#aye build a road right through it mate why not

[greenforestflowers]

I’m gonna lose my mind. This was blocked once already!!! Are you fucking kidding me?

[moral-turpitudes]

Golden Ring: Part 2

Trigger Warnings: Angst, Fighting, Swearing, Fluff, Gore, Smoking, Drinking, etc.

Word Count: 1,833

Characters: Thomas Shelby x Reader

Requested by: @captivatedbycillianmurphy​  (thank you!)

Summary: When the Shelby’s are on business, there’s no such thing as rest, not even for Y/N.

A/N: Totally had “Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked” by Cage The Elephant stuck in my head while writing this. (Also fun fact: they’re from the city I went to college in and they did a free show on campus once which was lit).

Part 1 | Part 2

Tommy drove through the late-night fog and along the dark roads that led to their warehouse, the wheels creeping by ever so slightly on the dirt covered streets. The gears shifted as he put the car in park and got out, and walked towards the old building.

He pulled out a cigarette and rubbed it against his lips as he walked further into the darkness, the only light coming from what he assumed were his brothers cigarettes in the distance.

“Aye, who the fuck are you?” One of the men asked, who was most definitely not his brother.

“I could ask you the same question. Why are you on my property?” Tommy asked, the light from a cracked window seeping in, illuminating the two men’s faces.

“Well if it isn’t Mr. Thomas Shelby. We’re here to take your stock. The weapons. The drugs...What are you going to do? Call your brothers? Make your whore of a mother appear out of thin air or something?” He asked.

Tommy sighed, straightened his coat, and took his hat off nonchalantly, flipping it around in his hand as he looked down at it, before landing a hard punch to the mans jaw.

His other friend quickly took off towards the door with two bags full of cocaine.

“I wouldn’t run if I were you mate. You won’t get far.” Arthur said blocking the door with John next to him holding a shotgun.

Tommy then grabbed his cap tightly and pulled his hand back, sending the razor blade straight towards the mans eye. He slashed open one of them to where he’d be barely be able to see out of it, and the other he cut out completely, leaving the man screaming bloody murder as he walked towards his brothers.

“Where are the other men aye?” He asked grabbing the man by his collar.

“By the cut, I heard them fighting so I stayed here with him.” He said pointing to his partner bleeding out on the ground.

“They aren’t there anymore, you little London boy. You don’t mess with the peaky fookin’ blinders and live to tell about it.” Arthur said inching closer to the young man.

He was shaking as he realized he was the only one of his gang left, his boss surely plotting his death the longer he stayed in Small Heath.

“I’ll give you one minute to run out of here, because I don’t think you’re worth killing just yet. You tell your boss that if he wants to do business he’ll come to me directly, or I’ll have to come to him, and he won’t want that.” Tommy said menacingly as he held the young man by his collar.

“Al-alright. I will, can you let me go?” He asked.

Tommy held him there for a couple moments just to watch him struggle before letting him go. The young man dropped to the ground and ran straight out, leaving his friend and other deceased gang members behind.

“Now, what did you lot do with the others? I’m not digging any graves tonight.” He asked, his eyes landing on John.

“Well Arthur beat two of them to a pulp. I told ya he would go feral.” John said giving a sideways glance at Arthur.

Arthur smacked him in the back of the head before he continued.

“Well John-boy shot one in the head, the other is drifting down the cut with 3 bullet holes in his chest. Do we have to fookin’ retrieve them now Tommy?” Arthur asked.

“If you don’t want the coppers to get on us again, then yes. I’d imagine it would frighten the women and children walking past the cut as well, we don’t want that.” Tommy said before heading towards the door.

He looked down at his golden ring before looking back at his brothers who angrily spoke up.

“You’re just gonna leave us here to do the dirty work then aye Tommy?” John yelled.

“I have some things to do. You’ve both buried worse, just make their graves deeper this time.” He said before looking at his pocket watch.

“It’s Y/N again isn’t it Tommy? Bastard can’t even handle a murder job without wanting to run home to his spouse!” Arthur said, chuckling as John smirked.

“You’ll understand someday Arthur. Just get to work or I’ll make sure you’re both buried with that gang of fools instead of buried in company work tomorrow.” Tommy said before stepping outside and lighting another cigarette before heading home.

Back at home, the sun was shining brightly through the bedroom window with you laying in it’s rays, the sun warm on your skin as you draped yourself across the sheets as sleep eluded you still.

Your eyes were tired, with dark circles starting to form as the thoughts danced around in your head at where your husband could be. It had been 3 hours since he’d left, not that time meant much when he was away, it always seemed to blur until he came home.

As you stared at the old stone fireplace, you could hear the door cracking open downstairs as familiar footsteps heavily echoed through the hall and up to the bedroom.

He cracked the door open as light as he could, not wanting to disturb you if you were asleep, but you moved so you were facing him as he entered the room, meeting his tired eyes and blood stained hands and face. His clothes weren’t much better off, knowing that would be a pain to wash out.

“You haven’t slept...” He said taking his cap off and looking at you. He undid his dress shirt and took of the suspenders that clanked as he set them down on the table.

“I told you I probably wouldn’t be able to, you know that my love.” You said as you curled up on the sofa, the robe around you shifting with your movements.

“What can I do to help ya then aye? I can’t have you passing out at work.” He said coming over to sit on the floor next to you.

You lazily ran your hand through his hair as he leaned into your touch. The blood from earlier still glinting off his face in the sunlight.

“Well you could go take a shower, you’ve become so used to being covered in blood you forget it’s all over your face.” You said giggling slightly, he smiled and you felt him laugh a bit as you dropped your hand to his shoulder, massaging it lightly.

“You’re right about that, do you want to join?” He asked, looking over to you as he smirked.

“Only after you’ve washed the blood off, and on one condition.” You said.

“And what is that?” He asked.

“You lay with me for a while since you’ve been gone more often than not this week...that might help me sleep, at least until we have to get to work.” You said.

He smiled and nodded in agreement before getting up to rid himself of last nights business. You reluctantly getting up from the comfort of the sofa to join him in the steaming shower not soon after.

Showers always made everything better in a sense, so after it, you had no trouble falling asleep in Tommy’s arms.

You awoke later to the sun shining even brighter than before, signaling the afternoon, and you felt his warm arms still holding you as you lifted your head up slightly to look at him. He looked peaceful when he slept, or at least when he slept near you. Other times he’d be wide awake as the sounds of shovels and the muddy tunnels plagued his mind.

You carefully got up to not wake him and looked at the clock on the wall, lightly ticking in the distance and your eyes growing wide at the realization.

“My god...oh no...not again!” You said hurriedly.

“Thomas wake up! Thomas!” You said shaking his shoulder lightly.

His eyes shot open and he sat up immediately, looking around the room for any danger.

“What is it Y/N?” He said groggily and calming down as he saw you frantically getting ready.

“We overslept! Polly’s gonna kill us! We can’t be late to another meeting...you know this.” You said scurrying into the bathroom as you heard Tommy swearing under his breath.

He walked in as you were doing your hair quickly and putting in minimal effort to look presentable. Tommy was shirtless and standing behind you brushing his teeth, with his pants and belt undone as he’d hurriedly thrown a new pair on.

“You can finish getting ready and I’ll wait in the car.” You said moving out of his way and slipping your shoes on and grabbing your coat.

That was always the one little thing he loved about you, as you would always get ready quickly which often came in handy when he’d steal you away before other meetings or parties, and you still looked remarkable even if you put in minimal effort.

Not long after you started the car, he was bounding out the door and climbing into the drivers side, giving you a quick peck on the lips before speeding off towards the shop.

You looked at the watch Tommy had gifted you a while back, it reading 12:30pm as you both headed towards the familiar streets. People looked on as Tommy sped slightly through the streets earning some concerned glances.

With a lurching stop, Tommy parked the car and help you out, letting you inside the shop first as he followed.

“Y/N...Thomas...nice of you to join us.” Polly said smirking at you both as you walked in to the packed meeting room.

Tommy shook his head as he gave your hand a reassuring squeeze before sitting down and lifting a cigarette to his lips, wincing as Polly loudly re-hashed some of the news and plans involving the business.

“Tom, the London boys boss is wanting to meet you. Your message was delivered.” Michael said, eyeing him as he lit his own cigarette.

“When will he be here? 3 in the morning?” He asked, yawning on cue as you smirked, remembering the annoying events of last night.

“Actually yeah...What? That’s what he said...” Michael said confused.

You and Tommy shared a knowing look, as he rolled his eyes back to his brother.

“Alright...tell him it’s doing me a disservice but I’ll meet him...with backup of course.” He said looking to John and Arthur, they seemed just as tired, and still wearing their clothes from last night.

“For fucks sake. As long as you bury him this time Tom.” John said.

Tommy smirked in response, turning his gaze to you as you lazily rested your head on your arm, Polly glaring at you until you straightened up.

As much as you loved your husband, it was a known fact in the Shelby family that the wicked never rested. So you sighed as you accepted your fate, knowing sleep would elude you once again until business was done.

Tag List:

(If you’d like to be added/removed just shoot me an ask/message!) :)

@msbzowy, @nofckingfighting, @aranoburns, @sighonahurricane, @ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes, @gaytommyshelby, @wowjeena, @fifty-shadesof-tommyshelby, @inglourious-imagines, @thebloodyshelbys, @tsolomons, @blinder-secrets, @reveparade, @shelby-fanatic, @ta-ka-shi-ma, @psychkunox​, @peakyxtommy, @captivatedbycillianmurphy, @dreamwastakenx, @lovemissyhoneybee

[space-blue]

The Witch’s Son

I have complicated emotions regarding this one... I feel like it was a good idea, and short 1k word to truly make sense. And yet it co-won. Fifth competition win.

In the small but cosmopolitan city of Avon, there is an apartment building whose top floor flat is so filled with greenery, its balconies and roof so lush with plant-life, it would have made a Babylonian king feel at home. In the middle of this potted jungle stands a young man, broad of shoulders but with the slender build of a scholar. He leans on the railing, watching the sky bleed through the hues of evening. His dark hair catches in the breeze and dances with the ferns, making him quite the brooding picture.

His name is Lionel Delavine, the only son of the famous French witch Ayla Delavine, and in his hands rests a little corpse. To untrained eyes it would look like the nightmare child of a dragonfly and a praying mantis. To knowing ones, it is an ephemeral construct, created by an elemental or a witch. This one was made by Lionel's younger sister, when last she passed through Avon, but powered by his own magic. It has come home to die, and tell its maker tales of this day: heroics and close calls with death, and the more mundane minutes of travels on the winds and the sights of the city. It was its entire life story: born in the morning, it returned animated by the last bursts of its fugacious life.

Lionel puts the little creature down in its usual pot, and seals it for the night. His phone buzzes in his pocket, but he lets it go to voicemail, his thoughts too deeply entrenched in the maze of theoretical magic to escape quite yet. The ephemeral reported something unexpected this evening: it had expressed a sense of loneliness during some hours of its day, and a feeling of familiarity with that emotion, like it was nothing new. Of course it wasn't. Lionel's magic ensured the Ephemeral was reborn each morning at dawn, and it had gone about its business unknowing it had been doing so for the past fortnight. That vague awareness breaking the boundaries of its natural death is not completely unexpected. The whole thing is, after all, an experiment. It has simply gone somewhere Lionel could probably not puzzle out on his own.

He is but a witch's son, gifted at birth with a single Talent, and unable to learn and acquire more, unlike his sisters. Learning the theory behind a magic one cannot practice is a lot like learning mountaineering whilst living on an atoll. Not entirely impossible, but close. Lionel's pocket buzzes again, and he whips it out to find a missed call and a text, from Sandra, saying 'They're here, meet me at the Corner'.

He sighs, pleased at the prospect of a simple night's work.

----

The Corner is the supernatural community's watering hole in Avon, and inn for those passing through. It is also where the humans in the know come to rub elbows and search for deals and contracts. It is always a busy place and tonight is no exception. When Lionel pushes the door and people turn to take the newcomer in, the din of conversation dies, breath is held, heads nodded, and signs of respect waved. Some tense, others relax. The one thing humans of our age get wrong in their stories is that the apex predators are not the mythical vampires or werewolves, but witches. Lionel may only be a witch's son, but the second rung on the ladder of power isn't a meagre birthright.

He makes his way through the room, scanning for strangers through the crowd. There is a biker in rotting denims at the bar, a large finger buried so far up his nose there must be a gold nugget in there. Three men are huddled over their beers on a table by the jukebox. A red-haired woman is wolfing down a super-sized fish and chips in a booth.

"Here!" A woman with green hair waves from the adjoining booth.

"Evening, Sandra."

"Glad you could make it," she says, looking all business.

Sandra is an elemental, owner of a shop where she applies her single power–to make living things grow faster–to great commercial success. Most of Lionel's plants come from her nurseries. She also grows people's hair and nails, and employs two rather sanguine humans, Chen and Charlie, to work their art on those customers.

"I always have time for policing. So, where are they?"

Sandra tips her head, her full, richly coloured mane cascading over her shoulders, but her golden eyes never leave his.

"The blokes at that table."

"I guessed as much."

"They came back into the shop today," she murmurs, "gave Chen a scare. Ranted about taking over, me owing them protection now."

"Don't they always?" Lionel sighs, leaning over the table, reaching for his friend's shoulder. "Thanks. I'm sorry they targeted you first. I'll take care of it."

"Tonight? 'Cause now that they've seen us together..."

"Oh yes," he says, getting up, "I'll deal with them right now."

Sandra makes to speak, but Lionel has already turned away. For a moment he faces the men glowering at him over empty glasses, then he leaves. Outside the air is crisp now that the evening has succumbed to the night. The Corner is out of the way, close to the canal that winds its lazy way through the town towards the factories. Lionel picks up the pace. There is laughter behind him, shouts and heckles. They're following alright. He veers back into the town, through an empty business district, between large towers whose minimalist entrance halls are left lit and vacant, forlorn like some corporate purgatory.

"Hey, you in a hurry?"

"Yeah man, come over here!"

The men are all bluster now that they've caught up with Lionel in a deserted area. They fan out around him, and he takes a closer look at them.

"What can I do for you chaps?"

"For us?" the tallest asks, rolling his biceps under his shirt.

"You can leave the city without a fight," the calmest of them says.

"I'm afraid that won't be possible. Avon's my home and under my protection."

The last, a lanky blond youth, explodes in a hysterical laugher.

"Your protection mate?" he barks, "what's that worth? You're just a stupid magus. We're gonna eat ya up."

"Chill. We can probably talk this out," the calm one says.

The leader, then. Lionel watches them pace around him. There is an order, a harmony to their work of intimidation.

"What kind of shifters are you?" He asks.

Blondie flinches at his guess but the leader answers obligingly.

"Dingoes."

Lionel smiles in disbelief. Do they really think that three dingoes could face him and win?

"You know, you'd be more than welcome in the community. We don't have to do this."

"But we do!" The leader says. "Why shouldn't we, when this city is ripe for the taking? We couldn't believe that no one's tried, even though it's only got you for protection."

"Don't you think that's what deters wannabe overtakers?"

"What? You may be the son of that Ayla witch, but word is you're always locked up in that tower of your, trimming your bushes. I reckon we'll take a shot at it, ay?"

"After all we've got good arguments," the tall one adds, pulling out a gun. The others follow suit.

That, Lionel decides, explains their reckless optimism.

"Alright then," he says, "let's do this." And he steps towards the twitchy blond youth.

The shot makes a bright flash with a ridiculously tiny noise. Silencing seals? Expensive guns, Lionel thinks as his body crashes to the floor.

"Wow, that easy?" Tall one asks, surprised.

"Not really," Lionel answers, lifting his head.

The man yelps, startled, and shoots him twice more. Blood pools around him, but Lionel laughs. The men's panicked eyes roll, flashing white like the muzzles of their guns. Bullets rip through him and splash in the ever widening flow of his blood, a garish red under the electric lights.

When it has sipped far under their feet, Lionel dies, and takes them all with him.

----

"You okay mate?"

Lionel accepts the dingoes' leader's proffered hand.

"What a headache," blondie moans.

"Sure is."

"What the hell happened?"

Lionel looks at the bewildered men nursing throbbing temples.

"Don't you remember?" He asks them. "You came to me to ask me for straight work and protection in Avon. I'm taking you to Vendict's construction site. He'll have bed and board for you there too."

"Really?" Blondie beams. The tall man laughs.

"Well, you paid with those guns after all, it'll help settle you down. As I said, he's a fox shifter, you'll get right along."

The leader's feature soften, anxiety lifting its heavy grip.

"After so long on the road, and nowhere to call home... Thank you."

"It's alright," Lionel says, smiling back at them. "Welcome to Avon. Now let's hurry, I've got to get home before dawn breaks."

~~ January 2018 – Theme : Rebirth/Renewal

[egg-and-koji]

“Shadows of a Legacy” Lok Fanfic Ch 3 - Mako

160 AG

“Mako, come now, my sweet Dragonfly. We have to keep up with the line.”

At the airship station in Republic City, a mother called her young son. She held her hand out for him which he grasped as sacred. As they walked, he copied her steps; his gait overextended so his shorter legs kept up with her tiger-swan ones. When they reached the back of the waiting crowds, his grip on her soft, slender hand loosened as he jumped, trying to look over the people.

“I think. I see. Dad and Bo,” Mako said with each hop. 

 His mother laughed softly as she fixed his spiked widows’ peak. “I promise you’ll be taller than your father someday.” 

The eight-year-old raised his sharply angled eyebrows and gave her a small crooked smirk. His mother pulled him close, hugged her arms around him then clasped his small hands between hers and held their arms out like the bow of a ship. “S.S. Naoki is clear for sailing, Captain Mako,” she whispered into his temple. 

“Aye-aye!” He cheered and with a mix of giggles and engine sounds, the two politely cut through the waves of people to reach the rest of their family.

“Oh no, Captain! A pirate has First Mate Bo!”

A six-foot, middle-aged man dressed in a red scarf twisted around to face them. “Mwah haha, you’re too late to save him, Captain Mako,” he snarled dramatically out of the corner of his mouth and bounced the little chubby boy on his shoulders. “This whipper snapper’s turned to a life of pirating!” 

Bolin wrapped his father’s scarf around his own head and shouted, “Yar!” A bell marked the arrival of an airship. He dropped the scarf and wiggled against his father’s head. “It’s here, it’s here!” 

“Easy, little caterpillar, you’ll take my eye out with your heel,” his father chuckled. 

The young family moved with the flow of bodies as they lined up to have their tickets authenticated. Bolin ran his chubby fingers through his father’s greying hair, gripping tight whenever he pretended to drop him on Mako. The older brother laughed and tugged on the younger’s suspenders, making him whine and pop his thumb in his mouth for comfort. Naoki frowned at him and gently tugged on his hair.

Mako sighed and allowed her to usher him forward in front of her. His scrawny shoulders were caged in her silk-wrapped arms; his shelter; warm and loving as always. He tucked his arms up in hers, securing himself further as the comfort melted his bones. In every sense of the word; she was his world. When his firebending manifested two years ago, he deemed himself her protector; neither she nor his father were benders. The neighbors often teased Naoki, saying she made him without her husband San’s help. Mako had her pale ivory skin, sleek rook black hair, sunset orange eyes, and finely angled eyebrows. At least Bolin looked more like their father. 

“Do Granma and Granpa know we’re coming, Dad?” Mako tilted his head up to San walking beside them.

“I’m sure they received my letter,” he answered. “And I know they'll be very excited to meet you, boys.”

“But you said Granpa was sick?”

“He is,” his mother answered with a gentle squeeze, “and that’s why we’re going to Ba Sing Se before he gets too sick for visitors.” 

“What about momma’s Granma and Granpa?” Bolin slurred around his thumb.

“You mean mom’s mom and dad, not their mom and dad, Thumbsucker,” Mako mocked then tugged on his foot. Bolin whined and kicked away from him, his heel digging into their father’s armpit.

“Hey, come one now,” San warned.

As they inched closer to the ticket booth, Bolin squirmed. “I gotta potty!”

“I thought you took him already,” Naoki asked.

San turned to her with a disappointed look and whispered, “He tried.”

“I know where the bathroom is,” Mako beamed, “I can take him!”

“Hold on a second,” his father stopped Bolin from trying to wriggle off him. His stubby legs dangled as he touched the ground. San removed his scarf from around his neck and wrapped it around Mako. He weaved it around his neck like a tie. “There. Now we can find you in the crowd.”

Mako pulled the red cloth up over his nose; it smelled like his father’s cologne; a mix of the restaurant’s wood oven, cigars from his patrons, and a hint of Panda Lily from whenever he hugged Naoki. 

“Come on, Bo,” Mako said, grabbing his little brother’s free hand.

“Mako keep your little brother safe. Bolin, make sure you don’t let go of your brother’s hand, sweetie. Use your manners, boys. Oh and wash your hands,” Naoki called out after her sons as they disappeared in the sea of loud strangers and trolley whistles.

170 AG - Present Day 

“Hey! You gettin’ off here kid?” The trolley conductor barks at Mako, taking him out of his brief, unsatisfying nap. Amber eyes snap up at the old metalbender. He points out the window behind Mako’s head. “You said the police headquarters.”

“Yeah,” Mako grumbles, stretches from his slouched position against one of the trolley’s leaning poles then hops off. 

The mist that started at the end of his shift picked up into a drizzle. He pulls up the collar of his jacket to keep the rain from soaking his neck and scarf. The squeal of metal on metal echoes down the road as the conductor and rear metalbender push and pull the trolley on the rest of its route. 

A break in traffic lets Mako jog across the busy street to the front door of the Republic City's Police Headquarters. He drops his chin and shoves his hands in his pockets as he ducks in behind a sobbing family.

The chaotic movement of employees and civilians roars through the massive building. Wild, ringing alarms and telephones amplify the headache he desperately tried to ignore on the ride here. 

Suck it up, Champ, he tells himself over the noise.

He makes his way to the record department passing an elite metalbender officer sticking his nose up past a couple of out-of-shape, under-trained non-bender auxiliaries. Two upper-middle-class couples shout petty insults at each other and hurl baseless Equalist accusations. A freshly arrested triad initiate gets berated by a loud, red-faced shop owner, bringing up a shameful sense of deja vu for Mako. 

It’s odd to walk through the station without an escort and metal bracelets around his wrists. But the last few years haven’t given him a reason to be in any type of trouble with the law; the Fire Ferrets have gained a steady fan following and are now the team to look out for this season. Even better with the increase in Triad and Equalist activity.

Tension in the city has gotten worse since Amon’s disciples started publicly protesting again. As such it’s not unusual for some mistaken hooligans to get a little roughed up before getting cleared of whatever minor infraction brought them in. 

Mako rounds the corner of the main hall towards the department of records but stops and ducks back around the same corner. 

Shit.

Shady Shin’s obnoxious blue trench coat isn’t hard to miss against all the wood and metal features of the building. Mako slips away in the other direction, taking the long way around. He’d rather not deal with the Triple Threat right now; not after the other day. As if Bolin’s water tribe damsel even needed his help.

Leave it to Bo to try to “save” the Avatar. 

All he can do is suck it up and hope they have more important shit to deal with. He runs a hand through his damp hair, spiking up the front in his usual style, and straightens out his jacket before entering the department office.

Shadows from towering metal filing cabinets and massive volumes of paperwork cast over the front window. A few weeks ago this room was nice and tidy. The only thing remotely clean is the desk pushed up against the front. But no one’s there.

Maybe the old man finally got crushed by the mess.

He isn’t on his lunch break as Mako memorized his activity; can’t miss out on office hours if he knows the times by heart. Plus, he made sure to get there early, just in case. 

Mako taps the call bell and waits. 

No answer.

He’s about to tap it again when he hears shuffling footsteps.

An old, hunched clerk hobbles out from behind a pile of boxes. His crusted lips smack together as he huffs and groans his way up to the front desk. He doesn’t bother his visitor a glance as he flips through a thick ledger and deadpans, “Name.” 

“Mako.”

With another smack of his lips, he says, “Oh, you again…”

Mako ignores him. “You said two weeks, sir.”

“Eh, your request hasn’t gone through,” he says, flicking his wrinkled hand at the backed-up in-voices. 

“That’s what you said two weeks ago.”

“Well, so-rry...but the chief’s rather busy with Equalist and triad yahoos.”

“All she needs to do is sign the form,” Mako says in a neutral tone.

The clerk smacks his lips again and sizes him up. He scoffs. “And all you need to do is wait for it...unless you’d rather get one of your buddies to forge her signature.”

There’s no point in trying to argue with the cranky geezer. Mako clamps his teeth to keep his jaws from twitching.

Cool-under-fire.

He keeps his tone neutral as he says, “I’ll check back in another few weeks.” He places his hands on his upper thighs and gives his elder a low bow. “Thank you, sir.”

“Mhm,” the clerk sniffs then crawls to the back of his lonely dusty cave. 

Mako leaves the office. It takes every ounce of control to not slam the door on the way out. He takes a second to collect himself; white-knuckled grip still wrapped around the doorknob. 

First they “misplace” it, now they ignore it.

The irony isn’t lost on him. But he lets the frustration fade and makes his way back up to the main floor. After a quick peek to make sure Shady isn’t there, he leaves the building. The rain died down to a light mist again and the trolley to get back to the arena is already there taking in passengers. Mako lines up with the rest of them. 

As the line shifts, someone to his right seems to forget the concept of “personal space”. Then another one to his left. Behind the trolley, a familiar thundering engine lowers to a hum. Mako sighs internally as the driver's expensive leather shoes clap against the pavement. 

“Well if it ain't the captain of the street rats-whoops Fire Ferrets, Fire Ferrets-my mistake, Champ," Shady Shin snivels behind him. 

Ping-to Mako’s right-hisses at the waiting riders making them scurry up into the trolley. Mushi moves from his left side to intimidate the conductors to move along. No one on the street bats an eye as the Triple Threat surround the young firebender. 

“Ya know,” Shady continues, “the boys didn’t appreciate Bolin’s little stunt the other day.” Mako doesn’t blink as Mushi spits out a glob of chewing tobacco at his feet. Shady drapes his arm over Mako’s shoulder. “Bail’s gettin’ pricier every day and we’ve got a sweet deal bringin’ in some serious paper tonight. But now...we got the tinmen on our asses, Champ.”

“I can pay you back next week.”

“With the team’s winnings? Oh wait, that’s right...you don’t got any. Well, I bet the plant’s payin’ good with the city’s new programs in place huh?” 

Here, we fucking go…damnit, Bolin.

Mako shrugs, “Yeah.”

“Thought so, but not everybody’s happy about it. Matter of fact, the supervisor’s a regular at The Jolly Cat and let me tell ya, man’s a real talker once you get a few drinks in ‘em,” Shady muses, “says profits took a hit from havin’ to cough up extra pay to all the fuckin’ ash makers he’s forced to hire.”

Ping snickers as he weaves a coil of flames around his fingers to light the cigarette hanging from his thin lips. He inhales deeply and blows the cloud of smoke in Mako’s face. 

Mako tilts his head away then runs a thumbnail over one of his brows. He keeps a lookout for another trolley as he sniffs, “So what do you want Shady?”

The waterbender’s twisted smile lives up to his name. He tsks, “Pah, the boss wanted me to bring you both in for the usual "talk" but...I persuaded him otherwise.”

“By?”

“Like I said, we’ve got a deal goin’ down tonight. No doubt our competitors’ve heard about it so we’re callin’ in all the bodies we can. And that includes you, Mr. Star-Athlete.”

"I've got a match tonight."

"It won’t be ‘til after. Plus, I'm sure you'll bring your A-game so this goes over smoothly."

A close-by trolley sounds its bell. Mako catches a glimpse of it in his peripheral vision. His jaw flexes as he says, "and if I refuse?"

"We all know you're smarter than that," Shady shakes his head. "But if it helps, the supervisor cried he'd get canned if the owner knew he hired any ex-traid. Got a real hard-on for us goodfellas."

The trolley pulls up and stops a few feet ahead. Mako eyes Shady Shin. "Where?"

"Cabbage Corp Docks.” Shady gives him his infamous slimy grin and pushes off his shoulder with a light pat. Mako boards the trolley and watches the three Triple Threats slitter back to Shady’s hotrod. As he climbs into the driver's seat, Shady calls out, “Good luck on your match, Champ."

Bolin’s gone from their dusty attic when game time comes around and having rested a few hours before soothed Mako of his headache.

He partially dresses in his gear; the rest in the locker room. The team’s waterbender, Hasook waits for him in the hall outside of the gym. He’s silent as he trails behind Mako dressed in a similar Pro-Bending uniform; a thick, neck-high protective undershirt and matching tights, a long-sleeved jersey and loose trousers with attached shoulder, elbow, and knee pads, and a pair of light-weight flexible boots all in their team’s white, red, and orange colors. The only differences are the few strips of color marking them as a water, fire, or earthbender.

The faint hum of the cheering crowds gathered to watch barely registers over the sound of his brother’s boisterous laugh coming from the locker room. The two benders enter to see Bolin with the Avatar laughing and leaning against the opened stadium railing.

“Aw man you’re lucky you’re the Avatar,” Bolin says, “you’d prolly be locked up for a while with the mess that fight caused.”

The Avatar shrugs and clicks her tongue. “Yeah, it’s nice to have “connections” in the city.

Connections my ass.

Mako takes a silent deep breath through his nose. Upon his exhale, he becomes “Team Captain” and tunes out the rest of their chatter as he opens his small locker and starts strapping on his padded fingerless gloves. His mind goes blank; empty for a few minutes before the light above the locker doorway signals the team to step out onto the platform. 

He grabs his helmet, shuts the locker, and walks towards the platform, ignoring the Avatar as she says, “Hey thanks for your guys attempt at helping me out. I obviously didn’t need it, but I still appreciate the thought.“

“Come on, Bolin,” he says, “we're up.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Mako hears Bolin tell her as he walks away from them, “my brother just gets real... focused before the match.”

Focused?

Focused would have gotten me that police report. Focused wouldn’t have gotten me pulled into shit with Shady. 

Focused...focused would have saved-bury it away, Champ!

The thick padding of Mako’s helmet muffles Bolin’s quick footsteps as he jogs onto the platform with the rest of their team. From his peripheral vision, his brother stretches to psych himself up. This is just another game for him. Hasook on his other side looks like he’d rather be anywhere else but here. Mako buries his annoyance. He figured something like this with him was coming sooner or later. He just didn’t think it’d be right as the fucking match starts. 

The stadium goes dark. The crowd’s hum gets louder. Spotlights from the ceiling shine down on the playing field. Rising from the platform in the middle, the announcer raises his microphone, points to one end of the field where an extending platform carries the three Fire Ferrets forward, and shouts to introduce them. 

Bolin’s obnoxious fangirls are somehow the loudest in the full house. The crowd roars and applauds. For an insignificant-unwanted-moment, Mako wishes it was really for him; that the people actually wanted him.

But he knows...

Pro-Bending...the power plant. These are the only ways a firebender like me gets accepted in this fucking city. 

And acceptance is key to his and his brother’s survival. So like a good little firebender, he salutes and waves to the crowd with a small smile. 

The two teams line up on either side of the field's centerline and assume Bending stances; hunched forward, knees slightly bent and fists held high. Mako eyes his opponents, The Tigerdillos; older benders with several more games under their belts than them. But his team wants this win more. They need two more wins to enter the tournament. He takes a deep breath, feeling his chi energies flow; the heat builds in his stomach and spreads out to his limbs, pooling at his fingers and toes. 

Focus.

The bell clangs and the two teams leap back to the back of their first 'zone', flinging elements at each other. Mako kicks out a burst of flames at his target while Bolin and Hasook deal with theirs.

Cool-under-fire.

He keeps his fists up to protect his head as he dips out of the way of an earth disk and flame blast. The elements whistle past his head. He takes a quick inhale and counters on the exhale with two fiery jabs. A stream of water and another disk fly at him. He keeps his elbows tight as they fly past his head then inhales deeply this time to send out a powerful fireball. The attack barely misses the middle Tigerdillo and the other two come forward to strike at Hasook and Bolin. Both attacks land, pushing them into the second zone.

The buzzer sounds and the zone border lights up.

The Tigerdillos advance on Mako. He dodges their attacks with a few backflips, but an earth disk hits him square in the gut. All the protective padding absorbs the painful force but the impact still sends him sliding back. One foot just over the zone's backline.

Buzzer.

He stifles a snarl as the border lights up again.

The centerline of the field lights up green, giving the clear for all three Tigerdillos to advance into the Fire Ferret's first zone and the Pro-benders continue their attacks. 

Bolin launches an earth disk that gets deflected back by the Tigerdillo’s earthbender. It hits Hasook, knocking him into the final zone.

Another buzzer.

The Tigerdillo waterbender kicks a disk of water at Mako and Bolin. The brothers dodge it, but Hasook is knocked off his feet. After another attack, he disappears from the field. Mako and Bolin brace together before splitting apart to dodge water and earth attacks. Bolin’s knocked into zone three. Mako follows shortly after taking a hit of his own. 

Fuck. He doesn’t bother looking up at the score lights. 

“Round one goes to the Golden Temple Tigerdillos!” The Announcer shouts as the bell clangs repeatedly and the crowd hollers. 

The brothers take their places back in their first zone as their waterbender rejoins them.

Mako tilts his head to him and says, “come on Hasook, get your act together.”

The bell clangs and the next round starts. The Tigerdillos line up to send consecutive attacks. All three connect with the Ferrets and immediately push them back into the next zone, but they quickly counter, pushing the opposing team all the way into their last zone, winning them the round.

Bolin and Hasook cheer. Mako ignores them and uses the break to try to catch his breath. 

The last round starts. Both teams leap back at the bell. The Tigerdillo waterbender targets Hasook. He dodges two attacks and nearly stumbles into Mako. Another attack pushes him into Bolin instead.

The two tumble onto the floor. 

“Get up!” Mako shouts then sends out a few jabs. 

The Tigerdillo earthbender kicks a disk at the two tangled Pro-benders, striking them as they're in the process of getting back up and both are sent flying out the back of the field, leaving Mako in a three-on-one showdown.

The Tigerdillo waterbender kicks a shot at Mako, who dodges under it. Additional attacks of all three elements come at him as he runs across the arena, ducking and spinning to avoid each one until he’s backed up against the edge of the field. Another step backward and he’ll be in The Drink with the rest of his team and another season cut short.

He pants. His ears throb from his quickened pulse. Sweat drips down his face. 

‘Mako…’, he hears his mother whimper.

No... not now! 

He tries to calm his breathing as the Tigerdillos advance. They’re relentless.

But Mako’s calm, bobbing and weaving and patient. He waits for his chance to strike. Waits for the Tigerdillos to wear themselves down.

Always waiting for the opportunity to come out on top. 

There! 

He twists out of the way of an attack and throws his own. The fireball passes right through the Tigerdillo waterbender's prepared attack, turning it to steam, slamming into his chest, and tumbles straight over the back edge of the field. 

The crowd’s roar vibrates through Mako’s veins. With it, he goes on the offensive. A heavy fireball jab. Two fiery flying kicks. And a deeper inhale to let out a massive flare generated with both arms extended. Although the remaining Tigerdillos block some of his attacks, their Firebender takes a hit, flies backward into the railing, and bounces out the back and into the water.

‘Mako-’

A red, buring haze falls over the world as Mako and the last standing Tigerdillo toss attacks with abandon. Both benders want this victory.

Mako needs it.

Earth and fire collide. Disks explode. Mako kicks a powerful flaming slash into the dust cloud. It connects with the Tigerdillo and pushes him back into his zone three. 

Mako leaps into the dust cloud with a flaming fist. He strikes the Tigerdillo’s earth desk. A wave of flames shatters his pathetic shield; the impact sends him crashing over the edge of the field. 

The bell clangs. 

The game ends. 

The arena trembles with the crowds’ thunderous cheers.

And the Fire Ferrets' firebender stands alone in utter silence.

‘Promise me…’

He lets out a short sigh of relief, becoming “Team Captain” again, and pulls off his helmet to gaze out at the cheering crowd before stepping back to the extending platform to return to the locker room. 

Hasook joins him on the platform as it moves. “Well played, Captain. But if you wanted to show off, you could have just told us.”

“You serious right now?” Mako side-eyes him then keeps his focus ahead. “Yeah, I carried your ass since you did more harm than good out there and almost cost us the match,” Mako sneers as they reach the locker room.

Hasook rips off his helmet and scoffs, “We fucking won didn't we?”

“Barely.”

“Fuck off!” Hasook throws his helmet to the floor with a growl and stomps out of the locker room.

“Useless.” 

“You guys were incredible out there,” the Avatar says, souring his mood.  “Especially you, Mr. Hat Trick.”

He walks past her without a glance. “Oh... you're still here? Thought you’d have Avatar stuff to work on.”

“Oh, you're still a jerk?” She mocks, “don’t you have people skills to work on Team Captain?”

“Ooh and the Avatar showcases her firebending with a sick burn, ha ha,” Bolin laughs.

Mako fights with the straps of his gloves as the Avatar continues. “Anyway, I've been immersed in Bending my entire life but I never learned how to move like that. It's like there's a whole new style here. Think you could show me a few tricks?”

“Ab-so-lutely,” his brother sings.

Having stripped off his gloves and stored them and the helmet back in the locker, Mako heads out to leave the room and says, “You kids have fun with that.”

The Avatar scoffs, “Pft kids? Aren’t you like, what, seventeen?”

“Eighteen,” Bolin corrects, then asks, “Mako, you’re not gonna watch me-your little brother-teach the Avatar...ya know, “master of all four elements”, some of my earthbending tricks? Seriously bro?”

Mako pauses. His back is to them. His brother can’t see his smirk fade into a restrained frown. “Nah,” he shrugs, “gonna see a guy about some job.” He holds up a hand in a half-wave as he steps out of the room. “Nice to meet you... Avatar Korra.” 

After a quick shower and change of clothes, Mako barely takes two steps out of the arena’s peninsula when he sees Shady Shin already waiting for him in his hotrod. 

“Killer game, Champ,” Shady whistles. He flicks away his cigarette butt as Mako gets in the passenger seat. 

“I thought we were meeting there,” Mako says. He leans an arm on the door and keeps his head low.

“And miss my boys’ game, not a chance,” he smirks.

The tires squeal as he rips downs the street. The golden glow from the Pro-Bending arena is replaced by Downtown's bright lights. It’s close to midnight, but Republic City never sleeps. Night only brings out the downtrodden side everyone pretends doesn’t exist. Traffic is chaotic, not that it matters much with Shady’s driving. He weaves between cars, inching them closer to their destination. 

“You’re awfully quiet,” Shady drawls from the corner of his mouth, “thought you’d be peppier after your big win, just one more right?”

“Mhm,” Mako says indifferently. He adjusts his long legs, fixing a fold in one of his knee-high spats, and says nothing else.

“Always so serious, kid. Eh, maybe it's good. Keep yourself level-headed huh?”

Shady pulls in behind the docks of Cabbage Corp; the city’s first automobile manufacturer; gone downhill since Future Industries created a monopoly off all the city’s technology. Two moving trucks come from another direction and park between some stacked high shipping containers. Ping and Mushi-two of the other Triple Threat officers-hop out. Some of Shady’s low ranking henchmen jump out from the back of the trucks. 

Shady parks a few feet away. Mako follows him out of the car. He shoves his hands in his pockets and scoffs, “You called half the crew, the fuck you need me for?”

“The extra firepower’s nice, but really... we just need your “Jazz Hands”, kid, in case these guys feel like wisin’ up.”

Typical.

“Zolt’s too caught up ruling his empire, he can’t do it himself?” 

“What can I say, he’s a busy man.”

The two join the rest of the gang huddled around the trucks. Shady Shin checks in with Mushi then tells the rest of those gathered to be on guard of their dealers. Mako’s greeted with enthusiastic praise for the Fire Ferrets’ win. Several non-benders gush about the play-by-play they heard on the radio. 

“Ey, hold on. How come your little bro’s gettin’ more tail than you?" One of them snickers.

“He ain’t getting shit,” Mako sniffs, crossing his arms and leaning against the hood of one of the trucks. 

“True, he’s too much of a chump,” Mushi laughs wickedly. Some of the guys chuckle.

“Alright, but what’s the deal with you, Mr. Big Shot?” Another Triple Threat eyes him with a gap-toothed grin. “You had that prissy eye-candy for a while there-uhh-” He snaps his fingers trying to remember. 

Shady says, “Mr. Sato’s girl. You lose your game with’er, Champ?”

“No,” Mako says as he shifts his weight to his other leg, “it just didn’t work out.” A universal echo of disappointment ripples through the gathered men. 

“Eh, it’s cuz he’s a chump...like his brother,” Ping croaked as the groans and boos died down.

“Oh yeah?” Mako softly challenges. 

“Yeah,” Ping repeats himself then lights a cigarette. “Man...skills like yours, I’d have dames left and right; one for every day of the week.” He whips around, starts dry humping the truck’s headlight and in a high pitched scratchy voice moans, “Ooh, Ping! Ahh...you’re soo much better than that little prick Mako...mmm, ahh!”

The other Triple Threat screech and holler at Mako’s expense. 

He takes a flask from an older earthbender and says, “A partner helps, but nothing’s stopping you from practicing by yourself. Oh, shit wait-you meant firebending? Nevermind mind then, can’t help you there. Sorry.” 

That earns him a few chuckles from some of the older Triple Threat members. Ping flicks his still-lit cigarette away. Mako uncaringly takes a swig from the flask and passes it to his right. The liquor pricks down his throat. Numb. Just like he wants to be for the situation Bolin unknowingly dragged him into. 

Shady Shin whistles everyone to attention as a few Cabbage Corp trucks pull up to them. Shady and the other officers form a half-circle in front of them. Mako stays towards the back with the rest of the Triple Threats. He takes another swig of the flask when it makes its way around again. It drowns his long ignored and buried loneliness.

A couple of guys dressed in the business’s jumpsuits get out of their trucks. The lead dealer walks up to Shady. Mako doesn’t hear what they're saying nor does he really care. The dealer signals for one of his people to unload the truck. They push over a few crates of boxed car parts. Shady stops one and has them open it. Mushi’s hulking figure steps up to one. His hand disappears into the box.

Then it clicks in Mako’s head. There’s a reason Shady’s putting so much trust in the giant earthbender. Mushi pulls his massive hand out of the box. A small amount of pale green powder sits underneath his disgusting long pinky nail that he dumps onto the tip of his equally disgusting tongue. 

Mushi pulls his lips back over his gums like a beast. “It’s good boss.”

Duffle bags packed with stacks of yuans exchange hands. The Triple Threat peons load the crates into their trucks. With the deal done, the Cabbage Corps guys scatter. Mako’s left disappointed, leaning against the hotrod as the Triple Threat’s recruiter dismisses the rest of his gang. 

Shady returns to the car. “Looks like we didn’t need you at all, my bad, Champ.”

“Figures…”

Shady pulls out a roll of yuans from his pocket and tosses it to him. “Think of it as an investment into your future.”

“Don’t bother. I’ve got it covered,” Mako says, tosses it back, and walks away. 

“You mean the plant,” Shady calls out. “You’re no more a machine to them than the piles of scrap metal they use your bending to power Mako...you know the Boss’ll take you back. No questions asked.” The young firebender stops in his tracks. Shady presses. “It’s a long walk to the arena…”

Mako stands far enough away that Shady can’t hear his defeated sigh. He calls out over his shoulder, “I can manage.”

Pale rising scarlet paints the sky by the time he gets back to the arena. Bolin’s snoring reaches the gym floor as he walks in. His footsteps on the creaky stairs don’t wake his heavy sleeper brother. Pabu chirps as Mako reaches the top step into their apartment. The little fire ferret pokes his head out from his owner’s loft. Mako holds his finger up to his lips to urge the critter to go back to sleep.

He strips down to his old, torn white tank top and faded, striped boxers then crawls up the ladder to his separate loft. He flops down on his thin, lumpy mattress. Pride and shame battle over his decision to toss back Shady’s cash.

It could've been enough to get them out of their living situation. But it was dirty money. He spent the last three years trying to do right by his brother. Tonight he came close to crossing his line.

His eyelids grow heavy and his head lightweight as the last of his energy slips from his body.

There isn’t enough to push her voice away again.

‘Mako...promise me, you’ll keep him safe.’

He swallows the sand in his throat and blinks away the stinging at the corner of his tired eyes as his lids finally fall.

[sarah-writes-stories]

Chapter 11: Future Imperfect

A Post-Canon Inuyasha Romance/Adventure Epic

Find it on: Fanfiction.net / AO3 / Wattpad

Words: 2,474

Prologue  •  Chapter 1  •  Chapter 2  •  Chapter 3  •  Chapter 4  •  Chapter 5  •  Chapter 6  •  Chapter 7  •  Chapter 8  •  Chapter 9  •  Chapter 10  •  Chapter 11  •  Chapter 12  •  Chapter 13

⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯

"M– Morning, Kagome." Inuyasha stammered nervously.

"Don't you 'morning Kagome' me, Inuyasha. What were you four talking about?" Her hands move to rest on her hips, the toe of her shoe tapping out an impatient beat.

Both Rin and Miroku seemed disinclined to make the situation any worse, but Shippō, who had initially been shocked into silence by Inuyasha's snarky reveal, held no such qualms.

"Is it–? Is it true?" He whimpered at Kagome.

"Shippō…" Inuyasha growled in warning at the same time that Kagome asked the kit, "Is what true, Shippō?"

"Inuyasha said that you guys were gonna– Mmph!" Shippō couldn't finish. Inuyasha had lurched forward and grabbed him, clamping his clawed hand firmly over the kit's mouth.

It didn't seem to stop Shippō from struggling and trying to talk, as a great deal of mumbling and grumbling erupted from behind Inuyasha's hand.

"Inuyasha…" Kagome had hand enough. "SIT BOY!"

Shippō was thrown aside right before Inuyasha's face slammed into the ground.

"Now that is something I never thought I'd be lucky enough to see again in this lifetime!" Miroku laughed outright, shaking his head at the sight.

"Kagooooome?!" Inuyasha tried to sound incredulous around a mouthful of dirt.

Kagome was instantly mortified at what she had done. "Ack! Inuyasha, I'm so sorry! I don't know what just came over me! Kuso! Please, forgive me! Here, let me take those damned beads off once and for all!"

"NO!" Inuyasha almost looked panicked at the idea.

"'No'? But why?" Kagome was absolutely shocked that he would refuse.

"Because…" He grumbled, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"Because why?"

"Because I said NO that's why! Look, wench, these beads have saved both our asses more times than I'd like to admit, and if the price of that is that sometimes you're gonna SIT my ass when I've been a baka, then fine. So you leave them be!" He practically snarled the last words.

Kagome could only stand there staring at Inuyasha in shock. In a huff, he finally turned away from her, nose pointed to the sky.

Miroku cleared his throat, reminding the arguing couple about their audience. It also reminded Kagome about why she'd SAT Inuyasha in the first place.

Sheepishly she cleared her throat. "Now, Shippō, you were saying?"

"Inuyasha said that you two were gonna be mates! Can you believe that, Kagome?!" He was sure that Inuyasha would get SAT at least three more times now for making up such stories.

Kagome was immediately livid all over again. "You–? You told them? Without me?!"

Inuyasha cringed.

"SIT BOY!"

He slammed back down to the ground again.

"Wait," Shippō was confused. "You mean, it's true?!"

Kagome wasn't paying attention to the kit. She was still glaring at the small crater in which her fiancé lay. "I change my mind. You totally deserve to keep those beads on for the rest of our lives!"

Inuyasha knew he'd fucked up. "I'm sorry, Kagome. I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to. It just slipped out before I could stop it."

He slowly climbed back to his feet, but he couldn't bring himself to look at her. "I'm sorry." He softly the words again, softly this time.

Miroku took pity on his friend. "Kagome, it truly was an accident on his part. The second the words were out I could see that he wished to take them back."

Kagome sighed and looked at Inuyasha who had inched up closer beside her, if still not looking at her.

"It really was an accident?" She asked him.

"Yeah…" He mumbled before continuing. "Look wench, I promise. I won't tell anyone else. Sango still doesn't know yet, and there's the headman and the rest of the village, too. I'll keep my trap shut and you can be the one to tell everyone else. Deal?"

Kagome was still disappointed by she could tell that Inuyasha was sorry. She wouldn't torture him anymore.

"Fine…" She said with resignation.

He looked over at her with hopeful eyes. "So, you forgive me?" He sidled even closer, taking her hands in his.

Kagome's heart melted at the tentative yet tender touch.

"I'll always forgive you, Inuyasha." She blushed and smiled up at him, love shining in her eyes.

Rin sighed dreamily. "Oh, Inuyasha-oniisama, Kagome-chan, this Rin is so happy for you both!"

Kagome smiled a genuine smile at the girl then. "Thank you, Rin-chan. I'm very happy as well."

"You are?" The question came tentatively from a very sullen-looking Shippō.

Kagome looked down at the Kitsune. He sat on the ground, arms crossed over his chest in a striking imitation of Inuyasha.

"Yes, Shippō, of course I am. I would never have agreed to marry Inuyasha if I didn't love him very much."

"But he was always so mean to you."

"Maybe. But you know Inuyasha, he's kind of mean to everybody." She smirked, giving the kit a wink.

"Oi, wench, I'm standing right here you know!"

Kagome only turned and stuck her tongue out at him over her shoulder before continuing her conversation with the fox-boy.

"He may be gruff and grumpy, but he loves me and I love him." She paused when Shippō remained sullenly silent. She knew her kit so well and instinctively understood the real problem.

"But that doesn't mean that I love you any less, Shippō. No matter what happens, I will always be here for you. I told Inuyasha last night, but you should know, too, that I'm not leaving anymore, Shippō. I won't be going back through the well again. I plan to stay here with you and Inuyasha and everyone. So you see? This is a good thing. Can you be happy for me, Shippō?"

Shippō was silent for a long moment, considering Kagome's words.

"Can I still cuddle with you at night?"

Inuyasha let out a strangled sound from low in his throat, and Kagome blushed a bright red, though Shippō wasn't sure what it was about his question that had made them both react so strangely.

It was Miroku who finally answered the kit's question, a sly look in his eyes. "I do not think so, Shippō, for you see, you are no longer the only one who wishes for that honour."

⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯

Miroku was the first to leave the small gathering, returning home to eat his morning meal with his wife and children, though not before swearing to Kagome that he would not speak a word to Sango about their announcement until Kagome herself had had the chance to do so first.

And just as he'd waved farewell, Inuyasha let them know that he needed to go as well. He had to do a quick perimeter patrol of the village and the surrounding area, but he promised to be back before the morning meal was ready, promising to bring back a few fish to contribute.

With that, Rin, Shippō, and Kagome went inside. They found Kaede already awake and sitting in the kitchen area attending to the pot that would soon hold their breakfast soup.

Rin sat beside Kaede, offering to help her prepare the vegetables, while Shippō when over to a corner of the room. He always kept a small ball in his jacket for times like this. He tossed the ball up in the air and caught it, settling in to wait for his breakfast.

Kagome moved to tidy up her sleeping space, before joining the older woman near the fire.

"Anything I can do to help?" She asked.

"Aye, child, ye may wash the rice and prepare it for the pot."

"Of course, Kaede-sama."

As Kagome went about her assigned task, Kaede watched her. Still marvelling at the strange turn of events that had not only brought the young woman back to this world, but had changed the course of the child's entire life so utterly, and in such a short amount of time. She wondered what the future might have in store for the girl. She was a Miko and yet had not been trained as such. Kaede knew that, up until now, Kagome had survived on the instinctual use of her powers, alone.

"Kagome, child?"

"Yes, Kaede-sama?"

"Have ye given any thought to what you would like to do with yourself now that ye are to live here permanently?"

"You mean, besides marrying Inuyasha?" Kagome smiled cheekily at the older woman.

Kaede returned her smile. "Aye, child, besides that."

Kagome paused in her washing of the rice, drying her hands on the towel beside her, before putting a thoughtful finger to her lips.

"Well, I expect I'll have to learn how to take care of a home here in this world, though I have no idea what that entails. I expect I'll have to rely on you and Rin and Sango to teach me what I don't know. Then there's my training. I kept it up while I was gone and I'd like to continue. I tend to practice with bow and arrow three times a week, plus a couple days of mock hand-to-hand defensive combat… and I try to do a basic sword kata once a week as well."

"My goodness, child, I had no idea ye'd been training throughout your absence!"

"Oh, hai. I wanted to be ready the second the well let me back through."

It was Rin who spoke up next, she'd been practically bursting with questions since she'd heard that the older girl had returned, and it seemed like now she might just have a chance to ask what had been on her mind for almost three years. "Kagome-chan, Inuyasha-oniisama had once tried to explain to this Rin what your other world beyond the well was like. Is it true that you have come to us from a future time?!"

Kagome could see the amazement written all over Rin's face at the very idea of it. "Yes, it's true, Rin. My family are the keepers of the shrine that guard the Bone-eater's Well and the Goshinboku. Everything you see here around you will one day become a massive city. Everywhere you look there will be buildings as tall as the sky, roads paved in a sooth, rock-like substance called concrete. It's a world filled with all sorts of mechanical and technological wonders that you can't even imagine. But in the middle of it all, our family kept the well and the sacred tree safe."

"Wow…." was Rin's only response. Shippō had inched closer to listen to Kagome speak, as well.

Kagome smiled at the girl's wondering face, but she was not prepared for the girl's next question.

"And where is Lord Sesshōmaru's kingdom? Is it nearby your great city?"

"Lord– Lord Sesshōmaru's kingdom?"

"Hai! When I travelled with Lord Sesshōmaru, Master Jaken would often talk to this Rin about our Lord's plan to establish a vast kingdom and rule over it once another century or so had passed. I know that I will not live to see such a wondrous sight, but I was wondering if you would tell this Rin all about it. Have you ever visited?"

Kagome was suddenly very uncomfortable. She had not mentioned to anyone anything about the fears that had taken root in her after that fateful night when she and her friends had realized that it something must have happened between now and then.

Something really bad.

She'd hoped to ease into trying to solve this mystery, but it looked like, perhaps, fate had other plans for her.

"Uh, Rin-chan, before I fell through the well and came to this time I had never heard of Lord Sesshōmaru."

Rin looked utterly confused by Kagome's words, as though they could not possibly be true.

"He doesn't have a kingdom in the future, Rin, not even the kingdom he has now in the West. In fact, there are no youkai anywhere in the future at all."

Rin's jaw dropped open at her words, but she continued. "Youkai are thought of as myths. Fairy stories that parents make up to scare their children. The only person I knew who actually believed they were real was my grandfather. He always believed though I have no idea why. He used to tell me tales of the Shikon no Tama when I was a child, but before I came here, I thought someone had totally made it up all."

Everyone in the room fell silent. The shock written across their faces was unmistakable.

"But– But– that is not possible. My lord is… dead?" Rin said the words in horror, her hands rising to cover her distressed face.

"What about me?!" Shippō said suddenly. "In 500 years I'll only be 508! I should still be alive. What about Kitsune, Kagome? There are still Kitsune in the future, right?"

He was worried that he might already know the answer to his question.

"Oh, Shippō. I'm so sorry. No Kitsune either, and I don't know what happened to you. If you were still out there somewhere you never came looking for me." Her voice was sad.

"I woulda come, Kagome." The young boy sniffled. I woulda come…" He trailed off, a tear slipping down his round cheek.

"Kagome, why did ye never mention this to us before? All the times that you and Inuyasha travelled back and forth to that world, I assumed that it was as this one was. Are ye truly saying that there are no youkai or hanyou anywhere in your entire world?"

"Yes, that's what I'm saying Kaede-sama. But it's not just youkai and hanyou." Kaede gave her a questioning look.

"I mentioned that I barely felt my powers when I was back in that world, and I meant it. Where I come from there are still Monks and Mikos, but none of them have the kind of… magical… spiritual powers that we do here in this world. Not even my grandfather has even an ounce of spiritual power in his entire body, and he's been the guardian of our shrine his entire life!"

Kaede gasped at that. "These revelations are most disturbing, child. For things so ancient and unwavering to be gone so quickly..."

The older woman looked at Kagome for a long moment before continuing, "And it leads me to believe that your sudden return to this world has not occurred by coincidence."

⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯

A/N: I do not own Inuyasha, or any of the characters created by Rumiko Takahashi. (I only own this original story.)

And I love to hear from readers! Please leave me a comment below!

[swanqueeneverafter]

After The Sunset, Pt.13

Enchanted Forest. Past. The Nautilus. (Liam hands Nemo his knife before leaving the room. Seated, Will and Hook wait for Nemo to open the chest.) Hook: (Stands once Nemo lifts the chest lid and looks inside:) “A key? All this for a key? You're even madder than I thought.” Nemo: “This vessel has served as refuge for people to escape their past, but this is no place to build a new life. All we do is sail and sail with no place to call home.” Hook: “Well, how's a key gonna change that?” Nemo: “This isn't just any key. This key will open the gateway to a place called... the Mysterious Island. It is a place where we can all start over. This is your chance, Killian. You don't have to swim the dark waters any longer.” Hook: “I've spent too long chasing my Crocodile to give up now.” Will: “And not to sound ungrateful, but I’m not looking to start over, I just want off this bloody ship.” Nemo: “I know, but may I remind you that you weren’t invited here, Will. Listen to me, both of you. You've lost people you love. (To Will:) I know that's why you don't want to open your heart again, but what if I told you that the Mysterious Island was a place where you never have to lose anyone again?” Hook: “No, that's... that's not possible.” Nemo: “It is. Join my crew. See for yourself.” Will: “Look, I appreciate the offer, I do. But I can’t stay here.” Hook: (Glancing down at the knife on the table:) “That knife... where did you get it?“ Nemo: “It belongs to my first mate.” Hook: “He told me his family were taken from him... how?” Nemo: “He was a young boy when his father was murdered while he slept in his bed.“ Hook: “His name. What's your first mate's name?” Nemo: “Liam.” Hook: (Taken aback:) “Will’s right, we need to leave. Right now.”

Storybrooke. Present. Sheriff's Station. (Emma sits talking to Lily in the interrogation room.) Emma: "Are you sure you're up for this? Being sheriff isn't all about chasing down bad guys. A lot of people are gonna be judging every move you make and frankly, it can be a thankless job." Lily: (Scoffs:) "Beats the job I have now. So, do I get a uniform?" Emma: "Uh, yeah, if you want one. There should be some in one of those lockers over there. (As Lily goes to find one:) But you don't have to wear it." Lily: (Opening several lockers before finding what she needs:) "Oh, no. I think it'll be better if I do. It'll help me draw the line between work and play." Emma: (Coughs and turns away slightly as Lily starts changing:) "Uh, about that. The hours can be a little rough, too." Lily: (Changing:) "Wow, way to sell your job, Emma. Relax, I've had tons of crappy, underpaid jobs in my life. At least this one comes with a gun." Emma: "I'm serious, Lily. This isn't some waitress job you can quit because you don't like your boss. The buck starts and stops with you. You will be the boss and people will be relying on you to protect them." Lily: (Tying her hair up:) "Well technically isn't the Mayor your boss? I mean, at least that's how I've heard it is in your relationship." Emma: (As Lily removes her top:) "Very funny. I just wanna be sure you realise what you're taking on here. It's a lot of responsibility.” Lily: "Geez, Emma. If you're that worried about it, why did you ask me to cover for you in the first place?" Emma: (Relents:) "No, you're right. As long as you know you can still back out." Lily: (Finishes buttoning her shirt:) "Back out? (Stands straight:) Look at me, I was made for this." Emma: (Smiles:) "It does look good on you." Lily: "Damn right. Now, why don't you show me the ropes so you can get out of here and start enjoying yourself?" Emma: (Stands and heads for the door:) "We'll start with the phone system. If you can't work the phones, you can't help anyone." Lily: "Lead the way, chief."

Wonderland. Past. (Drizella and Eilonwy continue walking through the forest together when they come to a fork in the road.) Eilonwy: “Getting through that trap gives us a pretty big lead.” Drizella: “The question is, which way do we go to keep it?” Eilonwy: “Both. We're a team, right? If I was gonna screw you over, I would have let the trap do my dirty work for me.” Drizella: (Smiles:) “You're right. We meet back here?” Eilonwy: “With flowers in hand, and we win this thing.” Drizella: “Together. (Eilonwy walks off in one direction, Drizella another. Taking only a few short paces, Drizella spots Gothel stood waiting for her up ahead:) What are you doing here?” Gothel: “I've come to help you win. These other witches, they're just further traps for you, obstacles to test your resolve. You alone have proven yourself worthy to join the coven.” Drizella: “But you said there were two spots.” Gothel: “I lied. And about the flowers, too. There's none in these woods. Your real test has yet to begin. (Conjures a sai into her hand:) Prove you're one of us. Kill Eilonwy.” Drizella: “I don't want to do that.” Gothel: “But you do want your revenge. And the only way you're going to get that is with my family by your side. I warned you witches not to get too close.” (Gothel places the sai in Drizella’s hand then turns and walks away.) Enchanted Forest. Past. The Nautilus. (Hook and Will Scarlett enter the dive room, looking to leave quickly.) Hook: "Come on, lad. Let's get you out of here so you can see your sister." Will: "Look, not that I'm not grateful, but why the rush? Nemo saved our lives, surely we can-" Hook: “I killed my father.” Will: “What?” Hook: “You want to know why I care about keeping your family together, it's because I once had the chance of having my own.” Will: “With your dad? Then why did you kill him?” Hook: “He abandoned me and my brother. The why’s and where’s don’t matter, only that when I found and killed my father, I didn't just destroy his life. He had a son.” Will: “So you had another brother.” Hook: “Aye. He named him Liam, after my older brother. My father had started his life over as if my brother and I had never existed. That was just too much for me. So I killed my father, and I left an innocent boy an orphan.”

Nemo: (Entering, having overheard:) “You don't have to leave.” Hook: (Begins suiting up:) “Aye, mate. I'm afraid I do.” Nemo: “Running from Liam won't solve anything.” Hook: “It'll bloody well keep me alive.” Nemo: “He won't hurt you. He's given up on vengeance.” Hook: “Aye, you know why? Because he hasn't found the man who killed his father yet.” Nemo: “Not Liam. He wouldn't betray me like that. He's like a son to me!” Liam: (Slowly enters the room:) “I was the son to someone else once, too.” Nemo: “Liam.” Will: “Listen, Liam. Don't do this, mate.” Liam: (Ignoring him, to Hook:) “So, it's true?” Nemo: “I know how you feel, but killing this man won't quench that fire inside of you!” Liam: “You once told me how you hunted the men down who murdered your family, how you butchered every single one of them!” Nemo: “But that doesn't mean that you have to do the same.” Liam: (Drawing his knife:) “Oh, that's easy for you to say. You got your revenge.” Nemo: “And I've regretted it ever since. Liam, you're stronger than I was. We're so close to finally finding a home.” Liam: “I'm sorry, Captain... but you're wrong. My heart is no stronger than yours.” Nemo: “Liam!” (Liam lunges at Hook with his knife but Nemo steps in to take the blow himself.) Liam: (Helping the captain to the floor:) “No. No! No! No, no. (Hook meanwhile continues to quickly put on his dive suit:) You! You... you did this!” Hook: “No, I told him to let me go.” Liam: “No, don't you blame this on him! You're gonna pay for what you've done.” Hook: “You deserve better than this, brother. I hope you find it. (To Will, who looks on aghast:) And you, suit up so we can get out of here, quickly!” Will: “We can’t just leave him like this.” Hook: “If we don’t leave now the entire ship’s crew will come looking for us, and you’ll never see your sister again.” Will: (Watching as Nemo’s eyes flicker closed, quietly:) “No.” Hook: (Grabs and shakes Will:) “Pull yourself together and let’s get off this bloody ship!”

Wonderland. Past. (Drizella tucks the sai beneath her robes when Eilonwy returns.) Eilonwy: “You beat me back here. Does that mean you found something?” Drizella: “No, I was just thinking.” Eilonwy: “About what?” Drizella: “Gothel can't be trusted. What happened to you and your friend in that dungeon, it happened to my family, too, with Gothel. I don't want to be in her coven anymore. I know we haven't known each other for that long, but -” Eilonwy: “We have a connection.” Drizella: “Yes. You and I are all the sisterhood we need. Whatever it is you came here today to do, we can help each other do it.” Eilonwy: “I'm in. And I know how we're gonna get what we want. You may not have found a golden flower, but I did. (Reaches into her bag:) Come see for yourself.” Drizella: “I think I'll stay right here.” (Disappointed, Drizella steps back and reaches into her robe.) Eilonwy: “Oh. She came to you, too.” (Eilonwy draws her weapon a split second before Drizella. The two witches stand ready to fight.) Drizella: “I wanted you to leave here with me.” Eilonwy: “That's not an olive branch in your hand. Lower your weapon. (Drizella refuses:) That's what I thought.” (Eilonwy uses her magic to send Drizella’s sai flying into a tree before attacking with her own. Ducking and rolling out of the way, Drizella manages to fend off the attack until Eilonwy overpowers her. Attempting to drive the sai into Drizella’s chest, Eilonwy straddles the brunette.) Drizella: (Using all her strength to keep the sai away from her:) “I don't want to hurt you.” Eilonwy: “And I want a spot in that family. I need it.” Drizella: “I'm sorry.” (Drizella suddenly uses her powers to bring her own sai flying out of the tree and plunging it into Eilonwy’s back, killing her. Scrambling to her feet, Drizella looks down mournfully at the dead woman as Gothel appears behind her.) Gothel: “Congratulations. You did it.” Drizella: “I didn't want to.” Gothel: “But you did. Now let's talk about your vengeance, sister.”

Storybrooke. Present. Outside Town Hall. (Emma and Regina exit the town hall building hand in hand when David and Snow catch up to them.) Snow White: (Slightly out of breath:) "Emma, Regina, is it done, have you chosen your replacements?" David: "Because if not, we'd be more than happy to step in if you need us." (Smiling to each other, Emma and Regina apparently have been waiting for this opportunity.) Emma: (To her parents:) "Actually, that won't be necessary. Lily's already settled in at the station." Snow White: "Lily... Maleficent's daughter?" Regina: (Sarcastically:) "No, Lily Tomlin. Of course Maleficent's daughter." David: "Are you sure that's wise? I mean does she even-" Regina: (Cutting in:) "I happen to think she's a great choice for sheriff." Emma: (Nods:) "Thank you." Snow White: "Okay... well what about you, Regina. Have you chosen anyone for mayor, yet? I mean, I do have some experience with the job." Regina: "Yes and don't we all remember those few weeks with fondness." Emma: (Squeezing her wife's hand:) "Be nice. Actually, Mom, Regina's choice for mayor is just settling in. In fact, why don't you go make sure they feel welcome." Regina: (Smiling:) "Absolutely. I know for certain that they'd appreciate it." Snow White: (Looking between them for any sort of clues:) "All right. (Smiles:) I'd be happy to." David: "So, are you guys leaving soon or-" Emma: "Uh, I think as soon as possible would be best." Regina: (Agreeing:) "And if you need to contact us-" David: (Puts his hand up:) "I think the town can cope for a few weeks without you." Snow White: "David's right. Go and enjoy your honeymoon!" (Snow hugs her daughter while David gives Regina a kiss on the cheek. Swapping, Snow squeezes Regina tightly while Emma hugs her father.) David: "Have fun, you two." Emma & Regina: (Watching as the Charmings enter the building:) "Oh, we will." Mayor's Office. (Snow and David walk down the hallway and, without bothering to knock, open the door to the mayor's office. Inside, they find Zelena sat behind the desk, with her feet propped up and considering colors to paint the walls.) Zelena: “Snow! David! Come on in. I'm trying to decide what colour would look best on these walls. I mean, my walls. (She turns over the colour booklet, to reveal that all the colours she’s looking at are green:) Kelly? Hunter? Pistachio?” (Snow and David are speechless as Zelena continues to read off colour names.)

[katabasiss]

for whatever bad writing is about to follow - i wholeheartedly blame @itsmoodlenoodle (I never actually even finished it, I said I would and then it just...sat there - but lmao I left it on a cliffhanger so maybe some day)

Emily glanced behind her right shoulder and let out a list of profanities, quickly grasping the gear stick to her left and pushing it up to fourth gear.

“fuck fuck fuck fuck – they’re catching on us mate!” Dylan screamed in her ear, his brown hair flying wildly into his eyes as the wind forced its way in through the burnt hole in the rear window as they sped around the corner.

“Aye I fucking know that you twat! I’m doing me fucking best, give us a sec”. She pressed her foot harder onto the accelerator, 50mph, 60mph, 65mph –

She slammed her foot down onto the break. The car halting with a screech, hazard lights flaring as Emily narrowly avoided slamming into the back of the car in front.

“what the fu – who the bloody hell designed this place?!” she screamed. As far as her eye could see, cars lined up on all four entrances, stretching miles back and all waiting their patient turn to use the round a bout. Patience my arse, Emily thought. She slammed a hand onto the horn and huffed out a sigh as the loud disruption speared the air.

“What you doing!?” Dylan pressed, “Why’d you stop?”.

“Take a wee fucking look mate, does it look like we’re going anywhere?”

“Ah – welcome to Milton Keynes” Kieran, a boy of around twelve with uncombed blond locks and a ratty Nike hoodie, sighed. A right pain in my arse, Emily thought. “Pull over there” Kieran stated, pointing between the front two seats to an industrial lane on the left.

“And do fucking what? Hide from them in a bloody factory?”

“No,” Kieran drawled, his eyebrows raising at her presumably apparent idiocy – well sorry, she thought, “I’m gonna drive”

“You’re twelve!” Dylan emphasised. Of course, Emily thought, of fucking course she’d be stuck with the most two annoying people in all of Britain during the bloody apocalypse – an arrogant twelve-year-old and a constant anxiety ridden eighteen-year-old with absolutely no clue on how to do anything. Of bloody course.  

“A twelve-year-old who can drive and this twelve-year-old? Knows Milton Keynes better then you or Scots down there”

Of. Fucking. Course.

“Yer not driving dickhead so pipe down yeah?” Emily spoke up.

“What! Why not? This isn’t fair!”

“I’m not about to have the police on our arses as well as the bloody Grey’s!”. The Grey’s had arrived a few months ago, emblazoned and flashing with transparent machinery that flickered in and out of the fourth dimension periodically. At first, everyone – bar a few, had been ecstatic. Actual proof of extra-terrestrial life – way better then the fucking puddle they’d found decades ago in 2018. But looking at the battered cars thumping on their daily commute surrounded by rumbled buildings – it was easy to see why that excitement had quickly diminished.

“Please!”

“No.”

“Come on what’s the worse that’s gonna happen?”

“No.”

“Emily, come on! Ple-“

“I fucking said no alright!”. A bright neon green beam clawed at their worn car, steaming thick smoke as it teared a hole into the ground. Pew. Another one shot down, ricocheting off the car’s window mirrors.

Fuck it.

Emily, nearly dislocating her shoulder with force, spun the car wheel to the left and slammed down onto the accelerator in the general direction of the industrial road.

[audible--silence]

Well shit.

23 ay, the year Casey resented turning just a few months prior. The last 12 months felt like they were one big bender except I started it hopeful and optimistic, went through a few months of utter chaos, underwent a huge amount of change and then came out the other end somewhere between jaded and selfish; and chaotic and fun. The last twelve months flew by seemingly so fast i can barely remember it, until i start thinking about it and i realize just how much happened and how much has changed and how much ive done and how much everyone has done. So much has happened. You went through a good few months of breakup chaos (as i write this, i cant believe the breakup isn’t ancient history yet) including lots of mates, lots of staying busy, lots of alcohol and a fair few joints. I hitchhiked to Broome and back with Dan. That set me off on the photography and adventure road for the year. The post breakup was lots of kinda staying together, trying to be friends, jealousy, miscommunication, pettiness and frustration but at the same time, there was much love and patience and understanding and forgiveness and care and fun. In the middle of the worst of it, there was always the knowing that we’d be ok. We always believed it. Then after some months of change and growth, for better or for worse, we find ourselves on opposite sides of the country again, my plan to come see you spoiled by hard conversation, hard feelings and a hard fucking virus to plan around. We both had our chaotic period of the year, mine being arguably a tad more fun and a tad less anxious. Yours arguably giving me the most fomo, though I cant say for sure. I spent my days filling them with anything and everything with anyone and everyone. I made lots of new friends and intensified relationships with old ones. In the same breath, i think I’ve drifted from some others, though it may be too early to tell. We drifted and I started to let you go. One day, I realized it worked, after much effort and pain. Sometime after, you realized you felt differently about the idea of being together and I got spooked. I told myself I wasn’t ready but the truth is i was just very scared. Of opening back up, of looking like a fool, of getting played again. I withdrew and started being painful to you in a sad effort to make you want space. I hurt you and caused you grief and for more than I wish to accept, I knew i was. I was selfish and unsure which made for a cocktail designed to reduce any situation into a heavily laden emotional shitstorm that took its time playing out through lots of letters and discussions and fights but eventually ended in us planting enough metaphorical and physical space smack bang in the middle of us with the desired outcome being a certain degree more ok without the other. I welcomed it gladly till I realized you were actually pretty great. Now, we’ve had our season of not talking and are now trying the whole friendship thing again. As i write, I’m assuming you have a new boyfriend. He has good tastebuds. I know little as it stands, we’ve been out of communication for some time. I hope he’s wonderful but i kind of hope you still like me a little. Selfish im sure but hey.

I spent the time working, drinking, gigging, shooting, writing, planning on moving and the eventually traveling anyway. I met a new girl. It came and went pretty swiftly. I gave her my virginity and it was not worth it. I ended up leaving my crew of beautiful friends, my lovely old piece of shit house, my super fun job and all of the customers and going up north to Exmouth with one of Gods finest creations, Ben Gallagher. I write this right now in Karijini, where im traveling with many good humans in a slightly dodgy nissan xtrail that fit most of my life in. My life without the people that make it so. Im learning from traveling that you cant take the joy you get from your relationships with your friends to strangers and expect the same result. I dont miss my bed, despite my car barely fitting me, but i do miss my friends. They’re all doing mostly well. Claire is seeing Austy and they seem to be in the wildly in love phase. Reubs fucked his shoulder and is now mining gold. Ty lives with Reubs, broke up with Z, got a new job and then stopped talking to me when i left town. Ben is strong w Cails and is currently undergoing prac in bunno. Tom is living the dream still. I think his house is being built? Dan just proposed the fkn maniac. Harry got married. Fuckin nuts. Loz is building a house, the gang are all doin good. Music vids are coming out n shit now. Up the barry.

I started working at Hemingway, a place that saw me through a lot of different stages of life. I started a little unsure of myself and what i was doing and then left it confident, self assured enough in my abilities and with scores of new friends from the team and the customers. All of whom mostly entirely unaware, helped me through a breakup and then saw me thrive and grow into my own skin day by day and coffee after coffee. As i write this, its been a couple months since my last shift and i really miss it.

As I write this I realize more and more just how much happened this year and just how little I have reflected on it. Too much time socializing, working and surfing in a mad ditch to stay busy in order to avoid thinking about much at all. Evidently worked because I am realizing i have so much to talk about and realizing i have so much to contemplate.

Where I find myself now, i have more to say and feel i have less power to say it. I want to do everything but I dont know why. I miss my people but they dont talk much unless im there. I dont know what to do with myself and im not sure if im supposed to or not.

I’m tired, less enthusiastic and cynical.

I’m also fun and ready and charming enough to figure shit out right now that seems to be what i want. To figure shit out. I dont even know my own brain anymore, maybe I should figure that out. It all seemed so easy with her. I miss that. But here I am. I will make ot work.

12.12

4/8/21

[monkey-network]

Good Stuff - THE TROOF ABOUT STEVEN UNIVERSE - Part 3

WARNING: I have a part 2 and a part 2 1/2 and I’m not afraid to use them, goshdarnit. Thank you, take care out there, and enjoy.

Steven Universe is a charming, popular show with a quad-polar fandom, and I’m only here to point out what I say is legitimately wrong with this cartoon. Simple enough? Fair enough. Previously, I talked about how their handling of villains has disrupted their focal story. And now, point number 3:

BEACH CITY:

Okay, before I provide attention to our main gem heroes, I thought I’d give their home of Beach City a vocal point to express the diversity they offer and what makes them an essential drive for Steven and the Crystal Gems to protect the Earth by any means. I mean, they offer such valid representation for the show’s world building and can offer plenty of stories to tell to give us that slice of life vibe the show really needed. But I believe, after seeing Beach City time and time again over the course of 4 years, that I can summate its presence in the show with a single- Nay. With two simple yet comprehensible words.

Who cares? 

Whooo CARES?

Thank you, respectable actor Elaine Stritch. Rest in Peace

To continue, don’t get me wrong. Worldbuilding is more than essential for a story like Steven Universe, Berserk, Friendship is Magic, Legend of Zelda, and so on. Whether big or small, expanding a setting is important to giving characters a versatile way to look at their world in a differing light than before. But suffice to say, what world has Steven Universe built for itself?

*A populated province in the East Coast?

*A barn?

*Ancient ruins?

*Distant Gem Territory?

Aye, this troof is gonna be hard to explain. We just have locations, people. That’s it. They’re no special than the mini Galaxies from Super Mario Galaxy 2, only on Wii, Rated E for Everyone. A place can look cool and a population there can bring life to it, but they should have something for the characters to interact with and visibly wonder about what they might get into as they adapt and progress in some way. And by some way, I don’t mean insert plot devices that help make the characters do significant looking things, and I’ll get to that a bit later. But to sum it up, Steven Universe present locations, but those locations lack identity and coordination.

Stick around, Link, I might need your example

I got a short story to tell. True story. And this story provides my reason, above all else, for why Beach City doesn’t hold much water anymore when talking about world building, specifically after the show’s first season (or Full Disclosure).

There’s a comic book TV show called Preacher, premieres Mondays @ 9, only on AMC. Essentially it’s about a criminal turned Priest, possessed with a supernatural power, going on a cross country road trip to find the physical form of God with his his mate who’s also a vampire and his ex-girlfriend. Pretty vivid premise, but see for yourself. The first season however sets up the road trip where the priest, his ex, and vampire friend stay in a small town in Texas to not only introduce them, the power that the priest gets, and the type of humor throughout, but flesh out a few citizens they encounter pretty well in a thematically connected turnabout for ten episodes straight. All seems good.

Up until the entire town loses their minds, after losing all faith in belief, which eventually leads to a methane nuclear sized explosion that wipes out everybody except the three main characters who exited a few scenes before.

The End.

Now, let’s talk relevance. If I ran Steven Universe, and I don’t think I can, and I pulled 👆👆 that on Beach City at season 1′s end. Erase everything you’ve seen, every citizen will be forced to disappear except the major plot oriented characters, basically resetting the structure. If I did that, how much would it change? What would we really lose? The diverse Beach citizens that don’t and can’t do shit against the enemies we’ve see unless they’re forced to get involved in some way which rarely happens? 

You can put as many people of color and as many personalities in your world all you want, but effort should also be put into not just making them NPC levels of value to the point where a reset button wouldn’t put much a dent to the “world building”. The worst part is that it’s not like Batman’s Gotham City or Spider-Man’s New York; places where the villains are plotting while they’re within city walls. Steven Universe’s enemies have to either be brought out somewhere (gem monsters, Lapis) or brought to (Jasper, that red Eye, Aqua and Topaz) Beach City for the place to provide any significant or value. So...

Just saying.

Now if the whole series was like season one with the non “To Be Continued” slice of life episodes, then it would’ve work. Phineas and Ferb, Foster’s Home, and Friendship is Magic has done this well with keeping their main location (The Foster House, Danville, Ponyville, etc.) as their central hubworld for casual stories with a venture outside of them from time to time. I would’ve been okay with Beach City being the spot for Steven and his limitless squad to grow together like Rebecca intended at first. Then I’m reminded that there’s an world expanding story in this, with bigger consequences and threaded arcs, and I’m stuck between investing in the many things they give me, complaining towards full episodes that add up to nothing and went nowhere special, and whining about the lack of reruns it gets on TV compared to Teen Titans GO.

Bottom line, you had/have your comic series to commit to your slice of life genre instead of trying to keep it in the show.

Now, I’m at a disadvantage here. If I want to talk about the actual “SCIENCE FANTASY WORLD BUILDING”, then I’ll have to talk about the Crystal Gems’ involvement in them and I wanted to save that for another day. Luckily, I don’t have to, for SU has unintentionally played itself: when it comes to the Gem oriented locations outside Beach City, they tell but never really show. And turns out I don’t need Link’s example, but Samus Aran’s. Namely, her universe in the Metroid Prime series.

A key element to world building is the control and fun in exploration where you find and somewhat interact with aspects of an environment’s purpose and history while you’re on the go, giving the place more of an identity. Metroid Prime does this well where you journey through different parts of the Galaxy and with your scan visor, you can catalog and figure out the intricacies of the settings, the enemies within them, and info that seem trivial at first, but can offer much in progressing ahead in the game. Note the example before you...

And don’t stare deep into Samus’s blue eyes

Sure it’s an optional part of the game, and you can still trek on with or without having to continuously research the world’s lore, but it offers that versatility where you’re well in control in how to experience the game. Then again, this is a video game, where your skill in figuring things out is the only way to progress anything. What cartoon has this similar level of versatility? I mean, what else?

What else?

Gravity Falls may have stayed in one place, but it gives the characters and audience so much to explore and theorize on. They don’t tackle “everything” the world might have offered (bigfoot), but still give you so much to look out for without ever holding your hand or giving a cliffnotes version on a mystery of theirs. Hell, the fandom was hollering on Tumblr over predicting one of the show’s biggest mysteries being confirmed long before it aired. Hirsh didn’t just give those theory nuts what they wanted, his crew eased us in on how the narrative is taking a turn to someplace different and new without really forcing it on everybody. There was still that enjoyable sense of control that resonated in both the show’s direction and the audience’s experience.

I mean come on, this just oozes the moment of truth

Don’t get me wrong. The crewniverse offer very interesting locations and things that resonate with Gem stuff. My final problem with this is that when I think they might utilize these different places and things, they hold back to sharing but a glimpse of anything the show has plenty of utilizing potential for. Like...

Could this control room present more information about Homeworld’s plans for the gems than just the Cluster? “Probably not, it fulfilled its purpose. Let’s move on.”

What about these drills? Could we personally see how one works, like accidentally reactivate it to see how it functions? “Nah, they’re all dead. Let’s move on.”

Or what about the holes? Could we have some kind of flashback depicting how a gem leaps out the ground? “Nope.” Not even the off col- “NOPE.”

What’s that supposed to be? Is it something important to Homeworld? “We’ll get to that later. Let’s move on.”

Ooh, are there more ships like this the CGs could use for space travel? Maybe spruce ‘em up with Pearl and Peridot’s technical abilities? “Nah, this is all we got and Centipeedle lives there now so... Sorry.”

Man, this place looks cool. Connie might consider this since she handles weapons and might want something new, like armor or throwing weapons. “Look man, this tour is scheduled. You’ve seen it, we’ll get back to it later. Moving right along.” This tour sucks. “You paid for it, my friend.”

Egoraptor said it best: I’m not witnessing an adventure, I’m a guest at their theme park. This is Kingdom Hearts levels of dragging it along, and I know... “But Monkey Network, they might come back to all that stuff soon. It’s called foreshadowing, you whiner.” To that, I say HA! There’s a huge difference between foreshadowing and giving us cameos. And that is in...

PRESENTATION!!!

Long story short, if it’s subtle and holds a threatening or vague presence, THAT’s foreshadowing. If it’s already out in the open and is not given a lot of screentime or detail, that’s cameo-ing and waiting for more. The last thing a show should do is hold back and have its audience wait like shoving a secret box in our face, and that’s all Steven Universe has been doing. That’s why so many rant about what’s filler or not. That’s why so many theorize on the most reaching of details. That’s why people proudly growl at what could be the crew’s simple decisions. Because when everything must come back to Beach City, post “Full Disclosure”, exploration can be limited, detail can be limited, and it’ll be up to the audience to speculate/construct the world-building for themselves, making the control and experience for the show feel one sided, therefore UNFAIR. To summarize, I can present the fandom’s frustration...through song.

Like I said, the things I’ve seen offer so much to think about, but Rebecca Sugar sack could’ve done better with presenting them in a better light than a dim mode. The fate of Steven Universe’s future is a mystery to me, and I don’t know what they’re gonna cram in season 5 this fall. All I know is MJ (or Mystery Girl) is fine as fuck and we’re all gonna get something good eventually. My man Ian Jones-Quartey said good world building takes time, and they sure are taking their time.

And we will be waiting, that’s for sure

[loljulie]

stay with me; {003} rolling fields

(wooo chapter 3. this is mostly to make up for the fact that i won’t be able to update tomorrow, and bc this idea was burning through my mind since i posted the last chapter. hope y’all enjoy, and let me know if you’re enjoying this fic~)

genre: dunkirk

collins x reader

word count: 1984

You’d grown up and lived in urban jungles your whole life. From being born in high-rise apartments (which was a common dwelling place for the futuristic human race, as overpopulation kept increasing) to working right in the heart of the metropolitan, you’ve never seen what nature truly has to offer.

Of course, a majority of that is because there’s not much nature left. You’d learned about the environmental movements from previous centuries – how people desperately tried to save the planet and greenery for their future generations. It did work, for you knew even in your time there were still preserves and protected land. However, barely any green was left on the planet - to make room for buildings for people to live in.

It didn’t really mean much to you, though. It’s what you grew up with, and you’d never known what kids hundreds of years ago grew up seeing. You’d seen pictures, sure, but they never evoked much out of you.

And yet, standing before the same field you’ve appeared in three times in, you couldn’t help but take it all in for just a few moments longer than you have before.

A week after your second date with Collins, you landed back in 1945 for your next meet. You did decide to wait a full week before traveling back, just so you could experience what he was feeling by having to wait that long to see you again. It was very tempting, however, to know that you could have gone back any moment if you really wanted to – and sometimes you found yourself daydreaming at your desk about what he could have possibly planned for your next date, your fingers itching to enter the date on the module and just go already.

It had just changed from September to October – though the air was still as chilly as you had remembered it. You buttoned up the big coat you had on as the wind tousled your hair around. The green hills were starting to change color, with flecks of orange signaling the changing seasons. You briefly wondered if you’d be around to see how beautiful a countryside landscape could become through each of the seasons, and slightly hoped you would be able to.

With one last longing gaze at the fields around you, you set off to meet up with Collins, realizing that you were almost late from your distraction.

You don’t think you’d ever grow tired of seeing Collins’ face light up when he spotted you walk up. You’d only witnessed it twice, but it was still a very heartwarming thing to see.

“Afternoon,” He chirped as you walked up to him. He instantly leaned down and placed a small, simple kiss on your lips. You smiled into it, your heart fluttering at how your greetings could now be paired with kisses.

“Hello,” you replied after you pulled away. Your eyes shot down to the wicker container in his hands. It was medium sized, and though you weren’t sure what was in it, Collins carried it with ease. On his shoulders, you noticed brown leather straps that undoubtedly were attached to a backpack behind him. You quirked an eyebrow up. “Are we going somewhere?”

“Na where far, love,” he said with a grin as he took your hand. His fingers laced with yours without any hesitation, striking up more fluttering from your chest. “I know ye'r nae from aroond 'ere, so I thought I cuid show ye one o' my favorite places to go to.”

You nodded in response as you walked along the sidewalk together. From peering inside shop windows, you could see the folks of the town going about their daily lives – running errands, picking up orders, or working at their craft. You’d never been out when it was still day time, and somehow this town became even more charming with all its inhabitants out for you to see.

A door would crack open occasionally as you passed, letting out some warm air and the sounds of laughter and chattering. You smiled to yourself as you took in the atmosphere, enjoying how just people watching was amusing in this town.

“I hope ye don’ git too cold,” Collins’ voice sounded from your right, causing you to look up at him. “Is that jaiket warm enough for ye?”

“Yes, mother,” you teased, poking fun at his concern. He playfully scoffed at your remark, to which you giggled. You thought it was sweet that he asked, though you couldn’t let him know that or else he’d let it get to himself. “If I do get cold, you’ll be there to warm me up, right?”

His face turned a soft pink at your suggestion. He glanced over to you and winked. “Aye, ye'r right aboot that.”

Once you exited the town, the roads turned dirt and the buildings became scarce. Long grass waved in the wind and reached to your shins. Collins took a turn at some nameless road – one you would’ve never had even gone down had he not been there – and lead the way without any hesitation.

He’d been here a numerous amount of times, you gathered. The unstable terrain didn’t faze him; he merely walked the trail with a level of expertise that comes from repeated experiences. The path was littered with loose rocks and patches of tall grass that you worried might be hiding a hole or nest. You gripped onto his hand tightly, both trying to absorb the warmth from it and also hoping it’d keep you from falling. You kept glancing from your feet to the man in front of you, wondering how far away your destination was.

Finally, you made it to an outcrop that was mainly void of grass. The rocky surface was smoother than you expected it to be. Though it was at an elevated height, it was surrounded by sturdy hills that made you somewhat more okay with the idea of falling. By the time you reached it, you guess it had been close to 1 in the afternoon. The sun shined over the clear landscape, showing nature’s beauty in a way you’d never seen before. This area was almost void of the orange patches you saw from before – a couple outliers were sprouting up here and there. The grass, even from far away, looked soft and inviting. You breathed in the scent of the fresh air, a feeling growing inside you that made you not want to leave this place.

You watched as Collins slung the backpack off his shoulders and opened it to reveal two wool blankets. He began laying one down on the rock, spreading out all its wrinkles methodically. Then, he placed the basket he had been carrying in one corner of the blanket to keep it there. He left his backpack down at the other corner to counter the weight. “Thare,” he stated, and gestured to the blanket in a ‘ta-da!’ manner.

You sat down on the soft blanket, took off your shoes (thank god you wore wool socks), and crossed your feet under you. “Pretty presumptuous of you to bring me all the way out here with a couple of blankets.”

Collins was in the middle of retrieving the second blanket when he paused at your statement. You saw his face turning a deeper shade of red. “No I-I didn’ mean that –“

“I’m teasing,” you reassured him with a nudge to the arm. Not only were you sure Collins was a good man by how he acted, but you also knew how different the 1940s were from your own time period with what was socially acceptable for dates. Either way, it was still fun to get a bit of a rise from him. You glanced at the wicker basket, its top still closed, and nodded toward it. “What’s in there?”

“Onlie th' best food in th' entire world,” Collins boasted as he slid over to the basket and opened its top. He slowly and over-dramatically took out wrapped squares. He tossed one over to you, which you caught as it approached you. With an eyebrow raised at him, you began to unwrap the square as he announced what it was. “Peanut butter 'n' jelly sandwiches.”

You held up the sandwich, giggling at his introduction. His mouth gaped open as you continued to laugh, feigning a look of hurt. “Whit's so funny? I will hae ye know that is th' best sandiwch ye'll ever hae in yer life.”

“Oh, really?” You asked as you eyed the pieces of bread stuck together with brown and red spreads.

“Aye, really,” he answered and nodded toward you. “Go oan, hae a bite.”

You shook your head at him but complied, and took a bite of the sandwich. Half of you expected it to be the literal best sandwich of your life, but the other half – and the right half – knew it was going to taste as ordinary as any peanut butter and jelly sandwich. You played along, though, even going so far as to widen your eyes as you chewed.

“Told ye it'd be guid,” he joked as he tore into his own sandwich.

Wrappers were discarded back into the wicker basket after you two had your fill on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Luckily, Collins had brought some water for the sticky aftermath that peanut butter is famous for leaving in throats.

“So,” you started as you watched Collins spread out the extra blanket he brought. “Why is this your favorite place to go to?”

“One o' mah favorite places,” he corrected as he carefully placed the blanket on top of you and him. He sighed and placed an arm behind his head to prop himself up as he gazed out at the fields before him. “Tis a nice place to be, I guess. Peaceful, calm, a' that. I used to play aroond these hills whin I wis young wi' my mates. We'd roll doon thaim 'n' git grass stains a' ower oor clothes. My maw used to git so angry at that.”

He chuckled at the memory, and for a moment you saw a split second of sadness glint in his eyes. His next statement explained why. “Efter th' war, th' foremaist thing I did whin I git back wis come 'ere. I always feel at peace 'ere.”

You watched his face as he spoke, noticing how his eyes glazed over – how they focused on something in the fields without really seeing anything. You guessed he must’ve been thinking of something difficult, and without saying a word, you rested your head against his chest. He brought an arm around your waist and pulled you closer to his side. Under the wool blanket and in his embrace, you barely even felt the chilly breeze.

“It's beautiful here. Thank you for bringing me,” you murmured just loud enough for him to hear. Something about the quiet outdoors, the warmth from Collins, and the walk to the outcrop made your eyes grow heavy, and soon enough you were falling into sleep’s welcoming arms for a midday nap. When you were to awake, it’d be a couple hours later, and you’d trek back with Collins for a quick drink at the pub before going home.

But for that moment, you let yourself sink into the arms of the RAF pilot that was slowly breaking down your walls, making you question all the rules you’ve grown up with, and that you were falling for. Collins watched as your head bobbed up and down as his chest rose and fell with every breath he took, smiling as your eyes began to droop with the heaviness of sleep. He couldn’t help but think about how beautiful you looked, how lucky he was to have even met you, and how he was falling for you, too.

[peterkayscarshare]

FANFIC: Yesterday, Today & Tomorrow by OvertheRainbow pt 2

Yesterday, Today & Tomorrow – By Over The Rainbow

Chapter 3 - Outside the box

As Kayleigh closed the front door, silencing Chloe and Alfie's raised voices mid-flow and Mandy's exasperated tones, she took a deep breath before heading off towards the gate. Steve was tinkering as per. The spanner with the spanner. The thought almost made her smile. She braced herself for this morning's "hilarious" repartee. It didn't take long. "He's not here yet Cinderella. Your very own Prince Charming". Noticing her expression of disinterest, Steve persisted, "He with his bright red carriage. Come to sweep you off your feet....and into aisle 7". He threw his head back and laughed with gusto. She couldn't even muster the energy to fight back. Not this morning. She simply lowered her head and kept walking. Maybe it was the silence that did it. The absence of a comeback. No, "Get stuffed!" or "Stick your bike up your arse!" Nothing. Steve stopped mid chuckle, as he noticed Kayleigh was heading off. On her own. "Ay up! Where you goin?! You're not gonna leave him in the lurch are ya!? He's most likely got stuck in traffic. He's regular as clockwork is your John. Check your phone. He'd never leave ya hangin that lad." Inwardly she replied, "You think!?" She wasn't even going to allow herself to consider the phrase "Your John". Outwardly though, she simply turned slowly and looked at Steve.

She contemplated lying. Coming up with some cock and bull story about him changing shifts, or changing stores, or leaving the country...but she couldn't face it and in a monotone she barely recognised as her own voice said, "We're not Car Sharing anymore....We decided it was for the best". That was only a partial distortion of the truth. Steve looked at her for a second. The remnants of his jollity fading slowly into a serious expression, as he processed what she'd said. She waited for a rendition of "Another One Bites The Dust", or some cutting remark....but to her surprise, none came. He considered her silently for a few seconds then simply said, "I'm sorry to hear that. I liked him. He seemed like a decent bloke." "Appearances can be deceptive", she replied but almost immediately regretted it. Steve stood up suddenly and looked alarmed, "What ya mean? He didn't hurt you did he? I know we're not exactly mates but if he hurt ya...." "No Steve", she replied in a calming tone, "He didn't hurt me....at least not like that". The pain in those final five words was evident, even to the usually clueless Steve. "Whatever's happened, you can sort it...the pair of you...surely?" "I don't think so Steve. We just want different things". "He wants you". The comment shocked Kayleigh, "He doesn't". "Listen. I don't know what he said to ya in the heat of the moment but he wants you. I'm a bloke, I know". "You know nothing!" "I know more than ya think. I know he drives miles out his way to sit in a bloody car with you every day. I know it pisses him off when I tease ya. I know that he looks at you like you hung the moon, then went back and painted the stars and I know that since he's been pickin you up, you've been happier than I've seen you in years". She wished he'd stop. She was going to cry again and she'd promised herself she wouldn't, if only to save her make up. She could feel the pressure building. Then suddenly, like a volcano, it exploded and no amount of effort could stop it. "He doesn't want me ok! He doesn't love me! He made that perfectly clear. You'll be delighted to know that I made a complete fool of myself yesterday, spilled my guts and he just looked at me like I was a crazy woman and you know what!? I am. I am crazy. I'm 36 years old and I live in my sister's box room. I've never had a relationship that didn't end in disaster. Or known a bloke who didn't rip my heart out and stamp on it just for shit and giggles. I'm like some poor sod on the streets, with my nose pressed up against the window, looking at someone else's dinner! I have no life! I borrow yours. I get to watch yours and I thought for one lousy moment that it was my turn. My turn to live. My turn to share my life with someone. To be the whole world to one person and for him to be the whole wide world to me....but it's never my turn is it? I'm stuck in a bloody box and I'm never getting out. You were right about Cinderella and John was right about me. My life is a friggin fairy-tale. A fantasy, where the Prince never shows up, or just can't be arsed. I don't get to share someone's life. I'll never be that important. I just share their car. I'm Kayleigh Kitson, a daft cow, with daft ideas. Good for a punchline. Some poor mare who no one notices, except to feel sorry for or take the piss. I mean, Christ! I even get paid to stand there all day, smile politely and be ignored.....well you know what? I'm done with that, I'm done with all this....I'm done". With that, she turned and left, leaving Steve as stunned as he'd ever been in his life.

He stood there for a moment, processing, before going to the gate and calling out "Kayleigh!" but she was already half way down the road and didn't look back. He knew she was fiery like her sister. Had a temper on her for sure, but he felt strangely troubled by what she'd said and almost more so by how she'd said it. He felt uneasy. Like he'd had a glimpse of the world through her eyes. She seemed defeated. Now he felt like a prize shit. At that moment Mandy's voice pierced the silence, "Oy, I can't find the car keys and we're late. These two have been kicking off again. Honestly Steve, we need to talk about this. You need to step up and do some bloody parenting. I'm sick of....what's wrong?" Throughout her tirade Steve had continued to watch Kayleigh until she was out of sight. Only now did Mandy notice her sister's disappearing form rounding the corner at the end of the road. "Why's our Kayleigh walkin? Where's her John?" "I don't think he is "her John" anymore", replied Steve with an uncharacteristic air of sadness that struck Mandy and at once it all fell into place. Kayleigh's early night, her behaviour this morning. "Aw, frigadig. She really liked him too. I thought we had a winner this time". "So did she". After a moment Steve looked at Mandy and said, "I think you should talk to her Mand". "She'll be fine Steve. A family sized box of Kleenex, her heartbreak songs playlist, her Dirty Dancing DVD and half a tonne of Thorntons Classics and she'll be right as rain". "I don't think so sweetheart. Something's not right". "What do you mean "not right"?

"I mean it's different. She's not even angry at him. She's angrier at herself. It's like she just accepts it". "Well, maybe that's a good thing! Maybe she knows she made a mistake. Maybe he didn't mean that much to her. He's hardly heartthrob material now is he?!" For a moment Steve just looked at Mandy. He wasn't exactly adept at finding the right thing to say at the right moment but there were times when he was charm personified compared to her. He loved Mandy, always had, always would but sometimes he didn't like her very much. This was one of those moments. She seemed to register his disapproval, "Sorry....that was cruel". "Yeah, it was. You know, maybe I'm not the best judge of character but he seemed sound. He seemed like a good bloke...and he liked her Mandy, I know he did. I think he loved her". "What do you think happened"? "From what I can gather, she told him how she felt and he let her down...I don't get it...but it's hurt her Mand...badly and you need to talk to her. That much I do know." She kissed his cheek. This was the Steve she loved. "You can be a sensitive soul when you want to be, can't you? I'll call her, maybe we'll go out for a bite to eat later....make sure she's ok....give you a chance to deal with the terrible twosome for a bit". With that, he reached into the pocket of his work trousers and handed her the car keys. Mandy paused as she got into the driver’s seat. Looking back at Steve who had turned his attention to the bike once again, her resolve suddenly strengthened, "I'll call her after I leave these two off...". "Yeah, you should", Steve replied, wiping engine oil on his shirt. Mandy pondered; sometimes he could be a total enigma.

The journey to work was every bit as long and tiring as she remembered but it did give her time to think. She'd dodged Mandy's call. She couldn't face it right now. She was all talked out this morning. Normally she'd feel embarrassed about the thought that Steve knew anything about her, let alone something so personal but it felt strangely good to get it off her chest and she'd been surprised by his sympathetic reaction. She was beginning to feel at peace with herself somehow. Like a weight had been lifted. She couldn't go on like this. She knew that being at work would be excruciating today of all days but she also knew she had to go, if only to pull the sticking plaster off the wound as quickly as possible. As she'd sat on the bus, she'd Googled "BrighterDayCareers.com" and scrolled through the job opportunities, more in hope than expectation. It was with curiosity that she'd clicked on a job vacancy in Preston. Promotions reps for a cosmetics firm. Travel around the region would be required and a company car provided. "Seeking enthusiastic, committed individuals, with drive and ambition". Was that her? Why the Hell not! Why shouldn't it be her? Sod it. She was going to apply. She could feel the excitement building and the adrenaline pumping. They could only say no and she'd had that a lot lately. Nothing could hurt her now. She was immune to pain. She'd been hurt so much she felt numb. Besides...they might just say yes! She sent an email enquiry. By tea break, she had a reply, by lunchtime, she'd sent a copy of her CV and by 3pm, she had an interview the following afternoon in Preston. She'd gone to see Cath Hilton and asked for leave, for a "personal matter", apologising for the short notice. Cath had granted it. She'd then told her that she was no longer participating in the Car Share scheme. While she looked momentarily surprised, Cath was discrete, unlike some. She never pried into personal matters, offering advice only if asked but she was there for support when it was needed. Kayleigh merely explained that, since her recent move, the distance from her sister's home in Bury to the store, was too great and that while John had been kind enough to continue with their buddy arrangement, she knew that it wasn't practical for him and she felt it should end. If Cath suspected any other motivation, to her credit, she didn't let it show. She accepted her explanation, asking only if John agreed. "He knows my feelings. I don't think he'll object", she replied. Cath would send an email confirming the end of the arrangement, by close of business and asked only that they both sign it and return it to her when they got a chance. Kayleigh's said she would, thanked Cath and left.

The Gods had been smiling on her. She hadn't seen him all day. She'd heard some background chatter that he'd decided, on a whim, to do a stock take in non-foods and that he was in foul form. She overheard some smart arse commenting that he'd arrived on his own this morning and that there must be "trouble in paradise". When the reply came that "Rachel's been sniffing round him all day, like a bitch in heat", Kayleigh had decided she'd heard enough. By 5pm, as promised, she'd received the email confirming the end of their Car Share. She'd printed it off, signed it, and left it back with Cath in HR, as requested. Done. She was exhausted physically and emotionally and she still had that long journey ahead. Walking in court shoes wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Neither was standing room only on a crowded tram. She could only hope her bus was on time and she didn't have to add a wait in a cold, damp bus shelter to her adventures in travel. Still, the day was over and she could do this. She'd remember her iPod in future. It would provide some distraction. She'd wear her trainers maybe. Do a bit of power walking. She was excited about tomorrow; it would be her first interview in years. Experience if nothing else, she thought and so it was with a spring in her step that she'd left for home.

She saw him almost as soon as she opened the back door and her traitorous heart began to beat faster, just like it always did. He was talking to Rachel; or rather Rachel was talking to him and giggling like a schoolgirl. From her glance he seemed distracted. He had that expression on his face that he used when he was pretending to listen but was miles away. She'd seen that one, more than a few times. Just as she looked away his eyes caught hers. He'd been leaning against the car and he suddenly appeared to stand up straighter. His gaze locked with hers, deep and serious, until it burned to the point of pain and she looked away. Rachel had obviously realised that he was distracted and no longer paying attention, if he ever was. Kayleigh could feel both sets of eyes on her as she made her way round the side of the building and off towards the tram station. As she reached the first set of traffic lights she thought, "I've done it! I've done it! I saw him and I'm ok, it's done!" It felt good, for a few seconds until the emptiness and regret began to set in once again and it suddenly felt like a hollow victory. That little voice in her head said, "See Kayleigh. You really did mean nothing to him. Look how easily he let you go. Hasn't even tried to call you has he? Look at Rachel. You couldn't compete, could you? Blonde. They always love a blonde don't they? Blondes have more fun". This time though, she wouldn't give in to those thoughts. The voices of her stronger and better angels took over. What had he said to her once, "Women come and women go". Well, she was gone. Good luck to Rachel. Not his type, my eye. Maybe she was just what he needed. Someone who was in it for what she could get. A mutually beneficial arrangement. Yeah, good luck to them both. She spent the rest of her journey Googling "Fresh Face Cosmetics", ethical products, from sustainable sources – Future-proof your look. By the time she reached Bury, she knew more about the environmental evils of micro-beads than she ever imagined possible.

 Mandy was sitting on the stairs when she got home. "We're going out for a Chinese" she announced, without preamble. "What? Now?!" "Yep, now. You've got twenty minutes to get changed before the taxi rocks up, so you'd best get a wriggle on". "Maannnddd...I'm knackered" "Don't Maannnddd me, you're not 12 anymore. Get up those stairs. There's a Kung Po with your name on it". Kayleigh laughed for the first time in days and realised resistance was futile. Besides, she wanted to tell her sister about the interview....and other things. Although she suspected from Mandy's sudden enthusiasm for eating out on a week night, that Steve already had the "other things" covered. She was proved right. Still, by the time she'd had her three courses and half a bottle of Prosecco, the edge had worn off. Mandy listened to her tale of woe and offered her usual sage advice, "Screw him! He isn't worth it. He's a coward Leelee." She hadn't been called that since Kieran left for Cyprus. It had been her childhood nickname. A throwback to her first efforts to pronounce her name. "Onwards and upwards. We're Kitson's you can't keep us down." Mandy was well passed "fluffy drunk". Before she'd hit "comfortably numb" Kayleigh had told her about the interview and more importantly, about her desire to move on. If this opportunity didn't pan out, she still thought it was time for a change. She needed to find herself somewhere else to live. She'd saved a few quid from staying with Mandy and Steve. Enough to cover the first three months’ rent, she just needed to find somewhere that would allow her to keep Misty. She was grateful and always would be but it was time. They both got teary when Mandy offered her some extra money from her savings to buy a few bits and pieces. Kayleigh thanked her but thought she'd be ok. As both women stumbled upstairs later, after a taxi journey home that had seen a random assortment of Alanis and S Club 7 belted out with enthusiasm, Kayleigh stopped, slumped down on the stair and in her very best effort to string a sentence together said, "I...I don't know Mand...what's wrong with me? Why can't he love me? I love him...soooooo muuuccchhh. I miss him sooooo muuuccchhh Mand". Mandy looked at her sister's sad face and said with heartfelt sincerity, "There's nothing wrong with you sis. There's no better woman in the land Kayleigh Kitson and you better believe it". "He doesn't". "Well, more fool him I say. Let's get you to bed kiddo. You've got a big day tomorrow." As she put her arm around her sister's shoulder and walked her to her room, Mandy remembered their childhood. How Kayleigh was always this relentless bundle of fun. How she longed for happiness, with a never ending sense of hopefulness. It felt as though that hopefulness was dying in front of her. She could kill John Redmond for that alone.

The morning came too soon and the little box room was awash with light through the thin curtains. Kayleigh was grateful that the interview was in the afternoon. A brass band was playing loudly in her head and they were on their second encore by the time she took a shower. She dug out her favourite suit and her best handbag and shoes. Her hair was sitting well and her make-up was perfect. She was pleased with the overall effect. She put on some background Beyoncé for motivation and felt she could take on the world. Some last minute revision about the company and their products and she was on her way. It was Mandy's day off and she drove her the 50 minutes to Preston. The interview started on time at 2pm. Kayleigh was finished by 2.45pm and while she felt pretty positive, she had no real idea if they "liked" her or not. An hour later, they were sitting in a Costa Coffee having paused en route back to Bury, as Mandy made positive yet conciliatory noises. Mostly they seemed to come from the big book of job interview clichés, "I'm sure they loved you", "If it's meant to be, it'll be" (she'd heard that one before) "Well, you gave it a go. That's the most important thing". Suddenly, mid flow, Kayleigh's phone rang, taking a deep breath and noting the number, she sighed, "Well, here goes nothing", she answered the call. It was Fresh Face...and they loved her. She was exactly what they were looking for. The job was hers if she wanted it.....her brain was speeding and before she could fully process, she found herself saying, "Yes. Yes, please". Mandy embraced her and Kayleigh realised that tears were running down her face. She'd done it! They wanted her! They loved her! No more two for one on Dairylee Dunkers and Mini Cheddars! No more dressing like a Blackcurrant for national f'in jam week. She'd give in her one month's notice in the morning, then confirm her start date. She'd need to get looking for a place to live. She could commute for a bit but best to get it sorted soon. Preston. She knew some people at the store there. She'd get info on good places to live. Quiet, safe. Not too far from the office. Find out the best shops, restaurants, takeaways, get a gym sorted. She was so excited......then it hit her.....oh God, he's announcing the Christmas Team tomorrow.......

[aggressivelyclueless]

Guys I wrote a thing!

Her name was Callisto, and she was one of the most feared pirates in the galaxy.  She routinely plundered merchant ships and sunk the evidence; she thumbed her nose at the Galactic Navy at every opportunity; at times, she seemed even to defy death itself.  The sight of her ship in the skies was a bad omen for the wealthy, and the sight of her at any respectable port town was worse.

Fortunately, she preferred the less respectable port towns.  She had a delivery to make: two unmarked crates, each weighing in at ten kilos, were brought down the gangplank of her ship.  From there, it was just down the road to her target destination.  She knocked politely on the rear door of the den, and it was opened a moment later by a burly Andenurian, to whom she smiled.  "Word around the street is that ye've had a hankerin' for dark cotton," she stated simply.  She and the alien both knew what "dark cotton" meant, and the latter nodded.

"Let's see it."

Callisto glanced back at her cohort, a stubby Irken keeping the crates on a hovering cart, and the crates were pulled forward.  She turned back to the Andenurian.  "Agreement was ten grand for a kilo, remember?  I figure that adds up to two hundred..."

The alien was a little slower to process the math, but then nodded.  From his own accomplice, he procured a hefty coin purse, which was promptly handed to Callisto.

She peeked inside it only momentarily before turning back to the Andenurian with a grin.  "Pleasure doin' business with ye.  Let us know if we might be fetchin' anything else that strikes your fancy."

The Andenurian just gave a brutish nod.  He took both crates off the cart, stacked one on top of the other, and hauled them both inside.

Callisto, satisfied, turned and sauntered back down the alley.  "What say you to finding an ale between here and the Horse's Head?" she asked her mate, who had been almost running to catch up with her.  She paused.

"Aye," the tiny sailor replied, "Shouldn't be hard to spot."

Callisto laughed.  "You've always been a funny one, Dez, you know that?"

"Aye," said Dez again, not really seeing the humor in it.

The pair made their way into the crowded streets of Whaler's End.  The sun had set about an hour ago; the streetlamps above them, strung in between the stout buildings, kept the populated streets well lit.  Callisto knew there had to be a pub around somewhere--why wouldn't there be one?  It'd be an awfully piss-poor excuse for a town if it didn't have a pub, she reasoned.

"There's one!" Dez exclaimed, pointing through the evening bustle and to a wide stone building down by the docks.

"Good eye on you," Callisto remarked, and the two of them headed down to get that ale.  Whaler's Pub, the sign above the building advertised.  Even from the street, they could hear the drunken shouts of those already inside.  This sounded promising.  Callisto entered first, her mate almost hidden behind her, and all but the most foolhardy took notice.  It wasn't every night that one found oneself drinking alongside her, and it was common knowledge that one would stay out of her way.

Callisto found an empty table in the far corner of the pub, and Dez trailed behind her.  The barmaid quickly hurried over with two ales, which were received with a nod from Callisto, and she handed one of them to Dez, reached into her vest, and pulled out a small silver cube, no more than an inch on a side.  She set it in front of her and tapped it once; it lit up, projecting the local starmap onto the table's surface.  "Now let's see," she said, "It's six parsecs from here to the Horse's Head.  That’s thirty days or so, I figure.  Pray tell, Dez, you ever heard of such a things as--?"

"Trouble," the stubby Irken interrupted from across the table, "Navy sailors, six of 'em, just walkin' in.  No, don't turn an' look at 'em--oh.  You just did."

Callisto huffed.  "Dunno what they're thinkin' to find this far out of their space--go and warm the Drifter up.  I'll be a minute."

"Captain, don't try and fight 'em--"

"I'll do what I damned well want," Callisto growled, "Now off you get."

Dez sighed, but then nodded once and disappeared into the business of the pub.  That was the good thing about having an Irken first mate.  Irkens were quite small; they disappeared very easily into a great number of places.

As for the captain, she was in the perfect mood to run her sword through a Navy dog or two--she usually was--but there was something amiss about them, and, until she figured out what it was, she wouldn't be having anything to do with them at all.  She spotted her escape route: a closed door, which no doubt led out into the alley behind the pub.  She stood, grabbed her starmap, and tucked it away, keeping one wary eye on those sailors with every movement.  They seemed to have spotted her--taking that as her cue, she darted through the doorway, into the kitchens, past two confused cooks, and out the door on the other side.  She could hear them behind her, and took off down the alley and back down to the docks.  Her ship was easy to spot; while most spacecraft were silver, hers was black, and big enough to swallow most of the other vessels whole.  She spotted, too, the Navy ship that had brought the goons that were after her.  It wasn't a standard patrol runner, that was for sure.  They must have been after someone in particular to have followed them to Whaler's End.  She wondered briefly if that someone was her.

That someone was definitely her.  The Naval ship across the dock came to life the second the crew spotted her, and, as if the six officers on her tail weren't enough, a dozen more quickly joined them.  She turned to face them, drawing her sword if only to keep them out of arm's reach, and took one extra step back.  There was a tense silence.

Finally, the Naval ship's captain stepped forward.  She had to be the captain--the feathers on her hat were bigger than anyone else's--but there wasn't much of her; she stood only to Callisto's shoulder, including the hat.  Despite this, she did her best to stare Callisto down.  "You're not getting away, pirate," she said, her voice one step below amused, "Don't even think about it."

Callisto shifted uneasily, fully aware that she'd just backed herself right up to the edge of the dock.  The side of her ship was close enough for her to touch, but safety was just out of her reach.

"You're the one that's been lifting all those dark cotton shipments, aren't you?  You wouldn't happen to still have any lying around?" the Navy captain asked, pressing slightly closer.

Callisto hardened.  "Nay, I wouldn't."

"Shame," said the captain, "No matter.  There's still that ever-growing bounty on your head.  That's the thing about you pirates.  You just don't know when to quit."

"The same could be said tenfold for you dogs," Callisto retorted, "Only a fool would fly alone into wild space, and do it under a Galactic flag."

"Well, that fool is putting you and your entire crew under arrest, and don't think you can talk your way out of it--"

Just then the ship roared to life.  With a great shudder, the craft slowly rose up, her hull pulling smoothly out of the bay water below, and her anchor cable quickly snapped taut.  It was time to go.  Callisto took one final step back, over the edge of the dock, and caught the anchor with her foot.  Her free hand found the cable for balance, and even as the Naval crew rushed up to try and catch her, she was out of their reach.  She had one last remark for that captain, but since her ship's engines would have drowned it out anyway, she elected to sheath her sword and tip her hat instead.

As her ship ascended higher, she reached up and grabbed onto the deck's railing--now that the anchor had reeled itself in, it settled just below the deck itself.  She climbed easily over the railing, and the ship's atmospheric forcefield fired up a moment later--they were escaping into space, after all.

"Glad you could join us, Captain," Dez called down from the riggings, and Callisto turned to see her mate climb down and land beside her.  "Got worried there for a bit."

Callisto nodded.  "Those damned Navy dogs've been followin' us.  They knew about that dark cotton, and that captain's got an attitude on her."

"You think they'll take off after us?" Dez asked, "If it's just one ship, we can blow 'em out of the sky."

"Aye, and I think they know that," Callisto turned, leaning over the railing slightly, to get a final glimpse of that Navy captain before they made the jump into space.  It was impossible to tell yet whether she'd be a continuing nuisance, or whether she was just at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Well, she supposed, if she's this easy, I can't say that I'd mind seeing her again.

---

Shoutout to thewitchofcanada and crayscience!  This was really fun!  I might write more soon!

[swanqueeneverafter]

22. Tallahassee, Pt.1

Storybrooke. Present. Blanchard Loft's Door. (Mr. Gold knocks on the door with his cane. Emma Swan opens the door.) Mr. Gold: “Ready to go, Miss Swan?” Emma: “Almost.” (Henry Mills approaches.) Henry: “Do you think it will be cold where we're going or warm?” Emma: “I think layers are always a good idea.” Mr. Gold: “I thought the terms of our agreement were quite clear. You owe me a favor - you alone.” Emma: “I'm not leaving Henry here with Cora lurking around, so either we both go or we both stay.” (Mr. Gold thinks.) Mr. Gold: “Then we'll have to purchase another plane ticket, won't we?” Emma: (Taken aback:) “Wait. We're flying?” Mr. Gold: “Don't worry, I'm covering expenses, even the new ones.” (Mary Margaret Blanchard approaches Henry and helps him with his jacket.) David Nolan: (Coming down the stairs:) “You're a real gentleman, aren't you? (David gives a bag to Emma and walks over to Gold:) All right, Gold. You're going out there with my family. Just know if anything happens to them—” Mr. Gold: “Then you'll what? Cross the town line? And David Nolan will hunt me down in his animal rescue van?” David: “I'll be devastated. This isn't a threat. It's a request. Take care of them.” Mr. Gold: “I promise no harm will come to your family. After all... we have a deal.”

Storybrooke. Present. (Inside a car, Mr. Gold is driving out of town.) Henry: “So, where are we going?” Mr. Gold: “Logan International Airport.” Emma: “I think he meant after that.” Mr. Gold: “Let's just take things one step at a time shall we?” Emma: “Do you really think that shawl's gonna work?” Mr. Gold: “Well, if it doesn't, and I revert to my cursed self, we're all gonna have some problems. It'll work.” (Mr. Gold's car crosses the town line, and a blue light shimmers over him.) Emma: “So?” Mr. Gold: “My name is Rumplestiltskin. And we're gonna find my son.” The Land Without Magic. Past. Portland, Oregon. (Emma exits a building, checks to see if anybody is watching her, breaks into a car and steals it. As she drives away a man pops up from the backseat of the car.) Man: “Impressive. (Emma screams:) But really, you could've just asked me for the keys. (Smiles:) Just drive. It's fine.” Emma: “I just stole your car. Your life could be in danger.” Man: “Neal Cassidy.” Emma: “Yeah, I'm not telling you my name.” Neal: “No, I don't need it to have you arrested when the robbery's in progress.” Emma: “Emma. Swan.” Neal: “Good name.” Emma: “So do you just live in here, or are you just waiting for the car to be stolen?” Neal: “Why don't I tell you over drinks?” Emma: “Excuse me?” (Turns to look at him and unknowingly runs a stop sign.) Neal: “Hey! Eyes on the road.” Emma: “I am not having drinks with you. You might be a pervert.” Neal: “I might be a pervert, but you're definitely a car thief.” Emma: “I said I was sorry.” Neal: “You didn't, actually.” (Police sirens.) Neal: “Oh.” Emma: “Damn it.” Neal: “That's why I said, ‘eyes on the road.’”

(Emma pulls over the car.) Neal: “Screwdriver.” (Emma gives him the screwdriver and he puts in the keys, climbing into the passenger seat.) Police Officer: “License and registration.” Emma: “Hi.” Neal: “Terribly sorry, officer, but this is actually my car. I'm... I'm trying to, uh, teach my girlfriend how to drive stick.” Police Officer: “She's got a lot to learn.” Neal: “I know. But, you know... women.” (Emma looks at him.) Police Officer: “All right, I hear you. It's a warning... this time.” Neal: “Yeah. Thank you so much.” (As the police officer leaves, Emma turns to Neal.) Emma: “What are you, some sort of a misogynist?” Neal: “You're welcome. Go, go. We got lucky.” Emma: “ ‘We’? This isn't your car either, is it?” Neal: “Hmm?” Emma: “I stole a stolen car?” Neal: “Now how about that drink?” (Smiles.) The Storybrooke Dock. Present. (David, Mary Margaret and Leroy have just released Hook from the hospital.) Hook: “You didn't even ask me about my recovery.” Mary Margaret: “How are you feeling, Hook?” Hook: “Come closer and feel for yourself.” David: (Pushes Hook backwards:) “You wanna lose the other hand? Where's the ship? Come on. Archie told us; it's shielded somehow, isn't it... mate?” Hook: “Aye. That it is. Follow me. I don't know what you expect to find. Cora won't be there.” David: “Maybe she left something behind that will tell us where she went. Let's go.” (David pushes Hook forward) Leroy: “No funny business. I'm watching you, pirate.” Hook: “Yes, dwarf. That should deter me from any malfeasance.” Mary Margaret: “Oh, don't worry, Leroy. He'll help us.” Hook: “What makes you so sure?” Mary Margaret: “Because you're a pirate. You know which way the wind blows, and right now, it is gusting towards us.” Hook: “Oh, I see where your daughter got her gumption. (Looks at David and smirks:) Follow me.” (He pushes Leroy aside and climbs the invisible stairs that lead to his ship.) Hook's Ship. Present. (David is climbing down the stairs that lead onto the main deck.) Leroy: “You sailed this ship from our land. Can you sail it back?” Hook: “My ship? She's a marvel. Made from enchanted wood. We weathered many a storm together, seeing many strange glittering shores. But to travel between lands, she must go through a portal.” David: “Yeah. What do you know about Cora's plans?” Hook: “Cora's not the most communicative of lasses. But let me tell you this: whatever malice she has in mind, her weapon of choice is in here.” (He taps on something that is covered by a cloth. Leroy removes the cloth from the object to reveal a cage. He looks inside to see the Giant, Anton.) Mary Margaret: “Who's that?”

Hook: “Remember the giant at the top of the beanstalk? Cora used magic to make him travel-sized. Whatever she intends to do with him, it's important.” David: “Oh, I think you know exactly what she intends. You're holding out.” Hook: “Well, either have your lovely wife torture it out of me, which I promise will be fun for both—” (David grabs Hook by the throat.) David: “Why don't you and I have some fun?” Hook: “I don't know what she's planning. (Holds up a key:) Why don't you wake the bloody giant and ask him yourself?” (Mary Margaret takes the key to the cage from Hook. She opens the cage.) Mary Margaret: “Hey. (Anton wakes up; startled:) It's all right. You're safe now. (Anton climbs out of the cage:) What's your name?” Anton: “Anton. Where's that witch?” Mary Margaret: “She's gone.” Anton: “What did she do? She made me small.” David: (Grabbing Anton's shoulder to turn him around:) “Come on. Let's get you outta here.” Anton: “You.” David: “Me?” Anton: “You! Uhh!” (He uppercuts David. David goes flying backwards over a railing on deck.) Mary Margaret: “David!” Leroy: (Running toward Anton) “Hey! Hey, over here, you big—” Anton: “Aah!” (He throws Leroy down the stairs of the ship; causing him to hit his head. Anton walks down the stairs. David pulls a gun from his holster, but Anton kicks it away. An arrow whooshes by Anton's shoulder and grabs his attention. He turns to see Mary Margaret pointing a loaded bow at him.) Mary Margaret: “Step away from my husband.” Anton: “You may have me outnumbered, but this isn't over. (To David:) You think I forgot what you did? I didn't. You'll pay for your evil. I promise you'll pay!” (Anton runs off the ship.) Storybrooke General Hospital. Present. (Belle is sitting in a chair watching television.) Bill Godwin: (On television:) “Hey there, folks. Bill Godwin here. Be sure to tune in to ‘Good Morning, Storybrooke’ every day at 7:00 AM. And now back to ‘Expose.’” (Ruby enters, carrying a basket.) Ruby: “Hey.” (Belle turns toward Ruby. There's a period of silence as Belle wonders what she wants.) Ruby: “You don't remember me, do you?” Belle: “Um... sorry, no I... I don't.” Ruby: (She sets down her basket and sits in a chair next to Belle:) “I'm Ruby. (She turns off the TV:) You used to come into my granny's diner a lot before. Anyway, I... thought you could use some comforts from home. (She reaches into her basket and pulls out a book:) You were always telling me about Jules Verne, so I brought you my favorite—’The Mysterious Island.’” Belle: (Belle takes the book:) “Thank you. Well... were we really friends?” Ruby: “Yeah, we were.” Belle: “Then tell me the truth. Before I was brought here, I was hurt. I was bleeding, and then this man came. And he... he healed me. Then I saw him hold a ball of fire in his hands. How? How is that possible?” Ruby: “The nurse said that the tranquilizers can give you wicked nightmares.” Belle: “No, I know what I saw. And I don't need any more tranquilizers or—” Ruby: “Belle—” Belle: “Don't call me that. Why does everyone keep calling me that? I don't— (Belle is grabbed by the severe nurse who tries to restrain her:) I'm fine, I don't—” (King George/Albert Spencer enters in the background; unseen by the others. He stands silently watching the struggle.) Severe Nurse: “Take it easy. Take it easy.” (She finally gets Belle back in her chair.) Ruby: “Has she been like this the whole time?” Severe Nurse: (She injects Belle with a tranquilizer:) “More or less. We've had to keep her heavily sedated. Okay, let's get you back to bed. Now here we go. (She gets Belle to stand:) There.” (She begins to lead Belle back to her room.)

Albert: (Making his presence known:) “Everything all right in here?” Ruby: “Everything's fine, Mr. Spencer. Since when do you care?” Albert: “Oh, I don’t. Just enjoying the suffering of others is all.” Ruby: “Well, that sounds more like the man we all know and despise.” Albert: “Charming as ever, wolf. When you’ve lost everything like I have, you’ll know exactly how it feels.” Ruby: “You lost everything because you wouldn’t let Snow and Charming live their lives. Reveling in the misery of others is no way to live.” Albert: “Perhaps you’re right. But then again, misery does love company.” Land Without Magic. Logan International Airport. (Emma, Henry, and Mr. Gold are going through security.) Henry: “Have you ever been outside of Storybrooke before, Mr. Gold?” Mr. Gold: “No.” Henry: “Are you nervous?” Mr. Gold: (Holding back anger:) “No.” Henry: “Are you worried about meeting you son?” Mr. Gold: (Explodes:) “No, Henry, I'm fine.” Emma: “How about we talk about this later, kid? We're next.” Henry: “It must be really hard not to use magic, being like everyone else.” Emma: (To Mr. Gold:) “You've gotta put your shoes in.” Mr. Gold: “How terribly uncivilized.” (Henry goes through the metal detector. Mr. Gold puts his shoes in the x-ray machine bin.) Security Officer: “Uh, scarf and the cane go in the basket.” Mr. Gold: “What?” Security Officer: “Scarf and the cane go in the basket.” Mr. Gold: (To Emma:) “I can't.” Emma: “You have to.” Man Waiting in Line: “It ain't rocket science, buddy. You ever been on a plane before?” Mr. Gold: “Have you ever been impaled upon a cane before?” Emma: “My... father's a little nervous. We're headed to a family reunion. Sorry.” Mr. Gold: “Your father?” Emma: (In a lowered voice:) “Just put your shawl in the bin. I'll help you get through.” Mr. Gold: “If I let this go, I could forget who I am.” Emma: “I'm not gonna let that happen.” Mr. Gold: (After pausing for a moment to consider what Emma has just said, Mr. Gold let's out a sigh:) “Okay.” (He puts his cane and shawl in the bin. Immediately, he feels pounding in his head and becomes physically unstable. He manages to make it through the metal detector with Emma close behind. She quickly pulls the shawl from Mr. Gold's bin and places it back around his neck. Emma stares at him with a concerned look; seeking reassurance that he is all right. Though winded, Mr. Gold nods.) Henry: (Unaware of the situation:) “Guys, there's a Cinnabon's here!” (Henry runs off as Mr. Gold composes himself.)

[fableweaver]

Arc of the Blind Warrior

Ian had grown used to life in a saddle, and so too had Will and Matt. They took to riding much like walking, and Ian wondered what imprint this would make on them when they grew older. When he thought of his sons he thought of the future and wondered when he could about what it would bring. He found he couldn’t imagine a simple life in Daun anymore, but his own limited experience could not tell him what life would be like in Alda. Besides what change the Phay might bring to the world as well.

He had plenty of time to ponder on the road, there was little to do as they rode. Bailey had taken to knitting as they rode, the soft clicking of her knitting needles only audible to Ian over the tread of the horses and wind. Ian felt almost at home with that sound. Matt and Will often babbled and talked nonsense to each other as if having a conversation. Rork was the only silent one of their party.

Since they had left he had been unusually silent, Ian unable to read his mood by his aura. Unwilling to breach the silence Ian let him be until one-night Rork broke it himself by the fire after dinner.

“Ya’ll want ta go beyond L’acrimaros,” he said softly.

“Aye, ye kenned that already Rork,” Bailey said. “Ye can take us baint?”

“It be a better idear ta just wait in L’acrimaros,” Rork said. “If the King aint there we could get word ta him.”

“Rork, why baint ye wanna take us beyond L’acrimaros?” Ian asked.

“It aint be I don’t wanna,” Rork said, Ian sensing his apprehension. “It be I aint able ta. No body gonna let ya beyond the falls.”

“Ye mean soldiers would stop us?” Bailey asked.

“I mean ya won’t even get a dingy ta take ya,” Rork said. “Outsiders have never been beyond the falls.”

“Ye said that afore,” Ian said remembering. “Baint be like ye hidin any what, ye’ll just baint want yer ways disturbed.”

“We won’t disturb yer ways Rork,” Bailey said.

“I coggin that lass,” Rork said. “N so do many, but it be more en that. Ya’ll coggin o the great plague?”

“Aye, the un that I saw with the Piper,” Ian said.

“I suppose,” Rork said with a shrug. “Any o the little nasties that spread, there be many from the Cursed Age.”

“They spread from Daun ta Xin takin whole villages,” Bailey said.

“Except Hyria,” Rork said.

“Ye do it take keep disease out,” Ian said amazed.

“Aye, we make sure ta introduce new diseases slowsome if at all,” Rork said. “There be more reasons too, ta control trade n goods, ta protect those other kingdoms would kill, n much else besides. Ya’ll be asking me ta break a cardnal law o my people, n I won’t do it.”

The silence lasted some time, the crackle of the fire the only sound in the night.

“N we won’t Rork,” Bailey said kindly. “The king’ll be at his palace at L’acrimaros most likely, n ifn he baint we’ll send a message.”

“That be it?” Rork asked surprised. “Ya’ll aint gonna argue more?”

“Be pointless,” Bailey answered. “Like ye said, I’d have ta convince a lot more en ye.”

Rork didn’t seem convinced, so Ian spoke.

“Bailey kens yer people will see our power n respond,” Ian said. “I ken too, we’ll be let beyond L’acrimaros if the need be.”

“How?” Rork said. “How do ya’ll coggin that?”

“The Elder Magic be strange,” Bailey said, and left it at that as she stood to put Matt and Will to bed.

“She likens ta be all misteriousome,” Rork grumbled.  

“Nowt, she baint ken really what’ll happen,” Ian answered. “She has faith.”

Rork didn’t answer, Ian taking his silence as doubt. He had come to find his faith again and went to Bailey to share her bedroll. They simply slept together, the habits of their marriage coming to them again as easily as breathing. Somehow Ian’s body just remembered Bailey, and though he had slept next to her many times, each time seemed special.

The only difference now were her dreams. Ian did not know what plagued Bailey’s dreams, but she often twitched or moaned in her sleep, sometimes even her body jerked, or she would get up and sleepwalk. He knew her spirit was wandering and feared asking what she saw while she slept. As always that night she slept fitfully and Ian woke to her already awake in his arms.

“Mornin,” Ian said softly, their faces inches apart. Her indigo eyes seemed so deep as she stared at him, Ian unsure if she was even awake.

“I be searchin,” Bailey said softly.

“Fer what?” Ian asked, knowing what she meant.

“Fer the triplets,” Bailey answered and Ian felt his heart break. “I ken they baint be ours but I just…”

“Shhh lass,” Ian said pulling her closer. “I ken.”

Bailey cried, a soft whimpering cry she tried to muffle in his chest. He knew she couldn’t help her spirit wandering, and knew she knew the dangers that came with it. When she calmed they rose to begin their morning routine as if nothing had happened.

Setting out again on the road they joined regular traffic of Rhodin, traders, and farmers, on their way through the kingdoms on their tasks. A ragtag party they may have been, somehow they drew little attention through the villages and towns they passed through. Riding through the Mark however was showing the signs of the Legion active and thriving in many villages. Sects were either burned down or torn down, the people skittish and cautious around strangers. They took little chances in staying in villages and camped when they could with the Rhodin.

The Rhodin were armed to the teeth and so wary of strangers that at times it was dangerous to come near their camps at dusk. They took to riding with some Rhodin when they could, but the wagons moved much slower than their horses so often they left them behind. Ian wondered why the Rhodin were still out on the roads if it was so dangerous for them, but it seemed the wandering people would not be stopped from their wandering if they could.  

The weeks of travel soon brought them through the borderlands at last into the fens of western Hyria, just a moon after they had left Alda. Ian began to wonder if there would be any time to gather an army in Hyria let alone march it all the way back to Alda, but he knew they had little choice in the matter. What they would do if Alda fell he had no idea. Yet word still stood that the forest had yet to fall to Lir.

Travel through the fens went on by boat, Rork stating that it was far faster to navigate the water meadows by the lazy boats of the Hyrians.

“Be the rest o Hyria like this?” Ian asked one day as he sat next to Rork trying to fish unsuccessfully. The swirls and shapes he perceived in the water could be fish or undine, and the Wild folk were more likely to tug at his line in a trick than to take his bait.

“Like the fens?” Rork said as he laughed. “Naw mate, the mater ways only twist here cause it keeps bothersome folk from going too deep. By the time any outlander managed to march any army through the fens they were too exhausted, and midge bitten ta give a lark about L’acrimaros. Then they got a real good licking, I can tell ya ja.”

“So the heartlands baint be twisty?” Ian asked and Rork’s aura glowed with more mirth.

“Naw, they be more so. Most of the land be marsh or bog, flooded with cypress knees the only ground to walk on. We all live on boats or houses raised on stilts. It be hot too, n there be gaters, manatee, n turtles luring in the water.”

“How do ye live in that?” Ian asked intrigued.

“Like any other,” Rork said as he shrugged. “Many build houses on stilts, some live only in boats. We grow rice n the likesome in the water, much else we get from the earth n water.”

“Like fish,” Ian said.

“Aye, naw thing better en a good piece o fish,” Rork said, pulling in his line to show a fish.

The Hyrians ate much else besides fish; turtles, snails, crabs, crawfish, shrimp, and even frogs could be found in stews, deep fried, or just plain grilled onto the dinner table. Bailey, Ian, Matt, Will, and Rork ate well on the river boats, Hyrian hospitality holding in the fens. Bailey and Ian wisely kept their desire to travel into Hyria to only Rork, they weren’t willing to trust anyone else yet.

Despite their winding path and seeming easy pace, they arrived in L’acrimaros in a week’s travel, the Buck Moon giving way to the Red Moon. Ian could hardly perceive the city with his limited sense, but the sounds and smells were enough to overwhelm him. He was forced to let Bailey lead him, though he didn’t mind having her hold his arm as they walked through the crowds.

Rork led them through the bustle until they arrived at the King’s residence. Ian could see nothing of the building but Bailey told him it was a big house made to look much like a boat. Rork spoke with the guard in Hyrian for some time before he returned to them.

“The King’s gone inta Hyria,” Rork said. “Aint likely he’ll be back soon.”

“Where in Hyria?” Bailey asked.

“Nawt matter sweetie,” Rork answered. “He aint here.”

Bailey stared at him, Ian sensing the stir in her aura.

“Ye right,” Bailey said. “It baint matter, cause I’ll find him.”

“Sweetie, ya aint goin inta Hyria,” Rork said. “I aint leading ya.”

“You don’t have to,” Bailey said. “We will go on our own.”

“Ian,” Rork said looking at Ian, his aura shifting with worry.

“Sorry Rork,” Ian said as he shrugged. “I ken Bailey can do it.”

“Best ye leave Rork,” Bailey said as she walked off. “Ye baint wanna get tangled in with us.”

“Naw lass I’ll tag along,” Rork said.

“Won’t you get in trouble?” Ian asked.

“Naw, aint a crime in Hyria ta lead outlanders in,” Rork said. “Just the outlander gets in trouble not the Hyrian. Sides which I wanna see how ya gonna pull this off.”

Bailey didn’t answer, Ian still able to imagine her look of smugness as she led the way back through the city. Ian wasn’t sure if she knew where she was going but he knew she wanted to get to the edge of the city to the exposed waters of the lake.

“Ye sense it baint?” Bailey said lowly to him.

“Aye, the bones o the city,” Ian said. He could feel below the wood and water of the city a stone city throbbing with power. He couldn’t perceive the wood of the city, but he could sense the stone below in a dark blue aura. “It sank baint?”

“Nowt,” Bailey said. “It be a city o the Cold Children, the Merrow. It were always underwater.”

“The Merrow baint marched,” Ian said, remembering sailor’s tales of the Merrow.

“Nowt, but they left ta the sea after the March,” Bailey said. “Probably because their Queen went ta sleep.”

Ian nodded and they at last arrived at the edge of the city. Bailey let go of his arm and handed Will to him, walking out to the water’s edge. Bailey reached out over the water, murmuring under her breath as she sought the name of the one she sought. Ian could almost perceive her call through the air as a ripple, sensing it go deep into the water. At last one answered her call, Ian grinding his teeth at the power of its aura. The water seethed and rippled, fish fleeing and the air growing latent with power.

The Greater Undine rose out of the water in a great leap, falling back a drenching them with its wake. It rose again more gently to face Bailey. Ian could not see it, but sensed it by its deep blue aura. To him it resembled a giant glowing fish, he had no idea what it really looked like.

“Greetings,” Bailey said to the Undine. “I seek the King o Hyria, the leader o the people that ply yer waters.”

Ian knew things such as kings were meaningless to the Wild Kin, but Bailey projected the meaning to the Greater Undine with her power. A great deal of power was needed to make this spirit understand her and what she sought, as the greater spirit’s mind was hardly like their own. Ian watched as the Unine swished its tail in slow contemplation.

At last it responded with a simple nod; Ian unsure what that meant but Bailey seemed content.

“He be ready, get on,” Bailey commanded. Ian didn’t hesitate, taking Will and Matt he stepped off the dock onto the back of the Undine. It was spongy and wet, Ian unable to keep his foot and fell onto his rear on the soft back of the Undine. It didn’t seem to mind, and Ian was content to sit despite the soaking he was getting. Will and Matt seemed fascinated, both trying to wriggle free to explore the wide back of the Undine.

Bailey joined them, sitting as she set their packs next to Ian. Rork scrambled to join them, Ian guessing that even he could see the Undine if he was able to mount it. Without a word the Undine set out over the lake, Ian’s senses unable to process much other than the sound of the waves and water.

“Hail!” A shout sounded from the water, Ian guessing they were passing a boat. The Undine’s speed didn’t change but Ian guessed they were moving fast by how quickly they passed the sounds of shouts and pursuit.

“Bailey,” Rork said sounding very worried. “We be approaching the falls lass.”

Bailey was unconcerned so Ian wasn’t worried, he wondered how the Undine was going to deal with the falls. Rork however wasn’t as settled, and he screamed as they went over the falls. Ian didn’t sense much in their speed or motion other than now they were going down, the Undine’s back still level under them. They landed gently in the water and continued on down the river.

Ian could tell nothing of their speed, the ride gentle and smooth. Though telling by the sound of the river the water around them must have been chaotic rapids, no one able to speak over the sound of the water. Eventually this soon quieted and at last they could speak.

“It be a whiles down these twistsome water ways,” Rork said. “Then we’ll hit the bogs when we get out o the highlands.”

The twisting waterways continued for the next week, a maze of water through the hills and grottos of Hyria. They saw no other people, either because of their speed or because few Hyrians lived in these waterways. They traveled at a fast pace despite the twisting ways, resting briefly at night on the shores. Their Undine stayed with them the whole time, seeming unbothered by the long time it traveled with them.

At last the river lands emptied into the flooded waterways of the lowlands. Bailey described the land for Ian, who could only perceive everything as green and blue blurs. They were traveling through a forest of cypress trees, knees of twisted roots sticking up out of the water that covered the entire ground except for a few muddy islands of reeds. Moss and lichen hung from the trees in veils, pond scum and moss even growing on the still water. Mosquitos were their main pest, though Bailey spotted a few caiman and alligators in the water. Birds sang in droves in the trees, heron and storks wading through the water hunting fish and frogs. Giant turtles floated in the water, their backs the size of wagon wheels.

“There,” Rork said one day pointing out into the water. Ian could perceive a glow of animal life under the water, large animals he couldn’t make out. There also seemed to be a boat telling by the dark spot in the vegetation he could see. “It be a herd o sea cows n the boat must be their hand ja. We must be getting close.”

“To where?” Bailey asked, Ian surprised that the Hyrians herded sea cows. “The palace?”

“Ifn ya’ll cogging the King lives in a palace ya going ta get a big surprise ja,” Rork said. “Naw we getting close ta the Jambles.”

Bailey didn’t ask so neither did Ian, he suspected they were about to find out. They continued on, Ian hearing the sing song voices of songs in Hyrian. They were passing boats now telling by the songs, most falling silent when they saw the party on the Undine. Ian wasn’t sure what it looked like to them, if they could even see the Undine, but he doubted it mattered. They were the first non-Hyrians to enter the Riverlands probably since Absalom of the Deep Woods, reason enough for the silence that followed their arrival to the Jambles.

Bailey described the scene because to Ian it was a mass of color and life. Thousands of boats clustered together to make a haphazard city, lashed together on the shallow lake. Giant cypress trees stood over the maze of boats sheltering them from the sun and weather. It was hard to tell where the Jambles began and ended, and from what Bailey described he wondered how they would find the king.

The Greater Undine took them to the edge of the city and deposited them on a dock before vanishing into the aether.

“Well?” Bailey said turning to Rork.

“I taint cogging where the king be in the Jambles,” Rork answered. “The city shifts n changes lass. But I cogging what his boat looks like ja. Come.”

They entered the city, Bailey leading Ian as they walked through the city. Sounds of songs and laughter faded as they walked, but none stopped them. The smells of the city were unlike any other Ian had been to, spices and cooking mixing with the early stench of rot from the boggy water that sat under the city. The sound of the city was raucous and musical at the same time, shouts and calls mixing with an undertone of laughter and music.

At last they reached what seemed to be a town square telling but the opening up of sound and more crowds of people. Bailey pointed out a fountain in the middle of the square where some people seemed to be gathered drinking. They approached only to have a few Hyrians surround them. They spoke in Hyrian to Rork who answered, Ian guessing them to be guards and they had at last found the King.

The conversation turned heated, Rork arguing back with the guards until someone interrupted in the trade tongue.

“Let ‘em pass ja,” a woman said. The guards moved away and they were permitted to walk forward until they stood before two people. One sat on the edge of the fountain, his aura telling Ian he was a man and someone with a lively aura which spoke to humor and unpredictability. At his feet sat a witch, Ian perceiving her aura much like Bailey’s. She must have been the one to have spoken.

“So ya’ll have come,” the woman said. “Took ya long enough ja.”

“Ye have the sight,” Bailey said.

“So that is why ya whined we dink here by the fountain,” the man muttered. “Well aren’t you going to introduce us then ja?”

“This is King Wildlough,” the woman said. “I am his betrothed Romsca.”

“Betrothed?” Wildough sputtered, his aura shifting to embarrassment. “I’ve not meant to ask ya.”

“Ya will,” Romsca answered.

“Well who are they?” Wildlough asked haughtily. “Wedding guests?”

“I don’t cogging,” Romsca answered. “All I saw was this meeting and the power of the woman, which is far greater than my own.”

“Thank ye,” Bailey said. “I be Bailey, this be my husband Ian, n Rork our guide. Our need is dire, majesty. Ye ken o what be happenin in the east?”

“So ya’ll here ta call me ta war for that prick Elrik?” Wildlough said sounding bored. “Came a long ways fer nothing darling.”

“No, I came for Alda,” Bailey answered. “I am a princess of the house Alvar, n we need yer help.”

“Well an army will cost ya a pretty penny ta be sure,” Wildlough said. “And from what I recall Alda didn’t have the money ta buy us in the King’s Wars. Doubt they’ll have it now after losing the crown.”

“I can offer no money,” Bailey said. “But if Alda falls the rest of the Nine will follow, ye ken this.”

“If Alda falls en it’ll be just eight kingdoms,” Wildlough said with a shrug. “Why should I risk the lives of my people for the lives of Alda with no reward? Don’t blabber ta me bout the threat of the kingdoms, we Hyrians will wait it out like always.”

Bailey paused, her aura shifting and churning as she thought.

“Ye haven’t told him,” she said realizing something, speaking to Romsca.

“Saw no point,” Romsca answered. “He be thick as molasses n stubborn as a mule, best ta let him learn on his own.”

“Nowt, best be now,” Bailey answered. “The Phay mean ta march.”

“Ya mean those wives tales n rumors,” Wildlough said as he snorted through his nose. “Nawt but horse shit.”

“Ye best listen,” Ian said lowly, a n idea forming.

“Er what?” Wildlough said. Ian looked to Romsca, her aura strong and bright. He reached out and with a tug of his power he pulled her aura from her. She fell senseless, men shouting and steel being drawn.

“Kill me n she dies,” Ian said.

“What witchcraft is this?” Wildlough asked angrily. “Wake her!”

“Nowt til ye listen!” Ian shouted, everyone growing still. “Ye care fer her, n baint ye ever lie bout that. If the Phay don’t march, if Alda is destroyed n everyone o the Aldan be killed, next will be Hyria. Do ye ken what’ll happen ta her? Much worse en what I’ve just done, much worse majesty. Think on what ye just felt now seeing her go limp, do ye ever what ta see the likes again?”

Wildlough was silent, his aura a turmoil of pain and fear. Ian decided he had enough and let Romsca’s spirit back. She woke with a start and Wildlough was at her side instantly.

“I’m fine,” she said softly. “I did not foresee yall’s power,” she said wryly to Ian. Wildlough stepped back as if he wasn’t as concerned as he really had been.

“Ifn I were ta help Alda,” Wildlough said cagily. “When would ya need the aid ja?”

“As soon as ya can,” Bailey said.

“N this isn’t ta help Elrik?” Wildlough asked.

“It’ll put a real bone is his craw fer sure majesty,” Rork said, Ian seeing Wildlough’s aura shift with pleasure.

“Aye that it would,” Wildlough said and laughed. “Alright, lets go ta battle.”

He said it so casually, but the cheer that went up around them spoke to what kind of power the king of Hyria had with his people. The sudden action that accompanied that announcement was immediate even if the King did not act. He swaggered off and they followed, unsure what was happening.

“So ye’ll march fer Alda?” Bailey asked unsure after such an easy reaction.

“Naw love,” Wildlough answered. “We’ll sail.”

“Sail?” Bailey asked. “Would that be faster?”

“For the Hyrians aye,” Rork answered wryly. “We’ll get there faster than on our feet ja.”

“Don’t ya worry yer pretty little head,” the king said. “We’ll get there lickety split.”

Ian wondered but decided not to argue the point. They had arrived at the water anyways and Bailey whispered the description of the boats. They were deep bellied and built in the Hyrian style with colorful triangle sails and gaudy paint. Ian wished he could have seen them because they sounded like a sight to behold.

“We only have three here ja,” the King said casually. “We’ll be taking my flag ship, the King’s Wind, on ahead while the other two work ta gather the fleet. Should be ready ta go by the time we reach the coast.”

They boarded the boat surrounded by a buzz of activity as men and women prepared to sail. The King led them into his cabin and they sat to get comfortable, an easy task in the luxurious cabin. They sat on plush pillows and rugs from Xin, Ian setting Matt on his lap so he could nap.

“It baint take long will it?” Bailey said. “Ta gather the army.”

“Aye well I’d have ta be a moron ta put my feet up in these times ja,” the King said. “Not hard ta see through me eh lass?”

“Ye were waiting fer the High King ta pay up baint?” Ian said and the King laughed.

“A little ja, but truth ta tell I aint too keen on that lad n wasn’t really willing ta lend a hand ta the likes o him.”

“Ye be alright then?” Ian asked. “Ye’ll be helpin Elrik.”

“N worse I won’t be paid,” the King said with another chuckle. “Naw I be fine, it’ll sure stick in Elrik’s craw ifn the Aldan survive this war.”

“I aint see how they will though,” Romsca said. “Their population never recovered form the last war I hear, n then this one.”

“The Phay mean ta march,” Bailey said. “You must have seen the signs.”

“Aye but what does that have ta do with it ja?” Romsca asked.

“The Aldan be kin o the Phay,” Bailey answered. “More en likely they can mingle un more ta have more children. Besides which the Phay will need space ta live.”

“The merfolk, did they march?” the King asked leaning forward.

“Naw ya cogging that given all those tales from sailers,” Romsca said annoyed. “Ya looking fer un ta spend a toss in the hey with?”

“Naw lass, they have cold feet so I hear,” Wildlough answered lightly with a laugh. Romsca didn’t laugh, but Ian could see her humor and affection for the King.

“The Merrow baint marched,” Bailey answered. “Though I baint ken more o their fate other en that. Likely they’ll come out o the sea when the Phay march.”

“Well I cogging some sailers that’ll be keen on that idear,” Wildlough said. Ian saw Romsca’s aura shift with jealously though she said nothing.

“Sos the Hyrians will welcome the Phay with open arms baint?” Ian asked. “Even inta yer boarders?”

“From what history says we baint able ta do much ta stop em,” Wildlough answered.

“That were a long time ago,” Ian answered. “When ye Hyrians were little more en wanderin tribes o’er the rivers n marshes. Er pirates stealin any what nowt tied down. The Daunish were hill folk prey ta the dwarves ta the north. Xin were all nomads, ifn even that then. Lir were the only real rival ta the Phay n Aldan, n they had as many civil wars as Emperors.”

“Yar point lad?” Wildlough asked.

“Ye can drive off the Phay now,” Ian answered. “It baint be like afore, they will be beholden ta us.”

Wildlough was silent, Ian the only one to see the emotions he was sure the King kept hidden behind a courtly mask. Greed and lust stirred in him as well as pity and malice. Ian saw however over all this was a varnish of wonder in a dusky rose over the King’s aura.

“I doubt that lad,” Wildlough said at last. “Ya cogging how those Dridians lord over us all high n mighty like, well I bet the Phay’ll do the same with the powers they have. They’ll stir the pot alright, till it boils over.”

Ian watched the emotions of wonder and excitement in the King and realized Wildlough was just a bit mad. He didn’t care what was to come, the blood that would be spilled, so long as it was entertaining. At the same time this wild-life in the King was almost intoxicating, Ian could understand why his subjects liked him so much; he truly was the King of the Hyrians.

“DA!” Matt said interrupting the silence with a needing wail and Ian realized he needed his nappy changed.

“Aye lad, sorry,” Ian said to him pulling him away as Bailey joined him.

“I’m going ta the deck ja,” Wildlough said as he stood and quickly left. Romsca followed leaving them alone to tend to their children, with only Rork as company. Rork though soon left as well, seeming bored with just sitting. Matt and Will though soon fell asleep, leaving Ian and Bailey the first private moment they had for a long time.

“Ye be alright?” Ian asked, trying not to read too hard into Bailey’s aura.

“Aye, but ye can tell that baint?” Bailey said, not unkindly.

“I try nowt ta Bailey,” Ian said.

“Why?” Bailey asked. “Is it not better to see into the heart of the one you love. Then ye never have ta doubt.”

“Do ye wish ta see inta my heart?” Ian asked. “Cause ye ken ye can just look at me n see fer sure.”

“Nowt Ian I can’t,” Bailey said. “Sometimes I baint able ta tell what ye be thinkin.”

Ian had always thought his mind and mood were easily read by others, realized he might have been a closed book to some.

“Ye baint ever have ta doubt my love fer ye Bailey,” Ian said. “N it baint take me feelin yer aura ta ken yer love fer me. Ye’re pain o’er what happened be plain.”

“I baint doubt Ian,” Bailey said reaching out and taking his hand. “Well when we’re tagether I never doubt, but sometimes when we’re apart those dark thoughts come. But when we’re tagether I feel yer love in every little action er touch.

“I want ta see yer heart cause I want ta ken what ye be thinkin. I want ta ken more bout ye, n what ye like er ken sos I can ken what ye want n what makes ye happy. I want ta ken more about ye Ian.”

Ian felt his heart swell with so much emotion he reached out to hug Bailey closely.

“Bailey ifn ye could see inta my heart right now ye’d see it burstin with light o joy,” Ian said.

“En I’d be a blind as ye baint?” she said playfully and he laughed.

They settled down and continued to teach Matt and Will words or little acts of ritual for the Elder Magic. Ian was surprised that Bailey had insisted on this for their sons, though he supposed it was important to learn control of such forces. They eventually moved to the deck so Bailey could teach them about Slyphs and Undine. Ian doubted Matt or Will would ever have her command, but he was sure they would not out grow their power either, given their birth and parents.

The sailors and King let them be, unable to see the Wild Kin they could only see the effects of their manipulation of the water and wind. The ship sailed on a deep river, the shore far and speckled green with trees from Ian’s sense. The river was full of life, he could sense fish and alligators moving through the ripples of blue of the river he could sense. He could even sense the currents, watching them swirl around Undine in hypnotic beautiful patterns.

They passed villages and more water pastures where sea cows grazed peacefully under the water. It wasn’t long before more ships were joining them, Ian wondering how they communicated.

“Aye ya aint able ta see the flags ja,” Rork said when Ian had asked. “We use colored flags, fly em from the mast er have a sailor wave em about like. Each un has a meaning n the way they’re waved does to ja.”

“Ye always use those?” Ian asked.

“Aye, be best, surprised other ships aint use em,” Rork answered. Ian guessed Rork was right, though he knew little about sailing so could not state why other nations did not employ such a method.

They sailed on until they reached the ocean, five days from the Jambles, Ian only knowing it was so when his sense showed him nothing but water around. The blues of the water to him swirled and churned around Greater Undine, who seemed to swim with great ease beneath the water. He sometimes spent hours just watching the patterns out on deck, even at night since his sense was not hindered by light.

“What ye doin?” Bailey asked him one night up alone on the deck.

“I can sense the sea,” Ian answered. “In all swirls n currents, it be amazin. N the greater Undine, n…”

He stopped dead because out there in the sea he could sense a shoal of something that was not fish. He stood straighter, leaning out over the rail. Whatever was out there was big, five shapes moving under the water unseen to others in the night.

“What?” Bailey asked.

“Tell em ta turn that way,” Ian said pointing. The creatures were swimming parallel to them, looking to make an arch away from them. “They be getting away.”

Bailey nodded and hurried off, Ian sure that she could convince the captain or at least the King to turn the ship. It wasn’t long before the ship was turning to follow Ian’s directions. They peeled off from the fleet alone, lanterns this time signaling the other ships to keep their course. They sailed on with Ian’s direction, the shapes in the water still swimming ahead at a good pace. After a few hours an island came into sight of the ship, the shapes swimming towards it. Ian could sense the island as a dark shape with shades of gray of the earth.

They stopped outside the entrance of a cavern, the shapes in the water having entered it.

“What be this bout ja?” the King asked coming up to Ian. “What be here?”

“I baint ken,” Ian answered. “There were somewhat in the water. We need ta go ashore.”

“Alright,” the king said puzzled but intrigued; not asking about how a blind man could have seen anything in the water. He whistled, calling his sailors to attention. Bailey was suddenly at Ian’s side taking his hand.

“Ye ken it be…”

“Aye,” Bailey said interrupting. “Merrow.”

Ian nodded, surprised that they had found the younger Phay in the ocean. There were plenty of tales of the Merrow, but they were rarely seen. They didn’t have to surface for air so they could just dwell in the depths of the ocean. The only time they were encountered was lone sailors when rescued from sunken ships. Which made Ian wonder what the Merrow were doing so close to the surface at this island.

The dingy was prepared, Ian, Bailey, Rork, Wildlough, Romsca, and three sailors boarded it and rowed out to the island. From what Ian could sense of it, the island was little more than a collection of tall boulders sheltering a lagoon. They rowed into the lagoon, Ian sensing the Merrow under the water. Bailey was the one to lean forward towards the water, putting her hand on the surface.

“Ye can come out,” Bailey said. Ian was probably the only one to sense the shapes under the water move toward Bailey until a head appeared just under her hand. Ian could only make out a blue haze of aura, strangely with a red smear around her head.

“Greetings,” the Merrow said in trade tongue. “You found us.”

“Aye we did,” Bailey said unnerved as she withdrew her hand. “Yet I baint be sure how unless it were what ye intended.”

“No, we came here to meet another,” the Merrow answered.

“Another?” Bailey said puzzled. The Merrow merely laughed and withdrew into the water, joining her kin to swim around.

“Bailey, I baint like this,” Ian said breathlessly, feeling the air thrum with power. The Merrow were swimming together in a pattern, one that seemed like many of those that Bailey had taught him. He could sense the lines of the power, weaving through the water like the strange ripples of the ocean. They were doing a greater working, one beyond Ian’s ability to understand.

“A calling,” Bailey breathed, able to sense the same Ian was.

“A summoning,” Romsca said amazed.

“Who?” Ian wondered as he sensed the aether coming into the cavern like a thick mist. It swirled and shimmered, Ian able to see it like the others he was sure. A shape formed from the aether, consolidating into the shape of a bird. The great eagle flew out of the aether, veering and crying out in a great cackle as it nearly crashed into the stone walls. It quickly righted itself before its form blurred and changed into a man. He dropped down and landed elegantly on his feet, straitening to look around. Ian was surprised to see it was Ghillie Dhu, unchanged since the last time he had taken the triplets away.

“Who has summoned me,” Ghillie Dhu said sounding annoyed.

“Why be he here?” Ian asked afraid. “Wasn’t he suppose ta be guardin’ the Triplets?”

“He baint have been able ta be summoned from beyond the Gates o Bone n Horn,” Bailey said equally worried.

“I have,” came the answer to Ghillie Dhu’s question. The voice seemed to come from all around, deep and low like the reverberation of a drum. Another Merrow emerged from the water, this one twice the size of the others. She was speckled like a giant whale shark, a large fin coming from her back. Her skin was black with white stripes and spots, her red hood a shimmering woven net of coral and shells.

She swam to the shore and shed her hood, becoming a naked woman who stood ten feet tall. Immodest of her nudity she walked over to Ghillie Dhu, staring him down.

“Ika-Roa, Long Shark of the Early Dawn,” Ghillie Dhu said, naming the Queen of the Merrow.

“Ghillie Dhu, He who Runs in the Wild,” she answered, her voice rich and deep. “I have awoken from my slumber, the aether rings with the song.”

“Yes, we are to march,” Ghillie Dhu answered. “Is that why you have summoned me?”

“You seemed the best choice, others would not wander as much as you,” Ika-Roa answered. “When will the answer come?”

“I do not know, but it should not come soon,” Ghillie Dhu answered. “There is a soul eater loose on the lines, it means to eat our kin should they march.”

“With Hors to lead the way I do not see it as much of a threat,” Ika-Roa said with desertion.

“Much has changed Ika-Roa,” Ghillie Dhu answered. “Hors went missing when we marched, the Dullahan slumber in Tir Aesclinn, and ages have passed in Miread since we marched. Have your children not informed you?”

Ika-Roa turned to the other Merrow, a frown upon her face.

“I admit they have tried to tell me tidings yet I would not listen,” Ika-Roa answered. “I had believed it would be simple thing that our kin would return.”

“Not as simple as we have wished,” Ghillie Dhu answered. “I need to return to Tir Aesclinn, I left it in a bit of a knot. If you wish to know more speak to the humans there.”

Ika-Roa turned to Ian and the rest, her dark blue eyes without pupils so they seemed as deep as the ocean.

“Why them?” Ika-Roa said surprised.

“They are powerful witches and have been chosen by Arke to carry her will,” Ghillie Dhu answered. “Work with them to aid our kin. For now I must go.”

Ika-Roa turned to him seeming annoyed with his sudden departure, but Ghillie Dhu had already vanished into the lines. With that Ian’s sight returned to the limits it had once been in, Ika-Roa becoming a large colorful aura. Ian could sense her aura shifting with annoyance, but then Bailey spoke.

“Queen o the Merrow, we be pleased ta serve ye,” Bailey said. “Ifn ye wish we will answer all yer questions.”

Ika-Roa’s aura shifted to a more pleased tone, and she nodded.

“Very well,” Ika-Roa said. “Come, tell me of what I have missed while I slumbered.”

They rowed over to the shore where they could gather and sit more comfortably on the rocks there. Ika-Roa sat so that she seemed more the audience, Bailey becoming the center of attention so that she might relate their story. Ian didn’t interrupt as Bailey told her story, even going over their travels though some played little into the March of the Phay. Ika-Roa and the other Merrow did not speak, their aura’s shifting with the story. Ian knew tale telling was a power of the Elder Magic, one that held a truth and a life of its own. A witch with a deal of power could tell a tale that evoked images and feelings in a listener no other teller could match; and Bailey had a great deal of power. The fact their story was something like the legends of old also made it worth telling.

Bailey finished her story just as the moon set, her listeners silent as they digested the tale. At last Ika-Roa stood and bowed to Bailey.

“Thank you for the tale and the telling,” Ika-Roa said. “And for the aid to our kin.”

“I be kin ta ye as well,” Bailey answered. “I be o the line o Eileen, n so I be Phay.”

“True,” Ika-Roa said bowing her head once more. “Then you may call upon us as kin. You speak of battle on the land, battle with creatures intent on the death of our kin. If you will have us, we the Merrow will aid our kin the Aldan.”

Ian could sense the shift in Bailey’s aura, the weight of her coming words laying on her spirit.

“Aye,” Bailey said. “We call upon ye fer aid.”

“Then you shall have it,” Ika-Roa said. “I will gather all the Merrow and we shall join you.”

“Thank ye,” Bailey said, her voice thick with tears. “Thank ye fer yer aid.”

“As you said, we are kin,” Ika-Roa said. With that she donned her hood again and slipped into the sea, disappearing quickly into the depths.

“Come, we need ta return ta our ship,” Wildlough said, his voice betraying the awe he felt.

“So that be it then,” Romsca said in awe. “The Merrow shall fight with us?”

“Aint sure they’ll be much help been only lasses,” Wildlough said, then yelped as Romsca dug an elbow into his ribs.

“The Merrow be different,” Bailey said. “N the Aldan women fight too, n in Daun in days o old women fought. Ye mistake our reluctance ta fight as weakness King, but it be far from it. We be slow ta anger er fight, but when we do we be mightier en men when it come ta guardin our kith n kin.”

“There be male Merrow too ta be sure,” Ian said. “But the lasses be the real warriors ta be sure.”

Wildlough decided wisely to keep his mouth shut as they returned to their skiff to row back to the ship. They set out once more and it was no long until the caught up to the fleet once more. They kept the coming of the Merrow a secret for now, Bailey couldn’t answer how long it would take Ika-Roa to muster the Merrow.

They sailed into Windfall Bay a moon into their journey over sea, the late summer sun burnishing the water gold. Ian and Bailey found the King of Hyrian lounging in a hammock, sunning like a lizard.

“What be yer plan fer gettin an army through Hyria?” Bailey asked but Wildlough didn’t even open an eye.

           “Bluff,” Wildlough answered.

           “Bluff?” Bailey said puzzled.

“That whelp Drasir has been hounding me to send troops,” Wildlough answered with a wicked grin as he opened one eye to wink at Bailey. “I’ve brought troops, just not for him. I’ll just say I’m on my way to Regis to report to the High King when stopped and then we’ll just march right past Cair Leon to Alda.”

“There still be quite a bit o land betwixt the two,” Bailey said. “What’ll ye do ifn Drasir sends a force ta stop ye?”

“From my sources he aint got ‘em.” Wildlough answered as he pulled himself to his feet. “Most be at the Lirian boarder ta the east guarding in case the Orc army moves their way. By the time he’d get ‘em turn round bouts we’ll be nippin at the Orc’s heels.”

Bailey nodded once and thanked Wildlough, moving away.

“Will it work?” Ian asked.

“I suppose,” Bailey answered. “I baint ken state work er the High King, Wildlough does so I hope he kens what he’s on about.”

“I baint ask you ifn’t ye thought it’ll work,” Ian said. “Ye can do a reading baint?”

“I baint have the sight Ian,” Bailey said. “It be a true talent er trick o birth what makes un able ta see inta the future, n it often makes em mad as rabbits.”

Ian nodded remembering Meredydd, he would not wish that fate on Bailey.

“Looks like we have ta trust the king then,” Ian said.

“Ye can trust him,” Rork said sauntering up. “None better ta keep his word ja.”

“It baint be his word we be worried bout,” Bailey answered.

“Well we surely have enough fighters we’d win any scrap,” Rork answered. “I’d be more worried bout those beasties.”

Ian nodded, the Orc army should be their main concern.

“N also ifn the Merrow ever show,” Bailey answered.

“They will,” Ian said sure of it.

It only took them a few days to arrive finally at the port of Bayton, a small Regarian town. The town seemed over-whelmed with the arrival of the army, but the officials let them land though there wasn’t much choice in the matter. Ian stood on the edge of the dock with Matt in his arms, his senses bent towards the open water.

“Ya shouldn’t look back,” Rork said. “It be unlucky ja.”

“I baint be ‘looking’,” Ian answered and Rork chuckled. “N they be arriving.”

Rork quieted, looking out into the bay. Ian wasn’t sure what he could see, but for him he could sense the thousands of auras under the water there. They were moving fast, having just come into the range of his senses. The largest aura arrived at the shore first and emerged from the water. Ika-Roa shed her red hood and stood on the shore, more merrow doing the same. Ian heard Rork whistle in admiration and turned to him.

“Their armor, it be o shells n mother o’ pearl,” Rork said, “I wish ye could see it.”

“Here,” Bailey said as she touched Ian’s arm. She let aether flow into him and for a moment his sight returned. He saw Ika-Roa wearing a long coat of mail made of thousands of tiny seashells sewn together, plate mail of shimmering mother of pearl covering her shoulders and thighs. She wore a great breastplate of a scallop shell, and a helm made of a nautilus shell. At her hip she carried a conch horn, magnificent covered in mother of pearl and trimmed in gold.

Then the vision faded and Ian was left once more with the smudged auras.

“I’d been wantin’ ta try that,” Bailey said softly. “Did it work?”

“Aye briefly,” Ian answered. “But I’d rather see ye en Ika-Roa.”

Bailey’s aura blushed and she laughed.

“Well Iak-Roa be a sight ta behold,” Bailey answered. “Baint be often ye get ta see a Queen o the Phay equipped fer war.”

“Aye,” Ian said. “Next time though ye should try that when we be alone.”

“Aye I will,” Bailey said, her aura glowing with pleasure. “I baint do it often though, yer spirit could become engorged with aether ifn I do.”

“Aye, I trust ye ta use it wisely,” Ian said. “Thank ye.”

Bailey’s aura glowed more as she leaned up to kiss him lightly on the lips.

“Well we’d best go greet the Merrow before the townsfolk tear em ta shreads,” Rork said.

He was right, the arrival of the Merrow was causing a panic in the village, shouts and screams ringing in the streets. Luckily the villagers seemed to be fleeing rather than gathering to fight, doors slamming and being bared left and right. They walked over to Ika-Roa, who hardly seemed to notice the villagers. She was busy giving orders to her kin.

“Hail,” Bailey said as she bowed.

“Hail witch of the moors,” Ika-Roa answered. “We have come to kill the enemies of our kin. Are you ready to march?”

“Nowt, we have ta unload our ships,” Bailey answered.

“Good, much more of our kin must emerge still,” Ika-Roa answered.

“How many have ye?” Ian asked.

“I have gathered a thousand shoals,” Ika-Roa answered. “Each have committed about thirty fighters.”

“They all be women,” Rork said.

“Aye, the males of our kind tend to the young,” Ika-Roa answered. “I have brought all that I could.”

“That be all,” Bailey said shocked. “O the Merrow only thirty thousand can fight?”

“Aye, fewer and fewer have been reborn of late,” Ika-Roa answered. “The Phay need to march if our numbers are to be restored, their exile has been too long.”

Ian wondered then if the Crippled One might also be the reason fewer of those with Phay blood were being reborn. No, Fors guided and guarded those who rode her wheel, there might be a few who were taken by the Crippled One but not enough to be such an impact on population as now. Ika-Roa was right, the Phay needed to march.

“For now, we will march for war,” Ika-Roa said. With that she raised her conch horn and blew into it, an almost musical note ringing out over the land, calling her people to battle and war.

[billymoon13]

Revelation

The two men walked back toward town from the cabin clearing in silence for a while, both still reviewing the incident in their minds. Johnny was thinking through the next steps of what was to be done with the information obtained. Cotton was still amazed at the cunning and boldness of Johnny who Cotton first assumed was a calm man more content with sitting quietly reading books than be involved in such dangerous actions. The only sounds made were the crunching of gravel and twigs under their shoes from the road and birds chirping and singing in the trees above in the mid-morning dampness.

Before long, Cotton could no longer endure the silence. “I still dunna understand why you’re not concerned about the lobster seein’ yer face. Sure’n as the saints are holy tha’ he’ll report all to his lobster-mates. They’ll do double protection on tha’ supplies and change the route, I’d wager.”

“Yes, he has seen my face…yes, it is possible he could identify me again. However, I don’t believe he will nor do I believe anything will change with the shipment,” replied Johnny.

“Ya’re daft!” countered Cotton. “He’n a good British soldier. He’s duty bound to tell, and they’ll do somethin’ differn’t.”

“Cotton, a British soldier being captured is to be avoided in their training. There are punishments for being captured; lashes are given. It is better to die for the crown than to be captured. There are also much harsher punishments for giving information to the enemy; death in most cases. However, if one is captured, it then becomes their duty to escape,” explained Johnny while Cotton scratched his rough jawline in consideration.

“Ya could ha’ just killed him, too and saved the trouble, boyo,” reasoned Cotton.

Johnny waved one finger in the air in rebuttal, “No, if we had killed him, the British would send patrols looking for him with the concern that the security of the shipment has been compromised. They need this shipment to continue their troop movements in the area.”

“Ya’re still daft! He gave up the plan for ‘dem goods and where dey’ll be dropped. Your information be as worthless as a teacup in a Scottish pub!” scolded Cotton.

“Some of the men you saw previously trained with the British and understand how soldiers think. That scared, bruised, Redcoat will find his way back to his regiment and report he escaped with his life with no information compromised,” said Johnny with his eyebrows raised acting out the part of the soldier reporting the incident. “He will paint himself as a hero with the goal of avoiding as much punishment as possible. That’s how I know what we have will remain unchanged with limited risk to my identity.”

Cotton considered Johnny’s explanation of the strategy and thought it cleverly devised, but still full of risk. He admired his friend even more now while also having an increased concern for his safety. They continued to walk for a while longer in silence. The road curved onward and a small wood-hewn fence began to appear along-side the path.

“Well, why d’ devil do ya wanna get involved in such matters, eh? I dunna like ‘dem lobsters as much as the next man, but they are the King’s men. Tis ‘ard to ‘ave pride swingin’ from a rope for crossen’ ‘em, me boy,” reasoned Cotton.

“’Tis curious you should inquire about that, Cotton. A good example of why I should get involved has just now come across our path. Let’s turn down this crook in the road and I’ll show you,” directed Johnny as he gestured to a small turn off the road just barely big enough for a small carriage or wagon. The turn led down a cleanly manicured lane curving through the wood. Trees seemed to symmetrically stand in a stately fashion with birds chirping in greeting and squirrels scampering away in alert to their presence. It was a peaceful walk with a sweet aroma of the pines and vegetation around them.

The lane made a final turn and suddenly expanded to a large area with enough open land to hold a small estate. There was a barn with two smaller out-buildings, a mid-size field for planting behind that, a carriage house, and in the foreground, some large burned-out remains of a home. The house was just a shell ravaged by fire…and a recent fire, at that. Cotton could still smell the odor of burned wood and sulfer lingering. The only things still standing were three columns that once held overhead support for a nice sitting porch. There was an older gentleman and a young adult male by the barn working on a wagon wheel and two women sitting outside the carriage house; one older and the other a young girl.

“AHOY, CAPTAIN! PERMISSION TO COME ABOARD!,” yelled Johnny toward the barn between cupped hands around his mouth. The older man stood up straight and looked their direction.

“Permission granted! Glad to see you, my boy,” answered the gentleman who then gestured to the young man to keep working on the wagon wheel, which clearly had broken spokes. He then steps away from the barn and walks in long strides to meet Johnny and Cotton. Cotton observed that even though his steps were broad and energetic, it was clear there was age and pain behind every step. It was the movement of a man still with confidence, but with a body impacted by years and injury. “What brings you by…and what brings you to be on foot way out this way?” said the man while extending his hand.

Johnny grabbed the gentleman’s hand in an eager, firm manner of a long-lost friend. “Had some business dealings out this way and thought to stop by and offer greetings. How are things?” Johnny inquired.

The man leaned back to stretch his spine while pushing both hands into his lower back. Cotton could hear vertebrae popping and cracking. “Well enough…we are getting along with the carriage house and the barn. It is only by God’s providence and protection that not all was lost,” answered the man in a sad, but hopeful tone. “Who might this fellow shipmate with you be, eh?”

Johnny quickly answered in a slightly embarrassed way, “Oh! My apologies. Captain Gray, this is a new associate of mine, Cotton Stewart. He has recently been very helpful with one of my business dealings.”

“Fine to meet you, Mr. Stewart. Any associate of John’s is welcome on-deck at the Gray estate anytime,” greeted the Captain while shaking Cotton’s hand with such firmness that even the wiry, grizzled cooper could not match. “And what might your business or trade be, Mr. Stewart?” quizzed the Captain further.

“Fine ta meet ya’ too, Cap’n…I’ma cooper in town. If ya got sumthin’ tha’ needs holdin’, my barrels are worth beholdin’…and just plain ol’ Cotton will do fer me, yer grace,” said Cotton followed up with a friendly laugh.

“Well, then, for you it should be Captain, or Captain Gray. We won’t have any of that ‘your grace’ nonsense here. We are free men with the ability to chart our own course,” replied the Captain with a slap on Cotton’s shoulder. “Say, you must be the cooper with the distinctive brand on your wares. I’ve traded for some of your barrels. Best quality I’ve ever seen…even compared to my seafaring days…any household would be proud to have your stock,” complimented the Captain.

“Ya see there, Johnny! A right sat’sfied customer, he ‘as an eye for what’s good. I told ya mine were da’ bes’ in all th’ colonies!” chuckled Cotton and the Captain joined in while a grin lit Johnny’s face.

“Captain,” interrupted Johnny, “I’m glad to hear you and your family have protection…and it seems the crop will be fine,” added Johnny looking across to the tilled field with half-mature plants sprouting up, “however, I will relay the state of things and will see about providing additional supplies from what may come available.”

“God bless you and your compatriots, John,” said the Captain in a resigned manner. “If the field had been touched, we would indeed be like the birds of the air relying on hourly provision from the Lord. We will make do but are thankful for all blessings.”

“And God bless you, Captain. We must take our leave now and get back into town. I will see you again soon. There are movements happening in the area and I was concerned for your ongoing safety,” said Johnny while starting to turn back to the lane. Cotton shook the Captain’s hand one more time and said, “I see you and the lad are havin’ trouble with th’ wheel. Bring it by me cooperage. I has some spindles left over from a job that’ll work sure enouf’ with me compliments. She’ll be fixed faster than a miser can bank a farthing,” said Cotton with a wink and a toothy grin while turning to catch up with Johnny.

“Aye! That’s very gracious of you, Master Cotton…very gracious indeed!” thanked the Captain with a wave of the hat on his head. “Ahoy and a safe voyage to you both lads!” yelled the Captain as they were almost disappeared down the lane.

“Oi, Johnny…what became of their home…was it some accident wit’ da’ lamp?” quizzed Cotton.

“That’s what I wanted you to see, old boy,” answered Johnny quickly. “Their home was burned to the ground by the British.”

Cotton’s jaw slacked open and his brow became furrowed in disbelief. “How come? It’s a daft thing! He seems a decent sort…” trailed Cotton as he looked back up the lane toward the destroyed home.

“The Captain sailed for the British moving cargo and goods back and forth from England to the Colonies. He is a respected man with no ill-will toward anyone,” Johnny reported, “He was suspected by the British for also smuggling goods to the Colonial militias.”

“Were any o’ it true?” asked Cotton.

“No...no truth to it at all…only suspicion, which is all the British general needed to give the burn order,” said Johnny while looking straight ahead in a far-off stare. “He never made claim to be a British Loyalist, nor a sympathizer to the Colonials…he is as innocent as can be.”

“I’d wager he migh’ ‘ave a differ’nt view now, eh?” edged Cotton while nudging Johnny.

“You are correct. With the events against his family, he was removed of his commission and now has more compassion toward the cause of liberty and separation from England,” confirmed Johnny.

“So, all this pig-in-a-barrel business is revenge for th’ Cap’ns house?” asked Cotton as no sense of it was coming clear to him quite yet.

“Only a portion, my friend,” Johnny instructed. “You see, it is about whether we have the ability to have a representative government or not. The King will not allow the Colonies to be represented in the House of Lords…despite many protests and requests for audience to plead the case.”

“Aw…we all’re doin’ fine withou’ bein’ in that bunch of poof-wigs,” countered Cotton.

“Many argue that same point and say the Colonies should stay loyal to the crown; those are referred to as Loyalists,” stated Johnny. “The issue is what may happen in the future. There is a growing number who see that if the Colonies are not represented, then the King can do with us as he pleases with no possible recourse available on our behalf. We become his playthings.”

Cotton scrunched his brow, left eye and side of mouth in an ‘I don’t understand’ facial expression. Johnny removed his hat, ran his hand through his hair trying to decide how to help his friend understand.

“You heard about the tea being thrown overboard in Boston harbor, indeed?” asked Johnny.

“Aye! Sounded like a lark, that was!” said Cotton in an excited, but envious tone.

“Yes, that was in response to the King placing a tax the tea once it reached the harbor. If the King imposes a tax on goods…and does not give representation in Parliament, then we are no longer subjects, but indentured servants with no practical liberty,” explained Johnny while reading Cotton’s face for some evidence of understanding.

Cotton, a keen sense of people, could tell Johnny was trying and responded with, “Nah…nuthin’ mate.”

“Alright, then. Consider this,” said Johnny in a different approach, “let us presume the King decides that only barrels crafted by royally approved coopers would be allowed for trade in England or in any of the colonies held by England. Let us also imagine that, to be approved by His Highness, you must perform your trade on the soil of England. If you are in the colonies, then you must pay an annual tax of 60-pounds for the designation of being a royally approved cooper.”

“Oi! Tha’ would ruin me trade, it would!” exclaimed Cotton trying to imagine the impact with fear in his eyes. “Me barrels would ‘ave ta’ cost more than double they do now, an’ no one would pay fer tha’!”

“Correct…and you would have no recourse with the crown to try and overcome the decision as the Colonies would have no representation in Parliament,” said Johnny adding to Cotton’s realization of reality. “You would be living at the whim of a King who cares nothing for you or your livelihood, my friend. Anyone who is referred to as a subject of the crown would then become a slave to the crown.”

“I understand, Johnny boy…as clear as the highest bells in th’ church steeple,” resigned Cotton whose shoulders slumped a little with the weight of realization hitting him.

“There are many more stories like that of Captain Gray. Homes burned with no claims made in court or evidence of guilt…British soldiers housed in private homes essentially pushing the property owner out…suppression of town meetings to discuss the problems…and the seizure of citizens gunpowder and rifles,” Johnny continued.

The two men walked in silence further. Johnny changed his attention to absorbing the beauty of nature around him to calm his mind and spirit. Cotton was still soaking in Johnny’s words and logic in his own way by scratching his stubbly jaw and repeatedly removing his wool cap and rubbing his near-bald head all with a scowl on his face. The road became wider and the edge of Charlestown began appearing.

“Well, my friend, I thank you for the walk and the talk,” interrupted Johnny. “I now must attend to some other business to prepare for days ahead. We will see each other soon.” With that, Johnny slapped Cotton on the shoulder and turned off the road disappearing behind some storehouse buildings perched on the edge of town. Cotton nodded in agreement toward Johnny as he disappeared but kept silent as he continued walking forward into town.

Once back at his cooperage, he sat in his makeshift half-barrel throne twirling his cap on one finger while in thought. Cotton reviewed the events of the morning recalling the shock of seeing the Redcoat captive scene play out. He tried to repeat Johnny’s words in his mind and remembered the most of it while not being able to recall the finery of the exposition. The wiry cooper thought about Captain Gray and the injustice done to him and seemed to re-smell the burned home again. He looked around his humble, but proud cooperage and imagined it being confiscated, vacant, or even burned. A sudden conviction then came over the gap-toothed soul who then roughly shoved his cap back on and picked up a hatchet laying nearby rolling the handle along the palm of his hand.

“Cotton, me boy, ye’ve got none but yerself ta protect wha’s rightly your’n…’tis time we put the fire ta the barrel ta soften thin’s up,” he said to himself aloud. He then threw the hatchet across the cooperage yard which landed with a firm thud sticking into a pile of scrap wood in the corner seemingly serving as a physical exclamation point to the decision made.