almight thunder god sir:

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      “ … “

          Perhaps Bixlow was right. The artificial Dragon Slayer did not appear to be in the mood for any sort of conversation. Otherwise, taking the seith mage’s references seriously would be laughable just to think about it. He had acknowledged that there were no harmful intentions, thus he tried his best to subside any negativity bursting out from him away, for the sake of his valuable comrade. If there was someone that Laxus could trust would be solely the Raijinshuu and a few more individuals that have managed to become a huge part in his most susceptible flexor; his heart. So, maybe he should take things easy and relax, as the eccentric facade suggested.

          A sigh escaped from his lips as he made himself comfortable in the chair that he had already occupied. Some liquor would indeed suffice. And Bixlow already got the beck without tribulations. This was one of the reasons why the S-class mage recruited him. The ability to understand each other without much been said. Resting his elbows on the wooden surface of the table in front of him, he averted his gaze from the other male, now piercing the sight in front of him. Clamor and calamity at its eminence. Mirth, intoxication were also included to the list. Yet such view was no different from the usual one that he has been used to. Now, remaining silent for a few moments, he decided that it’s the best to break this ice.

      “—- I guess i need to ‘chill’ as you said.
                                 A drink might do the trick.”

          the dynamic between them was very unusual, and their interactions would mostly consist of the puppeteer laughing and the dragon slayer dishing out tch’s and other manifestations of irritation. that did not even bother bixlow for even a second, because he knew that behind those annoyed utterances was genuine caring. there was more to their relationship than what was seen at face value, and they shared more in common than what most would believe. yes, a lot of people might say that befriending the thunder mage might be an arduous task, even for the friendliest of humans, but the masked man knew that it was worth it.

          he was relieved, but unsurprised, when his present company took his words of advice, gathered his composure, and stayed silent for a while. not waiting for nor needing a reply, he quickly waved at kinana, hoping to catch her attention. once her sight met his, he motioned his left hand to mimic the act of drinking. right after, he put up his index and middle fingers, indicating the number two. being able to comprehend his attempt at sign language, the barmaid nodded in response and proceeded to get the alcohol that had been requested. turning back to his superior, he was pleased to hear that he was going to partake in their little session of intoxication. a casual talk over some tankards of spiked beverage seemed like the perfect way to spend the day.

          ❛ {✖} so what’s been botherin’ ya lately, laxus? ya’ seem more pissed than usual. ❜

Cons

• I’m an asshole

Pros

• I’m your asshole

almighty thunder god sir:

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      “ … “

                Certainly, he had experienced better days in his life, but subsiding this whole negativisty will do the trick, thus he can enjoy the burning liquor that was poured in the mug placed in front of him. And the rather recognizable voice resonating his ears could be a major contributory factor for his mood to alter. Or so, he assumed. The reference was the reason for a few veins to twitch, precsely at the corner of his forehead. Thereafter, masculine lineaments created an expression full of disturbance. One might say that he was exaggerating, but this is how the almighty felt. Of course, Bixlow’s intentions were as harmless as a fly, but Laxus’ obstinacy and objections for such names was something beyond disputing against. Regardless, the fact that these two will remain great comrades will never change. Merely, his mood wasn’t at its eminence, as stated.

      “—— What have i told you about such ‘nicknames’, Bixlow?”

Someone was clearly not in a very amiable mood that day, and it seemed that the seith mage had only irked him further. He knew not to push too hard, or he might end up a sorry piece of electrocuted ass. Though, he also knew that despite Laxus’ temper, Bixlow is one of those special few that could get away with addressing  him such childish monikers. He dismissed the reprimand with an impish chortle, making sure not to make it too audible that it would aggravate the lightning dragon slayer. The masked man hoped that somehow his jovial presence would be infectious, and that somehow his comrade’s mood would lighten up a bit.

“Ya’ need ta’ take a chill pill, baby! Nyahahahaha! Ya’ should hear the things that I call Freed! I bet you’d be happy with what I call ya’, when ya’ do!”

Suddenly, an idea came to the puppeteer.

“I know! Lemme buy ya’ a drink, Laxus! Somethin’ that’ll help ya’ down that chill pill! (Chill! Pill! Yuhp!)”

                                            Keep holding on!

Once you are running in circles there is almost no chance to escape the devil’s claws. Greedy, thirsty for blood and for their victim’s unfortunate soul. A symphony of pain and death, in which sense is always unknown until the time has come. Times of despair, feet moving only to find that they are yet again running in circles. A never ending labyrinth, a never ending story.

                    Story.

At this point he would have been glad if it was only a story even though he was well aware that despair and doom could anytime reach out for you to drag you back into darkness, eating your senses and taking possession of your body and heart. He remembered. He would always remember. The time before the Battle of FairyTail happened and of course all the occurrences which happened during said festival. He remembered how Ever desperately attempted to stay strong only to end up not being able to smile anymore, how Bixlow had tried to cheer up up as they couldn’t help but silently observing how their leader changed. They loved Laxus. They loved each other. That was unmistakable and a fact which couldn’t be changed. Everyone who started an attempt to destroy their bonds would suffer, they swore they would. No one would be able to make them lose the most precious thing they had.

                    Heh. How wrong he was.

                                                  As no one else but the three of them, themselves, would be the ones to write the story’s ending.

The feeling which was dominating their hearts now,though, was hope. One said that it was one of the strongest feelings,that it was able to manage the most incredible situations and scenarios. If you still carried a spark of hope with you then everything could turn to good account. And ever so often this spark of hope had been no one else than the lightning dragon slayer. The man all three of them had owed so much. It didn’t matter what had happened during the Fightning Festival, not anymore. This was the past and this was the here and now. They had learned long ago to let bygones be bygones. And although there was no doubt that they had suffered during this time there was no doubt that they have always kept faith with Laxus.

                             { Always } have and { always } will.

That was why they were running through this carnival of dust. Hands clasped the hilt of his sword, being prepared if anything or anyone would surprisingly cross their way. This place was not a safe one that was for sure. But these creatures, demons, would pay for whatever they were planning on doing to their leader. Or what they had already done. Freed knew that Laxus was not helpless - not at all rather the utter opposite - but he also knew that you may not underestimate your opponents. Again, not that that was something the blonde would do but still.

They would be by his side, there were no objections. It hadn’t even been a debate whether they would go after him or not. No words were needed.

     Yes.

          If eyes could speak.

                         One look would say everything.

Laxus was not alone. With them Laxus would never be alone. And even if he could hear this familiar voice resonating in his head which told him that they should makre sure that they wouldn’t stop breathing. That their hearts wouldn’t stop beating.

                                             No Laxus.

                                             You know we will never listen to you, in this case.

Turquoise eyes narrowed to slits, scanning their surrounding while he didn’t stop moving concentrating on the path in front of him and throwing a quick glance at Ever and Bixlow every once in a while making sure that nothing had happened to them. But if that was the case then he would know, right? Yes he would. Because they took care of each other like no one else did. They couldn’t give in and they wouldn’t give in. That was impossible, the rune mage didn’t even consider surrender, didn’t even dare to waste a thought on this nonsense.

Never surrender.

And even if it got cold,  they would stay strong. They were there for each other and that also included this kind of action. They would fight, they would defend until their last breath if that was what destiny had in store for them. It was fine if they could save Laxus’ life by handing their own to the devil. But may the sky be red here, it still was blue somewhere else. And he they would reach this place again, all four of them. Safe and sound.

We will make it through.

If only they knew. Long green hair was tousled, the white always neat cravat tie covered with dirt just as the familiar crimson coat. White boots managing to create barely no sounds while they darted further forward, not wasting one heartbeat. They had to act quickly, this was not just a piece of cake. This was about life or death. The situation all of them found themselves in was a completely new one and certainly more dangerous than ever. One wrongly spent second could change everything.

                             However still couldn’t change fate.

                                                                                        ”     …!!!”

And then he spotted something. Or rather someone. Cyan shades focusing on the individual, the hand which embraced the hilt of his sword being ready to unsheathe it if the existence in front of them would turn out to be one of their opponents. Though once another couple of seconds had passed it became apparent that that wouldn’t be necessary as the green-haired male recognized the person his eyes fell onto. There was no doubt. It was Laxus. For a moment his featured lightened up, a feeling of happiness flooding his senses only because they had found the one they had searched for the entire time and because of the semblance that he was fine. Yet, his mien would alter once again. Quickly. As Freed noticed that something was wrong, horribly wrong.

                        Laxus…!

What dreadful sensation was replacing the glint of happiness he had felt one second before? He had no doubts that the being whose gaze had shifted into their direction was their leader. What expression could he spot in those eyes? The rune mage was not able to define exactly what it was but what he knew awfully well that something had changed. And it didn’t take him long to ascertain what it was. A fear. How were they supposed to act now? Now that the dragon slayer was not just a dragon slayer anymore but…a demon. Freed had frozen in his motions, not capable of averting his eyes from the new appearance until a quick glance was given to his team mates. One thing was clear: He would still refuse to make modifications concerning their plan. He would refuse it until he really felt like it was necessary take different measures. And he hoped that these measures wouldn’t wake those greedy and thirsty claws. Laxus didn’t move either anymore, he had stopped in his motions just like them and his hues were focusing on his loyal friends. To the ones he was close with. And nonetheless Freed didn’t remove his hand from his sword. The strange hunch began already to create a system of all kinds of thoughts and possibilities while his attention was targeted at the oldest one among the four of them. Quiet moments passed, moments which felt like months until his lips finally parted, at least being able to present the calm voice they were used to as one single word escaped.

“     Laxus.”

Failure.

It was as if this word had been mercilessly etched throughout his body, scarring him permanently. It was pain as punishment for his shortcomings, as a mage of Fairy Tail and as a member of the Raijinshuu. It had come as a total surprise, for the situation had shifted faster than a blink of an eye. One moment, they were delightfully working on food preparations over light conversation, and the next, it turned into a vicious tug-o’-war between life and death. However, when everything seemed to point to a future of bleak despair, there burst forth a ray of light. No, a bolt of lightning, to be more accurate. Hope had manifested itself in the form of their superior, who had arrived at the most opportune of moments to reverse their fortune. The sight was indeed magnificent to behold.

Funny it was, though, that just like how suddenly, one can spark a bright flame of hope, it can just as easily be put out.

Laxus had proven himself a more than worthy adversary for the Tartaros demon. The battle had climaxed, with the thunder god being proclaimed as victor, when in fact, the real bout was just about to commence. Particles dispersed quickly into the air, an untimely requiem for the people of the vicinity. It was an aria that the comrades would have sung with their final breaths. Would have, for their leader had other plans. The fatal clouds of toxicity lessened in density, as the blond engulfed them without hesitation. Surely, this was going to have repurcussions! However, none of them would be able to predict how grave those consequences were.

They were called the Thunder God’s Tribe, god damn it! They sullied the name that they so proudly bore, and failed to follow through with the responsibilities that came with the title. They’ve been dubbed as bodyguards in the past, but now the thought was laughable. It was he who had protected them, he who had made the sacrifice. Let the story of anguish end here. Let it stop.

But stories often held twists and turns, with plots unpredictable. In this particular tale, they were only in the rising action.

God knows what the resolution would bring.

Their beloved leader had been taken from them. The shame it brought Bixlow was a heavy weight in his heart. Yes, the guild was in a state of melancholy over it, but they would never know the pangs that plagued him and the rest of the Raijinshuu. They did not simply lose a comrade; they lost family. They shared bonds that surpassed those of blood, their souls connected. It was this connection that led the seith mage to believe that Laxus was still alive. Freed and Ever, they could feel it in their bones too. More than just a hunch or a statement of denial, it was some sort of snychronized intuition at work.

They were going to bring him home, whatever it took.

Now, they were face to face with their beloved leader, but not in the way they desired or imagined. Red eyes inspect the form that had they had come upon. There was no doubt that it was the thunder god, but it at the same time it was not. He had been tainted, defiled. Unholy black scales seem to have merged with his exterior, and formidable fangs graced his mouth. Those malicious beings had transformed him into one of them. One could not even tell if he was more demon than man, or vice versa. They had been stuck in a standstill - a moment of silence and acknowledgement, a calm before the storm.

UNFORGIVABLE!

The tribe glanced at each other, distress etched all over their visages. Freed’s spoke of pure shock. Evergreen’s distraught features were painful to behold. With his brows furrowed and mouth formed into a scowl, Bixlow was on the verge of expressing his rage and worry, when Freed started to talk. It was only a single word that had been spoken, but it spoke volumes. The tenderness and worry that had been carried in that short utterance was definitely heartbreaking to hear. Does he even recognize who they are anymore? Would he even respond to his name being called? Regardless, Bixlow would do everything in his power to save Laxus.

Failure was not an option this time.

“I’m really, really sorry Laxus. I don’t want ya’ ta’ think that I’m a liar. Aside from that, I haven’t lied ta’ ya’ about somethin’ as serious as this. It was a moment of weakness that I really regret.”

Regret - it was the only thing that he could do, now that he had confessed about his fabrications. How long has it been since he last felt the guilt that he was experiencing now? It seemed like everything was long forgotten, to be buried under abundant memories of shared experience. It was a harmless omission, not one of evil intentions, yet why did it feel like it had been an act of betrayal? Minor details, he thought of them then, were now being unearthed, and it seemed to have displeased Laxus. Why did he even utter those false words? Ah, right. He wanted to present a faced of strength, of bravery, of resilience in the face of adversity. He was too afraid that he would be labeled a weakling, when he seeked acceptance from the thunder god. In the end, it was this act of perjury that would prove his cowardice to face reality. Still, he is hesitant. His true history might not be acceptable, and it might change the relationship he had with his superior.

But he had to do it, both for himself and for the people who had put their trust in him.

Hah, trust. For sure, the trust that Laxus had for the seith mage had been broken. What else did he expect? Even if there had been a transformation in personality after the events of the Fighting Festival, one thing that was constant were his standards when it came to the Raijinshuu. He had failed to meet them, right from the start, and now there were repercussions manifesting now. Whoever said that ‘the past will always catch up to us’ was not mistaken. Yes, what was broken could always be fixed, but there would always be those cracks which served as reminders of the time they were made. That will not stop him, though. The thunder mage deserved nothing but the reality of the puppeteer’s past, something that he should have known right from the very beginning. Bixlow would not even try to defend himself of his actions, for that would be truly disrespectful. He was guilty; he had erred. He would accept any punishment that would be handed to him. For now, what was important was for his leader to know the whole truth, once and for all.

Maybe then, he could start regaining the trust he had lost in that one moment.

Making sure his emotions were in check and that all the tears that needed to shed have been shed, he starts to tell the tale of what really happened to him and his family. It was time for the revelation of the real reason of his survival.

Kinana suddenly passes by, and Bixlow immediately shot his hand in the air to get her attention. Once his gaze met hers, he gestured for two drinks to be served to where the two men were situated. He needed to muster up all the gusto he had so he can to push through with this, and as Cana would probably say, alcohol will always help. Time to start.

“So yeah, here goes nothin’, I guess. I have ta’ start off with my tribe and my own family first. Ya’ see, I was the son of the chieftain, an’ those guys, well ya’ could say that they were traditional folk. They were against the use of magic. Me, bein’ the weird kid that I was, paid no mind ta’ that rule. Eventually, I found someone ta’ teach me my magic…”

Not long after he had started his narration, the purple-haired barmaid arrived with the booze that had been ordered. He mouthed a soft thanks and quickly took multiple gulps from the tankard. Usually, he would take his drinks gradually, but as of the moment, he could use the light feeling that these types of beverages gave him.

Emotions were of no use at the moment, and would only hinder him from divulging what needed to be divulged. Before resuming, he takes a second to glance back at Laxus and evaluate his expression. Bixlow was extremely curious as to what was on the other’s mind and what he was feeling about the current conversation. He had not remarked on anything at all ever since the telling of the anecdote started. Has his anger waned? What was he expecting out of this story? Bixlow, however, had faith that no matter how grave the confession may seem, his superior would never outright abandon him. They had formed a bond that would surpass any challenge, and true friendships would be always tested by things like these. With that thought, he proceeded.

“Have I ever told ya’ that I used to hate my magic? It used ta’ be one of the reason’s why I wear this stupid mask anyway. If ya’ only knew what I’ve gone through ta’ get my powers, Laxus, and to get these guys,” he says as he stares at his wooden floating tommans. He remembered when he fought with Lucy, she had mentioned that he did not love these souls that he had controlled. A mistaken statement, and in fact, it was the complete opposite. He held his babies near and dear to his heart, for they were his first friends after all.

“Anyway, yeah, when my tribe found out, I was treated differently, like an outcast, like I didn’t belong. Even my parents were ashamed of me, especially my dad. They didn’t want anythin’ ta’ do with the ‘weird kid who did demonic acts’. The other kids would be mean ta’ me, an’ I didn’t even have many friends from the beginnin’. Really, the only person that I had was my sister…”