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G.N. Chapter 13
🕑 Added 2023-02-07 04:06:38 +0000 UTC*Ring dat dinna bell* COME AND GET IT!
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Chapter 13 Insight of the Past
“Away! Aw-“
*Thwitch*
“Be silent,” Jaune huffed as the body, now missing the top half of its head, slumped to the floor dead. Jaune looked around cautiously, nervous that the madman’s cries might have alerted others nearby.
But nothing came. His senses only detected the intake of yet more Blood Echoes from the recently dispatched enemy. With a calming exhale, he yanked his weapon free from the wall, the rest of the cleaved skull falling to the floor without the cleaver to hold it aloft. With a glance, he checked over his weapon, the blood doing little to obscure its razor-sharp edges.
‘Calm yourself; the Doll has strengthened us, you have strengthened your weapons and this time…’ Jaune looked down at his belt. There he saw bottles, each filled with fluid eager to burst into a roaring conflagration. ‘This time, the abominable beast will perish,’ Jaune thought resolutely.
Jaune continued to make his way to his destination with a significant degree of stealth, relying on the knowledge he had acquired over his many journeys over this exact path. However, when he finally reached a point where stealth was no longer an option, he instead relied on haste.
In no time at all, he had arrived.
Behind him, a belligerent crow barked wildly, but he paid it no heed as he approached the colossal wall of fog before him. This was just another attempt, but this one would be different from the others, for this time, he was ready.
With steeled nerve and a cool head, he brushed aside the immaterial obstruction and entered the site of his prey. The monstrous beast stood at the distant end of the bridge, terrifying to behold and with a daunting stature. It swiftly noticed Jaune’s presence, its head coming up to reveal thick rivulets of drool that ran down from its slobbering maw.
The creature let loose its horrific screaming howl, the noise a sharp stabbing thing that rang in his ears, but he had heard it before and could endure its cacophony.
It moved, crawling forward, just as before, just as it always did, eager to spill his blood and maul him with its chimeric skull. Jaune charged, his face marred by rage and an enthusiastic zeal for payback. His will would see this abomination brought low.
The power of the Blood Echoes was genuinely astonishing. Before, Jaune had fought this creature as a man, mere and mortal, but now he fought as something more. The Doll had done just as she said she would, through means Jaune was utterly oblivious to; she had channelled the power of the Blood Echoes into his body.
The results were remarkable in their effect.
The fierce creature made to crush Jaune, bringing down its engorged fist, the ground shaking from the sheer force of the blow, but Jaune avoided it with practised ease. In retaliation, his Saw Cleaver’s serrated edge bit hungrily into that disfigured wrist.
Where once matted fur and thick hide would have prevented him from dealing a good blow, his enhanced strength saw blood spill freely. He dragged the biting teeth back with a wrench and swiftly split its beastly meat open. Red painted his weapon and swiftly stained the monster’s limb and the cobble of the bridge.
It screamed in pain and fury, lashing out to swipe and crush. But Jaune had learned, changed, and grown, and now he would not break so easily. So he danced and weaved about hefty, heavy blows, narrowly avoiding the smaller ones and doing all he could to mitigate the damage the beast would try to inflict upon his being.
Jaune did not merely attack from one angle, no. The beast’s swipes were far-reaching and dangerous. To keep pace, Jaune was forced to circle it, to pressure this horrid beast from every angle he could attack from. Its bloodied arms were soon joined by its back and legs, Jaunes cleaver severing tendons, splitting flesh and even sawing into bone.
He was quick and nimble as much as he was savage and robust, but despite his best efforts, he was not untouchable. The beast was as large as a house, and a single swing of its limb covered a vast space, so Jaune was inevitably struck despite his efforts.
A colossal backhand crashed into him like a runaway wagon, and his entire body was scooped up and hurled back onto the hard floor. His body ached, his lungs were screaming from having the air battered from them, and he could now taste the tang of his blood.
It was instinct that had Jaune roll.
Instinct spared him from being crushed beneath the monster’s mass.
And instinct had him back on his feet with a bloody snarl on his face, and a Blood Vial jammed into the meat of his thigh.
The potent substance was already serving to right his broken ribs and whatever other injuries had marred his body. He looked up at the beast; his features painted red, casting him in a beastly light as the antlered abomination made to howl.
Jaune shut it up with a bullet from his pistol.
The beast, distracted by the freshly made hole in its tongue, could do nothing to prevent Jaune from closing in once again. Jaune resumed his flurry of slashes, his weapon swinging to and fro as he made his way betwixt the beast’s limbs and hacked at them with a ravaging vigour.
The abominable beast did not take this passively. It raged and stomped, swung and slashed, but Jaune remained nimble.
His Saw Cleaver swung, batting aside a swipe from the quicker arm as he rolled behind a crushing stomp. He rose to his feet with a twist, flicking open his Saw Cleaver as he opened up another laceration from the beast's knee to its upper thigh. It spun, engorged arm moving like the branch of a mighty oak to strike him, but he was already behind its left leg.
A lucky swipe tore into his chest, and he retaliated by closing his weapon back up, shredding the flesh between two of its fingers.
Another quick punch caught his shoulder, but Jaune was already moving, bleeding the force of the blow with his movement. For its efforts, the monster received another shredded wrist.
Jaune made to swing for the thing’s heel when his luck took a turn. The massive beast’s foot stepped back, crushing down and pinning him to his spot.
He did not even have time to scream before an elbow as big as his head cracked him in the face and sent him tumbling again.
Such was his experience at this point that he had another Vial in his hand before he had even stopped rolling.
Hurriedly he clambered to his feet, fighting through the pain as the bones in his crushed foot shifted, ready to dodge an opportunistic pounce… but there wasn’t one.
Instead, he beheld the creature, its bulging left limb hugged tight to its frame as if it were cradling the injured appendage.
Then a crimson light began to emanate from about that same limb.
Jaune watched with eyes widened in shock as the blood that clung to that filthy fur disappeared, and the numerous gashes along it sealed shut. Then, when the light was gone, its arms spread, revealing more of the healed limb.
The triumphant screaming howl it let out was received as a direct taunt.
Frustration overcame his shock, and Jaune snorted out the blood that clogged his still-healing nose, “you would draw this out? Fine then, mend your wretched carcass! I will rend it anew and bleedyou dry!” He roared, charging the creature his clear as he fired his pistol into the beast’s exposed ribs.
The beast ignoring his bullets pounced. Its hands splayed to grab at him, but Jaune was faster; he rolled into the lunging beast dodging beneath its frame. Then, with its back to him and the kneeling position, Jaune grabbed his saw cleaver with both hands and swung.
Unfolding the weapon as he did.
His weapon sunk into the bone with a wet crack that Jaune felt as much as he heard.
Judging by the things screams it to felt it very much.
He didn’t linger, backstepping so as not to be caught by a wayward kick drawing his blade back, ruining bone and flesh alike. The brutally hamstrung beast twisted around on its knees to claw at him, but Jaune had already renewed his assault.
His cleaver swung this time with the none serrated edge to meet the incoming swipe of the beast’s more diminutive arm. His blade intercepted the incoming blow and brutally cleaved the creature’s thumb from its malefic hand.
He blinked away stray blood splatter as a fresh wave coated him; the screaming, agonised beast lashed out again in a furious flail, its more giant limb rushing past Jaune by mere centimetres.
Jaune swung the unfolded Saw Cleaver upwards and slashed the creature from its pelvis to the bottom of its chest. Its emaciated gut split open, and the discoloured organs threatened to spill out as a deluge of dark blood did just that.
Then it fell.
Jaune was ready for attacks, wild flailing and bestial frenzies.
So when the creature just outright collapsed its entire mass atop his frame, he had no idea how to react. His body was crushed beneath its weight, the beast’s thick, fetid fur clogging his nose with its scent as he used all of his strength to keep it from restricting his chest.
His arms shook from the effort of keeping the thing from crushing him completely. Its blood-soaked form repainted Jaune in fresh blood as it began to move on top of him.
Then Jaune was rolling.
His bones were broken, his skin felt flayed, and his right arm burned.
It had mauled him.
It had plucked him from beneath its body with its drooling maw and thrown him aside like how a cat might toss a rodent.
Jaune was stunned, his head swam, and he fought off a bout of nausea. His mouth filled with fluid, and as he opened his mouth, a deluge of something spilt across his chin. He heard vile screams, loud and piercing, bestial and harrowing.
It was mending itself once again.
Jaune stabbed yet another Blood Vial into his body, this time into the thick of his throat, embracing the rush as it righted his brain and beat back the affliction of his nausea. He spat the last of the blood-coloured bile he had choked out of his mouth and pulled himself back up. He had to use a nearby wagon to right himself as his other arm was slow to heal.
It looked flayed, and he was missing three of his fingers. Only his thumb and index remained, and both were assuredly shattered.
Still, he pawed himself up until he could stand with the aid of his Cleaver as a crutch with which to brace himself.
Two more Vials were spent as he felt the potent Blood begin to mend his devastated arm, but with just his right, he would succeed.
He still had his backup plan.
Confident his legs would hold him, he cast aside his cleaver.
He would not need it.
Instead, he palmed in his hand an urn, its top covered by old brown cloth and sealed by braided rope.
Then he charged.
The towering beast was incensed and pounced upon detecting his approach, but Jaune was expecting as much and slid beneath its aerial form, his ruined arm screaming as it dragged against the ground. Once behind the beast, he hurled the urn with all his might, the container crashing against the thing’s broad shoulders.
Jaune smiled in triumph.
A thick, pungent fluid drenched the matted fur that cloaked the creature’s back, and the thing seemed unaware of the substance as it simply turned about its howling scream deafening as it lunged again.
Jaune darted back, putting space between himself and the beast as he pulled a bottle off his hip and prepared to hurl it at the enraged beast.
The rag atop it ignited in his hand, and the bottle sailed through the air, breaking upon the monstrous beast’s antlers.
A viscous fluid poured down around its head for nary an instant before the flaming rag came into contact with the substance.
Fire bloomed.
And then the oil caught alite.
The monster screamed.
It flailed and clawed at itself as fire devoured its oil-covered fur and blazed around its head in a violent storm of burning orange.
But Jaune was not nearly done.
Another Urn flew unto the beast breaking and, in turn, spreading more fire that clung to its chest and sizzled on the open wound of its gut.
Jaune could feel it. He was close; hope welled up in him, the pain of his arm forgotten as he prepped another urn.
However, the beast moved first.
Its massive forearm crashed into Jaune as it charged him, and his Urn was lost to the wayside.
Jaune was thrown up, the beast blazing and howling beneath him.
As he fell, he could do nothing but think of how close he had been.
No, how close he was!
Defiantly he pulled free his last Molotov.
His ascent ceased, and gravity began to yank him back towards the bridge below.
He turned about in the air, his ruined arm outstretched, reaching.
*Schlick*
Jaune grit his teeth and muffled a scream as he felt his arm hook onto the monster’s crown, one of its twisted, warped antlers piercing through his hand.
He had just wanted to grasp the beasts’ horns, but this would suffice.
The flames had died down, the fluid spent, the creatures flailing slowed, and Jaune saw it inhale to let out another blistering cry.
He planted his feet upon its lower jaw and tossed his last Molotov into the fiendish creature’s open mouth.
Whatever scream it prepared was silenced as fire ignited in its throat, and all the air it had inhaled ignited.
A choked, gargling wretch ripped from its throat as a brilliant blaze spilled free of the hideous cave of fangs this creature called a mouth. The eager flames went so far as to nip at Jaunes shins and ankles.
It clawed at its throat, succumbing to its knees, writhing and mutilating its flesh as it tried to dig out the burning agony in its own body.
But still, it did. Not. Die.
Jaune felt frustrated, no, furious. What would it take? How could he fell this damnable beast? What else could he possibly do to slaughter this most difficult prey?
Why. Won’t. It. DIE!?
And in that instant, he felt an instinct stir in his blood. His veins thrum with a power not entirely his own, yet it belonged.
Jaune, his impaled hand leveraging him up, brought his body up and reared back his right hand, his fingers curled into claws, and his face took on a bestial visage.
A guttural bellow spilled from his chest as he plunged his fist down at the area this wretched abominations eyes should rightfully be.
And despite the lack of weapon on his hands or the unnaturalness of his motions, his limb lanced into the monster’s face with visceral precision.
His limb sunk up to the elbow, blood squirting out as he drove it in deep until he could feel the flames that ate at the monster’s throat feast on the flesh of his hand.
He propped his feet against its head and pushed off with all his strength. His limbs came free in a spray of blood, his left letting spill his own from his now split hand and his right a flaming deluge of the maddening beast’s.
This time when Jaune hit the ground, he did not move.
He had nothing left.
All he could do was watch as the monster stilled, flames spewing from its open agonised maw and the freshly made hole in its skull. It stayed there, kneeling like a horrific blazing gargoyle before it finally keeled over, its asymmetrical form pulling to the side of its monstrous arm.
It crunched onto the blood-stained stone of the bridge, unmoving, the flames about its skull crackling as they ate at the abominable body of the freshly slain thing.
Jaune was frozen, his chest aching as his heart raced, his eyes wide as he beheld what had until just a moment before been a horrific chimeric abomination.
Now it was dead.
It was just… meat.
He was knocked free of his introspection by the sudden influx of Blood Echoes that surged into his body. But, with this rush of will, he also gained an influx of… something.
He could not name it, but he knew what it was all the same.
And with it came a name for the broken corpse of the slain thing near him.
Cleric Beast.
Jaune felt a weight settle in his gut alongside a festering curiosity.
In what way was this abominable thing related to the clerics?
YVYVYVYVY
Alone.
Jaune hated waking alone.
He had never felt so weak as when he was forced back into the waking world, still trembling from the things that ravaged him in his dreams.
His movements were slow and shaky as he pulled himself up into a sitting position, the bed creaking beneath his actions. The mirror in his room drew his eyes as he saw his face, the face of Jaune Arc rather than the Last Hunter of Yharnam.
He looked… hollow.
His face was a mask of melancholy that did nothing but sour his already low spirits. It was not pleasant to realise that despite his freedom, he still wore the face of the imprisoned.
Jaune sighed heavily, rubbing his hands over his face as he pushed his now increasingly unruly hair from his face. He left his room with perhaps more haste than necessary, just eager to be away from the mirror that reflected his dour thoughts.
The house was nearly silent; Jaune, desiring to blot out his current emotions, moved quickly to the room with the noise and found his oldest sister Scarlett watching the TV with her legs flung over the back of the chair.
“Morning, sister,” Jaune greeted, a smile already coming to his face as the depressive haze of his awakening fled.
“Sup, little bro,” Scarlett grunted around a mouthful of popcorn.
“Where is everyone?”
“Mum and dad had work, the twins are with Tami for something, and the others have school.” Scarlett replied absentmindedly, “I got the day off, so I have claimed the TV for the day.”
“That is not your usual breakfast food, dear sister?” Jaune commented, moving to sit on the far end of the oversized couch.
“… It’s ten in the morning, brat,” Scarlett sniffed, shovelling more warm buttery goodness into her mouth.
“…Oh,” Jaune exclaimed, blinking, not realising he had slept the morning away.
Scarlett snorted at his stunned visage, shifting in her seat to face him, “did mum kick your ass a bit too hard yesterday or something? It ain’t like you to sleep that long.”
“She allowed me to start using the gravity augmenter. It was far more difficult than I could have predicted,” Jaune announced enthusiastically, pointing at the splotchy bruise on his bicep.
“Isn’t that the thing they say like ‘do not go near it’ all the time?” Scarlett quoted, turning back to face the television.
“Yes,” Jaune confirmed, remembering the twenty-minute-long safety lecture he had to receive from his mother before she would even let him near it.
“Huh, cool, what’s it feel like,” she asked, still not looking away from her TV.
“Disorientating, my body felt completely different, and it was a struggle to move. Even my breathing felt more difficult,” Jaune explained, laying his head back as he recalled face planting firmly into the concrete.
“Neat,” Scarlett nodded.
A silence descended upon the two elder Arc children as Scarlett continued watching her show, and Jaune tried his best to understand what was happening. However, the silence must have become oppressive because Scarlett sighed, pausing her show and turning to face her brother.
“What are you doing?” Scarlett asked sternly.
“… Sitting?” Jaune replied, somewhat confused.
“No, I mean, why are you doing it here? I doubt you care for Mistrali fashion Jaune.” She scoffed.
Jaune seemed to ruminate for a second before answering honestly, “I am indifferent, but you were watching it so-“
“Jaune, you can do your own thing, you know. This is a big house….” Scarlett cut off, gesturing about the large Arc home.
“But you are-“
“Jaune… what do you usually do for fun?” Scarlett cut her younger brother off, sitting up as she pinned him with a glare.
“…”
Scarlett watched Jaune stare at her blankly and realised she might have just stumbled into another one of her brothers’ many quirks. “You are aware of what fun is, right?” Scarlet asked in a defeated tone.
“Yes, I usually hang out with Jade and Sky,” Jaune admitted.
At hearing this, Scarlett palmed her face and groaned. She had been looking forward to her day off to binge-watch ‘Mistral to the Max’; she wasn’t even going to put on people’s clothes, PJ’s would remain her attire even if the house caught fire.
But on the other hand, if she nipped this in the bud now, she might spare herself Jaune loitering about her all day like a looming shadow.
“Ok, ok… what did you do for fun at school?” Scarlett asked, hoping to find something she could push her brother towards.
“I did enjoy learning with my tutor. Certain subjects were certainly fun,” Jaune admitted.
“…Nerd. But I can work with that; what was your favourite subject then?” Queried Scarlett, happy that at least Jaune did have some concept of fun that didn’t revolve around his family.
“History,” Jaune shrugged.
“Perfect! The family library has tons of old books, like great, great grandad’s journal, and back to some stuff from old Mantle.” Scarlett exclaimed triumphantly, only for her victory to spoil as Jaune continued to stare at her.
“Jaune? Old books in the library… go,” Scarlett repeated, gesturing towards the house’s library.
“… Do you want me to?” Jaune asked.
At this, Scarlett’s shoulders slumped as she took the Popcorn bag off her lap and shifted until she was sitting next to her brother. “Jaune, I want you to do what you want. It’s your day off as well, remember. I am pretty sure mum told you to take it easy today at dinner last night,” Scarlett reminded her younger brother.
“I want to hang out with yo-“
“That’s not gonna work ‘cause I was hoping to enjoy some alone time today Jaune,” Scarlett hurriedly admitted.
“Oh,” Jaune mumbled, his expression unreadable.
Scarlett tried not to cringe at how swiftly his mood dropped, “You know, Jaune; you don’t have to spend all your time with us. Of course, we love you, bro, but don’t you think it’s a little weird how all you ever do is hang around us?”
Scarlett had only really picked up on it when Jaune stopped going to school, but her brother may or may not have an unhealthy fixation on his family. He literally did nothing if it did not somehow relate to the family in some way. Without school, this became obscenely apparent as with most of the family gone and even Saph having returned to wrap up her school year, Jaune was left at home to… well, exist.
He did nothing. The most blatant example was when Scarlett returned early one day to find her brother sitting exactly where he had been when she left. He was in the same spot, his posture looked the same, and he was still on the same damn channel, watching an ad for makeup with the same blank expression.
It was only very disconcerting to Scarlett, who was stuck not knowing how to respond for a good solid minute.
“Is it that strange to want to spend time around my family?” Jaune mumbled, utterly befuddled.
“No, not by itself at least, but it becomes concerning Jaune when it’s all you want to do… like always,” Scarlett explained.
“… So what should I want to do?” Jaune queried.
“Anything, like I am not saying you need to do something you don’t want to; I am just saying that it might be to your benefit if you engaged in… a hobby or something,” Scarlett enthused.
“… What would you consider my training with mother?” Jaune asked, still trying to wrap his head around his sister’s meaning.
“… Right, ok, see how you said ‘with mother’… yeah, so that doesn’t count,” Scarlett explained slowly.
“Ah… right… so something I do by myself then,” Jaune iterated.
“Well… yeah, I guess, but you could do it with your friends,” Scarlett shrugged.
The fact that she knew she fully deserved the quirked brow Jaune gave her was more than telling.
“… Forgive me if this is a vexing question, sister, but does this mean I should avoid interaction with you all past a certain quota? What is the limit?” Jaune questioned his older sister, still confused by the intricacies of the social order she was instructing him on.
“It’s not so much that there is some predisposed quota or allotted time, Jaune. It’s more that you should try to enrich your life with some variety,” Scarlett stated, gesturing to the TV. “I have a passing fascination with fashion trends, Saphron enjoys sports and cooking, Jade has her Art, Sky likes music, Lapis and Lazuli like making as much noise as feasibly possible.”
“So I should do something I enjoy that doesn’t relate to any of you guys because variety is good?” Jaune responded, making sure he understood the situation.
“Yeah, that’s about the gist of it, so go have fun,” Scarlett ordered, flopping back on the couch and unpausing her show.
Jaune left without fuss, his first destination being the kitchen to grab some food while his mind continued to turn over what he had just been told. His thoughts were a flurry of consideration as he looked back over his actions since his return from Yharnam.
In truth, he did not fully comprehend what his sister was talking about, but he could acknowledge that almost all of his time was dedicated to his family.
But was that wrong?
He struggled to view it as such. They were all that mattered, his precious family. So what if he devoted himself to them? Was it so peculiar that he, a twisted, malformed thing, would treasure the most valuable thing?
‘Hmm… Perhaps Scarlett’s suggestion bears some merit. The familial library may hold some wisdom,’ Jaune conceded as he prepared himself some breakfast.
YVYVYVYVY
The family library was, in a word, cosy. It was quiet and comfortable, and warm. Jaune relaxed with relative ease, finger tracing across the spines of numerous tomes. There was even a special shelve for scrolls tucked in the corner of the room.
Jaune was still determining what sort of organisational system might be present. Still, considering the hell he had faced browsing the Workshops selection of literature, he was not daunted. But, of course, he had the aid of the Doll then.
With Scarlett’s instructions in mind, Jaune let himself drift between the shelves, his eyes bouncing across numerous titles with little interest. Their collection was extensive and varied. Their literature consisted of manuals, manuscripts, biographies, history texts, fiction, and non-fiction.
The sight of a picture book he had read to the twins made a smile come to his face unbidden before frustration soured it.
His goal was something unrelated to his family.
Jaune moved to the far back of the room, his eyes resting on the shelf that carried the Scrolls, metallic labels under each of the slots inscribed with old Mistrali text. Jaune huffed. Despite his impressive ability in school, he had never sought to learn old Mistrali.
With a grunt of frustration, he moved to the shelf opposite the scroll shelf, finding an older-looking bookcase made of different wood. Above it was an old bone-white harpoon that Jaune admitted stirred unpleasant memories, so he decided to ignore it for the time being.
The books on this shelf were old in appearance and title; some looked like they might even date to the age before the kingdoms. He noted an incredibly thick tome was written in what looked like an early version of Dunetch, the written word of the Vacuan kingdom’s original language. It became institutionalised by Malik the Sunderer, but this form looked older.
Sadly Jaune still needed to improve in Vacuan tongues. Despite his interest in the country, he found it a challenging language in speech and writ. And an even more ancient version of the language would most likely be beyond him, so he moved his gaze to a more familiar language.
Mæli, the old language of Mantle, the ancestral home of the Arcs.
It was the first additional language Jaune had learned, his powerful desire to be more in tune with his family driving him forth. Writings from that time were rare, exceptionally made all the worse by Atlas’s insistence on looking only to the future. Jaune had overheard his father’s armourer describe them as belligerent idiots uncaring for their nation’s proud past.
Jaune, who knew all too well the cost of forgetting the past, could not agree more.
With his mind made up, he pulled free the hefty tome and placed it at the desk, taking a moment to move aside some papers his mother had been working on. Then, closing the library door and switching on the desk light, he settled in to try and discover this variety his sister spoke of.
YVYVYVYVY
Cloud returned to an almost silent house, a rarity with his seven wonderful children and one he would most assuredly be making the most of.
Walking into the loungeroom, he found his eldest still in her PJs at four in the afternoon; she greeted him with a lazy wave, her eyes never leaving the television. “Hey princess, having a lazy day?” Cloud asked cheekily as he plopped down on the couch with his eldest daughter enjoying the relief his feet felt instantly.
“Yep, so skedaddle, tv’s mine,” Scarlett grumped, pushing her father with her foot.
“My daughter, you are so cruel to me!” Cloud lamented, starting to lean his weight onto his daughter’s shoving feet.
“Ahh! Dad no! You weigh a damn ton!” She hollered, shoving against her father in a futile display as he leaned more and more against her resisting legs. “Dad, I am missing my show!” Scarlett whined pitifully.
“Oh, calm down. There is a bloody rewind button for a reason, and isn’t spending time with your father more important?” Cloud snarked, now leaning at a 45-degree angle.
“You are as bad as Jaune! I am having a ‘me day’, dammit! Go do something else!” Scarlett rebelled, throwing her empty popcorn bag at her father’s head.
Cloud chuckled at her despicable act of rebellion but relented and sat back upright, smiling. “What did your brother do? Jaune doesn’t even watch TV,” Cloud pointed out.
“Oh, nothing, he just came and did that looming thing he does… Hey, dad Jaune doesn’t have any friends, does he?” Scarlett asked, pausing her show and shifting to face her father.
“Not that I am aware of, he spends most of his free time with Jade and Sky,” Cloud replied, smiling at the fond memories of his younger children playing together happily.
“What about hobbies?” Scarlett continued.
“He seemed very fond of school, which is a shame, but now I would say training with his mother seems to be his favourite pass time,” Cloud answered, his expression souring at how he had been forced to leave school thanks to their strict policies.
“Those aren’t really hobbies, are they,” Scarlett pointed out, frowning at her father.
“Well, certainly not typical ones,” Cloud acquiesced.
“Dad, do you ever worry about Jaun-“
“All the damn time,” Cloud cut Scarlett off swiftly, his no-nonsense face as telling as his swift reply.
Scarlett was stunned for a moment before her brow furrowed, “then why don’t you guys do anything?”
“We do as much as Jaune will let us do,” Cloud explained, sitting up straighter. “Jaune despises doctors with an almost pathological degree of hate, he tolerates Nick, but the man is no therapist.”
“Why not force hi-…” Scarlett trailed off as she witnessed her father’s expression. His are-you-serious look was all it took for her to consider her words.
“Ok, forcing him might not be the answer, but there has to be more we can do, right?” Scarlett exclaimed.
“Scarlett, he is happy,” Cloud pointed out, his voice soft.
“He is obsessed!” Scarlet whisper shouted back, “his entire world revolves around us. He doesn’t do anything except hang around his family!”
“I know,” Cloud nodded.
“Then you know that that’s not normal! What’s he going to do when we start moving out!” Scarlet continued to whisper-shout, her frustrations spewing forth.
Cloud twitched at this eyeing his eldest daughter, “you moving out?”
“Wha- no, that would be stupid. Home is super close to my work, and I am actually on good terms with my family,” Scarlett exclaimed.
Cloud sighed in relief, “honestly, I was worried for a while with you and Jaune; space isn’t exactly something we got a lot of around here in Reach.”
Scarlett scoffed at this, “I know I checked. A colleague of mine lives at work turns out Mr Brown has ‘lodgings’ there for his employees… mainly his security.”
“Yeah, same at HQ,” Cloud grunted, closing his eyes and leaning back. He had just wanted to annoy his eldest daughter, not get dragged into thinking about his son's behavioural habits.
“Look, stop trying to change the topic. I am worried about Jaune,” Scarlett professed.
“… All right, I’ll go speak with him,” Cloud announced, rising out of his seat.
“Just like that?” Scarlett squawked, her expression shocked at how swiftly her father agreed.
“Of course, trust me, honey, if there is one thing I know about Jaune, it’s better to address him personally than talk about him with others,” Cloud soothed his eldest, patting her head as he walked past.
“All right, he is in the library, I think. I haven’t seen him since this morning,” Scarlett mumbled, gesturing towards the room that was often only inhabited by the Arc parents.
Cloud nodded, heading off, his mind already stirring with how best to approach his son about his sister’s concerns. Although truthfully, he was fully aware of where Scarlett was coming from, the truth was that Jaune had always been highly concerned with the ongoings of his siblings, but as a Hunstman who was a parent, that never seemed like a bad thing.
Remnant was not peaceful, and Cloud would be lying if he said having Jaune around didn’t help him worry less. However, the fact that this was only reinforced twice over with the events that happened to Scarlett and Saphron left him considering his behaviour a positive.
Although he could agree that the boy would not suffer from being a touch more outgoing, or at least picking up a hobby, so he wasn’t always hanging off his sisters.
“If Orr calls my kid a ‘Siscon’ one more damn time, I am going to boot her through the nearest solid surface,” Cloud grunted, his thoughts turning to the shorter older woman. But, of course, it was made worse because said woman thought Jaune was the coolest kid ever.
She was proof that the best Huntsman were a strange breed.
Reaching the library, Cloud noted the door was closed, which he took to mean that Jaune was still inside. As such, he knocked on the door gently, a call from inside welcoming him in.
Cloud found that the Library was relatively dark, Jaune having closed the blinds and switched off the central lights. The only illumination source was the desk lamp, which was focused on a heavy tome Cloud recognised instantly. With a proud smile, Cloud decided he might as well have some fun and test his son’s linguistic ability.
“Hail my child,” Cloud greeted in Mæli, the language his father taught him in his youth.
”Hail, father,” Jaune replied flawlessly, a brief smile accentuating his shadowed features.
”May I brighten this room, or shall we continue to converse in the dark?” Cloud continued, proud that his son was already so fluent in the language of their ancestors.
”Of course, father, I was merely being conscientious of the... How does one say power bill in Mæli?” Jaune asked with a frustrated huff.
”They don’t,” Cloud laughed, switching on the lights and approaching his son. Unbidden, he found his hands resting on his son's shoulders, a proud beaming smile on his face. ”Your Mæli is outstanding. I would ask how you are doing with the written word, but if you have been reading that, I can only assume you have reached near fluency.”
”Yes, in truth, I find the script easier than the spoken word, for the most part at least,” Jaune proclaims, with a hint of pride.
”So you found the edda Skrymer, huh?” Cloud pointed out, leaning over to see what chapter his son was up to.
”Yes, it is quite a fascinating read, but I am surprised by you, father! Having such an old text unprotected in our library, isn’t this irresponsible?” Jaune admitted, gently running his fingers across the old paper.
Cloud scoffed at this turning up his nose as an evil smirk grew on his face, ”this old thing, pah! I have the original locked up in my office! This is just a reprint done during the Valean Renaissance.”
Jaune was brought up short by this proclamation as his head turned over the fact that his father had a book that originated from the era before the formation of the kingdoms. ”Father, should that not be in a museum?” Jaune asked, his words laced with degrees of consternation at his father’s antics.
Cloud’s smirk grew as he replied, ”family privilege as it is an heirloom of our bloodline. It is ours to keep!”
”Is this why you receive angry letters monthly from the Valean Museum of History?” Jaune asked, connecting the dots about his father’s apparent hoarding of an ancient text.
”Oh no, that’s for Crocea Mors. Trust me, if they knew about some of the other stuff we have, they would probably hire hitmen to take us all out,” Cloud explained nonchalantly.
Jaune stared at his father inquisitively before speaking, ”are you being facetious?”
”Haha, somewhat,” Cloud answered his response doing nothing to alert Jaune to the authenticity of his claims.
”Possible future issues with museum hired hitmen aside, by what rights is the edda considered a family heirloom?” Jaune enquired, looking towards the book. If what his father said was true and they possessed an original copy, it would easily qualify as a relic.
”Skrymer, son of Jot, was one of our ancestors, that edda tells the tale of how he became known as the man who mapped the north,” Cloud proudly stated, his hand patting his son on the back with enough force to stumble a weaker man.
Jaune looked at the book with new eyes. If this was true, he might have failed in his goal of doing something unrelated to his family, but it meant the book was far more precious than he realised. ”Truly... we can trace our lineage back that far?”
”Oh yeah, you can thank your many times over great grandfather for that one. See, rather than bend the knee when all the clans began to swear fealty to the new king of the north, this was before Mantle existed mind you. Our ancestor decided that he didn’t like the sounds of that, and so he left.” Cloud lectured, reaching past Jaune for another book and pulling it down to rest above the Edda of Skrymer.
Opening it up, he flipped through a few pages to show an ancient rendition of Mantle, back when it was still just the continent of Solitas and its coastal outposts. ”We Arcs hail from here. We were proximal to the north of Sanus and were considered a feared tribe of raiders at the time.”
”Makes sense. I am assuming there wasn’t much hope for agricultural endeavours in the far north,” Jaune commented, earning a nod from Cloud.
”Indeed, we reaped havoc upon the tiny island settlements like the Urolu and the Vystas; sometimes, we even raided settlements in Mistral.” Cloud continued pointing to areas where he knew their ancestors had raided.
”Functionally, we plundered as a means of survival while also putting ourselves forward as a mercenary force,” Cloud’s explanation took a twist as he flipped the page showing an old illustration of what appeared as a coat of arms.
”While we were once a clan of a more prominent tribe, our family was considered honoured in those days. However, after the period of unification in Solitas and the crowning of a High King, our clan opposed bending the knee, and so we left,” Cloud stated, showing how the same coat of arms changes to no longer bare the Arc crest.
”Why did we oppose the new High King?” Jaune asked, his curiosity palpable, earning a warm smile from his father.
”A blood feud, the new High King sided with an ancient foe of ours, a clan of Faunus known as the Strig, who I think were exterminated sometime before the great war, but...” Cloud shrugged, showing he couldn’t confirm the fact.
”Curious that they would side with Faunus in those days?” Jaune uttered, remembering how Faunus were looked at as figures of myth and terror in the period before the Kingdoms.
”That’s precisely why they did it. The Strig are written of in old texts as a clan of witches of great power... whatever the case, they were fiends on the battlefield and wraiths of the night responsible for wiping out entire bloodlines.
Another illustration was shown to Jaune of a monstrous Faunus with bright white wings coated in blood holding an impaled corpse aloft.
Jaune admitted it made for an intimidating sight.
”From what I have managed to gleam, they were likely a clan of Owl Faunus gifted with silent flight and who used their natural resistance to the cold to perform raids under cover of night or in blizzards... to the people of the time they must have been like demons as bad as any Grimm... worse since they resisted the cold.”
”So we left because the king sided with our enemies, and we moved to Vale?” Jaune summarised.
”Yes indeed, we moved from Solitas to Sanus, migrating to the capital where a family member got himself turned into a noble. Then bing bang boom, we wind up in Reach,” Cloud quickly summarised, closing the books and putting them back where they belonged.
Jaune watched this with a calculating gaze before he was struck with the most absurd sensation or mirth. A tiny chuckle slipped past his stoic features and forced his father to stiffen at the scarce sound.
” What’s so funny, kiddo?” Cloud asked, his smile brightening as he saw his son’s amused face.
”You don’t like post-formation history,” Jaune accused, noting how his father actually went so far as to blush.
” It’s not that I don’t like it. Its jus-”
”You glossed over thousands of years of history and, no doubt, countless familial tales in the span of a sentence,” Jaune pointed out damningly.
”Ok, fine... I prefer ancient history. Sue me. Not my fault that the later stuff is so... drab,” Cloud sneered as Jaune spluttered at the absurdness of his father’s actions.
”Father, may I ask you a question?” Jaune spoke, his still amused voice now tainted by a hint of confusion.
”You just did, but I will give you another free of charge,” Cloud jested.
”Is history your hobby?” Jaune asked.
”Yep, when I was younger, I used to love going on archaeological digs as the security just so I could immerse myself in all those fascinating ancient cultures,” Cloud reminisced fondly.
”But is it still a hobby if it correlates to work and your family?” Jaune continued remembering Scarlett’s words.
”Ahh, is that what your sister said?” Jaune’s quick nod was more than answer enough, and Cloud could see where Jaune’s confusion would stem from.
“Jaune, I think your sister was talking a little more relatively. She just wants you to focus a little bit less on your siblings,” Cloud admitted. “She cares about you, and I think she’s worried your wasting your own life concerning yourself so thoroughly with theirs.”
Jaune began to run his hand through his hair, Cloud noticing the action instantly as one of the indicators that Jaune was starting to stress. “But… I want to be there for them. I want to be present in their lives,” Jaune whimpered, his face one of conflict as he slumped back into his chair.
“Jaune, pretend for a moment that you didn’t have sisters, that you were my only child… what would you want to do right this instant if your sisters were not a part of the equation?” Cloud proffered, resting his head against his sons.
Jaune loved his family. It was a fundamental and irrevocable part of his very nature that Jaune Arc treasured his family immeasurably. However, Yharnam had brutally and without restraint stripped from him anything and everything he could have hoped to treasure. His innocence, his compassion, his sanity, even his sense of self until he felt more like a bundle of madness and stray thoughts by the end of things.
When he looked back at what drove him onwards, despite the numerous tribulations he was forced to confront, two things stood above all the others. First was the Doll, his precious caretaker who had helped him more than any other. She had granted him a reprieve and mended his broken spirit countless times.
The second was his family.
They were a memory he clung to with savage desperation, his very sanity hinging on it at times as he recalled what he could hopefully retrieve. Despite the multitude of incomprehensible mind-altering incidents he suffered and the eventual degradation of his mind, he tightly clasped the memory of his loved ones like a lifeline.
Even as they faded, he held firm until all he had recalled was an image and a feeling of warmth.
Maybe that was why even now he clung onto them with every fibre of his being, better to fend off the recollection of those abhorrent memories as his mind failed him. Maybe, his desire to surround himself with his family was nothing more than a crude and desperate safety blanket that he clung to like a belligerent infant.
The thought that he might be misconstruing his feelings for his family and that he might be looking at them as little more than another Hunters Tool made him give his father’s question some real thought.
He thought back to the time he had spent with the Doll, of the times he had confided in her, let his sickly spirit be tended to with her endless compassion.
One thought was more resounding than the others.
“I want to live for the future… to see more and experience what there is to have,” Jaune admitted thinking back to his companion, forever trapped in the prison of the Hunter’s Dream. Remembering how the structure of their discourse often followed a trend of exchanging questions, hers about the world he knew and his about herself and her thoughts.
“Oh? Want to be like Skrymer, huh? Travel far and wide, experience sights unseen and go on numerous adventures!” Cloud recited, pulling back to give his son a cocksure smile.
“… Hmm, perhaps, to live like Skrymer did, with pride and honour, mayhap a tad less braggadocious than he was but… I believe that it is only right that I try,” Jaune continued more to himself than his father as he let his hand rest on the man’s arm.
“So then, son, what do you want to experience next? You did just finish school. What is next for the young Jaune Arc?” Cloud proclaimed, rising to his full height and striking an overly dramatic pose.
Jaune had to consider his answer truly; his father and Scarlett were correct. He did not even think of much outside the lives and well-being of his family. He had not thought he could afford to.
‘To live like Skrymer…’ Jaune thought to himself, twisting in his seat to look at the old tome, his hand coming to rest on the old paper. The edda used very wordy and flowery prose, waxed poetic as befitting its purpose and had entire sections dedicated to certain families’ titles and heirs.
There was an entire page dedicated to a set of armour, for heaven’s sake. Certainly, overkill.
But amongst the throng of beatific writing, Jaune had found a trace of something that piqued his interest. Picking the book up and cradling the hefty tome in his arms, he turned back to his father with a curious glimmer in his eyes.
“Father, what is this ‘First Quest’ that the Edda talks about?” Jaune asked eagerly, a flare of enthusiasm awash on his features.
How his father stiffened and stared pointedly at the floor only made Jaune desire an answer even more.
“Oh, your mother is going to kill me,” Cloud whispered, realising he might have just doomed himself.
YVYVYVYVY
‘The First Quest’ was an ancient rite of passage undertaken by the youths of the far north. In the days before even the formation of Mantle, it was practised by countless tribes, be they Faunus or Human, and both benefited from the coming-of-age ritual.
Solitas was cruel and unforgiving. It did not nurture; it only punished, and to combat this, the tribes needed to take on harsh practices to survive.
One of these was ‘The First Quest’ ceremony.
Any of a tribe could undertake it, but certain clans enforced its practices with a bit more enthusiasm than others. The end goal was to prove you would not be a burden on the tribe, that you could earn your keep and would not be a detriment to the survival of others.
For some, it was mandatory to earn full rights amongst the tribe, only being considered a full-fledged member upon completing the arduous task. Those who failed perished in the tundra or were exiled from their clans to suffer as a lesser class by the whole tribe.
Cruel, but it yielded results.
As the tribes of Solitas developed and grew, the rite of passage evolved and changed, gaining intricacies that deviated between the many tribes. For example, rather than being a mandatory aspect for retaining a position in a clan, it became used instead for marking those deserving of ranks of privilege.
Interestingly this showed the shift from struggling settlements to fully-fledged outposts and villages that required larger quantities of labourers and artisans. As such, the tribes became less stringent with who was allowed to remain a member of their populations.
Thus, the more refined version of ‘The First Quest’ became more focused on being a form of initiation for those who would be considered in the village's upper caste.
Warriors, shamans, leaders, and Slayers.
In these latter days, the Clan of Arc was already infamous. They yielded warriors of top quality, leaders who mustered prolific victories and even had a shaman or two to their name. But where they earned their glory was in the Slayers they produced, or as they would be called today, Huntsman.
For the Arc Clan, the rite was mandatory for any who wanted to be considered warriors. But more importantly, those who proved themselves exceptional could be taken on by a Slayer and raised as their apprentice. Because of this, the clan became a legend in the old world, being the victors in many conflicts.
They were greatly desired by many tribes, with Arc Clan members being ‘scouted’ by groups across Solitas and even other continents. But an Arc Slayer was a different matter altogether. In the old world, a Slayer was priceless, as the Grimm were a terrifying threat that loomed on the periphery of every civilisation’s mind.
For an Arc Slayer, entire tribes would bow their heads, and chiefs would offer wealth, food, privilege, anything the Slayer desired.
But despite his own family’s ancient participation in the rite of passage, Jaune found that his father had some rather stern opinions on the matter.
“It was responsible for numerous unnecessary deaths and was a barbaric and cruel thing to enforce on children,” Cloud pointed out, giving his son a disapproving scowl.
“Agreed, even the Edda of Skrymer writes about the degrees of shame one would face for refusing to partake… peer pressure aside, thought it is a part of my heritage,” Jaune calmly stated, giving his father a knowing smile.
“It was used as an early form of population control,” Cloud hissed, avoiding his son’s gaze.
“All the same, I would like to undertake it,” Jaune noted, making his desires clear.
Cloud groaned loudly, and if Jaune was being honest childishly, “yeah, but why son, you are already, by your mother’s own admission, a very capable fighter, hell just say the word, and we could easily get you into the combat school of your choosing.”
Jaune did his best not to let his pride at his father’s praise show as he responded, “combat schools hold no interest to me, and if I am being totally frank, I think I have rather had my fill of… institutes of learning.”
Cloud cringed at his son’s words, “ok, point… the rite is perilous.”
“I am a very capable fighter,” Jaune added, his mirth gaining a predatory edge.
Cloud felt the urge to throw something at his ridiculously mature thirteen-year-old son grow exponentially as he turned his words on him. “Jaune I-“
“Father,” Jaune suddenly intoned, cutting his father off as he spoke in a gentle but firm manner. “If this is something you truly do not wish for me to partake in, I will, of course, respect your wishes on the matter.” Jaune’s speech was earnest. The boy meant every word he said; at the end of the day, his family’s concerns took priority.
Cloud let his face sink into the palms of his hands as he felt his resolve shake, “… I guess you are technically of age now.”
“And if we want to get even more technical, I am a blooded slayer with a Grimm to my name,” Jaune continued earning a sardonic smirk from his father.
“Jaune, by that right alone, you would have been allowed to skip this whole escapade assuming you had a witness of unbiased standing to support your claim,” Cloud mumbled into the flesh of his palms.
“I can't imagine that happened with any frequency,” Jaune commented, imagining the nightmare of politics surrounding such a bold claim.
“No… no it did not…” Cloud breathed as he slumped in his seat, eyes closed as he went over the request in his head. In truth, the reasons to say no were few and far between, with the main issue being that Jaune lacked basic survival training.
It was the duty of a warrior elder, often a parent, to educate a youth about the basics of survival in the wild. In old Solitas, the proverb ‘it takes a village…’ was quite authentic.
This was easily rectified, especially considering Jaune’s prolific learning ability and maturity. As it was, Cloud found fewer reasons to refuse his son’s request the more he thought about the situation.
“Would probably make the old man happy,” Cloud grumbled.
“Your father?” Jaune queried as he flipped through some more pages of the edda.
“Yeah, he is always going on about the old rites, the traditions of our family, the pride of the clan and the duties we hold as a noble house,” Cloud vented, his mind far too messy to consider that it was his son, his father’s grandson, that he was saying this to.
“The noble houses were abolished,” Jaune pointed out, his eyes flicking up from the old tome.
“Yes, and ‘The First Quest’ hasn’t been performed in decades,” Cloud snarked right back.
“Decades?” Jaune pressed his hands, snapping the book shut as his head came up to pin his father with a curious stare.
Cloud realised too late what he had let slip, “ancestors take me.”
“… Did you perform the rite?” Jaune asked, his cunning smirk adorning his features like a malefic crown.
A pregnant pause suffused the room with deep silence and powerful nervous energy as Jaune awaited Cloud’s damning response. “… *Sigh* yes, my father insisted… it was not a pleasant time,” Cloud supplied, his mind cast back to a less pleasant time.
Jaune did not reply to his father’s judgement of his own First Quest as he didn’t think speaking would be pertinent to having his way.
Cloud was looking at his only son, the boy who had jeopardised his whole life to safeguard his sister. Who fought off six other boys, all older than him, successfully.
Who, by Hella’s own admission, was able to force her to use Aura in a spar.
Cloud knew that at Jaune’s age, he had no comparable accomplishments; in truth, the rite of ‘The First Quest’ had been a painful but rewarding step in his development. However, if he were to agree, he would need to, first and foremost, train Jaune swiftly in the means with which to survive in the wild.
But before that, he would need to get Hella on board.
Cloud finally gave a smile that could easily match the cunning grin of his son as he sat upright. “Son, I am willing to agree to grant you permission to perform the rite of ‘The First Quest’.”
Jaune jumped out of his seat, his face as ecstatic as Cloud had ever seen, looking more boyish than usual as he beamed at his father. “Thank you, father, I promise I won-“
“There is a condition,” Cloud quickly stated, cutting off Jaune’s celebration.
“Of course. What is it,” Jaune replied adamantly.
“You need to get permission from your mother….”
“…”
“…”
“Oh, Kos, preserve me…” Jaune whispered at his father’s guilty-as-sin smile.
A.N.
Hello, my treasured readers!
It’s me, back, relatively on schedule and writing the good word!
And I must say that despite the floundering state of my own personal life you guys have been most entertaining! Through everyone’s combined efforts in the poles, we have come to the determination of what the next ARC shall be!
And you LUNATICS PICKED BOTH!
Seriously it warms my heart to know you lot like what I write but to choose both, hehe.
Oh well I to can be indecisive, cripplingly so, so here is how we are going to manage this! Jaune will get to do some self-exploration in the wilds of Sanus and all the business that comes with it and then…
Family Vacation!
Those of you who had to suffer these with siblings know they only end in two ways, success or complete and utter catastrophe.
Also before I wrap up here because I am petty I received a particularly amusing comment over on ffnet. It was lovingly written decrying my Mary Sue, edge lord, fang-baring, cool kid Jaune by a SELF-PROCLAIMEDAsshole.
I highly recommend giving it a good read I found it quite amusing, it’s huge, can’t miss it.
Anyway my dear Patrons we are gonna call it there for now.
Thank you all for your understanding concerning recent ongoings.
I hope I can continue to provide a good read for all of you.
Stay optimistic.
And as always.
Until next time.
Comments
Ace
I thank you kindly for the sincere compliment; the flashbacks are something I take a great measure of time with as I believe they can effectively display why Jaune has become what he is.
WoolJarl
Your writing flows wonderfully, also your flashbacks are not confusing even though I have never played Bloodborne. Now all I need is more Grimm Nightmares.
Ace
Thank you very much for the compliments. I must admit that I am biased towards the Cleric Beast; it is one of my absolute favourite bosses. I intend to write the many boss encounters as being something Jaune has to counter with strategy more often than not, but that isn't to say he won’t be forced to use just pure talent on certain foes.
Ace
Your words flatter me, and I thank you for not only the compliments towards Grimm Nightmares but also the vote of confidence towards my writing skills.
DocBot200
good to see that schedules back on, good stuff indeed. Ah self exploration and survival, he should have it in the bag, seems pretty good for the Yharnamite. Last Hunter of Yharnam huh? big title to live up to, and a very good fight with the cleric beast. I was wondering if he was gonna start pulling out the molotovs and oil, good on em.
SkeletalPheonix Games
I read the comment and it was funny, I honestly don't see what they were complaining about tho, you've done well to deep dive into what being through the hunt has done to juane and have shown that he's ridiculously protective of his family in the only way he knows how, ultra violence, but has become somewhat more controlled due to being around people that actually care for him. The characters are amazing and the complaints about juane's parents make no sense as they are both individual characters, and they fact that they already have coping mechanisms makes sense as they are both older and have had time to develop them, unlike juane who has just started to get time to develop them after existing in a realm of perpetual death and blood shed. Anyways now that I have discredited what I remember from that comment let me say this. Thank you for the beautiful fanfiction that this is and please continue on the amazing work you are doing, if you ever write your own series of books be sure to tell us all as I'm sure others besides me would love to read even more of your work
