#he's the sunshine in winter time. he's the campfire during a cold night out. he's like a lit sparkler on new years eve. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

arthur-morgan-slap-my-ass · 6 years

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Breaking Walls

A/N: It took me long enough, it seems????? This was idealized with @anniesburg at a late night convo about our mutual Silver Fox Daddy Hosea pining and because we need angst for him. Also, huge thanks to my amazing girlfriend @winters-uprise for proof reading and being my beta. And wow, I suck at writing summaries and picking names for fics!

Word Count: 4200+ (y ikes)

Summary: After a rather unfortunate encounter with Hosea, you’re left to doubt and sulk about your early stage-relationship and question yourself if his feelings for you are over. Unbeknownst, that is just the tip of the iceberg.

Rubbing your hands together for some warmth, you approached the tree trunk near the edge of the cliff of Horseshoe Overlook. The moon was high in the sky, the flames of the campfire long diminished to candid looking embers as most of the gang had gone to sleep already. You pulled the shawl around your shoulders, welcoming the brisk coolness of the night for the time being as you went looking for Hosea.

It was a relatively recent thing, what you both had; with fleeting looks and bashful flirting blossoming into something more by the time the gang had to make its hasty escape from Blackwater. You still felt unsure, but Hosea was anything if not patient of your fretting pace. There was no word for it — for what had formed between the both of you, but it was clear on one matter: you were together.

So, when you saw him retreat quietly by the end of the night, you had assumed he had gone to your shared tent, surprised to see the man was nowhere to be found when you got there yourself. Frowning, you decided to go after him around camp — because Silver Dollar was still hitched with the others, so it was obvious he hadn’t left.

It was hard to miss the dark silhouette propped up against the tree trunk, one knee bent up and a long arm resting against it casually. It wasn’t strange for Hosea to seek quiet moments in the midst of the chaos that was the camp on a daily basis, so you approached and made sure your footsteps were heard.

“Won’t you come to bed, Hosea?,” you asked, voice soft. You were, of course, curious; because as much as he enjoyed the quietness, it didn’t happen much during the nights, but you decided not to ask of it. “It’s late already.”

Taking a moment, Hosea didn’t reply immediately, humming instead. “Not really tired,” he offered quietly, and you couldn’t help but notice the bottle of whiskey sitting by him, even though the man didn’t seem particularly drunk. “You should get some sleep, though.”

Frowning, you crossed your arms in front of your chest. “Are you alright?”

Hosea sighed this time, not really looking at you. “Mighty fine. I’ll go later, right?”

Feeling the slight cold shoulder he had turned on you, you decided to leave him be for the time being; assuming he just wanted to be alone, ignoring the little voice in the back of your head whispering that he had always seemed welcoming of your presence even when he was focused on something else — like writing or reading.

Somewhat dissatisfied, you turned around and went back to the tent, hoping he’d come in some time in the night; only to wake up next morning to the empty cot beside you. Sighing, you got up and started getting dressed for the day, wondering what had gone wrong the night before. Maybe he slept and woke up before you? Or did he really stay up all night?

When you stepped out of the tent, the day was still grey and cold, with some of the early birds of camp up and about, you went to check the trunk where you had seen Hosea last night — and sure as it was the sun would come after the moon, the man was still sitting there.

Sheepishly, you prepared a cup of coffee for him — the way you knew he liked, no sugar, no milk; straight black coffee — and another one for yourself, hoping to share it and see if his mood had improved a little. Arthur nods a good morning at you, sipping on his own drink with Charles. Careful not to spill any of the coffee, you made your way towards Hosea — still unmoving, at the same spot; his eyes narrowed and a cigarette pinched between his fingers. “Morning,” you call out, sitting on the trunk he’s leaning against and Hosea visually tenses up when your knee brush his arm, “brought you some coffee.”

He forces a smile up at you, cigarette long gone out still there and you suspected he hadn’t even smoked all of it. “I already had some,” came the quiet answer — and you suspected it was a lie, because it looked like Hosea hadn’t bothered to move at all since last night; not to mention the clear absence of a cup anywhere near him.

Refusing to comment on this, you leaned forwards and placed the steaming drink beside him, taking a sip of your own. “Have some more with me, then.”

Hosea took the cup in his hand, silently, as you sipped yours — but he didn’t move to drink any of its content and you watched the drink grow cold in his hands. The silence stretched, awkward and uncomfortable between the both of you. “Is something bothering you, Hosea?”

Your voice seemed to have startled him, and the man fixed you with a look not too far from a glare by the corner of his eyes, before setting it on the horizon again. “Ah, I’m fine,” he started, playing a nonchalance you knew was staged by the way his shoulders were tensed — the way they get when he’s lying, “nothing to worry about.”

“Are you sure?,” you pressed on, unrelenting in your inquiry to figure out what had him in this melancholic state, “because…”

Hosea sighed, putting the neglected cup of coffee to the side; untouched and cold. “What is it?”

“Because it seems like… hell, I don’t know. You just seem off,” you spoke, not minding to cover the worry building up in your voice.

“Maybe I just want to be alone,” the man retorted, tone cold and clipped.

“I don’t want to leave you alone right now,” you confessed, trying to touch his shoulder; but Hosea bolted away from you, turning to fix a harsh glare your way.

“That’s the problem with everyone, it seems,” he spit out, “can’t seem to leave me the fuck alone. Can’t seem to care about what I want for one damn second, always like this. And you know what? Maybe I’m too old and tired for this!”

“Hosea—“

“I don’t wanna hear it,” he grunted, turning from you and setting an irritated look along the tree-line on the horizon. “Don’t need anyone nagging at me about things they don’t understand and you’re no exception. Now, leave me be.”

Not sure about what to say, you opened your mouth, only to close it again. You knew about Hosea’s explosive nature and quick temper, but had never seen it directed at you; and the way in which he so easily brushed your reciprocate feelings aside stung more than what you’d have expected it to. A tight knot formed at the pit of your stomach as you got up, clasping the brass cup in your hands and you walked away from him, no matter how shakily that was.

You approached the fire by the cooking tent, Arthur watching you cautiously with now John pouring himself a drink of his own beside him — Charles was nowhere to be seen.

The blonde man spoke your name gently to catch your attention, “Are you okay?”

Plastering a weak smile on your face, you nodded, fighting the clenching in your throat. “It’s fine.”

“I don’t know what got to Hosea,” he started, pinching the bridge of his nose, “but whatever it was, he’ll come around.”

“Yeah,” you echoed hollowly, watching the swaying flames, sunshine touching your shoulder; and yet, you couldn’t enjoy the warmth of it. “I just wish I knew what was wrong.”

“That’s the thing with Hosea,” Arthur spoke solemnly, head cocking to one side, “no one can tell.”

“Man’s a mystery,” John commented, sitting down with a groan.

“Give him time,” the other proposed, “he’ll come around. Everyone knows Hosea has a soft spot for ya.”

Gnawing on your lower lip, you sat down at the dark corner of your conjoint tent — was it still that, though? You wondered. The day had been rough, with doubts eating away at the thinned tatters that had become your mind. Drowning yourself in work to avoid thinking about your situation seemed to be the best way to hold everything back at an arm’s length — and now, with the sunset approaching quickly, you allowed yourself to cry quietly.

No one knew what was wrong with Hosea, although the ones you’ve spoken to assured you of one single thing: it wasn’t your fault and Hosea would come around, at some point. If they knew about it, the reason was being held from you — and as frustrating and infuriating as it was, with curiosity nagging at you insistently, you came to the conclusion that there wasn’t anything you could do about it; not really.

And so, dragging your feet, you quietly slipped away from the late afternoon bustle of the gang to the solitary safety of your tent with tears already prickling the corner of your eyes. The moment in which Hosea had pulled away from you so violently kept playing in your mind, over and over, on repeat like a scratched vinyl. Did you disgust him? Did you say or do something that had caused this? It seemed unlikely, since there weren’t any dangerous missions that had happened and Hosea had kissed and hugged you only hours before growing cold and distant.

Did that mean your… relationship was over? Could you even call it that, though? Maybe you had given more importance to it than you should’ve. Hosea probably grew tired of you, like Dutch does with all the girls he tumbles with — it was an unspoken thing in camp, since no one dared to comment on it —, but you hadn’t expected the silver haired man to be the same. Maybe you were too young and naïve.

Hiccupping softly, you pressed your face to your hands, shoulders shaking with the effort to keep your emotions in and not let out the weakness, but it was hard not to when you knew you had been played with and tossed aside like a broken toy.

Someone called your name softly, once. Then twice, the low baritone voice perhaps too well known by you not to recognize it straight away.

“Are you in there?,” Dutch asked, making his way in unceremoniously, spotting you easily and frowning in the process. “Why are you crying?”

“I…,” you started, fumbling with the words in your mind, too far gone in your misery to care about the man standing there with your messed emotions on display, “I don’t know, I’m just… and Hosea, he… I don’t know what’s wrong, I’m—“

Dutch sighed, rubbing a hand on his stubbly chin as if deep in thought. “Now, now,” he shushed your sobbing, sitting on the cot bed beside your corner on the ground. “There’s no reason to cry yourself over that. You did nothing wrong. Hosea has his own demons to tame, he’s just a cranky old man—“

“Everyone keeps telling me that!,” you exclaimed, furiously wiping your face to get rid of the insistent tears, and Dutch offered a white handkerchief to you; which you grabbed from his hand without as much as a look his way. “I feel like you’re all mocking me, like you know something I’m not supposed to. All you fuckers laughing, watching me grasp at thin air!”

“It’s complicated—“

“The hell it is!,” you hissed, a hiccup blossoming from deep within your chest, “I like him and I don’t even know if I messed it up, I just want to know why—“

“It’s Bessie,” Dutch’s voice rang, loud and clear, even if it dripped with grief. “Bessie Matthews.”

“B— Bessie?,” you asked, looking up at him in confusion, “Hosea’s late wife?”

Dutch huffed out a breath, refusing to look at you now. “Exactly.”

You stayed quiet for a moment, mulling it over, but there was no way you could connect the dots that would result into the situation at hand. You knew Hosea had been married and that his wife had passed, but were not familiar with the details; but he had always referred to her with warmth and love, and you knew it’d be pointless to be jealous about it, so instead you encouraged him and even asked questions about her. Hosea had said once he thinks she’d have been fond of you, even. “I don’t… get it.”

“Ah, so he hasn’t told you,” the older man muttered under his breath, disbelief across his face. “It’s the anniversary of her death, today. Every year since then he has been avoiding us, spending his time alone and thinking about God knows what.”

Still working on digesting the words, you looked down at your feet; boots dirty and chapped on the edges. He had never told you about the way Bessie had passed — and you knew this was a sensitive subject —, so you never asked; but you had no idea her death had taken such a toll on him.

“So we just leave him be,” Dutch shrugged lightly, leaning forward and resting his arms on his knees, hands rubbing together. “He takes his time and we don’t bother him. Hosea comes around eventually, as he always does,” he turned to look at you, calloused hand resting on your shoulder and squeezing it reassuringly, “you didn’t do anything wrong, my girl.”

It was strange, very strange indeed to see the softer side of Dutch van der Linde, one of the most wanted men of the country — and at the same time, one who’d offer guidance to someone in need, taking in vagrants and children who didn’t have anywhere else to go.

“Go get with the others,” Dutch spoke quietly as you mulled over the situation and when you looked up, he was standing in front of you with an outstretched hand to help you up. “Family stays together, always.”

Nodding numbly, because you didn’t quite know how to say you’d rather jump off of a cliff than socializing right now, you accepted his hand and made your way over to the campfire; Javier, guitar in hand, waving you over to a spot beside himself.

Dutch watched you go, hooking his thumbs on the belt loops, and like a dutiful father, he smiled once Charles pushed a bowl of food in your hands and Arthur leaned to whisper something to you.

Hosea was going to hear a piece of his mind, definitely.

Turning around, he made his way to the far off side of the camp, where he knew the older man — and his best friend — was to be found, still brooding over past mistakes that couldn’t be fixed.

“We need to talk,” was all the dark haired man said, a booted foot stepping over the tree trunk in which Hosea still rested against.

The other sighed, shaking his head slightly. Dutch noted the clear absence of alcohol — and that eased his mind. “What do you want, Dutch?”

“You to keep that temper of yours in check, that’s what I want,” he snapped, not backing away when Hosea turned on his way with a glare.

“Of all the days—“

“It’s not for me,” Dutch cut in, leaning forwards to get his point across, “I’m not scared of your ugly face no more, old friend. I know you too well for that,” he made a pause, sighing as he turned to look out at the nighttime scenery, “but the girl doesn’t, Hosea.”

The other man stiffened visibly, crossing his arms on his chest with a slight twist of his lips. He was defensive, clearly. “It’s none of her goddamn business.”

“Stop being so damn stubborn, Hosea!” Dutch hissed at him, annoyed and doing nothing to hide it. “She’s there, crying her heart out, and all you can care about is yourself?,” the words seemed to have some effect on him, and Hosea turned to his friend; confused, but still untrusting.

“What do you mean—“

“What else could I be meaning, you thick headed idiot?,” Dutch grumbled, having the decency of not using an accusatory tone. “She thinks she did something wrong. That you got angry at her specifically and no one has the guts to tell her what this,” he gestured at Hosea, making him feel embarrassed, “is about.”

Hosea pondered over it, lighting a cigarette with a practiced flick of his fingers. “She…,” he huffed out, looking sideways at Dutch before continuing, “she wasn’t supposed to…,” another sigh, “I didn’t mean to snap on her.”

The other man scoffed, taking a seat beside the silver haired one. “The girl has no fucking crystal ball, Hosea,” he took out a cigar from the pocket of his waistcoat, taking the lighter Hosea offered him without much of a fuss, “how was she supposed to know if you wouldn’t tell her?”

Hosea nodded thoughtfully, heart dropping with dread in his chest. He had made you cry. That’d be hard to forget — even more so for himself. The tip of the cigarette burned lazily in the middle of the night, beside Dutch’s cigar as he reflected on it. “All these years,” he started, quietly, eyes squinted out in the darkness, “and I’m still a fool.”

“We all are,” was Dutch’s equally soft reply, “specially when it comes to women.”

“Now, quiet, quiet!,” Javier called fingers quickly flicking at the chords of the guitar, “one more before we call it a night,” he turned to you with an easy smile, “pick a song, mija, I’ll play your favorite.”

Smiling quietly to yourself — and feeling somewhat better, surprisingly —, you laughed at Javier’s game of favorites.

“Oy,” Sean called from the other side of the campfire, “what ‘bout my song?”

“I don’t like playing yours,” Javier jested back and you laughed out loud at Sean’s indignant noise, Arthur making a mocking-pain face at you once he caught your attention, “you have bad taste, amigo”

Most of the gang had retired for the night already — leaving you, Javier, Sean, Arthur and John to the campfire. Taking a sip of your lukewarm beer, you pushed on Javier’s shoulder for his nipping at Sean and just as you were about to tell him to play “Cielito Lindo”, there were footsteps shuffling closer to the fire; and when you turned around to spot Hosea’s figure against the firelight, you felt as if the breath had been punched out of you.

Tipping his head to the side as he discreetly elbowed John, Arthur got up with a tiny groan. “No can do for me, fellas. Gotta go to Valentine early tomorrow, me and John. Sorry ‘bout that.”

“I didn’t know—,” John started, only to be cut off by Arthur.

“We do, now,” he pushed him away from the tree trunk, “you’re as thick as a goddamn brick wall, Marston—“

Javier widened his eyes slightly, looking pointedly at Sean over the gentle burning flames, “I think it’s time we render Charles from guard duty, don’t you?”

“Ohh, right,” the redhead chimed in, dusting off his weathered trousers, “lead on, lead on!”

Left alone with Hosea and cursing your friends, you tried to ignore the sound of him seating on the wooden crate beside you, the fluffy pelts doing little to muffle the creaky noise. You didn’t know what to say now, unsure if you even should do so. Nervously, you teared off the labelling of the beer bottle in your hands, giving it your undivided attention.

Hosea sighed and you could feel his eyes on you, but you refused to look up and meet him. With all the shooting and lying and kidnapping you had done all this time with the Van der Linde gang, you had never found yourself more tongue tied in your whole life.

The man opened his mouth to say something, only to close it again and frown at himself. How was he even supposed to do this? Pressing his lips together, Hosea turned to you again; this time reaching to touch at your shoulder — and the moment you flinched away from him it did sting.

Were you afraid of him? The possibility of it shattered his heart. You must’ve been mad at him, wanting to throw things, yell or even slap him — but not afraid, this was too much. Swallowing thickly, Hosea closed his eyes to gather his thoughts.

“Do forgive me, dear,” he whispered, almost low enough for the crackling of the fire to drown out his voice, “I didn’t do you right, since yesterday. There was no way you could’ve known—“

“Because you never told me,” you answered promptly, still refusing to look at him; the tears burning the corners of your eyes.

Hosea didn’t have the heart to disagree, “I didn’t.” He fiddled with his hands, trying to piece together what he was about to say — his silver tongue was of no use to him now. “I… it’s been too long, sweetheart. Too long since I had someone like you in my life. We grow used to violence and harshness, in this life we lead; and I’m afraid I couldn’t keep it from getting to me before you did.”

You fought the tears welling in your eyes, still refusing to give in; but the man carried on, tone of voice not too different from the one he used for the heartfelt confession all those months ago.

“Even so, it was no reason to push you away the way I did, I realize that now. I’m here to apologize. So, please,” Hosea pleaded, “will you look at me, sweetheart?” Sniffling, you shared a coy glance with him; and Hosea smiled, although tiredly. “You’re a blessing to a man who does not deserve it, dear.”

“Flatter will get you nowhere, Hosea,” you nitpicked at him, now looking away and taking a small sip of the disgusting beer.

“Is it still flatter if I speak the truth, I wonder,” he spoke quietly, more to himself than anything else. “You remind me of her, in many ways.” The logs crackled loudly, making the situation seem even eerie, “but at the same time, not at all,” he looked up at the sky now, arms resting his knees, “I was on a mission the night she died, on a mission with Arthur and Dutch. She…,” he hesitated, risking a glance at you, “she never wanted this life. Not for long anyways, Bessie never agreed of going back to this. We were done with it.”

“But it’s never easy,” you offered simply, another swig of beer.

“No,” he hummed. “She had been sick for a while, but I was too busy with the gang and everything else to…,” Hosea frowned now, putting his hands together as if trying to piece together his words in the same way. “Sometimes I blame everyone else, as foolish as it is. Thinking that if I didn’t talk her into going back, maybe… well, maybe she’d still be alive. No other way to put this.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” you spoke quietly, leaning towards the man’s body and pressing your head to his knee.

Hosea’s hand came to rest on your shoulder now, stroking the covered skin there with his thumb, a touch so gentle and light you thought you could’ve dreamed it.

“It’s still not enough of a reason to treat you the way I did,” he quietened down for a moment, words escaping him as his caress turned more insistent, “I don’t think there ever will be a reason, if I’m being honest.”

His hand now tangled with you hair, scratching your scalp the way he knew you liked; and the shifting of your hair tickled the side of your neck for a second.

“Mrs. Grimshaw gave me the news, as soon as I got back,” Hosea’s voice came off clipped, with some sort of effort, “Bessie had been sick for a little while and we thought nothing of it. Hadn’t seem like there was anything to think of it. 3 days later, Mrs. Grimshaw said, she passed. In her sleep, apparently, but had asked for my whereabouts then.”

The crackling of the fire was too loud now, an intrusion to the weight of the subject spoken between the both of you. An owl hooted somewhere far away and you pressed your face to the roughness of his jeans. “I’m sorry, Hosea.”

He replied after a long while, eyes watching the flames but not really seeing, “Me too.” Hosea’s hands moved to the curve of your jaw, cupping it softly as his thumb touched the gentle curve of your cheek. “Please,” he started, “do forgive me, sweetheart.” Hosea’s voice was unusually breathy, a vulnerability you could only imagine to have laced it, “and tell me we’re not through.”

“Of course we’re not,” you protested, pushing up on your knees; the bottle of beer shoved aside and slowly emptying itself of its ambery liquid, “don’t be stupid, I’d never—“

Hosea held your face in his calloused hands, leaning forwards to press a kiss — filled with gentleness and warmth — to your forehead; and he smelled like the tobacco, the night air and campfire, something so incredibly Hosea you wouldn’t be able to point them apart even if you wanted to. You sighed, taking hold of his wrists and pulling away to catch his lips with yours, the warmth of him and at the corner of your eyes an insistent reminder of your love. And you tried to convey the feeling for him in a kiss, as clumsy as it was with the weird angle, as needy as it felt for the both of you.

Far away, the owl hooted again; but this time you really did pay no mind to it.

#hosea matthews #hosea matthews x reader #hosea matthews imagine #red dead redemption #red dead redemption imagines #angst #fic #not requested #i'm indulging myself here okay

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danbily · 6 years

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Goodbye Vietnam

This is a true story about a winter camping trip that I went on.

As a chubby little boy, I was the perfect fit for Cub Scouts. We built birdhouses, sang silly songs, and, best of all, baked cookies. What I lacked in ambition was more than offset by the snacks at the end of each weekly meeting. My small blue uniform was stretched to its limits as I neared the end of my tour of duty. It was time to move on to Boy Scouts.

My first night at Boy Scouts was shockingly different from Cub Scouts. Mr. Cordy, our scoutmaster, made us suck in our guts as we stood at attention in a straight line while he inspected our uniforms. My scarf tie was on crooked and I could feel that Mr. Cordy was unhappy about my chubby physique. “You will benefit from our exercise program, young man,” was his terse remark as he departed for the next scout in line. I knew then that we were not ending this meeting with cookies and milk, and I was right.

My pack included my best friend, Charlie, my neighbor, Art, my fellow Cub Scout, Paul, and Donny. Donny was the son of our pack supervisor, Mr. Lynn, who’d been an officer in World War II. In addition to our regular troop meeting at the new rec center, we would often meet at their home. The Lynns owned one of the first color TVs in 1958. We would all gather around it and gaze in amazement at actual color film. We compared it to our drab black and white sets at home and laughed. Mrs. Lynn would make us snacks as well. It was so much better than a troop meeting with mean Mr. Cordy.

Just after the New Year, Mr. Lynn announced that he together with Mr. Cordy were planning a winter father-son campout. Each pack would pick their own date and camp just south of Holland, New York, a town known for its lake effect snow.

I was eager to test out my new scout-approved, two-man tent that I’d earned by selling Boy Scout Christmas cards. It was a canvas tent complete with poles, stakes, and a canvas floor. It also had a mosquito net door that would be a nice feature in the summer. The only thing I lacked was an air mattress for the underside of my sleeping bag. My dad and I needed to go shopping for air mattresses as soon as possible.

The following Saturday, we visited our local sporting goods shop. It was located in a small plaza and had a limited selection. The clerk showed us an air mattress made in France, but made no personal recommendation; he fully admitted that he wasn’t into camping. My father ultimately bought two of the ugly blue contraptions. The clerk smirked as he rang them up on the register. I knew this wasn’t a good omen. On the drive home, I opened one of the boxes and tried to read the instructions. My dad looked over at me in disgust. “Don’t they teach you kids how to read at that school I pay hefty taxes to send you to? Hand me those instructions.” I did as requested and my father pulled over to the curb. After a minute, he turned to me. “Damn things are written in French,” he said. “Mom can read Polish,” I said, “Is that close?” Needless to say, it wasn’t. We struggled with the few crude drawings and I understood why the clerk had smirked.

The week of the camping trip was filled with the promise of a new adventure in my young mind. I loved watching Walter Cronkite and The Twentieth Century on Sunday evenings. The film footage of the mighty German army grinding to a halt outside Moscow in the brutal Russian winter was a fresh memory. Would our pack succumb to the same fate in the heavy snow south of Buffalo? Then there was my image of Napoleon sitting inside the Kremlin, burning furniture in order to keep warm. Was Mr. Lynn aware of just how awful George Washington had it during that winter at Valley Forge? As an officer from our military, I hoped he was well versed in the hardships of a winter campout, especially one that involved the greenest of troops known as the Boy Scouts.

That Saturday arrived with clear skies and bountiful sunshine for our two hour drive to Scout camp. We had six carloads in all, as many of the fathers had volunteered to accompany their sons on this make believe Arctic adventure. The local weather forecast never came up in conversation. The radio stations were all based in Buffalo and would not have mentioned any snow this far south of the city. It was still sunny and birds were chirping as we unloaded our camping supplies in the parking lot. We had two toboggans with tow ropes for our tents. Our cooking gear and food was in our Scout regulation knapsacks. We all opted for snowsuits and rubber boots versus any regulation uniform, a wise choice for this ragtag little army of greenhorns. Mr. Lynn took out his map and pointed to a trail leading from the edge of the parking lot to a wooded hillside. “Boys, I mean MEN, we will proceed this way.”

The snow had been packed down on the trail from previous use. It wasn’t difficult to follow. We found a tree sheltered hillside after a one hour hike. Mr. Lynn and Art, our only Eagle Scout, declared that we’d “arrived at encampment.” I personally felt it had more to do with the heavy wheezing now coming from many of the fathers prone to smoking. We were assigned small areas and told to pitch our tents and help with a general mess area for our evening meal. The snowpack was shoveled clear in a twenty foot circle and we started a fire in the middle. We went on a scavenger hunt for every downed tree limb on that hillside. Our fire soon blazed like a blast furnace and our bodies cooked on one side and froze on the other. I understood why the Indians had danced around the fire, they were simply rotating in the heat like chickens on a spit.

The evening meal consisted of beans and weiners emptied from large institutional cans into a five gallon enameled steel cooking pot. We made Scout biscuits by rolling a twig in Bisquick and water. After a dough ball had formed on the end of the twig, it was held over the fire until it turned light brown. We enjoyed the folly of keeping the biscuits on the twig and out of the fire. You either mastered the technique or ate only beans and weiners. I ended up the expert in this bizarre food misadventure and became camp baker for the less able. I must have baked three dozen biscuits that evening. They were served with huge slices of butter. Rounding out our frontier dinner party was hot chocolate and Hostess cupcakes. We all liked to suck out the cream filling first, then eat the frosting.

By the time dinner ended, the wind had picked up and snowflakes were appearing in ever increasing numbers. True to the Buffalo curse, the flakes were blowing parallel to the terrain and entering our tents through the tiniest of cracks in the flap doors. Art, our Eagle Scout, suggested that we lower the mosquito netting once inside, and the screening would catch any snow that made it through the canvas flaps. This indeed proved to be an effective solution, and my dad and I turned in early to the sound of what now seemed like a blizzard and the songs of a rock station on my six transistor radio. Dad only liked “Harbor Lights,” an old song by The Platters that had been recently redone for my generation. Battery life was short in those days and we were soon left with only the wind and our thoughts. My mind focused on those newsreel clips of the mighty German army snowbound thirty miles from Moscow and helpless. That was just about our distance from Buffalo.

Attempting to sleep in the dead cold of winter with the wind whipping the pines above us was a no go from the start. My sleeping bag had been advertised as containing two pounds of genuine goose down. I’d been light on funds at the time and had passed over the deluxe bag with three pounds of goose down. Like the German army, I’d underestimated what cold really means. My father had opted for several dark green woolen army blankets he’d purchased years ago when he and my mother went tent camping in Canada. They were scratchy but warm. So there we lay, me with my teeth chattering from the cold and Dad itching from the coarse army issue woolen blankets. He told me a story about camping in Northern Ontario in early June and having it snow. Even though the fishing went well, my mother never forgave him for the poor timing. I understood her resentment as my own carefree attitude toward camping was waning.

Halfway through our no sleep night, the hot chocolate caught up with my bladder. My dad was in equal need of a nonexistent bathroom in the forest. We struggled with our flashlights to find our boots and untie the many straps that secured both the canvas door flaps and the mosquito netting. We also observed that our brand new French air mattresses were no longer plump and firm. What could be the problem? My dad suggested that the cold had reduced the air volume and it was of no concern to us. The trek up into the pines revealed a full blown lake effect blizzard had descended on our little party of novice campers. The yellow snow we made was covered instantly by the fast falling fresh white variety. “I hope Lynn remembers the way out. There’ll be no tracks to follow by morning,” my father said, not sounding all that confident.

It wasn’t the morning sun that woke us, it was the sting of cold ice water on our backsides. Remember those deflating French air mattresses? Well, they continued to deflate as the night went on. This in turn put our body heat in direct contact with the snowpack beneath our tent floor. The rest was simple physics. We had to stand up and try to dry ourselves as best we could. My dad restarted the campfire with much effort put into finding the kindling and pine logs now buried under a foot of fresh powder. A squirt of charcoal lighter fluid brought the fire to life. So much for the Indian method we’d seen in our handbook. They were smart enough to have long houses, animal pelt clothing, and all the time in the world to make it work. We stood with our backs to the flames as a small group of teeth chattering scouts joined us in a circle of distraught ignorance. Humility was earned one mistake at a time.

Mr. Lynn soon appeared and announced that the smarter option would be to hike out and have breakfast in town at the local diner. I heard no dissenting remarks from the red faced, booger nosed tiny army of boys that had been labeled MEN just twelve hours earlier. Art, the Eagle Scout, got out his map and compass and showed us what he thought was our path out. He was wrong, but our luck held. The snow had abated enough to spot the camp mess hall on the hilltop near the parking lot. With our goal in sight, we broke camp and trudged off in knee deep snow. Each step took a deep breath of effort and the fathers who smoked dearly paid for that extra push. After an hour in the Klondike of Southern Erie County, we all reached the parking lot. Here the vast majority our pack fell down in a snowbank to rest. Thankfully, the Scouts had a full time manager that kept the parking lot and service roads plowed. We brushed the snow off of our caravan of 1950s iron and off we drove to Holland, New York.

Over my pancakes and hot chocolate at the Zider Zee Diner, I could clearly see that the military was not going to be in my future. Mr. Lynn had failed to secure an accurate weather forecast, our equipment was a joke, and Art was incompetent. As a final note, Art went to Vietnam as a second lieutenant. He got so many of his men killed that he returned stateside and entered the priesthood. I became a salesman and stayed at five star hotels. So much for winter camping!

#boy scouts #cub scouts #winter camping #true stories #holland new york

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bardicfoxes · 6 years

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[D&D] Sastasha Levelileur Demanx - Rogue

Sastasha is one of my favourite characters I’ve ever written up. My first attempt at playing a rogue after years of being infatuated by dashing highwaymen, Assassins creeping through the shadows, and thieves pulling off the impossible heists. Unlike many of my characters, Sasha’s life events were rolled for using the character generation tables in the Dungeon Masters Guide which is why her story is particularly long. Sasha is still with me (If temporarily unavailable due to a deck of many things accident...void card...) and her story has only grown in time, stories I would like to write up at some point. Anyway enjoy my wonderful Rogue girl!

War has been nature for living beings since the dawn of time, sometimes loud, brash, and overt, others silent, subtle, carried out in the shadows. Deep in the forests, hidden from the eyes of mere men, the Elvish waywatchers of Athel Loren battled the bestial tribes that inhabited the forest they called home. Many beast tribes were crushed beneath the martial prowess of the Elves. Dryad, Satyr, Gorgan, all were felled. However one tribe proved too cunning, too quick, and too sly to be destroyed quite so easily. For over a hundred years, the Kitsune ran rings around the Elves, able to melt into the forest, whisper into the ears of generals, and strike from anywhere, they proved themselves more than a match for the Elves.

As in any war, each side had its key players, many a battle had been won with the sheer prowess, accuracy, and skill displayed by Kerillian Aidenish, lieutenant of a squad of elite Elvish archers, and trackers, conversely the Kitsunes had dealt near crippling blows to Elvish supply lines, and reinforcements with the cunning, guile, and daring antics of Takeda Yoshiro, roguish thief turned saboteur. Both Kerillian, and Takeda always seemed to find themselves two sides of the same coin, Kerillian would diligently follow the trail of Takeda, who in turn would loop, and twist in order to strike behind her lines. The pair crossed blades many on many occasions, their battles being recounted in stories time, after time, sometimes Kerillian would loose an arrow into Takeda, sometimes Takeda would catch Kerillian in an explosion, neither seeming to ever truly defeat the other.

The seasons rolled on, Spring into Summer, Summer to Autumn, and Autumn cascading into Winter. One Winter was particularly colder than others, blizzards pinning down entire armies, and burying the forest in a suffocating blanket of snow, and chilling sheets of ice. Colder than any Winter before it, Elf, and Kitsune fell to the cold, those strong enough to resist being driven into caves, sheltering from the elements. For the first time in over two centuries, the shadow war for the forest stopped…

In a strange turn of circumstance, both Kerillian, and Takeda found themselves separated from their allies, and trapped within the same cave network. The pair hunted one another, sparring all throughout the day, and night, clashing to an exhausted standstill. Without food, water, and warmth, they would both perish, and so an uneasy alliance between the pair formed. With her natural Elvish atunement to nature, and it’s magics, Kerillian fashioned them warmth, and shelter within the cave, and with the trademark penchant for luck, and perception Takeda possessed, he provided food, and water, through gathering, and hunting even despite the conditions. At first the pair was silent, weapons remained drawn and the taught thickness of mistrust hung over the makeshift home, however as the days stretched into weeks, which stretched further into months, even these vicious enemies began to talk, both longing for even the most base social contact. The hate they once held for each other became an uneasy relationship of sorts, which in the darkest, coldest night, when food ran scarce, and ice clawed at even the deepest parts of the cave, became an odd sort of Love. By the light of their flickering campfire, Kerillian Aidenish, and Takeda Yoshiro consummated their relationship.

As the blizzard finally rolled past, and Spring sunshine pierced the permafrost coating every tree, both Elf, and Kitsune began to feel the pull of war once more, with supplies lower than they’d ever been both factions were determined to become the dominant residents of this vast forest. Within their cave, even Kerillian, and Takeda began to grow weary of each other's presence, their love turning toxic as their dependence on each other waned, one morning Kerillian awoke to find Takeda gone, he had vanished into the night, Kerillian while thankful her throat had not been slit, cursed his name and their hunt began again. This time however, Kerillian felt a tug against her talents, like something was holding her back, concerned her unit coerced her into seeing a healer, who gave news that Kerillian would rather have never received, she was with child, two in fact, Kerillian was holding twins… No one dared question who the father was for fear of invoking the her wrath, but as no man came forward, rumors began to spread. Removed from the front lines for the safety of her children, Kerillian found herself taking care of menial tasks, her responsibilities dwindling as she became more heavily pregnant with each day. When the children were due, Kerillian chose to give birth in secret, with only a handful of her most trusted handmaidens by her side.

In the middle of the night, Kerillian gave birth, the children's names leaving her lips before she even set eyes upon them “Calcifer, Sastasha” she whispered to a Handmaiden as she shut her eyes, she couldn’t bare to look upon her children, Elves were pure in nature, untainted by lesser beings, lying with a human was one thing, but lying with a beast man of the forest, was one of the greatest dishonours she could have brought upon herself. Finally she opened her eyes and gazed upon her children. She noted dark hair, nothing like her own, a soft rounded face, reminding her not of her own sharp features, and to her disappointment, and the horror of the Handmaidens around her a pair of dark midnight ears, and a sleek black tails… Too much of a fox to be raised amongst Elves, and far too much of an Elf to be raised amongst Kitsune, Kerillian, and her Handmaidens pledged to keep the children a secret, the infant Calcifer, and Sastasha would be smuggled out of the forest, and disposed of, while everyone else would be told the infants had perished during birth.

And so, the same night, Kerillian’s most trusted Handmaiden Arryn Demanx, took the child under her cloak, and journeyed for three nights, in order to reach the edge of the forest, however as she stood, dagger in hand, she could not bring herself to execute an innocent child, she rationalised that neither Calcifer, nor Sastasha had chosen the controversy of their births, why should they receive punishment for it. Instead, Arryn took pity on them, if the beings of the forest couldn’t raise her, then perhaps the beings of the towns, and cities could. Arryn traveled further not to the first closest settlement, not to the second, but to the third, a city. The chances of the children ever finding their way back to the hidden Elvish city was minute. Sastasha was left in a basket alone, swaddled in cloth at the foot of the stone steps to a temple, men of God seemed to attract an abundance of unwanted children after all. Arryn left a note on the basket, weighed down with an Elvish Kukri which read Abandoned out of circumstance, we have left Sastasha Leveileur Demanx in your care, may you care for her more than we could...

-A But of course Sastasha, knew none of this.

---

Sastasha grew up under the tutelage of the temples various preachers, and clergymen, she learnt how to read, and write, and for the most part, kept herself busy with chores, after chores, after chores. What little time she did get for herself was spent kicking her heels in her room, or playing by herself. The people of the city of Anordal were a varied people, vast spires from the free mages college stretched into the sky, overseeing the rich markets, and magical item workshops. Despite this, Half-Kitsune such as Sastasha were rare, and as of such, she found the children around her would exclude her, to them she was weird, and foreign. With no friends to play with, Sastasha found herself wandering the halls of the temple, she would climb the belfry, or sit behind the altar listening to the organ. In fact it was during one of her sit ins to the music that the Organist called her over “Skulking in shadows” he asked as he played, Sastasha paused warily, people normally only spoke to her with cutting jibes, or to tell her she hadn’t been paying attention in her studies, however the organist seemed different “Just listening” she replied inquisitively truth be told she’d never really considered the organist existed, he rarely seemed to do anything other than play “Listening and skulking” he smiled, his teeth crooked “Good skills” he said with an added mutter “Malik Uredi” he introduced himself, never ceasing his playing, Sastasha frowned “Sastasha Leveilleur Demanx” before noting Malik’s own frown, her name was a bit of a mouthful “Sasha works though” she added before pausing for a beat “People don’t normally talk to me” she mentioned, her inquisitive nature showing. Malik mused for a second “Hm, and why do you think that is” he asked with a small smile, Sastasha frowned again “Well you know, because of how I look” she mentioned, her hand trailing through her hair, and touching the two soft ears that sat atop her head, she had taken to covering them with a hood, and tucking her brushy tail under her clothes, and around her waist. For the first time since their conversation began Malik stopped and chuckled “Sasha was it” he asked as he turned to her “Your appearance is of little consideration to me” he chuckled throatily as he gazed upon her, his eyes a sickly, milky white, he was blind.

Sastasha found herself making firm friends with Malik, helped by the fact he was the only person who would engage her socially, however on days when Malik was busy, or not there, Sastasha would wander the district in her free time, getting to know every street, every stall, and every secret alleyway. For a growing girl, with precious little to do, sometimes fun came from the most unusual places. The first time Sastasha picked a pocket was on a particularly sunny day, her lessons had been cancelled, and Malik was away, and most importantly, she was bored. Sastasha had an affinity with all things shiny, she coveted the glint of gold, or the shine of silver, and on this day, the sun caught the metallic shine of a golden pocket watch just right. Sastasha was filled with want as she watched it hang from the side of the large bestial man, it looked so delicate, and the clasp was so small, surely it wouldn’t be hard to. There was a dull click as Sastasha pulled her fingers over the clasp, and lifted the watch gently out of the man's pocket, her movements disguised by the jostling crowd, and her identity concealed by her cloaked androgynous appearance, once the watch was stowed safely in her pouch, she melted away into the crowd, and scurried off to the nearest alleyway, heart pounding against her chest. Sastasha clutched the pocket watch in her hands, it was beautiful, ornate, and meticulously polished, but most importantly, it was now hers. Sastasha took to her new hobby with gusto, her quick fingers, and delicate form making the art of pick pocketing as easy as anything, she started small, coins, loose buttons, jewelry, before moving bigger, entire money purses, pouches, jewelry, even taking things from market stalls, and on occasion slipping through open windows, and into peoples homes.

One morning, Sastasha was chatting with Malik, when he mentioned his birthday had been a week ago, Sastasha scolded him “If I’d known I would have got you something, she grumbled. Malik chuckled darkly “Oh my dear, I covet no material possessions” he rambled as he played “Although” he paused “I’ve always had a fondness for wine” he added guiltily. Sastasha sulked “I could have gotten you wine” she remarked, Malik sighed “Not the stuff you can buy in the market, I prefer something far more eclectic” he shuffled in his seat slightly, licking his lips as he remembered his choice wine “Fion Scathithe” he smiled softly “Elvish in nature, very old, very sweet, and very expensive” the thin man chuckled “You’d never be able to get your hands on any”. Sastasha frowned, something in her pulled, she was used to people telling her she couldn’t do something but this? This felt different “What makes you say that” she retorted indignantly, ignoring the explanation that Malik attempted to give “I’ll sort you something out” she smirked, before spinning on her heel, and leaving the building.

Sastasha scoured the city for the name ‘Fion Scathithe’ merchants, traders, and even smugglers turned nothing up, however there was one place she hadn’t yet checked. In the centre of Anordal lay the airship dock, where vast airships from Heavantis, bellies full of tradeable cargo from across the continent would dock, and sell their wares. Sastasha took a small collection of her favourite pieces of loot, and ventured into the bazaars within the docking tower. While Sastasha was unable to find the Wine she was hunting for, she did find information on an owner, a Wizard who lived in the Whitestone district for a touch more payment, she found his address, and set off. She had never intended to purchase the Wine from him, if it truly was as rare, and as delicious as Malic had said, there was no way a Wizard would part with it. Instead, Sastasha put her new found talents to use, crawling up a drainpipe, and slipping through a skylight, had she not been trying to keep quiet, she would of remarked how little security this Wizard seemed to have.

Sastasha dropped into a vast library, it seemed to stretch further than the building itself...Wizards were an odd folk. She scoured the vast halls, and multiple rooms until she stumbled through an office of sorts, and into a Wine cellar, there she found a beautiful elegant crystalline bottle, with a ruby red liquid inside, it was the wine she had sought out. With gloved hands she delicately removed the bottle from it’s shelf, curiously behind it there was a blue sigil, which as she pulled the bottle free, turned an angry red “Uh oh” Sastasha whispered before the air around her filled with horns of alarm, this place was better secured than she had thought. Dashing back into the office she panicked as she heard voices from outside, Wizards could be an unruly lot, and she was not looking to be on the receiving end of their scorn. On the desk next to her, were a pile of arcane scrolls, her head cocked as she looked at them before tucking the bottle securely into a pouch. She picked up a scroll, running her fingers over the dry paper, as she tried to unfurl it she found herself unable to undo the bindings, she cursed and pocketed it, before snatching up another, which thankfully was more compliant. She gazed over the foreign inscriptions, biting her lip as she heard footsteps outside, the markings made no sense to her at all, except. She paused as words came to her “Aperta...Ianua” she said, almost tentatively. There was a dull pop in front of her.

When the honoured Wizard Garrat finally mounted the courage to burst into his office, flanked by his own personal retinue of students, and serfs he found no intruder, rather instead he found a gaping passageway where his wall had been only this morning, whoever had been in his office, had clearly vanished… Sastasha sprinted through the streets, desperate to return before anyone could threaten her spoils, she practically fell through the doors to the Temple, remembering herself and straightening up, before nonchalantly wandering up to Malik “Hm Sasha” he greeted “Out of breath, have you gotten in trouble” the old man asked with a sly smirk. Sastasha growled, her triumphantly casual entrance ruined “Happy Birthday old man” she grinned regaining her composure as she produced the elegant bottle. Malik stopped playing as his hands ran over the bottle “Oh” he said simply, the interest in his voice palpable “Now this is interesting” he murmured “Who was it taken from” Malik said directly, his voice a little more colder than usual. Sastasha spluttered “What do you mean who was it taken-” Malik cut her off “Sasha” he said, turning his milky gaze to her “I’m blind, not stupid” he said gesturing to her thieves pouch “You think I don’t hear the collections you’ve been bringing home Hm” he asked “Or understand that a single bottle of Fion Scathithe can cost more than I could ever hope to earn, let alone a half spawn such as yourself” his words were almost scathing, but not out of hate, almost annoyance, as if he was disappointed Sastasha had even tried to lie to him. The Vulpine ears atop her head sank underneath her hood, Malik smirked “Do not despair Sasha, your secret is safe with me” he cut in before she could leave “In fact, I’m rather impressed with your work, I feel that maybe we could form a” he licked his lips as he held the wine bottle “partnership of sorts”. Sastasha cocked her head, Malik may have been blind, but his intuition, and perception was incredible “Now run along little Sasha” he smirked “I’ll be in touch” he added as he waved Sastasha away, who returned to her room in contemplation, who really was Malik Uredi….

Malik Uredi called Sastasha to his side the next evening, “Follow me” he said simply, as he tapped a cane on the floor, holding an arm out to Sastasha “We’re going on a walk” the aging man mentioned. Almost out of bewilderment, Sastasha looped her arm around his, allowing him to take her through streets, and back alleys, and though Sastasha would never admit it, through areas that even she didn’t know. After an hours walk in relative silence save for the chattering crowds, and tapping of Maliks cane, they arrived in a large graveyard. Malik strode forward, his cane no longer tapping the floor, as if he knew this place from memory, approaching a large stone casket shaped memorial he tapped his cane three times on a central ornament, then another twice, then finally three more times. Nothing happened, Sastasha looked up at him “What are we doi-” a heavy grinding noise sounded, as the caskets lid slid back, revealing a set of dark stairs “Patience my child, patience” Malik chuckled darkly as he lead her down the staircase.

The staircase went down to a tunnel, which was as black as pitch, Sastasha’s eyesight could just make out the walls, and how they twisted, and turned into the depths of the city. Presently, she found the light levels raising, as they entered a large antichamber. Torches burnt brightly in brackets on the walls, and crates, chairs, tables, and benches were placed around giving the place a surprisingly homely touch. A basic bar had been set up, and clustered around it were a group of different figures. Sastasha looked to Malik, who picked up on her confusion “The Jackdaws of Anordal” Malik nodded with a wry smile “A group of like minded men, and women” he mentioned as he pulled her forward “Thieves, pickpockets, burgarlers, and well” he smirked “Criminals”. Sastasha looked upon the diverse group of men, and women who turned to her “Until now, you’ve been nothing but a meer child, dancing through the crowds, swiping scraps, and being nothing more than a minor nuisance” Malik said derisively “But” he added quickly “Under the tutelage of the Jackdaws, I feel we could really make something of you”. Sastasha cocked her head in confusion “Wait, I don’t understa-” Malik sighed, interrupting her “It’s a thievery syndicate” he said testily “One that I believe might be of great benefit to you”. Sastasha nodded slowly, it couldn’t hurt to receive some advice…

Displaying her natural prowess, and potential, Sastasha was a fast learner, devouring any, and all lessons given to her. While her pick pocketing was good, there was always room for improvement Alexi,a red skinned Teifling taught her the finer arts of concealment, and how to slip through crowds undetected. Barouq, a wiry Kenku corrected her stances, and strikes, teaching her how to take care of herself in combat. The minor inconsistencies displayed in her pickpocketing were highlighted by Chenni a particularly deft, and mischievous Halfling. And finally a proficiency in lock breaking, utilising the thieves tools, and secretive thieves cant were taught to her by none other than the blind Malik, who despite his disability, was able to pick locks with the greatest of ease.

Despite balancing chores, her temple duties, and keeping Maugh unaware, Sastasha learnt what would take any ordinary thief years, in just a matter of months, and while Malik was apprehensive to offer her the position as a fully fledged member of the Jackdaws, she was considered an honorary ally, able to use their knowledge, and facilities whenever she saw fit. With these new facilities she had the means to expand her work, no prize too daring for her, the Jackdaws applauding her work. One evening, Sastasha crouched above the city, balancing on a narrow beam, a dark hood, and mask obscuring her features. Tonight wasn’t about her, Malik had made a special request. Housed in a glass cabinet proudly displayed above the dining table of the honourable magistrate Hadvir Angast, was a beautiful sculpture known as the ‘Frozen Flower’ a delicate rose crafted from enchanted ice, that could never melt. Malik wanted to feel the cold ridges, and smooth petals for himself, Sasha wanted a challenge. It was a win, win situation.

With an increased range of skills, and experience, Sastasha slipped into the magistrates house, picking the lock to his cellar. From there she made her way past his scant guardsmen, and into his luxurious dining chamber. Though she longed to take the glinting silverware, or gleaming crystalline glasses, she suppressed her desire, where she rounded the corner, and locked eyes on the glass cabinet, and a young man eagerly reaching inside. Sastasha waited patiently for him to pick up the frozen flower, he was unmasked, and seemed to have no tools on his person, he looked like an amateur. As he turned he saw Sastasha, his face was soft, and if Sastasha had to admit it, he was a rather attractive human. He smiled, almost melting Sastasha’s heart “Ah, how awkward” he said softly, his accent clipped, and clean “I assume you’re looking for this too” he asked, almost politely, as he held out the ornate flower, made out of the cleanest ice Sastasha had ever seen. Unwilling to reveal her voice, she simply nodded, stepped forward, and held out her palm flat, she would give him the choice of handing it over. The blonde retreated “Ah, I do apologise, but it seems I got here first” he continued, the words pouring out in a softly spoken symphony “Maybe next time you might be a little quicker perhaps” he mentioned “If you don’t mind my advice” he added with a half smile as he backed away. This wasn’t the place for games, Sastasha strode forward, stopping suddenly as she felt a crunch under her feet as she trod on a circle of glass that had been cut out of the case. When she looked up, the young man had delicately placed the icy flower between his lips, as he untucked the front of his shirt, loosened his tie, and ruffled his hair into an untidy mess. Sastasha cocked her head, placing a hand on her dagger “I do apologise my dear” he said as he retrieved the rose, wrapping it in a white handkerchief, and placing it in his pocket “But a patsy is exactly what I need” and with that, the young man yelled for the guards, he cried a warning out, which was almost instantly answered by the thudding of heavy boots from the guards at the end of the floor “Farewell” he said with a smirk, as Sastasha spun on her heels, and bolted for the nearby window.

After an hour of running, climbing, dodging, and leaping, Sastasha finally lost her pursuers, she was hot, tired, thirsty, and more ticked off than she’d ever been before. Nobody beat her to the prize like that, and she never came home empty handed. She seethed for another hour before returning to Malik, who seemed rather non fussed with the whole situation. For Sastasha this was the beginning of a long series of run ins with the handsome blonde thief, art seemed to be his particular love, and he forever seemed to be a step ahead of Sastasha. Despite his larceny he never obscured his face, nor did he ever seem to really hide, it was as if he had a natural trustworthiness about him. Every time he beat Sastasha to a prize, or called the guards on her she would seethe, and fume for hours, sometimes days afterwards. On occasion, her escapes were aided by the king of the beggars, who agreed to hide her, always stating she would pay him back in time. On a particularly sunny day, Sastasha found herself in a library in the Whitestone District, picking up a series of books for a deacon who was staying at the Temple. While there, she heard a familiar boyish chuckle. There, at the other end of the library, was the thief that had plagued her every attempt at art theft, but if she could find out who he was, she could find his home, and steal what he had stolen, it would be perfect.

Even with her hood up, people had commented on Sastasha’s soft features, dark silken hair, and fair nature, it would help she was a near natural flirt, and an even better manipulator. She took her time, casually making her way around the library, until she found herself next to the devilishly handsome thief, where she coyly let a book slide off her pile and onto the ground in front of him. As she had predicted, he practically dove on the book in a display of chivalry, and passed it up to her “Be careful my lady, the Wizards here don’t tend to allow rough treatments of the tomes, even by somebody as pretty as yourself” he smiled charmingly. Though Sastasha had expected this, she couldn’t help but be momentarily taken aback by his warming smile, she stammered, and almost forgot her plan “A-ah thank you s-sir” she stuttered as she collected herself “I feel maybe I didn’t have the grip I first thought” she continued, playing the part of a sweet, and innocent maiden “Sorry I didn’t catch your name” she asked with a soft smile. The young man chuckled “That’s alright” he replied “I didn’t tell it to you” he responded slyly before gesturing at the sigil of Selune on her broach “From the Temple on the other side of the Whitestone district” he asked with a raised eyebrow “I suspect you’ll have a carriage waiting outside correct” he added astutely. Sastasha blinked, unwilling to let the act go “Oh, yes” she answered, keeping her cool, despite the anger boiling underneath “Excellent, so how about we check these books out for you, and I’ll help you to your carriage”, he was undeniably sickly sweet…

After checking the books out, and letting the young man guide her to her carriage, he bowed as she climbed in “Charmed to meet you….again” he said with a small smirk “I must say, you are rather pretty without the mask” he purred. Sastasha growled in response as she tightened her hands into fists “Oh come on” he smirked “I could recognise those eyes anywhere” as he took a step back. The carriage began to roll off “Nathaniel” he grinned as he faded into the crowd. Sastasha fumed extra hard that night. The Vulpine girl would not see Nathaniel for some time, her forays didn’t take her back to the art world for a short while, instead she busied herself with her own endeavours. After a few months, Chenni, the halfling girl from the Jackdaws recommended Sasha a job for one of her clients. A Heavantis shipment of finery was due to reach Anordal within the week, and a certain client of Chenni desired an opulent oil canvas aboard the shipment. Eager to impress the Jackdaws, Sastasha snapped up the job. She poured every skill she had at her disposal, casing the airship dock, snatching shipping manifests, and running through a perfect plan of action in her head.

It was late when Sastasha slipped out of the temple, and skulked through the streets to the airship dock, keeping her hooded figure obscured by the crowds, and bustling merchants, until she could find her way up to the dock itself, where she positioned herself in the shadows of the wooden rafters and waited for the ship to arrive. As if by clockwork the Heavantis airship ‘Noctis Opulentos’ drifted silently into its moorings. Sastasha’s movements would need to be precise, and disciplined, very few had managed to successfully steal from one of these ships. She leapt from the rafters onto the ships rigging, and slid down a rope, darting past dock workers, deck hands, and merchants as if she were blinking from shadow, to shadow. Despite the sheer amount of people between her, and her destination, she managed to find her way into the holds of the ship, tracking her progress through the map she had memorised, it had been rather expensive to bribe for that particular piece of information. Before long, she arrived at the cargo compartment she was searching for, there were less people down here at this moment, most of them were further up the ship, unloading the more perishable cargo. With a small struggle, Sastasha picked the lock into the compartment, and began scouring the finery for her prize, she longed to fill her pockets with the shining diamonds, and clear cut emeralds, or the ornate wooden carvings, and brass statues that shined so invitingly, she resisted and stayed on target, a girl such as her could lose her mind with greed in here, and maybe she would have, if Chenni’s client had not promised such a hefty reward. She picked the lock on a large wooden chest, her eyes scanning the ornate frames inside, it was exactly what she was looking for. Getting this painting off the ship was a challenge already, doing it contained in the huge ornamental frame would be nigh impossible, she begrudgingly levered the top panel off the frame, flinching as it splintered away, she could almost hear some distant artisan screaming as she did so. With the cation that one would exhibit while handling a glass butterfly, Sastasha gently slipped the canvas out, it was a gorgeous picture depicting a icy night, and a blood red aurora splitting the sky, it was a rather chilling sight that spread a sense of unease through Sasha, when she had been but a child, she had gazed out her window at the same cosmic pattern, it had become a sort of omen to her. She shook off the notion, and rolled the parchment up, slipping it into a protective tube which was slung over her back.

There was a prick of cold steel against the back of her neck “My, my” an infuriatingly sweet voice crooned “You must be improving, you beat me to this one” Sastasha raised her palms, gritting her teeth as she did so “I must say, I’m impressed, did you really manage to slip down here unnoticed” her rival asked, she should have known such an artistic catch would have attracted him. Sastasha took a breath as she felt his dagger point against the nape of her neck “It took some planning” she admitted “And a fair amount of groundwork, and coin” the raven haired girl added “But I’m good enough to pull it off” Sastasha added with a touch of confidence “And yourself” she asked “You don’t strike me as one to hide in the shadows”. Her rival chuckled “Yes, you’ve got me there” he admitted as he took a step back “Turn to face me, nice and slow” he ordered “Keep your hands where I can see them”. Sastasha complied, locking eyes with his, he was a devilishly handsome young man, and in other circumstances she might find herself quite infatuated with him, unlike her dark, functional clothes, he wore a lavish blue, and gold attire, a long coat with a smart white ruffled neck piece “You’re right” he smiled “I don’t take to the shadows as you do, I prefer a far more direct approach” he lectured, touching the point of the knife to his gloved finger “Nathaniel Kadgar Cradagast” he said, bowing his head softly, never taking his eyes off Sastasha “My father is Eobus Cradagast of the council of free mages, it allows me certain allowances when talking my way into places” he continued “It’s also a perfect shield, not one soul would believe that the son of the great Cradagast would stoop to such debauchery” the blonde chuckled “But, I digress, time is still of the essence” Nathaniel sighed as he stepped forward, pulling Sastasha’s face mask down exposing her fair features “I’d hate to have to hurt you” he whispered “So how about you just hand over the canvas, and I’ll” he paused as he flirtatiously tugged her hood down “O-oh” he breathed, as his eyes gazed at her soft black ears, his stare tracing the frosted white tips. He was distracted for only a split second, but his theatrics had given Sasha the opportunity she needed.

With a sharp thrust, she jabbed her palm upwards into his nose, before bringing the edge of her open palm down on his wrist, knocking the knife from his grip, she spun her body, rolling around him, and bolted for the door, she wasn’t losing her prize to him, not again. Before she could leave the hold however, she felt the air behind her crystallise, and chill. Sastasha threw herself to the side not a moment too soon, as a beam of blue white light shot past her, spidering into frost on the wall ahead of her. Behind her, Nathaniel heald his palm outstretched, a deep blue sigil traced in the air ahead of him, contrasting the crimson trickle of blood from his nose “That was impolite” he smirked “We can of course do this the hard way, it’s been a while since I’ve stretched my magics” He darted forward, Sasha’s hand going for her dagger when he caught her wrist. Her wrist was encompassed by another dark blue sigil, and suddenly began to feel painfully cold, she tugged at her dagger, but it refused to draw, Nathaniel smirked “Frost can make the blade stick” Sastasha pulled back, tearing Nathaniel's hand from her wrist, without a weapon, she couldn’t fight him, so instead, she pulled back and retreated, dancing past another ray of frost as it hurtled towards her. Stealth was no longer an option, she would have to rely on her speed, and agility, she tugged her hood up over her ears, and mask over her face, and sprinted through the holds, spinning around those who got in her way, and dodging past anyone who tried to stop her.

She burst out onto the deck of the airship, there was a single beat of silence as she felt the eyes of every member of the crew upon her, before someone yelled, and all hell broke loose. Dodging just out of the grasp of those around her she ran for the edge of the ship, making a leap of faith through the air, she became very aware of the distance that stretched out below her, and for a second, thought she had made a terrible mistake, before her fingers wrapped around one of the thick mooring ropes that bound ships to the side of the dock. With only seconds to formulate a plan, she gripped with her boots, and gloved hands, this was not going to be an easy escape. Gently loosening her grip, she allowed herself to slide down the rope, picking up speed as she followed the long cable down, and down the outside of the tower, the yells above her being drowned out by the whining of her leathers against the rope, and her nose picked up the smell of burning, and a touch of smoke. Looking over her shoulder, she judged her distance, and tightened her grip with all the strength she could muster. She slowed, the acrid burning smell from her gloves swelling as she ground to a stop several meters off the ground. She dropped from the rope onto a small awning, and rolled off into a crouch on the ground. With legs trembling from the adrenaline, and hands itching from the heat of her gloves she looked up at the docked ship, she had just pulled off the ultimate job.

Not eager to hang around she dropped her mask, and headed in the direction of the Jackdaws hideout, only when she reached sanctuary would she feel that the task had been completed. It was late, the streets were empty, and Heavantis would never admit something had been taken from them, and yet something felt off? A noise emanated from behind her, she only caught it because of the astute hearing of her ears, it sounded like metal being drawn from a sheath, she spun around, too late as a there was a sharp rending pain in her side that drove the breath from her lungs. She struggled against her attacker, pulling away with the blade still jutting from her, out of the corner of her eye she saw her assailant, a bizarley well dressed Tabaxi, with a delicate white mask over his eyes. Sastasha turned and ran, each step forcing more breath from her lungs, in her hobbled state, she was unable to move too fast. She was very aware of her assailant, he wasn’t pressing the attack any further, rather he was following, keeping pace a few meters behind her as she ran. She kept her pace for fifteen minutes, before a combination of shock, tiredness, and blood loss brought her to the floor in a dusty alleyway. Try as she might, she couldn’t bring herself to her feet, nor could she even begin to drag herself away, she was at her attackers mercy. Her attacker crouched next to her, a long, jagged dagger in his left hand “Forfeit your stolen property” he said emotionlessly as he held an outstretched palm towards Sastasha, she didn’t respond, rather she clutched the tube tightly in her hands as she bled freely onto the floor, the thick crimson liquid filling the cracks in the stone around her. Her attacker sighed “Now” he growled as he forcefully pulled the tube away from Sastasha. Until now, she hadn’t realised her strength leaving her, but as her well dressed assailant took the tube away from her with no resistance, the severity of her situation began to dawn on her.

A voice rang out from behind her assailant “What’s going on here”, both Sastasha, and the agent of Heavantis turned to the source of the voice, it was Nathaniel, the agent stowed his blade “By order of the merchant republic of Heaveantis, stolen goods were reclaimed” he said confidently “Find this citizen a doctor, my business is done with them”. Nathaniel smiled warmley “Of course sir, I congratulate your ability to dispense justice” the blonde continued charismatically as he shook the agents hand. There was a soft glow of rosy pink light from his hand, as a sigil enveloped his glove, traveling up the agents arm “Would you like me to hold that while you clean your blade” he asked warmly. The agent nodded with an odd familiarity, and handed over the tube willingly before setting to work cleaning Sastasha’s blood of his jagged dagger. Sasha looked up at Nathaniel as he looped the strap of the tube over his shoulder, he mouthed a soft apology to Sasha, before turning on his heal and calmly walking away. A span of five minutes passed before the agent looked up, he paused for a second before cursing in a foreign language, and bolting in the direction of Nathaniel, Sastasha was alone...

She tried to pull herself to her feet, but she was far too weak to do so, collapsing she felt her eyes close, she was dying here, in some alley way, she couldn’t help but think of Maugh, he would never know what happened to her… As she lay shivering on the floor, she became aware of a being nearby, she was too weak to look up, or resist when the figure lay a hand on her, checking her over, and pulling her hood down, she felt him pause before drawing her close, she tried to pull away, but there was something about him, his smell was almost familiar, safe, instead of pulling away, she huddled closer to him, letting him pick her up and move her. She was only dimly aware of the events that followed, she knew she was taken somewhere, she could feel someone patch up her wound, and was aware she was being taken care of. She finally got the strength to open her eyes and look around one morning, she was in a humble room, the bed was comfortable, and several candles kept the room warm, and light. She winced as she pulled herself to her feet, she wasn’t wearing her clothes, instead she was wearing a pair of surprisingly soft pajamas. Sastasha instantly became paranoid, she had no idea where she was, and whoever she was with had clearly undressed her which meant! She turned to a long mirror on the wall and looked at herself, her ears were on display atop her head, and to her horror her vulpine tail was hanging from behind her, whoever’s home she was staying in, knew about her more bestial aspects…

Sastasha paused and considered escaping via a window, but her belongings were missing, her leathers, equipment, and her dagger, and there was no way she was leaving without it. She tried the door, locked. Sasha returned to the bed and sat down trying to plan her next move. A short while later, she heard a key turn in the door, she stood and prepared for anything, however, she never could have truly prepared for what came through the door.

Standing in front of her, was a young male, a similar in height to her, his features were sharp, and he had a single small scar across his left cheek. However the most striking feature about him lay atop his head, he too was adorned with a pair of silken vulpine ears of midnight black, frosted with white. Sasha was taken aback, she paced around him taking in every detail, from the tip of his ears to the base of his, yes, he too had a dark tail “W-who are you” she muttered quietly, his scent was the same as the scent of the man who had saved her. The two stared at each other, each nearly as taken aback as the other, Sasha noticed his weapon, a dark hilted Kukri, it’s sheath inscribed with a similar set of markings as hers. The male nodded “Calcifer” he replied simply as now he paced around her “I feel like I know you” he added “Your name” the raven haired boy asked. “Sastasha” she responded “I feel I know you too, you’re familiar, but I’ve never met anyone like me” she responded, gesturing to the ears atop her head. Sasha paused “Where am I” she asked “And how long have I been here”, Calcifer paused for a second “You’re in the ‘Whitestone Ash’ Tavern, and you’ve been here” he mulled the answer over “Two days, you heal quickly” he remarked with a smile. Sastasha nodded “And my things” she accused, Calcifer held his hands up “Okrid took them, he said they needed a wash, and that we probably shouldn’t leave you with a weapon when you woke up” Sastasha cocked her head “Oh er, Okrid is my dad” he explained “Adopted, not by birth, he’s nice” the young man added with a smile. Sastasha nodded, relaxing a little, Calcifer seemed trustworthy after all.

Sasha’s gear was returned to her by a large half orc, she was told she was welcome any time. Neither Okrid, nor his Tiefling wife Astrid questioned her on the events leading up to her injury, they were just glad she was safe. When she arrived back at the abbey, she told Maugh about who she had met, casually leaving out her injury, theft, and near death experience. Initially she was unwilling to pry any further, it was in fact Maugh who pushed her to visit Calcifer once more. Over the course of the next few days Sastasha spent a lot of time at the Whitestone Ash, talking to Calcifer, and his adopted parents, it was only a matter of hours however that she made her biggest discovery. Calcifer was left in the Whitestone Ash, much as Sastasha had been left at the temple of Selune, and to make matters even more interesting, as well as a matching dagger, he was also left with a near identical note to her. Sastasha compared the note to hers “Calcifer Leveileur Demanx” she whispered, Calcifer’s cheeks glowed red “Ah yeah, I’ve always hated that surname” he admitted. Sastasha nodded, smiling as she suppressed the urge to cry “Yeah me too” for the first time since she and Maugh had shared the sight of the moon rising in their room together, she had found family.

Sastasha, and Calcifer became almost as firm friends as Sasha, and Maugh. Sastasha would explore the city with her brother whenever Maugh was otherwise indisposed with the various duties a paladin in training was tasked with. When Maugh was available, the three misfits would wander the streets, and markets, or simply relax at the Whitestone Ash, where they got to know Okrid, and Astrid. Both Sasha, and Maugh had never felt so popular. Sastasha even shared her more criminal secrets with Calcifer, spinning him long tales of intrigue, daring escapes, and fine thefts. Calcifer lay hooked on every word. Like Sastasha, Calcifer also found comfort in a less than legal profession. While he wouldn’t share much with his sister, it seemed he had found his calling as a state appointed Assassin. Sasha knew they had existed, but never truly believed they were active. Like finger, and thumb, the two grew closer, and closer, more than making up for lost time. Soon they began to include one another in their respective professions. When Calcifer needed a particularly difficult lock cracked, or someone to help him slip past watchful eyes, he would call upon Sastasha. Likewise, if Sasha simply needed somebody to watch her back, or to give her aid with a tough series of guards, she wouldn’t hesitate to enlist Calcifer in her activities. The pair swept across the city, no lock too tight, no patrol too tough. They felt invincible.

It was after one of these successful team ups, that both Calcifer, and Sastasha sat on a balcony, legs dangling above the city, that the pair found themselves talking about a future. Sastasha didn’t want to spend her life living amongst the thinly labeled prejudices of the temple of Selune, and Calcifer, as much as he loved Okrid, and Astrid, didn’t want to constantly live under their feet. So they talked. What if they...acquired, the funds to purchase their own place, where they could make the rules, Sastasha even suggested opening the idea to Maugh, three oddities who could live under the same roof, in a place they could all call home, Calcifer himself admitted interest in opening a tavern of his own. Over the course of the night, what started as a distant fantasy, began to seem more, and more a reality as they talked about it, all they would need, was money, and if there were two people in the city that could obtain a vast quantity of money, in a short time. It was them.

As well as being a hub for mages, Anordal boasted a hefty population of merchants, hundreds of stalls, and shops littered the markets, and all of those needed places to keep their money. The Vidulum was a large compound of storage rooms, and safes designed for that purpose. The plan was simple, break in, steal the money they needed, and escape via the sewer tunnels. It wouldn’t be the hardest job they had pulled, but it would require complete synergy on their part.

So, on a moonlit night, the two fox children skipped across rooftops, and slid down drain pipes, until they made their way to the Vidulum. Slipping in through the shadows they set to work, Sasha picking the locks, and Calcifer watching her back, as well as holding the gold. They were smart, taking only a skimming from each vault, as opposed to a large take from one, this way, each Merchant would only record a loss of a few gold pieces, enough to be written off as an accounting mistake. The pair went undiscovered until closing the final vault, when a Merchant, and his retinue made an unexpected visit to the Vidulum. Both parties stared at each other for a second, before chaos erupted. Arrows flew, and shouts of alarm were sounded, Calcifer grabbed his sister and pulled her towards their escape route. They climbed over the wall of the Vidulum, and dropped into the streets, the eyes of the night markets all on them. There was no time to lose, they darted forward, and dropped through a hole into the sewer tunnels, feet pounding, echoing against the stone walls as they ran through the maze of tunnels, they couldn’t help but laugh as they ran, they were almost home free. The end of the tunnel opened up to a five meter drop into a deep canal, Sastasha leapt, barley breaking her stride as she crossed the waters, and landed on the other side with a smart roll. That was when she heard a large splash behind her. She spun on one heel, only ripples decorated the water's surface. In the early dawns light, everything was silent.

The next month dragged for Sastasha, and she was only dimly aware of the proceedings. She had sat by the waters edge, shivering for quite some time, before Maugh tracked her down, she knew Maugh had entered the water, and recovered the still form of Calcifer, wrapping him in a cloak. It was funny, he almost looked as if he was just sleeping… Sasha was taken home by Martin, a squire of Maughs, while Maugh broke the news to Okrid, and Astrid. To this day they refuse to blame Sastasha for what happened, but the guilt gnawing at Sasha refuses to die. Maugh also returned the gold to the Vidulum, stating he’d simply found it, and heard the news it had been stolen. The only thing Sasha was left with, was the dark kukri dagger, now the soul owner she had lost the only blood family she ever knew, Sasha lived in a haze, it would be quite some time before she picked herself out of it.

A year later, Sastasha was almost back to her old self, besides private moments in the corners of her own mind, where guilt, and sadness still bit at her thoughts, she was once again smiling, joking, and socialising with Maugh, on the odd occasions they found themselves at the Whitestone Ash she would take some coaxing to come out of her shell, but Okrid, and Astrid were still as welcoming as ever. During one of her excursions with Maugh, to preach the word of Selune at the main entrance to the city, Sastasha met a most peculiar fellow. He wasn’t dressed like the others who milled through the gates, rather he wore a strange attire, that while seeming functional, and protective, had the appearance of something formal. He stopped to listen to Maugh for a short while. This wasn’t the first time Maugh had been sent to speak the word of their Goddess, and it wasn’t the first time Maugh had drawn a small crowd, if only for those in the crowd to stare at his unique form. As Maugh preached, Sastasha carried out various rituals, and blessings, spreading salt, handing out moon lilies, and the like. When she reached the well dressed stranger, he gently took a lilly from her basket, and smiled in thanks. His smile near melted Sastasha, smiles from handsome men had long been her weakness, and this new figure was unknowingly exploiting that.

After Maugh’s sermon had finished, the stranger waited behind until the crowd of gawking onlookers had dispersed, Sasha saw him approach and mutter some words to Maugh, it always put her on edge watching people approach the giant Lizard man, but both seemed happy, The stranger even shook Maugh’s hand before leaving. Sastasha was captivated, nobody had ever reacted so, well, kindly to Maugh before. As the man walked past she bumped into him, he turned to face her “My apologies” he said in a foreign accent, Sastasha bowed her head “No sir, my apologies, I must have let my mind wander” the man smiled again and Sastasha had to hold herself up, before excusing himself and turning to leave. Sasha stood next to Maugh “Hey big guy” she mentioned, staring after the man “Who was he” the raven haired girl asked. Maugh shrugged “Just a member of the crowd, wanted to thank me for the Sermon” he hissed. Sasha nodded “Hm” she muttered, casually opening her hand and dropping a silver pocket watch onto the floor subtly “Hey” she asked bending down, making a show of picking it up “Did he leave this behind” she asked. Maugh raised a scaly eyebrow at her, they’d known each other a long time, and it was hard to pull a fast one on him, Sasha smirked “I guess I’ll go return it….see you back at the Temple” she chirped before slipping off into the crowd after the mysterious man.

She dashed past merchants, and between families of travellers before finding the man, and falling into line a few meters behind him, she followed with inquisitive steps as he turned off the main road, and into a side street. Without such a crowd around him she might actually get a chance to talk to him “Hey” she called out as she jogged up to him, the man turned around, a thick head of red hair atop his head, the fringe falling over his eyes “Oh, from the entrance right” he asked as she came to a stop “Yeah” Sastasha replied “You dropped this” she said proudly holding the pocket watch out to him. The man paused for a second, taking it from her hand “Curious” he muttered “I dropped it you say” the red head added, a touch of disbelief to his voice, Sasha nodded “yeah, I thought I’d get it back to yo-” the man cut in “It was clasped quite firmly to my inner pocket you see” he said simply “Are you sure it didn’t find its way into your possession when you bumped into me” he asked knowingly. Sasha’s breath caught in her throat, she was sure she’d been more careful than that, her deft fingers had never got her caught before. The man continued “Though it’s strange, if you took it from me, why would you rush to return it, were you planning on me offering a reward” he asked “The watch itself would sell for a high price as it is” the man folded his arms “No, you’re smarter than that I feel” he rationalised as he looked her over “Which means you knew what you were doing, but just didn’t expect me to realise” he frowned “Though I must say your end is rather obscure to me, what was your goal here”. Sastasha blinked, almost letting the warmth of a blush spill onto her cheeks “well you know” she stammered, excuses flying through her mind “You were just very nice to Maugh, and I wanted to” she paused letting the words form in her head “Thank you for it” she finished. The man chuckled “So you stole my watch” he asked with disbelief “That seems rather backwards”, Sastasha coughed “Look clearly it didn’t work out the way I thought it would so, I guess I’ll take my leave”. The man shook his head “No come on, you’ve got this far, Maugh” he mentioned, rolling the name around his tongue as if sampling a fine wine “Interesting, so that would make you Sastasha then right” he asked. Sastasha took a step back “You’ve heard of me” she asked a with a small touch of accusation to her voice. The man shook his head and smiled “No, no, should I have” he asked with a raised eyebrow “It’s your necklace” he said, pointing at the flint stone just poking out of her top “It has your name on it right” he asked, gently taking the flint pendent in his hand. Sastasha smiled softly “You can read it” she asked, her interest growing with each word, “So you know my name, what do I call you” she asked. The man responded in kind “Sahelanthropus of Kynesgrove” Sastasha blinked twice, the name near flying completely over her head “Sa-ha-lan” she frowned, messing up the name. Sahelanthropus gave a boyish chuckle “Maybe I could teach you the pronunciation over dinner” he asked casually “It would give you a chance to apologise for taking my watch” he added slipping the silver watch into his pocket “How about I meet you at the Temple early evening” he asked. Sastasha stammered a yes as Sahelanthropus turned on his heel “Excellent, I’ll see you then” he called over his shoulder, as he strode off down the street.

Sastasha had been on dates before, she’d even had a couple of short relationships before, it was amazing how quickly people forget their prejudices around a pretty girl. As a daughter of the temple, she wasn’t strictly supposed to behave in such a way, but they way she saw it, if Salune had a problem with it, she was bound to let her know...right? She bid farewell to Maugh, who had playfully teased her about her upcoming date all evening, as she had thought earlier, it was hard to keep things from him. Sahelanthropus awaited Sastasha across the street from the Temple, wearing a fine long coat, boots, and smart scarf, he was dressed far more finely than Sastasha, who was in what she considered her ‘best’ clothes, a White set of clothing with gold buckles, and a red trim, officially it was supposed to be her temple duties attire, for use during the sermons, and rituals inside the Temple, and it’s grounds. However a previous fling had remarked how good it looked on her, and sealed it’s fate as her go to date wear. To say her and Sahelanthropus hit it off would be an understatement, she hung off his every word, and story, enamored by the tapestries of adventure he spun with his words, he was well travelled to say the least, and Sasha found herself asking questions on every city, and every land he talked of, he explained the thin air of Heavantis, and the strange warmth of Catedrala with such detail, the vulpine girl could almost feel herself walking the streets of these strange places. She had been afraid her own stories couldn’t possible match up, but Sahelanthropus was more than interested enough in her Temple duties, her relationship with Maugh, and what she busied herself with in her day, to day life, even though Sastasha kept the more illegal activities she partook in secret, she still found the red head enamoured by every word.

When their dinner had finished, Sahelanthropus refused to let Sasha pay, despite the fact it was supposed to be an apology for the light theft of earlier “So” Sasha said, rocking back, and forth on her heels as they stood in the chilly night air “Will I see you again” she asked with a playful smirk. The red head mulled it over, rubbing his dark chin “Well” he paused “I suppose you managed to keep your fingers to yourself this time” he muttered with a teasing tone “And you enjoyed yourself” Sasha pointed out, almost impatiently. The finely dressed man chuckled “And I did enjoy myself” he repeated “Alright, I’ll meet with you again” he said “Well Sastasha Leveilleur Demanx” he said with perfect diction, causing a small shudder of disgust from Sastasha “I’ll be seeing you soon” he said with a more than perfect smile.

Sastasha, and Sahelanthropus met several more times after that, relishing each others company, it was a near seamless transition into a deeper relationship, and though it wasn’t the first romance Sastasha had experienced, it was the best. Sastasha introduced Sahelanthropus to Maugh, and in turn to Okrid, and Astrid when the three of them visited the Whitestone Ash, Maugh, Okrid, and Astrid all teased Sastasha in a playful family kind of way, Maugh never letting the jokes grow old. Both Sastasha, and Sahelanthropus were seemingly made for each other, and even when Sahelanthropus took his frequent excursions out of the town for what he called ‘business trips’, when they reunited they would more than make up for lost time.

The pair had been together for three months now, and on occasion Sahelanthropus would take Sastasha on short excursions, be it a night in an Inn in another town, or just a wander through the plains, and forests. While Sastasha had always been warned not to stray too far from the city walls for fear of beasts of the wilds, she had previously accompanied Maugh on some of his jobs in the nearby towns, regardless however, Sahelanthropus promised himself a capable fighter, and vowed to protect Sastasha should she need it, and despite the fact Sasha was positive she’d never seen Sahelanthropus draw the ornate rapier on his hip, she was more than willing to let him offer to be her proverbial knight in shining armour. On a particularly mild day, Sasha found herself wandering through one of the many forests around Anordal with Sahelanthropus, it had started like any other walk, although Sastasha felt them going deeper into the forest then they had before “Should we go this deep” she asked, doubt in her voice, Sahelanthropus paused, almost conflicted “You know” he said quietly “You’re right, how foolish of me, come let’s return to th-” Sastasha cut him off, pressing a finger to his lips “Shh” she hushed sharply, her ears twitching freely, after all Sahelanthropus had seen more than just her head, it seemed silly to keep things obscured from him. As her ears honed in on a noise emanating around them, her eyes widened “Duck” she yelped as she pulled Sahelanthropus down on top of her, as she did a man sized serpent struck out, it’s jaws closing around the space where Sahelanthropus had been not two moments ago. Like a bolt of lightning Sahelanthropus drew the fine silver blade from its sheath and stabbed upwards, piercing the serpent through its mouth, the reptile recoiled, dragging the sword, and redhead with it, deeper into the forest.

Sastasha leapt to her feet and took off after him, she had never heard of Serpent’s in these forests, the northern lands were supposed to be too cold, it was a miracle that Maugh was so comfortable up here. She drew her twin blades and slashed through the dense trees, her ears swiveling atop her head as she chased the noise of combat ahead of her. She burst into a clearing in time to see a second serpent wrap itself around Sahelanthropus, she plunged her daggers into the back of it’s head without hesitation, twisting, and tearing them out as she felt it’s body shiver, and twist beneath her. Sahelanthropus rolled out from beneath its body “You should leave” he growled defensively as he slashed out at a third Serpent, it’s body a sickly gray blue “Run the way we came in, I’ll hold them off”, Sastasha huffed as she pulled him backwards, out of the way of a fourth Serpent, they seemed hell bent on targeting him “No way” she protested, “I just cut you out from under one of those things” the raven haired girl growled as she twisted around him, covering his offhand side with her daggers “I’m not leaving you here to become snake food”. Sasha heard a chuckle leave Salhelanthropus’s lips “I knew there was a reason I kept you around” he muttered.

The pair fought hard against the Serpents as they coiled, and twisted maliciously, at first they strangely seemed to focus Sahelanthropus, practically ignoring her to snap, and lash out at him, however once she felled another Serpent, they began to attack at her too, trying to drive themselves between the pair, and separate them. After what felt like an eternity the tide of serpents stopped, their sickly bodies fizzling into the ground as if someone had doused them in acid. Sasha panted heavily “Now, let’s get away from he-” Sahelanthropus held a hand up, he was almost unnervingly collected, had Sasha not seen it herself, she never would have believed he had fought as hard as ten men only moments ago, his gaze was fixed on a shadowed patch of trees not far from them, maybe fifty meters in front, she slowly turned, and followed his gaze, her darkvision kicking in, what she saw caused a shaky exclamation of fear to leave her throat. Waiting, no, watching, only two meters behind the shadow of the trees, was the head of an enormous Serpent, vicious red in colour, with eyes like daggers, Sasha could feel them upon her, hungrily staring, it slowly began to move forward, slithering it’s massive girth through the tree’s. Sastasha turned to run, but Sahelanthropus caught her wrist “Don’t” he snapped “If you run I can’t protect you from her”. Sasha looked up at his, eyes wide with fear “H-her” she stammered. Sahelanthropus nodded “I’ve not been strictly truthful with you Sastasha” he said with a look of determination “You asked why I came to Anordal so long ago”, Sasha pulled against him as the titanic beast crested the treeline and glared angrily at them, a tongue bigger than her tasting the air, tasting her fear “Truth be told” Sahelanthropus said, his cold voice calming her, she loved the sound of his voice “I was hunting her” he nodded towards the beast as it coiled itself, why wouldn’t it attack? It seemed almost apprehensive “Andskoti” he growled at the Serpent in a foreign tongue. The serpent hissed something in return. Sahelanthropus turned to Sastasha, and took her face gently in his hands “Listen to me” he said sweetly “No matter what you see, I’m still me, I’ll explain everything to you in time, but for now I need you not to run, no matter what, I cannot protect you if you leave me” he said hurriedly “Wh-whu” Sasha tried to question, but her worries were cut off when Sahelanthropus leaned into her, and kissed her on the lips, a long, lingering kiss that seemed to stretch for eternity “I’ve got you” he whispered as he pulled away.

Sahelanthropus turned, a silver glow to his body, he yelled something in an odd language, sounding similar to both a hiss, and the noise one makes when one clears their throat. It was familiar, in fact Sasha was sure she had heard Maugh speak such words. However before she could rationalise the language longer, Sahelanthropus began to change in front of her eyes, his very form changing as silvery clouds steamed from his body, frosting the ground beneath him, his size more than tripled, a long thick tail began to stretch out behind him, vast wings sprouting from his back, he tipped his head back and yelled, but the roar of thunderous clouds echoed from his mouth, as his head shifted into a predatory jaw full of knife length teeth. Sahelanthropus was no mere man anymore, what stood in front of Sastasha, on four muscular legs, was a Dragon of brilliant shining silver.

Dragon and Serpent roared and clashed against each other, their blows shaking the ground beneath Sasha’s feet, she was so awestruck with the sight, she couldn’t have ran if she wanted to. The two titanic creatures tore trees from their roots, and dealt rending blows to each other. Sastasha’s breath caught in her throat as the serpent wrapped itself around the dragon, tighter, and tighter as it tried to crush the beast between it’s coils. Suddenly, the dragons freed its front claws, and drove them deep into the serpents eyes. There was a screech of pain, before the dragon pulled the beasts mouth wide open with a sickening crunch, leaning down it roared a roar of pure icy cold down the serpents gullet. The serpent thrashed, before finally settling, exhuming its last breath, before clashing to the floor, and melting away into nothing…

Sasha sat in shock as the mighty dragon stared down at her, after an eternity she swallowed and looked up at it “Y-y-your Sal” she asked timidly. The dragon nodded before speaking with surprising softness, it’s voice was different to Salhelanthropus’s, and yet so similar “yes” the Dragon said “It’s still me”. Sasha nodded and gently reached out to touch him, his scales were smooth, and shiny, like pearls in a jewelry box “are you afraid” the Dragon asked, Sasha nodded “Yeah” she chuckled in shock “You’re terrifying” she muttered with uncertainty as she looked across the injuries that marked the silver scales, years, upon years of scars, each no doubt telling a story of battle, and triumph, including one particularly large scar noting a heavy puncture wound of old in the side of his neck “Are you hurt” she asked, the Dragon shook it’s huge head “Of course not, My strength is unwavering” Sasha knew he was lying out of pride “I-I didn’t think so” she recovered “Can you” she paused “Change back” the vulpine girl asked looking up at him. With the reverse of before, his body began to change back, his wings folding up, and becoming the long tails of his coat, and his claws shifting into the silvered blade of his dagger.

Despite this rather grand secret, Sastasha, and Sahelanthropus stayed together, it definitely took some adjusting, but the pair were open with each other. With this openness came honesty. Sahelanthropus confessed that while he would never tell Sasha what to do, he had never been comfortable with her thieving nature. In the next few months, Sahelanthropus began to take more frequent, and longer business trips, instead of days, he would be gone weeks, often with little notice to Sastasha. On one occasion in particular, he missed a dinner the two had planned for some time, when he returned, he had seemingly forgot all about it. The relationship began to strain, and it was Sastasha who broke first, she had noticed Sahelanthropus growing more, and more distant from her, and confronted him. Sahelanthropus, infuriatingly didn’t see the issue, as far as he was concerned, his duties to justice, and peace came before anything, and like many Dragons, he was never going to stay rooted to one place. Sastasha argued with him, souring the night they had planned somewhat, until he interrupted her. “Sastasha” he said firmly “I’m a Silver Dragon, my priority will always be my duty” the red head frowned “And those duties will take me away from this city” he continued “I can’t promise to be here every night, or ready to drop everything for you” there was a touch of wisened understanding to his voice. As he went to explain further Sastasha held up a hand “I” she paused, gathering the words “I won’t be an anchor to you” she murmured as she began to see the bigger picture. She was a young thief of indeterminate species, he was a Silver Dragon, defender of peace, justice, and law, more than twenty times older than her. It was never going to be a permanent relationship.

Sastasha heald a lot of unfair resentment towards Sahelanthropus for some time, despite their surprisingly mature, and good natured breakup. They had promised each other to remain firm friends, and if they were ever in the same place, at the same time? Who knows. In a short time, Sastasha forgot her resentment, and once again remembered Sahelanthropus as fondly as she had when she first met him. For now however, she lives in the present, the only things on her mind are Maugh, and her own well being, the thrill of the next theft, and whatever handsome smile catches her eye.

#dungeons and dragons #character bio #creative writing #rogue #kitsune

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luminous--dreamer · 4 years

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Top 20 of 2020

s this year began to unfold I wondered if I would be able to come up with amazing things that happened at the end of the year, or if I should just give up and call it a wash. It has been the most heart breaking, difficult year I can remember, with one blow after another, but instead of letting ourselves sink into the pain that we experienced, as a little family we decided to rise above our circumstances and look at the brighter happier blessings we did in fact receive. So with 2020 coming to an end, we are choosing to release those harder aspects of the year and hold on to the beautiful parts.

1. Jamaica

We were so lucky to enjoy an absolutely blissful week in Montego Bay, Jamaica. The most relaxing and peaceful vacation of all times. We saw sights, swam and swam (with dolphins!), read lots of books and fully re-charged. We’ve held on to these warm memories throughout the year and let the caribbean sunshine continue to warm our hearts. As we flew out of Jamaica an earthquake shook the ground, sending everyone at home into a panic. Luckily for us, we flew out safely and happily. Haha maybe it was a sign for the year to come!

2. Maple Syrup

While everything is frozen around us, in a cold Canadian winter, a bright spot for us is making maple syrup. Chris and Bobae spend hours outside collecting sap and boiling it down to create the glorious liquid gold. There is nothing like pouring maple syrup from our own trees onto fresh pancakes. Sitting around the fire with a the sweet smell of syrup wafting in the air is pure winter/spring happiness.

3. We planted a garden!

This year we planted a garden. It grew and grew until it didn’t. It was a really dry year, and our sad little garden didn’t quite make it. We did get 2 beans and a handful of tomatoes so we will call that a success and a learning year. Chris and Bobae built garden beds which made caring for the garden much easier. We will hope for more rain next year and try again!

4. Playhouse

Chris built Bobae a beautiful playhouse. I drew a picture of what I wanted it to look like and he made it happen (!!). Bobae helped a bit with each step and the final product is a magical little oasis!

5. Work + School From Home

When the pandemic reached our area, we switched to school and work from home. I had a lot of mixed feelings, worrying that I was letting every one down switching to a home office for a few weeks. I worried and fretted and felt a sadness that I didn’t feel safe or confident to come to the office but made the decision to switch to at home work until things stabilized, feeling like I had disappointed.. who?.. I’m not sure.. I guess.. everyone. I worried that some were left in the office potentially exposed, working hard and picking up slack or jobs I couldn’t do from home (answer the phone, etc). I missed the daily chatting with co-workers and the ease of a fully equipped office, but found such a sense of peace being home with my family. Safe, sheltered and together. I desperately needed to unplug from the world, that’s what my soul truly needed. In my life I never would have had a chance to stay home that long. Ever. And as an introvert, that space and time away from every one and every thing, was a blessing that I will forever be grateful for.

6. Campfires at Home

When it became apparent we would need to stay home for a long time, we made the decision to take our home off the market and commit to staying in our current location for a few years. With that decision made, we settled in and enjoyed many warm evenings around the campfire in our backyard, roasting marshmallows and hot dogs, lighting sparklers, watching flames, making wishes, and eventually boiling cobs of corn. There is no better place to be on warm summer and fall evenings.

7. Tree Climbing

This was the summer to learn to climb “the tree”. We have a lot of trees, but there is one large maple tree in particular that seems to beckon everyone. It’s large, welcoming and beautiful. Sine we were spending hours and hours in our back yard working, playing, doing school and relaxing, Bobae decided she wanted to learn to climb it. It started out with many attempts, getting stuck, getting up but not getting down until one day it clicked. We couldn’t keep her out of the tree. Any friends that visited would immediately go with her to climb the tree.

8. Bobae’s 9th Birthday

Bobae turned 9 during the pandemic. In lieu of her usual big birthday party we had a small gathering at home. The weather was beautiful and the kids enjoyed a mostly outside party. Bobae’s only request was a pinata, which we tied to her tree.

9. The Haircuts

Chris needed a haircut. Hair shops were closed. GUESS WHAT HAPPENED! I got to cut his hair! It started out rough when I tried to use scissors. Which resulted in some unsightly bald spots, especially around the ears. We moved on to a set of clippers and that’s where the fun began. The amount of pleasure and satisfaction I find in cutting his hair is unparallelled. I love it. I love it so much. He’s agreed to let me continue cutting his hair forever. We even let Bobae give it a try. Bobae and I also cut our long hair short. I was terrified to let her cut her beautiful hair but she was so very happy!

10. Grand Manan

Since we couldn’t leave the province (and really didn’t want to), we decided to take a vacation to a place I had wanted to visit for 30 years. Grand Manan. A remote fishing island off the coast of New Brunswick, where my grade 1 teacher grew up. She told us stories of her childhood and I dreamed that some day I would visit. It did not disappoint. We enjoyed an amazing few days, soaking in every drop sea water, fresh breeze and peacefulness. I am so very happy we decided to take this trip and we are looking forward to visiting again.

11. Saint Andrew’s Girls Trip

This year, the work girls took a trip to Saint Andrews. We are so lucky to have such an amazing group of women working together, who really enjoy each other’s company. We could stop thinking about work for a while and really relax into a much much needed mini break. We ate delicious foods, shopped the boutiques and saw minke whales on a whale watching expedition.

12. Kombucha Production

We learned to make Kombucha! Our pilates instructor Hannah supplied us with a mother and at work we learned to ferment, bottle and enjoy this probiotic drink. We felt very accomplished.

13. Book Club

I’ve always wanted to be in a book club. But I’ve never really had a group of people to book club with. This year, my pilates instructor Hannah invited me to join her book club. I was so nervous. Scared. Terrified. How could I go to a place with people I didn’t know? How could I drive there and back myself? How could I be brave? I’m not someone who can go places.. make friends..

On the first night of book club, we arrived at Andrea’s home, to a room full of strangers. I was terrified and out of my comfort zone. But from the first minute, I had a happy happy feeling in my heart. I was so happy. I felt like I had found my people. I felt like I was in a movie! Plants all around the room, snacks, welcoming faces, and conversations about books. I left that evening feeling like it had been a dream. I was finally in a book club. As the year has gone on, these strangers have become dear and loving friends, supporting each other through so much more than books. Women who welcomed this introvert gladly into their inner circle. And for that, I am so grateful.

14. The Year of Friends

I didn’t think I could have friends. I thought that adults can’t make new friends. If they aren’t your childhood friends, they couldn’t possibly be real friends. I didn’t have time for friends. I didn’t have enough mental space left in my heart for real, in person, friends. Guess what? That was all wrong. It started with Ashley, and extrovert who loves people. She wanted to be my friend and I couldn’t understand why! But I finally decided to accept friendship and from there on my life has been enriched. Ashley introduced my to another friend, Dee. Together we made a pact to share something we are grateful for each day. It was hard a first, scraping up items from otherwise bleak days, but as time went on, our lists grew longer and brighter. We’ve had times where we miss a few days, and I always notice that those days don’t feel as happy as the days we actually make an effort to dig deep and create the list.

I’m so grateful for those friendships, as well as the friendship from Hannah and the other book club members. I’m shocked. Honestly, I can’t believe that it’s true you can make real friends as an adult. I needed extra support this year, and it took me a while to understand when my friends really cared, and wanted to listen and support me. It was not easy to believe them, that it was okay to tell them my troubles. The gratitude I feel for you, my friends, is infinite.

15 Renovation

We did a renovation! Since we decided to stay in our home, we made plans for a renovation. Phase one is complete now, we opened up the kitchen, changed countertops, smooth the popcorn ceilings, built a fireplace unit, and changed the flooring throughout. Phase 2 to start next week is adding a master suite with a walk in closet and SOAKER TUB! And renovating the current bathroom.

16. Anniversary Trip

We celebrated our two year wedding anniversary in September and decided to splurge and spend the night at the beautiful Algonquin Resort. I have never stayed there and always considered it out of my price range, but there was a good deal and we booked it. It was so fun! It’s been a long time since we had that time alone and we really really enjoyed it. We ate delicious foods, shopped for antiques, and enjoyed quiet drives and sight seeing.

17. Halloween Parties

Restrictions lifted and our province was doing really well with no new cases. We’ve always wanted to have a Halloween party but never really committed to it. We decided to go all out, bought boxes and boxes of decorations from a marketplace post and got to work. We decked out the garage with everything imaginable, and a smoke machine, making everything super creepy. They loved it! On the actual day of Halloween, I embraced my “Year of Friendship” and had a full moon witches party. It was SO FUN. We all dressed as witches, talked about creepy things, did oracle card readings and a full moon ceremony outside. All of my heart’s desires were fulfilled.

18. Blossom & Boo Arrived!

We lost our Mystique this year, and she left a large space in our hearts to fill. We adopted Boo, a scary sweet black cat from the Debec animal shelter and also welcomed Blossom, a baby goldendoodle pup. It’s a busy busy place at our house now!

19. A Real Christmas Tree

Chris has been wanting a real Christmas tree for years and I have resisted. The maintenance, the mess, the worry.. But this year I decided we could get a real tree, IF we left it out on the porch and decorated it there. We drove to the tree lot and the magic of the place was so strong! I felt so happy. We picked the perfect tree and brought it home. There was no way I could leave that tree outside. It grew it’s whole life to be a Christmas tree and deserved to live inside with us. So now we have a real tree, and it’s beautiful. I was feeling sad that it would just die now, but Chris said not to worry, it would be used to help us make the fires for maple syrup.

20. Kings Landing Christmas

Every year we go to Kings Landing HIstorical Village for Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners. This year we did book a Christmas dinner but it was cancelled due to a two week orange phase restriction in our zone due to a sudden increase in cases. They opened up two last minute tables for a special new type of experience. Instead of eating in the restaurant, it was a full experience. Dressing up to co-ordinate with the year of the house we were visiting, a horse and cart ride to the home, and eating in the real historical house! It was wonderful and a great way to wrap up the year.

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dgarski · 4 years

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This Journey (Part XCIX)

Why Florida?

In 1984, I was 21 years old. I was working full time, 6 days a week, 10+ hour days at a local bakery in Racine, Wisconsin. I had one day off each week to catch up on domestics like, laundry, groceries, cleaning and relaxing. Saturday night was the only night out of the week that I could go out with my friends and have fun. Yes, I made very good money, but I had no life whatsoever. A young kid at 21 years old, really only has one thing on his mind..and that was to party, socialize and meet girls. I'm also a musician, so I desperately wanted to play in a band, playing gigs and doing what I loved to do. None of this could happen, working the kinds of hours I was working back then. I was not happy with my life. All of this compounded with the absolutely miserable weather in Wisconsin most of the year, made for a very depressing existence. I needed a change.

In July of that year, my friends and I were on our second annual camping trip to Door County, Wisconsin. We had a larger group that year. Seven of us total. One night, it was raining, so sitting around the campfire was out of the question. Instead, we all crowded inside the camper and drank like fish. Somehow, we got to talking about our futures, what we wanted, where we wanted to be, etc. Mind you, at 21 years old, I was the eldest of the group, so we were fairly naive kids just out of our teens, trying to figure out what we were going to do with our lives. As we talked, a common consensus began to grow apparent. Everyone wanted to get good paying jobs, get married, have kids, live in a nice home and become domesticated...and do so in Wisconsin. The sound of all of that, really shocked me. The very idea of staying in a place I was already hating, to my core, was unimaginable. I spoke up and said, "I want to move somewhere, where it's warm..like California or maybe Florida." This statement was immediately met with judgment and condemnation. I got hit with questions like, "Why would you want to leave a good paying job?", What's wrong with where you live?", Your family is here. Why would you want to leave them?" I immediately felt a sense of defending myself for saying what I said. I couldn't understand why my wanting to move to a warmer place was somehow unthinkable. I was born in California. Perhaps that part of me was aching to get back to that climate. Florida was really the only other place that came to mind. The only places I'd ever been to outside of Wisconsin, were family trips to New Mexico and to Washington. Any other vacations were done in northern Wisconsin. I was tired of never going anywhere outside the comfort zone of the Dairy State. I wanted to explore new places, be around new people and new cultures. I wanted a change from the old and begin something new. Living in Wisconsin for the rest of my life, seemed like a horrific way of simply giving up all any notions of adventure. We were young kids. Why would anyone want to settle down and turn into their parents?

September 1st, I moved out of my parents house and into my very first apartment. I was making good enough money to afford a place of my own, and it was time for me to get out from under the roof of my parents house. I loved my new apartment. I had never lived on my own before. This was a new experience that I embraced almost immediately. My new found independence became one of the most valuable identities for me. I loved being on my own, doing what I wanted to do, when I wanted to do it. I ate what I wanted, when I wanted. If the dishes sat in the sink for a day, so be it. I had my own place, and nobody could tell me how to live. I absolutely loved it.

The next couple of years, our little group of friends was beginning to grow apart. We were all grouping into adults with adult lives and responsibilities. I was the first to move out and get my own place, which meant everyone came over to my apartment. I didn't mind, as long as they didn't wake me up. I had many parties. Instead of us all going out somewhere, the guys would come over and we would drink and watch movies. This usually happened during the bitter cold, freezing winter months. Instead of dealing with the weather, it was easier to just go over to Dave's place and hang out there. In 1987, I was really not liking my life at all. I was bored. I was working insane hours. During the Holidays, I didn't have any days off. It was really starting to turn me into an asshole. I didn't want to be an asshole, but I was unhappy with the way things were going in my life. I wanted out. At that point, it wasn't going to take much for me to figure out some kind of an exodus plan. I was sick of the cold. I was sick of the same thing, every day, every week. I needed to start a new life. I just needed a catalyst and a really good reason to leave it all behind.

This reason came in the form of my grandmother passing away in early October of 1987. Her dying didn't really hit me right away. I knew that she was sick, and her passing meant that she was no longer suffering. I remember being at work, not happy at all. I was still dealing with my first grandparent dying, still trying to figure out what to do with my life and why I hated being there. Then one morning, I got into it with the eldest son of the bakery owner. This guy was twice my size and could have probably pounded me into the ground like a nail. I didn't care. Something inside me snapped. I'd reached my limit. I needed to get out.

I went home that morning and wrote a letter to a friend, Mike who was living in Clearwater, Florida at the time. I asked him if he knew anything about the amount of work or the kind of jobs that might be available in Florida. He was working as a chef at his parents restaurant. Within a few days, I received a letter back from him, stating that there were plenty of jobs in Florida, I would be able to find work easily. He even offered a job for me to work at his restaurant. That was all I needed to read to make my decision. I now had a catalyst, a reason to get out of Wisconsin and move to Florida.

Because I made such good money, my car, my motorcycles, everything I owned was paid for and was mine. I owed no debt on credit cards and had about a $25K credit line at my disposal. I had also saved about $9k. Financially, I was completely prepared. My entire attitude changed over night. I rehearsed a conversation I needed to have with my boss, to tell him that I was leaving the bakery to move to Florida. I had to give him notice that I was quitting. Four weeks should be enough. All I talked about was my moving to Florida. Was I going to do all of this alone?

I hadn't seen my buddy Mark since the summer before, when all of us went camping. He had been involved with his girlfriend, Sue and was working full time for ComAir airlines at the airport in Milwaukee. He and I hadn't talked in a long time. One day in December, he showed up at my apartment and told me what he had learned about his job. I didn't really know what it was he did at the airport, so he enlightened me by telling me that his job was opening up a new station at the airport in Orlando, Florida, and that he was thinking about moving to Florida. He had gotten wind of my plans and wanted to tell me his. He and Sue had just broken up and it quickly became apparent that neither one of us had any reason to remain in Wisconsin.

Plans changed. Instead of going to work at a restaurant in Clearwater, working in the airline industry in Orlando seemed much more appealing, especially to two adventuring young punk kids. I wasn't in this alone. I actually had a partner to go to Florida with me. After the Holidays, I began to sell a lot of my stuff. I sold my furniture and gave a bunch of stuff to my old man. He was living in an apartment at the time. Mark and I still needed to fly down to Florida to check things out to make sure that this was what we were going to do. Once we were committed, we couldn't back out. Mark was able to get two buddy passes on Delta airlines. We flew to Orlando, rented a Chrysler LaBaron convertible and drove from Orlando International all the way to Cleawater to meet with our buddy Mike. We met up with him and we followed him to his apartment near the beach. This was at night so we couldn't see the beach from his apartment, but we could definitely hear it. I was so blown away just by that. Mark and I had been awake for nearly a day, but our excitement kept us moving. We all stayed up until late, drinking and having a good time. The very next day, Mark and I had to drive all the way back to Orlando to meet with the station manager at the airport. Mark also knew the supervisor, Bob, who was instrumental in encouraging Mark into thinking about moving to Orlando to help him open the new station for the airline. I knew absolutely nothing about working at an airport. It would turn out that, my not knowing the airline industry, really didn't matter. Mark and I met with Bob and he introduced us to the station manager, Kathy. She took Mark into her office and had an interview with him and hired him right away. She told him that I needed a job. She brought me into her office and hired me on the spot, no experience needed. It was clear that two hard-working men from Wisconsin stood a better chance at getting a job than not. At the time, neither one of us knew that the people in the deep south moved a whole lot slower than where we were from. Mark and I looked at each other after the interviews and said "We're moving to fucking Florida!" It was an incredibly exciting prospect for the two of us.

Everything was falling into place. Now, all we had to do was fly back to Wisconsin and tell everyone our plans to move to the Sunshine State. Once we got back to Racine, our plans were met with less than an enthusiastic reception from friends and family. It didn't matter to either one of us. The decisions had already been made. We were moving to Florida whether or not anyone else approved of it. I remember thinking at that time that if we didn't do it then, we would never do it. Mark and I really had nothing to lose. Things could only get better...and they did.

We packed up all we could fit into the back of a U-Haul trailer behind my car. At midnight on February 22nd, 1988, Mark and I left Racine. We hit the road and never looked back. We got into Orlando late on the 23rd. We stayed at the hotel near the airport, because it was where we stayed when we were there the month before. Everything we owned, sat in the trailer in the parking lot. The very next morning we took a drive up a nearby main road called Semoran blvd. We had been advised by people from the airport that if we were looking for an apartment near the airport, we should try somewhere up that road. We stopped at two or three different apartment complexes until we came to Lake Frederica. We did the tour of a large two bedroom/two bathroom apartment and agreed that we would take that place. We spent the remainder of that afternoon, unpacking all of our stuff. That night, we both walked over to the phone booth near the laundry room, and placed calls back to Wisconsin to tell our families that we had made it and that we had found a place.

We both went to work for Comair airlines. I took to it almost immediately. It wasn't really work to me, compared to working at that bakery for so many years. This wasn't difficult at all. I chose to work part time hours and Mark wanted to work full time. At first, living together and working together, wasn't too difficult. That began to change slowly over the next couple of months. We were always together. We were beginning to get sick of each other. Mark found out about a job doing skycapping for another airline. I didn't know what that was so, I didn't follow him. I didn't understand why anyone would want to leave an airline to go work for tips throwing luggage around. Then one night after work, he came home with pockets filled with cash. I couldn't believe how much money he had made. I made it abundantly clear to Mark that he was to get me on as a skycap too.

I quit Comair and started skycapping on February 19, 1989. All of the sudden, I'm making the same kind of money Mark was making. I was making more money than I had ever made at the bakery, in about half the time. I learned quite a bit about myself as I learned the tricks of the trade. I learned how to hustle to get better tips. I learned the game and got very good at it. July 25th, 1989, I purchased a brand new Pontiac Firebird. I had never owned a brand new car before. I was making the money and could certainly afford it. By November of that year, I decided to move out and get my own apartment.

Mark and I took trips back and forth to Wisconsin, for the Holidays and other occasions. We even drove up in my new car in 1991 to meet with the guys in Door County. Mark and I were seeing less and less of each other, except when we passed each other at work, He worked mornings and I worked afternoons. He was making new friends and so was I. Our lives had once again changed. Over the years, Mark and I began to lose track of each other. He got married and had moved around central Florida several times. They had two kids and eventually ended up in a nasty, bitter divorce. I eventually left the airport in 1996 and went on to teach guitar lessons for the next 20+ years. I finally became that legitimate musician I had always wanted to be. Mark stayed at the airport and never really moved on from there. Mark and I lost touch with each other for a few years. It had been over 25 years that we had been living in Orlando, and we had both moved on with our lives.

Times got really difficult for me. I lost a lot of my students, for reasons I may never fully understand.I had to go back to the airport, back to a job again. Mark and I had gotten together a few times over the years but ultimately, we lost communications with each other. I haven't seen or spoken with him since 2014. Again, the reasons behind this, are not fully clear to me. Going back to the airport was a very harsh change for me. I had been used to being my own boss for so many years, that working for some company was something I was not looking forward to doing again. I had no choice. I either work a job or live in my car. Things finally started to get better in 2018. I had been promoted to full time and had been given an exclusive post to work. The company was showing me their confidence in my abilities as an employee. All was finally going well for me again, when the unthinkable happened. I collapsed at work from a stroke and a heart attack, and ended up in the hospital for two weeks.

I found myself back in my parents house, recovering and healing from my brush with death. I lost everything. I had to once again figure out a way to get out of Racine and go back home to Florida. Nothing and no one got in my way the first time 31 year earlier, and I wasn't about to let anyone get in my way, the second time, Florida is my home and has been my home for most of my life. I am a legitimate Floridian.

So why Florida? I love it here. I honestly do. This place has changed my life for countless goods and a handful of bads. I have had so many adventures, met so many people, done so many things, been to so many places...none of which would have ever happened in Wisconsin. The life I chose to leave when I was 24 years old, was because I wanted to start a new life, far away, in a much warmer climate. I wanted to be able to wear shorts and t-shirts for most of the year. I never wanted to shovel snow from another sidewalk. I never wanted to deal with freezing cold and blizzards. I didn't want to turn into my parents. I didn't want to simply give up and never find out my true potential. I needed desperately to find out what I was made of. I needed to find myself and see the world. I have done so many things in my life because I moved to Florida when I was a kid. Things I more than likely, never would have had the opportunity to do, had I stay in Racine. I am a Floridian and always will be. Orlando is my home. I am so grateful to be back where I belong.

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