#(mm voice) its all surprise tools to help us later

[ask-thedaydreamers-omori]

Omori seems like a very active artist! Any chance we can get a look at some of his works? :>

[You go through a few random pages. The last page has been partially torn out.]

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Gavin’s Car Repair Date

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 修车之约, which has not been released in EN! 🍒

[ This was released on 13 August 2021 ]

Beneath the blue skies and white clouds, the meandering road stretches towards the mountaintop, and the roar of the engine is incessant.

A light-hearted melody flows slowly within the car. Since we’ve already heard this song many times, Gavin and I find ourselves humming along to the music softly. 

Gavin: Are you tired? I could drive next.

Sitting on the front passenger seat, Gavin turns his head to look at me.

MC: I’m not tired. I’m filled with energy right now~

I shake my head, gripping the steering wheel while my gaze focuses on the front.

Gavin and I had originally planned to go on a vacation in a neighbouring city today. However, sudden changes at work caused my vacation to shrink to half a day...

As such, Gavin suggested that we should change our plans to a drive, and that he’d take me to this mountain route he often drives on.

MC: I’ve already watched you driving down this road a couple of times. I’m more or less familiar with this route.

The corners of my lips curl upwards slightly, feeling the fresh breeze brushing my cheeks, along with the comforting and pleasant sensation it brings.

MC: I can now understand why you like going on a spin here. The feeling of rushing among the mountains feels really carefree.

Hearing this, Gavin’s lips hook into a smile.

Gavin: If you like it, we could come here often next time.

MC: Sure. But I’ll be the one to drive you, okay?

I speak with a teasing tone, and Gavin chuckles softly.

Gavin: Why not?

While we’re talking and laughing, a strange sound abruptly drifts to our ears. My brows furrow. Gavin also senses the problem.

Gavin: Let’s stop the car.

I nod, bringing the car to the side before stopping.

Gavin walks over to the front of the car, then opens the hood. Bits of sunlight filter through the leaves, casting a mix of light and shadows on his face.

MC: Should I call the insurance company?

Gavin: No need.

Gavin purses his lips slightly, then waves casually.

Gavin: The spark plug just needs to be replaced. This car’s pretty old, and it hasn’t been maintained much. It’s a good time to give it a thorough check.

MC: I see...

I glance at the long mountain road. Even if we were to head down the mountain now, there’s still a great distance between us and the city...

Gavin: It’s fine, there’s no need to worry.

As though seeing through my thoughts, he gives me a smile.

Gavin: There happens to be a shop I’m familiar with nearby. Since we’ve been driving for such a long time, we could head there for a short break too.

Gavin places his warm palm on the top of my head, rubbing it gently.

Gavin: In short, it isn’t a huge problem and we can continue driving. Let’s get in.

-

Halfway up this secluded mountain, Gavin stations the car outside a shop which looks pretty old. After getting off, what enters our vision is a tightly shut roll-up door.

Gavin: The boss might have headed out.

Gavin calls out the boss’ name several times, but doesn’t receive a response. Instead, the sound of barking drifts over.

MC: This is...

Gavin: It belongs to the boss.

Gavin takes out his phone and dials a number. At the same time, he strides towards a flowerpot at the side, retrieving a key from underneath.

Gavin: I’ve told the boss about our situation. He says we could head into the shop to repair the car ourselves.

MC: Ourselves?

I mumble in slight confusion, watching as Gavin lifts the roll-up door.

Before I can get a clear glimpse of the shop’s interior, a figure leaps out.

??: Woof woof!

A brown puppy circles around Gavin excitedly, nuzzling against him affectionately.

Gavin (voice clip here): Long time no see, Bean Bun.

Gavin squats down, patting its head. Then, he points at me.

Gavin: This is Big Sis MC. Say hello to her.

MC: Nice to meet you, Bean Bun~

I bend down. When Bean Bun sees me, the affectionate energy disappears instantly, and it hides behind Gavin timidly.

MC: ...I’m feeling a sense of déjà vu. Why are these dogs only close to you?

I pout, my tone laced with envy. Gavin chuckles softly.

Gavin: It’s just a little afraid of strangers. Once it familiarises itself with you, it’d naturally stick to you.

Watching as Gavin carries the puppy up with ease, I can’t help but ask curiously.

MC: Do you come here often?

Gavin: I guess so. I often go on drives on the mountain, and got to know the boss here. I’d drop by occasionally to modify cars with him.

Gavin places Bean Bun down, then gives me a slight smile.

Gavin: That’s why I’m more familiar with this puppy.

After saying this, he gets up and drives the car into the shop. I scan my surroundings in curiosity.

All of a sudden, a few photographs on the horizontally striped wall draw my attention-

The photographs feature customers of the shop with their beloved cars. Stepping closer, I find one figure particularly familiar...

MC: !

MC: Gavin, your photo is here too!

Pleasantly surprised, I point at that photograph. The Gavin in the photograph is even more youthful than he is right now. He’s leaning against the car, his amber eyes filled with unruliness.

This isn’t the only photograph. Next to it, there are several photographs of Gavin checking or fixing cars. However, they appear to be candid shots.

There are occasionally photographs of him looking directly into the camera. His brows are always furrowed slightly, reluctance written all over his face.

Thinking of the reasons why he was forced to have such photos taken, I find myself bursting into laughter.

Gavin: Cough...

An unnatural cough drifts to my ears softly. Without realising it, Gavin has come over to stand behind me.

Gavin: I once learnt how to repair cars from this boss.

He follows my line of sight, sweeping a glance at the photographs while explaining.

Gavin: But he’s very strange. He didn’t ask for fees, but just wanted to take some photographs of me to stick on the wall of the shop... he said that his business would be better this way.

Hearing this, the smile on my face grows even wider.

MC: Looks like this boss has pretty good taste. He knows that he can’t let this dashing “model” slip by~ If only I had such photographs of you...

I say this enviously while scrutinising the photographs on the wall. Gavin stares at the photographs of the youthful version of himself, and seems to understand my words differently.

Gavin: “Such” photographs?

MC: Mm!

Gavin: You could take a few photos later.

In a nonchalant manner, Gavin shifts to stand in front of me, and just so happens to block my line of sight.

Gavin: Stop looking. My skills from back then are far different from what they’re like now.

He arches his brows slightly, taking my hand in his.

While looking at the person in front of me, I find myself laughing aloud. A sudden realisation strikes me.

MC: Wait. You mentioned “car repair skills”... So other than motorcycles, you can repair cars too?

My eyes widen in astonishment.

In these photographs, Gavin is always driving a car. Even though I already knew that he can modify and repair motorcycles, I never thought that four-wheeled vehicles were an easy feat for him too.

Probably due to my exaggerated expression and tone, Gavin chuckles.

Gavin: Why are you so surprised? I had an interest in it, so I tried learning a little. It isn’t anything serious. Although cars and motorcycles are two different types of vehicles, the principles behind repairing them are more or less the same.

Gavin says this calmly while retrieving spare parts for the replacement from a cupboard at the side. I support my chin with a hand, eyes focused on him.

MC: You seem to know everything.

Gavin: That’s an exaggeration. It’s just a hobby.

With a faint smile, he walks towards the car while carrying the tools. When he walks past me, he taps on my cap gently.

Gavin: It won’t take long. It’d be fixed really soon. You can sit at the side and take a break for now.

After saying this, Gavin rolls his sleeves up to his elbows, revealing his contoured arm as he uses the tools seriously.

I watch on fixedly, realising that I rarely see this version of him. As such, I smile while shaking my head, moving a chair over and sitting down next to him.

MC: I just want to stay here. This is the first time I’m watching you repair a car for real. I want to protect this best observation spot~

Gavin chuckles softly, and doesn’t insist otherwise.

In the next second, something seems to occur to him. He stops in the midst of opening the hood of the car, then casts a glance at me.

MC: Hm? What’s wrong?

The corners of his lips hook upwards slightly, a gentle light overflowing in his eyes.

Gavin: Erm, MC. Could you help me out?

Hearing Gavin’s suggestion, I nod hurriedly.

MC: Of course I can. How can I help?

Gavin tilts his head crookedly and ponders over this.

Gavin: Could you hand me tools?

MC: Only handing you tools...?

Seeing that I’m slightly disappointed in this task which doesn’t require much skill, Gavin smiles as he grabs a clean apron from the rack and ties it on me.

Gavin: It’s inevitable to get grease on you when repairing cars. You’re dressed really nicely today, so don’t get yourself dirty.

The sudden closeness in proximity causes me to soften my breathing. I cooperate by lifting my hands, then sneak a peek at Gavin from my peripheral vision.

His eyes are lowered, and his expression is serious as he ties the ribbon of the apron into a knot. His warm breaths gently brush against my ear.

I blink and nod, my voice turning soft.

MC: Understood. In that case, I’ll be Officer Gavin’s little assistant today~

I say this with anticipation, and very soon grow accustomed to this new role.

While Gavin changes into his work clothes, I purchase two bottles of iced water from a nearby stall. After returning, the both of us take out the necessary spare parts and tools from a work cabinet.

Just as everything is going smoothly, a crisp sound drifts from the side, as though something has fallen to the ground.

Twisting our heads to look, we realise that Bean Bun, who had been drinking water obediently at the side earlier, has moved over to the car, pawing at the tools on the floor.

Gavin: A spare part probably fell underneath the car.

As though punishing it, Gavin rubs Bean Bun’s head. Then, he leans over to look below the car. He supports himself on the body of the car with one hand, attempting to reach for the spare part which rolled underneath the car.

Looking at his tall frame and the amount of effort he’s exerting, I can’t help but chuckle.

MC: I’ll do it.

Without waiting for Gavin’s response, I squat down, reaching out to feel underneath the car.

Gavin: ...do it slowly.

A large hand is lifted up, carefully protecting my head. 

After feeling around the darkness beneath the car, my fingertips suddenly bump into something icy cold. 

MC: Got it!

Seeing how happy I look, the corners of Gavin’s lips lift into a smile.

Gavin: Looks like having an ‘assistant’ around is much more convenient.

He takes the spare part from my hand.

Gavin: I’ll have to trouble you again later.

MC: Mm, leave it to me!

Gavin removes his cap. After using a hoisting jack to prop the car up, his movements are nimble as he burrows underneath the car.

In the meanwhile, I tidy up the tools that Bean Bun had messed up earlier. Occasionally, the crisp sound of clanking metal can be heard.

Bean Bun: Woof!

After a moment, I hear a sudden sound.

Turning my head over, I spot Bean Bun wagging its tail, running towards the car.

MC: Wait, Bean Bun!

Worried that it’d disturb Gavin while he’s repairing the car, I attempt to pick it up. However, Bean Bun manages to evade me nimbly again and again.

In the blink of an eye, it slips underneath the car. I hurriedly bend down, looking underneath.

MC: Bean Bun, come here...

My voice abruptly halts, and my line of sight is involuntarily drawn to the image before me-

Gavin is lying on the ground, his gaze focused as he makes replacements to the car.

His head is tilted upwards, revealing his sculpted lower jaw. A droplet of sweat slides off his face, plunging into the collar of his slightly open shirt.

Despite the grease and dirt on Gavin’s face, it does not minimise his dashing spirit at all.

Bean Bun: Woo...

Bean Bun’s bark returns me to my senses. It’s currently lying at the side, looking at Gavin a little pitifully. It’s as though it wants Gavin to play with it.

I wave at Bean Bun, pretending to look stern.

MC: Bean Bun, come here. I’ll give you delicious, delicious food!

Bean Bun: Woo woo...

Gavin: [laughs] It’s okay, he won’t disturb me.

Following the sound and looking over, I realise that Gavin had stopped his work at some point of time, and is currently looking at me with a shining gaze.

My face flushes, and I avert my eyes while using this opportunity to pick Bean Bun up, who is stuck to his side.

MC: Reporting to Officer Gavin - I’ve successfully kept this Little Rascal under control!

My dead seriousness tickles Gavin to laughter. He plays with Bean Bun while it’s in my arms.

Gavin: Mm, not bad. My assistant is indeed competent. 

After this, he continues with the work on hand, just that the smile at the corners of his lips curls at a greater angle than before.

Gavin: MC, stay here and talk to me.

MC: Mm, sure~

I blink, then retrieve a small electronic fan from my bag at the side. I point it towards Gavin, wanting him to feel a little more comfortable. 

Gavin: Come to think of it, do you know why I wanted to learn how to repair cars?

I look at him with curiosity, and Gavin continues.

Gavin: When driving, I’m the first person who can understand the overall situation of the car. To me, fixing the car myself is most convenient. Also, I can make detailed adjustments based on my own preferences. It takes a little more time, but the process is very interesting.

Gavin’s tone is gentle as he speaks, the corners of his lips lifting involuntarily.

Seeing the bright lights in his eyes, I feel a certain part of my heart being stirred.

MC: So that’s the reason why you like modifying and adding new coats of paint to vehicles? I know how that feels.

I nod while chuckling softly.

MC: Whenever I finished my handcrafts in the past, I’d draw all sorts of doodles on them... It was akin to leaving a mark belonging exclusively to me on the things that I liked.

I mumble to myself, not noticing that Gavin has paused in his movements. After a moment, he slides out smoothly from underneath the car.

Warm yellow sunlight lands on Gavin’s face, smoothening his sharp edges.

My heart stirs slightly. Supporting my hands on my kneecaps, I bend over to ask him a question.

MC: Are you done repairing it?

Beneath the mottled light, Gavin lifts his eyes to look at me, arching his brows.

Gavin: Not yet. There’s still the final step. I’ll need your help.

He pulls me over to him. Amid the hot and dry air in the surroundings, Gavin’s scent and the smell of engine oil blend together.

Gavin places a tool in my hand. Together, we screw the spare part I had picked up earlier.

Gavin: Done.

His scorching breaths land on the nape of my neck. I turn my head, watching as a large patch of sunlight spills on Gavin’s back.

Scattered dust floats in the air, reminiscent of mayflies as they land on the car, which has already been covered with a layer of dust.

The person in front of me has a bright and clear smile which is even more dazzling than sunlight. I blink gently, tugging on Gavin’s hand and swinging it to and fro.

MC: Gavin, there’s something else I might be able to help you with.

-

“Splash...”

I retrieve a towel from the pail, leaning over and meticulously wiping the car which has already been rinsed once.

In the next moment, Gavin stands behind me, grabbing my hand.

Gavin: It’s best to start from the roof of the car. That way, we wouldn’t have to wipe and wash it again. Like this.

MC: Mm...

I cooperate, standing on my tiptoes. Due to our difference in height, I find it a little strenuous.

Gavin: [laughs] Let me do it.

While saying this, Gavin takes the towel from my hand.

I nod and turn around. Only then do I realise that we’re only a finger away from each other.

Stray hairs on his forehead sweep against the tip of my nose, and I can see each one of his eyelashes distinctly.

Warmth climbs up my cheeks gradually. Just as I plan to slip out of this tiny space, my wrist is suddenly tugged on. 

MC: A-aren’t you washing the roof of the car...

Lifting my head, I see an imperceptible smile flashing past his eyes.

Gavin: Before washing it, I have to ask for a “reward” from my little assistant.

After saying this, he leans down, cupping a hand against my ear.

Then, he leaves a gentle kiss on my lips.

I hold my breath. The only thing I can feel is my slightly increased heart rate.

-

On this scorching summer afternoon, the whirring fan moves continuously, and the sunlight along the horizon turns from a dazzling gold into a warm yellow.

Without even realising it, we’ve already wiped off all the soap bubbles on the car, and the body of the car is as shiny as the surface of a mirror.

MC: Done! Is Officer Gavin satisfied with this little assistant’s performance?

I turn my head towards Gavin excitedly. When I see the white soap bubbles on his face, I laugh aloud.

Gavin: What is it?

Under Gavin’s confused gaze, I turn the sprinkler to the lowest level, then head over to Gavin.

MC: Don’t move.

I dab some water on my hand, wanting to brush off the soap bubbles on his face.

MC: Gavin, squat down a little.

Gavin: Mm, okay.

Gavin nods in understanding. Following my instructions, he bends down. In an instant, his sculpted face draws close to me.

Beneath the gem-like and dazzling sunlight, the beads of sweat on his skin reflect light, causing me to be slightly engrossed in the sight.

I brush off the soap bubbles on his face gently. A damp yet soft sensation drifts from my fingertips. Gavin’s eyelashes quiver slightly at the touch.

Gavin: ...are you done?

I turn my head, realising that the tips of Gavin’s ears have turned an unnatural red.

MC: ...nope. There’s still a little bit on your nose.

Suppressing my laughter, I continue caressing his outline, deliberately leaning in closer.

Gavin’s breathing seems to become heavier. His eyelashes quiver slightly, before his eyes open right in front of me.

Gavin: [breathing noises] ...

Our breaths mingle with the heat waves of midsummer, and our eyes reflect each other’s faces clearly.

After a short while, Gavin seems to react. His lips move, as though he’s about to say something. However, two crisp barks interrupt him.

Bean Bun: Woof! Woof!

Bean Bun, who has been neglected by us, releases unhappy sounds of protest. It hops up continuously, pawing against Gavin’s leg.

MC: Sorry sorry, we seem to keep forgetting you today.

Lowering my head, I pat Bean Bun’s head.

Gavin: [sighs] ...

As though not wanting my attention to continue getting diverted by the puppy, Gavin suddenly carries me in one swoop, placing me on the car as he looks directly at me.

Gavin: I haven’t answered your question from earlier.

MC: Huh?

Gavin leans in close. I have a clear view of the smile overflowing in his amber eyes...

Gavin: I’m very satisfied with the “little assistant’s” performance today.

The faint scent of sweat and the fragrance of soap meld into my breaths. Only after listening to him do I recall the question which was interrupted earlier.

Despite the smile surfacing on my face, I pretend to be dissatisfied while speaking.

MC: Is that all? Officer Gavin’s assessment seems a little superficial.

Gavin laughs. He lowers his head to nuzzle the tip of my nose while he continues.

Gavin: This is how satisfied I am.

After a long while, he draws away from me slightly. With an upward tilt of his lips, he reaches out to leave white soap bubbles on the tip of my nose.

Gavin: [laughs] ...there you go. Now, the both of us have soap bubbles on our faces.

Watching as the smile deepens on his lips, I’m in a daze for a few seconds. Then, I recall how I had toyed with him earlier.

MC: Gavin, you did that on purpose, didn’t you?

Gavin: Mm, this is a counterattack.

Gavin admits it with ease.

MC: I didn’t expect Officer Gavin to launch such a childish counterattack.

I can’t help but laugh. Gavin looks at me, happy warmth reflecting in his clean and clear eyes.

He lowers his head, leaning his forehead against mine affectionately.

Gavin: MC, what you said earlier was very accurate. When there’s something I like, I’d want to leave my exclusive mark on it.

With his gaze, Gavin traces the contours of my face. Along with the warm breeze, his tender words land in my ears clearly.

Gavin: Which is why, over here...

He tilts my chin upwards gently, his voice softening.

Gavin: Let me leave a mark.

The scent belonging exclusively to Gavin wafts over. A soft sensation seals my lips shut.

MC: Mm...

Without giving me any time to react, Gavin rolls my breaths in between my lips and teeth in an overbearing manner.

The sound of disordered breaths dissipate at my ears. I support myself weakly on Gavin’s arms, feeling as though the temperature of my surroundings is rising.

After an unknown period of time, Gavin releases his hold on me. His arms remain tightly wrapped around my waist.

I pant slightly, allowing my breathing to regain some composure. As though I’m unwilling to admit defeat, I lean over towards him, giving him a light peck on his chin.

MC: ...Gavin, me too.

I stare at Gavin, my fingers caressing his outline before sliding down slowly, stopping at his chest.

MC: On you and your heart... I want to leave even more marks belonging exclusively to me.

The light in Gavin’s eyes stir for a moment. Then, he brushes aside the hairs on my face, pressing his lips to my forehead.

Gavin: MC.

I hear him calling my name.

Gavin: Actually, you already did that since a very long time ago. You did it effortlessly.

Reminiscent of a gust of summer breeze, his voice brushes my heart, filling it with a sweet emotion.

I wrap my arms around his neck, feeling the mingling of our interlaced breaths as they melt into the rapidly increasing temperature of the surroundings...

Gavin’s Post: The breeze on the mountain is really comfortable. Next time, I’ll bring Sparky here.

MC: I want to learn how to ride a motorcycle from Officer Gavin!

Gavin: Sure. MC’s private lessons will begin next week.

Minor: Bro Gavin, can I tag along?

-

Gavin’s Post: The breeze on the mountain is really comfortable. Next time, I’ll bring Sparky here.

MC: Can we drive down different routes next time?

Gavin: Sure. Until you have your heart’s content.

Minor: Bro Gavin, can I tag along?

-

Gavin’s Post: The breeze on the mountain is really comfortable. Next time, I’ll bring Sparky here.

MC: Sparky: I’ve fallen out of favour.jpg

Gavin: It’s okay, I’ll coax it when we get back.

Minor: Bro Gavin, can I tag along?

💧 Phone calls: First l Second

💧 Translated comic based on this date: here

💧 Support the cafe by dropping by the tip jar!

[dreamties]

After Work Snuggles - Polyam!Ghostface x Gender Neutral! Reader

A/n-

it is absolutely yearning for cuddles and affection hours right now. was watching a really intense and triggering show last night and just needed some comfort <3 (this is also a request...sorta!!)

Word Count: 578

Billy and Stu had just come home from a tiring night of killing. Peeling off their ghostface garb, tossing them into a hamper dedicated to bloodied and particularly messy clothes. Stu seems to be nearly bouncing off the walls as excitement boils beneath his skin. While Billy sets their tools on the kitchen counter, their knives- covered in a thick and sticky layer of blood- and the voice changer. Making a mental note that he’d have to clean them up later. He gives a gentle smile to his partner, as Y/n comes running into a big hug with Stu. They bury their head into his chest, nuzzling and rubbing against the soft, fuzzy textures of his sweater.

“Mm, you feel so warm, baby. I missed you.”

Stu chuckles, wrapping his arms around them, “Only gone a couple hours.”

“Too long,” they mumble.

Y/n catches a glimpse of Billy out of the corner of their eye, perking up to get a better look at him. They give a shy grin, then press back, closer, into Stu. They can feel Billy behind them moments later, snaking his thin arms around their waist. He plants a kiss to the top of their head, grinning. “Miss me too, angel?” He whispers into their ear.

They hum, “Of course.”

His grin widens, “Good.” He leans in closer, so he’s resting his head on them. “Think we should move somewhere comfier, darling?”

They let out a small, muffled whine, “Mm, wanna stay right here.”

Stu giggles, his eyes crinkling as a goofy expression finds its way on his face. He begins carding his fingers through Y/n’s hair. “Feeling cozy between us?”

They gently nod.

“Well, too bad, we’re moving.” Before they can process what he’s doing, Billy briefly parts from them and Stu picks them up in his arms. Carrying them bridal style.

They let out a surprised shriek, trying to hold themselves back from laughing (and failing miserably), “Stu!”

“Aaa, Billy, help!” They joke, “Stu’s got me.”

They can see Billy shaking his head beside Stu, as the three of them enter their shared bedroom. Stu gently set them on the bed, quickly finding a cozy spot next to them.They hold onto the front of his sweater, and curl up in his arms. Billy’s quick to lay next to them. A slight curve to his position as he rests his head above Y/n’s, and next to Stu’s. Legs tangled with Stu’s, creating a spot for their angel to nestle in between them.

Stu has both of his partners tucked nicely under his arms. He leaves tiny kisses on them, and nuzzles his head closer to Billy’s, close enough their foreheads touch. They can feel their warm breaths on each other's faces. They share a short kiss, and then shut their eyes. Their breathing slowly falls into a rhythmic pattern- in sync with one another. A muffled murmuring sound startles them from near slumber. The two of them give worried glances to their baby.

“Y/n,” Billy starts out softly. “You okay, baby?”

They let out a low sound, not dissimilar to a purr, as they try to muster the words from their sleep riddled head. “I love you,” they all but whisper out.

Billy chuckles, smiling down at them, “Love you, too.” He leaves them with a final kiss, as does Stu, as they begin to drift into pleasant dreams, surrounded by the comfort of each other’s love.

[amishfruit]

Lady Of The Lake, Chapter One: Wade

pairings: fakir/ahiru, background mytho/rue

word count: 7048

on ao3

A young woman comes out of the lake one day mid summer, walking into town completely nude, long ginger hair falling in waves over her petite frame. Her wide blue eyes blink naively back at the stunned people milling about. It doesn’t take long for someone to provide her with a blanket to cover herself with and later clothes once they’ve gotten somewhere safe to dress.

Once the initial shock wears off a bit, the woman observes the space she has been welcomed into. She sits on a bed dressed with a soft purple duvet and a pleasant assortment of pillows. It is simple but elegant, the walls were left mostly bare, but the sweet collection of knick knacks more than made up for it. The clothes she's wearing now were given to her off a rack by the bed, where a modest number of dresses hung. She finally turns to the friend who had invited her into their room and attempts to speak, at first nothing but a strangled call comes out but after clearing her throat she begins again. “Thank you.” she meets eyes with them earnestly, “for helping a stranger.”

The person across from her flushes lightly, seated on a stool in front of a small vanity.

Tucking a strand of their long black hair that had fallen out of a lovely ribbon behind their ear, they answer. “You’re very welcome, though I don't think we are truly strangers anymore.” Their voice is gentle and light, but there is a playful glint in their grey eyes and the woman of the lake realizes she is being teased.

Her cheeks heat, but she knows it is not malicious. “You're right, we aren't strangers.” She huffs a small laugh, “though i do not know your name, i am..” her face falls momentarily as she struggles to remember, but it comes to her in time. “Ahiru. my name is Ahiru.”

Her new friend smiles beautifully in response, rosy lips contrasting against their pale unmarred skin. “A lovely name, I am Raetsel.” A pause, “..forgive me if this is rude, but why, or, how did you walk out of the lake today? Where do you come from? Also, are you alright?” it all comes out in one breath and Raetsel gnaws on her lip anxiously once she finishes.

Ahiru smiles a small, sad smile, blue eyes seeming to dim. “I don't remember..I cannot answer even one of your questions, Raetsel. I only know my name.”

Raetsel leans forward delicately, concerned. “You don't need to answer me Ahiru, i'm sorry to have upset you.” She grasps ahirus hand in hers and gives an encouraging squeeze.

This seems to warm Ahiru who lifts their joined hands and leans forward to embrace her new friend. “I think I am alright.”

-----

The sun was just at its highest when she had risen from the lake and after a very eventful few hours of awareness, she finds herself quite hungry and tired. Raetsal hears her stomach growl and laughs, leading her to the kitchen and informing her that it is time for supper. Upon entering, Ahiru wakes up a bit in response to the wonderful smell coming from the stove. She follows and sits next to Raetsel at the table, there is an extra setting next to her. Before she can ask, the smell gets closer and stronger and she can't suppress a delighted sound as her nose chases the scent. Opening her eyes after a particularly deep sniff she is met with the sight of a tall, handsome stranger. Their skin is a deep olive shade and it compliments their dark green hair beautifully. Like Raetsel, a few locks of shorter hair fall out of a low ponytail that reaches down to the middle of their back, the ribbon tying their hair in place is simple and not as decorative as Raetsel’s, but it has its own charm. Their face is stoic, thick eyebrows resting low over their sharp green eyes. They turn to the side a bit and Ahiru admires their strong profile, a strong nose is the most noticeable feature from this angle, long and curved down with a high bridge that flows into sharp brow bones. Their jaw is square and defined, but their neck and shoulders are more lithe than she expects. There is clear strength in their arms but they maintain a lean figure that holds a surprising level of grace.

They turn to ahiru with a quizzical expression, lips twisting before they decide to speak. “I take it you are the lady from the lake?” Their voice is rich and low, quiet but stern.

She nods slowly, “yes, i am Ahiru. Thank you for allowing me into your home.”

The stranger sets a plate of food in front of Raetsel, and then another in front of her giving a noncommittal grunt. “Mm. I’m Fakir, am I correct in assuming Raetsel has already introduced herself?”

Ahiru smiles, “yes, she has been very kind to me.”

Fakir looks at Raetsel, searching for something in her face that he seems to find. He nods to himself, sitting down next to Ahiru. “I hope the food is acceptable to you.”

She grins, “it smells delightful, I have no doubts I will enjoy it.”

He flushes a bit at this, fidgeting with the rolled up sleeves of his white linen button up.

Raetsel laughs lightly, “Please excuse my brother dear Ahiru, he is not accustomed to company.” She leans closer to Ahiru and continues in a conspiratorial tone, “Especially not company as kind and lovely as yourself.” She ends it with a wink, laughing as fakir chokes slightly on his food and flushes red.

Ahiru, for her part, is just as embarrassed and is very sure her face has turned the same color as her hair. Rather than trying to respond, she stuffs a bite of the meal into her mouth, quickly forgetting her own embarrassment as she tastes things she has never tasted before. “Oh!’ She exclaims after swallowing, “this is so good!”

Raetsel hums her agreement, “Fakir is a talented cook, most of his ingredients come from the garden out back as many of them are not commonly used in this town.”

Fakir seems to be pointedly ignoring the conversation, focusing on his plate and pretending not to notice how his ears are burning.

Ahiru turns to him, “where did you learn to cook like this?” She asks earnestly.

He seems surprised at being directly addressed but he swallows and clears his throat, looking to Raetsel for help but eventually realizing he cannot avoid the question. “I taught myself.” he meets her eyes and looks away quickly.

Raetsel, satisfied that she has tortured him enough for one night, fills in the blanks. “Fakir came here as a very young boy from a place far away, there are spices and herbs from his home that aren’t commonly used here and when my mother took him in she provided him with many books about his culture, though the food is what turned out to be most important to him.” She smiles at her adoptive brother, who’s embarrassment seems to have faded if only slightly. “He has been cooking for our family ever since.”

Ahiru is very impressed, taking a moment to look at Fakir with appreciation. He pointedly ignores her stare and lets his bangs fall forward to shield his eyes.

They finish the rest of their meal with minimal conversation, both of the women respecting Fakirs clear desire for the topic to be dropped. When every plate has been cleared, Ahiru offers to clean them up. Raetsel quirks a brow at her and asks if she has ever actually washed a dish before.

Ahiru rubs the back of her neck, “well I.. don’t remember if I have.” Fakir seems surprised at her response and she avoids eye contact with both of them, “but it can’t be that hard! I remembered that they needed to be cleaned, right? I’m sure I can figure it out!” She is so passionate that Raetsel chooses not to question her further, but she does accompany the tiny woman into their kitchen and watches over her as she carefully cleans and dries each dish. Fakir joins them in the kitchen, quietly putting away ingredients and tools that he had used to cook their meal, when he is done he bids them both farewell and retreats to his room.

“I hope he hasn’t put you off.” Raetsel comments, showing Ahiru where she can hang the dish rag.

Ahiru shakes her head, “not at all! The food was so delicious, he is very skilled.”

Raetsel is amused, “you didn’t find him rude?”

Confused, Ahiru tilts her head to the side. “Why would i? He fed me.. that was very kind.”

Raetsel smiles, “you have a very open heart, many of the townspeople have issues with him. He's just a bit too blunt..” she puffs out a breath, “sometimes they misunderstand him, and he gets frustrated.”

Ahiru nods sadly, “I would too.”

Raetsel seems surprised at this answer at first, before settling into a very pleased disposition. “You are really something new Ahiru.”

The aforementioned lady blushes softly and straightens up. “T-thank you Raetsal.” She ducks her head in a miniature bow.

“Come dear, I’ll show you your room.”

————

Once she gets settled and bids goodnight to her host, Ahiru takes a moment to breathe. Slow, in and out. Feeling a bit overwhelmed with, well everything that had happened in the day, she wishes to braid her hair, dress down and sleep. In the room Raetsel provided to her there is a vanity, and on top ribbons and a wide tooth comb. Ahiru smiles at the thoughtful touch and carefully undresses, mindful of her steps so that she does not damage Raetsels’ lovely dress. She hangs it on a hook by the door, removing her socks and leaving her chemise on, remembering the earlier incident and cringing at herself. Next, she sits on the vanity stool and takes the comb carefully, starting at the ends of her long hair and working her way up slowly. Once all the tangles are gone she separates it into three sections and plaits in a simple pattern. She hums as she does this, a tune she knows and loves, something comforting. At the end of her hair, she ties a thick satin ribbon into a bow and tucks herself into the comfortable twin bed.

She is on the lake, dancing mournfully by herself. In the distance, she sees a royal couple performing a grand pas de deux. They only have eyes for each other, and she dearly loves them both. Her steps don’t falter with her sorrow, she only dances more freely, allowing her tears to fall as she lifts herself up into the air. The foggy air grows dark and eventually she realizes she’s alone, the prince and princess are gone and everything is quiet except for the sound of her own crying as she falls into the lake.

She wakes with a start, the grief in her chest real and heavy, cheeks wet. Deep breaths in, and out. Again, until she feels ready to open her eyes. The sun is rising, shining soft light on her face and the pain from her dream eases slightly. She sits up, donning her socks once more and making her way to the window and leans on the sill, observing the small flock of birds on a neighboring roof. Soon Ahiru is able to put the nightmare out of her mind, and the sun gets higher so she dresses once again, at first struggling to fasten things by herself but figuring it out through trial and error. Her braid is a mess from tossing and turning, so she sets to combing her hair out once more and choosing to do two braids today, parts it all down the middle. Her fingers are quick and nimble and she picks a set of wide gray ribbons to match her dress. Once she is ready, she makes her way back into the kitchen, hoping she hasn’t woken up too early.

At the stove once again, Fakir doesn’t notice her right away, continuing to add ingredients and muttering quietly to himself on occasion.

Ahiru chooses to sit down rather than interrupt, leaning on her palm and watching him as he works. His shoulders are wide but she can see how narrow his waist is, emphasized by the plain apron he wears. Fortunately, she catches herself as her gaze wanders lower and her eyes snap back up to his hands. They are large and clearly strong, but he handles everything he holds so gently. Ahiru wonders if she would ever want to see the strength in those hands used rather than controlled, and she cannot decide. Lost in thought, and busy staring a hole into fakir, she doesn’t see Raetsel come in.

“Oh ahiru! You look lovely this morning!”

She doesn’t react quick enough and is caught when fakir turns around quickly, eyes wide and mouth opened in a surprised little ‘o’. they both flush and break eye contact, electing to ignore Raetsel’s amused smirk.

“Smells good Fakir, something special for our visitor?” Raetsel continues teasingly.

He shoots her a sharp glare but it lacks it’s usual spark when his face is still bright red. “It’s just bread, Raetsel.” His tone is measured but it’s clear he’s irritated.

Ahiru finds the exchange remarkably cute and tilts her head to the side in wonder as she observes the siblings.

“We should get you your own clothes and shoes.” Raetsel says to her, looking at the ill-fitting dress she’d loaned ahiru. “I don't mind sharing, but they’re much more comfortable in the right size. When we are done eating I know someone who can help.”

Ahiru is hesitantly excited about this, swinging her feet a bit under the table.

Fakir comes with the food soon after, setting each plate on the table.

“Woah.” Ahiru states quietly, when Fakir had said bread earlier, she hadn’t expected french toast. Upon tasting, she notices something floral and a bit of spice and sweet honey. She can’t identify all the flavors but she loves it all and happily digs in.

Raetsel watches her in amusement for a moment and then turns to Fakir who also watches Ahiru eat with an unreadable expression. He is focusing more on their guest than he is his own breakfast and she stifles a laugh as he misses his own mouth.

Ahiru seems to realize she has all but ignored the two others at the table and slows down, swallowing and wiping her face with a napkin. “This is very good fakir.” She looks down as she says it, a bit embarrassed by her own actions.

Raetsel agrees, “delightful as usual.”

Fakir thanks them quietly, looking at his plate with the same unreadable expression and eating slowly. The two women finish eating before him, but Ahiru still insists on cleaning the dishes that he isn’t eating off of. He almost smiles at her, but the urge to confuses him and he is easily distracted.

“Are you coming with us?” Ahiru asks when he brings his own plate to the sink, wide eyes boring into his skull.

Fakir falters, looking at Raetsel who simply shrugs. “Uh.. I don't know if I would really be of any help.” He hopes his reasoning is enough to appease her.

Ahiru furrows her eyebrows, “why not?”

“He’s avoiding his fan club.” Raetsel chimes in, amused by the exchange and how easily their guest catches her brother off guard.

Ahiru does not know what this means, imagining a group of people gathering together to discuss fans or perhaps dance with them as she remembers doing many times. She notes the remembrance to herself before speaking, “was there a disagreement? If you’re in a club with them, you should be friends right?”

Fakir looks at her incredulously, “I'm not in the club.”

“Well then, what’s the problem?” She asks innocently.

Raetsal chooses not to help clarify, retrieving her boots from the front door and sitting at the table to lace them, leaving the two alone.

“It’s- well,” he shoots her a quizzical glare, “are you teasing me?”

Ahiru is thoroughly confused, “what?! No!! Why would you think that?”

Fakir can tell she’s being truthful, “it's not really a club Ahiru, Raetsel was joking.”

She sticks out her lip in a small pout, “why?”

He sighs in defeat, “you’ll understand once we get there.”

Raetsel returns to them, “so you’re coming?” She sounds surprised and more than a little impressed.

“Yay!” Ahiru claps her dainty hands together cheerfully.

Fakir nods, still unsure of how she had convinced him.

—

The summer weather allows them to leave the house quickly, not needing to don cloaks or extra layers, and they walk a short while to the stables.

Raetsel turns to Ahiru, noting the nervous glances she shoots towards the horses they pass. “Have you ever ridden?”

Ahiru’s face is pale and she wrings her hands in front of herself. “No.”

Fakir turns from where he is retrieving their steeds. “No? Or you don’t know?”

She laughs a bit at this. “Definite no. I think I would remember a creature of this size.”

Raetsel notes that Ahiru is a whole head shorter than herself, and Fakir towers over

her in a way that would intimidate anyone else, but it doesn’t seem to bother the bright little flame of a woman. “You should ride with Fakir then, he can keep you safe.”

Fakir looks at her, opening his mouth to argue but he snaps his jaw shut once he sees that Ahiru looks less afraid. He waits for Raetsel to mount her own horse before swinging himself up onto his. They both look at Ahiru who is once again starting to look a bit sickly.

“You’ll be fine.” Fakir reassures, “you were watching me and Raetsel right?”

She nods, spark returning to her eyes and mouth set in a hard line of determination. She steps into the stirrup that Fakir has left empty for her and attempts to swing herself up onto the horse's back like her two companions. At first she thinks she has succeeded, but her leg doesn’t go all the way up and she begins to slide backwards towards the ground. Fakir grabs her ankle, then uses his other hand to guide her by the waist until she is settled in front of him. Her head is still spinning from the near fall and it takes her a moment to find her words again.

“Thank you.” She breathes, overwhelmed by the feeling of his hand still on her waist.

He moves his hand as if he’s been burned and thanks everything that she can’t see his face. “Dont mention it.” he responds gruffly, avoiding Raetsel and using the reins to steer their ride forward.

Raetsel follows them close behind, looking up at the bright sky and wondering what good deed she did for the universe to think her worthy of this newfound entertainment.

They ride mostly in silence, except for Ahiru’s occasional exclamations of delight or awe as they pass under trees and through town. She is constantly turning her head in an attempt to take everything in.

It isn’t a very long journey, and soon they come to a quaint little shop with mannequins dressed in a variety of fabrics displayed in the large front windows.

Raetsel is the first to dismount, smoothing her skirts down as Fakir follows her and offers a hand to Ahiru.

Once the three of them are safely on the ground, Fakir guides their horses to a small grazing area where they will wait obediently until the shopping is complete.

Raetsel leads them into the shop, Ahiru close behind her and Fakir bringing up the tail end. A bell rings as they open the door and a head of blonde hair pops up from behind a counter.

“Welcome in- oh! Raetsel! Let me grab Pike.” Before they can respond, the shopkeeper is running to the back, pigtails bouncing as she moves.

Fakir finds a bench in a corner and sits down, hoping the racks of fabric and garments are enough to hide him.

The shopkeeper returns with her coworker, “has Lilie helped you at all yet?” She asks, tying her shoulder length violet tinted hair into a high ponytail.

“Hmph.” Lilie pouts, “I thought you’d want to do the consultation together.” She lowers her voice so only the three women can hear her, “plus, the handsome Fakir has graced us with his presence.”

Pike rolls her eyes, “you are so dramatic.” She scolds, though it doesn’t have much bite when she is craning her neck to peek at the man hiding in the corner.

Raetsel clears her throat politely, “My new friend could use your expertise.”

The two shopkeepers turn to Ahiru at last, looking her up and down before turning to each other.

“Do we have enough yellow left?” Pike asks Lilie, ushering Ahiru to a section of the room where the floor is cleared and producing a measuring tape from thin air.

Lilie hums, moving towards a rack against the wall and sifting through the materials until she finds a sunny yellow linen. “Yes! And perhaps a blue?” She suggests, stacking a soft blue cotton atop the yellow draped over her arm.

“Oh yes, that will compliment her eyes nicely.” Pike addresses Ahiru directly for the first time, “how many dresses are you looking for today?”

Ahiru looks helplessly towards Raetsel, letting Pike move her arms as she takes her measurements.

��We are starting her wardrobe today, so however many items you both think she will need.” Raetsal answers, earning a surprised look from Lilie.

“What happened to the rest of your clothes?” The blonde asks, pausing in her search for fabrics.

“I don't have any.” Ahiru answers simply.

“Long story.” Raetsel adds.

The two accept this answer easily, “Well then, we should send you home with something today. Lilie?”

Lilie looks over, setting the chosen materials on a large cutting table. “A premade garment for now?”

Pike nods, “just try to find the smallest things you can and we can alter it to fit her properly.”

Raetsel interjects, “she will also need shoes, mine are too large for her. Do you think you have something that would work?”

“Oh i’m sure we do,” Lilie answers, returning with an armful of dresses and blouses. “Shoes are over by Fakir.”

He starts at the mention of his name, looking at his surroundings and finding the shelves stocked with shoeboxes.

Pike measures her feet and calls out the length, instructing Fakir on where to find the correct size of boots.

He carries them to Ahiru once he has found them, bringing a few different options and setting them down next to her before awkwardly standing off to the side.

“Alright, you can try those on Ahiru. We’ll be right back.” Pike says before disappearing into the back of the store with Lilie.

“Do you need help?” Raetsel asks, showing Ahiru where she can sit to unlace her borrowed boots.

“No, thank you, I think I'm alright.” She smiles gratefully at her and sets to work, slipping her feet into one of the pairs Fakir brought her. She carefully tries on each pair but ends up settling on the first, made of dark brown leather with a slight heel and strong black cord lacing them securely.

Lilie returns and writes down the price on a pad of paper tucked into her dress pocket, setting it aside and guiding Ahiru to a fitting room. She helps Ahiru undo the fastenings on her loaned dress, hanging it carefully and instructing her to keep the chemise on before darting out and returning with Pike, both women are carrying armfuls of clothing and Pike has a pincushion strapped to her wrist. They help her into a simple white blouse, pinning where it needs to be taken in. The remaining garments are tried on in the same fashion and Ahiru watches them work. Before she knows it, they are done, helping her back into Raetsel’s loaned dress once more and walking her back to her companions, assuring her that they will return momentarily and asking her to wait while they stitch the adjustments into place. Ahiru seats herself on a bench next to Fakir and Raetsel follows the two shopkeepers to assist them and discuss the items they will be making for pickup at a later date.

“So..that’s the fanclub?” Ahiru guesses.

Fakir looks uncomfortable, “that’s just what Raetsel calls them.”

She giggles, “did you hear what they called you when we walked in?”

He shakes his head, too afraid to ask.

“The handsome Fakir.” Ahiru tells him, stifling another giggle. “Is that your title?” She teases.

He shoots her an irritated glance, “you know that it’s not.”

She shrugs, an impish grin stuck on her face. “It could be.” she states it as if it is a fact and doesn’t seem to catch what she is implying.

Fakir stammers, embarrassed. “W-wha-“ clearing his throat and looking out the window to hide his blush, he scolds her. “You can’t just say things like that!”

She sticks her tongue out at him, “why not? They said it first!”

He shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “They shouldn’t be saying it either.” He groans, wishing he had stayed home.

“Hm. whatever, I still don’t get why it’s such a big deal.” Ahiru bumps her shoulder against his, “are they your friends?”

“I barely know them.” He answers honestly, “they’re the best seamstresses in town so I’ve been a customer but Raetsel is the one that comes here most often.” He looks at her for a second before continuing, “I usually avoid them.”

Ahiru hums, “I think I understand why.” She acknowledges, “they’re a bit like a whirlwind aren’t they?”

He snorts out a laugh, “don't tell them that, they’ll never let it go.”

She nods. “Yeah, that doesn’t really surprise me.”

They fall into a comfortable silence and fakir studies her when she isn’t looking, trying to understand the mystery of this little lake lady.

It doesn't take long for Raetsal to return with a large package wrapped in brown paper and fastened with twine tied in a bow. “That’s it for today, we will return at the end of the week for the rest of it.”

Ahiru moves forward and takes the package despite Raetsel’s protests, “wow! That was so fast!”

Raetsal winks, “6 hands work faster than 2!”

Fakir takes the package from Ahiru while she’s distracted and holds it where she can’t reach when she tries to take it back. “You’ve paid already?” he nervously glances around the store as he says it.

Raetsal laughs. “Yes Fakir, don't worry. Those two are busy in the back, we’re done.”

He relaxes a bit and they make their way out again, Fakir holding the door for both of the women.

Ahiru skips forward, looking down at her new shoes and admiring how comfortable they are. When she looks up again Fakir and Raetsel have already mounted their horses, the package safely secured to the back of Fakir’s saddle.

“Do you need help? Or would you like to try again on your own?” He asks, looking down at her with his brow furrowed in concern.

Ahiru answers by sticking a boot in the stirrup and once again trying to lift herself up. This time she gets closer to her goal, but Fakir still has to catch her when her leg doesn’t properly hold her up.

“Good try!” Raetsal encourages from behind them, smiling as Fakir adjusts their friend with gentle hands before taking up the reins.

They ride home with minimal conversation, the two siblings focused on steering their horses in the right direction and Ahiru distracted by the people out on the streets, going about their days.

When they are home again, Fakir helps her down and retrieves her parcel, leaving no room for her to argue as he carries it inside.

She follows him, Raetsel not far behind. He stops outside the door of her room, waiting for Raetsel to open the door before carefully setting the package on her bed and excusing himself politely.

Raetsel helps her unpack and hang her new clothing, she picks out a new chemise for Ahiru and shows her to a room down the hall where she can bathe. After making sure she knows how to fill the tub, she too excuses herself with the promise that they will see one another at lunch.

—

Once she has dried herself and wrung most of the water from her hair, Ahiru dons the fresh chemise and pads up the hall to her room. The new clothes hang neatly and she has trouble choosing when given so many options but eventually she settles on a short sleeved, collared blouse made from a lovely cream colored cotton and a simple, tea length yellow linen skirt. Plain white socks cover her feet and the boots are left by the door for when she needs them. She sits at the vanity to comb her hair, leaving it down to dry but tying a yellow ribbon under her hair and around the top of her head to keep it from getting in her face. She smiles at her reflection, the clothes fit perfectly and she can finally see herself now that she isn’t drowning in fabric.

She retrieves Raetsel’s loaned dress and chemise and carries them out to the room she was first brought in to. She knocks gently, and when there is no response, she cracks the door open.

“What are you doing?”

She jumps, turning to find Fakir glowering at her. “I-well I was trying to find Raetsel!”

His face softens, “she’s the door at the end of the hall, moron, this is my room.”

Ahiru flushes, indignant, she bites back “I’m not a moron! How was I supposed to know that! I've only been to her room once and it was a really hectic day!”

Fakir puts a hand on her head, “I know, I was teasing. Could you move out of the way?”

She settles down, embarrassed. “Yeah, sorry.” She shuffles off down the hall and he watches her go, shaking his head and entering his room.

Raetsel, having heard the exchange, opens her door before Ahiru can reach it and gives her a kind smile. “You can just set those in the laundry basket over here.”

Ahiru follows her instruction and smiles at her gratefully, “Thank you Raetsel.”

“Anything for you Ahiru, now, would you like to see what’s for lunch?”

Confused, Ahiru tilts her head, “didn't Fakir just go to his room?”

Raetsel nods, “He’s probably referring to one of his cookbooks.”

“He doesn’t keep them in the kitchen?” Ahiru asks, following Raetsel back out into the hall.

“It’s easier to keep them in good condition away from the steam and mess of food.” Fakir answers from his doorway, “Plus, I don't always need them.” He closes his door and leads the way to the kitchen, resuming his work.

Raetsel and Ahiru seat themselves in the same spots as always, chatting and watching Fakir cook. Raetsel asks how she likes her new clothing and Ahiru gushes her thanks and talks about her favorite things.

Fakir comes with plates of food soon after and seats himself next to her.

Ahiru claps in excitement, tucking her long hair towards her back before digging in.

Raetsel eats more politely, complimenting Fakirs choice of ingredients and asking him questions about the recipe.

Ahiru barely pays attention to them, so focused on enjoying her meal that she doesn't notice when the conversation turns to her.

“Ahiru?” Raetsel prods gently.

she starts slightly in response, looking up and finding them both turned to her. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

Raetsel smiles, “Do you know what you want to do here? I work at Ebine’s bakery for part of the week and Fakir writes for our local paper. Pike and Lilie offered to teach you how to cut fabric but you are free to choose what you like.”

Ahiru blinks, “I’m...staying?”

Fakir answers this time, rolling his eyes. “Of course you are, where else would you go stupid?”

Raetsel swats his shoulder, “Oh be nice to her Fakir.” Turning back to Ahiru, “Yes, you are welcome to stay with us as long as you wish dear.”

Ahiru grins, “Thank you! I like it so much here, I’m so happy!” She looks down at her hands, “As for what i want to do.. I’m not really sure yet. Pike and Lilie are very nice but I don’t know if I could really be of any help to them.”

Fakir nods, “You don’t have to decide yet. You haven’t even seen your other options so take your time and don’t feel bad about it.”

Raetsel agrees with him, “I'm sure you will be good at whatever you choose, with passion like yours you can do anything.”

Ahiru flushes and curls into herself, hair falling forward to hide her face.

Fakir watches in horror as a lock of her hair begins to flop into her plate, instinctively he tucks the hair back into place. Once he realizes what he’s done he can feel the steam coming out of his ears, “Y-you should probably tie your hair up when you eat.”

Raetsal barely stifles her laugh, shoving a bite of food into her mouth to keep herself quiet.

Ahiru stares at Fakir, mouth open and cheeks pink. It takes a few more blinks before she twists her knee length hair up and up and up, using the yellow ribbon to loosely tie it into place, it’s the best imitation of a bun she can do with the current materials.

Clearing his throat and drinking water in an effort to cool the flush on his skin, Fakir continues eating as if nothing happened and the two women soon follow his lead.

Ahiru is grateful for the diversion, feeling more shy than usual and needing the silence. She is also easily distracted by how much she loves this food and each bite brings her farther away from the embarrassment.

Soon, the meal is over and they separate, Ahiru washing the dishes without supervision as Raetsel has deemed her able. Fakir puts away anything left over in the kitchen and excuses himself to his room.

When the dishes are cleaned, dried and put away, Ahiru wonders what she’s meant to do, yesterday and this morning there was no time for boredom. Now she feels like she should be doing something and without noticing she has begun to dance, the kitchen floor not ideal for ballet but accommodating her nonetheless. There is no music, but the early afternoon sun shining through the windows above the sink highlights her more beautifully than any spotlight. When she finally realizes what she’s doing, she is in the middle of simple barre exercises. Her muscles ache in relief, as if they have been waiting for her to use them. She smiles, closing her eyes and tilting her head up towards the sun, letting muscle memory take over.

Fakir carries his notebook under one arm and holds his inkwell and quill in his hands. He is headed to the kitchen for a glass of water, but stops when he sees her. Not wanting to interrupt, he sits at the table, partially hidden by the open doorway that connects the two rooms. His things are set down carefully and quietly, and then he turns his attention back to the ballerina in his kitchen.

She moves through her relevés with the ease and joy of someone who lives to dance.

Chin in palm, Fakir watches her. The light flickering over her face moves with her and he is entranced. Warm ups finished, Ahiru moves into a choreography as if it’s second nature. His heart aches in his chest when he realizes it is meant to be a pas de deux, her body struggles to support itself and he longs to take the weight for her.

She continues, oblivious of her audience, dancing to the song only she can hear and baring her emotions with every movement.

When the steps come to a close and her head is bowed in an ending curtsy, Fakir panics, realizing that soon she will open her eyes and he will have to explain why he’s been creepily watching without saying a word. Cringing, he braces himself and opens his notebook, hoping to at least look busy when she catches him.

She lets out a small startled noise when she opens her eyes, coming back into her mind after letting her body take over. She sees Fakir sitting at the table and despite the open notebook, she knows that he has not written a word for she would have heard the scratch of his quill. She flushes prettily, sneaking out of the kitchen while he’s still looking down and all but running to her room.

She leans against the inside of her closed door, putting her head in her hands and trying to calm herself down. She hadn’t planned on dancing and she definitely did not expect an audience, no matter how politely he pretended not to be watching she knew he had seen at least some of her dance and she hopes that she danced well. Most of the remaining afternoon is spent like this, trying to distract herself by thinking over the job offer from Pike and Lilie, but mind wandering back to the kitchen and her dream from the night before. There is a mix of confusing emotions swirling in her chest and she unties the ribbon holding her makeshift bun in place, running her hands through her own hair in a calming fashion. The dream had felt so real and coupled with some of the memories that had come back to her, she has a feeling it was something that had really happened. Brows furrowing as she thinks, she tries desperately to recall the events of her dream but most of what she can remember is emotions and steps of a dance. There is a flash of black curls and red lips kissing a pale figure with hair like the feathers of a swan, but this imagery brings a panging sorrow and the tears rising in her eyes warn her not to push this memory back into her conscious mind. Wiping her cheeks where they have gotten wet, she takes Fakir’s advice and sets to braiding her hair into a crown. It doesn't take her very long, and soon Raetsel is knocking on her door to alert her that supper will be ready soon. Ahiru thanks her and says she will be there in a moment, needing some time to collect herself and finish tying the braids in place around her head.

When she finally comes to the dining table, Fakir and Raetsel are already seated and a plate is waiting in her usual spot. She squeezes by Fakir, who avoids her eyes and looks at his plate with pink dusting the bridge of his nose. Once she is settled, the three begin to eat, they are all tired from the eventful day and conversation is light.

It is a quick meal and Raetsel is the first to bid them goodnight, letting Ahiru know that she will be gone for work by the time they wake and making sure Ahiru does not need anything before she excuses herself.

Ahiru pokes at her remaining food listlessly, wishing she could enjoy it the way she wants to but emotions ruining her appetite. Sighing, she carries the dishes to the sink and begins scrubbing, not even noticing when Fakir follows behind her.

“Ahiru?” Fakir asks quietly, “I hope I didn’t upset you earlier.”

This breaks her reverie and she looks at him, confused. “What? No! Why would I be upset?”

Fakir seems doubtful. “Well you’re obviously upset about something.”

She puffs her cheeks out. “No, i just…” brows furrowed she admits defeat, “Okay yeah you’re right I am. But I promise it has nothing to do with you!” She says the last part earnestly and Fakir is momentarily stunned by the shine of her eyes.

“Do you.. want to talk about it?” He says it awkwardly, as if the idea is foreign to him.

Her eyes dim, “I don’t think I was very happy before I came here.”

He seems surprised at her answer, “Was the lake not good to you?”

This makes her puff a tiny, sad laugh, “The lake may be where I came from, but it wasn’t where I lived before.”

Fakir looks at her concerned, “You don't remember very much, do you?”

She shakes her head, “Most of it is just feelings, there’s something there definitely but trying to recall more than just blurs hurts.”

He feels deeply sorry for her, “It sounds like.. well sometimes our brains try to protect us by blocking some things out.”

She tilts her head to the side, “You think it could be that?”

He nods slowly “There are many written accounts of this experience, if you’d like, I can help you research more about it tomorrow?” He says the last bit as a question, unsure if she really wants to open herself up to possible pain.

She smiles gratefully, it is smaller than her usual grin but still makes his heart skip, “Thank you Fakir, I would like that very much.”

Flushing at her sincerity, he looks away. “D-dont mention it.” He dries the dishes that she is finished washing and together they finish the chore faster than either could on their own. When the dishes are put away and the kitchen is clean, Fakir walks her to her room and bids her goodnight with the promise of a library trip the next day. Ahiru is so exhausted she barely manages to take her hair down and remove her blouse and skirt before crawling into bed and falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.

[danversxluthor]

One Step Forward, Two Steps Back  (Pt 2 of Seizing Life)

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As Loraine embraces her new freedom, her headaches get worse and new symptoms come to light. Lo wants her life to be normal but she can’t hide the obvious from her moms.

---------------------------------

Loraine enjoyed her new found freedom over the next few weeks. She was able to take the bus to school again and walk around the city on her own. She even got to spend her afternoons alone at home before her moms got home from work. It was a small thing, but it was the little pieces of freedom in her day to day life that she missed the most. 

Today Loraine was homework free, a rare occasion given she went to a school hell bent on keeping students busy in preparation for high profile careers in demanding fields. Even though Loraine was exhausted, she decided to take the opportunity to make a stop at L-Corp to see what her mom was up to in the lab. She loved visiting L-Corp and seeing and playing around with the prototypes.  

“Hi Mom!” Loraine greeted as she walked into the lab. Lena was focused and looking through a microscope. “Whatcha working on?” Loraine sat on one of the lab stools opposite Lena. The teen’s body had been feeling a bit achy lately, possibly a side effect of going out and being more active thanks to her new found freedom.  

“A new biologic…” Lena was still focused on the microscope. “Its part of the cancer research I was telling you about.” Lena finally looked up. 

“As much as it is always a wonderful surprise to see you Lo, shouldn’t you be at home finishing your homework?” Lena raised a warning eyebrow. She couldn’t really be made at Loraine for visiting, but she felt it was her parental duty to instill some boundaries. Lena also didn’t want Loraine staying up too late, she had noticed Loraine seemed tired a lot more lately. 

“Finished it during lunch.” Loraine beamed with triumph. “Plus I haven't visited in awhile and figured it was time to see what you're doing to my future empire.” Loraine often joked with Lena about taking over the company. 

“Your empire, huh? Nice try, but you’ll have to earn it first Loraine.” 

“I know, I know…. Just making a prediction”  

“Come here I want to show you something R&D just sent.” Loraine followed Lena over to another lab table where a small cellphone sized device was displayed along with a slew of other engineering tools. “It's a therma projection radar. It can scan a person and project health risks for vital signs.” Loraine picked up a calibration tool and was fiddling around with it as Lena explained the science. Aparatenly the prototype was under performing and Lena was going to make some updates to it herself before considering any further manufacturing options. 

Clang clang. The tool that had been in Loraine’s hand crashed to the floor. Lena immediately stopped and looked at Loraine. 

“Lo, you have to be more careful.” Loraine quickly picked up the tool and set it back down on the table gently. 

“Sorry” Loraine apologized to Lena, hoping the tool wasn't anything custom made.

“It's ok,” Lena looked at Loraine trying to see if there were any signs of a potential seizure. Loraine noticed Lena’s concerned gaze.

“Mom, I’m fine. Just a little clumsy.” Loraine reassured and sat back down on the lab stool trying to conceal a yawn.

“And tired.” Lena added. 

“Ok, clumsy and tired.” Loraine conceded and looked down. She hated when her mom got overly concerned about her. Even though she knew it was her mom’s job to be worried about her, Loraine couldn’t help feeling like a burden.

“Are you sleeping ok at night?” Lena asked as she started packing away her research. 

“Yeah, I get plenty of sleep. It’s just been a long week that’s all.” Loraine tried to brush it off.

“Just let us know if you aren’t feeling well sweetie.” 

“I’m fine.” Loraine rolled her eyes and gave a heavy sigh.

“Ok.” Lena raised her hands in surrender not wanting to push the teen too much.

The pair headed off home in Lena’s private car shortly after. Even though Lena had more work, she wanted to give Loraine the chance to relax and maybe take a nap before dinner. Lena even got an email from Loraine’s science teacher expressing concern over the fact that Loraine fell asleep during his class. 

The ride was relatively quiet. Lena went through emails on her phone and Loraine just stared out the window trying to stay awake. The teen had had a dully headache for the past several days and it was starting to turn into a pounding headache. When they were finally home and in the garage, Loraine moved rather slowly to exit the car, her headache making her feel off balance. Every movement felt like a lot of work given how tired and achy Loraine was. Lena was out of the car and already waiting for Loraine near the door, wondering what was taking so long. Loraine stood up from the car, but the ground felt strange and unsteady. Loraine braced herself on the car and squeezed her eyes shut, the unsteady feeling made her feel slightly nauseated. Loraine tried to take a step but stumbled forward and fell to her knees. The driver rushed over to help Loraine up as Lena did the same. 

“Lo, are you ok?” Lena asked holding Loraine’s shoulders.

Loraine nodded and gave a small embarrassed smile. “Thanks Felix. I’m fine, really.” Despite her words Loraine’s voice seemed a bit shaky. Felix made sure Lena and Loraine were safely inside before taking off. 

Loraine had minor scrapes on her knees with minimal blood and mere scratches on her hands, nothing to be concerned about. Loraine’s movement still felt awkward and slow which she blamed on being tired. 

“Let's take care of those scrapes.” Lena walked toward the bathroom and looked back to see if Loraine was coming too. She noticed that Loraine was moving slowly and with greater care, as if she were afraid of falling once more. The truth was, Loraine still felt unsteady with each step and she just wanted to make it from point A to point B without another fall. 

Lena had Loraine sit on the small chair in front of her vanity as she kneeled and cleaned and bandaged Loraine’s knees and hands. Loraine was too tired to react to the sting of the antiseptic cream. When Lena finished up, she remained on her knees looking into her tired daughter’s eyes and asked once more. 

“Sweetheart , are you sure you’re ok?” Lena waited for Loraine to respond, but the teen just looked away. “Its ok if you’re not. I just want to know so I can help.” Lena took Loraine’s hand in her own and noticed the teen’s hand was shaking. All Lena wanted was to comfort and reassure her daughter. When Loraine finally looked back it was with tears trickling down her face. 

“I’m just really tired.” Loraine admitted quietly. She didn't have the energy to explain how the ground felts funny and besides she didn't want her mom to have even more reason to worry. Lena whipped away Loraine’s tears. She was relieved Loraine was talking to her but also worried there might be more to it than exhaustion. 

“That’s alright sweetie. Why don’t we get you in bed, hm? You can rest and I’ll come wake you for dinner. How’s that?” Loraine nodded in agreement and let her mom help her up and to her room. Loraine didn't even protest at the assistance. She was too tired and unsteady to pull herself together enough to get there anyway. Lena was surprised at just how unsteady Loraine was. 

Loraine slept for a couple hours, but was still exhausted when Lena retrieved her for dinner. 

“Mm not hungry.” Loraine mumbled into her pillow. 

“Sweetheart you have to have a little something to eat with your meds.” Lena gently pulled back the covers and ran her hand up and down Loraine’s back, which always seemed to coax Loraine out of a deep slumber. Instead of leaving, Lena helped Loraine up and stayed beside her just in case Loraine needed the support. Lena was happy to see that sleep seemed to do Loraine some good as the teen made it down the stairs without a problem.  

“Grandma Eliza still wants to know if you want cinnamon rolls or blueberry muffins for Christmas breakfast Lo.” Kara looked to Loraine, waiting for the teen’s response. Loraine had been awfully quiet throughout dinner and barely touched her food. “Loraine?” Kara tried again. 

“Just weighing my options,” Loraine joked, “it's a big decision, but I’m leaning toward the muffins.” 

“Good choice, those muffins are legendary.” Kara had tried many times to bake Eliza’s recipe but it never turned out quite right.

Clank Loraine dropped her fork causing a loud reverberating noise. 

“Sorry!” Loraine quickly picked up her utensil from the floor and went to get another from the kitchen.

“That's alright sweetie. While you’re in the kitchen could you get me a glass of water?” Kara asked.

“Sure.” Loraine retrieved the water and clean fork and dinner went by as usual. Kara noticed Loraine’s hand shaking as she set the water down in front of her. She gave Lena a concerned look, but Lena was already watching her daughter’s every move. The parents silently agreed to discuss later. 

As dinner continued Loraine seemed more and more withdrawn. She altogether stopped moving and was staring blankly at her plate. Internally Loraine was entirely consumed by the throbbing of her head, so much so that she was oblivious to the conversation around her. Lena got up from her seat and went to kneel by Loraine so she was eye level with her daughter. 

“Lo, sweetie, what's going on?” Lena asked in a quiet voice. Lena knew from her extensive research on seizures that not all types of seizures involve convulsions, some can simply look like someone staring blankly and being unresponsive. 

“Hmm…” Loraine seemed to come to, “Wh… what?” Loraine was trying her hardest to focus on her surroundings now, which was still difficult with her headache.

“Are you feeling ok, Loraine?” Lena asked, still kneeling in front of Loraine. Kara was up and prepared to help in any way possible if Loraine was about to have a seizure. 

“Sorry,” Loraine looked down to her plate then back up, “I’m just a little out of it... I think I just want to lie down.” Lena looked at Loraine unconvinced. Kara made sure Loraine got into bed ok before joining Lena back downstairs. To her surprise Loraine didn't even protest at the help, the teen was too out of it to realize what was happening. 

“How is she?” Lena asked.

“She’s exhausted, maybe even coming down with the flu or something.” Kara was lost in thought and concern. “I’ve just never seen her like this. I mean sure it was bad last year, but this is different, isn't it?” Kara looks to her wife, who is on her phone typing. 

“Alex agreed to see her tomorrow to run some tests.” Lena looked up from her phone. “You’re right, this is different or…” Lena trailed off in thought but shook her head.

“What is it?” Kara asked.

“Its… what if Loraine doesn't have a seizure disorder. What if the seizures were just one symptom of something else.” Lena had done extensive research on pediatric seizure conditions as well as other conditions that caused seizures. There were a few conditions Lena was concerned may match Loraine’s current state.

[ryqoshay]

Happy Life: Angelic Hug

Primary Pairing: YohaRiko Words: ~2.1k Rating: G AU: Angelic? Time Frame: First week of Riko’s 1st year of college and Yoshiko’s 3rd year of high school Story Arc: Stand Alone

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Author’s Note: Inspired by a prompt from a reader.

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Riko set her phone down on her desk, having just read the last departing messages from her friends after she had announced that she needed to get back to her studies. Or, at least she thought that had been all of the messages. No sooner than her hand left the device than it vibrated with a new notification. Curious, Riko picked it back up and unlocked the screen.

Odd, there was nothing new in the group chat. However, changing threads revealed that the new message was in one of her private chats.

TheFallenAngel: Ne, Riri!

SakurauchiRiko: What’s up?

TheFallenAngel: Is everything alright?

SakurauchiRiko: Yes

SakurauchiRiko: Why?

TheFallenAngel: I just got the feeling that you were deflecting a lot in our group chat

TheFallenAngel: Or at least more than usual

TheFallenAngel: Like a lot more than usual

TheFallenAngel: And you know my fallen angel senses will tell me when something is wrong with one of my favored little demons

TheFallenAngel: So again is everything really alright?

Riko sighed. Of course, now of all times would be when Yoshiko chose to be empathic. The younger girl had a knack for picking up on cues that others missed while regularly remaining oblivious to things most would consider obvious. Still, this had led to Yoshiko becoming one of Riko’s confidants. For some things.

SakurauchiRiko: I guess I’m just a little stressed

SakurauchiRiko: Between moving and starting classes in a new school it’s like Uchiura all over again

SakurauchiRiko: Only this time I don’t have someone like Chika-chan to help make the transition

TheFallenAngel: Have you reached out to anyone from Otonokizaka?

SakurauchiRiko: I thought of that

SakurauchiRiko: But the few friends I made in my first year aren’t in the area any more

TheFallenAngel: Well it’s still your first week

TheFallenAngel: Yohane has faith that someone as amazing as Riri will make plenty of new friends

Riko smiled at the compliment. However, it wasn’t quite that simple. Despite gaining some confidence during her time with Aqours, Riko was still quite shy, especially around new people. And while she had definitely worked hard to strengthen her bonds with her friends, like Yoshiko, in truth it had been Chika who had made the initial connections for her.

But… how much of that did she want to admit to Yoshiko?

SakurauchiRiko: I hope so

TheFallenAngel: And in the meantime its not like you’ve lost any friends

TheFallenAngel: Sure we’re a little farther away now

TheFallenAngel: Heck Mari is all the way over in Italy

TheFallenAngel: But the mortals of this realm have devised wonderous tools that we can use to communicate over vast distances

Riko laughed. She was wondering when Yoshiko would drop something like that into the conversation.

SakurauchiRiko: That is true

SakurauchiRiko: The group chat has definitely helped

TheFallenAngel: But if that’s not enough you can always call

Riko blinked. Yoshiko had predicted her intended point of wanting to hear someone’s voice.

TheFallenAngel: Or even video chat

TheFallenAngel: I’m free now if you want to talk

SakurauchiRiko: Thank you for the offer, Yoshiko-chan, it means a lot

SakurauchiRiko: I may take you up on that tomorrow night when I can stay up later

SakurauchiRiko: Tonight I may just have to dig out an extra pillow to hug

TheFallenAngel: Or I could give you a hug

What? Riko reread the message to make sure she had done so correctly.

SakarauchiRiko: You can’t be serious

TheFallenAngel: I am

SakurauchiRiko: But you’re over a hundred kilometers away

SakurauchiRiko: Are you going to teleport or something?

TheFallenAngel: No

TheFallenAngel: Silly Riri

TheFallenAngel: Id take the train like a normal mortal

Riko resisted the urge to ask why Yoshiko didn’t mention flying.

SakurauchiRiko: Thank you again for the offer

SakurauchiRiko: But I’ll be heading back for You-chan’s birthday next weekened

SakurauchiRiko: So we can see each other in person then

TheFallenAngel: You sure?

Riko paused. Part of her suddenly wanted to accept Yoshiko’s offer. She hadn’t considered it until just now, but after two years around several physically affectionate friends, she realized she missed all the contact. She did actually want a hug. Especially one from a close friend.

TheFallenAngel: Riri?

SakurauchiRiko: I’m fine

This time the pause was on the other end.

TheFallenAngel: Alright

SakurauchiRiko: Have a good night, Yoshiko-chan

SakurauchiRiko: Thank you for helping me feel better

SakurauchiRiko: We’ll talk tomorrow night

TheFallenAngel: Yeah

TheFallenAngel: Have a good night Riri

----------

Riko sighed as she walked down the hall back to her dorm room after her bath. She still felt a little bad about lying to Yoshiko; she wasn’t as fine as she claimed to be. Certainly, she felt better than before their conversation. She appreciated her friend’s concern and looked forward to talking over the phone tomorrow night. But she still felt guilty.

A sigh from somewhere ahead of her caused her to look up.

Wait, is that…?

A blue-haired girl with an all-too familiar side-bun standing near Riko’s door slumped her shoulders and turned away.

“Yoshiko-chan?” Riko called.

“Riri!?” The girl spun. “You’re here!”

“Yes, I am.” Riko hastened her pace. “I live here. But what are you doing here?”

“I came to give you your hug.” Yoshiko spread her arms and smiled as the older girl reached her.

“You… what?”

“I came to give you your hug?” Yoshiko repeated, sounding less confident than before. She bounced a little on her toes and moved her arms to indicate that they were still open.

“You came all this way just to give me a hug?”

“Well, yeah, I said that I would…”

“And I said you didn’t have to…”

“I know I didn’t have to, but I couldn’t stop thinking about how much you seemed to really need one, and so I just…”

Oh gods, that expression… Riko’s heart twisted.

“Look, just,” Riko opened the door to her room and motioned for the other girl to enter “come in out of the hallway at least.”

Yoshiko ducked her head and slunk through the doorway like a dejected puppy and Riko immediately felt guilty for causing the reaction. She wasn’t quite sure why she was upset. She knew Yoshiko meant well. Her steadfast devotion to ensuring the wellbeing of her friends was one of Yoshiko’s most endearing traits, despite, or perhaps because of her strange ways of going about such things.

“I’m sorry, Riri.” Yoshiko turned and “Eh?”

Riko wrapped her arms around the shorter girl.

“No, I’m sorry, Yoshiko-chan.” Riko said, pulling the two of them closer together. “I didn’t mean to make you think I was mad at you or anything. Thank you for coming all this way just for me.”

“I… uhm… it…” Yoshiko fumbled, both with her words as well as with returning the embrace. “B-but of course… A… A fallen angel should always be willing to go to whatever lengths are necessary to do what is best for her little demons.”

Riko chuckled. Of course, Yoshiko would retreat to her fallen angel persona. But that didn’t diminish the meaningfulness of her actions.

And as for those actions, the hug was warm, soft and unbelievably comforting. It was glorious. Riko wouldn’t hesitate to describe it as heavenly. Angelic. Yoshiko could have sprouted wings on the spot and Riko would not have been the least bit surprised. Big fluffy white angel wings. Or maybe dark and intimidating demon wings. Or even beautiful black feathered angel wings.

Wait, why was she thinking about Yoshiko and wings?

Then it started to hit her. Everything she had been stuffing down for the last couple weeks as she did her best to keep up the appearance of a dutiful daughter and competent college student. All the emotions of leaving home, her parents, her friends, her dog.

She obviously had needed a hug far more than she had realized. She tightened her embrace.

“It’s alright.” Yoshiko murmured near her ear.

Riko realized her cheeks were already wet and that the other girl likely noticed moisture on her shoulder. When had she started crying?

“I’m here. Let it out.”

Riko sniffled. She opened her mouth to respond, but all that came out was a breathy sob. For her part, Yoshiko patted her back a couple times. Riko lost track of how long the two stood or how many tears she shed onto Yoshiko’s shoulder, but eventually she let out one last ragged sigh and started to pull away.

“Feel better?” Yoshiko offered a gentle smile.

“Mm…” Riko nodded as she dabbed away moister from her eyes with the sleeve of her sleep shirt. “Thank you again.”

“I’m glad I was able to help.”

“So, we were going to talk tomorrow over the phone, but since you’re already here…”

“Yeah, about that… uhm…” Yoshiko reached up and rubbed the back of her neck. “I should actually probably head back, since I kinda snuck out without saying anything, so…”

“Yoshiko-chan.” Riko shook her head.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not me you should be apologizing to.”

“Yeah…”

“Anyway, you should probably call or message your parents that you won’t be back until tomorrow morning.”

“I won’t?”

“The last train out would have left not long after you arrived, if I remember the schedule correctly.”

“Wha…?” Yoshiko visibly paled.

“You didn’t look into that before you left?”

Despite asking, Riko realized she knew the answer before it was given, because of course Yoshiko didn’t check. Of course, she would just race off to the aid of a friend without a second thought for herself and what to do afterward. Riko had long since stopped being surprised by Yoshiko’s selflessness and instead began worrying the purported fallen angel would hurt herself in her haste to be helpful.

“No, I just…” The younger girl was clearly panicking now. “I just knew I needed to get here and… Geez, I don’t know… I need to find a place to stay. Where is the nearest hotel?”

“What do you mean hotel? You can just stay here, obviously.”

“Are you sure?”

At this, Riko couldn’t help laughing a little. “You just traveled over a hundred kilometers to give me a hug. The absolute least I can do is set out my guest futon for you to use.”

Despite her amusement, Riko found herself a little confused by Yoshiko’s reaction to her offer. It was by no means the first time she had stayed overnight at Riko’s place, usually after a visit with Prelude ended up lasting a bit too long. Granted this was the first time she would be staying in Riko’s dorm room, but that shouldn’t make that much of a difference, right?

“Alright.” Yoshiko agreed after a moment.

“And if you want, while I get things set up here, you can take my tote down the hall for a shower.”

“Sure, that would be nice. But, uhm… where is the bathroom here?” Yoshiko asked, reaching for the container of supplies.

“It’s at the junction of the wings. You can’t miss it.” Riko assured. “Oh, and let’s get you something to change into.” She pulled open a drawer of her dresser and grabbed the first sleepshirt she found. “Here, this should fit you well enough.”

“Thanks, Riri!” Yoshiko’s mood suddenly swung back to the positive side of the pendulum as she accepted the garment.

“I should be thanking you.” Riko replied.

“You already did.” Yoshiko reminded. “A couple times, in fact.”

“I know, but it really does mean a lot to me.”

“Happy to help.” Yoshiko grinned. “Anyway, back in a bit.”

Riko nodded as the younger girl slipped out the door. She then made her way to her closet to retrieve her guest futon.

Tonight had taken quite the unexpected turn but Riko wasn’t complaining in the slightest. It was one thing for her friends and family to express their support through messages or over the phone, and Riko was appreciative of it all, but it was quite another thing to make a grand gesture the likes of which Yoshiko had just made.

Riko felt like she almost had her own guardian angel. A fallen guardian angel who often awkwardly forgot to think things through thoroughly, but still… The emotional boost she had just received from her friend would undoubtedly carry her through the next couple weeks, if not the rest of the month.

As she settled on her bed with a doujin, Riko found herself looking forward to catching up with Yoshiko for a little while before they turned in for the night. She also pondered how she could pay back the other girl. Perhaps she could make breakfast in the morning before Yoshiko headed out? Yoshiko would be late for school back in Numazu no matter what, so a slight delay for a meal wouldn’t make much of a difference, right? She made a mental note to make such plans once Yoshiko returned, then found where she had left off in the story and started reading.

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Author’s Note Continued in Followup Post

[fuckyeahscienceparty]

Recovery

Medic's not exactly having a great day. Engie tries to negate that.

-

platonic followup to smth i wrote a lil bit ago B') but i don't have to read the other thing to get the jist.

[also on ao3!]

-

Medic bumbled into the kitchen that afternoon, still upset at himself over BLU's narrow loss earlier that day that had almost definitely been exacerbated by his absence in the time it took the cart to go from the second to fourth checkpoint.

While the rest of his team were only mildly troubled by their failings, insisting that without a doubt they'd get RED good next time, he was honestly more than prepared to throw himself a pity party for 1, having already abandoned his uniform for an old tshirt and pajama shorts even though it was currently only about 5 pm.

As Medic rummaged through the cupboard to find their rather banged up kettle, BLU's Engineer whistled his way in, opening the fridge to grab the half empty pitchers of sweet tea and lemonade he'd prepared earlier that week.

"Callin' it in early tonight?" Engie chuckled as Medic shuffled past him to open the breadbox and see what teas (rather than baked goods) they still had, Engie himself reaching for one of the recently dried cups lingering on the counter from breakfast that morning.

"Mm," was all that came from Medic in reply, Engie giving him a slightly concerned glance as he flipped through the different tea bags they had available.

When he'd decided that lavender flavored earl grey would do, he went over to the sink to fill the kettle with enough water for a decently sized cup, neither of them speaking as Medic put it on to boil and Engie poured equal parts lemonade and tea into his glass.

After adding a few ice cubes and a straw to fill it to the top, Engie cleared his throat to get Medic's attention, the good doctor himself seemingly displeased by the fact that his staring contest with the stove had been interrupted.

"You doin' alright, Doc?" He hedged, Medic merely letting out a curt "fine" before going back to staring at his barely warmed up water. Engie pouted slightly before taking a sip of his Arnold Palmer.

"You sure? I didn't see you for a while during battle earlier, what happened?" He asked, leaning against the table behind him. Medic blinked.

"You... you noticed?"

"Shuck, course I did. Hard not to notice that your buddy's gone missing when he's normally playing lord and savior for your gaggle of teammates who have a tendency to face death with a devil may care attitude," He chuckled, Medic's cold expression thawed slightly by the fact that Engie had called him his... buddy.

"It's fine, don't worry about it," He sighed, going into another cupboard to look for a mug once he'd heard a faint bubbling sound.

"No, really, what happened? I got a little worried for you," Engie insisted gingerly. Medic paused, almost taken aback by his sincerity.

"Well if you must know, it was purely out of my own idiocy," He said as he pulled out a mug with a rather cute image of a dove on it.

"Uhuh?..."

"...I was trying to get a health kit for myself. I insisted that Soldier go on without me because I'm more than capable of catching up and I rather moronically assumed all the REDs were already ahead of us and that if there was anyone there, I could handle myself just fine. To what should not have been my surprise, their Heavy had been lagging behind and shot me a few times before leaving me to bleed out and wait for respawn."

"Jeez Doc, I'm sorry," Engie winced, Medic scoffing in response.

"Don't be. It was completely my fault. If I hadn't been such a dumbass and either sucked up my injuries or asked Soldier to come with me, I wouldn't have gotten myself killed. I still can't believe I'd been so stupid."

"Hey now, don't talk about yourself like that," Engie frowned as Medic began to avoid his gaze. "You got caught off guard. It happens to the best of us."

"But that's the thing- I'm supposed to be the best of us. I'm not supposed to get caught off guard. Like you said, I'm the 'lord and savior' of this team, if I can't even keep myself alive then what kind of useless Medic am I?" Medic carped bitterly, internally grimacing when he realized he was really leaning into the whole pity party ordeal now.

He frankly expected Engie to get annoyed with him, to leave him to wallow in his own bitchiness and self pity as he took the kettle off of the stove when it began to whistle and poured all the water into his cup. He wouldn't have blamed him if he was honest, he was getting pretty annoyed with himself right now.

...But he didn't. He stayed put, his voice going into that gentle tone that made Medic feel guilty he would even think such a thing of his best friend.

"You're not useless. You're human. And humans make mistakes, Feathers, whether we like it or not. Best thing you can do is try and learn from 'em and move on. Best any of us can do, really."

Engie paused to give Medic time to absorb what he'd said, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"I'm gonna head to the workshop, I gotta get my sentry repaired and prepped for tomorrow. If you wanna drop by and chat or just sit with me while I work, my doors are always open. But if not, that's fine too. Whatever makes you feel better. And you're always welcome to come 'round my dispenser if you ever need a pick me up during battle, ok?" Engie said as he gently pulled Medic in for a hug.

Medic felt his chest tighten in a way he wasn't exactly used to. Kind as his teammates were once you got to know them, it wasn't often he'd been offered palpable generosity like this. He hugged back, silently relishing the feeling of Engie's arms being wrapped around him.

When he eventually (and reluctantly) pulled away, he took a breath, his next words coming out in more of a whisper than he intended them to.

"...Ok. Thank you, Herr Engineer. I will most likely come by."

"Any time, hun. I'll put up a chair for you, you come by whenever you want," Engie said, giving his shoulder a final pat before grabbing his drink and heading out of the kitchen to leave Medic alone with his tea and his thoughts.

After washing the kettle and mixing in a bit of milk and sugar into his cup, he found himself standing in front of the workshop door, peering in to see its usual inhabitant singing softly under his breath as he opened one of the compartments and poured out all the collected empty bullet casings into a larger bucket of various brass scraps so he could use them for something else later.

As promised, there was an empty chair next to him, that tightening feeling coming back to Medic's chest as he made his way in.

Engie looked up at him as he did so, giving him a warm smile as he reached for his screwdriver so he could pop open the top and put in new rounds.

Medic, meanwhile sat down in his spot, leaning over momentarily to bonk his head against Engie's before taking a sip out of his still scalding cup.

Engie chuckled, moving his own chair a little closer to Medic's so that he could bump his shoulder before continuing his handiwork, the two of them enjoying each others' company in relative silence in a way that best friends often did.

After a while, Engie started singing to himself again, tapping his tools and fingers against his sentry in place of beats or actual instruments. Watching him be so content and enthusiastic about his work, Medic couldn't help but relax, continuing to sip at his tea and occasionally humming back at him, much to Engie's delight.

Eventually, when Engie had moved on to other weapon maintenance, they started talking and joking around with each other instead, Engie smiling whenever he managed to make Medic laugh and Medic resting his chin on Engie's shoulder every time he leaned over to get a better look at his progress.

And sure, the two of them would have to part eventually and Medic would inevitably have another bad day (or several) on the battlefield, but in that moment where it was just they two of them and Medic's self doubts temporarily healed, they were all that mattered to each other.

And what a wonderful thing that was.

[nitewrighter]

Sorry if you already answered that question, but i was wondering how the first night coffee of Genji and Mercy went, and later on just became an habit for the both of them. Take care :)

Ooh! That’s a good prompt! You know I love me some pre-fall stuff!

...Come to think of it I never wrote Mercy reacting to Genji’s Blackwatch look... 

-----

“You can’t approve of this,” Mercy’s knuckles were white with her grip on her tablet. She and Gabriel Reyes were standing in the observation room overlooking an interior training area as Genji slashed through several training bots with an alarming fury. There was a wildness to his actions, a fervor that Mercy assumed that could only come from spending weeks on end struggling with leg blades and crutches. In terms of creating an efficient cyborg body that matched all of Genji’s previous athletic qualifications, the Blackwatch cyberneticists had outdone themselves. But in terms of creating a body that would actually help Genji adjust mentally to his new reality of being a cyborg... 

Mercy flinched as Genji beheaded a training bot, then sliced the still-in-the-air head in two with a kick.

“If both the cyberneticists and Genji are satisfied with the prosthetics, then it’s out of my hands,” said Reyes.

“It is not out of your hands because you’re in charge of Blackwatch,” said Mercy, “Those leg blades--who put those on him?”

“They’re pretty crazy, right?” said Gabriel, his eyes lighting up, “Now his axe kicks are like axe kicks. They’re really---” Gabriel read the furious disapproval contorting Mercy’s features and cleared his throat. “You don’t approve of them. Look, he’s already an assassin, so--”

“If an engineer loses his hand, would you say we should replace his fingers with screwdrivers?!” said Mercy, furiously.

“...Torbjörn replaced his arm with that molten core claw,” said Gabriel with a shrug.

“That’s--Torbjörn chose to--He---” Mercy took a furious inhale through her nostrils and huffed, “I don’t think this is best for Genji. If he sees his body as... as a tool, as a machine---”

“Interpol wants to see results with the Shimada clan and psych evals said he’s field ready,” said Gabriel.

“Blackwatch Psych Evals,” muttered Mercy.

“And Blackwatch understands special circumstances. Besides, with how much he keeps going on about taking down the Shimada clan... I don’t think holding him back is helping him.”

Mercy flinched again as Genji sliced another training bot clean down the middle. He stood in the wreckage of all the bots, his blade still drawn and his shoulders rising and falling with the smoldering tension of his breath. 

She hit the intercom. “Genji,” she spoke gently and Genji’s head jerked up, ready for whatever came next. She cleared her throat. “Are you feeling any discomfort from this prosthesis?”

She heard Genji’s breath ragged over the other end and suppressed a shudder.

“No discomfort,” said Genji, “They work.”

Mercy’s eyes flicked over to Reyes and he made a little ‘See?’ gesture at the intercom. 

She hit the intercom button again. “Let me know the second that changes,” she said, not breaking eye contact with Reyes.

“Understood,” was his only response.

-------

Mercy took the issue to Jack of course, tried to call up anyone in Overwatch’s medical research decision to back her up. She even got Liao on vid-comm who just ended up launching into a meandering half-to-herself lecture about transhumanism as it related to the robotics question of ‘Does a submarine swim?’ and ended up burning about an hour and a half without actually going anywhere. So at the end of the day Mercy was, once again, in Jack’s office and complaining while he, once again, was nodding and giving her the odd “I’ll look into it” while both of them knew it wouldn’t really go beyond a talk to Reyes. Jack trusted Reyes. He trusted Reyes’s judgment more than he would ever trust hers, and most of the time she didn’t take that personally, and even with the majority of Genji’s care now shifted out of her hands, she knew it wasn’t personal. This was no grand conspiracy to drain the energy of Angela Ziegler, but simply how Overwatch was. 

And who was she to hold Genji back? 

She sighed and returned to her lab, first going over correspondence with a handful of scientists over their findings with biotics, replicating some of the experiments described to her, sending her findings in, saying she would conduct more experiments more formally and et cetera but these were her results. The usual. Enough to get her mind off things. Enough to make her feel like there was something she could do. Hours passed.

The sound of the coffeemaker late that night filled Mercy with equal parts of calm, resignation, and regret. As she felt the vibration of the grinder against her palm and let its characteristic buzz drown out all other sounds of the lab before pouring the grounds into the filter, she came to terms with the fact that tomorrow morning was going to be a living hell for the sake of tonight’s productivity. She watched the pot slowly fill with that chocolate-smoke smelling liquid before stretching and massaging her temples.

Deep breath, she thought to herself, inhaling through her nose, letting the coffee-scented air fill her lungs to the peak, Now exh--

“Doctor Ziegler?” a voice spoke up next to her and the squawk of surprise that escaped her along with the hard flinch made the sweatsuit-clad figure suddenly standing next to her flinch back. “Sorry!” Genji said on reflex, his voice muffled into a metal faceplate, “I thought you heard me come in. I guess I’m a lot quieter with the new prosthetics...”

Mercy’s hand flew over her chest as she tried to catch her breath. “It’s--it’s fine,” she said, tucking her hair back.

“I meant to talk to you after the prosthetic test--” he started.

“Something’s wrong with them. I knew it,” said Mercy perking up and quickly grabbing his arm, “Where does it hurt? How intense is the pain? Are you--”

“There’s nothing wrong with them, Doctor Ziegler,” Genji’s voice was tired and she caught herself, releasing his arm.

“Sorry...” she said, folding her arms against herself.

“I just... it had been a while since we last talked and... I wanted to check in with you. See how you were doing. And the light in the lab was on so...” he itched at the point where his faceplate ended and the exposed skin of his neck started.

“...Oh,” said Mercy. She blinked. “You’re checking on me?”

“Well... yes. You sounded... tense... during the prosthetics test today,” said Genji, “I apologize if this is out of line, and I can leave if you’re busy--”

“No--I’m not--I mean, I am working but... company would be nice,” said Mercy. She gave a glance to the coffee pot, “I probably shouldn’t finish this on my own, anyway. Would you like some?” 

“Sure,” said Genji with a shrug as she grabbed one of the spare mugs next to the coffeemaker.

“So Blackwatch is treating you all right?” said Mercy, pouring him a cup as he took off the lower half of his faceplate. 

“So far, yes,” said Genji, taking the mug from her and sipping the coffee, “Just--one question.”

“Mm?” Mercy was looking at him as she sipped her own coffee.

“Is McCree... always like that?” said Genji.

Mercy snorted, nearly choked on her coffee, swallowed hard and let out a sputtering laugh. “He’s always like that,” she said, snickering.

Genji’s shoulders slumped. “Kuso...” he cursed under his breath.

“It’s an acquired taste, but you do acquire it,” said Mercy, grinning.

Genji just huffed in response. 

“What do you think of Reyes?” said Mercy, tilting her head.

Genji thought for a few moments, “He’s... interesting. At this point I’m used to people not... not knowing how to look at me, and I can’t really blame them, because at this point, I don’t know how to look at me. But Reyes he’s... practical. Inspiring, even. It’s just sort of like ‘You’re here. Let’s get to work.’ It’s kind of refreshing, honestly.” 

“Mm...” Mercy didn’t really know how to respond to that so she just glanced off while sipping her coffee.

“...Doctor Ziegler?” 

“Yes?”

“When I said you sounded a bit tense at the prosthetic test, today...” Genji trailed off, “What was bothering you?”

“Oh...” Mercy bit the inside of her lip, “Well...I....” she straightened up, “I was concerned about those loose wires!”

Genji’s hood was up but he felt at the back of his head.

“And....and the leg blades...” Mercy tucked her hair back, “I mean, they’re your legs! You shouldn’t treat them like weapons!”

Genji shrugged, “I was using them like weapons before,” he said, sipping his coffee.

Mercy’s mouth drew to a thin line. “Yes but that’s---You shouldn’t--”

Genji was looking at her with genuine concern and Mercy’s stomach sank. This was his body--it was far from something he could easily change, and even then, if they could change it, how in control of the process was he?

“I... I’m probably overreacting. And I’m probably more used to treating civilians,” she said with a hand wave, “I mean, I only really saw the prosthetics at a distance and in a few health dispatches the Blackwatch cybernetics sent me...”

“You haven’t gotten a good look yet?” said Genji.

“Blackwatch is secretive,” said Mercy with a shrug but she quickly reddened as Genji unzipped the front of the hoodie and shrugged it off, setting it on the counter behind him. Scarred skin strained against cold metal, rippling muscles alongside synthetic frames and bits of armor. Tubes flowing into his skin. Fury and hatred flowing into the gaps left by his injuries. She hated herself that the first words that came to mind were, What’s black and white and red all over? In truth he looked... good. Really good. But good the way a statue of Prometheus chained to a rock looks good. Good the way a Saint Sebastian painting looks good. Good the way a crucifix or one of Rodin’s more contorted works looked good. Good in a way that made that furious, traumatized part of her brain cry out ‘For the love of god, help him.’

“Is there something wrong with them?” said Genji, trying to read her face.

Mercy was biting her knuckle, unsure of how to respond. “Does it hurt?” the words came out of her.

“No,” Genji said on reflex, but those big gray-blue eyes were piercing into him and he huffed and sipped his coffee, “I mean, it itches. And there’s the phantom limb pain, but that’s there whether the prosthetics are there or not. Doctor Ziegler, I need these. And maybe they’ll get better in the future, but for now I’m fine with putting up with these,” he picked up his hoodie from the counter and pushed an arm through the sleeve, “So long as it means I’m not cooped up here in Zurich anymore.”

“I know... and... and you’re right. You’re right to want that. But please... just remember that the body and the self have a very complicated relationship,” said Mercy, glancing off.

“And justice is bigger than both,” said Genji, zipping up his hoodie, “I’ll worry about what I am once the Shimada clan can’t hurt people like it hurt me.” 

“I know,” said Mercy glancing down, “But... you know your worth as a person isn’t based in taking them down, right? You know that?”

Genji stared at her for a few seconds. “I... believe life has a worth. That life has to have some worth...but to be fair, Doctor Ziegler, you haven’t lived your life as an assassin for a powerful crime family. When someone is searching for redemption, it’s not up to someone else to say, ‘You’re good. You don’t have to try anymore.’” He furrowed those thick brows beneath his steel headband, “There are things I must do, and I do think with Blackwatch and my goals overlapped, that I can do them. The more you focus on feeling better rather than fixing the root problem.... the harder the fight to feel better becomes, doesn’t it?”

Mercy just sipped her coffee sullenly. “I trust your judgment,” she said at last, “But... just.... promise me you’ll come to me? If things start going wrong? If things start hurting more than they should?”

Genji huffed. “I promise,” he said, his smile tugging at his scars.

“Thank you,” said Mercy, before quickly adding, “I’m not paranoid.”

“I know.”

“I’m not.”

“What is the term?” said Genji, “Canary in the coal mine?” 

“I’m the canary in the coal mine?” Mercy repeated flatly.

“You worry a lot--you’re a good person to look to when looking for something to worry about.”

Mercy furrowed her brows at him.

“But I mean, you never worry about anything not worth worrying about!” he smiled, “But it’s a big world--there’s always something to worry about.”

“So, should we should rename ‘Medical R&D’ to the ‘Overwatch Worry Division?” said Mercy arching an eyebrow.

“No, it’s important you stay scary,” said Genji.

“Oh I’m scary now?” said Mercy with a slight chuckle.

“In the best way possible,” he sipped the last bit of his coffee. “I... I should probably let you get back to work.”

“You can hang around if you don’t mind me sequencing silicon-based RNA and cytochromic reactions,” said Mercy.

“...I have no idea what that means,” said Genji with a slight chuckle.

Mercy nodded with her head over to her monitor. “Would you like to find out? I warn you, it might be scary.”

Genji chuckled and refilled his coffee cup. “The best kind of scary, I’m sure.”

[iamnotsensical]

You Should Have Seen That Coming

@innocentbi-stander sent:   “I saw your witcher writing prompt post! If you’re interested, I’m a total sucker for a BAMf jaskier who actually does know how to fight with weapons but his it from geralt, then the truth comes out. Hmmmmm maybe there’s something where he’s also actually part elf or fae? I’m always looking for an excuse for an immortal jaskier 😂Maybe his fighting skills get revealed when they’re being attacked? I love jaskier who can fight with daggers or a short sword.”

I may have gone a little longer on this one than usual, but I really loved the concept! (I hope you enjoy it! <3)

(Edit: I learned how to add a cut. So I did. Whoot!)

X

Geralt should have known. The moment he came into this town. Those looks. Looks that were usually only directed at him. Looks that extended this time even to Jaskier. Who stood closer to Geralt than usual. 

He should have known when the contract extended was easy. Ridiculously so. A single harpy? Jaskier was suspicious. He didn’t trust a town so full of hate and judgement to be willing to employ Geralt for something so seemingly easy to deal with. Though he was biased. His night of playing was rough and he didn't trust shitty patrons with shifty eyes. 

Regardless, Geralt went out, dealt with the problem at hand and then headed back to the tavern beneath the inn where they were staying. To clean up before going to the man who employed him. When Geralt returned, he found Jaskier in the tavern and stopped to let him know the plan. To ask him to start packing. They were interrupted by the barmaid, an angry old woman with a look of disgust. "Your employer is waiting for you. In the town square. Go collect your coin so you can be on your way."

"We are talking.” Jaskier said cooly, “He’s helped your town. You won't even let him stop to clean up and eat-" Jaskier starts. He knew Geralt needed time to let the adrenaline wear off, knew the less than pleasant response to collecting payment while still covered in blood. 

However, Geralt shook his head at Jaskier and regarded the woman carefully. He nodded his understanding and turned to Jaksier, promising that he'll return. Then he is on his way. 

He really should have known when he saw the man, standing in the middle of the town with an odd ring of metal poles slammed into the ground around him. They stand up in a circle, stabbed into the ground like those spears knights push into the earth, and then skewer the heads of the monsters they’ve slain on to. The spears and heads always stand as a warning. 

Geralt really should have known. 

But he was tired and this town made him uncomfortable. He and Jaskier both wanted to leave. So, he walked up to the man and explained in short detail how he dispatched the 'scary flying thing' he had been sent to kill. Even brought its wings back. If it hadn't been so vicious he may have spared it, but somethings were simply incapable of not killing. 

The man's eyes shifted around as Geralt spoke, making it even harder to focus. Geralt huffed and wrapped his arms over his chest. "I did as the contract expected, I'll take my payment-" he started only to stutter and choke as a loud sound resonated in his head. Geralt's hand flew up, pressing against his temple as though that would alleviate some of the pressure from the noise. It only got louder. Geralt tore his eyes from the man to look around and see a group of villagers surrounding them. They stood around the circle, clashing various tools and things against the metal poles in the ground. Metal on metal, an echoing clang that had Geralt falling to one knee. 

The man looked down at Geralt with a sneer. "You're not the first we've gotten rid of.” He spat. Quite literally, and Geralt wanted to scrub the dampness from his skin. These people . . . They, what? Set traps for witchers? “You won't be the last.” The man continued. “You abominations are brought here only by your own greed. In search of money to take from innocent humans. You're disgusting! And so is your friend- I'd be willing to bet that we don't even need the pipes to distract him, without you there I think he'll be taken care of quite easily-"

Geralt growled viciously but the noise of the poles served well in its purpose to incapacitate him. He could do no more than to focus his efforts on fighting the nausea rather than this bigot. 

He was trying to figure out the easiest way to get out of here, with the least amount of death. And then, from seemingly nowhere a voice called out, "You know. Of all the ways I've been called easy that one is the laziest, most hateful, and least true." Geralt looked up to see Jaskier walking into the circle. 

The clanging slowly stopped as the mob seemed to fall into an incredulous silence watching Jaskier. They looked to the man for some sort of instruction. 

Jaskier kept his eyes trained on the man as well, despite the urge to look at and take care of Geralt. "Come on now. Let us be reasonable. I shall take my companion from this town, free of charge despite his work. Call off your goons, and we'll be on our way."

"You,” the man sneered, “Are just as perverted as he is if you defend him over your own kind," the man retorted. 

Jaskier laughed, "You are wrong in more ways than you could possibly know." He said. 

And then many things happened. 

The clanging started again as the mob of angry people decided they’d had enough of Jaskier’s smart commentary, deciding without the man in charge that they wouldn’t stand for such disrespect. 

Geralt shifted on his knee to face Jaskier and tell him to leave, to get out of this town and wait for him somewhere else. Much to his surprise at that exact moment, Jaskier pulled a knife from seemingly nowhere. He flipped it in his hand with a practiced ease and then turned and flicked his wrist. It soared through the air and landed directly in the skull of a man who’d been trying to catch Jaskier off guard. He slowly sank to one knee, sputtering in his last moments.

In fury, a man nearly as large as Geralt charged towards Jaskier, roaring in his anger as his companion fell. Jaskier used the position to lunge forward, step on the man's propped up leg, and use it to jump off of. It provided him the perfect height to plunge another knife into the tall man’s eye. Geralt’s head was still pounding, but he was trying desperately to figure out where the hell these knives were coming from.  

Though the group was predominantly men, a woman full of hate pulled one of the poles from the ground and swung it at Jaskier. Geralt must have made a noise of distress, because Jaskier turned just in time to catch it before it connected with his head. It must have hit his hands hard because he winced. Geralt simply couldn’t sit back and watch this. Despite the noise he tried to stand, “Jaskier-” He started. The bard glanced over and shook his head. He pulled the pole from the woman’s hands and hit her hard in the ribs with it. She doubled over and Jaskier sidestepped over to Geralt. 

“Duck,” He said to Geralt and then shoved Geralt over. Later, Geralt would blame the nausea and disoriented mess for being the reason he was so easily knocked over. In the moment however, he simply found his face in the ground. 

Head swimming, with a mouthful of dirt, Geralt almost missed the feeling of warmth spreading over his back, pushing through the town square with substantial power. Yet, when he lifted his head he saw that many of the people who’d just been making such obnoxious noise were sent flying back and he heard that the noise had stopped. What happened after that he wasn’t sure. He remembered vague flashes of warmth and kind words from Jaskier. He smelled the familiar and soothing scent of Roach’s mane. He knew they were moving . . . and then? Nothing. 

X 

Geralt wasn't sure when he closed his eyes, or for how long, but when he opened them again they were out in the forest. Jaskier had found them a small clearing, set up camp, started a fire, and started their dinner. The bard was sitting with his back mostly to the bedroll that Geralt has been laid out on. He was holding onto some animal, impaled on a stick, roasting it over the fire. 

"Jask-" Geralt started to speak, his voice coming out even more hoarse and gravel like than usual. He shifted to sit up. 

Jaskier turned to Geralt and shook his head, "Hey there, you big brute.” He said fondly, “Don't move alright? You were still swaying when we got here. And you had a terrible ache in your head. Just. Try to relax." Jaskier advised gently. "Try being the operative word, though I know you struggle with things that could bring you comfort." He said, a faint smile on his face. It was less easy than Jaskier’s usual grin, and he made no move to come closer to Geralt. Geralt wasn’t sure why.

Geralt grunted and finished sitting up. "The noise." He muttered. 

"Is what caught you off guard? Yes. I know. You needn’t defend yourself to me. Those awful poles. I saw them. Well. I heard them first, which is why I went off to find you. I figured it would be enough to hurt your ears, I'll admit I was surprised to see that such an ignorant town created such a clever trap. I didn't realize it was common knowledge that sensory overload was your weakness, obviously it was something I knew-" 

"And yet. You won't shut up." Geralt snapped. It wasn't unusual for Geralt to snap like that. He awaited the snarky response of irritation from his companion. 

Instead he got, "Mm, well. Yes. That's a good point." And then . . . Silence. 

Geralt looked over to Jaskier carefully, and slowly the details of the fight came back into his mind. Jaskier with the daggers. Jaskier stabbing a man in the eye. Jaskier somehow throwing back a dozen grown men . . . "What the fuck happened back there? How did you do- . . . All of that? Any of that?" Geralt asked slowly, clearly unsure how to word his questions to get himself the answers he wanted. "What did you do, towards the end- all I felt was heat-" 

Jaskier kept his eyes trained on the fire and nodded slowly. "Energy." He corrected. 

"Hmm?"

"All you felt- it was energy. Not necessarily heat. Not that they are dissimilar. Perhaps it was a gratuitous amendment, I just meant to clarify, but magic that makes heat often burns which is far more destructive than anything I can do- Than anything I want to do-" 

Geralt's mind faltered. He was still trying to wrap his head around seeing Jaskier be proficient in protecting himself against a large group of opponents, with daggers no less. But, "Magic?" Geralt asked, his foggy mind slowly clearing as he started to catch up with the conversation they were having.

". . . Yes." He said slowly. 

"Yes?" 

Jaskier's expression was guarded, careful. "Yes. I used magic. I wasn't really intending to but you got yourself into a rather tricky mess and I wanted to keep you safe so it seemed like the option I had at the time-" 

"Jaskier." Geralt interrupted, he didn’t have the capacity to listen to the rambling right now. "How can you use magic?” He asked directly. “You are . . . Just a bard." 

And if, for a moment, something like hurt broke the careful mask Jaskier had set in place? Well. The moment was brief and Jaskier quickly seemed impassive again. "I am a bard, but not just. I also happen to be- part fae." He said slowly. "Which- I'm aware. Is vague. But other than the slight magic and the never aging thing I don't know many details, what with my mother having to raise me as though the Viscount of Lettenhove was my father rather than whatever mystery man she was with when I was conceived." He said, his tone bitter and frustrated. “Perhaps if I knew more about it all I would have said something sooner, but I don’t know the details and if I happened to be one of the things that you are supposed to kill, I wasn’t exactly thrilled with the idea of informing you-”

Geralt listened intently, his eyes searching Jaskier for the way that this revelation should change his appearance. For the tell tale sign that he was different now that Geralt knew the truth. There was none. He was still Jaskier. Jaskier who believed that Geralt could ever hurt him. Geralt deflated slightly. Perhaps he would have to work on convincing Jaskier of his own- significance in Geralt’s life. Then, Geralt's eyes hit Jaskier's hands, still holding the stick their dinner was on. They were red. Raw. Shaking. He reached out, carefully setting the stick and meat off to the side. Gently, he pulled Jaskier's hands into his lap and looked at them. "How did you burn yourself?" Geralt asked. 

"The uh- the poles were iron." Jaskier responded quietly. Iron was a well known repellent for fae-folk of many kinds.

Geralt frowned and gently held Jaskier's wrists. "Can I bandage them for you?" He asked quietly. And despite the tension in the air Jaskier recognized that request for what it was. A silent Thank You.

[minnarr]

leia meets the prequels gang, pt. 3

Last time, Leia stuck to Padmé and Anakin like a burr; met Obi-Wan and confided in him; and managed to get on Anakin’s bad side. In this section, Leia tries to rest at Obi-Wan’s as the Senate declares war and they both get a surprise.

See all parts at this link

----

The Temple had been like a kicked hive when Leia arrived. By the time Obi-Wan found her again, it seemed to have quieted into sleep at last. “My apologies,” he said, looking somehow even more tired than before. “I have not had an opportunity to make proper arrangements, but I can offer you a bed for the night. I’m afraid the Temple visitors’ quarters are rather overrun at the moment.”

It was strange to enter a Jedi’s quarters. They weren’t quite as ascetic as Leia had imagined; certainly more comfortable than a room on a Rebel base. “You can take Anakin’s room for now, if you don’t mind the mess,” Obi-Wan said. “There’s clean sheets, at least.” He pointed out the fresher, and a set of clean clothes he had found for her.

He hesitated in the middle of his kitchen, looking at her with perplexity.

“Go sleep,” Leia told him. “You look like you need it.”

He nodded, then ducked into his own room, the door closing a moment later.

Leia moved through the strange space, cleaning up as best she could around the bacta patches and aches. It was the first shower she’d had in... Well, it was long overdue. Anakin’s room was a mess; not filthy, just cluttered. There were racing posters, model ships, a worktable filled with mechanical odds and ends. It had the air of a bedroom where he’d grown up, and Leia wondered at that, and felt like an interloper.

When she finally sank into the bed, she expected to sleep immediately. Instead, her head flooded with images and sensations. Finally, she closed her eyes and began to count, following a familiar meditation exercise.

She had let the practice lapse over the last year or so, but it used to be one of her best tools to cope with her childhood panics. She resolved to start doing it regularly again. If nothing else, she could manage that.

Slowly, she managed to quiet the noise in her head and return to blankness.

The next morning, she woke earlier than she wanted to, her body screaming at her but her mind alert. It’s the sun, she realized, and groaned. To her surprise, when she stepped into the kitchen, she found Obi-Wan already there, a mug of caf in hand but his eyes closed. He startled when she took the pot from beside him to pour her own cup.

“Morning,” he said.

She looked him over. “Not enough sleep?”

“I don’t think a week would be enough,” he admitted.

“Agreed,” Leia said, and sat down across from him.

“I have a meeting with the Council this morning,” he said. “The Jedi High Council, I should say. I’m not sure how long it will take, but I will get you better settled in the next day or so. You don’t mind staying around here and resting for a few days, I hope?” His pleading eyes suggested she didn’t have many other choices.

“Has the Senate declared war yet?” Leia asked.

Obi-Wan winced. “No, not yet,” he said. “But the debates are well underway. I’ll leave you a datapad if you want to follow along.” He looked at her thoughtfully. “Have you had a medical exam with the Temple healers yet?”

“I think they were busy,” Leia said.

“I’ll make you an appointment. It’s the first step, anyway, if you want to stay in the Temple for a little while.” There was a gap somewhere in there, as if there were another reason to arrange the exam. His mind was probably just wandering, though; anyone’s would be.

“You don’t have to look after me, you know,” Leia said dryly. “I can make whatever appointments I need.”

“Mm.” Obi-Wan rubbed a hand over his beard, blinking at her. “You’re not a Jedi, so you need a sponsor to stay here. That would be me, and it’s my duty to liaise with Temple staff on your behalf. You just may be a bit bored for a few days. I...it might be better if you were to stay here, rather than wandering about the Temple.”

“Your people are gearing up for war, and I’m an unknown,” Leia said. “I understand.” She didn’t like it, but she understood. “I need the rest,” she assured Obi-Wan, and it wasn’t a lie. “I needed it even before we went haring off to Geonosis. I’ll take it while I can get it.”

The next days were an excruciating combination of idleness and expectation. Even hidden away in Obi-Wan's quarters, Leia felt the suffocating tension of these days as the Senate debated, and the Jedi High Council deliberated, and war slowly turned into a reality. She did visit a healer on the second day, who gave her a simple physical exam and took a blood draw to run routine tests. She didn’t stop to see Anakin. After their strange conversation, she wasn’t sure that he would want to.

One evening, Obi-Wan returned to his quarters and went straight to the sofa, settling into it with careful dignity. It looked like if he was any less careful, he would simply fall into it. “The Senate just declared war with the Confederation of Independent Systems,” he said heavily.

Leia set a mug next to Obi-Wan's seat: not caf, but a more soothing tea. “I know,” she said.

He picked up the tea and sipped it, his eyes closed. “We’ve accepted a clone army.”

“I know.”

“I’m a General.”

Leia sat down beside Obi-Wan and turned to him. They didn’t know each other well, but she had known war for far longer than he had, for all his experience getting into and out of fights. She reached out, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Yes, you are General Obi-Wan Kenobi. A man whose strength, compassion, and cunning were such that my— That those who served with you trusted you and remembered you for those qualities.”

“You speak in the past tense about something that hasn’t happened yet,” Obi-Wan said.

“And you’re correcting my grammar on the verge of a war,” Leia said, amused. “You’ll be all right, Obi-Wan. You can do the job in front of you with honor and wisdom.”

“But not success,” he said, looking at her. “Don’t we lose?”

Leia shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe not anymore. Hope is all I have, and there’s a lot more of it go around now.”

With the debates over and a course decided for the Republic, Leia expected Obi-Wan to have a little more time. What she did not expect was for him to come back to his quarters halfway through the next day and pin her with a stare. “You have never been to this Temple?” he asked. “Or any Jedi Temple?”

“No,” Leia said cautiously.

Obi-Wan ran a hand through his hair. “Just where did you live in this other time? Why did no one find you?”

Leia stood, unsure what had set Obi-Wan off like this. “It depends on who you think should have found me,” she said.

“The Jedi, of course,” Obi-Wan said, and he looked at her again with naked disbelief. “Leia, do you not know that you are incredibly strong in the Force?”

“What?” Leia laughed. “Of course I’m not.”

“You’ve never known things you shouldn’t, or gotten headaches in large crowds? No instances of impossible luck or improbable reflexes? Nothing’s ever come to you inexplicably simply because you needed it desperately?”

Leia frowned and looked away, her scalp tingling. Carefully, she pushed away the nervousness and raised a calm face to Obi-Wan. “Nothing that can’t be explained,” she said. “I used to get intense migraines after parties, or after going down into the city. The doctors said that it was probably linked with my anxiety. Once we got that under control, the headaches became very infrequent.”

“Forgive me for prying,” Obi-Wan said, finally finding a semblance of calm again, “but how did you get that anxiety under control?”

“Counseling sessions,” Leia said, not sure where he was going with this. “Meditation. Making sure I kept up healthy habits.”

“Leia, these are things that a strongly empathetic Force user can experience, if they are left untrained,” Obi-Wan said. “People’s minds—the energy of them, their emotions and surface thoughts—press in on you if you are unshielded and can quickly become overwhelming. It is possible, I suppose, that the meditation you did helped you to build up mental shields. But your shields are too strong to be merely accidental.”

“You mean,” Leia said, “the walls around my thoughts?” She had maintained them for half her lifetime. It had been described to her as an emotional control technique by her meditation teacher. Of course, they had helped her hide her true feelings in the Imperial Senate, and she had fallen back on them when she had nothing else at Darth Vader’s hands.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said. “They are a simple but very subtle shielding technique. I did not know that you had shields in place until I specifically went looking for them.”

Leia pulled back, glaring at him. “You went poking in my mind?”

“No,” Obi-Wan said. “Merely brushed against its boundaries. I believe you felt it, just now, because I also felt you shut me out.”

Leia shuddered, and for a moment the memory of Vader came back to her, terrifyingly real. Had he probed her mind along with everything else he had done? Everything had been so mixed up in bone-deep terror and pain that it was hard to separate out what was physical and what was something else. For a moment, she heard the amplified hiss of his breath, felt his physical presence looming over her. And then she breathed, and she was just looking up at Obi-Wan.

“If not by my shields, how did you find out that I am like you?” she asked.

“The blood test the healers took,” Obi-Wan said. “If I had known it would come back positive—if I had known that it would be so high—I would not have...”

“What did you do?” Leia said, hearing the growl in her voice.

“It is a simple test,” Obi-Wan started.

“That you do without patients’ consent?”

“That is part of a typical intake exam for those entering the Temple,” Obi-Wan said. “It is not part of the standard physical for adult visitors or staff, no, but I suggested a full work-up, and generally that includes the midichlorian count.”

Leia closed her eyes. He had violated medical ethics in a way that troubled her. She claimed to be a time traveler who had arrived just at the cusp of an intergalactic war. That he had awarded her the trust and consideration he did was a gift, she told herself, though it didn’t soothe her anger. “You haven’t been jumping at shadows around me,” she said. “So why order the test?”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said.

“He was suspicious of me,” Leia said.

“He was, and he did more than test your shields. He tried to reach into your mind to see if you were trustworthy, and he failed.” Obi-Wan held up a hand when Leia opened her mouth, outraged. “After I was done telling him how wrong that was, I suggested that it might be the effect of pain medication, but he was very insistent. And I...I wondered.”

“So I’m strong in the Force,” Leia said. “What are you planning to do with that?”

“That’s a very good question. It’s not often that we find people who are strong but untrained so late in life,” he said. “I have encountered one or two in my time who never saw the Jedi temple or joined one of the other Force traditions we recognize, but they were not happy meetings. When we brought Anakin to the Temple, he was considered shockingly old.”

“How old was he?”

“Nine.”

Leia blinked at Obi-Wan. “I am nineteen,” she said flatly. “And I’ve done just fine on my own. Perhaps nobody needs to know.”

Obi-Wan considered, his eyes troubled. “Perhaps it would have been better that way. Perhaps we still could keep it secret, but if you are to stay here…”

“What other option is there?”

“You could tell the Council how you came here,” Obi-Wan suggested.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t know them,” Leia said.

“And you know me so well?”

“I can honestly say I never met you before Padmé introduced us, but my father trusted you, and that’s worth a lot.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes sparked with interest. “Your father?”

Leia had no template for a safe way to operate in this situation. If she took no risks, then she might cut off opportunities. Her heart ached to hear her father’s voice again, to see his face, even if it was much younger than she had ever known it. He might be on Coruscant now; he already held the Senate seat for Alderaan. Impulsively, she said, “Bail Organa.”

“Bail’s daughter,” Obi-Wan said, his eyebrows rising, and looked her over as if seeing her for the first time. “You are not what I would expect from a princess of Alderaan,” he said, nonplussed.

“I was raised in interesting times,” Leia said. Taking pity on him, she added, “I was adopted. I have no idea who my birth parents were. Wherever this,” she waved her hand, “Force, whatever, comes from, it’s not from Bail and Breha Organa.”

“Well. Wherever it comes from, there's something else to take into consideration before you decide not to confide in the Council. Those unhappy meetings I mentioned,” he said. “The more that you hide, the more likely they are to suspect you of being a dark side Force-user, perhaps an acolyte to someone powerful and dangerous.”

Leia frowned. Obi-Wan was young, but...they were at the beginning of the Clone Wars; her father had spoken of him as a man entrusted with much responsibility even then. “They won’t trust your judgement?”

“Some Council members believe my judgement to be...clouded, in such cases.” Obi-Wan's tone spoke of mild amusement, but there was something shuttered behind his eyes. “Anakin, you see. He is powerful like you, and many still believe it was dangerous for us to train him. It was I who finally made them agree to take him, and who oversaw his training.”

“Why dangerous? Surely it’s more dangerous to let something like this go untrained, if what you told me about my headaches is correct.” Her parents must have known what she was. Leia knew from her work with the Rebellion how dangerous the galaxy was for children strong in the Force. They must have known, and taken quiet steps to protect her.

“It’s not as simple as a skill to be learned. Those who do not train from a young age in the ways of the Jedi are at risk of being corrupted by the dark side of the Force. There are powers in the galaxy right now—”

Leia cut him off. “But it’s not inevitable.”

“No. With all my heart, I believe it is not inevitable. But not all of the Council does, and even those who do...Leia.” Obi-Wan stopped, trying to marshal his words. “Let’s just say that they have very good reason to be wary of unknown Force-users right now. Please, be open with them.”

“Not yet.” Leia shook her head. “They have no reason to believe me—honestly, Obi-Wan, I don’t know why you believe me.”

“I don’t know, either,” Obi-Wan muttered. He sat in one of the chairs at last. “All right, we won’t tell the Council yet, though it goes against all of my training. But you should decide what you’re going to do about Anakin’s suspicions. I know him, and he never drops anything.”

“You vouching for me won’t be enough?”

Obi-Wan laughed shortly. “Not without an explanation, and definitely not without telling him I investigated.”

“I’ll…talk to him,” Leia said. “If you think he’ll see me again.”

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

I WANT A MECHANIC! HARRY UPDATE I MISS THEM

Imagine him asking her to help him organize his tools.

They have everything out on the floor of the garage and they’re sitting cross-legged next to each other. He had tied one of his bandanas around her head to help keep her hair back, the paisley pattern matching his just a deep, midnight purple instead of maroon.

He has a list in his lap and is calling out the name of each tool, which she will then find and hand to him, and he checks it off the list and puts it in its corresponding place amidst his storage box.

“Lug wrench.”

“Here.”

“Ratchet.”

“Present.”

“Pliers.”

“Yup.”

“Electrical tape.”

“Mm-hm.”

After all is said and done, there’s one tool left.

It’s a cylinder about as long as her index finger and it is covered in small screws all over. She mentions it to him, completely lost as to what it could be. “Are you sure there isn’t anything else?”

Harry shakes his head as he polishes off his set of color-coordinated screwdrivers, placing them in order according to the spectrum. “That’s everything, babe. There’s no more empty slots in the tool box.”

Y/N scoops it up into the palm of her hand and inspects it carefully. “It has no holes or pokey bits or anything…What can it possibly do?”

She turns around and holds it out, insisting he take a look.

Harry wipes the black grease off his fingers with a mustard-yellow cloth, holding the small object between his thumb and forefingers and rotating it. His brows cinch, head shaking slowly. “I have no idea where this came from but it doesn’t belong.”

“Well, I don’t think you should throw it away.” She takes it from his grasp gently, almost as if she’s scared to hurt it. “What if you remember later and it’s actually useful?”

Harry leans back onto his elbows against his work table, crossing his ankles and skidding the tip of his worn down converse against the cement ground. He lulls his head to the side, wiping the sweat off his forehead onto his shoulder. The cool wind blowing in from the open garage door feels incredible as it ruffles through his mauve muscle tank. “I dunno, I’m pretty certain I won’t need it.”

He glances down at her fingers as she slides the pad on her thumb over one of the inlaid screws. Her voice is somewhat concerned and he can’t help but feel his heart turn to goo at her soft expression of worry. “Are you positive?”

“One hundred and ten percent.” Harry eyes her intently as her thumb taps at that one specific screw she seems to have grown fond of.

“What makes you so sure?“ Her finger instinctually presses down harder on the bolt and suddenly the mechanism comes to life.

It pops open at the center and Y/N yelps out in surprise, almost dropping it all together. She peers inside with shocked curiosity, eyes widening like an adjustable wrench.

Harry can finally drop the clueless act.

“Well, I’m pretty sure I won’t be needing an engagement ring to work on a car.”

[pb1138]

Fictober Days 9: Swing, 10: Pattern, and 14: Overgrown, ft. Lucio and Morgana

This. This was supposed to be quick. And Easy. Not… Well. This. Not 11k words. 

Goeugaf. This is kind of a companion fic to my Fictober Day 5 prompt. Ao3

There aren’t many people who know, but deep within the gardens, there is a rather large apple tree, and from this tree hangs a single, simple swing. Morgana stumbled upon it one chilly winter morning after getting lost in the wide expanse of greenery. Finding it a second time took ages, as if the gardens didn’t want to let her in on their secret and changed, but Morgana has always been blessed with a good sense of direction. Since finding it, she has made it a point to visit the space at least once every other day to detox from the dark, cramped, busy dungeons. Some days she feels as though she’s been down there so long, she’ll be blinded by the sun when she comes up for air. 

Today is a beautiful day. Spring is in full flourish now, flowers opening all across the gardens. The apple tree is a picture, branches filled with brilliant soft white flowers that seem to glow in the warm sunlight, and a cool breeze drifts through the hedges around the clearing. Morgana sits on the swing, the exhaustion from these past few weeks catching up to her as it usually does. The work she’s helping is worthwhile, she knows that, but gods if it wasn’t tiring. She doesn’t know how Julian does it, honestly. The man rarely sleeps, has to be reminded to eat, doesn’t take his breaks. From the afternoon to late morning it’s just work, work, work from him. Getting him to sleep is a Herculean task every single morning, but getting easier. He’s beginning to grow tired, too.  

As she sits, her mind wanders to Asra, and her heart aches. It hurts less each day, his departure. And if the letter she found on her doorstep yesterday was any indication, he isn’t thinking much of her. He didn’t even address their argument, didn’t ask how her work was proceeding, didn’t say he misses her. It hurt. She’d wept for nearly an hour and had been late to relieve Julian, not that he’d noticed her tardiness, just the redness of her eyes. She thinks she scared him, made him think she had the plague for a minute from how he’d panicked, felt for a fever. But he seemed to understand and hadn’t mentioned it since. She’s grateful for that. 

Her break is nearly over. If she doesn’t leave now, she’ll be late returning. Not that anyone notices. She’s a large woman but fairly unassuming. Her meager understanding of medicine isn’t enough to get her noticed by anyone but some of the other interns and apprentices. Julian only took an interest in her because of Asra, if she were to be honest with herself. (Not that she can complain. They’ve become good friends since.) But the thought of going back, of leaving this beautiful day behind? It’s too painful. 

She looks over at her pack and smiles slightly. Her break happened to coincide with her return from the docks, bearing new journals and correspondence for herself and Julian. When she’d left earlier, he’d been nose deep in a new theory of his own, scribbling away like a manic madman. Yes, that’s it then. She will work out here for a while, at least until she feels he’ll begin to notice her absence. With a renewed pep in her step, she grabs the pack and moves to sit at the base of the tree, humming to herself. 

Xxx 

Something is touching her, something cold and wet. It makes her squeal, eyes flying open as she jolts upright. Blinking the sleep away, she frowns to see one of Lucio’s dogs sitting there, staring at her, tail wagging. The other is a short distance away, sniffing at something in a bush. Melchior. Yeah. That’s it’s name. “Um…” She clears her throat and gently pats the dog’s head. “Good boy.” Melchior whuffs and turns to join his companion. Morgana raises her brow at them and rubs at her eyes. With a frown, she realizes she’s slept much longer than she anticipated, nearly 4 hours judging by the position of the sun. “Great,” she mutters to herself. Julian would’ve noticed her missing by now, will probably by grumbly with her when she goes back. 

With a heavy sigh, she pulls herself to her feet and dusts off her pants. Her hair has fallen from its braid and hangs heavily around her, her curls wild and untamed. Grumbling, she goes over to the swing and gets to work untangling it, trying valiantly to pull it into some sort of… something. Having her hair down in the dungeons is never a good idea, especially not with those weird beetles lurking. Mercedes comes to sit at her feet and looks up at her, wagging her tail. Chuckling, Morgana reaches out and gently scratches behind the dog’s ear, which encourages Melchior to come receive the same treatment. 

“Babies, come on. Daddy doesn’t have all–Oh.” 

Blinking, Morgana looks up towards the voice and freezes, eyes widening. “C-Count Lucio. I, um, I…” Clearing her throat, she squares her shoulders and raises her chin. “Hello.” 

He looks fairly good today. The mystery of What Keeps Lucio Alive has been generous to him. She’d accompanied Julian to see him not three weeks ago and she was sure that that would be the day he died, yet here he stands. He hadn’t bothered with flashy clothes today aside from a pair of expensive looking leather gloves, nor had he applied any of his signature eye make-up. Standing before her, she might’ve mistaken him for any regular man if she couldn’t see the metal of his arm glowing beneath his thin shirt. His cheeks are a little fuller than they’d been last time she’d seen him, and his hair has just a bit more bounce. It’s like he was coming back to life. I’ll have to inform Julian, she thinks to herself. Lucio looks from her to the dogs and back again, frowning. “What did you do to my dogs?” 

“Um… Pet… them?” 

Melchior trots over to Lucio and presses his head into his hand, whole body wiggling with love. Lucio looks down at him as he frowns, obviously deep in thought. “Who are you?” he finally asks. 

Mercedes whuffs and puts her head on Morgana’s leg, surprising her. Morgana pets her once more then returns to trying to figure out her hair. “I’m um…” She clears her throat again. “My name is Morgana. I… I work with Dr. Devorak?” 

His brilliantly red eyes seem to pierce through her as he thinks, trying to place her. It takes him a moment, but recognition finally crosses his face. “Yes. Yes, you were with him the other day.” 

“Mm,” she affirms, agitation with her hair growing. Lucio watches her a moment, but then he crosses the clearing to stand behind her and swats her hands away. With a squeak, she looks back at him. “W-What are you doing?” 

“Shut up,” he grumbles. With a surprising amount of gentility and ease, he pulls her hair from its knots and starts weaving it into what feels like a rather lovely braid considering he had no comb. After a long moment, he says, “My clan… A lot of the women wore their hair in these fancy braids and styles. My mother…” His voice hardens for a moment, but he presses on. “She told me that the braids are also useful for things like ropes. So. She taught me.” 

Morgana sits there, looking down at Mercedes with bewilderment. Is this… For real? “I… Well… Thank you, your excellency.” 

There’s a sharp tug that pulls a rather embarrassing gasp from her before he growls, “Don’t tell anyone.” Hiding her blush, she hums in acknowledgement and runs her fingers through Mercedes’s soft fur. There’s another long moment before he speaks again. “They like you. They don’t like anybody but me, but they like you.” 

Mercedes whuffs again as if she were affirming the statement, and Melchior wags his tail once from where he lays, lazily. Smiling, Morgana scratches beneath the dog’s chin. “Most animals do. Always have. Hell, once, I had even had a raccoon named Poe.” 

“A…raccoon?” 

“Mm. Abandoned by its mother. She was a feisty little thing, wouldn’t even let Asra near her.” At the memory, the sadness creeps back. For a moment, she thinks Lucio might ask her something else, but he says nothing. A moment later, her hair is tossed across her shoulder as he walks back around to stand in front of her, and she inspects the braid. It’s intricate, almost strangely so given his lack of tools, with seven pleats all woven in a strange pattern, but it feels sturdy. It will hold, likely even another few days if she wanted it to. Blushing, she settles it back over her shoulder and smiles up at him. “Thank you.” 

“Yeah, whatever,” he grumbles. Is he… blushing? “Look. I, uh…” It’s his turn to clear his throat now. “I’m getting tired. The dogs weren’t supposed to bring me out this far, and I’m not…” His blush darkens and he swallows hard. “Would you…Shit, you’re with the doctors, right? Would you walk back with me?” 

Blinking, Morgana cocks a brow at him. Is he really asking her to escort him back to the palace? “Um… Yeah. Alright.” This day is already so goddamn weird. 

He waits somewhat impatiently, a hand on his cocked hip as she gathers her things. The run in circles around them a few times as they start to head out, and once they step into the maze, they take off running. Morgana chuckles, watching them go. “They’re a lively bunch.” 

“Yeah. Good hunting dogs.” 

She looks over at him, analyzes him. When she’d seen him last, he’d frightened her a little. His words had been harsh, cruel, biting towards Julian, and the quality of his health and how hoarse his voice had come across had only darkened the effect. But looking at him now, she might have forgotten he was sick if not for his eyes and the way he was beginning to sweat with exertion. His eye flicks over to her after a moment, and she squeaks but does not look away. Pulling to a stop, he looks at her properly. “What?” 

“Um. I was just. Thinking how good you looked. Compared to last time.” 

He raises a brow at her and puts on a sly grin that almost looks easy, might have if not for the difficulty he had standing straight. “Oh? Just good? Not… devilishly handsome?” 

She snorts and moves on, shaking her head. “Eh. I’ve seen better.” 

The shrieking gasp that responds to her makes her giggle, but she doesn’t look back. He rushes up to her side and gapes at her. “Better? Better? I will have you know that I am beautiful!” 

“Well, if you have to say it, then it mustn’t be that true, must it?” At his sputtering, she laughs and nudges his arm. “Calm down. What I meant was, you look healthier. Julian hadn’t said you were on the up and up.” 

He glowers at her playfully as if unsure if she’s being sincere. It does not escape her notice that he gives her no explanation for it. She really will have to ask Julian after all. 

About halfway back, his breath has become a little ragged, and his steps have slowed just the slightest. Frowning, Morgana comes to a halt and gently catches his arm. “We should take a rest, yeah?” 

Lucio scoffs and pulls his arm from her. “I’m fine.” 

“Oh? So, if I were to take the secret shortcut to the dungeon and left you here all by yourself, you’d be totally fine then, would you?” She can tell he wants to tell her that yes, he would, but his crimson eyes flick nervously back towards the palace. There is still quite a bit of maze left between them and their destination. Smiling, she gestures down the next turn. “There’s a few benches over there. Come on.” 

Grumbling, he follows, and they sit down together on a rather old stone bench sat underneath a trellis with a blooming vine flower. Her bag plops to the ground below before she turns to him, her hands going to his face, pushing and prodding at the skin. “H-Hey! What the hell are you doing?” he huffs. 

She rolls her eyes as she tilts his face up towards the sun and inspects irises. “I’m checking you out.” 

He sputters but she releases his face and puts a finger to his neck and pauses, feeling for a pulse. ���There are better ways to check me out, you know.” 

“Shut it.” He stills, raises a brow at the command. Nobody talks to him that way. Not even Nadia, and she hates him (though he’d die before admitting it aloud.) It was kind of… Ooh. Obediently, he shuts his mouth and watches her from the corner of his eye. After a moment, she turns back to dig in her pack, mumbling numbers to herself. He takes the opportunity to look her over, to note the myriad of colorful tattoos he can see through her shirt, take in the shape of some of her more lovely…assets. When she turns back to him, he puts on what he hopes is still a sexy, lazy grin as he affects a more enticing pose. When she looks up from writing in her notebook, she blinks owlishly, and he’s delighted to see the faintest of blushes dusting her cheeks. “What uh. Whatcha doin?” she asks. 

It’s been too long since he’s tried to do this, months since he’s even felt well enough to try to do this. Shit. He didn’t think he’d get this far. Shit, he hasn’t answered yet, it’s been too long. With as much mock confidence as he can muster, his hand goes to clasp her shoulder, and he juts his chin up at her once. “Hey.” 

Hey? HEY? He’s careful to keep his face from showing how embarrassed he is by that attempt. For a long moment she just stares at him, eyes scanning over his face, and if he were a lesser man he might be afraid she was finding him wanting or even gross given his illness, but there was no revulsion in her giant violet eyes. Instead, much to his infinite delight, the blush across her cheeks darkens and she averts her gaze from him. If her hair had still been down, she might have hidden behind it. He draws his hand back but keeps his gaze on her, now focused on the tattoos again. Idly, he realizes he wants desperately to see them, and not just because they seem to delve well into her bra and below the hem of her pants. She intrigues him. It’s been… quite a while since someone has intrigued him like this. 

She clears her throat after a moment and jumps to her feet. “Well, shall we? Julian’s probably driving himself crazy wondering where I am.” And it’s true. There’s no way even Dr. Workaholic hasn’t noticed she’s been gone for far too long. 

Lucio raises a brow at that but hauls himself to his feet. “Does he often care where you are?” 

“Well I should hope so. I’m his apprentice, after all.” They start off at a leisurely pace, and it does not escape his notice how she watches him from the corner of her eye as if worried he might collapse. “My break was over hours ago, but I uh…” Sheepishly, she scratches her temple and clears her throat again. She does that a lot, he’s noticed. “I fell asleep working under the tree.” Idly, she hopes that he won’t get mad at her. After all, Julian is his personal doctor, and if his assistant is taking hours’ long naps under trees instead of helping cure him? She can’t see that going well. 

“And you always… take your break there?” 

He sounds… genuinely curious and shy. What? “Y-Yeah, I try to. It’s hard to get away long enough to reach it, but I like it there. It’s so far away from everything.” 

Lucio nods, more to himself than anything. “Yeah… I know what you mean.” 

They finish the walk in easy silence, both of them casting glances at the other. By the time they reach the palace, it’s obvious that Lucio is growing winded, and there is still a long way to go until he reaches his rooms. The dogs sit lazily at the bottom of the steps going up to the veranda, waiting patiently for their master. Lucio looks at the stairs with apprehension, but when he sees Morgana looking at him, it slips away and is replaced with a smile that she supposes tries to look easy. Smiling up at him, she tucked a strand of hair back behind her ear. “As a physician’s assistant, I think I would be remiss in my duties if I didn’t escort you back to your room, Your Highness.” 

He scoffs, but the soft blush against his cheeks tells her he knows what she’s doing. “If you want, I guess, but I don’t see the point.” He starts climbing the stairs, still grumbling about how he’s the magnificent Count Lucio, he doesn’t need help getting to his own room, waste of time this and stupid that. 

Morgana follows, trying to fight a smile. Their pace up to Lucio’s wing is slow and steady, and thankfully avoids prying eyes. They stop at his door, the dogs disappearing into the depths of his room, and Morgana smiles up at him again. “Are you experiencing any symptoms of which I should inform Dr. Devorak?” 

He snorts and sends her a light-hearted glower. “No. I’m fine.” 

“Then I’ll take my leave.” She gives him a playful curtsy and a smirk before spinning on her heel and starting towards the dungeons. Until she turns the corner, she can feel his eyes boring into her back, and the realization makes her grin. 

Xxx

A week comes and goes before she sees him again. Since telling Julian of his marked improvement, Julian had gone to see Lucio twice a day every day, and apparently whatever had given Lucio the strength he had was beginning to fall again. Something about that makes Morgana’s heart ache, though she’s not sure why. Lucio’s a dick, after all. It’s a known fact to all who’ve ever heard of him. But… he’d been so soft with her, aside from tugging her hair. (Which, she can’t say she didn’t… enjoy that.) 

The work is picking up, now. Apprentices are encouraged to sleep in the dungeons with their masters, and frankly Morgana can’t see a reason to trek all the way home any more. Benny is more than capable of going a few days or even weeks at a time without her or Asra looking after him. Fire salamanders are very independent creatures, after all. So, Morgana is one of the few apprentices who accepted the situation. It’s an easy schedule. She still gets the morning shift, Julian the night though he insists on working well into the morning. But it’s difficult, getting any sleep in that place. She knows now why Julian refuses it so much. The sounds that come from the auditorium are frankly terrifying, from the scuttling in the well to the sounds of the dissections and the scraping of instruments. It’s quieter in their tiny room, but it’s still suffocating. Her retreats to the surface help a little. She and Julian went out to a restaurant down in the marketplace and had breakfast the other day, and they were both so relieved to be out in the fresh air and away from the dankness that they barely said a word between the two of them. 

Her break comes today, and she lets out a relieved sigh. Julian is asleep for once, so she’s able to slip away quietly, unnoticed by the other doctors. As she maneuvers the familiar maze, her mind wanders to Asra, wonders how he’s doing and if he misses her. The pain of his departure is beginning to ease, overshadowed by the severity of her work and the strange interaction she had with the Count, and for that she feels almost guilty. The thought makes her steps pause, makes her frown. 

Why should she feel guilty? Asra is the one who left. He made the decision to walk away from her and the life they’d begun to build together, even though she’d already been working closely with Julian and the other doctors in search of a cure for months by that point. No. She would not feel guilty for not mourning him longer. 

A cool breeze shifts through the hedges and wraps around her body. It’s then that she realizes she’s crying. Scoffing, she clenches her fists and trudges on, trying to get herself under control. As she rounds the corner to the apple tree clearing, she’s greeted with something heavy tackling her to the ground. Squealing, she goes down hard, hitting her elbow, but the heavy thing is joined by a second, and within moments she realizes there are two sloppy tongues licking at her, and her confusion turns into a fit of giggles. 

“Mercedes, Melchior! Bad dogs! Get off her!” 

Melchior obeys, returning to his master’s side, but Mercedes is less willing to go. Morgana, giggling now uncontrollably, pushes up on the dog. “H-Hey! Come on now.” Mercedes gives her entire face one long that made her groan between her laughter before letting her up. Wiping at her face, Morgana doesn’t notice Lucio walking over until his gloved hand is reaching out for her. Blushing, she smiles and takes it, uses it to steady herself as she hauls herself to her feet. She tucks her hair behind her ear and giggles again. “T-Thank you.” Clearing her throat, she wipes her face again. “I’m um… I’m sorry to have disturbed you.” As she looks up at him, she freezes for a moment, shock setting in. He’d deteriorated so much this past week. Where before he’d looked almost healthy, he now looked mere days from death. His skin had gone gaunt, his hair had lost its sheen and hung limply from his head, and his eyes were a brilliant red, rimmed with incredibly dark bags. She was quick to hide her surprise, though, and he didn’t seem to notice. But his deterioration concerns her. What had happened? 

He quirks a brow at her, and for an instant, she thinks that perhaps he had noticed her reaction to him. “Disturb me?” 

Phew. Thank goodness. “Well. You’re obviously not here to see me, so I’m intruding on your peace. I’ll take my leave now, sir.” 

“Wait.” She pauses, eyes widening slightly. He’s blushing just a bit and looks away from her. “I um. You don’t have to go.” 

Raising a brow at him, she can’t help but smile slightly. “Oh?” 

“I mean I don’t care what you do. I don’t have time to worry about mere peasants such as yourself.” 

Chuckling at his terrible bluster, she just nods and scoots around him to sit upon a bench near the tree. “Well then.” Her pack crinkles as she digs in it, and Mercedes comes to sit at her feet, looking at her expectantly. Narrowing her eyes at the dog, Morgana shakes her head. “Not for puppies.” 

“What’s not for puppies?” 

It’s still fragrant despite having been in a bag for an entire day, and as she pulls the loaf of bread out, she can’t help but smile. “Pumpkin bread. From the baker near my shop.” 

The way he inches closer, she can almost imagine his nose twitching like a dog’s, drawing him to sit beside her. Passing him a piece, she smiles brightly at him. “The best in the city.” 

Eyeing her warily, he accepts it and brings it to his nose to sniff. “You know it’s in poor form to poison a dying man, right?” 

“Pfft. I’m a magician, sir, not a murderer. Here.” She takes a bite and looks pointedly at him as she chews. “Nothing here but some amazing spices.” 

That seems to appease him because he takes a cautious bite. His eyes widen ever so slightly before he takes another bite, this one larger. “This is… Oh,” he moans. 

Morgana blushes and giggles, tipping her head. “I’ll tell the baker you approve.” 

They eat together in silence for a while, watching the dogs play. Some fifteen minutes or so after they finished, she can feel Lucio’s eyes on her. “Your hair is different,” he comments. 

Blushing, she reaches up to touch it. How did he notice? “Y-yeah. I, um. I tried to replicate the braid you put in? It, um, it didn’t come out right. But I had to start my shift so I just… gave up.” 

Lucio tsks and wipes his gloved hands on his pants. “It’s not hard,” he mumbles. Without asking, he turns her shoulders to face away from him and quickly undoes the haphazard braid she’d been sporting all morning. “First you start here…” His fingers gather the hair starting at the top and pulls it back, making her shiver. “You split it like this… And then you do the first braid… And then…” 

Mumbling his way through the steps, Lucio’s hands brush easily through her hair, pulling it gently and expertly into a pattern that she is beginning to pick up on. But as he works, her heart races in her chest, and she hopes he can’t hear it. I… Why do I feel like this? she asks herself. They’d only spoken once before, after all. And though he seems a nice enough man, at least to her, he’s done horrible things. And then there’s Asra to consider. What were they now that he’d left? Still lovers? Just friends? Less than that? So lost in thought does Morgana get that she barely notices when her hair is draped gently across her shoulder, the braid completed. But oh, she does enjoy being so near him, even sick as he is. 

“Hey. You with me?” 

Squeaking, she snaps out of her thoughts and nods hastily. “Y-Yes, I’m sorry.” Her hands go to to touch her hair, and a brilliant blush explodes across her cheeks when she realizes there are a handful of flowers weaved in with her tresses. “I… Thank you,” she breathes. 

He mumbles something indignantly that she assumes is an acceptance of her gratitude. Turning back to him, she looks him up and down, takes in the way he’s trying so hard to stay sitting upright even though it’s obvious he’s exhausted. “My lord?” she whispers. 

“Lucio.” 

“I… er, yes, alright. Lucio. Why are you being so kind to me?” 

His bloodshot eyes rake over her, looking her up and down before settling upon her own eyes. “I…” He looks as if he wants to say something honest, maybe even personal, but his words get caught in his throat and transform into a coughing fit that he thankfully turns away from her for. 

Jumping to her feet, she rushes behind him and gently pats his back, her hand moving to feel his forehead. “You’re burning up!” she shrieks. 

“I’m… fine,” he coughs out, and she scoffs. 

“Fine my fat ass. Come on, let’s get you somewhere warm.” 

The wind has chilled a bit since they sat down together, and as she looks towards the sky, she’s dismayed to see the clouds have grown heavy with impending rain. They rush as fast as they can manage, but Lucio’s steps are clumsy and weak, slowing their pace considerably. 

The rain hits hard and fast, rolling in towards them like a tidal wave. Morgana rips her jacket off and throws it over Lucio’s head to keep him dry, and tries to push him faster along. If he gets too wet in this cold weather, whatever was keeping him as healthy as he is would surely diminish and that would be that. Count Lucio, dead because of Morgana the Apprentice’s inability to keep him dry. 

Making it to the palace is impossible. Instead, Morgana pulls him a different way, her teeth beginning to chatter from the cold of the rain. “Come, there’s a shed this way,” she tells him. Not that he’s fighting her at all. They weave through a few more halls in the maze before they find it, an old gardener’s shed, grown over with vines. Thankfully, it’s unlocked, and Morgana shoos Lucio in first. The dogs have disappeared, probably gone to their own hidey holes to wait out the storm, which is probably best. The shed is quite small, and the smell of wet dog would’ve overwhelmed them most likely. 

“Well. This is… cozy,” she mutters lamely. 

Lucio snorts, taking her jacket from his head and passing it back to her. “How’d you know this was here?” 

She works on ringing out her hair, wincing at the fact that the braid is starting to get messed up already and most of the flowers had fallen out during their not-so-mad dash. “Um. I used to get really lost in the maze, so I sort of committed the entire thing to memory. It took me a while, but there you go.” 

“I see.” He finds a crate to sit on and watches as she works at her hair. “Why do you keep it like that?” he asks after a while. 

“Hm?” 

“Your hair. Why keep it long if you never wear it down.” 

She raises a brow at that and snorts. “I wasn’t aware long hair had to be down to warrant being long.” 

“Well, no, but it just seems to trouble you more than anything.” 

He has a point, she has to admit. Her hair is her pride and joy, but what’s the point in keeping it like this with how careful she has to be at work? The idea of cutting it is… intriguing if premature. “I’m not ready to give up on it yet, I guess.” 

He hums in acknowledgement, still watching her movements. Once her hair is less drippy, she moves on to her shirt and sighs at the state of it. Glancing at him, she hides a blush. “I… Um. W-Would it bother you if… If I took my shirt off?” 

The grin he gives her is positively wicked, and it ignites a small fire in her belly that also confuses her. “Oh, Morgana. I thought you’d never ask.” He slips from the crate and tries to saunter over to her but his steps are a little too heavy to call it that. Squeaking, she starts backing up until he has her pinned against the door, towering over her. He lifts his finger to press under her chin, tilting her face up to better look at him, and she swallows hard. “I could… Help you with that,” he purrs. 

Oh. Oh. Oh my. The thought is… oh my. A surprisingly large part of her wants to say yes despite everything, despite Asra and the plague and this tiny unromantic shed, wants to ask him for his ‘help’ but a harsh wind rocks the shed and seeps through the wood, setting her teeth to chattering. Lucio frowns, eyes raking over her body but without that hint of lust he bore a moment ago. “You really are soaking,” he mumbles. Moving surprisingly quickly, he clears the clutter in the room to make an empty spot on the floor, and once he finds a small shovel, he digs a pot-sized hole. “You’re a magician, right?” he asks. 

“I… Yes?” 

Nodding, he pulls at an old pile of what looks like spare bits of wood, planks and bits for bird houses, and dumps it all into the pit. “Can you start a fire?” 

Blinking, Morgana nods and goes to kneel beside him. The flame catches easily, and within moments, the shed is filled with warmth. Morgana sighs in relief and inches close, but Lucio is puttering around again. “Aha!” he cheers, and then he comes to shoo Morgana away just long enough to set down an old tarp. “Here, sit on this.” 

“Oh, how gallant,” she teases. 

“Ha ha. You’ll never get warm sitting on the cold ground. You need something between you and the dirt.” 

“Is that another one of your clan skills?” 

He settles down beside her, a pile of wood dropped between them. “Yes.” The word echoes hollow in the room, draws her interest, but she doesn’t press. It’s obvious Lucio doesn’t like talking about that part of his life. It becomes evident very quickly that the meager fire isn’t going to do enough to get Morgana dry or warm, so with a sigh, she pulls off her sopping shirt and grumbles. 

“Why hello there,” Lucio coos. 

Morgana blushes but tilts her head up in a laugh and playfully swats at him. “Calm down there, chief. You’ll give yourself a stroke.” Lucio chuckles and looks back towards the fire, but Morgana can see his eyes are beginning to droop a little. “Hey, are you feeling alright?” Scooting a little closer, she puts her hand back to his forehead and frowns. “You’re still burning up.” 

“Pfft, it’s nothing. The great Count Lucio won’t be felled by some stupid little cold.” But the tone in his voice suggests that even he is beginning to lose hope for his cure. 

Shaking her head, Morgana gives him an encouraging smile. “You certainly do seem the stubborn type, sir. Here,” she scoots around and clears a little more space for him then pats her thigh. “You should rest, get some strength back. This rain doesn’t look like it’s going anywhere for a while.” 

He eyes her for a minute before a sly (if strained) grin stretches across his face. “How generous.” His head is in her lap in an instant, looking up at her, his hands resting across his chest. She blushes and stiffens a little, but quickly relaxes. “How’s a pretty girl like you get messed up in all this plague shit anyway?” 

“Pfft.” Count Lucio? The genocidal maniac who usurped the throne of Vesuvia and has let the city go to ruin in favor of throwing magnificent parties? The most unmitigated dumbass in all the land? Hitting on her? Julian would love this. She flexes her magic towards the fire again, trying to get it to burn a little hotter, but she’s so tired herself that her magic is hesitant to respond. “A friend got sick,” she whispers. 

Whatever joviality Lucio had at his current situation is wiped from his face, replaced with a heaviness that almost looks like… guilt? “Someone close?” 

“No, not really. Just a neighboring store owner. She was supposed to come to tea but never showed, so I went to check on her.” With a heavy sigh, she pinches the bridge of her nose and starts fiddling with her hair again. “Let’s just say she didn’t go quickly. And I sat by her the whole time, trying potion after potion, but I didn’t know much about medicine by then. So, when she was gone, I went looking for Julian and asked him to start training me, and things were getting so bad he agreed in a heartbeat.” Smiling sadly, she begins to undo the ruined braid. “So. Here I am. Trying to help.” 

He’s quiet for a long moment, contemplative almost. “And, do you think you are?” 

The question throws her off, draws her gaze back down to him and makes her brows knit together. “I…” Am I? I… “…No. I… I don’t think I really am. At least, not beyond offering a hand to hold.” 

Lucio’s eyes search hers for a minute before he pulls the glove off his metal hand. Slowly, he reaches up and runs his glimmering fingers through her hair, watches the movement before he holds the hand out to her. “Well, I’ve got a hand that’s… pretty lonely these days.” 

She giggles softly and gently takes his hand in hers and puts her other upon his hair. “Then I’d be glad to hold it for you, sir.” 

They look at each other for a long moment before Lucio abruptly turns so that his face is turned in towards her stomach. His other hand moves to touch her side, tracing her tattoos slowly and deliberately, making her shiver. She half expects him to ask about them and their meaning, but he stays surprisingly quiet, just following the art piece by piece until his eyes finally droop shut. 

Lucio is surprisingly warm, for as thin as he is. His proximity does much to help warm her, especially once he presses into her, his face nuzzling into her stomach. She’s almost comfortable, now, his contact with her allowing her magic to flow a little better which lets the fire burn warmer. It doesn’t take long for Lucio’s breath to even out with sleep, and Morgana is quick to follow. 

Some few hours later, Lucio is the first to stir from a tremor running through him. Grumbling, his arm snakes around Morgana’s waist, and the coldness of the metal makes her squeal awake. “H-Hey!” 

Lucio grumbles again, curling in on himself. “Cold,” he grunts into her stomach. 

Blinking, she straightens up and frowns when she sees the fire has died down. She tosses a few pieces of wood back on and waves her hand across the embers, breathing life back into them. He shivers again, but his face against her bare stomach is burning. She smooths his hair back and checks his pulse, frowning. “We’ve gotta get you back to the palace, my lord. You need proper rest and medical attention.” 

“But I’m so comfy,” he whines. 

Morgana chuckles softly but shakes her head. “Nope. Come on. The rain has stopped. It’s to the palace with both of us. I am meant to be helping work on your cure, after all.” 

“Are you sure you’re not my cure?” 

Blushing, she giggles and pats his head gently. “I don’t think so, my lord. Come on.” Against his protestations, she slips out from under him and pulls her now-dry shirt on. It takes some doing to get him off the ground, and his steps are heavy, clumsy. As they set out into the grounds, it quickly becomes apparent that Lucio is not going to make this short journey on his own, so Morgana takes his arm around her shoulders and her arm about his waist, helping support his weight. It’s slow going, and Lucio nearly passes out more than once, but finally they manage to get him inside. As they make their way to his wing, they pass a chamberlain, and Morgana catches his arm. “Send for Dr. Devorak, tell him Morgana says to hurry to the Count’s rooms.” With a squeak, the chamberlain scurries off to do as he was bid, and Morgana puts her focus back on Lucio. 

By the time they reach his rooms, most of his weight is upon her, and his feet barely lift off the ground anymore. He collapses in a heap when she sets him on the bed, his breath shallow, eyes unable to stay open. “Oh, no you don’t,” she growls. Moving quickly about the room, she grabs a cloth and wets it in the water basin and tosses a new log on the dying fire. 

He hisses as she puts the cloth against his forehead. “Cold…” 

“Don’t worry, milord. Julian is coming. We’ll get you sorted.” The way her voice wavers makes it sound as though she’s trying to convince herself as much as him, and frankly she isn’t totally sure that’s not what she’s trying to do. She moves to take his boots off and gets him situated properly on the bed. “I think perhaps next time, we should endeavor to meet somewhere inside the palace, hm?” 

It takes him great strain to do it, but Lucio manages to effect a pout and twitches his fingers against her hand. “But I look… so dashing among the flowers.” 

“Quite so, milord, quite so,” she chuckles. Taking her hand in his, she tries to send calming magic up his arm and is pleasantly surprised to find that the enchantments around the metal only help to conduct her energy. He sighs in contentment, his face relaxing slightly. “Well, perhaps at least somewhere closer to the palace, ey?” 

“I can handle it…” 

She reaches up and readjusts the cloth upon his forehead. A bit of hair has fallen, so she strokes it back ever so softly. “Of course you can, sir.” 

“What happened?” 

Morgana jumps as the door bursts open and turns to look at Julian. He freezes, eyes trailing along her arms to where she’s still touching his hair and holding his hand. Blushing furiously, she looks back down at Lucio and clears her throat. “We got caught in the rain, ducked in to stay dry but his condition deteriorated. He’s got a fever, erratic heartbeat, dizziness, and lethargy.” 

Julian makes a humming noise and crosses over to the other side of the bed, settling on it with his own pack. When he speaks, his voice is hard enough to send a cold chill down her spine. “Very well. I can take it from here.” 

“But I–” 

“I said I’ve got it, Morgana. You’ve done enough. Go home.” 

She flinches at the tone and looks away, swallowing back tears. “Of course, sir.” Patting Lucio’s hand once, she slides from the bed and leaves the room. She makes it about two halls away before she has to duck between two suits of armor to break down, tears streaming freely along her cheeks. 

It takes several minutes of firm affirmations that Julian didn’t mean to be as cross as he was, he’s just worried about his patient, all that nonsense before she can wipe her face clean and start off for the dungeons. But there remains a voice niggling in the back of her mind, telling her that that wasn’t the only reason for his anger. She wasn’t even entirely sure if it was because he might be thinking it’s her fault Lucio is so sick. Is he mad that I was with Lucio? she wonders. 

Tired from the long day and still a little cold from the rain and now Julian’s agitation towards her, she can’t bring herself to head back down to the dungeons. Instead, she sets off for home, the thought of a nice hot cup of tea urging her feet to move. 

Xxx

There’s a letter waiting for her upon her doorstep, somehow dry despite the rain. With a heavy sigh, she braces herself for what’s inside as she picks it up, the familiar scrawl telling her it’s from Asra. As if it would’ve been anyone else. 

The shop is thankfully untouched as she had hoped, no signs of any unwanted intruders or anything. She heads upstairs, peeling off her shirt as she goes. “Oh, Benny Boy!~” she calls. 

Her only answer is a puff of smoke coming from the fireplace as the salamander sneezes. Chuckling, she goes over to check on him, the letter forgotten on the table. “Oh, Benny. Did I forget to clean your ashes last time I was here?” Scooping the grumpy creature out of its home, she settles him upon her shoulder and scratches his nose. “I’m sorry, sweetie. Here, come sit over here.” She sets him on the table and gives him a piece of charcoal to nibble on and giggles when he krkrs at her. 

The stove is cleaned quick enough, but Benny seems content to sit out with her. Eyeing the letter, she moves over to the armoire and pulls out one of her dresses, the stench of the dungeons still clinging to her clothes. Benny watches her change and chirps happily when she finally comes to sit beside him again. He chirps and happily scoots into her lap as she picks up the letter and frowns at it. “D’you think this one is gonna hurt, too, Benny?” 

The salamander hums softly and bleps at her, making her giggle. That little bit of cuteness is enough that she can steel herself against her fear and open the blasted letter. Her eyes scan over his words, and a pang of… sadness? Guilt? Something, anyways, floods through her. He’s still thinking about her, then, wherever he’s gone. And here she’s just spent the day cuddling the fucking Count of Vesuvia, as if she and Asra never had anything in the first place. 

Scowling and biting back tears, she sets the letter aside and scoops the salamander back up. “I’m sorry, Benny, but momma needs some tea.” 

The salamander chirps and scurries into the stove, igniting it quickly for her. The rest of the night passes in quiet contemplation before she falls asleep tucked up in the chair beneath the window. 

The bed smells too much of Asra. 

Xxx

The next day starts early, for her, though not of her own volition. She’s awoken by a cart clammering outside, loud enough that it startles Benny, if the flash of fire in the stove is any indication. She’s sore from having slept in the chair, but she can’t bring herself to regret it. Eyeing the bed warily, she starts to dress and sighs heavily. “Benny?” She can hear his soft kr in response. “Do you wanna go to work for me?” The stove is annoyingly silent in response, and it makes her sigh. “Well what good are you?” Grumbling, she runs a brush through her hair, drops some snacks into the stove for him, and sets off for work. 

The dungeons are a flurry of movement and anxiety by the time she arrives, and she’s already over all of it. The tight confines of Julian’s room offer little to soothe her agitation, but when he looks up at her, the frustration he had towards her the previous day is gone from his face. “Hey,” he says. 

She rubs her face and nods back at him. “Morning. Get to bed.” 

He snorts and turns back towards his work, waving her off. “I’m fine for a while.” 

She isn’t in the mood to argue today, so she just slips into her chair and picks up her own work. “How’s he doing?” 

Julian doesn’t have to ask. “A little better. Got his fever down. But I’ve ordered him confined to quarters for the time being.” 

No more garden walks for us, then, she thinks dismally. Her work does well to distract her from her unsettling disappointment, and before she knows it, it’s nearing noon. Grumbling, she swats Julian’s arm and points towards the bed. “Bed.” 

Groaning, he dramatically picks himself up and sighs. “Yes, Mom.” 

As Julian sinks into the bed, Morgana stands and stretches with a sigh. “I’m going on break. You’d better actually be asleep when I get back, or so help me…” 

He waves her off with a roll of his eyes. “Yes, sir.” 

Snorting, she slips through the door and shuts it firmly behind her. A quick glance about the operating room is enough to make her skin crawl, fresh cadavers lying upon tables, doctors talking in their detached way about what to do with them. If Valdemar had been there, it might’ve been enough to make her retreat back into the room, but as it was, she tilted her chin up and pressed forward, out towards freedom. 

She doesn’t make it far before she’s caught by a chamberlain who scurries up to her with a breathless, “Apprentice!” 

Great, she thinks. “Yes?” 

“Milady, your presence is requested in milord Count Lucio’s chambers.” 

Frowning, she glances towards the door, towards the warm sunlight streaming in. “If his excellency is ill, you should send for Dr. Devorak. I’m really not able to–” 

“You were requested by name, milady.” 

Sighing, she nods. “Very well. I know the way.” Scooting around the poor man, she sets off on the long trek to Lucio’s wing, all thoughts of sitting under the sun forgotten. 

Mercedes and Melchior are sat at the bottom of the stairs, as if waiting for her. Mercedes perks up when she rounds the corner and bounds over to greet her, tail wagging so hard her body shakes. Chuckling, Morgana scratches behind her ears and grins. “Hello, pretty lady.” Melchior whuffs and starts up the stairs as if saying he’s over the cute display of affection, and Morgana sighs. “Well. Shall we?” 

The door is shut when Morgana reaches it. Frowning, she gently knocks three times and waits for an answer. When she gets none, she knocks once more, harder. “My lord?” Still without an answer, she opens the door just enough to poke her head in. “My lord Lucio?” 

“Come,” is his reply. He sounds awful, his voice hoarse and scratchy. As she steps inside, she can see why. He looks like shit, from his mussed hair to his baggy eyes to his rumpled clothes. He looks so small, settled against his massive collection of pillows, and for a moment, Morgana’s heart aches. “You’re late,” he huffs. 

Her brow raises at him and sets her hands upon her hips. “My lord, if you’re in need of medical attention, I’m really not the one who–” 

“Just.” He sighs in irritation and gestures her come closer, which she obliges. He looks almost… embarrassed, averts his eyes from her as if he doesn’t want her to see him blush (if he had the strength to blush.) “I just. Wanted to tell you not to look for me in the garden anymore.” 

Frowning, she tilts her head at him. Was I ever looking for him in the garden? “Yes, I heard of your… internment.” 

He grunts, casts a glare towards the giant portrait across from the bed. Affecting a voice she supposes is meant to be an imitation of Julian, he scoffs, “‘You should be more careful, Lucio. You can’t keep pushing yourself like this, Lucio.’” Snorting, he picks at a thread on his comforter. “So. Yeah. I’m afraid your days will no longer be brightened by the brilliance that is me.” He tries to put on a dashing grin at the end of that, but it looks far too strained to have any positive effect on her. 

She looks him up and down, considering the weight of his words. Does he… Had he been looking for her yesterday? Waiting for her, even? What… What did he think was going on between them? 

What does she think is going on between them? What could happen between them? A dying Count and a questionably-spoken-for magician? 

“I understand, milord. If there’s nothing else?” 

He looks at her, an expressionless mask slipping across his face. When he speaks, his voice is hard and distant, “No. There’s nothing else.” 

It throws her off a bit, enough that when she turns to leave, she hesitates. Her eyes drift up to the magnificent painting he had looked towards earlier. It’s a portrait of him, standing tall and looking very regal upon a battlefield, and it is in every sense of the word ‘beautiful.’ Looking from the painting to Lucio now, one might struggle to see the similarities, might not even realize it’s the same man. And the thought of leaving him here, alone in this room day in and day out with naught for company but this reminder of the man he used to be… Shaking her head, Morgana turns back around and plops down on the bed beside him. He lets out a surprised grunt and looks over at her, bewildered, but she settles in with a grin. “Well, this is certainly more comfortable than a shed floor.” 

He regards her for a moment as if unsure he heard her right. Then, with a tired grin, he nods and leans back, ever the picture of (very ill) contentment. “You can say that again.” 

The next few days pass much the same way:  Morgana rises, tries to send Julian to bed, they work till noon, and she sets off to spend her break sitting beside the Count, talking of everything and nothing. It does not take her long to consider him a friend, and it takes even less time after that for her to begin to consider him… something else. 

Asra left her. This is a fact she has come to accept, and a fact she uses to compensate for her guilt. He left her. He made the decision to give up on what they had, to abandon the city which could have used his help, and walk away. 

She owes him nothing, anymore. 

Xxx

“You would not believe what I just saw one of the other doctors do.” Pushing her way into Lucio’s room, she doesn’t bother pausing to wait for his permission to enter. She crosses over to the wash basin and scrubs her hands, grumbling. 

“Wouldn’t I?” 

She squeals at the proximity of his voice, and again when she feels the cold metal of his arm snake about her waist. Blushing furiously, she casts a glance back at him, at his face so close to hers. “I…” Clearing her throat, she looks back down at the water, struggling to get her heartbeat back under control. “Hi.” 

He chuckles and brushes a strand of her hair back from her face, looking at her with something akin to affection. “Hi.” 

She tries so damned hard not to shiver at his touch, but it’s for nothing. She can practically feel the smugness drifting off him when he notices. “You seem to be in… better spirits today.” Gods, is it getting warm in here? 

“Mm. What can I say? It would appear you were my cure after all.” 

Snorting, she slips out of his arm and goes to sit at the foot of his bed, her hands going to her hair. “You use that line on every pretty girl who comes in here?” 

“As of late?” He taps his finger to his chin in mock contemplation. “Nah, just you. Now, Valerius–” 

She scoffs and chucks a pillow at him. “You’d dare compare me to Valerius?” 

Laughing, he snatches the pillow and moves to sit across from her. “Oh, heavens no. He’s much prettier. He can braid his own hair.” 

She squeals and casts a vehement glare at him. “Well if that’s the way you’re going to be, I’ll just go outside.” 

“Oof, ouch, babe.” 

She giggles and does her best to pull her hair back again. “Though, now you mention it?” 

He rolls his eyes and scoots to sit behind her, his hands moving to her hair. She practically purrs at the feel of his fingers against her scalp, and she melts into his touch. “I should start charging you.” 

“You don’t pay me enough to afford you.” 

“I didn’t realize I paid you at all.” 

She giggles and shakes her head, looking down towards her hands. “You don’t.” 

“Well. We could work out… some other form of payment.” 

Gods, she can almost hear his eyebrows waggle. Giggling, she shakes her head again. “In your dreams.” 

He sputters dramatically but finishes the braid. This time, instead of casting it over her shoulder as was his custom, he tugs firmly, tilting her head to look back at him. The look on his face is enough to make her blush again, but he won’t release her hair, not that she wants him to. Feather-softly, he reaches up and caresses her cheek with the tip of a finger, his eyes following the movement distinctly. His finger moves to ghost over her lips, but she grins deviously and catches it between her teeth, biting down hard enough to make him squeak. “Owie.” 

Morgana stops, stares at him for a long moment before a shriek of laughter bursts from her chest. “Owie?” 

He’s blushing now, looking away, and he releases her hair. “Shut up,” he pouts. 

She turns towards him, biting her lip to keep the grin from breaking her face. “And… what if I don’t? Will you give me an… owie?” 

Chuckling, he pulls the pillow back and lightly smacks her with it. “I might.” 

She regards him a moment, judging his strength today. He seems almost back to full health, a good day indeed. Yeah. He can take it. 

He raises a brow at her contemplative look. “What’re you–ACK!” He lets out a squeal as she tackles him back to the bed, another squeal as a different pillow smacks him lightly across the face. “H-Hey!” 

She’s laughing, a deep, full-bellied laugh that feels ages since she’s allowed and that makes his heart soar. She rolls off him, holding her stomach as she struggles to get it back under control. Lucio watches with a fond smile, chuckling himself. 

Morgana looks over at him, swallowing her laughter back down, but she can’t help but giggle at the expression on his face. “What?” 

“You’re just… So beautiful.” 

The laughter stops in her throat, replaced by a sudden seriousness that permeates the air with a heavy miasma. “What did you say?” 

Blushing furiously, he looks away from her and scratches the back of his neck. “Um. That you’re beau–” 

Giggling, she presses into him, her hand going to grip the front of his shirt and pull him down into her, and she catches his lips in a warm kiss. Lucio freezes, eyes going wide against it before pulling back. “What… “ 

Morgana looks up at him, blushing furiously before realization dawns across her face. 

She just kissed Lucio. The Count of Vesuvia. 

The plague-stricken Count of Vesuvia. 

“Well… Shit.” 

They stare at each other for a long moment before Lucio tears up. “Morgana, I’m…” 

She shakes her head and cups his cheek. “It’s done, now, innit? So, it doesn’t matter if I…” He’s tense as she pulls him back in for another kiss, her body pressing into his. After a moment, he gives in, his hand going to cup her cheek, and her name is whispered against her lips. 

Xxx

The sunlight streams in head-on, blinding and warm. Morgana groans, pinching the bridge of her nose before sitting up. The color of the room tells her that it’s dusk, now, the setting sun giving her one last chance to rise before nightfall, and she does begrudgingly. It isn’t until she notes the portrait across the way that she remembers where she is, and a deep blush crosses her cheeks. 

She fucked Lucio. Count of Vesuvia. 

The plague-stricken Count of Vesuvia. 

Grinning to herself, she touches her lips and looks back towards his still sleeping form. “Well, shit.” 

She gathers her clothes and dresses lazily. There’s no point rushing, now. She’s more than late to going back to her shift, so why hurry? He’s still asleep when she leaves, so she slips quietly through the door and casts him one final, warm glance before she sets off for the dungeons again. 

Julian frowns at her when she comes back through the door, runs a hand through his hair. “Where have you been?” 

She grins dreamily but says nothing of the past…however long as she settles back into her chair. “Oh. You know. Around.” 

He shakes his head at her and sighs, going back to his work. “You might as well go to bed. Or home. Your shift is nearly over.” 

She shakes her head and pulls her work into her lap. “No, I’ll be fine for a few more hours. It’s only fair.” 

Grunting, he takes a sip of his coffee and gives her a sideways glance. After a moment, he mumbles, “You look different.” 

“It was a really good break.” 

Xxx

She goes home a few days later to check on Benny, a lightness in her step despite her impending doom. Lucio refused to speak of it, and for that she was grateful. They both knew what would happen, now. She would get sick. She would die. So, they chose to spend their last bit of time together being… together. Even this trip home would only be for a few minutes, just to clean the stove for Benny and check the mail, and then she’d head back to the palace, back to him. 

The letter is waiting on her doorstep. It’s enough to make her steps falter, enough to take the smile from her face and replace her lightness with crippling guilt. 

Asra. 

She hadn’t been thinking of him when she kissed Lucio. She hadn’t been thinking of anything except being in that moment. And now she was going to die. And Asra would be alone. 

The letter contains a pouch of tea leaves, a common gift from Asra’s journeys. As she brews it with a happy salamander providing her heat, she can’t help but wonder how Asra will react. She can’t imagine he’ll take it well. The letter itself is… troubling. He wants to talk when all this is over. 

She smiles sadly as she looks down at the writing, can imagine him hunched over a rock, Faust hanging about his shoulders. He has no idea. He’ll likely have no idea. 

Perhaps it’s better this way. If he knew, he’d come back, and he’d likely get sick, too. 

Yes. It’s better this way. 

She tucks the letter away with the others sent to her from his travels, sets the dried flower upon the table and casts a wistful glance around the apartment. 

Yes. It’s better this way. 

Xxx

When it happens, she’s surprisingly at peace with it. She doesn’t know if someone has sent for Lucio, doesn’t even know if anyone suspects they have a relationship. In her final moments, as Julian lay huddled over her, weeping like a babe, she can only picture Asra’s smiling face, can only think of the pain he’ll feel when he learns of her demise. 

She asks Julian to tell him she’s sorry. 

Xxx

Several days pass without word from Morgana, and Lucio is getting antsy. He’s still confined to quarters despite his uptick in health, and getting servants to come to him is increasingly difficult. It isn’t until Julian comes to check on him that he’s able to ask. 

“Where’s Morgana?” 

And the look on Julian’s face, the flash of pain and shadow that covers his eyes, it’s enough. Lucio sinks onto the bed, feeling very much as if his heart were ripped in two. He swallows hard and bites back tears, not wanting Julian to see him weep, and turns his attention to the portrait on the wall. 

Julian doesn’t know what went down between them, but the way he pauses at the door and mumbles a quiet, “I’m sorry,” it’s enough to break the dam. 

Xxx

Three years. 

Three goddamn years, trapped between the worlds, not a scrap of personal interaction from anybody. 

He’d tried again today. Tried to appear physically enough for a servant to notice him, but she’d passed through him like they always did. 

He stalks through the gardens, fist clenching and unclenching in his frustration. Though he’s not paying attention, his feet carry him towards the swing in the garden, long forgotten by anyone but him. The apple tree no longer bears fruit, and the hedges have long since become overgrown and out of control, but it’s still his favorite place to go. 

It reminds him of her. 

He sighs and rubs his palm against his forehead, growling in frustration. No. He doesn’t like to think of her, even now after all these years. She resides in a quiet place in his mind, far from his own prying eyes, safe from everything but his dreams. No. He’ll not think of her now. 

He rounds the corner and sighs heavily, resigned to sit upon the stone bench that’s overshadowed by ivy. He’ll sit here quietly for a while, maybe try to think of a new plan, though at this point how many more possible plans can there be? It isn’t until the breeze carries a scent to him that he stills, his eyes widening. “…No.” 

He swallows hard and shakes his head, afraid to turn around. No. It can’t be. She’s dead. She’s been dead for three years. She’s long since been burned and buried and she’s never fucking coming back. 

And then there’s a giggle. 

Lucio spins abruptly on his heel, her name caught in his throat, and all breath is stricken from his body. 

She’s kneeling at the base of the tree, watching a fuzzy caterpillar crawl its way along a leaf, a smile caught on her face. She’s dressed differently, not wearing a shirt and pants as he’d known her before but rather wearing a soft blue-green dress, and her hair is down. But it’s her. It’s… 

“Morgana?” 

Is she…? Did she turn? Did she feel him there? 

No. She doesn’t see him. He’s as lost to her as he is to everyone else, and his heart sinks ever the slightest. But she’s here. She’s alive. Somehow. How? 

“Morgana! There you are!” 

He turns to watch the short red-haired woman come bustling through the brush, almost breathless. Morgana rises and greets her with a grin, the same grin she used to greet him with. “Sorry, Portia. I got a little lost and then… Caterpillar.” She points at the fuzzy creature for emphasis. 

Portia chuckles and waves her hand. “It’s alright. I know the gardens pretty well. Milady wants a word, if you don’t mind?” 

“Of course not.” She hikes her skirts up a little ways and scoots over the thick grass. She passes close enough Lucio can feel the memory of her skin against his, as if she were almost touching him, and it makes his heart ache. He follows close by, not wanting to let her out of his sight again. Some several minutes later, when the palace comes into view, she lets out an appreciative breath. “It’s just so pretty.” 

“Have you ever been here before yesterday?” Portia asks. 

Well. Yes. Of course she has. She used to be an apprentice, after all. 

“No, never.” 

He pauses in his steps, and if he could frown, he would. What? 

Portia smiles brightly and puts her hand on her hip, coming to a stop to take in the view of the palace spires. “It doesn’t get old, really. Though, I’m told it’s a much nicer sight without the Count hanging around.” 

…Hey now. He pouts, puts his own hand on his hip. Uncalled for. 

Morgana tilts her head towards Portia, and the next words make Lucio’s heart chill over. “What was he like?” 

…What kind of messed up shit is this? He comes to stand in front of her, looking down at her, but he can see no underhandedness in her expression. Only genuine curiosity. “Morgana, what gives?” 

Portia shrugs. “I dunno. I’m fairly new here. I’m told he was awful, though. Let the city go to ruin while he threw parties all the time.” 

Morgana frowns softly and looks towards the palace again, uncertainly. “Then maybe this… Dr. Devorak? That’s his name, right?” 

“Mm.” 

“Maybe he did Vesuvia a favor.” 

She doesn’t… She doesn’t remember me. She… She doesn’t know who I am. “Morgana…” 

Portia shrugs and sets off again, practically skipping. “I can’t say either way, but I know a lot of the staff aren’t too hurt he’s gone.” 

Morgana hums thoughtfully and brushes her hair over her shoulder. Lucio reaches out as if to touch it, to run his fingers through it as he had so many times before. 

But she doesn’t feel him there. 

[101flavoursofweird]

Flora + “We were never meant to fight on our own.”

((I’m sorry this took FOREVER, but here you go! A missing scene featuring Flora from the ‘silencing of Big Ben’s bell’ case we see during the prologue from Eternal Diva. I’m afraid I couldn’t find a place for the quote prompt in the actual fic… but anyway, here we go!))

Wait And Watch

”Flora, you stay here.”

“Professor!” Flora reached out to him, but he had already started running with Luke. She glanced at Inspector Chelmey and Barton. Could she catch a ride with them?

Nope... The police had jumped straight into their cars. Sirens wailing, they all went in pursuit of Don Paolo.

Flora rushed to the bridge railings, scaring a flock of pigeons from their roost. She scanned the sky.

Don Paolo’s maniacal laughter was unmissable, though from this distance, he looked no bigger than a purple beetle floating away on a flower.

How had he built that flying umbrella? It appeared to have a propeller- how strong must it have been to lift him off the ground?

It was almost as impressive as the hang glider the professor made in St Mystere...

Focus!  Flora’s thoughts returned to Don Paolo. He was flying further and further over the Thames. She frowned. The professor and Luke would never catch him on foot. Neither would the police, unless they were sending out helicopters...?

Flora strained her ears, but she couldn’t hear any aircrafts. They were going to lose him!

She gripped the railings in frustration.

And what was she doing? Waiting, watching... Nothing!

The professor had told her to stay here. Did he mean in that exact spot? On the bridge- by herself? He’d prefer for her to wait here alone (surrounded by three people who had been involved in the case but still alone) than help them capture Don Paolo.

Yes, this was the same villain who had kidnapped her on their last adventure, but that had been Flora’s first adventure.

She was far wiser now and much more at home living in London. People living in London did not stay put. Loitering was for tourists. There was always something happening. At that moment, it happened to be Don Paolo’s great escape.

Flora’s gaze fell on the boats drifting along the river. If one passed under the bridge, perhaps she could jump...?

And then what? Bounce all the way up to Don Paolo? She was more likely to break both of her legs.

What she needed were wings.

She assessed the bridge for something she could use.

The only items within easy reach were those from Don Paolo’s discarded old lady disguise.

The trio left with her on the bridge- two men and one woman- simply overlooked Flora. Now that Professor Layton had unmasked the true culprit, they must have thought their roles in the mystery were over.

Flora had hoped Gregory Grain- the architect who had requested Layton’s aid in the first place- would offer to help her, but he just unfurled a newspaper and began to read.

When Flora grabbed Don Paolo’s mask, the woman (Penny?) made a noise of disgust.

“Ugh! How did he even fit in that costume?”

Initially, Flora had felt sorry for Penny; she was a clockmaker who had been falsely accused of silencing Big Ben’s bell until the professor cleared her name. You’d think she’d be a lot more humbled by the whole affair!

Clicking her tongue, Flora retrieved a pink cardigan and a blue skirt from the floor. If only she had brought her sewing essentials...

She glanced at the man kneeling next to Penny. That was her big brother, Ben. (Ha, Big Ben- much easier to remember.)

He was wearing a stylish pink fedora... Maybe he had a needle and thread handy?

Ben was patting Penny on the back. “Never mind. Professor Layton will catch him... Right, Greg?”

Gregory hummed behind his paper. “Mm-hmm.”

“Um,” Flora tried to interrupt, “excuse me-“

“Here, let’s have a sandwich while we wait,” Ben suggested, as if sandwiches would solve everything. He pulled out a lunchbox. The second he opened it, he was swarmed by pigeons. “No, no- THESE AREN’T FOR YOU-!” He shrieked. So did Penny.

“GREG, GET HELP!”

“Mm-hmm-“

“Help YOURSELVES!”

At Flora’s shout, the pigeons shot off, revealing the shocked faces of Ben and Penny. Even Gregory peeked over his newspaper at Flora.

Flora was glaring at them, but then her eyes widened at the paper. Her gaze flicked from the paper, to the sandwich crumbs, to the pigeons.

Eureka!

She dropped the materials from Don Paolo’s disguise and dashed up to Gregory. “I need that...” She nicked his newspaper. “And this...” She borrowed the lunchbox. “And all of you!” She pointed up at the pigeons.

“Is she really Professor Layton’s... daughter?” Penny hissed as Flora tore out a page of paper and spread it on the bridge.

“Adopted, I believe,” Gregory coughed. “Although, she certainly seems to have inherited his... ingenuity.”

They stared, fascinated, as Flora folded the paper into a plane. She made it the way Bruno had taught her, so it would fly straight and fast and strong. When it was done, she tipped the lunchbox upside down, pouring the breadcrumbs into the paper. She picked up the plane and tested its weight.

Above her, she heard excited cooing. She looked up. The pigeons were perched on the upper level of the bridge, hypnotised by the movements of the plane.

Quickly, but ever so carefully, she carried the plane to the part of the railings where Don Paolo had ascended.

She squinted. Don Paolo was still within range.

She pinched the bottom of the plane between her fingers. She inhaled, took aim, and... fired.

There were gasps from her observers, and flurries of feathers as her avian army gave chase.

Her paper plane soared over the Thames, trailing breadcrumbs behind it.

Flora lifted herself up onto the railings.

Please, please, please...  she prayed.

Her target was in sight- just a little closer...

One foot from Don Paolo, the plane lost momentum and took a nosedive.

“NO!” Flora cried, banging her temples against the railings.

As if he had heard her dismay, Don Paolo turned his head mid-flight. His victory grin sank into jaw-dropping terror. A fleet of... pigeons was flying right at him!

They blew past like a round of grey bullets. He was trapped in a hurricane of wings. Their feathers caught in his propeller, his mouth, and his eyes. He was blinded. He was losing his grip...!

He screamed as he let go of his umbrella. “LAAAYTOOOOOON!”

Flora gasped and lifted her head when she heard a loud splash.

“ Bullseye!”  Penny cheered. She, Ben and Gregory were clinging to the railings alongside Flora.

“W-what?” Flora said. “Did the professor...?”

“It was all you!” Ben beamed at her.

“Technically,” Gregory amended, “it was your feathered friends.”

Speechless, Flora surveyed the river below. Had she really hit Don Paolo? She hoped he wouldn’t drown. (He wasn’t that awful.)

Surely the professor or Inspector Chelmey would fish him out...

This was not the case, Flora learned, when she arrived at Scotland Yard two hours later. Greg had given her a lift with Ben and Penny.

Flora was reunited with the professor and Luke, who recounted how they had witnessed a flock of pigeons knocking Don Paolo into the river.

“See, they’re not just ‘rats with wings’, ” Luke proclaimed. “Pigeons deserve more respect!”

Ben shuddered. “I beg to differ...”

Penny pitched in, “It was Flora who directed the pigeons!”

“Flora?” Luke exclaimed, in that same tone of voice as when they had found her on the Molentary Express. As if it was a miracle she knew how to board a train.

“You don’t have to act so surprised,” Flora huffed.

Her heart swelled with pride when the professor praised her. “Well done, my dear girl. I’m sorry for underestimating you. I just thought, after our last run-in with Don Paolo, you would feel safer remaining on the bridge...”

“Ah, but she didn't leave the bridge, did she?” Greg pointed out with a smirk. “She took control of the situation and utilised the tools available to her at the time.”

Ben put it simply, “She made a plane.”

“Just like the professor,” Luke gasped. He grinned at Flora. “That’s amazing!”

“Thanks.” Flora giggled and she felt a warm spot under her neck.

“Any luck catching... Don Paolo?” Penny wondered nervously.

The professor shook his head. He didn’t seem all that annoyed, but rather, how one might react if he failed to catch the bus. “We believe he made it to shore or stowed-away on a boat. The only trace we could find of him was this.” He revealed Don Paolo’s broken umbrella from his coat sleeve.

Luke studied him as if he had just a whipped out a sword. “Professor! I  thought you’d handed that in to Inspector Chelmey!”

“If that was the case, this umbrella would sit in an evidence room for the rest of its days, or Don Paolo would most likely steal it back. It would be much more beneficial if someone could discover how it worked and put it to good use...” He presented it to Flora.

Beaming, Flora opened the battered umbrella and held it up. A few drops of river water splashed onto her head. She laughed, “Well, it won’t be much help against the rain!”

[nika-the-hunter]

The House of Mist [Ch.7]

spacing is a bit wonky this chapter, but its too much for me to go in and fix :C

Ruins of Joint Base Steilacoom, Pacific Northwest. House Mist Territory

+25 days

The next morning came slowly. For once, she seemed to rest comfortably, even feeling the way she did. Though as she opened her eyes, she became aware of something around her. Nicole slowly opened her eyes to the sight of dozens of glowing blue eyes.

 Nicole blinked the sleep out of her eyes and silently glanced around. There were probably almost twenty Fallen bunched around her bed, just watching her. “What... are you all doing?” She mumbled. The group exchanged glances and one poked her in the cheek with a finger. They probably did not understand her language at all. She sat up and pushed the prying fingers away from her face. Nicole spoke out in the best Fallen she could muster in her sleepy state. “Stop that... get out of here.”

The sound of their own language coming from her lips caused them to burst into conversation, but it was too rapid and busy to catch it all; it was a lot of surprise. It just seemed to encourage them more and they began to sift through her things. Her protests were ignored and there were too many surrounding her to get up. Was she being robbed?

They did not scatter until a commanding voice barked from the doorway. Nicole turned to see a large Fallen duck through the door and walk in; although she remained hunched over beneath the room’s ceiling. The smaller Fallen fled at her appearance, flowing out through the door around her. 

“Ah young ones, they’re so curious. Are they not?” The tall Fallen shook her head and glanced back at the tailing few. Her armor was covered in bags and pockets, with various tools sticking out of them. The helmet was smaller, and rounded off instead of the points and wings that others had; there was what appeared to be a series of magnifying lenses attached to her helmet.   Nicole looked up at the new arrival and then to the door. “Those were children?” She was surprised; they did not look that small. She was also thankful that this Fallen was speaking English. “No, not really,” she replied. “They are still young, but mechanics in training, they just arrived a few weeks ago.” “I take it, that you are Baroness Tansis?” Nicole could not find her bodysuit, or armor. It was not where she had left it the night before. That was worrying.

 ‘Yes, yes, apologies. I forgot to introduce myself,” Tansis nodded. “This is my repair yard.... Jasix mentioned that you needed armoring? I can take you to our workshop.”

 Nicole did another look over of the room, but still no sign of her gear except for her rifle leaning against the wall where she left it. “Well hold on, it looks like some of those mechanics stole my armor.” Tansis sighed and looked back at the doorway. “I will have one of my aides check with the group that just left.” She walked over to a cabinet and opened one of the drawers; she took out a folded cloth and handed it to Nicole. “This is one of our tabards; it’s for a tanker, so it should fit you well enough.” Tansis left the room and Nicole slipped the garment over her head and slipped out of her bed. There had been a belt with the shirt, and she strung that around her waist, pulling it tight. Tansis had been right, it did fit well. The House of Mist insignia was stenciled across the front in white, while the fabric was a worn black with more white accents. It was nowhere near as protective as her armor, but maybe she would not need to wear her gear all the time. Nicole wrapped her bare feet in strips of cloth that she had found in another cabinet, much like she had seen some of the other Fallen doing while she was out in Old Bellevue. It would not be as effective as her boots, but it was all she had at the moment.

 She joined the Baroness in the hallway and Tansis looked her up and down. “Mist colors look good on you, Guardian.” Nicole nodded, “Well thanks, I agree... You’ll be supplying me with Mist armor?” “Ah, yes. That is what I said. Follow me.” Tansis turned and walked back down the corridor, with her arms behind her back. The ground beyond the bunk room was freezing cold beneath Nicole’s wrapped feet; she wished she had her boots back. Outside in the morning sunlight, Nicole could see the old airfield much better than before. The various aircraft across the apron were just shells of their former selves. Everything except for their hull was stripped and pulled. The hangars around the runway had their doors partially open, and she could see dozens of Fallen aircraft stationed inside. Some were covered in tarps or netting of some kind.

 Tansis caught her gaze and waved one hand towards the group of hangars. “Ah, I see you have noticed the Jackwings, close air support fighters, we use them to scare off House Devil incursions. It has been a difficulty keeping them in working order. Parts are so scarce.” “Could I go take a look at them?” Nicole asked. Their forward swept wings and bulbous nose gave them a predatory look.

 Tansis shook her head, “Not now, I am somewhat busy today and am helping you right now as a favor for Jasix. Though perhaps in the future, I hear that Guardians are natural pilots. But for now, the arsenal is just over here.” The building the baroness led her into was another, more squat structure. Crates were placed all over the space. Script was painted on the side, she guessed they were for sizes or something of the like; if this was armor that is. However before she let the door shut behind her, she heard a voice calling out in English. “Guardian!? Guardiaaaan!?” Nicole turned and looked out; she spied a small ball flying through the air. It was her Ghost. It was not until now that she realized he had been absent along with her armor for the last half hour.  She stuck her arm out the doorway and waved to him. “Over here, Ghost!”

 “Oh finally! I've been looking for you everywhere. I came out of your pack while it was being carried off to another bunk room by a group of Fallen,” he said. “I’m so sorry; I completely forgot that you live there while I’m asleep... sorry.” Nicole waved the Ghost into the Arsenal building. “But Tansis is going to set me up with some new armor.”

 “Please just remember that I live in your backpack.” The Machine zoomed in and passed her head. “And thank the Traveler, hopefully something that will resist more than a few shots.” “Mm, it should,” Tansis interjected. She was pulling pieces of armor out of the crates, setting them on tables according to size. “Though the one issue I am running into is that I do not believe we have a Vandal set that would fit you well, and the Tanker set is just not armored enough for use in normal situations.”

 “Oh I can handle that!” Her Ghost asserted, butting around Tansis and looking over one of the Vandal armor sets. “I have the ability to make some adjustments with enough of the right material, and if something is too big, that's perfect... I’ll just need a bit of Guardian tech to help.” “Are you talking about my armor? Where is it?” Nicole asked. “Tansis can send someone to collect it.”

 “No, no need. I can just transmat it over here.” The Ghost chirped, “Just give me a moment...”

 “Transmat? What’s that?” Nicole questioned; another term she had never heard until now.

 There was a flash of light and the helmet and chest plate from her old armor materialized out of nothing, it clunked down onto the table beside the Vandal set. “Teleporting or storing materials. It also helps with your revive. But that is beside the point... if you’d excuse me...” The Ghost opened up and then both armor sets vanished, seemingly deconstructed to some glowing blue material before dissolving to nothing. Nicole looked over at Tansis who was watching the Ghost with plenty of curiosity. She paced around the table, looking at the armor that had been rejected while her Ghost worked. The Ghost was not really doing much visually, his fins rotated around the round core with a blue energy, but that was it.

 “Yes, Transmat. Mm we have a similar technology, but it is exceedingly rare for storage use...” Tansis placed a palm down where the armor had been moments before and eyed the Ghost. “How long will this take?”  

 His singular eye blinked momentarily. “Just a few moments... For small adjustments... But this is a big alteration... Standby Guardian.”

 There were a few moments more that passed, with the bits of the Ghost shell orbiting around. The fins retracted back in to the core. There was a tingling sensation and the bodysuit from the Fallen armor set materialized beneath the tabard she had been wearing.

 Nicole untied the tabard and slipped it over her head before the armor plates began to appear across her body. The bodysuit fit well now that the Ghost had the excess materials to make adjustments for her proper proportions. It had additional soft padding across her belly and hips, and seemed to be made up of many different layers of material. Though she did not have much time to inspect the bare bodysuit, all the Fallen armor plates rapidly appeared across her body, except for the helmet which came back into existence on the table. Looking in a dirty mirror that hung on the wall; from her neck down she looked indistinguishable from the Vandals she had met on the train or in the city, except for the missing lower arms and the smaller stature.

 Tansis leaned across the table and ran her fingers across the armor, giving some bits a tug. “Very, very good work, Ghost. Would it be possible to borrow you for some material fabrication later?”

 “Maybe, if my Guardian would allow it,” he blinked and swung between the two in the room.

 She looked back from mirror and grabbed the helmet off the table. “I don't see a problem with coming back to help here.” The helmet looked similar to the one Rykis had, but with a faceplate between the top and the facemask that all Fallen wore. “This looks very nice.”

 Nicole placed the helmet on her head and it sealed with a hiss. Its heads-up-display flashed on, appearing more of a hybrid of her old one and whatever computer system that the Fallen armor had possessed; the HUD was now orange tinted with some Fallen symbols scattered across the corners. However she suddenly found it hard to breathe, like there was not enough air in her helmet. Her hands searched across the armor, she had seen a hose dangling off somewhere. “Some help, here?” she gasped. Tansis reached over from behind, and guided a hose to her hand. “It attaches to your right cheek port, Human, just under the jaw.

 “There... We go...” With the hose firmly grasped, Nicole pressed its nozzle into the port with a click. Crisp, freezing air hissed into the helmet, but it was not entirely what she thought it was. Breathing caused her to cough and gasp at the gas coming into the helmet, she grabbed the table for support but the issue seemed to clear up in a matter of moments. The air seemed to be fine now, though still a bit cold. Slowly, she stood away from the table and took a few steps around the room. “Okay... I’m alright, everything is good now.”

 Her Ghost hovered nearby, looking her up and down. “This armor looks leagues stronger than your old set.” She jumped twice, feeling the weight bounce and shift. Getting a good understanding of how her balance was with the new armor. “Feels better too,” Nicole smiled behind her visor. “Great!” Tansis clapped her upper hands together. “I am glad that you appreciate our armorers. Here is a belt with pouches for you. But I cannot give you a cloak or house mark, which is something that the Kell will grant you once he has decided that you are a member of the House.”

 Nicole took the belt and slipped around her hips, clipping it into place. “Well this is more than enough, thank you Tansis.”

 There was a loud bang from outside and series of bleeps began to blare from a pocket on Tansis’ waist belt. She retrieved an electronic pad from the pouch and sighed heavily at whatever was on screen. Tansis muttered something in her native language and looked up at Nicole. “I have some pressing matters to attend to. The train should be arriving soon to take you back north. They blow the whistle during the day when getting close, but feel free to wait around the base until it arrives. Just say away from the hangars for the time being.”

 “Oh wait, before you go... is there a place where I can get materials to fix the building I live in?” Nicole asked. “There are a lot of holes in the wall.”

 Tansis quickly packed away the extra armor sets, just shoving them inside without folding them, and closed the crates. “Well, the train should take you north to the Seattle ruins. It will stop outside the resource market where they sell building materials. Check there.” She ushered Nicole and her Ghost out of the door and locked the arsenal building up. “But I must hurry; I will see you again soon, hopefully. And you as well.” She waved a hand towards the Ghost and then quickly walked off to one of the large aircraft hangars.

 A fresh cloud of smoke faintly rose from the furthest hangar.

 Nicole shook her head and turned to go the opposite direction. It had been dark when she had arrived the night before, and she was no longer near the bunk house. Finding the station was her first priority. It did not take long though, there were a set of long overgrown tracks just behind the arsenal building which linked up with a line that looked recently used. Following the tracks, Nicole came across the spot she had gotten off the train.

 It was obvious that it had not been a passenger station in the past, the rising old cargo cranes and various shipping crates that were scattered across the space was a clear indication of its true purpose. Nearby, a few Vandals pulled a tarp off of a crane of Fallen design and maneuvered it into position near the tracks. They were preparing to load cargo so the train should be arriving pretty soon.

 Across from the cargo platform, there was a field littered with the rusting hulls of various vehicles in the tall wild grass and bushes. Most were of old human make, but the most interesting vehicles were a handful of Fallen Spider tanks. Yellow circles were painted on their hull, where the armor had been punched clean through by something else. It was not some battle scene from the Collapse; they were neatly lined up at different ranges. The closest she could see appeared to have been stripped of anything remotely useful; its gun turret and forward weapons were missing. It's insectoid like head was pushed forward just enough that she could see its engine compartment was completely empty. This was a target range for something, and judging by the damage to the old walkers, Nicole would have to guess this was where they trained on the restored Human tanks.

 Sure enough, at the far end of the field Nicole saw and heard one of the tanks rumble up to position behind a crumbling bunker. It was manned by a group of the smaller Fallen, the ones that Tansis had called Tankers. Standing beside the Tank, a Vandal in some kind of heavy armor seemed to lecture the tank crew about the range. “You know, I might just watch this for a bit.” Nicole said to her Ghost. She climbed up onto a sunken shipping crate and let her legs dangle over the side. “Do you think we’re a safe distance away?”

 Her Ghost turned to scan over the field visually. “I think so, unless they plan to use you specifically as target practice. We are perpendicular to their range.”

 “Hmm, good.” The ground shook and a tremendous bang rocked her helmet. A flash of light leapt from the tank barrel and slammed into the furthest Spider tank. A shower of sparks and bits of shrapnel fell from the hole and smoldered in the grass.

 After watching a few practice rounds, her stomach growled. How long had it been since she had eaten anything? Nicole unclasped her helmet and set it onto the crate beside her. There was a slight hiss from the helmet, but that quickly silenced itself. She brought her pack around to her front, but frowned when she remembered that it was not her old pack with her food in it. That was still with the Fallen troublemakers that stole her gear. Her stomach growled again. “When you were looking for me, did you happen to see where they kept the food?” Nicole asked, not really expecting him to.

He blinked and turned to look back at the base. “I think Jasix told you that there was food in the bunkhouse store room.” Nicole clipped her helmet to her belt and hopped off the container, starting off at a quick pace for the barracks. “That's right, thanks for reminding me.” “That is what I am here for.” He replied, coming up alongside her head. Finding the barracks building from this different approach was quite simple, it was one of the only buildings that had its holes and craters patched. She was not sure it was the exact same building she had slept in, but Nicole did not think that they would mind if she looted a little bit of their abundant food to get through the day.

 The storeroom was large; it appeared that it occupied one of the old bunk rooms. Most of the crates were refrigerated, and there was a lot of smoked fish so that is what she took. She ate her fill of the chilled meat, and stuffed a few wrapped packages into her bag. There were other ingredients in crates, but nothing seemed to appeal to her for breakfast; though she did snag some of the greens so she could add some variety to her diet later in the day.

 She glanced out one of the remaining windows as a whistle blew somewhere in the distance; the same one from the night before. Nicole quickly wrapped up the leftovers from her breakfast and turned to walk out the door. There was a single Fallen there with an apron over their clothes. The Fallen held a pot on one hand and just sort of stared at Nicole ransacking the store room.   

 Just giving a wave, she brushed by the Fallen and headed out into catch the train out of there. From what she could tell, there was a lot here to explore; hell there was so much out there in Mist territory alone that Nicole doubted that she would ever see all of it.  The train rolled into the base with an earth shaking rumble, though it was likely just localized to the concrete platform.

 Once the train came to a complete stop, the team of Vandals began to load crates and other equipment onto the flatbed cars behind the passenger compartment. Nicole could not remember what the smaller Fallen in Mist were called; their counterparts that she had fought against in the Devils faction were called Dregs, and had their lower arms cut off. However these still had their arms and were respected among the others, more so than her.

 The passenger car's side slid open and a few Vandals exited; one of which Nicole recognized. Rykis perked up when he saw her waiting on the platform “Neh-cole!” he exclaimed, and looked up and down at her new armor. “You look good.” “Thanks to Baroness Tansis, and Jasix. They offered to help upgrade my gear” Nicole nodded. Her Ghost appeared at her side and spun his fins around. “Oh and thanks to him, he did the work on making it fit me.” “They all did excellent job. But what happened before, why did you not leave a note telling me where you’ve gone. I was worried, making sure you are safe was my charge as granted by the Kell.” Rykis questioned. “I wasn’t expecting to be out this long, just another sort exploration... except I spent a few hours dead and then Jasix found me out there.”

 “What? How were you down for so long?”

  “My Ghost blew me up.” 

“He doesn’t like you that much?!” Rykis exclaimed.

 “No, no, no,” her Ghost popped in. “There were some very volatile explosives in a ship I was trying to fix for her... it failed and fell.” Rykis shook one of his hands at her Ghost. “Do not try that around other Fallen. We cannot come back like her.” Her Ghost blinked, “Oh I know that, I will not be attempting to restore a warship so quickly in the future.”

 “Plus, we were out in the middle of nowhere. I had not seen anyone all day.” Nicole added.

 “Still, if Baron Acskis finds out about that, he would have a better excuse for recommending your exile.” “Well...can I be exiled if I am not technically part of the House of Mist yet?” She asked. Rykis crossed both pairs of arms. “Banished from our Territory, how does that explanation fit?”   Nicole put her hands up in the air. “Fine, fine... I understood that just as well. Don’t want that to happen.”

 “That is right.” He replied and shook his head. “Now if you are finished here, we should board the train and head back to the city.” She brushed passed Rykis and walked into the passenger car. “I was already on my way back when you showed up.” Rykis huffed and followed her back on. The passenger car attached to this train was not the same as the one she had rode on the night before. This one was more... elegant... to say the least. In its past it had been an actual passenger car, but the interior had been stripped at some point and replaced with benches for the Eliksni that rode them; as most were larger than what Nicole assumed was the average human. There were only a few intact windows, the rest were covered in wood and cloth. Nicole picked a spot on a bench against the wall and leaned against it. Rykis took the seat next to her while the teams of Fallen loaded the flatbed cars with cargo. Nicole heard the sound of a Skiff engine above them, so she took a look out one of the intact windows. There was a different craft; it looked more bulbous, sort of like a utility variant of the Fallen dropship that she had seen all over the Mist territory. It was lowering one of the Spider tanks onto an open spot on the flatbed car. The tank appeared to be partially disassembled for easier transport, with its legs and turret tucked under the main body. “Where are we headed?” Nicole asked. She had been told that this train was going to go to the Seattle ruins, where the raw material market for Mist was supposed to be. However that information was only valid as of last night, something might have changed.       “Mmm, this train in going to take us to the ruins near one of the markets. We should be able to walk across the bridge you humans called five-hundred-and-twenty to get back to your tower.” The train started off with a rough momentum shift, reversing back up the rails. Nicole gripped the bench until the speed increase settled. “Ah, alright... Well Tansis told me there was a market where I could get building materials.” Rykis looked over at her. “What do you need that for?” “I don’t know if you noticed, Rykis, but the tower has a lot of holes in it and this weather is too cold to be comfortable.” Nicole shook her head.

 He tapped his mask with a finger. “You are right... but construction materials are valuable. You need something to trade.” Nicole laughed, “Well that seems like how a market should work....” Rykis gave her response a glare. “How much glimmer do we have Ghost?” “Five hundred units, not much,” he piped up. Rykis nodded slowly, “that is a good item to trade, but that much would be enough for maybe some wood sheets.” “Perfect, that’s all I need to stop the wind and rain in my room.” Her Ghost made an orbit around her head. “Well, have you thought about moving to a different room?” Nicole started to respond, but stopped. She had not actually thought about moving to one of the other rooms in the old hotel tower, there were probably many more intact rooms to choose from. Still, a stop to get wood was not the worst idea. “I’ll look into it, but still want to stop at the market.” “Then we will, delivery of the wood should only take a day or so,” Rykis nodded. The train fell back into silence, at least as quiet as was possible with the rumbling engine. Her new armor was much better at regulating temperature than her old set, especially with the wind blowing in from the cloth covered windows. Traveling across the region during the day, she could see a lot more of what was left; it was mostly trees, and moss covered ruins. There was not much resemblance of what she had seen around Bellevue or Seattle. Everything was much more overgrown this far out. At one point they did pass through another city, but it was nearly completely overgrown. It did not look like Mist had any official presence in those ruins or any of the others she had seen so far. The train rattled through an old port area, but the water had left the piers and wharfs behind long ago; trees and ferns grew between them and the new shoreline. However, her view did not last as the train disappeared back into the forests that had grown up around the tracks. Eventually the train reentered the industrial sector from the night before, but following a different set of tracks. They would not be going back the way she had come; instead they hugged the western edge of the valley. Nicole watched as a tall wall appeared, crossing both ends of her line of sight. The wall just cut through buildings and roads with little regard to what had been there before. It was crumbling and looking much worse than the buildings around it, a sign that it had been hastily constructed. Signs around its base indicated that most of the wall had been built on top of what use to be the southern portion of Interstate Four-o-five, the freeway she had followed south yesterday. Around the tunnel the train had to pass through, Nicole spied more tanks stationed around the entrance. They were old and rusted, and looked like they had not moved for centuries. More victims of The Collapse.  

 The inside of the wall was less overgrown than other, things looked a little more intact. Glancing back at the wall as she rode away from it, she spied Fallen stationed at the top. A Spider tank maneuvered an old burnt out bus over the tunnel entrance after the train passed through.

 This must be inside the Seattle perimeter that the House of Mist had established.   Nicole sighed and swung around to continue watching their approach, when a light flashed on her helmet HUD. A steady beeping began to sound from somewhere on her armors, but she did not know where. “Um, what’s going on?” She asked to her Ghost. He might have some idea on how this armor worked. The Ghost flew over and scanned over her armor with his light, but before he could answer; Rykis unscrewed a canister on her back and replaced it with another from his pack. “You ran out of...” He held up the bottle he had removed from her back and gestured to it, and then to the hoses that hooked up to her helmet. “I do not know what to call it in English...” He named it in his language, but she had nothing to connect that too. As soon as he had replaced the tank, Nicole tasted that chill again and coughed once. “What if it goes off again?” It undoubtedly would. “Ether,” He used their word for it again, but continued in English. “Is lightly rationed here in Mist, you can pick up your weekly allotment from the community depot. Usually two canisters last a day.” “Is it required?” She asked. “I think so.” Rykis just shrugged to her. The lack of information was a bit worrying to her, but who else would she ask. Jasix was probably not better than Rykis, though she would probably get the best answer from Baroness Tansis when she went back. Once the train disappeared beneath a maze of elevated highway columns and platforms supporting tall buildings it began to slow. It hugged the very edge of the road deck, remaining in its shadow the entire way. It finally came to a complete stop near a cluster of burnt out and rusting train cars that Mist had left to rot away. Scattered amongst them, however, were other flatbed cars loaded down with recent looking cargo. Not all was as lost as it seemed.

 She hopped up as the train’s crew opened up the passenger car’s doors, but she let Rykis lead the way. As far as she knew, Rykis had grown up here in Fallen occupied Seattle and knew his way around. Well, as far as she knew, she too grew up in this city... but that was in a time that was locked away from her.

 “To the material exchange, yes?” He asked.

 “Yes, please.” Rykis gestured for her to follow as he quickly hurried up the stairs, heading back to street level. To their left was an old building. It was far older than any of the others around it. The building’s stone and brick exterior had a certain artistic flair to it that was lost on the newer utilitarian structures around it. UNO STON was hanging from the wall in large brass letters. There were a few open spots for missing letters, and her mind filled in the blanks, it had likely said Union Station at some point. The building’s doors were propped open and Rykis stopped and waved for her to enter first. Nicole obliged and walked in. The interior of the building was really only one room, a grand hall which occupied its core. While the walls were dark and dirty, Nicole could definitely see that the chamber used to be a very beautiful space. The only light were small work lamps set up around small tables and racks with sheets of wood other construction material. There were small stacks of any kind of material thinkable with Fallen all over bartering with the shop owners. Nicole glanced around the space, taking in the ancient architecture that was far better than anything else she had seen in the Human ruins. Smashed through the wall behind her, was a Fallen Skiff. It dangled through the wall, and its headlights had been wired to provide more light to open space from far above. Rykis began to speak with one of the stand owners that had sheets of wood stacked up against the old marble walls. “She is interested in buying wood panels from you,” he informed the Fallen. "What does the Human have to offer?” The Vandal replied. “Is it much?” Rykis waved for Nicole to show her Glimmer to the Vandal, so she too waved to her Ghost. In less than a blink, a small pile of glowing blue cubes had formed on the table. They owned up to their name; the cubes glimmering on the table. They seemed to make their own light in the gloomy room, bits of particles danced across their surface and the table itself. The Vandal eyed the pile of glimmer on their table. They picked up one of the cubes and brought it close to one of their eyes. “Yes, useful... hmmm but there is not much. Most I can give her is two sheets and some fasteners for this.” “Very good, that is all we need.” Rykis replied. “It should be delivered to tower twenty-seven in Baron Acskis’ sector.”

 The Vandal nodded, “Very well, we have a delivery caravan going that direction tomorrow. Though we only deliver it to the depot for pick up later.”

 “That works, for such a price,” Rykis replied. The two Fallen exchanged another saying that Nicole had yet to learn and then he gestured for the door. He kept in their language and talked to her as they left. “How much of that did you understand?” Nicole took a second to work through the proper responses for him. Listening was fine, but it took longer to reply. “Plenty.” She switched back to English, just to make it easier on herself. “But I’m not all the way there. I can understand more than I can speak.”

 “Then I will stay in my language,” Rykis replied, the bits of his cheek bones above his mask shifting into what she took as a smirk. She returned the smile, but then remembered that her helmet had a full face mask with a new mirrored visor. “We’ll see how this helps. Then we can begin our written language when we get back to your tower.” That interested Nicole, if she knew how to write and read it then understanding the words on her helmet’s HUD would be so much simpler. No more random flashing lights and alarms where she could not understand them. She had only had the helmet for less than two hours, and that one alarm had been enough. “That sounds good.” And with that, Nicole and Rykis walked back out into the ruined city. For the entire walk to the Bellevue ruins, Rykis quizzed her on the Fallen language. It was much more effective than the method she had started out with the day before.

[questotext]

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5.textPlus Free Text + Calls : Free Texting + Free Phone Calling + Free International Messenger

If you have friends or relatives abroad ,for example, in Canada, this app is a real find for you! You can text SMS  to any US or Canadian mobile number and call to textPlus users absolutely free.

We don’t understand, why you continue to keep paying for expensive mobile phone plans when you can launch textPlus and get a lot of advantages without paying. You will get your personal phone number, unlimited SMS credits and Local + international calls for literal pennies to anyone at any number, even if they don’t have textplus

We highlight that there are no contracts and  “surprise” costs. Turn your iPad, iPod into a phone and keep in touch with your family and friends all day long

Get it on AppStore

6.FreeTone – Free Calls and Texting for iPhone, iPod, and iPad

This app ,in addition to calls, allows you to send messages in an unlimited way. It is free, no trials, no hidden costs.

Unlike other apps, FreeTone provides you high-quality large sized pictures you send to your friends, HD video messages and video calls to all real U.S and Canada phone numbers. It doesn’t require any costs because you will have your own real U. S number and will be connected with your friends and family via VoIP technology

It turns your iPod or iPad into a real phone . Call and text unlimited and absolutely free. Contrary to similar apps, you do not have to pay anything or earn credits to call any U.S. or Canadian number, whether they use the same app as you do or not. Watch out for their fine print! FreeTone charges you nothing to make phone calls to US and Canada phones.

Get it on AppStore

7. Smiley Private Texting – send private SMS messages from a free new number

As you understand, this app allows people to send messages incognito or without any names and other information.

Private messages are perfect for those who want to ask something but don’t want to show himself to public. Or you liked a guy or a girl on the street and you would like to communicate with them closer, but you don’t ready to show yourself , actually.

There is no registration and any requirements. All you need is a phone number you would like to text and a few communication skills. Send as many texts as you want.,your contact will see them come from your new number

Get it on AppStore

8. Color Text Messages+ Customize Keyboard Now Free

Who said that text messages are black words in a speech bubbles? Exactly, not we.

We present you “Color Text Messages+ Customize Keyboard Now Free”- the app which is absolutely  different from its competitors. Verity of styles , ways,and effects is limitless ( actually, not) but you can customize your messages with VARIOUS effects: colored bubbles, colored texts, cursive fonts, textured bubbles, cartoon themed, love themed, bold, or italic stylings! Choose colors for font and background, change it ,adding special effects, make the app yours.

And if you can’t decide which color is better , “Random” is a real find for you. Just tap it, the app will select it, you will enjoy it or tap again.

Also, you can share your masterpiece via WhatsApp, Facebook, Twitter and etc.

Get it on AppStore

9. CoverMe Private Texting Messenger

If you are interested in security and private texting so that nobody doesn’t have an access to your SMS messages, this app will make you happy.

At first, you will have a full control over messages. you will get notifications if the recipient has read your message and  you can recall or remotely wipe messages . It is a unique app which provides you with sensitive photos & videos, with an impenetrable vault for protecting your personal contacts, call logs, messages, documents, notes, diary, passwords, and private photos & videos from prying eyes.

For the extra privacy, use Private Vault. The encrypted vault is invisible and completely impenetrable without the password. Even if your device is lost or left unattended, your private information is absolutely safe.

Moreover, there is a nice interface which will make chatting more pleasant.

Get it on AppStore

10. TextMe Up – Free Texting and Calling + Multiple Phone Numbers + Video Messaging

Another cool app to send SMS all over the world (U.S, Canda and more than 40 countries) without using any plan minutes. All SMS are absolutely free due to your new free phone number for the period you use credits, then, unlock unlimited calls and texts to the US & Canada for only US$2.99 per month, if you want.

In addition, there are available HD voice and video calls from iPhone, iPad, and iPod. Also, you can Change your number or add as many another numbers as you like and switch between multiple numbers seamlessly.

Get it on AppStore

11.Kik

For me, several of important aspects are simplicity and graceful design and minimalism. I appreciate it. After limitless searching for such messengers, I found this one, “KIK”. As you can see there is no advertising and other useless options. All you need in a text messenger is an ability to text free, get replies and enjoy the design. Nothing more, nothing less. Just choose a number of a person you would like to talk with and start chatting! Unread messages are marked by a blue point. So you can easily find whom you have to reply.

Moreover, you can exchange with pictures, videos and GIFs as well.

https://questotext.tumblr.com/privacyPrivacy Policy

[technologywearables]

The Market for Hearable Devices 2016-2020 - And then there were Airpods…

Apple's unanticipated access into the hearables market advertises a period of major change. The result is most likely to be a much faster transfer to cordless headphones, an acceleration in the take-up of earbuds, and the possibility of a general market income exceeding $40 billion in 2020.

On September 7th 2016, Apple made three statements that look readied to modify the program of the hearables market. One had been forecasted - the removal of the 3.5 mm sound jack from the apple iphone 7. It was a change that they explained as daring, yet which numerous decried as retrograde. Nonetheless, it fundamentally changed the characteristics of the market for wireless headphones. The second 2 news were much bigger surprises. Apple had designed its own cordless chip, and they were entering the hearables world by releasing their own brand of earbuds, called Airpods. Both were unanticipated relocations. The pistol starting the hearables race had currently been terminated, today it became evident that the race was serious.

Life before Airpods The hearables market goes back to the very first Bluetooth headsets which were released in 2001, adhered to by wireless stereo headphones, which got here a few years later. Neither made great waves out there - headsets were connected with cabbies instead of celebrities and Bluetooth stereo headphones took practically a decade to obtain any type of market share. In 2013, that started to transform. Significant brand names were taken by shock as consumers began to purchase cordless headphones. The most trustworthy factor I've listened to for the change is that it was owned by the growth of mobile video on larger phones, with customers preferring to disregard the nuisance of cables when sitting tight display horizontally. That's sustained by research study from Parks Associates [1] showing the typical US mobile phone individual stream songs or video clip for 90 minutes each day. Whatever the reason for the abrupt appeal, there is no doubt that they are currently fashionable.

NPD, which tracks retail sales in the US, has actually reported a huge boost in sales [2], as Figure 1 illustrates. In June 2016, they reported that the total value of wireless headphone sales in the US surpassed that of wired headphones, (although the percent of sales by units was still just 17% for cordless). With the Airpod news, the loss of physical audio jack on the iPhone 7 and Apple's new W1 cordless chip currently being utilized in the most up to date Defeats earphones, there is little doubt that the value of sales of cordless earphones will keep on rising.

The genuine hearables revolution started in 2014 when 2 European companies launched crowdfunding advocate earbuds. In Sweden, Earin acquired financing for a pair of Bluetooth earbuds which would stream audio. 1,500 kilometres further south, in Munich, another startup - Bragi, raised the extraordinary sum of $3.39 m for a far more ambitious hearable gadget - the Dashboard. Like Earin's item, the Dashboard could stream music. But it could additionally save as well as play music without the existence of a phone, as well as housing a host of biometric sensors which would feed back data to a variety of physical fitness applications. Targeted at runners and athletes, it caught the creativity of over fifteen thousand backers as well as turned the ear right into a topic of extreme growth. It was a significantly over-ambitious access product, but Bragi have managed to obtain it to market and developed themselves as the poster child of hearables, effectively shooting the starting pistol. In their wake, much more have taken up the challenge.

At this factor I should clarify exactly what I mean by a hearable gadget. Previously I defined a hearable as any type of gadget which consisted of cordless connection, as the distinguishing variable in between wired as well as cordless earphones. That consisted of wireless stereo earphones and also mono Bluetooth earpieces, but excluded most listening to aids which had no cordless link to a phone. In just two years, the photo has actually ended up being even more intricate. When I coined the word "hearables" at the start of 2014 [3], the cordless earphone market was still niche, and nobody had actually thought about sound seclusion, audio curation or translation as real customer chances. Every one of those are now in advancement or currently shipping.

So currently I'm thinking about anything that suits or on an ear which contains a wireless link, whether that's for audio, or remote control of audio enhancement (qv). Apple's Airpods and cordless headphones will possibly drive the quantity is for earbuds over the next couple of years, however the actual innovation in hearables will come from other earbud developers, not the very least because of their desire to include biometrics. The intimate, fairly isolated contact that earbuds provide, together with the stabilising effect on balance from the semi-circular canals in our ears, suggests that the ear is among the most effective areas for noticing several physical criteria [4] Whilst several of the biometrics will certainly not apply to earphones, some will certainly be, as well as we will see them included in brand-new earphone layouts.

Jabra's brand-new CEO, Rene Tune-Svendsen defined the market as "adding wearable modern technology to songs" [5] I like that approach, but I do not believe it goes much sufficient. Music is the clothes-line on which most hearables will certainly be hung, the applications being taken into consideration are a lot more diverse compared to what we've seen so much with various other wearables.

A identical area of advancement, which will certainly drive innovation in both earbuds and earphones will be the increase of voice communications for Internet of Voice (IoV) applications, where chatting ends up being as essential as listening. That will see developments in directional microphones, both in the transducers and the processing to manage multi-microphone arrays. Bone conduction is currently in usage in order to help with voice discovery as well as processing as well as will certainly become much more common.

Allied to that is an expanding set of sound processing abilities that go past noise cancellation to include enhancements to curate our daily sound and select precisely what we wish to hear. I now consist of any one of these attributes as the certifying factor for a hearable, although I often tend to add the qualifying aspect that they need to be wireless relative to their audio source or regulating tool. That may be a solitary cordless link to a pair of earphones or tethered earbuds, or different cordless web links to left and also appropriate earbuds.

These series of alternatives will result in a lot greater distinction in the market and also blur the limits in between basic cordless earphones, complex sound processing earbuds and listening device. All now suited the spectrum of hearables and it is progressively most likely that it will certainly be a spectrum that individuals relocate through during the course of their lives. When a brand can win the ears of a young adult, it might own those ears for life. That is an effective incentive to stimulate innovation.

The wrist goes limp Wearable products have actually been pressed onto the market considering that the early 2000s, with limited customer interest or sales ... For the full record by WT|Technology Globe Cup judge Nick Hunn please most likely to his site: http://www.wifore.com/