kiiblade

A Land of Wonder and Nightmare

A very long, overdue reply...my sincerest apologies. :'( It feels great to write again!

To answer your question above...I have no idea what the gif was from! But, it certainly fits the situation. Gosh. I don't know who I feel the worst for here!

A Land of Wonder and Nightmare

Ghent tilted his head back, stunned that the spell had produced something so akin to the fireworks on Earth. The sight was nostalgic somehow, enough to earn the smallest hint of a smile from him. He turned to see what his companions thought of his work, but his relief was quickly doused by dread. Drust and Elayra were furious.
Ghent gulped. He eyed Elayra like a dog waiting to be scolded. He was certain that she would be the first to address his latest failure, and he was right.
'How stupid are you?' Ghent's mouth twisted into a grimace. His own retort caught in his throat when she pointed her sword at his chest, the tip mere inches from his flesh. "The pants wouldn't..." he wanted to point out that the pants wouldn't have fit him, but Drust's voice cut through the air like a hot knife through butter.
He's losing it. Ghent exhaled. Unwilling to contribute further to Drust's mental decline, he did his part by quickly shutting up. He avoided eye contact as Elayra took the reigns, unsure how to feel about the princess coming to his aid yet again.
Ghent tensed as Drust took a knee. The sight of the man battling his demons was a terrifying thing. It was even more terrifying not knowing if -- or when -- he would lose that battle.
"Should we..." Ghent trailed off, his voice no more than a whisper. Something about this time was worse than times before. Much worse. He looked to Elayra for help, as he had no experience with appeasing the man. 
Rather than pose a solution, Elayra motioned for Ghent to return to their belongings. A nagging sense of self-preservation told Ghent to follow the order, but he couldn't bring himself to leave her with the madman.
"Elayra," Ghent whispered again, mindful of his volume. "Drust...he needs his space, you should listen to what he..."
Too late. Elayra's decision to stay backfired.
Ghent recoiled as Drust jumped to his feet. The Knight dropped his sword, but that brought Ghent no comfort. Drust was deadly even without a weapon, and now he had Elayra by the collar.
"Elayra!" Ghent forced himself to run toward them. He was seconds away from intervening, but Drust acted first. The Knight tossed Elayra away from him, as if ridding himself of the temptation to commit murder.
Ghent never broke his stride. The scene had changed, but his mission had not. He hurried over to Elayra, stooped, and grabbed her by her upper arms. Once he pulled the princess to her feet, he released one of her arms, and tugged her along with the other. He shot her a warning look, his expression tight and unusually serious.
"Shut up before yourself killed," he hissed, "okay?" 

A Land of Wonder and Nightmare

I had a good laugh myself, and the meme you posted made it all the more hilarious. This man needs a break. IMMEDIATELY.

Also, this gif came to mind.

A Land of Wonder and Nightmare

"Crap, crap, crap!" Ghent continued to beat at the flames with his shirt, working like a crazed lunatic as he fought to rectify his latest, and arguably most absurd mistake yet.
The flames sputtered and shrank as the dampness of the fabric made contact, but it wasn't enough to secure victory. Each time Ghent brought the shirt away in order to swing it again, the fire would spring back to life, fighting for dominance. This pattern created an endless game of tug-of-war that the deadly element was sure to win.
Out of nowhere, Ghent felt someone grip, then rip the branch away from him, the bark scraping his palm due to the jerkiness of the action. He reacted with an indignant shout, more from surprise than pain. He turned his head sharply, horrified to see Drust towering above him, the fire reflecting in his curse-ridden eyes like a demon from hell.
"Drust!" Ghent's voice shook. Before he could react further, the Knight's elbow sent him staggering backward. The boy accepted the shove, too stunned to take offense or object as he normally would. His gaze flickered toward the still-burning pants, a sick, sinking feeling in his gut. Hopefully Drust didn't value his pants the same way Elayra valued her dagger.
I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die... Ghent winced as Drust's katana pierced the fabric, the sight of the blade making his skin crawl. I'm TOTALLY gonna die! He gripped his hair with both hands, playing the role of a useless bystander while the Knight worked to stomp out the flames.
Unfortunately, the pants weren't enough to satisfy the fire's appetite. The tree was next on the menu, although Ghent's focus was on Drust so he hadn't noticed yet. Overhearing Elayra's shout, he turned, brows raised. In the confusion, he forgot he was living out a scene from a cliché nightmare, standing in the presence of others half-naked.
Baffled, Ghent tilted his head back to see for himself and inwardly screamed. The leaves were shriveling up and disappearing from view, victims to the flames devouring them. Embers and fragments of leaves and fluttered down around them, some coming too close for comfort.
Another voice. This time, Drust was the one to snap Ghent out of his trance. The irritable Knight gave a focus word to use, with little time to use it. 
"O-okay, okay!" Ghent was a mess. He lifted his arms, fingers outstretched, and winced. He preferred to practice saying focus words before using them, but he suspected Drust wasn't in the mood to play teacher. He swallowed hard, his eyes wide and unblinking. He needed to concentrate, but he wasn't sure how. There was too much at stake, too much noise, and Drust was on the warpath.
Overwhelmed by the magnitude of the situation, Ghent abandoned his pose to cover his ears with his palms. He squeezed his eyes shut as if that would shut out the chaos, desperate for a moment to connect with the world's magic. The magic was still very much there; he could sense it, feel it. He imagined reaching out to it as if it was a physical object rather than an invisible force, and he focused on what he wanted. He wanted the fire to go out.
When he felt a familiar pull, Ghent's eyes flew open and he lifted his arms toward the tree a second time. "E...EXTINGUO!"
Hopefully, Wonderland's magic would answer his desperate cry once more.

A Land of Wonder and Nightmare

“Give me a minute, Blondie! I had to make sure Voldemort wasn’t creeping in the bushes!” Ghent responded in a harsh whisper, using his preferred codename for the Queen. He stood rigidly, his breath hissing between his teeth as Elayra made another Wonderland reference. He squinted up at the sky in frustration, but didn’t bother asking her for clarification. He suspected a bandersnatch was some type of servant.
As soon as Elaya’s footsteps faded in the direction of the lake, Ghent sighed in relief and his posture loosened. He brought the branch out from its hiding spot and looked behind his shoulder as an extra precaution. He had been left to his own devices.
The forest was eerily quiet. Ghent scratched at the side of his jaw with the tip of the branch, ridding himself of an invisible itch. After a long moment, he decided to proceed with his plan.
”Guess I should hang these up…” Ghent mumbled to himself while he collected his jeans and Batman t-shirt from the ground. He started to hang his articles of clothing up one by one, using the same branch that hosted Drust’s trousers.
Igniculous… Ghent let the focus word marinate in his brain while he worked. He knew his plan would be put into action the second he said it, and he couldn’t afford to mispronounce something so crucial.
After his clothing was hung up, Ghent took a step back. He extended the branch toward the jeans and began to focus on what he wanted, and where he wanted it. His eyes lit up with childlike excitement when he felt the familiar pull in the air surrounding him. The magic was ready, and so was he.
“Igniculous!”
A burst of flame shot forward, catching the end of what was now a torch. Ghent stared at the fire in amazement, the bright orange flames reflecting in his blue eyes. Under different circumstances, he may have been content to stare at his creation until it shrank from existence, but he had an important task to complete.
Droplets of river water dripped from Ghent's clothing. He raised the torch ever so slightly, bringing the fire as close to the denim as he dared. A small, smug smirk tugged at the corner of his chapped lips as the flames licked at the fabric. He couldn’t wait to emerge from the trees, dressed in his newly dried clothes. He imagined Elayra’s face shifting from anger, to disbelief when she realized his wardrobe was dried to perfection.
Every so often, Ghent moved the branch away from his jeans to check the drying progress. The process was taking longer than he would have liked, but it seemed to be working, and so he continued. It didn’t take long for him to grow bored of the repetitiveness.
Ghent began daydreaming. He wanted to think of a witty remark when he tossed Drust's pants back at Elayra, something to further annoy the irritable princess. While he plotted and schemed, he failed to realize that his method of moving the torch every so often had encouraged the flames to travel. . .
After a few minutes, Ghent felt a gradual warmth near his bare shoulder. It wasn’t until his skin became hot that he was snapped out of his trance. His eyes slid to find the source of the heat, and he screamed.
The fire had begun to devour the fabric of Drust’s pants.
”HOLY--!” Ghent staggered back. His mouth fell open. He sputtered a few times like a fish out of water as his mind screamed at him to do something.
Swearing underneath his breath, Ghent grabbed his wet t-shirt and started beating at the flames with one hand, while gripping the branch with his other. The movement jostled the torch so much, the fire shrank and spread, threatening to burn him and the rest of the forest if he wasn’t careful.

A Land of Wonder and Nightmare

It didn’t take long for Ghent to find something he deemed suitable to use as a torch. The cluster of trees provided plenty of options for him to choose from, including a thick, twisted branch that resembled the leg of a table he'd seen at the Book Barn.
Bracing one foot against the base of the tree, Ghent jumped up and grabbed onto the branch near its center. He began pulling to the left, but the extra force wasn’t necessary. The branch snapped so effortlessly, he fell onto his butt.
Adding a sore tailbone to his list of woes, Ghent shot the decaying tree a dirty look. He examined the width of the branch, analyzing his find with a critical eye. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do in a pinch.
Pushing himself to his feet, Ghent prepared to block out his surroundings in order to focus. The magic usually answered his every call, but this was the first time he would use a focus word without Drust or Elayra at his side.
“Whatever. I’m Hatter's son.” Ghent bristled suddenly, irritated that he’d become so dependant on the Wonderlanders. He gripped the soon-to-be-torch tighter and let his opposite hand hover near the end of the branch. It was his hope that the flame would catch despite the lack of a fire starter.
Igniculous. Igniculous. Igniculous. Ghent repeated the focus word in his head a few times before attempting to say it out loud. He sensed a shift in the air, it was as if an invisible force was urging him to say the word that hadn't yet left his lips. “Igni…”
Before Ghent's plan could commence, Elaya’s voice sounded from around the corner.
Ghent almost screamed. His first instinct was to hide the branch behind his back like a guilty kid. “Uh, yeah!” he called back immediately, afraid that if he didn’t respond fast enough, Elayra would take it upon herself to investigate.
“I’m just…” Ghent stalled, searching the clearing for an excuse. “Standing around…in my damp underwear,” he cringed as he said it, having no choice but to use Elayra’s choice of words from earlier. Hopefully, it was enough to scare her off.
A pause. Ghent could see his heart beating in his chest.
"So. Uh. Go guard our stuff!" Ghent's urgency may have come across as rude, but he really wanted Elayra to leave.

A Land of Wonder and Nightmare

Ghent’s face flushed. Elayra had the uncanny ability to make him feel like an idiot. He stared at the sheathed dagger being pointed at him, his expression darkening.
“Fine.” The response was bitter, clipped. He didn't want to spend another second in her company. Clutching the lengthily pants at his side, he stalked away from the girl, never looking back.
Ghent’s footsteps became slower and more reluctant the closer he got to the woods. He looked around tentatively, staying alert for any indication of danger. He checked behind each tree and shrub as he passed it, his paranoia multiplying now that he was alone. He hated that he felt so vulnerable without Drust and Elayra nearby.
Finding a spot he deemed suitable for changing out of his clothes, Ghent disappeared behind a collection of tightly packed trees. He hung Drust’s pants on a low hanging branch and started by removing his hoodie. The fabric was soaked and heavy from water, but Ghent barely noticed. He was too busy mulling over his latest fight with Elayra.
Why did she make such a big deal out of it? Ghent shook his head, still baffled by her reaction. He tossed the hoodie aside, and it landed with a muffled thump.
Grumbling, Ghent grabbed the hem of his faded Batman t-shirt and worked to pull it over his head. His skin felt cold and clammy underneath, an uncomfortable sensation that made him miss the warmth of Drust’s cloak. He wrung out the shirt and hung it next to the pants, planning to put it on again before he rejoined with Elayra. He didn’t feel quite confident enough to be in her presence half-naked with nothing but ill-fitting trousers.
His eyes trailed down to his torso, and he scowled. An ugly bruise resided where Drust had kicked him during their first of many fights.
“They’ll kill me before the stupid queen does...” Ghent mumbled dejectedly. Realizing what he’d said, his hand shot up to his mouth. He hadn’t meant to insult their enemy out loud.
Ghent gulped. He looked over his shoulder, double-checking that his comment hadn’t summoned a shadowmire – or worse – her.
After a tense pause in which he barely breathed, Ghent exhaled. He peeled off his socks and sneakers, looking around as he did so. He added them to the pile before working on removing his clingy jeans.
Ghent wrung out one pant leg, a few unsatisfying droplets of water dripping from the stubborn material. He tossed them aside and looked down at his boxers, hesitating. Before he had a chance to remove his last article of clothing, a realization dawned upon him.
He could use magic.
Ghent blinked, amazed at his inability to remember a gift so extraordinary. It was the obvious solution to his problem. It could become the solution to most of his problems once he learned more focus words.
“It was Ignis-something…” Ghent folded his arms across his bare chest, thinking back to the campfire in the Safe Zone. He conjured fire once without trouble, he was fairly certain he could do it again. He mumbled a few words similar to the focus word until one sounded right. “…Igniculous.” That was it. He’d bet his staff on it.
Stepping over his pile of discarded clothing, Ghent eyed the trees for a branch thick enough to use as a torch. If all went according to his wild, harebrained scheme, his clothes would be dry before Drust got back.

A Land of Wonder and Nightmare

Ghent mentally counted each time Elayra disappeared underneath the water. One, two, three times. He wondered how many attempts it would take her before she found the dagger or gave up. When she emerged for the fourth time, he looked in her direction. From what he could tell, she was in the correct location. He hoped she would find the weapon soon, if only for his sake.
The boy secured the bandaging around his wrist, watching in amazement as the collection of debris steadily grew on the bank. Sticks, a mirror, an assortment of bottles and cans…at least Earth wasn’t the only world with pollution.
Forcing his attention back to his injuries, Ghent began to clean at the bloodied marks around his neck. He winced as he heard the girl emerge from the water a fifth time, her agitation evident even in her breaths.
Finally, the blonde gave up. Ghent swallowed uneasily as she began to make her way toward the bank, her hands empty. Finished with the moondrop milk, he fit the stopper in its place and returned the bottle to the box. He wanted to be done and out of the way before she got back.
A loud clang sounded nearby, making Ghent's heart do a somersault. He whipped his head around to find the culprit, scowling when he realized Elayra was responsible. He almost scolded her, but changed his mind when he saw her take her frustration out a bottle.
Taking a breath, the boy braced himself for Elayra’s wrath. The lost dagger would undoubtedly be a source of tension for a while. He didn’t make eye contact as she approached, his mouth set in a grim line. He glanced at her when she stopped and regretted it instantly. The contempt in her eyes spoke volumes.
Unnerved, Ghent looked away. He didn’t see the point in pleading his case. If saving Elayra's life wasn't enough to cut him a bit of slack, nothing was. He only hoped his silence would be enough until she cooled down.
The silence was broken by Elayra, who pointed out that he was still wet. Ghent's mouth fell when she ordered him to remove his clothes, but then she tossed a pair of pants at him.
“Er…” Ghent contemplated pointing out the obvious. The pants wouldn’t fit him. He wasn’t even sure if they’d stay up. He lifted the too-long trousers in front of himself, the legs unraveling. The fabric seemed to go on forever. Casting a skeptical look in Elayra's direction, he held the pants up higher to show her the length. “Aren’t these a little big?”

A Land of Wonder and Nightmare

“I didn’t drop it on purpose!” Ghent took a precautionary step back as Elayra stood, any trace of her smile completely gone. His eyes widened as she began to belittle him, this time with no underlining warmth in her words. He clenched his teeth, glaring toward the ground at his side. Just like that, they were back to square one.
“Seriously?!” Ghent wasn’t petty enough to take his apology back, but he was sorely tempted. He couldn’t keep up with Elayra’s mood swings, her inability to keep things peaceable between them for more than a few seconds. Everything he did angered her, and it was beginning to chip away at his sanity.
Gripping fistfuls of his damp hair, Ghent turned on his heel and made the decision to create distance between them. He took a breath, staring at the river heatedly. If the terraflames were attracted to negative emotions, he and Elayra were beacons in the dark.
Overhearing brisk footsteps, Ghent turned his head to see what the girl was up to. He tensed when she approached him with her saber, but rather than engage him in a fight, she tossed the weapon down at his feet. He bristled at the comment of him losing the weapon, her sarcasm practically radiating off of her.
“Whatever.” It was lame and uncreative, but it was the only response Ghent could muster. Snatching the saber by the hilt, he stalked over to the supplies and plopped himself down with a heavy sigh.
Unwinding a strip of bandaging, Ghent measured a piece long enough for his wrist. His eyes flickered up to see Elayra standing near the edge of the river. He watched as she seemed to debate with herself whether or not to go in, but then she took the first few steps into the water.
Refusing to cave, Ghent returned his attention to the medical supplies. He wasn’t about to stop her, and he didn’t feel like offering to help. If she asked nicely, he would have, but she didn’t ask nicely. Instead, she accused him.
Setting the saber down with a gentle thud, Ghent laid the strip of bandaging on his knee. He grabbed the cloth and stole another glance in Elayra’s direction.
I didn’t lose it, Ghent reassured himself, returning to the origin of their most recent squabble. I dropped it on purpose so I could help her! He frowned at the bottle of the moondrop milk, inspecting it a moment before relaxing the lever in order to remove the stopper.
“Nothing’s ever good enough, is it?” Ghent grumbled, his inner voice slipping out into the open. He wet the cloth with the moondrop milk, careful not to use too much. He didn’t need to give Elayra another reason to be upset with him.
Folding the cloth in half, Ghent pulled his sleeve away from his wrist, the damp fabric dragging some of his blood with it. He bit his bottom lip, bracing himself before applying the cloth to his wounds. Elayra didn’t mention if the moondrop milk hurt or not, but nothing good ever came from Wonderland, so he anticipated the worst.
To his relief, the moondrop milk didn’t burn. It tingled slightly as began cleaning the area, the sting from the injury intensifying slightly due to the pressure.
Focused on the task, Ghent didn’t spare Elayra another glance, but he kept an ear out for any indication of trouble.

A Land of Wonder and Nightmare

There isn’t time to be sorry here. Ghent rubbed at the side of his jaw, unsure how to respond to the statement. It was his turn to say something, but he didn’t know what more he could possibly offer. If an apology wasn’t good enough, what was? Her reaction made him want to take the apology back.
The girl wasn’t done, however. Ghent looked to her dubiously as her tone changed, noticeably less grim than it had been. She acknowledged his ability to clean up his mess, which he thought was generous considering she nearly died.
Ghent began to reply, the words catching in his throat. To his disbelief, Elayra actually smiled.
In that short moment, Ghent forgot their past squabbles. Her smile was pretty as it was contagious. He smiled in return, feeling a sense of warmth toward her he didn’t believe possible. The apology had been worth it, if only for that.
His smile faded when he looked to her neck. His mind was brought back to the terraflames, Elayra's backhanded compliments almost going missed by him.
“Gee, thanks,” Ghent responded sarcastically, leaning back on his palms. His wrist objected to the pressure, but his spine demanded the opportunity to stretch. “You do know an ‘I forgive you’, works too, right?”
After the box was presented, Ghent begrudgingly sat up. He nodded when she mentioned bandaging their wounds first, another question blossoming in his mind. Could the Forsaken and their offspring pick up on the scent of blood? He didn’t want to ask.
Pushing the unpleasant thoughts aside, Ghent drew one leg to his chest. He rose with a groan, his muscles chastising him for the too-short break.
Venturing closer, Ghent stood about a foot away as Elayra grabbed a roll of bandages. He glanced toward the clearing while he waited, scanning the ground for his staff. When he looked back, Elayra had her hand held out to him.
“Uh…” Ghent stared at her palm, lifting his gaze to see the expectant look on her face. He turned halfway, patting himself down as if he somehow had the weapon stashed in one of his pockets. He didn’t.
“Yeah, about that? I might have…dropped it.” Ghent admitted with a lazy sort of shrug. In his opinion, losing a dagger wasn’t a big deal. Elayra probably had half a dozen others, and he wasn’t about to offer to go back in the cold water for it. “Y’know. When I was saving your life,” he reminded her, folding his arms across his chest. “What? Don’t you have another one you can use?”