#I still wish spellcasters could hug their familiars

[victorluvsalice]

-->And sent them off to San Myshuno and their grocery store! I had Alice open the place up in the hopes that it would allow her to greet customers (she is bizarrely buggy in that regard), then had everyone change into their hot weather wear since it was pretty warm in the city (well, technically Smiler was ALREADY in hot weather wear, but I decided I wanted them to wear a different set – went with the silly backwards cap and sunglasses XD). There was a brief moment of flirtation on the sidewalk outside their store (Victor and Smiler sharing a kiss, and Victor and Alice holding hands while Smiler looked on with a grin – think I've found another "compersion"-related Valicertine picture there) –

-->And then – RETAIL TIME! Starting with the first customer of the day, (pre-refresh) Bella Goth! I was pleased to see that Alice WAS able to greet customers this time around and had her go say hi to Bella – a process that took some doing as Bella kept wandering around the store before Alice could reach her, but she got there in the end. Meanwhile, a super-confident Smiler went straight up to visiting Sulanian Ukupanipo (I THINK he’s a mermaid, but wouldn’t swear to it), greeted him, and immediately closed the deal, getting the guy to buy a bag of deodorant gummies for $179. XD Smiler and Victor then proceeded to chat with other customers while Alice kept working on Bella – she eventually closed the deal on her too, though it didn’t result in quite as spectacular a sale – Bella, as it turned out, only wanted a mere jar of meat substitute for $24. Aurelio Robles buying a bottle of milk from the fridges unprompted netted them more profit, as that cost him $25. XD Still, a sale’s a sale! While all this was happening, though, I noticed some displays were looking a bit manky, and prepared to have Victor magically clean them –

-->And then went “WAIT. YOU HAVE BEEN MEANING TO DO THIS FOR AGES, INCLUDING RIGHT BEFORE THEY LEFT FOR THE STORE TODAY. BIND HIS DRAGON FAMILIAR TO HIM FIRST.”

So I did. XD And thus Victor ended up with a very cute dark purple dragon buddy named Darkwing (the pre-generated name, I quite liked it and thus stuck with it) flying behind him for the rest of the day as he did his thing. :) I will always be a bit salty that you can’t do more with familiars than just watch them hang around your Sim (and bring said Sim back to life if they overload and die), but they do LOOK absolutely adorable, and I’m glad Victor was able to get the dragon one I so wanted him to get. :) Now if only he could cuddle the little guy...ah well.

[jeeperso]

D&D Quotes Without Context

Ravenloft Edition, Lamordia Arc part 4

GM: ...(and doing some impromptu social service work, the kind that involved busting skulls)...

GM: And because they didn't deal with enough slimeballs, they also fought a globster. Edward: "Goofy Goo-ber."

“Oh, good. Someone else got you the Woodsman body grease for Life Day.”

OOC: Jonni is a very cunning linguist.

"We don't want too many of us getting stoned." "I don't wish any of my friends to be taken for.... granite." "Yes, I realized what I said right after I said it."

The captain comes in. He is a water genasi, a rough looking old sea salt whose face is 90 percent barnacles and another 90 percent mutton chops.

"We've arrived. You'll need to take the dingy the rest of the way." “Is that a nautical term or are we riding on a dude’s junk? Cause if the latter I decline.”

“Is your god powerless to save my stomach, magic man?”

And then Jonni horks over the side onto a sealoin. [sic, probably deliberate]

"I have to agree, this entire affair has been unpleasant... But Im too relieved to be upset too harshly." “That’s just cause you have clothes this time.”

“Wizardtopia. We lost Eddie due to his bottomless stupidity, almost had reality collapse, and I need to go back and kill everyone in charge.”

GM: Well the first thing you need to do is climb this sheer cliff, because there doesn't seem to be any easy way up. Jonni: Jonni has fire feet.

GMOOC: Yeah the DC is only 10 on this one, much like PE in real life this challenge only exists to humiliate the nerds in the party.

Jonni: “So, we cool with Plan Jonni first?” Gorbash: "Has plan Jonni ever worked?" Jonni: “Dunno. You never let me try.”

“Well, we’d like to get some of your spring water, so we can trade it for a new body.”

"We are familiar with Quest Chains, honored champion."

Gorbash turns to Jonni: "Huh, score one for plan Jonni." Jonni: “I fucking told you guys.” Gorbash: "So you did. This is why we are a pro-I-told-you-so organization."

"I AM LITERALLY TOO ANGRY TO DIE." Gorbash: It doesn't work like that when you're already dead! "THAT IS A MATTER OF OPINION." Jonni: “The dead don’t have opinions! That’s why I make them die!”

"I will rip your head off and make adorable finger puppets from your entrails dragonborn."

"Darn, if that had finished him off I could have said Oloch is blasting off again."

"Tell Ioun to cram it with chestnuts." Jonni: "Kinky."

Gorbash: "Well you may not grovel but there are other ways to get you on your knees." Jonni: “Are we done with ‘phrasing?”

Gorbash: "... I swear Jonni can get laid anywhere. Oh and we do want her back after your fun."

“Oh sweet merciful tusks of Jeebus, what fresh HFIL is this?”

"No, lets not get her addicted to Jonni..."

Jonni: “I don’t do ropes after what happened with the elf queen.”

OOC: Also, yeah, no way Jonni was standing outside the hugzone against a spellcaster. OOC2: Everyone wants to hug Marshal, all the time

Gorbash: "Look we're a lot more afraid of her girlfriend than fighting you lady. Just give Jonni back."

OOC: Still, you forked a Darklord in their own lair.

[stones-x-bones]

Where Is Your Guilt || Kyle and Bex (ft. Morgan)

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @darkh0wl @inbextween and @mor-beck-more-problems SUMMARY: Bex and Kyle meet up at the campus café to try and relieve each other of their guilt. Narrator voice: It went poorly.  CONTENT: PTSD flashback, Panic attack, Sad wolf boi and sad witch gorl

Bex paced. Her chest was pounding with nerves. It didn’t hurt so much today, it was getting better, really. It didn’t hurt so much. She could do this, she could see Kyle. She could, really. She just had to keep telling herself that she was safe, that this was okay. That he wasn’t going to hurt her. Of course he wasn’t. This was nothing like the circumstances that brought the incident on. There was no mind link, no essay to write, no panic attack. No anger, no moon, no night. It was the middle of the day, in a crowded cafe. Well, not crowded. Bex didn’t like crowded places and she assume Kyle wouldn’t either. Especially for this. She paced outside because sitting seemed too hard right now, even if her chest was beginning to hurt from all the movement. She rubbed it and paused and tried to collect herself. She needed to calm down, lest her magic go haywire again. She couldn’t let it hurt him again. A familiar voice, Bex looked up. Across the way, Kyle was heading towards her. She wanted to run to him, to hug him, to reassure him everything was okay-- but something glued her to her spot and her entire body froze up. 

Kyle had debated not coming. He had debated laying in bed forever and deleting Bex’s number. That was stupid. Of course he had to come, he nearly killed her. The least he could do was show up (in a well lit, well populated area,) and apologize to her face. If he could even look her in the eye after what he’d done. He had sat in his Jeep, staring at the wheel and willing himself to get out of the car. He had taken his time making sure he didn’t look like the sleepless zombie he felt himself to be. When he thought he could keep Bex waiting no longer, Kyle took a deep breath to ground himself, and he headed toward the cafe on the UMWC campus. It wasn’t as heavily populated as he had hoped. Maybe extra eyes on him could have been incentive enough to keep his shit together. That was fine, he would just have to keep himself calm. That was doable. As he approached, he called out. “Bex! Hey.” At least she knew he was coming this time. He hoped that when he waved, she couldn’t tell how badly his hands shook. He shoved his hands in his pockets to try to mask the anxious shaking. “How are you?” he asked, as he closed the distance between them, concern written across his face.

Bex stepped back as Kyle approached. She didn’t mean to, but she did, and her back hit the door as someone pushed it open and she jumped away, apologizing profusely. She turned back to Kyle, her hands were already shaking. She immediately knew-- this was a bad idea. This was a terrible idea. She looked at him and she saw red eyes glowing and she heard his voice in her head-- Prey, hunt, kill-- and she felt claws in her chest. She tried to open her mouth to respond but couldn’t get anything out. Drew in a breath in an attempt to calm herself down. This wasn’t  that. This wasn’t then. She was fine. She was fine. “I’m-- okay. I’m doing-- I’m-- fine.” She withdrew her arms and tucked them tightly over her chest, folding into herself. “I--” her eyes tried their best to scan the boy. He looked okay, physically, but she knew he wasn’t. He couldn’t be. He was hit by a car. He was forced to change into a rabid animal. He had almost killed her. Bex took another step away. “Are you? O-okay? Please just...tell me y-you’re not taking all this on a-alone?”

Something about Bex’s body language was off. Kyle’s brow knitted together and he listened carefully to her. He swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat and nodded. “Fine,” he said, his voice sounding more hoarse than he expected. He cleared his throat, looking down at his feet. “I’m doing fine.” Kyle’s hands were clenched into fists in his pockets. It was hard to look at her because some animalistic part of his brain still wanted to see prey. He had to take a steadying breath when he looked back up at Bex. “I’m-- I mean I guess I’m alone. It’s okay. You-- How are you doing with things? Are--are you healing?” His eyes drifted over Bex. The way she hugged her own chest broke his heart. He did that to her. What if they had never been in the library at the same time? Would things have shook out the way they did? Would Bex be better off? He looked down at his feet again in an attempt to make Bex feel like she wasn’t staring down the barrel of a loaded gun. “Do you want to sit?” he mumbled at the ground.

So they were both liars then, huh? Bex didn’t know what to do anymore. Morgan had been right, this was a bad idea. Wasn’t she always right? Had Bex really not learned that lesson by now? She shook off the thoughts and looked over at Kyle. He looked almost as afraid and in pain as she was. He hid it better. She tucked her chin into her shoulder. “You’re not fine,” she muttered, turning to look around at the patio outside. Did she want to sit? No, she wanted to leave. Her heart was beginning to pound in her chest again. Her throat felt tight. Her body shook in a cold sweat. “You shouldn’t b-be alone. It’s not fair. I-- you deserve to have people helping you. Please, please don’t--” she paused, swallowed, “don’t take this all on yourself. It-- it’s my fault, t-too. Please.” She begged, finally feeling brave enough to step towards him. She reached out, unfurling her arms. She wanted so bad to reassure him, but, instead, a vision flashed before her eyes. The alley, the angry wolf. Running. Cold, hard ground on her back. She saw his eyes and his teeth and claws-- and she screamed. 

“No, no,” Kyle began, shaking his head. “I don’t want to hear about how it’s your fault. It’s not.” He could hear the way her heartbeat picked up. He hadn’t even been listening for it, but became aware of it as it sped up. She wasn’t doing okay, and it was his fault. She was panicking and it was his fault. Kyle was ready to call the whole thing quits. He wanted to turn and walk away right now. This had been a bad idea, and he shouldn’t have agreed to it last night. Truthfully, he’d only agreed because it seemed like it might make her feel better. He had hoped she’d bring Mina or Morgan or, hell, even Nell. He hadn’t wanted her to come alone. But here they were, and Bex was trying to tell him not to take this on alone and that it was her fault. That hurt to hear. Kyle had sincerely fucked this girl’s whole life up in one go, hadn’t he? He took her whole world and just flipped it on its head because he couldn’t keep his cool for five fucking minutes. “Bex, this isn’t your fault,” he said, closing his eyes. He opened his mouth to say something more, but then Bex was screaming. Kyle’s eyes flew back open and he froze. The same feeling started rising in his chest; he began to feel that familiar, but pressing, urge to shift. Breathe. Breathe. “Breathe.” Was he saying that outloud? Fuck.

No, this wasn’t happening. This couldn’t happen again. This wasn’t the same. Breathe. Bex put her hands over her ears and sank to the ground. It was happening again. It was happening again. It was like waking up from all of her nightmares of it again, and again, and again. There was a pressure on her chest again and she gasped for breath. Breathe. Who was saying that? Was she saying that? Tear filled eyes looked around wildly. She saw faces, but they blurred into street lights. She remembered how they flickered above her. Remembered how they’d cast shadows onto the wolf as it charged from the alley and right towards her. “Stop it!” she shouted, reaching out and shoving whoever was in front of her. Hands found purchase on something solid and she pushed herself up, trying to get away from the alley-- the building. She needed space. She needed to breathe. She collapsed just shy of the grass, on her hands and knees, clutching her chest. Had she made it far enough away? She could feel magic seeping from her hands. The grass in front of her decayed in an instant. The sidewalk cracked under her fingertips. She needed to calm down. She couldn’t calm down. She put her head in her hands again and curled into a ball. This had been such a bad idea. She wished she’d never came. She wished she’d never met Kyle. She wished she didn’t have magic.

The push was unexpected, and Kyle stumbled backwards, landing on his butt. He barely felt it, eyes locked on Bex. At this point, Kyle was aware that spellcasters existed. He knew the effects magic could have on two people; the way it could make two divergent paths become one. He knew that Nell had healed Bex, too, and that it wasn’t always destructive. But something about seeing it right in front of his eyes--the way the grass just up and died, the way the sidewalk fractured like fault lines--made him feel as if he weren’t real. Mouth agape, Kyle stared at her for a long moment, before he jolted back to his senses and went to her side. “Bex? Bex, it’s--it’s okay, I’m--I won’t hurt you. I don’t want to hurt you.” That sick little instinct at the back of his mind called him a liar. He did want to hurt her. He wanted to attack her again. But watching Bex curl up like that had him shaking his head. He had to stop thinking and do something about this. He knelt down beside her and tentatively put a shaking hand on her shoulder. “I won’t hurt you again I--I can’t hurt you again. It’s okay!” Should he call someone? Should he leave? He couldn’t leave her like this, right? This was his fault, he needed to fix it. He needed to do something. 

She knew. Logically, she knew. He wasn’t going to hurt her. He wasn’t. Really. Hadn’t she told Morgan that? And Mina? And Nell? So, then, why didn’t she believe it. Her heart seized again at the sound of his voice. Bex doubled over, clutching her stomach. She felt sick. Her body was shaking, she couldn’t control her thoughts anymore. “Go away!” she shouted into the grass. Her body shimmered, glowed, a hazy piece of herself breaking away for only a moment. She wanted out of this moment. She wanted to run away. “Don’t touch me!” She didn’t even notice the bystanders at the cafe staring them down. Discussing whether to call campus security or the police or the medical staff. Bex’s breathing began to wheeze, as if she couldn’t get enough air to her  lungs. The nearby lamps began to hum with the low pulse of energy. She needed to reign herself in, she was going to hurt someone again. But every time she opened her eyes, she just saw the wolf atop her. Teeth sharp, eyes full of bloodlust. He wanted to kill her. He was going to kill her. She could remember the thoughts echoing in her head. Prey. Hunt. Kill. “Stop, please!” she cried out. “Please, I don’t want to die, please.” And she hadn’t meant to, but she couldn’t control herself, could she? But her mind, her magic, it made them all see. Everyone nearby. Flashes of the wolf. The pain she’d felt as claws dug into her chest. The fear she’d felt when she was sure he was going to kill her. Now, she wasn’t the only one screaming. “Make it stop,” she sobbed, “please make it stop.”

Running his hands through his hair, Kyle stood up and backed away from Bex. This was bad. This was really, really bad. She hated him, and that thought was making him spiral. He dragged his hands over his face. “Focus, focus, focus.” He had to call someone who knew what they were doing. His hands fumbled for his phone, and he called Morgan, thanking the gods that he’d saved her number the day he was in the art studio. The second Morgan picked up, Kyle was already speaking. “Morgan, it’s Kyle. The campus cafe, you need--Bex--she’s-- Get here. Now.” He couldn’t keep the feeling at bay for much longer, though he was surprised with himself that he’d been able to at all. He was going to shift, and it was going to happen soon, if he didn’t calm down. He just needed to wait for Morgan to get here. Then he could go. Morgan just had to get here.

Morgan was in her office when she got the call. She didn’t pack up her things so much as she shoved as much as she could with one sweep of her arm, and everything left, books, charging cables, Pyrex, papers, whatever the hell, didn’t matter. She took the steps two at a time, shamelessly shoving students and faculty out of her way until she could sprint down the quad to the cafe. 

“Bex!” She called. Kyle paced fastidiously nearby, his body hunched and tense. Which made the shape face-planted in the ground Bex. “Bexley!” She dropped her bag, tired of it banging and rattling uselessly against her side. Then she threw herself onto the girl, wrapping her up and pulling her up. “Bex, hey-- Honey, hey--” Bex thrashed in her arms, shaking with panic and terror. Morgan bundled her tighter against her chest. She looked up at Kyle, pleading for answers. “What happened? Is she hurt? Did you do something?” Around her, lights groaned and flickered. Sparks flew out from the nearest lamp. At the cafe tables, students were trembling and whimpering, an eerie chorus, out of tune in a way that reminded her of the worst of fae magic. “Tell me what’s happening!”

Bex felt something pulling her up and she lashed out, thrashing. “Don’t!” she cried out, not seeing who it was, not knowing who it was. “Don’t touch me!” But the grip just tightened. She cried out in anguish, lost in the memory that was consuming her mind. Pressure, like on her chest, claws digging in. She pushed and shoved and squirmed but she couldn’t get away. She couldn’t get away. She was losing control. She didn’t want to hurt anyone. She didn’t mean to hurt anyone. She inhaled sharply-- a lamp finally shattered. Exhaled-- the sidewalk splintered more, like tremors in the ground. Her body shook inside the vice grip she knew she couldn’t escape. “Please don’t,” she begged, she pleaded, her eyes seeing straight through Morgan, straight through Kyle, and looking up at the wolf, “please don’t kill me.” 

There wasn’t time to answer Morgan’s questions. Not with all these innocent people around. Not with Bex reliving what he’d already done to her. Not with the kindness Morgan had shown him when he least deserved it. “She-- I don’t know, Morgan! I don’t know! She was screaming and she’s--It’s me! I-it’s happening again, and I can’t let it.” He couldn’t breathe. His eyes glinted in the light cast from the sparks that showered down from the lamps around them. “I have to go,” Kyle said breathlessly. He was already discarding his jacket and shoes and phone and keys beside Morgan’s bag. He couldn’t afford to buy new clothes every time this happened, and it was happening with an unexpected frequency as of late. He had to go. “I’m sorry,” he whimpered, turning and running for the forest as quickly as he could. 

It hurt. His body was still so sore, his skin still so raw. No time. Can’t breathe. Kyle hadn’t made it more than ten yards into the woods--his shirt and pants discarded just beyond the treeline--before he was stumbling to his knees. His claws dug into the earth. What if he was still too close? He could hear Bex’s screams in the not so far distance. What if he turned around to go back after them? What if he couldn’t stop this time? There wasn’t enough time to follow that line of thinking all the way to the conclusion before Kyle was fully shifting. It took him a few minutes to recover. He took in a deep breath and he could smell fear. Kyle rounded on his heels, ears pricked as he listened intently. Please don’t kill me. He stilled. Head up, eyes darting around in search of an easy meal, Kyle slowly stalked forward. Suddenly, a twig snapped behind him. He whipped around, spotting a wolpertinger crouched under some low brush. The beast took off, Kyle took off after it, and he was gone.

“Kyle, no. Kyle, wait!” Morgan cried. But he was long gone and as much as it pained her to see him retreating, shamefaced over something he couldn’t carry, it was a lot easier to deal with one superpowered oversized kid than two. Morgan sighed, lamenting silently. (Someone had to do better for him, someone had to care for him, show him that he didn’t have to make such a mess or be so alone.) Then she turned the rest of her attention on Bex. 

“Hey,” she cooed. “You’re safe, Bex. No one is going to hurt you. I’ve got you. You’re safe, and you’re here with me.” She spoke her words softly and steadily into the girl’s ear, the way Deirdre did for her during her worst moments. “You’re with me. You’re safe. And you’re not in that alley, you’re here. You have to breathe until you find your way back to me, honey. Can you breathe a little slower, like I showed you?” Morgan tapped the rhythm on her arm and squeezed her tighter still. If she dislocated something, she’d pop it back into place and apologize later.

Words began to break through her facade. You’re with me, you’re safe. You’re not in that alley. Bex slammed her eyes shut and did her best to listen to them, panting with exhaustion as she tried her best to breath. In for three, out for five. A steady rhythm being tapped on her arm. The grip around her tightening, shifting from a painful reminder, to a place where she knew she was safe. The arms were cold, the grip was warm. Morgan. Bex inhaled sharply as she suddenly snapped from her flashback, blinking rapidly. She tried her best not to hyperventilate, sucking in air, collapsing into Morgan’s arm from the stiff, frightened ball she’d tried to curl into before. She let her entire weight lean against Morgan, clutching her chest as she tried to breathe. Just breathe. Kyle’s words. Just breathe. She’d done it again. She’d ruined everything again. She should’ve just stayed home. She didn’t cry this time, just let her body grow limp against Morgan. “I’m sorry,” she wheezed, finally finding enough air in her lungs to speak, “I made it worse. I’m sorry.” Monotone words mumbled into her shoulder. “I’m sorry.” Her eyes lifted to the treeline, off behind Morgan’s shoulder. Kyle was spiraling into a world of hurt and loneliness and it was all her fault. She’d find a way to fix it. She’d do better next time. She’d fix it even if it meant tearing herself apart.

[nickelkeep]

Hunter and Witch

Mary knew that witches had their worth. The Campbells had drilled it into every child’s head how to tell the good witches from the bad witches, and how to keep the good witches in your pocket. Not every hunter had the knack for spellcasting, and some spells just needed the power a witch could bring to the table.

However, the witch who had just waltzed into the bunker like she owned the place was none other than Rowena MacLeod. The worst part was that both of her sons hugged the witch like they hug her. It was too familiar. It was wrong.

Sam brought Rowena over to reintroduce them. “Mom, you remember Rowena?” He smiled and gestured at the redhead who had politely bowed her head. “She’s…”

“A witch, I know.” Mary interrupted. “Rowena MacLeod.” She looked at both of her sons before continuing. “I may have died, but I didn’t forget things.”

“Aye, apparently my reputation precedes me.” Rowena had the courtesy to blush. “Not all of it is true, but I’d be more than happy ta talk ta ye.” Her violet eyes were hopeful as she gestured to the war table.

Mary watched Sam and Dean shoot concerned looks at each other before she returned her attention back to the petite witch. “Perhaps another time.” She walked past the group and headed towards her room, upset at the intrusion the witch had brought upon her restored life.

***

The next morning Mary found herself about to interrupt a light-hearted conversation between Rowena and Dean in the kitchen. She paused right outside the kitchen and peeked in. The witch looked impeccable, her hair neatly coifed on top of her head, sipping at what appeared to be a cup of tea. Dean was smiling – genuinely smiling – over a cup of coffee, his amusement at whatever Rowena had just said evident.

The scene felt like a mother and son bonding. Mary couldn’t take it. She entered the kitchen and cleared her throat. “Morning.” She walked over to the coffee pot, and grabbed a mug from nearby, checking to make sure it was clean.

“Good Morning Mom.” Dean smiled at her. He turned to Rowena. “I’m going to go check and see if Sammy’s back from his run. Cas should be coming back with Jack today too.”

“Aye. I’ll be here, dearie.” She patted his hand.

Dean stopped and kissed Mary on the cheek before exiting the kitchen. Without him in the room, the tension skyrocketed. Rowena sat quietly and stirred at her tea while watching Mary make her coffee.  While she didn’t feel threatened, she didn’t like the scrutiny that came with her drink preparations.

“Am I doing something wrong?” She huffed.

Rowena’s eyebrow raised, an elegant gesture of confusion. “I’m sorry?”

Mary finished pouring her cup of coffee and turned to face the witch. “You’re staring. What am I doing wrong?” She brought her mug to her lips and took a sip.

“Nothing.” Rowena smiled. “I was appreciating the view, mo teine.”

Mary choked on her coffee, spitting some of it back into her mug. She slammed the mug back on the counter, staring at it, wishing it would have broken.

“The boys buy shatter proof ones for that reason.” Rowena quipped, as though she had heard the hunter’s thoughts. “Ye’d be surprised how oft the boys be throwing them. Anger issues.” Her eyebrows raised briefly.

“Anything else you care to tell me about my boys, witch?” Mary glared at the smaller redhead.

Rowena placed her cup on the saucer in front of her. “Aye, there are many things that I can be tellin’ ye mo teine.” She got up and sauntered gracefully over to Mary. “But it ain’t my place.” She gently placed a hand on the taller woman’s cheek. “I mean ye no harm. I dunnae know why ye think I do.” Rowena walked out of the kitchen, leaving behind more questions than answers.

***

Mary’s mood didn’t improve after Cas and Jack returned. Even the Angel and the Nephilim were cozy with the witch. Jack was chattering away happily with Rowena about what he and Cas had done on their hunt. Rowena’s smile was genuine as she listened to Jack, and she encouraged him to continue with his story. Cas stood back with Dean, his head on the hunter’s shoulder watching the scene unfold.

It warmed Mary’s heart to see this little family blossom, but at the same time it was shattering because it wasn’t her sitting where Rowena was. She knew she had missed so much. She didn’t get the chance to be a parent to her children. She didn’t know them. She was trying, but why did they look to a witch for a maternal support?

She quietly turned to walk out of the room and bumped right into Sam.

He let out a quiet oomph at the impact but was able to grab Mary before she fell backwards. “Sorry Mom.” He looked at her questioningly for a moment before pulling her into a hug.

“What’s that for?”

“You look like you need it.” He looked over her head and saw the familial scene in the library. “Come on.” He took her hand and led her to kitchen. He guided her to the table before walking over to fridge and grabbing two beers.

Mary sat down and ran her fingers through her hair, sighing as she took the beer from Sam. “Shouldn’t I be the one mothering you?”

“That’s what’s bothering you, isn’t it?”

“It’s that obvious huh?” She cracked her beer open and took a swig. “Am I that easy to read?”

“Well, you are our Mom. And Dean takes after you a lot. And I can read Dean like a book. So yes.”

Mary snorted. “So, what else can you tell?”

“You want to blame Rowena.” Sam didn’t hesitate in his answer. “You don’t like that we know her. You think she’s an evil person. You probably wonder if she has us under some kind of spell.” Mary nodded, and Sam continued. “The way you acted when I tried to give you a proper introduction, sounds like you’ve heard of her.”

“She was a known entity when I was a teenager. Looks exactly the same now, as she did then. Beautiful, fiery, dangerous.” Mary sighed. “No one could catch her. We didn’t know how. It was as if she could disappear into a puff of smoke.” She looked back towards the library. “I admired her, but I was so fearful of her. It was drilled into me. And to see her just so casual with you all. I’m terrified.”

Sam nodded. “It hasn’t always been good times with her. But she has come a long way. Dean calls it her redemption arc.” Mary scoffed. “Mom, look, I know you’re wary. Why don’t you spend some time with her? She actually expressed interest in getting to know you as well.”

“So, you want me to get to know the woman who’s been more a mother to you than I have?”

“Aye, ye think that. But I’m just someone they could turn to.” Sam and Mary turned to face the entrance to the kitchen. Rowena was standing there holding her teacup. “Samuel, could ye give me and yer mum a moment please?”

Sam looked back at his mom and offered her an encouraging smile before standing up and leaving the kitchen.

Rowena had grabbed another teacup and set it in front of Mary. “I know that ale is the go-to around here, but I promise I make a good cup of tea.” She had put the kettle on and started mixing some tea leaves with some other herbs that they kept in the kitchen. “Ye have every right to not trust me Mary. I cannae say that I blame ye. The hunter lifestyle teaches you black and white with few shades of grey in betwixt.”

Mary watched as the witch skillfully put the blend into tea infusers, before bringing them over to the cups. “What do you want with the boys?” She quietly asked.

“Nothing.”

“What do you mean nothing?”

“I mean, yer boys are family. I don’t want them for some grand scheme. I mean they have been spending the better part of the past 14 years making their own family. For some crazy reason they want me in it. They showed me redemption and I took it. I’ve been helping them.” A kettle whistled and Rowena went to get fetch it. “We dinnae see eye ta eye at first, clearly. But I’d do just about anything for them.” She poured hot water into each cup. “Three minutes mo teine, and not a moment more.”

“I don’t understand.” Mary looked up at Rowena. “You just changed?”

“No one ever truly changes. But we grow, and we evolve, and we become the best version of ourselves.”

“That’s not change?”

Rowena slowly and gently cupped Mary’s chin. “Did ye mean what ye told Samuel?”

Mary swallowed. “What did I say to him?”

“That I’m ‘beautiful, fiery, and dangerous.’”

“You are indeed dangerous.” Rowena raised an eyebrow. “And you haven’t aged. So yes, you are still beautiful and fiery.” Mary admitted.

“So, have I changed?”

Mary involuntarily licked her lips. “No.”

Rowena leaned in closer, her lips now a hair's breadth away from Mary’s. “And would ye change me? Knowing that I wouldna harm ye?”

Mary’s eyes flickered to Rowena’s lips before looking her in the eyes again. “I don’t think I would.”

Rowena planted a kiss on Mary’s forehead. “Good.” She grabbed the diffusers out of their teacups. “Now, let’s talk. And perhaps, mo teine, we can get to know each other better.”

Read on AO3

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

Here is my piece for the @santa-age 2017 gift exchange!! BIG thanks to @vilemie for putting it together! My recipient is @mimi-911 – one of the things she requested was the worldly adventures of their Surana and the DA:O crew. I couldn’t find much info about your OC’s (and i think tumblr must have eaten my anonymous asks inquiring about them), so I tried to keep things pretty vague/ambiguous in terms of story outcomes, but here’s a snippet of what they might have gotten up to for a bit, from Zevran’s point of view :) No romance, just friends caring about each other, with a healthy splash of angst–something I was delighted to love in common with my gift-recipient! 

 Zevran picks his way carefully down the dark hallway, the soft leather of his boots muting each quiet, carefully placed step. The old manor-home settles and creaks gently, further disguising their presence. A cracked window gleams at the end of the hall, the dim glow of the street comparatively bright against the cold, creeping dark of the five-story house. The curtains billow slightly, and he can nearly taste the icy breeze between his teeth, as he takes another cautious step—

CLANK. The metallic crash reverberates through the darkness as he jerks his foot back, just in time to avoid the biting teeth of the trap. Behind him, there is a sharp inhale, followed by an exasperated hiss as his companion lets out her breath in a huff.

“Ah,” Zevran says, inspecting his boot for scuff marks. “Missed one on the way in.” Behind a door at the end of the hall, confused murmuring quickly leads to muffled shouts.

“So much for a quiet exit and entrance.” Finch Surana shakes her head at him, tapping the thick book wedged under one arm with a finger as she turns to face the swiftly approaching footsteps, growing louder as they pound up the staircase.

“Consider it a gift,” Zevran suggests, grinning. “I know how you so love excitement. Our evening had been quite dull until now, I think.”

“Dull?” Finch snorts, when the thumping footsteps finally reach the landing, the door bursting open as a man staggers through.

“Ha!” he gasps in outrage, throwing out an arm to point accusingly at the pair. “Intrusi! Ladri!”

“This doesn’t have to get messy,” Finch suggests, throwing a quick glance to the window only a leap away. “We have what we came for.”

“I am not so sure this man will oblige us.” Zevran’s knives are already in his hands, the weight of them hard and comforting against his palms. He flicks one to the side, letting the man see the faint light from the street glitter down the blade.

His eyes widen as he notices the weapons, but his lips pull back in a snarl. Other voices now float down the stairwell behind him, calling in a mix of confusion and concern. One of his hands fumbles at the breast pocket of his sleep robe, groping at his chest, and for a moment Zevran thinks he might be having a heart attack—until he pulls out a narrow wooden tube.

“Ucciderò te, e la tua puttana!” the man shouts as he brings the pipe to his lips.

“Uh-oh,” Zevran mutters, and throws himself at Finch, who is already raising her hand in a now-familiar gesture of spellcasting. Before she can complete the move, he crashes into her, just as a thin shard of metal whirrs over their heads, sticking in the wall behind them with a tiny, quivering thud.

“What—” Surana begins, at the same time he gasps “—Darts! Poisoned, no doubt—” just as a second projectile zooms past his ear.

The third never has a chance to leave the blowgun, as Finch redirects her spell, the wood bursting into flames in the man’s hands.

He cries out, dropping it as Zevran leaps nimbly back to his feet, Finch rising only a moment later, still clutching the giant tome in one arm.

“Strega!” The man gasps as he drops the burning weapon, choking on smoke. Zevran can see the faint glow singed hairs in his beard. “Un mostro!”

“So much for not making a mess,” Zevran comments, inspecting one of the darts still lodged in the wall. “This would have been an extremely painful death. In fact, I am certain this would not be his first time gifting it to someone. This must be Ser Alissandro, the man of the house.”

“In that case, I suppose I won’t feel guilty about this,” Finch replies grimly, one hand clenching into a tight fist.

Down the corridor, the man’s coughs abruptly cease. His hand flies to his torso again, scrabbling, but this time not for concealed weapons. After a moment, he sinks to his knees, eyes bulging in fear and hatred, one hand pawing at his chest while the other extends, claw-like, towards the mage and rouge. After another long moment, he falls limply to the floor, with only a faint burbling noise as a tiny rivulet of blood trickles from the corner of his mouth.

“You are quite terrifying, you know,” Zevran comments appreciatively. “You’re lucky you don’t speak Antivan, his manners were terrible—”

“Enough of that, come on!” Finch interrupts, grabbing his arm and sprinting to the window, warm blood seeping through the cloth of his sleeve where her hand grips him. More footsteps are already descending, a clamor of metal accompanying them.

With a quick shove, the window opens, and Zevran can only follow as she springs onto the roof, leaping into the shadows. He notes with appreciation her fleet steps, as they dance over to the next building, and the next, leaving the house and the body far behind. Below, the city does not sleep, rather, lanterns and flames flicker and glow, as people hurry about, the night streets as alive and bustling as during the day.

“Just look at her, my dear Grey Warden!” he can’t help but call as they run along the rooftops. There is no snow, not this far north, but the air is cold and sharp inside his lungs. “Truly, you are seeing Antiva at its finest!”

Surana laughs, her red hair billowing behind her as they run, the city sparkling below her as though in agreement. There is nothing more to be said, then, as together they escape into the enveloping chaos, their armor glittering like jewels.

They enter their rented room at a small, dirty inn by window as well. There’s no point to it beyond the fact that they’re already on the rooftop—the blood on their clothes and their winded, disheveled appearance mean nothing out of the ordinary here. Actually, Zevran considers as he watches Finch swing herself into the room, being clean and neat was more likely to get you watched in Antiva City. He drops inside behind her.

“Well, well,” a rumbling, gravely voice grinds out. “About time they showed up.”

“Sorry, Shale,” Finch tells the golem, who sits in the middle of the room. Both small beds are pushed to the side to make room, and the floor creaks in protest as the creature of stone rises. Zevran eyes the wood nervously, wishing they’d been able to find somewhere with first floor bedrooms—it’s asking to be wake up with a knife at your throat, but at least there’s no risk of plummeting into the tavern below at any moment.

“While you were out and I was stuck here, staring at the floor, a messenger came,” Shale tells them. “It seemed unsurprised to see me, so I assumed he was actually a messenger, not another of your assassins. Here it is.”

“Sorry about leaving you here,” Finch says, dropping the thick leather book on the bed and shaking her arm out before taking the sealed envelope from Shale’s thick, rocky fingers. “That should be it for sneaking on this trip.”

“As long as it pays to sleep indoors, I do not mind waiting. It did not leave for thirty years, after all.”

“True,” Zevran agrees, as Finch opens the letter and begins to read. “You appreciate the lack of birds indoors, I assume?”

“Are there pigeons in Antiva?”

“Yes.”

“Is there nowhere their filth has not spoiled?”

Zevran opens his mouth to quip back, but Finch interrupts, grinning down at the page.

“Nevermind that. We’re late for our meeting.”

“Hm?” He hadn’t been aware of any more business for the night.

“According to this—“ she says, brandishing the letter—“we should have been there five minutes ago. Let’s go.”

She hurriedly changes her bloodstained shirt, and Zevran—does not look at the marks on her arms and back. Not the blood magic scars, no, those he does not care about, but the other ones, the blood-and-grey bruises that seem to come from nowhere. Today was a good day. He can’t think about it, not now. Instead, he turns, and throws on a cloak.

“Fine, if you wish to be mysterious,” he says. “Let’s go meet this stranger. Is she pretty? If you wanted company, you know, I could have arranged it…”

Finch only grins, picking up the enormous book again before throwing open the door and leading them out.

The place she leads them is not far—it took almost as long for Shale to wedge herself down the staircase he had considered wide until the golem entered it as it does for them to reach the tiny park. Buildings tower on all sides, but someone—the tea shop facing the street?—has turned the back of their lot into a miniature garden. Small trees line the border, bare of flowers but still clinging to the last of their drying leaves in the cold air, and a squat pavilion stands in the center. A gold-and-green jewel tucked away in the city he grew up in, forever full of secret surprises.

A shadow shifts inside the small building, and Zevran tenses instinctively, even knowing they came here to meet someone—but beside him, Finch laughs. The sound startles him, not for its volume in the quiet air, but because for once there is nothing more behind it—no bitterness, no wry acceptance, no edge. The sound is just—happy.

She’s already darting across the lawn, up the steps, and the figure steps to the front as she opens her arms to hug—

“Oh, the other squishy Warden has come along too, is it? Is that what this fuss was about,” Shale comments as Alistair releases the Hero of Ferelden from his enormous bear hug, and steps out into the open.

“My, my,” Zevran exclaims. “Now, this I did not expect. I thought you were quite busy to the south, no?”

“I’m leaving soon,” he admits, running a hand through his hair. “Within the hour. But Leliana told me you might be in town still—she’s the one who arranged for me to, er, hide out here before heading home.”

“Hoping no one will recognize you?” Finch asks.

Alistair nods. “Can’t afford to be slowed down. I need to get back to Ferelden before the Conclave. Who knows what nasty surprises will come out of that many powerful people all entering the same room.”

“I for one have no wish to get mixed up in that,” Zevran says, shaking his head. “We’ve saved the world once. Watch them all just mess it up again.”

“You’re sure you don’t want to come along?” Alistair asks Surana, glancing at her sideways. “We could always use your advice.”

She doesn’t say anything for a moment; merely tilting her head back to stare up at the clouds. “I have too many things to do already,” she says, not looking at any of them. “For both our sakes.”

Something inside Zevrans chest clutches and twists at the words. It’s not supposed to be like this. Their adventures are supposed to be fun. But there is a weary sort of desperateness rising inside him each night. Ferelden, Orlais, Nevarra—he’s skipped across borders with Surana several times already. Chasing this lead, and that.

Looking for the cure he is becoming ever more certain does not exist.

“It’s good to see you too, Shale,” Alistair is telling the golem when Zevran returns his attention to the conversation. “I heard you were there when—well. I wasn’t able to make it to Andoral’s Reach. But I’m glad you were able to be there for Wynne.”

The party—so much smaller than it used to be, than it should be—bow their heads briefly, in sober remembrance. Zevran is used to the comings and goings of people. But somehow, this fragmentation feels wrong in ways he did not expect.

“Yes. It… she did much to help me. We did not find a way to recover my former body before she was called to the College of Enchanters. But perhaps that was for the best. I had forgotten that it is… difficult, when you know the one that does the dying.”

“I’m sure she would have appreciated you being there,” Finch tells her. Shale does not look sad—Zevran is not sure there is that much malleability to the stone of the golem’s face—but he notes the use of a pronoun for their mourned companion. Shale’s use of “it” is not really how she thinks of them, anymore, just an affectation to hide the affection that has undeniably grown.

They wait with Alistair until his departure. Zevran jokes, as he always does, absently counting how many times he can make the man blush. Inside, he is not nearly so lighthearted. In the dark and firelight, it is easy to ignore the dark circles under the Warden’s eyes, the way her hands twitch now and then, as though she hears something that they do not. She makes it easy to forget the purpose behind all their travels, even as she hands the book to Alistair. As though she already suspects it won’t hold the answer she needs, the death of the man earlier this evening just one more false lead on the impossible trail of clues she follows. Alistair’s people will sort through it, and he’ll let her know if they find anything.

In what seems only minutes, Alistair’s carriage comes for him. He hugs the warden one last time, and clasps Zevran’s hand before he boards.

“Stay safe, friends,” he says, and their eyes meet. Zevran can see grief there, too, mirroring his own. So deep that the man himself may not even realize what he too suspects. Keep her safe, is what he means. Not from other people—she can quite handle herself, in that regard. No. There is nothing he can do to stop what they both fear.

They all lived through the blight. Zevran never suffered the same corruption, but even he has nightmares about it, still. It is no wonder that Surana sometimes wakes, gasping, teeth bared as though she had been fighting tooth and nail even in her dreams.

Alistair climbs into the plain, unmarked vehicle. In only a moment, it vanishes around a corner, heading back to the land they left behind them so many months ago. He is gone, and the absence stings more than he would have expected after only so brief a reunion.

“So,” Zevran declares, more to distract himself than anything else. “Where shall we head now, hm? It is still quite chilly here. We could go farther north. Seheron, perhaps.”

“Or Par Vollen,” Finch suggests. “I still haven’t talked to Sten since he—well, since he stopped being ‘Sten’ and became ‘The Arishok’.”

“Hmm, sea travel to both of those. I used to have a friend in Rivaini—a sailor. Well, a pirate. Perhaps she would be willing to sail us across.”

“A boat?” Shale snorts. “I do not trust the things. The only reason I let you take me across that cursed lake Calenhad was because I knew I could walk out on the bottom if I fell in. Who knows how long it would take me to walk out of the ocean?”

“Ah, but there would be no birds down there to shit on you,” Zevran points out.

“With my luck, I would discover fish possess the same fowl traits.”

“Fair point,” Finch concedes. “Well, there’s always the Anderfels. I still need to show you where I came from, after all. And I’ve heard that there’s things hidden in the Grey Warden fortress at Weisshaupt still.”

“See? The world awaits us!” Zevran exclaims, throwing one arm out to sweep against the view of the city through the thin border of leaves. The lights flicker in and out of view as the branches shift in the wind, dancing brighter than any stars.

And we have so much of the world left to see, he thinks to himself. Maybe too much to dare hope to see it all with her. Sometimes—when he can’t help himself—Zevran wonders if she’s heard the true Calling already, and simply not told any of them. Maker knew she had more contact with darkspawn and Archdemons than most Wardens got in a lifetime—could it really have claimed her so fast? He has no way of knowing. And she will not say.

Perhaps, he thinks, that is why she roves so far. As though she is searching for someplace she cannot hear its dark song, even if every threadlike hint of a cure leads to nothing but handfuls of sand, trickling away. He cannot aid her for long, not if it truly is winning. But he can give her this: exotic spices, fragments languages she doesn’t know yet, and—if he’s lucky—now and then he can even make her laugh. It is not enough, and will never feel like enough. But it’s all he has to give her, when she has given them all so much.

Wondering is useless. Even with all his worries, he cannot imagine a world so dark that it has somehow conspired to end her presence in it. If he must wait, he will—but he’ll do it by her side. He owes her that much.

And so, he tells her the name of the best bakery in town. Cookies Sten would have killed for, if he were here. And the trio—so many people missing, who should have been with them—wander back into the warm glow and soft hum of his homeland. Overhead, clouds and smoke cover the stars, and roll ponderously onward, heading towards the sea.

[zixxie173]

Isabelle Delvaux-Gala

My name is Isabelle Delvaux, my fathers' name is Cesar Delvaux (hid the Scholl name from her) I don’t know who my mother is, but my father told me she is alive, she disappeared shortly after I turned one. I must admit, I’ve always been a little curious about her, considering I don’t have any other family.

A few weeks before my eighteenth birthday I saw a girl walking up to my father’s house, I had never seen her before. My father was going to be at work for an hour still. The girl rang the doorbell “Hello? Is this the home of Cesar Scholl?” I opened the door “I don’t know a Cesar Scholl, but my father’s name is Cesar, he will be home in a about an hour if you want to stay here until he gets back,” I said hesitantly. “Oh. Alright!” Sienna responded.

I was hesitant about letting her inside, but I couldn’t really tell her no right after I said it was okay. I invited her in and asked if she’d like a drink or a snack while we wait. “My name is Isabelle Delvaux I live here with my father Cesar Delvaux. who are you?” I asked quickly “OH, I’m sorry I didn’t even introduce myself, did I? My name is Sienna Scholl, I’m part of a prestigious spellcasters family, I live with my parents Alina and Ronen just on the other side of Glimmerbrook!” Sienna said excitedly. “what is a spellcaster?!” I exclaimed loudly “Hahaha! I forgot normals don’t usually know who we are, A spellcaster is a sim who can perform spells, brew potions, fly on brooms and even summon familiars! I actually brought my familiar Midnight with me, he is around here somewhere, MIDNIGHT! Ah, there you are a sneaky cat. He follows me everywhere I go to protect me” Sienna explains to me. “I have a cat too! Her name is Budge she’s been my best friend since I was 11” suddenly Budge jumps into my lap and stares at Siennas cat, Midnight and starts TALKING TO HIM!? “BUDGE STOP” I yell “why Belle? they both know I can talk already.” Budge says. “it’s true, both Midnight and I could tell as soon as we walked inside there were two familiars in this house” Sienna responds.

 I am so confused right now, how does a spellcaster know where I live and maybe even my father, I start to put the pieces together, my mother that’s gotta be it, I have to ask her about my mother, but I don’t even I know her name. Just them my father opens the front door “Isabelle! I’m home” he says happily. Sienna runs over “Hello Cesar Scholl, my name is Sienna Scholl, I’m your niece, my mother Alina promised that as soon as I turned 18, I could come to meet you and my cousin Isabelle!” “Right, I heard from your father you would be arriving soon, I assume you and Isabelle have met considering your inside my house.” My father responds. “wait, WHAT! You’re my cousin, then that must mean I’m a spellcaster too” I say confused. It makes so much sense now, why Budge can talk, why I don’t know my mother, why my father has never told me about my family. “so, uncle Cesar, do you mind if Isabelle comes to live with me in the magic realm? I can teach her about our family and being a spellcaster” Sienna asked my father. “Well, it’s up to Isabelle, do you want to learn about being a spellcaster?” He says. “Of course, I do! I know you will miss me and Budge, but you still have Ninja to keep you company and I can come visiting every week.

 I just need to know about my family, I need to know my mother and why she can’t be with us” I say seriously “of course Isabelle, I wish you the best of luck and you better come visit me, or at least call when your not busy learning how to be a spellcaster, I will miss you.” He says while trying to be happy for me, but underneath I can tell he is sad. I hug him quickly and run to pack my things “I will wait outside by the road, meet me there when you're ready.” Sienna says while walking out the front door. “I will see you next week dad! goodbye.” I say trying not to show that I’m super nervous. I hug him goodbye and walk to where Sienna and Midnight are standing.

 “Okay, where is the car?” I ask Sienna “HAHA, didn’t I tell you before? Spellcasters don’t drive cars, we fly!” Sienna says stepping to the side to reveal a hovering broomstick, “Are you crazy! I can’t ride that thing with all my bags!” I yell “right, your bags, okay easy fix, here put them in a pile over here!” Sienna says mischievously. I stack my bags in a neat pile and go test and next to Sienna again. “now what” I say confused “now THIS!” Sienna says before pulling a stick out of her belt and pointing it toward my bags, in a blink my bags disappear with a poof of glitter “WHERE DID MY STUFF GO SIENNA” I yell in confused and angered tone. “I teleported them to my house. now we can fly without having them in the way. problem solved!” Sienna says while smiling and chuckling. Sienna sits on the broom and gestures for me to do the same “this isn’t going to end well...” I mumble to myself as I sit on the broom behind Sienna. “OKAY, everyone ready?” Sienna says obviously extremely excited. Midnight and Budge sit on my purse looking at me then back at each other, I don’t like their looks. “I suppose so!” I say hesitantly “ALRIGHT!” Sienna says while flying the broom up slowly, “LET’S GO!!” Sienna yells. Suddenly the broom shoots up quickly and zooms forward swiftly “I REGRET THIS ALREADY!” I yell while holding in for dear life. “GOING FAST IS BEST PART!” Sienna yells while laughing like a mad man... this is going to be an interring adventure; I think to myself while screaming.

And this is only the beginning of our journey...