#((and mosaic filter my beloved))

[revrads]

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Pre-comp version of the previous post!

[boundinparchment]

Of Blood and Sparks - Interlude VI - Epilogue

Karina Alexandre of Fontaine lost her position, her family, and her Archon's favor. A dead Electro Vision is her mark of guilt. A reminder to never fail again. Faith shattered, and suspicious of the Fatui, she eventually makes her way to Liyue, where she encounters a certain funeral parlor consultant. Little does she know it's only the beginning. Original character centric; eventual Zhongli/OC. Posted originally at @chevalier-of-fontaine. ArchiveOfOurOwn || FF.net || Rhiannon Details

Rhiannon pressed her cheek against the soft fur collar.  She hadn’t expected to feel the biting chill of Snezhnaya so soon.  She already missed Fontaine’s warm sunrises and bustling city streets (even if she only saw them from a distance).

Dottore only told her that Signora was called back to the Tsaritsa and given that she was the Eighth’s Understudy, it was only proper that she return as well.  He would never hear the end of it otherwise.  The season for the theatre already came to an end anyway.  She would only end up running between lessons and sneaking out; what better way to keep an eye on her than to send her back to their base of operations?

The Zapolyarny Palace was high atop the hill that the main city sat upon, dead-center in a plaza with a circle of administrative buildings cradling it.  

It was, in fact, not a Palace at all, but a church.

Adorned in all the imagery used to celebrate a beloved god and their Acts.

But She was anything but Beloved, at least by the people.  The feeling was mutual.

To be called her was both the highest honor and the lowest punishment.

Her cloak swept along the marble floor, hissing against the stone as she entered into the main chapel.  Pillars seemed to be carved from ice as the stained glass mosaics high above filtered in what little sunlight was available at such an hour.  Murals and mosaics depicted events of destruction, of the Cataclysm, the fall of a land she never heard the name of growing up.  The shelter the Tsaritsa offered was on the iconostasis, the main wall of focus for all of the iconography in the church.  It was the same in every city, in every town, in every village.

Many of them were defaced throughout the year and replaced without complaint.

The silence of the church was deafening.  Others should have been here.  The Harbingers prided themselves on besting one another in combat, in social situations, in any and all actions in the Tsaritsa’s name.  Rhiannon did her best to hide her confusion.  She didn’t have a mask to hide behind, after all.

At the altar stood a figure she only ever saw twice in her life but one she never would, never could, forget.

Rhiannon lowered herself to the floor, cloak pooling around her.  “Moya Tsaritsa.”

The Understudy didn’t dare look up, instead focusing on the smooth stone in front of her, relying on reflections for her cue.  She heard the click of heels, the swish of fabric; the Archon had turned around.

“You seem to have beaten even your Mistress to heed my call, Ancella.  Your dedication is appreciated.  Rise.”

The young woman straightened her spine bit by bit, her eyes falling on the Archon but never meeting the Tsaritsa’s gaze.  White hair faded into an icy blue, the way snow glowed when the sun hit the freshly-fallen flakes just so.  

Despite her title, the Archon was always dressed for battle whenever Rhiannon saw her.  She could make out the glint of armor beneath a flowing overcoat, a paldron shining over her right shoulder.  The fabric, like her hair, started out a beautiful pristine alabaster, the interior of the tails fading into the darkness of a snowy night, shimmering.  Across her chest, a red sash from her left shoulder to right hip, holding a shining star of Cryo over her heart.

Upon her head, a kokoshnik tiara of aquamarine and silver.  It looked heavy.  Certainly impossible to miss but nowhere near as fine or impractical as the jeweled kokoshnik the Archon might wear during diplomatic meetings.  That one was as white as the rest of her clothes, pearls dripping down the sides and aquamarines dotting the crest, her hair exposed rather than veiled.  Even She followed the convention for unmarried women. 

Rhiannon’s eyes fell upon the scabbard at the Archon’s hip.  The Blade of Orlov, never far from reach.

“I very much enjoyed your last performance, Ancella.  Perhaps you would be kind enough to sing again tonight and ease some frayed nerves after dinner.”

An order, not a request.

“As you wish, moya Tsaritsa.  It would be my honor.”

She could not refuse, tired though she was.  The good graces of others depended on her willingness to serve.  Even if they didn’t, Rhiannon would gladly make herself useful to the Archon kind enough, caring enough, to have given her new purpose.

Before long, they were joined by the other Harbingers and one of their respective Hands.  Some, like Arlecchino, brought their Warden, their enforcer; others had their Understudy, those like Rhiannon who learned the Role so a spot would never be empty.  Each and every of them similarly dressed in their winter best.  Minus Signora but the Harbinger ran as cold as the Tsaritsa; what use was a cloak when you could summon something far colder than harsh weather?  

Although…

Rhiannon frowned.  One was missing.  But they came together.  Where…

Before she could consider further, Rhiannon settled to Signora’s left and a step back, never deigning to be on the same level but nearby for assistance.  She watched her mistress’ gaze harden as she surveyed the room.  The Harbingers were always on guard with one another, especially in gatherings such as this.  The singer only hoped for civility.

The Eighth’s head turned over her shoulder, blue eye falling onto her Understudy.

“Are you being treated well, Ancella?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Nothing untoward?  Nothing bizarre?”

“You would be the first to know, my lady.”

So many thought of her as cruel but they never bothered to understand the Harbinger.  Granted, it was impossible to understand the divine; how could anyone understand the work of those who stood against it?

She listened as the Tsaritsa began, her voice soft but not without authority.  The acoustics of the building lent themselves to amplifying her words without any additional device.

One by one, the Harbingers provided updates.  Tartaglia and Signora were first, describing the events in Liyue.  Not as smooth nor quiet as originally anticipated but successful nonetheless.  Rhiannon tried not to notice the way Tartaglia leaned a little to one side or exert too much into his usual verbal jabs.  He’d been injured, as was his way.

The talk of Inazuma crumbled as soon as it began.  The Balladeer dug his heels in and argued that he, out of all of them, knew the Archon and her Shogun puppet best, and therefore should be the one to continue to oversee Inazuma’s plans.

“But to have you interact with the Electro Archon directly would be to reveal the rest of our hand.”

A familiar voice, and yet not.  Deeper than she was used to, and a cutting edge that didn’t need anger to strike fear into the listener.

But he looked different.  Wore a different mask, a different outfit, and his hair…

“Dottore, you of all people–”

“Do you wish to ruin the only chance we may have to understand and usurp the Divine, puppet?  The single chance to discover your true potential?”

Scaramouche scowled but remained silent.

“As I suspected.  The plan remains unchanged.  You will oversee the Delusion manufacturing and Signora will make contact for a diplomatic approach at a later date.  What say you, Jester?”

Pierro’s starlight eyes fell upon the Sixth.  “The course is already set and the play is in motion.  We continue as intended.”

“I do understand your perspective, my marvelous Balladeer,” the Tsaritsa said, her words smooth, comforting.  “But this is for the best.  Your direct connection to another marked by Celestia is more of a hindrance than a blessing right now.  Your time will come.”

The discussions continued up through the ranks and then settled at Dottore’s feet.  The Second Harbinger, the true Second Harbinger, reported on Fontaine’s progress, on Sumeru’s politics and something about the Scarlet King.  As long as Inazuma went according to plan, their intentions for Sumeru would continue, and it would domino into Fontaine.  

“There has been speculation of a Nail sighting but it is, as of now, unfounded,” Dottore said, his words echoing with finality.

Pierro finished out the gathering, summarizing everyone’s contributions and providing insight on next steps.  He was thorough, a smile never once cracking the stoic expression that always seemed to be present.  

“We have what we need,” the Tsaritsa held up Morax’s Gnosis, evidence and inspiration all at once.  “It is in our best interest to soothe the wounds Celestia has and will inflict; to reassure others that we seek to assist, not hinder.  Without a unified front, we will not survive the Last Stand.”

She gestured a dismissal, the Gnosis disappearing with a flick of her fingers, and the audience bowed in reverence and servitude.  Rhiannon recalled the Harbinger’s promise that went unspoken, the Vow taken by each of them:

Let every worthy sacrifice be carved in ice, and with this nation endure for all time.  In the name of Her Majesty, the Tsaritsa, we will seize authority from the gods for absolute peace.  Such is the gift from the Tsaritsa, such is her Majesty’s benevolence.

[yeojaa]

GIRL we need a devil in a new suit drabble where jungkook gets jealous pls bless us😭😭❤️

[ read devil in a new suit ]

pairing.  jjk x f!reader.  rating.  explicit.  tags.  kook being hilarious and naive, reader being a little frustrated but head over heels, smut in the form of:  titty sucking (kook is a big boob guy in this), cunnilingus, kook wanting to love you forever.  wc.  2.1k.  author note.  i am... so in love with this couple so what was meant to be a “kook gets jealous and breaks reader’s back” turned into... this.

Jeon Jungkook doesn’t get jealous.  Not because he doesn’t care, or he’s unaffected, or any other negative connotation under the sun.  He doesn’t because he’s him, too soft and sweet and silly to believe the worst in people.  (This, coming from the man who’d steered clear of dating apps and blind dates because he was worried he’d be hurt.)

Once, you’d been waiting for him to pick you - he’d been running late, dinner with his parents and younger sister - and he’d found you chatting politely to an old fling of yours.  Well, maybe not so old.  A recent fling, a friend of sorts.  Someone who’d swanned into your life during your college years and had remained there ever since, popping his head in from time to time. 

You’d always been on good terms, caught up for lunch every six months or so when he’d return home from his overseas job.  In the past, you’d found familiarity in the shape of his hands, the neon outline of his almond eyes and pouting lips.  He was good in bed, as charming between the sheets as he was on the street.

But your heart belonged to Jungkook now - had, before you’d even realised it - and Taewoo was just another guy.  Another face in a crowd.

Still, you’d thought your beloved boyfriend would have some sort of reaction.  Maybe a quirk of his perfectly groomed brows, a certain tightness belying his displeasure in the softly peaked bow of his mouth.  You’d spied neither after extracting yourself from the hug and waving goodbye.  Jungkook had been sunshine and sweetness, opening your door for you and stamping a kiss to your cheek.  

That night, he’d loved you how he always had, with you crying his name and making a mess of his sheets.

Another time, you’d been at a work function.  One of those ridiculous galas you loved, full of women in their highest heels and men in their swankiest watches.  (You’d worn Aquazzura that night, Jungkook with an Audemars Piguet loose around his wrist.)  

He’d stuck close to your side, far more interested in the way your dress hugged your figure, cut intimidatingly high over your thigh and revealed the swell of your ass at juuuust the right angle.  Yejin had been the only one to tear him away, insisting on shots that you knew she couldn’t handle.  Anything went if free booze was involved.

Thirty minutes later - give or take, since you hadn’t had a watch of your own on - your boyfriend had returned, flushed and adorable.  There’d been a garden of colour creeping over the expanse of his chest, peeking around the collar of his shirt and disappearing into his neatly tousled strands.  He’d giggled his way back to you, somehow completely oblivious to the man that’d found you at your table and settled himself into the spot labelled Jeon Jungkook.

The imposter had been affronted, gaze narrowed at the younger man who was a little too loose, a little too smiley.  Wholly out of place at an event like this, where people spent too much time up their own asses, noses held aloft and business cards exchanged.  

(One of the reasons you loved Jungkook so much.  He was a breath of fresh air in a world you thrived in - found humour in, at the very least - carrying you high above the clouds with the sound of his laughter.)

“Hi, baby.”  Your darling boy smothered you in kisses, traced them up and over the exposed expanse of your shoulder, nosing against your skin, utterly unbothered by the man shooting him daggers, wishing him ill from the spot he’d wrongly claimed.  

Of course, he’d thought Jungkook was making a point - claiming what was his - but that was so far from the truth you’d almost laughed when he’d spoken, voice carrying above the slightly laboured breaths of your lover.  “I guess that’s my cue to leave, huh?”

You’d smiled, nodded with a hand threaded into cornsilk curling over Jungkook’s nape.  “Looks like it.”

(Then your idiot love - your big-hearted moron, your doe-eyed baby - had come up for air, cheek resting in the palm of his hand.  “Where’s your friend?”  He’d asked, eyes so wide you couldn’t doubt the sincerity of his question.)

Such was the kind of person Jungkook was, with an unwavering belief in the goodness of others, a silver thread outlining everyone’s silhouette.  You sometimes wondered what it would take to drive him to any sort of displeasure, any sort of emotion beyond quiet melancholy (seldom seen but heavily felt, when the rare occasions rose) or easygoing amicability (his default setting).  Not that you’d ever push to see that, of course.

You were happy.  Hopelessly in love.  You wouldn’t have traded him for the world - couldn’t even fathom doing anything to hurt him.  

And yet, you discover albeit by accident - it’s really not that hard.  All it takes is a pretty girl.

“This looks incredible,”  she says, standing close, long dark hair falling in a fluid curtain down the line of her back.  It’s the loveliest shade, cool-toned beneath the boutique lights, and reflects colour like a waterfall.  You’d complimented her on it when you’d stepped into the fitting area, a handful of hangers set across the rolling rack.

Fingers smooth over embroidery, revelling in the feeling of it over your skin.  It’s a beautiful thing, black tulle that hangs to your fingertips.  Not Jungkook’s preferred style - he much prefers harnesses and so many straps it might as well be a cat’s cradle - but you think he loves it nonetheless. 

(You’d confirm, but he’s been stoically silent, seated in the plush chair tucked beside the privacy partition, normally soft gaze hard and trained on his phone.  He doesn’t seem very much in the mood to talk, hardly reacting with each outfit change.  A nod here, a smile there.  Not even the most scandalous of the options - a black corset decorated in Leavers lace - had elicited his usual enthusiasm.)  

“You think so?”  You’re not insecure about your body - know what it looks best in, which assets to play up.  Still, it’s nice to hear from someone other than your doting boyfriend, the people caught in your orbit.  

The sales associate nods, beams at you in the multiple mirrors.  A hand of her own drifts over the thin strap of the slip - an innocent gesture that dislodges wayward strands of hair from beneath.  “Of course— and I’m not just saying that because I’m trying to sell it.” 

You nod, satisfied.  Even if Jungkook doesn’t seem ecstatic, your own joy makes up for it, buyer’s delight spilling over.  “I’ll take the satin robe, the blush silk set, and this in the violet.”  

“Great choices,”  she hums, pulling back the curtain to the adjoining change room to allow you privacy.  Silence follows as you slip the delicate number off, returning it to its hanger.  You don’t expect when the brunette continues speaking - presumably to your surprisingly surly boyfriend.  “Don’t you agree?” 

“Yep.”  He’s never been a man of few words, usually so full of excitement that he rambles when he doesn’t mean to.  

It’s a dead giveaway - a confirmation that something’s wrong.

Unfortunately for you, you don’t have time to broach the subject, your purchases already paid for and a firm hand on the small of your back the moment you’ve stepped out of the dressing stall.  “Jungkookie?”  You mean it quietly, just for the two of you, but falter when he slots his fingers between yours and all but tugs you out of the boutique.  You hardly even have a chance to toss the helpful girl an apologetic smile, imposing glass swinging shut behind you.

“Men—men are fine.  I don’t have to worry about them.”  There’s a confidence you’re so proud to see, turning his words as solid as the weight that rests against your hip, sears burning heat into your bared skin.  “No other man is going to love you better than me.  But women?”  A shudder runs the length of his imposing frame, tugs his shoulders up to his ears and tingles the small of his back.  “Women are scary.”  (It’s a sentiment he’s echoed in the past.  In particular, months ago when you’d insisted he dive into the dating scene.)

Hands thread through his too-soft strands, twirl the ends around your fingers as he speaks, nearly muffled into the crook of your shoulder.  He’s being so tender, giving you all the love he has to offer as he writes his insecurities into your skin, offers them with the wet of his tongue.

“A woman might sweep you off your feet and steal you away.”

You laugh then - sound snapping past your teeth before you can tuck it away.  It filters loudly into the baies scented candle you’d lit when you’d gotten into his apartment.  

Jungkook whines in response - a terribly endearing sound that makes you roll your eyes but only with affection (always with that) - and buries his face into your tits, sucking your nipple into his mouth with complete disregard for the tulle that acts as a barrier.  Saliva stains the material, makes it stick to your hardened bud as he laves over it with his tongue - bites surprisingly gently - and tugs it just hard enough to have you keening.

“S-s’not funny,”  he huffs, palming your other breast in his broad tattooed palm.  When he continues, he bites into you like he’s got a personal vendetta against whatever lies beneath your flesh.  “She was flirting with you.”  

It’s less of a sigh of annoyance - more sensual, drowning in need.  “She was not.”

He nips at the delicate flesh again, spreads crimson marks all across the sensitive skin until it’s a mosaic beneath the fabric, his finest work painted by his second favourite brush.  “That’s what you think but she was.”  The hand previously kneading your skin drops, flat of his palm sliding easily over your bare pussy.  

There’s zero hesitation when he slots his fingers on either side of your clit, catches the delicate pearl against the webbing of his hand and applies pressure that has you bucking beneath him.  It’s not nearly as aggressive as he normally is but it’s just as good, paired with the sinful motions of his tongue and teeth. 

“She wants to be the one doing this,”  he continues, saliva pooling across your chest, slipping into the valley of your breasts only to be licked up by the flat of his tongue.  He continues even once you’re clean, skin sticky and a little gross but so erotic it makes you quiver.  Then he descends, pushes the hem of your new slip higher, and licks another stripe from the joint of your thigh up to your belly button.  Repeats it again, moving lower with each pass until he’s sucking your clit into his mouth.  “She wants to be the one tasting this pretty, pretty pussy.”

You reach for his hand - the one somewhere near your ribs, side of his wrist soothing against the ladder of bones - and tangle your fingers together as he drives you mad, tip of his tongue switching between sweet kitten licks and tantalising figure eights.

“Baby,”  you coax, reprimand almost.  Jungkook’s never this lenient, never this sweet on you (not inside the bedroom, at least).  It brings you to a different high, his love folded into lovely origami cranes you tuck into your pockets and the spot you’ve carved out for him within your chest.

“Sing for me, sweetheart.”

He doesn’t mean literally - refers instead to the sound of your voice when it leaps three octaves, bounces between sultry and singed, burnt at the edges by the fire he brings to life. 

“Tell me you’ll never leave me.”  Despite how the words muffle, come broken between the glide of his tongue within your fluttering walls, you can hear the sincerity in them.  The earnestness that begs you to promise him this simple thing.  “Not for her.  Not for anyone.”  

“I won’t leave you,”  you answer, threading the vow between your fingers as if they’re the thread binding your love story together.  “Not for her - not for anyone.”

[reckoningss]

Mercy Springs - One

Summary: Mercy Booker holds these truths to be self-evident: animals are significantly more relatable than people, and working as a veterinary tech in a sleepy little town is as close to the “good life” as she’s going to get. When a strange man shows up at her clinic after hours with an injured dog, she has a decision to make - go on living the quiet life she’s come to know or open the door to the exhilarating unknown.

Pairing: Pete Castiglione/Frank Castle x OC (Mercy Booker)

Warnings: Animal death, allusions to blood

Wordcount: 2k

A/N: Starting a new series as if I’m in any way consistent or disciplined. We’ll see how this goes.

Mrs. Haskell was in tears. More accurately, she was wracked with pitiful, blubbering sobs that shook her shoulders and dripped tears and God knows what down the front of her worn, magenta hoodie. Mercy rubbed her shuddering back and try, unsuccessfully, for a comforting smile. 

Wednesdays were the worst. 

It was no coincidence either; Dr. Liebovitz scheduled the majority of his euthanizations on Wednesdays and Mercy - as his primary veterinary tech - attended all of them. By his reasoning, Wednesday wasn’t early enough in the week to compound the misery of a Monday and wasn’t late enough to spoil the weekend. She had to admit there might have been something to his logic. 

Mercy removed her hand from Mrs. Haskell’s back and gently grasped her forearm instead. “Hey.” She infused her voice with a measure of authority - warm consternation. Mrs. Haskell lifted her face out of her hands and gazed at her with watery eyes. All of the crying had painted her face with a mosaic of creamy red and pink splotches. Mercy smiled again. 

“It’s time.” 

Her lip quivered and more fat tears escaped the corners of her eyes. “Oh, Mercy, I don’t think I can watch. I can’t go in there.”

Mercy squeezed the older woman’s wrist and willed her to meet her eye. “You have to. The last thing Boomer sees shouldn’t be me.”

Jeanie Haskell choked out another sob and screwed her face up in agony. “Bu-”

“But nothing.” Mercy cut her off decidedly, leveraging her burgeoning talent for providing comfort and chastisement in the same breath, “You’re his entire world. He deserves to have you there.” 

Her sobs quieted to gasping whimpers as Mercy walked over behind the reception desk and plucked two tissues from the strategically placed Kleenex box. Returning, she folded them gently into Mrs. Haskell’s hands and rubbed her back again. 

“It’s going to be alright. We’ll be right there with you.”

In the operating room, Mercy stood quietly to the side as Mrs. Haskell kneeled in front of Boomer and wrapped her arms around her neck. She’d managed to stop crying, but the old dog could feel the sadness rolling off of her and tucked his wide head into the side of her neck. 

Poor thing, Mercy thought as she watched the final embrace unfold. Jeanie Haskell had been bringing Boomer to Charity Springs Animal Clinic since he was a puppy - well before Mercy graduated from DeBrie with her associate's degree and stumbled into a job with Dr. Leibowitz. He’d been older but still energetic when Mercy first met him - fun, but more reserved with age. They’d had a few good years to bond over checkups and countless treats. But now at 11 he was suffering from the onset of bone cancer and walked with a pitiable limp. He just looked tired. 

Mrs. Haskell pulled away from her old Beauceron and ran a hand down the side of his long, weathered face, then, kissing his nose one last time, she stood and backed into Dr. Leibowitz’ waiting arms. The older man gazed at Mercy over the top of the wire-rim glasses sitting low on his nose and offered a wistful smile. 

Mercy took a deep breath and nodded. “Ok.” 

From her pocket she produced a treat - chicken jerky flavored, Boomer’s favorite - and offered it to the dog. After a cursory sniff, he took it meekly from her palm. Mercy rubbed the crown of his head with one hand and with the other, injected several milliliters of acepromazine into the dog’s rear. He twitched a little but didn’t respond. 

“Good boy,” Mercy cooed, scratching Boomer behind the ears while she waited for the sedative to take effect. “You’re doing so great.” Boomer blinked sluggishly, laying his head on the linoleum floor. “That’s it, Buddy.” Crouching, Mercy slid her hands gently beneath the large dog’s frame and hefted him into her arms. He really was a big dog - 105 pounds the last time she’d weighed him, probably closer to 95 now. She huffed tightly through her nose. “I’ve gotcha.”

Mercy laid Boomer down on the stainless steel exam table and smoothed a hand down his side. His black fur was duller than it had been in previous years but no less beautiful. 

“Oh,” came a breathy whisper from over Mercy’s shoulder. She stepped to the side so a sniffling Mrs. Haskell could step in and caress her beloved companion. “Oh, baby, I love you so much.” 

Mercy shared a look with Dr. Elie Leibowitz from where he stood across the table. The doctor looked good for 67, but he had sad eyes. Mercy knew for a fact that he adored his job, but it saddened him too, especially during moments like this. Dr. Leibowitz nodded. 

Mercy took another breath in preparation. 

“Ok. Boomer is partially sedated now. The acepromazine is going to keep him from feeling any pain, ok?” 

Dr. Leibowitz shuffled over to the corner and rolled over a metal stand. An IV bag swung lazily from one of its arms. Mercy carefully unsleeved a catheter needle. A pair of gloved fingers pushed back fur and located a vein in one of Boomer’s hind legs. She pushed the needle in. “We’re going to start an IV of pentobarbital - a seizure drug. At this dosage, it’s going to put Boomer to sleep. Then it’ll shut down his brain and heart functions.”

Dr. Leibowitz fit the end of the IV line into the catheter port and screwed it in. Mrs. Haskell hiccupped another quiet sob and buried her hands in Boomer’s fur. Big, anguished tears were rolling down her round cheeks again. Mercy watched as the liquid began to fill the drip chamber.

“It should only take a few minutes.” 

“You were wonderful, Jeanie, you made Boomer’s last moments very special,” Dr. Leibowitz murmured reassuringly from the hallway. 

That part was his specialty - the people part - and Mercy knew to leave him to it.  She could practically see him - one arm wrapped around the mourning woman’s shoulders, head bent in to whisper comfort to her. He always knew what to say.

She would much rather do this. The aluminum gurney bumped over the tiles as she rolled Boomer’s body into cold storage in the back. The body was stiff now, brown eyes half-lidded. The local pet crematorium would be by to pick up the body in the morning. In a few days time, Mrs. Haskell would come back to pick up the urn of Boomer’s remains. 

Mercy lugged the heavy storage door open and rolled the table inside. Boomer didn’t look like he was sleeping in the low light filtering in from the hallway but Mercy laid one gloved hand on the side of his lifeless face anyway. “You were such a good dog, Boom.”

Dr. Leibowitz was already disinfecting the table when Mercy made it back to the exam room. He offered her a quick glance overtop his glasses as he hummed. Mercy quietly went around the room, gathering discarded paper sleeves and alcohol wipes into a trash bag. 

“You were very good with Mrs. Haskell today.” 

Mercy paused in the doorway - the mouth of the trash bag half twisted into a knot - and peered at Dr. Leibowitz over her shoulder. 

“I mean it.” The doctor bent low to snatch a pen up off the floor, bracing a hand on his knee and groaning. He was like a very, very old tree. “Your bedside manner is really improving.” 

Mercy scoffed. “The animals think my bedside manner is great.” 

Dr. Leibowitz chuckled warmly as he shuffled across the room toward her. He cupped her shoulders and looked down into her face intently. “I know animals come easy for you, but the toughest part of this job is the people and they’re important too.” 

Mercy offered a begrudging nod of ascent before glancing down at his vintage timepiece. She raised a brow. ”You have a date to go to.” 

The doctor unhanded her shoulder to squint down at the face of his watch. His eyes went wide. “You’re right!” He threw his hands up and shuffled away from her at a determined speed. “It’s Italian night!” 

Mercy grinned and followed him to the lobby, tugging on the knotted garbage bag to secure it. Leibowitz leaned over the reception desk to grab his coat and hat from the hooks on the wall. She had to admit, he looked rather dapper as he shrugged the jacket on. His wife was a lucky woman. Leibowitz lowered the trilby onto his head and glanced back at her. “You ok to lock up alone?” 

“I always am.” 

After Mercy locked the door behind Dr. Leibowitz and lugged all the trash to the dumpster out back, she made her way around the clinic cleaning and shutting everything down. The hour and a half long process wasn’t half bad with some music to keep her company. Not to mention that she always saved the best closing duty for last. 

Mercy stored the empty mop bucket in the supply closet and retreated to the boarding room in the very rear of the clinic. A chorus of yips and cries met her ears as soon as she opened the door, bringing a smile to her face. 

“Hey guys!” 

It was the middle of fall and as such, the clinic was a little light on boarders, but Mercy didn’t mind. This way, she could provide their few charges with as much love as possible. 

A litter of kittens had been brought in by the local girl scout troupe. Small, fluffy, and vicious, they were all a wonderful terror to babysit. Then there was Bodhi - the rescue bulldog puppy in for observation and shots. Mercy’s peach scrubs were a dark, slobber-stained coral by the time she locked his crate again. Tinkerbell - the curmudgeonly old tabby - was still in a foul mood from her operation to extract a benign growth, but they’d managed to work out a decent enough working relationship and Mercy swore she felt a purr when she tugged gently on the cat’s ears. And last, but certainly not least, Stav the lionhead rabbit was little more than a big, hairy softy, desperate for attention. Mercy made sure to spend a few extra moments stroking his soft belly. 

Mercy finished up administering medication, checking stitches and refilling water bowls and offered the animals one last quiet ‘goodnight’ before turning the light out and retracing her steps to the lobby. It had started to rain while she finished up and she noted the patter against the wide plate glass windows with some relief. It had been a long day; she was just now beginning to feel the fatigue pulling at her as she dragged a hoodie over her head. She couldn't wait to get home, warm up a meal, drink a beer and fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Something flashed across her periphery just as her head breached the neckline of the hoodie. Mercy peered into the grainy bank of CCTV screens on the monitor sitting behind the reception desk and saw nothing save for the greyscale glittering of fallen rain. Maybe it had just been a raccoon. They were known to skulk around the clinic, ripping off whatever scraps they could find in the dumpsters. 

Shrugging it off, Mercy dug her keys out of the desk drawer and headed for the door. She flipped through the densely populated key ring as she walked, thumbing through until she selected the heavy key to lock the door behind herself when she left. Mercy pinched the thick locking mechanism between her forefinger and thumb, ready to rotate it counterclockwise and swing open the door. 

A volley of violent knocks shook the door and echoed through the nearly empty clinic. Mercy shrieked, dropping the keys and looking up into the bloody, frantic face of a man only inches away from her on the other side of the glass. 

Mercy stifled the urge to clutch her chest although she could feel her heart hammering mercilessly against her ribcage. Her hand fumbled in her pocket for her phone, numb fingers itching to dial 911, until her gaze left the man’s desperate face and made its way down to the massive, grey dog bleeding in his arms. 

Part Two

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Considerations To Know About boat trip in kyrenia

Hosts was very well knowledgeable and pleasant. Hamlet is quite clean area with wonderful perspective of Chembra. Beloved the shifting surroundings with occasional Fogs, sunlight ,rains, wind and chirping of birds and so on. We liked this put. Will be shortly going to yet again. We want to test other villas they provide way too. of worries and into a tranquil encompassing. In which you overlook all the things and lay again to enjoy the calmness Wayanad trip was great Specifically with keep at Hamlet. jackfruit tree hosts Prasad and Aparna took care of us effectively and extended their enable to even advise places which we ought to have missed other sensible for sight viewing. We had been searching for an reliable Wayanad expertise. The Jackfruit was just incredible with its gracious hosts, outstanding site (pretty much at the base of Chembra peak), terrific food and pristine all-natural beauty throughout. You can find scenic treks close to this spot which makes it a super destination to both equally enable it to be your all-encompassing place and also your "base camp" as you explore the remainder of Wayanad. Entire working day tour for the Karpaz Peninsula with lunch incorporated. The generate to the considerably jap close of North Cyprus will traverse some exquisitely tranquil scenery where by only sheep, goats and a solitary shepherd move from the landscape. Throughout the tour, visits will probably be manufactured to Iskele to go to the church and icon museum of the Panayia Theotokos, a beautifully decorated church with wall paintings courting with the thirteenth and 15th generations. Inside the village of Sipahi, close to Yeni Erenkoy is the site of the Byzantine basilica where by You will find a fantastically preserved mosaic flooring. Wonderful area, definitely near to green bay and cavo maris shorelines. Numerous mini marketplaces and bus stops are merely a couple of minutes stroll from the home. There is a totally free parking place just before the door. Every thing was Tremendous clean within and looks a lot better than on the photographs. Cyprus Paradise has a complete number of North Cyprus guided tours that may increase additional satisfaction to the vacation. We develop the buses, provide the guides, organise the itineraries and the dining places, therefore you don’t have to bother with a issue. Great boat and Pretty lunch Though was marketed as three swim stops, we only experienced a single extensive a person, unders...tandably it had been choppy tide but we weren’t knowledgeable and docked forty five mins previously than advertised, we also didn’t receive the go in advance to utilize the slide. Good rate while and good employees. Would go once again (July 18) See Extra High-quality Make elaborate that has a sea look at infinity pool. There is certainly lots to investigate within the island; Paphos Harbour features tours, trips, bars and fish restaurants. Coral Bay is a popular yellow sand bay with shallow waters. All are available a short drive from the villa. Starting from thirtieth may well 2018 from Alanya harbour or from Cyprus (Kyrenia ) harbour each 7 days 2 times you may journey to both equally way only to be a foot passenger. For more details make sure you Get hold of us or check out our Business office… Also the rustic perception on the resort adds a great deal to its ambiance! Details, Fiction and kyrenia boat tours tripadvisor might undoubtedly suggest staying below! Also the cafe with all its expert services is outstanding and yummy! A major Indeed to your subsequent holiday in Northern Cyprus, Kyrnia The home is amazingly thoroughly clean and really fantastically saved. Liked the interiors. The best thing concerning the house is how lovely and picturesque the environment will get early each morning. Having said that we do have a few problems which the owner could most likely look to boost, in order to elevate visitor working experience. Heading chronologically there have been couple inconveniences which lead us to believe that it's possible the property caretaker/supervisor is not serious about his occupation. Soloman (manager) was unavailable over the mobile phone Plenty of periods. One particular night the microwave stopped Functioning and that was the one time we could get to him. Thankfully then he at least could think of another. However, on the final day when we had been meant to take a look at-the h2o source to the house went off wholly. Soloman was unreachable. Entirely contemporary and freshly renovated villa that is under fifty meters within the sunny Seaside. Non-public parking and present day conveniences During this thoroughly clean up home. There are 2 bedrooms plus a kitchen. Every one of the items that you'll require as kitchenware is accessible as you may see through the pitcures. In each floor There exists a rest room. Moreover the bedrooms are connected to the balcony with stunning sea and mountain watch. The friends will start the day Together with the dawn, scent on the mediterranean sea and audio of waves. they could have terrific time at the internet site's private Beach front. During the day they're able to journey all around visiting distinct sites of North Cyprus. I fulfilled up with my mother in New Delhi and it was sensory overload. I used to be apprehensive I'd never get an opportunity to chill out on our holiday until we arrived for the Backwater Farmhouse. Manu was so considerate to our every single want. We had mistook the information for "full property/condominium" as acquiring 3 bedrooms and three loos, nevertheless it was only if there have been greater than two of us we would get The complete location. I love my mom and all, but we do not slumber in precisely the same bed. Thankfully A different home was unoccupied and Manu gave us The complete upstairs of The attractive farmhouse mainly because of the misunderstanding. The patio stretches each of the way around which provides gorgeous sights. We expended 4 nights listed here at the end of an exquisite trip alongside the Malabar Coastline and Hampi, countless contrasts and wonders but we necessary to wind down which was an ideal place. The atmosphere is tranquil right close to the h2o,You can find plenty to observe; great birds, graceful boats glide past. Manu and his family deal with every thing, terrific to discover them dwelling a traditional lifestyle, Anyone has their responsibilities. Now we have 01 Bed room studio villas In this particular group which are curated with excellent treatment to aid a comfortable keep for travellers who go to Wayanad. All of these are bathtub hooked up & have space for excess beds much too. We allot the villas with respect in your specifications. We've been dedicated to provide cleanse, nutritious meals & filtered h2o from our kitchen and aid a comfortable keep in your case. Many of the villas have excellent perspective of the Peak, forest & tea gardens. Now we have ensured necessary modern day facilities in them & our personnel are qualified to provide you with house-like solutions. Silence with the valley & Village-everyday living lets you decelerate, reconnect and unwind with the family members. What we savored probably the most through the continue to be was the freedom to easily leap on to among the list of canoes and go canoeing all by ourselves. Manu also arranged for the boat journey over the evening exactly where we received a chance to see the nearby lifetime. 1 also can get ayurvedic massages done. You can even do without the need of a person, but plan on carrying a mosquito repellant when u are viewing. Go to the last divided money of the planet and explore what it provides. This tour is great for buying addicts, and also record fans. The location is magnificent , dawn check out is offered from the first ground Bed room ( bed ) alone. As recommended because of the host three times is the utmost a household should spend in Madikeri. I have never read a NO for just about anything within the host or maybe the caretaker Sanjay If your request was sensible. The perspective will give u a really feel of heaven. Meals cooked by Sanjay Ji was awesome, completedly relished dwelling cooked foodstuff. I beloved it a lot that I will appear Again with my mom and dad and in rules. Essential take a look at spot in everyday life. A great residence remain it had been. :) As we are now living in the Republic of Cyprus, we notice that Kyrenia is a pleasant area to go to for a handful of days when We have now buddies with the UK staying with us. It provides a fantastic blend of The traditional With all the new. The experience for the cottage might be a lil daunting for ordianry sedans, Suggestion: Race the vehicle upto three Rpm and consider off.. with out halting . you need to easily ensure it is to the very best. The Pleasant dogs PITA Particularly, the Perform location, Volleyball/ Football/Badminton court are wonderful minimal suprises for site visitors. The greatest edge the place has is that the place has NO Tv set, NO WIFI rather provides a reasonably first rate collection of Novels to lap up. The Kitchen area has the mandatory appliances. The Beds are comfy. The look at from the dawn within the balcony is truly worth waking up early. Mala did give my spouse some herbs for our yard , which we hope will survive in Kerala. Lijostin Sandeep2016-05-26T00:00:00Z Simply enter your facts down below and attain use of exclusive rates available only to TourRadar customers. There is a carrom board and many books to even though absent your time and efforts. Conversely, wi-fi might have been a tad more quickly. Professional Suggestion: Should you be coming from Karnataka, There is no have to get alcohol. Cops will anyway seize them. You will discover A good number of stores inside of kerala where you won't need to toil absent in an extended queue. Look at with Manoj. We live in the wilderness, totally secluded without other properties all around, other than Stumpfields and Ivy. Nevertheless, due to the fact there tend to be other friends on our assets and personnel existing in the working day time, you won't truly feel absolutely isolated. At the end of our push, alongside a key street is a little village exactly where the nearby tea-pickers reside. You can capture a glimpse of this village within the balcony of the cottage. We've been in the course of a completely undeveloped ten acre piece of land that may be surrounded by and overlooks government reserve forest. Completely Situated over the beach entrance or comfortably nestled while in the foot in the mountains of North Cyprus you can be addressed to equally the highest good quality accommodation and essentially the most committed focus of our pleasant and Experienced teams of team. your home has indoor open veranda to benefit from the calmness. You can find a selected feel which requires you out of the entire world The streets that coil throughout the tea estates invite character lovers. If not any of the above mentioned, the sight of Chembra Peak cannot be explained in phrases...