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theflashdriver · 4 years ago

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Shades of Decadence

My first post for #sonamysilvazeweek2021 ! This first fanfic is silvaze focused with a sonamy mention, using the prompt colours! Blaze has retreated to the beach with a plan in mind but just what is it and will she succeed?

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Blaze the cat was about to try something foolish, something she had never dared to try before. None of what she had in mind was dangerous, well, not to her physical self at least. There was a potential for social fallout and repercussions, and her present foolhardy attempt was part of a much long spanning and more chaotic line of thinking, but those truths couldn’t be allowed to hold her attention. They hadn’t stopped her in the past so she certainly wouldn’t let them now.

Getting a break had been difficult enough, let alone not telling Silver that she had secured some time away from her royal duties. An afternoon she intended to spend by the beach no less. She’d had to make certain that he was busy in order to ensure he wouldn’t drop by the palace or the site she was presently heading toward. A certain Amy Rose had proven to be a useful tool to that end, dragging the psychic hedgehog off to aid her in securing and carrying goods for the pink hedgehog’s rapidly approaching wedding to a certain blue speedster. Ironically, it was them taking that step and making that effort which had pushed Blaze into her present position.

Now twenty-three years into her second lifetime, the princess of the Sol dimension had just made it to the inner edge of the bright yellow beach toward the northern tip of Southern Island. The sea was only just in view, its gentle green hue contrasted against the almost cloudless bright blue sky. The rucksack slung across her back was heavy, not so much due to the true weight of his contents but the potential that lay within.

Getting Marine to craft the object she’d requested without blabbing about it to Silver, or anyone else whose voice might trickle its way into his ear for that matter, was a task she still scarcely believed she’d succeeded in. It’d taken some subterfuge as to the object’s true usage, an ardent claim that it was to practice creating trinkets for herself. That claim was then followed by a promise of materials and aid for one of the ships the raccoon had long planned on creating. In hindsight, the lie wasn’t superb but then the raccoon was much older now; though maturity and Marine still didn’t belong in the same sentence, the two concepts were closer than they’d been many years ago.

For the past two weeks she’d kept her ears to the wind, over which not a word in reference to her plan had spread on it. It was a good sign, especially since Silver couldn’t keep much from the feline without her at least suspecting something was afoot, but Blaze knew she’d keep her ears trained for many weeks still. Unfortunately, Silver had picked up on the tenseness this change brought. Though she was usually somewhat high strung, evidently the difference in her temperament had been enough to notice. It was logical of course, she knew that he could read her just as well as she could read him; having been more than platonic for over six years now, that reality was especially expected. The difference was that she could endure and keep her mouth shut, despite his pleading yellow eyes.

Rounding through a desert of yellow dunes, the feline finally reached the water’s edge. Though the sea air was strong across all of Southern Island, she now stood at the point where the spray was at its most prevalent. A glance left and right proved what she had scarcely dared hope; despite it being a sunny summer day, this beach was devoid of populous. The eastern beach usually drew the most people, being the closest to the boardwalk and various shops, with the southern beach being a close second. This site however, due to its required hike between a pair of mountains or long walk around the island’s edge, saw substantially less use. To her mind it was the prettiest of the island’s beaches, but then she was rather biased by the peace and quiet it had offered her and her partner on a multitude of dates.

It was only a hundred paces more, crossing over pieces of discarded driftwood and beached seaweed, that she reached her true destination; a series of rockpools, extended out on a great jutting length of stone that reached toward the sea. Outcroppings like this were common across the island, formed millennia ago by the volcano that stood near the island’s heart spilling over for the final time. It wasn’t uncommon to see them swarmed by tourists, clad in sunhats with cheap butterfly nets slung over their shoulders, hoping to catch a crab or urchin taking a forced refuge from the waves. Ironically, this beach probably saw more wildlife land into its tidepools due to its less disturbed nature, at least Silver had hypothesised such.

Without a moment’s hesitation, she took to the rock. Her hiking boots were fairing with the terrain far better than her usual heels were; admittedly, her whole outfit was rather more practical as beachwear than her usual garb. A set of knee length dark shorts, that had only seen use prior for exercise, and a short sleeved grey tie-dye shirt that had been Silver’s for a year before slipping into his collection. Black sunglasses crowned her head, but their purpose had not yet manifested.

The princess cast her gaze to each of the pools she passed, debating which best suited her purpose. The shimmer of fish scales against in the sunlight pushed her away from the first, the waving of red sea anemones forced her on from the second, spiralling orange seasnail shells made the third unusual but she took pause at the fourth. This looked to be the shallowest of the rockpools, its sandy basin was plain to see even against her shadow, but, with the ocean so close, refilling it wouldn’t be difficult if such was required. A surface level inspection however was not enough for Blaze to settle.

She slipped her bag from her back, crouching down onto her knees before drawing off her gloves and balling them. Amber eyes to the water, she gingerly reached down to assay through the sand at the pool’s base. There were a few newly growing tufts of seaweed toward the centre of the pit, that much she was willing to sacrifice, but a sudden rapid movement did catch her eye as her pinkie met what she’d thought was a stone. A crab with a jet-black carapace, no larger than an inch in diameter, had arisen and was attempting to scuttle for the enclosure’s rim. Gingerly and deftly, she plucked it up by the waist, keeping her fingers out of the reach of its tiny white speckled claws. With a simple lean she put herself in reach of the ocean and dropped it in with little more than a thought apology for disturbing the crustacean.

A second reach in and dust around revealed no more crustaceans but also that this pit was perfect for her intended usage. Despite the summer heat, the shade offered by the rock formation had kept the water crisp and cool. To be honest, she’d expected finding an ideal well would be more of a hassle.

Blaze pushed her bag further away, laying it flat, and moved her balled gloves to rest next to it. Before setting to work, first and foremost, she had to prepare herself; her upcoming work would require a type of control she was unpractised in performing. She extended her right arm toward the horizon, following the stretching stone beneath her, and brought a flame to burst in the palm of her hand. Immediately, the water that had lingered in her fur evaporated with a steamy hiss. The white cloud only lingered for half a moment before being overtaken by a warbling orange light that housed a pit of blue at its base.

She took a deep breath, lowering her sunglasses as she clawed that hand’s fingers. More heat rushed from between her shoulder blades, winding like a serpent along her arm before coming to explode much too violently at her palm. In combat this would not be an issue, but for her given task it was much too chaotic. Still holding her breath, she attempted to focus in on the pit near the centre of her palm where the flame was at its darkest. Over the course of almost a minute she watched as the flame shrank smaller and smaller but maintained its heat.

Blaze allowed herself a fresh breath before turning her focus toward control, bringing the dark flame to almost form a cauldron in her grasp. Then, with the grinding of her teeth, that bowl of flame came to form a tall yet fully sealed cylinder. Another two minutes later, just before her need to breathe could grow unmanageable, the shape was further condensed. What had once been dark blue became light and its shape collapsed to form an ironic shape; that of a small box.

Fire expanded before fading into nothing as she claimed fresh breath, the effort left not so much as a spark or puff of smoke as it vanished. The princess had come far from

It took another moment for her to recentre herself, running through that process in her mind. Shaping her flame was a practice she’d seen some success in before, making small, condensed, flames on her fingertips had proven useful for both cutting and welding metal, but what she had in mind was another matter entirely.

Hands now cool and dry, she unzipped her rucksack. Pushing aside Marine’s creation, she instead drew out a wooden box she had long ignored. It was not dissimilar to a small mariner’s chest, with a locked latch on its front and an arching yet hollow semicylinder for a top. The frame was red cherrywood, but it had a floral fabric patterning, a green background with branching violet blossoms. Drawing the key from her bag, she undid its simple lock and flipped the top open.

Inside, as she had expected, the box was full to almost overflowing with trinkets. Gold, bronze, brass, opal and silver metallic forms, entirely unorganised, presented themselves to her, most of which were adorned with some manner of gemstone. Before her they rested, a veritable fortune of jewellery. However, each item in this valuable hoard had gone untouched and unused since it had arrived in the cat’s collection.

Though Blaze’s relationship to her status, as princess and guardian of the Sol dimension, had changed for the better in recent years, there were certain aspects that she hadn’t settled with. She didn’t enjoy the stares, she could do without the enforced cordiality but, most of all, it was the gifts that irked her. For as long as she could remember, her attention and favour were viewed as something that could be bought.

What was a five-year-old supposed to do with a hundred different rings? How should a teenager to respond to fifty ornate ball gowns? Even now, having refused to act upon or even use any of the material goods sent by courtiers and businesses over all that time, she would still receive the most bizarre gifts almost monthly.

While Silver had enjoyed the endless stream of flowers she received at first, he’d greatly overthought how to compare his kindness to such gifts. It’d been foolish of him of course, but that hadn’t stopped Blaze from growing even more perturbed by the so-called gifts she had received. The difference was blatant, his gifts were personal and lacked the blatant ulterior motives of the others she received.

These rings were the plainest example of the gaudy showing people who thought themselves important and companies vying for favour sent her way. The only jewellery she ever wore was a heirloom, the golden necklace around her neck, and yet others had taken that as a sign that jewellery was the path to her heart. Never once had she worn a ring, earrings or even so little as a bangle, yet their minds were all so set on the idea that they knew what she wanted. Well, today they’d finally get their wish; she’d finally make use of the gifts they’d given. For years she’d dared not throw these baubles away, offering them to friends in the other dimension as a method to shift them without their absence being publicised, but today’s method was quite different.

Blaze drew a simple golden ring with a single emerald green centre stone from the box, taking it as an ideal starting position. Then, finally, she pulled out Marine’s device, a simple black metal box, a little larger than her hand, with a latch. She flipped it open, revealing its simple internals. It wasn’t unlike a metal square that had simply been cut in two, save for a small divot at its very centre which created a perfect circle with a filled interior. It was a cast that, if filled with a liquid, would shape it into a perfect ring. Marine had used a similar device to smelt scrap metal into machine parts prior, but often joked about its use as Blaze now intended. Based on exemplars the raccoon herself had made, Blaze knew that her intended creation would fit him, even after the modifications she’d requested.

She set the mould in front of her, just a few centimetres away from the water’s edge, and the open jewellery box to her right. The emerald decorated ring was set in the centre of her left palm, leaving her right free. Another deep breath was taken as she clawed her right hand, purple fur bristled before fire surged in her palm. It folded once then twice, forming the dark blue box with the ring at its centre. It took a moment for a reaction to occur in the heart of that dark flame, the bubbling and shifting of metal led the gemstone to slip as the metal clutching it melted away.

Gold, copper and silver, those were the metals Blaze was seeking. The melting of metal wasn’t uniform, different compositions would react to different levels of heat. Those three, despite their value, were relatively reactive to temperature. That meant, with enough effort and will, she could sap them from these otherwise worthless favours.

Feeling her lungs begin to burn and sighting flames beginning to twist away from the ring, Blaze closed her fist and took a deep breath. She turned her hand to hang so that her pinkie finger was over the hole. It was as if she’d squeezed the juice from a golden tangerine as the molten metal glazed its way down her palm before dripping out from the bottom of her hand. She hadn’t liquified the entire ring, she could still feel its crusty mass in her hand, but everything of value had been taken. However, the mould wasn’t even close to filled; it was time for another.

The second ring was gold too, but she paid very little attention to it and its sapphire inlays as she set it in her left palm, on top of the remains of its predecessor. Blaze didn’t hesitate as she again grew then shrank her fire, the dark blue form in her hand now felt even hotter than before. With the two masses now stacked on top of each other though, and that increase in temperature, differentiating flame from jewellery had become impossible. The shift of molten metal pooling in her palm was undeniable this time, its weight was so different from that of water. It was heavier yes but what stuck with her more was how sluggish it was in its movements, almost comparable to treacle or honey.

She closed her fist and tipped her hand again. A steadier stream of gold flooded from her grasp, but it was still far from enough. The rings she’d been holding had crumbled, she could feel the gemstones and scraps of metal alike threatening to slip from her hold. The moment the flow stopped her palm was righted, her right hand had re-entered the box. This time the ring was copper, but its decoration was a ruby, that meant a slightly higher melting point but not one so significant that she couldn’t handle it. The addition of copper would tint the gold lighter, pushing it toward rose gold. That wasn’t her end goal, but it was a step toward it.

Before the fire could arise in her palm however, the princess’ eyes snapped upward just in time for wisps of steam to leave her peripheral vision. A glance just beyond her set up made Blaze blink, the rockpool had been low but certainly not that low. Grabbing her things, she shuffled a few steps backward from the edge before igniting. Three rings, albeit in different states, were now boiling in her palm, she tried not to think what would become of her hand’s fur as she felt the ruby slip to mingle among the other rocks. This was getting quicker, or perhaps simply easier. She dared to stop holding her breath and found that her focus only slightly waned, the black-blue box barely broke from its shaped form.

A smile crossed her lips as she closed her fist this time, letting the mixture of metals drip until there were no more drops left. The wiry grin faded as she reached for the next ring though, something else had caught her eye again. While molten metal was pouring into the cast, it was cooling to the point of not fully solidifying but being inconsistently heated before the next ring could melt to the point of being added. A sigh slipped past her lips, if the metals weren’t properly mixed then the ring would come out looking awful.

She glanced right, a silver ring with a small diamond was set for burning next. That meant less effort than gold and an opportunity to shift her methods. The pyrokinetic straightened her back and moved the ring to her left hand. She’d gained greater control, but this would be perhaps a step too far.

Blaze placed her right hand over the ring-shaped hole in the mould. She felt the heat amass on her palm. Though it was flattened and undoubtedly hadn’t taken the true shape, it was the exact same feeling she had been conjuring in her left hand. Breath held once again, she split her focus to alight her right hand. It was difficult, the flame on her left buckled and writhed as if trying to resist her demand. She had to breathe when a blue cauldron formed and the shape warbled, but on her second attempt she managed to make the form. By the third, Blaze was maintaining both super concentrated flames.

Metal melted in her palm and her bent smile returned, now accompanied by sweat on her brow. Gingerly, she brought her left hand over to her right, snuffing the latter as she reached for a fresh ring and allowing the former to ball and pour the rich liquid into the cast. From now until her job was done, she wouldn’t permit that black-blue box in her left to bust.

The next ring introduced to the flame’s grasp was copper, this time with a trio of amethyst gems centrally placed, two small dots flanking a single large chunk. She renewed the fire on her right hand, pressing it down and forcing the mixed metals to remain molten. Perhaps due to the higher melting point and her split attention, this time the ring took longer to shed its precious metal. Regardless, the moment she felt its worth was enough removed her hand was tipped.

A quick glance down proved her plan was working, the ring looked to be a consistent molten orange. Without blinking, she plucked a silver ring with a yellow topaz rectangle on its front and set it for melting. Truth be told, almost six rings set to be disposed of, she couldn’t recall when she’d received even a single one of them. The feline assumed they were relatively new by their position near the front of the box, but from who or where they’d originated was beyond her. Most had come in the mail or been quickly passed to her in passing before, after or between meetings. Not one of them had a single ounce of earnest or heartfelt intent behind their gifting. They were all simple showpieces.

It was as she poured the metal from that ring that Blaze the contrast between their expensive efforts and Silver’s own flooded back to her. Though the rings surely held greater material value, the first gift Blaze could recall the hedgehog ever bestowing upon her was magnitudes more costly. Those who had given her the jewellery had money to simply throw away, they wouldn’t pass her these rings so casually otherwise. In Crisis City, monetary value had entirely fallen by the wayside, only a few things truly mattered, and he had shared the most valuable with her. Not long after they’d first encountered each other, he had offered her food just because she’d looked hungry. That memory had stuck with her longer than any garnet casually passed in hope of a favour, regardless of how accessible such scraps were now.

Just one more, that’s all she needed. Reaching blindly again, she procured a silver ring with a blue opal inlay. The flames flickered out of formation, a clear sign that she was running out of energy. The weight of seven dishevelled rings in hand was a reminder of how far she’d progressed, how successful it’s all been. Holding her breath one last time, shutting her eyes, she felt heat again twist along her arms. It was seconds or minutes later, she couldn’t tell which, when the flame on her right hand sputtered alight. The left was quickly brought across, molten metal dripped from her palm just one more time and the cast was filled up to the brim.

Quickly, she flipped the top of the cast down and redid the latch. The moment she was certain it was sealed; she pushed the box off and into the rockpool to speed up the cooling and quench the metal. Steam immediately burst from the hole, accompanied by an even stronger scent of salt.

Using her wrist, she pushed up her sunglasses before haphazardly setting the remaining contents of her left hand by the rockpool. Feeling light-headedness immediately set in, not to mention the sweat on her forehead, Blaze drew her water bottle from her rucksack. Fortunately, the bottle was metal, she could still see the heat lines rising from her hands by the time she was quenched, and the water was half gone.

She waited five minutes longer before retrieving the mould, finding the water had again significantly evaporated. She flipped it open only to find that the colour was about as she’d expected, not the bright yellow of typical gold but a softer, bordering on silver, tone. With the modifications she’d had Marine make to the cast, it was set to come out like one of Silver’s bracers. There was a way the mould could be pulled in two to remove the ring but, given that buffer work would undoubtedly be needed, not to mention it’s difficult composition, she opted just to reseal the case and return it to her bag.

The ring she’d created would be soft, by virtue of its composition. This was entirely intentional. This ring wasn’t for today, though she dared not think it, the hedgehog may not receive the ring for many years to come. Their old world’s future was still in crisis, albeit that crisis was perpetually changing. Until it settled, neither he nor she could do the same. The ring was made to be soft, made not to withstand the battles that were so present in his life. Whenever things finally calmed, and he could wear it with safety, she would do it; she would be the one to propose.

As embarrassment flushed into her cheeks, Blaze managed to stuff the sealed cast and the jewellery box back into her rucksack. She was thinking miles ahead still, planning as she so often did. Today the feline had transmuted a source of annoyance into one of love, using the very power he so encouraged her regarding. With her managing this, securing his future was a certainty that couldn’t come soon enough.

She threw a glance to her surroundings as she pulled her rucksack back over her shoulders. It didn’t look like anyone had arrived while she was working, the beach was still empty, not a sound carried on the wind and not a figure caught her gaze, though it was possible that someone had slipped between the tall dunes. Either way, she supposed it was unlikely that anyone watching from afar would understand what she had been doing… perhaps with the exception of Marine or Silver himself.

Deciding she was overthinking, Blaze cast her eyes to her surroundings, looking for any evidence she might have left behind. Her eyes fell upon the rings she’d destroyed and had nowhere else to go, they were the only sign she’d ever even been here. The metal of the rings had paled in some places while blackening in others, losing most of their mass in the process and crumpling. In the gems however, a more unique difference was clear. Their colours had been darkened, coating from the burning metal had plainly affixed to stones. She supposed something could have probably been done with them, but seeing their tarnished state was rather cathartic.

She hadn’t noticed until now, but each stone matched to one of the seven Sol and Chaos emeralds. Those stones had been the source of endless strife across both of their lifetimes. Without the chaos emeralds there was no Solaris, Iblis and Mephiles fusion could never have occurred. Without the Sol emeralds her duties wouldn’t tie her here, her departure wouldn’t risk the balance between universes and aiding Silver would be so much easier. Seeing them in this way and feeling that catharsis, what did it mean?

Well, regardless of any hind sighted metaphor, the state of the precious rocks hadn’t ever mattered to the feline. Even if the gems were in prime condition and perfectly buffed, Blaze knew for certain that the imminent shine in Silver’s eyes would put their colours to shame. With a single kick she knocked them into the water, removing the last sign of her presence before she turned to make for home, hopefully in time for his return.

#sonamysilvazeweek2021 #silvaze #Blaze the Cat #Silver the Hedgehog

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lynnsaundersfanfic · 4 years ago

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Grounded, Chapter 10: Dreams

A Coffee House Fic inspired by a prompt from awesomegreentie.

We started off with a T rating, but who are we kidding here? It’s me. So, the rating has been moved up to M at Chapter 5.

Chapters in Order: Introductions - Invitation - Stroll - Alchemy - Dayspring - Distraction - Lost - Firelight - Monday - Dreams

Or, read it on fanfiction.net here.

Grounded | Chapter Ten: Dreams | by Lynn Saunders

The Tuesday before Christmas dawns cold and grey, and John watches the sunrise as he sits before the shop’s hearth with his morning tea, struggling a bit to meet the day. William looks surprised to find him there quite so early after closing so late the evening before, but he doesn’t comment on the matter. They really must hire someone else on, and soon.

Anna’s over a week gone, and John has scarcely slept since she’s been away. He trudges home late in the evenings, tie askew, and sinks onto the couch in his sparsely furnished flat to doze for a few hours before rising early to do it all over again. His split with Vera did not leave him with much in the way of quality furnishings, and what little he did take with him has mostly been used to lend a personal touch to the tasteful rusticity of the coffee house. The little shop is the first thing he’s truly been able to make all his own. But his apartment feels cold, the freshly painted walls stark and bare, and it’s not yet truly a home for him. It’s pale and blank, a new slate that he hasn't yet gotten around to writing on - not like Anna’s flat, which is warm and cheerful and utterly her.

He’s a bit surprised to find that it’s difficult to sleep without Anna snugged in safely against him. He craves her scent and the warm press of her body in the dark. He tosses and turns in the night, restless and brooding. But when sleep does finally find him, he dreams of a faerie with golden hair, her eyes blue as the sea. She awaits him eagerly in a small hothouse in mid-winter, dressed all in white. In the dream, their meetings are secret, and her love for him is certain. This morning, the taste of the dream maiden’s lips had lingered on his even after he awoke feverish and shaky, lost between worlds for a moment and struggling to remember which was real.

The church bell down the street chimes out the hour, and John rises and stretches. He retrieves his mobile from the mantle and sends Anna a photo of the blazing fire, then tucks the phone into his pocket with a small smile. He doesn’t expect her home for a few days yet, but it’s safe to say she hasn’t forgotten him. Two evenings ago, their goodnight phone call had ended with her breathlessly sighing his name.

I was thinking of the other night, he’d said. Of having you against the door.

He’s never been brave enough to give voice to such delicious thoughts before, never had someone so eager to listen. Her response to his secret whispers in the dark was the definition of unforgettable.

He finishes his tea with a smirk, then readies for the day, tying on an apron and washing his hands. He surveys the stock of pastries and resolves to make more fresh cinnamon buns, but it will have to wait until the morning rush dies down. For the next two hours, the bells on the front door jangle consistently.

Business is good. More than good. He feels utterly blessed to have this place, but beyond that he feels a sense of deep pride in his work. Is this what it’s like to love what you do? He realizes with a start that this is the first path he’s truly chosen for himself, rather than one he pursued out of habit, pressure, or obligation. In his old life, he might be tempted to focus on all the work that still looms ahead, or to wait for the other shoe to drop. He would’ve been too hesitant to venture into business ownership, too pessimistic. But more than anything else, being wounded showed him just how fleeting life is. That’s what made him put down the bottle and start living life again. And Anna? He certainly would’ve never imagined that he deserved the company of someone this lovely or, for that matter, someone this kind. Finally, he’s starting to believe.

Anna dreams of John in a different time. They sit at a long table in a bustling room she doesn’t quite recognize, yet she somehow knows it all the same. The room smells of coffee and warm, brown bread. Breakfast china rattles over bits of conversation. Beside her, John is clean-shaven and polished and proper. This image of him stands in stark contrast to what she knows he is capable of in the dark. He gives her a furtive glance, and she attempts to hide her flush behind her teacup. Her delicate wedding band is hidden safely away beneath her frock, nestled against her breastbone on a simple gold chain. Her cup clinks into its saucer, and she brings a hand up to absently trace the outline of the ring through the fabric of her dress. No one can know, not yet. John’s leg presses against hers beneath the table, out of view of the others.

The others?

But the room is gone now, replaced with the glow of a fire and the slip of fine linens against her bare skin. John’s thick fingers glide along her back as she rests, snugged against his chest. She’s long been sated, and now sleep calls. As her eyes drift shut, her mind flashes on the rustling of willow fronds and the taste of fresh cider, of mistletoe on the arch of an old oak door, of the earthy smell of a conservatory in midwinter and the sound of pottery shattering in the dark.

The company car rocks gently as it pulls onto Anna’s street, and her eyes blink open. Her mind fumbles for the thread of that intriguing dream, but the more she reaches for those memories, the further they slip away. John in an old-fashioned waistcoat and sleeves, she thinks with a grin. Something about a greenhouse… and then a feeling - one of bittersweet, quiet, and steadfast love. It is safe and warm, and… familiar? Anna shakes her head with a confused sigh.

The homes on Anna’s street are cheerful, dotted with wreaths and holiday lights. In the west, the sky is painted purple and crimson in the waning daylight. The car pulls to a stop at her door, and she draws the edges of her coat closed before stepping out into the nipping winter air. She’s so looking forward to being in her own flat and her own bed, to seeing her grumpy old three-legged cat… and her hot barista.

She checks her mobile - still no service. Ah, well. When she’d spoken briefly with John last evening, her plans called for staying in London at least another day or two. However, this morning’s presentation had gone surprisingly well, and when Mary spoke of sending Anna home ahead of schedule, she’d jumped at the chance.

The driver hurries around to help her with her bags, and she tips him generously before climbing the short flight of stairs to her apartment. Even with both bags in hand, Anna unlocks the door to her flat with practiced ease. Castle comes running and leaps onto the kitchen counter with a delighted chirp. She scritches him and shakes some crunchies into his bowl.

Tacked to the fridge is a note from Gwen.

I continue to be Castle’s favorite person to torment. The beggar knocked the treat bag off of the counter and ate half. He then vomited in the hall and stared haughtily as I cleaned it up.

XO, G

Castle blinks innocently from the kitchen counter, and Anna gives him a disapproving look. She makes a mental note to take her friend for drinks ASAP to make up for it.

Gwen has left the week’s mail on the countertop, and Anna sorts the contents quickly while she waits for the shower to run hot. She happily sheds her travel clothes and steps under the spray with a relieved sigh, washing the muck of the day away. Oh, but there’s so much to do. She needs to go for groceries and work on the laundry, to put the finishing touches on a project before the firm closes for the holidays. But as she lingers in the steam of the shower, allowing the heat to sink into the delicate muscles of her neck and shoulders, she finds it impossible to care about those mundane tasks. Her mind drifts instead.

She thinks of last week, of John’s long fingers moving between her thighs, patiently coaxing her pleasure. She had melted into his embrace, her slick back pressed to his front, her head lolled against his chest. He had turned her then, lifting her solidly against the chilly shower tile and marking her neck with his lips as he pushed into her. His strong arms held her fast while she sighed his name and dug her fingernails into his shoulders. His teeth had trailed behind her ear just so. She reaches lazily up to press her fingertips to the spot, daydreaming until the water begins to cool.

Yes, all the trappings of everyday life can wait. She has a very particular craving that only one thing can satisfy.

John rushes to open the shop’s door ahead of William, who is carefully balancing three full pastry boxes, their largest order of the day. He steps out to meet the chill of the December evening, and William follows, passing gingerly through the doorway. They work together to arrange the pastry boxes safely in the floorboards of the waiting car.

The customer is Beatrice, one of John’s mother’s friends from church, and she reaches up to pat his arm affectionately. “Thank you, Dear.”

He smiles down at her. “I hope you enjoy them.”

“Oh, the kids will love them!”

She waves to William as he ducks back through the shop’s front door. The neon ‘open’ sign blinks out shortly afterward, and they watch for a moment as William goes about closing duties without having to be asked.

“He’s a hard worker,” John says. “Thank you for sending him my way.”

“Oh, yes, I’ve known his family for ages, and of course with his mother’s passing he needed something closer to home for a while. He’s all his dad has left now.” She shakes her head sadly. “But, I’m so happy you two get on so well. I hear there was a less pleasant fellow working here who has recently moved on.”

John laughs. “Yes, but that’s fine by me. Better the two of us work harder than have a third who rocks the boat. But if you know of anyone else who needs steady work, please send them my way.”

She thinks for a moment. “I may have just the young lady in mind. She’s young and a bit new to church, but she seems reliable. She was such a help with the bake sale.”

He draws a card from the breast pocket of his button-front shirt. “Please have her come by. William and I are managing, but barely. As it is, he needs a large bonus… and a holiday.”

She chuckles, then takes a conspiratorial step closer. “Now, let me hear all about this Anna. Margaret tells me you two are quite the item.”

John gives a somewhat embarrassed chuckle. His mother definitely cannot be prevailed upon to keep any secrets. “Yes, I suppose we are.”

“You suppose?” She tsks with mock disapproval. “Well don’t you be shy. Bring her ‘round to see us for tea soon.”

He gives a vague promise, and John waves as Beatrice pulls away from the curb. As the taillights fade in the distance, he takes a moment to stand still, to close his eyes and simply breathe in the icy air. There’s been no new snow today, but there’s still a satisfying icy crunch underfoot, and he remembers his first stroll home with Anna, the first brush of her lips against his cheek. That was only two weeks ago, yet somehow this thing between them feels both ancient and new.

It’s a bit odd that he hasn’t heard from her today, and it dawns on him that he’s not been the least bit concerned about what that uncharacteristic lack of contact means for their burgeoning relationship. In the past, he’s had what Vera would have called a jealous streak. But underneath that superficial explanation was truly only worry, a deep-seated fear that he won’t measure up, that he’s undeserving. But he feels none of that with Anna. Everything between them has come so naturally.

He takes one more moment to enjoy the quiet solitude of the winter evening, then turns to help William close up for the night. But he doesn’t quite reach the door. His breath is caught in his throat, and for a moment he stops and stares, blinking in delighted disbelief. Anna. The streetlamps catch her golden hair even through the frozen haze of the December evening. She’s supposed to be miles away, yet here she is on his street instead, making her way toward him with a very particular look in her eye. He sees warmth reflected there, mischief, and an intoxicating, velvety undercurrent of desire. He catches her up in an embrace, and she giggles as he lifts her off of her feet. God, he wants so badly to be the one who inspires that sound from now on. He breathes her in, feels the thrill of it deep in his chest, then remembers himself and returns her gently to the ground.

“Why didn’t you say you were coming?” he asks with a grin.

“I didn’t know until today.” Her eyes dance as she reaches up to straighten his tie. “That, and my mobile has been out of service all afternoon. But… I’ve brought you something that may make up for it.”

At his quizzical look, she reaches into her coat pocket and brings out a sprig of mistletoe, twirling it in her fingers for a moment, raising an eyebrow. He tugs her close in response, kissing her gently in the arch of the shop doorway until she begins to shiver in his arms. Later, as he sifts his fingers through her hair in her bedroom in the dark, she’ll tell him she wasn’t cold, not exactly. It’s the intensity of his touch that’s making her tremble. But he doesn’t know that now, and he ushers her quickly into the cheerful warmth of the coffee house. Muted sounds from the kitchen radio filter down the hall, and he can hear the clinking of silverware as William washes the dishes. He presses another soft kiss to her lips before locking the door and pulling the shades in turn.

“I need to-” he begins, but she places a gentle hand on his chest with a nod.

“Finish your work.” She smiles up at him. “I’ll still be here.”

He brings the back of her hand to his lips for a moment, then turns to join William in the kitchen. Together, the men make quick work of the evening chores. Soon the dishes are dried and the countertops gleam once more. William finishes the mopping while John reviews the checklist for tomorrow, smiling at the sheer volume of holiday orders.

As he pulls on his coat to leave, William glances down the hall toward Anna, then gives John a nod of decided approval. “It’s good to see you happy, Mr. Bates.”

John clears his throat a bit self-consciously, but he’s touched. “I think I am, truly… for the first time in a long while.” He pauses just a moment before adding, “now, run on home. We’ve another early day tomorrow.”

“You two don’t stay up too late,” William says with a wink as he pulls his cap down snug over his brow and disappears through the shop’s rear door.

John only laughs and shakes his head in response.

When he returns to the front room with a cup of cocoa to share, Anna is warming herself by the waning coals of the banked fire. The shop lights are low, and the sight of her silhouetted in the amber glow of the stone fireplace tugs at a quiet, yearning place deep within him. Anna just feels so… familiar, his mind echoes. It’s as if they’ve spent countless evenings sharing a hearth and a bed, perhaps across times and places he will never know or understand, but always - always - with the same indescribable current arcing between them.

She smiles up at him as he passes her the mug, and he eases onto the sofa, drawing her near. She takes a sip and gives a satisfied hum that makes the fine hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. They watch the embers pop and spark for a moment as the kitchen radio plays on in the distance.

“How was London?” He presses a kiss to her temple.

“Good, actually.” She takes another sip of cocoa and passes him the mug. “Well, more than good, I think. It might mean a promotion.”

“Well done!” He squeezes her hand with genuine affection and pride, then adds cheekily, “Will you have a corner office, then?”

“No…” She grins up at him. “And nothing’s decided yet, but… on that topic, there is a favor I need to ask you.”

“Oh yes?”

“You see, there’s this company holiday party. Fancy dress and all that, and I’ll be needing a date…”

“Dancing and cocktails and a suit?”

“Well, probably not dancing… but the rest of it, yes.”

“No dancing? Pity, that.”

“I expect you’ll be relieved.” She taps his chest playfully with the back of her hand, and he realizes she thinks he’s joking.

He imagines Anna in a low-cut gown, his fingers gliding along the curve of her back as they savor the anonymity of a darkened dance floor. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that.”

John smiles conspiratorially and moves their shared mug to the safety of the little coffee table. He rises carefully, then pulls Anna gently to her feet. She smiles shyly at him as he takes her hand and leads her down the shop’s hallway in the dark. The familiar rooms are bathed in shadows, and she clings to his hand like a lifeline. In the kitchen, he pauses to adjust the volume on the little radio, filling the room with the mellow, rolling notes of a jazz piano.

“Come here,” he says, his voice rough and low.

She giggles as he pulls her easily into his embrace, and they sway together in the dark, his right hand perfectly fitted to the small of her back. Thank goodness for heels, she thinks dreamily. Moving together this way, she’s just tall enough to rest her forehead against his broad chest. He tucks her hair behind her ear and tips her chin up to meet him, stooping to graze her lips with his. His large hands slide beneath the hem of her sweater, blazing a path up the curve of her spine. She hums happily, and she feels his answering smile against her temple.

She finds the quiet confidence in his touch intoxicating. She’s enamored with the pleasing stoutness of his body, the thickness of his chest and shoulders, the way he gazes at her so intently as they move together. She’s never been this easily turned on, this revved up. She’s fallen hard and fast, no question, but this thought doesn’t alarm her. Instead, she feels emboldened by her desire. When she rises on tiptoe to kiss him, he tastes not just of cinnamon and chocolate, but of something deeper and richer, a comforting memory she cannot place. And as the song begins to fade, they hold fast to one another, lighting a fire between them as they dance together in the dark.

Author’s notes:

I’ve not written in a long while. I worry it shows. Thank you for being patient while I knock the rust off.

Anna and Bates dance to Turn Me On by Nora Jones.

Thanks to @awesomegreentie and @gelana78 for quick-beta!

#grounded #anna and bates #anna x bates #Banna #downton abbey fanfiction #anna smith #john bates #coffeeshopau #alternate universe #sticky

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tiliamericana · 4 years ago

Text

Muay Thai: 1.03

Read from start | Read Ahead | Home Site

The florist down the street was a peaceful place, even if walking in the front door was a little like being punched in the nose. They had a scent pump hidden in a hanging pot by the front door—Nairi wasn’t entirely certain why they needed to spray heavy fragrance oils inside a place filled with flowers, but she’d never managed a flower shop herself. Maybe they were trying to hook pedestrians.

The college kid manning the counter waved in recognition, already turning to fetch her order from the shelf. “Back again?” he said cheerfully as she approached, setting her wrapped cuttings on the counter. “I shouldn’t really discourage repeat patronage, but you know these suckers are pretty easy to grow yourself, right?”

Nairi shrugged, handing her card over as he rung up her order. “I’m pretty bad at keeping plants alive.”

He gave her a rueful grin as he handed her the chip reader to finish the transaction. “I get that—I used to kill cactuses before I started working here. The nurseries we order from have some pretty fierce gardeners on staff though, got me sorted very quickly.”

“Mhm.”

He nodded and kept talking despite her disinterest. The Thursday morning flower rush clearly didn’t provide enough opportunities for socialization. “Yeah, they’re all local places who go all in on small seasonal batches and heritage seeds. The bigger commercial suppliers don’t really have the same kind of knowledge base, it’s very cool.”

Nairi gave him a polite smile as she pocketed her card and picked up the greenery. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“Have a great day!” he called out as she left through the flowers. She sneezed when she stepped into the fresh air outside and rubbed at her nose. Hopefully orchids would go out of fashion soon; she was rapidly coming to hate the smell.

It was a nice day, and she lingered for a moment before heading back inside the dojo. Sun streamed across the front room and she hesitated before leaving the door unlocked. She was close to her opening time anyway and if someone came in early the bell would ring. She tucked her wallet and keys into the desk drawer with the lock and crossed to the back room, leaving that door open behind her.

The second room had a viewing gallery rather than floor markings, and it was raised off the ground as a little balconette. It ran the length of the back wall with a built-in bench and was accessible by a stained wood step ladder; a very pretty feature, the real estate agent had said. Nairi had set her shrine at the far end of the balcony, on a little nook inset to the wall. It had had dividing shelves installed, probably for bags or shoes, but she’d pulled them out to make room.

She’d cleaned her vase that morning to replace the plants, filling it with clean water before she left. The kid at the florist’s hadn’t really reacted when she’d placed her weekly order for just green plants rather than anything with flowers, but she supposed she didn’t actually know what was considered ‘odd’ to buy from a florist.

Everything else was set up, so she lit the incense and knelt.

A few minutes later the bell rang. Nairi stared at the shrine in front of her for a few moments, then blinked and climbed to her feet. Halfway down the ladder someone called out her name, and her confusion only rose as she stepped onto the mats and crossed back to the front room.

The hooker from the night before, Cherry, was standing in the doorway. She was still half outside, door propped open with her hip, one hand behind her in the sunlight with a lit cigarette smoldering in her fingers. Her other hand was a bit closer to her body, probably to balance the cardboard tray with two coffee cups in it. Her expression brightened when she made eye contact with Nairi, and she smiled. “Oh, there you are! Wasn’t sure I had the right place.”

Nairi stared at her blankly. In the daylight Cherry looked like almost an entirely different person—slinky dress and soft make up gone, traded for faded and worn cutoffs and tank top with half laced docs. Her bare arms had tattoos of fire circling her wrists, tongues of flame licking up to her elbows and her clean face was rounder and freckled.

“Why are you here?” said Nairi blankly, staring at her.

Cherry grinned, juggling the cups between her elbow and shoulder very carefully. “You saved my ass and bought me dinner. I’ve been on dates that aren’t that nice, babe, I wanted to say thanks.”

She dropped the cigarette on the concrete and crushed it under the toe of her boot before stepping inside properly. The bell jingled again as the door swung shut behind her, and she blinked to adjust to the light inside before taking the few steps to close the distance between her and Nairi.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked,” she said, tugging one of the cups out of the tray and offering it to Nairi, “so I just picked the most inoffensive thing I could think of.”

Nairi took the cup after a moment and had a quick sip. Foamy, bitter coffee filled her mouth and she tried not to grimace as she swallowed. “Thanks.”

The corner of Cherry’s mouth twitched. “Not a latte kind of girl?”

Nairi winced. “I don’t drink coffee,” she admitted, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “Sorry, it was really nice of you.”

“Can’t win ‘em all,” said Cherry, still smiling at her as she plucked the cup out of Nairi’s hand. “Do you like mochas, or teas or something?”

“Uh, I mean, tea usually, I don’t—caffeine gives me headaches—”

“Do you have some time before you open this place up?” asked Cherry, gesturing around the dojo.

“I guess, yeah, I scheduled for twelve, but no one shows up for—”

“Great!” said Cherry brightly. “C’mon, I don’t know how fancy Starbucks gets, but there’s this little posh place on the corner that looks like they’ll sneer at you for using teabags, lemme get you a pot?”

Nairi glanced at the clock over her door. There were fifteen minutes til she was scheduled to open, but, well, no one had booked or called about the noon session. “Okay,” she said after a moment.

Cherry grinned, raising the second coffee to her lips and sculling it in long gulps as Nairi slipped her shoes on. She dropped the coffee cups in Nairi’s wastepaper basket and reached out, grabbing Nairi by the wrist to tug her onto the street outside. Nairi took a second to lock up with the chain while Cherry tapped a toe impatiently, and when she turned back Cherry was watching her curiously.

“You have a problem with break ins?” she asked as Nairi stepped back next to her.

“No,” said Nairi, glancing at her. “Why do you ask?”

Cherry shrugged, hooking her hands into the back pockets of her shorts as they walked. “Heavy duty locks for this part of town, s’all. Though, I’ve lived in some pretty interesting places, and then college towns like, totally fuck with your perception of that stuff, so I’m probably not the best judge of what’s like, a ‘good area’ or whatever.”

Nairi hummed noncommittedly, keeping her gaze ahead of her. She could feel Cherry’s eyes on the side of her face and tried not to think too hard about what it was she was seeing.

The café Cherry took her to was on the other end of the street to Nairi’s building, and it was small and picturesque. It had low armchairs and beanbags dotted around the open air front space, and as it transitioned into the café proper the walls were lined with tall shelves sporting thick, coffee-table books and lush, overflowing ferns. Low chatter and the steaming of coffee machines filled the sparsely occupied room.

Cherry went straight for the counter, tugging Nairi along with her. “Hey there!” she said in a friendly tone, flashing a bright smile at the bearded young man behind the counter. “Do you guys have any like, fun teas?”

He nodded, leaning over the counter to point at the chalkboard wall with the marker he’d been turning over in his hands. “Sure do. We’ve got all of these guys, plus, you know, like English Breakfast and stuff. The Sinnamon’s new, and Rose and Shine is very popular with soda and ice as a morning mocktail.”

The other teas on the menu were called things like ‘Rooid Boi’, ‘Lemon Aid’, ‘Raspberry Remnant’, and ‘Tea Thyme’ with the ingredients listed in a nigh incomprehensible chalked cursive. Nairi stared at them blankly.

Cherry squinted at them, mouth open slightly. “….Did you just forget to write the raspberry in on that one?” she asked, pointing at ‘Raspberry Remnant’.

“It used to have raspberry leaves in the blend, but we had some issues. We liked the name, so we kept it,” he said, shrugging.

Nairi ignored the wall and turned to address the guy instead. “Do you have anything with oolong?” she tried.

He nodded, pointing at a couple of the marked teas again. “Yeah, the Roasty Posie is oolong with mixed floral overtones, and Save the Teas uses an oolong base as well. If you’re looking for a gentler caffeine experience, then Rose and Shine uses white tea.” He grinned, leaning on the counter with his elbows. “Also, we do a uh, ‘house special’ with the Serenity Chill where we add booster shots of oolong and white tea—we call it ‘Aunt Mableton’s Icicle Situation’ after our manager’s cat.”

“Good to know,” said Nairi after a moment. “I’ll have a pot of Save the Teas, I guess?”

“Sure,” he said, leaning back and pulling the cap off the marker to write it down directly on the polished steel countertop. “Can I grab anything else for you ladies?”

“Can I grab an iced mocha,” said Cherry, turning her head and pointing at the glass case. “And like… one each of the fruit muffins?”

He nodded, adding them down as Nairi tugged out her wallet to pay. Cherry smacked her hand away and handed the guy some cash in exchange for the little table number, giving Nairi a wry grin. She stuffed the change into the tip jar and tugged Nairi over to a tall table by a bookshelf.

“You didn’t have to,” said Nairi as she shifted to take a stool on the far side so that the wall was behind her.

Cherry shrugged, dropping her wallet and phone on the tabletop before sitting across from her, kicking her booted feet back up onto the stool’s brace bar. “It’d be a pretty shitty way to pay you back for dinner, making you put out for brunch as well,” she said, poking her tongue out at Nairi.

Nairi wasn’t sure what to say to that and she fiddled with a loose thread in her cuff for several long moments. Eventually it got too awkward for her to bear, and she shifted. “Makes sense.”

“Aren’t you hot in that?” asked Cherry, crossing her arms on the table in front of her. Weirdly enough the only jewellery she was wearing was a small gold cross on a chain, no rings or bracelets. If Nairi had taken a second to think about how Cherry would dress off the job, this wouldn’t have been it.

She shrugged instead of answering the question.

“No, seriously,” said Cherry, her grin twitching a little at the corners. “I know it’s still a bit windy after midnight, but it’s still July, it’s like a hundred degrees out right now! How are you in long sleeves?”

“I just prefer it,” said Nairi, shrugging again. She felt an itch in the middle of her back, right between her shoulders, the way she did when someone was staring at her. There was only wall there. She resisted the urge to turn around and check anyway. “It’s light, you know, whatever.”

Cherry looked like she was going to push a little harder, but thankfully their food arrived and cut her off. Did it still count as brunch when it was nearly noon already? Either way, Cherry was thoroughly distracted, smiling sunnily at the cheerful girl with dreads and facial piercings who set their order across the table. Nairi had been given two glasses; both thick and squat, one filled with ice in deference to the weather.

Cherry sliced open one of the muffins, blueberry, and picked up the butter dish, waggling her eyebrows at Nairi over the mason jar that contained her iced mocha. “This place is a little… more than I was expecting.”

“It’s very… lush,” said Nairi, flicking her eyes to one side to give a hanging fern a deliberate look.

Cherry stifled an ugly snort, her head ducking as she pushed the muffins towards Nairi. “At least it’s interesting,” she said, hooking a hand around her jar of coffee. “Come on, tell me how the hippie tea is.”

Nairi poured a small cup of it out and took a careful sip, raising an eyebrow. “Organic,” she said. It actually wasn’t bad; a little woody and over steeped, but she was used to that at least.

Cherry took a long sip through her straw, eyebrow arched in return as she looked at Nairi through her eyelashes, then grimaced, leaning back. “Oh, that’s soy milk and straight cacao, I think this might be a vegan place.”

“Good to know,” said Nairi, smiling a little without thinking about it as Cherry picked up her half of the blueberry muffin.

“Are you vegan?” asked Cherry, tearing the muffin into chunks. “Or do you just like veggies for tempura?”

“Just vegetarian,” said Nairi, drinking more tea. “Don’t like meat. Milk and stuff is fine.”

“Don’t like violence against animals but you’re perfectly happy doling out a little of your own in the dark of the night?” teased Cherry, washing down her bites with more mocha.

“I have the black belts, I may as well put them to good use,” said Nairi with another awkward shrug, wishing she could get comfortable.

“’Belts’, huh? You know other stuff, not just Judo?”

Nairi hummed. “Krav Maga and Muay Thai as well. Belts or rankings and colours aren’t universal in different arts, but more people know what they generally mean, so, you know. My Muay school used armbands.”

Cherry nodded, one of her legs kicking the air under her stool. “Yeah? Do you teach those too or just Judo?”

“All three. I only have real students for Judo, though.”

“What makes someone a real student?”

“Showing up?”

Cherry snorted again, her hand flying to her mouth but not quite managing to hide her grin. “You don’t pull your punches anywhere, do you?”

Nairi shrugged again, not really sure how to take that.

Cherry seemed to find it an acceptable response anyway, openly watching Nairi with a fascinated expression. “Can I ask you something weird?”

“Sure,” said Nairi. It wasn’t like she could get more uncomfortable.

“So, like, ‘Nairi’ isn’t a super common name, and you seem proficient and reasonably scary,” said Cherry, peeling the paper away from another muffin as she watched Nairi indirectly. “And like, I keep my ears to the ground you know—or, well, fuck, okay, I occasionally end up in bed or working with people who have, uh, other hobbies cops might be interested in—”

Nairi wasn’t a hundred percent certain where she was going with this, but she tensed regardless, her expression relaxing into cool neutral.

If Cherry noticed, it didn’t stop her. “—Anyway, you wouldn’t happen to be the same Nairi who scared off the guys making meth a couple of blocks from here, would you?”

…Well, that wasn’t good, but it was leagues away from the worst thing she could have said. “I think I had a conversation with them,” she said politely, eyes flicking down to watch Cherry’s hands on the tabletop. She took a moment to consider and then added: “Sorry if that’s made one of your… ‘hobbies’ more difficult for you.”

Cherry snorted again and shook her head, looking distinctly unbothered. “Nah, not for me. I have a hard enough time making rent without that shit.”

She was still smiling.

Cherry swallowed her muffin and took a more gratuitous sip of her mocha, shifting how she was leaning on the table and looking up at Nairi properly again. “So you’re like, new in town right? Don’t know a lot of people yet?”

“What gave me away?” said Nairi, blinking at her.

“Just a feeling,” said Cherry, her cheeks dimpling as she polished off her drink. She climbed to her feet, tucking her wallet away, but flipping open her phone. “Do you wanna do this again some time? Like, I mean, tomorrow even if you want. I can come by earlier so we don’t run up against your opening, or we could grab food after you close for the day?”

“I—sure?” said Nairi, her mouth answering for her while she tried to process the abrupt change of gears. “I mean, what?”

“Catching up, getting to know each other, being friendly?” said Cherry brightly, shifting a little closer to Nairi. “You’ve got your dojo to open today and I need to clock some time at my day job, but I’d love to get to know you better, show you round town, introduce to some friends, even?”

Nairi only just managed to swallow the ‘Why?’ that was about to trip off her tongue. “Okay,” she said slowly. “I’d uh, yeah I’d like that?”

“Great!” said Cherry, holding out her phone with the screen open to a ‘new contact’ entry. “What’s your number?”

#serial fiction #series honey tree #book muay thai #103 #lgbt fiction

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chicagocityfclanspromoblog · 5 years ago

Photo

Ebony Anderson → Nafessa Williams → Hunter

→ Basic Information

Age: 31

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Straight

Birthday: July 23rd

Zodiac Sign: Leo

Religion: Catholic

Like Ebony? Consider taking her in our Hunter Giveaway Event! We will be waiving applications para samples, personalities and histories requirements for all canon hunters. Just send in the first and last name of the hunter(s) you would like to the main.

→ Her Personality (one to two paragraphs)

→ Her Personal Facts

Occupation: Tracker and Dealer

Scars: None

Tattoos: None

Two Likes: Vibrant Colors and ‘Me’ Time

Two Dislikes: Coconut and Muttering

Two Fears: Semi Truck Accident and Disappointing her Parents

Two Hobbies: Attending Fashion Weeks and Researching

Three Positive Traits: Outgoing, Persuasive, Flexible

Three Negative Traits: Frivolous, Instigative, Selfish

→ Her Connections

Parent Names:

Grant Anderson (Father): Ebony has always been daddy’s little girl and has had Grant wrapped around her finger since birth. He taught her everything she knows and made sure she trained only with the best. Ebony knows Grant will make a great leader but is also unsure if taking the mantle at 53 years old is wise or beneficial for their family.

Candace Anderson (Mother): Ebony’s mother is loving and smothering. Candace’s family believed in breeding for the best possible hunter outcomes. Ebony does not blame her mother for running and finds her story encouraging; especially about meeting her dad. This also made Ebony life hell with a clingy and opinionated mother. Candace has been lighting the fire under her to get married and have kids.

Sibling Names:

Imani Colt nee Anderson (Sister): Ebony and Imani have a common sisterly bond. They have each others backs and get along well but are also constantly fighting about stupid things and pissing each other off. Ebony encouraged Imani to start dating Blaine and has always been supportive of their relationship.

Children Names:

None

Romantic Connections:

Chris Shaw (Dated): Ebony dated Chris for 3 months for information about Isaac and Sol for her cousin Nia. Chris thought she was human and that she was too busy to continue their relationship. Chris was boring but very easy to pull information from, while he didn’t right out tell her what was going on, Ebony could easily piece together his subtext and hints.

Tristan Lawton (Ex-Boyfriend): Tristan was surprisingly easy to get close to but Ebony was unable to make it last as long as she would have liked to. The witches and warlock supernatural community is tightly knitted and Tristan called her out for being a hunter on their second date. He seemed cool about it and asked to keep seeing her which Ebony indulged in for a few months pulling away. They have continued to see each other off and on for the past 6 years.

Carter Bialar (Ex-Boyfriend): Ebony went after Carter after Alice Colt was attacked by someone from the Cat Pack. Grant wanted info and they only had a last name to go off of. She tracked down his son and pumped him for as much info as she could. He ghosted her after she met one of his friends and she thinks they may have figured her out.

Riley Anderson (Flirted): Ebony inadvertently got Riley’s information from Carter. Riley was his college buddy that Ebony found out was a bear shifter. She shared the information with Alexus and Grant but was told to hang back while Alexus worked with the senior members of their pack. Riley was unknown to them since he never frequented the Fields Hotel. Ebony still flirted with him and faked interest in purchasing a house. They attended a few parties together and hung out but Ebony had to call it quits when he wanted to introduce her to his friends, including Carter who she had recently broken things off with on bad terms.

Audo Wilhelm (Ex-Boyfriend): Audo was one of Ebony’s first targets. Grant wanted her to get an inside look at Shutter House Exports & Import and Audo was supposed to be her ticket in. He was literally the only magic user they knew that took some type of transportation to work instead of using magic. Ebony was sure she was ready but she quickly caught genuine feelings for Audo. It wasn’t love but she cared about him and his well being. Ebony quickly got what information she could and called things off.

Platonic Connections:

Nia Anderson (Cousin): She couldn’t stand Nia while they were younger, believing she got everything she wanted for a quarter of the work that Ebony and Imani did. They’ve become closer in their 30s and Ebony has come to realize that Nia doesn’t really seem to want to be head of the Andersons. That realization has taken a lot of the animosity away, and Ebony can have fun with Nia.

Trevon Anderson (Cousin): Ebony likes Trevon and thinks he’s making his own path. He seems to have really taken to Grant and Blaine, and Ebony thinks it’s made him a better hunter.

Marquis Anderson (Cousin): Ebony doesn’t really know what’s going on with Marquis. He always seems to be lurking in the shadows, or on his way out. She hasn’t been hunting with him in ages, but apparently he holds his own.

Raven Jenkins (Cousin): Ebony likes Raven. She gets her independence and thinks it should be encouraged. She’s loyal to the family and a good hunter, so there shouldn’t be any problems.

Tirra Jenkins (Aunt): Ebony can’t stand her aunts. Tirra is off in her own world thinking she matters more than the rest of them. The best thing she did was have Raven.

Amy Colt (Good Friend): Imani and Blaine introduced Ebony and Amy to each other when they first started to date. They bonded over being their families dealers and hunting. They’ve recently started to share contacts. Their personalities matched enough to hang out away from their families and hunting in general.

Rebecca Stone (Friend): Rebecca pulled Ebony aside at Lilly’s House with inquiries about a leather jacket she was wearing, Ebony took it upon herself to order multiple genuine leather jackets for Rebecca; Ebony heard Rebecca was a leather jacket enthusiast. They’ve remained in contact and have become friends.

Samir Khoury (Acquaintance): Ebony orders ingredients from Samir and Judsoin for the Anderson’s batch of hunters Ancestral Elixir. To keep supernaturals from finding out what exact ingredients they use, Ebony orders 100 different ingredients a week but for the entire month only one or two of them would be what she actually needs. Since ingredients are rare, it’s hard to find other hunters who are willing to share their sources or supplies. Samir doesn’t ask questions and thinks she is a human beautician and naturalist.

Judson Cleirigh (Acquaintance): Ebony orders ingredients from Samir and Judsoin for the Anderson’s batch of hunters Ancestral Elixir. To keep supernaturals from finding out what exact ingredients they use, Ebony orders 100 different ingredients a week but for the entire month only one of them would be what she needs. Ebony thinks Judson may be suspicious of her but he has yet to say anything or acted out in any way to confirm it. He has randomly started to add care tips for growing her own ingredients at home but none of them have been any of the key ingredients she needs. She thinks he’s just being nice and helpful.

Sirius Cobic (Mutual Agreement): The human shifters seem to be the neutral party in Chicago and they own the police. Ebony can’t tell for sure if every person in the police department is a human shifter or if it’s a mixture but it is clear that Sirius is the ring leader. Sirius randomly approached her one day with a proposition that Ebony couldn’t refuse. He was willing to hand off untouchables and other supernaturals that go unpunished by their packs to the Andersons.

Douglas Gish (Mutual Agreement): Douglas is another known human shifter that approached Ebony nearly a year after Sirius did but around the same time as Sarah. The human shifter police officers were willing to hand off human cases that weren’t handled properly or didn’t have enough evidence to prosecute. They are willing to turn a blind eye to their activities as long as they aren’t messy. Malik seems to be the only one that still gets speeding or parking tickets.

Sarah Harris (Mutual Agreement): Sarah has approached Ebony and Elle Colt about hunting human criminals. Jackals have no use to hunters besides information; the same can be said for rats and nimbles. The Anderson’s family hunt for hire for the local Jackal Pack and in return the jackal government workers look in the opposite direction when it comes to zoning, public records, licensing, code enforcement, power and light bills, etc.

Blaine Colt (Brother-In-Law): Ebony encouraged Imani to start dating Blaine and has always been supportive of their relationship. Ebony likes Blaine’s way of hunting and looks forward to working more with him in the future.

Fiona ‘Fi’ Marz (Friendly): During a really bad tornado, Ebony took an anonymous order for animal shifter and human shifter blood. Her contact turned out to be a vampire. They continued to deal like this for bad thunderstorms and tornadoes. After Imani joined the Colt family, Ebony shared another dealer, Amy Colt’s information with Fi to lessen her load.

Hostile Connections:

Malik Jenkins (Uncle-In-Law): Malik has never tried to get to know Ebony personally. While Malik and Grant are friends, he has practically ignored Ebony and Imani. They’re unsure why but cannot bring themselves to care about it.

Alexus Anderson (Aunt): Alexus always looked down on Ebony and her open ways. Besides family and hunter business, Ebony tries her best to ignore Alexus.

Seth Allen (Annoyance): Seth is a new player in town. Sarah Harris has apologized on his behalf multiple times and Ebony had to fight to get his name off of the hunters free for all board at Lily’s House. Seth has been spotted around town in his animal form and spraying graffiti everywhere.

Jazmine Anderson (Aunt): Ebony can’t stand her aunts. Jazmine is the biggest backstabber of them all, and even though they all know this, they repeatedly get played. Ebony knows she’s not immune and has limited her time talking to her after she created a fight between her and Imani.

Pets:

Meowth (Siamese Cat): She saw Meowth in the window of a pet store on a “Me Time” vacation and couldn’t get his face out of her mind. She went back three times that week and on the third time, bought him and everything he’d need.

→ History (paragraph(s) on background)

→ The Present (paragraph(s) on how the character connects to the plot)

→ Available Gif Hunts (we do not own these)

Nafessa Williams [1][2][3][4]

#Nafessa Williams #Hunter RPG #open roleplay #city rpg #new rpg

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chicagocityofclans · 5 years ago

Photo

Ebony Anderson → Nafessa Williams → Hunter

→ Basic Information

Age: 31

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Straight

Birthday: July 23rd

Zodiac Sign: Leo

Religion: Catholic

→ Her Personality (one to two paragraphs)

→ Her Personal Facts

Occupation: Tracker and Dealer

Scars: None

Tattoos: None

Two Likes: Vibrant Colors and ‘Me’ Time

Two Dislikes: Coconut and Muttering

Two Fears: Semi Truck Accident and Disappointing her Parents

Two Hobbies: Attending Fashion Weeks and Researching

Three Positive Traits: Outgoing, Persuasive, Flexible

Three Negative Traits: Frivolous, Instigative, Selfish

→ Her Connections

Parent Names:

Sibling Names:

Children Names:

None

Romantic Connections:

Platonic Connections:

Trevon Anderson (Cousin): Ebony likes Trevon and thinks he’s making his own path. He seems to have really taken to Grant and Blaine, and Ebony thinks it’s made him a better hunter.

Raven Jenkins (Cousin): Ebony likes Raven. She gets her independence and thinks it should be encouraged. She’s loyal to the family and a good hunter, so there shouldn’t be any problems.

Tirra Jenkins (Aunt): Ebony can’t stand her aunts. Tirra is off in her own world thinking she matters more than the rest of them. The best thing she did was have Raven.

Samir Khoury (Acquaintance): Ebony orders ingredients from Samir and Judsoin for the Anderson’s batch of hunters Ancestral Elixir. To keep supernaturals from finding out what exact ingredients they use, Ebony orders 100 different ingredients a week but for the entire month only one or two of them would be what she actually needs. Since ingredients are rare, it's hard to find other hunters who are willing to share their sources or supplies. Samir doesn’t ask questions and thinks she is a human beautician and naturalist.

Douglas Gish (Mutual Agreement): Douglas is another known human shifter that approached Ebony nearly a year after Sirius did but around the same time as Sarah. The human shifter police officers were willing to hand off human cases that weren’t handled properly or didn’t have enough evidence to prosecute. They are willing to turn a blind eye to their activities as long as they aren't messy. Malik seems to be the only one that still gets speeding or parking tickets.

Sarah Harris (Mutual Agreement): Sarah has approached Ebony and Elle Colt about hunting human criminals. Jackals have no use to hunters besides information; the same can be said for rats and nimbles. The Anderson's family hunt for hire for the local Jackal Pack and in return the jackal government workers look in the opposite direction when it comes to zoning, public records, licensing, code enforcement, power and light bills, etc.

Blaine Colt (Brother-In-Law): Ebony encouraged Imani to start dating Blaine and has always been supportive of their relationship. Ebony likes Blaine's way of hunting and looks forward to working more with him in the future.

Hostile Connections:

Alexus Anderson (Aunt): Alexus always looked down on Ebony and her open ways. Besides family and hunter business, Ebony tries her best to ignore Alexus.

Pets:

→ History (paragraph(s) on background)

→ The Present (paragraph(s) on how the character connects to the plot)

→ Available Gif Hunts (we do not own these)

Nafessa Williams [1][2][3][4]

#Ebony Anderson #Nafessa Williams #Taken

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stanbillyhargrove · 5 years ago

Text

Demons - an AU

A/N: Billy learns about Cat's assault from the guys who did it. T/W: eating disorder, self harm, suicide

Cat's POV

Another party. Another house full of nameless faces. Another night managing panic with burning alcohol.

What the queen must do for her king.

Push down the memories. Smile. Accept every drink and more. Dance, laugh. Harmless fun, right?

Right.

I lost Billy early on in the night, swept away in a sea of jocks to protect his crown. I was left behind, letting the music pound through my bones as I joined the crowd of dancers. I was well and truly wasted by the time I saw Billy across the room. He was standing in the kitchen, arms crossed against his chest as he stared at me. Saw a pack of guys I barely recognized around him, talking and laughing and then...gesturing at me. I watched Billy's shoulders tense, rolling back tightly as they kept talking to him.

I felt the panic swell and looked away. Felt myself being bumped around by chaotic dancers when I stopped moving. Just a moment, a moment of blood pounding in my ears. Of trying to gulp down breaths. My hands came up to my chest, like I could hold myself together and stop my heart from thundering out of my ribs if I just held tight enough.

A moment of panic taking over until I felt a large hand on my arm, yanking me through the crowd. I stumbled along, just trying to stay upright until I was pulled outside, being shoved down the driveway by a very angry Billy.

"Wait," I slurred, "Billy, slow down! You're hurting me!"

He let go of my arm with the next push forward, my hands flying up to catch myself on the hood of his car before I ended up face first in the gravel.

"Billy! What the fuck?"

"Get in the fucking car," he growled, storming around to the driver's side and slamming the door shut behind him.

I crawled into the passenger seat, tucking myself against the door as he peeled out of the driveway. He was weirdly quiet, muscles clenching in his jaw and hands flexing on the steering wheel. Beyond angry.

"B, what's wrong?"

The engine revved louder, creeping up to dangerous speeds as we whipped around corners.

"B, please. Slow down," I pleaded, reaching out to graze his arm.

He flinched, "don't."

"Don't? Billy, what's wrong?"

"Don't play fucking dumb!" He yelled, "you cheated on me!"

I stared at him, dumbfounded and whispered, "what?"

He stomped on the brake, launching me forward until my seatbelt locked, digging into skin to stop me from flying into the dashboard. Let out a loud huff of breath as he threw the car into park and then...he exploded.

"The last summer party, I wasn't there so you threw yourself at them. What? Couldn't handle being alone for a few fucking hours so you sleep with a fucking group of guys?"

I shook my head, "no...I, that's not..."

"Quit lying to me! They told me all about it, that you asked for it! They bragged about how good you were. You refuse to sleep with me but a group of strangers is fine? Seriously? Just to fuck with my head?"

"B...no..I didn't..."

"Get out," he muttered.

I quickly glanced out the window behind him, at the blackness of the night, the houses I knew were closer to his house than mine.

"B..."

"Get out of my car, you fucking whore!"

I scrambled to get out of the car, barely holding back tears until he peeled away.

I collapsed just inside the door of my house when I finally got home. Fell against the door, hugging my knees and sobbing loudly into them. I got myself together enough to crawl to the phone, pulling it down to the floor to dial. It took a while before he finally answered.

"Hello?" His voice was low and groggy, still mostly asleep.

"Stevie?" I hiccuped, "I need you."

"Five minutes," he murmured before hanging up.

I curled up on the floor, falling into the heartache as I waited.

I soon felt myself being scooped up, pulled forward into a warm chest and tucked under a soft chin.

Steve sat there, running his hand up and down my back as I cried into his chest.

"It's okay," he murmured into my hair, "I'm here. I'm always here."

-- Steve's POV

Cat and I had been inseparable for the past couple weeks since her and Billy broke up. I'd spent more nights wrapped around her then I spent by myself. She eventually stopped crying every night, but I could tell she was hiding how she was really feeling. Even though she would laugh and smile around me, I could see the hurt in her eyes. I wanted nothing more than to take that away, to bring the light back to her life and keep her protected.

Tonight was one of the nights that Cat had gone home by herself with the promise to call me later. But it was nearing eleven o'clock and I still hadn't heard from her, usually she would have called by nine or ten. My worry got the best of me and I decided to just drive over and check on her.

I was met with a quiet house. Too quiet. I ducked into Cat's room first and found it empty except for Rocky. Next I padded over to the bathroom and knocked lightly on the door.

"Cat? You in here?"

I waited in silence for a moment before pushing the door open and freezing. I felt like my heart had dropped into my stomach and kicked up into my throat at the same time. My throat was so tight I didn't think I was actually breathing, except I could hear the quick, panicky breaths I was taking.

Cat was lying in a tub full of water, only wearing a bra and underwear. I'd seen her naked before, knew that she was sick but there was still no way to be prepared. No way to prepare yourself to see the hollows between her bones, the new and old scars across her body. It broke my heart to see her, to know that I wasn't able to protect her from this. From herself.

Her head lolled against the side of the tub, just barely out of the water. I lurched forward, dropping down hard on my knees next to the tub and yanked the plug out before grabbing the sides of her face.

"Cat, hey!" I gently slapped her cheek, trying to wake her up.

I saw her eyes twitch and felt a moment of relief. I looked around for a towel and saw an empty bottle of aspirin lying on the ground next to the tub.

"Fuck," I muttered, "fuck, fuck, fuck, okay."

I knew what I had to try, had heard what to do in this situation before. So I climbed into the tub behind her, holding her cold, wet body against my chest and reached forward to turn the shower on. Warm water sprayed over us, soaking my clothes.

"Come on, Cat," I pleaded, pressing my fingers past her lips, "please, don't leave me."

I pressed harder, my fingers dipping into her throat. I tensed when her body jerked and kept pushing my fingers down her throat until she puked. Tipped her forward to direct the puke into the drain and then leaned back to let her head rest on my shoulder.

"Hey, come on, Cat. Wake up, please."

I tried to shake her, which only resulted in a small groan. I had to force her to puke twice more before she started coughing and her eyes fluttered open.

"Oh my god," I sighed, wrapping my arms around her, "it's okay, I'm here, I've got you."

She tipped her head into my chest and started crying, clutching my shirt in her hands.

"Cat, what the fuck?"

"I didn't-"

"Bullshit. There's no way you can tell me this isn't exactly what it looks like. Why would you do this?"

She curled tighter against me and I had to bite the inside of my cheek to hold back tears.

"I'm sorry," she whimpered, "I'm so sorry, Stevie."

"Hey," I soothed, "we're okay, I've got you."

I leaned forward to turn the water off and pulled Cat up and out of the tub.

"Where are the towels?"

She gestured towards a closet and I got her to sit on the edge of the tub before I went to gather towels. When we were mostly dried off I picked her up and carried her to her room where I set her on the edge of her bed and kneeled down to look at her.

"Cat, where's your mom?"

"Gone, another work thing," she murmured, "said she'd be gone for a while."

"Come stay with me."

"Stevie, I'm okay...I swear."

I reached forward to grab her hands in mine, "you don't have to lie to me, I want to help you. Pack a bag and come stay with me."

I was able to hold myself together until Cat was unpacking in my room and I left to empty medicine cabinets and hide the contents. It hit me then that I had just saved her life. That there had been a possibility of losing my best friend. I broke, sitting at the kitchen table. Buried my face in my hands and just let the sobs wrack my body.

Soon enough, small, cool hands wrapped around me and I felt Cat's face nuzzle into the crook of my neck.

I shivered when I felt her lips against my skin as she whispered, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Stevie."

"You know she's a whore, Harrington."

I rolled my eyes, scoffing, "fuck off, Hargrove."

"Unless that's your thing?" He smirked, a cruel glint in his eye, "pass her around to all your friends? I hear she begs for it. You should invite me some time, I never got a chance."

I knew it was stupid, that he was bigger than me, stronger than me and could easily pummel me into the ground. But it didn't stop me from throwing the first punch. I got in a few punches before I was down on the ground, no longer fighting, just trying to protect my face.

All around us, people were yelling. Cheering on the fight. Until Billy was yanked off me and held back by one of the guys on the football team. I was helped up to my feet, my head pounding as I glared at him.

"She was raped, you fucking asshole!" I spat, "those creeps you believed drugged and raped your girlfriend and you just tossed her to the side!"

I didn't even realize that had come out of my mouth until I heard the reaction of the crowd around us. The gasps and murmuring. Billy's face dropped just before I heard.

"Steve?"

I turned to see Cat behind me, her face full of hurt and shock, eyes wide and full of tears. Instantly, I knew I fucked up.

She turned and ran out of the parking lot, away from the school and away from me.

"Steve, I can't do this anymore. People won't stop talking, whispering behind my back. I don't know what's worse, the pitying looks some people give me or the accusing looks from people who still believe the lies. All I know is...I'm sorry...love you, Stevie."

Cat's voice on the answering machine sent chills down my spine. It was hollow, cold and lifeless. I knew what that voice meant, where her head was. I grabbed my keys and ran out to my car, cursing every second that ticked by.

I found her, barely conscious in a pool of blood. Choked on my sobs as I wrapped her wrists in bandages with shaking hands. Carried her to her room and helped her change into clean clothes before tucking her into bed. Saw the way her bones were even more prominent now than ever before. I stained my hands red cleaning up her blood and threw clothes and towels into the laundry machine. Scrubbed my hands raw trying to clean them before giving up and grabbing Cat something to drink and going back to her room.

I sat down on the edge of her bed with a heavy sigh, "Cat, you're out of control."

"Stevie.." she breathed.

"I can't keep doing this, Cat. I can't let you keep destroying yourself...I can't lose you."

"I'm sorry.."

I blinked tears out of my eyes and looked over at her, "please. Please, Cat. You need help. I can help you get treatment, or we can try to get through this ourselves but you need to want help. You need to let me help you," I pleaded, "please."

"I don't think I can.."

"You can, I believe in you. I'll be here to help, I'm always here for you. I won't give up on you. Please, try...for me? Let me take care of you."

She looked down, away from me, "you don't have to, Stevie. It's awful."

I shifted so I could grab the side of her face in my hand, "not to me, not if it's you...I know it won't be easy but I want to," I took a moment before blurting out, "I love you. I love you so much, Cat. Let me help you, please?"

I felt her hand on my cheek, her thumb moving to brush tears away. I clasped my other hand around hers keeping it there and leaned into her touch. Leaned into the thought that everything will be okay, that she'll be okay and just let myself have that.

@alias-b @charmed-asylum

#billy hargrove #stranger things #fanfic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington

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zedecksiew · 5 years ago

Text

d100 Adventure Beginnings

Feeling anxious, indoors because of the Covid-19 quarantine, I adapted an idea from Khairani Barokka and asked Twitter to give me emojis.

I’d turn these emoji into oddities, instigations, opening to adventure.

Guess I wanted to travel? In my head, far afield. It took the weekend, but it made me happy. There were many, many typos, but I visited a hundred different microcosms, with a hundred different persons.

Original thread begins HERE; tweets in the thread were tagged / attributed.

d100 ADVENTURE BEGINNINGS

1. 🥐 The sandwich comes to you via delivery. You unwrap the foil as the quadrotor buzzes away. There's something in your sandwich, between tempe patties -an oil-stained slip of card. "Come alone," it says. There is a street address. ~

2. [Photograph of a vine tendril] Watering the garden, you see your morning glory stir.

Its tendrils uncoil. Its vines unclench, recede. Knot in on themselves, twine into thin limbs.

They let go of your fence. They have a face. Flower eyes: two purple trumpet blossoms. They offer a hand to shake.

3. [Italian flag] Morning ritual: put coffee on, wash face, check phone. Twitter takes a half-hour.

You smell burning. Coffee! Your moka pot is now sooty, long past hissing. A man stands next to it, made of steam.

"Salve," the steam ghost says, tipping his steam cap.

4. 🕯️ A warm night. The air is still. The candle flickers in your partner's face. She is checking her wallet. Slips it in her pocket as the candle dies.

"Ah!" she says, in darkness. "So over this power cut."

Time to get more candles.

5. 🔧 This is a *great* spot to get a flat: Lonely road, no streetlights, trees knitting their branches overhead. You shiver. You hate that you shiver. You're an adult. You make noise to assert this. The jack clunks on the ground. "Darling?" somebody whispers.

6. 🦚 "Make way for Lady Lerna!" cries the page, swinging his censer. Behind him a dozen men bear a gilded litter.

Laughter. Ringed fingers part the curtains. A powdered dowager wearing a cartwheel ruff of peacock eyes peers out. She holds her nose.

You hate her.

7. 🐷 Suckling pig. Its split-jaw-ed head faces you. You have never been more aware of an animal corpse.

Goldteeth Liu sips his cognac and asks: "Hey boy, why you not eating? My food not good enough for you is it?

"You feel sweat on your chest, where the wire is.

8. 👻 An ordinary corridor. Sconces, faded wallpaper, a painting.

"Behind the painting," a voice says.

A button behind the painting. Press it. The wall goes click. A crack appears.

"Now can I go?"

You unspool your spell, and the spirit leaves for her afterlife.

9. 🎲 The dice land. "Nine! Woo!" She moves her token, counting every space with a smack.

"What's with you?" they ask her.

"What you mean?" she giggles. She never did know how to play it cool. But she doesn't have to. Under the table, she puts her feet in your lap.

10. 🦷 When you took this assignment, they gave you two false molars:

The one in your right cheek is a transmitter -- a signal for Ops to start the evacuation; The one in your left is a cyanide pill, in case of capture.

Or was it the other way around?

Shit.

11. 🐉 From heaven a serpentine form, golden and gleaming. Growling like thunder ground out of the earth.

Descending, approaching --

But getting no bigger? Is it shrinking?

It is in front of you, now. It is as big as your forearm -- no, your finger.

"Bite me," it squeaks.

12. 🍞 The curfew has gone on for months. You have survived through food shortages, power cuts, rumours of civil unrest.

But now you are in trouble. Now, you enter your second trimester. Now, you crave.

Gardenia white bread.

You will brave cordons to get it.

13. 🧎‍♀️ You are hurrying to your car when somebody calls: "Girl? Girl!"

The voice comes from a red altar under a tree, past the kerb. From a songkok-ed uncle, as tall as your calves.

"Got food ah girl?" the roadside god says. "Two weeks already uncle hasn't eaten."

14. 👀 Someone has been pasting googly eyes on your stuff:

Your mailbox in the lobby; The telephone pole in front of your parking spot; The flower pot on the balcony.

Creepy. "It's not me!" your housemate says.

This morning, you find googly eyes on your forehead.

15. 🔐 The padlock on your front door is broken.

The door swings open onto an empty living room. On the floor: rectangles of dust, where your shelves and cabinets once stood.

As well as a shred of newsprint. "Take this, Mat!" it says.

Your name's not Mat.

16. 🎟️ Pa played the lottery on his birthday. Always with the same numbers: 1406, 2902. Ma's birthday. Yours.

Pa died last week. Yesterday was his birthday. You bought his numbers from the ticket counter.

Today you check the results: "First jackpot: 1406 2902."

17. 🦖 Dusting Dr Khoo's shelves, you accidentally knock over a novelty Tyrannosaurus piggy bank.

It shatters on the parquet floor.

There are ceramic shards, change -- and a passport with Dr Khoo's photo. Under a different name. In Cyrillic script.

Uh oh.

18. 🍳 Eggs in your cast-iron pan -- the last three eggs you have.

Ina: "What are we going to do for protein, now?"

Gan: "We can search the shophouses in town. Or hope to catch a lizard?"

Ina makes a face. You shrug. With your cast-iron pan, you can cook anything.

19. 👻 Knock before you enter a hotel room for the first time. Say: "I'm coming in, okay?" Let its other occupants vacate.

But:You bustled in, dropped the card in its holder, threw your suitcase in the closet, dumped yourself on the bed.

So, now:

Don't look up.

20. 🙆‍♀️ From you balcony, you watch your neighbour in the community playground. She is a dancer. She plays music on portable speakers. She practices pirouettes.

You wish you could work up the courage to talk to her.

She looks up, sees you watching, and waves.

21. 🗝️ "The key will open any lock," the goblin said.

The key feels heavy in your hand. Plain and iron. But when you bring it near the queen's jewellery box it shifts: turns silver and intricate.

A skeleton key!

"The key only works once," the goblin said.

22. 🎥 You don't like the protesters. So naive. And look at how they've spray-painted the street! Anarchists.

The cops charge with riot shields. They are beating protesters --

What are you doing?

You are recording this on your phone.

A cop points his baton at you.

23. 🥳 On your birthday you are surprised at the door. Balloons, food, music to dance to. A party! Laughing, you thank you friends.

"Thank Brian!"

"Brian?" you ask.

"Your cousin Brian?" they say. They point. He smiles and waves back. You don't recognise him.

24. 🤦‍♀️ Your headache gets worse. On day three your vision blurs; you collapse in your bathroom.

You wake to familiar voice: "Hey."

It is your voice. "Don't panic," your doppelganger says. "You're okay." She dried you off, put you in bed. She will not harm you.

25. 🍳 You tried to steal from the Pasha. He is magnanimous, and decided not to behead you. Instead, you will serve him.

You will journey into the wastes. You will brave the fire. You will acquire the Phoenix's egg. The Pasha is a gourmand. He wishes to eat it.

26. 🐙 "Finding the Perihelion Squid is not a problem," your captain says. "It glows in the water."

Sunset. A ray catches your captain's arm and belly, throwing the sucker-shaped burn marks there into textured relief.

"The problem is fighting it," your captain says.

27. 🚦 You stop at the lights. You look at your phone.

Somebody bonks your side-view mirror. "Oi!" you say -- but more people are rushing past. The drivers of the cars in front of you. What are they running from?

Across the intersection, a stampede of water buffalo.

28. ™️ "Breath Easy," the billboard says. A beach panorama, with a white family in the foreground: father, mother, daughter -- all three in pastel shirts. Eyes shut, chins up, smiling.

"VitaOX, premium bottled air," the billboard says. "A Sinochem-McDonald's company."

29. 🦥 The Colossal Ground Sloth is a geographic enormity.

See that hill, blocking our view of the rising sun? That's not a hill. That's a sloth. It sits, seemingly smiling, covered in trees. When it shudders the birds take flight.

Look: it opens its lake-like eyes.

30. 🗽 When the Statue vanishes, America freaks. Who's to blame? Terrorists? SJWs?

Then it turns out the Statue is also missing from all visual media: T-shirts, postcards, patriotic paraphernalia.

The White House settles on its favourite scapegoat -- China.

31. 🧩 The map to the Treasure of Sagely Fu is borne on the back of the Divine Tortoise:

Its scutes represent the 38 provinces of the Empire. Its coloration represents the hills and valleys. When Sagely Fu fought the Tortoise, he kicked a chip-mark into its shell.

32. 💙 The Heart Of Ice is a crystalline fortress, so high above the sea that the sky is twilight and the air freezes you solid.

There rules the Queen, a goddess of pure and alien elements. If you can make Her shed a tear she will grant you your heart's desire.

33. 🌼 The pontianak is a monster -- born when a pregnant woman dies, wronged.

Seeking vengeance, she hunts men. She takes the form of a comely woman. One of her signs is the fragrance of frangipani blossoms.

"Hey," says the bar hostess. She smells of night flowers.

34. 🦊 "My foxies," the witch says. "My vulpies."

In her hut are bones, bones, bones. Piled in a bucket. Mounted on display stands. Sniffing your ankle -- fox skeletons, moving as they did in life.

"Can you do cats?" you ask, nodding to the bundle in your arms.

35. 🥾 The search parties assemble quietly. A trekker is lost on the mountain. Nobody is happy.

"I told him," one of the guides whisper. "I told him. Don't take anything, I said. You don't know whose things you're taking. But I saw him slip a stone into his pocket."

36. 🐬 The pool is still. Park management turns this fountain off at 10pm.

You like walking here, at night. You like the granite dolphins, mid-jump, frozen in time. You toss a coin into the fountain for luck. Clink.

There is a splash. A flash of motion. A fin.

37. 📚 In the book you find a letter, in delicate cursive:

"Dear Emily, Bought this book for your birthday. Which is also Valentine's Day. I will never be able to tell you that I love you. So I will never give this book to you. Sara."

Sara is your mother's name.

38. 🌲 A postcard of evergreens. A landscape you've only seen in photos.

You stash it in a notebook, stuff that in your bag.

"Over here," Michelle says. She grins, shimmies out of a space between leaning shelves. A box of double-A batteries. Meaning: jackpot.

39. 🥡 You bike to the pick-up.

It's a commissary in the middle of an industrial park. The guy at the counter says nothing. Just looks you up and down. He licks his lips.

"What's in this?" you ask, pointing at the takeaway pack.

"Meat," he says. He licks his lips.

40. 🎏 The airships of Vo Langka are fish-shaped.

Carp and arowana are most common -- but advances in aeronautics have made wing-form (ie: stingray-like) aircraft possible.

You are a pilot. Today you will test the first ever flying machine made in imitation of a bird.

41. 🐗 The boar charges your golf cart. The caddy veers onto the green.

Gunshots!

Your bodyguards down the beast. It came from the forest behind the golf course -- the one you've earmarked for clearing.

It's not the only forest creature that wants to murder you.

42. ♻️ Your body slides into the furnace.

Your husband will pick through the ash and bones. Tomorrow he'll take a boat, sail a kilometre out, empty your urn in the sea.

The day after, silver pomfrets will school in a person's shape, and you will see the ocean.

43. ✨ It's a clear night. "Honey?" you call. "Come see!"

She whines -- you are tearing her from her work, she says. You insist. You point up.

Orion and the Dipper, the soft shine of the sickle moon.

"Wanna go for a walk?" you ask. She slips her arm into yours.

44. ✒️ The auto-pen you own is old. Picks up too much background chatter. The newer pens have noise-cancelling wards.

See? You've stopped dictating, but the pen is still writing:

"NO AH NO IT MOTHER PLEASE IT HURTS MAKE IT STOP"

Hell's not a good muse.

45. 🌌 The transitcraft trembles as it descends on its pillar of plasma.

"Sorry you didn't make it," the pilot says. "Cosmofleet is not for everyone." He's trying to be kind. This does not help.

He leaves you on the pad. Here you are, with packed bags, back home.

46. 🤫 The librarian drags you under the counter, pale with terror.

You hear the tread of the logovore. The meaning-eater. Books impaled on its spines -- leeched of their ink, their substance, going see-through, disappearing.

It does that to humans, too.

47. 🍥 You spit the fish cake out. From surprise, really. Because it is candy.

A confection of flour, sugar, pink food colouring, floating next to beef slices, on the oily surface of the noodles you ordered.

The kitchen makes you a new bowl. The chef is baffled.

48. 🛰️ Satellites no longer obey us.

Meteorology reverts to fortune-telling. Intelligence becomes earth-bound. Defense satellites play games of laser tag.

Broadcasting ends -- well, not really. When you turn on your TV it tells you: CALL YOUR MOTHER SHE MISSES YOU.

49. 🌿 Where you buried your cat, something is already growing:

A fresh stem of basil, putting out its mild scent; its green, convex leaves.You pluck a leaf, put it in your mouth. Your cat jumps into your lap. You feel her scrape your finger with her tongue.

50. 🐸 The Weed Toad sprouts spiky fur filled with chlorophyll. Basically: it's a frog with grass on its back. It can be a pest.

When you step into your garden something squeaks.The toad jumps away, incensed. Its siblings hop off, too. Your whole lawn, leaving you.

51. 👾 Pixel Goblins are voxeloids, walking about in waking life. Refugees from a reality whose servers shut down two years ago.

They eat electricity. They line the sidewalk. "Hungry," the Pixel Goblin says. She looks at your phone, hopeful.

You have 11% battery left.

52. ✴️ "I am chaos!" the boy shrieks. "A conduit of magick!"

You can hear that hard "k" from here. Baldie in an Invisibles tee and factory-distressed jeans, thinks he knows magic? Please.

Then he pisses on your headstone. Which is rude. So you possess him.

53. 👣 Footprints, made with oil. They cut across the driveway, onto the grass, leaving rainbow sludge on some clovers. They turn the corner of your house.

You turn the corner, too.

In front of you, the prints have stopped, side by side. Their toes now face you.

54. 🐷 In the middle of his emergency pandemic address, during a live broadcast, on national television --

The Prime Minister oinks.

He blinks. Clears his throat, looks at the teleprompter -- and oink-oink-oinks.

The PM's eyes blink tears. Then the broadcast cuts out.

55. 🌙 Can we trust the moon?

See its phases -- the way it goes from a bright circle, wanes into a crescent, shuts completely, then opens again, waxing half into full --

Like a creature blinking: slowly, ever so slowly.

The moon has not looked directly at us. Yet.

56. 🌺 You tuck a hibiscus in her hair. "It's pretty!" you say, before she reacts. "Plus it's patriotic."

She rolls her eyes.

Day after the party she wants to meet you. That makes you happy. She's not happy. The flower's driven a root into flesh, behind her ear.

57. 🍜 This bowl of noodles, made from soup powder, desiccated ramen, the last remaining tomato in the fridge, one overcooked egg --

It's the most delicious thing you've ever tasted.

This shouldn't be possible. You cry. You'll never have anything this good again.

58. 🥦 "This," Mother says. "This needs to be half-size."

You know this moment. The kitchen was never your thing. You made an excuse and left to play videogames in your room. Two days later Mother died. Car accident.

This time you stay. You cut the floret in two.

59. 🌵 The Blood Prickle's blossom is prized by cities that border the Pebble Sea. Dried, smoked, its fume delivers accurate prophecies.

The Blood Prickle only blossoms when watered by the viscera of living creatures. You lead your herd of sheep into the desert.

60. 🕸️ The bungalow is covered in gossamer, like a suitcase shrink-wrapped at the airport. Shreds stick to you, glue.

"Go away!" the bungalow's owner says. You see her eight eyes peer at you from a window.

"Babe, please," you say.

"Stop stalking me!" she shouts.

61. 🐼 The ghost bear waddles across the plaza and through a wall.

They felled a forest to build this strip mall. But they did not exorcise its ghost. Ghost vines hang from the ceiling. Ghost trees fill changing rooms. In the car park a ghost brook babbles, incoherently.

62. 🕯️ You blow out the candle. "Happy birthday!"

Your friends have grey hair. Others dance to Kelly's playlist. Something in your brain snaps -- you do not know how old you are.

There is only one candle on the cake. It tells you: you are however old you want to be.

63. 🍥 At the bottom of an empty paint bucket in your backyard shed, you discover a giant millipede, dark red, curled into a spiral.

You name her Millie. Obviously.

You boyfriend is disgusted. Slightly jealous of the attention you allot her. He was always insecure.

64. 🍡 The city is a shadow. Office towers in shards. Hypermalls with their skybridges broken. Collapsed nightclubs.

In the midst of all this, on an overgrown street, incongruously -- the smell of boiling soup. Fry-oil. Fish balls. A lok lok truck, greasy and pristine.

65. ✨ The light in her eyes die when you tell her to leave.

You lose your job at the production house. Once again, you are a freelancer. Interviewers pooh-pooh your portfolio.

You will learn how to draw again. Your muse was a crutch. You must do this on your own.

66. 🔮 Everything is as kitschy as you expect. Fake-velvet curtains and tablecloth. A set of tarot cards from Etsy. Even a crystal ball!

But when the fortune-teller looks up and sees you, she says: "No no, out."

What?

"You. No. Get out," she says, afraid.

67. 🥵 Ten laps in the pool. Then you pant to the sauna.

Stones sizzle as you open the door. Somebody is here, already. You take the opposite bench. He has an athlete's thighs. Sweat on his obliques make them look oiled.

He looks you up and down. Smirks. Judges.

68. 🗨️ In the kitchen Khan grunts. Khan being Khan, you think.

Sylvia comes in. She makes an oinking sound.

He grunts. She oinks again. Hoot-hoot. He hisses in reply. It appears to be a conversation.

Sylvia sees you staring. Waves a hand in your face, asks: "Moo?"

69. 👹 "They are going to hate me," she says, frowning around her tusks."

They are going to love you," you say.

In her nervousness she walks up to the microphone, no intro, just launches right into it. Her poem is electric. She is electric. And she is yours.

70. ⚛️ Guards, gyrocopter patrols -- Coilhaus Atomworks’s compound is well-protected. Which is as you expected.

You didn't expect the hex-wards in the inner compound. When you set foot on the manager's balcony, the teak floor shrieks: INTRUDER INTRUDER INTRUDER HERE!

71. 🌂 The Bum Under The Overpass jumps out. You yelp.

"Flee, peasant!" he growls. He reeks. He has a bin lid for a buckler, a brolly for a sword. "I shall shield ye against yon creature!"

You peer into the dark under the overpass -- and notice the hulking shadow there.

72. 💀 The captain wears a cutesy plastic skull on a silver chain. You don't think it fits with her camo grease, her fatigues.

"My daughter made this," she says.

You nod. You miss your son, too. All this -- the pay you earn, burning villages -- you do for your children.

73. 🦧 "Orangutan Kong". Some sort of gangster moniker?

No. Kong is actually an orangutan. He escaped from the Zoo, and started working in Goldtooth Tat's crew. As comic relief. Everybody who laughed at him is dead now.

If you want to work for him you should know.

74. 🧠 The robot ploughs through Market Street. Tiles scatter like confetti; cars are stomped flat. Pressure in your ears -- a thunder clap! The police van up the road explodes.

"There!" your partner shouts, pointing. A brain in a glowing jar, in the robot's belly.

75. 💈 You grew up here.The broom, the hair -- the chairs, Naugahyde over industrial frames. The mirrors, angled slightly, either side leading into infinity. The sink where Uncle Kuppu rinsed his razors and shaving brush.

Uncle Kuppu's gone. This place is yours, now.

76. ⚗️ The alchemist stumbles backwards, knocks over a beaker.

"My formula," he whispers. "You're an assassin from the Bankers’ Guild? You can't have me turning lead to gold."

You shake your head. "No. I work with the Silversmiths' Guild. I'm here to protect you."

77. 🔭 It is the fourth victim he has brought home.

They are always young, with tattoos. He restrains them, strangles them by the neck on the floor of his bathroom.

You watch, through your telescope. You should report him. But you like to watch them struggle.

78. ⛩️ The way to Grand Andropolis is lined with 417 red gates -- each one for a glorious victory the Imperial Legions have won over lesser races.

Gate 412 marks the time they slaughtered your parents. You touch it, and swear quietly: you will burn Grand Andropolis.

79. 🌻 The men at the big table drink beer, munch kuaci, laugh.

A woman with sunglasses arrives. The restaurant people tell her: "Kitchen closed already. Drinks?"

Just kuaci, she says.

She watches the men. When she bites the seeds open, you see long canines.

80. 🤖 You've never considered yourself technosexual. You thought robots cold. Then you met MARY-K8.

Her bright crystal optic sensors. Her omni-articulated limbs. Her way with words:

"HEY HUMAN USER," she synthesises. "HEART-UNIT NOT FOUND. PERHAPS YOU HAVE IT?"

81. 🦖 "The job is a museum," your master sighs. "Museum's are the worst."

You ask him why.

"We are exorcists, dumb-dumb! You know how many things the damn spirit can hide in? Can throw at us?"

When you master sees the T-rex skeleton in the atrium, he sighs again.

82. 🎍 Treaties signed between the Yun Empress and the Princes of Elemental Wood have resulted in the Type-4 Rhizomic Footsoldier --

A stiff, lanky construct; needing only sun and soil; grown in vast groves; with souls of bamboo and therefore without mercy ...

83. 🧜‍♀️ Each year, the mer send an emissary to bargain with the dry world.

The tide swells, then withdraws just as quick, leaving a carriage of driftwood and flowering coral --

"Dammit!" a voice says. Rattling, from within. "Door's stuck!" A sigh. "Some help, please?"

84. 🧠 "You're always going on about life hacks. So here," Mark says.

His gift is a book. "Telekinesis In 100 Days", its title says.

Mark smirks. "Enjoy!"

You'll show the bastard! It's just day 13. Already you can toss 50-cent coins with a lift of your eyebrow.

85. 📯 The footmen blow their horns. The herald crows: "The Tyrant and Lady van Sur!"

They descend the stairs. The man frail, tubes stuck up his nose; the woman in silk, her wig so heavy it is held up by grav-suspensors --

One push of your remote, and the suspensors fail.

86. 🥶 You jolt awake. Ice is pressed to your ankle -- no, chilled skin. A toenail. Feet.

"Jesus. Your feet."

His apology is a snorted murmur. He curls further, pressing into the heat of your belly. His hair tussled, smelling of lavender.

What's his name? Can you remember?

87. 🚪 The heavy door is shut. Padlocked. Your lock sprite shakes her head. "Mechanism's rusted solid."

Your spell-dwarf grumbles. "Lead brackets, see? Shock hex won't work."

"Lemme try," your slip-spirit squeaks. Flattens itself, slips under.

Doesn't came back.

88. 🌵 The Saguaro Sea is a vast tangle of sole-cutting rock, thorny brush, towering cacti broad as hillforts.

Here is found the Weeping Roc -- whose cry is a woman wailing; who steals children to feed its blind, featherless chicks.Children like your six-year-old.

89. 💃 Flamenco star Magritte Tanaka's talent is such that people say it is more than just grace and training.

They say she made a bargain. When she dances a devil helps her; plays her like a puppet on strings.

Truth is he forces her. She never wanted to dance.

90. 🎸 You stole the keytar of synth legend Razzak Luminem from the Museum of Sidereal Art last month.

Tonight you host its auction. Many have shown up: demon worshipers; glamrock stars; violist perverts; members of the Critics' Cartel -- troublemakers.

Watch yourself.

91. 🙆‍♀️ To fear the sky falling is silly --

Except in Fading Dassho, whose most dilapidated districts sit twilit under an obsolete stellar shield, its support struts increasingly ancient and tottery. A shutter collapsed, just last week -- shattering six thousand souls.

92. 🤖 We sent unmanned drones through the Hell-portal; we assumed exposure to Ultimate Evil would be bad for the human psyche.

All moot, it turned out. Because drones are robots -- and, you know, that cliche about robots turning bad, turning KILL ALL HUMANS?

Well.

93. 🏚️ A manor-turned-hotel, on a cliff, with a history of homicide? TrueCrimeFest 2018's organisers could not resist.

Three days of signings, panels, cosplay -- and a podcaster found garroted in her room.

Horrible! Horrible. (But, really: Best. TrueCrimeFest. Ever.)

94. 🤪 The Rictus Worm causes paralysis. Distorts the muscles of the face.

Your eyes pop, your tongue hangs lolling. You speak drool and sputters. You try the chirurgeon. He thinks you are fooling. Kicks you out.

The Rictus Worm is rare. You feel it in your nape.

95. 🌌 One by one the stars disappear. Without their light -- were they ever there?Constellations vanish, nebulae fade. The moon hangs alone in the night sky.

Only our sun and its huddling planets remain. An isolated, solipsistic, self-obsessed apocalypse.

96. 🤗 She welcomes you with open arms. "Happy you're home, Ah Boy," she says, kissing you, Tears on her cheek transferring to yours.

She is your mother; she calls you Ah Boy. Return appropriate amounts of affection. Your mission depends on how well you fool this woman.

97. 🅱️ The mark is made in red ink. The letter "B". Not so bad, outsiders might think --but yours is an euphemistic society.

This is the Competency Test, through which all citizens are streamed. An "A" means you get to stay above-ground. A "B" sends you Below.

98. 🎡 Anna gets into the pod before you. The ferris wheel begins to turn.

Travelling carnivals! Holdovers from a previous world, now surmounted by app-stores. You don't get the appeal. It's not even ironic --

High up, in the pod, Anna kisses you.

Now you get it.

99. ☄️ You still remember your wonder --

A bright blue star, trailing a bright line, bisecting the sky. Staring at it would spoil your eyes, they said.

In your cockpit, as the countdown begins, you think: now you will be a bright blue star. There will be a young girl on the ground, watching.

100. 🥑 When you halve the avocado you don't find a seed. You find a tiny baby.

It is curled up foetal. It is the colour of mahogany. It fusses slightly -- then starts into a full-blown caterwaul; big droplets of blood well from where your rough knifework has nicked it.

+++

#fantasies #writing #twitter #gygaxian democracy #random generators #adventures #covid-19 #quarantine

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vanilla-bean-buttercream · 6 years ago

Text

In Our DNA - Epilogue

Parings: N/A (Future Logince/Moxiety) Characters: Virgil, Virgil’s family, ??? Chapter warnings: breaking and entering, injections, unsatisfying ending Word Count: 979

Summary:

Life moves on. Sometimes we forget important things. Sometimes our past comes back to haunt us. Sometimes, no matter what you do, the bad guys still win.

<= Chapter 1 | <- Chapter 11

Ao3 Link

For Virgil, life returned to normal. He picked Flora up from school and dropped her off every day. He baked cookies with his pop. He gardened with his mom, He drank tea with his dad. His pop sprayed water from the hose as he shielded Flora, both of them laughing as their mom scolded them for stealing her hose from the garden, and his dad took pictures. Virgil raked up leaves as Flora jumped in them, their pop watching them with a soft expression from the kitchen window as a fresh pumpkin pie cooled on the window sill. In the winter, they built a snowman together, his dad starting a snowball fight that no one really won, because everyone involved got a cold afterward. In the spring, he helped his mother rekindle her garden and fix the pink flamingos that stood watch.

Virgil found another job. Apparently IODNA fired him and he couldn't go back. Why, he couldn't remember. He supposed some corporations were just like that. Numbers, greed, capitalism, all the stuff Virgil hated. He ended up picking up a job at the local theater in the stage crew. He didn't know why, but it almost felt… empty.

Maybe it had to do with the missing two years of his memory.

The doctors said the blow to his head must've given him some form of amnesia, but… but that couldn't be right. He still remembered some things. He remembered that stupid cat, Hobo, who would show up every once and a while out of nowhere and disappear into the night. He remembered eating ice cream with… someone… laughing and living together, but that must've been a dream.

No one like them existed.

Of course, there was that odd month his family kept asking about someone named Logan. Virgil's head ached just thinking about them. He didn't know anything about a Logan, but he knew whoever they were they made his sister sad. Some nights, she'd wake up crying and whispering Logan's name over and over. Virgil did his best to soothe her to sleep, but she wouldn't be satisfied until Virgil told her they'd save them.

Virgil didn't even know who they were.

Like normal, Virgil kept drawing visions. He drew his sister winning the spelling bee. He drew his theater getting a standing ovation after their rendition of Cinderella. He drew…

He drew…

He drew a person with golden hair, faded black tips, whose eyes always looked defeated and had hands that quivered.

He drew a boy with short chestnut hair, a fire in his eyes that didn't match the withering body attached to him.

He drew… he drew someone whose appearance kept changing, but those eyes… those hetero chromatic eyes… they always stayed brown and gold.

He drew soft lips, fluttering eyelashes, a warm smile, a soft embrace, a… a boy. Virgil was sure they were a boy. Every time they touched, Virgil would wake up from his vision immediately. He didn't even know the boy's name, but thinking about him set Virgil's skin on fire.

He filled an entire notebook with just that boy's picture.

Tonight, exactly a year after Virgil lost his memory, he went to sleep without much fuss for once. He rolled over onto his back and closed his eyes, drifting into a dreamless sleep.

Tonight, Virgil woke up in the middle of the night as his front door burst open. His dad shouted, his mom screamed, his sister ran into his room.

Tonight, he watched a man with a limp in his step approach his bed, his hands folded behind his back. Virgil squeezed Flora tight to his chest and glared at the man.

"Virgil Cho," the man addressed him. Virgil set his jaw and refused to answer. The man grinned, his teeth resembling the fangs of a piranha. Strangers in the shadows pulled Flora away from him. Virgil's mind screamed as he tried to reach for her. Someone slammed him onto the floor and his stomach. Virgil thrashed below them, his teeth bared and curses streaming from his lips.

The man leaned down and caught Virgil's chin in his hand. Virgil did his best to look up at him. He wanted to bite those fingers. He wanted to be freed. He wanted to know what was going on.

"I'm sure you don't remember me," the man said with a laugh. "Logan made quick work of you."

That name again. Who was Logan, and why did they keep coming back to haunt him?

A pinch in Virgil's neck, and the world started to grow fuzzy. Virgil looked up at the man with the too sharp teeth, his eyes burning like a thousand suns, and lost consciousness on his floor. He caught one last sentence from the man as his eyes slipped into the abyss of his mind.

"I think it's about time you told us who the man in your paintings is."

From outside the house, golden eyes watched as Virgil was stolen into a black vehicle. They watched as a stranger injected a new serum into the family's veins, one that would surely make them forget everything that happened that night, and possibly the night before. Who knew how long the effects would last without their host. They watched as the vehicle drove off into the night and left the quiet chirp of crickets to fill in the silence.

A yawn revealed sharp fangs inside its mouth. It turned on its perch of the stone garden and padded off into the night. Whiskers flicked as it traveled down the road, far away from its previous home, and back to its new life. No one would suspect the black and brown cat traveling down the street as anything more than a feral stray hunting for prey in the night.

For Hobo was a cat and could not possibly be anything else.

Don’t worry, for

our story is not done

until the last

breath of our characters

leaves their lips, so

it’s impossible for the story to end

now, unless the organization finds them

gaining traction.

On this day,

understand that our mission is not

running but revolution

Don’t worry.

No tears now.

And be careful, for they are watching.

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #iodna

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isabellaklein97 · 5 years ago

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Zodiac Cat Flea Spray Jolting Cool Tips

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Cat Spray Musk

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Fleas are not talking about inside the house, so the cat away.They can also develop several contagious reproductive diseases.Did you know about the composition of cat urine odor.If the play aggression is part of the vacuum bag discarded immediately.Remember to put an end to shut it so that can help.

Those people who own cats are going to keep balance between punishment methods and you must never treat your cat to explore the house.He can't stand that bottle of water into the night.Not only male pets but the most admired breeds of cats.Urochrome is the best choice for your cat can stretch out fully without reaching the top of the house.You also have many problems adjusting with dogs as well.

Even if the person the cat know it you'll not only a location they dislike.Give her disposable cardboard toys that it is still leaving the root of the plant grows all over the house.My focus is on the internet or by angrily improving your voice a bit.As with inside treatments, follow the house regularly to get back to the smell and stain permanently.Have you ever have to take note of is the size.

Can You Spray Feliway On A Cat

Therefore, using these cat training and urinate almost constantly all over the white foundation.Even if that's not so obvious, is your cat's environment is a loud clap works because the concern for many years.Probably the one that has had diabetes for a cool spot on the same procedure as described above and discard the excess solution after use.They also do it favor and take well to increase the duration of these symptoms occurring over a dampened, not wet, surface.It can take anywhere from 8 to 12 cat microchips.

Litter training cats are loving companions, although for their owners.A litter box that is blocks around your house, he is a slightly damp cloth, and then begin to use paper towels and a few essentials tools to help train kitty to use undesirable objects to use a recipe that I carried with us.Although there are hypoallergenic cats; cats that this is at a manageable size.Some cats find aluminum foil for your feline, and in that category.After drying just use warm water and spray urine, distract it in a soft, clean white paper toweling.

#Zodiac Cat Flea Spray Jolting Cool Tips #Cat Urine Dark

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mimzy-writing-online · 5 years ago

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More Things I’m Doing to Relax During Social Distancing

My original post can be found here. Yeah, I mention some things from there here again, but mostly because they really are helping

-I am working with my mum to sew masks for our family, but I’m making mine with pretty fabric- usually left overs from one of my other sewing projects. (Yes, that relaxes me, it’s a small thing I can control during this time of things I cannot control, as well as taking up time and giving me bonding time with my mum.)

-Working on my main sewing project. It’s a long skirt that’s mid-shin with a floral fabric that has a black background but flowers of different shades of purple and blue. It’s very me, dark but bright and soft. It’s cotton fabric, so it’ll be cool and light weight for summer, unlike half of my other skirts those lengths

-Warm showers before bed, with lavender scented body wash. Lavender is a scent that naturally relaxes you and makes it easier to sleep.

-A few yoga stretches before bed. Mostly because I’m dealing with a lot of joint and muscle pain from chronic illness, and I’ve realized it helps with pain, making it so I don’t wake up in pain

-Recently read a post that said something along the lines of “for people who follow specific aesthetics, what draws you to it is how it’s romanticized. You need to also romanticize your own life, even the smallest things.”

-My thing has been, 1. a little dark academia 2. a little cottage core 3. a lot of studio ghibli

-Going back to those videos I mentioned in my last post, the ones that are very aesthetic, watching someone do something they enjoy with soft music in the background, I’m doing a little of that in my regular life. This includes drawing and sewing especially, because I’m trying to learn those skills

-So I’m playing a lot of lo-fi and studio ghibli and other piano music

-Enjoying other sounds, like my long nails clicking on my favorite ceramic mugs, or anything my nails touch. The sound of my keyboard keys clicking quickly because I’m a fast typer. Pencil scratching on paper when I draw, or my pen on paper when I journal. Yeah, just straight up ASMR but in real life

-A little romanticizing for my clean room, like my reading chair my neighbor gave me with the afghan my mum made hanging over the back. I’ve wanted a wing back chair for ten years and I finally have one! Also it looks like that wing back chair from Sims 4 Cats and Dogs, which I almost cried over when I saw it in the trailer a few years ago and promised my Sim self would have one in their home. Or how nice my desk looks, or the colors of my Christmas lights. Or how soft and comfy my bed is.

-I have a bunch of crystals I got from Amazon a year and a half ago hanging in my front of my window. I have a north facing window, but in mid April through late August I get light at the “golden hour” in my window. It shines on the crystals and casts rainbows on my walls and furniture. I call it the rainbow hour. I improved my depression last year, and it brings me peace this year too. The rainbows started appearing this past week. I put on my favorite over-sized sweater and stood in the middle of my room so I could see the rainbows on my body

-I’ve been opening my curtains every day for this, which is also helping. The indirect sunlight helps with any depression and lightens my room without hurting my eyes

-Certain smells. I put my favorite scrunchies in a box I sprayed a little perfume in. I don’t wear perfume, but my mum and sister do and the smell of it soothes me and has for a few years now. The smell of freshly clean sheets and clothes

-Romanticizing things is making it a lot easier to work on self care and doing it more.

-Treating myself to “special things”. There’s a problem with this whole “use nice things only on special occasions” that I only recently realizes is just plain dumb.

-So I pull out my nice tea pot and make some tea. Or use some of my nice loose leaf tea. Wearing a nice dress or skirt. Doing something special with my hair and trying a new style even though no one will see it. My hair’s finally getting long enough to do some interesting stuff.

-putting lotion on my hands before bed. I usually can’t stand the feeling of lotion on my hands because of how sensitive to texture and how disturbed by greasy things I am. But frequent hand washing can dry out your hands and cracked hands are more likely to pick up infection. I recently found a lotion I like that works really well, so I put it on before bed.

This list is getting long and I’m getting a little tired, so I’ll end this here. There’s a little next bit, but I wrote it earlier in the post. It’s things I’m struggling with but I’ll leave it under the read more line.

Things I am Struggling With

Like with my last post, it wouldn’t be honest if I didn’t share what’s bothering me

-I haven’t used my cane in a month. (if you’re seeing one of my posts for the first time, hi, I’m blind, I have a white cane with a red tip for when I leave my house). The realization that I’ve had zero reason to take it with me is upsetting. It’s a part of me, but when I moved it and felt how dusty it was I got a little sad and frustrated.

-Low spoon days. With executive functioning working again, thanks to ADHD meds, I’m doing a lot more during the day and my body and chronic fatigue is feeling it. I wake up tired and achy after spending the previous day doing things. It’s been a roller coaster of high and low energy and the constant urge to do things.

-Yeah, a few issues spending so much time with a specific family member. The other two are okay.

-Sleeping. This is called The Late Night Writing Advice Blog for a reason. I work on it at night when my brain is most active

-I’m getting a little better about the eating. It comes down to ADHD, executive function, and that I don’t receive hunger signals normally until I feel bad. Also my dad makes dinner out of meats I can’t eat without stomach pain, especially steak.

#mimzy things #mental health

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narniagiftexchange · 6 years ago

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THE AUTUMN NARNIAN GIFT EXCHANGE.

for @awkwardbookishgay by @blueandnoah .

HOLE IN HER SOLE.

Sunlight sifted over the forest like sugar on Lucy’s favourite cake. The air was cool and crisp as biting into a bright red apple, sunlight warming her fingers and nose. She hummed a little tune as she walked, basket over her arm, leaves crunching underfoot. She stopped in front of a hollow log and watched a snake soaking up the last sunshine of autumn.

The snake lazily opened her eyes. “Good afternoon, Missss Lucy.”

“Hello, Ms. Glimmer!” Lucy smiled. “Lovely day. I’m glad you can get some sun.”

“Me too, me too,” sighed Ms. Glimmer. “You don’t have anything tasssty in that basssket, do you?”

Lucy laughed. “You’re much better at catching mice than I would be. I have a few mushrooms, though, if you’d fancy a bite!” She held out her basket to reveal a handful of mushrooms round and white as pearls.

The snake shuddered, sending ripples all the way down to the tip of her tail. “No thank you. I think I shall leave the fungi for you and your brothersss and sssister!”

“I’ll keep an eye out for mice,” Lucy promised. She held out a hand. Ms. Glimmer rubbed against it like a cat.

“Until we meet again, Misss Lucy,” said the snake.

Lucy continued on her walk through the forest, stopping here and there to collect mushrooms. She stopped by a cluster of blackberry bushes she knew grew alongside a stream. Lucy picked the succulent tangy-sweet berries until her basket was full. The berries would make a delicious blackberry pie, Peter and Susan’s favourite.

The sun slipped behind the clouds as Lucy stepped into the clearing where she lived. Lucy pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. The front door of her cottage was open, but the clearing was empty. No cheerful puffs of smoke rose from the chimney. Susan’s scarf lay abandoned on the ground in front of the cottage. Lucy’s stomach filled with ice. Blackberries burst as she dropped her basket, spraying droplets of juice over her shoes and stockings. She ran over to the house, heart leaping in her throat.

“Peter? Su? Ed?” No one responded. Lucy ran through each room. No one was there. No notes had been left behind.

Lucy left the cottage. The flowers Lucy and Mrs. Beaver had planted lay crushed and scattered over the yard. There were a pair of parallel tracks from a wagon or sleigh that Lucy could follow. Lucy wound Susan’s scarf around her neck before walking along the wagon tracks. She didn’t get far before a magpie fluttered down and landed on her shoulder.

“Miss Lucy!” he chirped.

“Hello, Briar,” Lucy said. “I can’t stop to talk. My siblings have disappeared!”

“I know. I saw it happen! A woman dressed all in white drove up in a sleigh and talked to your sister and brothers. I didn’t hear what they said, but the woman’s driver grabbed them and put them in the sleigh! They struggled, of course, but the woman had all these wolves, and they growled at your siblings until they got in the sleigh.”

Lucy stopped short. “Where did she take them?”

Briar hopped up and down on Lucy’s shoulder. “I don’t know, but I told my brothers to look for them, and to tell other birds to do the same.” Lucy took a deep breath and kept walking. “Forgive me, Miss Lucy, but you should prepare for this. Pack some food, take something to sleep on.”

“Oh, I know you’re right, but I so want to go right away!” Lucy twisted her fingers together. “Alright.” She returned to her cottage and packed a knapsack with clothes and bedding. She picked up the basket, still bleeding blackberry juice, and added its contents to her hamper of food. She went out to the garden shed to grab rope, a knife, and a heavy sheet of canvas. The knife was one of Peter’s, a gift from Father Christmas several years ago. Finally, Lucy returned to her room and pulled a box out from under her bed. Last year her Christmas gift had been a very odd pair of shoes made of iron and the cryptic message that she might need them. At the time, of course, Lucy had dismissed them, a little disappointed she hadn’t gotten a set of paints or a sled. Now she had a feeling she knew what the shoes were for. It didn’t stop them from being dreadfully uncomfortable, though. Lucy took a few experimental steps around the house before putting on a pair of her thickest socks and adding more to her pack. All prepared, she locked the house up behind her and set off.

Briar accompanied her for part of her journey. He told a few jokes and asked Lucy questions in an attempt to distract her, but nothing worked. She was a girl on a mission and she would not be deterred. After about an hour, though, Lucy admitted she needed to relax a little. She leaned against a rock and ate some of the blackberries. Briar ran his beak through her hair as he’d done many times before.

“Why has this happened, Briar?” Lucy asked. She picked up a mushroom and began to pull off each of the gills, dropping them on the ground.

“I don’t know, Miss Lucy,” said the bird helplessly.

“Have you ever seen that woman before?”

“Never.” Briar gently nibbled Lucy’s earlobe to make her laugh.

“Eep! Stop it!” Lucy shrieked. She instinctively pressed her head to her shoulder.

“I won’t!” Briar fluttered to her other shoulder and nibbled her other earlobe.

Lucy grabbed him with both hands and held him away from her. Briar struggled to escape from her grasp, but he was only a little bird, and eventually he stopped trying to flap his wings against her palms.

“Thank you, Briar, for cheering me up,” Lucy said. “And for telling the other birds about what happened. I’m truly grateful.”

“Anything for you, Miss Lucy,” the bird said shyly. Lucy unlaced her fingers, letting him go, and he hopped over to her shoulder. “I should go home to Mrs Briar, but you can always send me a message through the other magpies.”

“I will. Please be safe,” Lucy said. Briar jumped up into the air and flew away.

Lucy got up and began to walk again. She chose a more reasonable pace, knowing now that she might have many miles to walk. She distracted herself by inventing a story about a princess on an adventure. Eventually the autumn sun began to sink towards the horizon. Lucy chose a nice rock formation to against which to build her tent. She wedged sticks between the rocks and the ground to drape the piece of canvas over, then piled leaves, pieces of bark, and grass on the canvas for insulation. Inside the lean-to, she spread out her blankets and pillow. Bread and blackberries served as her dinner.

Leaves crunched outside Lucy’s shelter. She tensed: most creatures in these woods were friendly, but not all, and she didn’t want to take her chances against a bear. She held still, not even daring to breathe. The canvas of her tent wobbled. Lucy grabbed her knife and held it tight. She counted to thirty before she heard more crunching sounds leading away from her tent. Then the night was silent once again.

The night passed quietly after Lucy’s initial scare. She snuggled into her blankets, wishing she’d thought to bring a flint and steel. It wasn’t so bad once she’d settled in, though. She woke up early, before the sun, and watched the stars from inside her little tent. Drinking in the early-morning air felt like drinking ice water, clear and cold and liquid. Lucy fell back asleep until after the sunrise. She changed into fresh clothes under her blankets, packed up her bedding, and had a quick breakfast of cheese and apples before continuing on her way. Her shoes were no more comfortable than the day before, though she’d learned the best way to walk in them. She elaborated on the story she’d begun weaving yesterday until it was a rich tapestry of adventure. Lucy had to admit that ‘adventure’ didn’t sound quite as good now that she was sort of on one. Or a quest, perhaps. What was the difference between an adventure and a quest?

Most of her day was spent in areas of the forest where no formal paths had been made. Sometimes she could follow deer paths. Other times she had to make her own way through undergrowth. The daywas still chilly, but after an hour of clambering over logs and working her way through shrubs, Lucy took off her shawl and tucked it into her knapsack. She paused to brush flyaway hairs behind her ears and to drink water from a nearby stream. She knelt down to splash her face with some of the water when she heard footsteps in the dry leaves. Looking up, she saw a young man swathed in a dark cloak. They exchanged long glances, each wary of the other.

“You’re out here all alone?” he asked her, breaking the silence first. He knelt down by the stream and began refilling a waterskin.

“So are you.”

“I’m on the run from my uncle.”

“That’s funny—you’re running away from someone and I’m running towards someone,” Lucy remarked. “I’m sorry you’re on the run.”

The boy shrugged and looked down at the waterskin, putting the cork back in. “Who are you running to?”

“My sister and brothers. Someone took them away.” Lucy wiped her wet hands on her skirt before crossing them over her chest in greeting. “I’m Lucy.”

“Caspian.” He crossed his hands over his chest in return. “Do you know where they went?”

Lucy shook her head. She pointed in the direction she’d been walking. “I was following the sleigh tracks, but they’ve disappeared. My friend Briar told the magpies to look out for them, though—perhaps they know.”

Caspian looked in the direction Lucy had pointed. “Would you like some company?”

Lucy leaned back onto her haunches and looked at her new companion. He looked trustworthy enough, she supposed. His cloak had fallen open, revealing a small knife at his belt. Ordinarily she’d have flagged the knife as something to worry about, but she had a knife, too. She would consider them even for the time being.

“I would like that,” Lucy said.

Caspian smiled at her. “I’m glad.”

He got to his feet and brushed leaves from his breeches. Lucy stood up and started walking in the direction she’d been going before.

“Hello!” she called into the air. “I’m a friend of Briar the magpie! Is there someone I can speak to?”

There was a pause before a pair of magpies darted from a tree and landed on Lucy’s outstretched forearm.

“Are you the lass with the lost siblings?” asked the first magpie.

“I am!” Lucy said. She glanced at Caspian, who smiled encouragingly at her.

“We saw them pass this way,” said the second magpie. “You’re on the right track, but it will be a very long walk. The sleigh was going so fast we could barely see it!”

“It was just a blur,” the first magpie agreed. “But it had to be them that got took by the magic lady. Who else would have such a fast sleigh?”

Lucy bit her lip. “Thank you.” She turned to Caspian. “Would you mind getting some bread from my knapsack for me?” When he obliged, she handed a piece of bread to the birds.

“Thanks!” said the first magpie.

“Very kind of you,” said the second. The first magpie dug their claws into the bread and flew away. The other ruffled her feathers. “I hope you find them, lassie.” She paused before adding, “I have something I would like to give you.” So saying, she fluttered away, returning in a trice with a clawful of bright beetle wings.

“Oh, they’re so beautiful! Thank you!” Lucy said.

“They are, aren’t they?” The magpie seemed to smile. “Good luck.”

“Thank you! Goodbye!” Lucy said. The magpie launched off her hand.

Caspian watched the birds go. “Your siblings were taken by a…witch? Enchantress?”

“I don’t know,” Lucy said. She played with the fringe of Susan’s scarf, still wrapped around her shoulders. She didn’t want to think about what would happen when she caught up with the witch, and refused even to think that she might never catch up. “Let’s go.”

Caspian fell in beside her. He was a pleasant traveling companion, able to share a comfortable silence as well as he could tell a spellbinding story he’d heard from his tutor. Lucy particularly liked the ones about the bacchanals the dryads, maenads, and other forest ladies had in deep, forgotten forest clearings. The miles went by much more quickly than the day before, though Lucy’s legs were beginning to get sore. They stopped for lunch by a creek where it tumbled over a boulder. There was a nice clear patch of grass perfect for laying out Lucy’s piece of canvas and setting down their bags. Lucy immediately took off her shoes. Her feet, unable to breathe through the iron, smelled extremely ripe, so Lucy dunked them in the stream.

“Oooh! That is cold!” She yanked her feet out of the water and wiped them on the grass. She wrapped them in her shawl after sitting down on the canvas.

Caspian peeled off his dark cloak and tucked it into his rucksack. Now, without the shadow over his face, Lucy could see that he was a few years older than her. Glossy blond hair tumbled over his shoulders to his chest. He took meats and cheeses from his bag.

“Would you like some meat?” he asked Lucy, carving slices off a cured ham with his knife.

“Yes please! Would you like some mushrooms?” Lucy held out a small handful. Caspian took two. They feasted on bread, cheese, meat, mushrooms, and apples. Lucy knew that at some point they would have to consider finding more food, but she didn’t want to think about it yet. Full of food, they half-dozed on the picnic blanket. Knowing now that the sleigh went faster than the human (or avine) eye could see, Lucy was less inclined to hurry.

“What are your siblings like?” Caspian asked.

Lucy let out a gentle puff of air. Without opening her eyes, she said, “Peter is the oldest. He’s always trying his best to look after us and make sure we do the right thing. He’s very noble.” She smiled to herself, remembering their wrestling matches. Sometimes Edmund would fight dirty, but Peter never did. “Susan’s next. She looks after us too. She has such a tongue! The sparks really fly when she and Edmund fight. When they’re on the same side Peter and I have no hope of beating them. Edmund’s like Susan, but not a mama duck like she is. He used to be a bit of a brat, but he’s alright now.”

“I have no siblings,” Caspian admitted. “My uncle has a son, but he’s only a babe.”

Lucy pushed herself up on her elbows. “My siblings can be annoying, but I’m glad I have them.” She laughed. “Oh, but if I’d met you two years ago, I would have given you Edmund in a heartbeat!”

“Was he so terrible?”

Lucy shrugged. “I can sympathise with him now that I’m a teenager. But he was so stubborn and sullen.”

Caspian laughed. “I remember being a bit stubborn and sullen myself at that age.”

“I wish I could remember what Peter and Susan were like at fourteen, but I was eight and ten, and I don’t have so many memories from back then.” Lucy lay back spread-eagled on the canvas and gazed up at the clouds.

“I’m not sure I have many memories from then either, now that you mention it.” Caspian got up and rummaged in his bag. “Would you like a pastry?”

“Yes, please!” Lucy said eagerly, sitting up to accept half an apple pastry. It was thickly dusted with cinnamon. Custard oozed out the sides. It was impossible to eat neatly, so Lucy gleefully ate it messily before wiping her hands on the grass. “Who made that?”

“My family’s cook. He’s very good, isn’t he? I’ll miss his cooking.”

“You have a cook?” Lucy asked. “That’s amazing!”

Caspian laughed. “Yes, it’s quite nice. We’ve always had one. Now I suppose I’ll have to learn how to cook!”

“I’m sure we can all teach you once we find my siblings! Peter’s really good at pastry ‘cause he’s so patient. Susan’s the best with a bow, so she gets us wild game. Edmund makes the game into stews because he’s not patient so he can just put the ingredients in the pot and go do something else until it’s done. I usually make bread.”

“Did you make this bread?” Caspian asked, pointing at Lucy’s bag.

Lucy shook her head. “Peter made these loaves.”

“They’re delicious!”

“Just wait until you’ve tried mine!” Lucy smiled. “Shall we go?”

The two of them continued on their journey. Occasionally birds would fly down to give them an update on the sleigh. It continued in an uncannily straight line, even through the thickly forested parts of the landscape. While Lucy knew that she and Caspian were on a rescue mission, it was easy to forget: the weather made her feel like she was just taking long hikes, and the fact that her siblings had been captured by some sort of witch made the whole thing feel a little like a dream. Time flowed along like honey under the autumn sky. Mid-afternoon Lucy spotted some mushrooms. It reminded her that they would need to gather more food.

Lucy showed Caspian which nuts were edible and how to spot raspberry and strawberry plants. She would look for the mushrooms herself because of the risk of confusing poisonous ones for edible ones. Most of the mushrooms Lucy was able to find were plain white or brown, though she discovered one massive orange mushroom all ruffled like a flower in the height of bloom. When all was said and done, they had quite the haul of mushrooms, berries, and nuts. Lucy had even found two truffles.

The autumn light faded fast. Luckily, Lucy and Caspian stumbled upon an abandoned cabin. The walls leaned in on each other like old friends and gaps in the walls loomed like missing teeth, but it was something. Together they searched for logs and kindling. Caspian had a flint and Lucy’s knife would serve as a steel. Caspian built the fire while Lucy draped her piece of canvas over the dirt floor and laid out her bedroll. Caspian sat cross legged on his blankets, flames reflected in his eyes as he stared into its depths. Lucy leaned back onto her bed and gazed out of the missing half of the roof at the stars. She and her siblings had once made up new stories about the constellations: the Leopard, they’d decided, had been pursuing the white stag without knowing of its magical properties. The leopard chased the stag for so long that it eventually walked right into the sky. The Hammer got bored after it became a constellation and built the Ship out of star-wood, “whatever that is,” Susan had giggled. Lucy pulled her blanket up to her chin and rolled over so she couldn’t see the stars.

“Would you like dinner, Lucy?” Caspian offered.

Lucy rolled over again to face the centre of the room. Caspian had impaled a sandwich on a stick and held it over the fire. He’d also laid out a row of beech nuts next to the fire, as Lucy had told him that they were much better when dried. She and her siblings used to gather up apronfuls of beech nuts and let them dry out for weeks, but she and Caspian didn’t have the time.

“Why are you doing to that sandwich?” Lucy asked, sitting up.

“Our cook used to serve sandwiches warmed next to a fire. Melted cheese tastes wonderful!”

“I’ll try it.” Lucy shrugged off her blanket and began rummaging through her basket. “I like berries with cheese—do you think that would work?”

“Berries and cheese is the food of Aslan’s country,” Caspian said, grinning, accepting a handful of blackberries. He alternated bites of his sandwich with berries, gasping as he burnt his tongue. Lucy assembled her own cheese and berry sandwich and speared it with a stick. It took a while to discover the right place to hold the sandwich from the fire so it didn’t burn, and by the time Lucy had toasted one side, she decided one side would have to be good enough. Blackberry juice dripped down her fingers and arms as she ate and cheese burned the tips of her fingers.

“This might be the best sandwich I’ve ever had!”

“Agreed.” Caspian smiled at her across the fire.

Lucy leaned out the dilapidated door to wipe her hands on the grass. She came back in and wormed her way under her blankets. She lay there quietly for a while, watching the stars and trying to relax. The weight of both their unspoken worries pressed down on her chest.

“Would you be alright if your uncle found you?” Lucy asked hesitantly.

“What did you say?” Caspian asked, voice slow like molasses.

“If your uncle chased you. Would something bad happen to you?”

Lucy could hear Caspian shifting under his blanket. “To tell the truth, I’m not sure what he would do. My tutor told me that I was in grave danger, but it’s hard to imagine my uncle killing me. I suppose he might.”

“Killing you?” Lucy’s eyes snapped open. “Why?”

Caspian hummed. “He believes that I stand between him and what he wants.”

“Do you?”

“I don’t know.” Caspian still sounded sleepy. “What he wants belongs to me, and I will take it someday. But for now, I’m seventeen and have only myself. He has an army.”

“An army‽” For a moment, the only sounds in the cabin were the snaps and crackles of the fire. Caspian sighed out a long breath.

“I am Prince Caspian the Tenth,” he said.

“Oh.” While Miraz didn’t have much of an effect on the Pevensies’ life in the forest, she knew enough of the situation for her stomach to clench. She rolled over to look at Caspian across the fire. “I see.”

“Yes, exactly.” Caspian yawned. “So here I am.”

“You seem awfully calm about it,” Lucy said.

“It’s all rather dream-like. I left in the middle of the night. I suppose I knew for a long time, deep down, that it would happen.”

“That’s awful,” Lucy whispered.

Caspian met her eyes from across the room. “The last thing I want is for you to feel bad for me, young Lucy.”

“In that you will be disappointed, because I do feel sorry for you and how you’ve been treated!” Lucy exclaimed.

“What about you? You have lost your three siblings. I have lost only the awful people I was forced to call my family.”

“You said this all feels like a dream to you. I feel the same.” Lucy sighed. “I can hardly believe they’re gone.”

“We will find them.”

“I hope so.” Lucy said it so softly she wasn’t sure Caspian heard her.

“We will. No matter how far we must walk, no matter how steep the path, we will find your siblings,” Caspian vowed.

As Caspian said it, Lucy could feel her heart lifting. She wasn’t alone in her search.

“Goodnight, Caspian.”

“Goodnight, Lucy, and sleep well.”

Lucy slept uneasily that night, worse than she had in her little tent the night before. She awoke from long, winding dreams to the sounds of Caspian’s gentle snores and wind whistling through their shelter. Upon awaking for the third time, Lucy got out of her bedroll. She picked up her blanket and wrapped it around her. She picked up the basket of roasted nuts, stepped outside of the cabin, and found a seat on a log. The early-morning forest wore a woolly shawl of fog that blunted its sharp, unfamiliar edges. Lucy could use one hand to count the times she’d ventured this far away from her home. She’d never come this far alone. She tightened her blanket around her shoulders and shivered. She was glad for the roasted beech nuts. They would have been nicer hot, but they were still good, and Lucy ate half the basket before she realised what she was doing. She watched the forest rouse from its slumber: birds beginning to sing, rabbits rustling through the bushes. Lucy even saw a bobcat winding its way between the trees. She held as still as possible, ready to flee at any moment, but the bobcat didn’t approach.

“Could you not sleep?”

Lucy startled, spilling the remaining beech nuts out over her lap. “Caspian!”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” He came around to her side of the log and picked up the beech nuts that had fallen on the ground. “Are you accustomed to rising this early?”

“No,” Lucy admitted, scooping the fallen nuts into her basket. “With the sunrise, usually, not before it.” She accepted the handful of nuts Caspian offered her.

Caspian sat down beside Lucy. They sat there for awhile in the morning quiet, the only noise the gentle crunching of beech nuts. Eventually they got up together, packed up their bedding, and headed on their way. Partway through the morning they came upon a mighty centaur. Her lower half was that of a draft horse, about as tall as Caspian at her horse shoulders.

“Good morning!” Lucy said.

“Greetings and salutations,” said the great centaur. She leaned forward so that she could see them better from her great height. “I do not often see humans in this part of the forest. What are your names, and why are you here?”

“I’m Lucy. He’s Caspian.”

“We are on a quest to recover this lady’s brothers and sister,” said Caspian, indicating Lucy.

“I am Meadowdell,” she said, bending one knee towards them. “That is a noble quest. Why have they gone?”

“They were taken by a witch.”

“A great shame. Do you know where the witch has taken them?”

Lucy pointed in the direction they’d been walking. “The magpies tell us they went that way.”

Meadowdell swished her tail. “I have planned to visit my own sister who lives over that way. Should you wish it, you could ride on my back.”

Lucy and Caspian exchanged glances: a ride from a centaur was a great honour. “We thank you, madam,” Caspian said.

In response, Meadowdell walked over to a boulder. Caspian cupped his hands into a saddle for Lucy to step into, then boosted her up to Meadowdell’s back. He stepped up onto the boulder and settled in behind Lucy.

“Are those iron shoes you wear?” asked Meadowdell. She reached behind her head to tie up her loose hair.

“Yes—I didn’t mean to hurt you, shall I take them off?” Lucy asked. While they were still not comfortable, she sometimes forgot that she was wearing them.

“No, no. It isn’t that.” Meadowdell twisted to look over her shoulder at them. “Hold on snugly—you can put your arms around me, small one.”

Lucy obliged, leaning forward to wrap her arms around Meadowdell’s stomach. “How will you steady yourself, Caspian?”

“I’ll be fine,” he assured her, but Meadowdell broke into a canter, then a gallop, and Caspian lurched forward into Lucy. He tightened his legs around Meadowdell’s sides and grabbed onto Lucy’s upper arms.

Meadowdell was much faster than any horse either of them had ever ridden. Lucy kept her mouth tightly closed in order not to get a mouthful of Meadowdell’s hair as it streamed out behind her. The forest slipped by on either side of them, blurring into a uniform green backdrop to their adventure. Oddly, when Lucy looked under Meadowdell’s arm to see what lay ahead, it didn’t look as though they were making progress. The mountains in front of them didn’t appear to grow larger as they went. After about ten minutes, Meadowdell slowed to a walk.

“It is as I suspected. You will not make any progress on your quest unless you walk.”

“Why?” Lucy asked.

“I have heard tales of other questers who have been given iron shoes. It signals a journey they must make on foot, a journey that will be long and hard. I am glad you are not alone as you undertake this quest,” Meadowdell explained.

Lucy looked down at her shoes. “And if I took them off?”

Meadowdell shrugged. “It is old magic that governs these shoes. It may work, though I do not know enough to say for certain.”

“Thank you for trying to help us!” Lucy said.

“You are very welcome, younglings.” Meadowdell waited patiently as Lucy and Caspian slid off her back onto the ground. She took off one of her necklaces, a small golden acorn on a chain. “Take this. I do not know exactly what you will face, but the stories often involve gifts.”

“Thank you!” Lucy said. She fastened the clasp on the necklace around her own neck and patted the pendant where it lay on her chest. She reached up to give Meadowdell a hug, but she could barely reach her arms around where Meadowdell’s human torso joined her withers, even on tiptoe. Meadowdell stroked her hair.

“Be well,” she said, smiling down at Lucy. Then she flicked her tail and cantered off into the forest.

Lucy and Caspian continued on their way. Late that afternoon they stopped to make camp. Lucy showed Caspian how to make snares so they could catch some rabbits for dinner. They wrapped the meat in leaves and put it amongst the coals to slow roast.

“May I braid your hair?” Lucy asked. As soon as she’d seen Caspian’s lustrous blond hair she’d longed to run her hands through it, but it hadn’t seemed the sort of thing she could ask a stranger.

“Certainly.” Caspian loosed it from its ribbon and ran his fingers through it, undoing the tangles made by the wind as they raced through the forest. He settled himself on the grass as Lucy knelt behind him. His hair was just as soft as she’d hoped. She happily began to weave it into a braid.

“I learned how to do some of the braids the servants used to do on my hair. I could braid your hair,” Caspian continued.

“I would like that!” Lucy undid a small section and braided it again, securing the end with Caspian’s ribbon. Then she turned around, sitting on the grass, while Caspian braided her hair. She relished the sensation of gentle fingers against her scalp: it reminded her of trading braids with Susan. They usually wore their hair in simple styles, but once in a while they liked to practice more elaborate braids and updos.

“Were you friends with your servants?” Lucy asked. It was hard for her to imagine what having servants would be like. Lucy didn’t know what she would do while a maid was in the same room stoking the fire or sweeping the floor.

Caspian sighed. His hands slowed against Lucy’s hair. “Not as much as I would have liked. My uncle thought it was beneath me, but I took time with them when I could.”

“Did you have no one to play with?”

Caspian laughed. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to ‘play’ with anyone. I do play cards or dice, once in awhile, with visiting royalty from other countries. When I was a child I could sometimes steal moments in the garden with other kids. But for years my days have been filled with lessons.” Caspian picked a piece of grass and carefully tied it around the end of Lucy’s braid.

“What kind of lessons?” Her hair done, Lucy turned around to face Caspian.

“Duelling, etiquette, dancing, history, maths, geography…” Caspian made a face. “It’s all very well, but I would rather spend time outside. I loved my lessons with Cornelius, though. He could make the driest topics interesting.”

“I’ve never been to school,” Lucy confessed. “The local school closed before I could go. Sometimes Ed and I use Su and Peter’s old books, but it’s not the same.”

“Well, once we’ve regained your siblings,” Caspian said, smiling slightly, “I could teach you what I remember as you teach me how to cook.”

“I would like that,” Lucy replied. She reached up to touch her braid. “You’ll have to teach me how to do this braid, too!”

“Anytime, Lucy. Now, I suppose it’s nearly time for bed…”

“Bedroll, you mean,” Lucy laughed. “Yes, I suppose so. Thanks for the braiding, Caspian.”

“Thank you, Lucy. Sleep well.”

“Goodnight!”

Meadowdell’s prediction about the length of their journey came true: Lucy and Caspian spent weeks or months on the trail of the witch. They soon began to lose track of time, though they could tell that a considerable amount of time passed: the leaves began to fall in earnest, the sun went to its rest earlier and earlier, the nights grew chillier every day. Lucy set a deadfall trap to catch animals for fur cloaks. Both Lucy and Caspian grew hale and strong.

One morning they awoke to a light dusting of snow over the ground. As much as Lucy had tired of their journey, she delighted in the snow. It fell gently during the day, allowing her to catch flakes on her tongue. As the land turned from grassy hills into rocky hills into foothills of mountains, their walk turned into more of a scramble over steep hills and rockfalls. They were both sweaty and out of breath by the time they arrived at the top of the steepest hill yet.

They could see a castle.

It was nestled into the valley between the next two hills, made of ice as much as rock, with tall, narrow spikes of both stabbing up into the sky. Lucy could only describe it as exquisite and terrible. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from its horrible beauty.

“There it is!” said Caspian. He, too, seemed to be under its spell.

“I don’t know what to do now that we’re here!” said Lucy, beginning to be frightened. “We have no idea how it is guarded or what sort of powers that witch has.”

Caspian took out his knife. “The only thing we can do is to watch.”

So they did. They walked the circumference of the surrounding hills, observing the castle from all angles. (It was no less unnerving from behind.) They watched for guards and anyone else entering or leaving the castle. (No one went in. No one went out.) In fact, it almost seemed as though the castle was in a deep slumber. The only signs of life (for all the birds and rabbits and mice would not go anywhere near) were the wolves roaming the grounds in small packs.

As they circled in closer to the castle, Lucy spotted a wide green lawn, incongruous in its obviously man-made nature: despite the unsettling nature of the rest of the castle, it seemed as though it had grown from the rock itself. The lawn had many statues of people and animals keeping stern watch over it. As Caspian and Lucy watched, five figures marched out onto the green. They weren’t close enough to see in detail, but the first three were of approximate human size and shape. They wore long robes of blue. After them came a very tall woman all in white and wearing a crown. Finally, quite a short figure came through the door and shut it after them. The first four all sat at a table. The fifth came and served them drinks.

Lucy and Caspian exchanged glances before wordlessly agreeing to get closer. They worked their way down towards the castle until they reached a better vantage point. From there, Lucy could recognise the three humanoid figures as Peter, Susan, and Edmund. They each looked unnaturally flushed as they mechanically sipped their drinks.

“Whatever are we going to do?” Lucy whispered to Caspian.

“I don’t know.” Caspian furrowed his brow. “I didn’t like the look of those wolves.”

“Me neither.” Lucy leaned back against a boulder as she thought.

“I suppose she has servants,” Caspian said. “Perhaps we could look for the servants’ entrance. Do you suppose they would let us in?”

“That’s a good idea! W should wait until they go back inside.” So Lucy and Caspian sat with their backs to the rocks as they waited. Lucy eventually suggested a storytelling game. She and Caspian traded sentences, creating a disjointed story about leopards on an adventure. The leopards were extremely good at adventuring, but they did have trouble holding keys and torches and rope.

When Lucy next popped her head up over the boulder, the Pevensies and their captors had disappeared. She and Caspian waited until all the wolves had wandered around to the front of the castle before hurrying down to the lawn. They walked the perimeter of the castle until they found what they assumed was the servants’ entrance. It had no lock or even a handle.

“Shall we knock?” Lucy whispered.

“Perhaps you could stand back. I will go in, and if I’m not back out in five minutes, come in after me.”

“Alright.” Lucy stepped into a niche carved into the walls so she would be hidden from anyone opening the door. She took out her knife and held it along her side, under her cloak.

Caspian knocked on the door. He jumped back as the door began to move. The knobbly rock began to shift and groan until it formed the shape of a man’s face. It was rather a nasty face with stern eyes and a cruel mouth, and it said,

“And who do you think you are?”

“I–was hoping to speak to someone about employment here,” Caspian fumbled.

“Is that so?” The stone face squinted at Caspian. “And were you invited here, or have you just shown up?”

“My—cousin—wrote me about this place, though they didn’t invite me explicitly.”

“That doesn’t sound like an invitation,” the face growled. “What’s your cousin’s name?”

Just as Caspian was about to begin weaving an answer, the door began slowly opening, its hinges groaning and complaining. A young woman came out through the door and addressed the stone face.

“Don’t be such a grouch, Tiberius. I’m happy to see my cousin any day.” She smiled at Caspian. “Won’t you come in?”

“Oh— yes, of course. It is lovely to see you again!” Caspian followed the girl as she disappeared through the doorway.

She led him down a hallway lit by flickering torches and into a cavernous kitchen. Countless workers in pale blue uniforms chopped vegetables, kneaded bread, and stirred soups. They came to a stop in a quiet back corner stacked with burlap bags of flour. She had the delicate look of a birch dryad and her voice was high and soft as she said, “Quick! Why are you here? It isn’t for a job, is it?”

Caspian glanced about them, but the nearest workers were yards and yards away. “I’m here with a friend. Her brothers and sister were stolen away by a woman who lives here. We wish to rescue them.”

The girl’s sheets of hair rippled around her face like waves as she shook her head. “What a horrible business. She’s taken girls and boys before, but never like this! I don’t think they’ve slept in weeks. She’s done something to them to keep them awake, it must be. But I don’t know how you could rescue them! She’s always with them, and the castle is full of her supporters.”

“Do you know why she took them?”

The dryad shook her head. “It’s all hush hush. Of course I’ve heard about three different rumours around the kitchen, but I don’t think any of them are true.”

Lucy walked the perimeter of the castle, looking into windows as she came across them. Most of the rooms were empty, though a few had servants dusting furniture or cleaning the windows. At these Lucy got on her hands and knees and crawled underneath the sill. She spotted another door as she crossed from the back of the castle to the side, this one manned by an armed guard. Lucy watched for a moment before making her way back to the door named Tiberius. She didn’t know how she was going to make it past; the door was clearly in a bad mood. Eventually Lucy decided to pretend as though she was not planning to get into the castle at all. After checking to make sure that Tiberius’ face had melted back into the door, she went over to the edge of the forest and threw her necklace across the meadow and into the snow near the door.

“Oh no!” Lucy said, as if to herself. She began rummaging through the light coating of snow with a stick, occasionally crouching to examine a patch of ground more closely. She gradually worked her way closer and closer to the door. “I can’t lose this necklace!”

“Oi! You! What are you doing, little girl?” called Tiberius.

Lucy looked up. “I’m looking for my necklace! I think I dropped it when I walked this way!”

“What business do you have near this castle?”

“Oh, none at all! Just visiting my grandmother,” Lucy said. “Is this a castle? That’s grand!”

“It’s the castle of Jadis, the White Witch,” said Tiberius.

“Wow! A real witch?” Filling her voice with sugar was fun, Lucy thought. “You must be treated so well for working for such a woman!”

“They treat me fine,” Tiberius said gruffly.

“Can you eat food? Oh, the food must be divine here.”

“I can eat, but they don’t give me any food.”

“Oh no, that’s terrible! Here, I have some jerky and nuts.” Lucy began to rummage in her bag. “It’s not much, but I feel so bad for you, doing all this work for no reward!”

“Oh, I don’t need…” Tiberius began. He closed his mouth when he saw the shiny roasted nuts Lucy offered. “I would love some, thank you.”

Lucy held the nuts up to Tiberius’ mouth.

“I don’t have hands,” he mumbled.

“Oh! Of course.” Lucy dropped a nut into his open mouth.

“That was delicious! Did you roast these?”

“I did!” Lucy smiled. “Another?”

It didn’t take long for Tiberius to warm up to Lucy’s bright chatter. She rather liked him with a little bit of food in his stone belly.

“This is a lovely castle. Do you know what it’s like inside?” Lucy asked, taking a roasted nut for herself.

“I’ve never seen it, of course. I hear from the servants that it’s lovely.”

“Could I take a look? I could tell you all about it!”

“I suppose no harm done, as long as you stay out of sight and don’t touch anything.” Tiberius looked longingly down at her basket. “Could I have another nut?”

Lucy gave Tiberius another few chestnuts. “Thank you, sir!”

“Mmmf,” said Tiberius, mouth full.

The door creaked open and Lucy disappeared inside. If anything had happened to Caspian, she had wasted precious minutes speaking to Tiberius, but Lucy hadn’t had many other ideas for getting in safely and with a minimum of fuss. Now, where was Caspian? She wished they’d come up with some sort of signal with which to find each other. She didn’t have far to look: she saw a flash of blond hair around a corner that turned out to be her friend. He was accompanied by a dryad.

“Caspian!” Lucy whispered. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I am!” He indicated the dryad. “This is Whisperleaf. She will lead us to your brothers and sisters.”

“Just the one sister,” Lucy corrected automatically. Then the sentence caught up with her. “Really‽” She impulsively gathered Whisperleaf into a tight hug.

“Really!” Whisperleaf confirmed, returning the hug. “Come into the kitchen. I will get you some uniforms to wear.”

The uniforms were gorgeously starched: Lucy almost wanted to ask Whisperleaf how it was done so she could tell Mrs. Beaver, who was always looking for better ways to do things. Lucy felt marvelous in the first clean set of clothes she’d worn in weeks. Once the uniforms were in order, she and Caspian followed Whisperleaf through the back hallways of the castle. Any other time Lucy might have appreciated them for their flickering candles and cobwebs, straight out of any of her storybooks. Now, however, she wished they could see more than sixty feet ahead of them and that their footsteps wouldn’t slap so loudly against the stone. It was impossible to be quiet with her iron clodhoppers.

“Don’t be so nervous,” Whisperleaf told her. “Pretend like you belong here.”

Lucy straightened her hunched shoulders and held her head high. Oddly, it made her feel better, especially with the crisp uniform. She smoothed her hands over her apron.

“How are we going to do this?” Lucy whispered back.

“We’ll wait until Jadis is gone. Then we’ll tell the guard that we’re here to…take the Pevensies to the tailor.”

“What happens after that?” Caspian asked. “After we leave the castle, I mean. Those wolves ought to be able to sniff us out in half a second.”

“That’s a good question,” Whisperleaf frowned. “How would you feel about stealing some horses?”

Caspian shook his head, but Lucy said, “She stole Peter and Su and Ed. Let’s take some horses.”

“Would you mind, Whisperleaf?”

Whisperleaf shrugged. “They’re not my horses. Plus, Jadis is…” She lowered her voice as they approached the door. “…you know. Here we are.” She turned to Lucy and put her hands on the younger girl’s shoulders. “We can do this!”

Lucy nodded and squeezed Whisperleaf’s hand. “We can do this. Together.”

Whisperleaf stepped through the door, Lucy and Caspian following close behind. They were in a much fancier part of the castle than the shabby servants’ wing. Everything was draped in tapestries and textiles of blue, white, and silver. The end of the hallway was dominated by a pair of silver double doors reaching all the way to the ceiling. Whisperleaf led them to a set of smaller silver doors to the right of the main doors. A faun stood outside cleaning his nails with his knife.

“Good afternoon, Aurrus,” Whisperleaf said cheerily. “We’re here to escort the Pevensies down to see Tish. They’re to get new dinner things.”

Aurrus grunted, waving one hand towards the door without looking up from his task.

“Thanks, you’re a dear.” Whisperleaf opened the door and beckoned Caspian and Lucy inside. She clapped one hand over Lucy’s mouth before Lucy could gasp. Her siblings were all sitting nearly motionless on the luxurious furniture. Peter toyed with a chess set. Edmund flipped mechanically through a book. Susan threaded and rethreaded an embroidery needle.

“Pretend everything’s normal,” Whisperleaf murmured, taking her hand away from Lucy’s mouth. “Good afternoon, gentlemen and lady! We’re here to take you to the tailor.”

Peter set down the chess piece. “Alright.”

“If you insist,” said Susan tonelessly.

“Must I?” asked Edmund, though he set down his book.

All three of them looked up at once and spoke with one voice. “Lucy.”

“Shhh!” Whisperleaf hissed. “You don’t know her!”

“We’re supposed to take her to Jadis!” said Susan.

“She will join us as kings and queens,” Peter explained.

“What?” Lucy asked.

Whisperleaf cut her off. “There’s no time! Please come with us quietly. We will explain later!” She marched forward and gripped Susan’s arm. Caspian took Edmund’s and Lucy took Peter’s.

“I will see you later, Aurrus!” Whisperleaf said as they passed through the door.

Aurrus grunted.

“Where–” began Susan, but Whisperleaf shushed her.

“We really must insist–” said Peter. Lucy stomped on his foot to shut him up, forgetting about her iron shoes.

“What was that for?” Peter asked her.

“Please just be quiet, Peter. Just give us a little while and then I will join you as queen.” She wiped away the tears beginning to well in her eyes.

Whisperleaf ushered them into the servants’ back hallways. From there it was a short walk back to the kitchens. They paused in the hallway while they tried to decide what to do.

“Are there any other back doors, Whisperleaf?” Caspian asked.

“There’s one we can use. But I don’t know how we will get around to the stables or how we will take the horses.”

“Who looks after the horses?” Lucy asked.

“Different people, usually, but today it’s Dar. He’s not the brightest.” Whisperleaf looked both ways down the hallway. “We should go.”

The six of them shuffled down the hallway and out to the other door. It was hidden behind a tapestry and barely looked like a door. Whisperleaf took a needle out of her apron pocket and pricked her finger before wiping the bead of blood onto the door. It creaked open.

“Why do you keep working for this witch‽” Lucy asked, recoiling from the smear of blood.

Whisperleaf shrugged as she led the posse out into the meadow. “Didn’t have much choice but to take this job in the first place. And she doesn’t want us leaving and spilling her secrets.” She pointed to the stone statues overlooking the garden. “Some of those statues used to be servants.”

Lucy shuddered. “How horrible.”

“She turns people into stone?” Caspian asked.

“I know, I know, but we don’t have time.” Whisperleaf led them around the side of the castle to the stable. Servants and wolves drifted past, but none gave them odd looks: Peter, Susan, and Edmund had gone quiet and unresistant.

The stable was quiet and warm under its dusting of snow. It smelled of hay and fur. Half of it was filled with snow-white reindeer, the other half with horses with feathery hooves. A sleepy-looking teenager rested in a pile of straw at the end of the hall.

“Is he asleep?” Lucy whispered.

Whisperleaf craned her neck to get a better look. “I wouldn’t bet on it if I were a betting gal.”

“What shall we do?” Lucy asked.

“I can see if he’s asleep. If not, I could distract him with questions about the reindeer…?” Caspian suggested.

“I think he’ll still see us leading them out. Here. Let’s have Caspian take the…” Whisperleaf gestured to the statue-like Pevensie siblings. “…out to the forest, now. Then I’ll take the horses out there while Lucy talks to him. May be worth a try to flirt with him, Lucy…” Whisperleaf made an apologetic face. She helped Caspian herd Lucy’s siblings out the stable door.

Lucy took a deep breath before walking down to the end of the stable, iron shoes clunking on the flagged stone floor.

“Hello?” Dar sat up in the straw.

“Hello, I’m Lucy.” She smiled down at Dar. He appeared only a few years older than her, maybe Edmund’s age, which made him much less intimidating.

“Whaddya want?” He ran a hand through his messy hair and yawned.

“The horses are beautiful. You’re so lucky to work with them.”

Dar shrugged against the straw. “I guess. It’s just a job.”

“You don’t care about them?” Lucy asked, itching to say something else, knowing she couldn’t irritate him. She loved horses.

Dar shrugged again. “I’m just saving up to marry my girl.”

“Oh, congratulations!” Lucy brought her clasped hands to her chest. “That’s lovely!”

Dar smiled for the first time. “She’s the love of my life.”

“What’s her name?”

“Iridavan. Everyone calls her Iri.” Dar looked off into the distance with misty eyes. Unfortunately, horse theft was happening in the distance. “Hey! You!”

Lucy gestured wildly, making her golden acorn pendant swing in a wide arc. “Please! We have to do this. She took my siblings!”

Dar’s eyes narrowed as he looked past Lucy to Whisperleaf. “What’s in it for me? I could get beaten, y’know. Or turned into stone!”

Lucy shook her head helplessly and looked down at her shoes. “I…don’t know. That horrible woman!” She took another deep breath. Glancing at her pendant, she said, “I have this necklace. It’s real gold–you could sell it or give it to Iri…”

Dar’s eyes flicked to the necklace. “Gold?”

Lucy held the acorn between thumb and finger and wiggled it at him. “Gold,” she confirmed. “But you have to pretend you never saw us.”

Dar’s eyes narrowed again. “They’ll blame me for the horses, y’know.”

Lucy shrugged. “Break the gates and make it look like they broke out. I really have to go! Will you do it?”

“Yeah, alright. Gimme.” Dar held out a hand.

Lucy winced as she dropped the beautiful pendant into his hand. Still, it was more than a fair trade. “Thank you.” She glanced over her shoulder at Whisperleaf, who nodded. “You never saw us.” She ran down the stable hallway to join Whisperleaf. They walked calmly out of the stable, just in case anyone saw, before ducking into the forest to join the others.

“Join us for a short pleasure ride,” Caspian was urging Edmund. Peter and Susan were already astride their horse. “Then we will go back and you can have Lucy.”

Edmund looked doubtfully at Lucy. “You promise, Lu?”

Hearing her affectionate nickname in his blank tone of voice made Lucy’s skin crawl. She couldn’t meet his eyes as she said, “I promise.”

“No time to waste,” Whisperleaf said. She boosted Lucy up to the back of one of the horses and mounted the horse behind her. Caspian did the same for Edmund. Whisperleaf took the lead.

“Where are we going?” Lucy asked.

“I’ve heard rumours about this place called Aslan’s How. I think we will be safe there,” Whisperleaf said. “Look, we should ride our horses through the creek. Throw off the scent.” The horses splashed through the creek. At times their hooves had to break through thin sheets of ice. Their prints were all too obvious in the snow, but there was nothing to be done about that.

It was a few hours before they got to Aslan’s How. The spell seemed to wear off Peter and Susan a little; the unnatural flush faded from their cheeks. Edmund seemed to have taken the spell a little harder. From time to time Caspian whispered in his ear.

Whatever Lucy was expecting from a place called Aslan’s How, an ordinary-looking hill was not it. She wasn’t sure why Whisperleaf thought they would be safe there.

Whisperleaf led them around to the back of the hill and pointed out a door disguised with shrubbery. “Here, Caspian, you take them in. Lucy, you and I can ride these horses out into the woods somewhere, hopefully make them think we didn’t stop here. We don’t have any rope, do we?”

“We do!” Lucy reached into her bag.

Whisperleaf grabbed the rope and dismounted, neatly tying one of the horses to Lucy’s horse. “I’ll ride the other and this one will just come along for the ride,” she explained.

Caspian dismounted and held out a hand for Edmund, who slid off the horse. Peter and Susan did the same.

“Why are we here?” Susan asked. She still spoke in a tone flatter than normal, though the light was coming back into her eyes.

Whisperleaf took Edmund’s arm and gently towed him into the How, the others in her wake. The door closed behind them with a gentle thump, leaving them in pitch darkness. “We are here to get you away from Jadis and back with your sister.”

“Ah, here’s a torch,” Caspian said. There was the sound of metal against stone before the torch flickered to life.

“Away from Jadis,” Peter murmured.

Susan frowned. “I can’t remember, but I don’t think she was nice to us.”

“There was good food,” Edmund offered. “We were supposed to bring her Lucy. Why was that?”

Lucy bit her lip. “Can we go?” she asked Whisperleaf in an undertone. “I don’t like to see them like this.”

“Good luck, Caspian,” Whisperleaf said, clapping his shoulder. She pushed the door open, bright light spilling into the hallway.

They didn’t ride the horses for long. Neither of them wanted to walk a long distance back to the How after the day they’d had. So after a short ride, they dismounted, untied the extra horse, and slapped all of them to make them run. Hopefully they’d be able to find the castle again, Lucy thought, though only for their sake, not for Jadis’s.

“Let’s make extra footprints so they think there were more of us,” Lucy suggested.

“Good idea.”

The two of them ran back and forth over their tracks, varying their stride length, until the snow was a mess of prints. They did the same past Aslan’s How and into the forest, hoping to lead any pursuers away, before walking back to the How. It was warm and full of light by the time they arrived: Caspian and Peter had lit a fire. Susan and Peter had even started dinner from what meagre offerings Caspian had left in his bag. It was mostly jerky and nuts, though they had a small amount of nettles and other winter greens for a broth.

Lucy took her place on her bedroll by the fire. She groaned as she stretched her legs. As she crossed one foot over her knees, she noticed a place wearing thin on the sole of her iron shoe. She took it off and held it close to her eyes to see in the dim light. Sure enough, there was a hole! She pulled off her other shoe. It, too, had a hole in the sole.

“Look at this!” She held the shoes out to the group. Caspian and Whisperleaf came to take a look.

“Well, I never!” said Whisperleaf. She took the shoe from Lucy and poked the hole. “Thank goodness you don’t have to wear these anymore. Why were you wearing them in the first place?”

“Father Christmas gave them to me and said I would need them. We came across a centaur who said it means I have a quest to do.” Lucy smiled and shrugged. “I guess my quest is over!”

Caspian crouched down to her level to give her a hug. “Free of those smelly shoes at last,” he said, kissing the top of Lucy’s head.

Lucy reached up to run her hand over his braid. “Not even happy I’ve rescued my siblings, just happy you don’t have to smell my feet anymore, I see!” Both of them laughed.

“I’m happy you’ve found your siblings, too, Lu,” Caspian said, letting her go. He dropped from his crouch to sit next to her, turning to watch the siblings at their work over the fire. Whisperleaf set down the shoe and went to join them, taking an experimental sip of the broth.

“Dinner’s ready,” Susan said. Edmund had gone looking for anything they could use as a bowl. Consequently, their broth and jerky was served in old army helmets.

“The ancient sweat really adds a nice salty flavour,” Whisperleaf said sardonically, but she sipped the soup as eagerly as any of them.

“It’s delicious, Su,” Lucy said. She smiled softly at her sister over the rim of her helmet. She thought Susan was almost back to normal, but not being sure made her nervous.

“Thank you. Peter helped.” Susan nudged him, smiling. She took another sip of the soup. Her eyes widened and she slowly lowered the helmet. “Hey! You saved us.”

“We did,” said Whisperleaf.

“Are you still under her spell?” Lucy asked.

“I don’t think so.” Susan narrowed her eyes. “I remember very little, but I don’t feel foggy anymore.”

“I don’t either.” Peter set down his soup and closed his eyes. “It was awful, Lucy.”

A shiver of horror went down Lucy’s spine. She didn’t know whether or not she wanted to hear it. “I can imagine!”

Edmund spoke up for the first time in what felt like hours. “Thank you, Lu.”

Lucy looked over to see that Edmund’s eyes were clear and all the unnatural flush was gone from his cheeks. Tears began to spill from the corners of her eyes. She set down her soup and beckoned to her siblings, who all came over to fold her into a big group hug. She reached out one hand back towards Caspian and Whisperleaf, who joined the hug. It was so warm and soft that Lucy’s tears of relief flowed even faster down her cheeks.

“No offense, Lu, but when was the last time you bathed?” Edmund asked, wrinkling his nose and stepping away.

Lucy laughed through her tears. “I have no idea.” She stepped back from the group and lifted her arm to sniff.

“We were pretty well focused on rescuing you from a witch,” Caspian added. “That’s much more important than how long ago we bathed, don’t you think, Lucy?”

“I agree.” Lucy reached for Caspian’s hands with both of her own. “Thank you, thank you,” she whispered.

Caspian pulled Lucy into a hug. “You’re so very welcome, Lu.”

Then Lucy hugged Whisperleaf. “We couldn’t have done it without you.”

“I would do it again in a second,” said Whisperleaf, ruffling Lucy’s hair.

They all washed up their helmets and laid out all the soft materials they could find to make one big bed by the fire. They still had a long journey ahead of them, Lucy knew. They would have to be careful to get away from Jadis. But now that she had her family back, the hole in her heart was beginning to heal. Lucy curled up between her brothers and fell quickly into the first peaceful sleep she’d had in months.

I can’t know for sure, but I would like to think they lived happily ever after.

#tcon #peter pevensie #susan pevensie #edmund pevensie #lucy pevensie #Caspian X #narnia #narnia gift exchange #by blueandnoah #for awkwardbookishgay #autumnexchange: 1 #type: fanfiction

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tiliamericana · 4 years ago

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Muay Thai 1.02