#(our only logical companion hasn’t been able to join us for a while)

[silverwingborn-moved]

//Okay, I think I’ve replied to everything I had at least once today. If I have forgotten someone please please tell me! Sometimes I’m a bit forgetful or don’t catch it in my notifications ;w;

[bonjour-rainycity]

Double Heart | Chapter Two ~ Cosima

|previous part|

Pairing: Haldir x OFC

Rating: PG

Word count: 3048

Warnings: None

**Read on Ao3 under the user “bonjour-rainycity” if you prefer!**

A/n Surprise! I wrote another chapter so I decided to go ahead and make another post. The reasoning behind this is I want to stay one month ahead and only one month ahead. That will give me a helpful buffer for when life happens but I don’t want to stockpile any more chapters than necessary. You know? So...here’s chapter two!

It’s nearing nightfall by the time we finally stop. My bones are stiff, my butt is sore, and my back hurts from all the tension I kept there out of fear that I would otherwise fall and be trampled under the horse’s quick-moving hooves.

Baranor slides down, reaching his arms up to me. I place my hands on his shoulders and allow him to help me off the horse. I stumble the moment my feet hit the ground.

Orophin—who I’ve yet to actually talk to—offers me a sympathetic smile. “Have you not ridden in a while? Take a short walk and stretch a little. It will help you feel less sore in the morning.”

I nod my thanks, tentatively releasing my hands from Baranor’s arms and turning away from the horses.

“Do not go far.” I jump. Haldir’s voice floats from the tree line just in front of us. I hadn’t seen him dismount, let alone climb into the branches. “We are not in guarded territory.”

With that ominous warning, I decide it’s best to stay close to the others. We’re near enough to the riverbank, so I hobble to the edge of the water and back again. Once movement comes a little easier, I extend my path to the tree line.

A voice to my left interrupts the silence. “Do you remember anything else?”

I yelp, placing a hand over my racing heart.

Rumil grins, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. He hands me a canteen. “Sorry. I forget how terrible human senses are.”

I raise an eyebrow but bring the canteen to my lips, grateful for the drink. “And, what, elves are so much better?”

Mentally, I admonish myself for playing along. There’s no such thing as elves. Either they’re messing with me, or I really am having a wildly vivid dream.

Rumil nods, shrugging his shoulders in a way that suggests the answer is obvious. “Well, yes. We live longer, have better sight, hearing, reflexes. We do not tire as quickly as humans do, and we have a respect for our kin that the race of man cannot hope to imitate. I do not mean to offend.” He smiles, carrying a note of apology in his voice. “It’s only the truth.”

I shrug, unbothered by his comment. Because if elves exist in this world I dreamed up, why shouldn’t they be better than humans? It’s just as likely that I’ve imagined a race that’s worse than humans, and I only haven’t met them yet. “If you say so. But to answer your question, no, I don’t remember anything else. How long was I passed out?”

From his place by the now-grazing horses, Baranor answers. “Not long once we arrived, but I do not know how long you laid there before.”

“Yes, and you are quite lucky we arrived, especially with Baranor in tow.” Rumil winks, gripping my elbow and turning me back towards the part of the ground where I assume we will sleep tonight.

I give Baranor a questioning look.

He smiles awkwardly, a bit self-conscious. “I am quite skilled as a healer. I used the power in my spirit to call to your own. You were very nearly dead when we happened upon you.”

I file that information away. Power in my spirit…Probably something I’d read in a book once that my brain has brought up now. And these men I’m with—elves, I guess, according to the dream—must be people I know from…from…

But the fledgling thought dies away, leaving me with no more answers than before. I try to push back my disappointment, my logical side kicking in to soothe me. It’s okay. Soon the doctors will fix you, or you’ll wake up from this dream, and everything will be fine. You just have to wait. No point in getting freaked out.

Rumil, Baranor, and I settle on the high part of the riverbank. Orophin sits too, once he’s done refilling the canteens. I glance at the trees. I haven’t seen Haldir since we stopped riding. “Is he not going to join us?”

Orophin and Baranor exchange looks, but Rumil just snorts. “Likely not. As he said, we are neither in the territory guarded by the wardens of Lothlórien nor the patrols of Elrond. Someone has to watch for threats. More often than, not, Haldir insists on the job for himself. He doesn’t trust us to keep good enough watch.”

“That’s not it and you know it,” Orophin hisses, and I flinch at the anger in his voice, even though it wasn’t directed at me. I have no idea how Rumil keeps his face blank. The two stare each other down until Orophin speaks again, still through gritted teeth. “Go and collect the rations for dinner.”

Rumil rolls his eyes, but does as his brother says.

Baranor clears his throat, and I’m grateful when he changes the subject. He inclines his head towards me. “I see you are dressed for travel. Perhaps you were part of a company and got separated?”

Mildly perplexed, I look down at my body. Huh. He’s right. Something I had yet to take notice of is the clothes I wear — sturdy dark leggings, a deep green tunic, a red cloak, and thick leather boots. I haven’t the slightest idea how I conjured up these clothes, but Baranor is right — they’re perfect for this type of outdoor traveling.

Rumil returns and places a bundle of leaves in each of our hands. Inside seems to be bread and slices of some sort of fruit. Hesitantly, I take a bite. It’s surprisingly good.

“So how long until we reach this friend of yours?”

“Elrond,” Orophin informs, looking down the path we intend to continue on tomorrow. “Probably about thirteen more days, unless we hit bad weather. The mountains will take the longest, and traveling with a human will slow us down.” He realizes his words, eyes growing wide. “I don’t mean to be rude—”

“No, no, I get it.” I wave him off, picking at the bread in my hands. These elves sure have a bad view of me. “Humans suck.”

“At least it’s still spring,” Rumil supplies, trying to lighten the mood. “That will make our path through the Misty Mountains easier.”

“Right you are,” Baranor agrees, sipping from his canteen. “I detest crossing them in the snow.”

The three elves slip into easy conversation, exchanging stories of the worst travel conditions each has suffered, trying to one-up each other. While they talk, I place my bread back in its leaves and on the ground, no longer hungry. The stories they tell are quite detailed, and there’s this nagging feeling in the back of my mind that I wouldn’t be able to make all this up…the landscape, the language, a whole new species with differing characteristics, vast knowledge of this world’s travel ways, four fully-thought-out ‘characters’, for lack of a better word….Dread and fear mingle with exhaustion and I slump, wanting nothing more than to curl up in a ball and go to sleep for a very long time. Perhaps when I wake, all will be well.

The murmurs from those around me sound muffled. A hand wraps grips one of my shoulders, holding me upright, and Baranor’s voice comes from beside my ear. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I shake my head, feeling the weight of their eyes on me. “I’m just exhausted.”

He makes a noise of agreement. “Of course you are, I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner.”

I try and wave off his apology, but it seems like too much effort to raise my arm over such a little thing. From the corner of my eye, I see Rumil stand and visit the horses. He returns carrying a rolled up mat and a folded blanket. He unfurls both, setting them on the ground between our gathering spot and the tree line. He beckons for me to join him and, with great effort, I stand without help, going to meet him as requested.

“Here. Sorry it’s not much. If we had known we’d be traveling with a lady, we would have brought much cushier sleeping provisions.”

I roll my tired eyes, realizing that he’s mocking me. “Goodnight, Rumil.”

He grins, sauntering off to rejoin his companions. “Goodnight, Cosima.”

I all but collapse on the mat, pulling the surprisingly warm blanket over my shoulders. Before I’m aware what’s happening, I’ve plunged into sleep.

{***}

Baranor woke me with the sun, and I’m very grateful to be leaning against him rather than directing the horse. I feel much too groggy to properly steer such a beast, especially given the fact that I have no idea how. Even though he must have stayed up most of the night, Haldir doesn’t look the slightest bit tired, and, on behalf of the bags underneath my eyes, I am thoroughly annoyed. He hasn’t said a word to me aside from the few sentences yesterday. I understand it a bit more now, though. He seems to be the leader of this group, and has either been charged with its security, or taken the task upon himself. Despite there not being another soul in sight, he rides at the front of our group—straight backed, stiff, his head on a near-constant swivel. Orophin tends to stay near one of Haldir’s shoulders—guarding his back and providing a sort of second watch, I presume. Rumil alternates between riding in-step with the horse Baranor and I occupy and cantering along behind us.

If riding was difficult yesterday, it is doubly so this morning.

Every bounce jolts though my bones, and I seem always on the verge of being tossed to the side, never quite able to fall into the rhythm the other four find so easily.  

Rumil pulls up beside us, seeming to showcase his perfect form. “Having trouble?”

I grit my teeth, but that only makes them clash together as the horse’s feet collide with the ground. “No.”

He snorts. “Toes up, heels down. Grip the horse with your legs, don’t put all that tension in your back. And if Baranor were human, you’d have strangled him by now. Loosen up.”

Baranor huffs out a laugh and takes an exaggerated breath when I relax my hold around him. “Finally, I can breathe!”

“So dramatic,” I mumble, rolling my eyes for Rumil’s benefit.

“What was that,” Baranor questions, though I know if he has as good hearing as he claims to have, he surely heard my comment.

“I said you’re a really great rider,” I shout.

The three of us dissolve into laughter, and I lose myself in this. For a moment, I forget that I am dreaming, that this is a strange world I made up in my head. I forget that I haven’t the slightest idea what comes next. Instead, I start to forge the first tentative bonds of friendship.

{***}

I am glad when we stop for the evening, and run through some stretches to try and help with the muscle aches. Rumil’s pointers certainly helped though, and I have hopes that perhaps this discomfort is only temporary. We still follow the river, and once again make camp in the space on the high, grassy bank. Bathing was an experience, but it was mercifully quick. The water was much too cold for my liking, so I washed as hastily as I could and then redressed, joining the others on the bank. I lean over to wring the water from my hair, the saturation making it seem nearly black. It’s getting quite long—almost too long, and I hope wherever we’re going has someone willing to cut it. Rumil watches me curiously as I take a spare cloth and scrunch my hair—bringing out its natural waves—but says nothing, only continues giving me an odd look. I guess with the stick-straight hair of he and his brothers, this would look unusual. Just as I am about to tease him for his staring, Haldir comes in to sight, looking quite severe.

“We have lost the cover of the trees. We will take watch in pairs, rotating halfway through the night. Orophin, Baranor—you take the first shift.”

They dutifully follow Haldir’s order, and I watch their faces as they pass. They show no signs of tiredness—no bags under their eyes, no yawning, in fact, not even a hair is out of place—but if it were me, I would be absolutely exhausted with all this staying up. And, though it is technically their turn to rest, Rumil and Haldir are still on their feet, occupying themselves with tending to the horses. I feel awful, peacefully sitting on my bedroll, messing with my hair and eating dinner, knowing I’ll get a full night’s sleep when none of them will have that luxury.

I return my food to the sack loaned to me and push myself to my feet, tentatively approaching Rumil and his brother. Rumil smiles in greeting. Haldir merely glances up and then back to his horse’s hoof he’s bending over to attend. Though I fight to keep my eyes open as it is, it’s not right for me to leave them to do all the work. So, I try to project energy I do not feel, and pose my question. “Do you want me to take a watch shift tonight?”

Haldir stiffens. Rumil raises his eyebrows and vibrates slightly—he’s holding back laughter! I give them my best unimpressed look.

Rumil tries to hide his amusement but can’t do away with his wide grin. “We appreciate the offer, really. But having a human stand watch when we have elves at our disposal? It would be the same to not set a watch at all.”

I huff, crossing my arms, trying to ignore the heat I feel in my cheeks. All this talk of how incapable humans are is getting a little old. “Well, there must be something I can do to help. I shouldn’t go straight to bed if the rest of you are still working.”

Rumil’s expression softens. He purses his lips, seeming to search for either a task for me or a way to turn me away.

“Do you know how to mend clothing?”

I’m momentarily caught off guard. Haldir hasn’t looked up from clearing his horse’s hooves, but it was definitely him who spoke.

Unbidden, the action of holding a ripped piece of cloth and using a needle and threat to bind it comes to mind. I must know how. So I answer in the affirmative. “Yeah, I think so.”

Haldir nods, straightening only to exchange one hoof for the other, never making eye contact with either me or his brother. “Good. There’s a blue tunic in my largest bag that needs mending, and one of Rumil’s too—that one’s red. Work with the light. Stop when you can’t see anymore and finish in the morning.”

I blink and feel my head tilt to the side. That’s the most he’s ever said to me. But it’s not even that he spoke, it’s how. Every syllable is crisp, curt, and succinct—a command in every sense of the word. I long-ago realized that Haldir is in charge of this little group, though now I wonder if he supervises in a larger capacity back in his home. I get the feeling he’s quite used to talking to people like this, and being obeyed.

But I did ask for something to do, so I don’t comment on his tone, only say my goodbyes and retrieve the shirts he’s described. They’re exactly where he said they would be and wrapped around a small sewing kit. I take the supplies and return to my bedroll, working through the sunset. When it grows too dark to see, I put the project away. Rumil and Haldir join me, bringing dinner with them. They set out their mats in a sort of triangle, and I realize somewhat belatedly that this allows each of us to watch the other’s back. It seems second-nature to them, to be cautions and on their guard, even during dinnertime and sleep.

I try to distract myself from that disconcerting thought. “Why are we going to meet this friend of yours anyway?”

Rumil’s gaze turns to his brother standing watch, a fond look in his eye. “There is an elleth there that Orophin is courting. Their time apart has been too long for his liking, so he is paying her a visit. It is dangerous to travel these lands alone, so Haldir and I took leave to accompany him.”

Courting. Elleth. Where am I finding all these words? I keep talking in an effort to distract myself. “That’s really sweet. Does Baranor usually go with you all, since he’s a healer?”

“Usually,” Rumil confirms. “He has extensive experience in the halls of healing, as well as healing on the battlefield, so he is an excellent addition to any company. Also Elrond—the friend we are taking you to—is an acclaimed healer himself, so he and Baranor enjoy conversing with each other.”

Haldir stretches his arms up, then reclines on his mat. “Better get some sleep, all of us. Rumil—we’re up in four hours.”

I take his advice, laying down on my own bedroll. Exhausted though I am, sleep evades me.

My mind runs a million miles an hour, piecing together bits of information from this world, trying to remember things from my home. And, all the while, thought takes root, sowing seeds of fear in my mind.

Because while I know this world isn’t real, and thus no harm can come to me here…Rumil said these lands are dangerous, and the increased watches only support my theory that we are under some kind of threat. I have no weapon with which to defend myself, let alone any skill, and while I know logically that I could throw myself off a cliff and still be fine….

What if that’s not the case?

I groan, rolling onto my back.

This is ridiculous. This place is made up. I’m trapped inside my own head, so I have no reason to be scared. Go to sleep.

And, when the moon is much higher in the sky, the exhaustion wins.

A/n Thanks for reading! You know how likes, comments, and reblogs make me smile. Let me know if you would like a tag! And if you’re having trouble being tagged (for some reason Tumblr isn’t letting me tag all of you?) try subscribing to the story on Ao3! That will update you when I post there. 

|next part|

|masterlist|

Tolkien tag list: @anangelwhodidntfall @eru-vande

Double Heart tag list: @lainphotography @fangirl-nonsense @themerriweathermage @thophil2941btw @kenobiguacamole

**Strikethrough means Tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you**

[hetacon]

Curb Your Enthusiasm, Princey

Word Count: 2,650

Pairings: Prinxiety, Brotherly Creativitwins, Parental Analogical, Very Slightly Implied Familial Analogicality, Very Slightly Implied Logicality

Warning: Cursing, banter, kissing cause why not

______________________________

Summary: Virgil is joined out on the curb by his new neighbor across the street.

______________________________

Ever since junior high, Virgil had made a habit of going out to the curb of his house around 1 in the morning and just sitting there. Save for rainy days and perhaps the odd time when he wasn’t at home, he’d always do it. It was nice and comforting. He usually had to put on a hoodie from the slight chill but he was content to sit out on the concrete, pajama pants and all, just looking up at the stars with his headphones on.

One night, things were going as normal until he noticed someone approaching the curb from the other side of the street, a person around his age. Virgil paused his music, possibly as a chance to eavesdrop. He heard the person let out a sigh as they sat down and Virgil cursed himself as their eyes met. The person smiled, goddammit. There went his evening plans for the end of all time, never going out again he concluded.

“Do you always brood out here in the dark?” the person asked, a teasing tone to their voice.

Virgil glared at them a little. The stranger laughed.

“A look that could kill indeed, you seem like you’re fun at parties.”

That went on for a bit as Virgil continued ignoring them or giving a glare or two as the person tried to get him to talk.

After half an hour, Virgil’s 1 AM companion got up and stretched.

“Well my emo nightmare, I must say that I have been thoroughly engrossed in our conversation but I must be off. A prince must get his beauty sleep~!” the stranger sang out a bit, starting to turn a bit.

“As if sleep could fix that,” Virgil huffed out with a smirk, only for it to grow wider as the guy across the street gave a dramatic gasp and whipped around.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, your bitchness,” Virgil replied back without a moment of hesitation.

“Well-! And here I thought this would be the start of a cliché and passionate romance!” was the guy’s reply.

“Don’t get your hair in a twist, Princey, I’m way outta your league,” Virgil hummed.

“Then fine, if that’s how you’re going to be!”

“Yep,” Virgil said, popping the p and clicking his tongue with a wink.

The guy’s cheeks flushed a bit. “Goddamn you,” he mumbled, turning to go inside for real.

_____

Virgil was expecting only that one encounter but the next night, his neighbor decided trying to stir up more conversation, out on the curb in the first 10 minutes Virgil was.

“Good evening, my dark and mysterious companion,” Virgil’s neighbor greeted, bowing mockingly. “And what do I owe this honor for us meeting once again?”

Virgil watched as the guy grinned rather boyishly and he rolled his eyes, trying to fight off a smile. “It’s not an honor, trust me. It wasn’t for you if you’re even considering that.”

“Well now, can’t you leave a man to his unrealistic dreams of summer romance?” came his neighbor’s response.

“As long as you know they’re unrealistic, ya royal pain in the ass. Virgil by the way,” he introduced.

“A beautiful name for a beautiful person such as yourself I see! Roman Prince, a pleasure to meet you,” the guy, Roman supposedly, said.

“Prince? Wow, that could not be more on the nose could it?” Virgil laughed to himself.

“Oh, and what? Is your last name all dark and broody like you?” Roman asked.

Virgil shook his head. “The opposite, Princey. Hart.”

“Virgil Hart.”

“Yep.”

Roman blinked for a moment. “You... are actually a kitten.”

“Whatever you say, dude,” Virgil said as he lied down on the concrete. “I don’t give a crap about your opinion of me.”

“I admire that,” Roman replied, smiling to Virgil. “Not a lot of people can really say that, you know.”

Virgil felt his cheeks heating up. “I mean, I care a little because like, anxiety, but other than that, it doesn’t really matter.”

Roman chuckled and Virgil looked over to see that he was the recipient of a rather adoring gaze.

“... What?”

“I admire the honesty even more.”

“Whatever, sap.”

_____

The third night in a row, Virgil didn’t hesitate to flip Roman off with a smirk, receiving an offended gasp from the guy taking a seat on the curb. Virgil couldn’t help but laugh as that part became their greeting.

It became a nice little routine. They talked for a while, things were going well and they got to know each other from the hour of time they shared outside.

_____

“So you come out every night?” Roman asked, yawning afterwards as he rubbed sleep out of his eyes to the best of his ability.

“Yeah, helps me clear my head,” Virgil told him.

“When did it start?”

“I had a panic attack one night, felt trapped in the house. So I decided to show myself I wasn’t and came out here. I’ve just been doing it ever since. Nothing special.”

Roman shrugged. “I think it’s cool that you were able to work with the anxiety rather than push it back.”

“When you’ve been dealing with it since you were a kid, you learn how to deal with it, you know?”

“No, unfortunately not.”

“Eh, that’s fair. Trust me, you’re not missing much.”

Roman laughed. “No, I imagine I’m not,” he replied, smiling to Virgil.

“Hey Princey, by the way, what’s up with you and romance?” Virgil asked, looking over to him.

Roman blinked, looking very thrown off by the timing of the question. Virgil tried not to smile at the reaction.

“What do you mean?” was the response Virgil was given.

“I mean like, you always talk about love and summer romance and flirt with me and all that kind of stuff, I was just wondering if there was a reason.”

Roman nodded. “Ah. Well,” he cleared his throat. “Just always loved the ideas of love I suppose. Grew up on Disney Princess movies, I just always was fascinated by the stories. And since most of them concern romance, it only makes sense. Plus my neighbor doesn’t hurt the idea.”

“Oh shut up,” Virgil laughed.

“What?” Roman feigned innocence.

“You can’t go a single night without flirting and you know it,” Virgil told him, quirking an eyebrow.

“Well with you, it’s certainly not difficult~”

_____

Roman brought someone out one night, something that was definitely not precedented.

The person in question looked exactly like Roman except for a slight mustache. Virgil guessed it was Roman’s twin that he’d mentioned a few times, go figures they’d look exactly alike. He wore a grey tank top and green cargo shorts, looking like he was just dragged out of bed. From the looks of it, he’d been crying.

Virgil watched on in silence as Roman sat the two of them down, leaning his twin’s head against his shoulder, his arm wrapped around the twin’s shoulder. Roman gave him a gentle squeeze and he leaned in closer to Roman’s hold.

“You want to meet Virgil?” Virgil could faintly hear from across the street to which the twin nodded, looking up with a tired and drained expression.

Virgil smiles sympathetically and gave the twin a small wave.

“Virge, I believe I’ve told you about me having a sibling before. This is Remus,” Roman said softly, looking down to Remus.

“Sup, Roman hasn’t shut up about you for weeks,” Remus said without much more explanation.

Virgil laughed. “Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me. Does it consist of gushing about potential romance and how I look like a Hot Topic exploded, only for that to add to my charm and appeal?” he teased, smirking towards Roman with a wink.

Roman gasped, only to gasp even louder when Remus started talking.

“Fuck yeah, it’s nothing but ‘Oh, he’s so gorgeous and stunning, I simply can’t resist him! He’s my soulmate Remus- Hey stop laughing at me!’” Remus said as a response, making dramatic movements to mimic his brother.

Roman pushed him, pouting. “This is unfair! You’re my brother, you’re supposed to love me!” he whined out, only for Remus and Virgil to start laughing.

“Never said I don’t!” Remus hummed out.

“Asshole!”

“Well that’s not a very nice thing to say to Virgil~”

After a second, Roman’s eyes widened and he turned to Virgil. “You’re not, I promise, I don’t even remotely think of you like that, My Chemically Imbalanced Romance,” he tried to defend.

Remus and Virgil smirked to each other.

“Awwww, you came up with an emo themed pet name for me? You have it bad~” Virgil cooed.

Roman’s cheeks flared bright red and he moved his eyes down to his hands clasped together in his lap. Remus clapped his hand over Roman’s back, making the latter jump a bit as Remus stood up.

“Well, it’s been an honor, I give my official seal of approval to marry my bro bro!” Remus said with a goofy bow, cracking a smile at Virgil.

“Good to know I have your approval to torment him till death do us part,” Virgil replied with a smirk.

Remus turned to Roman, pointing a finger at Virgil. “I like him, don’t fuck yourself over,” he commented before going inside.

“I hate him sometimes,” Roman grumbled as soon as the front door shut.

“I have no clue why,” Virgil hummed back.

“I hate you too.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Princey~”

_____

“Alright, if you had to give up Disney or drama for the rest of your life, which would you choose?” Virgil asked with a smirk, hearing Roman gasp loudly.

“You dare make me choose between two of my darling babies?” Roman whined, holding a hand to his forehead.

“Geez, I think it’s looking like Disney, drama is hardwired into you, Sir Sing-a-lot,” Virgil snorted, smirking.

“I hate that stupid smirk you get when you think you’re being clever and hot as all hell,” Roman grumbled, pouting as Virgil only smirked wider.

“Awwww, how cute~”

“Shut up, Hot Topic.”

“Aww, you think I’m hot~”

“I will actually come over there and hit you.”

“And risk messing up my hotness? Nah, you wouldn’t dare~”

_____

“Do you really have to move so far away..?” Virgil asked softly one night, a year from their first meeting.

“This school is a really good one, I want to try my luck at show business, you know?” Roman told him, holding the same sad expression as Virgil was.

“I know, it just... sucks for me,” Virgil sighed. “I feel like I just got to know you and now you’re leaving me forever.”

Roman laughed, giving Virgil an amused expression. “You say this as if I can’t text you.”

“You’ve never given me your number, I don’t know how you would,” Virgil said with a tight smile.

Roman was finding some way to laugh and find light of the situation, just as he always seemed to do. It reminded Virgil of his dad in all honesty. Virgil couldn’t see how there was much in this situation to smile about but he tried. He tried because he loved Roman.

He loved Roman..

“Roman.”

Roman’s gaze landed on Virgil as he looked up. “Yes?”

“I love you.”

If it was possible, Virgil thought this was the brightest red Roman had ever turned.

“What?”

“I love you, Roman Prince, and if that’s horribly offensive to you, you don’t have to give me your number and you can forget about me when you become a famous actor,” Virgil only half-joked, hugging himself. He shouldn’t have said that, he felt like he was going to cry and for no good reason too. He was going to look like a crybaby in front of the guy he just told about his feelings, this could not get much worse.

“Do you really mean that?”

“Yeah, why else would I say it?” Virgil muttered out.

Roman laughed loudly. “I love you too, my dark and stormy knight! Oh I love you with all my heart and I will as long as you accept it!”

Virgil looked up, seeing Roman basically bouncing in place on the curb, his eyes wide and filled with excitement. He definitely was beautiful, Virgil would never doubt that.

_____

For the first time in a while, Virgil had company. Not Roman, unfortunately, he was still going to be at college for another month or so. Virgil was outside sitting with one of his dads tonight.

“So you come out here every night?” Logan asked.

“Yep, it helps.”

“I’m glad it does. I can see why, it is nice to get some fresh air. Hopefully your dad is still asleep, I’d hate for him to panic.”

“He’ll be fine, he knows I’m out here and will probably come out here to ask if he does wake up.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

Virgil leaned his head on Logan’s shoulder, closing his eyes as he was pulled closer. They stayed like that in silence for a little bit.

“So when does Roman get back again?” Logan asked, a suspicious tone to his voice.

With a sigh, Virgil looked over to his papa. “He won’t be back for a-“

“Oh I think right about now,” a voice in front of them chuckled.

Virgil’s eyes flicked up in an instant.

Roman.

“You’re here early,” Virgil muttered out dumbly, something Roman was barely able to hear from across the street.

“Yep, I am,” he chuckled, bowing. “Virgil. Mr. Hart, a pleasure truly.

Logan smiled at Roman’s antics. “And to you yourself. I trust that my son is in good hands now, watch after him,” he said with a squeeze to Virgil’s shoulders before getting up and heading to the house.

“It would be my honor and privilege,” Roman said gently, more so to Virgil than anyone else.

“I can’t believe you’re here...” Virgil dumbly emphasized.

“Yes, well. I finished a semester early and wanted to hurry back home but needed to stay a few more months. I would’ve liked to spend the holidays with you ideally but c’est la vie, there’s not much I can do about it now! Is my presence still welcome regardless?” Roman asked with an awkward grin.

“Yes, god you idiot,” Virgil laughed out.

Roman couldn’t help but smile and nod. “Then I shall offer my companionship for the night,” he said as he sat down, still looking to Virgil with that smile.

Virgil quickly got up and started walking forward, stopping to look both ways across the street before rushing over to Roman, practically tackling him to the ground. Roman’s laugh was quieted as Virgil’s hands cupped his cheeks and Virgil was kissing him for a brief moment.

“Wow, oh boy, is kissing always supposed to make you feel this high?” Roman asked with a giggle, a dazed and happy expression taking over his face. “I’ll have to go away more if it means getting greetings like that,” he muttered out dreamily to himself.

Virgil flipped him off without hesitation.

“Ah, there’s my charming prince’s usual greeting, how I’ve missed it~”

“Shut up. You’re not going anywhere,” Virgil mused, kissing his cheek.

“Well with you here, it’s hardly difficult to stay~” Roman hummed, leaning in to kiss Virgil again.

______________________________

Taglist: @artissijam, @virgils-paranoia, @marshmallow-the-panda, @anotheregofanficblog

[themurphyzone]

PatB Nova Ch 7

Ch 7: Perturb

AN: This chapter’s somehow got long so a lot of stuff I wanted to originally place here’s going in the next one.

FFN Link

Terran Date 2015.4.23

Since I currently lack access to my regular equipment, I’m making do with an audio recording program from a Terran computer. I must admit it’s not nearly as efficient as my usual method, but it will have to suffice.

Pinky is an…interesting host. I won’t deny that he’s rather generous, and the delicacy he identified as cream cheese is surprisingly palatable. I’ve also taken up residence in his cage which he also kindly offered for my use as a safe place to sleep. The sponge bed has been moved to the cage per my request.

Objective assessment of Pinky: his species is a lab mouse, his eyes have to be some odd mutation because it cannot be possible for them to be that blue, and he’s an amiable idiot. As I’m recording this, he’s currently scolding two inanimate objects for their failure to keep the cage clean in his absence.

Today’s goal: Pinky is planning for a trip to the local mall to obtain a hat to wear for the Derby. Once again, it’s an illogical custom I am unfamiliar with. I’ve agreed to accompany him for two purposes. The first, clues on Snowball’s whereabouts. And the second, to gather intel on Terran habits for world domination purposes. Snowball and I will be able to put my information to good use when we’re reunited.

Signing off for now, the Brain.

o-o-o-o-o

Getting lost, losing communications, and the unrelenting solitude were the major dangers of setting foot outside of Penumbra. Only the first two conditions applied now.

Pinky leapt through the mail slot and danced along the pavement. He wore a lavender blouse that left his shoulders exposed, his shorts made of a Terran material called denim. Apparently, this excursion was also an opportunity to make a fashion statement. But Brain didn’t see the practicality of Pinky’s clothes.  The silly Terran stepped on an odd rock here and there, but his twirls didn’t slow down. Just looking at him made Brain slightly dizzy.

Thin, white clouds drifted lazily in the vast blue sky far above them. Brain looked up, one hand on his brow to shield his eyes from the bright sunlight. New Selene and the stars weren’t visible, though they were somewhere much higher than the sky.

He squinted and lowered his gaze to the ground, dark spots forming in his vision and making everything rather blurry.

Brain had switched his jumpsuit and gloves for a Terran disguise, a simple red shirt and another pair of denim shorts, both items borrowed from Pinky’s large collection of outfits. But since Pinky’s legs were longer, the shorts technically functioned more like pants, and the shirt was knee-length. Though it was comfortable, so he went along with it for now.

Besides, Pinky had been shockingly adamant about the jumpsuit and gloves needing a wash. Brain had protested at first since the material had anti-olfactory functions built in, but Pinky insisted and Brain agreed if only to shut up the Terran.

Procuring formal clothes for conquest would just have to wait.

And there was another issue he hadn’t anticipated.

Everything was so colorful and loud. He was so used to everything being muted and dark. Already he missed the ever present hum of the lab technology, and he’d barely set foot outside the door. Brain stood on the coarse welcome mat, on the border between safety and the unknown.

He was just grateful his accelerated healing kicked in overnight, and the bandages were no longer necessary.

“Come on, Brain!” Pinky shouted as he skipped along the pavement, careful to avoid all the cracks. “The sidewalk is great! Just don’t step on the crack, or you’ll break your mama’s back!”

Brain scowled. “My mother is on a different planet entirely, if she hasn’t already fallen victim to the many dangers of the natural world. Stepping on a cracked rock here on Terra will have no effect on her skeletal structure. The two actions are entirely uncorrelated.”

“The corals are related?” Pinky gasped, hands flying to his mouth in genuine surprise. “I knew they looked similar!”  

There was absolutely no reasoning with him, was there?

A large, sleek metal structure roared down the large stretch of pavement in front of them, a cloud of smoke trailing behind it as it rounded a corner and disappeared. It wasn’t his first time seeing one of those vehicles, since they’d been peppered throughout the satellite images he’d viewed back on Penumbra.

A car. One of the forms of land-based transportation on Terra, Brain recalled from the file on Terran technology. Highly practical for traveling long distances.

Cars were much larger in person. The images made them seem so tiny.

And once again, he found himself woefully lacking essential information. Did cars function similarly to a rover? How did it zoom by so quickly? What was the power source?

He looked up at the sky again, but the sunlight had somehow gotten stronger during his pondering, and he quickly averted his eyes.

“Poit. Your eyes are so squinty, Brain!” Pinky lightly tapped Brain’s head, breaking him out of his thoughts. “Don’t look directly into the sun. It’s bad for your eyes and you’d need to eat lots and lots of carrots to fix them and then your fur will turn orange!”

“A side effect of all this light,” Brain replied, making a mental note that carrots were an edible item that caused orange fur. He’d have to avoid them in the future. “I’m fine. Let’s depart for this…mall.”

The word felt strange on his tongue. But his feet wouldn’t leave the safety of the welcome mat.

“I’d love for you to come along, but if you’d rather not, that’s fine too,” Pinky said. There was a slight tinge of disappointment in his voice though, but he still seemed as sunny as the actual star. It was somewhat unsettling.

“Won’t you join my little expedition, Brain?” Snowball wrapped an arm around Brain’s shoulders. Fine mist trailed from the aisam’s claws, surrounding them with an icy chill that traveled up Brain’s spine and settled into his fur. “The road to Eclipse Lab is awfully barren and I could use a little company. Perhaps we could test our skills with star identification along the way.”

Brain shoved him away and Snowball clicked his tongue in disappointment.

“For the last time, I’m n-not interested in visiting that horrible, scrik-ridden m-mess of a lab, Snowball. If you wish to leave New Selene sometime in the next cycle, you will allow me to fine-tune the propulsion system in peace,” Brain retorted, hating the tremor in his voice caused by a brief yet violent case of the shivers. He picked up a wrench and examined it for overuse damage, turning his back on Snowball so he wouldn’t see Brain’s hands tremble.

Whether it was from the cold or the mere thought of setting foot in the place where he’d been prodded and restrained by long, claw-like fingers, he couldn’t say.

“You can’t be an invertebrate, Brain,” Snowball grumbled. His disappointment was palpable, and Brain’s fingers tightened around the wrench. “Our combined intellect is unparalleled and far superior to those imbecilic Terrans. Whatever it takes to rule, whatever it takes to wear the crown, we must seize it by any means possible.”

Then he was gone, and the Conquistador’s silent frame became Brain’s steadfast companion.

“Earth to Brain! Oh sorry, should I say Terra to Brain instead? Come in, Terra to Brain! This is Lieutenant Pinky reporting in! Over!”

Pinky was suddenly in front of his face, and Brain leapt back in surprise. He must’ve been lost in his ponderings again. Pinky held something behind his back, something bright and yellow poking out near his tail.

“Yes, Pinky. I hear you,” Brain sighed. Then Pinky showed him the item behind his back, and it turned out to be the oddest pair of safety goggles Brain had ever seen in his life. The star-shaped frame was yellow and provided little protection for the nose, and the lens were tinted dark instead of clear. “These goggles are highly impractical for technical work.”

“They’re sunglasses actually. Slipped inside and grabbed ‘em while you were pandering. I use these if I’m playing movie star-slash-chiropractor! Try them on!” Pinky said. Deciding it was best to humor him, Brain slid on the glasses, and his vision became a shade darker. The colors were still there, just not as bright. The headache that had threatened to form dissipated into nothingness.

“This is bearable,” Brain said. Pinky was slightly darker as well, though the tinted lens did nothing to diminish his shining blue eyes.

Pinky clapped his hands in glee. “Exactly! Also works for grizzlies and honey bears and teddies! And now you’re a movie star too!”  

Brain rolled his eyes, sweeping his antennae back so they didn’t get in the way. “That’s not a classification of any star. Despite your questionable logic, and I use that word in a fairly liberal sense, the color spectrum of your planet is no longer a strain on my eyes. So…thanks.”

“Aww! You’re welcome, Brain,” Pinky said. “And really, you can wear them in the lab too. I don’t mind.”

“No, Pinky. I’m coming along. I have goals to accomplish during this trip,” Brain said. Taking a deep breath, he stepped off the welcome mat, then hopped off the step and onto the pavement.

It wasn’t as difficult as his mind made it out to be.  

Pinky laughed, and Brain barely got out of the way in time before several ounces of idiosyncrasies could crash into him.

Brain wouldn’t get anything done by sitting around and being too afraid to leave the lab’s safe haven. Somewhere underneath the massive sky, Snowball was likely planning his own day’s activities. And today, they’d be taking the first steps to conquer Terra.

Through any means possible.

o-o-o-o-o

Brain prided himself on his keen observation skills, something that would serve him well when he and Snowball finally exploited the inhabitants’ many weaknesses. Pinky considered it a ‘a blousery, blustery, beautiful day’, whatever that meant, and skipped to and fro in every direction to take in the sights of the city. Brain kept him in view at all times, not wanting to be left alone in this strange world.

He quickly found that the word ‘Terrans’ failed to encapsulate the biodiversity of the planet, in addition to individual differences between members of the same species. Humans varied greatly in size, shape, and appearance, though even the tallest ones weren’t nearly as large as a Selenian. Some had their heads buried in their devices with cords going into their ears and were oblivious to their surroundings, and Brain had to keep an eye out for those dangerous folks since they didn’t seem to care about anyone in their path.

While inconvenient for him, their failure to pay attention could easily be turned into an advantage.

Several humans walked alongside quadrupedal creatures that sniffed the ground and had collars and ropes around their necks that led to a handle in the human’s hand. Pinky called them ‘dogs’ and ‘leashes’. He was more than happy to clarify anything Brain didn’t understand, and while he figured that he would have to research Terra more in-depth later, Pinky’s happy explanations were sufficient for now.

Brain firmly held Pinky’s hand as they passed by a human and a golden-furred dog with large paws and a long, panting tongue. The dog sniffed them curiously and made a ‘groomph’ noise, and though it didn’t seem hostile, Brain dragged Pinky away before the dog had the opportunity to slobber all over them.  

But even the ‘goldy’, as Pinky called it, was more preferable to the tiny, yappy thing that Pinky identified as a ‘Chi-wa-wa’. At least it was yanked back by its leash before it could give chase to them.

Pinky called himself a mouse, and his friend Pharfignewton was a horse. Two species down.

The flying creatures were pigeons, crows, and sparrows. They ate whatever they could scavenge on the ground. The tiny things that scurried around his feet were insects, and Pinky yanked him back from stepping on a sidewalk crack filled with red and black ‘ants’.

“Fire ants will make your feet itchy and tingly!” he warned. “And not the pleasant kind either!”

Brain committed his warning to memory.

Cars crawled by slowly on the street, packed closely as far as the eye could see. They made odd screeching noises from time to time, the humans inside grumpily slamming their palms against their steering devices.

Lights on every corner controlled the flow of cars. Everyone became furious with red and brightened when it was green. He wasn’t exactly sure what yellow was supposed to do since some cars sped right past and others came to a stop. Regardless, humans were dependent on those lights in their vehicles. It was an interesting observation.

There were plenty of additional rules too, which Pinky was adamant on teaching. Only cross at the white strips at the lights, and only when the red hand changed to the green human. Look left, right, then left again before crossing. Pat your head and rub your belly if you see an out-of-state license plate…well, Brain was pretty sure that wasn’t a safety rule since none of the humans were doing it. Just a Pinky thing then.

Everything was alive, from the structures that creaked on the highest buildings to the scattered pebbles underfoot. While he’d known the planet’s atmosphere carried sound far better than New Selene’s,  experiencing it for himself was nothing short of fascinating. He’d have to research the exact composition that made it all possible later. Energy flowed towards him in all directions, though the daytime thankfully masked his glowing orbs.

Blending in wasn’t difficult either. Humans were more oblivious than he thought.

“Last corner, Brain!” Pinky exclaimed, twirling happily as they waited for the signal to cross the busy intersection. “Then we’re at the mall! You’ll love it! There’s food and clothing and perfume and toys and-“

“Pinky, what exactly is the purpose of a mall?” Brain asked. Pinky had been rather unclear on that. Mostly he’d just been gushing about all the fun things they could do.

“To do fun fun silly-willy things with your friends and look at stuff you can never afford on a lab mouse’s salary, of course!” Pinky replied.

The signal to cross finally appeared, and Pinky skipped merrily across the white strip, nimbly avoiding getting trampled by several humans walking in the opposite direction. Brain walked at a normal pace, keeping his tail close to his body. He didn’t trust the distracted humans to watch where they were going, especially since their handheld devices seemed to hold more importance than avoiding getting run over heavy wheels.

As Brain stepped onto the sidewalk, an odd texture struck him on the head, knocking his sunglasses askew. Several drops of a lukewarm liquid splashing onto his fur. It didn’t hurt, but it was still an unpleasant surprise. The human next to him didn’t notice. He was too busy yelling into his device and gesturing wildly, then stomped off in a huff. He almost trampled Pinky, who barely managed to pull his tail out of the way before the man’s large foot crushed it.

“Well, he was certainly rude. He littered and didn’t say sorry for dropping the cup on your head!” Pinky complained as he helped Brain to his feet, his blue eyes narrowed at the man’s back as he disappeared into the crowd. He cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted in the man’s general direction. “Hey, litterbug! I bet your mom’s older than you! Narf!”  

He gave a firm nod, satisfied with his ludicrous and underwhelming insult.

A furious Pinky. That was an interesting concept, yet anger and Pinky somehow remained mutually exclusive in Brain’s mind.

“Not to worry, Pinky,” Brain said, wiping the liquid away from the base of his antennae. He returned his sunglasses to the proper position. “He’s long gone. I’ve suffered worse.”

Pinky took a deep breath, then took a sniff of the cup’s opening and wrinkled his nose. “Maybe he wouldn’t be so grumpy or litterbuggy if he put more sugar in his cappuccino,” he sighed. “Styrofoam too. Can’t recycle that.”

Dragging the cup over to a nearby garbage can, Pinky hoisted it over his head and trying to stick it through the hole on top. The cup was barely over the rim, Pinky clinging to the metal with one hand and scrabbling for a foothold. He wasn’t giving up without a fight, so Brain grabbed Pinky’s ankles to give him the extra boost needed to push the cup in.

Pinky climbed down once he heard the dull thud from inside the can. “Thanks,” he said gratefully, though he still seemed unusually morose.

Brain walked into a section lined with vegetation and dirt that separated the street from the mall. But Pinky didn’t follow. He was looking into the direction they came from. “The cup’s in the proper place now. Let’s go, Pinky.”

Instead of following Brain, Pinky moved to the curbside, looking down at his feet. Really. Pinky came to the mall for a purpose, however inane it was. He needed to commit to that goal.

Brain growled in frustration, grasping his wayward companion’s wrist and pulling him in the mall’s direction. Pinky stumbled, but hardly budged otherwise. “Quit being stubborn, Pinky. The sun will burn out before you twitch a finger at this rate.”

“But the rest of it…“ Pinky whimpered, pointing to the street.

The road was filled with cups like the one Pinky had just thrown away. Filthy, damp, and unreadable papers lined the curb. A plastic bag tumbled in the wind. There were even a few objects that might’ve been clothing at one point.  

Some people passed them by without a care in the world, others clicked their tongue at the mess but hurried on their way. Two people on the other side of the intersection were clothed in white from head to toe, picking away at the garbage with long sticks and depositing them into large bags.

From the sheer amount of garbage that lined the streets, Brain thought it was a futile effort on their part.

This was one of Terra’s downsides. Its inhabitants were destroying the very planet they lived on. It was one of the few observations the Selenian scientists were accurate about.  

Pinky reached for a mass of papers, a revolting yellowish-green grime covering its surface, but Brain pulled him back before he could touch it.

“Don’t touch that with your bare hands, Pinky,” Brain scolded. “It’s unsanitary.”

Pinky pouted. Now obstinance. He shifted moods rather quickly, didn’t he? It was baffling.

“We gotta take care of Mother Earth, Brain!” Pinky protested as Brain dragged him into the vegetation. “Or there won’t be any pretty flowers to sniff and the acorn and pinecone elves won’t ever set aside their differences to sign that peace treaty!”

“The databank contained many details regarding the pollution of Terra, Pinky,” Brain admitted. “So I’m aware of the issue. But cleaning this one street would take time we can’t spare. You’re being sidetracked from your goal, and I can’t achieve my own objectives either.”

“Wait…” Pinky murmured. “You’re gonna rule soon, aren’t you? So you can definitely protect the world! That’s wonderful, Brain! I know you can do it!”

The sudden shift in mood caught Brain off-guard.  

I can? Brain almost said, but the hope shining in Pinky’s eyes quelled that uncertain response. There was nothing but sincere admiration in that pool of blue, a massive surge of electrons flowing from Pinky’s chest into Brain’s antennae.

He would dare describe the electrons as a positive charge. How? Electrons were supposed to be negative! What kind of anomaly did he have the terrifying pleasure of knowing?

Brain cleared his throat, focusing on the enormous sprawling complex in front of them. Pinky’s blind faith was off-putting, and it was much easier to disregard it. “Of course. I will have unquestionable power in the near-future. Solving these issues will be easier than calibrating an auto-navigation interface.”

Pinky blinked.

“And…I’ll oversee those peace treaty negotiations between the elves.”

Pinky brightened immediately. “Thank you, Brain! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Long arms snagged Brain and lifted him off the ground in an enormous hug. Brain’s feet kicked out, but the warmth Pinky emitted had the strangest subduing effect. Brain’s antennae weren’t obstructed either, just swept back. Apparently, Pinky learned from last time.

Brain’s chest was oddly warm. Or maybe it was Pinky’s. It was hard to know for certain.

“Your orbs are so glowy,” Pinky said in awe.

And they weren’t achieving anything from this display of sentimentality! With some difficulty, Brain reclaimed his right arm and bopped Pinky on top of his empty noggin.

Pinky immediately let go, stumbling around dizzily and startling a nearby sparrow with his loud giggles. Brain landed on the base of his tail, a brief painful twinge travelling up his spine. In hindsight, he didn’t plan that well. At least there wasn’t another kink.

“That was jolly fun, Brain!” Pinky exclaimed upon recovery.

If he ever had the spare time, he was definitely researching the differences between actual Terran phrases and Pinky-isms.

“I’m sure,” Brain sighed, though he wasn’t sure and never would be, but Pinky didn’t need to know that.

They walked into a large, multi-level structure that Pinky called a ‘parking garage’, which housed a large amount of dormant vehicles. It was similar to the traffic they’d passed earlier, but the drivers were elsewhere. They were packed close, almost touching, and Brain wondered how anyone could possibly get in or out in these tight quarters.

Another few inches closer and the drivers would be completely trapped. That idea had potential.

Pinky hopped onto each yellow marking on the ground, arms flailing as he tried to avoid the gray areas in between. Brain followed at a more sedate pace. Then Pinky gasped and straightened up just as he landed on the last yellow marking before the mall entrance, Brain nearly bumping into him.

“Look, Brain! Somebody’s dropped their wallet!” Pinky gasped, hurrying over to a black object lying against the curb. He undid the zipper and glanced inside. “Egad, that’s a lot of money!”

Brain peeked inside. A wad of folded green paper was tucked inside one of the pockets. “A currency-based economy? Selene and its colonies utilized barter systems,” he said.  

Which could be an issue. Brain had originally planned to trade the Conquistador’s spare parts for useful items.

“Oh no, Brain. Currants would get squished in your pants. Then you’d need a really strong stain remover,” Pinky replied. “Besides, this man’s very lucky he can buy so many hats! That’s what I’d do if I had any money!”

He must’ve misheard that. Surely.

“Pinky, tell me you brought the monetary value required for your hat.”

Pinky dug his hand into a fur pocket, but only came out with a piece of fluff. “Hmmm, well, I have some dryer lint! Only money I have is Nicholas the Nickel, and he’s cleaning the cage with—oh.” His ears and tail fell limp under Brain’s glare.

Brain kicked a loose pebble, and it ricocheted harshly off the base of a metal sign. Of all the native species he could’ve chosen for a guide, it just had to be the one individual whose head was denser than a neutron star.

“Sorry, Brain,” Pinky murmured. “I’m not very good at this goal-setting thing, am I?”

He said ‘sorry’ a lot for placation’s sake. But no matter the context, he always sounded sincere. Brain pushed his sunglasses up to his forehead and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Somehow, he couldn’t find it in himself to be irate with Pinky anymore.

“You require more practice,” Brain replied. He glanced at the strange, valuable green papers in the wallet. Funny how they came across the commodity needed at this moment. “However, it’s most fortunate that we should stumble on the item required in trade for your hat.”

The money was all in 20s and 50s, and while Brain was unfamiliar with this currency, he figured there would be enough to spare. He took the money out of the pocket and tucked it under his arm. Then he flipped his sunglasses down, but Pinky tugged the money out of his grip before he could walk off.

“No, Brain! That’s stealing!” Pinky protested, slipping the money back into the wallet. “This rightfully belongs to a Mr. Joe Lamont! We have to take this wallet to Lost and Found now!”

Pinky’s stubborn side came out randomly, it seemed.

“The money is here at your convenience, Pinky. You have to use every asset possible to achieve your goal,” Brain said.

“What if Mr. Lamont needs this?” Pinky tapped a card that displayed a human’s photo along with other identifying information. Then he pointed to a small picture of a man and woman. “What if he needs this for anniversary or birthday presents, or else his wife won’t be happy and he’ll be sad cause he left his wallet somewhere and what if someone picks it up and won’t give it back? Cause that’s just mean!”

“Then he should’ve been more careful with such a valuable item,” Brain snapped. Pinky made a noise of disbelief and turned his back to Brain. “So take one or two of the papers for yourself and give the rest back.”

While he’d prefer to keep the entire wallet for future use, it seemed he would just have to compromise with Pinky.

“He won’t notice.”

“NARF!” Pinky retorted.

His assumption was wrong. Pinky wouldn’t accept a compromise either. It was a losing battle, and as much as hated conceding defeat, no other options presented themselves.

“Fine! Do what makes you happy! See if I care!” Brain shouted at Pinky’s back.

He was only presenting the most logical solution. It wasn’t his fault this idiot wasn’t taking the opportunity! And none of this was helping him find Snowball or conquer Terra either!

“Returning the wallet would make me happy, Brain,” Pinky said with conviction.

“Why?” Brain asked. This wasn’t the type of goal-setting he’d pictured at all.

“It feels right.”

Tasks should be performed with efficiency in mind, not for emotion’s sake. But it seemed that keeping Pinky in his normal euphoric state would be in Brain’s best interest for now.

“Alright, let’s return that wallet. Neither you nor I shall use any of the money for personal reasons. We’re heading to the…Lost and Found?” Brain said reluctantly. He took a deep breath, reminding himself to keep Pinky in a good mood. “You lead the way. I’m not familiar with this locale.”

Pinky faced Brain, and the bright smile was back. Brain looked away. He wasn’t doing this out of altruism, and Pinky needed to learn that.  

“Yup, it’s like the Island of Misfit Toys, but for car keys, jackets, and other things too!” Pinky exclaimed, hoisting the wallet above his head. “And now it’s for Mr. Lamont’s wallet!”

The satellite images never pinpointed a geographical location named the Island of Misfit Toys. Probably situated next to a more prominent landmass then.

“Welcome to Macy’s, Brain!” Pinky cheered as they entered a pristine white building. “For all your expensive brand clothing and Thanksgiving Day needs!”

The store was brightly lit, so Brain kept his sunglasses down. Numerous bottles of varying colors were on display. Women shouted from behind their counters, urging passersby to purchase their products. Most people walked by quickly, looking rather uncomfortable and twitchy until they were far from the display area. Only two women seemed interested at all, spraying misty clouds on tiny strips of paper and sniffing them curiously.

“What are they doing?” Brain whispered as he shuffled closer to Pinky for protection’s sake. There was a predatory gleam in those workers’ eyes, and he didn’t like it one bit.

Even Pinky with his near-perpetual cheer seemed uncomfortable, his fingers anxiously drumming against the wallet. “Poit. Selling perfume. All sorts of lovely scents, but this is definitely why online shopping is more popular these days.”

Before Brain could respond, one of the workers suddenly rushed towards them with a manic smile that showed way too many teeth.

“Hi, you wanna buy some perfume buy one and ya get another half price ‘til May!” she shrieked. Without giving them a chance to respond, she sprayed perfume directly in their faces.

Pink mist engulfed them and obstructed their vision. A pungent scent clogged Brain’s nose, trickling its way down his throat, and he let out a hacking cough to expel it. Pinky’s wheeze suddenly turned into a yelp, and by the time the mist cleared, the woman was walking away with the wallet in hand.

Pinky clung to the wallet desperately, his legs kicking out as he was hoisted into the air. “Please, miss! Brain and I—ehem—Brain and I need to give this wallet to Lost and Found so Mr. Lamont can buy his wife nice presents!”

“Oh, it’s a sizeable wallet you’ve got there too!” the woman exclaimed. Brain found her pitch highly grating. “Let’s see, with money like that you can get lilac, honeysuckle, eau de escargot, a perfume that smells like wet goat hair sponsored by Gwenyth Paltrow-“

“I’m sure they smell lovely, but-“

“Very lovely indeed!” the woman spoke over Pinky, who could only dangle helplessly.

Brain gritted his teeth and hurried after them, shaking off his earlier disorientation. When she stopped to jabber about perfume again, he slammed his tail onto her bare ankle and administered a quick shock. Startled, she dropped Pinky the wallet. Brain darted between her sandals just in time to catch Pinky, who clutched the wallet to his chest, slightly dizzy from his sudden fall.

The perfume bottle was aimed in their direction again.

Brain took off with Pinky in his arms, running as fast as he could when those dreaded sandals got too close for comfort. He allowed Pinky to safekeep the wallet, since he was already so protective of it.

“Relentless scrik!” Brain panted as the woman hurled various sales pitches behind them. Pinky wasn’t heavy, but the wallet was a different story. And Pinky made it look so simple!

Well, Pinky was simple in general. Perhaps it was a distributive effect.  

“Brain, go into the carpeted area!” Pinky shouted. “She can’t follow us out of her department!”

Deciding to trust Pinky’s word, Brain ran straight onto the carpet, barely dodging someone’s shoe in time, and his foot caught on the raised border between the carpet and tile. He fell onto his face, one of the sunglasses’ handles digging into his fur on impact. Pinky and the wallet tumbled across the floor, coming to a stop a short distance away.  

As Pinky predicted, the woman stopped chasing them.

“Annnnd there goes my bonus,” she muttered dejectedly. She slammed the perfume bottle onto a nearby counter, startling a sleepy coworker who toppled off her chair in surprise and plastered on a fake smile for a passing customer. He glanced at her briefly and walked away with a grimace.  

“Sooo…welcome to Macy’s?” Pinky laughed nervously. “On the bright side, we smell like radish roses now!”

Brain threw a button at him.  

o-o-o-o-o

They kept to the corners after that fiasco, hoping to avoid drawing attention to a moving wallet. Pinky marveled at the various styles advertised by a human-like object he called a ‘Manny Kin’. He prattled on about the models and clothing, and Brain tuned him out to better observe the humans.

The younger ones appeared restless and bored out of their minds. The adults often stopped to admire an article of clothing, checked the price, and shook their heads before moving onto the next item. Everyone was dressed in a far more casual style than the clothing on sale.

“Oh, here’s the mall center! It’s where all the real fun happens, Brain!” Pinky said, his tail wagging in excitement. “Plus, the Lost and Found is just beyond this store. We’ll make Mr. Lamont happy in no time!”

Instead of a back wall, there was a large, doorless opening that led out of the store. Pinky danced his way across the boundary with a cheerful goodbye to the Macy’s sign. As Brain stepped into the wide open space, he was astounded by the sheer scale of the mall center.

He’d expected a plain corridor that connected different sections, not a massive space with a roof that appeared to touch the sky. The population density was much higher than in Macy’s, humans loudly chatting among themselves, shouting at consumers to purchase wares, and swinging large bags from their arms.

There were two floors above their heads, connected to the ground by staircases and escalators. The escalators seemed by far the popular choice for people moving between floors. Brain felt dizzy just looking at that open space above them, and he decided to focus only straight ahead for now.

Dozens of smaller stores lined the walls. Most of them sold clothes like Macy’s, and Brain couldn’t fathom why humans needed so many stores just to sell clothes. A fresh, rich scent wafted through the air, and though it was much more pleasant than the perfume, it made him somewhat famished as well.

“Look, Brain! The cookie shop! Don’t they smell divine?” Pinky asked with a dreamy sigh. “They taste delicious too!”

“Another one of your foods?” Brain asked, though it fell on deaf ears. Pinky had gone over to the display case, practically drooling on it as he admired the cookies inside, the wallet leaning against his side.

Brain stood on the other side of the wallet, just in case anyone had any ideas about stealing it.

At first, Brain thought the cookies were classified by ingredient, but one of the groups was labelled ‘snickerdoodle’ and Brain was of the opinion that no sane planet in the universe would ever call anything by that strange moniker.

“Let’s be on our way, Pinky,” Brain said, because there wasn’t anything productive he could do while his Terran guide was staring longingly at cookies. “That wallet won’t return itself.”

“Okay, Brain…” Pinky said forlornly. His hands squeaked sadly against the glass, but before he could pick up the wallet, a woman came out from behind the counter, her dark hair tied back in a bun. She approached them with a napkin in one hand.

Brain grabbed Pinky’s hand and the wallet, tensing up in case he had to yank them away at a moment’s notice.

But the woman made no move to snatch the wallet. She only squatted next to them and held out the napkin, revealing two small pieces of cookies. “Free sample?” she asked. “They’re fresh out of the oven.”

“Thanks so much...Laura!” Pinky read the name tag pinned to her shirt, then snatched up one of the pieces and shoved it into his mouth. Crumbs stained his muzzle. “Narrrrf! That was dee-lish!”

Cautiously, Brain took the second piece and bit into it. Sweetness flooded his taste buds, and he quickly finished his portion, the cookie melting in his mouth. If anything, Pinky had understated how delicious it tasted.

“It’s exquisite,” he said to Laura, who beamed right back.

“Glad you enjoyed it!” Laura said. She provided them with wet napkins so they could rid themselves of the remaining crumbs, and they left the cookie shop behind.

“She was so nice, Brain!” Pinky said, safeguarding the wallet once again. “Sugar cookies are my favorites! Well, after chocolate chip and macadamia and snickerdoodle-“

Brain nodded. “She didn’t steal anything while our guard was down. Count that in your definition of ‘nice’.”

Thankfully, they didn’t have to walk far to get to the Lost and Found. Brain hoped to put this wallet nonsense behind them in the next half hour. They had objectives to fulfill.

The Lost and Found was in a hallway that led to an exit from the mall, and Brain made a mental note of its location. He refused to set foot in that Macy’s ever again.

A podium was situated in front of the doors, and the worker behind it nervously held out a box to an irate man in a formal suit similar to the merchandise at Macy’s. He snatched the box and threw several articles of clothing and various lost items to the ground.

Pinky lifted the wallet above his head, his feet tapping in excitement. “That’s the man! He looks exactly like his pictures!”

Mr. Lamont was practically tearing the box apart without any regard for the other lost belongings, and the worker’s eyes were wide with fear. That didn’t bode well. Brain grabbed Pinky’s tail, but it slipped out of his grasp. The idiot had no sense of impending danger and walked right up to the belligerent man.

“You’re hiding it, aren’t you?” Mr. Lamont snarled, slamming his hand against the podium. The worker cowered behind his chair. “Hand over my wallet this instant, or you’ll be out of a job.”

The worker paled.

Brain rushed over to try and pull Pinky back. Mr. Lamont hadn’t noticed them yet. There was still a chance they could slip the wallet among the other items and leave without detection.

“Hi, Mr. Lamont! You dropped your wallet in the parking garage!” Pinky greeted. “Me and my friend here were just taking it to Lost and Found, and what a coinkydink we’d find you here too! Isn’t that great?”

Pinky held the wallet up expectantly, that silly smile never leaving his face.

Mr. Lamont snatched the wallet out of Pinky’s hands, wrinkling his nose haughtily.

“You’re welcome!” Pinky chirped, then happily turned to Brain. “We did it!”  

Pinky had done most of the work, but if he wanted to share credit, Brain chose not to correct him. “Yes. Now we may return to what we originally-“

Mr. Lamont’s foot slammed into Pinky’s side, too fast for Brain to shout a warning. Pinky yelped as he was thrown into a wall. There he laid in a crumpled heap, hands wrapped around his abdomen for protection.

“How much did you take, thief?” Mr. Lamont spat. He cast a looming shadow over Pinky, who whimpered in pain, tears forming in pitiful blue eyes.  

It was such a foreign appearance for the idiotic but kindhearted mouse.

A strange fury overtook Brain, one that was much different from dealing with troublesome ships, arguing with Snowball, or frustration with his current predicament. It brewed in the depth of his stomach and spread through the rest of his body.

Brain whipped off his sunglasses, placing himself firmly between Pinky and the ungrateful reprobate.

“He stole nothing from you,” Brain growled. “Count the money yourself, you repugnant excuse of an organism, unless your mind has degraded far beyond the ability to perform simple arithmetic.”

“And just who do you think you are?” Mr. Lamont sneered.  

Brain crossed his arms proudly. He refused to cower before the Terran. “A genetically enhanced Selenian mos seeking dominion over your world.”

And when all was said and done, Mr. Lamont would be bowing down to him.

But that glorious fantasy was cut short. Brain saw the black sole of a shoe, there was a forceful pressure against his body. His limbs refused to cooperate. He couldn’t reach his tail for self-defense, his heart pumping faster and faster until it couldn’t compensate for the lack of electrons anymore-

The crushing pressure vanished.

Faraway voices blended together, one angry, one meek, and one familiar.

Someone lifted his head, a gentle hand moving his antennae aside, then slowly pushed his head down until he rested against soft fabric. Brain’s fingers twitched. His full mobility would take several minutes to return, but this wasn’t a terrible position to wait it out.

A drop of moisture fell on his face, followed by several more.

Rain?

He’d heard of that particular climate pattern, but had never seen it in action before.

Brain opened his eyes, craning his neck to see this curious phenomenon. But he was met with Pinky’s tearful gaze instead.

He’d learned much of Terran culture during this expedition, but was it really worth all these ridiculous emotions?

“Stop dampening my fur with your lacrimal ducts, Pinky,” Brain said, his voice hoarse.

Pinky managed a giggle, inanity that was far more preferable to all this crying. “Sorry, Brain. I don’t have any milk. But are you okay? P-p-poit.”

“I’ll need several minutes to recuperate. Then I’ll be ready.” Brain felt his cheeks heat up from the proximity. Mobility returned to his right leg, and he couldn’t wait for this mortifying close contact to be over. “Where’s Mr. Lamont?”

Pinky scowled at the name, an expression that looked odd on him, but not wholly unwelcome. “Mr. Lameany called you vermin and left with his wallet. But you’re not vermin, Brain! You’re my best friend!”

A childish insult. He’d have to teach Pinky about using more sophisticated language.

“And you…are Pinky,” he sighed, patting Pinky’s arm.

Pinky smiled brightly. At least Brain could strive towards one of his objectives. They weren’t quite through with business at the mall though. He’d have to tough it out.

But for now, he settled back against Pinky, who happily taught him the age-old Terran method of settling arguments known as rock-paper-scissors.

AN: FINISHED AT LAST.

I am not making stuff up as I write I totally had a plan for this fic y’all can’t prove nothing.

Brain gets to learn good and bad stuff about Terra, poor Pinky gets hurt. These mice can’t even go the mall without something happening, can they?

[note-katha]

Evenfall Chapter Three: Dinner And Show

Chapter Three already? I fear I’m becoming far too like Rajesh Shurv. That’s a tragedy but nonetheless! Chapter Three. I’ve always been partial to odd numbers, they deserve more love, I would say. I’d call this a more peaceful chapter but you never know with these kids. We’ll get through this and then get to the action, that what people are interested in these days, isn’t it?

Let me just get us another cup of tea, it’ll be delightful with some of Tatti’s cookies, they gave me some to share during their last visit.

“You really want to make dinner together?” Kal asked, despite having already gone to the campus store for supplies.

“Of course!” Jules nodded, “My mom always says that making something together is the best way to make friendships.” It was a fair idea, and fortunately, the trio before us were the kind of people to get involved in community cooking. “I asked Mary, but she refused.”

“Mary…she’s kind of weird,” Ardis said, “We’re in class together for Fifth Circle Magic.”

“Oh! How did that go for you guys?” Kal fiddled with a strand of hair. She wasn’t very good at starting conversations. “That whole Guardian ritual was a bit overwhelming. Wasn’t it?”

“I thought it was cool,” Jules laughed, as she grabbed vegetables to start cutting. “I was chosen by Fye? So I feel special.”

You are, Jules. You are.

“To be honest,” Kal started, “I don’t know how to really feel about any of this. How am I supposed to believe in something that I’m just being told is mysterious and mystical?” Well, I can agree it is quite a change. I wasn’t totally a believer myself for quite some time, so I’m on her side.

“I guess it’s easier because I was able to tap into some of it before I even came here,” Ardis thought aloud. “I’ve always been used to going with the flow, so magic was just exciting.” Ardis was watching Jules cut, not sure where or what to do. Kal handed him some lettuce.

“Rip this apart, just enough for a salad,” Kal ordered, “I get where you’re coming from, but it just hasn’t sunk in for me yet.”

“Fair enough,” Jules nodded, “But...can I ask, what’s the Second Circle class like?”

Kal took a moment to find a word for what her first class had been like. “A lot of theory,” she said. “After we got through talking about the Guardians and familiars, it was mostly just concept-wise what it meant to be attuned to creation or destruction.”

“That sounds fun,” Jules hummed, “I like the Fifth Circle though, I find it accurate that I’m a ‘Voice Witch’.” She paused her cutting of vegetables to put air quotes around her title.

“Really?”

“Yeah! I like to sing,” Jules grinned. “It’s fun, though I wonder if the magic has anything to do with it now.” Carefully now, Jules. If you’re keeping your semi-popular internet musician identity a secret, then you shouldn’t give up too much!

“That’s pretty cool though,” Ardis pointed out, “I just dance, not really related to nature or anything.”

“They did mention that Second Circle people tend to be creative,” Kal recalled, “I do art, so I guess it’s accurate.”

“Wow, are we a suite of artists?” Jules laughed, “You think Mary does anything?” No.

“I don’t think so, based off our few interactions,” Kal shrugged, she was in the middle of stirring noodles. It’s quite important to not overcook your noodles. I couldn’t count the number of times I’ve forgotten that I had noodles cooking.

Oh, wait. Oh, dear. I’ll be right back.

Alright, no noodles cooking. Shall we continue?

“Anyways, so, Juli you said your Guardian was Fye?” Kal questioned, trying to return to the topic she had accidentally moved away from.

“Yep!” Jules bounced on her heels, “Exciting! What about you two?”

“Ravere?” Kal recalled with a slight frown.

“Sair,” Ardis answered a moment later.

There was a silence. Rather than an uncomfortable one, it was one made by teenagers that were all awkward in their own right and anxious enough about living together in a very new place. It had only been a few days, but those days were filled by quite a lot of new information. I don’t blame them for being overwhelmed, I was, once upon a long long time ago.

“Are the noodles ready?” Jules suddenly asked, breaking the silence.

“Oh, yeah!” Kal nodded, jumping back into action, “Just need to put them in bowls. Should we make a plate for Mary?”

“That would be considered nice,” Jules said, though it wasn’t really an answer. The trio started placing things on the small, pre-provided table in the little area that could be called a kitchen and dining room.

Quiet chatter was there to finally replace the silence. Talk of majors and classes. Discussion of familiars and wondering when they could appear. None of them knew about magic very deeply, which made it quite stressful.

They all seemed to forget about their wonderful room advisor Tatti, who as a third-year and resident of the Nevermore knew quite a lot about what familiars were.

“Familiars are cool,” Jules said, “Not only cool but helpful! We’re in a whole new world, it’ll be cool to have someone there to be, like, a companion.”

“You have a point,” Kal nodded, “I mean, it wouldn’t be bad. Just when my professor described it, she made it seem a little...scary? The idea of having someone just able to talk to you in your head?”

“Telepathy, I wonder if Mind Witches can do that….” Ardis murmured, looking down as he thought. Ardis was quite interested in learning about more than just his circle. A very good trait to have. However, the moment he realized that he had spoken aloud, he jumped. “Uh, yeah. I don’t know, I guess I just find it all too interesting to be worried?” Poor Ardis, always fretting over what he says.

Kal snickered, a smile on her face. “I like you, Ardis.” She paused before panic overtook her face. “I mean, I mean, I like how you think!” Kal corrected, “I like how you think, not like you, but I mean I like you but not like like you….” she trailed off, seemingly realizing how unnecessarily flustered she had gotten. “Ignore me, really.” Then there’s Kal, fumbling rather than fretting.

Ardis shook his head, “Don’t worry, I like you too!”

“You guys are cool!” Jules said with a level of confidence that while frequent was much more than what she had shown so far. “We’ve only really just met but I think we’re all gonna get along wonderfully!”

“I wonder if we can do that with the fourth musketeer,” Kal mumbled under her breath, eyeing the door to Mary Sue’s room.

“On that note, we should explore the forest outside our dorm!”

“No!” Ardis and Kal both answered at the same time. Oh, I’ve heard that simultaneously answering things is a sure sign of friendship! Or at least, that’s what that friendship-making book that Cavallo bought me. I’m not quite sure if she intended to mock me or thought I’d appreciate it. Regardless, I added it to my collection of “books about people interaction” for later use in my work.

Jules pouted, “Why not?”

“It’s clearly dangerous,” Kal said.

“Tatti told us not to go in there!” Ardis added.

“It’s dark.”

“We definitely aren’t equipped to deal with anything that could be in there!”

“It’s gonna be really dark.”

“Yeah! It’ll be dark!” Ardis nodded fervently. Clearly, the two weren’t interested in what risks and danger could lie in the admittedly mysterious and frequently deadly forest. I often went in there myself. I wonder if my hidden hideaway spot is still there.

I would check if I still could. However, it’s quite an adventure!

“It could be fun…,” Kal said suddenly.

Jules’s eyes lit up. This was her chance!

“Yes! Adventure!” She insisted, “We’re at college. Magical college! What’s the harm in taking a few risks here and there?”

“We haven’t even been here a week and you want to go into the dark and mysterious and scary woods?” Ardis questioned.

“She has a point,” Kal shrugged, “Even if I’m not totally on board when has adventure hurt anyone?” There was a glint in her eyes, one that signaled a sort of flip of a switch. From a more logical rational Kalavathi to the Kal that wanted to do much more than sit in a classroom quietly for another four years. The dark might not be enough to discourage her now.

It was at this point, that Ardis may have given up on any type of peace in his college life. I’m rather surprised he didn’t sense this danger earlier. Maybe he didn’t realize that Kal would join Jules on the side of “reckless adventure”, certainly anyone that didn’t know about her life as Razz would assume that she was a very rational person.

Kal herself knew she was being a touch irrational. She had read enough adventures to know that going into that forest would likely not be a walk in a park, yet she found herself compelled to do it anyways.

It was a small act of rebellion, considering her ‘secret identity; as Razz.

Ardis leaned back in his chair. “Adventure tends to go wrong,” he pointed out, “If we’re going to do something that dangerous, can we at least wait until we know a bit more about magic? Like, when we know some more ‘here’s how to not die’ stuff?”

“Boring, but fine,” Jules grinned. Ardis, you can’t just give in like that! He needs to try a little harder, I would say. Maybe that will be his character development? However, as of now, Ardis just sighed and smiled weakly.

Possibly dangerous adventure just wasn’t his forte. He was much better at low-risk things, like wearing a green hoodie and a face mask with a lime on it to go dance-offs and show off.

Yes, really. Ardis thinks he’s boring. We have quite the interesting cast of people before us. Let’s see how long they last without uncovering themselves as the identities they work so hard to keep hidden.

Moving on, as we often do, the trio finished up, cleaning their dishes before heading off into their own rooms.

You have to have some ‘me time’ after all, especially at college!

Jules was in her Fifth Circle Magic class again that morning, when those odd people in the corner approached her. She had greeted them during the first class, to no response. She had greeted them every one of them before every one of the few classes that they had had together, yet every attempt resulted in no response. Not the type to give up, she had greeted them again before heading to her desk.

Now, shockingly, the four people stood before her. None of them spoke, rather simply handing over folded slips of paper before walking off back to where they sat.

The first one warned her to read them alone, or at least not let others read what they contained. Jules, being less rational than her roommates or friends, quickly planned to read the notes the moment she was out of class.

Before that, those aforementioned friends arrived. Asha Ocean, Melissa Nguyen, and Ásvaldr Lykke. Yes, she made friends that quickly. I’m quite proud.

“Hey, Jules!” Asha waved, “What was that?” She pointed at the group leaving. “Did they talk to you?” Asha was an Energy witch, with eyes bright enough to prove it. She insists the shine is natural, but we all know she uses a spell to do so. Don’t tell her I told you that, however! I quite like her visits and would quite prefer them to continue peacefully.

Jules paused, “Kind of, they just looked at me, I think I’ve gained their approval?”

Ásvaldr snickered, “I feel like that’s probably the most magical thing that could happen here.” Ásvaldr, a good kid, if a bit of a trickster type. He often tells me about his escapades, doing things that he certainly shouldn’t be able to do. “Trust me, I’ve grown up in magic, and mysterious people talking to you is the first sign of danger.”

“You think everything is dangerous,” Melissa scolded, “But you insist on doing it anyways!”

“Danger is fun! It’s adventure!” Ásvaldr argued, “Right Jules?” He waved in the direction he had heard her voice in.

Jules could only grin. “Absolutely! My roommate thinks it’s a bad idea to go explore the woods near our dorm.”

Ásvaldr’s expression dropped, “Wait, you live in the dorm by the West Evenfall forest, don’t you?”

“I think so? Unless there are more forests by dorms,” her light tone contrasted the seriousness of Ásvaldr as he continued to speak.

“Haven’t you heard the story of Dean Ailan Creek?” Ah, yes, Ailan. The ‘k’ in his last name is silent, he used to hate it when people called him “Creek”. He was very particular about it. My name is often said wrong, I never made a big fuss like he did.

“Ásvaldr, she’s a Initus, remember?” Melissa said. I never quite got behind the use of “Initus” to refer to new students of magic but that’s Western Arcane Theory for you. Evenfall has their preferences and I have one as well.

“Right, right,” Ásvaldr nodded, “So, I guess we get to be the ones to tell you the story about the last Dean of Evenfall.”

“This is before Dean Kair, she took over after him,” Asha helpfully supplied.

“It’s a very dramatic story, with mystery and intrigue!” Ásvaldr started, only to be interrupted immediately by Melissa.

“The Dean went after a girl who had gotten lost and he never returned. The girl that was missing did, however. She said she never saw him.”

“Lis! That was my story!” Ásvaldr pouted, “Move so I can punch your shoulder.” The three, if I can remember correctly, are childhood friends, all born into Everless and magic, which makes this class quite easier for all of them, it would seem.

Jules giggled as she watched the two friends bicker. She wasn’t quite fazed by the fact that someone might have passed away or disappeared into the forest.

Or, rather, she was too committed to the idea to give it up just yet. She wasn’t going in alone after all.

“While the Dean did disappear a few years ago, it’s not necessarily dangerous, other than rumors and apparent scandals,” Asha offered reassuringly. “I wouldn’t personally recommend it, though.”

“So, you’re saying I could?” Jules asked.

“Not ex—” “Thanks, Asha!”

Unfortunately, it was at this moment that the professor entered the room.

Jules was not only frequently confident, but also frequently stubborn.

taglist: @falling-rivers @superwaywardangel @immawritethat @arynneva  @likeicarusifall@aschenink, @writing-for-the-batfam, @ekrizdis, @wiccanchester, @spacebrick3

[iffeelscouldkill]

The big picture

A/N: WHAT’S UP GUYS I’M BACK AND I WROTE A FIC. 

Not the steadily growing WIP that I’ve been talking about for weeks (that’s still ongoing) - this one is a companion fic to That’s why we do what we do because I was listening to Episode 10 and suddenly I needed to write Park’s perspective. And then of course it grew out of control and I wound up taking like a week and a half to finish it xD

This fic contains spoilers for TSCOSI Episode 10. I feel like it’s been long enough now that I don’t need to put the whole thing behind a cut, but still, spoilers!

Warning that this fic also deals with the fate of Team Two in a little bit of detail - not graphic detail, but it tells that scene from Park’s perspective, so heads up for sort-of-offscreen character deaths and the emotional impact thereof.

Agent Park has one goal going into the Plan: keep McCabe safe.

Of course he also wants to help the crew of the Rumor, and ideally make it out alive himself (priorities in that order), but large parts of those two things are out of his control. This, on the other hand...

He remembers McCabe’s face when Major General Frederick came to take him away; the way they defended him without hesitation to the highest-ranking General they had ever met. So few members of the IGR rank and file, no matter how new or green, would dream of doing something like that. But McCabe is different, and always has been.

He makes sure that McCabe sticks close to him even as Goodman and Clark peel off to patrol the labs. McCabe doesn’t seem to find it unusual, falling back into their old roles of superior and subordinate with something like relief. McCabe was never a ladder-climber, as much as they tried to pretend that they were. 

Really, he thinks that all McCabe ever wanted was a partner – someone who would treat them like an equal. That was all Park wanted, too.

“That ship’s empty,” he tells McCabe, as they announce their presence to a battered-looking but innocuous ship in the North-27 docks.

“How can you…?”

Park knows it’s not the Rumor because he’s been specifically told how to recognise it for the purposes of the Plan. But it isn’t hard to think up another explanation.

“Feel the side? It’s cold. Nobody’s flown it in hours.”

“That’s… really smart,” says McCabe, in the slowly delighted tone of someone who has been spending a lot of time around people who don’t comprehend logical or lateral thinking, and has just rediscovered an intellectual equal.

Back in the early days after McCabe had joined his team – after they’d loosened up a little and realised he wasn’t going to report them for being a human being with the occasional flaw – the two of them used to challenge each other with thought experiments and reasoning problems, charting different possible courses for the Rumor, extrapolating potential interception scenarios and theorising how the crew would react to different courses of action.

The Intergalactic Republic does not recruit for intelligence. In fact, they recruit for the exact opposite: an ability to follow orders in the face of logic and common sense (and often, ethics) – something which Park and the others are counting on heavily for the Plan to work. People of McCabe’s talent tend to wind up either becoming disillusioned and corrupt, defecting and getting taken away, or in rare cases, climbing to the top ranks of the organisation.

While he was around, Park had been doing his best to prevent any of those things from happening. It was probably naive of him to think that he could keep it up for very long.

“This one’s warm,” says McCabe with hushed excitement, and Park nods in approval.

“Go ahead.”

“Attention. Attention! This is Agent McCabe of the IGR--”

McCabe pauses as the message echoes back to them on a slight delay, playing through the audio device Park is carrying. “What’s that echo?”

“I’m picking up the transmission from the nanoswarm,” Park replies tensely.

“Why is the swarm—” But it doesn’t take McCabe more than a second to put two and two together. “It’s picking up my voice because it’s in this ship?”

Park switches on his walkie-talkie. Time to get the next part of the show on the road.

“Park to all agents. Park to all agents. Agent McCabe has located the Rumor. Sending you our location. Major General Frederick, please advise.”

He finishes by hitting the little button on his walkie-talkie that will send out a beacon with their precise location. In reality, he’s pretty sure that IGR-issued walkie-talkies are broadcasting their locations to upper management at all times (why would the Regime pass up a perfectly good opportunity to spy on its employees?), but he has to play the game. That’s what this is all about.

“This is Major General Frederick,” the Major General’s voice filters back through the walkie-talkie. “Stand by for Team Two.”

“Copy that,” Park confirms, and switches the walkie-talkie off.

“Now what?” McCabe asks.

“We stand by,” Park replies, dryly.

“Right,” says McCabe. Then, with the air of someone who has been desperate to bring this up,

“So, did you hear about the latest crackpot conspiracy from the Rumor? They said the Major General is developing the nanoswarm so we can use it when she starts another war with the Dwarnians. Ridiculous, right?”

“…Of course,” says Park, and even to his own ears he sounds unconvincing. He wishes he could tell them something more meaningful, or better yet, level with them about what’s going on. But Team Two will be here any minute, and he has no reason to believe that the IGR isn’t listening in on their conversation – especially as they stand feet away from an alien nanoswarm that was configured for constant surveillance.

“Um. How’s… Shelley?” asks McCabe after a beat of awkward silence.

“She’s fine,” says Park, a little too quickly. “Relieved,” he adds, at McCabe’s quizzical look.

Park hasn’t in fact spoken to Shelley since he was released from Zone Z. He’s not really sure what he would say. If everything goes well with the Plan, Park won’t be coming back to New Jupiter for a good, long while. And if it doesn’t, well… letting Shelley know that he was safe and that his name had been cleared right before he was either recaptured or (more likely) killed would just be cruel.

If he survives, then once they’ve made it a safe distance from New Jupiter, he’ll try and get a message to her.

Maybe.

“What happened to your eye?” McCabe asks. Park knew this was coming.

“Zone Z happened,” he replies, flatly.

“But… you didn’t do anything. Did you?”

Park knows that McCabe is grappling with the idea that he could come back to work, act fine, and still profess loyalty to the Regime - to the “Republic” - after what has been done to him. He also knows that IGR recruits are taught – and that McCabe still believes, however doubtfully – that only traitors and criminals of the very worst kind are sent to Zone Z, so they deserve every bit of the punishment meted out to them there. To have him walking around, demonstrably innocent, doesn’t sit well with that narrative.

There’s a reason that no-one comes back from Zone Z. But Park insisted. And luckily for him, the IGR is stretched and disorganised enough right now that it couldn’t afford to pass up the prospect of a trained, capable agent who knows the enemy returning to work.

Park told them he had a personal score to settle. It was the truth.

“In the end, I caused the Republic a lot of paperwork,” he tells McCabe, knowing exactly how flimsy and bureaucratic it sounds. “Every dead end is wasted time and energy.”

“But you didn’t do anything,” McCabe repeats.

Exactly, Park wants to say. You know that’s wrong. Trust the instincts that are telling you that this is not okay.

“During the war, we used to say sooner or later, we all make sacrifices,” he says instead. “The trick is to keep your focus on the big picture.”

“Oh… of course,” says McCabe uncertainly, as Team Two’s footsteps sound behind them, led by Agent Seiders.

Park watches impassively as Team Two cut their way in through the side of the ship. McCabe watches with narrowed eyes, and Park knows that they’re thinking this is far too easy.

“We’re in,” Seiders reports. “Any clue where they’re hiding?”

“Let’s see…”

Park adjusts the settings on his audio device until he’s picking up the transmission from the cockpit, Brian and Violet’s voices singing softly. “Sounds like the cockpit,” he replies.

In reality, there’s no way he would be able to tell that straight off, but Seiders takes it at face value.

“Copy that. Passing a storage room on my 9 o’clock, cockpit straight ahead. Think it’s safe to say they don’t see us coming.”

As the singing continues, McCabe’s eyes narrow even more and they shake their head, agitated. “Something’s wrong.”

“Too easy?” asks Park.

“Too familiar,” McCabe replies.

“What?” Seiders isn’t following.

“I’ve heard this before,” McCabe insists.

So has Park, but he pretends not to follow their meaning. “We… all have?”

“No, I’ve heard this before. They’re playing a recording!”

Fortunately for the Plan, Seiders’ ego won’t allow him to take a hint from someone else, least of all a lower-ranking Agent. “McCabe, as the senior agent here, I’m gonna make my own calls.”

“Incoming call from – Brian Jeeter,” ELLA’s voice sounds over the audio device.

“Computer, accept?”

Brian Jeeter’s voice comes through the speaker. “Computer, execute Sequence Five. Brian Jeeter out.”

The recorded singing abruptly cuts off.

“Team Leader Two!” Park says urgently. There should be just enough time for Team Two to get clear of the blast, but they need to move right now.

“This is for – Alvy Conners – the entire crew of – the Iris – and – Emily Craddock,” says ELLA pleasantly. “You – can’t – make – a person – disappear.”

Park has to hand it to the Rumor crew: they have style. The words send a shiver down his spine.

“Self destruct in ten…”

“Should we… retreat?” a young junior agent, uncertain but with far more common sense than Seiders, asks.

“Nine…”

“It’s a bluff – they don’t have that capability,” says Seiders, far too self-assured. Park almost swears. His arrogance is going to get his entire team killed.

“Eight…”

“Don’t risk it – get out of there!” he orders.

“Seven…”

“Hang on – they have a still, for moonshine,” says McCabe, because not even the probable threat of an explosion will stop them from reasoning through a situation.

“Six…”

“What if they recalibrated it—”

“Five…”

“Take your team out of there!” Park shouts more insistently, grabbing McCabe by the arm and pulling them backwards, outside the blast radius.

“Four…”

“Fine, let’s move!” Seiders finally says, with just three precious seconds to spare. Footsteps sound, and Park keeps his eyes on the hole in the ship wall, thinking about the time it takes to run from the cockpit to the outer door. Too long. But maybe if they jump clear—

The countdown reaches one, and the footsteps of Team Two stop.

“Told you it was a bluff,” says Seiders, confidently. It is the last thing he ever says.

“Goodbye.”

The Rumor explodes into a fireball of flame, a wave of heat like a wall slamming outwards, causing Park and McCabe to cringe back. Smoke pours from the blackened skeleton of the ship, and Park and McCabe choke and gasp for air.

“Holy—” McCabe manages.

Park switches on his walkie-talkie, though he’d be surprised if that explosion wasn’t heard across half of the complex. “Agent Park to Major General Frederick: the Rumor just… just self-destructed, taking out all of Team Two.” He doesn’t have to fake the defeated bitterness in his voice.

“We’ve been set up,” the Major General states grimly.

“Major General—” McCabe interjects, coughing. “In order for Jeeter to- set off the sequence, he must’ve had an eyeline to the ship. He’s got to be somewhere nearby.”

Park takes a moment to reflect on how much more difficult executing the Plan would be if the IGR had the common sense to put McCabe in a position of actual leadership.

“There’s no time to worry about that. That blast of heat means they’ve just set a swarm of rebooted nanoswarm on the loose. We need to secure the lab – now. Park, McCabe – go.”

As they move off, McCabe takes one last look at the remains of the Rumor, their expression haunted and shellshocked as the reality of what just happened to Team Two starts to sink in.

Goddamn it, Park, you had one fucking job, Park thinks, bitterly. He touches them on the arm, gently, and McCabe jumps as they come out of their trance.

“Come on,” he says in a low voice. “Let’s get out of here.”

Krejjh getting shot was not part of the Plan.

Well, okay, there were something like forty different versions of the Plan, which meant that technically most things were part of the Plan at some point. But Krejjh getting shot was not in the ideal version of the Plan (the one where things went well).

Neither the Rumor crew’s planning nor Park’s recollection of the lab security had accounted for the sheer number of guards stationed throughout the first floor of Advance Labs. Park thinks that the original plan had been for Arkady to take out any guards she encountered en route to Lab 1032 while Krejjh found a hiding place, but instead, the Dwarnian appears to be acting as a distraction: a loud, flashy, defiant, poetry-reciting distraction.

“What am I? I am your enemy incarnate! I am the dizzying swoop as gravity surrenders!”

McCabe motions for Park to be quiet as they steal towards the blind corner that Krejjh is currently careening towards, disabling guards with quick, precise gunshots as they go. Not that it’s really necessary – the Dwarnian is making enough noise to cover any footsteps.

“I am the sick-hot, blinding fire of ignition! Fear blinks before me, and death knows not my name.”

Park sees a look of calm focus come over McCabe’s face that he knows is them going into ‘sniper mode’. There’s nothing he can do to prevent this without blowing his cover, and it’s too early. The only good thing is that he knows McCabe won’t shoot to kill – partly because of the treaty, but also because kill shots are not McCabe’s style.

(He knows better than to hope that McCabe might miss, because McCabe never misses).

“I am more than you can possibly imagine! Heck yeah, hahaha- augh!”

Krejjh’s giddy laughter cuts off abruptly as McCabe hits them squarely on the knee. Ouch. Park is no expert on Dwarnian physiology, but if it’s even passingly similar to a human’s, that had to hurt.

“Good shot, McCabe,” Park says approvingly as the two of them round the corner. He’s being sincere – it was an excellent shot, perfectly aimed at a moving target in a way that would disable them without being fatal. “We’ll take it from here, Officer,” he adds, dismissing the remaining, shaken guard. The fewer witnesses they have for whatever is about to happen, the better.

McCabe stands up a little straighter, and Park thinks that there’s some pride mixed in with the triumph in their smile. “So! Krejjh Sh’Eejjhgreb,” they say, bearing down on Krejjh, who is slumped against the corridor wall.

“That’s- not how Dwarnian names work, champ,” Krejjh replies, strained. Park reminds himself that this is a gravely serious situation, and laughing would be totally inappropriate.

“Agent McCabe to Major General Frederick,” McCabe says, activating their walkie-talkie. “We have incapacitated Source D with a bullet to the knee! What is our next course of action?”

“Good work,” replies the Major General – and then she says the one thing that Park has been dreading. “Kill them.”

McCabe falters, the pleased expression on their face giving way to confusion and shock. “Uhh- Ma’am? If we kill a Dwarnian, especially the relative of a high-ranking diplomat…” McCabe’s tone is light, as if they’re expecting – hoping – to be told that this is all a misunderstanding.

“McCabe, your duty is not to ask questions. It’s to follow orders from the ones who know more than you,” Major General replies flatly. Park clenches his jaw, fighting down a surge of irritation and anger just as he’d done every other time a high-ranking member of the Regime spoke condescendingly to himself or his team. Especially his team.

He sees McCabe stiffen, and knows how much this must rankle. McCabe has always been defensive about their age and sensitive to comments about it – or to any implication that they don’t have the experience or the skills to hold the position that they do.

He knows it only makes them more determined to prove everyone wrong, but just for once, Park wishes that McCabe didn’t have to fight for every scrap of recognition, that they didn’t need to be ten times better than everyone else just to get noticed. He wants a way out of the IGR for both of them – not just for himself.

“Are we clear?” asks the Major General, and Park makes his decision.

“We’re clear, Ma’am,” he says.

To their credit, Krejjh immediately starts to play along, attempting to make a call to Brian Jeeter as if they know that this could be the last thing they will ever do. Park draws his gun and points it at their head, and their voice trails away.

“Agent Park?” McCabe asks, sounding shocked.

“Listen,” says Park, keeping his gun levelled at Krejjh but looking McCabe straight in the eyes. He has one shot at trying to communicate to McCabe what’s happening – to try and get them to understand.

If McCabe objects, or otherwise raises the alarm, the whole Plan will be shot to hell. But Park doesn’t think they will.

“My time at Zone Z reminded me why I signed up in the first place – why we do this work,” Park says with deliberate emphasis. “Keep the stakes in mind, and everything becomes simple. Stand back, McCabe.”

McCabe backs away several steps, still staring at Park numbly, as if they can’t quite comprehend what is about to happen.

Park may have recently lost an eye, but he knows his aim is still true. He used to practice shooting with one eye or the other closed, or with both eyes shut, because you never knew what conditions you might encounter in battle.

He’s not a patch on McCabe, but he doesn’t need to be for this.

Park squeezes the trigger twice, and two bullets embed themselves into the wall next to Krejjh’s head. Krejjh makes a choked-off noise and slumps down, then winks at McCabe, putting a finger to their lips.

McCabe is staring at Park like they’ve never seen him before. “You…”

“Humankind, McCabe,” says Park. It’s his last chance to try and explain. “That’s why we do what we do.”

“Agent Park?” McCabe asks in disbelief. But they haven’t given him away. To Major General Frederick, listening in on the whole exchange, it will just sound like the disbelief of a naive young Agent who has never witnessed bloodshed before.

Park had faith that they wouldn’t – it’s why he was prepared to gamble everything on this moment. But it still causes a warm feeling to spread through his chest as he activates his walkie-talkie again.

“Agent Park to Major General Frederick. It’s done.”

“Perfect.” Major General Frederick’s satisfaction practically oozes through the speaker. He imagines that she’s congratulating herself on the decision to send Park back to work – such a dedicated agent, such a loyal subject of the Regime. Everything that happened to him in Zone Z has only made him more focused and deadly. “Find a handcart, and bring the body down to Lab 1008. And don’t get too close – they’re still infected with the strain H nanoswarm.”

Park takes grim satisfaction in the fact that he’s directly working to undermine her toxic, fascist regime. He intends to be very deadly indeed.

“We’re aware, Major General. Roger that.”

Park retrieves a handcart from a storage cupboard halfway along the corridor and wheels it over to Krejjh, who grins as they hoist themself onto it. McCabe stands and watches them, looking extremely conflicted – presumably between their gut instinct and what they know is protocol.

It would be very easy for them to go for their gun right now and shoot him, or Krejjh, or both and claim that they didn’t act sooner because they were waiting to catch him with his guard down. But they don’t.

Park wheels the handcart around and looks at McCabe. He wants to ask them to come with him, but he has no idea how things are going to turn out after this, and McCabe is capable of making their own decisions about what to do. He hopes they’ll decide to lay low out of sight, then devise a plausible alibi – or better yet, use the confusion to escape.

“You’d better get out of here, McCabe,” he says in an undertone, before wheeling the handcart past, Dwarnian passenger and all.

Park wasn’t lying earlier about their saying from the war – about sacrifices and the big picture. It kept him going through the waking nightmare of Zone Z, and it’s kept him going since. But the big picture is only half of what makes it worth the fight.

He hopes that he’ll see McCabe again.

[not-a-space-alien]

Into the Unknown, Part 7:  Into the Unknown

Prologue | Dramatis Personae | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Series masterpost

On AO3

“Come on, Adramelech!”

Sylvia banged on her companion’s bedroom door once more.  His reassurances that he only needed five more minutes, which had been coming steadily every ten minutes, did little to quell her restlessness. “What’s taking so long?”

The door swung open, revealing a shirtless Adramelech holding up two different tops, one white and one red.  “Which of these do you think I should wear?”

“I think it doesn’t matter even one iota which one.”

Adramelech turned the two blouses towards himself and frowned doubtfully.

“Is this what’s been taking you so long in there?  Picking a shirt?”

“I just don’t know what the weather is supposed to be like,” said Adramelech.

“We’re going to be in the car the whole time.”

“Just help me decide.”

“Fine, the white one.”

Sylvia waited by the door tapping her foot impatiently as Adramelech slipped the shirt on and did up the various ties and accouterments it had.

“Now I’m ready,” said Adramelech, floofing his hair out.  “Does it look like it’s going to rain?  Maybe we sh—”

Sylvia seized the hand that was ambling towards the umbrella.  “Doesn’t matter, let’s go.”

That turned out to be a mistake, because it started pouring on the way over and they ended up having to park three blocks away from the bookshop. Sylvia noted Crowley’s Bentley was parked out front.  Her heart broke imagining how much pain looking at it every day must have been causing Aziraphale.  

The door was locked.

“I knew coming over as a surprise was a mistake,” said Sylvia.  

Adramelech twisted his hand to miracle the door open.  “Come on, he needs our emotional support, and he wouldn’t answer his messages.  Not like we have much choice.”

“Botis said he and Kyleth were coming, right?”

“Yeah.”

They discovered that Botis was actually already there when Adramelech tiptoed through the bookshelves, only to be body-slammed by a familiarly massive weight.

“Ah!” Adramelech said as he went down, and any further protests were smothered by the floor.

“Fiendish burglar, I’ll—Oh, it’s just you.”

The weight lifted, and Adramelech stood and dusted himself off.  Botis stood nearby looking sheepish.  “Thought you were an intruder.”

Adramelech squatted to collect an earring that had come loose and rolled onto the floor, giving Botis a dirty look.  “At least you weren’t wearing your armor, I guess.  Where’s Aziraphale?”

“We don’t know,” said Kyleth’s voice from the next room.  “But he’s got twenty minutes before the pizza gets here, so he better hurry up.”

Adramelech and Sylvia settled onto the sofa in the back room, where Kyleth was already lounging.  

“Should we just wait here?” said Kyleth.  “Would he mind us just hanging out on his sofa.”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” said Sylvia.  “Probably.  I’m sure he’ll appreciate having someone to be there for him.  From what I hear, nobody’s been able to really talk to him.  He keeps pushing everyone away.”

“Time to be proactive!” said Adramelech, clenching his fists.

“Right!”

The clock ticked in the room.

“Guess we’ll just wait to be proactive, then,” said Adramelech, relaxing his posture and sprawling out on the ottoman.

They ended up playing a card game to pass the time.  About an hour later, they heard the sound of the door being jimmied open.

“Another intruder!” said Botis, perking up.  “Lord Aziraphale would have used his keys.”

He darted out of the room excitedly, only to be blasted back in a moment later by some great unseen force, tumbling over and hitting the wall.

“Oh, it’s just you, Botis,” said a familiar voice.

“Yes, Lord Maltha,” said Botis’s voice, muffled into the floor.

“Apologies.  I thought I was under attack.” Maltha ducked into the room.  Her eyes swept over the empty seats.  “Where is Aziraphale?”

Beth came in behind the archdemon.  “He called us over.”

“He’s not here,” said Sylvia.  “We’re not sure where he is.  We came over to surprise him.”

Maltha scoffed.  “Right.”

“It sounded pretty urgent,” said Beth.

Sylvia twiddled her thumbs.  “Seems rude to not be here, then.”

The bell on the door jingled again just then.  They all peeked out to see Uriel shaking the raindrops off herself.

“Come join us,” said Maltha.  “We’re waiting for Aziraphale.”

“He sent me a letter saying I needed to come over right away,” said Uriel. “He never asks me to come over.  I wonder what’s happened.”

“I assumed he had found Crowley, but I guess that’s not the case.”

Uriel took a seat in the back room next to Maltha.  Sylvia and Kyleth had never quite gotten over the awkwardness of failing to assassinate her enough to be comfortable in her presence, but Uriel politely declined to mention it, as she usually did when hanging around lesser angels.*

*Maltha had beaten the habit into her.

Ramial arrived a few minutes after that.  Her eyes were red as though she had been crying, but she greeted everyone normally and reported she had likewise been summoned hastily.

The final arrival came just after Ramial: Angelo’s voice could be heard in the lobby.

“Oh,” said Uriel, rubbing her arm.

“Aziraphale, where are you?” Mykas’s voice rang out.

Uriel closed her eyes.  “This would just be so much easier if we never had to be at the same place at the same time.”

Mykas’s snout poked into the room, then turned down into a frown. “What is she doing here?”

“Aziraphale called us all here with letters,” said Maltha.  “Including her.”

“I don’t want to hang out with Aziraphale if it means hanging out with her,” said Mykas.

“Mykas, we’re not ‘hanging out,’” said Angelo, appearing behind him and giving him a gentle push to try and get him in the room.  “We’re here for Aziraphale.  I don’t like her either, but can you tolerate it for just a few minutes until Aziraphale gets here?”

Mykas slithered over to the easy chair and sat, crossing his arms.  “Only if Uriel waits in the other room.”

They managed to placate Mykas by having Uriel wait out in the bookshop while everyone else sat around drinking the beer Botis had brought.  Maltha told Mykas that Uriel wasn’t nearly as horrid as she used to be, and that she’d developed a very good sense of interpersonal respect for demons.  Mykas told Maltha that he didn’t care, and nobody tried to press the issue any further.

Finally, the bell jingled again, and footsteps sounded towards the back room.

“Oh, Uriel, thank you for coming,” said Aziraphale’s voice.  “Where is everyone else?”

“We’re back here!” Maltha called out.

Aziraphale came back, with Victoria and Uriel at his elbows.  He looked around the back room, which was considerably more crowded than he had expected it to be.  “Thank you all for coming on such short notice.  I know where Crowley is, but he might be in danger and we need to find him right away.”

“Whatever we can do to help,” said Victoria.  “We’ll do it.  Just say the word.”

“Where is he, Aziraphale?” said Ramial.  “I—I don’t want to lose him again.”

Aziraphale wrung his hands, preoccupied, and looked around the room as though only noticing the uninvited guests for the first time.  “Kyleth, Botis, Adramelech, Sylvia, I need you to leave.”

“What?” said Botis, dismayed.  “Sir, please allow me to stay and help however I can!”

“Now,” snapped Aziraphale.  “Maltha, did you tell Beth what happened?”

“Yes,” said Maltha.

“Then she can stay.  Everyone else I didn’t call over needs to leave.”

“Aziraphale, let us help!” said Adramelech.

“Adramelech, we don’t have time to argue,” said Aziraphale.  “Please.”

The four of them muttered disappointedly and gathered their belongings. Aziraphale paced the room wringing his hands waiting for them.

They left without further comment, but their worried faces remained visible lingering outside the shop front.  That left only Aziraphale, Maltha, Beth, Victoria, Uriel, Mykas, Angelo, and Ramial in the back room, but there still weren’t enough seats for everyone.

Aziraphale ran his hands through his hair, talking to himself in a quiet voice.

“Aziraphale, talk to us,” said Maltha.  “Tell us where Crowley is.”

“Do you want me to tell them?” Victoria whispered.

Aziraphale took a seat at the table.  “He’s somewhere else.  Next door. The furniture is different.”

Angelo coughed.  Beth and Maltha looked at each other.

Aziraphale took a breath to steady himself.  “I know where we can go to get Crowley, but it’s going to be really dangerous.  He’s gone somewhere none of us have gone before.  There could be anything over there.  Can I ask you to help him?”

The other inhabitants of the room exchanged meaningful glances.

“Yes,” said Ramial.  “Wherever he is, I’ll go.  I won’t make the same mistake twice.”

“That’s why I chose you,” said Aziraphale.  “You held fast for six-thousand years to see him again. You’re dependable.  Mykas.”

Mykas’s ears perked up.

“You’re the most powerful warrior in Creation.  Victoria, you’re the second-most powerful.  You’re our best shot at getting back out alive.”

“Aziraphale, if I may,” Angelo interjected.  “If this is really going to be so dangerous, wouldn’t Noah be a logical choice to go with us?  He’s currently the most powerful supernatural entity in the universe, if my assessment of the situation is correct.”

Aziraphale took a deep breath.  “I thought the same thing, but Noah refused.  He gave me his blessing to do this however I feel is best, but he said he can’t abandon his kingdom.  Especially not now, since Satan is back.”

“Yes,” said Maltha.  “If Noah left, there is a chance Satan would use the opportunity to seize the throne. He hasn’t shown his face since we last saw him, but I’m sure he’s lurking and looking for an opportunity.   Noah needs to stay here and keep the new order in tact, or it may fall and undo all our hard work.”

Aziraphale saw the logic in the decision, but his thoughts on the matter were clear to everyone by his incredibly blanched face.

“Victoria and Mykas together make a force nobody in our universe short of Noah himself could hope to withstand,” said Aziraphale.  “Add Maltha into the mix…”

“I’ll go,” said Maltha.  “Of course I’ll go.”

“I’ll explain the details later, but six of us can go through,” said Aziraphale, and counted on his fingers.  “Me, Ramial, Mykas, Victoria, Maltha.  And…”

Aziraphale looked up to Uriel, who was still hovering in the doorway.

“Her?” said Mykas. “Aziraphale, you can’t be serious. We can’t trust her with something as important as Crowley’s well-being.”

“You don’t have to like her, but Uriel’s powers are absolutely unique among angels or demons.  Can you set aside the past for long enough to work alongside her until Crowley is safe?”

“You can’t have both of us,” said Mykas.  “You have to pick.  I’m not going with her.”

Aziraphale’s face took on a pained expression.

“And besides.”  Mykas’s face crunched in a snarl.  “It doesn’t matter what I think, because I doubt Uriel is willing to risk herself for the sake of a demon.”

“I will,” said Uriel quietly.  “I’ll go.”

Mykas narrowed his eyes at her.

“I want to be a good person, and a good person would help Crowley.”

Mykas looked at her with hatred, like he would rather she just decided to be difficult.  “I can’t believe you all trust her with this.  It wasn’t that long ago we were all trying to kill her.  That she was the biggest threat to all of us.”

“Mykas, she’s had so much personal growth since then,” said Maltha.  “She’s really changed.  Really.  She was also a victim, remember that.”

“That doesn’t excuse anything she did.”

“No, it doesn’t, but I’m not asking you to excuse it.”

“What is wrong with you all?” said Mykas.  “Why is this even something we’re considering?  You want to take Uriel with us and trust her.  When it comes down to the wire, she’ll abandon us if it means saving herself.”

“It won’t come down to that,” said Uriel.  “I’ll make sure we all get back safely.”

“She saved our lives,” said Maltha.  “Does that count for nothing?”

“Please stop fighting,” said Ramial tearfully.

“Ramial is right,” said Victoria.  “We have more important things to worry about right now.”

“No!” said Angelo.  “I’m sorry, but no!  None of you have made any attempt to understand Mykas’s feelings!  Yes, it’s tactically the best decision, but that doesn’t change the fact that she has a long history of—  You can’t just tell us to get over it!”

“I’m not telling you to ‘just get over it’!” Maltha yelled.  “I’m just asking you to be practical!”

Maltha and Mykas stood nose to nose, scowling at each other.

“Woah, woah, okay,” said Beth, inserting her arms between them and trying to push them apart.  “Let’s just chill, okay?”

Mykas slapped her arm aside.  “No!  I’m done being told to ‘just chill.’”

“Are you done being stupid, too?” said Maltha.

Mykas’s face exploded into a potent expression of rage.  “You don’t get to call me stupid!   None of you—nobody ever gets to fucking call me stupid, again—”

“Mykas,” said Aziraphale.  “Please—”

“When she and Gabriel spent six-thousand years acting like I was too stupid to make my own decisions—”

He stopped when Angelo put his hand on his arm.  “Dear.”

Mykas turned and buried his face in Angelo’s shoulder bitterly.

“I’m sorry,” said Uriel.  “I don’t know what you want me to do.”

“I don’t know either,” Mykas wept.  “Why do I have decide that?”

“I’m sorry, too,” said Maltha.  “I shouldn’t have called you stupid.  I was just…She saved both our lives, Mykas.  She didn’t have to.  It would have been easier for her if she let us burn up.”

“Why don’t you and Angelo go talk about it in private?” suggested Beth.

“That’s a good idea,” said Angelo.  “Come on, honey.”

Mykas and Angelo left the back room and went out into the bookshop, hiding themselves among the shelves.

Uriel sat on the couch and hugged her arms around herself.  Maltha sighed and sat next to her.  “I guess this is only natural because I’ve spent the intervening years being Uriel’s friend, and he’s just spent it hating her.”

Tears brimmed over in Uriel’s eyes.  “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” said Aziraphale wearily.  He didn’t have the energy to figure out whose fault it was.

“I’ve just…”  The tears spilled over.  “I’ve been trying so hard, and been being so nice to everyone, and they still won’t accept me, and I guess I understand why, but it still hurts…”

Aziraphale handed her a handkerchief, and she wiped her eyes.

Mykas’s and Angelo’s voices could be heard indistinctly from the bookshop for the next few minutes, interspersed with the occasional raised voice from Mykas.  Aziraphale paced, a pit forming in his stomach, wishing they could just get on with it already.

They came back in.  Both of them had red eyes as though they had been crying.  “All right,” said Mykas.  “I’ll do it.  But not for Uriel.  I’ll do it for Crowley.  I shouldn’t punish him for Uriel’s mistakes, and he needs me.  And besides, if I really think she’d betray us, instead of just not wanting to be around her, it would make the most sense for me to be there and make sure she behaves.  And.”   He turned to her and said, very begrudgingly, “Thank you for saving my life.”

“You’re welcome,” said Uriel.  “I was…glad to be able to finally do something right.”

“Okay,” said Angelo.

“Okay,” said Aziraphale.  “Thank you.”  He sat in the easy chair.  “Thank all of you.  This isn’t going to be easy, but if we work together, I think we can do it.”

“Agreed,” said Victoria.  “And we’d better start getting ready to leave, because time is running short.”

“So where exactly are we going?” said Maltha.

“Into the Unknown.”

*********************

Aziraphale really would have liked to have the God-killing Knife, but Kabata hadn’t been inclined to appear.  He would even settle for the Golden Dagger of Meggido, or any sort of supernatural artifact that could serve as a weapon, but unfortunately they were in short supply and digging one up could take up precious time they couldn’t waste.

So they had to make do with the armaments they had.  The last few times Aziraphale had found it necessary to don his armor, Crowley had always been there to help him put it on.  His hands felt heavy tying the knots on his breastplate.

Beside him, Mykas was armored up with professional speed by Angelo, who had done this many, many times by now.

“Okay,” said Angelo, tying a knapsack to him.  “I know you can handle yourself, but be careful.  I can’t be there to help you, so you have to listen to the group, OK?”

“Okay,” said Mykas, licking him happily.  “I love you.”

“I love you too, but are you listening?  You have to do what the other people in the group say.  I won’t be there to strategise with you.”

“I love you.”

“But are you listening?”

On Aziraphale’s other side, Beth helped Maltha into her armor with inexpert hands, clumsily tying knots which Maltha then tactfully re-did when she wasn’t looking.

“See you later, babe,” said Beth, standing on tip-toe to give her a kiss on the cheek.  “I’ll be waiting right here for you to come back.”

Maltha glanced around the Judgment Hall.  “Here?  It seems like an uncomfortable place to spend three whole days.”

“Well, I just mean, in Heaven.  You know.  I’ll probably go visit Penny again.”

Maltha kissed her forehead.  “Excellent. I don’t want you worrying about me.”

Ramial wore the same leather armor that allowed some amount of speed and flexibility that Crowley usually wore, so she had been able to outfit herself with relative ease.  She was now in the process of helping Victoria, who was donning considerably more intimidating armor, looking like a living tank.

“You all look so fearsome,” said Raphael, who had been doting on them like parental supervision.  “Let me know if you need anything else.”

“I think we’ve got everything,” said Victoria, kicking the knapsack by her foot.  “We’ve got supplies…There’s no way to tell what we might actually need, but…we’ve anticipated as best as we can.”

Aziraphale morosely stopped trying to tie the knot that had eluded him for the past three minutes.  He gazed over at Uriel, who watched them armor themselves in a detached way.  She was still in only the toga that she always wore.

“Aren’t you going to put on any armor?” said Aziraphale.

“No,” said Uriel.

“Are you sure?” said Raphael.  “I’m sure we’d have something that fits you.”

“I don’t really wear armor,” said Uriel.

Mykas gave a hearty laugh.  “That’s why I was able to cut your leg off when we tried to kill you.”

Uriel turned red.

“You can wear something like mine,” said Ramial.

Uriel shook her head.

“This isn’t something you can decide for yourself,” said Angelo.  “It’s a group decision.  If you get hurt, everyone else will have to spread your resources thin to accommodate you.”

“I don’t wear armor,” said Uriel.  “I’m not a combatant.”

“You were a combatant when you tried to fill me full of arrows,” Mykas said.

Uriel crossed her arms.  “I’m not good at it.”

Victoria hooked her sword’s scabbard onto her belt.  “Uriel and I were just in the armory fitting her.  And she’s right.  You can’t just fight in armor with no experience.  We’ve all trained with armor and she hasn’t.  It’s too late to learn how to wear armor and maneuver and fight in it.  It’s too restricting, and she’ll be much more useful when she can move around naturally.”

Mykas huffed.

“We can just work with it,” said Victoria, slipping her pack onto her back, between her wings on her shoulder-blades.

Aziraphale felt a warm hand on his back, under his armor, and saw Ramial genially helping him with the accursed knot.  “Here, let me help you.”

“Thank you,” said Aziraphale.  He was horrified to hear his voice crack.

“He usually did this, didn’t he?”

Aziraphale nodded.

“We’ll get him back.”

Aziraphale rubbed the ring on his finger.  It stayed unlit.

“All right, people!” said Victoria, clapping her hands.  “Everyone ready?”

They positioned themselves, spreading their wings.  “No matter what Space says, I’ll keep the portal open till you’re back,” said Raphael.  “Er, I’ll try at least.  But try to get back before the three-day window, OK?”

“We will,” said Mykas.

“Take note of what time it is when you arrive,” said Angelo.

Victoria and Mykas both showed them they had digital watches on their wrists; Aziraphale flashed his pocket-watch, and Ramial held up a sand-timer.

“All right,” said Raphael.  “Good luck.”

Raphael, Beth, and Angelo stepped back.  

The rift in space, which was invisible to pretty much everyone except Space, had been marked by a simple light spell as soon as they had been able to coerce its location out of her.  The red ring glowed like an LED light hovering in the air; it was six feet in diameter and a perfect circle.  The expedition party took off and hovered in front of it.

“All right,” said Victoria.  “Uriel, we have no idea what’s on the other side of this thing, so you go first and set up a protective barrier.  If by some chance we come out in the middle of Divine presence, we don’t want the demons to burn.”

“All right,” said Uriel, rolling up her sleeves.  “Let’s do this.”

Uriel went in first.  She flapped cautiously towards the red ring, then retracted her wings and dove in. She disappeared as though being swallowed up by some unseen monster, with no special effects.  It was unsettlingly casual how easily she stepped out of the world.

“Okay,” said Victoria nervously.  “Mykas, you next.”

Mykas went next, then Victoria, then Maltha.  Aziraphale flapped staring at it for a second longer, feeling surreal, outside his body, unsure if this could really be happening.

“Let’s go,” said Ramial behind him.

Aziraphale nodded mutely.  And he pumped himself forward, into the unknown.

[blackaquokat]

Iv datective friends to romance

iv)    Somewhere along the way of getting into bar fights together, staying up allnight with movie marathons, other friendship things, I’ve fallen in love withyou but oh my god this could ruin EVERYTHING

For @dontworryaboutanything

So, inwriting this prompt, I’ve realized this is exactly the missing piece I need forpart of my DAtective series, ‘Law and Disorder’ and here we are! If you wish toknow the origin of this pairing, I shall direct your attention to how theymet inthis series. This work also foreshadows the next installment.

Oo00oO

Abe has no idea when it began.

Not the friendship, obviously. He will forever remember thatfirst meeting at the DA’s office, the way his lawyer friend took to the case likea shark to its prey. Then later, when the two of them were supposed to rejoice a job well-done, their close-minded asshole ofa coworker decided to ruin the celebration.

Although it wasn’t sobad. Their outing did end with a rather lovely sunset.

Since then, Abe has outright searched for reasons to spendtime with them in between cases. Advice on how to talk to a victim, checking inon them at home when appropriate, and sometimes just popping by without awarning because old habits die hard and he’s not so great at personalboundaries.

They haven’t kicked him out yet though, so Abe considers thata good sign. They’ve even taken initiative and dragged him to a few films,invited him out for drinks, and taken him to the pier again to watch thesunset.

He doesn’t even understand why he’s so intent to be around them. They’re easily annoyed,reticent, and not friendly at all,not in the typical sense anyway.

But then, maybe that’s it.

They aren’t typical. And neither is he.

True, the two of them are very different kinds of different, but hey, Abe likes to think that’sexactly why he’s drawn to them. The thrill of finding a kindred spirit willdwindle eventually, but he’ll drag it out as long as he can and then they’llboth move on to being mere acquaintances.

Which is what brings him to his current situation.

They’ve just completed their second successful case together,and rather than go to the pub, he drags them to the fair taking place in thecity.

“What part of ‘I really do not like crowds’ do you notunderstand, Lincoln?” they growl as he drags them by the hand down the street.

“What part of ‘Just trust me’ do you not understand?”

“Last time you said that, it was about the fact that you licked a corpse’s fingers beforeforensics could look it over.”

“Don’t start spouting logic, we’re supposed to be having fun.”

“You told me this in the courtroom.”

“Details, details, you’re still coming with me.”

Abe ignores the groan, because they’re only a few blocks awaynow.

“Abe, I appreciate that you’re trying to get me out of myoffice more, but I’m exhausted. Ijust want to go home and take a nap—”

They cut off when Abe pulls them to the entrance to the fair,staring wide-eyed at the bright lights everywhere, the countless tents andrides. The air smells of cigar smoke and fried food. Aggressively cheerfulmusic is played via strategically placed radios.

More importantly, however, there are a rather minisculenumber of people taking part in the festivities.

“Where…where is everyone?” they ask, looking at him withhesitant excitement.

“It’s the last day of the fair,” Abe answers. “It alsohappens to be Sunday, so everyone is at church right now. No lines, not toomany screaming kids, no risk of someone bumping into you and sending your foodeverywhere.”

“Abe that happened once!”they defend. “It’s not my fault you can’t watch where you’re going.”

“I could say the same about you.”

They laugh, making an enchanting sound that sends a jolt ofelectricity through his chest. “Anyway, um, the peanut vendor is over there, Ibelieve…” he mutters.

The pair spends a good two hours at the fair, sharing a bagof peanuts, making fun of the people looking at them with judging eyes, andtrying out a handful of the games offered. Oddly enough, Abe’s companion dominates the sharpshooter tent.

“You never told me you know how to use a gun,” Abe mentions.

They shrug. “It never came up. Is it really so surprising?”

“Not really, no.” Whey they glance at him, he explains, “Youdid tell me both of your parents were in the military. But, honestly, mostpeople just dissolve on the spot when you turn your Angry Eyes on, so youknowing how to shoot a gun doesn’t seem like much of a stretch.”

The corner of their lips quirk upward, and Abe suddenlynotices that they have dimples. Why is he just noticing that now? Why does that little detail make his chest thump faster?

Matter of fact, this entire evening has been an exercise in notstaring at them for too long, because damn it, this is a side of them he hasn’tseen yet. This utter delight, a smile bright as the moon, eyes lit up likefireworks, Abe wouldn’t be surprised if they started glowing of all things.

“I can’t believe you remembered that about my parents…” Theylook around some more before seeing, to his dismay, the Ferris wheel. “I haven’tridden a Ferris wheel in years.” Theystart heading in that direction and Abe moves with them.

They’re about to get on when they notice he hasn’t tried tojoin. “You’re not coming?”

“Uh…well…nah, I don’t…” Abe clears his throat. “Not too big afan of Ferris wheels. You go on ahead.” He shoves the last of the peanuts inhis mouth before he says anything incriminating.

They gaze at him a moment longer and he just prays they don’t read too much into hiswords. “Alright.” As they enter the ride, they turn back to him with a smirk. “Foryour information, if I could make people dissolve with my ‘Angry Eyes,’ therewould be four people left at the DA’s office, including myself.”

Abe chuckles so hard he nearly chokes on the peanuts.

After that ride, he walks them home in silence, which isuncharacteristic for him, but not so much for them. Normally their strollstogether involve him ranting about a case or his fellow officers while they nodin sympathy and occasionally throw in a complaint about their own coworkers.

This time the silence feels…different. If he didn’t know anybetter, he’d think they might have something they wish to talk about.

“Thanks,” they eventually say. “Thanks for, um, bringing mealong.”

“Not at all,” he answers. “These sorts of events aren’treally fun to take part in solo anyway—”

“I’m not done,” they interrupt. They take in a deep breathand roll their shoulders. “I’ve had exactly onefriend in my entire life. Due to our current career paths, we haven’t been ableto see each other as much, so I’ve been a little…lonelier than normal. I guess what I’m saying is…it’s nice to haveanother friend and not feel like I’m, um…too strange to be around.”

Abe’s mouth opens and shuts. What the hell is he supposed tosay to that? How does one respond to the realization that you’re one of two ofthe only acquaintances a kick-ass, emotionally distant ADA has?

Whether he would have found a response or not, Abe will neverknow, because they hurry to fill the awkward quiet with, “Also, the DA calledme into his office earlier today and said he planned on retiring early nextyear.”

It takes Abe longer than it should to switch gears. “Oh, um…that’sinteresting. Why would he tell you?”

They bite their lip, almost like they’re trying not to smile.The two of them stop walking. “God, I shouldn’t be telling you this…he basicallytold me that if I was interesting in being the DA, he would back me in aheartbeat.”

Abe swings around to face them, eyes bulging from his head. “I-you’reshitting me??!!”

“I had to pinch myself to keep from leaping with joy.”

He can’t help it. He grabs them into a hug and actually spins them around a few times beforesetting them back down, both of them laughing in joy as they start moving oncemore. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? We could have been doing something farmore high class, like eating at a fancy restaurant or crashing a prom—”

“No, I hate big fusses, you know that,” they dismiss. “I just…Ireally wanted to tell someone. I mean, obviously this isn’t a guarantee. He’sgoing to announce his upcoming retirement soon, so I really need to buckle downand get started on a campaign. I’ve built a reputation in the community andmade a few public statements about community outreach, but I don’t exactly havefunds—”

“Hey, all of that will work out,” Abe interrupts. He’s still grinninglike an idiot until a thought occurs to him and it disappears. “I guess thismeans you’ll be pretty busy for a while, huh?” He tries to sound nonchalant,but he doesn’t think it works. Much as he’s been expecting this relationship todie down, he doesn’t want it to do so this soon.

They give him a strange look as they stop walking again. Aberealizes they’ve reached their home.

“I won’t be too busy to spend time with my favoritedetective,” they assert in a determined tone. “Not when he still owes me aFerris wheel ride.”

A nervous chuckle rumbles in his chest. “Uh…yeah, yeah,definitely…”

It’s time for them to part ways, but Abe is suddenly overwhelmedwith the thought that he should do somethingbefore the night officially ends. But what?A handshake? A hug? The thought of kissing them flashes through his headjust long enough to make his face turn beet red. He desperately hopes it’s darkenough under his cap that they don’t notice.

“Well…I had a lot of fun tonight, Abe,” they eventually say. “Thanksagain. I’ll see you again soon, alright?”

It takes three gulps to actually force a sentence out of hisdry throat. “Absolutely. Have a good night.”

When they finally entire their house, Abe stares at the doorfor the longest time, feeling like a total buffoon, before cursing to himself andhurrying down the street.

He never looks back, so he doesn’t see the attorney part theshades a hint to watch him leave, a smile tugging at their cheeks.

Oo00oO

The months pass and, unfortunately, Abe and the attorney’s timespent together shrinks a rather significant amount, what with Abe’s suddencaseload and them taking on more and more court cases to further solidify theirreputation.

They make time to leave him notes though, at his doorstep,especially if weeks go by without them seeing each other. He starts doing so inreturn, though not as often, he’s ashamed to say. He’s still awfully shook upby that night, the way they looked under the porchlights and how the thought ofkissing them actually crossed hismind.

Now that it’s happened once, it’s been happening more andmore often lately.

Abe will look over a case and notice a quirky detail, whichhe then wants to share with his friend, butthen those thoughts dissolve into definitelynot friendly thoughts and he’ll endup spilling his coffee on his lap. These sorts of incidents have happened, invarious ways, more than he’d care to admit.

Damn them. This is their fault. He’s never been this distracted byanyone except three of his pastpartners, and look at how those turnedout.

He just…he can’t.

Not again.

And so time goes on in this cycle of missed calls and lettersonly sometimes answered. Before either knows it, the DA retires, gives a glowing endorsement to Abe’s favoriteattorney, and it’s only a month later that they’re elected into office by an overwhelmingmajority.

Abe wishes he could say that he was at the celebration whenthe news hit, but he was seeing someone about a new case.

His old friend Mark had finallycontacted him again, after almost two years of complete silence. Their meetingended up lasting several hours, both catching up on the latest personal events(he suspects Mark hasn’t been particularly forthcoming about why he’s been sounreachable) and discussing what Mark wanted Abe to do for him. It turns out tobe a simple recon case: check out the guests and employees for an upcomingparty Mark is throwing. Nothing too out of the ordinary, aside from the Mayor,of all people, being included in that list.

But when he returns to his car and switches on the radio, hehears the results of the election.

At first, Abe lets out a whooping cheer in the confines ofhis car. He is so proud. They’veworked so hard for this, fighting for justice in the courtroom and againstprejudice in their own office…

Simultaneously, however,he felt this awful guilt gather inthe pit of his stomach at the realization that his friend had won a positionthey’ve been struggling to reach for so long and Abe wasn’t there to celebrate with them.

So now, with these thoughts eroding his mind, he leans hishead back against the seat of his car and makes a new resolution.

Abe will finish this case for Mark, check out these peoplelike he wants.

Then…then he’ll make it up to the new DA, somehow.

For the moment, he needs space to clear his head. Otherwise, he’llruin the best thing in his life.

Oo00oO

@skidspace , @peaceiplier , @beereblogsstuff , @sassy-in-glasses , @chelseareferenced , @musical-jim , @sketchy-scribs-n-doods , @cosmic–frappucino , @wkm-detective-abe-squad

Sendme a prompt for Detective Abe/DA, Damien/DA, Actor!Mark/DA!

[hoenn-hakase]

I don’t babble about my personal stories very often, but I really wanted to share this for some reason and I’m not sure anyone is interested enough for me to babble directly. But I can’t stop thinking about it. -rolls around whining-

I ended up going through some old notebooks the other day and a specific group has been on my mind. You ever just sit back and think, not on just the plot, but the overall consequences and go “DAAAAAMN I am horrible to my characters D8” Like, in the series I’m working on, there’s a group of seemingly unrelated characters but they all have one very big event of importance to their back story. And while this major connecting plot element explains their individual situations, motivations, and character relations (as well as possibly being a cause in the motivations of other characters), it’s…. not a good thing.

Keeping this vague to stick to the basics. So the main characters involved in this backstory were a group of six who during “The Great War” were part of an experimental military unit after the government had spent several years testing and honing this mysterious Substance they discovered could be used to “improve” their troops. There were already other units of “super soldiers” who had done well and were already in combat, but this group was to be like the next big thing since even with their enhancements, it had only turned the war from a losing battle to even ground. The country needed something to give them an edge to officially turn the tide. Long story short, they discovered some serious dark magic but the experimental unit was fine for two years and proved fruitful to the cause, so they decided to expand on the project. This backfired horribly because the “power source” couldn’t handle being the overload of new members and, being sentient, decided to fulfil it’s new requirement by taking a few “shortcuts” which in turn created a living nightmare for those caught on the wrong side.

Of after these six characters supposedly got their “happily ever after” for escaping the nightmare:

-       Character 1 ended up leading a massive rebellion, creating a civil war in the already broken-by-the-big-war kingdom, and eventually overthrew the government that had forsaken him and others like him. This created something of a power vacuum that lead to the rise of the Big Bad in book One. Since then, Character 1 has become somewhat disfigured by his extensive exposure to the “Substance,” and disillusioned to find that the new tyrant is no better than the last one, his rebellion has instead turned into a resistance movement. Instead of trying to fight back anymore, he’s become the leader of a highly-fortified township that serves as a refuge for those wanting to escape the reign of the Big Bad. Unfortunately, while he can help train those still wanting to fight, he fears his fighting days are over. As the Big Bad has weaponized the Substance in a new way, Character 1 can’t shake the internal fear that coming into direct contact with that stuff wouldn’t kill him, but instead send him back to the hell-state he fought so hard to escape from.

 -       Character 2 and Character 1 stayed friends for some time before events with the Big Bad made it hard to stay in touch. Unlike Character 1 though, 2 doesn’t have a fear of the Substance or of the Big Bad. Having gotten a taste for the power Substance can provide, he’s continued the experimentations on himself for several years before the start of the series and by the time our Protags meet him, he's in WAAAY over his head in his struggle to control the power he's obtained. And yet, he still feels like he’s not strong enough, because as powerful as he is, Character 2 wants to somehow become strong enough to take on Big Bad and all his armies by himself with the possible intention of taking over as he wants to be powerful enough to ensure nothing like this ever happens again. His obsession has caused him to spend a lot of time alone due to people being scared of him and unfortunately, he really SHOULDN’T be left alone as it just leads him to making himself worse.

 -       Character 3 was VERY young when he entered the program, and really only got in due to his father’s connections in the military. He still passed all his preliminaries to see if he’d be suited for the program, and the logic of him going into this unit instead was the promise that it kept him far from the frontlines and guaranteed him to return home safe. Physically, he returned just fine, though his father kept saying he felt that somehow he had returned… wrong. After he went home, he managed to settle down and had a kid before the civil war broke out. As the one leading the rebellion was an old friend of his, Character 3 was more than happy to join in the fight again. And his growing aggression only seemed to continue even after returned home. He had plans, BIG PLANS that didn’t sit well his elders and after being deemed dangerous, he was somewhat sent into exile back to the lands he seemingly belonged to. Years later, no thanks to help from the True Villain of the series, he finally made it back with the delusions of him having some “great destiny” to fulfil and was going to reclaim his birthright by force if need be. He could regain that “happily ever after” if he followed the True Villain’s instructions, leading to him playing up the role of the Big Bad in book 3. …Until his role in the “grand scheme” caused him to be betrayed by one good friend, costed him his entire army and one of his dearest and most loyal companions, and almost lost him his daughter. Not to mention, even after he came to his senses, he’s physically looking to be as bad off as Character 1 now due to being exposed to Substance once again to great extent. While he does want to help the good guys (because damn the foul creature who used and abused him), it’s really hard to accept such help because of how mentally troubled he is. Not very dangerous anymore, but his previous connections with the True Villain have lead to some severe paranoia, and sometimes his explanations just don’t make any sense.

 -       Character 4 and 5 were both able to go home quietly to their individual families and tried to settle down. They both are parents to some of the protags in Book 2, though neither plays a vital role in the main series itself. Character 4 however never truly got over things and spent a rather fruitful, though somewhat lonely, life as he remained distant to his friends and family. He never made contact with the other five ever again, and seems to tense up when they’re mentioned. His strained relations with his son, unfortunately, are a key fact in the entire series’ events as his son is basically the cause of like EVERYTHING after accidentally getting his hands on the power source to the Substance. (Honestly, protag looks at Character 3 after he’s been defeated and realizes they did have a few things in common. It’s enough to make him at least want to sit down and have a talk with the old man about what the heck happened.) While Character 4’s fate by this point is still pending…. It’s probably not good considering he’s either missing, dead, or unknowing being held to the whims of his son; which considering their relationship would not be a good thing.

 -       Character 5 probably got out the best of all of them, as he lived a seemingly normal life with the only major tragedy coming up during the civil war. It was because of that event he cut off ties all together with Characters 1, 2, and 3 (4 had already cut off from them by that point anyway), and he became something of a recluse within his hometown. Not that he avoided people, he still loved company, but he never really could integrate back into their society. Ended up being a stay-at-home dad and claimed he didn’t go out much due to some “injury” he received during the war, although what exactly no one is really certain, but the odd scars on his back serve curiosity well enough to believe him.

 -       Character 6 has me worried because, while she is spoken of often by the others in fond memory or her importance to the war is noted, she’s currently only a backstory character. As in, while she was important for that point in history, she hasn’t shown up in the main story. Which would be great to think she went home, settled down, maybe had a family (maybe is a relation to someone we know in the main story), the fact we don’t know what happened after “happily ever after” gives me the hope that she had no major tragedies to draw her out of hiding. I’m worried though because, as my characters tend to do so, IF she should show up in the series, I’m afraid we’ll find out all kinds of heartsick that’s happened either since then or that she WAS living her life happily until story events came up to bring skeletons out of the closet. Either way, STAY WHERE YOU ARE, GIRL! I LOVE YOU, BUT YOU DON’T WANT TO BE INVOLVED HERE! Seriously though, my brain has been trying to look at some other characters who don’t have a backstory and going “… Is that secretly you? Some twenty years later in the timeline, did I finally finds you?”

I just… damn though. The worst part in thinking about all this though is WE NEVER ACTUALLY SEE WHAT HAPPENED TO THESE GUYS! We get told what happened from Characters 1 and 2, and we find out about Character 3’s involvement even if he doesn’t explain what happened to him directly, but even then it’s more of a summary to what happened. Like I know this happens a lot in series where there’s some major event that happened before the plot that’s constantly alluded to but it’s just sort of bizarre seeing how many different directions the group took from going through the same thing.  Ranging from utterly broken to possibly moved onto to bigger and better things. I just… -rolling around in feels-

[foxymuses]

---- im still working thru painting some things rn (i gotta paint at least one more for tomorrow when i mail them out) but i gotta say a thing before i lose it

on the topic of warren and his family, he wasn’t super close to them. not the way i see a lot of hawkes portray their muses. like, ren was very close to malcolm because malcolm was the one who helped ren hide his abilities through mastering dual daggers, and the majority of ren’s abilities are so powerful because 1) the amell AND hawke magic genes are strong but 2) because he had malcolm to teach him outside chantry law. 

he had never been incredibly close to leandra on the basis that he had never had too much in common with her. he loved her, he did, and growing up (before the twins), ren and leandra were close enough where things were friendly and familial. but when the twins were born, her focus shifted almost entirely to them, while malcolm kept ren in mind. 

warren did his best to help raise the twins, and he has always been incredibly protective of them, but naturally he was closer to bethany because they both had magic. while bethany and carver were close because of being twins, carver and warren always had a strained relationship. not antagonistic, and they could count on each other where it mattered, but carver was always at the end of the ‘see what warren is doing? be like that’ or even the “don’t do what your brother did”. everything was in reference to warren, not even by warren’s choice, and that fueled carver’s desire to prove himself.

because warren is naturally a chill person (like, he could be high all the time and it would be no different than how he already is), he didn’t view this as anything one way or another. in fact, a lot of the time, he wasn’t even around when carver got these comparisons, and when he would hear about it, or when someone would say ‘did you hear what carver did’ or something to that effect, warren was more or less unaffected. he didn’t care how similar or different he and carver were. and this lack of care only furthered carver’s irritation at his older brother, because carver had to overthink everything in case he acted too much or not enough like warren, and especially to make sure his two siblings stayed apostates. he would never have turned them over to the templars, but it was often a point of frustration between the two hawke brothers that bethany was far more careful and precise in her magic use where ren was hidden but less concerned.

it became a worse point when carver found out that ren’s specialty in magic was blood magic. not that malcolm taught him that, but ren found it easy to use when he was using daggers as his main weapon, because daggers create little cuts and gashes everywhere so manipulating that was only logical. it created a huge blow out between the two, and ren and carver didn’t speak for several weeks, wouldn’t even be in the same room. malcolm and leandra had to finally say ‘this is enough, get over it’

then of course, malcolm died and warren became the technical head of the hawkes (leandra was still in charge, but as the eldest, warren now had to take on a vast majority of the responsibility). that meant he was also in charge of carver. this caused the rift to grow further.

then came the blight and escaping to kirkwall, where several times you can hear carver comment on how they wouldn’t have even made it were it not for his older brother, a fact he resents but acknowledges, made worse by the fact warren is only half sure what he’s doing at any point in time. top off everything by losing bethany, and things get worse. this brings us back to leandra, because after malcolm died, leandra sort of also started to crumple, and while she did run away with a mage, she was still aristocratic in upbringing, so her and warren had different ideals and handles on things. running for your life across the wilds was not something she knew how to handle properly, and while she deferred to warren for decisions, that meant she also put all the blame for bethany’s death on his shoulders. it doesn’t matter if she really did blame him or not, warren was now handling the death of his sister, the animosity of his brother, and his mother’s grief by himself. and he does blame himself for everything, even though he knows its not entirely his fault, because he is the eldest and he should be able to protect them all better than he is.

in an effort to maintain the peace, he leaves carver behind when they go to the deep roads, because he doesn’t want to risk him dying and having to let leandra know that another child is gone, and placing that blame on warren’s shoulders too. so carver stayed, and when warren gets back, he finds out that carver joined the templars. and that hurt. 

and he knows a lot of the reasons the templars leave him alone is because carver, even if he is an ass, keeps them off warren’s tail one way or another, but at least in my playthru warren and carver were at 100% rivalry before they even hit the deep roads. after the initial letter about settling in among the templars, they don’t speak at all until leandra dies.

and this, too, is different for warren, because he wasn’t close to leandra by any means. he worked his way back into high town for her, and restored her name with the viscount, but aside from dinners and the occasional fireside chat, they rarely interacted. leandra had more discussions with bodan and sandal than she did with ren, because he was out unwillingly solving kirkwall’s issues. in fact, aveline came over to talk to leandra more than ren did.

so when leandra is part of that ritual and dies in his arms, he’s sad but he’s not depressed. the worst is the guilt -- it’s nice to hear her tell him she’s proud of him, something she hasn’t really ever said in sincerity, and the fact she dies from blood magic, something he himself practices, definitely hits too close to home. but aside from throwing himself at bandits or highwaymen a bit harder than usual, he doesn’t really grieve her all that much. he’s not happy she’s dead, of course, and he for sure blames himself, but he doesn’t feel as lost without her as he did without his father.

so then he bumps into carver after the qunari start their shit, and there’s a very tense exhange where he asks if carver got his letter about leandra, to which carver did but couldn’t come for the funeral because he was out of the city on training, and then they part ways with a few disguised ‘be carefuls’ and that’s that.

when the big boss battle comes in act 3, despite their problems, carver won’t fight against warren, and warren would have ever only incapacitated carver to prevent him from hurting any of ren’s friends or to keep him out of the fight. they’re still brothers, and he still love carver, they’re just not friendly. and he still has aveline take carver from the city when shit hits the fan.

carver is one of the first to know that warren was left in the fade, and he’s also one of the last to find out that warren crawled his way out and is fine. their lives are not connected save a letter here or there, mostly written by varric. and when varric becomes viscount of kirkwall, and carver returns to the city, the high town estate has been transferred to his name per warren’s request. after that, though, their interactions essentially stop.

obviously with people who write these characters, things can change around based on how our muses interact, but default-wise, warren did not have substantial relationships with most of his family, and considers his companions more family than his family was (mostly varric and aveline, as they were his first friends, and are the only two (aside from anders who can just tell) who know ren uses blood magic at all). 

there’s no real point to this, it just needed saying. warren will protect his family, naturally, but they are not something he is emotionally attached to.