#hecate musings // dance laugh think

[madwomanramblings]

Darren's lips lightly brush my neck as his arms wrap around my waist. "What are you looking at?" he whispers in my ear not to disturb the peace of the kitchen. It's early enough in the morning that the night disappears as the sun begins its weary trek across the sky. This is my silent time before the rest of the house wakes up. I spend most mornings by myself looking out of the huge picture window taking in our beautiful garden. When the light from the sunrise hits it just right the garden comes alive. It brings me joy every time I see it before the chaos of life ensues. I love my children but they are an act of nature: wild and unpredictable. However, this morning Darren isn't the only visitor I have joining me in my peace.

"That owl keeps staring at me," I reply after a few moments. His brows furrow and he adjusts his hold on me as he leans further over my shoulder.

"What owl?" he askes searching the lightening sky. I point to the limb of the apple tree closest to the house where the owl has been perched for the last hour. His wide yellow eyes slowly blink at us as he settles his feathers.

"Huh, that's interesting. Isn't it too late for them to be out? I thought they only hunted at night," he responded before kissing my neck and releasing me to get his morning fix. Even though I enjoy tea and have spent the better part of a year perfect my morning blends, my husband still can't shake his addiction to coffee. It probably doesn't help that I enable him by making a fresh pot and setting out his favorite mug: 'Wolves do it better'. Sipping my tea I chuckle as he exhales after his first gulp of liquid fuel. How he can drink coffee pipping hot I will never understand. I have to wait until my tea cools down before I can enjoy it. Even taking that sip makes me keenly aware I will have to wait a bit longer. 'I guess it is a werewolf thing,' I muse as I set my cup down on the counter next to me.

The owl shifts on the tree limb drawing my attention back to him. He tilts his head to the side as if trying to solve a riddle. I tilt my head mimicking the owl as it shifts one more time before settling. It really is late for nocturnal creatures to be out. The sun is about to come up. At least it won't turn to ash like....

"Well, whatever you do don't go pissing it off. We could use a break from the fighting for a while," Darren playfully chastises me as he grabs his bag and tumbler. He stops briefly on his way out the door to thoroughly kiss me. I sigh into the feel of his strength and warmth of his love.

"Keep doing that and I may have to be late to the job site this morning," he comments voice low and rumbly. My laugh fills the kitchen as I push him towards the door so he can be on his way. The light smack on my butt and his chuckle the only indications that he is heading out. I turn back to the window picking up my cup of life tea as the sun's rays continue their languid dance across the yard.

Darren was right about one thing I will give him that. Our last battle left scars we are still healing from. Some scars are deeper than others. Calily's ran deep. So deep Marcus couldn't reach here. None of us could. Now she is out there with Damien.

My heart aches thinking of what could be happening to my sister. Even though Calily and Krystal aren't my sisters by blood, we are bonded on a supernatural level that spans time and space. We are - were so connected we could feel each other no matter where we were in the world. Now there is an empty space where her light once belonged. Calily cut off her connection to Krystal and I after our last battle. No matter how often we try to reach out there is nothing there just darkness. I send a silent prayer out to Hecate to light her way back to us.

Sccccreeecchhhh.... "Shit!" I swear as the owl launches itself into the pre-dawn sky taking flight. My tea spills on my hand burning me. "I thought you dumb animals only hooted. Not cool owl, not cool," I mutter to myself.

"You should place some of that lavender salve on that burn before it scars," a voice suggests from behind me.

"What the Fu--" I yelp, spinning around to face the intruder. An older woman leans against the huge oak table in the middle of my kitchen. She is wearing a beautiful flowing purple dress cinched at the waist with a gold belt in the shape of a snake. Her short black moto jacket makes her stark white hair stand out. The owl who startled me is perched on the back of the chair next to her.

"The salve," she repeats pointing to the counter next to me. Clutching my injured hand to my chest I look over my shoulder and sure enough a tin of my homemade lavender salve is right where she is pointing. My brow furrows in confusion.

"I didn't leave this out," I mutter to myself.

"I know dear. I did. As one of my daughters I have to ensure you are cared for. All of my children must be cared for and look after. Even Calily. That was your petition, correct?" she asks clasping her hands in front of her, smiling.

"Wait. You're not.... Hecate?" I question. My mind blown at the fact a goddess I just started getting to know is now standing in my kitchen.

"Of course, dear. Who else would have sent a sentry to inform me of your petition," she replies as she nods her head towards the owl.

"Too bad I was a little tardy or I could have met that yummy wolf of a husband of yours," she teases as she approaches me. My mind is trying to process everything as quickly as possible but I feel stuck on stupid.

Hecate reaches for the tin next to me. She opens it and taking a little bit on her finger she takes my hands from my chest. Not sure of what to do I let her take my injured hand into weathered yet soft one. Almost immediately the salve begins to sooth my angry skin. I watch in awe as she hums and rubs the great smelling ointment on my burn. Memories of my mother flash through my mind as Hecate lifs her head and smiles warmly at me. Her hand gently touches my cheek wiping away the wetness that dampened my skin. I hadn't even realized I was crying but I feel as if something has healed within my soul I didn't know was broken.

"All will be well my daughter. We will find our lost soul. Calily will come home to us."

[magissathea]

Hecate watching the ongoings in S3 like:

           “What... the shit?!”

[innocentbi-stander]

Can you do demigod jaskier? But this time he is the son of Hecate?

@localhalfvampire I need to preface this by saying you’re an absolute GENIUS

Demigod jaskier, but son of Hecate has so much untapped potential and I’m LIVING for it

A jaskier who has magic, who hides himself from detection by using his abilities to manipulate the Mist that shields demigods from discovery from the rest of the world (he shivers to think of what sorcerers like that bastard Stregobor would do if they realized that demigods, sources of pure godly power and ability were walking about the Continent, free to manipulate)

Obviously children of Hecate possess an innate talent for magic, each level of magical ability depending on the child, but nobody, not even Hecate herself, had been prepared for the unintentional powerhouse that is jaskier

And how fitting is it that the person who would care about ability levels the least ends up the most powerful child of Hecate to walk the Continent since Circe herself?

Jaskier was brought to camp at a young age, his noble father unwilling to deal with the baby of his one night stand with a goddess

He is raised amongst demigods and taught to defend himself and defend others from the monsters that plague the children of the gods

A sword is placed in his hand as soon as he is strong enough to grasp it, he learns to throw daggers with deadly accuracy, to shoot arrows at a target blindfolded

For all that jaskier is taught to be fierce, and witty, to speak gracefully with a silver tongue, there is nothing he picks up faster than magic

Magic to jaskier is like breathing, for he was born from the goddess of magic herself, it is woven into every piece of his being

Hecate is a tough parent, and she believes in  challenging her children and their abilities, and so it is no wonder when jaskier leaves camp to explore the world on his own, though he visits often

And then jaskier meets geralt and the rest is history

He spends twenty years chasing after the witcher (and though twenty years is not really a blink in the eye of an immortal demigod such as jaskier, that still matters) , there’s many hunts and contracts, aftermaths of jaskier stitching up geralt and lying about where he learned to sew skin so neatly

There’s evenings spent by the campfire, playing his lute and trying to ignore the way the firelight dances in geralt’s amber eyes

There’s laughs in taverns after a bit too much to drink, there’s lute strings tucked into his bag and no word of where they came from (though he knows), apples for Roach amongst complaints of destroying her diet, doublets ruined by days in the wilderness, and geralt’s barely there smile when jaskier produces honey cakes ‘given’ to him by the local baker

There’s inns, and shared rooms, then shared beds, and shared baths closer than close, and then there’s the djinn, and yennefer, and growing apart bit by bit

Jaskier possesses some of the greatest magic in the world, and there’s nothing he can do except watch the love of his life pick someone else over and over again and pretend not to be slowly falling apart

And then the mountain

Jaskier is alone for a little bit after that, wandering aimlessly 

He travels across the Continent, killing monsters that the rest of the world can’t even see, wiping yellow sulphur dust from his hands and wishing he was somewhere else

Jaskier visits camp and stays there for a while, but no matter how many times he comes back jaskier is a traveler at heart and never stays for long

Not far past the borders of camp, at a nearby village, jaskier learns that nilfgaard has been looking for him

He can’t bring himself to be even remotely surprised then when he’s ambushed on the path a day later

The first few parties of soldiers are easily dispatched with the use of his sword and daggers, but then at some point nilfgaard realizes that the ‘harmless’ bard has teeth and sends a small army

Jaskier really should have laid low and hid himself amongst the Mist ages ago, but he’s never been one for hiding (and frankly he’s a little bit insulted that nilfgaard seems to have thought him so easy to defeat and resolves to knock them down a few pegs)

Unbeknownst to the demigod/bard/whatever the hell else he is right now, there’s been a rather frantic witcher accompanied by a witch and a princess that have been searching for him for ages, following the trail of bloody groups of soldiers

Geralt hears of the army sent after his bard and reacts first with confusion on why an army is needed to take down one human man, and then feels blind panic. Rather hysterically, as he’s shoving his, yennefer, and ciri’s things into roach’s saddlebags, is the thought, he’s going to tear them apart

Which really makes no sense given that jaskier is fucking human, but geralt has always felt something off about him, something bigger, and regardless of that he’s seen jaskier’s more feral side and is comforted slightly by the thought that jaskier is hardly the type to go down without a wicked fight

Yennefer is less reassured by this information (your bard is going to get torn apart, not the other way around!) and ushers them off immediately 

When they reach the clearing where whispers of nilfgaardian soldiers has lead them, there is an entire small army present, at at the other side in the most bizarre looking fashion, is jaskier

He stands alone, but he does not look afraid

Jaskier faces the army of nilfgaardian soldiers, his doublet a shade of midnight blue, sword in hand, and a fierce look in his eyes that for some reason sends chills down geralt’s spine

He assesses the army, silent and calculating, finding something that nobody else can see 

The captain of the army shouts an order and the men charge forward, a smirk reaches jaskier’s lips

The army’s movement sparks geralt into action, what is he doing just fucking standing there, and he unsheathes his sword to somehow help his bard

But then there is a well manicured hand on his arm and a spell stopping his feet from moving farther, and geralt looks to yennefer to ask her what the hell she thinks she’s doing and pauses at the curious look in her eye

“Wait” she mumbles to him, brow furrowed, “Something isn’t right”

And geralt turns back to the battlefield and jaskier’s eyes are glowing

Jaskier sees the army charging forward and it takes everything in him not to laugh. They are fools, every single one of them

Jaskier whispers a quick prayer to the gods for luck (even though he doesn’t need it), and lets his magic explode

When the screams fade and there is nothing in the clearing but ash and blood drying in the dirt, jaskier wills his magic to return to his body

He scrubs at a little spot of blood that had managed to stain his sleeve, a new doublet at that, and considers maybe it is time to hide amongst the Mist, if not to save his poor beautiful clothing

The snap of a twig interrupts his musings and brings jaskier to alert, the hum of his magic singing through his veins, hands at the ready

Jaskier goes deadly still when across the clearing he spies two ghosts from his past, one of them with a rather unflattering look of shock across his face, and the other looking way too pleased with herself

When they both start to make their way to him, jaskier debates on whether he still has enough energy in him to shadow travel, anything to make a speedy getaway and the fuck away from this horrible confrontation

He raises his hands , willing the shadows to lengthen and warp, ignoring the persistence dizziness and figuring there’s no better way to find out than to try, only to be stopped by a sharp, “don’t even think about it bard”

His response is instant and without hesitation, “who the fuck made you the boss of me? If I want to get the hell away from here I’m very well going to, I don’t give fuck all what you’ve got to say about it”

Yennefer’s eyes narrowed and she snatched one of his hands, still shaking with overexertion. “I think your hands tell a different story, you’re exhausted.”

“Yes, well defeating armies will do that to anyone I suppose”, Jaskier reclaimed his hand and tried to ignore the fact that geralt had yet to do anything but stare

Purple eyes examined him carefully, “You never told me you had magic”

Jaskier laughed, a hollow sound even to his own ears, “I don’t really, not your kind. It’s a long story”

“Then you’ll have plenty of time to tell us when we get to Kaer Morhen”, at last, the White wolf had spoken and unsurprisingly jaskier liked absolutely none of what he had to say

He sputtered, and he was sure his cheeks were turning that infuriating shade of red they always assumed when he was particularly pissed off, “I’m not going with you anywhere!”

Geralt turned to the bard, focusing on him with an intensity that jaskier before the mountain would have killed to receive “Nilfgaard isn’t going to stop. They want Ciri. The armies will keep getting bigger and bigger, until whatever fucking powers you have aren’t enough”

Jaskier scoffed, crossing his arms across his chest “I can handle myself”

Something in Geralt’s eyes softened “I know you can. But you don’t, shouldn’t, have to. Come with us. Just for the winter. Then you can go wherever you want. Please”

There was a long moment between them, amber and blue staring into each other’s depths. Jaskier didn’t know what to think. It had been made clear on the mountain that the witcher didn’t give a damn about jaskier, and jaskier wasn’t big on wasting his time in places he wasn’t wanted. His heart wouldn’t be able to take it.

But geralt had never pleaded with him like that, never said please. There was a desperation in his eyes that jaskier had never seen before and without his permission he felt his heart melt a little. What was one winter?

“Fine.” jaskier spoke carefully, trying to ignore the small smile that formed on geralt’s face. “I’ll come for the winter. But after that I’m leaving and I’ll be out of your life for good”

Jaskier hadn’t forgiven Geralt. He was owed an apology, and a thousand other things. Yennefer was still a bitch, and he had no idea how geralt’s brothers and mentor would react to a demigod in their midst. But jaskier was lonely, and tired of being on his own, and as much  as he hated it there was a part of him that had desperately missed his witcher, no matter how much he had hurt him. 

It was just one winter, right?

He’d figure it out….. somehow

_______________

That went in an entirely different direction than I was originally intending, but the story just got away from me... I hope you enjoyed!

What do you think folks, worthy of a part 2?

[irrfahrer]

Your Muse on the Dancefloor!

Rules: Describe your Muses style of dancing= On Their Own, With a Partner and in a Group! Write a brief description of the Style and Your Muses Thoughts! Use Gifs, Videos or pictures as references!  Repost, Don´t Reblog!   Original @treasurechestrpmemes !

Tagged By: The Force   Tagging: @lessthantwelve  @onehell-of-apilot @skysnipsw @verelis @themidnightqxeen @beskar-himbo @lighthouseborn @arachnoheaux @kylo-wrecked @ofthestcrs @honorhunt  @lady-proudmoore @khenobi @savior-of-humanity @bracca-scrapper @gildedcommander @fallesto @sithisms @poewingsdameron @cardinal-carvings   @jeedang @smertzimy @kyberllcore @berrakhira   @cfmartyrs  @vicicus @luminousxbeings  @thaneirstaer @admrl @notsith  @verelis @gwiazdowe @lvkexskywvlker @drabbles-n-doodles  @preempire @ad-maius-bonum @therabidcur @outcaststar @ariadne-inthesky @space-hecate @archaeotech @sxbaist @lightfaithed @unascend @trueheartofarebel  @protectxthem   @sithisms @peacefaithed @envychosen @masterofthelivingforce @ofthestcrs  @startrailed @thelightsabcr @empatiaa   @wartornpilot @rcfekjwtaardby @protectxthem  @sithdestined   @honorhunt  @safrona-shadowsun  @stubborn-amphibian @rabldcur  @ncxile  @skywlkrr @vsoatahn @jedixamidala @chromium-siren @aetcrnus  @savesgalaxy @fatewills...and everyone else who wants to do the prompt!        

By Themself: Since Ziv a suprisingly strong person considering her cute, fluffy looks and the fact that its often overlooked that she has a  properly trained musculatur, she usually goes for oriental bellydancing when she is indulging in music. After all, the Tynnan has focused her lightsaber training mostly in Form two-Makashi- so the fluid movements, precise steps, turns and spins without big wide movements is something that is also found in belly dancing and therefor easily for her to preform due to years of training. On a similar note: Yes if one would bind bells to Zivs ankles,she would be able to dance or preform Makashi without letting them ring- She has the natural toebeans of a killer and it has its perks to be a sneaky carnivore with a perfect mindshield and martial arts training on the dancefloor or when it comes to tail people. 

With a Partner: In general Ziv does not like to dance with a partner since it usually includes the problem of a very stark heightdifference. That does not mean that she does not enjoy dancing with a partner, but when she is barely reaching to a partners chest it is often a little awkward to find a rhytmn to share. If she is in a funny mood and tries to drag a partner out of their shell she will lead them to a dancefloor, drop a few horrible stupid jokes and hopp or swirl around a little holding their hands to make them laugh. Then she would let go of their hands and dance on her own around them. If a partner insists on dancing closer with her Ziv will carefully step on their feet with her hindpaws, lean against their upper body, hold their hands and sway around with them a little to music. Then she would just drop a horrible stupid joke to spoil the romantic mood.

In a Group: The only time Ziv had danced in a group was with her clan when they had trained a Kata in preperation to wielding a Lightsaber. Occaisonally the Tynnan takes the movements she had preformed that time into the Kata when she is preforming Alchaka, yet it does not feel the same when she is doing that only on her own. It would bring her to the brink of exhaustion as planned, and she is able to push on after that as she had been able when she had been preforming with her youngling Clan, encouraged by eachother to go past their limits . However, Ziv thinks that if one is able to easily make a salto in the air out of the still stand, then one should actually swagger about it a little. Just a little. As a Treat, even when its only happening during personal Alchaka-meditation when noone else is around.

[onthevirgeofdestruction]

Plea for My New Self

Sanders sides Vampire College AU - it’s gay - it’s full of fun fluffy tropes - a bit o’ hurt/comfort - mostly fluff

Words: 5,659 Warnings:  Arguing, Violence,  Characters: Virgil, Roman, Patton, Logan, Thomas, Remy, Joan, Talyn Ships: Prinxiety, Anxceit, Roceit, Analogical, Remile, Joan&Talyn Universe: Plea for my New Self Rating: T Genre: Vampire Nonsense and Drama

Chapter 30: Full Moon in Scorpio

Chapter 1 for New Readers - ffn mirror

   “Jesus Christ Superstar, is this whole thing our room?” Roman asked, stepping into the hotel room in awe, looking around and taking a spin on the polished floors.

   “It’s just a step or two below a presidential suite or something. I don’t know the lingo, I just needed a place with a big enough living room,” Virgil shrugged. Roman called out to listen to his voice echo.

   “Oh, my gosh, I have to sing in here,” Roman declared, spinning into the living room and started singing A Whole New World from Aladdin. It echoed off of the marble enchantingly. Virgil waited and in the doorway, holding it open for Patton and Logan who took the elevator. Patton smiled and waved at Virgil when they turned the corner and Virgil waved back.

   “A whole new world! A new fantastic point of view!” Roman loudly crooned as he danced around on the glinting tiles.

   “Oh, he sounds so good!” Patton cooed as they stepped in, making a bee-line to the table to put their takeout food down. Virgil offered his hand to Logan when he strode up and Logan took it. They walked into the hotel room together, and Logan looked around with interest.

   “This seems a bit much just to watch movies in, Virgil,” Logan said after slowly examining the room.

   “It’ll be more comfortable for me, there will be lots of beings here,” Virgil said and squeezed Logan’s hand. “I don’t suppose I can have a hug?” Virgil asked and Logan nodded. Virgil pulled Logan in and kissed the top of his hair gently. “You’re sure you’re okay being in the same room with all these vampires? I honestly don’t mind taking you back to the dorms,” Virgil reminded him. He was confused when Logan said he wanted to come. He’d be a lamb in a den full of super-powered wolves, but his curiosity was greater than his survival instinct, it seemed.

   “I’m confident you wouldn’t let anything happen to me. I find the entire event intellectually fascinating,” Logan said, sounding excited and nodding brightly. Virgil heard Patton giggling and looked over to see Roman was dancing around the living room with them, now singing Once Upon A Dream. “I admit the concept is odd that I will be the only fully human person in the room, though,” Logan didn’t let go of Virgil and turned to watch the two dance around the suite. Virgil kissed Logan’s temple affectionately and Logan nestled in, looking amused at Roman and Patton’s antics.

   “Let me go unlock the balcony and show them where to land. Feel free to claim a room, there’s plenty. Just put a ‘do not disturb’ sign on the door and people should get the message,” Virgil pointed to a small pile of signs on a side table under an ornate mirror.

   “I look forward to utilizing the hot tub,” Logan smiled and slid out of Virgil’s arms, squeezing his hand before heading off to explore the hotel suite. Virgil headed to the balcony, passing Roman holding Patton princess-style and spinning around the room while Patton squealed in delight. Roman’s voice echoing against the walls as he sang was captivating. He winked at Patton while he passed them and Patton giggled and stuck out their tongue playfully.

   Virgil unlocked the large glass doors and stepped out on to the wide stone balcony. There was a sunken fire pit and a seating area out here, along with a small garden of flowers near the windows and a long thin pool. Virgil snapped a quick photo of the balcony and flitted up to the top of the hotel, taking a picture of the overhead. He jumped back down on to their patio and marked up the photo, then sent the two off to everyone else. The first one to come from above was Remy with Thomas over one shoulder and Emile over the other. He landed silently and put down Thomas and Emile, and Emile handed him a cup of iced coffee.

   “Hecate, dude, you’re not worried about getting attacked or something with your arms full?” Virgil asked incredulously.

   “I don’t need to worry about that kind of stuff, babe,” Remy set down a smiling Emile, and a very ruffled looking Thomas, who tried to fix his hair in the window’s reflection as soon as he got down. He had one of those pocket flip combs that were popular in the 50s.

   “Nice to meet you, Virgil! I’m Emile!” He beamed, holding out his hand for Virgil to shake. Virgil hesitated before shaking his hand. He wasn’t used to doing it anymore. His old life was blessedly far away now. Emile’s smile was very reassuring, and he had a kind face. He also had bubble-gum pink hair, which Virgil did not expect. It suited him, though. He was dressed like a dad in slacks and a soft tan cardigan. This being Remy’s type was also something Virgil did not foresee.

   “Hey,” Virgil said nonchalantly. “It’s good to see you again, Rem. I’m surprised we haven’t had to beat the shit out of each other yet, considering how close I am to Thomas,” Virgil motioned with his head to Thomas who was walking back over. He looked very put together and not like he had been lugged over a shoulder for a few miles. He wore a white button-down over a graphic tee and black jeans, which he admittedly looked fantastic in.

   “I’m probably far enough from campus, we live in a condo downtown. We’re out of range of little Thomathy most of the time,” Remy shrugged, leaning back against the wall. “I’m still happy to for fun, though,” Remy winked. “We’ll have to tonight, anyway, with my other Blood here,” Remy mused and Emile moved to lean against Remy on the wall. “Do you only just have the one turned? That’s wild. I’ve got way more than Joan and Talyn, they’re just the only ones that stuck by,” Remy asked curiously, his eyebrow arched over his mirrored sunglasses.

   “I don’t keep track of them if we weren’t romantically involved. I could have more, I don’t remember,” Virgil shrugged and shook his head.

   “Are you feeding on your Brood yet?” Remy smirked. He dusted off his red leather jacket absentmindedly. Emile leaned affectionately into his arm and stole a sip of his coffee.

   “Ro got me drunk and tricked me into it,” Virgil grimaced a little as he joked. He was still a little bitter about it he agreed that perhaps he was being extra again.

   “Darling, that’s not what happened,” Deceit purred, pulling Virgil in from behind right after he landed.

   “He’s right, Deceit tricked me,” Virgil laughed more genuinely and angled his head to kiss Deceit. Deceit hummed happily as he flipped Virgil’s hair out of the way.

   “How’s business, Remington?” Deceit asked, wrapping himself around Virgil and rested his head on Virgil’s shoulder. His cane held in front of Virgil, resting under Deceit’s hand with his normal level of class and panache.

   “Very good, thanks. Made a shit-ton off your boy. You seriously wear a suit and bring a cane to movie nights?” Remy asked, motioning to Deceit incredulously.

   “I’m not a savage,” Deceit smirked and kissed Virgil’s neck, tapping his cane on the ground dramatically.

   “People think I’m batty,” Remy rolled his eyes and pulled his mouth to the side. “So, remember any fun memories now that you’ve gotten the good stuff?” He asked provocatively.

   “Hmm, just some forgotten vocabulary and how to fish for some reason. I can’t believe I ever fished,” Virgil shrugged dismissively. He was hoping for something more fun, too.

   “You were probably looking for an excuse to go out to sea and hangout with merpeople,” Deceit laughed playfully and kissed his neck again.

   “They know how to rock, what can I say? Their instruments don’t work above water,” Virgil said defensively, flicked at Deceit’s side. Deceit dodged it with an evil grin.

   “You might have been in a merperson band or something, I wouldn’t put it past you,” Deceit teased lightly. Virgil softened quickly as Deceit carded his fingers through Virgil’s hair affectionately.

   “Oh, Hecate, girl, that must of fucking hurt to grow,” Remy said, possibly just noticing Virgil’s hairstyle.

   “My clan likes to heckle me and bully me into things,” Virgil huffed, crossing his arms and slightly motioning his head to Deceit.

   “You look so good with long hair. I think you should grow it longer,” Deceit cooed and leaned in to press a kiss behind Virgil’s ear.

   “It’s the least practical thing on the planet to have knee-length hair, D,” Virgil groaned in objection, shaking his head.

   “I’ll get him to do it by the end of the night, just watch me,” Deceit smiled impishly and nibbled affectionately at Virgil’s neck. “Oh! Thomas! My Child!” Deceit released Virgil swiftly and picked up Thomas to spin him around in the air, holding him up with both hands.

   “Did you adopt my omega without telling me?” Remy sipped his drink with a raised eyebrow, looking very amused at the baffled expression Thomas made.

   “He’s just so young,” Virgil smiled affectionately. “We want to buy him things and spoil him,” Virgil rubbed his hands together mischievously.

   “He is baby,” Remy smirked at Thomas knowingly and he turned a little pink.

   “I’m not baby!” Thomas groaned, jumping out of Deceit’s arms and landing a few feet away from him on the patio.

   “You have so many dads now, Thomas!” Emile clapped in delight. Deceit smiled wickedly and leaned against the wall.

   “Emile, gross, don’t call Remy my dad,” Thomas rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, sticking out his tongue in distaste.

   “Oh, daddy is okay, though?” Remy grinned darkly and winked at Thomas, who blushed wildly and shot straight in an instant.

   “I’m saying hi to Roman now, bye!” Thomas ran inside in embarrassment, causing Virgil and Deceit to cackle.

   “He’s so fucking cute,” Remy chuckled and shook his head affectionately. “Babe, you should order room service. Joan will be thirsty and Logan will make Thomas thirsty eventually,” Remy pat Emile on the butt. Remy cracked his knuckles. “We might also have a visitor,” He added cryptically.

   “What? I don’t smell anybody,” Virgil said, looking around frantically for any sign of another vampire.

   “Might, babe,” Remy smirked. “We’d win, it’s whatever. I just really want to crack somebody’s face in,” Remy motioned a punch with his free hand and flashed his fangs.

   “I keep wanting to throw people off roofs, so I’d love to do that if you’ll share,” Virgil said sinisterly, silently cracking his knuckles in his fist.

   “Don’t worry babe, I get it,” Remy nodded sagely and sipped his drink.

   “What vampire would be dumb enough to go where there are obviously two clans congregated,” Deceit hissed, walking back behind Virgil and resting his head on Virgil’s shoulder. “The smell here is ridiculous,” Deceit said, and the repulsion in his voice was clear. It really was bad. Virgil was ready to snap somebody’s neck, the scent was so powerful.

   “Maybe they want to fight and assume we’re fighting and not just watching humans get murdered for sport,” Virgil reached up to stroke Deceit’s face. “Speaking of, are Joan and Talyn almost here?” Virgil asked inquisitively.

   “Yeah, they’re closing in,” Remy took a long sip of his drink and set it down on the patio.

   “Do you feel like working a little of this out now before everybody’s here?” Virgil smiled viciously and flashed his fangs at Remy.

   “Babe, you know it,” Remy chuckled darkly and came at Virgil without hesitation. Deceit cleared away in a shot and Remy picked up and threw Virgil into the air, trying to go in for a kick, but Virgil grabbed him in the leg and tossed him back down to the ground, landing a hit with his knee on Remy’s chest.

   “Woah, woah, what the fuck guys?” Roman ran out yelling.

   “They’re just playing love,” Deceit purred, pulling Roman into his arms and backing against the wall while Remy flipped Virgil and socked him right in the jaw. Virgil snarled and kneed him in the stomach, and Remy sent him flying again.

   “That doesn’t look like fucking playing!” Roman shot while Remy landed a kick in Virgil’s back with a malicious laugh.

   “I’m-” Virgil got hit in the chest and lost his breath, but punched Remy hard enough to send him sailing back in return. “Fine, Ro, we’re just-” Remy came back and flipped Virgil onto the patio, knocking the wind out of him. Virgil had to catch himself before breaking the stones and used the momentum to launch Remy off the roof. Remy hissed and flung himself back at Virgil, and they both went tumbling and wrestling for dominance again. Emile cheered excitedly with his arms in the air.

   “The playfight is making it easier to sit in the same room together, dear,” Deceit kissed Roman’s cheek. Deceit paused, looking confused, and then grimacing. “… Roman, you didn’t tell Patton we are seeing each other, yet? They’re freaking out for two reasons now. Logan has the good sense to keep them indoors, at least,” Deceit sighed.

   “Uh, whoops,” Roman muttered, rubbing his head sheepishly.

   “Hey, Remy,” a person an orange knitted cap landed on the balcony while Remy waved and connected another punch to Virgil’s face. They were dressed casually in jeans and a black shirt with a big chunky watch. Virgil hissed and flipped Remy over, slamming his knee into Remy’s solar plexus.

   “Are they giving you trouble or is that Virgil?” A smaller person with bright lavender hair landed next to the one with the orange beanie. They wore a crop top, asymmetric shorts, and high boots and looked very fashionable compared to the other.

   “That’s Virgil,” Deceit provided, looking like he was keeping Roman safely in place. Roman was scowling and sometimes pushing at Deceit to move his arms, but Deceit held him firmly, which Virgil was grateful for. Remy was enough of a handful as it is. The fight was evenly matched so far. They were both holding back but keeping like that when his throat was right there was difficult and he didn’t want the distraction of one of his Brood in danger.

   “Woah, Deceit? What the fuck are you doing here?” The person in the orange beanie asked, looking surprised and leaning back.

   “I’m Virgil’s Blood. Don’t go advertising that,” Deceit said disdainfully. “Darling, you’ll need to stop soon and show Patton and Logan you’re okay or they might actually have a panic attack,” Deceit informed him plainly and motioned with his hand to the interior of the hotel.

   “Shit,” Virgil hissed, punching Remy in the back of the head. Remy spun around and his eyes flashed brighter red for a millisecond.

   “Boo!” Remy whined, grabbing Virgil’s shoulders and yanking him down over his kneecap. Virgil let that be the last hit and fell to the patio after Remy dropped him unceremoniously. He got up off the ground and dusted himself off. Remy laughed and patted himself off as well, going back over to pick up his drink. Patton came running out on to the veranda and immediately stared fussing over Virgil.

   “Are you okay? Oh my god! Why did- Ugh! You’re a meanie!” Patton shot angrily at Remy and glared at him before grabbing Virgil and surveying for damage. Picking a fight with a rival alpha vampire was not the best idea, but Virgil appreciated their spunk.

   “I guess I should have been more clear on the way here,” Virgil rubbed his head and pulled Patton in for a hug. Patton hugged Virgil tightly, pressing their face hard into his chest.

   “Virgil, why in the world were you fighting like that? You terrified me!” Logan bellowed, pointing to Remy. Remy just rolled his eyes as he sipped his drink and Virgil cringed. Oh, he fucked up spectacularly.

   “You didn’t warn them?” Emile asked incredulously, furrowing his eyebrows at Virgil. “Virgil, apologize to your friends right now,” Emile said angrily, motioning to Logan and Patton.

   “Sorry! I’m sorry!” Virgil held up his hands, but Patton stayed clinging on. “I didn’t know my heads up wasn’t enough, I’m not used to talking to humans about this stuff. I didn’t mean to scare you. Remy and I are fine. Claws and fangs were not involved,” Virgil reassured them.

   “I would have loved to sink my teeth into you,” Remy huffed, sounding disappointed and glowering at Virgil.

   “Me too,” Another hiss broke out from Virgil which caused Patton to flinch slightly but not let go.

   “Boys, I know the instincts are loud, but please focus,” Emile said firmly and Virgil fought back a snarl towards Remy. Remy looked like he was doing the same. They probably didn’t fight enough.

   “Listen, Remy’s an alpha. We’re sort of wired for killing each other. It’s what the whole territorial thing is about. We were blowing off some steam. I promise we’re both fine. We didn’t want this evening to devolve into a deathmatch. I’m sincerely sorry I wasn’t more clear on what vampire instincts meant. I should have warned you more clearly we were going to fight to try to trick our wiring. I won’t do it again,” Virgil explained quickly, trying to apologize.

   “Good job, Virgil. Patton, Logan? Do you have anything to say to Virgil?” Emile directed them.

   “Don’t scare me like that again!” Patton sniffled and Virgil pulled them up into his arms.

   “I’m so sorry, Pat,” Virgil apologized sincerely.

   “I accept your apology, Virgil. Thank you for understanding. I would appreciate further information for the future so we can avoid these misunderstandings,” Logan said, sounding stiff. Virgil grimaced slightly. He must have broken Logan’s trust for him to talk like that again. That hurt, but Logan was willing to forgive him. It was entirely Virgil’s fault, and he couldn’t blame Logan for being upset.

   “I know. Sorry, Logan. I forget what is and isn’t common knowledge sometimes. Maybe you could prepare some questions for me?” Virgil offered sheepishly.

   “I think that would be acceptable,” Logan nodded, crossing his arms. He at least didn’t look that angry, just upset.

   “He is battier than me,” Remy rolled his eyes and gestured dramatically.

   “Remington, you feed on me all the time. Virgil has been trying to respect his friend’s boundaries. It’s considerate of him,” Emile chided Remy firmly.

   “No, no, I’m batty, I know I am,” Virgil laughed slightly, still too upset with himself to genuinely laugh.

   “And Roman! When did you start dating D?” Patton said, pushing Virgil’s chest. Oof. Pat’s on the warpath. Virgil slid Patton down and Patton marched over to Roman sourly.

   “Are they always like this?” The one in the orange beanie whispered to Thomas.

   “I have no idea, but I’d kill for some popcorn,” Thomas whispered back behind his hand.

   “I, uh, the night we got the dancing video we were going to watch. I’m sorry, I was drunk and kind of forgot about telling you,” Deceit smirked and kissed Roman’s temple, releasing him.

   “You were drunk?” Patton yelled, perhaps even more upset now, and stomped right into Roman’s face. Roman held up his hands and backed up. Virgil was impressed at the amount of tiny fury Patton contained and was sincerely glad it wasn’t aimed at himself anymore. He still felt bad for Roman, who looked completely blindsided by the whole event.

   “Holy shit, this is better than a soap opera,” The orange beanie-wearing vampire whispered.

   “I know,” The one with the lavender hair whispered back, looking incredibly bemused.

   “I didn’t get cast as Semptimus or Bernard because of some stupid rule about freshman not playing leads and wanted to have fun instead of moping all evening,” Roman explained himself defensively, holding up his hands. Logan also looked upset at Roman, which was surprising.

   “Roman, you are eighteen, that’s illegal!” Patton shot, pointing a finger at him assertively.

   “I’m pretty certain most of the people out here are illegal, that doesn’t make their existence wrong,” Roman said warily. Oh, wow, he could almost hear a sports commentator shout ‘powerful misdirection by the defense’!

   “Huh,” Logan looked considerate for a moment. “I suppose you’re right,” Logan moved up one of his crossed arms to his chin with interest.

   “Logan, don’t you agree with him!” Patton said angrily, shooting Logan a glower.

   “Patton, the laws are created for those in power, not necessarily with the best interests of every being in mind. There are plenty of unjust rules. As long as Roman doesn’t make a habit out of it, I don’t think it’s significantly more objectionable than Virgil’s very presence in human society, which you are fine with,” Logan explained evenly. Oh, the misdirection landed! Fantastic play by the defense! Deceit arched his eyebrow curiously at Virgil who just shrugged. He had very little control of what was going on up there and had little explanation for it. Roman made him watch the Olympics recently, so that may have contributed, but he had long since accepted that he was batty.

   “Thanks? I think?” Virgil responded, but he was not entirely sure what was happening.

   “Damn, this kid should do law,” The one with lavender hair whispered in awe. Patton made a frustrated noise and Deceit pulled them close and spoke quietly right into their ear.

   “Young man,” There was a chorus of sputtered laughter at that angry declaration from Patton. “Don’t think I forgive you for being an accessory to Roman’s crimes,” Patton huffed, sounding less distressed.

   “His crimes? Darling, please, he had some whiskey. It’s a forgivable offense. You’re upset because you don’t want him to hurt himself,” Deceit corrected Patton and took their hand. That assuredly wasn’t the complete story, but Patton must want to keep it private.

   “I-” Patton cut themselves off quickly. “I am,” Patton muttered, drooping slightly.

   “It’s reasonable to be scared for your friend’s health, Patton. It’s okay that you’re angry at him for taking unnecessary risks. But Roman was with people who love him and surely made sure that he was safe, right?” Emile asked gently.

   “Of course, we made him drink a ton of water and he had two dinners. Roman was barely even hungover the next day,” Virgil attempted to placate Patton. Roman really did have so many pancakes he hated himself and a serious amount of water.

   “I wasn’t!” Roman piped up and corroborated Virgil’s story, sounding hopeful.

   “It was a misunderstanding, but I think it would be healthy to apologize to each other, anyway,” Emile smiled reassuringly and nodded to Roman.

   “I’m sorry I made you worry, Pat,” Roman apologized dejectedly. He sounded very sincere and looked down to the patio.

   “And I’m sorry I yelled,” Patton muttered back, walking over to hug Roman. Roman wrapped his arms around Patton and pet their hair. They both seemed much better already, and that impressed Virgil. Roman was the type to fume, and Patton rarely let things go easily.

   “Great! Let’s go watch movies, yeah?” Emile chirped brightly, motioning with both arms to head inside. Okay, wow, having him around was actually pretty awesome.

   “Thanks, Emile,” Virgil sighed in relief.

   “Anytime, Virgil! Especially during my office hours!” Emile chimed with a knowing smile aimed directly at Virgil.

   “Ugh!” Virgil groaned loudly in objection. Hopefully, he’d drop it.

   “Uh, well, that was a fucking event! I’m Joan,” The one in the orange beanie provided.

   “I’m Talyn,” The lavender haired one added.

   “I like your hair, Talyn,” Patton said shyly.

   “Thanks, I think you’re rocking that pastel rainbow, too,” Talyn offered. Patton blushed slightly. “We both use they/them,” Talyn motioned between themself and Joan.

   “I do too,” Patton smiled.

   “Roman, he/him. Glasses over there is also he/him,” Roman said, holding open the door for everybody to go inside.

   “My name is Logan,” he narrowed his eyes at Roman but seemed to let it go. “Virgil, are you feeling anything different today?” He asked mildly.

   “I’m don’t have any feelings about it at the moment,” Virgil shrugged. “Whatever you want to call me,” Virgil walked in and settled on the floor in front of the couch. Patton crawled up behind him and started playing with his hair again. Deceit quickly claimed Virgil’s lap with a smug smile.

   Roman examined a pile of movies left on the coffee table and Logan went to the dinner table and pulled out his food to eat, though he angled himself to watch the TV. Roman flipped through the movie cases with a disgusted look while Remy flopped on the couch, leaning against the arm and pulled Emile into his lap. Thomas sat next to Patton and Joan and Talyn claimed the recliners next to the couch.

   “Pat, don’t you want to eat your pizza while it’s hot?” Virgil asked. He wasn’t bothered by Patton playing with his hair, but didn’t want Patton to forget about their food.

   “Just let me do one hairstyle first,” Patton said, very focused and tugging at Virgil’s hair. Patton was excited about the pizza, so Virgil was vaguely flattered that they’d rather play with his hair.

   “Did you want to watch one of these movies first or would you like a few minutes of Virgil and Deceit fancy-dancing? Patton and Logan have been wanting to see it. I only just finished editing it today,” Roman asked the room, holding up the movie cases and a USB drive.

   “Show us the fun dance that Virgil’s so embarrassed about,” Remy smirked. Virgil shot Remy a glower, but he just looked amused. Emile looked very interested as well, rubbing his hands together.

   “Yeah, that’s chill. Then I want to see the one with the ghosts,” Joan piped up and shared his opinion.

   “Nice,” Roman nodded and slid the flash drive into the side of the large TV. “You think I can see the TV from the hot tub?” He asked curiously as he came around for the remote.

   “Babe,” Remy said stoically, looking intense. “Yes. Let’s fucking hot tub,” Remy said keenly, picking up Emile. He put Emile down on the couch and headed over to the hot tub. Emile chuckled and scooted closer to Virgil.

   “I will wait until an hour after eating,” Logan said, enjoying a slice of pizza.

   “Will you be able to hear through the jets?” Patton asked as Roman trotted off to his bag.

   “It’s fine if I can’t. I’ve heard the music before, I’ve watched it a million times editing it,” Roman said, pushing the big button near the hot tub and turning on the bubbles. Roman waved his swim trunks and disappeared into one of the doors in the suite. Remy just stripped down on the spot and climbed in, looking very satisfied as he sank into hot water.

   “Did you want to play with some, too, Emile?” Patton’s bubbly voice came from behind Virgil, and it felt like they were offering a handful of hair to Emile.

   “It sure does look fun. Would that be okay with you, Virgil?” Emile asked considerately, sounding fascinated.

   “Sure, whatever,” Virgil shrugged. He felt Emile’s hand take a section of hair and it felt like he started working with Patton on a style. Patton would poke Virgil’s head sometimes and hair would tug near the last poke. He wasn’t positive of exactly what they were up to, but Patton seemed to be entertained, so he was happy with it.

   “It would be more fun if you had more of it,” Deceit enticed him in a sing-song tone after pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

   “Are we tempting Virgil out there? I want to join you!” Roman shot out of the bathroom and slid across the floor to lean against Virgil, looking extremely mischievous in his swim trunks. The smoothness of that move was for a human would have impressed Virgil if he wasn’t so annoyed. He narrowed his eyes at both of them.

   “Virgil would look fetching with more hair, wouldn’t he?” Deceit said sweetly, stroking Virgil’s face.

   “Oh, he would be dazzling,” Roman said affectionately and smiled flirtatiously at Virgil, fluttering his eyelashes playfully.

   “You have the weirdest clan, dude,” Joan said, leaning back on the recliner, looking up from their phone. Virgil sighed and shrugged. “Put the fancy dancing on already,” They motioned to the TV.

   “Virgil, can you turn it rainbow without feeding? The braids would look so cool,” Patton asked eagerly while Roman got up to grab the remote for navigating to the video.

   “Yeah, hold on,” Virgil said, leaning forward to get up, but Deceit pinned him on the spot.

   “Make it longer while you’re at it,” Deceit smirked, planting a small kiss on Virgil’s jaw.

   “For the love of- Fine, okay? I’ll lengthen my hair. Ro?” Virgil gave up and looked over to Roman. He was participating in this ridiculousness and may as well help out.

   “As if that wasn’t my plan all along,” Roman grinned impishly. Virgil got up, a very smug and satisfied looking Deceit clearing away so he could. Virgil went over to the mirror and turn his hair rainbow colors and grow it out with an exasperated sigh. The rainbows looked completely preposterous, and the length wasn’t rational in the least, but if it made them happy then he could get over it.

   “You weren’t kidding about your clan heckling you, huh?” Thomas sounded bemused.

   “Thank you, Logan, for not participating in Roman and Deceit’s evil nonsense. Roman, please order some room service with vegetables, no matter the amount of pizza you ate you’ll need nutrients,” Virgil exhaled with exhaustion as he pulled the last of the hair out he could manage.

   “You’re welcome,” Logan smiled knowingly and tapped off his mouth with a napkin. “Can I take your spot, Deceit?” He asked genially.

   “I suppose,” Deceit hummed, sitting up on the couch next to Patton instead. Virgil reclined back down on the floor in front of Patton and Emile. He tiredly motioned for Roman to press play. Logan relaxed into Virgil’s lap, much to Virgil’s surprise, as the video stared up. He was fiddling with his bracelet with one hand but latched on to Virgil with the other. It was nice that Logan was feeling huggy today. Virgil happily pulled him close and enjoyed Logan’s warmth.

   Honestly, they did look good dancing, and Roman did an amazing job recording them. His dress was beautiful to see from another angle, too. It didn’t make it any less embarrassing, though. Virgil opted to close his eyes and just focus on the sensation of Patton’s fingers resting on his head while they watching the video. They were too enthralled to keep braiding and kept squealing with delight as Deceit threw Virgil around the room. Even Thomas gasped at one point. Deceit felt so proud Virgil could feel it over his shield.

   “I’m not sure if I should be impressed with your athleticism since you are literally another species, but I do compliment you on your skill,” Logan said, sounding somewhat mesmerized with the video.

   “That was awesome,” Thomas said reverently. “Worth the wait!” Thomas cheered as the recording ended and Deceit requested Patton to thank him later.

   “Thank you!” Patton rejoiced, raising their arms in the air.

   “It was gay as fuck. I just want to take you dancing even more now,” Remy nodded, sounding hyped. Patton bristled much less than usual behind Virgil and hopefully was finally getting used to cussing.

   “There was great on-the-fly choreography,” Talyn mused, and Virgil was surprised at the genuine compliment from a stranger.

   “Uh, thanks,” Virgil mumbled. He wasn’t entirely sure how to process that.

   “Why thank you,” Deceit bowed slightly on the couch.

   “That was so cool! Can I have a copy of the file?” Patton asked enthusiastically, putting their hands back in Virgil’s hair.

   “Indeed! you can borrow that flash drive,” Roman replied airily from the hot tub.

   “Thanks again for editing, Roman. Please keep it offline, Pat,” Virgil said firmly, turning his head slightly to shoot Patton a glance.

   “Virge, you just got to change inputs to the blu-ray and press play,” Roman explained quickly. “I already put in the thing with the ghosts on the player, it’s all ready,” He melted down a bit into the hot tub, looking very satisfied with himself.

   “Woo!” Talyn cheered, holding up both their arms.

   “Fucking nice,” Joan pumped their fist. “The dance was cool, too. All the flips rocked,” They nodded sagely and grinned.

   “I want to learn how to do a ballroom dance now,” Thomas said dreamily.

   “I have to teach stupid Anton, anyway. Maybe Virgil and I will just offer to teach whoever wants to learn,” Roman considered sourly. “Better than teaching Anton alone… Remy, are you naked?” Roman asked incredulously, looking over and shooting his eyes up quickly.

   “You’re welcome,” Remy smirked. “Emmy, babe, are you joining me?” Remy flipped his hand towards Emile.

   “I’ve never played with hair this long!” Emile said defensively. “And I didn’t bring my suit, and I don’t know half the people here well enough for that,” He added slightly more sheepishly. It felt like he kept going while talking. Emile must have been really into it. Logan leaned to the side to look at what the braiders were doing behind him. He seemed satisfied and nestled back in again, still fidgeting with his bracelet.

   “I can’t resist, either,” Patton chuckled. Virgil’s head was being braided or plaited or possibly weaved into something by Patton and Emile together, Virgil couldn’t tell. But he was kind of too tired to care. He was very comfortable with Logan and everyone in his clan was feeling some variation of good, so even though he was exhausted he was extremely contented. He sighed happily as Logan leaned his head against Virgil’s to watch the movie.

personal taglist: @elizabutgayer@ollyollyoxinfree

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[amillionmillionvoices]

Hicsqueak watching hocus pocus

also for @fernwehexplorer - thank you darlings!  / part of the tattoo au series, so prob better to read at least the first chapter. 

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Pippa glances over at Hecate mid-scene and sighs. This was her last ditch effort. She’s tried everything—Halloween she hadn’t found the least bit frightening; Halloweentown she’d spent castigating the children on their disobedience; she’d declared Casper an “atrocious oversimplification of spectres, The Nightmare Before Christmas had too much singing, and she’d shut off Goosebumps five minutes in and declared it a “juvenile eyesore.” 

They’re halfway through Hocus Pocus and Pippa can see Hecate trying desperately to keep her mouth shut. Pippa hadn’t been lying when she’d said it was her favorite Halloween movie, but still, she feels a bit bad for making Hecate sit through something she so clearly finds distasteful. 

She’s been trying to broaden Hecate’s horizons away from documentaries and nature specials, and had thought Halloween might be the perfect avenue: Hecate herself is practically a witch—the way she moves, her long hair, perpetually black outfits and black-painted nails. All she needs is a hat (when Pippa told her so, however, Hecate threw a strawberry at her head; Pippa had only grinned—”I’m surprised you didn’t levitate it”—and Hecate had glared and stewed until Pippa came over and kissed her cheek; it still makes her insides bubble, her knees go weak, the way Hecate softens at her touch, each and every time). 

And yet, she seems to detest Halloween with a vigor Pippa hasn’t seen before, and no amount of candy or movies or dancing into their room in nothing but cat ears on her head has convinced her otherwise. (Well, Pippa muses, watching Hecate glare at the television, the cat ears helped a little.) Pippa’s tried getting it out of her—the real reason behind her distaste for the holiday—but all she gets is a lecture on witch hunts and damaging stereotypes and misogynistic binaries. 

Still, it’s better than watching Hecate sit so still, so obviously annoyed and uncomfortable, and Pippa reaches over her for the remote, pausing the film. 

Hecate blinks. “Pippa?” 

“You hate it, don’t you?” 

She tries not to sound disappointed, but some of it must seep through because Hecate looks guilty, looks away. 

“It’s...entertaining.” 

“Liar,” Pippa mutters, and leans back into the sofa dramatically. “Go on. Let me have it.” 

Hecate sighs. “It’s positively patriarchal, Pippa,” she says, “the last thing children need is more reason to fear women, or to not take us seriously. Ignoring the fact that witches historically have been healers and midwives, not murderers, the fact that three seasoned witches are so incompetent as to let a child ruin their efforts—” 

Pippa laughs. She can’t help it. “Darling, it’s fiction.” 

Hecate sniffs. “It still sends a message.” 

“I think you’re reading too much into it.” Pippa cuts off Hecate’s protest by leaning her head against her shoulder and taking her hand, running her fingertips over Hecate’s palm in a way that makes her shiver, a way to tell her she isn’t angry, that they aren’t fighting. Hecate needs that, she’s noticed—little reassurances that their debates and bickering aren’t driving Pippa away. 

“As much as I detest pop culture, Pippa, it has its relevance.” 

Pippa glances up at her, curious. “So what message did you learn?” 

Hecate frowns, and Pippa tangles their fingers together and squeezes. 

“You’re a good actor, darling, but patriarchal constructs and the historiography of witches aren’t why you hate Halloween. At least, not the only reason.” 

She hasn’t asked so directly—has tried to let Hecate come to her if she chooses. But sometimes she thinks perhaps she should be more direct; if perhaps Hecate is merely waiting for the right question, waiting for someone to listen to her answer. 

Hecate stammers slightly, and Pippa brushes her thumb back and forth over her skin. 

“You don’t have to tell me,” she says, offering an out, “but you know you can, right?” 

She holds Hecate’s gaze, stares into dark eyes and hopes Hecate can see how much she cares; how much she wants to know her, know all of her; how much she’ll love her regardless. 

Hecate stares back, and Pippa doesn’t realize she’s been holding her breath until Hecate stands abruptly, and without a word, walks out of the room. Pippa frowns and follows her into her bedroom, unsure of whether or not to be affronted, and finds Hecate in her closet, the lights still off, but Pippa can make out the splashes of pink and blue—jeans and a fuzzy sweater she keeps here, along with a drawer filled with t-shirts and intimates and brightly colored socks—and it makes her smile each and every time. Hecate has a drawer similar at Pippa’s place, though they spend less time there—Pippa hasn’t slept there in days, stopping by to just grab whatever she needs, and it fills her with so much warmth, the giddiness of it. 

Hecate pushes aside a sea of black and unearths an ornate chest she keeps there, one Pippa has noticed but never asked about. She doesn’t ask now, as much as she wants to, tries to curb her impatience as Hecate retrieves something, a slender black book, square in shape. 

When she returns, and sits on the bed, Pippa follows, perching next to her, their thighs touching. Hecate pauses a moment, the book in her lap, and glances at Pippa—for reassurance, perhaps, so Pippa smiles softly and places a hand on Hecate’s knee encouragingly. 

Hecate nods, and opens the book, and it isn’t a book but an album, a photo album. The first page is a woman who looks so much like Hecate, but softer—her eyes are blue, her smile sweet and tired, and she’s holding a baby wrapped in a pink blanket. 

Pippa tries not to exhale too loudly. “Is that—?”

“My mother.”

Pippa squeezes her knee. She doesn’t know much about Hecate’s past, her family, but knows she doesn’t talk about it, or them, and hasn’t wanted to speculate as to why. 

Hecate flips the page, and there are more baby pictures, more photos of her mother, always soft, always smiling. There’s one with Hecate—at least, she thinks it’s Hecate—bundled up in the snow, chewing on a cardboard book, perched on her mother’s hip. 

Pippa watches as Hecate grows older, and by the time she’s three she’s dressed in blacks and greys and whites, stiff, uncomfortable looking dresses, her hair always pulled back. 

There are so many gaps - no birthday or holiday photos, and Pippa thinks of her own parents’ albums, stuffed to the brim and overflowing with family portraits and picnics and vacations.

She glances at Hecate, expects to see her somber but instead there’s a small, wistful smile pulling at her lips as she pauses on, what Pippa thinks, is the photograph she was looking for. Hecate tilts the album so she can see it better, and Pippa almost laughs. 

It’s Hecate, perhaps five or six, in front of a non-descript bungalow, holding her mother’s hand. Both of them are dressed as witches, in black dresses with black hats, Hecate with a small orange pumpkin pail. 

“My father wouldn’t let me go out on Halloween,” she says, though there’s no blame there, just fact, “but he was gone one year on business, and my mother took me trick-or-treating. I couldn’t keep the candy, but…”

“You look adorable,” Pippa says, and Hecate smirks. 

“We bought hats at a dollar store, and spent the whole evening going from house to house.”

She turns the page, and there’s another photo of Hecate, holding her overflowing pail, grinning; her mother crouched next to her, saying something. 

Pippa drinks in the photograph, something nagging.

“Hecate—“

“She died a few days after,” Hecate says, and Pippa feels her throat close, her chest tighten. “This was the last time we...the last time she was really with me. On Halloween.”

She feels horrible. Abruptly, achingly, horrible. She’s spent all of October cajoling Hecate into watching holiday films and bringing home pumpkins and showing her pictures on the internet of dogs in costumes and Hecate has let her, never said a word. 

“I’m sorry,” she manages, tongue heavy in her mouth. “I’m so—”

Hecate shakes her head. “It’s fine. It was a long time ago.”

Pippa shakes her head. “I shouldn’t have tried to force you. I shouldn’t have—”

Hecate cuts her off with a hand in her thigh. “You didn’t know. And…” Hecate pauses, her eyes still on the photograph. “It’s been… I generally ignore the whole affair, but sharing it with you has made it… tolerable,” she says, then, softly, “Better.” 

Pippa nods, her throat tight and eyes stinging and she doesn’t know what to say, beyond a hoarse, “I’m glad.” 

Hecate nods, one hand still on the book, the other on Pippa’s leg, and Pippa leans in closer, rests her head on Hecate’s shoulder as she stares down at the photograph, at Hecate’s mother, reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind Hecate’s ear. She’s smiling, of course, but there’s something in her expression, something far away and melancholy that Pippa can’t place. It’s in Hecate’s eyes, too, despite her wide, childish grin, and Pippa wonders what happened; she doesn’t ask. 

Instead, she presses a kiss to Hecate’s shoulder before looking back at the photo, and for the first time, notices. Her eyes land on Hecate’s mother’s wrist, visible for the first time, the sleeve of her dress riding up, and there, blurred but so obvious, is a tattoo, a black outline of a small cat, so similar to the one Pippa had done their first real meeting. She gasps. 

Leans forward, confident she’s mistaken: but after she blinks it’s still here. Not as ornate as Hecate’s, not as detailed, but a similar silhouette, in the same place, and she can’t quite breathe.

“Hecate?”  

Hecate stiffens slightly, but doesn’t move away, doesn’t close the book, just trails a finger over the tattoo. 

“She got it before I was born. My father hated it, of course, but she refused to have it removed. She got it when she was 18, she said, after a childhood pet. I wanted… something similar.” 

“And you trusted me?” 

She doesn’t mean to sound incredulous, but she knows she does; knows, by the way Hecate closes the book and sets it aside on the bed, by the way she looks at her, expression unreadable for a long moment. 

“Yes,” she says finally. “I did.” And then, softer, “I do.” 

Pippa inhales sharply, stares at her, her beautiful face, her open expression, before she lurches forward and kisses her, a hand on her cheek and Hecate startles, then relaxes, opens her mouth under Pippa’s and kisses her back. It’s too much, and not enough, and Pippa nearly crawls into Hecate’s lap, wraps her arms around her as tight as she can, feels Hecate’s soft, careful hands hold her close, so gentle.

[fireandgloryrpg]

Unity Feast || Group Chatzy

Roman’s and Greeks gather together to celebrate their unity. Piper loses her purse and the night has a dramatic ending. 

Percy had lived in New Rome for most of his adult life and he had yet to see it in such a beautiful condition. He didn’t know who was responsible for it, but the progress in the cities reconstruction was astounding. Where they hadn’t completed work, delicate decorations such as fairy lights or neon signs had soften the atmosphere around the square where the festivities were taking place. Striding through the crowds of people, he greeted friends left and right. He was wearing one of the few pieces of his wardrobe that he’d managed to salvage after he’d returned to his apartment at the war’s end. A dark navy blue suit with a light pink shirt and blue tie. Brown belt and brown shoes of course. Heading towards the bar, he ordered a drink. This was going to be a good night, at least that was what he hoped.

Wally had left after Z. The pair decided to meet each other at the feast separately. Wally came in a dark purple tux with a dark tie to match. He had added a laurel wreath to his head for the evening, something he felt was a nice addition. Wally was openly nervous, looking around every few minutes, waiting for something to pop up. It felt like nothing could be enjoyed anymore. The smell of food was quick to reduce his fears. Maybe if he ate something he’d feel better. As trays of food passed around, Wally picked up what seemed to be a fried ball of filled with stuffing and mashed potatoes. “Holy shit, has anyone else tried this?!” Wally snuck a few more of the things off a tray and made his way over to the bar to order a drink. He smiled when he saw Percy down a few seats. “Hey! You look good, man.”

As a general rule, Abigail was not a party person. Partially because bumping into other people was inevitable, partially because talking to other people was inevitable, partially because it meant getting all dressed up when she’d much prefer to lounge around in her couch, braless, hair tied up in a bun, wearing an oversized shirt covered in Cheeto dust and with her cat, Shelley, curled up on her lap. Counterpoint: she liked drinking, dancing and eating fancy snacks. So this was kind of a conundrum. In the end, she solved it by giving into peer pressure and going to the friggin’ party. Wearing a full-length light blue gown (with full sleeves and gloves, of course) and with her hair in a neat braid, Abigail was thoroughly enjoying the open bar, ordering the drinks that looked the fanciest and the wackiest. Later, once her legs had rested from the walk over, maybe she’d dance.

Noticing the two children of Hecate that had arrived around him, Percy finished his drink order. “Hey Wally,” he said as he finished ordering a pint of beer, turning to look at Abby and then leaning back and engaging both his friends, “you and Abby definitely know each other right?” he asked with a gentle smile. He’d known both Wally and Abby separately. Both of them were children of Hecate and though he’d spent time in New Rome and Camp Half Blood with them separately, this might’ve been the first time that he’d seen them together. “Is it too early to start really drinking? I’ve been considering when the appropriate time to start doing shots would be.”

While Jason wasn’t the world’s biggest fan of overly formal events, he couldn’t deny that he looked pretty good when he attended them. Anxiously smoothing down the front of his dark gray jacket and adjusting his dark red tie he strode purposefully into the half-finished Senate house, marveling at the beauty of the edifice. As he turned slowly to take in everything around him he caught a familiar bearded face from across the room, and wandered over to his best friend, snagging two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray as he did. “It might be too early for shots. However I think you’re in the clear for some bubbly.” He squeezed Percy’s arm and nodded to the people he was talking to, brushing his hair out of his face. “Evening. You both look lovely.”

While Percy was all fussy about when was the right time to start drinking, Abigail was on her third tequila shot. “Uh. Wally? Never heard of him. Sounds like he got jealous of my nickname, though”, she said, deadpan, before licking off the salt from the back of her hand and downing her shot like a pro. “Evening, Jason. Thank you, I always do. You two look nice, too.” Unable to help herself, she added, teasingly: “For guys, I guess.”

Annabeth had never been one for much dressing up, and she much preferred her shorts and t shirts, but in the spirit of the Unity Feast she was now sporting a long blue gown. Praying to all the gods that she didn’t trip over it somehow in the course of the evening, she headed over to where a cluster of her friends stood. “ Hey, what’d I miss? ”

Wally nodded. “Yes we know each other, sadly.” He smiled at Abigail and thanked the bartender when his drink arrived. “I think we all look pretty sexy, myself included, of course.” When Annabeth came over, he shrugged. “Nothing yet. We’re getting drinks, but it seems Percy is apprehensive. But my guess is: put something blue in front of him and he’ll drink it, no matter what.” Wally took a look around and showed his plate of kind-of-stolen delicacies to the small group. “You guys gotta try these. There is mash potatoes and stuffing mixed in. It’s like . . . I don’t know. It’s the kinda stuff the gods hoard away from us.”

Turning, Percy accepted the glass of champagne off of his best friend and took his place besides Jason. Smiling graciously, he shrugged. “I want to be clear, I’m not the type of person to shy away from a good drink. I definitely don’t think that I’m the type of person to turn down a shot, I was simply musing as to whether or not it was worth considering if there was an appropriate time for shots. Four for shots perhaps?” he smiled gently and looked to Annabeth, winking gently at his friend before taking a sip from his champagne flute as the music filtered through the evening air. The sound of violins singing in the background.

“I never really associated this outfit with pounding shots at the bar,” Jason laughed, straightening his tie and vest, but if we’re lining up at the rail, I’ll do my duty and uphold my collegiate honor.” As Annabeth joined their group he gave her a small wave, sipping from his flute. The entire scene was a little surreal, but he didn’t all together hate it. They had earned this party, with blood sweat and tears and hopefully it would give them all a chance to heal some of the ugly wounds the war had opened. “I hope there are more than canapés at this thing or we’re going to be drunk in a corner in the first five minutes.”

Connor took his time arriving at the party. Sure, he enjoyed them, and all the things that came with parties, such as food and alcohol and pickpocketing, but he just wanted to take it slow tonight. Walking through the crowd, he wore a white button up shirt with floral patterns on, half buttoned down, along with navy pants and matching brown shoes and a belt. Flashing flirty grins at most people he passed, his eyes fell upon his friends at the bar. “I see we’re forming a sub-party over here, is it invite only?” He joked before ordering himself a whiskey and lemonade. “Glad to see we all turned up, everyone looks stunning.” His eyes flickered over everyone before finally landing on his drink. Tonight would have been great, if it wasn’t for the fact that he was terribly missing someone.

Marcus leant against a building on the outside of the square, tapping his ring against his glass. His eyes gently scanned through the crowd making mental notes of everyone he knew. So far, he hadn’t noticed anyone who caught his particular attention, other than a couple of greeks that had started to gather at the bar. Sighing he pushed himself off the wall and moved towards the centre of the square, slipping past people with ease. A smile tugged at the edge of his lips as he spotted his co-centurion and began to move towards her. “Cat, imagine seeing you here.” He joked.

It was strange to think that once upon a time Marcus had been Cat’s subordinate, but now they were partners in leading what was essentially her life’s work. Marcus had been the most suitable choice after Jax had left, however without him here, now, it felt strange. “Marcus,” she drawled, raising a glass of red wine to her equally crimson lips, “a pleasure as always to see you here.” Wearing a sleek black silk dress, Cat reached up and played with the black diamond she wore around her neck. Absently taking everything in. “It has truly turned out well, morale should benefit from the extravagance, don’t you think?”

Brock had been there since before the event started. He offered to act as guard but his higher-ups still felt he was a bit too off balance to be working. They believed it would be better for him to enjoy the event, as if he could. The entire feast, while he was happy to see Romans having a good time, it felt like a joke. Seeing Marcus and Cat, Brock got into stepping. Seeing familiar faces, ones incredibly friendly took a weight off of Brock he hadn’t been aware of before. “Marcus, Cat, how’re you both? You both look nice.” His eyes strayed from Cat but he kept an even smile. Brock had come in a suit lent to him by his friend, tailored of course. A dark green suit with a thin belt around his waist, similar to those of the strings tied around a tunic.

In her defence, Piper hadn’t meant to get so tipsy. She’d only meant to stay for a little while, have a couple of drinks, and then go home. But that wasn’t what happened. She was on her second drink by now, a complete and utter lightweight, swaying in time to the music as she swallowed the sweet taste of cranberry-vodka down her throat. She hadn’t put much effort into her appearance tonight, wearing a tight red dress and pair of heels. She looked great, however, but didn’t feel on her A-game. Nonetheless, she wanted to see everyone. Following after Connor, she said, “Hey, has anyone seen my purse? Pretty — pretty sure I left it somewhere. Don’t know where, but it’s got to be here somewhere.” Even when tipsy, she could talk eloquently.

Eyeing the drinks available, Annabeth was torn between making a conscious decision to stay sober, or throw caution to the wind, because let’s face it, they all deserved a night to get shitfaced after everything that had gone on. “ Cheers to the night? ” She lifted her own glass at the group, raising her eyebrow as Conner and Piper joined them. “ I haven’t, but I could go with you to take a look around if you’d like? ” She offered, noting the slightly slurring girl. There was a voice in the back of her mind telling her that if the beginning of the night was any indication, it might be safer for there to be at least one sober person. God knows what might happen when you mixed a bunch of demigods and legacies who had still unresolved tension and alcohol.

Despite everything that had happened in the last few months, Percy found himself relaxing and enjoying himself. Swallowing a few mouthfuls of champagne, he glanced between Annabeth and Piper wondering whether Piper had even brought a purse with her, “I wouldn’t worry too much about it,” Percy replied with a smile as he reached for several more glasses of champagne and passed them around the group, ensuring that anyone who didn’t already have a drink was well provided for. “If I can just take a moment, I’d like to toast us all, Roman and Greek alike, we’ve been through so much and we’ve come out stronger. So a toast to the years to come, with all the friends we’ve made along the way.” He raised his glass towards the small group they’d formed by the bar. Completely oblivious of all the people they were blocking from gaining access to said bar, but in that moment they couldn’t care less.

Despite his love for these events, Aidan was nervous with how things would go. If he’d know anyone there, if he’d be dressed well enough. He fidgeted with his outfit in the storefront windows as he made his way down, feeling over the soft pink lace sewn over his creamy white jacket. Matching pants, and rose gold cufflinks. He stared at the lights of the party before entering, putting on his best smile. His anxiety washed away seeing people he knew. “Hope I’m not too late to join in?” He asked, picking up a glass of his own, knowing to be mindful of how much he had, eyeing Cat. Aidan wasn’t about to embarrass himself further. Everything felt surreal. Calm. Okay for the first time and Aidan felt good about the night. About the future a little bit too.

Jason raised his glass as Percy launched into a toast, nodding along to his friend’s words. “Here here. To the friendships we’ve made along the way and to the peace we now work to construct. May they both last an eternity.” He downed his glass and passed it off to a passing waiter before snagging another full one. He was more than his usual amount of awkward; given that this was the first event he’d been to where he didn’t have a title and job to hide behind, but he was bound and determined to make it work. Which meant acknowledging the presence of the bitch in the black dress across the circle from him. “Ms Karavadra.” He half bowed “you look lovely this evening. Hopefully you’ll save a dance for me later, provided your dance card isn’t already full.”

By the time Abigail came back, she was still a little tipsy and her feet -- foot, her foot hurt. She slid delicately onto the stool, propped her elbows up onto the bar. Her cheeks were flushed with the exercise, her hair only slightly out of place. “I missed the toast?” she asked, then ordered a side of French fries, one of her few guilty pleasures. Out the corner of her eye, she saw Karavadra, promptly deciding to ignore her. It had always been obvious how Karavadra felt about the Greeks, so Abigail felt no obligation to go out of her way to be nice.

Honestly, as Cat, Brock and Marcus made their way past the group of merrymakers toasting and loudly talking about shots, food and the food time that they were having. Cat’s emotional mask slid into place as she gave Jason the most beautiful smile that she could muster. “You look positively ravishing yourself, that suit really brings out your eyes.” She smiled kindly at him as she continued gliding past. “I shall endeavour to save you a dance,” she gestured to Marcus and Brock as if to indicate that she was already inundated with potential prospects, “but as I am sure that you can see Mr. Grace, my dance card is filling up fast, so make sure you get in while stocks last.” She gave him one final sickly sweet smile, a mischievous glitter in her eyes as she imagined what disembowelment would be like for him. She hoped painful. His self righteous smug nature was almost sickening.

Cat had a way with people, she knew what to say and how to seem elegant and hide her true feelings. Marcus however, struggled with it despite his natural gift with the mist and his illusion spells. Instead, he opted to simply showing his true emotions, one of disinterest towards the group. He remembered all the Roman legionnaires they had lost through the war, not to mention their legionnaires on every other day too. He might have seemed old fashioned with his ways, but blood must have blood, just, not now. Leaving Cat’s side, he flashed a chaotic smile at Jason and then the others. “You don’t mind if a join you right? You did make a toast to Romans and Greeks alike, that includes me right?” A tone of mischievousness danced in between his words as he placed his empty glass on the table and ordering a new one, purposely leaning over and Greeks in the way.

“Oh, Zeus”, Abigail said under her breath. She didn’t mind the Romans’ company on grounds of them being Romans, but she didn’t like the atmosphere they’d brought with themselves. Growing up in a hostile environment, she could pick up on the slightest of signs of someone getting angry. Her magic probably had something to do with it, too. Always a hater of physical contact, but too stubborn (too fucked up) to display weakness, Abigail didn’t even twitch as Marcus leaned over her to get a new drink. Her plate of fries arrived, and she used a toothpick to stab at them, eyes flicking between Jason and the Romans.

Connor rolled his eyes as Cat showed up. He recalled their previous conversation and couldn’t help but feel a taste of disgust in his mouth. “Piper, I could also help you look for it if you like? I’d rather be anywhere but in the presence of her.” He felt like spitting her name out of his mouth but held himself back. Besides, it honestly wasn’t worth it. “I haven’t seen anyone steal it, perhaps you left it on a table and a waiter picked it up?” Connor had been drinking but he was sober enough to help look for a purse.

Wally turned himself around when Cat showed up. He prayed to his mom that she was passing by. If he never saw her again, he’d be fine. Wally poured back half of his drink and signaled the bartender. This would be more fun, and a lot easier to get through if he was a lot less sober. “Whiskey shot,” he chimed. Wally vaguely heard the daughter of Aphrodite talking about a missing purse. He knew somewhere in his room there was a locator spell, but that was all the way back in his apartment. ‘Sides, Connor’s already offered, he reasoned. Waiting for Z might just be his best option.

Brock grinned at the Greeks and caught the eye of Annabeth and Jason. Even before the war, after the Greeks had shown up, word of Annabeth’s skill in battle came around quickly. He had imagined a few times what it would be like to fight her, what he could learn from her. Jason on the other hand made him feel agitated and annoyed. It was aggravating to see an unfaithful Roman, but Jason wouldn’t allow himself to get too deep into thought on that. There was mystery on both sides and it was easier to just protect the civilians. “Cat, maybe we should go somewhere less rowdy? You wouldn’t want to get anything spilled on that dress.”

It wasn’t like Z to be so terribly late. He had always been the punctual sort, but times were changing and he had a bit of elephant business to take care of before making his way to the festivities. As he slipped past people with faces he knew and treated, he fiddled with the cuffs on his suit jacket. Unfortunately, he hadn’t had the prior inkling to get anything new tailored and his recent surplus of physical activity was making his clothes fit a little snug. It couldn’t be helped. “Oh; excuse me,” he politely exclaimed as he passed by a couple talking privately amongst themselves. His shorter stature easily snaked beyond them, only for him to come to a complete stop when he nearly bumped into Aidan. “Lace? To an event like this? You’re bolder than I thought you’d be.” The tease came easily as he reached over and wrapped his fingertips around a glass on a tray passing by. He eyed the contents warily. The last thing he wanted was alcohol, but this was clear. The squint he gave the glass was almost threatening.

Percy winced internally as the Romans moved over to the side of his group and Marcus made it clear that he was welcoming himself to the proverbial party. Reaching into a small bowl of olives, Percy chewed on a thick green one soaked in chilli oil and made sure that it was crushed into nothingness before he even considered opening his mouth. “Yeah can I get two shots of tequila with lime and salt,” he turned to a Jason whom he knew couldn’t stand Catherine Karavadra, especially after what he considered to be her wrongful arrest of former Praetor Reyna and Frank, “down the hatch bud,” he grimaced as the tequila poured down his throat. The tension in the room was near unbearable as Connor and Cat seemed to glower at one another from across the room. However Percy was determined to ease things off, he knew that the easiest way to do so was probably to break the group up. Turning to Piper and Annabeth, he looked at Jason and grinned. “Ladies?” he asked as Boogie Wonderland began to play in the background, “may we have this dance?”

Cat knew that she was the least popular Roman in miles, and considering the high density population of this square that was truly something to say. The Karavadra family hadn’t done itself any favours by funding and leading the war effort. But Cat knew deep in her stomach that she had done the right thing. She’d been protecting her city, protecting her people. “Yes, I think we should move along Brock, are you coming Marcus?” she asked as she strode away and moved towards Aidan and Z. “I agree, lace was certainly a very bold choice, however I am not convinced that Aidan’s got it in him to be anything less than bold, it has always been a trait that he has possessed.” Despite the fact that he’d previously drunk too much on a mission, she had to admit that the guts which that took was impressive to say the least, she didn’t know many Legionnaires that would survive an ordeal or even risk it.

Piper, ever the eloquent one, grinned at Annabeth, giving her an appreciative glance as she did so. About to accept the offer, she was interrupted by Percy. “I wouldn’t worry about it usually,” she replied. “But I’m pretty sure I left a few important items in - in the bag.” A hiccup sounded, soon followed by another giggle. She was about to say more — perhaps launch into a great speech herself — when Percy beat her to it. Honestly, his way of speaking was much better — and more eloquent — than hers was, so she let it slide, lifting her glass in the air and saying, “Hear, hear!” in response to what he had said. Then, noting Connor at her side, the young demigod latched onto him, curling an arm over his shoulders as she said, “The more help the merrier! I really, really need that bag. Seriously.” She’d already forgotten what she’d put in there, beside a pack of gum, but she was sure it was important. And whoever Connor (and Jason) were trying to avoid, Piper would happily help them do so. However, the thought of her bag was soon forgotten upon Percy’s invitation to dance, and with yet another grin in Jason and Percy’s direction (and with a slight stumble), she said, “I’d love to. Annabeth, what do you say?”

On the surface, this was the time for Greeks and Romans to make up, but as the daughter of a strategy goddess, or even someone with a smidge of common sense, Annabeth knew that things would never be that easy. She nodded in acknowledgement, smiling slightly at the ones who recently arrived, feeling the need to set an example, but it would be a lie to say that she wasn’t wary, especially of Catherine. Grateful for Percy, she silently commended him in her mind, knowing that if they continued here any longer it wouldn’t end up well. “ Don’t yell if I step on anyone’s toes, though. The rest of you want to come? ” She grinned, moving in their direction and extending a hand to steady Piper. The responsible part in her, though, couldn’t help but question Piper again. “ Are you sure you don’t want to go look for your bag first? If there’s important things in it … ”

Frowning at the situation, Percy decided that before any dancing was to be done they would have to discover the whereabouts of the bag. “Has anyone asked some of the staff?” he turned around to the bartender behind the bar and turned to look at Piper. After a hurried conversation, Percy turned to the group. “The bartender says he hasn’t seen it but there is apparently an official lost and found across the way,” he turned and strode off, unsure of which way to go, but he led the way all the same, doing everything that he could to indirectly combat the tension growing between them all. “What colour is your purse?” he asked curiously as the music shifted from Earth Wind and Fire to something a bit more modern that he couldn’t place his finger on.

Connor grinned as Piper placed an arm around him but simply slipped away when she left for a dance. He wasn’t in the mood to dance right now, not after the atmosphere that Cat brought with her. He was about to suggest that he go look for the purse whilst they danced, but then Percy set off on a mission. With a skip and sprint, he caught up to Percy’s side. “I can check the square entrances? Perhaps someone picked it up and dropped it off there. I don’t think it was stolen, and if it was, I could find that out too.” Without waiting for a response, he turned to face the others. “Anyone want to join me?” He then turned and made his way to the entrance that he had come through.

Marcus picked up the drink the bartender had whipped up for him but before he could say anything else, the group seemed to split up and Cat somewhat summoned him to follow her. Sipping his drink he grinned and followed behind Cat, free hand in his pocket. He wasn’t exactly impressed with how Aidan acted during the raiding of the Greek party, but it was amusing. He wasn’t there but he had definitely heard about it. It had been brought up at one of the Centurion meetings so that the Centurion of the 5th could deal with it. “Can you handle your alcohol tonight Aidan?” He said with a teasing smile. He then turned to look over the crowd. Frankly, he was rather bored. “Brock, interested in doing some rounds? I wouldn’t mind reprimanding a few legionnaires that have gotten themselves drunk during the festivitie?”

All the Greeks seemed, suddenly, very concerned with Piper’s bag, and Abigail suspected -- no, she was certain -- that, while their concern was real, they were all the more grateful to get away with the least popular demigod in New Rome. It was a pity that Marcus was so heavily associated with her (at her beck and call, in Abby’s opinion), because, as her mother always said: she was always Hecate. That was why she’d been the least affected by the Roman-Greek split. In her opinion, Marcus and the other children of Trivia were almost as much of her siblings as their Greek counterparts... “See you ‘round, brother”, she said, stabbing another fry with her toothpick. Deciding to help out, Abigail stood. “I’ll come with you, Connor.”

Cat gently watched the majority of the Greeks depart from the large part of the bar that they’d been occupying. “Make sure that you don’t pick on too many of them, I’ve got a nice 10 mile run in full gear for any of our Legionnaires returning to the barracks intoxicated underage, and anyone late for duties will be joining them.” It was a tradition she and Jax had formerly run, and one she intended to continue running in her brother’s absence. She didn’t mind her soldiers enjoying themselves, but they had to always put their duty first. Arriving to duty hungover was unacceptable and it was not something she was willing to tolerate. “But do make sure that our soldier’s are minding their manners. I’d hate for anyone to get upset in such a tense time.”

Aidan’s face flushed and he shrugged. The situation had grown increasingly uncomfortable with Cat and Marcus’ presence, and it felt weird to receive what felt like a compliment from her. “Thank you Z, thank you Cat. And don’t worry, Marcus, I will be watching my intake. I’ve learned that lesson. The rather hard way.” He said remembering how hot and heavy that armor had been the full 10 miles. His muscles ached from the memory. “But maybe go easy on my fellow legionnaires? Gods know we could all use tonight as a break. All work and no play, you know.” He watched as the group split, most people going after his sister’s mysteriously lost purse. He wondered if she’d even brought it. “How’ve you been Z? I haven’t seen you in a hot minute.”

There was a lot to unpack at once. Z recalled, during the final declaration in front of the senate, that there was some sort of tension between Cat and Aidan, but the wording tonight from the centurion and also the man following her alluded to something more. The child of Hypnos would’ve given why a bit more thought, only the voices of a few familiar people caused his head to tilt away from those closest to him to garner a glance at the slight commotion. His ears could faintly pick up on them deciding to split up to look for Piper’s purse. He thought it was best to join them, since it would give him a chance to avoid whatever was about to happen before him with the Romans, but their talking drew him back in and his honey eyes snapped back to them quickly. “Never a dull moment for the Legion, I suppose,” he mused over the rim of his glass. Wagering a sip told him it was very much not water and he hated how smoothly the small bit of clear liquor went down without causing him to wince. “I’ve been as alright as I could be. It’s hard not falling victim to the ‘all work and no play’ sort of thing nowadays. I take it that it’s been fairly similar with people on your end as well?” His words were in the addressing of all the parties before him, not simply to Aidan. He didn’t want to be rude, no matter how much his skin crawled and itched at the thought of what sort of snap could possibly come from Cat or the, frankly, curt man with her.

Brock laughed and shrugged, picking his head up to look around at all that was going on. “Sure, though I think Aidan’s right, Marcus, go easy on them tonight. It’s not everyday that we get to go to a feast.” Roman life was hard and as understatements go, that was certainly one of them. But it made their parties, the times when they did relax all the better and everyone was more grateful for it. If he couldn’t relax tonight, on day when everyone was suppose to be thankful for things, maybe his superiors were right and he was too rigid. “Maybe have a drink first, Marcus.”

Wally watched the group of Greeks leave as he stayed at the bar, deciding to wait on Z. It was a few more minutes until he heard the sound of his boyfriends voice. Turning around, he saw him talking to the kid who Wally had looked after children with. He smiled, happy to see that Z was making friends. He looked back and realized his shot had been sitting there, waiting for him. He threw it back and grabbed his other drink, and went to join Z by putting an arm around his waist and saying hello to both him and Aidan. “Nice night for a party. How’re you boys?”

“Definitely.” Aidan replied. “Reconstruction efforts, civilian complaints…” He sighed, shaking his head and grinned. “And children watching. Wally here sure knows his way around the kids.” He greeted the man as he appeared. Aidan felt like gushing over how cute the pair were, but he held himself together for his current superiors. “I’m pretty good, and how are you? Did you get called back to the daycare since last time? I’m sure the kids wondered why you haven’t been back yet.”

Nico was never huge on social gatherings. The whole idea had his anxiety skyrocketing, but given the general atmosphere of New Rome following the full blown war he'd completely missed out on, he figured making an appearance would be a good thing, especially considering his history of attempting to maintain peace between the Romans and the Greeks. He arrived in an all black three piece suit, despite the fact that he absolutely hated dressing up, but a dress code was a dress code. The decor was breathtaking, and the reconstruction seemed to be heading in the right direction. Deciding against immediately seeking out human interaction, he made his way over to the bar and, after a millisecond long internal discussion about just how old he was (sometimes he forgot his exact age, given the fact that he was technically almost a century old), he ordered himself a Guinness and took a few small sips from the glass.

Percy had checked three bars across the square, doing his best to find Piper’s lost property. He had been enjoying the night well enough, and it only improved as he spotted the black three piece suit of Nico di Angelo. Drinking his typical pint of Guinness, Percy wondered if his friend drank Guinness for the aesthetic or whether he genuinely enjoyed the taste. Either way there was something striking about his appearance. “Nico!” Percy beamed, “I was wondering if you would show up.” Turning to the bartender he ordered himself another drink. The waiters that were moving around the room with Champagne seemed to have disappeared for the moment and Percy wanted to try reconnect with his friend, if he possibly could. “Isn’t the party going well?” he asked as the bartender passed him a pint of Blue Moon. Sadly the drink itself wasn’t actually blue, but the name at least made up for it a little bit.

Nico had no intention of moving from his spot at the bar just yet. Social interaction was draining, something he had to work himself towards. He’d blown through a quarter of his Guinness before he made out a familiar face moving through the crowd and towards him, a small smile forming on his lips. “Figured I'd at least make an appearance.” he responded, turning his body toward his friend. “I think so, yeah. Part of me forgets you guys were at each other's throats not too long ago, but then I spotted a couple Legionnaires giving me the stink eye.” he added with a light laugh. “I think things are going in the right direction for the most part, though.”

Percy had to admit that he was pleased to see his friend. Slipping his hand into his jacket pocket, he reassured himself by patting the pen which would transform into Riptide on the inside pocket of his jacket. Sipping at the hoppy larger he’d been given, Percy shrugged. “We were all manipulated into fighting one another, that’s something that’s going to take time to adjust to that,” sighing gently he took another long drink and sat silently. “The tension seems undeniable.” He sighed gently and shrugged. “But these things are the best worked out in social situations with a shit tonne of booze and food, right?”

Connor accepted the company and began checking the entrances. “No luck, this is really strange. I’m sure it’ll show up sometime though. He shrugged and dug his hands into his pockets, slowly heading over to a bar and ordering shots. “I suppose we should reward ourselves for the effort.” He states as 5 shots per person were poured. They were called sours and weren’t potent but 5 of them were surely to get the party going. He took all 5 swiftly and tilted his head back to enjoy the head rush. Spinning, he turned to locate everyone. He noted Percy’s location, watched as Marcus seemed to leave the party and finally his eyes fell on Cat. He stared as anger boiled. He couldn’t believe how stubborn and selfish someone could be. Not offering help to refugees simply because she’s helped the Romans already and was busy rebuilding. Perhaps it was the alcohol crowding his judgement but he spat on the floor and pulled a subtle middle finger at the Roman before turning and ordering his favorite drink. “I hate her.” He said to whomever was still with him after the shots and the purse hunt.

Cat hadn’t seen Connor’s less than subtle attempt at swearing at her. Mainly because as she had been crossing the square, she had noticed a small bag. Squatting down delicately, she scooped it up and returned to her less than lofty heights. Although the heels she wore allowed her to stand above her usual stature. Opening the purse, she flicked through it to find an ID. Piper Mclean. Interesting. Cat hadn’t exactly ever talked to Jason Grace’s former flame, and though she was sure that Piper was as insufferable as the rest of the heroes of the prophecy who had earned their fame through a few lucky quests, unlike her prestigious career through the Legion, leading and fighting for her people as it should be done. She was aware that a purse had been lost, and set out to return it to its owner. They had to at least pretend to play at peace right?

Connor turned and leaned his back against the bar, taking a sip of his drink, his eyes scanned the crowd again. It was a habit of his, searching the crowd for potential targets even if he had no plans of stealing anything. That’s when his eyes landed on Cat yet again. Seeing the purse that clearly did not match her outfit, he squinted and pieced things together. He launched himself off the bar and stormed off towards her. “I see you’ve found a purse, how convenient after Piper’s had just gone missing. I don’t suppose that’s hers is it?” He stood in her path, arms folded across his chest. “If you’re done doing who knows what with her belongings, I’ll return it to her thanks.” He held his hand out for her to hand the purse over.

Cat had no intention of speaking to impudent Greek that was angrily crossing the square across from her. However it soon became clear to her that Connor had every intention of speaking to her. Not even bothering to suppress the roll of her eyes she tutted at him. “Are you always this arrogant and rude?” she asked with a sneer quickly dancing across her face before she composed herself. “For your information, I only just picked this up, unlike you children of Hermes I have no intention or desire to steal. If I wanted this purse then I’d simply purchase it. However as this is hardly my sort of taste,” she looked somewhat disdainfully at the purse and frowned gently, “now if you’ll excuse me then I shall return this myself, I don’t need your interference, please step aside and next time remember who you’re speaking to. I’m not one of your cabin mates from Camp Half Blood. I’m a centurion of the twelfth Legion, I don’t owe you any explanation.”

“Actually, yeah I am.” Connor spat. “Especially to people that have given me a clear reason for me to be rude to them.” He spoke with confidence and met her gaze. “It’s not the purse you wanted, it was the information. Like you said, you’re a Centurion of the twelfth Legion, it’s your job to collect information on people who could be a threat, maybe you’re just collecting knowledge of the Greeks so that next time you declare war against us, you’ll have a better fighting chance.” He laughed dryly. “Yeah, so you get your henchmen to do everything else for you, but this you’d like to do yourself? To paint yourself as a hero when you stole it in the first place? That’s the thing with Hermes kids like myself, we don’t just steal things, we know other criminals moves as well.”

Laughing quietly and mirthlessly at Connor, Cat actually had to place a hand over her mouth to prevent herself from really shrieking with laughter. “Ah, you’re truly a fool, I am more committed to the peace process than any of us, if you don’t remember it was my orders that had the senators taken into custody.” She would’ve liked to say that she hadn’t collected information on what she considered to the main strengths and weaknesses of all of the most powerful demigods who could be seen as a threat to her or to the Cult. “However, just because you’ve developed a vendetta against me and my people, like so many of your people is not of interest to me. I have nothing to benefit from painting myself as the hero over something so petty. You’re drunk and making a fool of yourself. Now I’ll ask you one more time step away from me and allow me to continue on my path. This is none of your concern. Go back to your drinks.”

“Connor.” Abigail said, resting her hand over his chest to stop him from possibly advancing over Cat. Her voice wasn’t loud, but it was firm, commanding respect. In another life, she would’ve made a good commander. “Stop. It’s not worth it to pick a fight. Actually, it’s downright a bad idea. Peace is fragile right now. Don’t. Blow it.”

Past experiences had trained Annabeth to sense trouble brewing pretty quickly, though she was too far away to stop the confrontation between Connor and Catherine. She’d never been much of a peacekeeper herself, one much more likely to fall victim to her own pride, but even then her analytical mind knew that de-escalation would be the correct path here. Noting that there was already someone attempting to hold Connor back, she caught his eye for a moment, hand slightly tapping his back as she passed, hoping that he would take the hint to back down. Instead, she turned her attention to Cat, smile on her face. “ Thanks for finding it, but Piper’s a little tipsy at the moment, and would probably end up losing it again if you gave it to her now. We’ll take care of it for now, but I’ll let her know that you found it. ”

Raising an eyebrow at the situation, Cat dipped her head gently and nodded. Handing the purse gently and carefully over to Annabeth before taking a step away. She had no intention to further the conflict with Connor, she wasn’t nearly childish enough to do so, perhaps that wasn’t entirely true but she had airs to keep up. Her professionalism was meant to be the core of her personality. “Hopefully she doesn’t lose it again,” she turned and strode away, moving towards Marcus with a slight smirk. That had been somewhat satisfying.

The Legionnaires had a lot on their plates, but this was certainly not a concept localized for just them. Z couldn’t quantify the amount of work the Greeks were also busy with. His own workload was enough to make him dizzy sometimes. “That does seem like quite a bit—Oh!” he gasped out softly as an arm snaked around his form. He looked over, and then subsequently upward, to see his boyfriend’s face, and his heart skipped a beat. Thank the gods it wasn’t someone random. “Aidan was the one you were working with at the daycare? What a coincidence. We met while I was keeping some children company in a game of hide and seek.” The universe worked in mysterious ways, it seemed. It was basically fate that they meet, just as it seemed to be fate that some sort of loud conversation broke out at an event for peace. As short as he was, he couldn’t quite see over the heads of other partygoers, but he did catch the faintest of sights of Connor and what sounded to be Cat’s voice as well over the cacophony of others. A frown graced his face as he fiddled with the glass between his hands.

Aidan sighed, thinking about how cute Wally and Z were, wishing he too would someday find something like they had. Or at least had thought to bring a date to dance with. It felt like a middle school dance, as tensions kept most the groups to the bar and food areas. Chatting quietly. At least it was passive until he heard the commotion, and felt a vague sense of dejavú watching Connor drunkenly yell at Cat. He just felt glad it wasn’t himself, not having even finished the glass in hand. Aidan downed it and trying to keep a smile on his face as he began to feel suffocated from the ensuing silence cleared his throat. “Brock- would you uh, would you care to dance?” He asked, trying to change the subject. “I love the-the cha cha slide, everyone… knows it…” He trailed off, hoping someone would jump to his aid. Surely he wasn’t the only uncomfortable one.

The Dominus has watched eagerly as the party had progressed. Tension burning bright after all the chaos they’d caused for them lingered in the back of their minds. Placing their empty palm on a sphere of crystal they stepped forward and cleared their throat before exerting their will on the magical artefact in their possession. Across the city, in the unity feast a shimmering apparition appeared before darkening into a silhouette made of pure shadow. With a voice like nails being dragged across slate, the Dominus began their first address. “Demigods. I hope you have enjoyed tonight’s festivities as it may be one of your last.” They pause for dramatic effect, drinking in the silence that had fallen on the crowd. “I appear before you tonight with some information for all if you. An omen, a warning. By now, you are aware that there is a cult that has burrowed and wormed its way into the city’s roots and corrupted almost every aspect of this society. The members of this cult are among us as I speak, yet in the shadows, they hide. The cult is one of the most powerful forces in New Rome, and it obeys my bidding now. I have poisoned this city, and used the cult to do so. Watch in despair as your hopes rot away, leaving nothing behind, you are witnesses of the end of New Rome. Your city will soon collapse in terror and despair. You may be asking yourself who I am, well that’s easy. I, am simply known, as the Dominus. A name that will be on your tongues as you die in the rubble of this fallen city. Enjoy tonight, as soon the time of reckoning will be upon you.” The Dominus stepped away from his artefact and the vision cut off, a moment later the unity feast exploded into a chaotic roar of questions and shouts, confusion and concern enveloping the whole group.

[shadowdianne]

Hicsqueak prompt : "Hey! I was gonna eat that."

Oneembarrassing amount of time later… Thanks for the prompt! I hope you like it!

A03 Version

Late enoughfor the moon to raise between slowly scattering clouds, the interior of Hecate’sheadquarters, albeit calm, were full of the golden hue of candlelight, itsgleam keeping the silver of the moon at bay.

Inside theoffice, with the gleam of the candles filtering beneath the door but finding nocurious students that could knock on the door, the untouched bed occupied alarge portion of it, followed up by the books that, pristine, waited patientlyto be the ones picked and occupy the place at the small yet functional  nightstand at the left of the bed. Thatnight, however, didn’t bring quiet reading and, as such, two witches werehunched atop their respective work. One of them seated at the office’s tableand the other comfortable seated at one of the two armchairs that had been arecent purchase.

Hecategrowled at the papers she was still marking, each number written on her angularhandwriting at one corner, black sinuous ink quietly arranging itself if shechanged her mind about the student’s work.

“Not doneyet?” Pippa Pentangle’s voice reached to Hecate as the tall woman picked up yetanother paper of the pile at her right, left fingers drumming on the watchthat, instead of hanging from her neck as usual, was now resting next to her, ina soft purple cushion. One she would pick it up as sun rose and another daybegan.

The blondewitch was still surrounded by her own pile of work. Less student’s papers andmore bureaucracy related, however, her pile wasn’t as imposing as Hecate and,one leg crossed over the other as she munched happily on a small doughnut, shelooked twice as relaxed as the other woman. Something Hecate was too close togrowl at before recomposing herself, back as straight as ever.

“I amstarting to think that I should talk with Ada on starting a class onhandwriting. Each day it passes these witches seem to have worse penmanshipthan the last.”

It camecloser to a whine than intended and Hecate bit down on the tip of her tongue;not appreciating how her tiredness was beginning to seep through. It wasn’tthat late, she thought, glancing at the clock at the silver numbers that winkedat her, cockily, for her to be this tired.

Albeit, avoice on her head whispered, it wasn’t tiredness what made her read and re-readeach line, sometimes unable to focus completely on the task at hand.

Pippa’slaughter woke her up from her reverie as the blonde bit gingerly on herdoughnut and shrugged, the pink and white camisole she wore almost slipping toone side as she did so.

“Are yousure that is what is bothering you?”

Hecatecould feel her nostrils flaring at the question, a small yet strong blushthreatening to claw up the collar of her dress. She, unlike Pippa, still neededto change.

The blondewitch was right, of course, that wasn’t what was bothering Hecate. Or, atleast, not as much as to make her unable to focus enough on each paper. Theculprit for that was precisely the other woman who, with a small tilt of herhead and blonde hair already down, looked like the proverbial cat about tocatch the mouse.

She hatedthat side of Pippa, her brain whispered somberly as she felt her fingers twitchthat she didn’t hate it, still holding her pen, her magic bubbling just alittle too close to the surface. A side that had been there when they had beenkids but not as strong, not as rooted on her. Years, another voice added, didthat to people; made them capable of seeing what as children weren’t able to.

And,precisely because of that Hecate knew that Pippa’s new rule of trying to betogether every other month, sharing headquarters and playing with her like afiddle was a way to make her a mumbling idiot.

She couldalmost see it on Pippa’s eyes, the challenge there that never disappeared, nomatter if they were alone of not. The glow calling for her as Pippa managed tosneak a caress in front of both students and colleges, the trepidation when theblonde kissed her goodbye, far too close to her lips.

“I know you want this.” She could hear the words. “But I won’t make it easy for you.”

Coughing asshe realized she had been staring at the other witch for far too long, Hecate chastisedherself, coming back to the present. Mind out of the gutter. That had been arule she had imposed herself when Pippa had begun the game, small smilescurving lips Hecate found more and more dragged to with every new conversation.

Just asthey were kids, perhaps, but different. A good kind of different maybe, onethat made Hecate burn with want.

“Hecate?”

Thebrunette blinked, realizing that she, yet again, had lost herself on her musings.Ears way too hot, she pointed feebly at the doughnut that, half-eaten was stillon the other woman’s hand.

“I’m justworried about crumbs.” She muttered, and she saw the way Pippa’s eyes narrowedjust slightly at her words. “I’ll never understand how you like these things…too much sugar.”

The blondeglanced at the doughnut, falling silent for a second, making Hecate think thatmaybe, maybe, she was going to be able to return to her papers, grade them andgo to sleep without being subjected to more teasing. She, of course, was wrong.

Standingfrom the armchair and putting her papers aside with one small burst of magic,the blonde approached her, sauntering almost until she could look at her,inches above her as Hecate was still at the desk, pen so tightly clutched shefeared for its integrity.

Gorgeous,her mind provided as she stared at the camisole the blonde wore, the way it letHecate think of curves and skin. Temptress, her more rational side muttered toher. An epithet she wasn’t sure Pippa would have any problems with it.

The aforementionedblonde simply smirked at her and held the doughnut close to Hecate’s lips,enough for her to almost taste the sugar on them.

“Come on,try it.” She said, mirth on her voice. “One bite. Only one and I will clean allthe crumbs.”

Licking herlips, the brunette tried to look away, only for the sweet to follow her everytime she tried to move away. It wasn’t threatening, she thought, but just likePippa’s continuous flirting, it was relentless.

A flirtingshe didn’t mind having, her less rational side added, sounding too much likeher younger self when she had realized that she, in fact, wanted to be the onewho kissed Pippa under the mistletoe that year. A stupid idea that hadn’t been fulfilled.

She couldfeel her magic still buzzing, strong enough for Pippa’s one to realize it,close as she was. Cursing that and a transfer spell always at the ready, shestared directly at the blonde’s eyes, shuddering as she saw the unadulterated desirethat floated there before Pippa masked it away. She wasn’t the only one feelingat the edge then, she realized it.

“I don’tlike sweets.” She said, and she wondered if that was their thing, speak on riddlesand just want for the other to keep on dancing.

Pippa huffedat that, rolling her eyes with her free hand crossed just below her chest, thecamisole’s fabric bunching up as she did so. Something Hecate tried her hardestnot to look at.

“That’s a lie and we both know it. You used toadore eating candy when you thought no one was looking. You had that horriblestomach ache back when we were 13, don’t you…”?

Hecateshook her head, remembering all too well that night, the first of many in whereboth she and Pippa had shared a bed, going against every rule about curfewsthat existed on their school, giggling even with the ache clawing at herinsides.

She wonderedif Pippa also remembered the night in the same fashion she did. Coward, herless rational voice whispered. You know that she does.

Brushingher fingers against the paper she had been grading as she put the pen down, sherose her hand, palm up, and tried to feign as much annoyance as possible.

“Fine,Pippa.” She muttered, quickly. “Give it to me.”

A tastewouldn’t be that bad, would it? She shot at the rational part of her mind, theone that, sternly, looked at her from one corner of her brain. A taste of whatexactly? Shot back the voice but Hecate couldn’t answer to that. Apparently,Pippa didn’t as well because, after a few seconds of amazement, the blonde tooka step back, enough to let Hecate stand as the brunette realized, still seated,and put the doughnut away.

“No, I don’t want to anymore.”

Hecatesighed, she knew that there it was the moment in where their game tended tostop until the next time Pippa felt like playing. A silent challenge and callto her, telling her to be the one who pushed the boundaries, to step furtheraway from them. She never moved further and, as such, Pippa moved away andwaited, knowledge on her eyes and a gentle smile on her lips.

It was,perhaps, the lateness of the night, the camisole or just the way Pippa hadn’tstill moved away but Hecate felt the name of the blonde rising through herthroat, exploding just above her mouth, parting her lips.

“Pippa…”

Question orplea, the doughnut appeared back in front of her, taunting her in a way thatmade Hecate arch a brow and glance at the now beaming blonde. A bite, shethought, a small bite and then she would…

Would what?Her rational side seethed.

Pushing itaway, she reached for the doughnut, opening her mouth while not once lookingaway from Pippa, taking into the way the blonde’s magic was positively bubblingand seizing inside the other woman’s chest strong enough for her to sense it.

Which wasenough distraction for her to realize just as she closed her mouth around thepastry that it had been magicked away.

“I wasgoing to eat that!” She protested as Pippa burst out laughing.

“Really?”The blonde’s eyes turned darker once again, lopsided smirk hanging from herlips.

Hecategrowled.

“Pippa.”She breathed again, and the blonde softened her eyes, presenting her the pastryjust as Hecate, finally, rose from the chair, towering slightly over the otherwoman. She felt about to burst, and she could feel her magic pulling her skintaut on several places, making her mouth feel like sandpaper as she glanced betweenthem, close enough and yet not really.

The pastry,as Hecate found out and would never admit it to a soul, was delicious.

Pippa’slips, however, were better.

[sinfulfolk]

Poem: Paradise Lost - a contemporary adaptation

Paradise Lost: A Contemporary Adaptation

Ned Hayes

  Book I

lines 1-75

Calling the Angel of Song

Let’s agree to tell the truth, for once, about that first time: the deadly fruit They ate that night, the lethal lust that spreads still through the universe, An eternal poison eating like acid through our once-perfect little world.

None of us can get back through Heaven’s door, until that One comes for us: But only you know this story, only you can tell what happened. Oh creature Of the stars, I was in love with you once and I’ll still sing any song you choose.

For I long for your music, oh Muse of every angel-dusted poet from here to eternity – Lover of Moses and Marvell, Byron, Blake, & Burroughs – help me sing something No one has ever heard before. Come to me, sweet Spirit, take me to a higher plane.

I know you were watching as the quanta winked into time, when the lizards Crawled out of the slime, you nested infinitely on the Mountain of Dream, Spreading your wings vast over the deep, until the void gave birth to light.

Now I toss and turn, straining to open my blind eyes, wanting to know God Trying to understand something I’ve never had the guts to believe before: I’m begging you, please, bring into my great darkness some kind of holy light!

The Fall of Satan Where does this story begin? On the skyscrapers of Heaven, or down in the Hellstorms of the Pit? Tell me one thing: that’s all I want to know: Why? What caused those two great lovers to throw all our lives away?

Once, I know they had it all, and yet they smoked everything away. They ruled the world, yet like any dream of a new world, it couldn’t last. You’ve told me how they could not resist that last taboo – the one restraint.

So they fell with broken wings and empty hopes, betraying all they had. I swear he was a lying snake from Hell who dealt her that first hit: That shit was pure envy and revenge, and he lied as he put the needle in.

For he’d seen them living large on the beaches of Eden, a lordly life he’d had Before he’d made the hostile takeover attempt, and split the infinite Company Into shareholders and outcast useless rebels, Heaven’s union broken forever.

In his own fantasy, he was still CEO, an Executive staff and an Angelic masseuse At his beck and call. He didn’t plan on the business ending in gunfire and death. But he did pull the first weapon, he fired the first shot in God’s own Boardroom.

The conspiracy revealed its plans for takeover during the attempted assassination Just before his bomb detonated an explosion more powerful than any loaded 747. Heaven’s immense towers burst into fiery shards and fell. All Hell broke loose.

Yet the battle was in vain: each of the conspirators were launched into dark depths. In unbreakable chains, they were hurled into orbit towards some hideous prison. All those who defied the omnipotent law were destined for that eternal smoking pit.

Time twisted and tore on the voyage: pain was all they knew for nine days and nights. He’d met the worst fate an immortal could imagine: a place of endless anguish. His friends lay stunned, half-buried in the lava sea, but his agony was interminable.

Rage pulsed through him at the memory of lost happiness and the torment of defeat. When he opened infrared eyes, a deluge of flames seared away every last hope; Yet even this scorching vista gave no radiance across the plain, only darkness visible.

Their world had been destroyed by Justice, their lives rendered into a burning prison, Utterly dark from any sun, it was a sulfurous wasteland in which to blaze and die. Or, for these immortal rebels, a place to suffer forever and to long for their lost light.

……………….

Book II

lines 650-720

At the Gates of Chaos

From light-years across the cosmos, Satan could see guards standing at the Gates: The first one had tits and a lovely pair of hips, but her legs were gone, only Rotting snake skin coiled incessantly over the rest of her body, and a stink rose

From the mouths of the hell-hounds that were welded into her reeking thighs. The dogs howled until the stars quivered at the sound. Then they ripped their way Back inside her sick cunt, the sound of their howls resounding through her flesh.

You’ve heard the old tales they tell about Hecate, the mother of all witches, who Hurtles yowling through the night, called down by the blood of murdered babies? You’ve heard how she dances insanely until the moon drowns in gore? This was worse.

The second guard at the Gate was hardly there at all, but Satan shuddered a moment At the Absence of it, a shadow emptier than any night, a nothing terrible as Hell. The thing had no limbs – not even any coiling snakes or clacking spider-claws.

On the head of this black fury a red crown glowed radioactive in the endless gloom. Satan watched as a hollow hand held out a stinging spear throbbing with dark energy. Then the shadowy monster walked to him, space itself shaking apart under his stride.

But Satan feared nothing that could be created in the universe except God Himself and God’s unearthly Son. He sneered at the wraith of doom that stood before him, and spoke:

“What kind of damned terror are you to hold me up here? I’ll tell you now that I’m going Through the Gates of Chaos and I’m not asking permission. You mutant spawn of Hell – I am the One born in Heaven itself, so get the fuck out of my way, or taste annihilation!”

The perverse shadow raised its voice and roared back at him: “Are you the Traitor? Are you the one who obliterated Heaven’s eternal peace? Are you the one who was Too proud and rebellious to bow – and took a third of the Stars of Heaven with you?

“You swore to destroy the Highest, and for that I know you were condemned to Hell And you still have the balls to claim you’re an Angel in Heaven’s Company? You’re doomed to spend eternity in agony, yet you’re still breathing defiance –

Even here, where I myself am King of Chaos – and let me twist the knife for you – In this Place, I am also your Master and your Lord. Get the Hell back to that pit, You lying sack of shit, fly fast on wings of fear, or I’ll lift my endless whip of

Scorpions and flog your lying ass! If you’re slow to go, I’ll fire a volley into you too, Sending volts of unbelievable pain that will resound through centuries in your soul!” The shadow grew as it spoke, deforming into something ten times more dreadful.

Yet Satan stood still upon the deep, indignant and incensed, flaming like a Comet Whose deadly tail wipes out constellations, he burned across the cold night-sky, And when he shook his head with fury, pestilence and war rang across the galaxies.

Each of them aimed to land a lethal blow, one that would end the battle immediately. Their faces were contorted with rage; they moved like two immense thunderheads Frozen over a reflecting sea of night, lightning shattering from them as they hovered

In deep space, a cosmic wind forcing these two together. Hell would falter and The galaxies darken under their vast weight. Each of them had met their match in fear. Yet then the coiled snakes of the Sorceress by the Gate hissed and rushed between them:

Her voice was a hideous screech, echoing between the suns: “Oh Father!” she cried. “Why are you killing your Only Son? And you, my child, what kind of hatred Would cause you to slaughter your own Father? You think you’re serving God,

“But God has damned us all – He sits above and laughs at your slavish devotion. God calls this screwed-over mess Justice, but one day He’ll turn the guns on Both of you!” She howled, and Satan’s great foe shrank back against the stars. ……………….

Book III

lines 318-395

God Speaks to His Son

“You, My Son, will be Executive Supreme over all the Company of Heaven, For all creatures will bow to you, in Heaven, on Earth, and even those in Hell And I will grant you an entourage of Angelic warriors when you appear in the sky

Then you will send the Arch-Angel to appear and sound a final warning to the Earth, And from every direction, the Dead from time immemorial will rise out of the ground Roused by the resounding notes of that last trumpet call from their everlasting sleep.

All your chosen Saints will help you choose between Evil and Angels. Those condemned by you will sink back down beneath your judgment, and When Hell is full of demons and their kin, You will lock that pit forever.

The World itself will burst into flame, and from its ashes will be created A New Heaven and a New Earth, and those chosen by Justice will live there. Their torture will end in golden days of bliss brought by their golden deeds.

The Joy and Love of our kingdom will triumph, and we will know its Truth Finally, you’ll be able to lay aside your Dictatorial Duties and your Royal Sceptre We’ll have no need of Kings or Queens, for even God will no longer need to rule.”

The Almighty’s light blazed out as bright as dawn: “Now all you Gods and Servants Of my Kingdom, I command you to praise My Only Son, the Ruler, who has chosen To die, so that we might bring all things back to right. Honor him as you would Me.”

The sound of the Almighty’s voice had barely died away when the collected crowd Of Angels began to shout, an infinite echo of His voice repeating without number. Heaven’s towers rang out with joy, and happiness spilled over in an eternal flood.

Solemnly each one of them bowed, and with a heartfelt reverence they cast Every one of their gold and jeweled crowns to the ground. As they rose again Each eye saw the immortal amaranth, an undying flower, once planted on Earth

By Eden’s Tree, now brought to the center of Heaven for safety. They saw this flower Bloom above the fountain of Life, its petals shading the stream of endless happiness That flows out of the eternal reaches, a molten river of golden light that never dies.

Decorating their hair with beams of this light, Heaven’s Spirits glowed themselves, Refracting like rose-colored diamonds, they danced along Heaven’s glassy walks, And took hold of the glittering instruments that hung like weapons by their sides.

The song of a unceasing symphony rang out, rapture sweeping across the spheres A melody of sound that was irresistible, as every voice joined in the harmony. The chorus went: Omnipotent Executive! Immutable, Immortal, Infinite, Eternal King!

You are the Creator of all life – the fountain of Light itself, Invisible, All Powerful! You are Bright Glory on an inaccessible throne, and we must wait for you to shade Yourself, to draw a cloud around your radiance, so that we might see your Glory!

Dark with shining brightness we see the edge of your garments – you dazzle us! Even the strongest Seraphim must use their wings to shield their eyes from your Glorious Light, oh God! We sing to You of the endless multitude of your Creation,

And we sing of your Only Son, whom you have now chosen to make Executive Supreme, the one ruling Kingdoms, Thrones, Princedoms, Dominions, Powers! You’ve laid the mantle of succession on his shoulders – for you are all powerful!

For He was the One who put down the first insurrection, let loose the terrible Thunder Of God’s immortal wrath, charged out with flaming swords and righteous anger And cried as Heaven’s great structure shook to its foundations! Oh Warrior Strong!” ……………….

Book IX

lines 725-793

Satan Causes Eve’s Fall

“If, as you say, God did make all things, who put Wisdom into the leaves and Fruit of this Tree here? Why would He make it possible for someone to eat? So where, I ask you, is the wrong in doing what is natural with this Tree?

After all, if it’s possible for you to know – you should know! And how, I ask you, would the fact that you know something hurt the Company? After all, you’re owned by Heaven, and so is the Tree – you’re just part

Of the same Family. You don’t envy the Tree’s inborn Knowledge, do you? I can’t believe that a beautiful woman with such incredible breasts would envy! God you’re so wise and beautiful! I’ve given you all the reasons, but most of all

I know you’d like a hit!” Satan ended with a smile, his words laced with lies Dripping into her veins, a needle sliding easily, deep into a beating heart. Transfixed by the hanging Fruit, his speech sang through Eve’s empty ears.

In her own mind, all he said seemed persuasive, impregnated with logic, And she was hungry: the mere smell of that Fruit gave passion to her desire She longed to touch it, to taste it. She watched it swell in the mouth of the snake.

Yet she paused, unable to take her eyes away, and talked, as if to herself: “God made you a Great Tree of Knowledge and the best kind of sweet Yet He’s kept it from his creatures – making it impossible for us to eat.

So where is the wrong in doing what is natural with this luscious Fruit? After all, the merest taste of it gave human speech to this forked-tongue beast And shouldn’t we praise God by knowing you – after all, He made this Tree.

Of course, the Company prohibits us from touching you, from tasting you, Yet we are part of the same Family, for we are all made of Good, are we not? To be clear then, he forbids us to be good – and that kind of law is not a law!

And if we die in eating such a Fruit, then perhaps it would be better to be free Perhaps it is our doom to simply eat, and die. Yet look again at the Snake – He ate the thing, and look – he lives, and knows, and even speaks so wise!

I saw him yesterday, and he was deaf and dumb to me. Is Death only for us? Or is it only that we can’t become smarter – only the beasts can get wise? It’s not envy that beats so passionately in me, but joy at the good in this snake.

For he has found great good, it seems, and shared his discovery with all so free. He doesn’t lie or fake what’s happened to him, and so what do I fear? I live in ignorance – I don’t know Good or Evil, God or Law or Death.

I am sick with stupidity, and here, in front of me, is the cure for my ill. On the Tree it grows, this divine Fruit that will take me to a higher place: Beautiful to look at, incredible to the Taste, and oh – so full of Wisdom!”

As she spoke these final words, she reached out rashly and plucked the Fruit. It was an evil hour when she ate, the planet shuddered apart from the stress, And the universe quaked on its moorings, bleeding from that fatal wound.

All was lost, and quickly the serpent slithered away through the quaking bushes. It didn’t care anymore: Eve was slurping up the taste, intent on getting more. She felt she’d never known a fruit so ecstatic, yet perhaps this was imagination.

For she thought of endless knowledge as she ate, and of becoming a Goddess too: Everything spun in drunken frenzy as the lust for that Fruit sang in her veins. She gorged herself without restraint, and yet was blind as she ate her Death.

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Poem: Paradise Lost – a contemporary adaptation was originally published on Ned Hayes

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