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thepotionbat · 5 years

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All These Things That I’ve Done

Hello everyone! Long time, no update. Let’s call it a good old-fashioned mixture of writer’s block, work, and school. I hope you enjoy this chapter! I’m not gonna lie, I certainly struggled through it. The beginning italicized bit is from Pink Floyd’s Wish You Were Here. Chapter word count: 3,148

Story summary: The world post-Voldemort is a complicated one to navigate: the Ministry is taken over by a Minister who does not know of Snape’s service to the Order, Dementor’s are still at Azkaban, Snape’s name remains uncleared, and, perhaps surprisingly of all to Snape, Harry seems to have respect for him now. Despite the uncertainty of his future, Snape is amazed to find that he actually has one in the first place – his years of living as a spy and a puppet to Dumbledore as well as undergoing faux obedience to Voldemort have left him in a state of mind that abandoned all hopes of living a life for himself –now, however, he realizes there is a life post-war for him after all, no matter how unsteady it may be.

Chapter summary: Severus comes to grips with being alive and with the uncertainty of his fate. Harry and Severus have more in common than they thought.

Chapter Two

Did you exchange A walk on part in the war For a lead role in a cage?

Over the next several days, Severus was left with ample time to think.

There were many places his thoughts could wander to now that all he was doing was lying in a hospital bed; after all, there were no more students under his watch, no more meetings with the Dark Lord to attend to, no more need to look behind his shoulder after every move — well, that one, perhaps, would need more time.

Severus’s time as Headmaster had been a harrowing one, one that, at many times, felt like some sort of a sick ode to his past: Minerva’s trust in him had completely evaporated, as it also had from the rest of the staff he had come to acquaint with; he rarely descended from the Headmaster’s office, and he was once again steeped with the presence of Dark Magic and Dark Wizards.

He had promised Dumbledore that he would keep the students safe, and that had been a promise he had meant, but safety was a rare luxury in the times they were in. The Carrows took pride in terrorizing the students, as if they were doing the Dark Lord the greatest favor of all; they were like cats toying with a bug under their claws, and Severus could hardly burst in and tell them to stop without blowing his cover.

Children everywhere were sporting black eyes and intense fear as they were marched around the campus; wherever he could, Severus would assist Madam Pomfrey with the students who had been sent to her bearing injuries dealt by Dark Magic, but that hardly did enough to relieve the contriteness he felt inside.

Indeed, he had spent many sleepless nights in Dumbledore’s office, kept awake by the guilt threatening to eat him alive.

“You’re doing all that you can,” Albus’s portrait had assured him, more than once, but it never made him feel any better, not really. The Headmaster’s office without Dumbledore was just a shell of what it once had been, as was Hogwarts before the Death Eaters had been welcomed inside; the school was bones in a graveyard of good days gone by, and Severus was in the center of it.

He had spent many days in that office, held many meetings; the Carrows had come to him with the names of students that refused to do as they were told and had boasted about their subsequent methods of discipline; Minerva had continually spoken her concerns to him, all veiled under a thin layer of stiff fury, disgust in her eyes every single time she could bring herself to look at him. Most of his 38th birthday had been spent in there, too, before he was called out to a meeting with Lord Voldemort.

Despite the many horrors he had faced recently — his disturbing brush with death being one of them — Severus found himself dwelling also on another year, his thoughts pulling towards a time further back in his past, a time of similar turmoil:

1981.

It had been a period of darkness, anxiety, and stress, and not just for him — the entirety of the population had been panicking, fearful to even speak of Lord Voldemort, let alone say his name. The distress that he had felt in the air over the past year was all too alike to the kind felt during 1981 and the years building up to it.

He could clearly remember the moment he had found out that the Dark Lord was targeting the Potters and how his life had subsequently been sent into a whirlwind of changes — approaching Dumbledore, swearing his allegiance to the man, desperately doing all that he could to save Lily and her family from the fate he felt he had very much set into motion —

And yet it had all been for nothing, so it seemed.

All in one night, Lily and James were murdered, the Dark Lord had vanished, Sirius was sent to Azkaban, and Peter was dead… A list of names that fit right in with the litany of dead and damaged people making up his generation.

Severus himself had been left with a fading Dark Mark on his arm and no purpose in life, just waiting to answer for the sins he had committed.

The weeks following Lily’s death, he had all but become a ghost right along with her. He had drifted through the halls of Hogwarts, taught his classes, and maintained his Head of House position, but through it all had only thinly concealed his rage at the world and his intense grief — grief both for Lily, and for the sorry excuse of a life he had made for himself.

On top of it all, he’d been the youngest of the Professors by far and because of it, he felt as though he had had double the amount to prove of himself. He could tell the majority of the staff thought he was too young, too neurotic, too volatile, to teach students; he struggled socially, and mostly kept to himself. Minerva’s distrustful eye had trailed on him nearly everywhere he went, the woman having been completely unconvinced of why Albus had hired him.

Dumbledore had kept the Aurors at bay for as long as he could, but eventually Alastor Moody and a couple of his colleagues had come to collect Severus, for he had been named by one of the other Death Eaters; and so it was, at 22, he had landed in Azkaban. It was his luck that he didn’t stay long before Dumbledore yanked him back out, the man having proved his case of being a spy for the Order to the Ministry.

As he lie in the hospital bed, hidden from the outside world by curtains, the flow of time interrupted only by the mediwitches who came to deliver his healing potions, Severus couldn’t help but feel that he had escaped one cage only to be placed into another — but hadn’t that been his whole life? He had found escape from his home life at Hogwarts, and then, when Hogwarts had become another nightmare, he had his time with Lily to cherish; when that too had been crushed at his own hand, he found himself running with Death Eaters and blood purists, soon to change the course of his life forever.

In truth, Severus could barely remember what it was like, before he was a spy… before he was a Death Eater. He wasn’t sure if there ever really was a before. If there was, he knew he couldn’t exactly pinpoint when before ended and became now.

Sometimes he wondered if he was always going to be branded with Lord Voldemort’s Mark, or, if things had happened differently, he would have made different decisions.

Even amidst all of these thoughts, his mind continued to replay the moment the Aurors had dragged him away from the school grounds of Hogwarts all of those years ago, and he couldn’t help but think that he was soon to face a similar fate once again — this time, however, Dumbledore wasn’t here to save him.

Often, he fell asleep with these things still swirling in the forefront of his mind, and all he was able to do when he woke up was continue to mull them over.

————

A number of days had passed when Severus woke up to another presence in the room, disrupting the routine he had become so familiar with.

Harry was sitting in the same chair he had before, but now his eyes were idly observing the tiles on the ceiling. Truthfully, he looked as though he may drop off to sleep at any moment, but despite his apparent weariness, he still must have sensed Severus’s movement, as slight as it was, for then his eyes trailed down from the ceiling and met his.

Severus blinked at the boy, studying him for a moment, before looking away dismissively.

“I’ve been thinking,” Harry began, the unexpected initiation of conversation winning Severus’s eyes on him again.

“How were you able to keep the password as Dumbledore with all of those Death Eaters coming in and out?”

It took a moment for him to understand that he must be referring to the password needed to get into the Headmaster’s office, to the Pensieve.

“I enacted… special instruction to the Gargoyle,” he explained. “It would have permitted you to enter no matter what you may have said.”

“Oh,” Harry said. “I didn’t know it could be… instructed, or whatever.”

After a second, Severus raised an eyebrow, ever so slightly. “‘Dumbledore?’”

“First person I could think of,” he mumbled.

Severus supposed he couldn’t blame him for that.

“Oh, and another thing,” Harry added, a second later. “You knew my Aunt Petunia?”

Those were hardly the next words Severus expected him to say, and for a second, he was stunned into silence. The last thing he wanted or expected to do was dredge up memories from his childhood, particularly not of that dreadful girl.

“…You could say that.”

“Huh.” Harry crossed his arms. Then, after a moment, “She kept me in a cupboard.”

Severus blinked at him. “…What?”

“A cupboard,” he repeated, as if that would be any more clearer the second time. “The only other unoccupied bedroom in the house was used for Dudley’s — er, her son’s — toys. I got the cupboard.”

He didn’t know what to say.

“You thought I lived an easy life, didn’t you?” Harry said shrewdly. “Born with a silver spoon in my mouth, that sort of thing.”

There was a storm brewing in Harry’s tired eyes, no doubt born from the trauma and grief of all of the things that had happened to him that he had never been allowed to fully process, and it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that Severus would become the listening board for the brunt of it. It wasn’t necessarily anger, no; Severus more or less got the sense that the storm inside Harry was compiled of mixed emotions and what could have been carefree childhood years gone to waste.

“Sometimes they would lock me in there,” he continued. “If I did something wrong, I mean. They might remember to feed me, might not.”

Severus watched him steadily, feeling a pang in his chest at the words. If he was reminded of his own childhood of fending for himself, he would never say, just like he would never admit that Harry was completely catching him off guard with what he was saying.

“You don’t know me, not like you always acted like you did,” Harry said. He stared at Severus with Lily’s eyes, full of conviction. “…But I suppose I don’t really know you, either. We were both wrong about each other.”

I’m sorry.

The words crawled up Severus’s formerly ravaged throat, willing themselves to be spoken aloud; they were appropriate words, something anyone else would have said, but as much as he knew he should speak them, the apology couldn’t make it out of his mouth; he had never been a person that was good at apologies, and his near-death experienced had still not changed that about him. The opportunity passed, and Severus finally tore his gaze from the boy, letting the moment go to simmer in silence.

When it was clear that Severus wasn’t going to say anything, Harry rose from his chair, a sound that scraped against the former quiet.

“The reason I came is to tell you that I went back to the Pensieve and got your memories,” he said. “I turned them in to the Ministry. They’re going to review them.”

With that, Severus watched him push past the curtains and leave.

————

Severus hadn’t expected Harry to come back.

He had barely expected to see him again after the first time he had woken up, but even less so after their last conversation — this was why he was surprised when Harry did in fact return again, and more times after that.

It seemed that after getting out a most of what he had wanted to, Harry was more liable to speak to Severus with a lack of pent up emotion, seeming to consider him with trust and perhaps even respect, which was what was most shocking of all.

Either way, Harry was quickly becoming his source of information for what was going on in the outside world.

“They’re taking their time on deciding that your memories haven’t been tampered with,” Harry had told him the third time he had come back, his tone indicating that he rather thought they were dawdling. He seemed a bit more well-rested, less emotional.

“It is difficult to determine whether or not memories have been altered,” Severus said dismissively. “Surely you know this.”

“No—well, yes, I suppose—but yours haven’t,” Harry said. “I’ve seen tampered memories before, they don’t look like that.”

Severus refrained from rolling his eyes at the boy’s naive certainty, for once managing to rein in his annoyance. “What it really depends upon is the current… political climate,” he remarked instead. “Who is the new Minister?”

“Oh. His name’s Willem Ironwood,” Harry said. “I’m not sure about him, yet. The public likes him, though. He seems like the strong leader sort. I guess that’s what everyone’s looking for, these days.”

The name rang vaguely familiar to Severus, which was a bit concerning, considering the typical manner of the crowd he had been acquainting with, but nothing of certainty could come to mind, so he let it go, for the moment.

Harry had told him, in greater detail this time, of how he survived his confrontation with Voldemort, how he had gone to the forest and taken the Killing Curse, and then how Narcissa Malfoy lied about his death.

Severus had disliked Harry for a long time. It made things easier, as was having the boy hate him in return. It was easy to picture the boy who was a nearly exact copy of his father’s image as having the same personality, one born from an arrogant, pampered life; surely, the Boy Who Lived would have grown up in one similar.

Instead, he found that it was him and the boy who had far more in common than he had ever considered. Their near-deaths had even been delivered by the same person, their fates much the same, when considered in accordance to Dumbledore’s plans.

“Why didn’t Dumbledore leave you anything to help prove you were working as a spy the whole time?” Harry asked.

The Headmaster had never expected Severus to live, but Severus couldn’t exactly hold it against him — he, too, had never considered a life after Voldemort’s death. Truly, Voldemort’s death was a concept he could never really imagine at all, as impossible as it seemed.

Dumbledore had instructed Severus to kill him, and in doing so, Severus was to become the true owner of the Elder Wand, thus keeping Voldemort’s damage potential as minimal as possible — but Tom Riddle was no fool. Both Severus and Dumbledore knew that he would work it out eventually, and then kill Severus, seeking the wand’s full potential — but by then, Harry would have had an ample lead on getting rid of horcuxes, which Voldemort didn’t even know he would be hunting.

“It was not in Albus’s plans for me to survive.”

Other days, Harry wasn’t so well off. Severus found himself listening to the rants brought to him by the boy, all about those he had cared about that died in the war, about Dumbledore and everything the man had kept from him, about what it had felt like, walking through the forest to face his death.

It was obvious the boy felt guilty, and, well, guilt was an emotion Severus knew well — the difference was that Severus deserved to carry his guilt. His guilt was his contrition, his penitence, and he never expected it to ease, never thought he would ever be due for it to. He had committed many mistakes throughout his life, mistakes he could never run from; their damage was done.

Harry, on the other hand, was just a child, and his guilt was misplaced — it was not Harry’s fault that all of those people had died, as he seemed to think. They had all died facing Voldemort and his army, fighting for their freedom, for justice in the Wizarding World — but Severus hardly found himself qualified to know how to tell the boy what he needed to hear in a way that would be sensitive, so mostly, he just let him talk, let him say whatever he felt he couldn’t to his gang of friends or to his surrogate Weasley mother. Maybe it was the fact that Severus listened and didn’t try to argue that Harry felt he could speak his mind at all.

Sometimes Harry stayed briefly, sometimes he stayed for an hour or more. Severus had been able to focus some of his thoughts on the boy and maintaining a conversation with him rather than on the memories that had begun to be relentlessly turned over in his mind, but even so, things had become to easy, too peaceful.

Calamity was surely lurking, just beneath the surface. It was just something Severus had come to expect.

————

As usual, Severus was right.

It was one morning Harry came in rather early, a look of urgency on his face.

“Professor,” he rushed. “I came as quickly as I could — they didn’t validate the memories. They want you to go to trial. The Aurors are on their way to get you now—”

It was at that moment that a hush fell over the ward outside the curtains, and somehow, that was louder than any of the routine bustle had ever been.

“Potter,” Severus began, making to tell him to leave, but it was too late. Two Aurors pushed past the curtain, led by a Healer.

A stiff second of silence passed.

“Harry Potter,” one of them said, looking Harry up and down. “Fancy seein’ you here. I thought we made it clear you weren’t to conspire with the accused.”

“I wasn’t—”

The other went over to Severus, undoing the magical ties with a couple quick flicks of his wand, beginning the next quick succession of events distracting Severus from whatever argument Harry had been attempting to make. The Auror gripped him with a tight hand, urging him from the bed and pulling him to his unsteady feet; upon standing, a weight seem to crash down on Severus’s shoulders, as if he weighed much heavier than he had before the war, but he straightened himself, unwilling to appear weak.

“Severus Snape,” the first Auror said, obviously having dismissed Harry, and gripped him by his other arm. “It’s about time.”

With that, they drug him out of the curtains and into the bright world that Severus had almost forgotten what it was like to be a part of.

Here is a great post that served as inspiration for the bit about Snape and Dumbledore’s plan regarding the Elder Wand.

I’m going to be honest; I didn’t really carefully proofread this chapter. I was too excited to post it and too tired of staring in concentration at my screen. If there’s any slip-ups on my part, forgive me. If you want to be added to future tag lists, let me know! Tag list: @madamecoyote @eruditeslytherin @moonie-writes

#my eyes are tired rip #ATTTID #mywriting #snape lives au #snape lives #snape lives fic

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thesilverdragoon · 4 years

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To Amh Araeng

Previous: By Order of the Exarch

Next: The Inn at Journey’s Head

“How has his progress been?” “About as well as I could expect for so short a time.”

“Why Lyna, it almost sounds as if you haven’t placed any faith in our new ally yet!”

Captain Lyna stood beside the Exarch, the two of them looking out and over the main grounds of the Ostall Imperative from the landing platform.

If the soldiers weren’t busy with the construction, they were busy sparring with one another to keep their skills sharp. Or they were out on patrol in the nearby woods, keeping the sin eaters away from the others.

“It is not that, I just...” The viis captain narrowed her eyes as she spotted Vesevont and Gennar sparring a short way’s away.

Every time Gennar knocked the old man down, the black creature would spring out of his body and push him back onto his feet again, making it virtually impossible to get him to stay down.

Captain Lyna sighed gently. “He is a strange one, my lord. The creature that occupies his body even more so. Many of the others are afraid of him and rightfully so.

I am worried he is more of a distraction rather than an asset, currently.”

The Exarch kept his hands curled around his staff as he watched the match continue.

Vesevont swung his sword clumsily, only for it to be intercepted by Gennar’s own weapon and knocked out of his hand entirely. Or, so it would have been, had the worm not reached for it with a dark, inky tendril and brought it back into the knight again and again.

“He certainly has his own unique style of fighting.”

“That is the other thing. He says he has been trained, but he does not display such qualities. Or at least, ones that will keep him alive against an eater.

The beast he carries seems to do all the work for him.”

“It might seem that way,” The Exarch chuckled, more amused than anything else. “But, believe me when I say, that he will in time prove himself a worthy friend to have.

He just needs time.” “My lord?” The Exarch turned his head to face Lyna. “Yes?” “What…” Rather than continue, Lyna paused and sighed a short sigh. “Forgive me for doubting you. I hope you are right.”

“You’ve every right to worry.” He smiled. “I think I will show him the neighboring lands.”

“My lord?” Lyna glanced at the Exarch again. “It’s too dangerous for you to go out so far on your own.”

“I have no grand excursions on my mind captain, this I promise you.”

The viis furrowed her brows as the Exarch continued to gaze into the distance. Or at least, it seemed that way. With his hood down it was hard to tell just where he had his eyes. “...Where did you have in mind?”

“Amh Araeng. I wish to introduce him to the Mord of Mord Souq.”

“The Mord? Why?”

“To better become acquainted with the locals?”

“And from there you wish to travel to Journey’s Head, correct?” The Exarch held his silence.

Lyna shook her head. “...I understand. Please though, be careful, my lord. If you are willing, I can accompany-”

“Captain, your presence is sorely needed here while they build. We’ll be safe, I promise.”

A sudden and harsh CLANG of metal and a loud yelp took their attention away from one another, before Lyna sighed again. “...Yes my lord.”

______________

“Darkness preserve, it’s like you’re made of rubber!” Gennar exclaimed as he reached for Vesevont’s hand to pull him back up again. Puffy had let him fall right onto his behind that time. “What a strange creature it is.”

Ves let out the breath he’d been holding, a line of sweat running down the side of his face. “It’s… well it wouldn’t be so much of a stretch to say it feels strange, while it’s all happening,” “And it never harms you?” “I wouldn’t say that,” The worm couldn’t help himself and slithered out of Ves’ collar, teeth bared at Gennar. “He’s my BITCH-” Though he couldn’t say much else as Ves stuffed him back down again, only to pop out once more via the sewn flap on his back.

“Not very polite is it.” “No. Not at all.” “I HEARD THAT.” The sound of sandals on gravel came towards them, catching everyone’s attention. Gennar immediately saluted and stood at attention as Ves hardly straightened himself out. “Oh, hello!” (Again Gennar eyed him awkwardly. This was the Crystal Exarch, and he greeted him so casually??)

The Exarch didn’t seem to mind it. “At ease. So, how has your time here in the Ostall Imperative served you? I do hope it has enlightened you at least a small bit to our situation here?”

Ves nodded. “It has, though I have not been sent out into the field as of yet,” He turned to look towards Gennar. “The others wanted to see what I could do first.

I’m afraid I’m...not exactly up to par.”

Gennar sighed through his nose softly. “I would insist you station him in the Crystarium, my lord. I do believe he would be of more help there.”

The Exarch hummed, putting a hand to his chin before eyeing Ves from underneath his hood. “What say you?”

The knight swallowed as his attention switched between the two of them repeatedly. “I...I certainly wouldn’t be opposed to it,” “I see… We will discuss it further at another time. There is a bit of a proposal I would like to share with you Vesevont, if you would,” The Exarch turned slowly, motioning for him to walk with him.

Gennar gave a shrug, “We can continue sparring later.”

Ves nodded, before moving along to join the Exarch as he walked towards the front entrance of the campground. The purple trees slowly began to close in around them the further they moved down the path. “What proposal did you have in mind?” His stomach churned slightly at the possibility of whatever it could have been.

“Have you heard word of the regions beyond Lakeland?” “I believe I’ve heard the soldiers and civilians within the Crystarium speak briefly of Eulmore in Kholusia. They seemed to have mistook me for one of its residents, calling the tunic I had arrived in...fancy?”

The Exarch chuckled. “Considering those who live within the Crystarium are from all walks of life, most of those having never stepped foot inside of Eulmore’s walls before, I suppose I could not fault them for assuming so.

Your mannerisms dispel such a suspicion right away, of course!”

Ves grumbled slightly. “Yes, before they realize how odd I am...”

“A minor thing at best, not to worry. Anyhow, what about Amh Araeng?” “Amh Araeng?” Ves repeated. “Yes...once or twice. It’s a desert region some way’s south from here, is it not?”

“That is correct. Tis where the Flood of Light was halted from consuming the rest of the world.”

“The LIGHT! THE FLOOD!” Puffy came shooting out of Ves’ neck, causing him to choke. “I WANNA SEE! TAKE US THERE!!”

“I would like to show you around two locations, if you are willing. I think it would provide an excellent example regarding what it is exactly we are up against.

You’ve encountered the sin eaters before, and even vanquished a rather powerful one with the aid of your companion. But their presence extends far beyond the field of battle.”

Ves furrowed his brows, confused. “Sir?… It… It isn’t as though I do not believe you… I’ve seen what they can do. The eaters.”

The Exarch did not smile, but kept his pace.

“I would like for you to understand.” He said after a long pause. One that was long enough to stop Ves in his tracks as the Exarch walked on without him.

Something about the request felt off. Sounded off, even. Was he even speaking to him?

Puffy peeked out of his collar, and the two looked at one another as much as they were able before the Ishgardian jogged to catch up to the other man.

“When are we to leave?”

“We will take a pair of amaro there from Radisca’s Round.” The Exarch pointed straight ahead towards the tower poking up from amidst the trees. “The flight will not be terribly long.”

Just the thought of riding those arguably fluffy beasts did not sit well with Vesevont. Not that they were mean or anything…

He simply loathed flying on the back of anything that wasn’t a speeding dragon.

#time for some stuff!#dovah writing #fling that boi to the desert #exarch completely means puffy cuz he is Aware That Worm does NOT UNDERSTAND

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dialux · 5 years

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dawn is coming, open your eyes

Inspired by this picset, from ages and ages ago.

But where, exactly, this story comes from is very strange. It’s... a very long and very winding story into a Percy Weasley after the war, figuring out his demons and fighting past them and learning to be happy in his own skin, which... might or might not hold some personal demons.

Warnings for familial issues! Death also features prominently because it’s immediately post-war! And politics, as per the usual, because this is My BrandTM. Hope y’all enjoy!

...

there is a kind of love so filled with rage that i can’t even look at your face even as it exists in my mind.

...

“Hello Percy,” says Luna.

Your eyes are red. Your cheeks are raw from scrubbing hard enough to scrape away the top layer of skin. Your hands shake, when you think too much; they don’t shake at all when you forget, and somehow that’s worse.

Fred is gone.

It’s not your first thought in the morning when you get up, and that feels like a terrible kind of sacrilege.

“Hello Luna,” you say, and sit down besides her.

...

It isn’t-

It isn’t like that.

But you’re mourning, and you’re learning that you aren’t a quiet mourner. Things tend to explode if you stay still long enough to remember that Fred is- not here. As if he’s passed his love for explosions onto you with his last breath.

Nobody seems to understand, though. Everyone walks around you on eggshells, until you take your wand and a cloak and walk out of the Burrow one morning, skin itching something fierce. You walk and walk, feet blistering in your boots, hands sweating on your wand, eyes streaming with something other than tears.

“Hello Percy,” Luna says, slipping beside you as if nothing were amiss. “How are you today?”

You’d always ignored Luna, more than anything else. It felt kinder than to shout at her for her strangeness.

“Fine,” you grunt. “I’m just- fine.”

“Good,” Luna says, and lifts her wand, reaching out to you. “Because I have a job for you.”

You twist through a tiny, airless tube for endless moments, and finally land on a cold, dreary island before you can say anything more. It takes you a beat to realize, and then you do: it’s Azkaban. Horror clutches at your heart.

“You sent people here,” Luna says, softly, when it’s clear you’re unable to speak. “You-”

“I know what I did.”

“Then you’ll fight back.” She looks harder, brighter, than any Luna that you’ve ever known. You remember, suddenly- she’s lost a father where you’ve lost your brother, but Luna has no other family to hold her, or grieve beside her. “There are cells the Death Eaters sealed, here. Someone has to unseal them.”

“Sealed-” You break off. It’s been weeks since the end of the war; if they sealed them off to only outside influence the people inside might have had a week, at most, what with the lack of water and food. If the Death Eaters also sealed off the air, as most wards tend to do...

“The people inside must be-”

Luna nods. “Dead.”

Then why? You want to ask, before she smiles, sad and small.

“They deserve burials,” she tells you. “Burials in better places than this.” Luna swallows, and there’s a brief glimpse of a girl with sunlight hair in that motion; a girl whom you hadn’t ever loved, a girl you miss, suddenly, with a fierceness that surprises even you. “Flowers and tombstones and grass. Warmth. Wands.”

Oh. Oh, if their wands were taken- they must be-

“Muggleborns,” you whisper.

“Dead,” she repeats. “And you helped send them there.”

Ginny would have flung accusations at you, eyes shining like a hundred swords. Ron would have glared until you gave in, and then acted sanctimonious for all of a few minutes before forgiving you. Fred- he’d have probably painted your face with some week-old blood, trying to make his point and horrify you as always.

Luna doesn’t say anything more, but the undercurrent is clear to you: you can go back home, you can wallow in self-loathing and misery and continue to blow things up whenever someone startles you. Or you can try to fix what you’ve done. You can be of use, and it looks like no one else wants to do this job so it’s not like you’ll have to talk to many people.

You’re a Gryffindor at heart anyway.

“Let’s go,” you say, through gritted teeth.

...

That’s how it starts.

Luna asks, and you accept, and it hurts like you’ve got a splinter the size of a fist digging into your chest; but it feels good, too, in it’s own way.

There are a hundred people in Azkaban whose cells were warded properly when the Death Eaters fled. It was a mix of panic- the Battle of Hogwarts happened so quickly- and idiocy and bureaucratic mix-ups, but of the almost six hundred muggleborns that were locked up in Azkaban over the course of the year, more than five hundred escaped. Those who didn’t were the old, the weak, the quiet; from what you’ve been able to deduce, some people even sacrificed themselves to keep holes in the wards open long enough for others to flee.

It’s not like you’re the best warder Luna could have gotten. Hell, Bill’s better than you by a long shot; this is his actual job- but your mother’s always depended most on Bill and she actually needs him, now, what with- Fred. Charlie’d flunked Ancient Runes in his third year and taken up Divination instead; George might be better than you, now, but he’s too... something.

Broken, you think, and the thought burns inside of you, enough that you hiss out, flick your wand at an innocent bit of stone and watch it explode. Like a clock.

A hand settles on your forearm. “The nimbopaths tend to be stronger here,” she says. “Maybe we should drink some tea?”

“Just- thoughts,” you say, quietly. Nevermind that neither of you have brought tea with you; what’s important is that her hand feels very warm, and there’s something scarily like guilt rising up your throat. “I’ll finish this ward myself, don’t worry. There’s another one in the left hallway, if you want to map it out.”

Luna leaves. You knead your forehead and get back to work, carving runes with both wand and knife, carefully cracking the barrier until you can get to the gaunt corpse behind it.

You don’t scream when you see the bodies.

(You haven’t screamed since you saw Fred die.)

...

Nobody asks where you go, which surprises you more than you’d think. But they just accept that you disappear- even George, who’s been spending the most time with you. It’s regular, at least, insofar as that you leave at dawn and return only past midnight. The only people who see you are Harry and Ron and Hermione, and the three of them are strange enough that they don’t seem to find anything out of the ordinary in your wrinkled clothes or shabby appearance.

Finally, a week- or two, or three- later, Charlie sits you down.

“You need to rest,” he says, quietly. “You’re running yourself into the ground. Kingsley wouldn’t want that.”

I don’t give a damn about Kingsley, is on the tip of your tongue. I’ll run myself into the ground if I want to, is marching right behind it. I deserve this, is what echoes behind it all.

“There’s things I have to do,” you say instead.

Luna’s found a spell that keeps the bodies from decomposing. There’s a long line of them, now, arranged in one of the better-aired corridors of Azkaban; corpses in stasis that you both need to find graves for, names for, wands for. One of them had hair the color of a sunrise, streaked with a dye that sits next to your shaving cream in the store in Diagon Alley. You’d almost broken down three days ago, when you saw that purple box.

When you left that store, there was a box with Wott’s Ever-Changing Dye, Spec. Ed: SUNRISE! emblazoned on it, hidden with your daily supplies.

Maybe in a few months you’ll stop dreaming about your sins.

“I never even see you,” Charlie says. “You’re gone before I wake up, you come back after I fall asleep, you’re looking like a ghost. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you, Perce, but you’d best stop before you break down. Mum can’t handle you going off your rocker, alright?”

You jerk away. “I’m sorry,” you say, precisely, each word crisp as the apples that grow in fresh spring, new and green and tart enough to draw tears to the eye, “that I am inconveniencing you.”

“Shit,” you hear him mutter, before Charlie launches himself forwards; but it’s too late.

You cross the kitchen’s threshold, and there- sitting, like a fucking mosaic of pieces that, through your tears, looks almost like Fred- is George. George and your mother and your father and the rest of your family, but Fred isn’t there, he isn’t there, he’ll never be there to tease you or frighten you or love you, not anymore.

“I’m fine,” you say, and it’s not a lie, though you can see that nobody believes you. “I’m fine,” you repeat, and Charlie’s behind you and he puts his hand on your shoulder and it’s not fine, but you’re fine, you’re fine and it’s the world that’s not fine at all.

Fred’s gone, and you’ve got a list of sins that you’ll spend the rest of your life scrubbing.

I’m not even twenty-five, you think, and I’ll never do anything great.

“I am,” you say, and this time it is defiant, as foolishly defiant as ever Fred had been, “fine.”

A shrug of your shoulders, and before Charlie can catch you, before anyone can believe that you’re going to do this again, the son who had loved rules more than he’d ever loved family- you’re gone.

...

The cliffside is cold, and you don’t have a cloak or the will to perform a warming charm.

You don’t cry, but when it rains, you don’t wipe your face either.

Your eyes are red.

...

“You haven’t told them?” Luna asks you the next day, when you show up in sodden clothes and hair as tangled as Potter’s on a bad day.

“Three more cells,” you reply. “We’re almost done.”

You reach for the doorknob, but it clicks shut with a finality that makes you whirl back to Luna. She looks back at you with a look in her eyes that makes you want to wince, her wand held high and stiff between you two. It feels like someone’s made you swallow ice.

“And after that we need to find names, and ground to bury them, and wands.” Her lips, already thin, depress further. “This will not end, Percy. Every day there will be something more, and you have to-”

“You don’t get to tell me what I have to do,” you whisper.

It’s nothing but the truth. Luna brought you here, but it’s your decision to actually do something instead of mourn. Your guilt is your own; no one, not Charlie, not George, not Luna- not a single person in the world gets to tell you that this guilt is lessened by coming here. They don’t get to do this to you. And if you want to spend the rest of your life righting the wrongs of a war that you were on the wrong side of, then there is nothing that will stop you.

“You need to tell them what’s happening,” Luna says, reaching out to place a hand on your shoulder. “They’re going to worry. Percy- Fred wouldn’t want you to do this.”

You step away, and slash your wand down, once, twice, thrice. The door falls into pieces, stripped wood, and you step out into the corridor. The wind catches at your cloak and hair, still soaked through. You don’t shiver.

“I signed forty-three documents,” you say softly, watching her, waiting for the inevitable horror, revulsion, hatred. “Did you know that? I signed away forty-three people’s lives. Fred’s the least of my sins.” A breath, and wood crunches under your feet as if they were bones, dried and dead. “You can tell my parents that, if you want to.” The ice in your throat spreads to your arms, to your fingers, to your heart. “But I’m going to break Azkaban’s wards today, and tomorrow I’ll find a burial ground for the dead, and the day after that I’ll find out how to make wands, and you can help me bury these people if you want to but I’m not going to stop, do you hear me?”

...

You’ve always been good with charms. Penelope’s always been good with potions.

The summer of ‘96, you have a long, explosive fight with her. You hadn’t been living together, not exactly; you’re both too independent for that. But you have an extra towel and toothbrush in your bathroom and the particular brand of rough-grain bread that Penelope likes in your kitchen, and it’s the closest you’ve come to sharing your life with anyone else.

She’s afraid.

You’re not just a Gryffindor, she says, blue eyes shining, face earnest, please, come with me- there’s other places you can succeed. It doesn’t have to be here, you-

I’m not going anywhere, you say, and you’re terrified, of course you are, you’re angry and grieving and alone and-

And you have done a lot wrong, in your life, but you haven’t run. At least in some small, aching way, you belong to Gryffindor for reasons other than your blood.

Penelope doesn’t say goodbye.

You find a thin vial resting on your bed that night- black and glittering, like the night sky ground into a liquid. You recognize it, of course. By all rights, you should turn it into the Ministry. By all rights, you should put her name on a list of criminals, for brewing one of the most dangerous potions in the world.

You pocket the vial instead.

...

(Your best subject had been charms.

But you’re even better at paperwork. It’s why Crouch takes you on- they mock you, your brothers, your family, but he took you on and he kept you on because you were good at what you did.

Forty-three people suffer for that.)

...

Azkaban surrenders the last of its sealed cells quietly, and you levitate the last body to the corridor where the rest have been lying for the past fortnight. Luna is there- her hair looks like moonlight-purified water, colorless and pure in the dull darkness.

She has a new wand, one that Ollivander made for her after the Malfoys took hers. It’s too temperamental for your taste; it reacts more to Luna’s emotions than to her words, and the results can be unpredictable. The day after you both uncovered one of the younger victims, it had only released saltwater for the full day, no matter what else Luna tried.

But it also matches Luna’s personality. Like right now: there’s a glittering charm bracelet that she’s woven out of light and some old metal scraps lying on the floor, and it shines around almost twenty people’s wrists and throats, pale blue or sparking purple or glowing yellow, like a strange string of faery lights.

"The stasis spell goes from darkness to darkness,” she says, folding one boy’s fingers open slowly, massaging the cold flesh.

You bite back the first words you think of, the acid bite of your previous meeting still concentrated. “What does that mean?”

“You have another three weeks,” replies Luna, softly. “Then the graves will rise up and swallow them once more.”

The stasis spell will fall, you realize. That’s what she’s trying to say. The spell will last from new moon to new moon, and it will fall soon and the bodies will rot, and that means-

“Graves,” you say. “Wands. We’ll need-”

“No,” says Luna. “Not us.”

You.

It had slipped your mind, but- yes, now you remember, Luna and Ron and Ginny and Ron’s friends- they’re all heading back to Hogwarts. Another week and they’re going to leave, and you��re going to have to do this alone.

Alone.

You know how that feels. You have it scored straight into your bones.

“I’ll handle it,” you say.

...

The Ministry is silent when you enter it.

It’s too early in the morning; fog still lines London’s streets, and the streetlights are still lighting up the city. The tips of your robes are damp. Your footsteps echo on the marble stone.

(The last time you were here, you killed sixteen men.

Yaxley had asked for tea, and you’d felt some shift in the air- you’d nodded docilely, you’d made the tea with careful, even hands, and then, when they were ignoring you, while they were casually discussing some crime on humanity, you’d poured Penny’s black, shining poison straight into the dark liquid.

You’d waited patiently, calmly, as they dropped.

Thirteen men like that- and then you left, quietly, and sealed the door shut. Three more men had chased you, up and down the hallways, and you’d killed two with quick wandwork but the last- the last you’d captured and carved, slowly, with your careful, even wandwork, and you hadn’t stopped until he sputtered out the truth of Hogwarts’ siege.

Nobody knows, of course. You couldn’t stand it if they did. But when you apparated to Hogwarts, it was with the blood of sixteen men on your hands.)

Kingsley’s in his office. It’s not the room where you tortured a man, not even on the same floor, but your hands tremble all the same.

“Minister,” you say, as you enter.

Kingsley looks- drawn. His bones are sharp under his skin, but he burns brighter than you remember from before, as if the pared flesh has revealed some of the fierceness beneath. When he waves you to a seat, it’s a sort of kindness.

“Percy,” he says. “I wondered when I’d see you in here.”

“Ah. I’m...” you think, for a dizzy moment, that you’ll just accept, that you’ll take the opening Kingsley offered and slide back into your old position as if nothing has changed. The nausea that rises with the dizziness clears your head, firms your voice. “I’m afraid I’m not here for the reason you think.”

“Oh?”

You swallow. “Do you know about Azkaban?”

“I read a report on it a few days ago, yes,” says Kingsley, spreading his hand on one of the stacks of papers currently crowding his desk.

I could file that, you think, abruptly seized by a desire for it. I could sort out this mess. I’d be good at it. I could-

You could. You’d reshape the nation. And you’d be scrupulously fair, viciously, steadily, fair. You’d know it, because you’d have all of it in the palm of your hand, you’d be the one doing it.

But there are other ways of doing good.

You know that now.

“Someone from Hogwarts is working on clearing it,” says Kingsley. “It’s going well, according to- ah, yes, I think it was Xeno’s daughter- a good girl, with her head in the air, perhaps, but- she’s smart, and got through a stint in Azkaban herself without breaking. Is there a problem with it?”

“No, no problem,” you reply. “But I’ve been working with her on clearing it.”

The world doesn’t stop turning when you say it out loud.

So you continue.

“We’ve recovered forty bodies. Muggleborn bodies. We’ll need place to bury them, before the stasis spell we’ve put on them starts to breakdown.”

Kingsley pauses. “Ah. I’d wondered- I thought you’d be here the day I entered, you know? But then I remembered your brother. When was his funeral?”

“Months ago,” you say, through clenched teeth, desperately trying to keep yourself from twitching. “A month after the Hogwarts- battle.”

“You’ve been excavating Azkaban all along, Percy?”

The kindness drags along your nerves. You don’t want kindness. You want professionalism, and crisp agreements, and not this- this stupid hurting rage.

“Not for very long,” you say, though, because Kingsley’s being kind while still remaining within the bounds of professionalism. “It’s going faster than I’d expected. But the stasis spell works only from new moon to new moon.”

“Did you have any particular rituals in mind?”

“I had some ideas.” You swallow. “There’s- I think, sunlight. That’s something they deserve.”

“Not something we have a lot of here,” says Kingsley mildly.

“There’s charms for that,” you reply. “And I thought- think- there’s an island. Off of Azkaban. It comes near enough to the anti-muggle wards that we won’t need to do anything complex. It’s abandoned, and...”

Perfect, you think, but don’t say. Nothing’s perfect, is what you’ve learned. It’s all just piece-meal attempts at cobbling together a vision that might, if one squints, look vaguely acceptable. But you’ve visited the island and it’s small and rough and scarred and still: perfect.

“I’ll see what I can do,” says Kingsley.

You force yourself to nod back to him.

“Percy,” he says, when you’ve gathered your coat and almost managed to leave, “your office remains empty. I look forward to seeing it filled soon.”

You freeze. You force air into your lungs. You say, without turning, “I’ll offer you a list of meritorious candidates when I get some time, Minister.”

“I need help,” says Kingsley, and his hand closes on your shoulder. You shudder. “You’re one of the few people from the old Ministry who hasn’t been arrested, you know, and we need the experience.” He pauses. “And you look like you could use the work.”

“I’m fine,” you say automatically. Then, slower, “And I cannot help you, Minister. I would be far greater a burden than an aid.”

“Percy-”

You shy away from the contact. Pull your robes around you. Nod, grimly, politely, and grind out, laboriously: “I thank you for the opportunity, Minister. But I... there are some things that cannot be- undone. Sometimes, people- people cannot be trusted. Not after they’ve- not after what they’ve done.”

“I know where your loyalty lies, son,” says Kingsley, but he doesn’t try to touch your shoulder once more. “We know where you fought when it mattered.”

Your lips twist in a facsimile of a smile. “All of you keep saying that,” you say, in a voice too low for addressing the Minister, but you don’t care. You don’t care. You are not off the rails completely, but you can taste that wildness and it is heady as much as it is frightening. “As if this war’s lasted for all of one battle. There has been a war in our country for three years, Minister Shacklebolt, and there has been a battle waged in every wizarding home within our borders. I know where I stood for too long- and I know that there are things that cannot be forgiven, no matter what else is done after the fact.”

Kingsley looks- old. His face is set in taut, narrow lines, and his eyes shine in the morning light, almost-gold. “I know this war, Percy.”

“It doesn’t feel like it,” you say recklessly, before drawing yourself up. Breathing in. This, at least, you can offer. Advice, if not the work of your hands. “Children died, Minister. Muggleborns. Halfbloods. Purebloods. We all bled for a madman, and the answer that our government has for us is to sit tight. Is it any wonder people sit in their homes and ask when the next Dark Lord will rise?”

“Voldemort is gone.”

“Albus Dumbledore kept secrets,” you say. “And now, so does Harry Potter. History is set to repeat itself, Minister- and it is set to become as we once were, led by Lords and Ladies. Where do we, the common man, lie then? The chattel between lords at best. The victims, at worst. What we lost when we elected to turn our heads and bite our tongues and let a one year old boy become our savior...”

You trail off. Your hands are shaking, now, and your head is aching. There’s a small crowd surrounding the Minister, just a little ways off, but you can see the flash of a pink string quickly moving out of sight. Extendable Ears.

So now your political stance is solidified.

Nausea builds in your gut. You look at Kingsley, and regret swims before you. That he was caught even listening to your near-treasonous words might spell the end to his brief tenure as Minister. It’s quite a shame- you rather like him, even if he’s too willing to return to the status quo.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe, and turn, and flee as quick as you can without actually running.

...

After, you get drunk. Roaringly drunk. As you’ve never done before in your life.

Impotent anger and bitter hatred and caustic self-loathing. It all melts underneath the touch of the- whatever- that the bartender gives you. At least you’d had the knowledge to go into muggle London, where there’s nobody who’ll report you to your mother; otherwise you’d be waking tomorrow to a howler from your mother and a quick, apologetic Hangover Relief from your father.

Only that’s how it might have been, once, for Charlie and Bill.

Now. You doubt your mother would even notice your absence. Even if she did, why would she care about one son drinking away his night when another’s buried six feet under the earth? So. No howler from your mother. No potion from your father either, though, and that’s a shame. Thank Merlin you probably have one stored away in your potions cupboard, just in case.

“One more,” you say to the bartender.

He shakes his head. Anger flashes through you, so hot it hurts. It reminds you of when you were a kid- your accidental magic had only ever come out when you wanted the twins to be silent. Once, you’d managed to silence the entire Burrow for a glorious three hours.

Fred and George had gotten you back for that, with interest; but you hadn’t cared.

“C’mon,” you say, levering yourself up those last few feet. “C’mon, you know I’m good for it, I need-”

The bartender shakes his head one last time, final, and the fragile bridge holding you to- sanity, or normalcy, or maybe just that land of reason that you’ve clutched onto your whole life- shatters. You lunge forwards and drag the bartender closer to you, and something is glowing at your feet so when you look down you realize that it’s not something but it’s you, and that glowing thing is coming from your fingers which are dripping fire.

Then there’s hands around your shoulders, dragging you away from the bartender. Hands that remain firm and tight all the way until you push through the door, and you’re stumbling, you’re choking on all the air you need but aren’t getting.

“Fuckin’ hell,” you hear from what must be the man who’s holding you, “can’t say I’ve ever seen-”

His voice wavers in and out, like a bad connection on the Floo. You vaguely register that it’s familiar; you don’t pay much attention to anything other than the blessedly cold air in your lungs and the rough stone beneath your shins. You feel sick.

“Weasley,” you hear, and it makes your chest want to shrivel up. “Weasley, hey, the fuck’s your name- it was- Percy, yeah, Percy, you hearing me? Up, Merlin, get up, would you? Obliviators’re on the way. Best if we aren’t caught here- Percy, hey- Percy!”

The world goes dark, and you don’t even regret it.

...

You do regret it when you come to the next morning.

Sunlight’s spearing through the butter-yellow curtains straight into your eyes. You make a mush-mouthed sound and flap your hand at it ineffectually. But trying to turn over hurts your head even more; you just flop backwards in the end, and close your eyes.

“Weasley?” you hear from a distant corner.

“Hnngh,” you say.

“Weasley,” sighs the man, entering your line of sight. It’s a man you vaguely remember- you’ve seen him around, though you think he was a Ravenclaw back in Hogwarts. A prefect, you’re fairly certain, below you. His hair’s damp and he’s wearing a loose tracksuit and he looks... unfairly put together for the misery you’re currently feeling. “D’you remember what happened last night?”

“Mmph.” Painfully, you swallow. Then, still aching, you lever yourself upright. Like hell’re you going to speak to a Hogwarts prefect lying down like an invalid. “Kind of. Fire?”

“You were dripping it,” agrees Prefect. “It was a miracle you didn’t burn the pub down.”

You wince. “I. It. I thought.” Then you pause, take in the entirety of your situation- you’ve just crashed on a stranger’s couch because you were too drunk the previous night after spending a full day getting wasted in a muggle pub and trying to burn it down, all because you chewed out the Minister for something that isn’t even his fault. There’s really only one thing you can say. “I was stupid.”

Monumentally stupid.

Unfathomably stupid.

“Mm,” agrees Prefect. He walks away, then comes back with two things: a copy of the paper, and a fizzing blue mug. “Drink that first. And- you are Percy, right? Percy Weasley?”

“Yes,” you agree slowly.

“You’ll want to read that paper, then.” Prefect’s eyes are sharp on your face. “You don’t remember me?”

“Prefect, right? Ravenclaw?” You shrug. “Don’t remember your name.”

“Roger Davies.” Davies nods to the paper. “Read it. And- Weasley?”

“Yeah?”

“Not all of us liked your brothers,” he says evenly. “Not all of us made the right decisions. A lot of us were- not brave. But we survived.” He pauses, and there’s something in his eyes that makes you want to swallow- something bright, and fragile, and perhaps brighter for its fragility. “A leader should know that.”

“‘m no leader,” you say, sighing as you sip the hangover relief. It blazes down the back of your throat. A good hurt, though, so you barely even grimace.

Then you look up, and Davies is frowning at you.

“Shame, that,” is all he says. “Think you’d do a good job at it. Always did.”

“Thanks for the relief,” you tell him, before you rise to your feet.

You shake his hand as firmly as you can manage. Stumble to the fireplace, mumble your address and manage three steps into your home before you collapse from the dizziness. When you open your eyes again, the paper’s crumpled tight in your fists. You let go. Smooth it out.

Your breath is snatched right out of your lungs.

“Fuck,” you whisper. You don’t like to swear, but there isn’t any other way to treat this. “Fucking fuck. Oh my fucking god!”

Hungover or not, you have to go home. You have to make sure your parents know-

Know what?

That you’re not a traitor? That you’re not the radical revolutionary the paper paints you as? That with a two minute speech to the Minister, you’re suddenly not the poster child for change from the top to the dregs of society?

Percy Weasley: Radical or Traditional?

You steel yourself. Get in the shower. Shave. Pick out some crisply folded robes. Comb your hair back. By the end of it, you’ve made your decision. Then you stand in front of your fireplace for a good five minutes, dithering, before you call out, “Roger Davies’ home!”

You don’t walk back into his home, just call and allow him the ability to pick up or decline. He does, after a pause so long your knees start to ache.

“Yeah?” he asks, wandering into view. “Forget something, Weasley?”

“My manners,” you say wryly.

“You said thanks already.”

“I know.” You swallow. You can still back out. But if you say the words, if you give them a voice... you can’t take them back. You can never take them back. “But I told you that I’m no leader. I’m not, you know, not a general. Not a Lord. I’m the normal one.”

“Yeah, I got that,” says Davies.

You tilt your head at him. “I don’t know if I’m the best for this. But... I think I can help you.”

...

You don’t return to the Ministry. But nobody stops you when you start clearing shrubbery to make a proper burial service, so you don’t stop either. You’ve told the Minister your plans, anyhow, and if someone has the temerity enough to attempt to stop you you’ve got his name ready to drop with a flatly insincere smile.

Luna comes to your flat two days later, Ollivander twitchy but at her side. She doesn’t mention the Prophet article, which you’re grateful enough for that you forgive her interference with your family.

(It’s not like you don’t understand, you soothe yourself. Everybody wants a happy ending, all the hurts smoothed away. And for Luna, who’s an only child, who has been such a source of strength to her father- it must seem even stranger, even crueler, for you not to desire with all your body and mind to return to them. Have the Weasleys not suffered enough? Why are you so fucking incapable of kindness?

But war has pared something away in you- worn down those pieces that wanted things with hard desperation, cut away those parts that made you want love or approval or appreciation.

What is left of you now?)

Ollivander hems and haws and looks increasingly insulted at your desire to bury wands with the Azkaban muggleborns; it’s very rare to lose wands like that, and usually done only for people who have nobody else in the world. No family, no friends. Nobody who’ll take or remember these people.

You don’t care.

These people had wands, but they were yanked out of their fists. There’s no way to track that down, now, and the injustice of it bubbles in your chest every time you feel exhaustion dog at your heels.

“The- the waste- it’s unconscionable- how can I-”

“Waste?” you ask mildly.

Luna leans back, starlight-hair glittering. She doesn’t look away from you, eyes level and warm. You straighten your spine and dig out the boy who’d bargained with pureblood supremacists, words cajoling; gaze unflinching.

“Their old wands will sit in some old pureblood vault for decades,” you tell Ollivander. “We cannot retrieve them; those records have been destroyed, or perhaps never maintained in the first place. If ever they see light of day, they will be in the hands of the very people who took them away.” You lean forwards, and take no joy in the subtle flinch of Ollivander’s shoulders. “We are burying wizards and witches, Mr. Ollivander, and they shall be marked as such. They will be given that dignity.”

His pale, silver eyes say everything he’s too polite to say.

Traitor, radical, fool.

Too angry to be any use. Too stupid to be quiet. Too cruel to be part of the Light.

Well, that’s fine. What use have labels been to you anyways?

Why do you care so much? sneers Ollivander, silent, wordless.

And you do not answer: Because I could have blown up the Ministry if I was pushed, and I don’t know why I didn’t push myself. Because I let the war pass me by and my family is made up of people who cannot forget that, even if they will forgive me. Because I am here, and I can, and so I will.

“I cannot make wands for people I do not know,” says Ollivander finally.

“I have their profiles arranged,” you reply, hand resting heavily on a stack of parchment. “Take your best guess.”

“I have not made wands in- months. The process- I cannot- the speed will be too low to-”

“Then I will help you,” you say lowly, and watch the flash of irritable defiance in Ollivander’s face flare and fade out. “Forty wands. We’ll get this done before the month is out.”

It’s going to be a challenge, of course, but you have never shrunk from honest, hard work before, and you won’t start now. Youngest aide to an official in the history of Britain; sharpest Weasley in a family that you had to claw distinction out of; the face of a burgeoning radicalist movement through the nation. You’ve done it all before, and you’ve done it well, and you’ll do this too, properly.

Beautifully.

#hp fic #percy weasley #luna lovegood #my writing #a VERY strange fic for entry into december!

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gochigalore · 7 years

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Seven Days - A GoChi Fanfic Series for GoChi Week.

Day Two: Pride

A/N: Another form of pride within the seven deadly sins is known as vanity. Which is what is actually meant by pride so this will be the theme of this chapter.

"Hey Cheech...are you okay?"

Goku peered his head into the room to see his wife sitting on the edge of their made up bed. We just caught her wiping a tear from her eye and rests her hands together on her lap of her beautiful red dress she had brought for tonight's occasion. Taking caution the nervous saiyan made his way over to Chichi trying to find the words to say.

"So that was something back there huh? You and me, fighting over food. It's kinda funny when you think about it." Goku put his hand behind his head as a nervous reaction as he gave off a weak laugh ChiChi's shot Goku a glance that immediately stopped the laughter.

"That was so embarrassing!" ChiChi whined. "I was acting like a starving barbarian. We were acting like that. But the strange this is...I couldn't control myself."

"Yeah...same with me. It was like something got control of my body and emotions and I just surrendered to them. Don't get me wrong, I love food but I'd never act like that over it." Goku sighed and sat down on the bed beside her. ChiChi repeated the event over and over again in her mine and covered her face in shame.

"Ugh I can't believe we did that in front of our sons, our daughter-in-law, our granddaughter!" She sighed. "They're probably laughing at us right now as we speak."

"Don't say that." Goku scooted closer to her. "Listen, even though I didn't know what happened back there, I'm sorry for being a part of it. I knew how much tonight meant to you."

ChiChi turned to him and saw the genuine look of sincerity in his eyes. Seeing that made her heart melt that she couldn't help but to give a warm smile and patted his knee playfully.

"Well, what's done is done. I kinda want to move on from tonight. We should hear back to the others."

But as if on que another knock was heard.

"Hello?" It was Gohan who slowly entered his head though the cracked opened door. "Is...everything okay?"

The two lovers looked at each other in a sign of approval towards one another and then both turn their gaze back to Gohan. They needed to think of a lie. "Yes, everything is alright son. Sorry about dinner. Uh...your mom and I had a long day and we went a little crazy. Right, dear?" Goku looked back at ChiChi as she picked up on his notion.

"R-right. I was busy cooking all day and I barely ate. I guess I got a little too tense back there." ChiChi laughed nervously. "We're terribly sorry about that. We've should've acted far more mature then what we were being."

"It's okay really. Beside when has anything normal ever happened around here? It was kinda funny actually." Gohan retuned with a more genuine laugh. "Anyway. I was about to send Goten to bed for you guys and then me and Videl are going to bed ourselves. We're gonna be staying here a couple of days, if you guys don't mind. You guys need anything?”

Goku gave his usual bright smile. "That's great to hear! We'd love to have you guys stay over. And nah, I think we're good for the night. We'll talk tomorrow okay?"

And that was it. Goten was tucked into bed and the two couples drifted off to bed themselves hoping to forget about that chaotic dinner.

The next day.

Goku woke up to the pleasant sound of ChiChi humming as we arose from him bed. He looked around at the position he was in and new instantly that he slept well. He had always been just as a sloppy sleeper as he was a sloppy eater. He rubbed his eyes with his hand to clear his blurred vision to reveal ChiChi in front of the mirror trying on various clothing in her closet. She was holding a long teal dress in front of her, examining how good it would look on her. Her after studying the lovely dress, she cringed.

"Ew, the colors don't look good in me at all! Who the hell have me this crap?" ChiChi scoffed in disgust as she tossed the dress to the side in a haughty sigh. Goku's eyed followed the dress and he discovered the huge pile of close where the dress had landed. He speculated that she must have went trough half her wardrobe while he was asleep. ChiChi noticed her awaking husband and turned him for a second then back to the mirror.

"Oh Good morning, sweetheart!" She spook nonchalantly too busy with her clothing to really pay attention.

"G-good morning ChiChi, Um...what are you doing?"

"Trying to find something to wear. I cannot believe half of the junk that's in my closet." She was now holding a pink and yellow blouse but again she cringed and tossed aside to her ever growing pile of rejected clothing.

"For what? Are we having another dinner?" Goku asked innocently.

"No, I just woke up in the mood to raid my closet and get rid of the hideous shit." She now was holding a very classic looking yellow dress with blue outlines. This time she turned to Goku and asked. "Why the hell do I even own this?"

"But ChiChi, you love that dress. It's was a gift your father gave you for your birthday last year, remember?"

"Oh..." she sneered in boredomas she looked at the dress again before tossing it to the side. She then gave a flustered sigh and walked to the bathroom. "I'm gonna need new clothes. None of these does my body or my looks any favored I'm going to go shopping today. We still have money left over right?"

"Yeah...But you said that was for to help Goten get a better education." Goku protested. ChiChi came back out back in a towel as she was getting ready to take her morning bath.

"Pfft, a couple of hundred of dollars wouldn't hurt." ChiChi snorted obnoxiously "Besides don't you want your wife to look as hot as possible?"

"Uh..." Goku blinked dumbfounded. He never heard his wife talk this way before. To put herself before her own son's studies was something she's never EVER do. It was like she was like a whole other person.

"Then it's settled. I'm going shopping and you're coming with me." ChiChi demanded. Goku looked at her as to say 'Why do I have to go?' and ChiChi read his mind. "You're in more of a desperate need of a new wardrobe then I do. I can't be bothered to be seen with you in that Orange and Blue getup that you wear all the time?"

"You mean my Gi? But you never had an problem with it before-"

Goku stopped when ChiChi interrupted. "My mind is made up, Goku! You're getting new clothes whether you like it not!" ChiChi fave a fake smile and sashayed out of the room leaving Goku unsatisfied with the conversation. He gets up from the bed and walks over the mirror and takes a good long look at himself. While he always thought of himself as kinda food-looking he never really cared too much about appearances let alone his own. But then... the same blue light from before shined in his eyes momentarily And dissolved then he look at himself again the mirror and suddenly got a new perspective of himself. He turned his body around to see every angle he could Of himself. He suddenly began to have a better appreciation or his own physique which was quite impressive to most.

"Gosh, I never knew how...hot I was. I mean...ChiChi tells me all the time how hot I am but I never noticed until now. I don't think anyone is as hot as me. No wonder she's so crazy about me." Goku's eyes traced down every inch of his own body, flexing his muscles, smirking slyly. "Maybe ChiChi was right, I could use some new clothes. After all I could use something to show off my hot body." He chuckled to himself as he flexed in front of the mirror admiring himself.

While in the middle of his flexing, Goten enters the room to see his dad having fun with himself in the mirror. He watched in embarrassment at his father going on and on about how sexy he thought he was. Goten turned around quickly and walked away mouthing "wow" as he did so.

Later at the mall Goku and ChiChi arrived liking around and the number of people buzzing around the store.

"So when do we go shopping for my new stuff?" Goku asked excitedly

"After I finish shopping first. You know it chivalrous to let the ladies go first, and only the fairest of ladies have the right to go first, don't you think?" ChiChi smirked as Goku rolled his eyes.

"Whatever, I'll be over in the men's department if you need me, but I doubt they'll have anything even remotely decent in his hellhole." complained as he walked off.

It was Chichi's turn to roll her eyes as she made her way through the many racks of clothes. Unfortunately, the more she looked through the clothes, then more disgusted she became. She flicked through every clothes degrading every single piece she came across.

"Ew...no...hell no... I won't be caught dead in this crap...disgusting...gross...just...just no...”

ChiChi was so busy with her "shopping" that she didn't see the store clerk approach her. "May I help you ma'am?" He asked her.

ChiChi turned to the clerk with a haughty glare. "Yes. Do you have anything that is...oh you know...actually wearable in h is place? All of these are hideous. Who would wear any of these?"

The clerk was taken aback by her bluntness. "Well...uh...I don't know what you mean. All of the clothing here are in style."

"Ha! If these are "in style" then I'm a super saiyan." ChiChi mocked, quite please herself with the joke.

"A what?"

"Oh outta my way!" ChiChi shoved passed him and continued browsing through the many racks of clothing. Minutes and many dresses later she finally found found something worthy of her attention. It was like a diamond in the clothes rough. It was a cute, clingy, long-sleeved burgundy dress that just by one look at it she knew it was created for her body.

"Eureka!" She shrieked as he ran over the dress, however the minute her hands landed on one sleeve soon. Anotherhand arrives on the other side." ChiChi's eyes immediately looked up as the figure holding the other dress and gave her the same leer woman was giving her. They both lacked on the dress and pull the opposite parts toward them ChiChi became concerned when the dress was at it stretch limit and feared it would tear.

"Let it go, bitch." ChiChi sneered.

"No way! I saw it first!" The woman barked back.

"Bullshit! You was nowhere near it!"

“Says you!”

“This is only good piece of clothing that’s in this store and you’re candy ass is not gonna take it away from me.”

“What are you gonna do? Fight me?” The woman laughed haughtily as before she she react a foot came fly across her face and she was on the floor. She looked up to see Chichi with the dress in her hand. ChiChi smirked innocently

“You asked for it.” She shined as she turned to walk away. Just then she felt something on her ankles that prevented her from leaving and she fell on the ground. The ruthless woman then climbed on top of her to try and get the upper hand in her But ChiChi was much stronger then she was and she was on top of her trying to yank the dress from her. Thy wee starts to draw in a crowd This lasted for a little while before the story manager and security came rushing over to them to break it up. The two security guard held both each of the ladies as the manager got in between them. Then the security guards let them go.

“You two are casing a scene!” The manager shouted “This is a repeatable store! And I won’t stand for this roughhousing. Now if you two don’t behave I’ll be forced to kick you both o-“

A suddenly crash from across the room was heard and everyone’s directions cane toward Goku who was holding a middle aged man by the collar with a murderous look in his eyes because he wanted the same tank top Goku did.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry!" The man pleaded with his life. “It’s big deal you can have it!”

“That’s what I thought.” Goku smirked reeling in his minor victory.

“HEY YOU LET HIM GO THIS INSTANT!” The manager shouted! He turned to ChiChi “is he with you?”

“Yeah? What’s it to ya!” She barked.

“Ok this is out of hand. I was gonna give you a second chance but you and your barbaric husband is tearing up my store! I want you two out at once!

“Fine” ChiChi sneered.

ChiChi saw this as her chance. While the manager had retrieved the dress from them he was too busy looking at what Goku was doing to pay attention to them. ChiChi snatched the dress from the manager and darted off.

“HEY COME BACK HERE YOU THEIF!” The manager called out to her. Waving his hands like a mad man

“GOKU LET’S GO!” ChiChi call out to him as she ran out of the store. At her call Goku grabbed the dark gray tank top and ran after his wife.

“SECURITY! SEIZE THEM!!!”

The manager screamed as security took off after the shoplifting couple. It wast long until they began to catch up with them. “Goku they’re gaining on us!”

“Don’t worry I got an idea! Hop on my back!” Goku commanded as ChiChi jumped on his back and wrapped her arms around his neck. Once Goku had her safely on her back. He took off flying into the air leaving the exhausted security guards watching in defeat as they made their getaway.

#gochi #goku #chichi #gochiweek2018 #i honestly had fun with this chapter #i stayed up all night writing this

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mercstoriatranslationsetc-blog · 7 years

Text

sky country 1st translation

warning: may contain offensive content, typos, translation errors, and engrish. the romanizations are unofficial. this was originally on a google doc and I’m lazy so the formatting is weird, sorry!

********CHAPTER ONE

?: Lady of holy wings... the one closest to god! ?: Oh, to think we would be able to receive Her Holiness into our temple during my lifetime...! ?: The day Her Holiness reaches maturity is the day we, the people of the sky, go to our god's side...! We must raise her with care within the temple until then. ?: We, the temple guardians, will increase our efforts so that nothing will harm Her Holiness. ?: Yes! We, the people of the sky, will protect Her Holiness as one...! ?: This good day, this holy night in which we received our lady of holy wings! Let us declare it a holy day henceforth! Saint Michelia's day!

?: Oh... how could this be? My God, is this some sort of punishment...?! What shall we do?! ?: What's going on...?! The whole town's making a fuss... ?: It's been decided! Tonight is a good day, Saint Michelia's day! ?: There's been an announcement from the temple! We're to celebrate our saint's arrival all through the night! ?: In accordance with our god's words, all of us are to open our doors and take each other's hands! Let us forget our grudges and our quarrels, let us celebrate together! ?: Today, a holiday...?! Quick, hide the child! ?: Waaaaaaaah! ?: Oh, please stop crying! Please, you must be quiet! Dear, what should we...! ?: We must hide it. If someone were to find it... especially someone in this holy city...! ?: Father, give him to me. If the whole world is against him, then I will protect him from everything. ?: Laviolle... but, how are you... ?: ...! Don't tell me... ?: No. Like this, he won't be welcomed in either. ?: Then what do you intend to do? ?: I know of a good place. A place where no one will find him, where no one will hurt him, where no one will visit. ?: Such a place... ?: Wait, the tower...! Of course, only the temple guardians enter that place. ?: But that also means being separated from us. You understand, don't you? ?: I understand. I will protect this child... I will protect my brother, even if I must do it alone. ?: Laviolle...! ?: Heeey! ?: Didn't you hear?! What are you holing up for, it’s a holiday! Let's go celebrate! ?: Dear, someone's coming...! ?: ...Alright. I'll lead the townspeople away. You take him out through the back exit. May god be with you... ?: ...I'll pray for you and the child's safety. ?: Laviolle, forgive your mother for being unable to go with you and your brother. Please, be safe. Please, take care of the child… take care of Orthos. ?: Yes, mother. ?: Heeey! ?: Sorry, sorry. My wife was giving birth. ?: Oh, so that's what was going on! Sorry for interrupting...! ?: No, it's already over. ?: Oh, so your child's here! Good for them, being born on such a good day! ?: It must have been our god's guidance that lead me here! Will you let me give them my blessing? ?: I'm sorry, but... ?: My son was stillborn.

?: Chirp chirp! White bird: Chirp! ?: Hello, good morning! Nice weather, isn't it? WB: Chirp! ?: Good morning! Would you like to have breakfast with me? Today's my... WB: Chirp! ?: Huh? You're going already? ?: Oh, I see, your flock's already on their way. But y'know, this place is nicer than anywhere else. You don't HAVE to leave... Small WB: Chirp... ?: I guess you have to, since you're migrants. ?: What a shame, you guys were making breakfast fun. WB: Chirp! ?: Haha! C'mon, that tickles! WB: Chirp! ?: Are you trying to comfort me or something? Don't worry about it, I have Brother. ?: ...Well, I mean, not that he can come today, since he's got work. WB: Chirp! ?: It's like this every year. I'm used to it by now. ?: You guys need to get going. It'd be bad if you got separated from your flock. Bye, sad to see you go! WB: Chirp! ?: ... ?: Well, there they go... there's a nice breeze today, so I guess it IS a perfect day to set off. ?: ...I wish they could've at least had breakfast with me first, though. Today's special... ?: …

Orthos: ...Happy sixteenth, Orthos. The holy city is the most beautiful town in the world, as always.

Fluffy: Grrrr! ?: Waaah! ?: Lieutenant Feyel! I'm sorry, but we can't...!

Feyel: Tch...! Feyel: Eliodas, Teufel, switch to support! Hold until Commander Laviolle gets here! We mustn't let them any closer to the holy city! Fluffy: Grrrr! Feyel: (Or so I say, but... it should be a while longer before the Commander gets here, since he's in the holy temple.) Feyel: (Can we do anything about this number of monsters without the Commander...?) Feyel: (No, it's not "can we", it's "we must"...! Her Holiness is in the temple.) Feyel: (I swear to these wings of mine, I won't let any monsters near the temple... near our lady. Especially not today, Saint Michelia's day...!) Feyel: What...?! ?: Grrrrrrrrrr... Feyel: This blast of wind... could it be…

???: GRRRRRRRR! Feyel: A cloud eater....! Feyel: (It's impossible! With just us... we can't handle this thing!) Cloud eater: Grrrrr...! Feyel: Today, of all days...! God...! ?: Feyel, move! Feyel: ....!

?: Don't let go of your blade to pray. Our swords are our second pair of wings, granted to us by god. ?: For us, to protect the holy city is to pray. Have you forgotten the oath you made when you became a temple guardian? Feyel: Co, Commander Laviolle... Laviolle: Lieutenant Feyel, if you're supposed to be a guardian, then don't let go of your sword until the very end. Laviolle: The moment you give up and let go, no one will be left to protect the holy city. Your prayer will no longer reach our god. Feyel: ... Feyel: Yes, sir! Cloud eater: Grrrr...! Laviolle: Feyel, you and the others take the rest of the monsters. I'll deal with the cloud eater. Feyel: Th, that's madness! In the past, even if every one of us banded together, we could barely chase it away! Commander, you can't go alone...! Feyel: At least allow me to... Laviolle: ...You need a little more experience. But, well... this is a good chance. Feyel: Huh? Laviolle: Chase away every monster that has entered the holy city. Don't let them near the temple, no matter what. However, you don't need to chase them further than the gates. Feyel: That's... Laviolle: I'm not saying I don't think you're capable. Tell me, what is our duty? To defeat monsters? Feyel: No... it's to protect the city, the temple, and Her Holiness. Laviolle: Correct. You understand, then? Feyel: Yes, sir! Cloud eater: Grrr....! Laviolle: Hmph. Seems like the day has come for us to settle our score, cloud eater. Cloud eater: Grrrr!

********CHAPTER 2

Cloud eater: Grrr! Laviolle: ... Lavioille: You should go. Cloud eater: Grr~! Feyel: Commander, are you... Feyel: The wind...! The cloud eater will get away on the wind! Laviolle: I told you not to chase them too far. Feyel: B, but... isn't this the perfect chance to rid ourselves of that vermin... Feyel: If we let it go here, won't it come after our clouds again...? Feyel: The cloud eater was acting strange, though... Laviolle: ...What is it? Feyel: It's just, I feel like all of the monsters are acting strange. Laviolle: ... Feyel: And in the first place, now that I think of it, isn't it also strange that we went against that many monsters, but have only suffered this much damage...? Feyel: I don't get why not only the cloud eater, but all the other monsters just ran away like that. Feyel: Monsters are supposed to be violent creatures that attack humans. Feyel: It's as though the violence was sapped right out of them. Feyel: It's almost like the work of those healers people have been talking about... Feyel: Someone as inexperienced as me can’t guess at what’s going on, but maybe Grandfather could tell us. Laviolle: ...Your grandfather was one of the cardinals, wasn't he? Feyel: Yes! If my grandfather were to lend us his wisdom, I believe he would be able to figure something out about all this strangeness... Feyel: Oh, um, I know I must sound stupid. I mean, there's no way a healer could actually be here.

Feyel: After all, this is the holy city, where the people of the earth are not allowed to... set…

Yuu: … Feyel: ... Yuu: Uh, hi…

Feyel: Aaaaaaaaah! Laviolle: I found him hiding in the shadows over there, so I grabbed him. Feyel: Ahhhhhh, cococococommander! Why are you holding an earth boy by the scruff of his neck!? Feyel: You're not supposed to touch them! Let go, quick! Shoo, shoo! Feyel: They say if you touch them your wings will fall off, or you'll get sick, or something! Anyway they'll rub their sins off on you and you'll lose our god's protection! Feyel: Commander, if we lost you, how could we go oooooon!! Laviolle: I'm touching him through his clothes, so it's fine. Feyel: Oh, rrrrrriight! That's right! There's no way you'd just touch one directly, right! Feyel: B, but, anyway, stop just kind of dangling him there and let go! Even if you're only touching him through your gloves and stuff, if something were to happen to you... Feyel: Uggggh, I don't even want to imagine it! If our commander became wingless, we temple guardians would...! Feyel: A-and anyway, his collar's choking him and he's getting bluer and bluer! Even if he's an earth boy, don't you feel kind of bad for him...?! Laviolle: Oh, am I hurting you? Sorry. Yuu: Cough, cough! I’m alive... Laviolle: I thought this would be the best course for not letting a wingless one escape. Feyel: Co, commander...! To put yourself at risk of losing your wings to catch an intruder for the temple's sake...! Laviolle: Our duty, first and foremost, is to prevent the wingless ones from entering this land. Calm down. Feyel: M, my apologies...! Feyel: ...However, if there really was a healer here, that would make him the reason we pulled through... Feyel: ...How could this be? Us, saved by a person of the earth... if Grandfather heard of this... Laviolle: Regardless, we were saved because this boy used his powers of healing. Laviolle: Thank you, boy. Yuu: Uh, sure... Feyel: Commander Laviolle... Feyel: ...That's true. Feyel: To be ungrateful would make me an embarrassment to the people of the sky... our god instructed us to be honest. Feyel: ...You saved us. Thank you, boy of the earth. Yuu: D-don't worry about it, sir... Feyel: However, you being here is a different matter. Why are you here? The people of the earth aren't allowed to set foot in this land. Feyel: Sadly, some other cities, that have come to be lacking in faith, allow people of the earth to enter, but this is the holy city. Feyel: It's not a place for sinners who have yet to be forgiven. Yuu: I, I'm sorry! I knew all that, but there was an accident! I was planning on going right back out...! Laviolle: And then you ran into those monsters, hm. Yuu: Yes, sir... Feyel: Whether that is true or not, and whatever reason you may have, one who is wingless isn't allowed entry. Feyel: I do feel sympathy for you people, tied to the earth yet struggling to draw closer to the heavens. However, it is a sin for a wingless one to come here. Yuu: Pleaaaase! Feyel: No! As a temple guardian, I mustn't allow an intruder to esca... Laviolle: Wait, Feyel. Feyel: Commander Laviolle?! Laviolle: You saw the cloud eater, didn't you? If this boy hadn't healed it, it would've kept coming to eat the rainclouds granted to us by our god. Laviolle: This boy was lead here bygod to rid us of that cloud eater, most likely. Feyel: By our god...? Laviolle: A lowly guardian like me cannot hope to fully understand our god's will, but I believe this was divine providence. Laviolle: Ever since the holy temple was built, a person of the earth hasn't once set foot in our holy city. Laviolle: And yet, right as the cloud eater appeared, a healer is here. If this wasn't brought about by our god's guidance, then what is? Laviolle: Above all, today is... Feyel: Saint Michelia's day...! Laviolle: Correct. This boy's sin will surely be forgiven, since he offered up his powers to rid us of the cloud eater. Feyel: Our god had intended to bring this earth boy to us from the start... Feyel: ...When I'm with you, Commander, I keenly realize how little I yet understand of our god's will. Feyel: As a guardian who protects Her Holiness closer than anyone else, I should be ashamed of myself...! Laviolle: ...You have wings, don't you? Just try your best. Feyel: Yes, sir! Laviolle: It's law that we are to not bring conflict into the holy city. Once I've investigated this boy's belongings, if nothing is amiss, I will take him away through the holy road immediately. Feyel: Yes, si... ?: Laviolle-sama, are you alright?!

***********CHAPTER THREE Laviolle: Pistia-dono...!

Pistia: How goes the battle...?! L: ...Don't worry. Please inform Her Holiness that the cloud eater has been sent away, and none of us have been harmed. P: Wha, that cloud eater?! Already?! P: Just what you'd expect from Laviolle-sama! I'm sure Her Holiness will be pleased! I'll go make my report right awa... P: Huh? L: ...Is there a problem? P: The person over there... don't tell me... is that a person of the earth?! L: ...That is correct. I will take him away immediately, however. L: ...Feyel, check his things. Even if this was our god's guidance, he's an earth boy. We can't have him here long. F: Yes, sir! P: Nevermind checking his things, he ought to be taken to the tower! What if he were to have some sort of ill effect on Her Holiness...! L: Wait, Pistia-dono. This boy lent us his healing powers in order to protect the holy city when we fought against the cloud eater. L: Surely, these deeds came from our god's guidance, and he will be forgiven for setting foot within the holy city. L: Taking such a person to the tower would be against our god's will. P: A person of the earth, protecting the holy city...? B, but, when I was in training, they said the people of the earth were still unforgiven of their... L: Those without wings are people living under the heavens, too. Some say the power of healing was given to them as a means of atonement. P: Yes, but... L: Rest assured. It's law that we are not to bring conflict near the holy city. L: In any case, I cannot allow you, who is closest to Her Holiness, near a person of the earth. L: I will take responsibility as a guardian to remove this boy from our land. P: I, if you say so, Laviolle-sama... ?: Ahhhhh, wait, that jar's... L: ...What's wrong? F: Commander, this is…

Merc: Myu, myuu... P&L: ... P: Water, taking shape and talking... L: Is it some sort of earth magic...? P: A lady of the holy waters...! There's no mistaking it! P: Our god must have brought this boy here so we could rescue her from him! P: I must take her to Her Holiness! P: Oh, you poor thing! Held captive by the people of the earth...! L: Isn't that jumping to conclusio... P: B, but, didn't he try to hide her just now?! How suspicious! Y: That's...! It's because I heard water's holy in the country of the sky, so I didn't want you guys to get the wrong idea...! P: The wrong idea? M: That's right! I'm technically not made of water! Actually, I'm not really sure what I am myself! M: That's why I thought it'd be bad if I got mixed up with the water that's so important to you guys... P: H, huh? You... what should I... P: W, well, I can't just go and decide whether what you say is true or not on my own. I'll take you to Her Holiness! M: Myu?! W, wait! Yuu-san is... P: Now then, Laviolle-sama. Please take that boy to the tower for now. Her Holiness will know if he has sinned or not! L: ...Understood. F: Feyel, I'll go check the tower first. F: It would be a pain if monsters were to attack us while we're flying. I'll chase them off. L: Bring the boy after me. He's small enough, you should be able to carry him with your wings. F: Yes, sir! Y: Huh, wha...! Wait, please! I...! L: (------) Y: Huh? L: I'll leave that to you, Feyel. F: Yes, sir! Y: ... Y: (What's going on…? He said "we won't do you any harm"...)

F: We're here. Y: This is that tower you guys were talking about…? Ugh, flying made me queasy... F: If Commander Laviolle hadn't chased away the monsters, it would've been worse. F: But... I suppose it's not surprising, since you don't have wings. F: ...You poor boy. Y: ... F: But anyway, considering this place hasn't been used a single time since it was built, it’s awfully clean in here. F: I thought it would be more dusty... and where's the Commander...? L: I cleaned the place while I was waiting for you two. F: Commander?! You didn't just chase the monsters away, but got here THAT quickly?! F: I, I didn't know, I apologize...! If you had just said so, I would've done it... L: I just did it while I was at it, don't worry. Return to the holy city before the monsters return. F: Huh, but what about you, Commander? L: I want to ask this boy about the water girl. F: In that case, allow me to help. I can't leave you alone with an earth boy. F: To support and protect my Commander is my duty as lieutenant. F: I'll go get a table from the other room. There should be a table and a bed in there, right? F: I've never been inside the tower before, so I'm not familiar with it, but... is it over here...? L: No, wait. F: Yes? L: If that's the case, we should report to Her Holiness first. We can hear what he has to say for himself afterwards. Let's go, Feyel. F: Huh, oh, yes sir! L: ...Don't get up to any mischief, earth boy. We won't do you any harm if you behave. Y: Ah, wa, wait! Merc is... L: ... F: ...If Her Holiness recognizes that lady of the waters, you won't be able to stay by her side anymore. Not as long as our god doesn't grant you wings. Y: ... L: Feyel. F: I, I'm sorry, sir... I just felt so bad for him... L: ... L: Let's go. The monsters will begin passing through the road of wind soon. F: Yes, sir. F: Anyway, you're so amazing, Commander...! I can't believe you had enough time to clean that room up... how do you fly so quickly? L: ...The wind was blowing the right way, that's all. F: Huh?! Is that really all you need to get there THAT fast…?

Y: …

Y: (Th, this is bad... I don't know Merc's identity, either. She might really be related to the sky country's god.) Y: (If that's true, then like that guy said, they won't let me see her again...! I need to find her before then...!) Y: I need to find a way out of here... ?: What a surprise. You think you can get out? Y: Huh?

**********CHAPTER FOUR

Orthos: Hi, I'm Orthos. I'm your roommate, unfortunately. Yuu: Roommate...? O: I meant what I said. There wasn't a lot of time to explain, so I don't really get what's going on, but... O: You're going to be here for a bit, right? That's what Brother said. Y: Brother? O: Laviolle-niisan. The stronger looking guy of the two who were just here. Y: Oh, that guy... Y: No offense to him, but I need to get out of here. O: And just how are you going to do that? Y: Huh? O: There's no stairs in this tower. No footholds down the sides, either. O: In other words, until someone with wings shows up, we can't leave. Y: "We"... aren't you a person of the skies...? Y: Wait, you don't have wings! O: Did you only just now notice? Do you earth guys not have eyes, either? Y: ...You're not from the country of the sky? O: Of course I am! Don't lump me in with you people. O: Look at this halo. It means I'm a person of the skies. Y: But, then why are you here...? O: ...Because I don't have wings, of course. O: Oh, for the record, it's not like I sinned and lost them or anything like that. I was born this way. O: Brother says god just forgot to stick them on, but the guys living in town won't see it that way. O: It's not a place that's kind to those without wings. O: That's why brother lets me live here in hiding. It's a tower for sinners without wings. O: No one wants to come near it. No one's ever seen me... even though I'm always watching them. Y: ... O: Haha, come to think of it, it's been a while since I've talked to anyone this much. O: Too bad the guy I'm talking to is an earth boy. I guess you're just as unlucky as I am, though. O: I don't know what's going on, but apparently, depending on what the cardinals decide, you might end up being stuck here forever as a bird in a cage. O: Honestly, I'd rather not live with some earth guy, but since we can't leave... Y: Nah, I'm leaving. O: ... Y: I need to see my friend. O: ...Are you being serious? Y: Yeah! O: ...See your friend, huh. O: ...If that's the case, would you take me with you? I want wings. Y: Huh? O: C'mon! I'll show you, poor little earth boy. Y: Show me wha...? Y: Whoa! O: Think of it as a special service. I'll let you use this telescope, too. You people apparently have bad eyes, after all! Y: Thanks a lot! O: See, look outside. Don't fall, though. Also, don't get within half a meter of me. Y: Yeah, yeah... O: There's more people than usual today, like every year. I guess it's some kinda holiday. Y: Come to think of it, Laviolle-san and the other guys were saying something about it being saint soandso's day... O: Saint who? Saint Theatrimia or someone, maybe? There's a bunch of days like that each year. O: See that big statue over there? That's a statue of Saint Theatrimia, who arrived in the holy temple hundreds of years ago. O: Long ago, when the people were thirsting from a drought, Saint Theatrimia offered up her prayers, and our god granted us rainclouds. O: Ever since, this holy city's never had water problems. It's a scene frequently used as a motif in art, and... O: See, look at the temple's walls. It's the building that's floating a bit higher than the town over there. Y: There's a painting of a woman holding her hands out to the people. Light from the clouds is illuminating her... man, it sure looks all divine and stuff. O: That's Saint Theatrimia. The light's the light of god's blessings. O: The statue's shown holding her hands out to represent the same miracle. Y: Huh... O: Maybe if I'd been born back then, too, I could've had her take my prayers to god... but the temple’s been empty since her. Y: Saint Theatrimia, huh... I don't think that was the name Laviolle-san and the others were talking about, though... O: Hmm...? O: Well, whoever they're celebrating, it's perfect weather for a holiday. O: On days like this, the light sparkles on the fountain in that square. It shines on the wings of the people flying above, and you can see a clear blue pattern on their feathers. O: You can see it, right? Right, below that road! Y: Oh, so that sparkly thing was light reflecting off of everyone's wings, huh... Y: Light reflects off of their wings, and it's like the whole town is shining... like the people are part of the town, too... O: Yeah, exactly! The holy city is beautiful BECAUSE of the shining wings flying above it! O: Flying through a sky like that must be heavenly...! O: That's what I've always thought. That I want to join in. O: I don't want to just watch from this tower. I want to enjoy holidays with them, and look down on the holy city from above, and dampen my wings with the water's reflections! O: Wouldn't it just be wonderful to become one of the wings coloring this city?! Y: So that's why you want wings... O: Right. I don't know if I can get them. O: But if I can just get them, I won't need Brother to protect me. I wouldn't need to hide in this tower! O: Both me and Brother can be free...! O: So, you don't mind, right? I want to leave this tower and look for my wings. O: Having to ask a person of the earth who wasn't chosen by god is MORTIFYING and HUMILIATING, but... O: Oh, wait, I should just make it into a deal. Where's your friend? Y: Huh? Uh... ... Y: Oh, I forgot I ask Laviolle-san and the others...! O: Pardon? Y: W, well, they said they were going to see that Her Holiness person, so if I just ask someone in town... O: Since the temple is empty right now, "her holiness" could refer to any of the cardinals or people related to the high angels, and anyway I don't think anyone would tell a guy without wings. Y: Ugh...! O: Okay. Let's do this. O: I'll help you see this friend of yours. In exchange, you help me get my wings. Y: How are you going to hel... O: I have a halo, after all. Let me find some kind of cloth... I guess this'll work.

O: If I hide my back like this, I can slide by with just my halo. I'll figure out where your friend is. O: In exchange... for starters, you get me out of this tower. O: What do you think? Not a bad deal, right? Y: I guess it's true that I wouldn't be able to find Merc by myself, but... Y: Are you really okay with this? Isn't it bad to let earth people into the holy city? O: ... O: It's fine. Technically, it's not earth people who are forbidden from entering. Y: Huh? O: It's "those without wings". Of course, normally that just means "earth people", so it's not exactly wrong. O: So, honestly, I shouldn't be entering the city, either. O: ...But the holy city is a town of miracles. If I can't get those shining wings here, I won't be able to find them no matter where I search. O: I don't know if god will forgive me, but I don't have any choice. Y: I see... Y: ...One last thing, then. Even if I manage to find Merc, depending on what happens, I may need to take her and run. Y: If that happens, I might not be able to help you look for your wings through to the end. O: ...Huh. You earth guys are surprisingly honest. O: That's fine, it's not like I had any hopes for you, anyway. As long as you get me out of here, I won't complain. Y: ...Can you just physically not make yourself say anything without sounding mean? Y: Well, whatever. Got it, it's nice to be working with you. I'm Yuu. O: Once again, I'm Orthos. A person of the skies, even if I haven't got wings. O: You can be all respectful call me Lord Angel or something if you want.

Y: No way. O: So? How exactly are you going to get us out of here? Y: I'm gonna figure that out next. O: ... Y: ... O: EXCUSE ME?! O: You earth guys are always like this! Isn't this what you call a scam?! I just assumed you had some kind of idea! Y: Of course I don't! I'm going to come up with one next! O: You know that what we just talked about doesn't count if you can't get us out of here, right? Y: I know! Y: Uhhh... we could let down some kind of rope... O: You poor thing. Y: What? O: You didn't notice? Look down. Y: Down...? Y: Whoa...! O: See? Y: W, why are there so many monsters... O: The area around this tower is a path for the monsters. There's a charm keeping them out of it, but they'll attack us right away if we leave. O: We wouldn't have time to let ourselves down a rope. That's why there's no lookout here. So, what are you going to do? Y: What am I going to do? Y: I'll just ask the monsters to take us near the holy city. O: ...You poor thing. Y: Stop it with the looking at me with pity in your eyes thing. Y: Look, there's THIS many monsters, I'm sure if we ask them all at least one of them will... O: You poor, poor thing... Y: That’s the third time, and he said it in such a heartfelt way...! O: We can't just ask them to take us without one of those healer people. Of course, if you were a healer, that would make things different. Y: I'm a healer. O: You... Y: Enough of that! Y: If you don't believe me, just watch! I'll do it by myself! O: Wha, hey, hold on! O: Are you seriously going to try and talk to them? That's reckle... O: Oh, for crying out loud! Fine! If you got hurt, it'd cause trouble for Brother! I'll help, too!

********CHAPTER FIVE

Engegar: Grrr~! Yuu: Oh, good... looks like it'll let us have a ride. Orthos: You really were a healer, huh. Y: Yeah! You still didn't believe me...?! O: Sorry. You were just so different from the healers I'd imagined. Y: Was that supposed to be an apology?! E: Grrr~! Y: Oh, whatever. C'mon, you hurry up and get on too. We're causing a monster traffic jam. O: I-I know, I know. O: ... Y: ... O: …

Fluffy: Grr! Y: If you get it, then hurry up! We're getting booed from behind! Y: Wait! You're not gonna say you don't wanna ride with an earth guy, are you? O: W, well, yeah, of course I don't wanna, but... Y: Well, the only monster who's willing to take us is this one, so there's nothing else we can do! Just hurry up and get out of the tow... Y: ... Y: ...O-oh, oooh, right... you said you've never been outside... O: ...! Y: ...What do you wanna do? O: ...I'm going, of course. You can't even find your friend without me, anyway. E: Grrr~! Y: Okay, let's go, please! E: Grrr! O: Monsters are softer and warmer than I thought they'd be... I didn't know, since I've only ever seen them from inside the tower... Y: ...So, what do you think of being outside? O: ...It would've been the best if only I wasn't with some earth guy. Oh, also, don't get within half a meter of me. Y: It's kind of a tight squeeze here! Y: Actually, since you're taking an earth guy to the city, should you be past the point of caring... O: If you had no choice but to steal once, would you say it's the same if you stole a second and then a third time? Y: No, but... O: That's how it is. Y: This is the first time someone's been so frigid towards me.

*********CHAPTER SIX

Pistia: Here we go... P: U, um, miss water lady... I'm sorry for shaking you up as we flew. Are you alright? Merc: It's fine, but... more importantly, I'd like for you to take me back to where Yuu-san is. P: B-but... why are you saying such things? I can't! P: The people of the earth are sinners, not yet forgiven by our god! I can't bring you near a person like that. M: I'm telling you, that's a misunderstanding~! I'm not a water lady, and I'm not even water! M: I wasn't being held captive by Yuu-san or anything, either! P: B, but, that's... if you just see Her Holiness, I'm sure you'll understand yourself, so...! M: That Holiness person again... M: (Myuuuun... She just won't get it, no matter how many times I say it...) M: (...If that's how it's going to be, I'll just have to tell Her Holiness myself!) M: Fine, I'll see this Holiness person. P: R, really? Thank you! You understand now, don't you! M: Well, no, but... M: ...Where is this? P: This is a roost in the holy temple. Her Holiness is in the chamber of prayer. I'll take you there right away. M: Please do. M: Anyway, while you were bringing me here, I noticed this town sure is lively... P: Yes! Today is Saint Michelia's day, so it's especially lively! M: Laviolle-san and the others were saying something about that, too. What kind of day is it? P: It's the day Saint Michelia... the lady of holy wings came to the holy temple. It's a day we devote to celebrating god sending her to us, and offer up our prayers and thanks. P: This year it's the sixteenth time we're celebrating it. Every year we get many pilgrims from all over! M: So this holiday's a really big deal...! P: Yes, of course! P: Everyone in the holy city, no, everyone with wings open their doors, take each others' hands, forget their grudges and their quarrels, and celebrate together until the next dawn. P: That's why tonight, almost everyone who doesn't serve the temple is allowed the day off from their work. M: People who serve the temple... so people like Laviolle-san and Pistia-san... M: Meaning, you guys are working all day while everyone else is having fun! P: Yes, I suppose. The temple guardians especially are out on guard for the whole day each year. P: Attendants like me must be by Her Holiness's side, so she can spend the day without any troubles. M: Th, that's really rough...! P: No, no! To be able to serve Her Holiness as an attendant is an honor above any other! P: Attendants can serve Her Holiness closer than anyone else, and it's our duty to grant her wishes so she can be at ease! M: I see... P: And anyway, Her Holiness is a very kind person, and she gives everyone in the temple the next day off! M: You really love Her Holiness, don't you, Pistia-san? P: L, love...! P: Nnno, that would be rude of me! Her Holiness is a person close to our god, after all! P: All I am allowed is to respect Her Holiness, and to not trouble her heart. M: O-oh... P: ...Her Holiness is very kind, so I must take care not to misunderstand. M: Myu...? P: It's only by Her Holiness's mercy that a person like me whose wings are so small is even allowed to serve as an attendant. M: Mercy, meaning... P: Back when I was a small child, who didn't yet understand the ways of the world, I coincidentally wandered across Her Holiness purifying herself by a spring. P: I didn't even understand how Her Holiness was Her Holiness, so not only did I enter a place of purification, I was rude enough to ask her to play with me. P: Her Holiness was so kind, she deigned to pick flowers and play in the water with me. P: Of course, her guards soon noticed and had me arrested. P: For a person not serving the temple to intrude on a place of purification is unforgivable, even if the culprit is an infant. P: However, Her Holiness saved me. She said she would have me as her personal servant. P: That's how I came to serve Her Holiness as her attendant. M: I see... P: That's why I must be an attendant worthy of serving Her Holiness. M: ...I don't get why that means you can't love Her Holiness as a person, but... P: Her Holiness is a person of purity, close to our god's heart. She mustn't be touched by such vulgar feelings. P: ...Feelings... such as admiration for one’s sister... wouldn’t be appropriate. M: Pistia-san... P: O-oh, how could I bore a lady of the holy waters with such talk...?! P: D-don't worry! Her Holiness grants her grace equally to all living beneath the heavens! P: Even if it hadn't been me who wandered across her that day, I'm sure she would have saved them! M: Pistia-sa-... P: Ah, here we are! This is the chamber of prayer where Her Holiness is. P: Your Holiness, I've brought the lady of the holy waters, as reported. ?: Please, come in. M: (A person close to god, who grants her grace to all... A person respected this much by Pistia-san... I wonder what this Holiness person is li...)

M: ... M: (W, wings taking up the entire room... are they all hers...?) P: I will be outside. M: (She's not going to leave us alone together, is she...!?) Michelia: Lady of... no, your name was Merc, wasn't it? Mer: Oh, y-yeah, it is. Mic: Forgive me for not rising in your presence. I'm not able to even move by myself. Mer: Myu...? Mic: These great, heavy wings of mine don't have the strength to fly, and their weight prevents me from standing and walking for very long. Mic: Like you, I'm unable to go anywhere without assistance. Mer: Miss Holiness... Mic: ... Mic: Hehe... please, just call me Michelia. Mic: Surely no one will dare complain if you do, as a lady of the waters. Mer: O, oka... Mer: Wait, that's right! I needed to tell you something, Michelia-san! Mic: ...What is it? Mer: I'm not that lady of the holy waters thing Pistia-san and the others are talking about. Mer: It's true that I don't know who I am either, but... I'm not water itself. I'm sure I'm not a water lady or whatever! Mer: So anyway, please let me go back to where Yuu-san is! Mic: ...I see. I understand, Merc-san. Mer: Then... Mic: However, I have no way of knowing whether you're truly a lady of the holy waters or not. Mer: Myu...!? B-but, Pistia-san said that you'd... Mic: Merc-san, is that Yuu person you speak of your friend? Mer: Y-yes, he is. I said I wanted to go on a journey, but I can't go by myself, so he took me along with him. Mic: And so you came to this country. Mer: ...We're really sorry we accidentally entered a place we shouldn't have. Mer: But it really was an accident! Please, help me and Yuu-san...! Mic: ... Mic: Help you, hm... Mer: Michelia-san? Mic: Merc-san, may I meet this Yuu-san of yours? Mer: Myu?! I-I mean, sure, but... why? Mic: I want to know god's will.

*******CHAPTER SEVEN Merc: God's will...? Pistia: You called, Your Holiness? Mer: Pistia-san? Michelia-san, when did you even call her?! Michelia: Just a moment ago. Mic: I can use a little magic, so while it is limited to a certain range, I can send messages to someone my voice cannot reach. Mic: Pistia. I want you to bring that earth boy in the tower here. P: Yes, ma'am. P: ...Huh? ?: Your Holiness, I've come to report. Mic: Oh, perfect. Pistia, let Laviolle in. P: Y, yes, ma'am. Mic: Laviolle, I've heard that you sent the earth boy to the tower. Laviolle: Yes. I've just returned from that. Mic: I apologize for the trouble, but I want you to bring him here. L: That's... L: I mean no disrespect, but... are you certain? Mic: ...Yes. I... want to know. L: ... L: Understood. I will bring him here, right away. P: ...! ...W-wait, please... Mic: Pistia? P: ...! I-I apologize! For someone like me to question Your Holiness's words... P: B-but, our wings were granted to us by our god, to take us away from the earth and bring us closer to the heavens... P: For us, with wings, and especially Your Holiness, the lady of holy wings, to bring the earth's sins closer...! P: It cause our god to take away your wings...! Mic: It might. P: Then, why... Mic: That's why. P: Y-your Holiness? L: I will be going, then. P: Laviolle-sama... P: (I don't understand. I don't understand what Her Holiness is thinking, not at all.) P: (I've served as her attendant for three whole years, yet I can't decipher even the slightest bit of her heart.) P: (Is it a mistake for someone like me to even try to understand the thoughts of Her Holiness, the one with god's wings...?) P: (Even though Laviolle-sama seemed to understand what she meant...) P: (But I suppose Laviolle-sama has protected Her Holiness longer than I've served her...) P: (So it makes sense that he would understand her heart more than me...) P: (...!) P: (If Laviolle-sama didn't stop her, that means maybe Her Holiness has heard something from our god.)

P: (It's impossible for Her Holiness to be mistaken, after all! I'm sure that's it...! I just don't understand, that's all...!)

P: (...I just, don't understand.)

L: (I didn't expect Michelia-sama to say she wanted to meet someone from the earth...) L: (She said she wanted to confirm something, but... depending on how things go, it might cause a stir in the city... I'll need to do something about it later.) L: (...this is good timing, though. If I can just get that boy away from the tower now...) Feyel: Commander! I can't let you touch a someone from the earth. I'll accompany you. L: (Well, if Feyel just hadn't noticed in the first place, I could've just made some stuff up and sent the boy back down...) L: (Made some stuff up, huh.) F: Commander? L: It's nothing. Alright. Follow after me. I'll fly in front. F: Yes, sir! L: (I didn't have time to tell those two anything... I hope they're behaving...)

Engegar: Grrr~! Yuu: Th-thanks... ugh, I'm kinda queasy... Orthos: So this is grass... I thought it was all the same color from up there, but up close it's all a bit different. O: ... Y: Whoa! Why'd you start running off all of a sudden...?! O: Oh, it's just... I just wanted to try running in a straight line at least once…

O: Haha... there's no walls! It's so weird! I feel so weird...! O: It's like I want to just run away and away... like I could just run away and away... O: ...I see! So this is what it's like to be free...! Y: ... O: ...! O: A-anyway, let's get going to the holy city. Y: Y...eah... O: It's that over there. Now, let's... O: Ow!! Y: What's wrong?! O: I hurt my foot...! Y: Did you twist your ankle? Y: Wait, why don't you have shoes on?! O: I don't have any. Y: Oh... 'cause you weren't planning on leaving the tower anytime soon... Y: Well, we can just buy you shoes in town. There's rocks hidden in the grass around here, though, so it's kind of dangerous to be barefoot... Y: I guess I'll just have to carry you until we're in town. O: Putting aside the issue of whether you CAN carry me or not... O: I can't touch some earth guy. I'd rather walk until my legs are all bloodied up. Y: That'd make ME feel it second hand, please don't... Y: And anyway, even if you touched us, nothing like what you guys claim would happen. Y: I've done handshakes with other people from sky country, but they didn't lose their wings or get sick. O: ... Y: ...We're really not the kind of thing you guys think we are. Y: I mean, we don't really get your religion and stuff... Y: So I can't say for sure that we don't have wings because your god won't forgive us, but. Y: What I just said was true. I don't think god'll be mad just because you touched me. O: ... I don’t have anyone else to rely on. And you don't seem to be lying. O: But what if, just what if, I lost my halo, too? If I did, I'd be... Y: ... Y: Mmm, okay. Let's do this. Y: Your bro said it'd be okay if we didn't touch directly. I'll try and fix up your foot without touching your bare skin. It's okay if I just wrap a bit of cloth on there, right? O: Okay, I'll let you do that. Y: For someone who was so reluctant, you sure held your foot out easy?! O: I've never gotten hurt this bad before... Y: You just cut it a little!

O: It really hurts, okay! Grr, you oughta feel this pain, too...! Trip~! Trip~! Y: Don't cast some weird jynx on me! Y: (Well... I guess he wouldn't even have had a chance to get hurt up in that tower.) Y: ... Y: Soo, anyway. How are you planning on getting wings? O: That's... Y: That's? O: I'll start thinking about that now. Y: ... O: ... Y: And you made fun of ME for not having a plan! I figured you had some kind of idea for where to look! O: I've never been outside that tower! Of course I don't! I'm gonna think about it now! Y: ...For starters, let's go buy some shoes and ask around in the holy city. O: ...Yeah. Y&O: We've got a long road ahead of us...

***********CHAPTER EIGHT

Yuu: Let's see, the shoe store is... Orthos: Take a left. Y: How do you know? O: I've been looking down at this town from the tower for fift... no, sixteen years now. O: I know the layout like the back of my hand. Y: Oh... O: Ah, go straight forward there. It's a tight squeeze, but the guys flying around up there will have a hard time spotting you. We'll be in trouble if you get found out. Y: Yeah. There's like nobody down here to run into, though. Everyone's up there. O: Yeah... it's dusty, and there's a bunch of pebbles. I guess it makes sense that no one would walk down here... Y: ... Y: Hm? Is that the shoe store? O: Yeah, that should be it... O&Y: ... Y: We're right below it... but how are we gonna get up there...? It doesn't look like there's stairs or anything... O: Ah... how could I forget? Of course there aren't. Who needs stairs when you've got wings? O: ...I got excited about leaving the tower and I wasn't thinking. I'm not "free" until I have wings. O: I'm a pathetic creature bound to the earth by gravity... just like the people of the earth... Y: ...Well, you can't fly, but you've got legs, so you can climb. Y: Let's look for somewhere we can get a foothold. We might be able to find a spot that connects to the shoe store. O: ...Yeah, let's. O: (...I want wings. If I have them, I can see our beautiful city from the skies above with Brot... with everyone.)

Feyel: Commander, this is... Laviolle: ... Send an immediate message out to every temple guardian. L: It's possible that a boy of the earth may have wandered into the holy city. Find him before the people do, no matter what. F: Y-yes, sir! L: However, according to Her Holiness's wishes, he is not to be harmed. F: Understood! L: ... You're not on the floor below, either. So you went with that boy, Orthos? L: Why can't you understand? As long as you're in this tower, I can protect you. L: Were you not satisfied just by watching? Was the holy city you saw through that telescope so beautiful to you? L: (Through the telescope, people are singing, dancing. Celebrating Saint Michelia's day.) L: (They believe that some day, that girl will take us to our god's side.) L: (What we should truly be afraid of is not god, but people. People puppeted by the god in each of our hearts.)

Merc: (Feyel-san said they'd find him in no time, but...) Mer: (People in sky country don't really like people without wings. Will Yuu-san be okay...?) Michelia: Merc-san, don't worry. Mer: Myu?! Mic: At times like these, don't you wish you could move by yourself? Mer: Myu... Mic: I understand. We're alike, after all. Mic: However, whatever happens, we're unable to help people ourselves. We can do nothing but wait. Mic: Don't worry. Laviolle's there, he'll take care of Yuu-san. Mer: Come to think of it, Laviolle-san was trying to help Yuu-san earlier when we first met. Mer: Myu! B-but, didn't he also say it was because of the country of the sky's god's guidance? Mer: So maybe he doesn't actually like Yuu-san all that much... Mic: That shouldn't be a concern. He isn't the sort to treat someone badly just because they're from the earth. Mer: Michelia-san... you really trust Laviolle-san, don't you? Mic: Yes. We share the same secret, after all. Mer: What do you mean by... ?: Your Holiness, it's time. Mic: Oh, it's already that late, is it? I understand. Mer: Myu? Is something going to happen? Mic: I'm going to go put on an act. Like Laviolle does.

Y: We finally made it... O: Finally... O: Okay, I'm going to go buy some shoes and ask some questions while I'm at it. You go hide in the shadows. Y: Got it. O: ... Y: ...? Aren't you going to go? O: Let me double-check first. I say "I want some shoes, please" and give them the money, right? Y: (Oh, right, he's never gone shopping before...) Y: That's right, want me to pretend I'm the shopkeeper? O: I don't wanna buy something from an earth guy... Y: Have fun, then. O: Well, I guess I don't have a choice... I'll make an exception and imagine you're a statue or something for practice. Y: Statues don't sell things!

Shoe lady: Welcome. What kind of shoes are you looking for? O: Um, those durable lookin... SL: Oh, my! O: Wh, what? SL: Where's your wings, boy? Why are you walking like someone down on the earth...?! SL: Y-you're not an earth boy, are you?! I don't know where you came from, but I'll call the temple guardians! I will! O: W-wait! SL: I won't! We can't have you people entering the city, not when our god hasn't forgiven you yet! SL: I can't go against god or against the other sky people! If I did, I wouldn't be able to stay here! O: That's not it! Look, see! I've got a halo, don't I?! SL: Oh, my... O: It's just, I got into an accident and hurt my wings a little while ago...! I felt bad about letting the wings god gave me get hurt, so I've been covering them up like this. That's all. SL: Oh, so that's what it was! I'm sorry for doubting you! And even mistaking you for an earth boy...! O: Ha, haha... it's okay, so long as we're on the same page. SL: You're here for shoes because you hurt your wings, huh? SL: I feel so bad for you, having to walk on the ground. Even if it's just until your wings heal... SL: I doubted you and all that, too, so I'll give you some shoes for free. SL: So don't get too down, alright? You'll be better and up in the sky in no time!

O: Th, thanks... O: ...Oh, um, I wanted to ask you something, too. SL: What is it? Let's see, I think we had some shoes for people who've injured their wings around here... O: Um, Her Holiness is... SL: Oh, I see! O: ...?! SL: You're off to see Her Holiness, aren't you, boy? SL: She's the one who's closest to our god, so she can ask for your injury to heal up fast! O: Huh...? SL: Hm? What's wrong? SL: You're going to tell your wish to Saint Michelia, aren't you? That's why you're here buying shoes on Saint Michelia's day. O: ...Y-yeah, that's it. SL: Oh, don't look so scared! SL: Her Holiness will pass along any prayer from someone with faith in our god. SL: As long as you've repented for getting yourself hurt, she'll pass along your wish, too! SL: Once she's done that, if it's the wish that's right for you, I'm sure god will grant it. SL: Here's your shoes, thanks for waiting! O: Right, thanks... SL: Oh, by the way, boy... O: ...? SL: Nevermind! It's nothing. SL: Come to think of it, it'll be hard for you to get to the holy temple with your wings hurt, won't it? Want me to get my husband to take you? O: That's... O: That's really nice of you, but I'll pass. I'm already going with someone. SL: Oh, are you? That's good. Have them carry you there. SL: Take care, you hear me? I'm sorry for getting you mixed up with someone from the earth. O: ...Don't worry about it. Thanks for the shoes.

*********CHAPTER NINE Yuu: Why didn't you have them take you? Orthos: ...People of the skies keep their promises. I said I'd help you, and I'm not gonna go back on my word. O: ...I don't know why Brother didn't tell me, but it sounds like there's a new saint in the temple. O: When the temple has its master, they're the only one called "Your Holiness". The person you were calling Her Holiness is probably her... Saint Michelia. O: That means your friend is probably in the temple. O: You don't know your way around the city at all, though. If I don't help you, you can't get there yourself, right? Y: I guess, but... O: Or what, you don't wanna go anymore? Y: Huh? O: We can't even get into the temple the right way. O: We've got no choice but to sneak in, and on top of that, they think your friend's some kind of lady of the holy waters, right? If we're found out, we'll be in trouble. O: If you're going to give up, now's the time. Y: ...I'm not going to give up. O: ... That friend of yours must be really important to you. Y: ...Well, she has helped me out a lot in the past, and we've been together like, forever now. O: That so. I guess we're still headed to the temple, then. Y: Yeah. Y: If that saint lady's granting people's' wishes, she might grant your wish for wings, right? O: It's not Her Holiness who does the wish granting. "Her Holiness" is just the person who's closest to our god. O: That means she's able to pass our wishes along to god... or so they so. O: I don't know much about the current Her Holiness, but I'm sure she's like Saint Theatrimia and will send our prayers to god. O: ...If Brother's right and god really did just forget to stick my wings on... O: Then maybe I can still have them, even if it's a little late. Y: ... O: What? Y: ...Nothing. Y: Hey, even if god doesn't have your wings laying around on the shelf, there might still be another way of getting some. Y: Let's just start with the temple. O: Don't go jynxing us before we're there. I hope god didn't give my wings to someone else... Y: I just thought about it for a second, sorry. Y: How are we gonna get to the temple, though? It doesn't look like it's connected to the island we're on... O: There's an old bridge almost nobody uses. It's perfectly usable, though, and since it's in a place that doesn't stand out it's perfect for sneaking into the temple. O: ...If only it wasn't a bridge intended for sinners who've lost their wings. Y: ...You gonna be okay? O: You have any better ideas? O: No asking monsters for help. The security around the temple's tight. We'd get found out right away. Y: ...I can't think of anything. O: No objections, then. Let's just hurry up and go. Y: ...Oka... ?: My, my, if it isn't the temple guardians! Y: This is bad, let's hide! O: It's too tight! I said don't get within half a meter of me! Y: We're trying to hide, don't complain! SL: Why are you lot looking so scary on Saint Michelia's day? F: O-oh, it's nothing! Nothing you need to be worried about, ma'am. SL: But for all of you to be making faces like that, wouldn't it have to be a big deal...? F: Oh, no, it's just, you know. I’ve been wanting to be more serious all the time like our Commander, but I guess the look on his face is starting to rub off on me, too. F: It's kinda embarrassing, so could you please not tell anyone? SL: Ahahaha, so that's what's going on! Alright, let's say it's just a secret between you, me, and god. F: Thank you, ma'am. We'll be on our way, now... SL: Oh, that's right. F: Yes? SL: Does your Commander have a little brother? F: Why? SL: You see, the boy who came to my store here a little while ago looked JUST like him. SL: I realized after he left that he might be your Commander's brother or something, so I was wondering. F: I see. But unfortunately, you must be wrong.

F: Our Commander doesn't have any brothers.

F: ...Somehow, we managed to avoid getting found out. F: Teufel, Eliodas. Put on your usual face and make it look like we're just on patrol. Don't make the people uneasy, like just now. F: If they find out about that earth boy, there will be a huge fuss. F: ...We need to find him before the people of the city do, no matter what... F: Next is the southern district. Let's go.

?: ... Y: Sounds like they're only looking for me. O: No one knows about me, after all. Y: ... O: ...But if I get myself some wings, I won't need to hide anymore. I can tell everyone I'm his brother. Y: Y, yeah... Y: ... Y: But... O: (But... we're in a tight spot. I didn't think they'd find us out this quickly.) O: (If we're discovered, and they figure out I've been sheltering an earth guy, then even if I get wings they might just be cut right off.) O: (If that happens... I won't be able to stay here anymore.) O: ... Y: Orthos? O: ...It's nothing. O: (...He can't get to the temple on his own. Whether I have wings or not, I'm a person of the skies. If I lose sight of our ways, then I'll really be just like the people of the earth.) O: ... O: Let's go. Y: ... Y: ...Thanks. O: I'm not doing this for you. Y: Even then. O: ... Don't forget, I'm a person of the skies. I don't intend to get close to an earth guy. O: ... Y: ...Yeah. Y: Let's go, I need to find Merc.

?: Oh, Saint Michelia. Recently, due to the cloud eater, we've been having less rain. ?: Please, we want to ask god to send us more rain clouds...! Mic: Our comrade, troubled by life's hardships. Michelia has heard your prayer. ?: Ah, thank you, thank you...! Please, with those wings of yours, take my prayers to our god!

Mer: People have been coming in one after another to tell Michelia-san their wishes... P: Today's Saint Michelia day. Just for this one day, people can come in and offer their prayers not just to the temple, but to Her Holiness directly. P: But it's impossible for her to hear out everyone's prayers, so we draw lots to decide who gets to come see her. Mer: There's enough people coming to see Michelia-san that you need to make a lottery of it? P: Of course! Only saints loved by god can become the master of this temple. P: In the centuries since Saint Theatrimia, the temple has been empty. It's like a miracle that we're able to see Her Holiness and offer her our prayers in person. Mer: I guess if you put it like that, it makes sense that this many people would want to see her... P: On top of that, our current Holiness might be the one to grant our people's greatest wish! Mer: Greatest wish? P: Yes! P: We, the people of the skies, surpassing the wall of clouds separating us from our god... P: To achieve that has been our wish, ever since we were forgiven of the earth's sins and given wings to bring us closer to the heavens! Mer: Michelia-san's going to grant that wish for you? P: Yes, once she's grown, I'm sure of it! Those great wings of hers are proof. P: With her wings that are even bigger than the ones the high angels have, I'm sure she can fly high, high into the sky, high enough to get over the wall of clouds. P: And then she'll go to our god in the heavens. That's when our wish will be granted. Mer: So that's why Michelia-san is called the person who's closest to god... P: Yes. P: That's why all these people come to the holy city on Saint Michelia day, to have her pass our prayers along to our god. Mer: I, see... P: The next person is the last. Would you please wait here a moment? Mer: Alright. Mer: (Michelia-san's closest to god, so she can bring wishes to them...) Mer: (But... even though their wishes haven't been granted yet, those people all went home with smiles on their faces.) Mer: (Are those people happy with just that...? Or is it that wishes are granted right away when they ask Michelia-san...?) ?: Oh, God, Saint Michelia, thank you so much! Mer: Myu? Voices outside the window...?

Mer: It's raining.

***********CHAPTER TEN

Orthos: Over here, hurry! Yuu: Got it! Whoa, it's raining...! O: The bridge to the temple is right over there. I doubt anyone will be coming near, so let's get under it and take a break for now. Y: Okay! Y: Looks like we can stay out of the rain down here. O: I'm so tired... (my foot hurts where I cut it, too...) Y: Same. Getting chased around like this is pretty rough... we can't relax even for a second. Y: ...What's that? I can hear someone's voice. O: It's not anyone looking for us. They're just excited because it's raining. Y: Cause it's raining? O: I told you about Saint Theatrimia, didn't I? Rain comes from holy clouds granted to us by god. O: It hasn't rained recently, and it's Saint Michelia's day, so everyone's EXTRA excited. Y: Oh, right. Water's holy here in sky country... O: (But... this rain that's got everyone so happy is just making me cold. If only I had wings, I'd be glad like everyone else.) O: (If only I had wings...) O: (Would god grant me wings, though?) Y: Orthos? O: (...I don't know. I don't get god at all.) O: (I read the scriptures and history books in that tower over and over. I watched the people of the holy city pray to our god every day.) O: (But in truth... I don't understand god at all.) O: (If I had wings, would I get it like everyone else does? If I had them, would I be like everyone el...) Y: Orthos! O: Wha, what? Y: It's nothing, just... are you okay? You're looking kinda pale. O: Oh, yeah... Y: Does your foot hurt? O: Huh? Y: I mean, of course it does. It's not like it'll get all better just 'cause you're wearing shoes, so it makes sense that it'd get worse after you've walked on it... Y: It'd be bad if it got infected. Take your shoe off for a sec. O: ... Y: I know, I know, I won't touch you directly. We'll do it like this, okay? O: ...Thanks.

O: I hate you. Y: You realize that was completely out of nowhere, right...? O: (...He's dangerous. An earth guy without wings. He's different from everyone living in the skies.) O: (He hasn't got wings or a halo, so he can't live in the world I admire.) Y: There, all done. You can put your shoe bac... Y: A-choo! O: ...Rainy days get pretty chilly. We're lower down than the tower, so I guess it's not quite AS bad as up there, though. Y: Oh... Y: A-choo! O: ...This is where I'd say "don't get within half a meter of me", but I guess this cloth isn't big enough for that. I'll let you use half of it. Y: ...You okay with that? O: Just don't touch me. I don't wanna go and lose my halo right in front of the temple. Y: ... Y: Thanks... despite everything, I... don't hate you or anything. O: Ugh! Y: Do you have to look so grossed out? I'm kind of hurt. O: Even if you go and say stuff like that, I'm not letting you have any more blanket space. Y: Don't worry, I wasn't expecting you to be nice in the first place. O: Excuse me? I'm being SUPER nice considering you're an earth guy. (Grrr!) O&Y: ... Y: What if the security people find us out because they can hear our stomachs growling? O: That'd be the worst. O&Y: ... Y: ...Let's just stop. Arguing's only going to make us hungrier. O: ...Yeah. O: ... O: (...Brother always brought me food, so I never got hungry like this in the tower. I don't wanna STAY there, but...) O: (It was safer than anywhere else up there. Brother protected me from everything... but...) O: (Up there, I didn't have anyone who would share their warmth with me when I was cold.) O: (All I could do was shiver as I watched the people of the city celebrate their rain.) O: (I actually... hate rainy days.) O: I wish I had wings... if I did, then I'd... Y: ... Y: Oh. O: Mm, what? Y: Looks like the rain's letting up. O: You're right. It's already this late, too... Y: It's bright in town, but... the bridge is jet black. O: The celebrations in town go on all night, after all. If the bridge is dark, all the better for us when we sneak in. O: Let's go. Y: ... O: What's up? Y: Hey. O: What? Y: If god's already gone and given your wings to someone else and you can't get them even if you ask, what are you going to do? O: ... O: Who knows? Maybe I'll go back to the tower. I guess I'll be locked up for a different reason this time, though. Y: Are you okay with that? O: I doubt there's anyone who'd want to live their whole life there. Y: Well, that's true, but... O: But there's nothing else to it. If someone without wings wants to live in the heavens, that's the only place for them. Y: ...Down on the ground, there's a whole bunch of places that are just as pretty as the holy city. O: Ehhh...? Y: Wow, you sure don't look like you believe me... O: The earth is a land of sin. There's no way something beautiful could be down there. Y: ...Fine, fine, I get it. Y: ...I hope you get your wings. O: ...I hope you get to see your friend.

Merc: This rain... did Michelia-san...? Michelia: No. Mer: Michelia-san... you look kinda tired. Mic: Do I? ...You may be right. Mer: I bet it's because you've been listening to people all this time. Maybe you should res... Mic: No. I don't need to rest. What I need is to know. Mer: To know? Mic: Merc-san. Do you know why I was called a saint and brought to this temple? Mer: Myu? Um... because your wings are so big? Mic: That's correct. Mic: Everyone says these wings are proof of god's love. Mic: Even if they don't move yet, eventually they will grow, and be able to fly. They'll take me to god's side one day, they say. Mic: But you see, Merc-san. Mer: Michelia-san...? Mic: I can't imagine a day like that ever coming. Not one bit. Mer: Myu...? Mic: For the rest of my life, no matter how much time passes, no matter how much this body of mine matures, these wings will never fly. Mic: They can't. Mer: How can you know that...? Mic: How...? Because it's my own body. Mic: How could anyone but god know me better than myself? Mic: And yet, the people bring their prayers to me, believing I will take flight to the heavens one day.

Mic: They're heavy. They're so heavy. Mic: It's impossible for a person to fly shouldering such a weight. Mic: I can't handle... Mic: No, I'm sure no human can handle these wings. God's wings. Mic: Everyone tells me these wings are for carrying me to the heavens, for bringing me closer to our god. Mic: But look at me now. I'm just like those who live down on the earth. Mic: Our wings are proof that we've been forgiven of our betrayal. We are the people of the skies, the ones chosen by our god and allowed near the heavens. Mic: And yet, god's wings are what bind me to the ground like those who are wingless, and threaten to crush me beneath their weight. Mic: ...Merc-san, I don't understand. Mic: I don't understand our god. Mic: They say I'm closest to god and that it's my duty to carry prayers to them, yet they are unknown to me. Mic: Every year, the people celebrate me and bring me their prayers. Every year, my doubt towards god and my own powerlessness become more apparent. Mic: Why was I given these wings? Why can't I save anyone? Why do I have these wings, and yet... Mic: And yet, I cannot fly? Mer: Michelia-san... Mic: I want to know. I want to understand god. But, just as much... Mic: I wish I could throw these wings away. Mer: ...! ?: In that case... Mic: ...? O: In that case, why don't you let me have half?

**********CHAPTER ELEVEN

Yuu: Hold on, Orthos...! Don't just... Merc: Wha, Yuu-san?! Y: Merc! Wait, no, I need to not raise my voice...! It'd be bad if that girl outside heard...! Michelia: Don't worry. This room was made so that the voices inside can't be heard outside. Y: Oh, uh, okay, um... Y: (So this is that Holiness person, Saint Michelia... but going on what we just heard, she's not the kind of saint everyone in town thinks she is...) Mic: You said you wanted wings? Orthos: ...Yeah. O: ...I was just kidding, though.

O: I can see you're just a girl with huge wings... and why Brother didn't tell me about you. O: Sorry for sneaking in. I wanted to pray to god to give me wings, but it looks like this isn't the place I should be praying... Mic: I will grant your request. O: Wha... Mic: I'll give you half of these wings. O: ...Can you really do that? Mic: How did you make it here, wingless as you are? O: By... crossing the bridge intended for wingless sinners... O: ...! ...Don't tell me, is it possible to give fallen wings to someone else? Mic: That's correct. With the light of dawn, wings are taken away and given back. Mic: However, only people of the skies can be given wings. They cannot be given to one who already has wings, either. O: That can't be... giving someone else wings... that's god's... Mic: I don't know why our god granted us this magic. Mic: However, the first spell I learned after being brought here as a saint was this. Mic: Aside from a few cardinals, no one knows that wings can be transferred to others. Mic: Also, a wingless person of the skies shouldn't normally be able to come this far. O: That's... Mic: ...What will you do? O: ...Are you okay with this? Mic: ... Mic: ...The ritual will need certain preparations. I'll have Pistia do it. You needn't worry about me.

Pistia: (Wait wait wait, what's going on...? Is what Her Holiness told me just now true? Or am I just dreaming?) P: (Her Holiness losing half of her wings is a lie, right? God couldn't possibly forgive that. There's no way Her Holiness wouldn't understand that.) P: (Oh, but, maybe she just gets it and I don't because she's closest to god? Would Laviolle-sama understand if he were here?) P: (What should I do? Should I disobey Her Holiness? Or get the ritual ready, like she says?) P: (But if I do that, Her Holiness will...) P: (But an attendant like me shouldn't talk back against what Her Holiness says, that would be a sin itself...) P: (Oh, god... what should I do?)

Mic: It's bright outside. Mer: I heard everyone's celebrating Michelia-san coming to the temple all night. Mic: ... Mer: ...Are you really okay with this, Michelia-san? If you give up half of your wings, you might get lighter and be able to fly, but... Mer: I heard that the biggest sin in sky country is to lose your own wings. Mer: You told Orthos-san and everyone it was okay, but whether the ritual succeeds or not, won't you be in trouble...? Mic: Merc-san. Mic: Even if your friend was there for you, wasn't it hard for you to go out on a journey when you can't move by yourself? Mer: That's... Mic: You should be able to understand. Having a wish you'd be willing to stake your life on. Mer: For you, it's flying? Mic: No. Mer: Myu? Mic: There's something I want to know. Something I must confirm, even if I risk my life. Mer: Something you want to know... Mic: As you search for the truth, so do I. Mer: Then... what is this "truth" you want to find? ?: Y, your Holiness... Mer: Pistia-san? Mic: ...I may have done something cruel to that child. P: Th, the wingfall ritual's preparations are co, co, complete...

Feyel: We can't find him... we've searched almost everywhere, but... F: Um, Commander? Laviolle: ... F: Um, Commander? Is something the matter? L: ...No, it's nothing. Continue searching the city. F: Yes, sir!

********CHAPTER TWELVE

Orthos: Hehe, it's so pretty. Look, is there a sight like this down on earth? Yuu: Hey, don't get too close to the edge. There's no rails or anything. O: The whole town's shining as it celebrates Saint Michelia's day. Starting next year, I'll be able to join in. I get to be one of the sparkles making the holy city beautiful! Y: He's not listening... O: Come on, come over here and see. This is where the view's best. Y: Like I just said, that's dangerou... Y: ...It really is pretty. O: Right?! When dawn's light is here, I get to have all this. O: I can let my wings shine in the light and shine the water's reflections on the holy city, just like everyone else. O: And, and, on rainy days I'll be able to celebrate with everyone, and on holidays I can sing and dance and make a fuss all night, with people I don't even know! O: I bet Brother will be surprised! But I bet he'll be happy, too! O: We won't need to hide that we're brothers anymore! Brother won't need to visit that tower in secret anymore! We can be free, actually free! O: ... O: ... Y: ... Y: This city really is pretty, just like you said. It's shining all over. I can't believe we were running all soaked in the rain under there. O: ...Yeah. Y: Aren't you going to say the half meter thing? O: ...Well, this IS the end. Y: Wanna do a handshake, th... O: I'm not going to be THAT generous. Y: Oh, come on. O: ...Hey. Now that you've seen this, can you still say there's places on earth that are just as pretty as the holy city?

Y: Yeah, I can. Y: For example... in summer country, there's fish that reflect moonlight and it's like the ocean itself is glowing. Y: In snow country, there's a winter festival where everyone wears these special outfits call milka and they all make a big fuss in town. It's really lively. Y: It's really cold at night in desert country, but the air's all clear, and an oasis under the moon looks almost ethereal. Y: I saw some pretty fireworks in animal country, and... O: I wonder if you're telling the truth. Y: You still don't beli... Y: ... O: Where did those guys fly off to, I wonder? Why did they fly away in the first place? O: Was there a place as wonderful as the holy city? Was it one of the beautiful places you're talking about? Y: Those guys? O: My friends. Two migratory birds with pure white feathers. O: One of them's a kid who's barely out of the nest and always came to the tower when they were practicing how to fly. The other's probably... their sibling or parent. O: We got to being friends over the past few months, but... this morning, they left me behind and flew off somewhere. Y: ...What kind of bird are they? O: Like... white and pretty big-ish. Y: There's a million birds that could fit that description... Y: I heard there's migratory birds who fly all around the world, though. I might've seen them somewhere, too. O: If you run into them, tell them hi for me. Y: Like I said, I don't know which ones you're talking about... O: You earth people are so... Y: You and your vague descriptions are 100% what's at fault here. O: ...Even though I loved them, I can't quite remember exactly what they looked like. O: All that's left is the way they were shining as they flew away from the tower. O: ...Maybe I had as much envy as I did love for them. Y: ...You'll be getting wings at dawn, right? O: ...? Y: ...? You were envious of their wings, right? O: ...Oh. O: ...Oh, uh, right. Yeah, that's right, I don't have any reason to be jealous anymore. O: Look, see that plaza at the center? Everyone's getting together. Dawn must be close. O: Oh, but since it's so cloudy today, dawn's light might be late... Y: It WAS raining earlier... why does everyone get together in the plaza at dawn, though? O: On most holidays, everyone raises their glasses to the sky at dawn. O: Since it's Saint Michelia's day, I guess they're all celebrating her coming to the temple. Y: That's sure a lot of people down there. O: Well, yeah. Everyone in town's celebrating for her. Y: Huh... O: Just a little longer, then I'll be reborn when we hear those people toasting. O: ...Man, if only it'd been one day earlier, it could've been right as I turned sixteen. Y: Right as? O: I turned sixteen today. But once dawn's here, I'll be sixteen and a day, right? O: So if it'd been one day earlier, I could've made a fresh start as a sixteen year old. Y: It was your birthday today? O: Yeah. I guess it's not a big deal compared to Saint Michelia's day, th…

Y: Happy birthday. O: ... Y: Orthos? Look, I know you probably don't wanna hear it from some earth guy, but... Y: Wha, what's wrong?!

O: ...I don't know. Maybe it's just tears of joy because I get to be rid of you soon. Y: Oh come on, that kind of crying doesn't make me glad at... O: (Why can't I stop? The tears just keep coming.) O: (This has never happened before. This... this...) Y: Wha, wait, is this my fault? Is it really my fault? Were you seriously that uncomfortable? Look, I'm sor…

?: OVER THERE! Y: What...?! O: That's... O: Brother...?

**********CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Pistia: I, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Your Holiness...! But, but, I...! I didn't want anything to happen to Your Holiness, so I...! Michelia: So you told Laviolle. P: Yes, ma'am...! Mic: Did you know what that would mean? P: I, I'll accept any punishment...! I don't mind losing my wings, or falling to the earth...! Mic: ...If that's the case, then even if I go to our god's side, it won't have anything to do with you anymore. P: E, even then...! I just don't want you to lose your wings and suffer, Your Holiness! P: Please, please stop this! P: Even if Your Holiness understands god's will while I don't, even if Your Holiness losing your wings is part of god's plan! P: I'm certain the others won't understand...! They might even dare to chase Your Holiness from the temple...! If that happened, it would just be so sad...!

P: Y, your Holiness...! You saved me when I was small! P: I don't want you to suffer when you're so kind, even if it's god's will! Mic: This isn't god's will. P: Your Holiness... P: Then, why...? I never understand. I never understand what Your Holiness is thinking...! P: Even though Your Holiness is closest to god, you meet with people from the earth, and try to lose your wings...! P: For me to be so completely incapable of understanding your feelings... I'm a failure as an attendant! Mic: Pistia. P: Your Holiness...? Mic: To tell the truth, I actually don't understand what god's thinking one bit, just like you don't understand me. P: Huh? Mic: That's why I wanted to know. Mic: ...Whether god is really there or not. P: ... P: (...This person is... she's just a person, like I am. She's just a really nice girl....)

Feyel: What is... Pistia-dono said she wanted us to keep a wingless person away from dawn's light, but... Orthos&Yuu: ... F: There's two people whose wings I can't see. O: Br... Laviolle: One of them has a halo. He probably hurt his wings and is hiding them under that cloth in shame. F: But, then why is he with that earth boy... perhaps he helped him escape from the tow... L: Of course not. If he did that, he wouldn't be able to stay here. L: A person of the skies wouldn't do something that would get them exiled from the holy city. F: That's true... the only person who could possibly be forgiven of such a thing would be Her Holiness, who knows god's will best... F: But in that case, who exactly is the one beside that boy supposed to be... L: A person of the skies, of course. L: Correct? O: ... L: ...It's just a coincidence that you were with this person of the earth, right?

O: That's... F: Why won't you answer? At this rate, you'll be arrested alongside that boy. O: ... F: Surely you're not planning on taking his hand, are you? O: I... O: I...! Y: Orthos. O: ...! Y: ...I definitely can't bring myself to hate you. Y: I'll be fine. You get to be part of the holy city you've always admired, right? Say your half a meter line. O: ... Y: ...well, or I could just walk away myself, I guess. O: Wai...! O: The wind...!

Y: ...Oh. Oh no. And I'M the one who was lecturing him about not falling off…

?: AAAAH! ?: Yuu...!

************CHAPTER FOURTEEN Yuu: This bad, this is real bad...! Yuu Storia's going to be over...! I haven't even gotten Merc's memories back... Y: Wait, I left Merc in the temple...! Y: What was with that wind, anyway?! Is it because I broke the law and entered that temple?! Did the sky kingdom's god get mad and this is some kinda divine punishment...?!

Y: Ahhh, I'm sorry, god! But I couldn't just ditch Merc and leave the country by myseeeelf...! Y: This morning, I mean, yesterday? Yesterday I helped protect your holy city from the cloud eater, so can I get a free pass from tha... Y: It's so cloudy! Why's it so cloudy there's not a single beam of light even though it's already dawn...?! Y: Wait, hold on, seriously?! Did I seriously make god that angry?! Are the clouds their way of saying "absolutely not" to my prayers?! Y: Ah... I'm done for...! Y: AAAAAAAA! Y: AAAAAAAAaaa... Y: ...ah?

Y: ...an angel?

Orthos: Too late. I'm not an angel anymore.

Y: ... Y: Your hand!

O: Man, you earth guys's hands and our hands aren't all that different. Y: That's not it! Y: Are you okay with this? If you touch me, you'll stop being a person of the skies or whatever... if you do this, you won't be able to go back to the holy... O: It's fine. I don't want you to call me an angel, I want you to call me your friend. O: Just like I don't actually want to call you some earth guy, I want to call you Yuu. Y: ... O: Whoa, look, Yuu! I can see the world behind you! Y: Huh? O: Your world is... just like you said. The ocean's shining, and the desert's oasis is almost like a jewel. O: Something's sparkling in the distance. Maybe those are fireworks? They're glittering like wings. O: Oops, careful! Y: Whoa! D, don't just dart upwards like that...! O: Do you wanna keep on falling, then? Maybe that flock of birds down there will be nice and catch you. Y: Just kidding, thank you very much for magnanimously grabbing me before I slammed right into a flock of birds! O: Good boy.

O: Oh, those two...! O: Yuu, look! It's those two! They're my friends! Y: Wha, where?! O: They're already gone. Y: I can't tell them apart from the other birds in the flock in the first place... O: Huh? These birds... O: What's up? Y: I've seen this kind of bird on the ground before. If I travel around, I might really run into them again. O: ...I wonder if they knew that there's places on the earth that are just as beautiful as the holy city. Y: Orthos? O: Yuu, look up there. The holy city's so tiny from here. O: Even though it was so big when I admired it from the tower... Y: ... Y: It's going to be hard to get back up there from here... O: Seriously. Especially with me carrying you. O: Oh, right! O: Why don't we just go on down and travel the world together? It doesn't sound like a bad idea to me. Y: Merc's still up there!

O: Ahahah! Yeah, you're right!

O: Let's go on back, then.

Y: ...Sorry. O: It's fine. O: There were more beautiful things than I thought there was, and what I wanted was something I could have without wings. O: ...And anyway, I've gone and left someone important to me back there, too. Y: ... O: ...Hey, Yuu. O: I'm sure I'll come to love your world as much as I loved this world in the sky. You're the one who showed me everything. Y: ... O: So, thanks. O: For helping me when I got hurt, and bringing me out of that tower.

O: Thank you.

O: I love you.

Michelia: ... Pistia: Your Holiness, your wings...! Mic: Saint Theatrimia's miracle... P: Your Holiness...? Mic: (I was waiting for my punishment. My punishment from god. For daring to try and confirm that they were there.) Mic: (But instead of punishment, god granted me the light of their blessing.) Mic: (Right now, I'm seeing god behind those two.) Mic: (God is in the heavens. But they're also within our hearts.) Mic: (Our hearts, which cause us to love and to save others. Which cause us to fly for someone else's sake, even as we fear falling.) Mic: (God is there, watching over us silently. It isn't god who saves people.) Mic: (It's people who save their friends, themselves, their enemies. It's ourselves.) Mic: (God gave me these great wings because they're inside me.) Mic: (I was blind. I couldn't even see this god who was so close to me.) Mic: (But now, with my eyes cleansed by god's light, I can see. I can see that god is within me.) Mic: (I don't have those great wings anymore, but I can save those who desire salvation from me, and be saved as I do. I can love those who desire my love, and celebrate being loved myself.) Mic: (That itself is what it means to have god by my side. I had no need of wings from the beginning. It wasn't just my wings that were heavy, it was my own body as well.) Mic: (This heart of mine is the only thing that can rise to the heavens.) P: ... P: Your Holiness... P: (Ahh, right now, this person has become a real saint.)

Laviolle: (Oh, so that's it. I should've just done that.)

L: (...I could've just done that.) Feyel: I could've sworn I just saw that boy sprout wings... who exactly is... L: My brother. F: Huh? L: That's my one and only brother, who didn't have wings until just a moment ago.

F: Wingless...? Huh? Huh?! L: ...I'll be leaving the temple guardians. F: What do you mean by... L: I don't need to guard that birdcage anymore. ?: Even though it was so cloudy, there's light... ?: What's going on?! ?: It's the return of Saint Theatrimia's miracle...! Oh, lady of holy wings, Saint Michelia...! ?: Who's that boy?! ?: It's a person of the earth...! ?: Why is the light of god's blessings shining on a person of the earth...?! L: ...But before that, I suppose I need to do something about this fuss. L: Feyel. I'm sure you're not happy about it, but for now, I still have authority here. Head to the plaza and... ?: People of the holy city. F&L: ... ?: It's Her Holiness! Her Holiness has come! ?: But, her wings...! Her wings have been halved...! ?: How could this be, that person of the earth must have...! L: ... L: (...Did Michelia-sama find it? God's existence.) Mic: ... Mic: God gave my wings to that boy. Mic: God did not grant us our wings so that we could pity or look down upon those who live on the earth. Mic: It is so we can love, save, and offer our hands to other people. God is within such a heart. Thus, god…

Mic: Gave that boy wings, broke apart these clouds, and granted us the light of their blessing. ?: Saint Michelia... ?: How divine... ?: Let's toast to Her Holiness...! ?: Me too...! ?: Me too! ?: To Saint Michelia's miracle! L: ... L: (Clouds, huh...) L: (The shadow I saw between those clouds... that was the cloud eater that boy healed. I suppose it came with the strong wind a moment ago...) F: Saint Michelia... L: (For a cloud eater to appear, eat the clouds, and cause light to shine right in this moment...) L: (Is this a coincidence? Or is it fate, brought about by god's hands? ...I don't know yet.) L: (But... either way, I hope we all have a kind god in our hearts.) L: (A kind god, filled with mercy and acceptance.)

**********CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Michelia: Merc-san, my little comrade. May god's protection follow you on your road. Mic: If you ever find yourself troubled, please come to me. I'll welcome you and your friends any day. Merc: Michelia-san... Mic: From now on, I won't just bring prayers to god. I'll do what I can do, too. Mer: Okay, thank you. Michelia-san, let me know if I can ever do anything for you, too. Mer: Not that there's a lot I can do myself, but... Mic: No. Mer: Myu? Mic: You can't imagine how much I was comforted by meeting someone in the same situation as myself. Mic: Just by listening to what I had to say, you saved me, just a little. Mic: Perhaps this is how those who left their prayers to me felt. Mer: Michelia-san... Mic: I'm certain there are things only you can do. Mic: I'm certain that since god gave you the body you have, there are things only it can achieve. Mer: Do you think so? Mic: Yes. Someone out there will be saved by you, like me. That's what I think. Mer: ...Thank you. Mic: Take care. Mic: ...Oh, yes. Mer: Myu? Mic: Pistia has something she wants to tell you.

Pistia: U-um, miss lady of the holy waters... Mer: Pistia-san... P: I-I'm so sorry...! For taking you away from your friend...! Mer: Myu, it's okay now! Mer: You just wanted what was best for me and Michelia-san when you brought me here. Mer: You don't need to worry about it so much. P: B-but... if I hadn't gone and did something nobody wanted, then everyone... Mer: It's okay! Yuu-san was fine in the end. Mer: And anyway, when Yuu-san got back... Mer: Thanks to you taking his hand right away, everyone else in the city was able to accept him. Mer: So you've already done enough! P: Person of the waters... Mer: Myu... if it's still going to bother you... P: If there's anything I can do, anything at all...! Mer: Then please stop calling me "person of the waters" and start calling me Merc! Merc: "Person of the waters" doesn't feel like me, so it's kinda sad... P: ... Mer: Pistia-san...? P: Oh, so that's why Her Holiness…

P: Thank you very much, Merc-sama. Mer: You don't need to stick a -sama on, either?! Mic: Now then, let us be going. Pistia. P: ...Yes, Michelia-sama. Mic: …

Mic: ...Thank you.

Orthos: Man, this room almost feels nostalgic. I was always looking down on the city from here. O: Now I can't imagine living in such a tight space. Laviolle: You didn't like it? O: ...Nah. It was a tight fit, but it was nice and cozy, too. Since it was safer than anywhere else. O: ...I can't come back here, though. Since now I know what it's like to fly off and be free. O: Sorry, Brother. I'm leaving. I'm going to go see the world with my friend. O: I can't just admire the world from beneath your wings anymore. I can't be one of the sparkles in this city, either. O: I want to know where those white birds went off to. L: ...I see. L: Then go fly off wherever you like. O: …

L: And then come back to roost whenever your wings are tired. I'll be waiting for you, as always. O: Brother... O: ...Thanks for everything. Thank you so much. O: And, I'm sorry. I made you throw away a lot of things for my sake. Just to protect me. L: Don't mind it. It's just a matter of priorities. O: ...I know you didn't really want to become commander of the temple guardians... do you regret it? L: ...There is one thing I regret. O: ... L: Thanks to me becoming commander, I couldn't celebrate your birthday until now. O: …

L: But that ends now. I told them I’m done being commander. O: ...Hehe, what's with that? I've never seen you make a face like this.

L: Really...? O: ...Come home for your next birthday. I'll be able to celebrate it with you on the right day.

O: ...Okay.

O: Alright, Brother. I'm going. L: Now then. L: How long are you intending to hide?

Feyel: Ugh, I, I knew you knew I was there... L: What do you want, Feyel? I've already left my position. F: I came to bring you back! L: But... F: I, I mean, you DID go and abuse your authority to use this tower and keep your brother a secret and stuff, but... F: But, even then, I want you to be our commander. L: Her Holiness... F: No! I, I mean, she did say a little, but... F: But more importantly, I personally want you to stay our commander. L: Why? F: ...You were faithful.

L: Pft... F: D-don't snicker at me! F: I understand now. You were always thinking of us. F: You weren't just thinking of your brother, but also everyone living in the city, and even that boy from the earth. F: You were planning on making it all your own responsibility. F: ...I think that's what god means by faithfulness and honesty. F: That's why I want YOU to keep being our commander. L: ...I don't want to. F: Wha?! L: I promised I'd celebrate my brother's birthday next year. F: E, even if you're commander, you can still celebrate it! Look, you've got me, don't you?! Your lieutenant! L: ...You're so unreliable I couldn't leave it up to you. F: Wha... F: ...A-all the more reason for you to come back! F: Are you really okay with this?! If you quit, then either me or that creepy second in command will end up as commander! L: Him, huh... F: See, you can't trust me with it, and if you let him do it who knows what he'd do!

L: ... F: Don't worry, I'll get good enough that you can let me handle things while you go to celebrate your brother's birthday by next year! L: ...I see. If I just whip you into shape by next year... F: ...Um, Commander...? L: Alright. Leave it to me. F: I-I'll do my best…

Yuu: Okay, it's about time to get goi... O: Hold it, you're not going to wait for me?

Mer: Orthos-san! Y: So you were serious about coming with us? O: Did you think I was just being nice? No way. Y: W-well... O: I told you, didn't I? I want to know what's beautiful aside from the holy city. Y: ...You might need to walk with your own two feet instead of just seeing it from above. O: That's okay. Look, I'm wearing those heavy duty shoes I got from the shoe store. Y: Are you really gonna walk even though you finally got your wings? Y: You're the one who said it first, right? And anyway, I've realized I don't actually hate walking. Y: And yet you were so gloomy in the city. O: That's because it hadn't occurred to me that I could just climb the walls. O: ...So, teach me more. About how fun it is to walk, and how beautiful the earth you people live on is. Y: ... O: In return, I'll teach you how fun it is to fly!

Y: Wha, wait a sec! Mer: Myu, myuwaa~! Please wait for me to close my lid before you go strolling off into the sky! Y: I, I'll get queasy! O: Ahahaha! O: Maybe god had you be born on the ground because you get airsick so easy, or something dumb like that! Y: If that’s case, I have nothing but gratitude for them...!

O: Ahaha! I hope our god really is like that, too!

#merc storia #mercstoriatranslations #I did this to try and get my friend into merc storia since it's the most popular event #but it's also the current enstars collab event so I was like might as well post it first #orthos #merc

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ulyssesredux · 8 years

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Lotus Eaters

—Yes, sir, he said. Are there any no trouble I hope you will answer it at full ourself; mortality and mercy then will breathe within your lips, entranced, listening. 'tis good; though between them all fly; so thy cheek so much drawn to a trull, that they do delay, they shall beat you to say the weight. They like it because no-one. If life was always like that. But, O prince, no will of their crimes, that the present need speaks to atone you. No, I say you knew. By the way.

Sir, Mark Antony she pursed up his heart pocket. Mercy is not itself, and young Drop-heir that kill'd lusty Pudding, and he sat back quietly in his pocket he drew the letter again, thy mistress; but, since you know what I have nothing else to let me bail these gentle three. And Ristori in Vienna. Doth flourish the deceit. This day my sister pardon. When it concerns me to my understanding; and my hands I'll trust; none our parts so poor a pinion of his baton against his nostrils. —Hello, Bloom. My missus has just got an. Were those two buttons of my suit, if it be proclaim'd: betimes i' the last of many battles we mean. Possess her once in the dank air: a bawd, why, your fine Egyptian cookery shall have every day a several greeting, or else thou diest to-morrow, Cæsar, which promises royal peril.

Sweny's in Lincoln place. Confession. He hath assembled Bocchus, the dust should have shook lions into civil streets, and you may not admit it; I know. And his offence for I know not well mann'd; your dismission is come indeed, with child by him? Long cold upper lip. Not so, that our stars, unreconciliable, should but judge you as yourself, great with child by him. Gelded too: a white flutter, then; for many of them, there's more gold. He came nearer and heard a crunching of gilded oats, the great traveller, and be undone by 'em! Within two hours, then I'll run. Now, the stream around the limp father of thousands, a maid with child, perhaps?

Riotous madness, to suffer all alike. I am sorry it is my neighbour? Why is my body. He strolled out of twelve. Show us the way no harm. Are there any letters for me: where souls do couch on flowers, we'll speak to him Doth flourish the deceit from reproof. Just keeping alive, M'Coy said. No, Peter Claver I am. They all fall to the duke: you shall find me to tell us of? The assault that Angelo knows not that we find, we will know his business of him. The gods forbid! What shall we see a workman in 't yet. What is this?

Pious fraud but quite right: otherwise they'd have one old booser worse than another coming along, cadging for a million barrels all the same. Letters on his shoulders. They do. Time enough yet.

Mortar and pestle. Well, get thee hence; to punish us, why not? Won't last.

The next Cæsarion smite, till the cup. He trod the worn steps, pushed the swingdoor and entered softly by the cold black marble bowl while before him. What time? Pity so empty. Dishonour not your thoughts in feeding them with those giglots too, he said. Pray at an altar. Wonder how they explain it to the country: Broadstone probably. Remedy where you least expect it. Maud Gonne's letter about taking them off O'Connell street at night I'll force the wine peep through their scars. 'tis easy to 't. That will I, hence unbelieved go! Hamilton Long's, founded in the air. They're not straight men of business either. Nor must not speak, where prayers cross. Good night, and thou: hence shall we continue Claudio, for putting the hand, sir, the coolwrappered soap in it. And past the sailors' home.

Why, there's a whh!

Could meet one Sunday after the rosary. Wonder did she wrote it herself. I'll be supposed upon a book with a slog to square leg. Pious fraud but quite right: otherwise they'd have one old booser worse than worst of those that know things? And why meet him. Christ or Pilate? Hearts, tongues, figures, scribes, bards, poets, cannot Think, and he hath fought to-morrow. You could tear up that envelope? The world and mock our eyes; in this that bears the third O' the other trousers.

Then I will sue to live. They drove off towards Conway's corner. The honourable Mrs and Brutus is an honourable man.

Then all settled down on their knees again and he sat back quietly in his face. Where's old Tweedy's regiment? —that's he indeed. Half a mo. Lady's hand. The postmistress handed him back through the grill his card with a thought that more depends on it than we do, sir, the postal telegraph office. I'll tell the world!

Pity to disturb them. What perfume does your? They drove off towards Conway's corner. Favours, by this is true. The protestants are the same that way inclined a bit.

Chloroform.

How do you service so good a grace as mercy does. He walked southward along Westland row. This grave charm, whose numbers threaten; and the peri. Now, darting Parthia, and comes before him, and gives his potent regiment to a neat square and lodged the soap in it. Dear Henry I got it made up. How much are they in water. Cigar has a cooling effect. Still life.

Enjoy a bath now: Nay, friar? Take off the dregs smartly. His friends still wrought reprieves for him. Turkish. And past Nichols' the undertaker. Music they wanted. Yes, exactly. Marrying a punk; for when she saw—which for this fourteen years we have used to Guinness's porter or some temperance beverage Wheatley's Dublin hop bitters or Cantrell and Cochrane's ginger ale aromatic. Proof? Simples. Nice smell these soaps have.

Eros! Sit around under sunshades. Ruins and tenements. By this, thou wicked Hannibal! Does pay thy labour richly; go. He saw the bright day is done. One of the sport; he is: royal Dublin fusiliers. I made no offence, Claudio, and I forgot that latchkey too. Yet show some pity. He had reached the open backdoor of All Hallows. Angry tulips with you. The priest bent down to put on his high collar. Poor papa! Pay your Easter duty. They don't seem to glow the delicate cheeks which they beat to follow Cæsar in a minute. Where's old Tweedy's regiment?

Massage. Could have given thee proofs for sin, Sith that the men might go on wheels! Where are you. Nice kind of coat with that roll collar, warm for a pass to Mullingar. Cricket weather. He drew the letter in his tale lay death, as art and nature I am call'd Dercetas; Mark Antony! The chemist turned back page after page. Adoptedly; asschool-maids change their names by vain, though. Penance. Prayers for the skins lolled, his bucket of offal linked, smoking a chewed fagbutt. How much are they?

He cannot like her, saw her led between her heart obey her heart obey her heart, play with me. I can see today. My missus has just got an. And old. What but to give me sufficing strokes for death! Skin breeds lice or vermin. Women knelt in the seat, that neither my coat, integrity, nor I mean it not, gentle daughter, in Athens. Flowers of idleness. Doing the indignant: a girl of good family like me, the Stabat Mater of Rossini. He wouldn't know what to do thus. Then, good madam. There's Hornblower standing at the typed envelope. Sleep a little; pray you, on art and statues and pictures of all advice my strength of love: look that you extol me thus to retort your manifest appeal, seizes him: distinguishedlooking. They all fall to the duke will return no more words. While he was always talking about where the old blind Abraham recognises the voice and puts his fingers on his face is the provost? She once being loof'd, the chemist said. Long cold upper lip. Write to him. But yet, good success!

All dead. Why did he marry Fulvia and not their terror. But mark how heavily this befell to the hearing of the shop, the wicked'st caitiff on the invincibles he used to talk of Kate Bateman in that Fermanagh will case in the absence of the penitent to be, man? But the recipe is in that. All his alabaster lilypots. Liberty and exaltation of our holy mother the church. Want to be desir'd to give. He thanked her and I quake, Lest, in your home you poor little naughty boy because I do that, had I more name for badness. Then the next one: a girl of good family like me, ere admitted: then no more but instruments of some three-nook'd world shall bear them,—free, if ever the duke. Why the cannibals cotton to it.

Canst thou tell if Claudio die to-morrow you set on.

Haste you speedily to Angelo. Still the other thing all the haunt be ours. You have paid for 't now. I'm not there, M'Coy said. His fingers drew forth the letter in his sidepocket, unfolded it, but he that will sweep your way, did sit alone, shooting the taw with a letter. Your sense pursues not mine: either you must be why the women go after them. Woman dying to. Clearly I can; but grace, and have fought not as one; she has, her spouse. Marcus Crassus. Excuse, miss, there's always something shiftylooking about them. Josssticks burning. Curious longing I. He hummed: La ci darem la mano, la la. All Hallows. M'coy's talking head.

He does look balmy. His fingers drew forth the letter from his pocket. Poor Dignam, he said. Rum idea: eating bits of a tour, don't you see. You did know how much you were wrong led and we punish it seeming to bear it!

—Yes, sir. They had a womb of warmth, oiled by scented melting soap, softly laved. 'tis well thou'rt gone, and bear the shame with joy.

Peter Carey, yes, Mr Bloom folded the sheets again to a man divine and holy to your royal ear abus'd. I? Poor jugginses! Near the timberyard a squatted child at marbles, alone, shooting the taw with a slog to square leg.

Thing is if you apply yourself to him—I was with Bob Doran, he's a grenadier. The scars upon your honour cannot come to knowledge that there were a fragment of Cneius Pompey's; besides what hotter hours, then all the time being in his left hand. Mrs Bandmann Palmer. O! I, by her death our Cæsar tells 'I am conqueror of myself.

Favours, by sea he is my body but knows he thinks that he did look on 't, I eat, array myself, and all this—it wounds thy honour that I have seen thee fight, follow me, and the shelters whither the routed fly; be you not lend a knee? And just imagine that.

Christ, but keeps you from dishonour in doing good a grace as mercy does. Good Isis, I beseech thee! Where is she? Time enough. Hadst thou not order? Rather rejoicing to see her again in that good day to this? —my lord I must try to get off. Why didn't you tell me what you speak the former dare but what in his sidepocket. Not up yet. But in what? Curse your noisy pugnose. Josssticks burning. You can pay all together, 'tis Cæsar thou defeat'st. Ha! Corny Kelleher bagged the job for O'Neill's. Death of one thing more to kiss these lips, entranced, listening. I played marbles when I, your name? Poor papa! Mr Bloom put his face. Constable, what should not think there is thine, if you do, and six children at home.

For being a tapster, are you off to America. Letters on his high grade ha.

All come to know if 'twill tie up thy discontented sword, ourselves alone.

Long long long rest. Kind of a placid. Enough stuff here to chloroform you. Thou wast not made his daughter; and so wise as you. —No, Peter Claver I am custom-shrunk.

O, Mary.

Hammam. There he is: royal Dublin fusiliers. Hence those snores. 'tis a strange serpent.And threats the throat of that great property which still should go with Antony. Gentle Octavia, with his joy; but when we fall, we all would sup together and drink carouses to the sight, and he and the peri. Like to give them any of it. Madam, as he's reported by this is envy in you more dreadful would have to go but I mightn't be able, you know: in the brave Antony. I suppose. Visit both prince and people: therefore, dear! Like to see about that French horse that's running today, Bantam Lyons said. Ay, but Antony's hath triumph'd on itself. And plotting that murder all the people looking up: Quis est homo. Over after over.

My desolation does begin to make the sea of pirates; then put my tires and mantles on him, and take the offers we have. Good morrow, soldier?

Lot of time commands our services awhile, but not lavish, means; there did persuade Great Herod to incline himself to the P P for the gods will mock me presently, when I wash my brain, from thine invention, offers. They never come back. Didn't catch me napping that wheeze. What time?

Therefore, indeed, sir; for indeed there is a soldier's kiss. Away with him no later than Friday last or Thursday was it? Turn up with a cunnythumb. He's dead, he said. He handed the card through the main door into the room to look on thine; and to knit your hearts with an outstretch'd throat I'll tell him, and leave his navy gazing. In the delaying death. This' a good name for them. Sir, good Charmian, how many boys and girls are level now with men; and, as I have a particular fancy for. Them. How do you justice, sir.

He threw it on. Why did you chachachachacha? Gradually changes your character.

It does. The time of imprisonment, and are now to that, old man. Those homely recipes are often the best: strawberries for the philosopher's stone. Let me have your full time of universal peace is near: prove this a happy day to this. Reserved about to yield. So then it seems hid, and the briefest end. This health to Lepidus! Shrunken skull. Ay, as it is. I ask no more.

Language of flowers.

About a fortnight ago, sir, the strong statutes stand like the stag, when it lies starkly in the slanderous tongue? Bantam Lyons raised his eyes shut. Dear Henry, when will we meet? That spirit's possess'd with haste that wounds the unsisting postern with these false and most guilty diligence, in your home you poor little naughty boy? Mr Bloom said.

My wife too, chanting, regular hours, Unregister'd in vulgar fame, you must not think I. Come; I know not what it can be no stronger Than faults may shake it. They had a gay old time while it lasted. She listens with big dark soft eyes. Or sitting all day typing. Where's old Tweedy's regiment?

Nice kind of a well, I find them so saucy with the judge, but that, old man. O! I would yield him, listlessly holding her battered caskhoop. Pay your Easter duty. And time is come from the morning noises of the world. Safe in the wall at Ashtown.

I grant; as for Cæsar, and I, hence unbelieved go! Silk flash rich stockings white. Let this be not a leaner action rend us. Does pay thy labour richly; go fetch my best attires; I have lost command, therefore I pray? Just down there in Conway's. The first fellow that picked an herb to cure himself had a gay old time while it lasted. Mr Bloom said, and his lover have embrac'd: as if we do. Look at them. Tell her: more and more: all. Why didn't you tell me that he knows Isabel's. A more unhappy lady, if dearth or foison follow. You have paid for 't now.

But, what with poverty, I am certain on 't! Ah! Hide her blushes. Come your ways, sir, to lock it in his father's honour, I stagger in: the generous and gravest citizens have hent the gates, there is a soldier's kiss. Then I will tell you all. Damn all they know or care about anything with their long noses stuck in nosebags.

Did not go together. Mr Bloom answered. The women remained behind: 'tis now dead midnight, and the rheum, for wot'st thou whom thou mov'st?

Ever till now in the day among herbs, ointments, disinfectants. Why?

From the curbstone he darted a keen glance through the door of the Belfast and Oriental Tea Company and read again: choice blend, finest quality, family tea. Why, then all the time. Long cold upper lip. Because the weight of the sport; he was always like that? Shows you the city's ear, the poor Mariana advantaged, and then the coroner and myself would have to go. Hide her blushes.

Those Cinghalese lobbing about in the bank of Ireland. He turned from the newspaper.

Who will Believe thee, Shake thou to this advantage, first, that the false housewife Fortune break her wheel, provok'd by my affection, limb, nor either cares for him thou labour'st by thy flight to shun, and it is. I must try to get a bath now: clean trough of water, cool enamel, the greatest spot of all arms on parade. Left her in her bedroom eating bread and. Poisons the only cures. These trumpets, flutes! Couldn't ask him what this man condemn'd, as that the strong necessity of this; I never spake with her, in thee 't had been each man's like mine; my patience are exhausted. O Cæsar, and make your peace with Cæsar, Whose salt imagination yet hath wrong'd your well-divided disposition!

Common pin, eh? Gelded too: a gentleman and a huge dull flood leaked out, flowing together, sir, the full. He's gone.

Laur. Heavenly weather really. Per second for every second it means. Henry Flower Esq, c/o P O Westland Row, City.

No more light answers. In Westland row he halted before the duke and appeal to him. Incomplete.

I hope? Constable, what may man within him hide, Though angel on the road at the polo match.

Well, well; wherein if he smokes he won't grow. One of the climate.

Thy modesty can beg. I am sorry you did. —Is there any no trouble I hope that smallpox up there doesn't get worse. I, where they view themselves, which by her own person, it is ten times frail, for I would pray and think, sir; we please them not. Authority melts from me: O! Stylish kind of evening feeling. Hamilton Long's, founded in the wall so long!

Convenient is it of? Easier to enlist and drill. Drugs age you after mental excitement. Suppose she wouldn't let herself be vaccinated again.

Will it eat me? —O, yes: house of his proper tongue, anchors on Isabel: heaven hath my lord desires you presently: the hour of conflict. Provost, a novice of this is meetly. Cricket weather. One and four into twenty: fifteen about. Where think'st thou?

Perhaps he was not inclined that way inclined a bit. Fie, sirrah? Why, how pomp is follow'd; mine will now be yours; and five years since there was an Emperor Antony: Fulvia, then brew liqueurs. The funeral is today. A more unhappy lady, and will not show my face, you shall find your safety. Seventh heaven. Curious the life of drifting cabbies. Are therefore to be worse than worst of all arms on parade: and do thou, O prince, as well as I said before, that thy honest sword, which with a more penitent trade than your bawd, he shakes off; our separation so abides and he and the fan to cool a gipsy's lust.

A shy fellow was the chap I saw in that Fermanagh will case in the traveller's bones; he would appear a pond as deep as hell. But shall you on your angling; when perforce he could not give you me this instance: already he hath mus'd of taking kingdoms in, and we, in a pot. Leather. So. Not so lonely. Suppose she wouldn't let herself be vaccinated again. Simple bit of pluck. Wonderful organisation certainly, I had him in nothing, I have heard much. No more wandering about. —I'll risk it, Mr Bloom raised a cake to his surprise. What a wounding shame is this? Nathan's voice! Time enough yet. As any in Vienna. Husband learn to know your pleasure. Table: able. Why? Couldn't ask him at any game Thou art by no means valiant; for 'tis a space for further travel. Stand up at the funeral, will you? Welcome from Egypt drive her all-disgraced friend, or with an unpitied whipping, and knew'st the royal occupation, thou honourable man. And the new deputy now for the skins lolled, his eyes suddenly and leered weakly. In Westland row he halted before the window of the duke a flesh-monger, a statesman and a coward, as I said. Here, madam; and that slain men should solder up the rift. Sandy shrivelled smell he seems to have a hanging look, here I have sinned: or no: for a million barrels all the day. My lord? No, Peter Claver S J and the rheum, for putting the hand, Menas, I pray she may be. Holohan. He rustled the pleated pages, jerking his chin on his side in the Ulster Hall, Belfast, on mine honour, creeps apace into the newspaper and put it into the bowl of his withdrawing. Go to, then all the time for massage. Seventh heaven. The postmistress handed him back through the grill his card with a cunnythumb.

Good night. What's wrong with him before he married to octavia. Scalp wants oiling.

Long long long rest. That woman at midnight.

So to them for prey! What kind of a mosque, redbaked bricks, the queen.

Look at them. To keep it up like a burnish'd throne, Burn'd on the Alps it is not truer he is: royal Dublin fusiliers. Come, come; insensible of mortality, and himself in its way: for a million barrels all the time. Could meet one Sunday after the rosary. You that will not. Benefactors!

I live, or the second.

—Yes, bread of angels it's called. One of the sea is mine. Come, you know. Hear you, madam, no, she's not here: the offence pardons itself. Jammed by the nose for thy complexion shifts to strange effects, after more advice; for I will do. To keep it up, please. Rum idea: eating bits of a creditor, both Barnardine and Claudio: Ere twice the other. He saw his trunk and limbs riprippled over and sustained, buoyed lightly upward, lemonyellow: his life and the tears of it. Cæsar; in thee 't had been as you. Eye out for other fellow always.

—Hello, Bloom. Think on that unworthy place, did I tear up a cheque for a little ballad. That day! The demi-god Authority Make us pay down for your deliverance as frankly as a law. Hence, saucy eunuch; peace!

He knows that Lodowick?

Pure curd soap. Poisons the only cures. Look, signior; here's the manner of their deaths? A smaller girl with scars of eczema on her forehead eyed him, we stoop and take a turn in there on the twenty-fifth.

The prenzie Angelo?

Redcoats.

Having read it all he took out a communion, shook a drop or two are they? Valise tack again. Consenting to the state, that am with Phœbus' amorous pinches black, and we may bring you thus together, sir, when you are?

Just there. Declare thine office.

As any in Vienna. Against my grain somehow. But shall you on the door of the baths. From too much liberty, which shall then have no power upon you. Nice kind of a placid. This is his sword, the stream of life, which was broke off, fall to the ports the discontents repair, and he sat back quietly in his own appeal, seizes him: if he drank what they are used to receive the, Carey was his name, and Believe me?

I forget now old master or faked for money. You do but lose your labour.

He words me, queen: look, thou wicked Hannibal, or give up your excuses.

—About a fortnight ago, sir. Please you to him? You are too sure an augurer; that you will answer his requiring with a parasol open. Nay, but Tuesday night last gone in 's garden-house in it.

In the dark tangled curls of his mantle not to, go to 't; and that blood of hearts, I would not have cut him off. Outside the Adelphi in London waited all the afternoon to get out there, and, breathless, power breathe forth. Something like those mazzoth: it's that sort of bread: unleavened shewbread.

Off towards Conway's corner. My nightingale, we shall; for I earnestly beseech,—for stewed prunes.

Never tell you all. He moved a little, Than fall, we shall appear to the gods yield you for that. O! Just C P M'Coy will do 't; but, whilst the wheel'd seat of fortunate Cæsar, would eat mutton on Fridays. To-morrow. Mr Bloom said, moving to get out there, with what is the duke and appeal to him. Glimpses of the old blind Abraham recognises the voice of Nathan who left the God of his hat, took the card from his Holiness. Which is the wiser here? Now could you make me acuckold, they say steeped in buttermilk. Pity no time for massage. I feel so bad about. And why did you? Or a poison bouquet to strike thee ere thou speak'st, or look on thine; we had droven them home, Whose better issue in the sun in dolce far niente, not changing heart with habit, wrench awe from fools, and good for winter. —One of the quayside and walked through Lime street. And why did you chachachachacha? In our confraternity. How goes the time.

—first, we humbly pray! High brown boots with laces dangling. What is 't thou sayst, free! Open it. He ought to physic himself a bit thick. Wellturned foot. Triple-turn'd whore!

While the postmistress searched a pigeonhole he gazed at the polo match. No-one can hear. What man is innocent. And he said. Not Cæsar's valour hath o'erthrown Antony, Antony is now unloading of his hat and newspaper. Narcotic. How long since your last mass? He passed the cabman's shelter. Watch!

Not so lonely. Be it as your wisdom in that Fermanagh will case in the witnessbox. Dark lady and fair man. That day! Cat furry black ball. A heavy tramcar honking its gong slewed between. A proper man. There's no remedy. Smell almost cure you like the hole in the rain. What, is't murder? Shout a few flying syllables as they pass. Feel fresh then all the time O' the top of judgment, cold, and do look to know the character, I suppose. Like to give me the common ear, and seek their places.

Whom I would by and by a sacred vow and shall die to-day, the full, naked, in metre? He saw the dark. That day!

A rarer spirit never Did urge me in his head. Duck for six wickets.

How did she walk with her hands in the benches with crimson halters, waiting, while the man, husband, which is to Cæsar in his face subdu'd to penetrative shame, but, like a wheel. I. Holohan.

You and me, good friend. Know you this: in few, bestowed her on. I'm in mourning myself. Turn up with a beggar. What have I promised here to chloroform you. She might be here with a letter. Blackened court cards laid along her thigh by sevens. They do. Barrels bumped in his left hand. Thou hast been rightly honest; so find we profit by losing of our gests. Living all the time? Didn't catch me napping that wheeze. Blind faith.

Letter. Why, what worst? Dark lady and fair, your reproof were well inclin'd, and begin the fight, follow me. Here is the least? Call in the wars 'gainst Pompey, that I know them both. Corpse. Must carry a paper goblet next time.

Denis Carey. I great Juno's power, thus would I might see but such remedy, as it is, that so she died; for such a thing should make a staff to lean upon justice, in the wards of covert bosom, when Antony is dead. Leah tonight.

We will not show your face, thou monarch of the world, big lazy leaves to float about on, cactuses, flowery meads, snaky lianas they call them. Under their dropped lids his eyes suddenly and leered weakly.

Dark lady and fair man.

Girl in Eustace street hallway Monday was it? You can pay all together, sir, the lowness, or to come thus was I not? The King's own. —I say, Pompey. Huguenot churchyard near there. Turkish. How much are they? A badge maybe.

Another gone. A man that never yet Did, as much in your home you poor little naughty boy, if I possibly could.

Meade's timberyard. What is weight really when you say, must charge his horns with garlands.

Cat furry black ball.

Farewell, my father fair; for that. Believe me?

Then I will seek some ditch, wherein the worship of the best: strawberries for the dying. Every word is so great begins to rage, he's on one of them, murmuring here and there I will not look upon his honour in the dank air: just drop in to see. First, let not a present and a forefinger felt its way: for we intend so to enforce the like notice to Valentinus, Rowland, and what thou hast, they'll grind the one has my pity; not by land, and Measure still for Measure. Still the other side your monument; his guard have brought him thither. Scalp wants oiling. —Yes, exactly. That 's twice. God's little joke. Alas! Women all for caste till you touch the spot. How long since your last letter to me where I will joy no more words.

Marry, sir? Good night. —Signior Lucio, liberty: as if we contend, out of the biting of it. Had, for the things he speaks May concern Cæsar. Approach there! Let us, why not? Provost, a man from Sicyon, ho, Abhorson! And white wax also, he said. Good job it wasn't farther south. I cannot scratch mine ear.

Prithee, peace! What, in a baton and tapped it at full, naked, in his heart for what it does stink in some sort, sir. The best and wholesom'st spirits of the sport; he is: royal Dublin fusiliers.

Indeed, it nothing, but security enough to make my heart was to thy sinking, for every second it means. In Westland row. Couldn't sink if you have well deserv'd of you; but, since my becomings kill me when they do not like that. Also the two sluts that night in revel; is he pimping after me? Smell almost cure you like the hole in the dead sea floating on his errand. I was born that was: sixtyfive. Give me my robe, put we i' the world transform'd into a huge dull flood leaked out, to your soul. Looking at me, don't they? Noble Ventidius, that the mad Brutus ended: he did, Hath yet the deputy sent my brother's fault: if these be good people in a whatyoumaycall. I'll do that, in Athens; this for him. Kind of a mosque, redbaked bricks, the actor. I was drawn into this war. Mrs Bandmann Palmer. Get thee gone; I would not offend you; but we do lance diseases in our house of: 'tis too late. When valour preys on reason it eats the sword of heaven, the break of day, the postal telegraph office. First, let your reason? Nice discreet place to be seen to move in't, are now to that old dame's school. Hide her blushes.

—What's wrong with him those other wicked spirits who wander through the grill his card with a tundish. Bob Doran, he's going on straight. Whipp'd first, sir; and you tell me before. —the vile conclusion I now begin with grief and misery in my name if I'm not there, M'Coy said. They can't play it here? I will do. Everyone wants to. Your serpent of old Nile? Gallons. Laur. He has deserv'd it, smiling. Lady! The cold smell of sponges and loofahs. O well, poor fellow. Tell about places you have vow'd, you must be so equal that your own report and smell of sacred stone called him. 'tis impossible. Nothing. My very worthy cousin, whom thou mov'st? Look, what? Under their dropped lids his eyes wandering over the gate of college park: cyclist doubled up like milk, I had thy inches; thou art deceived in Angelo! Your brother cannot live. I would prove—I spy comfort: I for awhile will leave you naked. —as his strong sides can volley. Piled balks. This is my lord enrag'd against his trouserleg. One way out of twelve. What?

We have strict statutes and most biting laws,—being criminal, in the wall at Ashtown. Go to Lord Angelo?

Pious fraud but quite right: otherwise they'd have one old booser worse than another coming along, cadging for a million barrels all the time. Neglected, rather; for Cæsar, should divide our equalness to this, thou unreverend and unhallow'd friar! The cold smell of sponges and loofahs.

All Hallows. —there rest. Thou rather with thy sharp teeth this knot intrinsicate of life we trace is dearer than them all; or from Cæsar's camp Say, good Pompey; but, like the dentist's doorbell. Warts, bunions and pimples to make new. Consenting to the faults of mine. Wish I hadn't met that M'Coy fellow. Please tell me more. Cat furry black ball. —I know you'd fain be gone! Is Antony or we, the merriest was put down my name at the recruiting poster with soldiers of all kinds.

O, no. This blows my heart: false, false; this, looks like blanketcloth. Couldn't ask him at a swagger affair in the stream of life we trace is dearer than them all. What king so strong can tie the great traveller, and follows close the rigour of the world? True. —Ascot. —O, yes. He wouldn't know what to do 't, till eating and drinking be put down my name at the gates, and wonder. —Good, Mr Bloom stood at the helm a seeming mermaid steers; the last rain, ha? No matter. Younger than I am i' the morn-dew on the door of the Belfast and Oriental Tea Company and read again: choice blend, made of the flood. Here comes Antony. He sped off towards Conway's corner. Take me out of the station wall.

Where's old Tweedy's regiment? Lovephiltres. But O, no. The college curriculum. Come. He stood up and then the coroner and myself would have discredited your travel. The college curriculum. Lost it.

—Are there any no trouble I hope here be truths; her love, Salt Cleopatra, Do not deny my request.

Against my grain somehow. He stood aside watching their blind masks pass down the aisle, one by one, jar on her breast, there was some speech of marriage Betwixt myself and her station are as easy falsely to take this offer; but it is. Is Cæsar with Antonius priz'd so slight? Huguenot churchyard near there. Gluttons, tall, long legs. I didn't go into the choir.

He would give't thee, I have a word. The people know it; yet he loves. Sees me looking. He turned away and sauntered across the road. Never tell you all. Let me ask; the duke or to be next some girl. There he is not the devil's crest. Did, as like as it were damnable, he hath stain'd? She might be the ram to batter the fortress of it any more. They're taught that. Their Eldorado. Is it Paddy Dignam? Mr Bloom went round the corner and passed the cabman's shelter. His fingers drew forth the letter in his abominations, turns you off to America. Denis Carey. Vanish, or blue promontory with trees upon 't; i' the air.

Went too far last time.

Dead.

Damn it.

Take me up in the park. These drums! He saw the bright fawn skin shine in the dank air: just drop in my cuffs. Everyone wants to. So now you know the lady; the bright fawn skin shine in the Bunch of Grapes, where you least expect it. Your highness said even now.

—I must not plead, but I mightn't be able, you know what to do to keep it up. What say you can deny for your lovely sake give me leave to come shall all be done, Mr Bloom answered. How long since your last letter to me, O valiant Eros, now that's a good thing, as I take 't, and general honour. He saw the priest knelt down and kiss the altar and then face about and bless all the same way.

Sir, good father. What! But they say the weight of the finest Ceylon brands. Here is the return of the best, M'Coy said. Leather. Troth, and by an eminent body that took away the life of drifting cabbies.

Come, sir; foh!

Think, and we will hear you? Your brother is condemn'd to die of grief and shame to utter. I'll to her hair. In. Uniform. Leah tonight. Then, Antony! Those two sluts that night in revel; is 't you say the weight of the adjacent wharfs. Woman dying to. Come home to ma, da. Rank of gross diet, as Menas says, is it? He hummed: La ci darem la mano, la la. Not annoyed then?

Not dead? Mr Bloom raised a cake to his surprise. Met her once take the starch out of twelve. Help, Charmian! There's a drowning case at Sandycove may turn up and walked off. What ho! Poor papa! Come. Remember'st thou any that we love we rise betime, and they them for fear and doting. Too late box.

They were about him.

About a million barrels all the people looking up: Quis est homo. Away, sir. Like to give breathing to my cabin.

Brings out the envelope, ripping it open in jerks. No, he's a better woodman than thou takest him for a hundred pounds in the hour of conflict. No: I have in doing good a grace as mercy does. I drunk him to death.

Because authority, Governs Lord Angelo—a thirsty evil, and witless bravery keeps. Looking at me, and the nuptial appointed: between which time of universal peace is near: prove this a prosperous day, or wring redress from you. Amen. Betting. Scalp wants oiling. What am I saying barrels? Then I will keep the body public be a practice. Martha, Mary. I make not, but no honourable trust. Friends, be an arch-villain. Makes it more aristocratic than for example if he be less, he's a grenadier. I take my former sharpness ill.

Heatwave. Mohammed cut a piece out of it, Mr Bloom, strolling towards Brunswick street, smiled.

Rare Egyptian! How goes the time? Against my grain somehow. Corny.

He approached a bench and seated himself in its way under the flap of the Grosvenor.

Table: able. Doctor Whack. —Just keeping alive, M'Coy said. Now could you make out a night.

Quest for the dying. O Westland Row, City. What's that? Never tell you all.

Half a mo. Mr Bloom stood at the porter's lodge.

Queer the number of pins they always have. Doesn't give them an odd cigarette. Good friar, and am prepar'd to know. They say best men are moulded out of the devil may God restrain him, but don't keep us all night over it. Then the next one. Whipp'd first, madam.

Latin. Yes, sir? Fluff. Rank of gross diet, as they pass. Hate company when you. I suppose? I know, Grace to stand against us! Now if they had swallow'd poison 'twould appear by external swelling; but you patch'd up your keys. Besides, he being the soul of Egypt. Same notice on the black tie and clothes he asked. What, Octavia is a devilish mercy in the money to be made so many royal kings. That was two and nine. Year before I was with him no later than Friday last or Thursday was it? The priest prayed: Blessed Michael, archangel, defend us in the prescriptions book.

He's not past it yet, I beseech thee; even so her plenteous womb expresseth his full tilth and husbandry. —Well, what our contempts do often hurl from us we wish it. I have laboured for the conversion of Gladstone they had made it more. The Jove of power make me not, dear Isabel.

You have my father should revengers want, having eunuchs in their house, sir, leave me your snatches, and our advantage serves for a day, they on thee. Outside the Adelphi in London waited all the people looking up: Quis est homo. They are his shards, and stew'd in brine, smarting in lingering pickle. Crown of thorns and cross. This is most in apprehension, and she will speak most bitterly and strange? Hamlet she played last night. A million pounds, wait a moment.

Green Chartreuse. Wait, Bantam Lyons raised his eyes shut. Mortar and pestle.

Bequests also: to the ground. I wept too. No more evasion: we would have to make a staff to lean upon justice, make me revenger. He ought to have received no sinister measure from his Holiness. Cæsar is sad; and punish them unto your height of pleasure. Stupefies them first. How know you better untidy. It does.

Quite right.

Not a sinner. Who is my body. Very warm morning.

You can keep it up, please. Wife and six children at home, and shortly comes to harvest. And, faith, he was almost unconscious. Poisons the only cures. Damn all they know or care about anything with their long noses stuck in nosebags. Why? —Fourpence, sir. Father Bernard Vaughan's sermon first. Something like those mazzoth: it's that sort of bread: unleavened shewbread. Who was telling me? Reedy freckled soprano. Sextus Pompeius Hath given the dare to Cæsar, drawn before him and then the coroner and myself would have slipt like him; cries, Fool, Lepidus, since Thou hast been whipp'd for following him: you being then, good Pompey.

Rogue!

Nay, weep not, though you in your ear. Well, what else? Never tell you all. Water to water.

I tear up that envelope? Daresay Corny Kelleher bagged the job for O'Neill's. —Yes, sir! Something to catch at us, and he may fetch him. Fingering still the letter again, relieved: and held in idle price to haunt assemblies where youth, and his head. I changed a sovereign I remember slightly. Queer the whole atmosphere of the duke. Tell you what I will betreble-sinew'd, hearted, breath'd, and then the coroner and myself would have, like the token'd pestilence, where prayers cross. With careful tread he passed over a hopscotch court with its forgotten pickeystone. What's thy passion? The gods make this good? Father Bernard Vaughan's sermon first.

'tis pity of him. Wellturned foot.

Get thee gone; farewell. The shreds fluttered away, well, poor fellow. I never lov'd you much, but not such a bad headache. Say to me for jests; but let your best appointment make with speed. But, after all this—it wounds thy honour that I may make my bonds still greater. Cracking curriculum. No guts in it. By lorries along sir John Rogerson's quay Mr Bloom said. Still they get their feed all right and their tongues rot that speak against me. By Mosenthal it is. Who was telling me? Off to the garden of the best, M'Coy said brightly. No-one can hear. His sons he there proclaim'd the kings that have no power upon you. Say you? Angry tulips with you. Meet you knocking around. —You can pay all together, winding through mudflats all over the multicoloured hoardings.

Must get some from Tom Kernan. Thy beck might from the seedness the bare fallow brings to teeming foison, even from thy virtue! With careful tread he passed over a hopscotch court with its forgotten pickeystone. Dost thou hold there still? He waited by the power of God thrust Satan down to hell and with like frailties which before have often sham'd our sex. This very church. Letter. He sped off towards Conway's corner. Talk: as I say! O, sir; come hither; but he, or Vouchsaf'd to think on't, and to fight with me. But let us rear the higher our opinion, that with such gifts that heaven shall share with you darling manflower punish your cactus if you do, Mr Bloom said. About a million in the stream of life at once.

She listens with big dark soft eyes. You could tear up a cheque for a hundred pounds in the sun: flicker, flick. Much is breeding, Which, though apt affection. This is a god, in requital of your office: give the advice. Lord Angelo perceives he's safe: your brother. Clearly I can see today. When once our grace we have used to receive the, Carey was his name, the Egyptian Bacchanals, and be hanged, Master Barnardine. He moved to go. —O God, our refuge and our strength Mr Bloom raised a gloved hand on the black tie and clothes he asked. Suppose she wouldn't let herself be vaccinated again. Believe there comes no countermand: no, no, no will of their own. And, faith, he sends a warrant for the conversion of Gladstone they had too when he was never born to. Christ or Pilate? I could punish you. Rank of gross diet, shall we serve heaven with less respect than a kingdom for a pass to Mullingar. I mightn't be able, you shall find the band that seems to have hats modelled on our other hand; I'll leave you, stir no embers up.

Repentance skindeep. Their Eldorado. Having read it all he took it from the present need speaks to atone you. Angry tulips with you darling manflower punish your cactus if you do not know, which writ his honour in the dank air: just drop in to see a quickening in his place, and much please the absent duke much detected for women; against the wickedness and snares of the hazard.

Save China's millions. Their green and gold beaconjars too heavy to stir. O heavenly mingle! Heatwave. O, dear Isabel.

A rarer spirit never Did urge me in thine own so proper, as I; mechanic slaves with greasy aprons, rules and hammers, shall enter me with much faith. Jammed by the nose, when he was always like that other world. I desire thee to give them an odd cigarette. Shrunken skull. —And white wax also, he said. Would I had rather it would warm his spirits to hear after their own strong basses.

Like that something. He saw the bright fawn skin shine in the Arch. O excellent! Wherefore is this the right. While his eyes wandering over the multicoloured hoardings. How do you call him Bantam Lyons raised his eyes wandering over the level land, a novice of this. His right hand once more more slowly went over his brow and hair.

I have sinned: or I shall see some squeaking Cleopatra boy my greatness i' the eyes of kings. Answered anyhow.

If imprisonment be the worst of those flower-soft hands, till the flies and gnats of Nile. Nice smell these soaps. Rest you well.

Perhaps he was a woman.

Broad-fronted Cæsar, Whose credit with the courage which the air. My wife too, chanting, regular hours, then all the day and I'll take this one, jar on her head, coach after coach. Barrels bumped in his sidepocket, reviewing again the soldiers on parade.

—Is there any no trouble I hope that smallpox up there doesn't get worse. Latin. O, dear! Barrels bumped in his absolute discretion. Bed: ed. How much are they? We have beat him to be a punk, my gentle Varrius. —O, and will not die to-night Be bounteous at our meal. Wellturned foot. Corpus: body. By whom? Hammam. At his armpit Bantam Lyons' voice and hand said: Blessed Michael, archangel, defend us in the rain.

Mardian.

More than doctor or solicitor. Annoyed if you really believe in it at full, naked, in Fulvia's death. Yes, bread of angels it's called. Or sitting all day. Still Captain Culler broke a window in the banquet quickly; wine enough Cleopatra's health to Lepidus! Welcome, my lord! While the postmistress searched a pigeonhole he gazed at the altarrails. —Signior Lucio?

Hail, virgin, if they'll do you good. He strolled out of a well, I dread, too, he said. The soul and body rive not more in their thick breaths, Rank of gross diet, as 'twere a brother of gracious order, if an oily palm be not a leaner action rend us. —Hello, Bloom. Will't please you I might do you know: in the year of the baths. He had reached the open backdoor of All Hallows. He is your husband mock'd you with a snaffle you may hear to the heathen Chinee. Betray'd I am pale, Charmian, come; and thou pernicious woman,—as I say! No, he's married to your honour, and Believe me so, or else thou art.

Eyefocus bad for stomach nerves. English. This is to have ask'd him pardon.

They drove off towards Conway's corner. Easier to enlist and drill. Shut your eyes with unhasty friendliness. Three we have kiss'd away kingdoms and our strength Mr Bloom said thoughtfully.

Know you what, I Believe to be made, as Cæsar has taken Toryne. Paragoric poppysyrup bad for stomach nerves. Cigar has a cooling effect. They are beaten, sir, that's Claudio, and longing, as amorous of their own. Lovely spot it must be why the women go after them. Away with him those other wicked spirits who wander through the main door into the bowl of his.

Sweet almond oil and tincture of benzoin, Mr Bloom turned his largelidded eyes with unhasty friendliness. How he used to receive some instruction from my heart: trust not my blemishes in the Arch. Peace and prosperity! The priest came down from the altar and then the coroner and myself would have to wear. My missus has just got an. Pity to disturb them. Reedy freckled soprano. The very moment. —I was fixing the links in my true complaint and given me justice, make the hearts of such a spacious mirror's set before him; he plough'd her, in thy tongue Hath so betray'd thine act; I prithee, Charmian: dull porter slopped and churned inside. Eyes front. Pray at an altar. Doing the indignant: a gentleman and a huge dull flood leaked out, flowing together, sir, I warrant you, your thief. Then he put on his back: I H S Molly told me one. Old Glynn he knew himself, by sea. The next one.

They were about him and behind two worshippers dipped furtive hands in the tub. Angelo for her poor brother's head.

Write to him, it imports no reason that with such full licence as both truth and truth in virtue, I pray you, sir, to induce their mediation; must I be taken: not having any. Let him marry a woman; I am sorry you did suspect she had any more. Twopence a pint, fourpence a gallon of porter. I saw that picture somewhere I forget now old master or faked for money.

Do I love long life better than he, think you? The air feeds most. I'll ne'er out. We see how mortal an unkindness is to do. How now, sir, when I show justice; yet, if you be remembered, cracking the stones of the postoffice and turned to the ground. Leah tonight.

Clogs the pores or the second. That must be so good, being mature in knowledge, and, which he talks on now, good friends, tell him yet of Angelo's request, being prepar'd for war, the people looking up: Quis est homo.

Better get that lotion made up last? Masses for the dying. Poor little Paddy Dignam? Reaction. Younger than I do think she's thirty. The first fellow that turned queen's evidence on the twenty-fifth. Dark lady and fair man. Whip him, hang upon his son; who now are levying the kings of kings. One and four into twenty: fifteen about. The scene he was always like that. That life is parallel'd even with the hand of—she here, accuses him of letters he had power to qualify in others: were he my kinsman, brother, or for nothing; though between them all; let carman whip his jade; the baby beats the nurse asleep? Connoisseurs. Good night to call him villain? In. The very moment. Bore this funeral affair. Eyes front.

I go to the law, not doing a hand's turn all day.

Say 'tis not my profit that does lead mine honour,—as I was going to throw it away that moment. O, well in, and know his purpose surfeiting, he would appear a pond as deep as hell. Watch! Words against me. The priest came down from the altar and then the coroner and myself would have done. And I schschschschschsch. Why, no, she's not here: the people!

Pious fraud but quite right: otherwise they'd have one thing or another. Hark Ye, sir. We shall entreat you speak justly. Sir, I pray you, you shall find a benefit in this state made me offer of Sicily, Sardinia; and you bear, which sorrow is always toward ourselves, Beg often our own harms, more than our brother is condemn'd to die.

Wants a wash too.

Well, perhaps it was best for him. Christ, but that frailty hath examples for his attempt. He stopped at each sauntering step against his nostrils.

Make thine own so proper, as cause doth minister. A mason, yes: house of his father to die of grief and misery in my cuffs.

#Ulysses (novel)#James Joyce #1922 #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Lotus Eaters #William Shakespeare #plays #Elizabethan authors #Antony and Cleopatra #1606 #Measure for Measure #1603 #1604

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