#but they had nine granddaughters and were prepared for war so

[akaanonymouth]

What is it about fics then, where characters always, ALWAYS, have a spare toothbrush conveniently just hanging about in bathroom cupboards for that time someone is, usually unexpectedly, staying the night?

I have lived a few decades now, and I have never known anyone who keeps spare toothbrushes. Is it really common??

[mads-weasley]

Timeless

Lewis Nixon x Reader

Masterlist

A/N: can i just say, SPEAK NOW TV IS AMAZING!!! literally my childhood. after hearing "timeless" and instantly falling in love with it, i got the sudden inspiration to write! hbo owns the rights, and this is about the fictional portrayal of easy company on the show. nothing but love and respect for veterans on this blog! Enjoy!

Summary: The Nixons look back on their life as they're preparing to move.

Warnings: major fluff

Nixon, New Jersey: 1985

"Mom, why couldn't I have stayed at home? I don't want to go through Gran and Gramp's junk!"

Mary took a deep breath and restrained from exploding on her 14-year-old daughter. "They've lived in this house for almost 40 years, Kimberly, so naturally we need a ton of help getting them moved out."

Rolling her eyes, she sat on the floor with a huff, grabbing the nearest box. She opened it and discovered it was filled to the brim with photographs. Most were black and white, but the ones near the top were vibrant with color. Those dated back to around 71' when Kim was born. Smiling to herself, she sorted through her own pictures first before moving on to the older, monochrome photos.

The first one she pulled out was of her parents, dressed to the nines at a school dance. Mary was wearing a beautiful aqua dress with her hair pulled back into a teased bun. Kim chuckled at the giant beehives girls used to style their hair in.

"Don't even, Kim," her mother smirked, going through a box of her own. "Hair like that was all the rage in the 60s."

The teenager flipped the photo over. "What year was this?"

Scooting over to her daughter, Mary fondly looked at the picture. "I think it was our senior prom, so 1967, I think. Your father proposed to me a few months after that."

Soon, the duo went through the rest of the box but stopped when they saw a bundle of paper and photos at the bottom of it.

"What's this?" Kim whispered, picking up the stack and inspecting it. "Are these letters?"

Before she could open one up, two battered photos slid out of the bundle, falling onto the hardwood floor. As Kim picked them up, she froze.

"Is this Gram and Gramps?" Gaped Kim.

Nodding slowly, her mother took the photos from her, looking over them herself. "I've never even seen these before."

The black-and-white pictures depicted a couple kissing goodbye during the war and the same couple laughing as they ran out of a church on their wedding day, rice flying through the air.

Each had a date and description on the back.

Our wedding day - July 10, 1940

Lew leaving for basic training - 1942

Before either could comment, another voice filled the room.

"I see you've found our photo albums. Lew! They're in here!"

(Y/n) Nixon walked in and sat on a nearby couch, gesturing for the bundle. A few seconds later, her husband of 43 years strolled into the room, his signature smirk on his face. "I told you we put them in this closet, honey."

"Lewis Nixon, you liar," (y/n) laughed. "Not five minutes ago, you were saying that you put them in the garage!"

Throwing his hands up in surrender, he ruffled his granddaughter's hair before sitting next to his wife on the couch. "Are you gonna let her talk to me like that, squirt?"

Kim cackled, enjoying their banter. "Most of the time, you deserve it, Gramps."

Lew looked at his daughter with raised eyebrows. "She sure is your daughter, alright."

"And your granddaughter," quipped (y/n).

Looking down at the box in his wife's arms, Lewis smiled to himself as he reached for the picture of them on their wedding day. "I remember this like it was yesterday."

"Me too. There's no way it was forty-some years ago."

Kissing (y/n)'s temple, he pulled her close to him. "If it's any consolation, you still look as beautiful as the day I first saw you."

Getting up from the floor, Kim moved and sat next to the couple. "How did you two meet again? I know you've told me, but I forgot."

Lew placed an arm around her and took a deep breath. "Well, Grams and I met in a diner when she got blinded by my beauty and spilled water all over me."

"Lewis," (y/n) scoffed, hitting his chest playfully.

He smirked. "Alright, alright. She tripped and fell for me."

"Here we go again," Mary joked as she prepared for the story she'd heard a million times but never tired of...

Nixon, New Jersey: 1938

It was a hot and sunny Saturday in August when 19-year-old Lewis Nixon and his best friend, Bobby Monroe, escaped the latest highfaluting party held at the Nixon residence. Even though the depression still gripped the country, affluent families like the Nixons and the Monroes didn't have to worry about money like everybody else.

"You hungry?" Lew asked, already anticipating his friend's answer.

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Always. I'll do anything to get away from these stupid things."

"I know how you feel. It's always, 'Lewis, this is Mr. Johnson. And this is his snobby daughter, Alice, or whatever that one's name is."

Hopping into Lewis' brand new Lincoln Zephyr, they set out for the nearby town of Edison, New Jersey.

As they drove, Bobby looked around them, contemplating his food options. "Where do you want to go, Lew?"

"I heard there is a new place up the street called Morgan's Cafe. Wanna try it?"

"As long as they've got edible food, I'm in," Bobby chuckled, clutching his growling stomach. "I'm starving!"

"Good thing it's right here, then.”

After parking, the boys entered the diner with a ding and sat down at a window booth.

“Welcome to Morgan’s! We’ll be with you in a moment,” a soft voice called from the back of the diner.

Minutes later, while the boys were deep in conversation, the kitchen doors opened, and what Lew saw stole the words from his mouth. His gaze was stuck on the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. The boy couldn't help but feel captivated by the girl's dazzling smile, stunning (y/h/c) hair, and cute pink diner uniform, which left him speechless.

Noticing his friend's expression, Bobby looked over his shoulder to see what the big fuss was. He immediately understood as the girl rounded the table, handing them menus with a smile.

"Hi, my name is (y/n), and I'm going to be your server today. What can I get you two fellas to start out?"

Both of the teenagers mind's were thinking one thing:

'What a dame!'

Bobby broke the awkward silence, clearing his throat. "Could I have an RC Cola, please?"

"Sure thing," she nodded, turning to Nixon, who still couldn't form a coherent thought. "What would you like to drink?"

Words? What were words? What were thoughts? All Lewis knew was that the girl, no, young woman, in front of him was stunning. He looked like a deer in headlights as she spoke to him. Luckily, Bobby kicked his friend's leg under the table, breaking him from his trance.

"I'll have a water, please."

"Alrighty," she chirped. "I'll be right back with those."

The boys' eyes followed her until she disappeared behind the kitchen doors. At the same time, they turned toward each other with wide eyes.

"Wow. I've never seen a girl leave you speechless, Lew."

Chuckling, he ran his hand through his hair. "I know. And that's saying something."

In the few minutes she was in the kitchen, Lewis racked his brain for things to say to her. He didn't want to sound like a jerk but wanted to make an impression. Most of the time he met girls, he was introduced by his mother or father at their dinner parties, so he didn't fully know how to act in his current situation.

As (y/n) emerged from the kitchen and strolled over, his heart pounded as he tried to maintain his composure. Unbeknownst to her, a small wrinkle in the floor mat lay in wait for an unsuspecting victim. As fate would have it, amid her stride, her foot caught on the edge and caused her to stumble forward. Time seemed to slow down as she desperately tried to stop the drinks from flying towards the boys.

Lewis, caught off guard by the unexpected turn of events, could only watch in disbelief as the impending disaster unfolded. His half-confident demeanor vanished, replaced by an expression of mild shock and bemusement.

Within seconds, the glass of water made contact with Lew's finely tailored suit, showering him with a cascade of cool, refreshing water. Droplets splashed against his lapel, forming a constellation of wet spots across the fabric, while rivulets trickled down, leaving a damp trail on his pants

As the initial surprise washed over him, the teenager's face transformed into a mixture of surprise and amusement. His lips curled into a half-smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling with genuine humor. Instead of frustration, a sense of amusement colored his reaction. A completely dry Bobby busted out laughing the same time Lew did, knowing the boy could care less about his freshly dry-cleaned suit.

(Y/n)'s cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she rushed to his side, her hands instinctively reaching for napkins to remedy the situation.

Her voice tinged with apologies, "Oh, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to trip, and then the water... It was an accident, I swear!"

Lewis's face reddened at her touch as he extended a hand to stop her frantic efforts. His smile remained intact, radiating warmth and understanding with a touch of nervousness.

"Don't worry about it. Accidents happen-"

She stepped back slightly, looking at his suit worriedly as she interrupted him. "I'll pay for it to be cleaned. I-I'm so sorry. "

A genius plan came to his mind, and his smile formed into a little smirk. "I know how you can make it up to me."

His swagger was back.

"How?" She asked, hand rubbing her face in embarrassment. "I'll do just about anything."

"Go on a date with me?" He shrugged.

Her embarrassed expression changed into a grin at his question. "I think that can be arranged...." She prompted, unsure of his name.

"Lewis. Lewis Nixon," he stuck out his hand, winking when she took it gently. "When can I pick you up?"

As the pair locked eyes, it felt like they were the only ones in the diner. Electricity ran through them, warming their bodies on the already hot day. Lew noticed a slight blush creeping up her neck and thought it was adorable.

"I get off at 5," she whispered, writing her name and number on a nearby napkin. "Pick me up here?"

He stood and motioned for Bobby to get up. "Sounds like a plan, sweetheart."

Bobby pulled a few dollars out of his wallet and attempted to hand it to the girl. "Here, this is for the drinks."

Keeping her eyes on Lew's soft browns, she shook her head. "Don't worry about it. It's on the house."

In a moment of courage, he leaned down and kissed her on the cheek as he walked toward the door. "See you at 5, (y/n)."

"See you then, Lewis."

The rest was history.

Nixon, New Jersey: 1985

Kimberly's jaw was on the floor at the end of their story. "So you're telling me you basically fell for Gramps the day you met?"

With a chuckle, (y/n) glanced over at her husband who wore a proud grin. "I guess I did, Kim."

"And two years later, we got married," Lewis stated. "But I knew after our second date I was going to marry her."

Kim, already becoming a lovesick pre-teen, was in awe at their story and had to know more. "What happened when the war started?"

At the mention of the war, Lewis' eyes went to the ground. Even after forty years, the horrid images still flashed in his mind. Luckily, (y/n) answered with a tense smile.

"Your Gramps left in the spring of 1942 after Pearl Harbor was attacked. We'd only been married for two years when he left, and saying goodbye was one of the hardest things I've ever done."

New Brunswick Train Station, New Jersey: May 1942

(Y/n) had tried to prepare herself for her husband's departure since he'd volunteered, but when the time came, all preparation went out the window. The reality of where he was going was everpresent in her mind as they walked hand and hand towards the train platform.

She looked up at a wall clock hung beside them: 12:20. They had ten minutes before he'd have to leave. (Y/n)'s heart was aching at the thought of being without the love of her life for an unknown period of time. She refused to even entertain the idea that he might not come back.

Reaching the correct platform, the couple stopped and turned to face one another. (Y/n) had tears in her eyes as she studied his face, committing every detail to memory. The weight of their imminent separation hung heavily in the air.

(Y/n)'s voice trembled as she spoke, her eyes filled with both love and fear. "Lew, promise me you'll come back. Promise me you'll stay safe."

She threw her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder as she added, "I know you can't promise, but I just need to hear you say it. Please."

"I'll come back to you," he whispered into her hair, trying to memorize what it felt like to hold her in his arms. "I promise."

Pulling away, what was left of (y/n)'s resolve cracked at a stray tear that leaked down her husband's face. She broke into sobs, and Lewis had to hold in his own as he pulled her back into his embrace.

"I don't know what I'm going to do without you, Lew. I don't think I can do this."

He leaned back and gently wiped her tears off of her shining cheeks before cupping them softly. "You can, (y/n). You're the strongest person I know. We can do this, sweetheart."

The train whistle blew loudly, announcing that boarding had started, and (y/n)'s heart dropped to her stomach. The clock read 12:37. How could she say goodbye to her whole world in 3 minutes?

(Y/n) held onto him tightly, burying her face in his shoulder. "Oh, Lew, I love you more than words can say. I'll be here waiting for you, praying for your safe return every day."

He kissed her forehead, his touch gentle and tender. "I love you too, (y/n), more than life itself. I'll write to you as much as I can, and be waiting for yours. We'll make it through this together."

As the distant sound of a train whistle pierced the air again, she looked up at Lewis, her voice trembling. "Kiss me."

Their final kiss was a bittersweet embrace, filled with an amalgamation of longing, love, and unspoken words. (Y/n)'s delicate fingers brushed against Lewis' cheek as he cupped her face gently, his touch warm and comforting. Their lips met, and time seemed to stand still, capturing the intensity of their affection.

(Y/n) could taste the slight saltiness of her own tears mingling with the sweetness of his lips. She memorized the sensation—the gentle pressure, the soft warmth—as if etching it into her very being. It was a kiss that conveyed a deep yearning, a longing to hold onto this moment forever. But just as their embrace deepened, the piercing sound of a train whistle shattered the tranquility of the station.

They reluctantly broke apart, breaths mingling in the air as their gazes locked on each other. Time stood suspended between them, as if holding its breath, reluctant to let go of their connection.

With a teary smile, he picked up his bags and backed away toward the train car. "I love you," he called over his shoulder. "See you soon., sweetheart."

As the train's doors started to close, reality pressed upon them. They stood there, eyes locked until the very last second, etching the image of each other's faces in their hearts.

And as the train pulled away, taking her husband further from her, (y/n) Nixon stood alone on the platform. She touched her lips, still tingling from their final kiss, a mixture of love and sorrow overwhelming her. She whispered, as if he could hear her across the distance, "Come back to me, Lew. Please, come back."

Nixon, New Jersey: 1985

"Over the 12-hundred-some days that we were separated, a week didn't go by that I didn't write Lew. He wrote when he could, and it always made my heart skip a beat when I'd get a letter from him."

(Y/n) reached into the box and grabbed the large stack of letters. "I still can't believe you kept these after all this time."

Lewis' gaze turned from the ground to his wife with misty eyes. "I could never get rid of them. Your letters were what got me through."

Growing up, anytime Lew spoke about the war, it was only to tell a story about his friends Dick, Harry, and Ron. Even some of those times, he got a far-off look that Mary could recognize. (Y/n) quickly shot her daughter a look, and Mary gently took Kim by the arm.

"Come on, Kimmy. Let's go sort through my old stuff."

Getting up, the 12-year-old wore a confused look. "But we're not done looking thro-"

Mary raised her eyebrows at the pre-teen, ushering her out the door. "Come on."

Once they were out of the room, he gently took the bundle from (y/n) and removed the rubber band holding them all together. Lew randomly grabbed one from his lap and started reading it.

"This one's from January 7th of 45'."

"My Dear Husband,

I hope things are going better than what we've been hearing at home. The fighting in Belgium sounds horrifying. All I can do is pray that you're not there, Lew. I know you haven't been able to write, and deep down, I know you're there. If my gut is right, be careful, darling. I need you to come back to me after all this ends.

On a higher note, I finally caved and got a dog! You'd love her, Lew! She's the most adorable cocker spaniel named Ruby. I've had her for a few weeks and have fallen in love with her cute personality. People who say dogs don't have personalities are stupid. She does this thing where she'll come sit next to me on the couch and listen to me rant about my day. And on the nights when I'm struggling, she'll snuggle next to me and lay her head on my chest. It's like she's trying to tell me everything is gonna be okay.

Even with her here with me, I still miss you more than anything. I feel like a piece of me is missing without you here beside me. Everything feels wrong without you here. Christmas was really hard. Who am I to talk about my life being hard? You're goodness know's where fighting in a war. All this goes to say that I love you so much, and I can't wait to hold you in my arms again. Stay safe and come back to me.

All my love,

(Y/n)"

Lew took a deep breath and took her hand."I know I don’t talk about it much, but the war… It was hell. December of 44’. We didn’t have winter clothes or supplies, and the men- the casualties were terrible. There weren’t many Toccoa men left afterward.”

(Y/n) squeezed his hand gently. “I remember being so worried about you”

“When things got really bad, I would read your past letters. They were the only warmth in that frigid forest.”

“I did the same thing here. When I missed you more than normal, I would read the letter you sent me for my 25th birthday. It’s in here somewhere,” she whispered, searching through the box. (Y/n) knew Lewis didn’t like to go on about the war, so over their marriage, she just listened and didn’t ask any questions, no matter how badly she wanted to. Early on, she decided to let him share when he wanted to. Once she found it, she started to read it aloud.

“Dear Birthday Girl,

Happy 25th birthday, sweetheart! As I write this in my muddy foxhole, know that my heart overflows with my deepest affection and longing for you. I find myself cherishing the memories we’ve shared and dreaming of the moments we’ll create together when this war is but a distant memory.

Your presence in my life has been nothing but a gift, and every day, I’m so grateful that we found each other. Your smile, laughter, and the way you light up a room with your presence captured me from the very start. Your kindness, compassion, and unwavering support have been my strength in the months since we parted. 

In the midst of the chaos around me, your beautiful face is etched in my mind, and the thought of your warm embrace gets me through the hardest times. It’s the memory of your tender touch that keeps me going.

On this special day, I want to shower you with love and blessings, even from afar. You deserve all the happiness this world can offer, and I promise that once this war is over, we’ll celebrate your birthday in a way that makes up for all the times we’ve been apart. I hate that I’ve missed 23, 24, and 25, but know that I will make up for it every day for the rest of our lives. I love you more than words can say. Happy birthday, (y/n). I hope you have the best day.

With all my love,

Lewis”

A fond smile formed on her face as she turned to him. “I think I read that every single holiday, and when I hadn’t gotten anything from you in a while.”

“I had one of those, too,” he smirked. “Mine involved a few pictures and a-”

(Y/n) smacked his arm with a mock gasp. “Lewis Nixon! Our daughter and granddaughter are in the next room over!”

“Ehh,” he shrugged. “It never stopped us before.”

“I don’t know if you haven’t noticed, Lew, but we’re not in our 20s anymore, hun.”

With a chuckle, Lewis started sorting through their box of pictures once again. There were ones from Mary’s childhood all the way up to when Kim was born. One in particular, caught his eye. Mary was around 4 in the picture, and it showed the three of them in front of the Golden Gate Bridge on one of their trips to visit Lew’s mom and sister in San Fransisco.

“Remember this?” He asked as he held it up.

(Y/n) raised her eyebrows and laughed under her breath. “I remember I got the worst sunburn of my life that trip.”

Laughter filled the air of the small room as the couple continued to sort through their beloved possessions.

Two Weeks Later

They were gathered outside their house with Mary, her husband, and Kim, looking at the past 40 years of their lives. All the memories flashed in their minds, and the couple willed away tears. 

“We’ve had a great life, haven’t we?”

Tucking into her husband’s side, (y/n) laid her head on his shoulder. “Yeah, we have. You know, I’ve been thinking. I think even in a different life, you still would’ve been mine, Lew.”

“Me, too, Sweetheart,” he whispered, kissing her temple. “We really were timeless."

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[melmika45]

(I intentionally left out many details of her life in this article on purpose.)

My mother-in-law Kazuko passed away on August 18, 2012 11:31 AM

Okinawa is known today as the Hawaii of Asia. As Kazuko's story begins in the days before the Battle of Okinawa. A story about an Okinawan woman who led a quiet life that was anything but that.

Japanese occupation started early for Okinawa (Ryukyu Kingdom). And with the events of WW2 leading up to the American forces getting closer to the Okinawa Islands. The Okinawans were barely surviving the Japanese occupation. And now they began preparing for the coming invasion from the American forces and millions of insects.

The Japanese military had built underground tunnels. Turning Okinawa into a fortified island. All at the expense of the Okinawan people.

Food had been taken by the Japanese soldiers that led to mass starvation. Okinawans who spoke their own language were killed as spies by the Japanese military.

Just before the American bombing began, people fled to the natural underground caves or tried to get off the island. For those that hid in the caves faced many obstacles. Millions of dangerous bugs inhabited these caves. Their bites were so painful that you wished you were dead.

The military worked the Okinawans into hysteria. To commit suicide rather than being captured by the American military. Many did commit suicide but the Japanese military were responsible for it. Kazuko, who was nine at the time, remembers hearing stories of gun fire inside the caves days before the Americans ever came ashore.

She remembers the Japanese military was providing refreshments for everyone in the caves. But as the US military preparedto bomb the island, the Japanese military never showed up. She later learned that those who drank the milk had died.

The US military came ashore as all the Okinawans did everything they were told to do. As everyone left the caves, they were shocked to see the landscape of the island. Trees, towns even the terrain was all gone.

She said it was like a barren wasteland. Covered with so many US military personnel and vehicles everywhere. Ships off in the distance made her think that she would never see her homeland restored again.

Tents were set up for everyone and there were doctors and other medical personnel to help all those injured. My mother-in-law had bite marks on her and the doctors bandaged her up.

She was also given candy by a few of the American soldiers. The military also provided meals for all the Okinawans. To this day the people of Okinawa really love pork and SPAM.

She got sick one day and the military nurses took care of her. She remembers there was plenty of food to eat and everyone took great care of her and other injured and sick people.

A few years after the war ended the US troops continued to stay on the island. Many people from other Asian nations came to help rebuild Okinawa.

In her final years, Kazuko travels were restricted due to health issues with her kidneys. Eventually she had to undergo dialysis. It wasn’t too long afterwards that this led to her death.

While in the hospital one of her granddaughters came to visit as my sister in law was preparing to visit Kazuko at the hospital. Once there Kazuko was starting to slip away.

Kazuko wanted to talk with her other daughters and grandkids. We were called nearly at midnight our time.

Kazuko’s hearing was going as we all had to scream into the speaker phone that we loved her. She finally acknowledged that she heard every one of us. The phone called ended but within two minutes we were called back. Kazuko had passed away.

Many current and former Okinawan government officials came to the funeral. It was a surprise to Kazuko’s family and friends. These officials grew up with Kazuko. They worked tirelessly in the days after WW2 to rebuild Okinawa.

A simple woman who survived many obstacle. Such as going against her doctor’s orders and came to America in 1999 and 2001 to see her newborn grandsons.

The final days of her life was going to the hospital every other day for dialysis treatments. Those treatments had blackened her body due to multiple needle marks.

But in those final moments of her life she was surrounded by her family in person and through cell phones. She died August 18, 2012 11:31 AM Japan time with the sounds of her children and grandchildren all expressing their love for her.

I have just scratched the surface knowing that there is more about her. She was a private woman who kept many things to herself. But I put a part of what I do know to print in the hopes that others can remember her as well.

[dibs4ever]

Grieving

Nathan Gordon smiled at the little red headed bundle in his arms. So tiny, and new. Only a month old and so much had already happened to the poor child she had already gone through so much. Her mentally unstable mother running off in the night with her 4 year old brother.

Leaving her father alone with the newborn and a paper signing her rights over. Why keep one but not the other?

Nathan couldn’t understand it

Then again Barbara Keen never was exactly right in the mind

“Dad thanks again for offering to do childcare.” The voice of Jim Gordon spoke

Nathan looked up at his son and shook his head “Think nothing of it. It’ll give me something to do with my days now that I’m retired” he smiled bringing his infant granddaughter to his shoulder

Jim smiled “Well there is absolutely nobody else in the world I’d trust Barbara with. You raised my sister and I on your own which wasn’t exactly common in the 70s and 80s “

Nathan chuckled “Your mother was involved.”

Jim looked at his father over the brim of his glasses. Okay so maybe he did raise the kids on his own for the most part

Little back story on Nathan Peter Gordon

After getting an honorary discharge from the Vietnam war due to an injured leg he did what all the war men did and found a wife to marry and settle down with. It was 1962 he was 25 years old when he married Francis.

She wasn’t like his friends wives, she wasn’t sweet or doting. She didn’t ask him how is day was

She was a bitter women who wouldn’t stand for anyone who didn’t agree with her.

If he was being honest with himself the only reason he married her was because that’s what was expected of him. Women weren’t where his attraction laid. But being a gay man in the 1960s was just asking for a lifetime of criticism. Besides Francis could give him what he desired to be most. A father. Which happened in 1963 when his his daughter Hannah was born and then 3 years later when James was born

He absolutely loved being a father but always feared leaving them with Francis when he left forgot work as an attorney . She was cruel to them.

In 1970 after years of verbal abuse and accusations from Francis he finally confessed to the woman that he was gay.

They promptly divorced, Francis shocked the judge when she requested only to have the children every other weekend. Allowing Nathan to be the primary caregiver.

Something he thanked it was probably the only nice thing she ever did for him. Although he was certain she didn’t want them anyways. It wasn’t easy being a single dad but he wouldn’t trade it for anything, he supported and loved his children. Praising their accomplishments. Hugging them when they were downs and giving advice as they grew up under his wings.

Fast forward it’s 1996 and he’s holding his 30 year old sons newborn daughter.

Nathan takes care of his granddaughter every day and some nights for the next 5 years as his son worked his way up in the GCPD.

Then in 2001 she starts kindergarten and he only has her after school and some nights. It’s a bittersweet moment for both Nathan and Barbara. The two of them were each other’s best friends

Nathan waited outside the school with the other parents and caregivers. The school doors opening

“Grandpa!” The five year old shouted running across the school courtyard and into his arms with a flying leap.

She snuggled into his chest “I missed you.”

He chuckled lightly “So did I, come on little one, let's go get ice cream. It's Friday after all.” He smiled

4 years later he’s on his way to pick her up from school again. He hadn’t been feeling right . He has a coughing fit, then looks down at the kleenex...blood. Something wasn't right

Stuffing the napkin product in his pocket he decided to put on a brave face and go pick the light of his life Barbara Gordon up from school. She’d help him relax till his Doctors appointment next week

Nine year old Barbara opens the back car door and climbs in

“Hi grandpa.” She smiles leaning over the seat to plant a kiss on his cheek “Did you make any snacks at home? I’m starving.”

Nathan smiled, he almost always prepared a small snack for his growing grandauter to have when she returned from school. But today he had felt so ill and afraid due to coughing up blood that he completely.forgotten be had planned to make a her-her favorite snack of homemade nacho.

”I thought we’d get ice cream” be spoke looking back at the girl in the rearview mirror as he pulled out of the driveway

She laughed lightly he freckles doing a little dance when her nose scrunched up. He adored her freckles “Grandpa it’s only Tuesday. We only get ice cream on Friday’s.”

He shrugged “Who says we gotta play by the rules.” He winked

Barbara smiled at him

The following year Nathan Gordon passes away from cancer. He’s surrounded by his daughter Hannah, her husband and their children along with his son and Barbara.

Barbara Gordon sat in the office chair of her fathers office. Since her grandfathers recent passing her dad had yet to make arrangements for a new childcare provider.

Not that she needed a babysitter. She wasn’t a baby. She was 10. Besides the past couple months her grandpa had been so weak she basically took care of herself anyways

Her dad had been gone for a while. Where to? she didn’t know. He never told her anything anyways.

She sighed and continued drawing random doodles on the piece of copy paper she’d been using for the past 30 minutes to occupy her time.

The door opened. Her dad stepping in. But he wasn’t alone . A boy with dark hair, shorter than her but probably around her age stood at his side. This she knew wasn’t common. Very rarely did her father handle children personally like this at work. The boy was looking down sadly.

“Why don’t you take a seat son” her father waved to the pair of seats that sat infront of his desk. The boy nodded then moved and took a seat in one of the chairs

“Barbara this is Richard. He’s 10 like you. Why don’t you keep him company while I make some phone calls in the hall.” Her dad informed

She nodded and watched him walk out, the office door closing behind him

After a moment of Richard not looking up, Barbara moved and switched seats to the available one beside him

“I’m Barbara, how are you Richard?” She asked

He shrugged

“Not much of a talker Huh? It’s okay I’ll talk. I’ve been bored out of my mind all night. My dad thinks I need a babysitter but I don’t. I mean I’ve literally been sitting in this office by myself all night anyways so tell me what the difference would be if I was sitting at my home all night alone?”

Silence

“I’ll tell ya, nothing. I finished all my homework within 30 minutes of being here. My grandpa had me on a strict routine. If dad was ever around when I got home from school the past 5 years he’d know I always finish my school work promptly. What grade are you in Richard?”

“Can you call me Dick?” He spoke softly

Barbara grinned “He speaks....uhh sure I guess. Like I was saying my grandpa. He knew, he always said I should skip a grade. Grandpa knew more about me then my dad.”

Dick looked up at her “I’m in 4th grade. You talk a lot” a small smile played on the boys lips. Although his blue eyes were still filled with saddness

Barbara flashed him a smile back “Sorry my grandpa always said I talked a lot when I was nervous and you being so quiet kinda brought it out.”

Dick nodded “You and your grandpa are close? You’ve already talked about him 3 times in the past 10 minutes”

Barbara inhaled a breath at the mention “We were he Umm. He died last month.”

Dick looked down again “Oh”

She nodded “First time someone close to me has ever died. Have ugh have you ever lost someone. Maybe you could help me, give me some advice.”

Dick was silent “I’ve lost someone. But I don’t have advice.”

Barbara tilted her head “Who did you loose?”

He took a deep breath “My parents.” He squinted his eyes

Her eyes widened she couldn’t imagine loosing her father. Loosing her grandfather was tearing her up inside as it was “When?” She wondered. They were only 10. How young was he when he became an orphan?

“Tonight-they were murdered. I saw it.” He choked

Barbara’s jaw dropped. That explained why he was here “Dick, I’m so sorry!”

Tears began to flow slowly from the boys eyes

Not knowing what to do, the young girl moved her hand grabbing the fellow boys hand and lacing their fingers. To her relief the boy squeezed hers tighter. Letting her know that the small movement was just the right amount of comfort he needed at that moment. Together the two adolescents sat holding hands. Tears slowly streaming down their faces. Finding comfort in their newfound friendship and grieving their recently lost loved ones

[tinyshe]

The shadow government of ousted former lawmakers in Myanmar has formed an armed militia aimed at opposing the military junta that seized control of the country in a coup on February 1 and killed more than 760 people who protested against the army takeover, organizers said Wednesday. The National Unity Government said the creation of the People’s Defense Force was exercising the authority given to it with the landslide victory of Aung San Suu Kyi’s National League for Democracy in November elections. The three-week-old NUG said the force is necessary to prevent killings and other violent acts against the people by the junta, which calls itself the State Administration Council. “Today, May 5, we formed the People’s Defense Force. Preparations for this army were made a long time ago. A lot of time has gone into training,” said Khin Ma Ma Myo, the NUG’s deputy minister of defense. “Training is more important than manpower and weapons. A defense acquisition department has been established under the Ministry of Defense,” he told RFA’s Myanmar Service. The NUG statement called the PDF a precursor to a “Federal Union Army” which would team up the majority ethnic Burman militia with Myanmar’s many armed ethnic rebel groups to fight the well-trained Myanmar military. The ethnic groups have been supporting anti-coup dissidents by providing shelter and training, but many powerful ethnic armies have sat out the conflict so far, and some remain distrustful of the NUG, which is made up of representatives of the government they were fighting before the coup. The Karen National Union, which represents the Karen ethnic minority, whose state in eastern Myanmar has been under attack by junta warplanes, voiced support for the new militia, and is discussing “fighting a common enemy,” according the group’s top foreign affairs official, Padoe Saw Tawnee. “I think there will be a lot to discuss, such as the formation of units,” he told RFA. Hla Kyaw Zaw, a Myanmar-based political and military analyst, told RFA the important lesson from the opposition against the coup, called the “Spring Revolution,” is the need for an armed uprising. “People have learned two valuable lessons from all this. They have learned that they have to fight back with weapons … and that all ethnic groups must unify to fight this military dictatorship,” said Hla Kyaw Zaw. ‘David and Goliath’ The NUG is also attempting to gain recognition from the international community. At a U.S. House Foreign Relations Committee hearing Tuesday, Myanmar’s representative to the United Nations, Kyaw Moe Tun, who was appointed prior to the coup, called on the U.S. and other countries to offer support to the NUG. “The international community's recognition and engagement with the NUG is a critical step to take, and it could pave the way to end the violence, to save the lives of innocent civilians and protect them from the military’s brutal and inhumane acts, to restore democracy in Myanmar, and provide humanitarian assistance to the people in need,” he said. Despite the NUG’s optimism, the defense force’s goal of taking on the Myanmar military is unrealistic, said Thein Tun Oo, a former army officer and executive director of the pro-military think tank the Thayninga Institute for Strategic Studies. “They have issued many statements and most of their officials are just working on paperwork for the rival government,” he said. But in a sign that support for the junta among some ethnic groups is eroding, the Arakan National Party, which represents the Rakhine people in the country’s westernmost state, announced it had halted its cooperation with the junta, which had given a Rakhine leader a seat on the SAC. The military regime had not met demands for the repeal of the terrorist designation of its affiliate, the Arakan Army, and the release of arrested on terror charges during a two-year-long war, the ANP’s leader said. “We have made requests and proposals in the interests of our state, but they were all ignored. … We are not happy with the current situation and there is no point of going on like this if we want to see some positive development,” ANP Chairman Thar Tun Hla told RFA. Anthony Davis, a Bangkok-based security analyst who writes for IHS-Janes security and defense publications, told RFA last month that a fight between an alliance of ethnic armed organizations and the Myanmar military, known as the Tatmadaw in Burmese, would be a "David and Goliath contest" "If you look at all the ethnic armed organizations in Myanmar, you’re looking maybe at around 75,000 to 78,000 armed troops. Now, on the Tatmadaw side, the army is in total probably around 350,000, so it’s significantly larger," he said, speaking before the formation of the NUG in mid-April. He added, however, that a loose combination of ethnic armies "in their own areas conducting operations against the Tatmadaw at the same time … would be a very, very significant problem for the Tatmadaw despite their firepower and despite their numbers." Local militias kill troops Recent days have seen local militias kill junta troops in Chin state, near the border with India, and the downing of a military helicopter in northern Kachin state, as well as a series of attacks in other parts of Myanmar in which outgunned civilians have taken up crude arms and killed more than two dozen security forces. In the Chin state capital Hakha, the Chin Defense Force said an army soldier was killed in a shootout in front of the Innwa Bank Tuesday night, the latest of nine soldier deaths since May 2. In a township outside Mandalay, the country’s second-largest city, about 20 people armed with machetes and knives attacked a police post guarding a Chinese oil pipeline at dawn on Wednesday, killing three police guards. "I heard gunshots around 5 a.m.  What we learned is that five policemen were on duty at the police post and two escaped. Three died,” a local resident who requested anonymity told RFA. “The military later came to our village and were checking people’s movements and searched houses.” An unknown attacker threw a hand grenade into the house of the administrator of a village near Tamu in the northwestern Sagaing region, killing his mother, daughter and granddaughter,” a local resident told RFA. “The administrator was asking people to hand over their arms and was checking houses. This started an exchange of fire between the Tamu Defense Force and the military. During the commotion the house was bombed,” said the resident of Tamu, a city near the border with India where locals had killed 14 soldiers in a series of attacks in late March and early April. In Myanmar’s largest city, Yangon, bombs went off in front of the junta-aligned Moe Gaung Hospital and some ward administrators were attacked and killed, witnesses said. The bombing followed another bombing Tuesday night of a building that had formerly been the Armed Forces Records Office building and was just opened as a hospital by junta leader Gen. Min Aung Hlaing last weekend. There were no reported injuries in the earlier blast. RFA attempted to contact military spokesperson Maj. Gen. Zaw Min Tun for comment on Wednesday’s violence but he could not be reached.   According to the Assistance Association for Political Prisoners in Myanmar, security forces have killed more than 769 people across the country since the coup. Nearly 3,700 people have been arrested, while nearly 1,460 are at large but facing arrest warrants. Human Rights Watch and over 200 other nongovernmental organizations from around the world on Wednesday called on the United Nations Security Council to impose an arms embargo on Myanmar. “No government should sell a single bullet to the junta under these circumstances,” the groups said. “Imposing a global arms embargo on Myanmar is the minimum necessary step the Security Council should take in response to the military’s escalating violence." Report by RFA’s Myanmar Service. Translated by Khin Maung Nyane. English version edited by Eugene Whong.  source

[hello-robin-goodfellow]

Bone

A lengthy independent comic book series by Jeff Smith that took 13 years to complete, mixing the sensibilities of a joke-of-the-day comic strip like Pogo with the sweeping story of an epic fantasy à la The Lord of the Rings. Jeff self-published the series in its original run, collecting the issues in groups of six or so in nine total volumes, until Image Comics picked it up for a time. A second printing came under Scholastic, Inc., for which Jeff's friend Steve Hamaker colored each and every page. The series eventually won several Eisner Awards and Harvey Awards, and propelled Jeff Smith into immense independent comic book acclaim.

It tells the story of three cousins, who happen to look like humanoid, bone-shaped Cartoon Creatures. They are exiled from their town called Boneville and become lost in a Magical Land called the Valley, where they meet an energetic old lady (Gran'ma Ben) and her beautiful grand-daughter (Thorn). Together, they're caught up in intrigue, magic, and adventure.

Characters

The Bone Cousins 

Fone Bone: The main protagonist. Fone Bone is the most dependable, resourceful and most moral of the Bone cousins, and tends to be viewed as the "good" Bone since he's never involved in any of Phoney's moneymaking schemes. He's polite and friendly, and pretty good at thinking on his feet in a crisis. He has a huge crush on Thorn, but has problems telling her about it. 

Phoncible "Phoney" P. Bone: Previously the "richest Bone in Boneville"; Phoney is a greedy, hotheaded schemer who always has a new plan for making money. The problem with his plans is that they tend to backfire and end with him being chased off by an angry mob. 

Smiley Bone: The most happy-go-lucky of the cousins. Smiley is a friendly and loyal guy, but rather short on brains and not the most adept at telling right from wrong, which is why he so often lets himself get involved in Phoney's schemes. He pretty much adopts Bartleby the Rat Creature cub.

Friends and Allys

Thorn: Thorn was the titular character of the comic's earliest incarnation, and even now can be said to be the real protagonist of the series. She is a young girl on the verge of adulthood, who can talk to animals and who befriends the Bone cousins when they are lost in the valley.

Rose "Gran'ma Ben": Gran'ma Ben has the strength of ten elephants and can outrun any cow in the valley. She has lived peacefully with her granddaughter Thorn on a small farm for fifteen years, after the "big war". 

Lucius Down: The owner of the Barrelhaven Tavern, he's a gruff and temperamental but ultimately kind-hearted old man, whom everyone knows has been "sweet on" Gran'ma Ben for decades. He's a constant foil to Phoney Bone and has ruined more than one of Phoney's moneymaking schemes. 

Ted The Bug: Ted is a tiny little insect with a knack for "gettin' while the gettin's good." Nevertheless, despite his diminutive size he's helpful and surprisingly resourceful, and somehow he always seems to know everything that's going on. 

The Great Red Dragon: The mysterious protector of Thorn and Fone Bone, and a master of last-minute rescues. He's a laid-back and lazy sort who at first glance doesn't seem very formidable, but he has a number of strange powers and is feared by the Rat Creatures. 

Bartleby: A Rat Creature cub that ran off from the other rats and befriended Fone Bone and Smiley. 

The Possums: A family of possums — Miz Possum and her three kids — that Fone Bone meets during his first winter in the valley, and who show up sporadically to help him out.

Roderick: A baby racoon whose parents were eaten by Rat Creatures. Plays a minor part in Bone, but is one of the main characters in Quest for the Spark. 

The Orphans: Roderick's friends; a group of young animals in the same situation as him.

Jonathan Oaks: Lucius's assistant at Barrelhaven. He's a young and affable guy, though not terribly bright. 

The Villagers: The human inhabitants of Barrelhaven village; usually peaceful enough, but in general rather small-minded, xenophobic, and easily led. The most commonly seen are Wendell the tinsmith and Euclid the farmer. 

The Disciples of Venu: Also known as the "Veni-Yan" or, more insultingly, "stick-eaters," they are a group of hooded monks who have dedicated themselves to the study of the Dreaming. They were once the elite warriors of the kingdom of Atheia, but after the war they have the reputation as wandering beggars. 

Taneal: A little girl who lives in Atheia; she's a young priestess and shrine-builder who tries her best to keep the faith of Venu going even after it was outlawed. 

Taneal's brother:  Never actually named in the comic, but he's Taneal's older brother. Smart and resourceful, he knows everyone in Atheia, especially who to bribe in order to get your way.

Teacher: Gran'ma Ben's old teacher; he's an old and somewhat cantankerous old man who runs a small rooftop kitchen and is... not as good a chef as he thinks he is. 

Headmaster: The head of the Diciples of Venu and possibly the oldest human character in the comic. 

Mermie: A seventh-level "dreaming master" and steadfast alley of Gran'ma Ben.

Villains

The Lord of the Locusts: A nightmare spirit who long ago wanted to escape from dreams and experience the waking world, which he attempted by possessing Mim, the Dragon Queen. He was defeated and imprisoned by the other dragons, but is still able to contact and influence dreamers in the waking world, plotting to be free once more.

The Hooded One: A mysterious hooded figure who's the highest servant of the Lord of the Locust. Spends the first two-thirds of the story preparing for war, and looking for "the one who bears the star," who will aid in freeing the Lord of the Locusts. 

Kingdok:  The King of the Rat Creatures; a brutish and vicious monster who nevertheless is basically only a puppet for the Hooded One and the Lord of the Locusts.

Rat Creatures:  Rat Creatures are the resident monsters of the valley; they're strong and bloodthirsty predators but also incredibly stupid. Encountered in ones or twos they're more comical than scary, but in large numbers they're terrifying. There are thousands of Rat Creatures, but two of them — a duo of foot soldiers — play fairly large roles in the story as Ineffectual Sympathetic Villains who in Quest for the Spark end up having a Heel–Face Turn (as well as getting their own names, "Smelly" and "Stinky.")

Roque Ja:  The "Master of the Eastern Border." Roque Ja (and not, as he will constantly remind you, "Rock Jaw") is a gigantic mountain lion who initially sides with the Hooded One and the Rat Creatures because he hates them slightly less than he hates the dragons they oppose.

Lord Tarsil:  A former Veni-Yan warrior and ruler of Atheia. He hates dragons with a passion and has outlawed all "worship" of them, including the old religion.

The Vedu: The sect that Tarsil formed; an off-shoot of the Diciples of Venu who follows different teachings and act more like bullies than protectors.

An Animated Adaptation has been in Development Hell for several years. In the '90s, Nickelodeon Movies, having just released the hit film The Rugrats Movie, had an alarmingly misguided vision of what they wanted it to be, and Jeff was the one who bailed out of the deal. The rights were then held by Warner Bros., and the reports on the production team were that Animal Logic, the studio behind Happy Feet and The Matrix, would animate, P.J. Hogan (My Best Friend's Wedding, Confessions of a Shopaholic, the 2003 live-action Peter Pan) would direct, and it would be adapted for the screen by Patrick Sean Smith (ABC Family's Greek). In 2016, Mark Osborne (Kung Fu Panda, The Little Prince) became the new director, while he and Adam Kline replaced Patrick Sean Smith as the screenwriters.

Jeff was initially fighting for traditional 2D animation, since he used to run his own animation studio called Character Builders that contributed to films like Space Jam, and was the studio that was originally slated to animate the film. According to the interview above, Jeff is fine with the change because the outcome of the movie is not in his control, even though he will have executive-producing credit. He STILL remembers his original preference, though, and fans continue to prove this. However, it was not to be. After several years with little progress made (and no release date appearing on Warner Bros.' slate of upcoming animated movies) the rights to adapt the comic went up for sale again.

In 2019, Netflix secured the rights to the franchise with plans to adapt the comic into an animated series. Time will tell if they are successful.

[meetthetank]

Peccatum Chapters 11-13

Sooooo I am booboo the fool and kept forgetting to post the new chapters here when I updated them on Ao3. On that note, enjoy a 3 for 1 mass posting

Ao3 Links: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14454675/chapters/47532154 https://archiveofourown.org/works/14454675/chapters/48310690#workskin https://archiveofourown.org/works/14454675/chapters/49764506#workskin Rating: Mature Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Category: F/M Fandom: NieR: Automata (Video Game) Relationships: 2B/9S (NieR: Automata), A2/A4 (NieR: Automata), Jackass/The Commander (NieR: Automata) Characters: 2B (NieR: Automata), 9S (NieR: Automata), A2 (NieR: Automata), A4 (NieR: Automata), 6O (NieR: Automata), 21O, Jackass (NieR: Automata), The Commander (NieR: Automata) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe, genre typical violence, long fic, Slow Burn, War, Chapter 13 is rated E Language: English 

Chapter 11: Vigo

It’s both a blessing and a curse being surrounded by droves of people. 9S likes the ability to disappear into a crowd, but the more people means the more likely he is to be discovered. At least, marching in line with the other scouts in the midst of the rest of the army, strangers wouldn’t be inspecting him too closely. That being said, he can’t shake the feeling that the eyes of the displaced and terrified citizens of Vigo were staring straight into his soul.

What was once a bustling port city is now a vacant array of buildings surrounded by hundreds of hastily pitched tents and camps. The situation is clearly much worse than White had anticipated, seeing as most if not all of the population camps about a mile away from the actual city and there seem to be no signs of protection or higher authority. They pass by several groups of people who almost swarm the march with their hands out desperately asking for things like food, water, and medicine. As much as the sight hurts 9S to watch, he had to march boldly, ignoring the cries of the suffering.

There’s multiple times where 9S has to scan the crowd. He’s certain he senses the presence of other half-demons here, though with so many in the crowd it’s hard to pick out exactly where they are. For a split second his hopes soar at the possibility that he won’t have to hide as badly here, but the tension and fear that hangs in the air quells that hope as quickly as it rises.

The city itself, vacant as it is, is one of the more opulent ones 9S has visited. Well maintained cobblestone streets, every building decorated with white marble columns contrasted by rich red brickwork and flanked by grand statues of what he assumes to be commissioning senators. He had heard the port town was wealthy, but he supposed he had to see it to believe it. If only he could take the time to actually enjoy the place.

White leads the army through the center of the practically abandoned city towards the barracks belonging to the city guard, right past a structure that chills 9S to the bone. An execution block, complete with gallows, cages, stockades, and other cruel methods of death. The dark wood and the cobblestone around it is stained dark and decorated with graffitied slurs and crude depictions of half-demons. 9S makes sure his glamor charm is hidden away under his coat and tries to not look at the grim sight for too long.

So far the only other people they pass by in Vigo are stubborn vagrants who refuse to abandon their homes, or volunteer soldiers bringing food and what little water they can find to the tent city. White commands the army to halt while she and Jackass enter the sparsely guarded judicial building, however they return with scowls. White snaps at a nearby city guard who sprints away as if he had seen a demon. 9S wonders if the Commander is the highest authority still left in the city…

Without the need to announce their arrival, since there were no authority figures besides White, the army files into the barracks and prepares themselves to settle in for a long time. There was no way to tell when they would be called into battle, so most of the soldiers believed they would be assigned to assist with moving people and ferrying supplies to and from the camps. 9S isn’t sure if he agrees with that, but he didn’t anticipate the cowardice of the ruling class, so at this point, anything could happen.

He also doesn’t expect just how cramped the city’s barracks would be. Everyone regardless of station, with the exception of Commander White herself, are nearly shoulder to shoulder as they unpack and claim beds. The scouts all congregate at the back of the bunk room, and though the tension between 9S and 801S is still palpable, they both help each other and the rest of the scouts get situated in their small spaces. 9S wonders if he should apologize for how he acted a few days back, after all, 801S was in the right. Wandering away from the group was incredibly dangerous, even if it really wasn’t his fault.

“Hey...Nines?” 32S quietly says to him once most of the others are sprawled out on their beds for a moment of rest.

“Hm? Everything okay?”

32S fidgets with a simple charm on his bracelet, “Yeah, um… Did you see-”

“The town center? Yeah…” a grim look crosses 9S’ face.

“I didn’t know Vigo was so dangerous to...us.”

“I didn’t either. According to 42S’ report, it seemed more tolerant than most towns…”

“What changed?”

“Demon attacks,” 801S muttered, shuffling past the two, “I’d imagine between regular demon sieges and whatever the thing in the bay is only fueled tensions.”

“Oh…” 32S’ head drops, “Right.”

801S sighs and places a hand on his companion’s shoulder, “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine if you just stick with the squad. Not even an angry mob would dare attack a group of uniformed soldiers.”

9S jabs 801S in the side, perhaps a little too roughly, “Ssh. Not so loud.”

He almost snaps at 9S but shuts up once he sees the small troop of city guards and Republic soldiers shuffle through the crowd of White’s soldiers. One gives the scouts an odd look before continuing onward.

“Odds are they’ve got orders to apprehend anyone they suspect of being half breeds,” 9S whispers, “If they hear any of us it won’t matter what army we’re a part of and it would get the Commander in serious trouble.”

“Why don’t you get 2B to protect you.” says 801S with a scowl.

9S is about to snap back at him, but Jackass looming just a few beds down forces him to keep quiet. For now at least.

“Okay boys listen up,” she grumbles in a low tone, just barely loud enough for the scouts to hear, “White and I suspect something’s wrong. No Senator, no Mayor, no Councilors, not even a Merchant Lord. You lot and I are gonna do some snooping around the camps, see if any of the civilians know what’s going on. Be geared up and at the front of the barracks in an hour.”

The moment Jackass is out of earshot, the scouts let out a collective groan.

“I know it isn’t a Senator’s estate, but it’ll be a lot more comfortable than the barracks,” 6O says with a playful wink.

2B stands awkwardly in the small bedroom that her friend had rented at a steep discount through a mix of feminine charms and a flash of military affiliation. A free place to stay required her to be an official part of White’s army after all.

“All this is...for me?” she asks.

“Yep! Well, at least until we move out again. After that either you stick with us or you pay on your own.”

“Thank you,” 2B bows her head to her friend, “What do I owe you in repayment?”

“Nothing, you dumb chicken!” 6O jabs her in the rib lightly, “This is me repaying you for that stunt you got me out of during the Equinox Festival?”

“If I hadn’t covered for that mess you made with the Elder’s granddaughter and that botched wedding you would have been eaten alive. Literally.”

“I know! That’s why I’m repaying you! Besides, that innkeeper would do anything for a pretty lady.”

“Oh really?” she crosses her arms across her chest and allows for a coy smirk, “Do you know any?”

“Hey watch it, Featherbrain, I can still let you sleep in the streets.”

2B puts her hands up defensively, “I kid, I kid. Though all this does seem a bit...unnecessary. I hope that doesn’t sound ungrateful.”

“Huh? Why, are you planning on exploring the city?” a smirk of her own plays across 6O’s lips, “Ooor….are you planning on fooling around with a certain scout? Hmm?”

“Yes.”

“Oh,” 6O is taken aback by her honesty and bluntness, “...You two are really hitting it off, huh?”

2B nods, “He’s interesting and…” she shakes her to let the downy feathers beneath her hair settle before they puff out too much, “...Cute.”

“Interesting and cute, huh? Is that all it takes to win the heart of a Coatyl?”

“Please,” 2B huffs, “I’m not that easy to woo. But…”

“Buuuut….?”

“I was thinking about...um,” she turns away and tries to smooth down her hair, “...Going out to find a...stone.”

6O gasps and bounces on her heels with barely contained excitement, “Are you serious?! Oh, 2B!! When are you gonna give it to him?! You have to tell me! As your best friend and self-appointed emotional guardian, I have a right to know!”

“I don’t know. I have to find one first…”

“You come to me the moment you do! Promise?!”

“I promise, 6O.”

In hindsight, it probably would have been safer for 9S to stick with the other scouts while investigating the refugee camps, but he needed to get away from 801S and his constant jabs at his closeness to 2B. Every single time he thinks about maybe apologizing, that guy always ends up pushing back. It’s like he has mind-reading powers or something. It all just makes 9S’ blood boil.

Just thinking about 2B makes his head spin. It’s such a bizarre situation he never thought he’d find himself in, and there’s no easy solution to it. Cutting her loose wouldn’t work, she wouldn’t leave the only real lead to her sibling. That and 9S gets the feeling she’s become...attached to him, which is a whole other wheelbarrow of manure for him to sift through and possibly the reason for all the conflict between him and the other scouts.

He’d be an idiot if he denied having feelings for her. She’s strong, mysterious, and sweet beneath the abrasive personality. There were glimmers of genuine kindness that every time he gets a peek, he wants to see more and more…

God, he’s got it bad for her.

Stupid lousy goddamn sexy dragoness…

Then there was the whole issue of his bloodline and the danger that put him and 2B in, which is just...Great.

At least he could lose himself in his work. A good puzzle always kept his mind off of distressing things.

9S spends an hour or so mingling with those civilians that were involved in higher government before it all disappeared. Most declined to speak at first, but nothing a bit of wine couldn’t fix seeing as how luxuries were hard to come by. According to one tax collector, the Senator had fled the town the moment the demon first surfaced, and his assistants soon after. One by one the mayor, councilors, even treasurers secured passage out of Vigo before any of the civilians knew what was happening. Of course, 9S shouldn’t be surprised at this, but it still makes him sick to his stomach that they would just leave their people to die like this? Maybe growing up with authority figures like White, Jackass, and his mother made him less tolerant of this sort of behavior.

The last real authority figure still lingering around is an old wharfmaster, who shut down all ship traffic in the harbor after the second demon sighting. He’s much more forthcoming with information than the others, telling 9S about how shutting the harbor down was a very unpopular decision. With demon attacks on the rise, many civilians from all over flocked to the port city for passage to the blessed grounds of the Theocracy. Even with a massive mystery demon in the bay the water is still the safest option, with the other two being a vast desert and an even larger primordial bog, both filled with creatures far worse than whatever was lurking in the depths.

Unfortunately, that’s the extent of what he’s able to learn. No one seems to know where the nobles went or how long they planned on staying away. Their houses and most of their belongings were left behind and promptly ransacked once word spread, though 9S doubts if anything terribly valuable was taken.

He begins making his way back to the barracks to compile his report when he runs into his mother and the other supply wagons. On either side of the caravan are several city guards that escort them through the camps and into the city proper. 21O leads the horses pulling the raven wagon and gives a brief wave to 9S as she passes by. He sprints up to her while shoving his notebook into his satchel.

“Hey, what took you guys so long?” he says after catching his breath.

“Customs officers needed to inspect the wagons before letting us into the city.”

“Really?”

21O gives him an odd look, “Is that so hard to believe? It’s a large city important to the Republic.”

“Well, the city government is all but gone aside from a few tax collectors and a wharfmaster. Everyone else fled after the first sighting.”

She sighs, “We should have expected this.”

“At least we don’t have to pander to some stuffy aristocrat while we’re here, right?”

“In a sense, yes, but there is a good chance that those stuffy aristocrats will be sending messengers to make sure we adhere to their rules.”

“Yeah, yeah…” 9S grumbles.

“One affirmation is enough.”

“Fiiiiine.”

9S hops onto the wagon so he can finish getting all of his notes for his report written down, stopping occasionally to calm the squawking birds. It isn’t long before city hall comes into view, as well as an ornate carriage. Two nearly identical white haired men walk with White and Jackass. Something about the two of them gives 9S a...strange feeling.

“Who are they?” he asks.

21O stares at the two men for a much longer time than 9S thought necessary, “...I don’t know. They could be envoys.”

“Well,” mutters 9S, “...I have to turn my report into Jack-...The Lieutenant.” he hops off the wagon just as it passes the city hall.

“You’re not going to eavesdrop on the commander again, are you?” his mother chastises, “Remember how long you were stuck on latrine duty the last time they caught you?”

“I’m gonna catch her before their meeting, don’t worry.” he groans, but a smirk crosses his face just as 21O gets out of earshot, “...And I won’t get caught this time.”

Slipping into the city hall is easy enough. 9S is small enough his footsteps barely make a sound even on marble floors, and there’s plenty of statues, columns, and furniture of obscure him from view. The real problem is finding which of the hundreds of offices and council chambers his superior officers are using. Door after door of empty rooms, storage closets, and baffling fake doors, he finally hears the muffled grumbling of Jackass.

“...is why they had to send the two of you. Why not meet us personally.”

9S crouches near the door and eases it open just a tad so he can hear better.

“Again,” the man with long white hair says, his voice smooth and almost velvet like, “We apologize that the Senator could not be here to meet you and your army in person, but he does send his thanks for coming to his city’s aid.”

“I see,” White says, tapping her chin.

“Now, the reason for our visit,” he motions to what appears to be his twin, a man with short wild white hair, to lay a series of parchments in front of White and Jackass, “The Senator and the city councilors have compiled their plans for evacuating civilians.”

“And enlisting a Theocratic battalion is part of these evacuations?” Jackass snaps and gestures to the packet in her hands.

“Yes,” the long haired man remains calm, “They are the most effective legion to dispose of the demonic threat, and seeing as your troops are not prepared to handle an evacuation or the demon in the harbor-”

White holds up her hand, “Incorrect. My lieutenant has been devising a countermeasure of our own for some time. As for the civilians, our troops are more than capable of handling evacuations.”

The long haired man is silent for a moment while his short haired companion childishly slumps over the table, “...Very well. Under your discretion we will leave the tasks outlined in these documents to you and your army. I am...curious of this...countermeasure you mentioned. Would it be enough to eliminate the demon in the water?”

Jackass produces some documents of her own and arranges them on the table. Oh how 9S’ wishes he could see them.

“It requires two ships to carry it, but there’s enough power in cannon to level a small city. Unless this demon is immune to half a ton of solid metal flying at it at about ...three hundred miles per hour, we’re fine.”

“This contraption is...experimental, yes?”

Jackass tenses up, “Yes, but I’ve overseen every part of its design. It will work.”

He nods, “Very well. If the beast surfaces again we will prepare your...cannon. The Senator’s provisions and supplies are at your disposal.”

White bows, “Thank you. We will begin preparations for the evacuations immediately.”

The two white haired men return the bow and turn to the door. For the briefest of moments, the one with long hair locks eyes with 9S and an unnatural chill runs through his body. He’s frozen in place by the man’s hypnotic red eyes, and 9S swears he smiles at him. As they move towards him, 9S scrambles away as quickly and as quietly as he can. They don’t shout or follow or chase after, they just leave.

When they pass by him, that same chill makes 9S shudder and the hideous whispering of the girls in red begin to creep into his mind. The long haired man smirks idly as he stares in his general direction.

His inhuman, red eyes bore into 9S’ soul...

Chapter 12: Cherry Boy

With little over a week and no sign of the strange demon in the bay, 9S beings to wonder if maybe this is all just a big hoax. Perhaps the Senator and Councilors fabricated this all as a ploy to interrupt the mass evacuation, or simply to have a stronger military presence at their disposal. He’s sure that Commander White and Jackass are suspicious as well, considering they waste no time putting him and the other scouts to work. It’s mostly busy work and assisting the refugees on the outskirts of the city, but there are a number of times where they have the ulterior motive of watching Adam and Eve, the twin messengers of the Senator.

Simply looking at the twins sends shivers down his spine. Their eyes, demeanor, stark white hair, even the way they speak sets off something within him. Not to mention the fact that whenever they’re nearby, he hears the nauseating whispers of...whatever those girls in red are. He knows they’re demons, but he’s not sure which kind or if they’re full blooded or not.

Of course, 9S told Jackass of his suspicions, which were met with solemn nods and promises of “working on it”. As much as it frustrates him that there isn’t immediate action, it is a delicate situation. Those twins hold themselves in a position of power over the entire army, one false move and White would end up in a mess of trouble. Jackass needs irrefutable proof that those two aren’t human to make a proper case against them.

However, there’s only so much he can do in one day.

His entire morning and afternoon is spent assisting his mother with care of the ravens and sorting incoming mail, as well as keeping tabs on the twin messengers under the guise of simple errands for the wharfmaster. With the added bonus of 801S being assigned to assist, 9S pushes himself and 801S to complete all of their tasks as quickly as possible. Luckily, 801S agrees with him, albeit sullenly.

9S sighs to himself as he walks with 801S. Their little feud has been going on for quite some time, and frankly the whole thing exhausts him.

“Hey...801S?” he begins.

“Yeah?”

He sounds genuine at least, that’s a good sign, “I...Look I know I’ve been a jerk to you and the others recently.”

801S says nothing, but regards his friend with wary but patient eyes.

“I just wanted to apologize for how I’ve been acting recently. We’re supposed to be a team, but I’ve just been thinking of myself.”

Again, 801S says nothing for a long time, only staring at 9S while he frets with the hem of his sleeve.

“...I can hardly blame you. She is very pretty,” he says finally, a small grin creeping on his face.

9S’ face flushes red, “Y-...She is. But that doesn’t excuse the way I’ve treated everyone.”

He shrugs, “By this point it’s just me who’s still holding a grudge. But...Maybe I’m still bitter.”

“About?”

“You know…” 801S gives his friend a sad look and a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Oh...Yeah. Listen, I know that we didn’t, um...work well as a couple, but you’re still my friend. No matter what.”

“I know that it’s just...It makes me feel weird seeing you go after someone else, especially a woman. I know I don’t have any right to feel that way but that’s the truth.”

9S rubs the back of his neck, “Yeah…”

“I owe you an apology as much as you do. So...I’m sorry for being such a jealous dunce.”

9S laughs a bit, “We really are a mess aren’t we.”

“No, just you. Mr. I’m gonna fall for a dragoness.”

“W- Wait hang on!” he sputters, “I did not fall for her!”

“Oh really?” 801S teases, and for the first time in a while, his coy smirk appears, “Then once we get back to the barracks, where were you gonna go?”

“N-None of your business!”

9S self-consciously pulls his scarf over his face and dashes away, leaving behind a laughing 801S.

“Good luck, moron!”

2B sits on 6O’s bed, legs folded beneath her. She turns a smooth, blue-ish pebble over and over in her hand while 6O combs her thin fingers through the downy undercoat of 2B’s hair.

“Soooo...Is this the one?” 6O asks, twisting a few strands into a loose braid.

“I think so, the sheen and color of this stone is much better.”

“When are you gonna give it to him?”

2B hums in thought, “I’m not sure, there isn’t very often where the two of us are alone…Perhaps I’ll ask him if he wants to go on a walk?”

“That might work, but…” she mutters, “Sorry, Toobie, but I can’t help but wonder what would happen if he doesn’t accept?”

“Well, it wouldn’t change much really,” 2B responds, “It’s merely a statement of intention.”

“You can say that all you like, but you and I both know what the common meaning of one of those stones is.”

She huffs and attempts to smooth down her hair before it becomes too fluffed up, “Hush.”

6O giggles and returns her attention to the simple pattern of plaits and braids she’s weaving through her friend’s hair. Through some of the braiding she places small colorful flowers. Some purple and blue, others bright red like drops of blood.

“Still, I can’t help but think the meaning and symbolism might be lost on him. He’s never had exposure to Coatyl culture beyond what you’ve explained to him.”

2B can’t help but agree. Without knowledge of what this stone means, it’s just a simple rock. She turns it in her hands, running her thumb over the smooth peaks and troughs of the little blue stone.

“...I’m still going to do it.”

“I know,” 6O says with a giggle, “I know better than to try and stop you once you’ve made up your mind. Oh, but you...Um, has your uh ...time, passed?” she mumbles, fidgeting with a small, hair-like feather.

“Yes, my yearly heat ended several months ago.”

6O lets out an audible sigh of relief which earns her a pointed glare from 2B, “Oh quiet, I’m allowed to fret.”

“I am not some wanton teenager. I know what I’m doing.”

“You could have fooled me.” 6O teases.

“Listen-”

Just as 2B is about to scold her dearest friend for her overbearing behavior, she spots 9S waving from just down the hall. Hastily, she stuffs the stone in one of her pockets before he gets too close.

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear!” 6O greets as 9S lets out an annoyed groan.

“Ha ha,” he says with a deadpan tone, “I’ve never heard that one a million times.”

2B shuffles slightly as she waves to 9S, who plops down on the bed next to her.

“Wow, your hair looks really pretty with all these flowers in it!” he says while running the tips of his fingers along one of her braids, “Like a...like a snow field with little flowers poking out of it.” He knows his face is bright red, but he doesn’t feel the telltale flutters of his heart or shaking of his hands. He just smiles and runs his fingers over the patterns of braids and flowers.

6O snickers and teases him for being a budding poet, but 2B can’t help but notice how her heart skips a beat.

“Thank you…”

“Aww,” 6O coos, “Look, when she gets flustered her hair gets all poofy. Like an angry bird!”

2B shoves her friend playfully as 9S giggles next to her. Suddenly the stone in her pocket feels twice as heavy, “Ahem...Anyway, 9S, what are you doing here? I thought you were loaded with tasks?”

“Ugh, yeah,” he groans, “But 801S and I managed to finish everything more quickly than I thought, so now I have the rest of the day to myself.”

“Ooo,” 6O says, leaning in close to the two of them, “What are you gonna do with all your free time?”

“Um,” 9S looks to the floor, his face suddenly heating up, “Well, 2B, if you’re also free, I was thinking maybe we could explore the city? It’s really quiet since everyone is trying to leave. Usually places like this are swarming with tons of people all the time. It can get pretty overwhelming.”

2B and 6O exchange glances with each other. 6O sports a wide grin and excited eyes, while 2B’s face remains as neutral as ever, aside from the slight shifting of the flowers in her hair.

“Sure,” says 2B, “I’ve never been to a human city before, at least not one as big as this. I’d appreciate a tour.”

“Great!” 9S nearly bounces to his feet, taking 2B’s hand in his and pulling her up as well, “I’ll meet you out front in a few minutes! I’m gonna change out of my uniform!”

Before 2B can respond he’s already out the door, his excited footsteps echoing through the barracks. She feels her heart flutter like the wings of a fledgling and thinks herself rather silly.

6O leans close to her, a wicked grin spreading across her face, “Soooo….”

“Hush.”

“Come on Two Beeeeee! This is the perfect opportunity!”

“Hush.”

She grabs 2B’s shoulders and rocks them back and forth, “You gotta!! 2B you have to!”

“Hush,” 2B shuffles herself away from 6O and rises to her feet. She lifts her scabbard and slings the strap across her shoulders, then makes her way towards the barrack’s exit, “....Maybe I will. Depending on how things go.”

The excited shouting of 6O is the last thing 2B hears before she shuts the door behind her.

Even 2B, someone who had never set foot in a city this size, couldn’t help but feel unnerved by the vacant streets and silent buildings. The comparisons to a forest of stone trees were not lost on her. A forest with no life in it whatsoever, aside from the handful of stubborn folks who seem determined to die in the place they were born. Such devotion to their homeland sends a pang of guilt through her heart, and reminds her of where she can never return to…

Yet those melancholy thoughts are quickly swept away by 9S’ enthusiasm. He gleefully leads her through the maze of streets and buildings, plazas and squares, pointing out the unique history of each statue or piece of architecture. While his wealth of knowledge is staggering, 2B finds herself more interested in feeling the different wind currents shift and waver, and imagining how to successfully fly on such currents. Even though she isn’t exactly listening to him, 9S’ cheerful chattering does make her feel more at ease in this foreign and claustrophobic environment.

Even the local fauna seem to have fled, aside from the street cats that peek out from their hiding places to watch 9S. One skinny orange cat even follows them for a few blocks, its tail held high the entire time. A low growl from 2B sends it scurrying away.

“Aw...that one was cute,” 9S pouts.

2B huffs, “Don’t like cats.”

“How come?” he asks, pacing a bit in front of her.

“Back in my homeland, we had to always be on guard for shadowcats. They make your...what are they called,” she mutters, “Lions? Yes, lions. They make lions look like harmless kittens.”

“Okay...that’s terrifying,” 9S muses and falling back in step besides 2B.

“Quite. They are far too silent for something as large as they are.”

9S shudders at the image his mind conjures of predators the size of the buildings that surround them, lurking just out of sight. Desperate to change the subject, he grabs hold of 2B’s hand and pulls her forward with a nervous grin plastered on his face.

“Come on, let’s find something to eat! There’s bound to be someone still running a stand or two around here. What are you in the mood for?”

The existence of a choice catches her off guard, “Hm…”

“We could see if there’s someone making sweetbreads! Or something hearty and warm, like soup or meat pies!” his eyes light up at the thought of these foods, but suddenly his face falls, “Oh...wait I don’t have a whole lot of money right now…”

The last thing 2B wants is to quash his enthusiasm, but she doubts that anyone with something to live for would be anywhere near this town. In fact the only humans she’s seen in the city besides those affiliated with White’s army were a small group of vagrants idlying by a run down pier. They huddle around a small fire surrounded by shields, which protect it from the salty wind blowing off of the water.

She stops suddenly as an idea comes to her.

“Hm? What’s wrong, 2B?”

“Why not go to the harbor?” she asks, pointing towards the pier, “It is free food, after all.”

While she does have a point 9S can’t help but remember the state he found her the first time they met. Floundering around like a crippled seagull, barely able to keep her head above water. Looking back on it now, he'd consider it funny if it wasn’t a threat to her life, and even then it was still pretty funny. Still, he would rather not have to dive into the murky, possibly demon infested waters of the harbor to rescue her once again.

“Alright,” 9S says, “But only if you let me teach you how us weak humans fish. You know, without almost drowning.”

“Hmph.” 2B crosses her arms over her chest and scowls at him, “The techniques of my people have been honed for millenia. Do not insult the proud dragon species.”

He holds back a laugh, “Only if you promise not to make me jump in the water after you.”

A low growl is the only response he gets, which only serves to make him smile more. She really is cute when she’s flustered.

2B doesn’t agree to his proposal out right, but she does follow behind him while he looks through the abandoned merchant stalls for loose equipment. Most if not all of the stands are void of anything useful, whether it was packed up when the owner left or picked clean by vagrants was impossible to tell, but there were a handful that still contained hidden treasures.

9S wasn’t about to expect to find a full fishing set and box of tackle, but he did find a worn rod and a spool of wire. In another he found an old box of hardtack and cheese. Not as ideal a bait as worms or insects, but it would do in a pinch. 2B just stares, bewildered by the seemingly random tools he collects, but makes no comment. She only watches him with those bright, curious eyes. He can’t help but smile at her.

“Come on, let’s go find a good spot,” he says, nodding his head towards the bay, “Or-...Hey can you pick out where there’s the most fish?”

With a nod, 2B wanders over to the edge of the dock and peers into the water. She stands there, unmoving and silent aside from the occasional turn of her head. Sometimes she prowls across the edge, stalking some unseen movement. Unable to contain his curiosity, 9S leans over, dangerously close to the water, to get a look at her face and what she’s looking at. Her eyes, wide and darkend, dart across the surface. It’s mesmerizing to watch her, so mesmerizing that when she suddenly turns to speak to him, he nearly jumps out of his skin and loses his balance.

“This spot seems to be a spawning ground,” 2B says, fixing her hair, “There are plentiful fish here.”

“R-..right. Okay,” he inwardly curses how easy it is to get him to blush, as he can already feel his face heating up, “Here, lemme show you how to bait the line.”

Careful not to stab his fingers, 9S hooks a piece of cheese onto the end of the line, “You want the barb at the end to be poking through enough so that it hooks into the fish’s mouth when it tries to get the bait, but not so much that it can just take it without hooking themselves.”

2B’s brow furrows as he casts the line into the harbor and sits on the edge, his feet dangling above the water, “Now what?”

“Now we wait for a fish to bite. Once you feel the line start to tug and pull away, you reel it in. That’s really all there is to it.”

“Seems...Boring,” she says, yet sits beside him anyway.

“That depends on how hungry the fish are,” he answers, “If they are, we should have a bite within-...!”

As if on cue, the rod dips into the water, then whatever is on the other end nearly rips it from 9S’ hands. With a quick yelp, he grabs hold of the fishing rod and yanks backward with all of his might. Something small breaks the surface of the water and with practiced movements, 9S reels in a fish about the size of his hand.

“See? Easy!” He holds up the wriggling fish to 2B with a bright smile, “You wanna give it a shot?”

2B eyes the fish, “...What are you going to do with that?”

“Oh, usually I toss them back. Why?” he asks, working the hook out of the fish’s mouth.

The moment the fish is free, 2B snatches it away with a lightning quick swipe of her clawed hand.

“I’m hungry,” she says and bites the head clean off of its body.

“Urgh…,” 9S fights back the nauseous churning of his gut, “Fine, but if you want to eat more you have to catch your own.”

She swallows the still-thrashing tail in one gulp, “...Okay, deal.”

9S hands her the rod and some bait then takes a step back. Just in case. She fumbles with the hook and ends up stabbing her fingers more than once before the bit of bread is through the barb. It’s worth the sideways glares he gets from her to laugh at her stubbornness.

“Need any help?” he teases.

She lets out a growl before tossing the line into the harbor and kneeling down next to him, “Quiet.”

Watching 2B fish is far from the relaxing and meditative activity 9S expects it to be. It’s more akin to watching a hawk stalk its prey from its perch. Each movement of the fish swimming just out of his sight, each ripple of the water is something 2B can decipher and track with precision he could only dream of. Her shoulders tense each time the line moves, whether by the currents or by a curious fish. She looks so poised he’s half worried that she might leap into the water at any given moment.

A few of the civilians who chose to stay in the city wander over to watch this strange woman in strange robes fish in her bizarre manner. 2B doesn’t seem to notice, as her concentration is locked solely on the water and what lies beneath.

“Try moving the rod a little. Fish tend to like things that move like prey,” he whispers directly in her ear so as not to disturb her too much.

The very tip of the rod dips once, twice, then in a flash of movement too fast for 9S to even see 2B leaps back and rips a large trout out of the water with a magnificent splash. The civilians cheer as the fish struggles against the rod and 2B’s strength, floundering on the ground pathetically. She grins at her catch, flashing the pointed teeth of a predator. 9S can’t help but feel...something...as she bites into its flesh and severs its spine clean in half. Not fear, at least not entirely fear. Awe perhaps? Whatever the feeling is, it certainly makes his stomach do strange flips and his heart beat just a bit faster.

The civilians disperse quickly amidst worried murmuring and fearful stares. Some part of 9S feels as though he should be offended, but then again, as he glances at 2B eating a live fish nearly whole he can see why strangers would flee from her. After all, he almost did.

But he knows she is not some monster, despite her outward appearance and current actions. She is kind, gentle, and strong beyond compare. She is a peerless warrior, and someone he considers to be a dear friend. He…

“I…” 2B’s voice jolts 9S out of his thoughts, “I would offer to share, but…” she looks down at the remains of the trout in her hands, “Well, you said before humans can’t eat raw meats.”

“Well, not often. But I hear there are some places that think it’s a delicacy.”

Her eyes widen a bit and she tilts her head to the side in the way that makes 9S’ heart skip, “Really?”

“Mhm,” he says as he takes the fishing rod and casts it into the harbor, “Even just on our continent, there’s a lot of kinds of food specific to one area. Like on the border of the Theocracy and the Great Bog they make this special kind of sweet bread with honey that supposedly tastes like angel tears.”

“I’m not sure I see the point in all this...variation.” 2B admits after tossing the scraps of inedible fish back into the water.

9S gives her a quizzical look, “Do Coatlys not have different ways of preparing meals? Like different mixes of spices?”

“Preparing food seems to be a…human practice. We simply hunt prey or gather plants from the forest, clean, dress, and give thanks. That’s it.”

He chuckles, “I guess you must think all the effort humans put into cooking pretty silly, huh?”

“Hardly,” 2B says, shaking her head, “It’s....interesting. I’d like for you to cook for me sometime, should the occasion arise.”

9S’ face lights up like the sun, “Really?! I know tons of recipes from all over! Maybe once we’re done here, I’ll be able to go on leave for a bit, then we can try all kinds of new foods together!”

2B folds her hands into her pockets and fumbles with something unseen by 9S, “I’d like that, I think.”

Though the conversation ends, 9S finds himself enjoying their silence. More often than not he feels a bit awkward if there’s little to no banter, but this is...comfortable. He doesn’t feel the need to speak to 2B for her to know he’s enjoying her company. And the soft smile on her lips lets him know that she feels the same.

They fish together in silence, passing the rod back and forth every so often, 2B eating whatever fish looks the tastiest to her, until the sun begins to set.

“It’s gonna be dark soon, we should start heading-...” 9S begins, but as he stands up he cuts himself short, “Oh! I just remembered something!”

“Hm?” 2B hums, standing up with him.

“While I was helping the refugees earlier, I happened upon a traveling merchant who was selling something I’ve never tried before. Want to come with me?”

2B barely has the chance to nod before he grabs her hand and starts pulling her along. They jog together through the empty streets, and though she is more than capable of keeping pace beside him, 9S does not let go of her hand.

She thinks she doesn’t want him to.

It isn’t long before the sprawling complex of tents comes into view, just past the unkempt walls of Vigo. Many civilians are settling in for the night, but many more are huddled around small fires chatting with one another. The air is tense, apprehensive, but not as much as when they first arrived. 2B wrinkles her nose at the sharp scent of alcohol that hangs around certain groups, but 9S seems too focused on his destination to notice.

“Oh, good!” he says and points towards a man in holy vestments casting a blue hued spell, “He’s still here!”

A strange scent hangs in the air around this holy man. Sweet and fruity, it reminds 2B of a tree bearing bountiful fruits, but the chill in the air makes her scales itch. She watches as the holy man stir several large pots of what looks like cream while casting that chilling magic and pouring a bowl of fruit paste into the mixtures.

“Ah, the young soldier from earlier!” the holy man greets 9S as they approach, “And who is this? Another soldier?”

“Hello again!” 9S replies and waves, “No, this is my friend 2B. I convinced her to try your...cold cream?”

“Iced cream,” he says with a chuckle.

“Iced cream. I convinced her to try some with me.”

2B doesn’t speak, but nods and eyes the priest warrily.

“No need to be so wary, young one. This treat is a favorite among even the folks of the northern Theocracy,” the holy man smiles warmly at her, “Now, what flavor would you two like?”

“Flavor?” 9S blinks for a moment, “Is that what that fruit was for?”

“Exactly, my boy. I have strawberries, caramel, elderberries, cherries, dragonfruit-...”

“Cherry!” 9S yelps, then immediately shrinks down sheepishly, “Er, cherry please.”

“Of course. And for you, miss?”

2B looks back and forth between the priest and 9S, eyes wide with confusion, “Um...I don’t know. These are all new to-”

“Caramel for her. Can you put a bit of salt in it as well? She’s not a fan of too sweet food,” 9S says, stepping in front of her a bit.

A short huff comes from 2B, but her irritation is quelled by 9S simply placing his hand on hers. She makes a mental note to snap at him later for speaking for her.

“Of course of course. It will be just a moment, now.”

9S places some gold coins into a little pan of collections sitting just in front of the priest and steps back to watch his process. With one hand he stirs the thickening mixture of milk, sugar, and respective flavorings, and with another he sprinkles in a bit of salt. He casts a basic ice spell at the base of the jug till the cream becomes so thick that he must use both hands to stir. Once satisfied with the product, the holy man uses the stirring spoon to fill two simple ceramic bowls with the different flavors requested.

“There you go, enjoy you two!”

“Thank you very much,” 9S says, taking the bowls from the priest and handing 2B hers, “Come on, let’s eat on the way back.”

2B stares at the bowl as she follows after him. The cold of this frozen cream bites into the thin scales of her hands, and the scent it gives off is unlike anything she had smelled before. It’s not entirely unpleasant, just strange to her. She dares to lick it, if only a bit, and gasps loud enough to startle 9S.

“You okay? Too cold?” he asks.

She shakes her head, “No...It’s-...” her brow furrows, “I don’t understand.”

“Huh? What don’t you get?”

“How does this golden sugar taste different from the white sugar?”

9S can’t help but laugh, “It’s caramel. Boiling the sugar with water and then letting it cool changes the way it tastes.”

“How? What kind of spell is that?”

“It’s not a spell,” he swallows a small mouthful of his reddish ice cream, “Just chemistry. Though in a way, it is kind of like magic.”

“Strange…” 2B mutters, and licks at the ice cream some more.

“Indeed,” 9S says with a small giggle, “Oh, hey 32S told me about a side entrance that puts us closer to the barracks than going through the main gate. It takes us through the woods for a bit but with the two of us we should be okay.”

“Why were you worried in the first place?”

“Well there’s wolves, bears, and demons of course.” he grumbles, “Remember, I’m not as strong as you.”

“Yes, but I’m the most dangerous thing here. Aside from whatever’s in the water.”

“Oh hush, and just follow me.”

True to his word, 9S leads her through the thick forest that sprawls along the eastern side of Vigo’s walls. A small, untended road winds through the trees but patches of vegetation grow over segments of the glorified dirt path. Without a sign of human activity along with the fading light, 9S feels safe enough near 2B to deactivate his concealing spell. He taps the jewel in his pendant twice and the air around him shimmers briefly. Little stubby horns emerge from his forehead and a thin barbed tail whips sways back and forth with his stride. He feels 2B’s eyes on him, but when he turns to meet her gaze there’s no fear or malice in her eyes. He...isn’t sure what emotion he sees in her dark eyes but it makes his chest feel warm.

9S smiles and holds up his bowl of ice cream, “Hey, 2B. Check out what I can do.”

2B tilts her head. She isn’t sure what to expect from him anymore. He’s surprised her at nearly every turn. She prepares for him to toss the bowl in the air, or spin it on the tip of his tail.

No amount of preparation could save her from the shock of watching a long, pointed tongue unfurl from his mouth and lap up the frozen treat.

Her whole body simultaneously feels frozen, and unbearably hot at the same time. Either he has no idea what he’s doing to her, or he knows very, very well. His tongue coils around the ice cream like a serpent, bending and twisting and writhing in ways that make 2B’s mind conjure all manner of sinful acts.

Resolve shattered and stone burning in her pocket, she can’t fight the words that rise in her throat like acid.

“I want that inside me.”

9S stops. Everything stops. He’s fairly certain his heart stops beating too.

Did she...say…

Heat and pressure coil in his gut and suddenly his pants feel very tight. Panic and shame mix together in a horrid slurry, tearing at his insides with such fervor that he almost doubles over. He has to get out of here. He has to find a way out right now...

“I…” 9S stammers, “I have to go take care of something.”

Chapter 13: A Minor Distraction This chapter is Rated E

2B comes to the conclusion that humans are stupid.

Well, not stupid. 9S is far too intelligent for her to consider truly stupid. Rather, he seems so bound by human expectations and conventions that he acts as if he is stupid. 2B knows full well what he’s run off to “take care of”. Anyone with a functioning mind could figure that out. What she can’t figure out is why.

They are both attracted to each other in a sexual manner, why draw out this period of tension? Why not simply get it over with? He can’t enjoy this, can he?

She leans against a tree, mulling over her own frustrations. Yes, perhaps she was a bit too blunt with him and yes perhaps she forgot to present him with the stone, but if his current behavior is anything to go by it would have lead to the same conclusion.

Something 6O told her years ago comes back into her mind, something about how humans had strange rituals and societal limitations around sexual relations. The details escape her, but even the vague idea is enough to cause her frustration. Sure her own culture has its own behavior and conventions but those existed for mated pairs, not for casual sexual encounters.

She lets out a huff and smooths back her ruffled hair. It’s foolish of her to get so worked up over this. It should have been obvious to her from the start. 9S has demonic blood in him, and incubus blood at that.

A pang of guilt hits her like an arrowhead. Yes, his incubus heritage has...unfortunate connotations to it if she remembers correctly. 6O told her stories of human women visited in the dead of night by unnaturally beautiful men, only to give birth to a monster nine months later. Of course he would feel ashamed of any sort of sexual desire. Perhaps he feared losing control of himself and hurting her in some way, not that he could.

Still, agitation crept through 2B’s gut, mingling with guilt into a nauseating slurry. A part of her wants to track 9S down and just have her way with him, a very large part. At least she still has enough sense about her to keep those kinds of thoughts down. Now if only there was something she could do about the heat coiling in her gut. She needs to distract herself, it seems like a decent idea to give 9S some space at the moment. He doesn’t need to be more overwhelmed than he already is.

The little blue stone burns in her pocket. Maybe if she had explained herself thoroughly and gone through with her original plan, things would have played out differently. Or at least 9S wouldn’t be terrified of her… She hopes she hasn’t ruined her relationship with him because of her own desires.

Ugh...she needs to clear her head.

2B stretches out her arms, takes a deep breath, prepares to transform and take to the skies. 9S can defile whatever foliage he decides to. She has much cleaner means of relieving tension like this. However, a strange scent piques her interest just enough to keep her grounded for a moment, and a moment is all it takes.

It hits her full force, hard enough to throw her off balance. She reaches out to a tree to steady herself as her whole world spins. Every thought in her head leaves her, only to be replaced by carnal thoughts.

Of course. Of course someone with his heritage would have such powerful pheromones.

Uneven breaths make her chest heave. She can’t think of anything else, not unless she focuses all of her energy on simple concentration. Her face feels hot, no...her whole body feels hot. Especially the coiling pressure in her lower abdomen. It isn’t a new feeling, but it’s the first time she’s felt it this strong and outside the safety of the Elder’s Sanctum.

It’s the first time she can act on it…

Just the thought makes her mouth go dry. She could easily overpower him, make him submit to her and-...

No. Her willpower is stronger than these base urges. She wouldn’t forgive herself if she ever brought harm to 9S. She brings her sleeve to her face which mitigates some of the smell. If she can calm herself she can get through this through sheer will alone. This is nothing compared to the days confined to the Elder’s with the other unmarried women in heat. All of those hungry women in one home… It still makes her shudder to think about sometimes. Those meditation drills were nightmarish, though useful in this situation.

Don’t focus on the tightness in the stomach. Don’t think about the twitching of the muscles. Pay no mind to the dryness of the throat, or how the mind swims with carnal intentions. Focus on the self and the connection to the living world. Each breath, each beat of the heart is deliberate and strong. Do not waver to the will of the base self; command the body as if it were a warrior.

Slowly her body begins to calm and her mind clears. A brief sense of pride fills her as she inwardly praises herself and Coatyl practices. Perhaps all that isolative training wasn’t for nothing, even after leaving her people.

That all comes crashing down once she hears the sounds.

Rapid, heavy breathing, the faint echoes of flesh against flesh. Hell, she could almost hear his heart beating.

In the back of 2B’s mind, it’s funny to her how easily her resolve shatters. All it took was some lewd sounds and she’s storming through the forest. It’s not like she’s going to hurt him or scold him. She just wants to talk, if anything to tell him he’s being stupid. They were both adults, surely they could have a conversation about this sort of thing. Though...perhaps humans didn’t have the level of education on sex and sexuality that she and her kind received.

As she trudged through the forest it became clear that 9S would be in massive danger if there were any large predators lurking nearby. Anything on the hunt for easy prey would be drawn to the scent and sounds of the distracted half-breed. He probably doesn’t hear her footsteps or the shuffling of plant life around her. What an idiot. If she were someone else, she could have easily killed him.

Following 9S’ scent and sounds is an easy task for 2B. She’s used to prey being silent and unseen aside from flickering shadows and the rustle of leaves. With all the noise he makes he might as well have laid a stonework path for her directly to him. Even so, the closer she gets, the harder it becomes for her to think of anything beyond tearing the clothes from his body and-

The sight of a shock of white hair in the brush, rocking back and forth against a tree halts her line of thought. As she approaches, more and more of the lewd scene is revealed to her. With one arm propping himself up against the tree, 9S’ other hand is obscured by his body. His arm shudders, moving in time with the rest of his body, his hips bucking into his hand every so often. A desperate growl reaches 2B’s ears and stirs something inside her. It’s similar to the feeling she gets when about to strike an unsuspecting fish, something primal and predatory. It makes her stomach churn with disgust.

She moves closer, drawn in by his overpowering scent once again. A part of her hopes that he’ll become aware of her, that he’ll turn around and reprimand her for sneaking up on him, but he remains trapped in his hedonistic fantasies. His head tilts to the side slightly and for a moment 2B thinks he’s heard her, only for him to roll his neck and dip his head back against the trunk of the tree.

Frustration over different kinds boils over. She can’t stand by any longer. She must act, and put an end to this stupidity.

“Enough of this,” 2B commands and takes a step forward. Her voice is strong, echoing off the surrounding trees.

9S whips around, his face crimson red, “T- 2B?! What are you- !!”

He scrambles to cover himself with his discarded coat as 2B strides forward. Only a yard or so and a few shrubs separate them now. 2B can feel her mind hazing over once again.

“The way you acting. The hiding, the shame. It’s ridiculous.”

“I’m- 2B you-...,” he stammers and stumbles over his words.

2B can almost hear the blood surging through his body. It makes her mouth dry. She licks her lips before taking another step closer, “Are you afraid?”

“I…”

He looks like a prey animal, eyes wide and fearful, hands grasping at anything they can hold on to. 2B feels something tighten in her chest.

“Why bother to hide yourself. It’s no secret what you were doing.”

She reaches out to him, to the hand that holds his coat over his legs. As she takes his wrist in her hand she can feel the shivers wracking his whole body, and for a moment she thinks she may have made a mistake.

Suddenly, 9S’ body goes stiff with panic, “W- STOP!” he shouts and rips his arm away from 2B. He cowers against the tree, his fingers digging into the bark as if it would tether him to the earth.

2B finds herself without words, shocked by his sudden outburst.

“You can’t just...just do that! You don’t barge in on someone when-...” 9S’ face flushes a deep red as he shouts at her. His brow furrows and he even bares his teeth at her for a split second.

She bristles at his displays of aggression, but she can’t help but think, somewhere in the back of her mind, that he’s cute.

“I’m sorry,” she says dipping her head slightly yet grinding her fangs together.

“Well-...” he can’t hide his surprise but manages to maintain his outward anger, “Good.”

“I…” though the scents still cloud her mind, her better judgement resurfaces along with just a touch of shame, “I’m still learning these human customs. Your aversion to sexuality seemed useless to me. I thought...I thought if we could...fix this problem...you might be better off.”

“Fix...Did you mean-”

“I’ll leave you to your business, then.”

Before 9S can protest, she turns on her heels and steps over the small bushes that surround the tree he leans on.

“Wait! 2B hold on!” he yells and grabs at her arm.

His strength startles 2B, who stumbles backward.

“I...2B, listen…,” he says, bowing his head, “This...kind of thing with me...It’s complicated.”

“How?”

9S sighs, “It’s hard to explain. Since I don’t have...control...over certain abilities, I’m never sure. I don’t know if this is something I’m...making you feel, or if you're...if this is real.”

“I don’t understand.” 2B thought she made her intentions clear enough. Was there something she was missing? Some human courting ritual she never learned about?

“It’s got to do with...how I am,” he groans, “My incubus blood.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that.”

“Are you aware of what that means?” He huffs, “What can I do?”

2B shakes her head, “What, does it make you dangerous?” She finds it hard to believe that someone as non threatening as he is could be a threat to her.

“Not in the way you’re thinking of. It’s...I can make people...feel things. I guess you could say I can influence their minds, but I can’t...control it very well,” his head dips low, “There have been times before where people...have gotten too close and…”

There’s worrying hesitation in his voice. He curls into himself slightly before looking up at 2B with tired eyes.

“They weren't in their right mind when...when things almost went too far. I don’t want that to happen with you.”

Ah, now she understands.

“I am aware of what I am doing,” she says, her shoulders squared proudly, “And I am aware of what I want. But…” she sighs, “If you wish to be left alone, I will leave.”

9S bites his lip and in that moment of deliberation 2B feels her gut twist in a way she had never felt before. Could she be...afraid of rejection? No, that’s silly. It must be the arousal.

“You sure?” 9S asks in a meek voice 2B nearly misses, “What you want...it’s not something I’m...making you feel?”

“Yes,” she lies.

A heavy silence passes between them. 9S stares at her, piercing near-white eyes searching hers for something she can’t place. 2B waits for him to move. She thinks it’s best to allow him to lead, at least to start. He still seems frightened by her, so she will hold herself back. How long that lasts, though, she isn’t sure.

9S reaches out to her, cupping her cheek with his free hand. His thumbs idly traces the patterns of her scales as he studies her face intently. She feels his breath, heavy against her face, just before he leans in and presses his lips against hers.

It’s a surprisingly chaste kiss at first, both of them testing the waters so to speak. He applies a little pressure which 2B matches. He savors the closeness, weaving his fingers through her hair. A low rumble echoes in her chest, almost like a purr.

“Your hair is so soft…” 9S mumbles against her lips.

Frustration with his slow progression draws another low growl from 2B. She presses her body against his, feeling his heartbeat speed up and something twitch against her thigh. He bumps against the tree he hid behind, his breath hitching slightly with tangible panic. Not wanting to scare him 2B backs off of him a bit and allows him to pull away from the tree. She draws 9S back into her by forcing his lips to part and biting gently on his lower lip.

9S shudders at the sudden addition of teeth, a tiny sound escaping him like the mewl of a kitten. It only fuels 2B’s own building desires. She cups his cheeks in her hands, her thumbs rolling over his jawline, chin, and halting over his throat. The lump in his throat bobs with each trembling breath, his blood surges through his veins. Something in the back of her mind wants it...needs it, to open. 2B presses her thumb against one large vein in his neck and wonders how the blood that pulses through it would taste.

Her wish is granted not moments later, as her sharp teeth pierce the thin skin of his lower lip. 9S whimpers a bit but a quick swipe of her tongue soothes the pain quickly. Unfortunately, the moment his blood hits her tongue it sets off a terrifying reaction within her. She rips herself away from him and stares down at a very bewildered 9S.

“2B? What- !!”

With a fierce snarl, 2B slams him back against the tree so forcefully that for a moment his vision blurs. Her mouth is on his mere seconds later, her tongue forcing its way into his mouth. His pathetic mewls and body squirming against her own urges her to show more of her strength, to make him completely and utterly helpless, unable to put up any kind of fight. She wants total submission, and something tells her 9S will be more than happy to give it to her.

9S’ hands grab onto whatever part of her they can reach; one tugs at her hair, the other fumbling with her cloak and undershirt. Meanwhile her hands tear away his shirt with such frantic motions that her claws tear into his flesh. She breaks their kiss to scrape her teeth against his neck, revealing at the feeling of his blood thundering through his veins. It nearly drives her mad. His tail thrashes like an excited cat’s in response.

Once 9S recovers enough to retaliate, he worms his hands up 2B’s shirt. She shudders at his feather light touches as he traces the outlines of her muscles and scales. His touches are so reverent, a stark comparison to the way she manhandles him. Her hands twitch, aching to rip and tear him apart. She rakes her claws down his chest and begins to tug on the hem of his pants impatiently. Dimly she registers a wetness that coats the tip of her fingers but she pays it no mind, in fact it makes them tingle, as if they want more.

His hips rut against hers, desperately seeking relief, and 2B responds to it by crushing his body against the tree with her own. One hand dives beneath the hem of his smallclothes, gripping at his pronounced hip bones and teasing just above the base of his cock. The other hand pins his head back against the tree trunk, her claws digging into his scalp, marking him further.

“M-...ooore...please…” he begs.

Relenting to his touch, 2B shuffles out of her robes, leaving only her unbuttoned shirt, pants, and boots still on. 9S’ hands immediately move to her breasts and begin massaging them.

“Wh-...” 9S mumbles as he stares down at 2B’s body.

Her chest resembles a grown woman’s, but the hard scales remind him of her inhuman nature. With a curious glint in her eyes, 2B touches his chest, her clawed fingers lingering on a nipple. 9S’ breath hitches in his chest, betraying his sensitivity, so 2B ghosts the tip of her finger over it again. She remembers something 6O told her relating to these organs that female coatyls replicate in their human forms. Something to do with feeding their young. It isn’t important to getting what she wants from 9S, so she quickly abandons that train of thought.

“Down,” 2B commands, forcing 9S to sit in the dirt beneath her. Like an obedient pet he sits there, looking up at her with an expectant and exhausted look. Smears of blood cover his face and chest, but he doesn’t appear bothered by it at all. He doesn’t even look in pain. In fact, he looks just as hungry as she does.

Unable and unwilling to draw this out any further, 2B kicks off her boots and unceremoniously removes both her pants and 9S’ smallclothes. His cock twitches lewdly in the sudden cool air of the fast approaching night, and 2B feels her stomach tighten at the sight. In a show of courage that throws her off guard, 9S wraps his arms around her waist and presses soft kisses and vicious bites to her hips. Similar to her mimic breasts, the scales between her legs are thick, almost leathery to the touch. Even with his two pointed fangs, 9S’ bites barely pierce her skin, yet she lets out a low groan of approval and holds on to the nub-like horns that jut from his forehead.

Answering her demand from earlier in the day, the offhand comment that lead to this, 9S lets his unnaturally long tongue slide across her hips and dips between her legs. She instinctively parts her legs for him and tugs his head closer, urging him onward. Like an eager kitten he laps at her folds and occasionally slides his tongue inside her, just a bit. The sudden contact makes 2B dig her claws into the side of 9S’ head, staining his white hair with streaks of crimson. Though his motions are sloppy and frantic, 2B pulls his face closer and lifts one leg up to rest on his shoulder. Each time 9S hits a particularly sensitive spot with the tip of his tongue, the claws on her toes slice open his skin. Each spasm of muscle brings her leg down his shoulder, drawing more blood along the way. At one point her balance falters, and she accidentally drags her claws down his shoulder and chest, leaving deep gashes in their wake. To regain her balance she pushes forward on his chest, forcing him back against the tree and crushing her claws deeper into his chest. He bites his bloody lip to keep back a particularly loud moan.

9S looks up at her with dark, lustful eyes that mirror 2B’s. His mouth hangs open, breaths heavy on his lips as he begs wordlessly for her touch. She hastily kneels down, straddling his hips and positioning herself just over his aching cock. His bravery returns again, this time in the form of him bucking up to her. The tip of his cock just barely touches her wet folds, but the brief taste alone isn’t nearly enough for 2B. She slams his head back against the tree, pinning him to the bark, and slams herself down onto him.

They both cry out in surprise and pain. 9S writhes beneath her, his hands scrambling for any sort of purchase on her muscular body. His tail flicks wildly back and forth before winding around her waist.

“I don’t think…,” he wheezes, his voice hoarse and raspy, “You’re supposed to go that...fast.”

“Have you done this before?” 2B asks with a hint of a growl in her throat.

“N...No,” he admits. If he weren’t streaked with blood he might have been blushing, “Have you?”

“Not with a man.”

9S pushes himself up into her, using his hands as leverage. Taking the hint, 2B places her hands underneath his rear and holds him up. For a moment she takes notice of the heavy scarring near the base of his tail and wonders how those scars could have come to be.

They let instinct take over, which seems to counteract the awkward angle of their bodies. 2B grinds down onto his cock while 9S tries to thrust up into her despite being held in her iron grip. He finally moves in earnest when 2B’s hands grip onto his shoulders. Occasionally her claws rake down his back, causing him to cry out and arch his back into her nails. Each time his cock hits the same sensitive areas his tongue did mere minutes ago, she muffles her own cries by sinking her predatory teeth into his neck. Of course, he bites at her chest and shoulders as well, but her scales protect her from the little damage he can do.

“T-...I’m-!!”

Whatever 9S was going to say is cut off by a sharp whimper. He quickly buries his face in her breasts and clings to her, his hips bucking wildly and tail tightening its grip around her waist. Feeling the same tension and heat that she assumes 9S must be feeling, 2B draws one hand down between their bodies and hastens her own orgasm by furiously rubbing at the sensitive (and frankly neglected) nub. Just as she does, she feels 9S’ cock twitch inside her once, twice, and with a drawn out moan he comes. His entire body spasms in her grip and soon loses the tension that had built up within, but she isn’t done with him yet.

She slams him down into the dirt and pins him against the tree, the back of his head smacking into the bark. Her teeth sink into his neck again, marking him as hers over and over. The hand that isn’t between her legs digs into whatever flesh it can grab and marks him there as well. 2B rides his fast softening cock with the same ferocity as she would display in a fight to the death, and when the waves of pleasure finally wash over her, she clamps her teeth around the spot where his neck and chest meet. They will all know he is hers, that she is strong and has made him hers. She hisses as those waves disperse far too quickly, even though her muscles still spasm.

As the lustful haze disperses from her mind, 2B slowly rises from the ground. Even still, a wave of dizziness threatens to topple her. It’s only through willpower that she manages to remain standing.

With a deep and contented sigh, she turns to the rising moon and stars beginning to show themselves for the night, “We should hurry back. Don’t want you to get into trouble…”

As she looks down at 9S while hastily dressing herself, her eyes widen at the sight beneath her. It’s as if he had been attacked by some animal. Hideous jagged wounds cover his body, seeping blood onto the clothes he struggles to put on. His eyes are heavy, as is his breathing, and he looks far paler than normal. He looks up at her with glassy eyes and offers a smile of all things.

“Heh...Yeah…Don’t want-...” he groans as he pulls on his pants, covering the blooming purple bruises on his thighs and hips, “Jackass to...yell…”

The quivering waver in his voice sets 2B on edge. Something is wrong with him, he sounds weak. Too weak. As she reaches her hand out to help him stand, she recoils at the sight of her own blood stained fingers. In fact, nearly the entirety of her arms and even up to her chest is caked in fast drying blood.

Oh gods...what has she done?

9S rises to his feet, takes two shaky steps forward, and collapses onto the ground in a bloody heap.

“Tw...I don’t...feel good….” he wheezes.

2B believes herself to be unflinching in the face of any trail. It was what was instilled in her through years of rigorous training and studies. But the sight of 9S, crumpled and broken by her hands sends her into a panic. Her thoughts come and go faster than she can handle, all of her field aid knowledge seems to slip from her mind the instant she begins to wrap her robe around his body. It’s a crude way to protect his wounds from grievous infection, but it will do till she can get him to someone who knows what they’re doing.

And 2B knows just the person.

Luckily, most townsfolk are smart enough to stay inside at night, so 2B only ends up scaring the daylights out of the few guards and soldiers posted for the evening patrols. One of them calls out to her, but their cries fall on deaf ears, as she has only one focus at the moment.

As soon as 2B finds it, one solid kick to the infirmary door nearly breaks it off the hinges.

“6O!” she shouts, cradling 9S’ body close to her.

A chorus of grumbles from sleeping, bedridden soldiers answers her, followed by the sound of an annoyed druid storming up to her.

“What in the world do you need at this hour-...Is that Nines?!” 6O shouts, rushing over to his shivering body, “Good gods what happened to him?! To both of you?! You’re covered in blood!!”

“He-...I-...” 2B’s brain races to come up with some sort of explanation. She doesn’t want to get 9S into trouble, so she settles on the first lie that isn’t obviously stupid, “Bear. There was a bear.”

A strange look crosses 6O’s face for a moment, “...Okay. Follow me, quickly. Let’s get him down over here.”

2B follows 6O to a section of the infirmary closed off with a few curtains, possibly for more grievous injuries to be tended to. She sets 9S onto the small bed as instructed to by 6O, who immediately begins working. She removes the robe 2B wrapped him in, followed by his shirt and pants. Her hands alight with green energy as she prepares some healing spells to soothe his pain and help speed up recovery. 2B leans in close beside her, watching every movement 9S makes with hawk-like intensity.

“Is there anything I can do?” 2B asks.

“I need space right now,” 6O responds with a low, professional tone, “Go wait in my room, I’ll talk to you when he’s stable.”

“But-”

“Now, 2B. Go get yourself cleaned up.”

She’s known 6O long enough to know that when she speaks like that, there’s no arguing with her. Dutifully she exits the infirmary and silently makes her way to 6O’s quarters. A small washbasin sits near the druid’s bed, already filled. 2B cleans the blood from her hands and arms with a small rag that sits on the edge of the basin, then scrubs at her face. She lets her bloodstained clothes soak in the tub while she paces the room like a caged animal, waiting for 6O to return with news of 9S.

Each time she glances at the tub of murky red water, her stomach churns. It wasn’t supposed to be like this… She wasn’t supposed to hurt him. Yet she lost control of herself so easily…

Maybe she was a beast...just as they said…

2B isn’t sure how long it is before 6O returns to her, but it feels like days. She immediately rushes up to the Druid, who cleans her hands of blood on a wet rag.

“Is he okay?” 2B asks.

6O sighs and tosses the rag into the basin with 2B’s clothes, “He’s lost a lot of blood, and he’s dehydrated on top of that. But Nines is tough, despite his size. He should be back on his feet in a few days.”

2B let’s put a long sigh of relief, “Oh thank the gods…”

“However,” 6O shoots a piercing look at her, “Those wounds looked nothing like a bear attack.” She turns to 2B and crosses her arms over her chest, “Want to tell me what actually happened?”

“I…” 2B never noticed how intimidating those green eyes of hers could be. There’s no use lying to her now, but…”You won’t get him in trouble, will you?”

“2B…”

She huffs at 6O’s scolding mother-like tone, “We had a...little rendezvous in the woods outside the city.”

6O’s eyes nearly bulge out of her head, “You-...Those are from sex?!”

“...Yes.” 2B says, flinching away from her.

“Good gods, 2B! If I didn’t know better I would have thought he was maimed by a demon! He could have died!”

She stays silent, eyes cast down to the stone floor. In other circumstances, she might have snapped back at 6O, but she deserves every bit of this for what she’s done to 9S.

“2B.” 6O calls, “Did you hear me?”

“Huh?”

“I said,” she repeats, “Did he ask you to stop?”

“No…”

“Idiot boy.” She mutters under her breath.

“I...I lost control of myself. I don’t know what came over me…it was like I just...I had to be...like that with him…”

Immediately, 6O’s expression softens, “Oh, 2B…”

Her pity makes 2B’s stomach flip. It’s the last thing she wants from anyone at this point.

“Look,” 6O says, sitting on the edge of her bed and motioning for 2B to do the same, “Even though he’s a bit more resilient than other humans, he’s still just as...squishy.”

“I know that. It’s just...I thought I had better self control. I didn’t mean to hurt him…”

6O wraps her arms around her dejected friend’s shoulders, “Hey, I told you he’s gonna be okay. Besides, if I know that weirdo, he probably enjoyed all of...that a little too much.”

2B lets out a breathy chuckle, “Probably.”

She drifts into her thoughts while 6O continues talking. The Druid might have her faults, but she is an expert at calming 2B down when she gets lost in her own mistakes. Gods know where all this patience came from. She idly plays with the hem of her undershirt until-

“Oh shit, I forgot to give him the rock.”

[laurelsofhighever]

The Falcon and the Rose Ch. 39 - Parting

Chapter 1 on AO3 This chapter on AO3 Masterpost here

--

They stayed out on the cliff-side for what seemed like hours, wrapped up in each other, revelling in the space away from the constraints of duty that had kept them apart. They sat in the long grass and watched Cuno chase after crickets as the sun curved across the sky; Rosslyn showed him how to weave a flower crown, and though his was uneven and already falling to bits by the time it was finished, she blushed and pulled her lip between her teeth when he fitted it gently into her hair.  

“That means something, you know,” she told him as she did the same with hers. 

“What?”  

The answer was a lopsided smirk pressed delicately against his own mouth, while a feathersoft hand had traced the line of his jaw. Alistair’s stomach coiled and shot heat down to his toes as he leaned in, and steadied them both with a hand on her waist, lips parted to deepen the kiss.  

Then her stomach rumbled.  

“Of all the days to not bring a picnic,” he murmured as he let her go.  

She traced her fingers down the line of his neck, still barely an inch away. “I don’t want to go back, not yet.”  

“They’ll come looking for us if we don’t,” he reminded her, with a quick darted kiss against the corner of her mouth. “Knowing our guard-captains, they’d probably find us, too. That was meant to be a joke,” he added when she frowned and turned away.  

“Not your best,” she teased. “But you’re probably right.”  

“Then what is it?”  

Sighing, she drew her knees up to her chin and fiddled with the end of her sleeve. “We haven’t said…” she tried. “This… us…”  

“You don’t want to tell anyone,” Alistair guessed. Something unpleasant lurched in his gut.

She glanced at him sharply, watching his jaw clench. “It’s not like that. I want –” The words fell away, lost to frustration as she shook her head. “There’s just so much going on, with the war and everything else – our lives are open for everyone to see, prince and teyrna and whatever else they choose to call us. I want… Void take it, I want something that can’t be touched by any of that, something that’s just… us. Ours. I’m… not explaining it very well.”  

She turned away too soon to see the light rekindle in Alistair’s eyes, preoccupied instead with drawing her hair over her shoulder like a veil to hide her mortification, the idea that she had stepped too far and now could not go back.  

“I know what you mean,” came the reassurance as he caught her fingers and brought them to his lips. “I understand. Everything in my life has always been about politics and whether or not I was more useful to keep around or send away, but you – politics has interfered long enough with how I feel about you.”  

“Alistair…”  

“I don’t know where this is going to go – I hope…” He paused then, dropped his gaze to follow the path of his fingers as he traced the bones of her hand. “If it’s what you want, I’d like to court you. Properly. But… not because you’re the Teyrna of Highever, and I’m a prince – for whatever that’s even worth – but because you’re you, and I – I want to be with you. Hang what everyone else thinks. It’s not their business, and… they don’t need to know. I just thought I’d tell you, in case – you know, in case you maybe wanted something like that too… And now I’m rambling, aren’t I?”  

She didn’t answer immediately – she couldn’t, entranced as she was by the glide of Alistair’s skin over her own. His speech burned in her ears, and beyond that the sincerity in his voice echoing every desperate hope carried in the deep, painful places of her heart, which rose now like spring from the roots of a great tree. The size of it lacked expression, though she tried to push through the hitch in her breath to stammer out something, anything to put aside the worry her silence had brought to his eyes.  

“Yup. Rambling. I knew it.”  

She collapsed against his shoulder with a huffed laugh, a self-deprecating sound of defeat tucked against the crook of his neck so she could muffle her uncertainty. A cautious hand settled on her back, but when he tried to pull his hand away, she caught his fingers and laced them with hers.  

“Nobody’s ever just outright asked to court me,” she explained. “I wasn’t expecting it. And…”  

“And…?”  

There are things I haven’t told you. I don’t want this to come to nothing. I’m not –

“And it might be a bit late to keep it from everybody. I’m not sure there’s a person on Innse Gaillean who doesn’t know.”    

He squeezed her hand. “Well you can be rather obvious, you know, the way you stare.”  

“Me?” she replied, pulling back to glare indignation at him. “And I suppose you don’t stare at all?”  

“Oh no, dear lady,” he answered. “I own how much I stare at you, but then, can you blame me? You are rather lovely.” The low, confidential hum of his voice caught her breath and she had to turn into his shoulder again to hide her grin.  

“I think I could get used to being courted by you.”  

Above her, he froze, and then with a sigh that ruffled past her ear, he shifted and turned, craning his neck to see her better. “Really?”  

She moved just far enough to brush a grinning kiss against his pulse. “Really.”  

--  

The week after that passed too slowly, for both of them. The euphoria of their shared confession was abruptly swept away as they folded back into the patterns of regular life, livened by the preparations to return to the mainland and the first news of battle joined between the Clayne and the marauding Tevinter ships. Besides, with so many eyes on them there was little time for private moments. Tabris disappeared, given berth on Lord Misyluinan’s ship for her own chance at vengeance, while Isabela grumbled about all the concurrent fortunes she could be making were she not stuck waiting for word from the king.  

That word came nine days after Alistair had retrieved the dragon bone, when Arl Eamon stepped onto the docks. The old man greeted them with a beneficent smile and a hearty clap on the shoulder, until he caught sight of Rosslyn’s glare and added proper deference with a bow. Before he could move on to clasp the Storm Giant’s arm, however, Connor pushed through the crowd, full of excitement.  

“Father! Look! Magus Breca taught me how to do it.”  

Eamon’s eyes shot wide at the curling lick of flame balanced like a pet on his son’s palm. His lips peeled back from his teeth as if he’d bitten into something sour, and when he glanced to Rosslyn and Alistair, their faces slack with shock, whatever he might have said floundered as ruddy colour flushed his face.

“Isn’t it good, Father?” Connor pressed. “It’s meant to take ages to learn but I did it in only days!”  

Eamon bent down, his hand heavy on his son’s shoulder. “What did we discuss about keeping your… abilities out of sight? What would your mother think of such a display?”  

“But…” the boy frowned. “Magus Breca said –”  

“We will speak of this later.”  

The incident was not mentioned again. Eamon, eager to re-establish himself, kept Alistair close company for long hours over the following two days, to the point where Brantis, too well-mannered for complaining, redoubled his efforts to appear indispensable and all but tied himself to Rosslyn’s shadow overseeing their preparations to leave. If part of his motive was to keep the two of them apart, he was tactful enough not to mention it, but it meant that between one thing and another, Rosslyn had no private chance to talk to Alistair until their last night in the broch, when the noise of the leaving feast drowned out all conversation not immediately hollered into a partner’s ear.

“You managed to persuade him to give you a moment of peace, then?” she asked as she shared a plate of mutton pastries. She eyed the servers for unwanted attention, wary of protocol again with her departure for the mainland only hours away. The arl, carefully out if earshot, sat four seats away on the Storm Giant’s other side, swapping war tales with subtle, increasing degrees of escalation.  

“If you can call it peace,” Alistair replied. “Considering.”  

His fingers drummed against the rim of his goblet, the only betrayal of his agitation at being so close and unable to hold her hand. She noticed the movement and made a show of reaching across him for a bowl of roasted vegetables, brushing her arm past his shoulder, while beneath the table her knee pressed even closer next to his.  

“Subtle as an anchor on the heid,” Eoin grumbled on her other side as Alistair leaned back and braced a hand against her waist. “Yair lucky they’re all I’ thair cups.”  

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied loftily.  

But Alistair’s hand fell from her back. In the morning, they would have to go their separate ways, she back south to the war and the king, and he onwards to Orzammar to forestall any treaty the dwarves might make with Loghain. With all the scrutiny from those around them, there had been no time to discuss the change, and with so little time left now before the morning tide, the fear was stalking closer that they might have to part back into danger without anything more than a formal goodbye.  

“Aye, o’ course. Dinnae mind me.”  

A runner stepped up to the dais and bent to whisper in Alistair’s ear, distracting Rosslyn from her retort.  

“What was that about?” she asked as the man padded back into the swirl of the crowd.  

Alistair winked. “You’ll see.” He stood and turned towards the Storm Giant, his shoulders thrown back in the way Brantis had shown him was best for grand, formal announcements. “My Lord Fearchar, the thing we discussed is now, uh… ready. My Lady Lileas, If I might be permitted to interrupt the proceedings?”

For a long moment, the fearsome Mac Eanraig matriarch held him in her pale gaze, her head tilted with an impartial curiosity that collapsed into a smile as she glanced between the young prince and her granddaughter. She nodded.

“Thank you, my lady.”  

“What is the meaning of this?” Eamon sputtered, rising as Alistair stepped over the bench. “Your Highness, this is most irregular –”  

“Ha! Ye picked yer timing all right!” the Storm Giant boomed over him. “You there! Clear a space for the prince, he willnae be able te move in all this mess. An’ all the rest o’ you, settle! Ye’ll want te watch this, milord.”

An anticipatory murmur accompanied the bustle of the servers as platters were cleared to make room for whatever it was Alistair had planned. He didn’t move immediately to the central dais, striding instead to one of the side doors, where Wade stood just inside, a long lacquered box held in his arms with the care of a newborn. When alistair undid the clasps and lifted the lid, Rosslyn glanced curiously to the Storm Giant, frowning when the only response was a catlike smirk.  

“Your Ladyship, will you join me please?”  

She rose at the call, flustered, but didn’t otherwise move. “Your Highness?”  

“I have something for you,” he explained. “Something that deserves a little bit of ceremony, just in case.”  

Aware of all the eyes on them, she bit down on her retort and smoothed her expression into the calm mask she had been taught to wear since childhood, even if she couldn’t quite help the suspicious wrinkle of her brows. The expression only made Alistair grin all the wider, though only she was close enough to see his underlying nervousness, and the way his gaze softened when she stepped close.

He cleared his throat. “Teyrna Rosslyn, it is time your service and your inspiration in this war was recognised. Your loyalty to the crown is unsurpassed, your bravery unrivalled.” He paused, and the silence hung in the space around them.

“Your Highness, I haven’t done anything,” she replied with a note of caution in her voice, throwing an uneasy glance to the Storm Giant. “Only my duty.”

“Oh… you mean it wasn’t you who waded out across the mouth of the Swallow and pulled me from certain death?” he teased. “You weren’t the one who got me away from the field at Lothering, and denied your own vengeance at West Roth so the army could be saved? That’s going to make things a bit awkward.”  

“Your Highness –”  

“Rosslyn. Let me do this.”  

She blinked at the earnest softness in his voice, caught his steady gaze and held it as she smiled her defeat. “I’m not entirely sure how I’d stop you at this point.”  

“That’s the spirit. Master Wade?”  

The smith approached, his face split in a beaming smile beneath his moustache, and offered up the box in his arms. His fingers unhooked the clasps in deft movements, and with a great amount of ceremony, he creaked the lid open.  

Her breath stilled.  

“I thought it was time the army’s Commander in Chief had her own sword,” Alistair explained. “Brantis told me it’s custom for the king to reward the crown’s vassals, but I’m sure HM won’t mind just this once if I steal his moment. Do you… like it?”  

Nested in a bed of black silk, the sword gleamed, sheathed in a scabbard of blue leather embossed with an intricate pattern of laurel leaves that twined along its entire length. The hilt continued the motif, with a crossguard of engraved aurum and a pommel that twisted into the shape of a raptor’s claw gripped around a runestone. It was almost too beautiful to spoil by touching.  

“Alistair – that is, Your Highness – this is…”

“Told you she’d like it.”  

Wade preened. “I do hope you’re pleased with it, Your Ladyship.” He hung on the awe in her expression. “It’s my finest work, made exact to His Highness’ specifications, and sharp as sharp can be. The materials – oh, more than I ever dreamed of! Very receptive to what I was trying to accomplish, and it’s given me so much to think about!”  

“Well, lass?” the Storm Giant called from his place. “After all that it’d be rude not te try it. Ye have leave te draw steel in my hall.”  

With a last questioning look at Wade and a heaved breath to steady her nerves, Rosslyn curled her fingers under the sword and lifted it from the box. When she gripped the hilt and drew it, the blade sang. It was thin, delicately balanced, with a slight reminiscent of the fang of some great beast, and edges that seemed to gather light as she swept it through the air. Oily blues and golds flashed over the surface and sank into the runes etched into the blood-groove. She had never seen such a property in a metal blade, had only read about it in stories.  

“The dragon bone,” she realised, turning to Alistair with wide eyes.

“It turns out nobody really expected me to bring one back,” he told her lightly. “Lord Fearchar was at a loss for what to do with it, and I offered a suggestion. Truthfully, it’s more his gift than mine.”  

“You give yourself too little credit, Your Highness,” Lileas said. “And either my granddaughter is speechless, or she has forgotten her manners.”  

Rosslyn started. The sword was still in her hand, at rest like a natural extension of her arm, and parting with it, even just to put it away, left her feeling strangely anxious. She wanted to test it; it wanted to be used.  

“A blade like this must have a name,” she said.  

Wade nodded. “Indeed, Your Ladyship. I call it Talon. Made from a dragon claw for the Falcon of Highever – such things require a touch of the poetic, even Herren agrees.”  

“As do I,” she replied graciously. “Talon it will be. You should be very proud of your work, Serah.”  

“So yair happy wi’ it, then?” the Storm Giant asked.

She nodded. “It’s a royal gift. Thank you, Gamba – and Your Highness…” she added, turning to Alistair, aware once again of the scrutiny of the entire broch, the expectation placed upon them all to act with ceremony. Sheathing the sword to buy herself time, she held it out to him, perfectly balanced.

“Your Highness, I will not forget this kindness, nor what it means. You gave me this sword, and now I give it back to you in service – my loyalty to Ferelden, and to the crown that serves it.”  

He came forward and took the sword from her hands, so that their fingers brushed on the hilt. Seeing her gaze flick down to his mouth, he smiled, the meaning clear between them. I want to kiss you, too.

“A gift gladly received,” he said in a clear voice, and laid it back in the box before turning towards one of the servers with his best commanding voice. “Make sure this is placed among Her Ladyship’s things.”

The server bowed and left, towing a rather uncertain pause in his wake as the broch recovered from the impromptu formality of the presentation and remembered there was still half a feast to be had. With all eyes still on them, Rosslyn and Alistair kept a careful distance from each other as they returned to their seats. Lileas briefly pressed her granddaughter’s hand before returning to her duties as hostess, and just like that, the moment passed, the watched feeling left them, and they found a moment to breathe in each other’s company.

“That wasn’t too much, was it?” he asked, once the platters were cleared and the singers had taken over the floor. “There was meant to be a proper ceremony, but since we’re leaving tomorrow…”

She nudged him with her elbow. “At least now I know where you were every time you snuck off every time I tried to find you this past week. How did Wade react to all the badgering?”

“Not well,” he admitted. Despite his better judgement, he reached for her hand under the table.

“In seriousness, thank you for the sword. I’m not sure you know how much it means.”

“I wish we were alone, so you could tell me.”

“I wish ye were alone, so I wouldnae have tae witness it,” Eoin interrupted.

Rosslyn scowled at him. “Follow me,” she whispered to Alistair. “But not too close.”

Before he could respond, she retreated from his grasp, waking Cuno from his place under the table so she could take him outside. Alistair watched her bid goodnight to her grandparents with manners as smooth as silk, his mind already racing ahead to the moment where he might make his own excuses and join her, and talk to her, and feel proper comfort for the first time since that afternoon on the cliffs. He almost yielded when she threw him a glance at the door, but Eamon’s gaze was on him, warning him against the impulse. He forced himself to wait. One of the singers plucked on her harp, the broch quieted to hear, and after that his departure would have been too conspicuous until the song finished.

In the end, he made it out after only one performance, having fidgeted the entire way through at the worry that he was taking too long, that Rosslyn wouldn’t wait. Eoin took pity on him and made a show of being too drunk to stand on his own, and with that cover they slipped out to a chorus of good natured laughter.

“Away and find her afore someone comes looking,” the Reaper’s captain grunted as soon as they were out of sight.

“Thank you.”

A hand landed pincerlike on Alistair’s arm. “I did this because ye make her happy, and the lass needs that after everything. Hurt her, and I’ll hoist ye up the lanyard by yer own entrails.”

“Everyone keeps saying that,” he replied. “It looks like there’ll be a queue.”

Eoin smirked. “Not half bad for a royal bastard. Get on,” he huffed. “Yer lady’s awaiting.”

Rosslyn wasn’t hard to find. She stood in the shadow of the broch, hiding from the light of the two moons full overhead in a sky still rimed with dusk, where only the brightest point of Judex was shining. Cuno snuffled about somewhere in the darkness, and coughed a warning when he heard Alistair approach. He announced himself, and the stiff line of her shoulders relaxed.

“I was beginning to worry,” she chuckled as she stepped close. His arms slid around her waist as she cupped his cheek to kiss him, a chaste, relieved press of her lips that sent a wash of calm all the way down to his toes. When they parted he pulled her close, winding his hands into her hair as if that alone might hold off the dread of leaving in the morning.

“You will write to me, won’t you?” she asked, muffled against his shoulder.

He brushed a kiss against her hair. “I have the first letter already copied out. I know it by heart, if you want to hear it?”  

She twisted in his arms, intrigued. “Go on.”  

Grinning, he trailed his fingers down her arms and lifted her hands in courtly fashion between them. “Dear Rosslyn…” he began.

She frowned. “Yes?”

“I miss you. Fondest regards, Alistair.”

“I… Wait, that’s it?”

“What else were you expecting?”

“I don’t know,” she retorted, fighting to keep her own smile under control. “Something… more. Replying to that would be a waste of a messenger.”

He rolled his eyes and groaned. “So demanding. Alright then. Ahem. Dear Rosslyn, I miss you very, very much.” His voice softened and she leaned closer, folding her arms against his chest. How long would it be before he saw her again? “I still don’t know why Cailan thought I’d be any help in these negotiations, but the sooner they’re over, the sooner I get to see you again. Yours, Alistair.” The last was breathed against her mouth, the words a low hum that made her breath catch. But she giggled and dodged out of reach when he tried to kiss her.

“Oh, and you can do better, hm?” he teased.  

She cast him a sly look as she pulled away. “Dear Alistair, today Cailan bet me five sovereigns that I couldn’t fight a bear single-handed. Well, you know I can’t bear to pass up a challenge, and the coffers have been rattling for months. You’ll only fret if I give you the details, but since I’m writing, you can rest assured that I won the bet. Thinking of you, Rosslyn.”  

“That’s not funny.” He pouted. “It’s not funny.”  

“Then why are you smiling?”  

“Because, dear lady,” he said as he once more closed the space between them, “I’m about to kiss you, and I’m fond of kissing you.”  

“Are you now?” she hummed, leaning up to meet him.

“Mmhm…”

He didn’t want to leave, or to hide, or to lose the thrill of being pressed so close. Fingers raked across his scalp, a warm waist supple under his hands, and when he ventured forward with a flick of the tongue, Rosslyn opened to him with a gasp that lit his nerves on fire. He wanted to learn how to have her make that noise again.

“I wish you were going with me,” he murmured when they finally parted for breath.

“So do I. My father said Orzammar is like nothing humans have ever built.” She turned her gaze away. “But then there would be nobody left to stop Loghain and Baudrillard both tearing Ferelden apart.”  

“If anyone can deal with them, it’s you.” He sighed. “Come on, its late.”

Hand in hand, they ambled in the direction of the guesthouse, leaning on each other while Cuno returned from his investigations to trot ahead like an honour guard. The light inside the common room had dimmed, the banked fire now no more than spitting embers, the whale-oil lamps extinguished to preserve fuel. A rafter above their heads creaked as the building settled, but no other sound broke the stifling air.  

“Promise me you’ll be careful?” Alistair asked. They were already at his door.  

Rosslyn’s hand settled over his heart as she turned for a farewell. “Of course.”  

Hesitant, she traced the line of his collar, unable to quite step out of reach, and unwilling to lose the softness of his fingertips on her skin. With her resolve to leave crumbling away, she rocked forward so her forehead leaned against his cheek.  

“It’s hard to believe we aren’t going to see each other after tomorrow.”  

“Only for a little while.” He caught her chin and offered her a smile too brittle to work. “But it doesn’t mean I’m going to miss you any less.”

She kissed him. “I’ll miss you as well, especially when I need a sparring partner.”

“Ah, so that’s the real reason you keep me around!”

“The truth comes out,” she teased.

He poked her in the ribs. “You nobles – all the same.”

“We can’t be all bad if you enjoy kissing me so much,” she pointed out.

“Huh. True. Well how about one more, then – for luck?”

Rosslyn’s smile faded, her breath tight in her chest as the phrase stirred her memory – that last morning in Highever, resentment at being left behind, her parents uncaring who saw their affection as they stood together under the shadow of war.

“is everything alright?”

“The last time I heard those words, my family’s luck turned sour.” She offered a weak smile. “I should let you get some rest.”  

“Of course.”

The fire cracked. Voices carried from outside as the broch started to empty, the songs finished. Sighing, Rosslyn retreated towards the stairs, her fingers linked with Alistair’s until the connection stretched too far and was lost.

“Goodnight,” he murmured as she disappeared through her door.  

Without her, the silence echoed, a snapped cobweb drifting, the empty space a cavern with all the warmth sucked away. With a sigh, he turned to his own room. Moonlight painted a fat stripe across the clothes Marten had laid out for him to wear in the morning, but it was only another reminder of the impending bleakness of his near-future.

The door to the guesthouse opened.

“Ah, there you are, my boy,” Eamon slurred, with a hand braced against the wall to keep himself from wobbling.

“My lord,” Alistair replied. “I was about to go to bed.”

The old man waved him away. “Of course, of course. Perhaps I might have a word first?”

“Uh…”

“Splendid. Perhaps in there – it would be better not to be overheard.” He tramped past the fire and led the way into Alistair’s room, where he spoke the command to light the glowstone on Alistair’s desk. Alistair followed warily, aware of all the times in the past when the arl’s desire to talk turned into requests, or attempts to send his fosterling away.  

But that had been then, when Alistair was still just a servant’s bastard, not the Prince of Ferelden.

“My lord, whatever this is, it’s late,” Alistair tried. “We have an early start in the morning.”  

“We do indeed,” Eamon answered. “I wanted to say I’m proud of all you’ve accomplished here, that’s all – no need to fret. You are coming into your own, my boy.”

Deflated by the unexpected praise, Alistair sank onto his bed. Before he had worked out a proper response, however, his sort-of uncle was already continuing.  

“Of course, it’s about time. Now that Anora has revealed her true loyalties in leaving Gwaren to be with her father, it is more important than ever to show a united line. The gift-giving this evening was very fortuitous to that end, in fact. Couldn’t have come at a better time.”

“I don’t understand.”

Eamon clasped his hands behind his back, tilting a knowing look over his shoulder. “His Majesty is fond of Anora, but her latest action condemns their connection utterly.”

“Is this going somewhere?” Alistair snapped. He was too tired, and trusted the itch in his mind that told him the conversation had a point that he wasn’t going to like.    

“Sometimes I forget how unskilled you are in politics.” The response came with a chuckle. “My boy, Anora’s position cannot be supported. She is entirely her father’s creature, and no matter the outcome, His Majesty knows he must distance himself from her. He plans to divorce her in favour of someone better suited.”  

A stone dropped in Alistair’s gut. “Who?”  

“Her Ladyship, of course. Your official show of favour today has paved the first step to making her queen.”  

A chill stole over Alistair’s skin. Somehow, he managed to stumble through the rest of the conversation, his ears ringing and his fingers numb, until Eamon, mistaking his horror for mere fatigue, clapped him on the shoulder and bid him goodnight. When the old man finally left, with a promise to see him bright and early, he nodded, and when he was finally shut in with his thoughts, he let his head fall against the door with a thud.

[aegor-bamfsteel]

I don't know if it's a stupid question but why do you think Aegon was so sure he was the father of Daemon? I heard he was supposed to be in Braavos when Daena was pregnant and she hide the parentage but did he just claimed Daemon because he disliked Daeron and didn't want Baelor as king? Is that why he started rumors about Daeron but not Daenerys?

That’s not a stupid question at all, allyria! In fact, it’s one I’ve thought a lot about and it’s led to some tinfoil. 

Was Aegon in Braavos when Daena was pregnant? According to the SSM on Daena written in 2006, Daena escaped once in disguise “with the contrivance of her cousin Aegon,” although of course this information is from a long time ago; perhaps GRRM hadn’t come up with the ‘Aegon goes to Braavos on a diplomatic mission for a few years to keep from raping Naerys to death in childbirth’ reason for Daeron II-Daenerys’ 19 year age gap. In the 2014 World of Ice and Fire, it’s revealed that Aegon went to Braavos in 161AC and started an affair with the sea captain Bellegere Otherys that went on for 10 years, during which time she gave birth to three children. If the affair happened in Braavos and only in Braavos, then of course Aegon could not have fathered Daemon, but due to Bellegere’s itinerant occupation there’s no reason to assume they didn’t resume the affair in King’s Landing; in fact, that must be the case, since in 171AC Aegon VI openly took Barba Bracken as his mistress, meaning he was in KL at the time he and Bellegere broke up. So it’s possible that the SSM of Aegon helping Daena escape is still canon, thus Aegon came back to King’s Landing (maybe in the late 160s) from Braavos and perhaps had an affair with her. Considering there were rumors about Aegon being Daemon’s father before he was even acknowledged, I suppose the timeline must’ve worked out for some members of his court.

Now here’s where the tinfoil comes in:

Why do you think Aegon was so sure he was Daemon’s father? I don’t think he was, and only acknowledged Daemon as a last resort. I mentioned in a previous meta that acknowledging Daemon meant acknowledging seducing a princess without intent to marry her (which would’ve brought the wrath of the court and her powerful family, as seen with Saera/the Stinger in F&B), and Aegon wanted to avoid a scandal that could trigger his removal from the Throne. He would not have acknowledged Daemon had his own non-Daeron sons proved so disappointing. 

Aegon IV is unique in Targaryen history for having mistresses as opposed to paramours. (Aegon II and Aerys II had illegitimate children with unnamed [nice one, GRRM -_-] and presumably not-noble paramours, but they did not take them openly as mistresses.) He is also an aberration in real life history, since most kings did not choose unwed teenaged (by which I mean: a 16, a 13, a 15, and a 14 year old), relatively highborn girls to be their mistress; it was considered sacrilegious to defile a virgin, especially a lady, so most kings chose married women with husbands who’d look the other way. Doing so also saved kings from having to care for illegitimate children, since their offspring by married women were legally her husband’s unless acknowledged by the king in writing. It would seem logical for Aegon IV to keep to the lowborn/unimportant in Westeros paramours he had before his ascension (ie, women like Megette and Bellegere), or shift to married women, but he chose 4 Westerosi ladies and an impoverished Essosi aristocrat. Now it could be he was just reveling in being king and bedding highborn girls without consequence, or it could be that he wanted illegitimate sons whose mothers’ were ladies, and giving these unwed girls the ‘mistress’ title essentially ensured that those sons were without a doubt his, (since they had no legal father to cast doubt on his paternity). I suppose Aegon IV took high-but-not-too-high-born mistresses to have sons (who would at least have their family’s support) who could oppose Daeron later on, while not creating too big of a scandal.

It’s bad luck for this supposed plan of Aegon’s that both of his acknowledged, without-a-doubt-his sons turned out to be unsuitable. According to the MUSH RPG Melissa Blackwood was the daughter of a war hero (Bloody Ben) and a Baratheon (the Storm Ellyn) and the granddaughter of a Lannister, and was a beloved mistress besides, but her only son was born with albinism and thus thought cursed; this likely caused Aegon to “lose interest” in her shortly after Brynden’s birth. Aegor also had high birth, but there was no way Aegon was going to show favor to the grandson and nephew of the people he executed out of spite. Instead, he sought suitable sons in Jeyne Lothston and later Serenei of Lys, but then Jeyne got the pox and Serenei died in childbirth with a daughte, so I guess the barely-mobile Aegon figured he’d never have anymore kids by that point, and had to make do with what he had (note: twoiaf is not at all clear when Serenei died and Shiera was born, but I’m putting it around 179-181 because I don’t want Aegor and Brynden potentially “”falling in love”” with an 11-14 year old). So between the son with albinism, the son with traitorous blood, or the son who might not be his son but was the son of a princess who didn’t remarry (so no legal father/husband to dispute the paternity) who was brought up in the Red Keep and was an accomplished fighter at age 12, he was going to bite the bullet and call Daemon his, giving him Blackfyre as a token of favor. Helping his cause was that Daena had probably died before the acknowledgment (again there is no record of when Daena died, although the SSM indicates she lived long enough to raise Daemon, although according to Bran Stark eight/nine is “nearly a man grown” so who knows when childrearing is apparently done), and thus was not around to continue to refuse to name her child’s father.

Is [Aegon IV’s hatred of Daeron] why he started rumors about [his dubious paternity] and not Daenerys’? While I believe Aemon was Daeron’s father after all due to circumstantial evidence (parallel what Viserys I did to Aegon’s lover Falena Stokeworth with what he could’ve done to Naerys’ lover Aemon; send them both away from his child in a position befitting their birth), I do think that Aegon’s dislike of his son (or rather, what he believed Naerys, Viserys, and possibly Aemon and Baelor “turned him into” while he was separated from his child in Braavos) first made him consider that Daeron wasn’t his. However, I also think that the circumstances around Daenerys’ conception must’ve proved without a doubt that she was Aegon’s. Remember that she was born very soon after Aegon became king. Perhaps Aemon could’ve been sent on a scouting expedition to the Dornish marches in preparation for erecting those siege engines, meaning he was separate from Naerys for a time. Another theory with canon precedent is that the High Septon ordered a public re-consummation of Aegon and Naerys’ marriage some time around Aegon’s ascension, similar to Maegor I and Ceryse Hightower’s second consummation; it’s a prince exiled to Essos for a few years who ignored his legitimate wife in favor of younger, “more fertile” women, leading to their estrangement, then coming back together upon his return and their ascension as rulers. If Daenerys was born nine moons after a public consummation while Aemon was away from King’s Landing, then that would explain why there were no rumors about her paternity. Of course, a female child would not have, under the recent court logic that disinherited Queen Daena and her sisters, been able to challenge Daeron in the way a son could’ve, so the rumor mill simply may not have thought she was worth gossiping over.

I hope my response was interesting and coherent, in spite of all the tinfoil :)

[broadwaybaggins]

Hi Allison! Here is your Secret Santa present! It’s a modern AU, inspired by “Eloise at Christmastime”– which is, incidentally, my favorite Christmas movie, but I chose it here because I thought it provides a story for our dear Mary/Matthew and your original Downton OTP, Sybil/Tom. Because S/T is actually how I started following you, years ago now!

This is just part 1, an introduction really; the rest will come asap (December really got away from me) but I wanted to have at least a little something ready today. I hope you enjoy it!

~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~

It was the week before Christmas. Outside, the first dusting of snow had fallen, and inside, the staff were caught up in a whirlwind of preparations. Despite the hotel manager’s meticulous oversight and planning, there was always plenty to do– even before something went wrong, as it always did, and made extra work. That mishap, any time of year, usually could be traced back to the little girl who now stood in the middle of the great hall, watching as porters put up the Christmas tree.

She was examining them carefully, leaning first one way and then the other and then back again. Finally, she decided that the tree tilted just a little to the left, and told the porter so. However, she did not linger to see whether her recommendation was carried out (although it was), instead skipping off to the front desk, where she cut ahead of the line.

“Good morning, Mr. Carson!” she sang out, accompanied by a chorus of clucking from the two elderly ladies she had interrupted. “Are there any messages for me?”

“Yes,” the hotel manager replied solemnly, “–the Royal Ballet has asked you to appear as Clara in their production of The Nutcracker.”

Alice considered a moment, and then sighed dramatically. “I’m afraid I must decline.  I shall be too busy playing Tiny Tim. But perhaps next year.”

He nodded. “Indeed. I must also tell you that Mrs. Patmore has just finished a batch of gingerbread biscuits and needs your taste-testing.”

“That, I can do!” she exclaimed, beaming.

“Now, Miss Alice, I’m afraid I have work to do. But I am sure I will see you later.” He looked to the ladies apologetically.

“Alright, I’m sure you will.”

She headed away, in the direction of the kitchen, but was soon distracted by a girl at the end of the line who was holding a puppy.

“Oh, he’s adorable! What’s his name?”

“Snowball,” the girl replied.

“How darling!” Alice petted the dog, as she kept talking.  “Are you staying at Downton for Christmas? I hope so! It is truly the most wonderful time of year. It’s all decorated, as you see, and there’s the big tree, and there’s so many parties, and when it snows a little more there will be sleigh rides!”

“Yes, my family is staying here,” the girl said. “And yours? Have you been here before?”

“I live here, with my parents and grandparents. My family has always lived here, even before it was turned into a hotel after the war.”

“Oh!”

“It was called Downton Abbey then. Abbey, because monks used to live here a long, long time ago. But then it was the Crawleys, just by themselves. But my mum’s grandfather changed it to the Abbey Hotel, and I’m glad he did!”

The girl nodded.

“Well, maybe I’ll see you again this week! But I have to go now.” Alice kissed the dog’s nose, and then she was off again. On her way to the kitchen, she passed by the sofas in the hall where newly-arrived guests could rest their feet. On one, she noticed, sat a man in a grey trench coat and hat. Only his eyes were visible over the top of his newspaper. That was certainly peculiar; and even more peculiar, when he noticed her looking, he immediately raised his newspaper to hide entirely.

She decided not to investigate further at this very moment– the prospect of fresh-baked biscuits was too overwhelming– but she filed it away to think about later.

Upstairs was a coordinated sort of busy, but downstairs was chaotically so. Alice loved it– especially because Mrs. Patmore, the chef, always had a moment to spare for her (and a sweet treat to try). Everyone had a soft spot for the earl’s little granddaughter– even though some, like the housekeeper Mrs. Hughes, were more reluctant to admit it.

“Mr. Carson said you made gingerbread!”

“I did.” Mrs. Patmore wiped her hands on her apron, and led Alice over to the table, where trays of gingerbread people sat cooling.  

Alice delicately bit off the corner of the gingerbread lady’s skirt, and pronounced it, “Scrumptious!” She reached for another for the road, but the cook intervened.

“Your mother will have my head if I give you two biscuits before breakfast.”

“It’ll be our secret! Pinky promise.” Alice smiled angelically, and truly it was difficult to deny that sweet little face. She had inherited her father’s blue eyes, and her mother’s bright smile.

“Alright, then,” Mrs. Patmore relented, and Alice tucked the second into the pocket of her jumper.

Someone approached behind them. “How fine these look!” he said. “May I?”

Alice turned around, at the familiar voice. “Tom!” she exclaimed. “You’re in the kitchen! Are you helping as a waiter again?”

Tom Branson was one of her particular friends among the Abbey’s staff. He worked as a driver, usually, and they had met when he began driving Alice to school. He was a wonderful storyteller, with his specialty being Irish history.

He nodded. “Mr Carson has drafted me, in anticipation of a special event due to take place on Christmas Eve.”

“Ooh, what’s that?” Alice demanded. She prided herself on knowing all that went on within the Abbey, and she had not heard of anything out-of-the-ordinary on Christmas Eve this year.

Tom shook his head. “It’s still a secret, even to us. You must let me know what you hear.”

“Of course. But wait–” Alice’s brow furrowed. “Does that mean you’re not going home to Ireland?”

“I’ll go that evening, after– and arrive in time for midnight Mass, to Mam’s great relief.”

Alice nodded. “Oh, good.”

“It’s nearly nine o’clock, dear,” Mrs. Patmore informed them. “Your parents have rung for breakfast.”

“I’d better go! Thanks for the biscuits! And I’ll tell you if I find out anything but you must also tell me if you do.”

“You can bet on it.”

And Alice took off running upstairs. She and her parents lived in a suite on the second floor, right next door to her grandparents. Her great-grandmother lived down the hall. There were two other suites there, for guests, and then individual rooms on the upper floors.

Mary and Matthew were still in their dressing gowns, just sitting down to breakfast, when their daughter burst into the apartment and let the door slam behind her. She took her place at the table, where there was a bowl of porridge waiting for her.

“Hello, Al,” Matthew said. “How were the morning rounds?”

“Full of ribbons and holly and jingle bell cheer! I helped them put up the Christmas tree,” Alice reported, “and I saw Tom. He’s being a waiter for something happening on Christmas Eve. Do you know what that is?”

Mary and Matthew exchanged a glance. They did know, for Mary was her father’s second-in-command in all hotel business.

“Ugh.” Alice sighed. “Is it something only for grown-ups?”

“No, you’ll find out soon enough,” Mary promised. “But your Aunt Sybil wants to tell you herself.”

Alice’s eyes grew wide. “Auntie Sybil? She’s coming here? When?”

The family had, for all of Alice’s short life, gone to visit Sybil in America. Alice sometimes had trouble believing that her favorite aunt had grown up at Downton too.

“She’s coming back for good,” Mary said, before suddenly and deftly catching Alice’s hand just as she was about to spill a fourth spoonful of sugar into her porridge and steering the sugar back into its proper bowl. “That is far too much,” she scolded. “Must we have this conversation every morning?”

“We must,” Alice replied, now stirring in a generous serving of cream. “Porridge by itself is yucky.”

“It’s good for you, darling, and I’m afraid some things that are good for you just won’t be terribly pleasant.”

Alice turned pleading eyes to her father, but to no avail.

“Listen to Mummy,” Matthew said. “She always knows.”

And Mary knew then to change the subject. “Aunt Sybil is arriving later this morning. I have some work to do, so will you keep a lookout and meet her for me?”

“Yes!” Alice took one bite of her by now syrupy porridge, before pushing it away. “I just have to feed Dinah and Mrs. Piggle-wiggle first and then I’ll go.” These two were her cat and pet hedgehog.

She slid off the chair, and went round the table to Mary. “Love you, Mummy.” She kissed her mother’s cheek. Next she went to her father, and did the same. “Bye, Daddy.” And then she ran off once more.

“I’ve assigned Tom to drive the Allsops to York,” Mary said, once Alice was out of earshot. “He’ll be gone all day.”

Matthew nodded slowly. “That’s one day. But they must meet eventually.”

“Well, we have one more day to prepare ourselves.” She sighed, before holding out one hand. “Help me up? I ought to get dressed.”

He let out a theatrical sigh as he did so. “Phew!”

“Oh, shut up,” she replied, but fondly, resting a hand on her rounded stomach. “If I’m too heavy, you have only yourself to blame.”

“True, and I’ll gladly take responsibility for that.”

Now it was her turn to sigh. “Ugh, why does Sybil have to be getting married now? We’ve never met the man– what’s the rush? I say wait til spring, so we’ll know this Larry properly, and I’ll have my figure back.”

“Both matters of equal importance,” he teased.

“You know what I mean.”

“I do.” His expression softened, and he put his arms around her and kissed her forehead. “It’ll all sort itself out, I know it.”

“Well, I admire your confidence.” She returned the hug, and then said, “Alright, time to go. Busy day– busy week– ahead of us.”

Oh my goodness, this is beyond cute! I love Eloise, and the best part about this is there’s MORE TO COME! I’m so excited! Thank you so much, my dear!

[the-record-obituaries]

Jan. 8, 2020: Obituaries

Ellen Turner, 88

Mrs. Ellen Roten Turner, age 88 of North Wilkesboro passed away Saturday, January 4, 2020 at Wilkes Senior Village.

Graveside services will be held 1:00 PM Wednesday, January 8,  at Forest Lawn Cemetery in Lincolnton with Rev. Kenny Roten officiating.                        Mrs. Turner was born April 29, 1931 in Wilkes County to Joe and Bessie Eller Roten.

In addition to her parents she was preceded in death by six brothers and one sister.  

She is survived by one son; Floyd E. Roten and wife Judy N. Roten of Wilkesboro, two grandchildren; Amber Johnson and husband Ken of Wilkesboro, Floyd J. Roten and wife Rebekah of Mebane, nine great grandchildren; Titus, Kaden, Silas, Masyn and Mia Johnson of Wilkes County, Jaxon Floyd Roten of Mebane, Evyn R. Wyatt, Xander C. Wyatt and Max Craft of Millers Creek, one sister; Alice Whitley of Wilkesboro and one brother; Henrey Roten and wife Delores of Kannapolis.

Flowers will be accepted or memorials may be made to Brenner's Children Hospital, Medical Center Blvd., Winston-Salem, NC 27157.

 Cynthia Wingler, 78

Cynthia Rector Wingler, our sweet Nana, peacefully went to her eternal home on January 3, 2020 at the, as she said, "older than dirt" age of 78.  She was surrounded by her "best buddies" in her home when her gentle spirit was released from her well-worn shell. She said, "If I knew I was gonna live this long I would've taken better care of myself." We're convinced she left before having to face another cold winter, "Oooshie!"

Cynthia was born to Kermit Rector and Louise Davis Rector on July 25, 1941 in Huntersville, NC. The reunion party has now begun with her parents and her humble big brother, Rev. Dean Rector and her best friend and identical twin sister, Sylvia Rector Caudill.

As a devoted and patient caregiver, Cynthia proudly served as an anesthetist for over 30 years at the Wilkes and surrounding area hospitals.  She left a lasting legacy of how grueling long hours can successfully be faced with the utmost safety and infectious laughter. She managed to do so while always looking her best with every hair in place.  Thanks, Louise Eller!    

Her son, David Wingler (the "thorn and her rose"), and daughter-in-law, Anita Wingler (she always liked her best:) as well as her two granddaughters, Caitlin and Kaleigh Wingler (that she loved the absolute most) will miss the daily excuse to eat ice cream, "Yummy, yummy".  She also leaves behind: brother-in-law Delmar Caudill, nephew Terry Rector (wife Vickie), and niece Kim Rector as well as her great nieces, nephews, and friends.  

A family graveside service will be held and a Celebration of Life event will take place when it's not so cold outside. In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to St. Jude's Children's Research Hospital.  

In her memory, make someone laugh today (preferably in the most inappropriate time).  Laughter is the closest distance between two people.

JoAnn Blackburn, 76

Mrs. JoAnn Holleman Blackburn, age 76 of Roaring River, died Friday, January 3, 2020 at Woltz Hospice Home in Dobson.

Funeral services will be 2:00 PM Wednesday, January 8,   at Roaring River Baptist Church with Rev. Mark Wood officiating.  Burial will be in the church cemetery.  

Mrs. Blackburn was born April 28, 1943 in Wilkes County to James E. and Hazel Love Holleman.  JoAnn was a loving wife, mother, grandmother, sister and mother-in-law. She was a member of Roaring River Baptist Church and a devoted servant of Christ.  

She was preceded in death by her parents; one sister, Carol Joy Holleman; and two brothers, James "Pete" Monroe Holleman and Bill Holleman.

She is survived by her husband, Charlie Uelius Blackburn, of the home; one daughter, Mary Ann Blackburn, of the home; one son, Randy Neal Blackburn and wife, Joan,  of Greensboro; two grandchildren, Alexandra Nicole Blackburn and Garrett Davis Blackburn; and one sister, Mary Edith Sparks of Roaring River.  

Flowers will be accepted or memorials made to Roaring River Baptist Church, 312

White Plains Road, Roaring  River NC 28669.

 Frances Henderson, 92

Mrs. Frances Virginia Miller Henderson, age 92 of Moravian Falls, passed away Friday, January 3, 2020 at Wake Forest Baptist-Wilkes Medical Center.

Funeral services were January 5, at Reins Sturdivant Chapel with Rev. Karen Roberts and Mr. Chuck Byers officiating. Burial was in Mountlawn Memorial Park.  

Mrs. Henderson was born February 19, 1927 in Wilkes County to Mayford Rotan Miller and Evelyn Harless Miller. Along with her husband, L. R. Henderson, Frances was co-owner and operator of Lithia Springs Greenhouses, where the couple made their living for more than 30 years. Mrs. Henderson loved her family, classical music, gardening, bird-watching, and was an avid Jeopardy fan. She was a member of the Wilkesboro United Methodist Church.

She was preceded in death by her parents, husband; Lucius Ruffin Henderson (L.R.), three brothers; Sam Miller, Max Miller and Steve Miller and a grandson; Thomas Blaine Henderson.

Mrs. Henderson is survived by a son; Zach Henderson of Moravian Falls, a grandson; Daniel Henderson and wife Rayetta of Wilmington, two great grandchildren; Cole and Reagan, three sisters; Rebecca Holshouser, Shirley Wayland and Sandra Miller and three brothers; Barry Miller, Mike Miller and Tim Miller. The family will accept flowers.

 Georgia Faw, 90

Mrs. Georgia Mae Faw, age 90 passed away surrounded by her loving family after an extended illness on January 1, 2020. Georgia was born on September 26, 1929 in Wilkes County to George Odell and Ella Mae Day Moore. She lived in the Brushy Mountain Community of Wilkes County her entire life with the exception of a short time when she and husband, John Winfred Faw, lived in Blowing Rock, NC when they first married.

Georgia was preceded in death by her parents, George "Odell" and Ella Moore, a brother, Paul Moore, a sister, Altha Lee McNeil, an infant brother, Howard, and her husband, John Winfred Faw.  Georgia is survived by her children, Anita Crunk (Sid) of Moravian Falls, NC, Richard Faw and longtime companion, LouAnn Thompson, of Kannapolis, NC. She is also survived by her granddaughters, Sarah Brame (Phillip) of Winston-Salem, NC, Emily Crunk of Concord, NC, Tamara Faw of Wilkesboro, NC, and Tesha Hammonds (Chris) of North Wilkesboro, NC, a brother, Jack Moore, of Yadkinville, NC, and 7 great grandchildren.

A native of Wilkes County, NC  she and her husband, John Winfred Faw, married on July 9, 1946 and were married 61 years prior to his death on September 22, 2007.  She would often joke that her age was the only lie she ever told since John was her sweetheart throughout his time serving in World War II and they got married as soon as he was discharged from the army, going to York, SC to elope when she was 16 years old.  They lived for a time in Blowing Rock shortly after they were married but came back to Wilkes County to build their home in the 1950s. Georgia wanted children more than anything and God blessed her with two, a son and daughter.

Georgia wanted to be a stay-at-home mom when her children were young but, upon her youngest child starting school at Wilkesboro  Elementary School, Georgia began employment in the Wilkesboro School Cafeteria and worked there throughout the entire time her children were in school. Since cooking for others was the highlight of her life, she began work at the Northwestern Bank Cafeteria after her youngest child graduated from high school. When the bank cafeteria closed, she then began work at the Cottage House Restaurant and ended her employment years at Lowes Midtown Plaza in the deli.  She left public employment to babysit her daughter's two children which Georgia always said was the best job she ever had. Since John and Georgia's home was always the place for her children's friends to "hang out" when they were young, Georgia enjoyed the same with her grandchildren and had some of their friends who stayed with her as well.

Georgia was an active member of New Hope Baptist Church in the Brushy Mountain Community as long as her health allowed.  She loved attending church and her church family was important to her. Most importantly, she loved her Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ and served him in many ways over her lifetime from playing the autoharp with her father playing guitar in her younger days to teaching Sunday school, working with Vacation Bible School, working with the Women's Missionary Union, helping to prepare meals and chaperoning youth trips, among other things.  

With two heart attacks in the summer of 2016 started the decline of her health and she lived at home with assistance until July 2018 when she went to Villages of Wilkes Traditional Living. There she made friends who will always be dear to the heart of her family.  

Funeral Services were January 5, at New Hope Baptist Church in the Brushy Mtn. Community with Rev. Michael Blevins, Rev. Jonah Parker, and Rev. Scott Church officiating.  

In lieu of flowers, the family request memorials be made to Wake Forest Baptist Health Hospice. 126 Executive Drive, Suite 110, Wilkesboro, N.C. 28697 or New Hope Baptist Church,  9134 Brushy Mtn. Road, Moravian Falls, N.C. 28654.

  Willard Lane, Jr, 73

Mr. Willard Lane, Jr, age 73, of Boomer, passed away Wednesday, January 1, 2020 at

his home.

Memorial services were January 6, at Reins Sturdivant Chapel with Rev. Shane Pardue officiating.  

Mr. Lane was born October 9, 1946 in Wilkes County to Willard and Gladys Holder Lane. He was a United States Postal Employee for 42 years.

He was preceded in death by his father.

Mr. Lane is survived by his mother; Gladys Holder Lane of Moravian Falls, a sister; Judy Lane Bell and husband, Brad of Moravian Falls, two brothers; Ron Lane of Denton, NC and Mike Lane and companion, Jennifer Leone of Siler City, NC. a longtime friend and partner; Sandra Howell and a niece; Tracey Bell Repetto.

In lieu of flowers, memorials may be made to Humane Society of Wilkes PO Box 306 North Wilkesboro, NC 28659.

Allen McManus, 67

Mr. Allen Dale McManus, age 67 of Boomer, passed away Tuesday, December 31, 2019 at Wake Forest Baptist Hospital in Winston Salem.

Memorial services were January 4,   at Congo Pentecostal Holiness Church with Pastor Luke Pyles officiating.  

Mr. McManus was born September 7, 1952 in Wilkes County to Jessie Howard McManus and Gewenith Worley McManus.. Allen received an Associate Degree in Physical Education from Wilkes Community College. He retired from Arlington Cemetery as the Director of Environmental Services. His many achievements included IEHA Director of Middle Atlantic District, Triad Chapter President for eight years, served as an officer for over 30 years in the Environmental Services Profession. Allen enjoyed playing golf, fishing and spending time with his family. Mr. McManus loved going to his church; Congo Pentecostal Holiness Church.

He was preceded in death by his parents and a brother; Vernon McManus.

Mr. McManus is survived by his wife; Princess Darlene Gwyn McManus of the home, three sons; Russ McManus of Woodbury, TN, Rocky McManus of North Wilkesboro and Brannon McManus of North Wilkesboro, a daughter; Kayla McManus Wilson and husband Quincy of Pfafftown, two step children; Megan Cox and Christy Cox both of Mt. Airy and a sister; Debby Nunn and husband Sam of Wilkesboro and eight grandchildren.

The family requests that in lieu of flowers, memorials be made to Congo Pentecostal Holiness Church c/o Linda Huffman 287 Cactus Lane Wilkesboro, NC 28697.

Brenda Hall-Cashion

Brenda Hall-Cashion of Wilkesboro died December 31, 2019.

She was born August 22, 1945 in Elkin, North Carolina to Frances Shumate Hall and Claude M. Hall.

Mrs. Hall-Cashion graduated from Wilkes Central High School and attended Brevard College. She was a member of North Wilkesboro Presbyterian Church. She was Secretary-Treasurer and part owner of Tar Heel Oil, Colonial Distributors, Mountain Oil, and Hall Petroleum until the sale of these companies in 2008. She continued to work with Tar Heel Oil until her retirement in 2016. Brenda (better known as Mimi to her grandchildren) had lots of love for her family and her many dear friends. She was preceded in death by her parents.

Surviving are her husband, Neil G. Cashion, Jr; and children - Maria Elledge Nesselrotte; Brandon Hall Elledge and wife, Amy; and Cathy Cashion St. John and husband, Michael.

She is also survived by six grandchildren: Dylan Hall Nesselrotte, Brenna Elizabeth Nesselrotte, Brooks Hall Elledge, Barrett Claude Elledge, Katie Elizabeth St. John, and Lindsey Olivia St. John.

She is also survived by her brother, Ted M. Hall and wife, Jackie and her twin sister, Linda Hall Lankford and husband Gerald - all of North Wilkesboro.

A memorial service was January 4,  at North Wilkesboro Presbyterian Church with Dr. Rob Evans and Rev. R.C. Griffin officiating.  

A private entombment was at Scenic Memorial Gardens Mausoleum.

In lieu of flowers, memorials may be made to: FRAXA (Fragile X) Research,10 Prince Place, Suite 203, Newburyport, MA 01950. In honor of Brenda Hall-Cashion

Or to: Child Abuse Prevention Team 203 East Main Street Wilkesboro, NC 28697 In honor of Brenda Hall-Cashion

 Howard Triplett, 83

Mr. Howard "Trip" Baker Triplett, age 83, formerly of Wilkes County passed away Monday, December 30, 2019 in Melbourne, FL.  

Funeral services will be held 3:00 PM Sunday, January 12, 2020 at Lewis Fork Baptist Church with Rev. Dwayne Andrews and Rev. Sherrill Wellborn officiating. Burial will be in Mt. Pleasant Baptist Church Cemetery.  The family will receive friends from 2:00 until 3:00 PM prior to the service at the church.

Howard was born April 10, 1936 in Wilkes County to Grace Baker and James Ruffin Triplett, Jr. He retired from Lowe's Home Improvement and was a graduate of Mount Pleasant High School and studied at Appalachian State University.  He was a member of Mount Pleasant Masonic Lodge, Scottish Rite of Freemasonry and was a Shriner for many years. He was also in the North Carolina National Guard.  He was instrumental in establishing The Champion Fire Department in 1973 and was the fire chief at Champion from 1976 until 1980. In recent years he served on the Board of Directors.  

In addition to his parents, he was preceded in death by his wife of 45 years; Hazel Sue Triplett and a sister; Mary Francis Triplett.

He is survived by his wife of 13 years; Janette New-Triplett of Melbourne, FL, two daughters; Melissa Triplett Berger and husband Bruce of Auburn, AL, Jennifer Triplett Hollar and husband Craig of Wilkesboro, step-son; Charles New and wife Kathleen of Orlando, FL, step-daughter; Elaine New of Melbourne, FL, eleven grandchildren, four great grandchildren and two brothers; Jimmy and Franklin Triplett of Wilkesboro and many nieces and nephews.

Flowers will be accepted or memorials may be made to Lewis Fork Baptist Church, 395 Lewis Fork Baptist Church Road, Purlear, NC 28665 or Champion Fire Department Firemen Fund, 439 Champion-Mt.  Pleasant Road, Wilkesboro, NC 28697.

 Doris Huggins, 86

Doris Walsh Huggins, 86 of Ferguson, gloriously entered her heavenly home after a long battle with Parkinson's Disease on Monday, December 30, 2019. Doris was born May 18, 1933 in Ferguson, North Carolina. She was a member of Elk Baptist Church and a former member of First Baptist Church of Apopka, Florida.  Doris was a life-long learner of the Bible and enjoyed sharing her faith with others. Doris graduated from Appalachian State University in 1956 with a degree in Elementary Education. She taught in North Carolina, California and Florida. She retired from Orange County Public Schools having taught thirty-four years at Dream lake Elementary. Doris instilled character and respect by reading the Bible to her students daily.  She loved being an educator and helping children to learn and grow. Doris was a devoted wife to Bill Huggins, a wonderful mother of two sons, and a loving sister to three siblings.

Doris is survived by her two sons; Morris Wayne Huggins of Ferguson, and Marshall Huggins and wife Karen of Orlando, Florida, four grandchildren; Jeremy Huggins, Josh Huggins, Autumn Huggins and Henry Huggins; a great granddaughter, Cloey Huggins, a sister, Phyllis Page; two brothers; George T. (Champ) Walsh and wife Louise, and Floyd E. Walsh and wife Wanda.

Doris was preceded in death by her husband William L. (Bill) Huggins, her father Sidney M. Walsh, and her mother Faye T. Walsh.

A celebration of life was January 4, 2020 at Rock Spring Baptist Church in Darby, NC.  The family will receive friends at the church beginning at 2 PM, with the celebration of life to begin at 3 PM.  The family is requesting in lieu of flowers, memorials may be made to The Parkinson's Foundation, The MSA Coalition, and Caldwell Hospice and Palliative Care.  

The family would like to express their appreciation to Caldwell Hospice and Palliative care and their gratitude to Patty Howell, Eileen Cabrera, and Barbie Paisley for the outstanding care they provided.

  David Dancy, Jr. 32

Mr. David Earl Dancy, Jr. age 32 of Hays, passed away Tuesday, December 30, 2019 at Atrium Health Care in Charlotte in the arms of his fiancé; Melanie Boll and his grandmother; Doris Dancy with his best friend; John Johnson by his side.

Funeral services were January 2, at Reins Sturdivant Funeral Home Chapel with Pastor Jason Seth Whitley officiating. Burial will be in Mountlawn Memorial Park.

Mr. Dancy was born March 20, 1987 in Iredell County to David Earl Dancy, Sr. and Marisa Beshears Dancy. He worked for Lowes Consolidated. David attended North Wilkes High School and Wilkes Community College.

He was preceded in death by his father; David Earl Dancy, Sr. and his grandfather; Clyde Dancy.

Mr. Dancy is survived by his fiancé; Melanie Boll, his grandmother; Doris Dancy and his mother; Marisa Beshears Dancy.

In lieu of flowers, memorials may be made to the Donor's Choice. The family requests no food.

 Myrna Mishler, 66

Mrs. Myrna Margaret Tidey Mishler, 66, entered her heavenly home on December 18, 2019.  Her life longtime faith in Christ gave her peace in her passing after her short battle with cancer.  As a devoted wife, mother, grandmother, great grandmother, sister and friend, she will be deeply missed.

Myrna was born on January 8, 1953 in Cadillac, Mi to her parents, Fredrick H and Margaret (Crouse) Tidey. She was the second of the "Tidey girls" and was raised by her loving grandparents, Yale and Sara Tidey. Myrna attended Manton Consolidated Schools and graduated in 1971.

Myrna dedicated her life to Jesus and was a faithful servant. She was a member of Cherry Grove Baptist Church in Moravian Falls. She loved to serve by playing the piano, singing in the choir, working bus ministries, teaching children and most of all making special gifts for all her "grandchildren" and friends. The family would like to thank Pruitt Health Hospice for there care.

Myrna is preceded in death by her parents, grandparents, Yale and Sara Tidey and Kenneth and Evelyn Crouse; brothers, Fredrick S. Tidey, Tim Tidey.

Myrna is survived by her loving husband James "Jim" of 48 years; son, Jim (Erin Lund) of South Haven, MI; daughter, Kimberly (Cecil) Morris of Prospect, NY; sisters, Sara (David) Ward of Boon Mi, Deb (Jim) Englund of Twin Lakes, MI, Laurie (Kirk) Gostlin of Evart, MI; step siblings, Terri Ann Wiltse, Sandy Collings, Paul Davis; grandchildren, Paige (Ryan) Crego, Ben Mishler, Jacob Mishler, Emily Morris, Andrew Morris, Jaxon Morris, Danny Morris, Alayna Morris; great grandson, Caleb Crego and many aunts, uncle, nieces and nephews.

Cancer may have won the battle of her earthly body, but God won the war by securing her eternity.

The family will hold a memorial service will be held at Cherry Grove Baptist Church on January 8, 2020 at 7 pm and at Boon Baptist Church in Boon, MI in February at a later date.

In lieu of flowers, memorial donations may be given to Cherry Grove Baptist Church Building Fund, 859  Cherry Grove Church Road, Moravian Falls, NC 28654

Condolences may be sent to: www.adamsfunerals.com

[keywestlou]

FLORIDA CORAL BARRIER REEF DYING / FRENCH POLYNESIA REEF ALIVE AND KICKING

The coral reef off Key West is dying. It has been dying. Everyone along the keys is concerned. Groups are working hard to figure out why and remedy the situation.

The coral reef off Key West is part of the Florida Reef. Runs out to the Dry Tortugas and northward along the keys. Consists of 6,000 plus individual reefs The complex is 5,000 to 7,000 years old.

Coral cannot subsist on the Florida Reef.

Coral reefs are dying all over the world. Except for one place. French Polynesia. The coral alive and blooming. Fish life active.

Scientists do not know why French Polynesia is alive, not dying. Scientists are trying to figure it out. Hoping the discovery of any worthwhile information can be used to save the dying coral reefs worldwide.

When I was a little boy, I adored my grandmother for many reasons. Her love one. Her warmth another. Her outstanding cooking.

Old southern Italy preparation she had learned in the south of Italy.

From the time I was 4 or 5, I discovered ceci and fava. My grandmother prepared them often. Taking my age into account, means from the late 1930’s onward I was gouging myself on ceci and fava.

When my grandmother passed on, ceci and fava were no longer part of my life. They followed my grandmother to the grave. My mother never made them. I assume they were just not part of her culinary skills.

Occasionally in my adult years, I would see a bottle of ceci and fava for sale in a grocery store. Always bought a bottle or more. None as good as Grandma’s.

Ceci and fava a mixture of roasted salted ceci beans (generally chickpeas) and favas beans. First soaked, then roasted, followed by a spritz of oil.

The result a morsel to die for. Crispy, crunchy, and light.

Considered healthy. Loaded with protein, fiber, and iron.

Why the ceci and fava dissertation? This past weekend I found a package of them at Publix. Labeled Crispy Favas + Peas. In a blue plastic bag. A product of The Good Bean Company.

I pigged out. Have to return to buy several bags this time.

I recommend ceci and fava. A delight!

Key West is a drinking city. I go out rarely these days because the doctor says no more booze. Due to my pancreatitis attack several months ago. No fun being with a crowd imbibing and you are not.

Did go out last night.

Began with Dueling Bartenders at Aqua. Rick Dery a terrific singer!

Ran into Mary at the bar. I have not seen her for a month. Because I do not go out with the same frequency I did. It was good to see her again.

Rick has a sense of humor. I had mentioned I lost one of my credit cards. Then located it. It had been sitting on the kitchen table. I passed by the card several times over 3 days before seeing it. I ate at the same table 3 days running also.

Old age.

Anyhow, Rick said, “I lost my glasses because I couldn’t see.” Makes sense.

Rick sang an old song. A Marlene Dietrich one. Cannot recall the title. Rick’s professional career has taken him to many countries and caused him to meet many people. One was Marlene Dietrich. They became friends.

Some time after the star’s death, her daughter wrote a book about her mother. Marlene’s life had to be one hell of a ride!

Rick told the story of Dietrich showing up at her daughter’s apartment for dinner. Three ladies. Mother Dietrich, daughter Dietrich and granddaughter Dietrich.

During the course of dinner, Marlene opened her purse and pulled out a pair of a man’s jockey shorts. She asked, “Does anyone want to smell them?” They supposedly were President Kennedy’s.

Dinner with Mary at La Trattoria. Sat next to the lovely Jean Thornton. Returns home to Birmingham tomorrow for Christmas. Returns with husband Joe day after.

Jean introduced me to her friend Pat Benson. Pat from mid California. Has been visiting Key West for years. Looking to buy here.

As usual, enjoyed Carrie. Always personable and knowledgeable.

Homelessness a national problem. Key West part and parcel of the problem.

Many years ago, a federal court dictated that if a municipality did not want the homeless sleeping on the streets, the municipality had to provide some sort of shelter for them to sleep in.

Key West immediately complied. Not necessarily as a do gooder. Rather to keep the homeless from spending their evenings in the best neighborhoods and in tents running on U.S. 1 along side the golf course.

Key West constructed a tent city for the homeless. Large well framed tents, showers, toilet facilities, etc.

Over the years a further controversy has developed. The tents are located on County owned land next to the County Jail. The Sheriff has wanted the land for expansion of his facilities. Court proceedings galore.

A hopefully “final” decision reached. Things finally looking good. The homeless would be moved to new and better facilities.

The “final” decision not so final as it turned out. Problems still exist. The homeless continue to spend their nights in tents on County land.

The City of Key West Fire Department got involved. The Fire Marshall said too many beds. The facility not safe for evacuation purposes in case of fire or other emergency. The Fire Marshall eliminated 20 beds.

The facility is rarely full. The homeless tend to hurry to it on cold or wet evenings. Now all will not be able to be accomodated.

The problem continues.

Today is tuesday. Means my blog talk radio show tonight. Tuesday Talk with Key West Lou. Nine my time. Join me. Trump guarantees the show to be an enjoyable listen. www.blogtalkradio.com/key-west-lou.

Trump keeps screwing around and Russia has gotten stronger. Putin a fox, Trump a chicken. Putin always beats Trump at what ever occurs.

The trade wars have pushed China into the arms of Russia. They are “becoming buddies.” Yesterday, Russia and China proposed the U.N. lift some U.N. imposed sanctions off North Korea.

Trump says not the time.

Under U.N. rules, the U.S.’s 1 vote is enough to block such a move.

The past couple of weeks, Kim Jong Un has been threatening  a “Christmas gift” to the United States if the the U.S. fails to come up with certain concessions North Korea seeks. Note that in spite of 2-3 visits between Trump and Kim and a “love affair,” nothing has happened. A situation where talk has turned out to be cheap.

Trump does not appear concerned.  Says he would be “disappointed” if Kim did anything. Trump’s attitude: “We’ll take care of it.”

Since their face to face meetings, Kim has not acted as one seeking friendship. He has engaged in 13-14 missile tests. The last 2 of concern. Each having the capacity to reach the U.S.

Christmas less than 2 weeks away.

Wall Street believes the stock market is on the verge of a “melt up.” Would be good! However, it depends on some sort of resolution of the U.S./China trade war.

An agreement is pending that would only “minimally” solve the many problems involved. Many consider the deal a poor one. A deal arrived at based on political expediency.

The deal sucks. If signed, would it move the stock market further upward? It would be wrong if the motivating factor is the agreement being bantered about at the moment.

Enjoy your day!

        FLORIDA CORAL BARRIER REEF DYING / FRENCH POLYNESIA REEF ALIVE AND KICKING was originally published on Key West Lou

[the-blackest-spider]

Writing Challenge

Day 27 IFS & BUTS

If your muse had a “normal” stable life, write about how you think they would be in present day.

Her life had not been a perfect one, but it had been a good one. Unexpected, the word came to mind and it made her smile as she sat in her chair, covered with her favorite blanket, her white hair soft at her shoulders. Her eyes still had that sharp quality, but the last couple of years they had begun to grow dull, something her great granddaughter had commented on just the other day as they were preparing for Christmas and her birthday.

 It was going to be a joyous occasion, eighty nine. Next year she would be ninety, it was tiring to think about. Natalia had buried two husbands, other family and friends. She had told stories about her becoming a double spy during the Cold War and received asylum from the US for her secrets. Because of that she able to defect and meet her one true love, a war veteran and amputee by the name of James Barnes, Bucky to his friends and lived happily ever after.

 Outside snow began to fall and while she knew she ought to get up and go to bed, she just couldn’t. She was comfortable here in her chair by the fire and the window, with the tree twinkling behind her. For a moment as she looked at her reflection in the window glass she saw a young woman again, untouched by time with vibrant red hair and sharp dark green eyes. Her weathered lips pulled into a smile and so did the young face staring back at her and then another face came into view, a handsome one she hadn’t seen in a very long time…

 When morning came it was her granddaughter, Rose’s daughter, Natalie who found her Grandmother peaceful in her chair. In her hand was one of her journals, opened to the page about meeting James and their romance, what her Grandmother had called the greatest time of her life. It was fitting and now her grandparents were reunited in death and in love.