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ellocentipede · 4 years

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Moonalisa Mardi Gras & Tudor 2020 Collection

I’ve been purchasing Moonalisa’s products for nearly ten years now, and her collections still make my heart flutter. The artwork that she designs for her labels and ephemera is always so beautiful, and many of my favorite scents may be found in her extensive scent collection. Her products are very reasonably priced and are among my favorites (especially the bath salts, 4-in-1 gels, Potion Lotions, and soaps). The Mardi Gras & Tudor collection is my second favorite of her annual collections (Spring/Easter is my first favorite!). The Tudor offerings are romantic and nostalgic--think rose, amber, orange blossom, woods, and incense--and the Mardi Gras collection is an explosion of gourmands, fruits, and pastry-type scents.

4-in-1 Gels

4-in-1 gels are super gentle and useful gels that can be used as shampoo, shower gel, bubble bath, and laundry soap. I use them for all of the above, and really enjoy using them as a handwashing soap for delicate garments like scarves.

Lavender Shortbread

Scent description: A buttery shortbread cookie blend with just a touch of Lavender EO.

This is one of my favorite scents ever, and I highly recommend it to anyone who likes lavender and/or bakery blends. The lavender cuts the sweetness of the shortbread cookie, and the cookie similarly cuts the herbalness of the lavender. It’s a perfect blend--well-balanced and beautiful. It is both calming, and playful, and it makes me happy to smell it. I have this scent in perfume form and I wear it often.

Poetry

Scent description: Romance is in the air with this balance of scent between floral, citrus, spice, and resin. Orange blossom cream with an English Toffee swirl and a touch of Frankincense and Ginger.

I love orange blossom, and this blend is a pretty and interesting take on it. It’s very well-blended--neither too floral, nor sweet, nor herbal. I primarily smell the orange blossom, and it’s cut with something a bit herbal like petitgrain, though it may be the ginger that I’m smelling. There’s a bit of sweetness softening the blend, which is likely the toffee and cream, but it’s not sickly sweet the way that toffee can sometimes be. It sort of smells like the orange blossom glaze that I make for my pistachio cake--delicately sweet and floral. It’s a soft, beautiful, happy, romantic blend.

Bath Salts

I love Moona’s bath salts! They are one of my staple bath products and are a great value for money. I typically get about 5-6 baths out of one jar. They are well-scented and make for lovely, relaxing baths.

Bohemian Rose

Scent description: (formally known as Gypsy Rose) This scent, I love, it is true to my roots. It is what I imagine a classic Bohemian den would be full of; gorgeous paintings, gem toned velvets and glass, natural incense filtering through the air, and sultry music cascading throughout the room. Made of smoky and sultry natural Agarwood, real Bulgarian Rose, rich, vanilla amber like Labdanum resin and earthy Patchouli & Vetiver.

This is a dark and moody resinous herb blend. It’s beautiful! It’s a dark red, velvety rose with a robust base of smooth, well-blended resins--primarily Agarwood, which is rich, slinky, woody, and not at all indolic as it is wont to be. This is one of my Moona staples and it makes for a beautiful bath.

Field of Dreams

Scent description: (formerly Lavender Fields): A blended Amber with Lavender Kashmir, Lavender absolute and Lavender (Lavendula Angustifolia Moldova) and wow, on the dry down I am in LOVE <3 The dark earthy green hue of this oil is 100% natural and coming from the Lavender absolute.

I love both lavender and amber, and this well-blended combination is rich and full-bodied, sweet, woody, resinous, and a touch herbal. The amber is deep, fragrant, and golden, and the lavender is dry and smooth. A beautiful blend.

Wanderer’s Blues

Scent description: (formally known as Gypsy Blues) Lavender, Patchouli, Amber Bouquet, Oak moss Absolute, Black Pepper, Neroli, Ylang Ylang, Jasmine & Violet Absolute. Contains ground Oak moss and Patchouli herbs.

This blend is another of my staples from Moonalisa, and to me it encapsulates the heart of many her signature and original scent blends like Eclipse, Indigo Ice, and Bohemian Rose--deep, mysterious, and incensey. Somehow this blend does manage to smell a bit blue. It’s so well-blended that it’s a bit hard to pick out individual notes, but it’s woody, a touch herbal, a touch incensey, and a touch sweet. The floral notes, of which violet is the most prominent, are balanced by the herbs, smooth woods, and sweet resins. Oakmoss wraps around the blend like a mossy cloud--softening the edges and elevating the blend to a perfume that smells elegant and expensive. Beautiful.

Dusting Powder

Moona’s dusting powder is a lovely and handy little treat that has multiple purposes! I like to dust mine on my decollete after my evening bath. It softens the skin and smells lovely. You can also use it to absorb a bit of extra moisture when it’s warm outside, or dust it lightly on your sheets for a silky and fragrant treat. One bottle lasts me a long time!

Hair Detangler

Moona’s hair detangler is a great, lightweight detangler that doesn’t weigh down hair. It’s well-scented and not overly oily or greasy. I go through bottles of this fairly quickly!

Lemon Curd and Coconut Cream

Scent description: (aka Lemming Crack) Lemon curd and coconut cream with graham crust.

I typically don’t go much for gourmand scents, but Moona is a formally-trained pastry chef, and her gourmand blends are very popular (and the volume of them is extensive!). She makes several lemon bakery blends and they are all wonderful and realistic. I have trouble with lemon scents from other houses, but Moona’s (along with Arcana Wildcraft’s citron note) are perfection. Lemon Curd and Coconut Cream is one of my favorites. It smells like a lemon bar with a layer of freshly-whipped cream infused with coconut shavings. The lemon is not sharp, but smooth, sweetened, and juicy, and the pastry and coconut elements are balanced by the citrus and are not overly sweet. I highly recommend this one!

Potion Lotion

Potion Lotion is one of my favorite lotions, especially during the summer. It’s pretty lightweight and absorbs well, and it also holds scent well. It’s cooling on the skin and is generally a nice, moisturizing treat.

Eclipse

Scent description: A full on powdery musky Amber! Full bodied, earthy, sweet and sensuous. Represents sensuality.

Eclipse is another of my favorite blends--it is a musky, sweet, and earthy amber as described. It smells like there are some other woods and resins in the blend, and it’s not sharp or perfumey as amber can sometimes be. It’s both soft and deep at the same time. A beautiful and unique blend.

Massage Bar

This pretty bar was a freebie with purchase! It’s made with cocoa, coconut, shea butter, beeswax, lavender buds, and organic lavender essential oil. The scent is of lavender and chocolate (from the cocoa) and it’s soft, calming, and natural. It melts easily on to the skin (but not too easily!) and is beautifully moisturizing. I’m going to put this in my travel bag to use as a lotion bar on-the-go!

Moonalisa’s beautiful products may be perused and purchased at https://www.moonalisa.com/

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brooklynislandgirl · 5 years

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Ship meme: Beth and G.

All Hands || Accepting

who wakes up first in the morningShe wakes up to the smell of coffee brewing. The faintest whiff of cologne competes with the sound of freshly pressed linen. A fraction of a moment carved out of the heart of time that lingers between the still warm hands of sleep clinging to her skin and the taste of wine still lingering on her lips from the night before. This moment is weightless and without thought. It’s the one and only quiet moment of peace before reality comes crashing through. And part of her feels sad because she’s absolutely sure Garrett doesn’t have them.She senses his presence before she even opens her eyes, and he trails his fingers through her hair. The grin that comes in the wake of the gesture assures him that he hadn’t awakened her. “I took the liberty of ordering breakfast for you. Sasha or Mike will bring it up when it gets here. I’ve got meetings straight through til noon, an appointment with my PT, and I’m going to check on one of the guys that’s been missing meetings. Should be back before five, if your still here. We can grab dinner. If not, just lock up, okay?”She makes an unintelligible sound.“Yeah, right back at you, Beth.”

who’s the first to fall asleep at nightDinner was casual, and uncharacteristic. Pizza for him and a large Greek salad for her because he doesn’t think one slice with nothing but cheese is good or healthy for her. She can stand to put a little meat on her bones, and he half wonders if maybe her husband doesn’t worry the way he does that he’ll blink and she’ll wither away. Of course she only laughs and pushes at his shoulder and he grins around the slice he’s biting at. Eventually he starts stealing things from her bowl; a tomato here. A chunk of feta there. A sliver of red onion to go with the sausage and pepperoni. Doesn’t say a word when she snags a piece of the next slice, examining the thin red circle of meat like it belonged in one of her petri dishes.It isn’t til hours later, well after they’ve finished and watch an old black and white movie on television that he’s laying on his side, head in her lap, small fingers carding through his hair that he asks.“When did you start hating meat?”She’s quiet for a long time. And he’s fighting to keep his eyes open.“One time, the Admiral was having a dinner party. Very formal kind of affair and I was sitting there at the table in a little white dress, blue ribbon around the waist, tights, white patent leather shoes, the whole works. We were served something that was breaded and covered in sauce and cheese and I didn’t know what it was. My brother told me it was veal. I still didn’t know what it was. I was three bits in and feeling a little queasy and then he leaned over and explained what veal was. I asked the Admiral if I could be excused and he refused. Ended up getting sick at the table. Kinda was put off meat from that moment on.”Garrett manages to fall asleep with the image of a very much smaller Beth in that dress stuck in his head and misses the rest of her story. And maybe that’s for the best really.

what they playfully tease each other over“Oh, big scary Marine! Getting his backside kicked by a boy only half his size. C’mon. You can do better!”She’s talking trash but she’s keeping a careful eye on him. The wrong move and...and she doesn’t want to think about it. There’s sweat darkening the grey muscle shirt as he bounces the ball, grips it between his fingertips and goes to fake the kid out. Santos falls for it and watches the ball sail upward in an arc, and through the hoop, net swishing. “Cheater!” the kid smirks and trots back.“Not cheating, you just weren’t paying attention. Just because your opponent is bigger than you doesn’t mean you can’t outpace him if you watch carefully. Isn’t that right, Beth?”She glances up from her knitting needles in time to catch a dark and sultry look. Suddenly he’s not talking about basketball any more. The blush and speechlessness give him his answer.Thankfully, the teenager misses the subtext.

what they do when the other’s having a bad dayShe can see it in his face before he even fully makes it in through her clinic doors and both jaw and stomach tighten. She doesn’t smell infection from the drainage hole she’s left open but she still doesn’t like it. Without a word she takes him by the hand and leads him back into one of the exam wounds.“You came...all the way down here, just to have me look at this?”“I trust you.”“Garrett-”“What? I needed to get out of the city for a while. My back’s been killing me, this-”“Looks infected.”“That too. And I just...Look, if you don’t want to treat it, I’m sure I can find another doc in town, but I thought it might be nice to see you, check in on my nephew. Maybe stay for Mardi Gras.”They stand maybe too close, one looking down and the other looking up. It’s more than wounds old and newer, that much she can see on his face. It the lines around his mouth, the bags under his eyes. She puts a hand on his hip, walks him toward the exam table. As she pulls on her gloves and he takes his shirt off. “So, what exactly happened?” she asks, tenderly probing the front of his shoulder.“Charlotte came by the office....”

how they say ‘i’m sorry’ after arguments“I waited!”“Don’t you think you’re taking this a little...hard? I mean it’s not like I’m not calling now.”“I don’t care! YOU promised, G. YOU PROMISED.”He doesn’t know how such a small person can be so loud but he holds the cell away from his ear but she’s on a tear. He can only assume that her husband is out of the house or has gone deaf by now, and all it’s really doing is giving Garrett a headache. He waits until he can’t hear her any more and sighs. “I said I was sorry, it just slipped my mind. And I figured you’d understand.”Yep, understood enough to have hung up on his call. A thumb and forefinger come up to the bridge of his nose and pinch it tightly. Four breaths later, he’s calling his new PA. He’ll scour the City for lei flower...which he learned was also called plumeria. Maybe wax flower, maybe hibiscus. Orchids too, hot house grown if need be. Pay to have them shipped out overnight. G doesn’t often express himself in words, but he knows how to apologise through flowers.It’ll be weeks before she has the courtesy to apologise for herself. He doesn’t hold his breath, waiting.

which one’s more ticklish“...I can explain.”One hand is down on the ground beside Beth’s head. The other is slowing having assaulted the no-man’s-land between the bottom of her ribs and the flare of her hip. Her legs are scissored around the tops of his thighs. Their hair is a mess. There’s sweat gathered along his spine and in the hollow of her chest. Both his dark eyes and Beth’s stare up out of red faces as Riley slowly begins to fold his arms across his chest, his mouth twisted into a murderous grimace.“I’m waiting.”There’s a moment where Beth throws him under the bus and says nothing.“She’s....ticklish.”Riley shakes his head and starts to saunter toward the hot mess on Garrett’s floor.

their favourite rainy day activitiesGarrett’s watching a documentary that she is only half aware of, slouched on his end of the couch. A cup of coffee within reach, a little too Irish for her taste but it’s warm and chases feelings away. Her feet are in his lap because the cradle of his thighs are warm, and it’s touching without having to be any closer and she’s drowsily knitting something who’s pattern isn’t quite clear yet.It’s only a moment later that her hands still and her eyes widen and she becomes transfixed on the screen; not anything that was said because most of what they are saying is too fast and drownt out. No, it’s the image of the blue-painted plane, with beautiful wings.“Wha’...is...dat?” The whisper is full of wonder and she forgets English to a point.Garrett half smiles and glances over at her even if she can’t see him at all. “The F4U Corsair. One of the best Marine fighter planes in its day. Mostly used in the Pacific Theatre in and around the Solomons during World War Two. Beautiful isn’t she? This is about the VMF-214 unit. A.k.a the Black Sheep Squadron. Their commander, Greg Boyington used to choose the worst repaired Corsair so that his men wouldn’t have to chance it.”Garrett misses entirely the look she gives him.

how they surprise each otherThe ambushes become less tactical. Ever since the day she had introduced him to Tabby, she doesn’t jump him any more. Doesn’t really even intrude on his day to day affairs the way she used to. Instead, she has a new bottle of wine couriered over. Or a book she thinks he’ll find interesting. Emails him mp3s of some new Jazz band she found in the Quarter, or Indie sensation out of the Bronx.Month by month, she gets statements about how the group Garrett and Chester head up contributes to the clinic’s taxes and up-keep. Between them and Zarek, she’s finally operating in the black. Able to branch out a little, offer different services to the growing community.But the biggest surprise was when she was shutting down her second clinic, the one here at home, having assured Z she could make it back to the cabin without worrying about the rain. She might be cut off from one of her Spheres, but she still had complete command of the others.She went room by room in the old house, turning off lights and checking windows. She was in the foyer gathering up her scarf when the glass of the door took on a human shaped shadow as the lightning struck. She started to open it, a sweet smile on her face. “I told you, Kealoha, I could-oh. G. What...what are you doing here?”“I wanted coffee.”“In...N’orleans?”“Yeah. I hear they make it with chicory.”

their most sickening shows of public affectionHe slants a look over her shoulder that says this is not a good idea. It says he’s not sure he’s willing or ready for it.She grins. It’s just a tango. And just because her husband is watching, doesn’t really mean Garrett’s actually going to loose a limb.It’s for a good cause, after all.And while the midnight gaze behind her might put the willies in his water, it makes her feel like the most feminine and delicately priceless thing in the room.

#Mahalo!Tabby <33 #Stubborness Ingrained|Garrett Knight #From Dawn to Setting Sun|Garrett and Beth #New York Serenade #CW: Long Post #tabbyrp

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elfnerdherder · 7 years

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The Fault in My Code: Ch. 6

You can reach Chapter 6 on Ao3 Here

Chapter 6: One Black, One Blue

He stayed in the depths of the FBI HQ for the rest of the day as well as the next morning, up to his elbows in reading through the different patients Lecter took extensive notes on. Will would credit him this: he was organized. He kept clear, concise information in a slanted script, the details of a person more than whether or not they thought it right to laugh at a funeral. He examined their micro-expressions, the way they clasped their hands on their knees, the way their eyes cut to the side after a difficult question. Hannibal Lecter saw all.

He wasn’t rescued from his work by a moment of eureka, but by his phone buzzing at his hip.

“Graham here.”

“It’s Alana.”

He rubbed the bad eye, like she could somehow see it over the phone and through his ‘Cloud blue’ contacts.

“How are you?”

“How are you?” Alana asked. Her emphasis would have been mildly insulting if it was anyone but her.

“Trying to read between the thin lines Lecter left,” said Will, thumbing through another patient’s file. There were two that stood out to him in stark relief against the shitty lights of the evidence locker, but he wasn’t sure if it was because of Occam’s Broom or because he’d found something substantial. “Why?”

“Jack called.”

“Are you my keeper?” Will snorted derisively.

“Well, that’s why I told you. He asked me to be discreet, and I said I wouldn’t lie to you. Also, you’d know if I lied to you.”

“I would,” Will agreed.

“He said you stormed out of the police precinct because they asked you about Hobbs.”

Will leaned back in his chair and peered up at the corkboard ceiling, rubbing his mouth to soften the words that he wanted to hurl out. He shouldn’t have cussed at the chief. His mind made leaps people couldn’t follow –always had. Jack was best at trying to reel him in so that he could understand, but someone from the Baltimore police wouldn’t see what he was saying unless he took the time to flower it up.

“I took a walk,” he said at last. “I needed a walk.”

“I’ve seen you talk about Hobbs before, Will. This wasn’t just about Hobbs, was it?” He knew what she was asking without having to clarify. Time did that to people, he supposed –you knew without knowing, heard without hearing. Then there was him, and he saw the little pieces most people left behind.

“You were right, Alana. He’s a son-of-a-bitch,” Will admitted.

“Did he get in your head?”

“…It felt like ants crawling around my skull. He took one look, then another, and he saw as much as I saw.”

“You saw, though?” Alana sounded surprised.

“He said that if I wanted to get the scent of a killer, I only had to look in the mirror.” He had looked in the mirror. Several times. Too many times. He wanted to shatter the mirror in his hotel room the way Soul Stealer had.

“How did you feel, hearing that?”

“Psychoanalyzing me, Dr. Bloom?” he quipped, not quite kind but not unkind. Somewhere grey, somewhere in between.

“Asking as a friend, Will. Three years, then you jumped in cold turkey to something you’d wanted to leave behind.”

“…It felt like I never left. I sat in that room, and I looked at the evidence, and I saw it the same way I used to. The Soul Stealer and I have a lot in common.”

“You also have crucial differences,” Alana pointed out. “Mostly your kindness-”

“-Even Molly would laugh at that, Alana, Jesus-”

“-and your ability to empathize and treat people as people rather than playthings,” she finished.

Silence. Will chewed on the pen cap and jotted a note down, staring down at the notes in front of him. It was nice to know she could sense his unease at a distance, feel the way he was uncertain of his own mind. Years did that for them, made things soft with understanding rather than disquieted. She never treated him like a patient, although she was honest with him like one. There was a reason they stayed friends, even after their experiences together didn’t one day monumentally shift as her eyes became his. While he’d relished in the lack of change, Alana had decided to walk away.

“I saw Dr. Gideon. He misses your home cooked meals.”

“Are you going to make the rounds on all of the inmates I’ve spoken to there?” she asked.

“I thought about it,” he replied thoughtfully. “He sounded almost fond of you.”

“I spoke to him as a doctor rather than a psychopath, that’s why.” He could almost hear the sound of her struggling to say more, trying to weigh the words. “…If you’re not doing well-”

“I’m alright,” he reassured her.

“Are you? Dr. Chilton said you’ve visited with Dr. Lecter a few times now.”

“He’s going to make this a show, but I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve to get him talking the way I need him to.” A pause. He wasn’t going to go into detail about the tricks up his sleeve. “I think it helps that he didn’t know me before.”

“He’d be curious about you,” Alana admitted, and she didn’t sound happy about that.

“He is,” Will agreed. “From my grief counseling to my two blue eyes and my promise ring. Like getting my skin peeled with a cheese grater.” Silence. “He knew we dated.”

“Yes, I’d mentioned you before,” Alana said.

“He said he recognized me by my smell. You smelled of me.”

“He has always had a sharp nose,” Alana said. “He knew if I stayed over at your house instead of mine because of the smell of my shampoo, too.”

“Huh.” Will fiddled with his pen, tossed it to the side. He wondered if Hannibal found comfort in the scent of his cologne, now that they were soulmates. He’d have asked, if asking didn’t sound so utterly stupid; if it didn’t imply he cared about the answer.

He grabbed the pen again and pocketed it since he’d chewed on the cap. He grabbed the two profiles and tucked them into his bag, then found his way out of the locker with a vague wave towards the agent at the desk by the door. He wondered if Lecter had ever tried to meet his eyes, then. Probably not. Will was pretty damn good at avoiding eyes.

Not good enough, apparently.

“How does Molly feel?”

“Molly thinks I can help people,” he said, and he rubbed his stomach when it panged. Hannibal wanted to see him. He didn’t want to see Hannibal. A twenty-four hour period wasn’t enough for him to feel like he’d adequately washed away the feel of Lecter’s fingertips passing just under the hollow of his eyes.

“You do help people. Just make sure one of those people is you, Will.”

“I should take your one-liners and print them out on inspiration posters –you know the kind?”

“And you should know that your snippy, deflective humor doesn’t fool me,” she retorted.

“The best one I saw in high school was a cat hanging from a branch. It said, ‘hang in there,’” he continued shamelessly. He noted the deference a few desk jockeys gave him when they saw him, and he wondered what Jack had said to warrant such a behavior from them. Maybe he’d regaled them of tales of Will getting a read on them so acute that he could speak of their lives like he’d lived it personally. That would have rattled some of them up, if their lives had been less than exemplary.

“At the risk of sounding cliché, I’m going to ask if you’re hanging in there,” she said, and he heard the smile in her voice.

“…I am,” he replied, and at the scent of freshly mowed grass, he inhaled deeply. The day was already promising to be hot; he needed an air conditioner and a new eye.

“Are you feeling pretty stable?”

“Enough for a few horses and a mule,” he promised.

In his dreams, he lay in a field of poppies. Someone caressed his skin like a lover, and he choked on the razor’s edge of the mirror shattering over him.

Crawford’s call woke him early morning, and he picked up with bleary, watering eyes.

“I got something,” Jack said.

“Something good?” Will sat up, grabbing the shirt he’d discarded on the other half of the bed. He ignored the pillow he’d been holding close to his chest, a poor man’s comfort. He wasn’t sure if he’d been reaching for Molly or Hannibal in his sleep.

“By the tree with the killer’s coke can, we found a design. Could have been kids, but I doubt it. I’m sending the image now, and I’ve got Katz on the way since it looks Chinese in nature.”

“There’s a racial stereotype in there somewhere,” Will said, putting the phone on speakerphone. When the image came up, he studied it, tilting his head one way, then the other. “Doesn’t look like a swiss army knife made that.”

“My thoughts exactly. Do you recognize it?”

“It’s a Mahjong tile, isn’t it?” Will didn’t play Mahjong, but he did have a Molly who most certainly did. The name of her games were Sudoku, Mahjong, Spider Solitaire, and Minesweeper. The bored housewife’s evening ritual while the news droned and the husband napped in the recliner.

“I don’t think the killer was playing Mahjong as he waited,” Jack said dryly. “Meet me down here.”

Will grabbed the two files he’d taken with him from the evidence locker, and he got ready as quickly as he was able. It’d taken more time than normal to wear his body down to sleep the night before, his feet pounding the conveyer belt of the treadmill for too long. Hannibal stayed awake, even as he tried to close his eyes. Whatever his thoughts, they were his own, but the feelings in regards to them were enough to keep Will in a state of a half-sleep, not quite resting but not quite awake.

Beverly, Zeller, and Price were in the lab when he got there, and their conversation scuttled to a stop when he came in. He nodded to Jack, poised over a small cut of bark from the tree, and hesitated on the opposite side of the table. The arches of his feet ached from a lack of support, and he shifted from foot to foot, looking down at the wood then up to them expectantly.

“It’s the symbol for the Red Dragon Mahjong tile,” Beverly said. She looked as tired as he felt.

“Cuts are identical to the blade used to carve up both of the victims,” Zeller added. He was a young counterpart to the older, small man beside him that lifted up a finger, as if to contradict.

“You know, I played Mahjong growing up with my grandmother,” he revealed. “That symbol also can be used as a gesture of ‘got it’ or ‘that’s the mark’ in other games.”

“He found his vantage point long before he attacked, then,” Will said, glancing to Crawford. “That’s how he found it again.”

“Any luck on the profiles from Lecter’s files?” Jack asked.

“Two stand out to me, but we need to find them, first,” Will said. It’d been a hell of a job weeding through so many, but he’d done it. He pulled the files out and tossed them onto the table for everyone to see. “Tobias Budge, Baltimore resident with a one-sided soulmate now deceased by the name of Franklyn.”

“Deceased?”

“Franklyn was the one side of the soulmate,” Will said. His fingers twitched with the need to touch his eye, to check that the contact was straight. “Lecter said look for the eyes that match too well, and it’s common in dynamics of one-sided couples that there’s an imbalance due to that, if a relationship begins at all. He’d struggled with delusions of grandeur and intrusive thoughts leading to use of anti-psychotics under Lecter’s care.”

“Worth a shot,” Jack said with a nod.

“Second is Francis Dolarhyde, a soulmate that longed for a soulmate. He never admitted to why or how he was without one, but his eyes are recorded as the same color despite being listed as having a soulmate.”

“Soulmates can have the same color of eyes,” Zeller said. He had two blue eyes, not for the reason he was defending Dolarhyde’s possession of two brown. Will looked to his lips and compressed his own tightly, shrugging.

“It’s uncommon in the states, but not at all impossible,” he agreed. “He had a psychosomatic lisp, and Soul Stealer more than likely has a speech impediment of some sort, if his teeth spread is anything to go on. He believes he’s deformed; at least, in every aspect of his mind he is.”

“What are you thinking?” Jack asked.

He tapped his fingers idly on the table, looking down to the bark. “I’m thinking, ‘he doesn’t just like this sign.’”

“It means more to him?”

“A clever way for him to mark his place,” Zeller said with a shrug. Will ignored him.

“I’m thinking, ‘he could have used anything, from a rock to a cloth piece to a simple gash for marking his space in which he watched the beginning of the end of Mrs. Hess’ and Mrs. Panter’s lives. He did this sign, and he did it with the same knife he cut the victims up with.’”

“There’s more to it?” Jack pressed.

“Maybe culturally? No, maybe…maybe socially, spiritually. Maybe he likes the sign, maybe it’s a symbol for more to him.”

“We’ll try and track down both men for questioning, see where we get,” Jack said.

After, when Price had pulled Zeller away to inspect the diatoms in a particular sample of water they’d found from another crime scene, Beverly got him coffee from the break room before he left, an offering.

“I’m seeing someone,” she declared as Will relished in the taste of true awakening. He peeked at her eyes, one black and one blue, then focused on her hairline.

“Avoiding his eyes, just in case?”

“I was going to ask you about that, since you’re here and you’re not going to send me a bill after,” she replied with a laugh.

“I might.”

“His name’s Saul, and he’s great. No soulmate, no nothing.”

“‘No soulmate, no nothing,’” he echoed.

“It’s been about six months, and nothing’s changed. I’m not expecting it to, but…you and Molly. You’re great together, and you’re not soulmates. I know it’s not so cut-and-dry. There’s a reason there’s a science behind it, not some fate and Jesus-inspired mumbo jumbo,” she said, and there was a self-conscious twitch as she started to reach towards her discolored eye. She stopped herself, and Will wished she’d have finished the motion so that he could see what she’d have done.

“Our experiences shape us, Beverly,” he said. “You can connect with someone without your DNA deciding to connect, too.”

“It doesn’t make it less special.” She was trying to convince herself, not him.

“It won’t feel like before,” he warned her. “Even if the one before wasn’t a soulmate, it wouldn’t have felt like before. Relationships are…unique. I speak easier with you than I do with Zeller.”

“That’s because you walk into Zeller’s lab and stir the shit,” she said with a laugh.

“I’ve known him just as long as you, and you don’t mind when I point something out that you missed.”

“I’m smart, but I’m also smart enough to know when I’m not the smartest in the room.”

“Bottom line,” he continued, a little flustered at the compliment, “don’t stop dating him. If you’re happy, and he’s happy, don’t hold off on the hope that one day your chemical makeup sees someone it wants to bond with –not because hope is wrong, but because you don’t need that to connect to people. Theories state that the first initial soulmate bonding occurred between people that struggled to connect on a mental level with their peers through speech and circumstances in early civilizations. It was a way to ensure that they survived.”

Beverly stewed on his words as he sipped his coffee. There was a gentle lull in his stomach that told him that while he worked, Hannibal slept.

“I don’t want to wake up one day and see that his eyes change, and it’s not me anymore,” she finally confessed. “I like this one, Will.”

“It’s an active choice to be with a soulmate,” he said firmly. His eyes burned. “No matter your urges, no matter what you feel, you choose them in the aftermath, when the rush subsides. We’re advanced enough that we have that option. We’d be stupid to waste free agency on something cosmic like fate.”

“Only you’d crap on the idea of the cosmos knowing better than us,” Beverly said with a snicker. It comforted her, though. She could rest easy knowing that if Saul left for a soulmate, it was because he was a jackass and not because God hated her.

One cup of FBI coffee wasn’t enough. He found the nearest coffee place that wasn’t a Starbucks and seated himself outside, picking apart a plain bagel with cheese. He’d wanted the chonga bagel, but plain was all they had, and Molly wasn’t around to tease him for bemoaning that fact. A fair was coming to town, and the poster just across the street boasted a married couple with five people, all soulmates with one another, papers to confirm that each of their eyes held distinct pigments of the other four. He thought to laugh about it, but it wasn’t funny. People like the sister-wives shows made bank off of the idea that you could connect with so many people –why choose one when you could have all?

He’d been consulted on a case, once, about a polyamorous relationship. The issue hadn’t been the polyamory, but the fact that one woman in the relationship didn’t realize she was part of a polyamorous relationship until she decided to move in with her soulmate and found him living with four other women, eyes mismatched beyond belief until DNA tests were complete. Autopsy later revealed that he’d been poisoned, the killing blow from a rather potent drink she’d made him.

On the stand, she confessed that some men just couldn’t hold their arsenic.

He waited until he finished his drink –chai tea with hazelnut, if he was being honest –then found his way to the institution, the front of his shirt damp from the rental car spewing air conditioner fluid onto his lap when he’d turned it on. He’d calmly turned the air conditioning off and drove with the windows down, instead.

“He just woke up and had breakfast,” Barney told him, leading him to maximum. Will thought to say, ‘I know,’ but he wasn’t stupid. According to Beverly, he was sometimes the smartest man in the room.

Too bad he didn’t feel that way sitting down across from Lecter.

The rest of maximum was quiet, the lull after breakfast when the medicine kicked in and the inmates were quiet. Will sat down, the ease that he felt utterly distasteful in the wake of who he was looking at. Hannibal sat at the desk, book in hand, and neither one spoke. Will shifted, crossed his leg, and decided to wait him out. Unlike before, when he’d all but thrown himself against the bars, he was relieved to find that the initial connection, after over a week of torment, was beginning to fade. His body was used to the intrusion. It was recognizing the second presence within its blood as familiar, friendly -God, what a thought that was.

Lecter waited until he’d apparently finished his chapter before he asked, “Did your father have a soulmate, Will?”

Will chewed on his lip, considered lying. Quid pro quo. He sighed and rubbed the ache between his brows. “Yes.”

“What happened?”

“Questions about mom? That’s a little ham-handed, don’t you think?” he asked.

“What was ham-handed was Dr. Chilton attempting to wheedle information from me about our discussions here. Did you know that when I first arrived, he attempted the Thematic Apperception Test on me. He was just twitching for the MF13 to show up, and I laughed outright at him.”

“I can assume you avoided any connotations to sex,” Will replied. “I know he’d claimed you avoided prison due to a Ganser Syndrome.”

“My entire experience here has been ham-handed, as you can easily see. My question may be such to you, but I ask it with genuine interest.”

��She left him.” The words were clipped, curt. Three words, but they splintered on the way out, made his gum bleed. At the tone of his voice, Hannibal snapped the book shut and set it down, crossing his leg as he leaned back against his chair.

“Was he a drinker? Did he take a hand to you too many times –to her too many times? Soulmate violence is not impossible, as you said. The newspapers they allow me to read show articles, although they’re always painted with such vibrantly purple prose.”

“He did the best he could.”

“Why did she leave, Will?”

“Isn’t that the question everyone wonders?” he managed after a beat. “Quid pro quo, Dr. Lecter. Tell me about Tobias Budge.”

“Tobias Budge,” Hannibal mused, and he looked about the room, apparently deep in thought. “He was a musician, and he made strings for the Baltimore Symphony. He came into my office one day and complained of fantasies of placing the neck of a cello down a man’s throat so that he could play him.”

“He had a partner by the name of Franklyn with a half-connection. Franklyn’s eye turned, Tobias’ didn’t.”

“Yes, although I knew precisely why. Franklyn was neurotic, and he connected with the aspects of Tobias that were grounding, calm and assured. There was absolutely nothing about that man that Tobias Budge’s chemical makeup desired.”

The meaningful look Hannibal gave Will made his skin tingle. He ignored the unspoken reference to his own chemical desires and focused on watching his shoulder.

“Franklyn’s death was suicide, Tobias told me,” Hannibal continued when Will didn’t rise to his bait. “Although I’d always wondered if that was entirely true. He went through the motions of anti-psychotics, but did he take them? Or was it merely a front to put the people around him at a false sense of ease?”

“He struggled for a connection, according to your notes. Someone that would hear his fantasies and not shy away from him in the aftermath of his desires.”

“He did,” Hannibal agreed. “Why do you think your mother left without taking you?”

“…I didn’t try and question it,” Will managed. Not a lie, but a painful truth.

“Question it now, dear Will. She’d found a soulmate, fostered a life with him and in doing so created a life. You now know the pain of separating yourself from such a person, how it burns under your skin like a curling iron left on too long and grasped firmly in an unsuspecting hand, so use your intelligence and your infinitely mirrored mind and tell me what you think.”

It was a compliment, but it didn’t feel quite as good as a compliment should. He studied the bolts keeping the table from becoming a weapon in Lecter’s cell, and he exhaled sharply. “Soulmates aren’t the end-all. Our society especially banks on their use as the best mode of finding a partner, but because some part of you connects doesn’t mean all of you will.”

“You resist our connection,” Hannibal practically purred. “With every other aspect of yourself.”

“We are always growing and adapting. We’re shaped by our experiences. What connected two people in a bad situation that they endured together isn’t necessarily qualified to keep them together when they are faced with new challenges and new opportunities.

“They may have connected because they both wished to be out of a small town with small ideals, but ten years down the road they looked at one another, and while my father may have still seen the woman he first connected to, she’d endured something completely different in those ten years and couldn’t reconcile her feelings with the man in front of her. She may have felt the urge to love him, to want to be near him, but she was not in love with him.”

Will peered over at Hannibal’s drawings, studying the architecture of a new building. The lines were romantic, the shading that of a sun shining directly over the arches. He wondered where Lecter had traveled to in order to see that. He wondered if the mother he never knew had traveled there, too.

“How utterly unromantic of you,” Hannibal finally said, amused. “I’m sure you were quite the catch in the dating world when you talked like that. However did you meet your partner?”

“The FBI found a symbol on a tree that was used as a vantage point to overlook Mrs. Hess’s backyard. They're going to check for such a symbol at the Panter's home as well. Will you look at it?”

Hannibal stood and strolled to the bars. When Will went to the drop box, he tsk’d.

“No, no, no, Dr. Graham. We are establishing trust, we are reconciling ourselves with our chemical bond; the last thing you should do is deliberately find ways to avoid me,” he chided. “You can’t be sure my eagerness to help will remain if you make it so poignantly clear you wish to avoid my touch.”

“I do wish to avoid your touch,” Will said irritably, but he found himself walking towards Hannibal all the same. He passed the paper through the bars, and Hannibal accepted it, fingertips brushing the back of his hand gently. The feeling sent sparks along his skin, and he took a shaky step back, stuffing his hands into his pockets. A traitorous thought whispered that if that’s how good a mere brush of skin felt, how wonderful would it be to kiss him?

To fuck him?

“Thank you,” Hannibal murmured. He held the paper up and studied it, and if he saw anything of note, he gave nothing away.

“I thought the symbol meant more to him. It’s a Mahjong tile,” Will explained.

“Maybe he just likes Mahjong,” Hannibal said with the suggestion of a smile on his lips. It took a second for Will to realize he was teasing.

“It’s the Red Dragon Mahjong tile,” Will added.

That did give Lecter pause. He turned the photo this way, then that way; he strolled along his cell to lay it down on the table, smoothing it out. Will noted the forced calm, the relaxed appearance when in truth he felt Lecter’s emotions coiled deep in his belly, wound tightly and ready to spring. He had something. He knew something.

“Do you suppose he is of Chinese descent?” Hannibal asked. Lie, a lie. Will moved closer to the bars, the hiss of a retort sharp on his lips.

“You’ve got to be-” He blinked, and Hannibal stood just before him as well, like he sensed Will’s ability to hear his paltry attempt at redirection. His head dipped down, and Will rocked forward, the smallest of whispers separating them. He was a half second away from a bad decision.

"Yes?" Hannibal prompted.

“Don’t lie to me,” he murmured, eyes on Hannibal’s lips.

“Was it a lie?”

“You know something about the Red Dragon,” he said. His voice was low, gravelly. Hannibal leaned forward, and Will leaned back; his heart screamed to fucking kiss him already. His head kept his feet firmly in place.

“Do I?”

“Tell me, Hannibal.” He tilted his head slightly, much the way he’d watched Lecter do. “I’m playing your game. Give me something.”

“Do you suppose the Red Dragon is something more than just that tile with a simple character? He could not have etched a real dragon in any short amount of time.”

“Symbolic to a red dragon, not this one in particular,” Will whispered. That close, Lecter’s skin smelled like sweet sin and generic soap. Lecter leaned away, and Will found himself leaning in, wanting to trace his tongue over it.

“Do you think he believes he’s killing these women, or do you think he’s changing them?” When Will’s heart panged, Lecter nodded slowly. “Yes, you think so, too. A change, not a death.”

“They’re becoming something more,” he said. “He’s becoming something more.”

“A Great, Red Dragon,” Hannibal uttered with hushed reverence. “One of terrible strength, of tremendous awe and power.”

Will had what he needed; now it was time to go. He didn’t, though –couldn’t. His eyes flicked up to Hannibal’s mismatched pair, and his breath caught. In the light of maximum, their hunger was stark, grasping. His feet were frozen in place, unheeding of the fact he had something, something, and he’d been able to trick Hannibal Lecter to get it.

It didn’t feel like he’d tricked anyone, though; it felt like he’d walked into a trap.

“If I kiss you now, would you ask me for more?” Hannibal wondered. The timbre of his voice was low, pitched with unmasked desire. Will shuddered at the sound of it.

Hannibal reached and grasped his chin, tilting his head up. A rush of endorphins made thought sluggish, a drugged feeling of bliss at the contact, the sensation of everything being just right. He was trapped, but as the seconds ticked on the watch at his wrist, he wondered if he could call it trapped when he was exactly where he wanted to be. They moved closer. If Hannibal tried to kiss him, he’d fucking let him.

Rescue came from the sound of the maximum security doors opening with a sharp, commanding thud of deadbolts turning. Will leapt away from Lecter, skin burning, and he tried to compose himself, hands fumbling at the rumbled shirt that reeked of Freon. Across the way from him, Hannibal Lecter stayed pressed to the bars, his eyes tracking each movement Will made with a hunger.

“…Run along now, Dr. Graham,” he said quietly. “Before I make you stay.”

#LiaS scribbles #hannibal fanfiction #hannibal au #hannibal soulmates #will graham x hannibal #hannibal #will graham #someone help will graham #poor guy just wants to sleep in for once #writing

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yourpitchprince · 7 years

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Rules: Complete the questions and tag five – Have fun!

I was tagged by Jen, aka @bulletproofbechloe aka my dear soccer mate. Thanks <3 Oh, and I wanted to tag @tinyolsen but since she tagged you I just read it already ^^ 1: Are you named after someone? – Nope 2: When was the last time you cried? – Few nights ago, caused by pain. Ended in hospital, but it’s fine so far 3: Do you like your handwriting? – Most of the times I do. I don’t when I have to write very fast 4: What is your fave lunch meat? – Uhm… IDK? 5: Do you have kids? – Not yet, no. 6: If you where another person, would you be mates with yourself? – Probably not I guess. 7: Do you use sarcasm? – Aaaaall the time. It’s my way to cope with the world and humanity. 8: Do you still have your tonsils? – Yes 9: Would you bungee jump? – I tell myself I would each time this topic comes up but I don’t know if I’d really do it if I got the chance. I mean.. Imagine standing up there, looking down… looking at your OWN POSSIBLE DEATH. Haha, I have no clue tbh. I’ll let you know 10: What is your fave cereal? – Lion 11: Do you untie your shoes when you take them off? – Never have, never will 12: Do you think you are a strong person? – Mostly yes. I can be very strong for others but sometimes I forget to be that for myself, too 13: Fav ice cream flavour? – Cinnamon, lemon, green apple. 14: What is the first thing you notice about people? – Voice, then laugh. If they don’t speak… eyes 15: Red or pink? – Red all the way, except we’re talking about P!nk the super amazing singer, songwriter, performer, whatsoever!!! She’s queen 16: What is the least fav physical thing you like about yourself? – My back 17: What color pants and shoes are you wearing right now? – No shoes, black pants 18: What’s the last thing you ate? – Burger King something 19: What are you listening to right now? – A cover of ‘House of Gold’ 20: If you were a crayon, what color would you be? – My girl says I’d be either red like fire or some kind of heavenly blue (is that cheese guys? It probs is but that’s cool because she’s perfect anyway <3) 21: Favourite smell? – fuel, freshly cut gras, fire, air after rain and winter air 22: Who was the last person you spoke to on the phone? – My babe 23: Fav sport to watch? – Ouuuh, I watch A WHOLE DAMN LOT of sports… soccer, darts, handball, American football, etc 24: Hair color? – Somewhat brown with bit of red 25: Eye color? – hazel 26: Do you wear contacts? – Nope… Too stupid to put them on (or in?!) 27: Favourite food? – Rice, cheese, chicken 28: Scary movies or comedy? – Comedy 29: Last movie you watched? - ……… 50 shades of grey……… 30: What color shirt are you wearing? – red 31: Summer or Winter? – Summer nights but winter days please 32: Hugs or kisses? – Kisses if they come from my girlfriend are better than any hug in the world can ever be, even tho I’d love to give Kiddo a hug, lol 33: What books are you currently reading? – Scrappy little nobody 34: Who do you miss right now? – Since it’s January 5th… My grandpa. Miss him a lottle. (that’s like a little but a lot) 35: What is on your mouse pad? – Don’t have one 36: What is the last TV show you watched? – Club der roten Bänder (that’s Red Band Society’s german version and it’s the shit guys!) 37: What is the best sound? – Any sound my girl makes plus when a crowd sings a slow song together 38: Rolling Stones or Beatles? – Hmm.. Well I think I like the Stones a bit more but tbh I know more songs by the Beatles… 39: Furthest you have travelled? – Houston, TX 40: Special talent? – ha. Hahaha. hahahahHAHAHAHA …. There is none I think. I write poems and short stories tho… 41: Where you born? – A tiny city, Germany 42: Tag people – Of course I’ll tag Mini-Me @wonderstruck-queen and furthermore @kaymarb, @jinglebeale, @emily-junks and @keeping-you-at-arms-length

#you guys dont have to do it tho #thanks jen #bulletproofbechloe #me

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catherindonald · 4 years

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Amazing Anise Hyssop

By Susan Belsinger

Agastache foeniculum

——————–Agastache foeniculum——————-

While commonly called anise hyssop, the odor is more similar to French tarragon, though sweeter, with a hint of basil. The foliage and flowers taste similar to the aroma—sweet, with the licorice of tarragon and basil—and just a bit floral.

All of the thirty or so Agastache species are good for honey production and make great ornamental perennials. The flowering plants go well with the silver-leaved species of mountain mint (Pycnanthemum), which flower about the same time in the July garden and also provide good bee forage. The young, broad, dark green leaves of A. foeniculum, tinged purple in cool weather, are attractive with spring bulbs such as yellow daffodils.

Agastache species do not have GRAS status, even though the leaves of many species have been used for centuries as a substitute for French tarragon, infused in syrups and cordials, or brewed into tea, and the flowers have been used with fruit, in desserts and confections, and mixed in salads. Both the leaves and flowers make good additions to potpourri.

Agastache foeniculum is most often grown, though A. mexicana, A. rugosa, and A. scrophulariifolia provide similar flavors to French tarragon and basil, though may include plants scented of peppermint or pennyroyal.

Growing basics: Hardy short-lived perennial, three to five feet high Hardiness to zone 4, preferring cool summers Full sun to part shade Keep moist but not wet Soil rich in organic matter, pH 7.0

Cultivation and propagation:

Agastache species need little more than partly shaded to sunny, well-drained, acidic to near-neutral soil. The seeds (actually tiny nuts, or nutlets) are most easily started by broadcasting; established clumps readily reseed themselves, often in tiny nooks and crannies or the middle of the garden path. Seeds may also be sown in the greenhouse, with transplants in six to eight weeks.

Clumps generally last two to three years, becoming very woody at the base and eventually dying. Since reseeding is not a problem, anise hyssop will persist in your garden yet never really become weedy; it is easy to move about. The soil should be evenly moist, well drained, slightly acid, and high in organic matter.

Harvesting and preserving:

For tea, harvest leaves early in the day during a sunny, rain-free spell close to when the plants will be flowering, then dry the leaves and store them in glass jars. Anise hyssop makes an unusual vinegar and is one of my favorites for salads when made with white wine or rice vinegar.

It makes a tasty cordial if you like the taste of sweet licorice. I enjoyed Agastache-infused vodka more than once with Dr. Jim Duke, who used to put sprigs of anise hyssop in his 1.75-liter bottle of vodka, which he kept in the freezer, for a preferred libation.

Leaves are sometimes candied as a confection for desserts; after the egg white and sugar mixture has set and dried, store them in tightly closed containers at room temperature or in the freezer for three to six months. Flowers are often harvested fresh as edible flowers for salads, beverages, syrups, and desserts. Anise hyssop sugar is easy to make by processing the flowers with sugar—it is great to have on hand for topping cookies, muffins, crisps and crumbles.

Part of this text is excerpted from Grow Your Own Herbs, which was the last book that I co-authored with Dr. Arthur Tucker. I raise a glass of anise hyssop cordial here to both Art and Jim—two herbal mentors—who loved the flavor of Agastache.

Cherry Tomatoes Marinated with Anise Hyssop, Chives, & Balsamic Vinegar

These tomatoes can be served as a simple side salad, tossed with salad greens or pasta, spread on pizza or served on bruschetta (toasted bread rubbed with garlic) as an appetizer. Anise hyssop gives an anise/licorice-like flavor somewhat similar to basil or tarragon. I use the smaller leaves—if using larger leaves remove the center stem, as they can be a bit tough. Garnish with a little grated mozzarella if desired. This recipe is adapted from The Greens Book by Carolyn Dille and Susan Belsinger.

Serves 4 or 8; makes about 16 to 20 appetizers when served on baguette-sized slices) 1-pint cherry or pear-shaped tomatoes, quartered lengthwise and halved crosswise About 2 to 3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil 1 to 2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar 2 to 3 cloves garlic, minced About 2 tablespoons chopped chives, common or garlic Generous 1/2 cup anise hyssop leaves cut into chiffonade (thin ribbons) Salt and freshly ground pepper Grated mozzarella, optional Chive and anise hyssop flowers for garnish

Combine the tomatoes in a bowl with the olive oil, balsamic vinegar, garlic, chives and anise hyssop. Salt and pepper generously and toss well. Taste for seasoning and adjust with oil, vinegar or salt and pepper as needed.

Serve straightaway or the salad can sit at cool room temperature (do not refrigerate) for an hour or two before serving; the tomatoes will give off a lot of juice if allowed to sit.

Serve the salad as is or over salad greens. Or spoon the tomato and herb mixture evenly over garlic bruschetta, drizzling a little of the marinade juices over all, or toss with pasta adding a drizzle more of olive oil. Sprinkle with grated mozzarella, if desired, and garnish with a sprinkling of chive and/or anise hyssop flowers.

Susan is a culinary herbalist, food writer, educator, and photographer whose work has been published in numerous publications. She has authored a number of award-winning books. Her latest book, The Culinary Herbal: Growing & Preserving 97 Flavorful Herbs was co-authored with the late Dr. Arthur Tucker. Susan is passionate about herbs and her work, sharing the joy of gardening and cooking through teaching & writing, and inspiring others to get in touch with their senses of smell & taste.

Amazing Anise Hyssop published first on https://marcuskeever.blogspot.com/

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heatpeen03-blog · 5 years

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Métier (Washington, DC)

Metier Restaurant 1015 7th St NW, Washington, DC 20001 202.737.7500 www.metierdc.com Wed 08/08/2018, 07:30p-10:35p

Given how much I enjoyed Kinship, I think it was pretty much a given that I'd eventually try Métier. Named after the French word for trade or occupation, the restaurant opened in April 2016 and is again the work of Chef Eric Ziebold and partner Célia Lauren. However, compared to Kinship, it's a tasting menu-only sort of place, one serving Ziebold's vision for elevated, contemporary American cuisine. Métier was awarded a Michelin star in October 2017 (which it has retained), and perhaps more importantly, was deemed the best restaurant in the DC area by Washingtonian at the start of this year.

Métier is located underground, underneath Kinship, and is accessed via a private elevator. Upon stepping out of said elevator, you're invited to relax in the salon, where you can partake in an hors d'oeuvre and apéritif.

Tonight's welcome cocktail was an anise hyssop-melon spritz, a lively, invigorating concoction showcasing a deft balance between fruitiness and herbaceousness.

To munch on, we received a dish of egg white bavarois with marinated caviar and Yukon Gold chips, which was pretty amazing. The custard melded the perfect creaminess of egg with a touch of sweetness, while the onion and caviar adding wonderfully contrasting hits of zestiness and salt. Think of this as the best sour cream and onion potato chips you've ever had.

La Ultima [$17.00] | Mezcal, Amaro Montenegro, Green Chartreuse, Lemon Given that we were in here for about 20 minutes, I went ahead and ordered a cocktail from the upstairs bar. The drink smelled strongly smoky from the mezcal, with a distinct vegetal character and traces of citrus. Taste-wise, I got more smoke up front, leading to a marked savoriness and an interesting herbal-astringent element that I couldn't quite put my finger on--it was almost like a "hot" radish, if that makes sense.

After some time, we were called into the main dining room. Penned by Darryl Carter (who also did Kinship), the space is a blend of the modern and the antique, and seats about three dozen. Note the 14-seater private dining room in the back.

Above we see the evening's menu, comprising seven courses at $200 a head, inclusive of service but not tax or beverages. And speaking of libations, I opted for the wine pairing ($145), though of course there's a pretty extensive bottle list if you'd prefer, with prices ranging from "reasonable" to "used car." The menu notes were a nice touch I have to say. Click for larger versions.

1: Iced L'Abeille Garden Ratatouille Leo Steen, Jurassic Park, Chenin Blanc, Santa Ynez Valley, CA, 2012 Given the hot weather we were having, it felt appropriate to begin with such a bright, refreshing course. An unconventional ratatouille of sorts, the vibrancy of the veggies was on display--unmitigated, yet bound together by the potency of olive oil. The paired Chenin Blanc fit the bill nicely too, smelling fruity and earthy while the palate went in a sweet 'n' savory direction, with a steely minerality and agreeable acidity.

The dish was accompanied by lángos, a type of Hungarian fried bread. Airy and light, it had a sweet-salty thing going and actually reminded me of Chinese you tiao.

2: L'Abeille Garden La Ratte Potato Fondant | Sautéed Chive Blossom, Lobster Coral Emulsion and Australian Black Truffle Château Latour-Martillac Blanc, Pessac Léognan, Bordeaux, France, 2005 Next was as decadent of a preparation of potato as I'd ever seen. The Rattes themselves were pleasantly firm to the bite, and showed off a restrained richness that matched up beautifully with the luxuriousness and brine of that lobster sauce, all while the truffles imparted a further muskiness to it all. The dish stood up well to the paired wine. A Sémillon-Sauvignon Blanc blend, it displayed a sweet, oxidative nose and a palate rich and rife with nutty, buttery, oaky, vegetal nuances. Interestingly, it actually became much more fruit-forward when taken with the food.

For course #2, bread duties were handled by airy, chewy, subtly tart slices of pane francese, which I eagerly used to sop up the remaining liquid on the plate above.

3: Madras Curry Poached Atlantic Halibut | Coconut Creamed Corn with Compressed Mango and Cilantro Alzinger, Loibenberg, Riesling Smaragd, Wachau, Austria, 2016 Halibut arrived flawlessly cooked--it was about as perfect as it gets. The fish possessed just the right amount of curry spice, which was smoothed out by the sweetness of corn and coconut while the cilantro offered up a citrusy accent. Along with the halibut came an Austrian Riesling, one brimming with rich fruit and stone on the nose. Its taste was super fresh, vibrant, with more fruit and minerals alongside a pleasing tartness and acidity--it did a great job linking up with the sweetness in the dish.

4: Sautéed Moulard Duck Foie Gras | Duck Confit-Stuffed Savoy Cabbage and Peach BBQ Sauce Domaine Raspail-Ay, Gigondas, Rhône Valley, France, 2015 I was a bit scared of this next course. First off, I'm very wary of sweet foie gras preparations, and this had peach. Secondly, there's duck confit, and that just sounds like heavy on heavy. Fortunately, the dish actually worked, very well in fact. The foie itself was spot on in its sear, and had all the classic flavors you'd expect, while the cabbage worked beautifully for contrast. The surprise here was the confit, which ate as you'd expect, but somehow managed to not be overwhelming; I could say the same about the peach. Obviously, we had to have a wine that could stand up to the heft of the course, and the GSM blend made sense with its generous helping of (tannic) red fruit, pepper, and spice.

5: Martin Farms Minute Steak | Grilled Onions, Morel Mushrooms, Okra Croutons with Garden Herb Vinaigrette and Roquefort Dressing Château Latour-Martillac, Pessac Léognan, Bordeaux, France, 2009 I rarely see minute steak on menus these days, which I suppose makes sense given that it's typically not the sexiest cut out there. Ziebold's version, however, was a winner no doubt. It was tender, sure, but also one of the most flavorful steaks I've had in a while, and I absolutely loved the zippiness and acidity from that herb vinaigrette, while the onions and 'shrooms imparted further complexity to the dish. The meat called for a powerful red wine, and the matched Bordeaux met the mark. Comprised mostly of Cabernet Sauvignon, it was pretty prototypical of the region with its soft, velvety palate of robust berry fruit commingled with some almost meaty notes and a touch of heat.

The steak came with a serving of the Chef's famous Parker House rolls, which were oh-so buttery and airy and salty and just as good as I remember from the CityZen days. And yes, I made sure to mop up the remaining liquid above with 'em.

6: Key Lime Meringue | Crème Fraîche Cake, Granny Smith Apple, Cucumber and Shiso-Lime Granité Château Rieussec, Sauternes, France, 1988 With the savories done with, it was time for Pastry Chef Anne Specker (a CityZen alum) to shine. Our first dessert really did recall the essence of a classic key lime, playing the tartness of citrus against the sweetness of meringue while the granita added a bracing, herbaceous component. Going along with the course was a Sauternes with some nice age on it. It was just what I wanted, displaying loads of honeyed, stone fruit-esque sweetness balanced out by a fresh acidity and a touch of nuttiness.

7: Nut 'n' Honey | Ochoa Farms Tomato Confit, Peanut Butter Cream, Honeycomb and Yellow Tomato Sorbet Kelt, Tour du Monde, VSOP, Grande Champagne, Cognac, France The humble tomato was the hero in our final (proper) course, its slightly savory disposition making itself known for sure against a backdrop of peanut--very neat. To drink, we moved away from wine and into cognac, specifically an ocean-matured example filled with warmth, sweetness, and spice, along with notes of wood and mature grapes.

At this point, I was provided a shot glass of milk granita and instructed to construct my own milk shake, choosing from flavors of chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry-verbena. I think it's obvious from the color which option I picked. In hindsight, I should've gone with Neapolitan.

Next came some wonderfully crisp, buttery, freshly baked malted vanilla shortbread cookies.

Rum Old Fashioned [$17.00] | Santa Teresa 1796, Bitters, Simple Syrup, Lemon Zest I requested a digestif and was brought this rum-based cocktail. It had a nose of warming spice and caramel mixed with citrus. The taste was sweet and fruity and chocolatey from the rum, with a smidge of bitterness and a long-lasting finish filled with brown sugar.

Guests were provided a vial of Old Bay olive oil to take home. And fortunately, I had no issues taking this in my carry-on luggage.

Tonight's meal effectively confirmed Ziebold's position as one of the top toques in DC. His food isn't necessarily flashy, but it is pretty much flawless (as was the service). There's a familiarity to the dishes, yet I still find myself pleasantly surprised at every turn. I get a restrained playfulness in the cooking, as well as a sort of quiet confidence that must, I imagine, stem from years and years in the biz. I think it's safe to say that Métier's got to be one of the premier dining experiences in DC.

Source: http://www.kevineats.com/2018/08/metier-washington-dc.html

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harth-rosanna-blog · 7 years

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Thief & Werewolf- Ch 4- Travel to the Shack

Read the entire story at: https://harth-rosanna.deviantart.com/gallery/63924814/The-Thief-and-the-Werewolf

I blushed deeply as I set Miss Gra- Sarah, down. Hoping against hope that she didn’t feel my- My… I looked away, stammering to myself and fidgeting with the hem of my leathers. I didn’t look up until Sarah responded to me, "Well, until my wounds heal that's probably gonna be how it works if there is any climbing or jumping to do." As I turn to look at her, she continues, "And the weight is probably not eating sometimes. Or only getting one meal a day." She moves over towards the the low stone wall of the courtyard, getting up on her tiptoes to peer over what I would’ve had to climb. “All clear.”

The last was a mumbled phrase, probably something from her earlier days, but these were better days now, right? “Three meals a day now, and plenty of food in them.” I flashed a smile, remembering the ribs sticking out on the woman when I was bandaging her up in the kitchen, “Maybe you’ll gain some weight and not be so skinny that I can see your ribs, hm?” I tease, following behind Sarah as she leads the way out- probably the way she used to get into the door I… Left… Unlocked. Around the side of the manor and to the street. I had to bunch the cloak she’d given me up around my shoulders a bit more, so that I wouldn’t trip over the front and fall. It was surprisingly nice. A dull red color with some gold filigree around the edges. Maybe whoever owned the manor had been a priest at that church or something?

"Maybe. Stay close please and pull your hood up." Sarah’s words pull me out of my reverie, and I look back to find she’s pulled the hood of her darker cloak up, low over her face in an attempt to hide. While that would work on a rainy day, or in the winter… In the summer, on a clear night, it would really only attract attention. At least that’s what Reisende said. The best disguises were the ones that made you just another person in a crowd.

I can’t stop my mouth, “You know throwing your hood up only makes you more conspicuous, right?” But I pull the hood up anyway. She knows the city better, and if I want her to trust me and be my friend- I should show her some in return. Stupid mouth. Stupid chest. Stupid… Feelings.

“Maybe around here,” she shrugs, “but as we get further south, it’s safer. Also hides your gender unless they’re good enough to discern how you walk.” She says it with a concreteness that almost refuses to let me argue the point.

Gender? “Why would I want to-” My mouth starts in before my brain catches up again. Right. Criminals. Rapists. “Oh…” I trail off, correcting myself. And I can’t bring myself to speak again after that point came up until we reach the South End- I think that’s what it’s called. The seedier district that Reisende went to for her more… Um… Hard to get supplies earlier in our stay.

“You know…” You know what? That Reisende used to beat me? That she shows me horror after horror and I don’t want to cope with that? That she’s the closest thing I have to family right now and I’d be lost or dead without her? “...Um…” Say something, E. Say something before it gets too awkward. “...What did Reisende do to you?” Pretend it’s the rancid smell of these streets, E. She’ll believe that. She knows werewolves have sharp noses, right?

The silence draws on, and I can’t help but let my thoughts run rampant. She knows. She’s going to try to take me away from Reisende, to hide in the city. And then Reisende will hunt us down and take me back and kill her and I won’t have a friend to talk to about anything and things will get worse until Reisende makes me just like her and- “She offered me a deal, and then tested me.” OH THANK THE MOON. I look at her with relief on my face, focusing on Sarah like she’s a lifeline to a solid rock in the raging tempest that is my mind. “As such I will try to be your… Friend. It’s a bit more complicated than that but I’d rather not discuss it while on the move.”

Right. Moving. One foot in front of the other, E. I look down at my feet, focusing on keeping going at a steady pace. “When we get to- Er… Your place, then…” I stammer, looking around with wide eyes at the scent of… Blood? Did Sarah’s wounds open up? No, it’s coming from some of these other cloaked people- taller than both of us, maybe five-nine or five-ten. Mostly men. One or two carrying weapons- looks to be spiked cudgels or stolen swords with the acrid taste of rust. I draw my dagger from my hip and keep it up my arm, hiding it from view beneath my oversized cloak.

I nearly lash out when Sarah’s arm shoots out and I run into it- wincing a bit as it smacks my stupid chest. She’s stopped at a corner and peering around it, an arm stopping me from walking around and exposing myself to whatever it was she saw. Another member of that gang we passed? Possibly just someone she knew and didn’t want to see her injured.

Sarah pushes me against the wall and peers around the corner, making sure to hunch lower as she mutters to herself. “Shitty, raping bastards…” She pinches her brow, tone shifting from fury to one of command. “Draw your cloak tighter, hood down to cover your face. We’ll try to walk past, and if we get stopped… Do. Not. Talk.” She turns and fixes me with a stern stare. I get a few flashbacks to Reisende taking me on one of her hunting trips. And I swallow, nodding as I pull my hood low and my cloak tighter. Still won’t hide my chest fully, but it might… I never thought I’d say I wanted more lessons…

“And if you do talk, I’m Shadow here…” Right. Shadow. Shadow the silly name. Criminals were not very bright, were they?

Ahead on the edge of a stoop stand or sit about four men. Not all burly and strong, but some are reedy, and they walk with a confidence I would expect from men used to getting what they want. I’ve seen Reisende walk that walk- and take others who did and make them walk like… Like me, I guess. The largest one walks to the middle of the road, right in our path. He’s bald, with a stained shirt and pants, a knife in his belt. And he smells distinctly of piss, ale, and… Musk. Eww. I wrinkle my nose and stare at him a moment, before lowering my gaze. “Now what do we have here?” He calls, stopping directly in front of us.

My knife flashes in an instant, stopping right in front of the rapist’s inner thigh- slicing his pants open some- Directly over the artery- Femoral. One cut there and he’d bleed out in seconds. I swallowed nervously, forcing my hand from shaking as I notice the other knife- Sarah’s. It had gotten there before mine. Sarah was fast. Or she’d known exactly what he was going to do.

“Bennet,” Sarah started, her tone cold- exceedingly similar to Reisende’s, “cut your shit. Move aside. I don’t have time for you tonight and I’m in a foul mood. Anything but nodding and getting out of my way will result in you never being able to use your dick again.” And that’s when I realized that her knife was poised not to kill him quickly, but to castrate him. I blinked in some surprise, but mastered it quickly.

Bennet, the man, furrows his brows and leans back before nodding and stepping aside. My knife slips back against my forearm, and I catch Sarah’s wide-eyed look at me. I raise a curious brow, heart finally slowing down- perhaps a hint of wolf in my eyes that fades quickly as she snatches my hand and drags me down the street. Only to have the man call out behind us, “You’ll regret that, Shadow! Don’t forget that I know where you live!” I catch he and his fellows laughing heartily- A sound that frightens me to my core. So I did the only reasonable thing to do, I lift my hand in a rude gesture at the man and his fellows and stick my tongue out at them. “That was… Um…” I breath, catching up to Sarah and slowing at her side. “He was mean.” Mean. The strongest word I could find. What am I, four? Mean.

I sigh, and Sarah nods, “We have maybe an hour to get my crap and leave now. That was crossing a line.” She glances back and turns a final corner, walking past a warm looking in towards the back alley. The windows are glowing with a soft light, I can smell freshly baked bread- probably from this morning- and cooked stew. The sign reads ‘The Righteous Brew’ with an actual claymore mounted on the sign. I flinched at that and slowed, peering at it. I could smell the acidic hint of silver on it’s blade, and the hilt was fashioned into one of the symbols from the cathedral. This was where she was staying? Suddenly very uncomfortable, I shrunk into the folds of my cloak and willed myself to disappear, moving to catch up to Sarah as quickly as possible.

Once I catch up, I remember to be indignant about the ruffians. She might not know, right? She didn’t know if I could carry her, she might not know. “What, defending ourselves crosses a line here? And by leave… What? Leave the apartment? The slum? Leave what?” Information helps control fear. The only thing to fear is the unknown… And scary people with silvered swords.

Shadow answers immediately, “Leave my place. While that might have seemed easy, you don’t talk that way to him. His gang is bigger than just four guys.” Bigger than- Oh. And I wasn’t even sure I could take on the four… “They’re calling in some of their better blades right now and are gonna head here to kill me.” Well, I can’t let that happen. Even if you’re not my friend yet, Sarah, you’re my patient. Chirurgeon's oaths that I haven’t taken be damned. She stops after opening the door to a wood shack, logs piled against the wall opposite us and steps inside. “Stay back a bit, I need to do something first.” She mutters, turning to the left and kneeling down in front of the tattered brown sheet hanging on the right side of the door frame.

I stand on my tiptoes to peer past, cracking my knuckles in preparation of potentially having to defend my bea- My patient. Patient. Yup- and distract myself by looking inside instead of at her. “Well, I’d be a terrible friend if I didn’t try to help you make it through that. Wish I’d brought my bow.” Stupid mouth. Change the subject, “Trap?” I ask, finally getting that what she’s doing down there isn’t lacing her boots.

I can see the thin wire going up the door frame as she stands up and brushes the sheet aside. “Yup.” And the heavy crossbow on the ceiling. Wonder if she had a crank for that. Or if she had someone else load it. I wasn’t sure I could load it. But it was just about pointed at my head. Good thing I wasn’t breaking in. “You can come through now, I just set that one.”

I step forward, looking around the remarkably tiny space, even smaller than I thought. But still bigger than the room I didn’t have back in my village- having to share with a sibling and my parents… There’s a cot tucked against one wall, along with what looked like it might’ve been an end table with a chair to provide seating. And a chest almost beneath the cot. Sarah bee lines for the chest, kneeling down and starting to unlock it. “Have a seat or something…” She offers. And I do so, sitting down.

“This is… Very small.” I mumble, drawing my cloak around me and shifting it so it doesn’t drag in the weird looking and smelling stain on the floor. “So… Um… What-” Stupid brain, speak. Do something.

I’m interrupted by a backpack landing on the cot next to me, along with a pile of clothes. “Can you just start shoving crap in there that I hand you?” She asks me, continuing, “And yes, it’s small but it was mine. I pay the innkeeper for the space. Couple silvers a week.” I flinch at the word silver, but I start loading the pack. Dark greys, dark blues, black, small clothes- She had a real taste problem, Sarah did. I should give her some of my bright blue or green shirts.

Time to try again. I swallow, marshalling my thoughts in an attempt to slow them down and just speak. “So… Um… What did- er… Why is what Reisende wants you to do complicated? Being a friend is good, right?” And it doesn’t look like you have too many of those. I thankfully didn’t say the last. I hope. Finally working with me, mouth.

She stops cold, and looks at me, her face something between fear and care. “I’ve been contemplating whether to just tell you the truth of our situation the entire time we’ve been walking here. Your… Mother. Reisende or whatever, didn’t expressly forbid it but I don’t know how far I can go before I’m ‘punished’ or something of the sort.” You’ve been thinking of telling me what she- I know I asked but-

I look down at my feet, closing my eyes and furrowing my brow. My hands want to shake, but I keep them at my knees, not letting them. She has no idea… She thinks Reisende- “I know Reisende isn’t… Isn’t exactly a good person. But she cares for me.” I clench my hands over my knees, and shake my hood back- feeling the tickle of my ponytail against my neck. “She’s... Not very good at being a mother. She’s…” I pause. Evil? A bitch? An assassin? Tortured and cursed? Unhappy? Broken? What is she? “...Different. Not- Not bad.” Oh no did she hear me? Can she hear me? What if Sarah’s really good friends with Reisende, or will tell her everything I say. What if she’s testing my loyalty? “She’s not really malicious just…” What if when we get home Sarah talks to Reisende and tells her everything and then laughs as I get beat again or taken down to be set loose in the slums or- or…

“Cutthroat and manipulative is the words you’re searching for.” Sarah sighs, again bringing me back from the depths of my mind. I look at her again and put the last few pieces she hands me into the pack. “You were half right earlier.” She stands and moves to sit at the table. “I am a thief, pickpocket or burglar. Whatever you want to call me. I had been planning on robbing the house you two were staying in for weeks. I figured I could get enough jewelry and silverware to buy my way onto a ship and out of this stinking city. Needless to say, I ran into your mother and she gave me a choice. Serve as your… Companion? I believe was the word she used. Or die.” She packs a few things as she talks, and I nod slowly. Sounds like Reisende. As much as I hate myself for admitting it.

“We weren’t even in that house for a week…” I frown, realizing that if Sarah had been a few days earlier or later, she probably would’ve missed us entirely… And discovered the rotting body in the basement. “She- Reisende is… Forceful… I would say.” Hedge your bets, E. That’s the way to do it. Don’t waver if you can help it. “From what I heard, she did not have much of a normal childhood.” Like you or I have, I don’t say. Because that couldn’t be further from the truth.

Before my mind can get going again, Sarah speaks up, “Regardless of her childhood, I find myself in the position of being your companion on pain of death if I say no.” She shifts to the bed, and tosses the pouches she’d been working on into the pack. “That’s not to say I won’t like you, or even become your friend.” My eyes soften and I look away, noticing that she’s brushing me with her legs and shoulder, and I try to hide my blush. “I just want you to understand how radically my life has changed, and the conditions I’m living under.”

I nod slowly, fidgeting some as my hands seem to have calmed down. She shared… Time to share back, right? It feels right. “I’ve… After my village was destroyed, I haven’t… Had any real friends. Reisende and I would always move on before I could make any.” I try to smile, and probably don’t pull it off well. Move on before I could make any? True. But most of that was spent in the wilderness getting beaten for not sneaking up on her properly, or failing to hunt a meal when we had scared away all the game the night before. Change the subject, E. “From… Um… From what I’ve seen, it’s not… Not a bad change, is it? Apart from Reisende, I mean. You get to leave the city. Not have to deal with people like that gang.” Meanies. “And you get a friend, and food…” Assuming I get food, that is. Usually I do. Reisende doesn’t see the value in depriving me of a meal. Mostly.

Sarah nods, and leans back against the wall turning away from me. “I… I know…” She seems to be on the verge of tears. What… What do I do with that? “... And you really do seem like a nice person. You actually remind me of a friend I had… Personality wise, anyway.”

Don’t ask. Don’t ask. Do not ask about the friend, E. “... You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to…” I mutter, reaching over to pat Sarah’s shoulder gently, “I know that this isn’t… Probably what you wanted or how you wanted it, but… I am willing to help make the best of it.” If you let me. And don’t hate me for what Reisende is doing to you.

She shudders under my touch, and I pull my hand back, watching solemnly as my forced friend curls up on the cot, sniffing. Tears. Great. Good work, E. You get to open up to a girl and she starts crying. You are awful at this. “Thanks…” She murmurs, “Like I said, how you are is probably gonna be what pulls me through this. Hopefully…”

And that phrase again. I put my hand in my lap and look down. Don’t ask, don’t ask… Do not- “What do you mean by that?” Dammit, mouth.

“Your personality. How you are nice and helpful. I just…” And there’s the salty scent of tears. Good work, E. Wait, did she just… So I’m not like… Her. Oh thank the moon.

I look over and try the best smile I can, “Thank you… For believing I can be.” It’s several long minutes just standing there and comforting her as she sobs, mourning her entire life. I can’t even imagine what she’s lost. And now she’s just lost her freedom. Like- Like me. I murmur under my breath, and look upwards, towards the moon. About a week to the full moon… I wonder if Reisende intends to… No. I won’t let her if Sarah doesn’t want it. I decide.

And then Sarah sits up, rubbing her face stiffly, “Sorry… Just… Too much has happened.” She sounds traumatized. Again I wonder what Reisende did to her… And if she’d do it to me if she felt she had to… Or if she already has and I’ve just… Forgotten. “Can you get something for me?”

Immediately I nod, trying to be helpful. To ingratiate myself to someone I want to be my friend. “What do you need?”

“Can you crawl under my bed and pry the far floorboard loose? There’s a hole to hook your finger through, and a sack down there that I need.” She looks… Awful. But at least she’s speaking, and not crying. And upright… And… “I’d do it but… Chest wounds.”

Or she just wants to see me on my hands and knees and look at my- E. Not the time.

I smile softly and nod, shifting under the bed. My shirt and chest brush the floor and I frown muttering again about my stupid chest. A quick reach, and I pull out the floorboard and grab the sack, standing back up and fixing my shirt. I can’t help but peer into the sack before I hand it over to Sarah, catching the glint of silver and gold. Sarah grabs the pack, “My savings,” She explains to the question I must’ve asked but not heard. “Let’s get out of here.”

Savings… Silver- Oh no… If Reisende finds that we brought back silver she’d probably kill Sarah- or just spread the curse and punish us both. She’d make me carry the coins in my bare hands, or swallow one. I wince, remembering the pain of when she made me carry a silver coin I’d earned on the road once in my bare hand. All day. I still had a faint circle of a burn mark in my left palm. “We should- Um… Get those silvers changed out…” I flinch again, clenching my left hand. “M- Reisende won’t let you keep them if she finds out.” Or worse.

“Ah… Right. Werewolf…” Sarah mutters, then she looks thoughtful and starts taking the silvers out and heads back around the corner. “I have an idea for them. I’m assuming money isn’t an issue for you two anyway.” She pulls on the backpack as she leaves.

I follow behind, “She’ll know though.. She has- She has a spell to detect silver.” And a nose to smell it. But… “We had to be careful to clean out all the silver in that house when we got there.” I explain, “What’s your idea?” Hoping against hope that it’s not something violent. That she’s not going to be stupid.

“I’m gonna give them to the innkeeper. I’m not stupid enough to try and hide shit from her. She can get into my head!” She can what? I blink again, stopping around the corner as she goes away.

“She… Got… Into your head…?” I mutter aloud, leaning against the wall and frowning. There’s the sound of a little girl answering the door that Shadow knocked on. But I can’t think about that. Reisende got into Sarah’s head. What… How? I didn’t even know a spell like that existed? Did I? And even if it did… Reisende taught me about magical theory- Everyone had a mental barrier against that sort of thing. It was nigh impossible to do something like that. Not to mention wrong. Minds were one of the only places people like Sarah and me and slaves got to be themselves and be free. To take that away… I buried my face in my hands, shuddering from the implications.

When I finally get enough courage to peek around the corner, Sarah is hugging a giant of a man with her good hand, a genuine smile on her face. She looks… Happy. And the man looks… Frightening. Wonder if he owned the sword. He’s built with broad shoulders and a bit of a gut, like someone who once fought and trained daily but now just trains enough to keep his own safe, and eats well. “Take care, Shadow.” He speaks in a comforting bass, his voice humble… But… Safe. “Don’t worry about me and Bennet. I might be retired, but I can still geld his ass if he gets uppity.”

Sarah giggles, and returns, the door closing behind her as she starts of lead me away. “Sorry about that. I owe the man, not my life but… But a lot. We’ll head to the east side of town on our way back to steer clear of Bennet.”

I nod, but then a thought strikes. Again. “What if he expects that?” I look at Sarah, pulling my hood back up. “I mean, if he’s smart then he might just go for that…”

She laughs again, and I can’t help but smile along- it’s almost infectious. “Bennet is a lot of things. But smart isn’t one of them. We’ll be fine. Besides, he was so deep in his cups I could probably add another half hour to my estimate. More if he found something to fuck.”

I nod slowly, and we hurry a bit anyway, “What about any other… Gangs?” That was the word she’d used. Gangs. Not guilds. Gangs. “And… Um… Is there anything I can do to make you comfortable?” Good work, E. Changing tack in the middle of a river. That’s how you smash your raft into a rock.

“We’ll be fine. His gang runs most of this area and the others don’t go around accosting passersby.” She looked at me, “And not really on the second bit. Just make sure you pack me plenty of painkillers if we’re going to be travelling. I can already tell these wounds are going to wear me out.” Painkillers, right.

I smile softly, nodding. “Yeah, we will. But I can also carry you, if you want. But isn’t the point of gangs to accost passersby for money or coin?” Again with the tack, E. You’re going to give this girl conversational whiplash.

“There’re safer ways to make money and gain influence than doing something that’ll actually get the city guard called down if it escalates enough.” This city is not at all like the ones I’d heard about growing up, “You really don’t know how things in a city work, do you?” Sarah sighs, adjusting the pack as she starts to straighten out our course.

“Not really… This is the first one I’ve ever been in. Ever.”

“Well,” Sarah looks back at me, “I’ll take care of you while we’re here anyway. Speaking of, did your mo- Reisende tell you where we were leaving to?”

I shake my head, “She never does. Like as not it’ll be a cabin in the wilderness for a while…” I frown, remembering why we even came to the city in the first place. “She’s um… She’s afraid of the Silver Eyes.” The werewolf hunters. Well… They hunted more than just werewolves. But they carried blades with silver laced through, and had magical devices to tell them when one of us was near. Best to stay several steps ahead of them.

“Okay, you two are gonna have to fill me in on all the weird stuff while we travel. Crash course for surviving with Emma and Reisende.” Sarah shakes her head, as we reached the street the manor was on.

“Yeah… I will…” I take the lead, and guide Sarah back to the rear of the manor, looking up at the balcony. “How… Um… How do you want to do this?” I look back at Sarah.

“Maybe dangle by one hand while you climb up and pull me up? Might be better for you to just climb and reach down to catch my hand. I can probably jump that far.” Okay… Sounds fine.

I climb up the balcony easily, hand over hand and vault over the railing. Then I get on my stomach and blush immediately as I realize I can see down her shirt. Oh no… I close my eyes, and lower my hand. It’s just a few moments before there’s the slap of her good hand into mine, and I grasp it tightly, hauling her up quickly and gently. “Careful… Careful…” I wince some, not wanting her to pull out her bandages or tear her wounds open again.

“I dunno what else you wanted me to do…” Sarah mutters, probably meant to herself, and plants her feet down as soon as she can.

I eye her for any fresh bloodstains, and satisfied that there are none, nod, “I just didn’t want you to reopen your wounds.” I smile softly, in what I hope is comforting, and then move to unlock the door.

“I don’t think they did, it’s just really hard to not use my right arm for anything.”

I open the door and come up short, stopping just before smashing face to stomach into Reisende. I look up and flinch some as the elder woman speaks in the same cold motherly tone she always does to me. “Hello dears.”

Behind me, Sarah steps up, casualness forced into her voice though I can smell the fear. “Hey, she’s back and unharmed, as promised.”

My mind goes blank as Reisende smiles sweetly, and looks at us both over her spectacles, wolf-like eyes shimmering. “Mmm… Good. No silver.” She smiles at me, “We leave early in the morning, I advise getting some rest.”

I’m still unmoving, but Sarah pushes past us, heading towards the bedroom she was in before. “Alright, I need to wash, change and go to the bathroom anyway. Probably not in that order.” Why wouldn’t it be in that-

I grimace, and Reisende gently guides me towards the study. I can’t help but mechanically follow her, doing my best to keep my mind clear of thoughts, just be what she wants you to be, E. It’s easier. But it’s not right… Right?

I clasp my hands in front of me, eyes downcast as she sits in her chair and turns towards me. A gesture with her hand and there’s the scent of ash and a bloom of blue light and warmth to my right- the fireplace. Lit with magic. Manaflame. It’s fueled by her own ether, and provides all the benefits of a normal fire, without the drawback of smoke, or being quenched quickly by water. She clears her throat, and I can tell she’s crossing her legs and resting her hands on her knee, sitting like an elegant lady. “How was your evening, pup?”

A deep breath, to school the wince out of my face at the surely ‘endearing’ nickname. “It went well, Alpha.” Another deep breath. Calm yourself, E. Don’t think about what Sarah said today. Don’t think about the lies.

“Look at me, pup.” I can hear the gentle smile in her face, “Something is bothering you, I know. You do not need to be afraid.” But I do. Because if I displease you, you’ll beat me. The thought came unbidden, followed by the magic. She was a mage. Why couldn’t she break down-

I look up, taking another deep breath, and letting it out. “I- I am concerned for Sarah’s health.” Mask it in that. Something familiar, something good.

“Oh?” An eyebrow quirked over her spectacles, as she reaches over to collect a book, resting it in her lap.

I nod, “She’s malnourished, at best. If I know where we’re going, I can plan to hunt on the way.” Malnourished, cracked ribs, severe burns to her right hand. She’ll be lucky if she can ever use it properly again. Going through the list of injuries Sarah had sustained helped focus my mind. Kept me on task. From remembering the lies.

She smiled softly, the darkened spectacles on Reisende’s face clearing out so that I could easily see her eyes. I imagined mine looked like that when I turned- but Reisende’s were a pale white. “Very well, I believe you’ve earned the right to know. You are seventeen, after all.” She pursed her lips into a thin line, “We are going Northwest, towards Rekshire. A large city in the Kamarinds. You know the mountains. Where we met.”

We were going… Home? I blink in confusion, tilting my head to the side. “But isn’t the village gone? Burned down by the Eyes?” My hands clench, memories I’d pressed down flooding back. Large men burning down the village, throwing torches, slaying everyone. Blood ran so thick it stained the grass red forever.

She must’ve noticed my hands shaking, because she set aside her book and stands up, and pulls me close- gently squeezing my shoulders to support me. “It will be fine, pup. That was two years ago- the ashes are cold, and they have long since left it behind.” She smiled softly, brushing a finger on my chin, “Now, smile. I will finish things up. Go rest, and be ready to leave before dawn, understand?”

I nod, and smile wryly, “Right. Before dawn.” And with a sigh of relief mixed with fear, I head towards my room. Bracing myself for a long night crying.

#fantasy #fiction #my writing #chapter 4 #novel

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