Corvina vs. The Sword of Morning
originally posted on Tumblr on November 25th, 2024
The villain decides to do the classic “team up to defeat a common foe” trope but it’s been taking a lot longer than they had expected,the heroes are getting emotionally attached and it’s starting to get weird.
“Pathetic mortals! Hear my demands,” Corvina intones, feathers raised is a posture of challenge, “and despair, for the will of the night is unstoppable! Your compatriot has made a mockery of our alliance! You must,” her voice shifts, a faint squawk betraying a feather-covered blush, “make her let go of me.”
Maria, Halberd of Noon, peers up at Corvina. The villainess, once barely taller than her, has grown beyond all reason in the weeks since the Tremorlord ate the sun and plunged the world into an eternal and moonless night. “Is Anne being a problem?”
“Yes! I mean, uh,” she tries to compose herself, “yes. Remove her, lest a worse fate befalls her! I will drop her in the ocean to freeze, see if I don’t.”
“Why don’t you ask her yourself?”
“S-she just talks about wanting me to eat her! It’s creepy! You deal with it!”
“… sure,” Maria sighs. “Where is she, anyway?”
Corvina gestures vaguely towards her frankly excessive body. “Somewhere? I don’t know. You find her.”
Maria stares at Corvina, entirely unimpressed, and the former harpy hides her head under one of her wings. Another dozen wings flutter spasmodically along her body; her proprioception still hasn’t caught up to the glut of power engorging her body. Perhaps it could be comical if it wasn’t a reminder of how badly screwed they all are.
“Anne! Get out here!”
“don’t wanna,” the distant reply comes.
“Got you,” Maria murmurs.
It’s not that easy, of course. Getting to her requires navigating more of their former and future foe’s body than Maria every wanted to be aware of, and Corvina keeps on reflexively hitting her with her wings (tolerable) or trying to disembowel her with whichever foot is nearest (irritating). The worst part is Maria’s allergies. Harpies generate nearly as much dander as pigeons, and Corvina has not been taking proper care of herself.
Her eyes are watering and her nose is running when she finally finds Anne, Sword of the Morning, curled up under one of Corvina’s wings. Several of Corvina’s clawed feet hold her aloft, cradling her as delicately as a fresh-plucked flower.
“Hey, sis,” Anne murmurs, shifting slightly. “Sup?”
“… wait, I thought Corvina didn’t want you here?”
“Yeah. She hates me, you know that.”
“But—”
“But,” Anne smiles, “her body doesn’t. S’ a good cuddler.”
“… that doesn’t make any sense, Anne.”
“Does. Wanna join?”
“No, Anne. I want you to stop pissing her off. We really can’t afford it.”
“Mmm,” Anne yawns, “Can’t afford to stop either, though …”
“Explain?”
“Why should I? You already know all of it, and I’m tired.”
The three Guardians of Day—two, now, since the Shield of Dusk defected to the Tremorlord’s forces—have never liked talking about the exact details of their powers. They wax strongest during the hours they are bound to (as does Corvina, their villainous reflection), and wane as time’s passage draws them away, but …
The fact that they still have some power during eternal night raises questions with indelicate answers. Questions like, well, “where does it come from?” And “how do we get more?”
Dusk’s defection came after she asserted one specific answer, and rejected it entirely.
“… you can find someone else to cuddle, Anne.”
“Don’t wanna. Besides,” she moves to flop onto the ground and Corvina’s claws close around her—wrapping tight around her waist, her neck, and her thighs, pinning her in place like the delicious morsel that she is. “Don’t think ‘vina will let me.”
“Yeah, okay,” Maria grouses, “fuck this. Just stop asking her to eat you.”
“S’not my fault that she’s such a prude.”