the man all to himself, and he succeeded. After this, the tables turned. The sweet man Cassius thought he knew shed his skin to show a monster beneath it. Everything about him was swift, abusive, vicious. Cassius had never been more terrified of an angel.
Their break up was hard and left him with nothing. It almost ended his life. Uriel, being an angel, is equally as immortal as Legion, though the demon hasn’t seen Uriel since their relationship ended. Some pieces of it still haunt him, especially knowing that, somewhere, Uriel is lurking.
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About the Writer:
Hi! My name is Micajah (they/them). I'm 28 and a grad student in Library Science. I've been writing since 2007 (16 years!!!) but have had a rocky last few years. I haven't consistently written since 2020ish. You might know me from Rolepages or Faeries and Vampires (if you're OG)!
This is my second account :) Other account: https://wrealms.com/members/themoon
I am open to new roleplay threads
Threads are Open
Writer's Writing Style (OOC)
Paragraph, Multi-Para
Writer's Favored Genres (OOC)
Fantasy, Romance, Violence, Rated R, 18+, Gore, Action, Adventure
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"..." Listening to him apologize was difficult to hear. He didn't need to say he was sorry for something he couldn't control. And that wasn't any of his business...
His offer for safety was something she was still working through in her head. Was she going to accept help from his stranger? She barely knew him. In fact, she wasn't sure why she was being so honest with him. It came almost natural to be around him, and speak to him like they were long lost friends.
Fingertips brushed across the table as the pizza was pushed more in her direction. Did he take pity on her, and want her to eat a bunch? Ah...she wasn't going to pass it up. Not often she gets to have an entire pizza to herself, unless she found it freshly forgotten on a bench, or perhaps in an alleyway.
"...I appreciate the words, I do. I will keep them in mind."
And with that, she pulled another semi-cooled slice of pizza, and pushed half of it into her mouth to try and make this less awkward than it was already was. At least with her mouth full she didn't have to worry about anything stupid coming out.
Vanitas listened curiously to Legion’s perspective on humans, still surprised to hear such a positive view on them. Not that he thought badly of mortals, his own kind on the other hand...that was a different story. Funny enough the cliché statement of mortals being just as bad as they were good was said, but to hear him say that he loved humanity overall? It was the first time Vanitas heard a demon say such a thing - or at least he assumed Legion was a demon given the aura that surrounded him. It was odd though - from what he could see there was demonic energy around the mystery man, but there was also a complexity about his aura. That he seemed to be far more than an ordinary supernatural, but that’s what made the nephalem all the more intrigued.
"You’re probably the first and only I’ll ever hear speak so positively about them." Vanitas responded with a light chuckle before smiling at Legion’s reaction to making him his date for the night. Even with those sunglasses on, he could feel the other’s gaze locked onto him - not that he minded, since he also kept his gaze on him. While Legion made his order, he looked around to see that it was pretty much just them at the bar, and a couple talking amongst themselves on the opposite end. However, it wasn’t long before he felt those eyes on him - and just like that his full attention reverted to the mystery man.
His intrigue steadily grew as Legion spoke, raising his eyebrow when he said that he wasn’t really famous. Huh...either he was being modest or the friend that introduced him to his music was just overly fanboying. Either way, Vanitas enjoyed Legion’s music - found it soothing and calming, though he wondered if he was also somehow entranced when listening to his songs prior. Did his abilities work like that? He wouldn’t ask and instead nodded at the words. "I see what you mean." It was easy to visualize the perks of being popular, but there was also a downside to everything. Being in the spotlight all the time had to be draining.
"Oh, little old me?~" Vanitas retorted in a playful tone. "I don’t frequent anywhere really. Ever since I stopped dancing I just like to travel around, see where all the hot spots are. That's what led me here." Since Legion opened up a bit about himself, he didn’t mind doing the same. Besides it wasn’t like the nephalem was ashamed of his previous occupation or anything. His allure made the job a cakewalk, and every night was different and exciting. "I’m more used to the nightclub scene, but I guess we have something in common, wanting to escape and enjoy a more casual vibe every once in a while." A moment afterwards, their drinks were brought over and gently set down in front of them.
Vanitas thanked the bartendress before his index finger slowly traced around the rim of his glass. "I don't like to stick in one place for too long, but maybe I’d come back if you ever decided to perform here again." His smile was a bit more mischievous as he sipped on his drink.
A surprised laugh escaped her when she claimed that one of her favorite toys was a cat toy. Legacy followed the girl's pointing finger to it, smiling a little, half wondering what her own daughter's favorite toy might have been, had she been human. As it was, as a kit it had been a ball of moss. Very uninspiring. She had seen both kinds of toys that Bee liked although the snake toy she'd seen before was made of wood. The cat toy….well, she'd seen plenty of stuffed animals before too. The fur was light brown, reminding her a bit of herself. At least if she turned into cat form, she would be well received by Bee.
What better way to intrigue the child and make herself look cool in the process? "You know I used to be a cat," she told her calmly, as if mentioning the weather.
Her gaze sharpened on Legion when he told Bee she had to keep her glasses on, a little stung. Her hand twitched, as if she wanted to cuff him over the ear for the remark. He quickly explained, chasing away her doubts. Legacy tilted her head. "Gorgon? That's…Greek Mythology." Or at least she thought so. Legacy was no doubt smart in many things, thanks to finding herself lost in books. It had been a habit formed in her time with Agatha. She had taught herself to read; Agatha never knew, though Legacy always enjoyed her readings in the middle of the night, away from the hag's prying gaze, just in case. She used to hide her taken tomes beneath her bed, having cut a little hole into the box spring mattress itself. Though Legion was cut off, Legacy knew that it wasn't the sight of her gaze that worried Legion. She had some sort of power she could not control. Understandable, given her youth. Though Legacy could not recall exactly what Gorgons were, pictures of women adorned with snakes as hair came to mind.
Legacy was a little shocked at the tone of this new woman — Navy? — had spoken to Legion. Her tone was crisp, like the chilly breeze of an autumn morning, the disdain evident in her voice and mannerisms. Her mouth opened, as if to inquire what the woman's problem was, but again, she avoided making a remark. She was a guest here and she could have quite the sharp tongue. No need to get herself kicked out so easily. She blinked in understanding in Anna's direction. Navy was beautiful, in her own way, a little too skinny if Legacy had an opinion. She noted that Legion had used sign language. Interesting. She didn't know sign herself. Navy had spoken clearly, the words crystal rather than the deep murmurings that deaf people usually spoke in, if they spoke at all.
Legacy could understand why Legion would want to leave so soon. He had to be tired. Legacy herself was nearly dead on her feet. After this meal, she'd probably shower and instantly start snoozing. Hunger, at the moment, was overriding her exhaustion. Her mind sharpened to what he meant by real food, as he had yet to tell her. She guessed that, whatever it was, he disliked it about himself. Or at least found it an uncomfortable fact of life he had to face. She thought back to the way his sister had consumed the dead cat. Given how casual and blantant that information had been presented to her, she concluded that he did not eat animals. Oh! Her eyes widened slightly, barely perceptable unless one was watching her closely. Did that mean he ate people? It would make sense. She relaxed her features, deciding she'd never ask. Who was she to judge anyway? Legion clearly had good standards, so that must mean he only ate the bad guys. This world was full of them — rapests, murderers, child abusers....some people smacked their signifant others around just because they could. As far as Legacy is concerned, thr world was better off without them if that's what Legion did. And even if he didn't...he had to survive. What was the alternative? Starve and die? He had to do what he had to in order to survive.
"I'm okay," she assured him. Her steady gaze proved it was not an affront to look tough; she really believed she would be fine here.
"Take a few days to rest," she implored easily. "And yes, I still have your number. I'll see you around? After you've had a chance to recoup, I'll be here waiting. I might have deciphered the code by the time you come back around." Her tone implied there was no rush. Her own body and mind demanded R&R. She wasn't going to make it much longer at the rate she had been working.
Roger & Legion
Roger went silent, taking in everything that Legion had to say and trying very hard to properly digest it. He did not bob or shake his head nor did he give so much as a thoughtful hum in response to a single word but kept perfectly still in an extra effort to concentrate. His eyes remained closed all the while just as well, but that was mostly because he was feeling nauseous from the rather unfortunate combination of the alcohol in his system, his blurring vision and the steady motion of the car.
What Legion had to say on the matter this time around was beginning to make sense to him. Maybe he was treating the visions as more of a symptom of a strange and equally miserable condition than something he could use in a beneficial way. Sort of like an unusual special ability that a comic book hero or a character from a science fiction novel might utilize, or so he thought.
Roger finally did stir upon being asked about his occupation. "I'm a...journalist," he said, holding back a belch mid-statement. "I work for the Guardian. The newspaper. Writing's in my blood, I think. If only my father would understand that." Then came the taxi driver's response, which brought a groan out of him.
"Bloody glacial cabbie..." Roger muttered, not exactly quiet enough to be rightly considered under his breath before returning to his conversation with Legion. "So you think I should use these mad dreams as a superpower?" he asked honestly, blinking his eyes open for a short moment. "I do want to help people, they ought to know the truth, but I don't know how to...g-go about using this future sight without looking like a madman myself..."
The car made a sharp turn, perhaps as the cab driver's way of responding to the insult regarding his driving speed, and the movement forced Roger to close his eyes tight. "Y-you're right, I...need to rest. Ugh, I think I'm going to t-throw up..."
The warning was thankfully all for naught, though. As soon as he'd finished speaking, he was out like a light, snoozing away. And, much to everybody's luck, he remained sound asleep until they arrived at their destination. It was a rather standard looking Welsh apartment block. Roger didn't live on the ground floor, which disappointingly meant they'd be needing to take the lift or the stairs to reach his flat. How exactly the two men would accomplish such a feat in their current, less-than-ideal situation was just about anyone's guess.
She gave a small smirk when he seemed to gather up her knowledge on the subject, but she just simply shrugged her shoulders, deflecting the conversation from her mild knowing of fanfictions. She wouldn't say that she only knew of this from some of the younger girls working at the club. Lifting her head as she took another bite of her pizza, cutting the cheese off with the front teeth, before setting it back down. It was still hot.
It was interesting to hear him speak about himself. How he didn't come up with the rockstar bit, and how he seemed to stick with it. Well, whatever worked for him. She's not sure if she could be able to be in the limelight like that, ignoring her intention to hide from those looking for her.
Speaking about her...he asked. Lifting her head back, she gave a gentle breath from her lips, which was in form of a sigh...
Leaning forward enough, her tone lowered, trying to be quiet enough so the man in the back wouldn't be able to hear. "..I'm...not really sure what I am, to be honest with you. I can't call myself human...and I can't call myself an animal, or even an angel. I suppose...enhanced would be the best word for it." Her fingers were brushing across the front of her thighs under the table, playing with a stray piece of string coming from her jeans. "To spare you from the long story, I'll keep it brief. This corporation filled me with a bunch of different things, changed my cells, gave me wings...Something about wanting to bridge the gap between Heaven and Earth, and what they got was me."
Her fingers moved to tap across her knees, seemingly readjusting her seat. "...I got out when I was sixteen, but they're still searching for me even now. Very persistent, might I add. So yeah, I'm doing my best to stay hidden. And I'd say I'm doing a pretty okay job at it. Some close calls here and there."
When the door swung open, Legacy snapped to attention. It must not have been as late as Legacy thought because they appeared to be in the midst of preparing dinner. Perhaps they were nocturnal, like Legion seemed to be. Her gaze landed on the little girl, peeking out from behind her mother. She had thought Legion mentioned they had a baby, not a child. Maybe she had misheard. Or perhaps the baby was elsewhere in the home. No matter. Legacy gave a soft, gentle smile and waved at the little girl. She was adorable, peeking out from behind her mother.
The silence was deafening, at least to Legacy. She met the woman’s eyes calmly, trying to look as harmless as possible. That wasn’t hard. She opened her mouth to introduce herself, but it was cut off by the woman’s sharp snap. She could hear the underlying concern and annoyance in the woman’s voice, proving that she was simply trying to keep tabs on him.
"It's not his fault," she hastened to clarify, despite realizing it was needless, considering his apparent dismissal. Still, she wished to establish that, so she did.
Dinner? Legacy blinked. She didn’t expect to be served a full course meal or anything, but she wouldn’t turn it down. She had been surviving off of protein bars for the past few days — definitely not ideal. Her curious gaze swept across the room, absorbing every minute detail; the toys,the cleanliness, the amount of shoes lining the little alcove. She followed Legion’s suit, though she bent to adjust her shoes neatly in the open space. She wanted to make a good impression, even if it didn't matter to them.
She smelled the food before she saw it, but there was one item that already sent her mouth watering.
Fish!
It was perhaps the only food type from her cat-born days that she could still eat without judgment. She couldn’t even think of the last time she tasted fish. Too long! Her eyes were riveted to it, her stomach clenching in hunger and rumbling. The other dishes looked amazing, but they paled in comparison. Her stomach clenched and rumbled, betraying just how hungry she was.
She blinked, jerking her gaze away, miffed by her poor manners again. Instead, her eyes came to rest on the child. She stiffened as the girl climbed the chair. Her lips parted, likely to warn her to be careful, but quickly bit her tongue. That wouldn’t seem very fun of her, would it? And she was sure she would be quick enough to catch the little one should the need arise.
Uncle? Legacy chuckled. It warmed her to see such a close bond despite the lack of blood relation. It was clear that Legion was a part of this family. This type of life was something she had desired as a human. Not necessarily having a lover and children, but the close familial bonds of friends, like she had seen with Alex. His friends had always visited, filling their home with gentle conversation and laughter. She watched as Legion pulled the young girl into his arms. Legacy wondered if the girl had unusual eyes like Legion, and if that's why she wore glasses. But what purpose would she have in hiding them in her own home? It must be because of her presence here, she assumed. It didn’t bother her, but she felt saddened that the girl thought she needed to hide them at all.Though maybe the girl just liked wearing them, she realized.
“Hello Bee,” Legacy greeted softly. Her head tilted, recalling the scattered toys. “Do you have a favorite toy?”
He seemed awfully charitable. For reasons that she can agree with, at least. She will give him that. Yet, she can say that she would be a little more selfish with her money if it were to come down to it. Perhaps it was because she didn't come from money, or maybe because she wanted a lot of ways to get out of the situation she was in. Her attention seemed to be shifted when he finally took a bite of the pizza in front of them, which gave her the go ahead to grab her own slice. Folding it in half and taking a large bite out of the end, giving a soft huff since it was hot, pulling it back, dragging a long line of cheese behind it. Using her free finger, she lifted the cheese string to her mouth, and used her front teeth to cut it off.
She felt mildly embarrassed as she chewed, using a napkin to wipe her mouth. Usually she didn't care too much about what others thought about her eating, but he had bought her food, so...the least she could do is be polite and cordial.
When he starting to speak about himself, she set down the slice that was in her hands, finding it too hot to tuck into this second. She would let it cool while listening to him. Leaning over to reach into one of the drink coolers, and pulled out two cola cans, before letting the door close with a soft slap. Motioning one of the cans in his direction, for him to drink if he wanted it. It came with their meal, afterall.
"...So," Ryan started, pulling up the tab with the tip of her forefinger, cracking open the soda. "An old English, nocturnal, demon rockstar.." She hummed against the rim of her can, before taking a sip to wet her throat, before setting it down on the tabletop.
"...you make it seem like you walked out of a fanfiction."
Oh, so she knew what that was?
His words calmed the rising storm within her. She'd never truly forgive herself – no mother could. But as the shattered moments ticked by, a weight lifted, leaving her feeling lighter than she had in years. The ache still pulsed like a raw wound, but it was no longer crushing. She hadn't expected such swift relief, but Legacy was a warrior at heart; she could plunge into the depths of grief, but rarely succumbed for long. Perhaps it was her feline side – to cats, life was simple. Death was inevitable, so why linger on the unchangeable? Even imortality could not be guarenteed. Legacy would be the type to love recklessly, never thinking of what the future might hold, but instead, focusing on the now. She wouldn’t despair over what might be fleeting, be it in feelings or mortality. That might get her in trouble, one day, but no doubt she would face it head on. It wasn't mortality she feared; it was being alone. And for so long, that had been her only existence.
Legacy knew this world was full of life, love, and friends just waiting to be discovered. If she let loss consume her, what life-changing paths would she miss? Legacy kept the past at bay, only allowing herself to feel the ghostly pain at times. The reminders kept her strong, gave her a purpose. As much as she yearned to scream out her agony, doing so would make her daughter's sacrifice meaningless. She hated thinking of her human form as a gift. No gift came with bloodshed. And her daughter had loved her, even though her departure had shattered Sky's heart. Did she love her enough to accept her sacrifice? Legacy was unsure. Did it matter? Children should never make sacrifices for their parents.
His hand reached out again, just as it had when he rested his palm upon her head, but this time he chased away the remnants of a tear. A soft, watery smile graced her lips. She didn't hesitate when she took his hand, fingers intertwining in gentle comfort. Teleportation was something she was finding hard to live without. It was just so...convienent. This time, it brought the comfort of escaping a nightmare. She released his hand once the world steadied and inhaled deeply, relieved to find the air crisp and clean. No scent of death lingered, but there was something sweet. She sniffed again, her gaze finding the apple tree. She also detected the tang of sheep and wildlife. It was refreshing. The house was the last thing she noticed; it was the grandest home she'd ever been invited to. Her expression brightened when she spotted the rose bushes; they looked well-tended. She had a thing for plants; seeing withering ones physically hurt.
"This is pretty impressive." This home surely had hot water and a working microwave – one up on her own place.
Nervousness prickled at Legacy. "Um, you texted her or something right? Or sent a telepathic message?" That last bit was a tease, her teeth flashing in a quick, tired smile. "And she's okay with this? I mean, I don't want to be a stray you bring home for her to care for." She blinked. Yeah, that was a little too on the nose. She coughed, "Not that I need looking after. I just mean, are you sure she's going to be okay with this? I really can sleep anywhere, otherwise." An alley, under the stars, in a cave…made no real difference to her. A home was much more comfortable, however. That could not be denied. She swiped her hands over her jeans, as if making sure they were clean. She didn’t want his manager to think he’d dug her out of some seedy alleyway. Good thing she had washed off the blood. That would have created a lasting impression, that was for sure. “And it’s not too late for them?” She didn’t even know what time it was, but it had to be pretty late.
Legacy stared at the stars, the weight of her confession heavy on her chest. She'd expected relief, but the ache remained, a constant reminder. She felt Legion's gaze on her, but couldn't meet his eyes. The silence was thick with unspoken questions. Her senses were so attuned in the silence that she could hear the rustle of fabric as he moved.
Then, his arms were around her. Not tentative, but firm. Not romantic, but a lifeline. Legacy's breath hitched. At first, she was rigid, her hands fisted at her sides. But the steady warmth seeped into her bones. With a shuddering breath, she relaxed into him. Her arms found their way around his waist, returning the hug with desperate intensity. For a moment, just one, she let herself be held. In that moment, it all made sense. Her burning anger towards Alistair, her deep well of compassion for Bonnie, the soul-crushing grief she felt for Emily – it all stemmed from the loss of her own child. Her innate love of children, her nurturing nature, her endless patience...it was all part of the mother she had been, the mother she still was at heart. For an instant, she rested her forehead on his chest. Drawing strength from his steadfastness. Then, with a quiet thanks, she pulled back. Her eyes met his, shimmering with unshed tears. Crying was still so very foreign to her, so none fell.
“Near the end of my time with my owners, I had a kitten. I named her Starry Sky, or Sky for short, after the brilliant starry night she was born to.” The words felt strange to say given that she was now human, but her words rang with sincerity. “And that night; the night of the fire, I chose to save her life.”
Legacy lay in her warm, woven nest, the gentle rise and fall of Sky's tiny body a soothing counterpoint to her own contented sighs. Sky nuzzled her belly, mewing softly, and the delighted she-cat drifted back to sleep, lulled by the peaceful rhythm of her kitten's nursing.
But a few hours later, a different rhythm jolted her awake. Not the gentle suckle of her kitten, but the hungry crackle of flames, the ominous billow of smoke through the hall. Fire roared in her ears, its greedy fingers curling around the living room, and Legacy's mind reeled. How had she slept through this? The room was not yet filled with fire, but it would be soon, and she knew it.
With a desperate mew, she dashed up the stairs, the burning of the licking flames against her fur barely registered in her panic. "Alex!" she screamed, the word torn from her throat in a frantic cry that ended in a hacking cough as smoke filled her lungs. Her eyes burned, but she blinked the tears away, focusing on the closed door that led to their room. Heat radiated from it, and when she placed a forepaw on the wood, she jerked away with a gasp of pain. Her flesh seemed to sear into the very wood, but she ignored it, her desperation giving her strength. "Fire! Can you hear me? I said fire! Get out! Get out now!"
But the words, though ripped from her soul, came out only in rasps, her voice destroyed by the smoke she breathed. She dared to edge closer to the door, feeling her whiskers and fur singe in the intense heat. She would scratch through the door if she had to, would drag them to safety if she must, but as she reached out to claw at the wood, a pitiful mew stopped her.
Sky.
She couldn't stay anymore, couldn't risk both their lives in a desperate bid to save her people. The heat was unbearable. She turned away from the door and raced back towards the living room. “Leave out through the window! It isn't safe this way! I'll meet you there!" She cried out over her shoulder.
She could feel the fire behind her, could hear its triumphant roar as it claimed the place she had just fled. She snagged the kit's scruff between her teeth and looked wildly around. The front door was still clear, at least for the moment. They always kept the window there cracked; she quickly slipped out and raced for the shelter of trees.
From here, she could watch the window of the bedroom, could wait for Alex and Nikki to emerge, haggard and covered in soot, but alive and well. And so she waited, her heart pounding in her chest, her ears straining for the sound of their voices.
She waited until the fire had completely swallowed the home.
She waited until the heat of the blaze had burst out all the windows.
She waited, soon bathed in the blue and red lights, with the night shattered further by the shrill of sirens.
She waited until the fire was doused by water, until there was nothing left but a hollowed, blackened shell.
And even then, she waited, her eyes fixed on the remains of the empty window, her mind refusing to accept what her heart already knew. They were gone, her beloved two-legged family, and she was alone. The tragedy of their loss washed over her, a wave of grief so intense it stole her breath, and Legacy collapsed to the ground. If she were human, she could cry. But as a cat, she was denied that luxury.
For a long time, she just lay there, her kitten clutched tightly between paws, her mind consumed by the horror of what had just happened. But as the night wore on, as the reality of her situation began to sink in, Legacy slowly sat up. She couldn't stay here, couldn't just sit by the ruins of her old life and mourn what was lost. She had Sky to think of now, and she knew that her kitten needed her.
With a heavy heart, Legacy slowly stood, her burned paw throbbing in time with the pulse in her ears. She ignored the pain, just as she ignored the grief that still threatened to consume her, and began to walk away from the house, cradling the tiny bundle in her jaws. She didn't look back, didn't allow herself to see the destruction one last time. Instead, she kept her eyes on the future, her mind fixed on the task of keeping her kitten safe.
Because that's what mothers did, Legacy realized, and a sense of determination washed over her. She would mourn later, would allow herself to grieve the loss. But for now, she had to be strong, had to keep moving forward, no matter how much it hurt.
And so she walked on, the ruins of her old life fading into the distance, the unknown of her new one stretching out before her. She she was not helpless. She had survived the fire, had saved her kitten, and as long as she had Sky, she knew she could face whatever came next. She vanished into the night, ready to face whatever the future held.
“They never came out,” Legacy finished her story, an ending that was foreseeable from the beginning. Rain slipped down her cheeks, as if mourning the story with her. She glared up at the sky, only to find it was not raining. She raised her hand to her cheek; sure enough, her fingertips came away with wetness. Crying. What the hell? Only a few slid down her face. Her cheeks darkened with embarrassment. She turned her head away for a moment to collect herself, slyly rubbing her cheeks into her shoulder to chase away the tears.
“I went back to the Clan after that,” her voice was hollowed by grief. The truth in her story could not be denied. “That is where I left Sky. I stayed with her for moons after she became an apprentice. She wanted to be a warrior. She loved that life. It was all she knew; but I was lost. I didn't belong there. I tried, desperately, but I could not stay. I drew comfort in the fact that my daughter would be safe, sheltered and loved in the Clan.” She ran a hand in her hair, clutching the roots as a self-deprived laugh rolled past her lips. The haunted sound did not ring right, coming from her. “A real mother would have stayed, not stray from her own desires. Even after the deal, I thought my daughter was still safe within the Clan. But she wasn't. She was dead all because of me.”
The confession seemed to douse whatever strength she had left. She was exhausted, mentally and physically. A good night’s rest would do her good; things would look better in the morning. She took a deep breath, straightened her spine, and when she spoke again, the words were clear and strong. “Let’s just get the hell out of here.” She rarely cursed, but now seemed as good a time as any. Her eyes were clear, though shadowed, and determined.
Ryan wasn't sure what this guy's deal was with helping her. And he was adamant about it too. It made him a little desperate in his appearance. She didn't mind the wish to help her, but she barely knew him. For all she knew, she could be assisted by this stranger, and then wake up in a box somewhere in another country. Now, she had a feeling that he wouldn't do any of that to her, but she needed to be sure. She couldn't risk her life for some type of...friendship."...Thanks..."
Thankfully, her attention was brought over to the man that was bringing over their pizza, careful to place the hot metal tray on clean, but stained pot holder. A shiver rippled through Ryan's spine, as she suddenly was feeling the hunger gurgle in the pit of her belly. When had she had eaten this much? It must have been...a month, or two when she stole that awful patron's wallet after he grabbed her behind.
Giving a gentle head tilt towards the owner of the place, he couldn't help but smile and slap a hand to Ryan's shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "If 'ya need anythin' else, lemme know."
And with that, he was gone, back to deal with the pile of orders that were printing in the back. Seems this place was busy even with it being the middle of the night. New York City never slept.
Despite the hunger that panged in her gut, she looked up towards the other. Motioning with her hand towards the pizza, as if trying to get him to take a slice first. He did pay for it, afterall. He should get the first piece.
"...You seem awful in my business, yet I don't know what your deal is, other than you're some sort of singer from England." She leaned back against the crappy seat, the particleboard crinkling behind her. "...Tell me about yourself."
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