Chapter Text
If Jabber had to describe himself with one word it would be dejected.
He was lying in bed, staring into space and absentmindedly twisting the golden ring on his middle finger with his thumb every few minutes. It was easy to lose himself in the intricate carvings of his precious Mankira. Her entire band had at least three different parts of spells- their matching half on his other hand of course- giving him a million combinations if used correctly.
In fact, he still remembered the well disguised surprise on Cthoni’s face when he had first brought up his request, roughly only two months after she took him in. As a result, over the course of his first years with her they designed five to three sigils- depending on which ring it was of course- spells which Jabber had decided were necessary enough to always have available.
A few corrections were later discussed with Bundus to prioritise practicality and within the month she had been engraved with delicate and flawlessly drawn sigils.
Despite the fact that using her at first had been frustratingly difficult, Cthoni had advised and guided him the whole time, resulting in the efficiency Jabber prided himself on enough to show off to Zanka one late night.
It had been the first ever spell Cthoni had taught him. A simple manipulation of the ground to create a palm sized golem which he had later learnt to repurpose for espionage in the wide variety of missions Zodyl would send him on.
Despite his words, Jabber had seen the conflict shining in Zanka’s eyes as he raised the golem to his face to properly inspect the ‘forbidden’ magic as they referred to it. But overtime it had disappeared, instead replaced with a fondness and genuine interest- and that was exactly why Jabber knew it couldn’t end like this.
The door slammed open, rusty from disuse due to the witch’s preference for teleportation, and Cthoni’s sharp yellow eyes shot up and narrowed at the pre teen having barged in without a word of warning. She reluctantly set down her manhole and the polish, turning her full body towards him. “What do you want Jabber? Can’t you see I’m busy right now?”
Initially he didn’t answer, instead slamming his pen and blank paper down on her desk with an impatient look. “Teach me the spell to bring him back.”
She sighed as if expecting it before pushing it towards him with a small nudge. “I don’t know the spell you need Jabber.” She told him.
That can’t be. She taught him everything he knew starting from the very first day she took him in to this day. If Jabber didn’t know something- then she had to know.
“But you have to!-”
“I don’t Jabber.” She interrupted with a finality that left him silent and in disbelief. Her hands began continuing to polish the edge of her manhole. “It’s not the type of magic I specialise in, go ask Momoa about it. The boss has always encouraged her dabblings into memory magic.”
Obviously seething through the tears pricking in the corners of his eyes, Jabber snatched his pen and paper back before storming out without another word.
“Don’t disturb the boss Jabber!” He briefly heard Cthoni calling out after him.
Scoffing under his breath in annoyance, he stopped at the door and knocked twice as loudly as he could. Moments later the door slowly opened, revealing the cold calculating eyes of his boss, towering over him with a silent curiosity.
After it was clear the boss wasn’t going to speak first, Jabber cleared his throat, projecting as much confidence as he could. “Is Momoa in here?”
Zodyl stepped to the side and Jabber finally caught a glimpse of white headphones pressed against the ears of a small girl drawing in a small quire at the foot of a chair. Looking over at him, she sighed and repositioned them around her neck before putting her brimmed hat back on her head while walking towards him.
Glancing down at the items clutched in his hands, she looked up to his hopeful eyes. “Let’s find a table to work on. I think we’ll need one.”
Eagerly sitting down, not even trying to hide his keenness, she eyed him with a hint of distaste before taking her own place across from him. “So what’s the issue?”
“So you know Zanka, my lovely Hellguard trainee that I have been visiting every week for the past few years?” He immediately began with an underlying agitation that had Momoa regretting ever leaving Zodyl’s room.
“Yeah well he got a bit confused… and erased his memories so he didn’t need to report me to the Knights Moralis.” He finished, an annoyed pout forming on his face as he slumped in his chair. Momoa perked up slightly.
“He erased his memories?” She questioned. “So you want to stop him getting sent to Adanlee?”
“No, he only erased me. Somehow.” He told her with some irritation that turned into an annoyed whine. “And Cthoni took me away before I even got to look at the stupid spell.”
She blinked before tapping her nail on the table in thought. “Something like that- erasing a specific person while leaving the rest of the mind intact- must have taken skill. I’m surprised he managed to pull it off at his level, especially since they only teach them one type of memory spell.”
“He must have been preparing it for a while.” Jabber muttered in ill realisation. “That motherfucker. He never believed we could be together at all did he?” He hissed out.
His rings clinked as they slammed against the table.
“Help me Momoa. Either fix him or teach me to.” He begged with all the humility he could muster at thirteen years of age. But Momoa only shook her head at him. “I usually only search through memories. I don’t really remove them- nevermind restore them Jabber.”
“But can you figure out the spell?”
She pursed her lips. “I can try. But I can’t promise anything.”
Looking down at her lap, she paused before continuing. “Are you really okay with experimenting on him for this though? We won’t have anything to build from so it’s really a shot in the dark.”
“No. You’re not touching Zanka until it’s perfect, however long it takes.” He snapped. “I’ll even find people! People no one will miss for you to practice on!”
Her eyes lit up and she smiled.
The man squirmed in his restraints, limbs shaking in pure fear. Momoa finished drawing on his forehead, head held in place by Jabber’s vice grip on his chin, before stepping back as it took effect, glowing white.
“If I were him, I would have used this spell to erase you. This is a good starting point.” She told him. Jabber hummed from where he was crouched and absentmindedly poking the limp cheeks of their middle aged captive.
Eventually the teen grew impatient and started slapping his face, trying to rouse him. “Wakey wakey! We have some questions to ask you!” He practically shouted in his ear- to Momoa’s great distaste- until the man’s eyelids began to flutter again.
Momoa stepped forward and grabbed his face, pointing his gaze at Jabber. “Do you know this man?” She asked him, ignoring the way Jabber blinked his eyelids in a playfully exaggerated manner. The man fearfully shook his head. “No- No I don’t mess with evil witches, just let me go please! I haven’t done anything to you!”
Nodding happily she turned to Jabber while taking out her pen. “Now we have a good idea of our starting point. Let’s see first if it can even be reversed.” Finishing off the time reversal sigil, they watched as the wounds Jabber had inflicted just an hour prior began to disappear before their eyes.
“And you’re sure he knew you specifically were stalking him for the past few days?” She asked again with a raised eyebrow to which Jabber just nodded excitedly in response. “Of course!”
The man startled suddenly, cutting off whatever she was going to try to tell him next by letting out a shriek at Jabber. “You! I knew you were following me! I haven’t done anything you evil witch! Let me go!”
Jabber let out a loud whoop. “YES! It can be reversed- oh Momoa you are the best! But also I don’t want Zanka to be stuck at thirteen just so he doesn’t keep forgetting me.” He immediately grumbled, crouching down with a frown.
“It’s a starting point Jabber. Now we know it's possible.” She half heartedly comforted while drawing the sigil to erase his memories again. “If we ask Cthoni to take him with us, we can leave him for a few days and then start trying-”
A loud crash behind them interrupted her. Jabber whipped his head back to see a member of the Knights Moralise holding up their banner threateningly.
Oh shit.
He didn’t hesitate.
Twisting the rings on his pinkies, Jabber clinked them together and immediately produced a fireball to both cover them in smoke and destroy the wall beside their assailant. The white flag shooting towards him immediately alerted him of its limited effectiveness as they effortlessly dodged.
“Cthoni get me out now!” He heard Momoa shout into her choker- a courtesy of one of Zodyl’s contacts who enjoyed dabbling in the complexities of blood magic- and immediately a blue portal sucked her into the ground, leaving him alone on the riverbank.
Jabber kept unleashing spell after spell all while jumping out of the way of the flag carefully trying to ensnare and immobilise him. Eventually jumping in close and deciding to forgo magic all together, he eagerly slammed his ringed fist into their face, drawing blood as it gushed down their shocked face with a curse.
The knight retaliated by swinging the banner at him, creating a harsh whoosh due to the wind. The brimmed cap in response just dodged but was forced a good few paces away as a result.
Jabber took a moment to catch his breath at a safe enough distance. “You should have stabbed me with that pole you know?” He taunted bitterly. “Bunch of weaklin’s too afraid to fight back, that’s what your bullshit society breeds!”
“Peace is not weak and you are misguided. For that alone, I must stop you.” The Knight responded with a dutiful glare, sleeve trying to wipe away the river of crimson staining their uniform before realising it was futile.
They shakily raised their flag towards where Jabber had been standing a moment ago.
And suddenly dropped it, body falling limp alongside it seconds later with a loud thud as their eyes began to dim.
Jabber panted with exertion as Mankira’s extended claws decorating his fingers dissolved due to his fingers parting- breaking the ring’s spell circle- and the blood staining them splashed onto the ground below. He turned his head towards the twitching figure on the ground, neck slashed open and bubbling with wet gasps for air.
He raised his hand to the choker around his collar. “Cthoni?” He called.
“Jabber?” Cthoni immediately answered. “Momoa told me you were both caught by one of the Knights Moralis.”
“Yeah he’s dead, you’ve got nothin’ to worry about. In fact…” He briefly trailed off as he slowly sauntered towards the civilian sobbing through their restraints. “... Momoa forgot her pet project, can you bring it back with me?”
Almost instantly he felt the characteristic feeling of Cthoni’s magic and upon opening his eyes again, both him and the trembling body tied up at his feet were in the familiar setting of the Raider’s compound. The witch responsible was standing in front of him with Momoa beside her and staring him down with a venomous scowl.
“How many times have I told you not to attract attention Jabber. Especially with Momoa- a non combatant may I remind you- around.” She spat at him, pointing a firm, punishing finger in his face.
He crossed his arms in response. “Yeah I’m sorry and all, but can you teach me more offensive spells? ‘Cus I’m not goin’ to stop.” He told her. After all this was their first small step, a shuffle even, in the right direction. He’d rather erase his own memories before he let the Knights Moralis get between him and that spell.
“I’ll kill them all if I need to.”
His mentor grabbed the front of his uniform and with her other hand, mercilessly slapped away the hat on his head, ignoring the clash of beads against the cold, hard floor.
“If you get caught…” She began, fury evident. “...then Zodyl’s plans could be disrupted and I won’t let that happen.”
“Magic exists to experiment.” Zodyl suddenly interrupted, causing Cthoni to startle and step to the side to greet him with a respectful nod. The man curtly glanced in her direction before leaning down to pick up Jabber’s discarded hat.
He looked it over for a moment before handing it back to the young teen. “Jabber. You are brash, reckless and it is likely that all you will do is cause the Raiders trouble.” Zodyl paused before he turned to Momoa, silently standing beside Cthoni.
“But-” He continued. “If this is the only way for you both to discover the spell you seek, then it should be facilitated. This type of curiosity is rare and should be nurtured instead of feared.”
Walking towards Cthoni, he met the woman’s fearless yet subservient eyes. “Teach Jabber more offensive spells if that is what he needs to ensure their success.” He ordered before turning away to retreat back to his quarters.
They quickly found that after three mind wipes and three restorations, the subject’s psyche seemed to break irreparably and go mad.
It had really freaked Momoa out the first time it happened. The second she had drawn on the mind wipe sigil on his chest to attempt it for the fourth time, the man had screamed the teenage girl’s ear off, forcing her to immediately stumble backwards and cover her ears.
Jabber however could only watch in awe as the man kept shrieking his throat hoarse and viciously raked his nails against his own skin, drawing blood to the point of a slow, painful suicide.
It seemed that the mind could only be torn apart and put back together so many times before it couldn’t take any more.
The brutal display their first victim put on had initially left Jabber in a good enough mood that he didn’t mind finding a new test subject. Leading him to happily take the time to carefully stalk and subdue a runaway after what would have been an agonisingly long and tedious week.
However after the sixth time cleaning up the mutilated body and fourth month of their investigation, the whole laceration show that their subjects kept putting on quickly grew old and tiring to deal with.
“Maybe it’s because they’re non magical.” Jabber theorised while hauling the limp, bloody body of their most recent victim, a woman who had been planning her own suicide before he got the jump on her first, away and prepared to send her tumbling into a ditch.
Momoa watched on, hands completely clean, and hummed in thought. “Maybe. They’re probably not used to the spell and have a complete sensory overload.”
“Bunch of weaklin’s” He spat in response. Zanka could have taken it.
“Jabber.” She suddenly called out. “Don’t throw him in yet, I’ll search his memories to see how effective our attempts have been. We’ll take a century to get the foundations down otherwise.”
“Maybe once it’s effective enough we can start trying it out on witchy folk instead of all these normies.” Jabber suggested wistfully, letting an optimistic grin stretch on his face.
Momoa shook her head however. “Those kinds of people will be noticed. Especially if you try to get the jump on either apprentices or anyone important.” She argued back.
He tutted bouncily. “I know I know, that’s why I said when we get close enough. For now I’ll just keep bringin’ you the next deadbeat drunk stumblin’ their way back home that I come across. Pinkie promise!”
Around a year into their investigation, they finally identified their main hurdle.
Momoa’s eyes faded back to their characteristic greyish blue as she removed her headphones and turned to the boy curiously watching her work. The body of the most recent failed experiment slumped back onto the ground once she let go.
“Our spell isn’t potent enough.” She told him. “It seems to me that because of that, the mind is being strained to the point of both exhaustion and permanent damage.”
Jabber grimaced and crouched to the floor. “So what now? Any ideas?” He grumbled grimly.
She shook her head with a hint of frustration and lightly nudged the body with the tip of her boot. “I’m sure we’ll think of something, for now let’s get rid of this guy before he starts to stink up the place.”
He sighed, giving her a small nod before clicking his rings together and incinerating the body directly. Afterwards, Momoa routinely swept away the ashes and loose body parts into the large dumpster Cthoni had reluctantly delivered them a few months in once she realised they weren’t going to quit.
“So much blood, so gross.” She lamented, gazing down at her now stained black boots. “Wait blood. Jabber. Blood.” She repeated, watching as his eyes lit up in realisation.
Immediately opening the glass bottle containing his personal ink, Jabber bit into his finger and let a red drop fall into the black solution. He replaced the stopper and shook it for a few seconds before handing it over to Momoa who did the same.
The blood seemed to work. Momoa muttered internally, pulling away from the memories of the man currently unconsciously trembling in her grasp. “Jabber.” She called out, watching the boy instantly perk up.
“He’s forgotten everything relating to you- the others so far remembered being stalked and kidnapped by someone but this guy has forgotten everything.” She told him. “If anything there’s these huge gaps in his memory.”
“But the ink’s more potent now?”
“Seems so. Let’s try jogging his memory.”
Jabber picked up his pen and immediately began drawing the latest sigil they had produced, holding it out towards their victim before finishing the outer circle.
The man shivered and slowly began fluttering his eyes open after a while. His tired grey eyes spotted Jabber and he seemed to still. Momoa frowned and immediately redrew the sigil to dive back into his mind before anything had the chance to go too sideways.
“Jabber- is that you?” The man asked with a shaky voice but with a clear awe neither of them expected. The boy in question startled but their captive continued regardless. “I’d forgotten you- my boy, it’s okay, your mother won’t care, just come home with me-”
Momoa pulled herself out of his head and slapped him in the face, effectively cutting him off. She quickly shot up and hastily dragged Jabber out of the room with her.
“Too potent now.” She muttered to the very confused and awkward teenager walking behind her. “He started making up fake memories, the ink’s too potent now.”
“PLEASE Jabber come back! I’m sorry- I’ll tell your mother everything- just don’t leave!” The voice screamed from the cellar. A loud thumping ensued that they decided to leave to simmer overnight.
They came back the next morning to a split head and a gnarly bloodstain on the wall.
“Well. Now we definitely need to get the concentration right.” Jabber muttered with distaste.
Chemistry was something Jabber had always taken a liking to, even before donning the brim of his hat, so it wasn’t too hard to start experimenting with the same spells using varying concentrations of blood.
Naturally, by Momoa being able to determine its exact effects, their memory erasure spell was a good way to test each one.
“So this one is…?” She asked, looking up from where she was carefully drawing on a woman’s forehead.
Jabber cheerfully snapped his fingers. “That one’s all me.” He then shook a separate bottle freshly removed from a small pouch attached to his hip. “This one’s all yours. Once we know which one of us is better suited for these types of spells, we can continue combining them.”
Only the best for Zanka after all.
She nodded, taking the bottle and drawing the same sigil on the man tied up next to their first victim. “Now to start peeking in…” She muttered, placing her headphones over her ears.
Jabber watched as her eyes glowed their signature green hue as she delved into the minds of their test subjects. It was always fascinating to watch, especially as she always seemed a little jittery and out of it once she finished. Removing her headphones again and letting them rest around her neck, she turned back to him while letting the man drop to the floor.
“My blood seems to be better suited for memory spells, but yours is more potent. It’s hard to explain-” She began, rubbing the side of her head.
“So yours makes it work well and mine gives it the extra kick it needs?”
“Yeah essentially. Maybe my blood should be used for the actual sigil and yours for the outer circle then?” She suggested. Jabber nodded and took out both ink bottles, handed her her own pen and they got back to drawing.
Their next attempt had as much more success than Jabber had been expecting. It had only taken just under three torturously long years- but finally their test subject didn’t try to rip their own skin off- although still clearly unstable and twitchy- and recalled Jabber’s face again.
Momoa seemed just as ecstatic as Jabber felt despite her almost neutral expression, and practically rushed to draw the sigil that allowed her to search his memories, dropping to her knees and cupping his dazed head as her eyes began to glow again.
“This could be it Jabber.” She whispered. “The formula might need a few adjustments but other than that it looks okay, I’ll peek in just to make sure.”
“Yeah yeah go ahead.” He giddily told her, practically bouncing on his heels in anticipation. They were so close, so so close. With a bit of luck they needed just a few adjustments and then-
She ripped her hands off his head with an ear piercing scream, gripping her head before collapsing to the floor.
Jabber rushed over, freezing at her unconsciously limp body before quickly scrawling a time reversal spell and holding it out. She didn’t even twitch.
Momoa’s brain blast had her under for a month. And their progress was irritatingly halted for the same amount of time.
But Jabber refused to waste any of the time they had, instead he made sure to have things as ready as they could be for when she woke up. Of course, this included a plan to find Zanka again.
While Momoa was asleep in her coma, Jabber had wandered through town looking for future subjects and realised that he had no idea which branch of the Knights Moralis Zanka had joined, or even where his current atelier was.
The realisation had forced him to stop in his step, the public bumping into him with grunts of annoyance.
Now who would know where he’s staying? He wondered to himself. Oh I know! I’ll just get a Knights Moralis and take him back with me. Should probably wait for Momoa to wake up though.
So once Momoa blinked her eyes open Jabber, after checking she hadn’t gone mad herself, rushed her back into their lab where seven people were tied up, memories wiped and waiting for them.
“Jabber, did you seriously just have these people ready for me?” She asked incredulously. He shrugged his shoulders with a big grin in response. “Science waits for no one! I have seven different ink concentrations for us to try as well! Ya boy Jabber is hella well prepared.”
Two of them instantly went mad again with the first and second formula, so Momoa understandably decided not to risk peeking into their minds so soon after waking up. The third, fourth and fifth survived with some hints of insanity that made Jabber not want to test those concentrations on his Zanka, but the sixth and seventh held enough lucidity for Momoa to feel safe enough to try searching their minds again.
“Jabber the sixth. We got it.” She told him, smiling softly as Jabber squealed and bounced off of the walls before activating his claws and executing the rest of them.
“RIGHT!” He shouted in her face, making her wince. “We have a Knights Moralis to kidnap!”
“...what?”
“Hey are you okay there?” A man dressed in royal red from his cloak to the pointed hat. “Are your parents nearby?” He cautiously asked again, crouching down slightly to the young girl’s level.
The girl in question, leaning against the car, just kept fidgeting with her white headphones and slumped back a little more as if nervous.
“I’m okay… it’s just my brother’s gone and I can’t find him again.” She muttered dejectedly, keeping her gaze low and trained on her black boots.
The Knight smiled as gently as he could and tilted his head inquisitively. “I can find him for you, what’s your name?”
She blinked up at him, narrowing her eyes at the bright, blinding evening sun piercing her vision. “Um… it’s Susan. My brother is Jabber.” She looked down at how the man extended his hand towards her invitingly and after a moment, hesitantly took it.
“Do you have any item of his? I’m a witch, I can help you.” The Knight told her reassuringly as she began tugging him in a certain direction.
“I don’t, but I last saw him over here.” She said, pulling him along nearer to the woods.
They kept walking through the dense vegetation for a few minutes before he spoke up again. “Hey- we’re getting a bit far away, how about we find your parents first…” He trailed off upon seeing a figure emerge from behind the trees.
“Susan, stand behind me.” He whispered urgently while holding up his flag at the brimmed cap now grinning widely at him.
The girl however ignored him and just stepped closer to the other witch who handed her another brimmed cap, almost matching his own. “Nice one Momoa, this one seems fine.” He told her before joining his fingers together.
The Knight barely had time to activate his flag to defend himself before his body seemed to fail him and his knees buckled to the floor. Paralysis? He hissed to himself before his jaw started going numb.
Blue light shone below him and he hit the ground in a dark and cold cellar, catching a glimpse of the two brimmed caps looking down on him.
“Right. Before we get started Momoa, I’ve got some questions for our friend here.” Jabber smiled again while walking over to the immobilised Knight still twitching weakly on the floor.
Grabbing his hair and pulling his face up Jabber narrowed his eyes. “I know you can speak, I know my spells well enough- so let’s get that out of the way.”
“Where’s Zanka?” He asked matter of factly.
“Za- Zanka?” The Knight muttered in disbelief. “You mean the Nijiku’s youngest? How- I don’t know anything about him, he’s not even part of the Knights Moralis.”
Jabber grabbed his hair, brutally slamming his head into the wall and Momoa immediately shouted out in protest. “Hey idiot! We still need his brain, don't kill him!”
“Whether he lives or not is up to him.” He hissed in the Knights ear. “Especially when he’s lyin’ to me like this.”
“That boy can’t be older than sixteen, you fuckers better leave him alone.” They spat back defiantly. “Brimmed caps like you will be punished someday-”
Another slam against the wall cut him off and Jabber stood up and stepped behind Momoa. “Hey, can you check what he knows? He’s clearly not in the mood to cooperate after all.”
She sighed and nodded, taking out her palm quire and drawing the necessary sigil before putting her headphones over her ears in concentration.
After a moment she removed her hand and turned back to him. “He’s not lying. Zanka never joined the Knights Moralis it seems. In fact… he’s been disowned.” Once Jabber didn’t respond she raised an eyebrow. “Are you happy to test the spell out yet?”
It was a success. An almost flawless success.
So much so in fact, that Jabber insisted on trying it again and again until they knew what the mindbreak quota was for witches as well. Just like the other experiments however, the Knight started deteriorating after only three.
Incinerating the body once they were finished with it, Jabber couldn’t help but privately scowl to himself as Momoa began preparing sigils for them to use next time.
All that bravado about not reporting him to the Knights Moralis only for him not to even join? He thought bitterly. Only you Zanka, only you.
It was approaching four years since he had last seen Zanka and they had finally agreed on a final product for their spell, preparing three each that they carried in case of encountering him by themselves- not that Jabber wasn’t already searching in between the missions Zodyl dispatched him on.
Although it didn’t help that the Knight Moralis they kidnapped a while ago had absolutely no idea where Zanka had gone and fucked off to after ditching his older siblings. Unfortunately that meant that Jabber had to start his search from square one.
So it was understandable how Jabber’s heart skipped a beat upon hearing a familiar, yet deeper now probably due to the changes brought on by puberty, voice asking if someone needed help.
Immediately ignoring the suddenly now insignificant errand he had been running, he turned the corner and there he was. Taller now with a stick tightly strapped to his back with blonde hair that was slightly longer than in his academy days, almost touching his shoulders and flattened at the top due to the light blue pointed cap securely sitting on his head.
The woman he was with continued to tug on his sleeve, urging Zanka towards her door which must have some small malfunction- clearly much less important than what Jabber needed from him- but he decided to wait and watch nonetheless until the opportunity arose to snatch him back.
Eventually some older witch, a blond with tattoos all over his skin, arrived to rescue the young apprentice, muttering a quick “head back to the atelier if you want” that Jabber strained his hearing to overhear.
This was his chance.
Waiting until Zanka had wandered a safe enough distance away, he finally decided to emerge.
“Mister! You’re a witch right?” He called out, letting his relief show on his face as Zanka turned towards him.
He had lost some of the fat on his cheeks and had more defined cheekbones and his eyes held a sharp disinterest which would have deterred most, but what caused Jabber’s chest to bloom was the sharp scowl on his face formed upon hearing him call out to the apprentice.
“For fucks sake…” He heard Zanka mutter under his breath before schooling his expression into an obviously fake smile. “I’m sorry, I’m just an apprentice. Um, my master will be back soon though?”
Jabber simply smiled wider and grabbed his sleeve, much more forcefully than that woman had just moments prior and Zanka seemed to notice, putting up more of a struggle than before.
“Hey! I told you I can’t help!” He insisted forcefully as he tried to yank his cloak back, but Jabber wouldn’t let him. He wasn’t getting away again, not like this at least.
Eventually he managed to pry him out of anyone's line of sight and finally let his vice grip on his arm go.
Zanka held his limb to his chest and scowled harder than he had been before. “Hey listen man, I told you I can’t help you, if you’d jus-”
Jabber swiftly clinked his rings together and watched as Zanka’s blue eyes widened in panic before he collapsed to the floor with only a small feeble twitch in protest.
Alright, easy part done. He told himself, grabbing the witch’s waist and effortlessly hauling him over his shoulder before starting his sprint out of town.
“Hey Momoa!” He called into his choker, trying not to sound too out of breath. “I got him! Come quick, I’m headin’ to the shack on the east side of Zozah!” The body began twitching on his back so Jabber picked up the pace, cutting the connection before she could respond.
Finally arriving and carefully setting him down on a nicer looking, grassy patch on the ground which was safely inside the shack, he began flipping through his palm quire and unfolded the spell he needed.
Looking up, he saw Zanka’s pupils trembling from where they were intensely trained on his assailant, a clear mix of panic and dread that caused Jabber’s smile to falter momentarily. He momentarily put down the paper.
“Don’t worry Zan’, I’ll fix you up in just a moment, promise.” He whispered before completing the spell circle with shaking hands and holding it towards the glassy eyed witch pleading with nothing but his loaded stare.
“Jabber?” Momoa called out from outside. “Are you here yet?”
“Yup just inside, I’ve just cast the spell so he’ll be out of it for a minute or two.” Jabber responded, calling out to her while flicking through his palm quire for another spell. She walked through the door and tilted her head at the boy passed out on the floor before her.
“Huh, it’s kinda weird that in the four years we’ve spent trying to bring him back…” She curiously began, casting a glance towards Jabber who was completing the sigil to unravel his cloak and summon his brimmed cap. “... I never once asked what he looked like.”
Leaning down to brush a stray strand of blond hair that had fallen over his closed eyelids, she narrowed her eyes at his unconscious face. “Not quite what I expected your type to be, but he seems nice.”
“He’s the absolute best I’ll have you know!” Jabber proudly proclaimed, bouncing up and down on his heels like a child on Christmas morning.
“Can be real sweet one second and then BAM! His nasty attitude is right back where it belongs.” Momoa scoffed with a hint of displeasure, looking away as Jabber began giggling maniacally under his breath while fiddling happily with Zanka’s limp hand.
A few minutes later Jabber let out an excited gasp that had Momoa snapping to attention and pulling down her headphones.
Zanka’s eyelids began to flutter open and his brow furrowed in initial confusion. Finally as he seemed to regain his bearings, his eyes landed on the brimmed cap just inches away from his face.
Jabber watched as his mouth parted in a wordless gasp before desperately shuffling backwards, eyes wide with fear.
Why was Zanka looking at him like that? He wondered briefly with a deep sense of wrongness settling. He didn’t understand.
“What the fuck just happened to me?” The witch in question whispered out, eyes briefly darting over to Momoa before returning to the frowning boy crouched in front of him.
Jabber tilted his head momentarily before ignoring his question entirely. “Do you remember me Zanka?” He asked in a low tone.
Zanka flinched minutely before nodding quickly. “Yeah- yeah I do.” His expression seemed conflicted as he looked down at his uniform and the discarded pointed hat. “I shouldn’t though…” He muttered.
“Well why not?” Jabber immediately challenged with a hint of hostility.
“I erased you for a reason Jabber!” Zanka bit back obstinately, reaching over to collect his hat and to secure it back on his head.
A loud snap, brought his attention back to the boy with a matching scowl infront of him. “Well your so called ‘reason’ doesn’t mean shit anymore Zanka!”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean!?”
Momoa stepped out as Jabber stood up to keep arguing back with a raised voice.
“Well you didn’t join the fuckin’ Knight Moralis in the end did you!?”
“Things happen! Plans change!” He shot back with an enraged snarl. “But you know that I would still need to report you anyway so why did you bring it back!-”
“-I just want you here with me!” Jabber suddenly screamed at him, grabbing his face tightly in between his hands with his nails digging into his soft cheeks and forming ugly red crescents.
Zanka grabbed his wrists and forcefully shoved them away before standing up as well.
They both stood there in silence and caught their breaths, casting venomous glares at each other.
Covering his face with his hands, Zanka let out a deep, exhausted sigh. “I’m still rebooting from whatever spell you did on me, just- give me a moment- and then I’ll keep arguing with you.”
He peered in between his fingers and saw Jabber storm out and slam the door behind him irritably.
“So… how’d it go Jabber?” Momoa cautiously asked from where she had settled down outside on the grass. Jabber was silent for a moment before sitting down and slouching next to her.
“He’s still adjusting to his recovered memories, Zanka will come to his senses soon, don't worry.” He muttered, twisting the rings on his fingers. “He’ll be back.”
“Well, if you can handle him by yourself, I’ll head back then.” She told him, wiping off any dirt on her trousers before walking off with a small wave.
A few minutes later, Jabber snapped his head towards the door as it slowly creaked open, Zanka wandering through with a wary frown in his brow.
“Jabber.” He began to ask quietly. “Why did yo-”
“-I missed you Zanka.” He cut in immediately. “But we can hang out again now. Just like old times okay?” Standing up, Zanka watched as Jabber’s previously infuriated demeanour melted away into childlike sincerity.
He let the brimmed cap take his hand and rub one of Mankira’s rings over his palm. “Nothing we haven’t already done before, please?” Jabber whispered between them.
Zanka looked down at their joined hands and bit his lip for a silent beat. He could feel Jabber’s anxious gaze on him, waiting for his answer.
“Fine.” He eventually muttered. “But you mean it? Just like old times?” The apprentice asked hopefully, looking back up at the others suddenly immensely relieved expression.
“I promise.”
Jabber wasn’t a liar.
He waited for him every single one of their agreed nights in the exact same place, far away from any prying eyes, snacks having started going cold by the time Zanka appeared behind him with a still partially guarded smile.
But luckily Zanka began warming up to him again in no time, eventually reaching the point where Jabber got startled at him sneaking up from behind in an effort to scare him then laughing at the brimmed cap’s bewildered expression before Jabber joined in, cackling alongside him on the soft grass.
He learnt about his stick, Lovely Assistaff, which had been the reason for his absence in the Knights Moralis and his new life under his mentor, a witch called Enjin who had taken him in without much of a second thought.
Due to having a stick just slightly shorter than Zanka himself, he watched as Zanka tediously practiced drawing with her and scowled at any shouts of encouragement he tried to give him.
“Maybe like- lean her against your shoulder?” He called out. “Might make the grip easier!”
“Shut up Jabber!” He shouted back to the beaming witch before taking his advice and trying to draw the circle, however the bottom half ended up both unconnected and wonky.
Beginning to smack his head against one of the prongs at the top, Zanka groaned loudly into the night sky as Jabber awkwardly kicked his feet in the air from where he was sitting. All of a sudden the thumping stopped and Zanka blinked at his feet.
“Hm? Did you get an idea?” Jabber asked but Zanka ignored him and repositioned Lovely Assistaff in his grasp.
He planted her base on the ground and pivoted his feet so she drew the ground in a long arch that wrapped around and just missed the starting point. However it was by far his best attempt so far.
Zanka froze before looking up at the wide eyed boy staring at him. “I’ve got a crazy idea.” He said, ripping off a page from his palm quire and sticking it to the bottom of his shoe.
“Ohhh I see.” Jabber drawled out with a curious grin, watching as Zanka took a deep breath before quickly twirling, dragging the stick across the floor with him and connecting the outer circle.
The ground began to glow and Zanka felt himself get propelled upwards by a large yet concentrated gust of wind.
He cackled with delight in the air before letting himself fall, catching himself with his sylph shoes at the last second. Jabber however immediately tackled him to the floor with a delighted “whoop!”, knocking over his hat and getting dirt on his robes.
“Stop! I’m getting filthy!” He chortled, aggressively shoving the other off in the way he knew he liked. “Oh man- Enjin’s going to be so happy!” He quietly squealed to himself.
Right, Zanka’s new master. Jabber reminded himself.
Other times when they ran out of spells to practice or just weren’t in the mood, Jabber happily delivered on his promise made half a decade prior, leading him through the dense hills and showing him where he found the stars to shine the brightest, illuminating the entire world for just a few hours every night.
Zanka didn’t waste much time in leaning in and wordlessly wrapping his arm around his shoulders. Not that Jabber was complaining of course, in fact he greedily relished in these moments that had been stolen from him all those years ago.
Consequently, by the time the sun began bleeding into the horizon again, Jabber had found himself cupping Zanka’s cheek as their lips made slow, cautious contact.
It seemed as if the whole world had remained asleep just long enough for Jabber to allow himself to properly live for what felt like the very first time under the gentle gaze of the full moon.
But the next night Zanka didn’t appear, and neither the next night, or the night after that.
Jabber didn’t waste any time in finding him again, aimlessly wandering around a smaller town dressed up in his pretentiously pointed hat and sky blue robes.
Letting out a small sigh of relief, he immediately darted out with an easygoing smile and linked their arms, allowing himself to enjoy the familiarity of the action, only for Zanka to flinch and pull away with an alarmed look in his eye.
“I’m sorry- do I know you?” He hesitantly asked, keeping one hand brushing the surface of the stick strapped to his back and one foot positioned at an angle, as if unconsciously ready to run.
What?
Jabber’s world stilled.
“You don’t know me?” He asked breathlessly, feeling his stomach drop.
Please no. Tell me he didn’t-
“No? I’ve never even met you before?” Zanka asked with an incredulously raised eyebrow. “Are you okay?”
…
That motherfucker. Jabber seethed, painfully clenching his fists.
Something must have changed in his expression because Zanka suddenly began looking immensely uncomfortable and started darting his eyes around, looking for someone- probably his master- but Jabber couldn’t bring himself to care.
Momoa walked through the Raider’s compound towards her room before blinking at Jabber who had suddenly burst through his bedroom door.
“Momoa. I need your help.” He told her, quickly grabbing her sleeve which she wasted no time in snatching back with a frown.
“Zanka’s memories are gone again.” He quickly explained, to which she raised her eyebrows at him in surprise. “The spell wore off?”
“No, I think he erased them again.” Jabber admitted, crossing his arms with a clear hint of conflict. “I just don’t know why he’d do that.”
She bit her lip and sighed. “Jabber, sometimes we don’t know what’s going on in people’s heads. At least we tried and got the spell to work in the end?” She tried after a moment, upon seeing no change in Jabber’s sulking expression she continued. “So where is he now?”
“Oh! He’s in my room.”
“...What?”
If Zanka was angry the first time he was brought back, then this time he was livid.
Instead of blearily blinking his eyes open like last time, they shot open and Jabber immediately found himself with Zanka’s hands around his throat, pinning him to the ground.
“Why can’t you just leave me alone!?” Zanka immediately started screaming at him, ignoring the way the air entered his lungs in weak wheezes and his eyes rolling to the back of his head.
Momoa had backed away towards the door in panic.
Continuing to squeeze despite the spreading grin on the brimmed cap’s neck, he didn’t stop. “I can’t fucking be with you Jabber! Leave me alone! I’ve told you alread-”
Pushing him to the floor, Jabber ripped his hands off his obviously bruising skin. “Why the fuck not?” He shouted back. “We’ve gone over this Zanka! Why can’t you choose me- for once in your life!?”
“You know why! I’ve told you why!”
“You were happy with me, we can practice magic together- are those new friends of yours so important you’re goin’ to choose them over me?” Jabber snarled, snapping his hand out to grab his jaw and digging his nails into pale skin.
Breathing heavily, Jabber paused for a moment to regard Zanka’s vicious glare. “I just want you to be free- just like me Zanka.” He breathed out. “Let go of those shitty rules and ideals they’re pushin’ on yo-”
A harsh punch to his noise had him falling backwards with a sharp crunch. He looked up past the unconscious tears forming in his eyes and smiled, feeling the blood running down his face. He lunged towards him again and managed to briefly press their lips together again before Zanka shoved him off with a shout.
“You’re comin’ back…” He giggled from where he was sprawled on the floor. “You’re comin’ back to me Mr Bad Attitude~”
Zanka scoffed in disgust before standing up to start pacing around erratically. “What if I erase you again huh?”
“This is gettin’ ridiculous, you tried erasin’ your memories twice already.” Jabber snapped back. “Take the hint Zanka.”
The witch didn’t answer but stared at him with clear conflict before turning away to scream into his hands.
“Fuck you Jabber!” He croaked out after a moment, turning back with angry tears pricking the corners of his eyes. “Why do I keep falling in love with you? No matter what you keep doing to fucking torture me. Again and again.”
Jabber pushed himself up, wiping excess blood dripping down his chin before reaching over to grab the other’s shoulders. “Let me have you for one night. Let me try to convince you to stay.” He begged, squeezing his grip.
He looked into his blue eyes until they eventually shut with a resigned sigh. “Fine. Just- fine. One night.”
The brimmed cap laughed breathlessly in relief but despite Zanka promising not to erase his memories by the time the sun began to rise, the look in his eyes meant that the next morning Jabber knew he didn’t even need to check.
“Maybe you should just let him go Jabber.” Momoa suggested as she leaned against a wall, Jabber had been sulking ever since that night, refusing to even go to that part of town at risk of seeing Zanka again.
She cleared her throat to address the silent brimmed cap slouched on the floor. “It’s clear he does want…” Momoa gestured to the Raider’s compound. “...this life.”
Jabber just tutted quietly from where he was sitting. “He just needs time- maybe it’s an issue with the spell! He mentioned it was overwhelming that first time!” He began ranting to the girl now sighing quietly under her breath as he stood up.
“The test subjects only knew me for a few hours at most- it must be that!” He grabbed her shoulders, ignoring how she stiffened. “We need to fix it Momoa! It’s probably overwhelming him.”
She narrowed her eyes, feeling uneasy at the frantic rambling of her friend. “Fine.”
More attempts.
More failures.
More missing posters.
In the meantime Jabber allowed himself to get absorbed in Zodyl’s mission, perfecting both his personal spellwork with Mankira and different variations of the same spell with Momoa.
Eventually they found two versions which they both accepted to work. A gentler time reversal spell that could allow for a fourth attempt with a much lower risk of a brainbleed, and Momoa’s personal preferred one, which returns the memories in brief glimpses and slowly feeds them back over time.
Jabber had been preparing a few copies of each in the back pages of his palm quire when Bundus had wandered passed, stopping to peer over his shoulder.
“Hmmm…” He mumbled curiously. Eventually he noticed Jabber’s raised eyebrow and let out a hearty chuckle. “It’s quite a work of art, always the youth with such ingenuity.” He commented. Jabber couldn’t help but grin as he agreed.
The brimmed caps were well aware that life didn’t often give second chances, but for some reason fate bestowed him this do-over. Just this once.
After all, once Zanka remembers properly, he’ll see that Jabber was right all along. However long that takes.
But when he finally had the chance to save Zanka again, his stupid mentor had to interrupt the spell, severing the connection too soon and Cthoni had to teleport him away immediately. Momoa had found him afterwards, suggesting that if Jabber didn’t want to risk his mind any more, then Zanka might not ever get all of his memories back.
But that was okay.
After all, Jabber didn’t care whether or not his mind was completely restored. They’ll have decades to build new memories together once Zanka comes to his senses again.
The sun shone through the windows of the atelier as Zanka finally blinked his eyes open. He’d been sleeping in a lot more lately.
Probably because of my frequent late nights. He lamented, pulling at his cheeks to try and force out any left over grogginess with a slow yawn.
He dressed himself in his cloak as usual, fastening Lovely Assistaff to his back after whispering a few greetings of good morning into her smooth surface. Zanka then went to put his pointed hat on, pausing to glance fondly at the beads slowly but surely accumulating on the ribbon attached to the top.
“You coming to breakfast, lover boy?” Riyo called out, snapping him out of his thoughts as his soft smile immediately deepened into an embarrassed scowl. “Shut up Riyo!” He shouted back.
Zanka sighed then went to follow her cackling down the stairs to where Enjin and Rudo were already preparing breakfast together.
“Ah… the newbie’s preparing breakfast today?” He wondered out loud to which Enjin patted Rudo’s back with a wide grin. “Hell yeah he is!”
Eventually Rudo shoved a large plate of pancakes on the table, sitting down without saying another word and keeping his gaze to the floor. Enjin attacked the pile first with Riyo following soon after.
Zanka regarded it suspiciously while looking over at Rudo’s anxious expression before taking a hesitant bite. That was quite good. He thought, helping himself to another few pancakes and ignoring how Rudo’s face immediately brightened up.
“They’re delicious Rudo!” Riyo congratulated him with a voice muffled by half chewed food. Enjin gave him an eager thumbs up before swallowing. “Hell yeah! We should bring some to Gri-”
Knock. Knock.
Enjin frowned. “Stay here kids, I’ll see what it is.” He told them quietly while grabbing Umbreaker, walking over to the door and peeking through the hole.
The three apprentices anxiously watched their mentor silently look through the peephole before he startled them with a loud groan, thumping his head on the door and muttering a quiet “for fucks sake…”
Opening the door he greeted the intruders. “Welcome to the Akuta atelier, how can we help the Knights Moralis this bright and very early morning?” He beamed with a sickening faux casualness.
“We need to talk to two of your apprentices.” A voice which made Zanka’s blood run cold responded, pushing past his mentor and dusting off her red uniform. She barely even regarded his presence in the room, glancing at Rudo instead.
“My brother will interrogate the spherite. I wish to speak with my brother privately.” She informed Enjin and before he could protest, another man walked in with a large build and a matching uniform to his sister.
“Why are they here?” He hissed under his breath to Riyo at his side who just shrugged.
Kyouka walked up to him and grabbed his arm. “Come Zanka. We can speak in your quarters.”
“Hey now- don’t think that you can just swipe my apprentices like that!” Enjin cut in with a scowl which she matched with a sharp glare of her own. “Besides you don’t even have the authority to interrogate Rudo, he’s committed no crimes or anything of the sort!”
“How dare you question-” Goka snapped back, stepping into his space.
“Goka enough.” Kyouka interrupted. “If we cannot speak with the spherite, then I’ll settle for a conversation with my brother. You are aware of that law, correct?”
Enjin clenched his fists.
“Families are not to be denied contact with apprentices.” Zanka recited grimly, already standing up with a great visible reluctance. “It was part of the Good Will act to prevent weaponisation and ostracisation of the youth that could lead to war.”
The other apprentices just watched silently as the two siblings walked up the stairs.
“I can’t believe you are staying and learning under that blond charlatan Zanka.” Kyouka expressed with clear disgust in her voice. “Not only is he a poor example of how a witch should live, but also clearly a poor example of what a master should be.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Zanka hissed, showing a clear hostility that he had long grown tired of trying to hide.
His sister tutted under her breath. “A proper master wouldn’t have allowed a brimmed cap to get so close to you. If you had stayed with the Knights Moralis- instead of having that public outburst- this incident would have never happened.”
“I am still here because of my training under that man- that charlatan as you call him!” Zanka responded fiercely. “And he’s a fine mentor in my opinion just for the act of not abandoning me due to making a small mistake before I was even a teenager!”
Kyouka narrowed her eyes at the fuming apprentice before choosing to ignore his seething reaction.
“If you want to start to amend for your mistake, then report any relevant information about what actually happened. Immediately.” She sharply demanded in a way that made Zanka suddenly feel as if he were eight years old again.
It was so easy. All he had to do was confess everything that had been going on for the past few months.
His name is Jabber.
He’s a year older than me and we’ve been friends for longer than I remember.
He’s a brimmed cap that I shouldn’t be meeting up with yet do so anyway.
But Zanka knew what the Knights Moralis did to members of the brimmed caps. He doesn’t want that to happen to Jabber. No matter what.
“I told you everything already when I first got attacked. It was an issue of the wrong place at the wrong time.” He lied easily, words rolling off his tongue in fluid waves. “I wasn’t the original target and I don’t know what was.”
His older sister’s eyes flared with anger, her eyes narrowing in frustration before her left hand shot up and grabbed his face, pointed nails painfully digging into his skin. Zanka refused to let her hear him wince.
“Stop letting yourself go soft Zanka. I know you aren’t telling me the full truth.” She spat furiously. “Has that tattooed charmer made you forget your heritage? You are my younger brother. A trainee of the Knights Moralis.”
Zanka bared his teeth the best he could, grabbing her wrist and trying to force her off. Kyouka simply tightened her grip with clear displeasure. “We have designed a pen for you. You may have it as long as you abandon the source of this childish tantrum and agree to come home with me.”
“Like hell he is!” A voice called out as Rudo slammed the door open. Kyouka briefly faltered in shock and Zanka took the split second opportunity to yank her off and take a few steps back.
She regarded him with underlying disappointment before correcting her expression. “Correct your weakness Zanka or it will consume you.” She advised him, stalking off.
The second he saw both of his siblings disappear via the windowway through the crack in his door he sighed and collapsed on his bed. When he reopened his eyes however, Rudo was still standing there.
“How can you let her speak to you like that?” He muttered furiously.
Zanka sat up and scowled. “First of all, mind your own business. Second, I try to tell her to piss off and it doesn’t do anything.” He slouched over and covered his face with his hands in frustration.
“She just doesn’t get that it’s not who I am. I’m so sick of he- -can't she just leave me alone?” He grumbled into his palms. “You know they disowned me right?”
Rudo blinked in surprise before shaking his head.
“Yeah I picked Lovely instead of some fuckass pen when I was twelve so they cut me off. Whatever…” Zanka bitterly continued while running a hand through his now messy hair, “I don’t need them, I can get stronger without her and without the stupid Knights Moralis.”
He turned to the younger apprentice. “Rudo no matter what, don’t let them take you in. Once you’re in their custody they’ll move mountains and make up any excuse to keep you there.”
Nodding silently, Rudo took the ensuing silence as a hint and exited, leaving Zanka to either miserably sulk or meditate for the rest of the day.
“Damn who pissed in your ink?” Jabber snarked, letting out an amused cackle.
The witch just sighed and leaned his whole weight against the other. “Doesn’t matter, just help me forget about it for a night will you?” He mumbled into his shoulder, squeezing the warm hand entwined with his own.
“Hmmm… okay!” Jabber happily agreed, resting his head on Zanka’s and recovering the knocked off pointed cap when it fell due to colliding with his brim, and placing it in its owner’s lap.
Zanka let himself sigh and closed his eyes, enjoying the rough vibration of Jabber’s body as he began humming a strangely familiar tune. The chaos of the day seemed to immediately catch up to him as his mind began to fade and he briefly registered the pressure of lips against his hairline.
He felt a small smile involuntarily twitch at his own lips before the heavy pull of sleep dragged him under.
Once it was time to head back, Jabber woke him up and they exchanged another bead as usual. On the flight back, Zanka couldn’t help but frown upon taking notice at how they had started to weigh his hat off balance, leaving it constantly tilted at an angle
A few weeks later team Akuta were in town doing a supply run.
“Alright Riyo you do the treats or else Rudo will get carried away, Zanka you can take care of the quire restocking and I’ll go chat up some saleswomen for those sweet, sweet discounts!”
The three apprentices gave each other knowing looks before resigning themselves to their fate, Rudo chasing after their master and Riyo waving goodbye as she went off to shop in her designated section of the market.
Zanka turned towards where he knew the stationers to have set up from years of experience, easily exchanging a few coins per palm quire and politely thanking the vendors as he tucked them away into his bag, careful not to have it swing and knock Lovely Assistaff by accident.
Now what? He thought to himself.
This always happened, he finished early due to his efficiency and he always had an extra hour to wander around aimlessly ignoring the confused and eventually amused glances from street vendors.
However he stopped in his tracks upon spotting a familiar pair of purple eyes behind a wall of a nearby building. The pair blinked at each other before Jabber smiled and waved him over discreetly.
Briefly smiling, Zanka hopefully looked around and speedwalked over, enjoying the way how Jabber immediately threw his arm around his shoulders and led him away. The brimmed cap was wearing a hoodie similar to the first day they met and black trousers with trainers well suited for the muddy streets Zanka followed him through.
Once they were safely out of sight, Jabber stood back and closed a spell circle in his spell quire, allowing his outfit to return to his usual brimmed cap style, swiping a hand over the brim leaving Zanka partially in awe of the intricate decorations he had added, of course including a long string of blue beads.
Turning towards him with an exaggerated bow, Jabber flourished his hand and revealed a bouquet that Zanka hadn’t noticed before. He must have summoned them alongside his hat. He thought.
“Tadaaa!” Jabber exclaimed eagerly, practically shoving the flowers into Zanka’s arms. He looked down at them and felt pleasantly surprised. They were a full range of different colours, and all flowers Zanka had learned about.
“Grew them myself! Plus they have sigils carved in, so don’t worry about them wiltin’ either!” Jabber rambled on. “I know you don’t remember so I’ll just tell you- it’s our anniversary!”
Zanka startled. “Our anniversary?”
“Of when we first met of course.” Jabber answered him.
Oh. Right, Jabber probably had so many memories of them that Zanka just isn’t aware of anymore. He realises grimly.
“Thank you for the flowers- you should have told me though, I could have prepared something for you as well.” Zanka told him, holding the bouquet closer to properly inspect it. But Jabber just waved him off.
“Just being with you after everythin’ that’s happened is enough for now.”
Zanka remembered studying flowers and their unique properties in the academy. After all, their magical properties when mixed with ink, could also be found in the connotations given to them by humanity over the course of centuries.
He saw the light pink orchids first. Exotic beauty and strength. His mind supplied.
Jabber’s hands guided his pen across the paper. “You’re strong, I wouldn’t be here otherwise. So what if your asshole brother broke your arm and trashed your room?” The paper began to glow and a hare jumped out before exploding into golden light.
Zanka next noticed the contrasting, stronger deep shades of red given off by the carnations. Love- intense love and fascination.
“Those extras can go fuck themselves Zanka.” Jabber told him, running his fingers through his soft ashy grey hair. “If they start rumours or whisper shit- they’re jealous, duh.” Zanka giggled slightly from where his head was resting in the other’s lap.
The unique trumpet shape of the yellow daffodils adding a vibrant feeling to the arrangement stood out as well. Rebirth, new beginnings.
He had a letter handed to him with an elegant wax seal on its front. “It must be your invitation to the pen selection ceremony Zanka.” Kyouka called out from behind him, causing a small accidental flinch. “Then you can finally come to train in our atelier.”
The atelier. He froze. He would have to leave him behind to train under them.
The smaller clusters of primrose decorated the bottom of the bouquet. Young love, eternal love.
Jabber grabbed his forearms tightly and spun him around, rolling around in the grass when the momentum had sent them tumbling to the ground.
“Fuck- that hurts!” Zanka had choked out with a pained laugh when the other had landed on his ribs. The brimmed cap in question just giggled and pressed harder.
The main filler of the bouquet however was thanks to a plant Zanka was unfamiliar with.
He carefully brushed his fingers over the flat topped clusters of tiny white flowers. He raised his head towards the boy staring at him fondly. “What are these ones?” He asked breathlessly.
“Hemlock water dropwort.” Jabber answered easily. “Attacks the nervous system so bad it results in what people call the ‘sardonic grin’, basically leaves you smiling right as your heart stops.”
Zanka’s blood froze and he hastily wiped the hand that had been handling the flowers on his cloak. Jabber began giggling maniacally. “You’re fine! You’re fine! They’re only poisonous to eat, especially the roots.”
Sighing in relief before shooting him a scowl, Zanka couldn’t help but think that it was exactly what the bouquet had needed. Something dangerous yet clever with a macabre finish. Exactly who Jabber unashamedly was and how he lived his life.
His fingers traced over the sigils carved into the plant stems. When did Zanka become okay with forbidden magic being used so casually? He grimaced slightly and Jabber immediately picked up on it.
“What?” He demanded. “You suddenly don’t like them anymore?”
“No! They’re lovely, thank you.” Zanka tried to amend, holding them closer to his chest. Jabber wasn’t impressed however.
“So what then? Is it me now?” He continued, clenching his fists at his side. “Make up your mind Zanka, do you like me or not!?”
Zanka grunted in frustration. “I hate sneaking around Jabber! It’s been eating at me more and more the more I do this!” He confessed.
“If we get caught one day, then a memory wipe will be the least of my problems! And yet-” He panted for a moment, willing his hands to stop shaking. “I can’t stop.”
“But that’s okay!” Jabber quickly interjected, taking one of his hands in his own. “I don’t worry about all that stuff because I’m free as a brimmed cap, way freer than anythin’ you could have.”
“No one tells me how wrong it is to want to know more and to try so much.” He continued, twisting his rings and letting the flowers around them get drowned in weeds suddenly sprouting from the cracks in the concrete. “I can get stronger without a single care in the world.”
Jabber leaned in, letting the edge of his brim brush Zanka’s forehead, right above where his blue eyes were transfixed on the other. The brimmed cap smiled again, soft and purposeful.
“There’s so much more to like than just bein’ a witch. This is just the first step, we can do anythin’ we want.”
Zanka averted his gaze momentarily, feeling Jabber’s hands squeeze the one they were holding. “The laws exist for a reason. Gris got hurt because of you and many, many more have been collateral due to forbidden magic users. If humanity had the power to do anything, they would do anything.”
“But that’s exactly it, can’t you see? Magic has no morality, it just is.” Jabber cut in.
“History shows that its users do!” He shot back. “The world wouldn’t have been in ruins if that were true!”
“Then what about you Zanka? Where do you think? Not the textbooks they’ve been feedin’ you since you could speak, but you.”
Biting his lip, Zanka tilted his head away in poorly disguised shame. Eventually he spoke up.
“I don’t know anymore.” He whispered, a deep sense of hopelessness underlying his words. “I used to know exactly what I wanted to be and why I wanted to do what I did but… now it's all contradicting itself because I’m in love with you and I hate it more than anything.”
He heard Jabber scoff in disbelief. “Love? You callin’ this shit love?”
Zanka raised his head to venomously scowl at him, trying to hide the small flashes of hurt that his eyes betrayed.
“Of course someone still so confined by black and white laws uses such a simplistic term.” Jabber clarified. “Love is an empty word, too empty to describe this.” He raised Zanka’s hand and pressed his against his cheek.
Zanka met his gaze from where Jabber was looking up at him with smug, lidded eyes. They didn’t break eye contact as he slowly turned his head to softly press his lips against Zanka’s hand.
“Nah this ain’t love. Not even fuckin’ close.”
Slowly crouching down, Zanka gently placed the bouquet on the floor, keeping his eyes on the brimmed cap still curiously watching his every move. All of a sudden he was grabbing his collar and pulling him close, ignoring how his pointed hat was knocked off.
Because Zanka wasted no time in violently pressing their lips together.
He heard Jabber inhale sharply through his nose before pulling his hand to bring him closer and clutching at the fabric on his back with the other. Zanka let himself drown in him, to consume and demand and push until the empty pit inside that had been growing ever since they first met was finally satisfied.
He parted his lips briefly and felt Jabber bite, so Zanka bit back harder.
I will ruin you, you won’t get the chance to hurt me with this if I do it first. He thought, gnawing down to taste the metallic crimson leaking out of Jabber accompanied by a short muted whine that Zanka eagerly swallowed anyways.
His heart was racing and pumping in his ears, the adrenaline rushing through him as he raked his nails across Jabber’s collarbone, trying to find a way to dig into his very bones and never ever let him go.
He was running off a cliff with nothing but the dark rivers formed by Jabber’s smug dark purple irises awaiting him below and Zanka didn’t care. The voice urging him towards safety had gone quiet, and the poison Jabber had tried to infect him with was so, so loud.
He sucked harshly on the tongue invading his mouth and scratched his nails harder, enjoying the breathy sigh Jabber let out before the brimmed cap in question desperately pulled him impossibly closer.
There was no control, just a raging storm, a tumbling river that wouldn’t calm no matter what and neither of them wanted it to, driving it further and further-
Zanka pushed him off as if he had been touching hot coals.
“No-” He choked out, gasping for air and backing away. “I- I’m Enjin’s top apprentice I can’t…” He trailed off, hands shaking violently with dark red blood accumulated under his perfectly short nails.
“Zanka.” Jabber cut in, surging forward to both grab him and cup his face, staring seriously into his eyes with no hint of the snarky playfulness that had been there before. “You can, okay? Listen-”
“No! I can’t- I never should have in the first place!” The apprentice screamed out, ripping Jabber’s hands off and shoving him away. “You’re a brimmed cap- I should- any self respecting witch would be reporting you right now!
Bordering on hyperventilating, he reached towards the discarded pointed hat, now with a thin layer of dirt smeared on one side. He grabbed the ribbon and in one frantic motion, ripped off the entire string of beads, throwing them to the floor and holding the hat to his chest protectively.
“I- I have to report you.” He repeated under his breath with obvious horror in his unfocused eyes. “If I don’t then I’ve just been betraying them this whole time-”
“Zanka.” Jabber interrupted before slapping him across the face, eyes momentarily darting towards the beads on the floor. “Don’t do anythin’ stupid right now. Think about this.”
He let their eyes meet, and watched as the panic in Zanka’s eyes slowly faded away to heartbroken resignation. The familiarity froze Jabber to his very core.
The second Lovely Assistaff started drawing on the floor however, Jabber wasted no time in tackling him to the ground with a frantic scream. “NO! Not again- I can’t bring you back again!”
Zanka punched him in the throat, but Jabber coughed and kicked Lovely Assistaff away and headbutted the other witch.
“Why are you being so difficult!?” Zanka screamed at him, reaching desperately for his staff and barely brushing her surface.
Jabber shoved his face into the dirt again. “I’ll take that staff away if I need to- you will not ruin your soul any more.”
Zanka continued struggling, drawing blood and biting any stray limbs in an effort to get just slightly closer to Lovely Assistaff. The brimmed cap pinning him down brought his fist down on his face hard.
The ensuing crunch had his eyes watering as blood gushed down his face, threatening to stain his uniform if he lifted his head too much. Jabber took the chance to push up some of the fabric, exposing the skin around his hip.
“Just once more- I can do this once more.” His assailant frantically muttered under his breath, eyes wide with genuine, unfiltered desperation. “But- you’ll finally remember everything and then you’ll finally choose me over those empty, pointless ideals.”
Zanka struggled harder upon seeing Jabber prepare to start drawing, but he just grabbed his hair and slammed his head into the ground, making him see stars.
He already got the ball rolling, they just needed one last small push, no special ink needed. Jabber thought. Fuck what Momoa said, Zanka can take it. He’s the only one who can handle the real him.
Jabber knows he can take it.
Instead of ink, Jabber clinked his rings together causing a small flame to form along their surface and he began drawing, branding the sigil he had worked so long and so hard to create into his skin, ignoring how Zanka started screaming his throat hoarse and kept trying to shove him off.
Thanks to his incessant struggle, Zanka’s fingers eventually brushed Lovely Assistaff and he expertly pressed against her in a way so that ink flowed into a small, preprepared carved sigil on her surface, glowing brightly and shooting Jabber off with a harsh gust of air.
Getting his bearings again, Jabber blinked in surprise. Of course you always have an escape plan Zanka. He thought bitterly.
“Zanka!? Where are you? What’s happening?” He heard Riyo frantically calling out from somewhere nearby, too close for comfort.
Jabber snapped out of his shock and jumped on the dazed and shaking body again, desperate to finish the spell, he just needed a bit more-
BANG.
A sharp burning pain shot through his leg, but he managed to finish the sigil- that’s all that mattered-
BANG. BANG. BANG.
He gasped and fell to the floor in agony he couldn’t bring himself to find pleasure from. He watched as the redhead tugged Zanka towards her protectively.
“He won’t be safe with you ever again.” He spat cockily before laughing maniacally, feeling tears form in the corners of his eyes as blood seeped into the lush green below him. “You can’t hide him forever! Especially not with that on his skin now~!”
Riyo scowled and dropped her eyes in horror at the glowing sigil branded into Zanka’s hipbone. The witch in question was trembling and gasping, clutching onto both his hat and Lovely Assistaff like a lifeline with unfocused and unseeing eyes.
She immediately raised her gun again but the glow of a portal where the brimmed cap had been just seconds ago had her clench her teeth in frustration.
Tugging him to his feet and hoisting his arm over her shoulders, she slapped his face to try and regain some of his awareness. Eventually he blinked at her, still dazed but present.
“Zanka, listen to me.” She hissed, tugging down his shirt and watching for any signs of recognition before continuing. “Hide it, no matter what. Even from Enjin okay? You have to hide it from everyone or they’ll take you away.”
“It’s all my fault Riyo…” He mumbled pathetically. “I shouldn’t-”
“Shh…” She hushed him. “Don’t speak, let me handle it for now.”
“Oh there you both are!” Enjin called out from where he was waiting with Rudo, holding several bags of shopping. “Woah… what happened to Zanka?” He asked with a twinge of concern hiding in his usually carefree grin.
“We had so much time left over I dared him to try the hardest, strongest drink in the bar.” She told him without a single stutter and smiled innocently.
“How the fuck did you even get in- y’know what, I don’t wanna know.” He relented, dragging a hand over his face.
He sighed fondly upon taking another look at Zanka’s limp figure and tried to ignore the feeling in his gut that something was wrong. They were headed back anyways, whatever it was, they could deal with it in the atelier.
Upon arriving however, Riyo outright refused to refresh some of the spells after Enjin asked her to, claiming that she was going to keep Zanka company until he felt better and that Rudo could use the practice, disappearing alongside the eldest apprentice before Enjin could get a word in.
“What the fuck?” Rudo incredulously voiced from the kitchen. “Why am I on kitchen duty?”
“I’ll help you with it, let’s just give them their space.” Enjin encouraged him. “I’m a bit worried myself, don’t get me wrong, but they’ll open up when they’re ready.”
“Riyo- I’m sorry…”
“Shhh, what did I tell you Zanka?” Riyo stubbornly shut him up. “That brimmed cap is psychotic!” She hissed. “We’ll deal with the effects of the spell together, just sleep for now.”
Despite his protests, Zanka was exhausted and soon Riyo watched his eyelids flutter shut and small snores began escaping him. She cast a suspicious glance towards his hat, every single bead he had been carefully attaching almost every night had been ripped off.
Whatever. She thought, settling into her own bed just across the room from her fellow apprentice. I can ask in the morning, he’s been through enough.
Waking up, Riyo immediately knew something was wrong. One, because it was probably mid afternoon, and two, because Zanka was missing from his bed.
She shot out of bed and found a piece of paper by her bed with a sleep sigil drawn on.
Rushing towards his bed, she found his uniform elegantly folded on his perfectly made bed with his pointed hat cleaned and on display on his bedside table. The witch they all belonged to however, was nowhere to be seen.
A brimmed cap must have somehow snuck in and put me to sleep. She realised. After all, that type of magic is forbidden-
The ink used had a specific sheen to it.
It was the unique sheen that the specialised ink necessary for Lovely Assistaff had in order to not corrode her interior. Furthermore, Lovely herself was extremely difficult to use in spellwork without months of practice. No one other than Zanka could have used her so expertly.
The open window slammed against the wall with a particularly harsh gust of wind.
Oh Zanka, what have you done?