#mysterious encounter

[herlastnamepage]

Standoff. Tower of London, 2025. taken by @herlastnamepage

[annaofthenorthernlights]

@fluffbruary

Day 20 - Reflection

[eurigmorgan]

Noak Hill 1908

My grandfather told me this. It was, he said, passed down from my great grandpa Walter. It was, Grandpa said, the damnedest thing. But he swore it was true. It happened in the summer of 1908. Walter was twelve and his family lived up on Noak Hill. It was pretty early in the morning and Walter was waiting for his friend Frank to show up and he was taking forever. No phones of course so no idea where Frank was. Walter was about to give up and head back inside, when he noticed someone, a stranger walking kind of slowly towards him down the road.

At first Walter figured he must be a tramp passing through, not that you hardly ever saw one around Noak Hill. But then he saw that this tramp was a lad about his own age he guessed. And on the whole he honestly didn’t look like a tramp. He looked, as his dad would say, clean and presentable. Although he was dressed queerly. I must have smiled because grandpa looked at me seriously. Different meaning back then, he said. He was wearing a shirt with short sleeves like sailors wore and short trousers, what the navy called Bermuda shorts. And he had a rucksack of sorts on his back.

The lad stopped, opened his rucksack and pulled out a camera. He called out to Walter, Is it okay if I take your picture? Walter, I guess, didn’t care. Go ahead, he said. The boy took his picture and walked over to Walter. Do you want to see it? See what? Walter asked. The picture. the boy said. I can show you the picture. Walter thought the lad was balmy. If you wanted to see your pictures back then you had to post the whole camera and wait two weeks to get it back and if you were lucky your pictures came out. Here, let me show you, the boy said. Walter said the boy handed him the camera. It was the fizzingest thing he’d ever seen. It had to have cost a pretty farthing. There was a glass screen and when the boy pushed a button, there was the picture. Walter said he was amazed. See, the boy smiled and pointed, that’s you right there. The picture looked exactly like the one his father had taken the month before when he got his new Brownie and was taking pictures of everything – what a drag that was – except the picture was colored. The trees were green, his shirt was blue. The boy said, forgetting where he was, if you have a printer I can make you a copy. Realizing what he had said and seeing the look on Walter’s face, the boy said he was kidding.

Anyway, the boy said, I gotta go. He put out his hand. He said, my name’s Eric. What’s yours. Walter, said Walter. Pleased to have met you. The boy swung his rucksack over his shoulder and walked off the way he came. Walter watched as the boy walked around the corner at the top of the road. Then he saw his friend Frank walking towards him. Walter ran to meet him. Did you see a boy with a rucksack on the road? Frank regarded Walter quizzically. No, he said.

That’s a real co-incidence, I said to my grandfather, his name being Eric. I guess so, Eric, my grandfather replied. Of course I didn’t bother telling him that the boy Walter met was me. How would he ever believe it. For as long as I can remember I have dreamed of being able to enter old photographs like walking into a movie set only everything would be real and I could touch stuff and smell the air. The ability came to me last year when I almost died in the hospital. I was in the recovery room, coming out from under anesthesia, and being combative, I was told. I was standing in front of our house, only it was new, so it must have been 1924. I could smell the water in the canal that ran in back of our house (it’s a road now).

The experience lasted long enough for me to meet the family that built the house. They said their name was Hynes. Which was true (I checked later). The dream faded as I woke up.

Since then the dreams have popped up, frustratingly, at random and I have been sleeping with my camera determined to bring back the evidence. No luck so far. Every time I wake the first thing I do is check my camera and every time I get the message NO IMAGES. I’ll figure it out one day.

[bigboysfalldeep]

I’m guessing this is completely wrong but, Adam Peaty?

its no swimmer, Ill say that much.

But adam sure is hot!

[contacthigh520]

starting a collection

[dailyadventureprompts]

Plane: The Abyssal Unknown

Artsource

Deeper than deep, this sunken dimension exists beyond the bounds of all seas be they watery, hellish, or astral. A surreal and lightless landscape decorated with the remnants of sunken cities and vessels lost across time.

Known by some mariners and mystics simply as "The Below", this dimension was once simply an afterlife for those claimed by fathomless waters, whether they be stormtossed sailors or the inhabitants of civilizations washed away by floods. Where once it graciously accepted such lost souls, In the past century though the Unknown has become somehow covetous, reaching out to grasp at whatever prize strikes its fancy.

Adventure Hooks:

Those sailors that come too close to drowning may be marked by the Unknown, which will stop at nothing to claim their bodies and souls. Such is the case for the revenant the party is hired to deal with, an old sailor who dug her way out of her grave and walked several miles towards the sea before tying herself to the sign at the crossroads outside of town. She claims that no matter how she might want to rest in death, the "sea" will not give her peace. It will be up to the party to decide what to do with her, whether delivering her to a watery grave or seeking the aid of some other divinity.

After recovering a fortune from a wrecked treasure ship, a salvage crew is being picked off one by one, with a few of them hiring the party for protection against what they think is an attempt by their jealous coworkers to cut them out of the deal. Infact they are being haunted by a horrid half-real beast known as "the Scuttler", part crab part ghost haunted hulk, which guards the doors of the Abyssal Unkown (and objects it lays claim to) the way Cerberus guards Hades.

A series of storms washes up wreckage and strange valuables near a seaside town, bringing beachcombers and treasurehunters of all kinds. A dreaming compulsion settles over those that take things from the shore, driving them to gather driftwood and other materials from the brine, and begin the construction of a vessel there on the beach. When questioned in their half lucid state, they claim that the ship they build will "take them home, and further still", an odd claim made even by those who'd lived in the village all their lives.

Sink deep enough into the trenches of the Below and you will find the tombs of the first oceanic gods, bleached coral monuments and epitaphs carved around the vigil-fire of thermal vents. The Abyssal Unknown was once their mausoleum, a place where their descendants and adherents could pay their respect, preserved forever in the crushing embrace of the depths.

That was before the Collector came, a malign spirit of the depths not quite demon or outer god. Driven by an insatiable desire to know and possess, it usurped the Below's guardians and remade the realm in its own image, bending the Unkown's ancient magics to it's purpose of acquisition and scraping the dead gods' skulls for knowledge like the lowest of scavengers at whalefall.

So much knowledge has been lost to the sea over the course of history, and it is only a matter of time before the collector archives it's aim of ascending to true divine status. Already it's power grows, gathering agents and seeding the idea of its ascension into the minds of receptive followers.

[naonoholics]

Merry Christmas~!

Hello All (｡◕‿◕｡) To celebrate the season of giving we are here to share some new release with everyone! First up from Naono Bohra we have V4 Ch 20 of Boku no Danna-sama (My Dear Husband) and Trip Lovers -Matching Hands- Ch 2. My Dear Husband v4 Ch 20: (Media Fire) (MEGA) Trip Lovers -Matching Hands- Ch 2: (Media Fire) (MEGA) Next from Fumi Yoshinaga we have Book 8 of Kenji and Shiro-san which is the Dj series for What did you eat Yesterday. This is our joint project with the great Ikemen Scans. Kenji and Shiro-san Book 8 (Media Fire) (MEGA) To round out the releases we have the start of volume 3 of Tonari no Hyakkai Kenbunroku by Yoshiko Watanuki. Tonari no Hyakkai Kenbunroku V3 Episode Saiwa -Child Lost In Summer- (Media Fire) (MEGA) Enjoy the new releases and Happy Reading~!

[mx-myth]

Is it really danmei if there are no time skip/flashback/past lives shenanigans?

[blue-likethebird]

The explanation for why totk’s story is so Not Great and how disconnected from its predecessor it feels being that the devs didn’t want to alienate new players who didn’t know anything about botw’s story just falls apart the more I think about it. Nothing from this stupid half a plot works unless the player is familiar with specific details from the better games that came before it.

The believability of Link and Zelda’s connection to each other hinges on you knowing about the nuance of their relationship in botw. The ancient sages fighting with the champions’ arms and divine beast helms will only be impactful to botw/aoc players because totk doesn’t bother to explain the significance of that callback at all. Fi’s cameo is meaningless unless you either got every memory in botw or finished the master trial dlc (and know about her from skyward sword). You’ll only get the full context of Teba being sidelined in favour of a 12-year old if you played a specific chapter of Age of Calamity’s second DLC. Like sorry but I think Nintendo just made a bad story tbh

[petrichorius]

stamp assortment :)

[heartofspells]

Here's a radical idea. If you don't like a story the way it is written, write your own instead of shitting over top of everyone else's creations who choose to share their thoughts with you for free. It is literally that easy. Words on a page: GO!

And if you're brave enough to do what countless others have chosen to do just to sit around and get your negative comments on something you did not have to read, you will then be free to tag it however you wish. Tag it so exhaustively that no one has any need to read it at all because - oh my god! - every minute detail exists in the tags! That makes for such a fun read, doesn't it?

That is all.

[mariyekos]

Crack fic idea: POV of a police officer chasing a robbery suspect who ends up running into DMC to escape/grab a hostage. When the officer opens the door, he finds the suspect standing frozen in the middle of the room, because on the opposite end by the desk, an angry Vergil's standing there stabbing a surprised Dante. This stabbing pretty obviously happened before the robber showed up. It's only through the hand, but the one guy is holding a whole giant samurai sword, the guy getting stabbed has a gun in his free hand, and there's kind of a lot of blood.

The other officer comes in after POV guy. Officer 2 looks over the scene, then starts to arrest the suspect who's still so shocked he doesn't really fight the handcuffs. Once the suspect is cuffed, Officer 2 starts to walk him through the door and tells POV Officer it's time to go. POV Officer is confused, because uh, sir, there's some pretty severe domestic violence going on and he doesn't know if that gun's registered, and even if they ignore all the normal police/violence/safety issues shouldn't they call some EMTs??? Or at least ask the guy getting stabbed if he's okay???? (To which Dante calls out "oh yeah I'm good!" confusing poor POV officer further)

Officer 2 just frowns and shakes his head. "No, they've got this. Right Dante?" To which Dante cheerfully replies with some small talk that makes it obvious he and Officer 2 are acquainted. Vergil gets tired of the small talk and rips the Yamato out of Dante's hand, walking upstairs. And when POV Officer starts to ask something else, Dante basically just waves him off with some sort of comment about how Vergil's just grumpy, honestly Dante kind of deserved that one, he'll admit he was being a bit pushy. And then waves goodbye when Officer 2 says they really need to get back go the station and book the suspect.

As they leave, POV Officer asks what's going on. Officer 2 basically just tells him not to worry, and not to write it in the report. That's just Dante. Dante tries to keep clear of the police, the police try to keep clear of Dante, and everyone's happy. He's helped out on a handful of cases when he just so happened to be in the area, he's gotten accused of some property damage a few times, it all evens out. You just don't mention Dante. City Police actually have a code for it, if they ever absolutely have to. But today they don't, so they won't. They caught the suspect. That's that. The suspect ran into one of the many abandoned buildings in the area and they caught him. Nothing else of note.

Oh, and if POV Officer is worried about the hand, he shouldn't be. The police here have known demons were real for years before Redgrave, and they're pretty sure Dante's one of the nice ones. When he says he'll be fine, hell be fine. Officer 2 has some good stories about him getting shot in the chest and getting tight bacm up, actually...

...

And so a crazy day comes to an end. The suspect's been caught, the streets are safe, and that's that. Nothing else happened. Nothing at all.

If POV Officer starts sprinting in the opposite direction when he sees a certain tall, white haired, blue eyed, blue wearing man when he's walking down the street later that week, it's for no reason at all.

[dailyadventureprompts]

Hi there! I'm a huge fan of your work, and I was wondering if you could help flesh out a vilain idea I had? I have a basic setup, but no idea how to make him a rounder character.

The gist of it is a fey king whose queen died, so, driven mad with grief and incredibly deep in denial, he reaches out into the Material Plane and kidnaps women who resemble his queen, forcibly altering their minds and bodies through fell magic to transform them into reincarnations of his queen. He keeps failing as the magic instead transforms them into horribly broken and mutated horrors, driving him to more desperate measures.

Other than that, I have no idea how to develop him further or devise an end to his evil :(( so any tips on villain development would be greatly appreciated :))

Adventure: A Covetous Love

Friend, you don't need to make your villain a rounder character, you just need to refocus your narrative onto the genuinely horrific scenario you've created where a series of women have their identities torn away piece by piece. How does it feel to go through it? What must it be like for their friends and family to watch as the woman they knew is replaced by some cruel parody in line with a stranger’s lusts?  Refocusing the story on the current victim likewise gives the story human stakes, and allows the party a good entrypoint into this ongoing tragedy with the chance of possibly preventing it from repeating. 

Before we get into the story itself, here’s a few more ideas I’m going to suggest: 

Rather than kidnapping outright, the fey lord visits his victims in disguise courting them as if he were a wealthy, charming suitor. He offers jewelry and trinkets and other fine things, all infused with the essence of his beloved, and as each of them is accepted the victim becomes a little bit more and more like his queen. A silver comb that turns her hair into HER hair, a cup of wine that fills her dreams with memories of their pramanades through faerie together, makeup that not only wipes out any flaws but transforms the face into a mask of bloodless porcelain perfection. 

Likewise, the transformation process specifically fails because the fey’s expectations are too much. If he were willing to settle for someone who only reminded him of his bride, or gods help him strike out on some new course, he could theoretically be happy… but because he keeps trying to make his victims MORE he ends up with an idea that collapses in on itself, something too perfect to live or even maintain a coherent form. 

To really drive home the tragedy of the horror, I’m going to suggest that the current victim is a woman trapped in either a political marriage or one that’s long gone cold. The fey will exploit her genuine desire for romance and affection, as well as her longing to escape the cage of her life, making the offer of becoming someone else (even if it means dying in the process) all the more tempting. This makes it so that the hinge point of the adventure isn’t just a “rescue the princess” matter of getting her away from the fey, but confronting her as a person and trying to persuade her that there’s some other path to freedom than letting herself be eaten by some otherworldly waifu. 

This setup also gives the party a great secondary antagonist to clash against: the jealous mortal husband, someone who technically WANTS the same thing as the party and has the resources at his back, but will actively drive the victim into the fey’s arms every time he gets involved. He wants to save the victim, but doesn’t care about her happiness, in fact he may be intent on punishing her for her infidelity. He’s there to show why the victim wants to leave. 

Adventure Hooks: 

The party first encounter Lady Melanie Kerridell while out in the wilderness when a stag she’s hunting blunders into their path/camp, on horseback, weapon in hand and her fine clothes streaked with mud. She’ll berate them if they let the beast escape or steal the kill for themselves, but half way through will stagger and lose track of where she is. Just about then a group of her friends and servants will crash through the foliage in a desperate state, as Melanie was out with them having a country luncheon when she spotted the stag, grabbed a weapon from the guards, and took off after it.  This is not the first time this has happened, Lady Kerridell is about half way transformed into the Green-Eyed-Queen and she’s letting herself slip more and more. A concerned friend will invite the party back with them to the estate, and then politely broach the topic about how they might “look in” on Melanie and what might be causing her to act this way. 

The party receive a letter from Lady Kerridell, begging for their help ridding her manor of a haunting, of a monster that has been wandering her home at night wearing her face. When they seek her out however they find her beautiful and cruel and with no idea whatsoever who sent them the letter, despite it bearing her seal.

Lord Edrick Kerridell catches the party snooping around and offers to pay them if they can track down the young dandy he’s seen his wife sneaking off into the gardens to neck with. He wants to know just who the man is before he decides what to do with him, just incase these pricy gifts are from the vault of some other great family. When the party do find the dandy,  he’ll lead them on a merry chase through the town, dragging them all into the feywild if they manage to corner him. 

The local jeweler needs some help investigating a robbery, a few pieces were stolen, but the prize of the take was a staggeringly beautiful necklace of gold and jade, which he was in the middle of repairing. Strangeness surrounds the case: the dandy who delivered the necklace made no secret that it was for a married woman and as the jeweler worked on it he couldn’t shake the feeling of some kind of presence skirting around the edge of his workshop.  When the party find the thief they’ll find her in a bit of a state, having put on the necklace and been influenced by the fey-bride’s mind, she now finds herself driven to heist the home of Lady Berridale. Ostensibly this is for more riches, but the shard of the green eyed queen seeks to complete herself, which will likely result in one of the two womens’ deaths. 

Art

[katagiri-jinpachi]

I. GASPED

Bluesky post by Seven Seas Entertainment: "Brand-new license announcement! TALES OF THE HUNDRED MONSTERS NEXT DOOR by Yoshiko Watanuki. In this supernatural manga series, one man’s life is forever changed when a late-night convenience store run leads to the Yokai market. "

Link

[thevegetablewhichnoonedaresname]

second season of Apothecary Diaries is good so far

[rahuratna]

A little gift for the lovely @cmdrfupa . Happy birthday, friend!

Synopsis: A chance meeting with a stranger by a riverside opens a brief window into another world.

[Slight Reader x Toji]

On a cobweb afternoon

In a room full of emptiness

By a freeway I confess

I was lost in the pages

Of a book full of death

~ Like a Stone (lyrics) - Audioslave

The streetlamps flicker frequently in this part of the city.

It's part of the appeal, you suppose.

You can appreciate spaces like these, hollowed out of concrete and compacted earth by some higher being's blunt-edged knife, pockets of quiet amidst the chaos.

The pavements are older, a fine tracery of cracks spreading beneath your steady stride. They are as familiar to you as the softly glowing jewels of steam, scent and spice that beckon along the sides of the riverwalk.

This was why you always chose this route after a long day at work. Each tiny food stall sent out its siren's call, every bowl of udon or heaped plate of curry set out like offerings to the downtrodden deities of the late shift, yourself included. 

Today, you had a particular destination in mind. The weather had taken a turn over the last few days, chilly air creeping under the doors of your apartment, sudden sweeps of icy air waiting in ambush for your hapless ankles.

The only thing to remedy such a situation was the tonkotsu ramen at the stand you came to every fortnight. You were certainly ready to inhale a bowl of the rich, heady broth, to watch the egg yolk dispel within, warm, quivering, like a sunrise over winter treetops.

Hastening you steps, you spied the canvas strips hanging from the awning, the small hand-written signs that advertised specials and topping prices. You didn't need to consult that list. You knew exactly what you'd be ordering.

Tucking your satchel into the small space beneath the counter, you clambered onto a stool, anticipation for the meal to come temporarily drawing your attention away from the booth's only other occupant.

You were vaguely aware of him, of the fact that he was very tall and broad of shoulder, as you received your tea and took a scalding sip. Finally turning your glance to him, you almost performed a double take.

He certainly was tall, but even under the concealing lines of the dark sweater, you didn't think you'd ever seen someone built quite like him before.

There was a certain predatory grace to his power, corded lines of sinew tracing up his neck, a heaviness to his large hands, a capability for feats of strength you couldn't possibly fathom.

His features were what most would consider exceptionally good looking, but there was something there, in the hooded shadow of his eyes, in the semi-amused curve of his scarred lips, in the flare of his nostrils and the effortless drape of his dark, dark hair that was both fascinating and repellent. Like the gaze of a cobra, cold, relentless, magnetic, he was setting off every warning signal in your mind.

His glance drifted lazily across to you and he offered a measured look. You froze, unable to explain your visceral reaction to this man.

What was going on?

You'd sat at this stall dozens of times. Why was every instinct screaming at you to remove yourself from this space?

Your thoughts were interrupted by his voice, smooth, slightly husky, the cool depths of a murky city river.

"More tea. And a bowl of the tonkotsu."

Your mind was assaulted by the fact that you'd be eating alongside him, here at this stall. You shook your head slightly, as if to clear away cobwebs of doubt.

This was ridiculous. You'd never even met this man before and you'd be damned before such random feelings drove you away from the comfort of your routine. You knew that if you walked away now, you'd look back and regret it, that you'd probably curse your silly instincts for a warning that, in all probability, meant nothing.

Settling your elbows firmly on the countertop before you, you did the one thing that you knew, on some level, you really, really shouldn't.

You started a conversation.

"This place serves the best broth."

His eyes slid sideways towards you again, and you tried to convince yourself that the spike of heady excitement you felt in your abdomen wasn't accompanied by a healthy dose of regret.

He shrugged, noncommittal.

"I've had better."

"Where?"

He didn't answer your question, but now he was watching you more intently. Bringing the small cup to his lips, he took a sip, as if simultaneously drinking in everything that he observed about you. He raised his chin, playfully interrogative.

"Do you come to this stall often?"

"Yes."

"I've never seen you before."

"Ah, I don't usually come at this time. I got off work a little earlier today."

He eyed your steaming bowl as it arrived, and you tucked in a little self-consciously, aware that he was watching you eat.

Trying to dispel the awkwardness you felt (since you were the one who'd initiated this conversation) you asked a question.

"What do you do for work?"

His smile was a sudden flare of unholy glee, and he brushed back his hair with a casual gesture.

"Oh, I'm a jack of all trades, you could say. People make requests, and I see what I can do."

You paused, noodles suspended halfway to your mouth.

"That works for you? In this economy?"

You weren't expecting him to burst into uproarious laughter at your words. You noticed that the ramen vendor didn't even glance in his direction.

Turning his whole body towards you now, he slung one ankle up on his knee. If you'd thought his shoulders were singularly muscular, you'd now got the rest of him to compare them to. It was ... quite the sight.

You took a hurried sip of your tea.

Maybe he hit up the gym really really regularly. That could possibly explain ...

Your thoughts were interrupted by his fingers tapping lightly on the counter.

"This economy is ... more forgiving than you may think. For those of us who exploit a niche."

You weighed up his words.

"So you're saying ... you provide an essential service?"

"Sure. People always need a good clean up."

"Ah."

You nodded in understanding.

"So you do the jobs nobody else wants to do. That makes sense."

Something darkened in his gaze, but that ire wasn't directed at you. For you, there was only casual amusement. You had, seemingly, provided him with a welcome distraction.

"Oh, yeah. Nobody really wants the work I take on. It comes naturally to me, though. And there are parts of it that I've ... come to find satisfying."

"So, I'm guessing that you're very good at what you do."

"The best."

There was no joy to the manner in which he said this, however. It was a cold statement of fact.

"Hmm. I guess office work does have its perks. I have a schedule to stick to. That's one thing I'm guaranteed of."

He shrugged, reaching across to receive the bowl handed to him.

"I don't know if the regular grind is for me. Not any more."

You waved your chopsticks in his direction.

"It's not for everyone. But it does offer some stability. Sometimes I'm thankful for that."

"Stability?"

He snorted in a manner that was undeniably condescending, but the humour didn't reach his eyes. You noticed that there was not much that did. 

"Stability won me over for a while. A very short time. Not on the table any more, that's for sure."

You wonder if there's a hint of a failed relationship somewhere in there. You wouldn't be surprised. You asked your next question carefully, averting your eyes from his.

"And were you happy? Around the time you were stable?"

"Happy?"

You'd never heard anyone say the word quite like he did; rolled on the tongue as if bitter, unfamiliar, foreign. A taste of the unknown.

"Hmm. I don't think about those times any more. Not much use."

"That's ... efficient."

"I'm nothing if not efficient."

You finished your meal, setting down your chopsticks across the top of the bowl and placing your hands together in thanks. You reached into your pocket for some cash.

You considered paying for his meal, as thanks for the company, but he'd already produced his own money, the notes lying carelessly crumpled beside his bowl. It was almost as if he'd anticipated your gesture.

Nodding politely, you slid off the stool.

"Have a good night."

"You have any kids?"

His question came from seemingly nowhere. You'd kept the conversation as free of personal details as possible.

It was then that you noticed where his eyes had fallen. There was a little badge, one of the numerous cartoon characters your nephew was fond of, pinned to the strap of your bag. It had been a gift you'd received on your last visit to your sister, and you'd worn it in place of pride.

"Oh, this?"

You gestured to the badge and smiled.

"My nephew. This is his second favourite character. He wouldn't have parted with the best one. So ... this is the one I got."

The man eyed the badge with a strange intensity.

"Second favourite, huh?"

His gaze lifted to yours, and there was no trace of the fond softness that such a conversation might elicit.

"Don't come back here tomorrow."

"Pardon?"

"Dont come to this stand. Here."

He handed you a card, produced from the pocket of his dark slacks.

"This is the other ramen place I told you about. The better one. Try that out tomorrow."

You took the card from him hesitantly, before nodding, tucking your scarf tightly into your coat and making your way down to the walkway. Glancing back, you saw that he had turned his attention to his food once more.

You didn't think much more about the encounter, until the next day.

Sitting in a comfortable booth at the restaurant he'd recommended, a fair distance from the river, you'd allowed your thoughts to wander briefly to him.

You'd never even asked his name. Maybe he'd told you about this place because he didn't want to be disturbed again. Either way, you hoped the food was as good as he'd said it was.

Your phone vibrated slightly and you slid your finger across the screen, noticing a message from Shimeda at the office.

Isn't this on the route you take home? Be careful.

Frowning, you accessed the full attachment to the message, a screenshot of an online article describing a series of explosions that had taken place close to the riverwalk you frequented in the evenings.

Upon investigation, copious traces of blood had been found at the scene, but no bodies. Cameras in the area had picked up nothing. All businesses along the riverside had been closed temporarily, until the investigation showed that no further danger to the public was imminent.

Something about the air within the small booth had grown cloying, your phone clutched like a flimsy lifeline in one hand.

He'd told you not to go back there. He'd told you to come here today.

You realised that your ears were ringing slightly, as if you'd somehow been caught up in the explosion that had rocked the tranquility of the walkway so many miles away from your current place of safety.

Was this what he -

You placed your phone on the table, face down.

No. It wouldn't do for your thoughts to wander in this direction. What was done was done. And he'd obviously done it for a reason.

Flashes of your conversation came back to you, of things vaguely alluded to. His talk of being a 'jack of all trades', of finding a 'niche', of 'cleaning up after others' suddenly took on the gravitas that came with your new knowledge.

Why was it then, that you wished you'd asked him more? Maybe what his favourite flavour of ramen actually was? Maybe you'd have asked him more about happiness, and possibly whether he'd had any children himself.

In the quiet of the restaurant, you let out a brittle laugh, too high. You ignored the look that the waitress gave you.

You supposed that now you'd never know the answers to any of those questions. It was better that you didn't, most likely.

A river eventually spilled into the sea, and sometimes, amidst the unpredictable currents and the shift of silt as dark as blood, all secrets were borne away with it.