#i know it doesn’t exactly capitalize a lot on the chilly summer evenings

[thelightiningthief]

14

first of all, SORRY that this is coming much later than probably expected!!!! i’m So Bad at writing things in a timely manner

second of all, timelines are....not my strongsuit, so i’m gonna make this idk the summer between botl and tlo so PLEASE bear with me here

chilly summer evenings

Percy lay on the bottom bunk of Cabin 3, staring up at the pictures stuck between the frame and the mattress above him. His arm had already gone numb from propping up his head, but that was the least of his worries.

It was the first of August. The beginning of the month that decided his fate. Well, Percy would be the one making the decision, but it was still the Big Month everyone had been waiting for: the prophecy coming true, the imminent war, Kronos’s impending return in Luke’s body. All of it put a sour taste in his mouth that the fresh sea breeze from the Long Island Sound couldn’t whisk away. It wasn’t like he could do anything right now, though, so why was he still up?

Well, there was one picture in particular that kept drawing his attention: It was him and Annabeth after they’d just won the chariot race together, right before Thalia had been de-tree-ified. The edges of the photograph were frayed from how many times he’d held it in his hands, shoved it into his pockets, and crammed it into whatever small space he could. While it was supposed to be in the Big House on Chiron’s cork board, Percy had asked him if he could hold onto it until the end of the summer. Chiron knew this might be his last summer (hell, it might be the last summer any of them would enjoy), so he relented it to him. Ever since, Percy had stared at it any chance he got, memorizing the happiness it held. A small glimmer of hope.

What he was really looking at, though, the thing that sourced all of that hope in a tiny bottle, was Annabeth’s smile. Percy must have already traced that giant and rare smile a thousand times, practically having imprinted it to the back of his eyelids, but he didn’t think he could ever get sick of it.

Things between them had been... Strange. Good strange! Well, sometimes bad strange... But overall just strange? Did that make sense?

Who was he kidding—nothing made sense anymore. They were on the brink of war for Zeus’s sake! But Annabeth had kissed him before he almost died (for the bajillionth time), but they still hadn’t talked about it. Every time Percy even thought about bringing it up to her, his head felt like cotton and he couldn’t feel his knees. At first, he thought a wood nymph was messing with him, but Grover and Beckendorf both said he was probably just nervous.

They were a lot closer than last summer. But he could say that about any of his friends! Him and Beckendorf had been talking a lot more, too! Most of their talks had to do with Annabeth and Percy’s giant crush on her, but that was besides the point.

Before he could even consider actually turning in for the night, there’s a sharp rap at his door. His body is up with a hand flying to his—oh, right, he’s in boxers. Percy considers his game plan when there’s another knock, a bit more urgent this time. “C’mon, Seaweed Brain! It’s freezing out here!”

His once held breath catches in his throat. It wasn’t like he wasn’t used to late nights like this with Annabeth, but it was the first one since everything went down. Since they’d destroyed the Labyrinth. Since he’d practically killed himself. Since she’d kissed him.

“That’s it, I’m just coming in,” she huffed out, clearly annoyed. (Wasn’t the first time, wouldn’t be the last time.) Then Percy’s cabin door was opening right before his eyes to reveal... No one. Just a gust of cold wind that raised goosebumps on his bare skin. He shivered as the door closed just as eerily, and Annabeth finally took off her Yankee’s cap only to punch his arm.

“Ow!” he winced and rubbed the spot. “What was that for?”

“Dude it’s freezing out there, and you were just standing here? Figures,” she rolled her eyes and threw herself onto his scattered bed.

Percy bristled at the slight jab. “Well, sorry! You kind of just dropped in!”

“Excuse me, I came in the front door. And you had more than enough time to put on pants, at least,” she pointed out, covering his lower half with her hands with a giggle.

A harsh blush crept up his cheeks, and he quickly moved to his dresser as she continued to laugh at his embarrassment. He was just buttoning up his jeans when Percy noticed Annabeth was lying back on his bed, mimicking the pose he’d held just ten minutes before. In the dim light from the moon, he could just see a faint blush on her cheeks.

“Where’d you get all these pictures?” she whispered out.

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking over to the fountain Poseidon had gifted to him. “Uh, all over, I guess? They just kept popping up, and I’d asked Chiron if I could have a few.” He said the last part faster than the rest, hoping she wouldn’t pick up on it.

Annabeth’s head perked up to look at him sideways, her gray eyes a bit wider than they had been a moment prior. She searched his own green ones for an answer to an unasked question. It wasn’t difficult for Percy to feel as though he were being scrutinized and start to feel self conscious about the whole situation. Was she seeing right through him?

“What? I just—I just wanted the memories, I guess,” he mumbled out, crossing his arms semi-defensively.

She peered up at him for longer, her eyebrows coming down slowly yet decisively. He didn’t know if he should say something, but he didn’t even know where to start. Yeah, I’ve pretty much collected pictures of us to stare at late at night, because I kinda really like you. In fact, you caught me in the middle of doing that tonight! Ha! Great timing, by the way. Gods, that’d just be weird!

Suddenly, she was up and dragging him by the arm out the door of his cabin. “Let’s go, Seaweed Brain.”

Percy barely had enough time to snatch his blanket from the bed before they were thrust out into the chilly evening air. There was no need to worry about harpies with impending war, but Apollo and Artemis seriously needed to work something out, because it felt completely unprecedented to be this cold at the beginning of August. His teeth were chattering by the time Annabeth had plopped herself down on the sand of the beach, dragging him down with her; she took the blanket clenched in his freezing fists and worked determinedly to wrap them both within it.

After a moment of simply basking in the sudden warmth, Percy became uncomfortably aware of how close he was to Annabeth. To make matters worse, if he scooched even a little to his right, the blanket would completely relent and let in that frigid sea air. So, he sat perfectly still, not wanting to give her the wrong impression.

“You okay, Perce? We can go back if you want,” she said with a slight twinge in her voice that made him look at her for what felt like the first time that night.

Her hair was glowing in the moonlight, silver as if she had joined the Hunters, yet still that bright golden ray of light Percy was so accustomed to seeing a dirty blonde after weeks on a quest. The gray streak that matched his own was tucked behind her ear, and a reminder of a time of longing that he’d rather forget. It was difficult to see in just moonlight, but he could definitely tell her cheeks were flushed, especially with all the staring he was doing at her. In all honesty, it felt as if he were studying a painting. A splash of freckles and a few stray zits were scattered across her face, like brush strokes to a canvas.

However, it was her eyes that made him see the true meaning behind the work. People may call Percy dumb, but there was no mistaking the trust Annabeth was pouring into her downturned, storm-cloud eyes. They were focused so forcedly on his own, that he couldn’t help but come back to them each time he attempted to look at the rest of her face. It took him by surprise, because how could she trust someone like him so wholeheartedly? He’d nearly gotten her killed too many times—at some points he had almost been the one to do it.

“How can you do that?” he asked, looking out to the waves crashing on shore and breaking the trance that was Annabeth.

She had been leaning in just slightly, but jerked back just as much once he wasn’t looking at her anymore. Blinking slowly, Annabeth narrowed her eyes. “What d’you mean?”

He sighed almost exasperatedly, but it was too halfhearted to get anywhere. The next set of waves crashed a little harder than before. “I mean, how can you look at me like I’ll never do anything to hurt you? Like I’m not—not about to decide the fate of the world? Not about to destroy everything just by existing? St. Helen wasn’t even me trying, Annabeth. What else am I capable of?”

There was silence. As silent as it could get with a heavily breathing boy on a beach with a girl looking at him with that kind of look so full of something that everything has to be quiet, just for the time being.

“Percy...” Annabeth started, quieter than the now-swirling sea, “Do you think I’m afraid of you?”

His eyes found hers again, both of their eyebrows knit together like the sweaters they’d wished they brought. Again, Percy was so aware of her warmth seeping into him, keeping him present. “Why wouldn’t you be?” His soft voice carried itself to span the few inches between them, once more holding the weight of the world in their midst.

For a second, Annabeth looked as though she was going to laugh, but decided against it. At first, it could be brushed off as a ridiculous thought, but she knew what Percy was capable of right now—what about when he grew more fully into his powers? She shook her head, No, not even then.

“Percy.” She said his name more resolutely this time, placing her hand on his shoulder to turn him towards her. “You may have power none of us will ever know, but...you’re you. It’s not like you’re some evil mastermind plotting against us.”

A single, unsaid name hung in the air.

“How do you know, though? You’ve heard the prophecy.” Percy’s eyes were searching her own again, looking for some hint of doubt.

Annabeth sighed sadly, letting go of his shoulder and pulling him into her arms. “Because—‘Cause the Percy I know wouldn’t destroy a world with his mom in it. The Percy I know wouldn’t hurt anyone on purpose.” She took a cold breath, smoothing her hand on his back. “And the Percy I know wouldn’t let some stupid prophecy try to stop him from protecting the people he loves.”

Percy stayed still, frozen, but not from the midnight air. “How do you know I’m that Percy still?” The whisper was slightly muffled from Annabeth’s curly hair, but she’d heard him all the same, as signaled by her hand stopping in the middle of its up and down motion.

“I just know.” And it was said with the finality only a daughter of Athena could possess, could hold within her, and could throw back at someone whenever they questioned her.

It was no use for Percy to fight it anymore, so he finally, finally, finally relaxed into her arms, pulling his own around her. The waves slowed on the beach, taking to being pulled by the moon once again. And, for once, they simply sat there, surrounded by a now-sandy blanket that he’d probably have to wash the next morning and an unrelenting breeze that hardly bothered them. Sure, in two weeks time Percy would most likely be dying at the foot of a crumbled Olympus, but he couldn’t worry about that with the cool sea air filling his lungs and Annabeth’s calloused hand rubbing circles into his back. No, that could wait with the blanket.

[markosmate]

lady

Pairing; Marko x Emerson!Reader

Summary; Moving to a different state with your younger brothers and mother just to live with your grandfather was hard enough, but falling in love with a vampire and then watching your brother do the same thing? Much different story.

Warnings; strong language

au://  Welp lovelies I had promised you a Marko series in February that I started writing while I was manic, then after writing a good five/six chapters I fell into a deep dark hole of depression and didn’t write anything but sad, worthless poetry about a boy I’m in love with who doesn’t love me back :) But now it’s May, a spark of inspiration and happiness has suddenly hit me and I’ve come back to this series to finally deliver it to you!! I hope y’all like it cause I literally stress cried over finishing it three different times :,)

I’d also like to point out that any kind of feedback at all is so so appreciated. Most of my inspiration comes from feeding off of people’s reactions to what I write. So if you enjoy it or have any recommendations or comments at all please please don’t be shy to send me an ask or DM or even comment to let me know :( Thank you and enjoy!!

Part 2

I wasn’t exactly mad about moving, there was nothing holding me in Phoenix that I would be particularly sad about leaving behind. The only thing that struck a nerve was that it was dumped out of nowhere on me. Suddenly Mom had divorced Dad, let him keep everything, and made plans with Grandpa for us to move into his place with him. A little prior warning would have been appreciated, but regardless when we were told it didn’t change the fact that everything we knew was changing. Sam wasn’t happy about it at all, leaving his friends, leaving Dad. Michael... well Michael didn’t really have an opinion. In my view, he was just indifferent. He didn’t really care where the hell we were as long as he had a motorcycle, a job, and some hot chicks to swoon over.

But here we were, packed into Mom’s truck and driving through a town that I’d most likely have memorized like the back of my hand in a good few days. As the three in the car argued over which station to keep on, I turned my head and leaned my forehead on the window of the car. I watched the beach as we drove along the road, and admired the waves hitting against the sand.

I was ready to drift off until we got to Grandpa’s house when a short, exited yell left Mom’s lips. “Oh!” She grinned happily as Sam landed on a station familiar to her. “Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait! Oh, that’s from my era! Grooving on a Sunday afternoon!” She sung along with the song as Sam threw his head back and groaned in protest. I laughed at her antics, enjoying seeing my Mom acting so carefree and happy. 

“Alright, keep going, keep going.” Mom and Sam agreed with each other at the same time, Mom leaning over to continue skipping through the stations. Finally, the next station was agreed on and my pounding head thanked the universe for the quiet that I hadn’t been able to achieve the entire drive here. “Hey we’re almost there!”

“Ugh,” Sam scrunched his nose up in disgust after taking a deep breath. I leaned forward to wrap my arms around his head-rest and pull my face closer to the open window. The pungent smell hit me, and I recognized it immediately, low tide, but it wasn’t bad - anything to do with the beach was calming to me regardless. “What’s that smell?”

“Ah!” Mom breathed in deeply and turned to share a knowing grin with me, “That’s the ocean air!”

I turned to look at the welcoming sign, taking in the colors and faded lettering. “Smells like someone died.” Sam muttered as Mom tutted at him softly. 

“That’s likely.” I muttered to Michael, nudging his head in the direction of the back of the sign, where in big red spray-painted letters sat the phrase “Murder Capitol of the World.”

“Aw guys, I know the last year hasn’t been easy. But I do think you’re really going to enjoy living in Santa Carla.” Mom tried to remain happy about the situation, but a shared glance with Michael after we both read over the sign revealed there wasn’t much he was excited for.

The rest of the drive only increased my excitement. Hippies galore filled the streets, a large amusement park covered most of the boardwalk, and the rest was filled with small shops and food stands. We stopped for awhile so Mom could give some teenagers rummaging through garbage some money to eat and so Michael could unhinge his bike and ask around for job openings, but before I could even think to step out of the car and get a look around we were already heading into the backroads to get to Grandpa’s house.

Grandpa’s house was farther into the plains than expected, but still only a good fifteen to twenty minute drive away from town. Before Mom could ever fully park the car, I had already jumped out and was looking around the property. Michael pulled his bike up next to Mom’s car, and they all took a good few seconds to look around at all the wood carvings and chimes before turning their vehicles off. I took note of the horses grazing in one of the back fields before walking around the front of the truck and seeing a man laying on his back across the front porch steps.

Sam lead the way towards him before Mom cut in front and marched up the steps to squat beside him. “Dad?” She questioned gently. “Dad?” The three of us leaned closer to get a better look.

“Looks like he’s dead.��� Michael remarked.

“Like... really dead.” I quipped in, raising an eyebrow at Mom.

“No, no. He’s just a deep sleeper.” She brushed our comments off.

“If he’s dead can we go back to Phoenix?” Sam remarked, earning a snort from me and a sharp look from Mom. 

Suddenly Grandpa sat up, a cocky smirk apparent on his face. “Playing dead. And from what I hear, doing a damn good job of it.”

Sam rolled his eyes in exasperation before Mom laughed faintly. “Oh, Dad!”

-

That night, Mom decided that it would be good for the four of us to leave the house after a night of unpacking and explore the boardwalk when it’s at its liveliest. I could admit it looked much more enjoyable now that it was dark and a little chilly, the sweaty people that had been occupying it earlier were now less sweaty and more stoned.

Almost as soon as Mom’s car and Michael’s bike were parked, Mom sent us off on our own so she could spend some time staking out a job in one of the family-owned shops. “Do you think she’ll be able to find one?” Sam questioned as the three of us weaved through crowds, trying to find our way to the beach concert. We could certainly hear it, we were just having a bit of trouble actually getting to it.

“One what? A job?” Michael scoffed as if it was hard to believe, still bitter over the fact there was no legal jobs for him to get hired in.

I laughed, elbowing him softly in the side, knowing that this place was exactly his vibe and in time he would most likely come to love living here. Sam was the only one I was actually worried about. “She’ll probably be able to find one. What, with all these missing people, there’s bound to be tons of job openings.”

“You’re telling me. It’s like there’s hundreds of bullet-boards around every corner with dozens of people missing. This place really is the Murder Capital.” Michael remarked as the concert finally came into our line of sight.

“Don’t say that!” Sam pleaded, shoving Michael’s shoulder with his eyebrows knitted tightly.

Michael just held his hand up in surrender and with one last shrug of his shoulders he turned to me. “You checking out the shops? We’ll find you once we get bored.”

“Sounds like a plan.” I agreed, turning sharply on my heel and blindly making my way back into the crowd. The concert was loud, sweaty, and crowded, and it wasn’t even my style of music - the last thing I wanted to do was spend my first night there. I figured it would be much more productive if I were to check out all the shops and stands running up and down the entire area, maybe find some new pieces of jewelry, or even a possible summer job opportunity.

Many places caught my eye, and I made a mental note to check them out the next time I had free money to spend, as it wouldn’t be wise for me to make an impulse-buy when I’m so close to being completely broke. Instead a small stand in the middle of the walkway drew me to it. A piercing stand. One person working on someone already sitting on the chair. There was a large wall selection of different studs, and many different kinds of disinfectants lined along the counter.

I walked closer to the wall, admiring all the different designs they had. I’d absolutely love to get a helix or orbital piercing, but I knew it wasn’t the wisest to spend money doing something like that at a small stand on a boardwalk in Santa Carla of all places. I was suddenly broken out of my thoughts when a voice spoke up directly behind me.

“It’s a scam, you know.” I jumped, hand flying to my chest, and whipping around to look at the owner. A teenage boy, my age, maybe a little older, with long curly blond hair and a grin that could have probably wooed me into his bed by the end of the night had he not literally just scared the shit out of me.

I laughed breathlessly, shaking my head. “What is?”

“The piercings. If you need one done, I could do it for you. But they use the guns instead of a needle which will definitely infect if you’re planning on doing a cartilage one.” He explained with a tilt of his head as he turned and began making his way towards the restaurants. I took that as an invite to follow, jogging to catch up and walking next to him.

“You know a lot about piercings?” I tried to make small talk, not wanting him to get away just yet.

He nodded with a confident smirk. “I did my own, and my friends. Someone had to learn.” I laughed a little at his mock-annoyed tone and shoved my hands into my pockets to appear to be doing something. He suddenly stopped and turned to me, holding out his hand. “Marko, by the way.”

“Ivory.” I accepted his hand and we both shook, hard and firm.

“You’re new.” He nodded as if finally understanding something that had been going on inside his own head. “I would’ve noticed you before if you’d been here all along.”

We dropped each other’s hand and I gave him a quizzical look. “What do you mean by that?”

He barked out a laugh and shook his head. “Nothing rude, you’re just too gorgeous to go unnoticed around here.” Before I could reply, another voice cut in from a few yards away.

“Marko! Marko, man, we’re supposed to meet David in ten!” I looked over to see another punk-looking dude calling out to Marko with his hands cupped around his mouth.

I laughed and look back towards the curly blond. “See you around?”

He nodded in confirmation, sending me one last crooked smile before turning to jog over to his other friend. I turned as well, making my way back into the crowd and away from the middle lane stands. I didn’t make it very far before the body of my youngest brother crashed into my side. I glanced down at him in bewilderment as we used each other to steady ourselves.

“Sam? Aren’t you supposed to be with Michael?” I laughed as he looked as though he’d just had the weirdest conversation of his life.

“Well, I was. Then he saw some girl at the concert and wandered after her so I went to check out the comic store.” He explained, shrugging before letting his eyes wander around once more in search of Michael. I rolled my eyes, of course Michael left Sam behind to go chase after some girl. It didn’t take long to find him, he was only a little further down the stretch of restaurants. He was more towards the end, walking out of the crowd near where the last building - a bar - sat in place.

We walked up behind him, and as soon as I was at his side I followed his eyes to a girl who was walking behind a small child, hand on his shoulder, and steering him in a certain direction. She was pretty - with big, curly hair and a beautiful smile that curled her lips up as her eyes grazed over all the lights of the carousel one last time for the night. I followed her line of sight, trying to place why Michael was following her instead of just walking up and introducing himself, but I immediately realized what the problem was.

She hoisted herself up onto the back of a motorcycle, accepting the help of the blond driver. He had a spiked mullet, dressed in all black, and when he realized Michael was staring at his girl, a cocky kind of smirk crossed his face. His friends parked next him all revved their engines to a start, and I tore my eyes from the platinum blond to see the others. I didn’t manage to catch a good look at two of them, because my eyes immediately looked onto those of the punk from earlier who’d started a conversation with me over pierced ears.

He was already looking at me, and when he realized my attention immediately locked onto him, a predatory look filled the black circles of his eyes and his lips formed into a boyish smirk directed exactly at me. He lifted his hand in a short wave, laughing along with the friend who called him away from me earlier as he shoved Marko’s shoulder in a teasing way. I lifted my hand in a small acknowledging wave back, but was knocked out of my small trance by Sam, who began teasing Michael.

“Come on, she stiffed ya!” Sam laughed harmlessly, gently punching Michael’s shoulder and turning to probably go and find Mom. I broke my gaze away from Marko immediately, turning to follow after Sam and not bothering to look back at all as I heard the bikes pull out and speed off down the road.

“Too bad she left with Mr. Mullet, she was pretty.” I tried to break the tension with Michael, I really didn’t want him to be upset over the lose of the girl, he still had all of Santa Carla’s teenage population of girls to meet.

He cracked a smile and nudged his shoulder into mine. “She really was.”

Once we made it home for the night, I separated from both my brothers and made my way into my own room. It was the smallest of all of ours, but that’s the main reason why I had chose it. It was cozy, and cute. I liked the way it came out once I had finished decorating it.

I couldn’t help but let my mind wander to those boys on the motorcycles from earlier that night. Marko seemed nice enough, even if I didn’t know whether or not I was brave enough to try to pursue a friendship with his more than intimidating friends. Just as I came to the conclusion that I should just get over myself and approach them, a sharp sting of anxiety wedged itself into my gut and nauseous filled my stomach and rose up in my throat. No. I didn’t need to become friends with those boys, there was something off, something I didn’t need to meddle in.

If I saw them again, I’d avoid eye contact and conversation completely. I was never able to understand my anxiety, but I always listened to it when it struck me.

[bad-at-names-and-faces]

Epilogue

chapter 34

chapter index

December 1st, 1864

Dear Inga,

I’ll be mailing this letter when we arrive in Portsmouth tomorrow.  I can’t believe it’s December already. The weather is so mild this far south, though I never would have guessed we’d see any nice weather on this trip, as rough as the waters were in the North Sea.  To think, there was already snow on the ground when we left Arendelle last week! 

I would really like to stay in England long enough to see some of the country, but we’ll be booking passage on the first steamship out.  I suppose I should look on the bright side, that we’ll be settled by the new year.  A friend of Father’s has arranged for us to stay with his family for Christmas, so I don’t need to worry about doing anything for that.  I hope the holiday preparations are going well in Arendelle, though I am very sad to be missing it. 

 With love,

Elizabeth

P.S. I just want to thank you all again for the wonderful party before we left Arendelle.  I’m sure you’ll object again that it was mostly Halima’s work, but it was so nice to see everyone there.

Elizabeth sighed, looking out the porthole of their cabin at the distant lights on the coast of England as they sailed along. Normally, she didn’t mind sailing, but this trip felt so terribly bittersweet.  There were so many possibilities where they were going, and she would see so many things that she had only read about, but she had really started to feel at home during those few brief months she had been in Arendelle.

“We’ll have an early morning,” Lars reminded her as he finished changing, “please come to bed.”

“I haven’t written to your mother yet,” she smiled.  “I thought of some things I forgot to ask her to bring with her from Corona.”

“She’ll be in Arendelle for another month; you can write from the inn tomorrow.”

“I am feeling rather tired,” Elizabeth admitted, turning down the lamp as she walked to the bed.

***

Lars dressed and quietly left the bedroom. A cold sleet was coming down outside, but the kitchen was warm.  It had been fairly mild when they first arrived in Boston more than a month before, and Elizabeth had been convinced there wouldn't be a real winter, but they had a thick layer of snow for Christmas, and the temperature had been below freezing nearly every morning for several weeks.  

Susan, the girl they had hired to help around the house, had already arrived, and she had even prepared some coffee for Lars to drink before he left for the stable. It wasn’t that long of a ride to the office they had rented, but the sleet made every minute feel like an hour.  There was almost no work so far, but the assistant keeping up the office in Washington had started forwarding all of the mail, which mostly consisted of a handful of applications for Arendelle travel visas.  The previous evening’s mail had been brought in, and there were a few official notices, plus the bundle that had been forwarded, and finally he noticed a letter personally addressed to himself, and opened it.

January 7th, 1865

Dear Lars,

Inga told me that Elizabeth has been writing, and I realized that you’re only getting official correspondence from us right now, so I thought I’d fix that.  I can’t say I’m as good at writing personal letters as my sister, but I hope you don’t mind getting another letter.  I won’t bore you with official updates and announcements, since I know we send them to everyone.  

There was a lot of snow last night, and everyone was outside enjoying it all morning, then we all packed into Hudson’s to warm up, then back out.  Do you get snow there? I know it’s much further south where you are.  If you’re not too busy, write back, because I’m curious what they actually have you doing there.  

The week after Christmas was quiet, with no business and just the family at the castle.  Things are picking up again this week, but Father is going to be taking me, Anton, and Peder up to the mountains for the first ice harvest in another week.  We’ll only be staying a week or two up there, and then the rest of the winter I’ll have to spend most of my time with the tutors if I want to be allowed to do the naval training trip in the spring.

Stay well!

Frederick

Lars placed the letter in his bag. Elizabeth would like to read it, and Frederick hadn’t included anything that he would mind being shared, and he’d write back after dinner and send it out in the morning’s mail.

***

Elizabeth looked up.  “A valentine? Lars, you didn’t have to get me anything!”

“There was a shop full of them, I couldn’t help it,” he laughed, sitting down next to her on the sofa.

“But,” she sighed, “I have nothing for you.”

“Of course you do,” he replied, kissing her forehead.

“What do you mean?” she asked blankly, then looked up at him and got his meaning.  “Oh!” she giggled, lightly punching him.

***

Elizabeth looked up from the letter she was reading out loud, and sighed.  “This is dated two weeks ago, so Inga must already be up North.  She promises she’ll write to me when she gets back to Arendelle next month, but she didn’t say whether she’ll get any letters up there.”

Lars nodded. “It won’t hurt to write, if you want to. Is it any different from writing to your father while he’s at sea?”

“That’s true,” she smiled, looking out the bedroom window.  She set the letter on the nightstand and started fastening the front of her corset as Lars began to help with the back.  Today was the first day of spring.  It was still chilly, and the locals said it was likely to stay so through most of April, but at least the sun was up early. Elizabeth had again started waking up at the same time as he woke up, so he no longer had to leave the house while she was still asleep.

“I got a telegraph from Mother,” Lars said as he gingerly laced the back of her corset, “and she’s on a steamship arriving next week.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful news!” Elizabeth smiled, “she’ll be here for your birthday, too!”

“Yes,” Lars replied quietly, gently tying a bow at the bottom.

“Are you sure you can’t get it a little tighter?” she pouted.

“Absolutely not,” he chided her, holding her shoulders and kissing her cheek. “It’s not going to fall off, and…”

“I know, I know,” she sighed.

***

April 25th, 1865

Dear Inga, 

How are you doing? I feel very restless right now, and I hope you don’t mind that I don’t want to talk about anything serious, because around here they’re only talking about the President’s funeral and all that horrible business.  

On that note, Lars has carried the letters from your family on his trip to the capital.  He’s missing his own birthday, though of course it’s perfectly understandable.  It’s only me and his mother right now, though Susan still comes in during the day to help out.  Lars should be back in a day or two, and we’ll celebrate then, but I do feel bad, since he’s twenty-one now.   This evening I made his mother tell me stories about him as a child, and it sounded delightful. I tried to ask about the day he was born, but she said she was too tired and that I should be getting more sleep. Obviously, I didn’t mean about Lars in particular, just in general. I’ll need to know what it’s like eventually, right? She knows this, and I suppose she doesn’t want to scare me with details right now. I’m sorry I’m being so vague.  But, she’s certainly right that I should get some sleep while I can.  I hope everything is well with everyone there. 

With Love,

Elizabeth

***

“Elizabeth, have we met a Mr. Curtis?” Lars asked, looking at the envelope that had come in the mail.

“No, you haven’t met him,” Elizabeth said casually, looking up from the sofa.  “I haven’t met him, either, exactly, but I wrote to him while you were gone last month.  He’s a ship builder, and you were talking about contracting with ship builders here.”

“Oh,” Lars hesitated, “I did say I would do that, didn’t I?”

“Do you mind that I did? I’m sorry I forgot to tell you, but so much was going on.”

“Not at all,” he said as he opened the envelope, “and it looks like he wants to have us over.  You’ll need to come with me, of course, to keep me from looking like an idiot.”

Elizabeth smiled, looking out the window. “Oh, good, your mother is home from visiting Mrs. Wirth.”

0o0o0

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” Lars asked as they came to the large lawn of Mr. Curtis’s house.  “It’s rather hot today, and I really don’t want you-”

“Your mother is here, and there are plenty of seats in the shade.  It’s not like I’m going to be on a train for twenty hours like you’ve been doing lately.”

“True,” he replied, “and I promise I won’t be away from you this summer.  At any rate, please don’t feel the need to act as a hostess today. That’s for Mrs. Curtis to take care of.  We’ve given them a contract for a new ship, and they’re throwing a party in honor of the Queen’s birthday.”

“So that’s already been approved? The contract?” 

“It’s in transit.  The sooner Mr. Curtis gets started, the sooner Arendelle can have the ship.  We’ll worry about the details later.”

***

July 20th, 1865

Dear Inga,

We received the invitation to your birthday party next month. It sounds like a wonderful day you have planned.  Obviously, we can’t be there, but hopefully we’ll be able to send you good news before then.  As always, I look forward to your letters.

I wish I could travel back there for the summer. The weather last summer was so pleasant, but it has been so unbearably hot and humid here.  Our neighbors all seem to be traveling to the shore or the mountains, but Lars is worried about being too far away from a doctor right now, and he assures me it’s worse in the city at his office, so in the meantime I’ve spent most my time in recent weeks in the shade in our yard.

With Love,

Elizabeth

***

The baby was cooing softly in Elizabeth’s arms when Margit Nilsen quietly entered the bedroom.  The afternoon sunlight was peaking through the curtains, keeping the room from being completely dark.

“I have so many letters to write,” Elizabeth fretted from the bed, “as soon as the baby’s asleep, I want to get up.”

“You still need your rest,” her mother-in-law scolded her.  “Lars will write to everyone, don’t worry.  Nobody expects you to be writing letters yourself so soon.”

“It’s been three weeks,” Elizabeth sighed.  

Soon, the baby was asleep, and her mother-in-law gently picked him up and set him in the cradle in the corner.  “There, dear, now you should rest, too.”

“I’m going to get up in just a minute,” Elizabeth protested, closing her eyes for just a moment before falling into a deep sleep.

Margit quietly closed the door and sat down next to Lars at the table.

“You’re going to tell me I should sleep, too, aren’t you?” Lars sighed.

“If you’re tired, you should,” she told him, “but, no, that wasn’t what I was going to say.”

He looked up.  

“You still haven’t told her about Anna, have you?”

***

“We missed your birthday, but we can have a party on your anniversary!” Lars’s mother announced as he returned home from his office.  Elizabeth had dressed up and tried something new with her hair, which Lars thought looked rather nice on her, and the baby was asleep in the cradle. 

“I hope you didn’t think I’d forgotten when you left this morning,” Elizabeth smiled.

“I...  I’m going to pretend that I remembered what day it was today,” Lars laughed, coming over to sit next to her.

His mother went into the kitchen to check on how dinner was coming along, leaving the two of them alone.  

“I didn’t get you anything,” Lars confessed, “I really wasn’t kidding that I forgot what day it was. I’m sorry.”

“You have a lot going on now,” Elizabeth reassured him, touching his cheek. “Remember, you can tell me anything.”

***

October 2nd, 1865

Dear Lars,

Sorry I haven’t written in a while, but Inga has been telling me that you’re all doing well. I know you’re probably tired, Mother and Father always are with a new baby. Everything is fine here, basically.  We’re supposed to be getting another visit from a certain person from Corona in a few days, but I’m not sure if I’m supposed to tell you that.  It’s not an official visit.  

Anyhow, I said I wouldn’t bore you with official announcements, but you probably saw that they’ll be sending me to the naval academy in Corona at some point, but nobody can agree when.  Our Admiral says he would be perfectly happy to set up an academy here, but obviously that would take a while, and there are only a few of us right now.

I’ll stop here because I’m sure you’re quite busy.

Stay well!

Frederick

***

Elizabeth sat with the baby in the chair by the front window watching the first snow of the season, thinking about how it was almost December again, and they had left Arendelle a year before. The baby was fast asleep, but she was comfortable and he was warm, and she felt no need to move.

Her mother-in-law brought her a cup of tea, then poured one for Lars, sitting down next to him at the table. They could hear Susan in the kitchen preparing something for dinner.  Lars sat reading the evening paper, and finishing the front page, did his best not to make noise turning to the second page, since the baby would nearly always wake up if the paper rustled.  He started to take a sip from his cup while he was reading, but set it back down abruptly and stared at the page, whispering something to his mother, who looked surprised.

"What is it, Lars?" Elizabeth asked, briefly glancing over, then returning her attention to the snow and the sleeping baby. Lars handed the folded newspaper to his mother, who brought it over to her.

Elizabeth took the paper, and skimmed over a few headlines about nothing astounding, then gasped, stopping herself before the baby stirred.

“Inga said there might be news soon, but nothing about marriage- did you know anything?”

"I thought I might hear something about their officially courting, certainly, or maybe even an engagement,” he muttered. “I suppose I’ll see tomorrow if any messages arrived since I left this afternoon, but they completely ignored any suggestions about getting a telegraph set up.  I dropped the topic this summer since it just sounded like I wanted faster congratulations about the baby.” 

Elizabeth stood up, handing the baby to her mother-in-law.  “I need to write to her!”

***

Lars sat down at his desk, opening the diary to December 15th.  He realized that it had now been one year since they’d arrived here.  He was growing to like this office, but there was increasing pressure to move everything back to the capital now that things were settling down.  He would need to consider that carefully: he could always spend time on the train, traveling back and forth, or they could all move South, and spend less time apart.  But then he remembered the constant threat of malaria, and what if there was another outbreak of Yellow Fever? That wouldn’t do at all.  

He heard someone ring the bell at the front door, and he got up to answer it himself.  With all the uncertainty about whether this office would be permanent, he had never hired an assistant, but there were so few interruptions that it really didn’t matter.

Opening the door, he saw a young man in a heavy winter coat, thick hat, gloves and scarf, even though the weather had gotten mild again for the last week or two.  

“Hello, I’m looking for the Ambassador.” The young man spoke through his scarf, looking directly at Lars with dark brown eyes that almost matched the bridge of his nose.  

“I’m the Ambassador,” Lars informed him.

“Oh! I’m sorry…  am I supposed to call you Your Excellency? I think that's what I read.”

“Just call me Mr. Nilsen,” Lars laughed, remembering how fastidious he had been with titles not that long ago. “Come inside.  You’re not from around here, are you?”

“No,” he said, coming inside.  He rubbed his chapped hands after he’d stuffed his gloves in his coat pockets, “in fact, I only got off the train two days ago. First thing I bought was this coat.  I’m not used to cold weather.”

“Where are you from?”

“Louisiana,” he explained, finally taking his scarf off, “and now you’re probably going to laugh at me for wanting to visit Arendelle if I can’t handle the cold.” 

“It’s quite pleasant there in the summer,” Lars offered, “but you do have me curious.”

“Well, I’ve always heard stories about it, and I started saving up my money while New Orleans was occupied, doing any odd jobs that I could. And now, I’m ready for an adventure, just for myself.  A few of my cousins went out west this summer, but I wanted something different.”

“I hadn’t realized the stories of Arendelle were that widely known,” Lars admitted, “but I’d be happy to get you set up with a travel visa, and answer any questions you have.”  He motioned for the man to sit down next to his desk.

“Thank you, Mr. Nilsen,” he said, taking a seat, still wearing his coat and hat.  “I found a few books at the library yesterday, but I’m sure they don’t tell the whole story. The books certainly told a different story than the ones I heard from the master’s family.”

“Oh?” Lars said, retrieving the papers from his desk.  The man seemed amiable enough, and Lars was interested in hearing some more about his interest in Arendelle.  He hadn’t even mentioned the fjords.  The handful of people he’d seen so far coming in person for visas had talked about nothing else. Besides, Lars didn’t get much conversation when he was at work these days.  “Were they…were they from Arendelle?”  

“Oh, no,” he laughed, “in fact, I didn’t really hear any nice things about Arendelle from them, but that makes me all the more curious to see the place for myself.”

“It’s a beautiful place,” Lars said, half listening as he started to organize the paperwork for a travel visa.  He glanced at the first space on the form. “I’m sorry, I realize I never asked you your name.”

“Right, you’ll need that,” he smiled, “John Westergard.”

Lars felt his stomach drop.  It could be chance.  It could be anyone. He needed to keep calm.

“Westergard?” Lars tried not to be obvious as he looked the other man up and down.  There was no resemblance, not even some quirk of his nose or the shape of his earlobe, to any member of the royal family of the Southern Isles. But the name, still, the name must have an explanation. “That’s an unusual name…”

“I’ve been thinking about changing it. It’s not really my name, you know how it is.”

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter eight | crab society north

Billy was a bigger guy, one who dwarfed not only both Frank and Scott, but Dan and Charlie as well. The kid had shaved his head and put on a raggedy aged shirt that looked as though it was about to fall right off of his heavy body. And yet, the very second he met eyes with Sam as she stepped out of Frank's car once again, his face lit up and he showed her a little grin; he wore that shirt as if the frigid winds from Lake Ontario did not exist and it was just a regular day.

“Don't see a lot of you 'round a bunch of guys like us,” he remarked in a striking, deep voice.

“Why's that?” she asked him; she held down her dark hair against the cold upstate winds and she shivered a little bit under her coat.

“Not too sure,” he confessed with a squinting of his eyes, “well, and we don't really imagine a bunch of guys like us havin' groupies, either. But anyways—c'mon in. We're all friends here.”

The studio was small and cramped, about the size of someone's living room plus a tiny kitchen that looked to be out of a school cafeteria. A drum kit had been crammed into the far corner of the kitchen; right next to that stood a little amp about the size of a coffee can. Sam and Frank stood on the edge of the room as Charlie, Scott, Dan, and Billy congregated in the kitchen; she shut the door behind them and she caught the sound of a soft click on the inside of the wood.

“If this goes anywhere, we should let Sam I am over here have one of the first copies,” Scott suggested with a flick back of his thick dark hair.

“First copies of a record of a brand new band,” Frank remarked, and he showed her a smile and a twinkle in his dark eyes. “That's like a friendship bracelet of sorts.”

“Or a safe keep of sorts,” she added as she adjusted the strap of her purse. She held her journal underneath her other arm: she still thought about that photograph Frank and Charlie had lent her. She considered drawing it while sitting there on the far edge of the room next to Frank: indeed, there were three small brick red chairs pressed up against the wall. Billy said something from the other room and Charlie scurried into there to tend to something.

“Where's my bass,” Dan muttered.

“It's back here, Danny,” Charlie called out.

“Amazing they can fit a bunch of stuff in here,” Sam commented in a low voice.

“There's a couple of closets back there,” Frank told her with a gesture to the right side of the room. “We've got some instruments stashed in there just in the event of recording. They're kind of crappy, though.”

“Crappy li'l instruments and some cheesy little amps?” she chuckled.

“Exactly! Our label is kind of strapped for cash and other things after all.”

“Do you guys get any other bands through here?”

“Do we ever! You know that one band you kept seeing a couple of times back in Manhattan, Legacy?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“They're an example of one of them who come through here. There's a bunch down in New York City, like Danny's band plus Overkill—and I guess there's a shitload of them over in California, too. Legacy is just one of them.”

She followed his gaze to the wall on the left. There was a little flyer right in the middle of the wall with a line of spiky text reading “METALLICA” in all capital letters. Something about that name caught her attention in particular.

“You lookin' at Metallica?” Frank asked her.

“Yeah.”

“They're badass. All I know about them is they started out with a tape goin' around New York City, called No Life 'Til Leather. I'll have to share it with you at some point—it's pretty rough around the edges but it's powerful, though. They've already got two records out now.”

“Wow, really?” Sam raised her eyebrows at him.

“Yeah, Kill 'Em All and they put out Ride the Lightning just this past summer. They've gone on tour already and everything.”

“Wow!”

“Yeah, they're gonna go places. They're gonna take over the world at some point.”

“And you guys are gonna be right there with them?”

“That's our hope. That's Jon's hope, too. We've started building friendships with them.”

“I hope Aurora and I can get to meet them.”

“They live over in San Francisco so we'd have to—make a few phone calls to those guys. James, Kirk, Lars, and Cliff. There was another guy with them—Dave, Dave... Mustaine, I think is his last name? Scott and Charlie both know more about him than I do. All I know is he got fired.”

“For what?”

“Drinking.”

“Must've been a lot,” she quipped.

“Eh, again, you'll have to ask the two of them about it.” The sound of distortion caught their ears, and thus Frank gestured to the chairs over on the other side of the room.

“Have a seat,” he said to her in kind fashion.

Sam took the one on the left, right underneath the Metallica flyer. He took the one right next to her which left the one on the far right vacant. They were given a view into the kitchen, where Scott and Dan had slung their guitars over their shoulders, and Charlie had disappeared into the far corner of the room to tend to the drums. There was a bit of clicking behind the left side of the doorway.

“You gonna set that thing up to record ourselves on?” Scott asked, flabbergasted.

“Yeah, it's all I can find in here,” Billy said, nonplussed. There was a blowing sound, followed by a soft muttering noise.

And then Sam realized he had found a microphone in there for himself. All she could see from him was his elbow and his right leg below the knee, but she could in fact hear him.

“I am the law! I am the law!” His voice was hoarse but strong at the same time. Nothing like Joey's operatic power, but more like a fierce snarl combined with a violent growl. There was something about his voice that entranced her: it was something different and the complete opposite of the clean lovely vocals that came out from Joey's mouth.

Their songs were strangely short, like only a few seconds: the longest one was about a minute, and they all seemed to bleed into each other.

She shuffled her feet underneath her chair.

“So noisy,” she joked to Frank.

“This is the life we chose!” he proclaimed with glee. Scott tried to say something over his own riffing; Sam could hardly hear his own words, except for a few little snippets of his sentiments.

“By the way—Dan—let me say one thing—this doesn't leave the room—not to talk about Anthrax but...”

“But what?” Dan called out to him once he rested his fingers across the fret board of his bass. Scott held onto the pick with his thumb and his index finger and strummed it all over the strings.

“That!” he declared, which coaxed a laugh out of both Billy and Charlie. Frank looked over at her with a twinkle in his eye and one hand inside of his jacket.

“Want a piece of gum?” he offered her.

“Oh, yes please!”

He took out a small pack of gum that made her think of a pack of cigarettes with its red and white lid; he popped it open and gave her a little piece. Even against the musty smell of the room, she could feel the burn of the spearmint on her nose.

“Holy—” she sputtered and coughed a couple of times.

“Yeah, it's strong,” he said, unfazed; he slipped in a piece and she was met with that fresh aroma of spearmint from him.

“Jesus—” Her eyes even began to water a bit.

“I have a little bit of a problem with halitosis,” he confessed. “I've had it for a long time.”

“Why's that?”

He shook his head. “No idea. Charlie thinks it's from genetics, but who knows, really.”

Meanwhile, every song Storm troopers of Death whipped out into the open went onto something that Billy had set up on the counter top in there. Every so often, he leaned over to adjust the thing.

“So there's Crab Society,” Dan remarked at one point as he held one finger across the second fret of his bass. Charlie twirled the drum stick in his right hand and almost let it fall onto the cymbal next to the wall; he caught it by the skin of his pinky and ring fingers and then gripped onto the bass.

“We've got time, though, Danny,” Scott assured him.

“Time for what?”

“Time to name this—thing.”

“What are they even recording on?” Sam asked Frank; he leaned over to look into the room.

“I don't really know,” he confessed in a low voice.

“We kind of are the Crab Society now,” Dan declared with a clearing of his throat: he tapped on the largest string of the bass with his first two fingers.

“Yeah, but we can't really use that name, though,” Charlie pointed out.

“True. We're—Crab Society—North? Given we're upstate and all.”

“North, south, east, and west,” Scott chuckled.

“Which of us is north, south, east, and west, though?” Charlie asked as he attempted another twirl of the drum stick.

“I'll be east,” Scott volunteered, “Danny'll be west.”

“Guess I'll be south, then,” Billy said with a sniffle and a clearing of his throat.

“Why do you get to be south?” Charlie scoffed.

“'Cause you're from the Bronx, Char,” Billy pointed out.

“So I'm north, then!”

“Exactly!”

Sam looked over at Frank and couldn't help but laugh at what she was hearing several feet away from them.

“Welcome to our world, Sam I Am,” he said with a chuckle and a lopsided smile.

“Just a bunch of guys willing to kick back for a little bit while the real thing gets taken care of,” Scott called out with a raise of those thick dark eyebrows.

There was low thump outside the door.

“There he is,” Frank quipped; he climbed to his feet. Whoever tried to come into the building jiggled the doorknob.

“Guys?” Joey's voice rang through the wood of the door.

“Hang on, Joey,” Frank called out; there was another click in the next room there. He tugged on the doorknob but the door itself wouldn't budge.

“Want some help?” Sam offered.

“Please.”

She stood to her feet and set her journal down on the chair in order to assist him: Frank lifted the doorknob itself while Sam clasped her hands onto the backs of his and gave the knob a good yank. The door flung open and Joey stumbled into the room right then: they were met with bright sunlight but a chilly gust of wind as well. His chest was right in her line of sight, but she pressed herself against the wall behind her to let him in there. He took off his mirrored sunglasses to better look at her with those big brown eyes. Stray strands of his jet black curls sprawled down his brow so she could better look into his eyes. Frank shut the door behind him and the wind settled in the room.

“Oh, hi,” he breathed out at the sight of her.

“Hi,” she returned the favor, and she held the journal up to her chest even though they were a foot apart. “How you feelin'?”

“Better—kinda.”

“Kinda?”

“Yeah, it's—it's gonna be a bit before my body gets back up to right temperature. But I ain't miserable anymore, though.”

“That's good.”

“I had cannoli courtesy of my mom and my grandma,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders and a smirk on his face.

“Sounds good,” she replied as she ran her hands atop the crown of her head.

“Speaking of goodness, you smell good,” he remarked with a look at her chest.

“Thank me for that!” Frank proclaimed.

“Joey!” Scott declared; he strode out of the room without the guitar over his shoulder. “How'd you know we were here?”

“My dad and I were driving past here and I was like, 'hey, there's Frankie's car,'” Joey replied as he tossed a pocket of his black curls over his shoulder.

“Were you with your dad?” Sam asked him.

“Nah, I was driving behind him. When I pulled over, he pulled over with me and I told him what was going on. I'm a big boy—I can do stuff.” He turned his head for a look over at Scott and Charlie.

“So what'd I miss?” he asked them.

“Kinda doin' our own thing for the remainder of studio time,” Scott replied. “We're callin' it Stormtroopers of Death.”

“Sounds badass and nerdy at the same time. I like it.”

“They were just putting together a demo tape,” Frank told him. “A li'l demo and then maybe something else after that if Jonny gives 'em the green light.”

“And I guess I'm going to get my paws on a first copy of it,” Sam followed up with a tone of excitement.

“Well!” Joey folded his arms across the chest. “Consider it an honor, li'l one.”

“I already do! I hope they go places with the whole thing, too.”

“We're all hard workin' boys,” Charlie declared.

“All workin' hard and then some more,” she added.

“Speaking of more,” he said with a raise of a finger. Charlie doubled back into the kitchen there for something. Billy, who was partially behind the wall, looked over his shoulder at him all the while. Charlie rummaged through the fridge in there, and then he came back with a pair of brown glass bottles of beer, one in each hand.

“Care for a drink?” he offered her, and she hesitated for a second. She was under the drinking age, but it was an offer from him and with a soft look on his round face all the while.

“Thank you,” she said with a little smile and a taking of the bottle in his right hand for herself. The glass was cold and the edges of the cap were sharp against her hand.

“Want a little bit of help?” Frank offered her.

“All I can get.”

“Here—” Charlie handed him his bottle for a second so he could pry off the cap with two fingers. That strong aroma of hops flooded out of there, and made her eyes water more than the spearmint in her piece of gum.

“You want a beer, Joey?” Scott offered.

“You know I do,” Joey chuckled, “I was wantin' Irish coffee this morning when the three of them came to get me, so you know it.”

Sam took out her piece of gum and held it between two fingers. She tipped the bottle back for a sip: the contrast of the spearmint and the hops clashed and she grimaced at the taste.

“That gum, right?” Frank laughed.

“Yeah—” Her stomach turned a bit but she persisted. Indeed, the contrast went away within mere seconds and she was able to take another sip from the mouth.

“Let's go outside for a bit,” Billy suggested.

“Yeah, it's sunny out,” Joey said as he pried off the cap from his bottle. “Kinda windy but at least the clouds've cleared out a li'l bit...” He took a hearty swig from the bottle and followed Billy and Scott out the kitchen. Meanwhile, Frank turned to Sam, who was trying to keep it down but the taste of the beer was so strong and in her face that it was hard to even bring the mouth of the bottle to her lips. He eyed the gum in her fingers.

“You wanna know a little trick?”

“For what?”

“The piece of gum. Kinda roll your fingers a bit so it turns into a little ball. It's a little hard because it's all sticky—” She tried it out regardless, and it stuck to her skin at first. “—keep going, keep going, keep going... there you go. Now put it behind your ear like Violet Beauregarde.”

“Don't forget it's there, either,” Charlie advised her as he took a swig from his bottle. “One of my sisters did that once and my mom had to cut it out with scissors.”

She tossed her hair over her head, and then she stuck the little wad of gum behind her right ear for safe keeping. It stuck to her skin and she knew she could go back to it within time.

“So we wanna go outside?” Frank asked them.

“If you wanna,” Charlie told him, “I'm actually kinda cold right now.”

“Cold, even after pounding away on those drums,” she remarked as she tilted her head to the left to keep her hair off the side of her head.

“I'm pretty sure Charlie was born with drum sticks in hand and without pores in his skin,” Frank joked, which brought an eye roll out of Charlie.

“So d'you draw something?” he asked Sam.

“I haven't been able to,” she confessed as she held the bottle closer to her chest. “I've just been so—enthralled by what was going on in here. You're a natural!”

“Me? Well, I dunno 'bout that...”

“I also don't know what I did with that picture of you guys, either.”

“I think it's out in the car,” Frank recalled, “I'll be right back.” He doubled back to the front door, which had been jammed stuck again. “Help me out here, Charlie.”

Charlie himself met up with him to lift up the door.

“Yet another thing this place needs,” he muttered as he held onto the knob with his free hand, “among other things. It's one thing when Billy gets it open, though.” The door swung open and Frank stepped outside.

Sam meanwhile, caught the sight of something out of the corner of her eye. She stood in the kitchen doorway to find a small cramped space, crammed full with Charlie's drum kit, those dusty guitars and bass, and that microphone the size of her hand, the latter of which Billy had placed on the counter top right next to a walkman. That was what they recorded the demo on. She turned her attention to the door on the other side of the room, which hung open even with the cool upstate winds. She made her way over to it to see the back of Joey's head: he had taken a seat on the back step there.

His hair was lush, and looked even more so there in the hazy afternoon sun. Sam could make out the sight of little glints of gold embedded in the curls at the back of his head. Combined with the darkness of his roots, his hair was thick and swirled like a psychedelic drawing. She imagined it being like a dense forest, a whole stretch of thick shrubs coupled with those tall slender dark trees in the dark earth. She tried to picture it soaking wet following a shower, all sweet smelling and delicate.

Joey gave his hair a toss over his shoulder, which only accentuated the coarsest of curls on his back. Sam thought of vines dangling down from tree branches.

He leaned over his slender thighs and rested his elbows on his narrow knees. She eyed his slim waist from behind there. He was almost delicate, especially since she got a better look at him there: he did not have his microphone in hand that time, and he was at an odd angle to boot.

She hung there in the doorway with her free hand on the edge of the threshold and she kept her eye on the gentle shape of his shoulder and his upper arm. The fingers of his left hand curled around his right elbow and he shivered from the incoming fog. Joey bowed his head a bit and she could make out the shape of the bottle in his hand.

“Sam?” Charlie called out. She returned to the main room to find him with the photograph in hand.

“Ah! Thank you!” She took the photograph for herself and crossed the floor to the chairs. She tucked the photograph into her journal and returned to them.

“Not really the best place for drawing, though, from what I can see,” Frank pointed out.

“Yeah, talk about uncomfortable,” Charlie nodded his head. “By the way, Frankie and I were just talking a little bit out there—if Stormtroopers of Death go anywhere, we oughtta give you something to do, seeing as you sat in with us on the recording process. The whole entire hour and whatnot.”

“Oh, wow, I wouldn't know the first thing of what to do,” she confessed as she took another sip of beer. A little better that time: the hoppy taste wasn't so pungent and in her face, but it still hit her tongue more than the spearmint.

“You could sit in with us on tour dates for Anthrax and Storm troopers.”

“How does one open for themselves?” she asked him.

“You've—got to be on top of it all?” Charlie raised an eyebrow at that. “One state of mind versus the other, I s'pose. Something we'd have to figure out. And it can be something to show your school counselors, too!”

Scott burst out laughing right then and Billy said something.

“Hey, Frankie!” Joey called out from the kitchen doorway.

“What's up?” Frank hurried in there to see what was the matter. Charlie returned to her.

“By the way, Joey was right—it is nice outside. Kinda chilly but not a cloud in the sky now. Wanna take a walk?”

“I'd love to take a walk,” she said, and without another word, the two of them filed out of there into the bright, crisp afternoon: the sun was beginning to hang low over the horizon before them. He walked at a slow pace so they could be side by side on the little dirt pathway along the side of the street. Lucky for her, the wind kept her hair on the side of her head, thus off of the piece of gum behind her ear. Charlie pushed a thick lock of his own hair off of his face in the meantime.

“Can I tell you something?” he asked her at one point.

“Um—sure? Is it important?”

“If you want it to be.”

“Okay.”

He then cleared his throat, but he never said anything after that. They reached a curve in the road, one lined with a series of tall trees that blocked out some of the more intense of the winds.

“Sam, we've only known each other for a little more than a week, but I feel like I've known you for years,” he confessed at a quick clip.

“It's funny, I—feel the same way about you, too.” She turned her head to look at him; the orange light from the late afternoon sun washed over the side of his face.

A gust of cold wind sent a chill down her spine, and he inched closer to her.

“I mean, think about it,” he started again. “We're both artists. Artists look out for each other and stick together. It only makes sense that we officially call ourselves friends for each other.”

Sam had no idea if it was the alcohol talking or the fact that she came to New York with a fresh new slate and it all started happening so fast, but her head began to spin a little bit from the feeling. She even had to stop in her tracks to gather herself.

“You alright?”

“I'm a little bit dizzy—this is all starting to feel like a dream.”

“I assure you it's the real thing.”

She lifted her gaze to his face, partially obscured in shadow courtesy of the sun: the light made it seem as though he had a halo around the crown of his head. She had a friend in Aurora and now, a friend in Charlie.

“Friends forever,” she said with a raise of her bottle.

“Friends forever,” he replied and he brought his bottle to his for a toast. The bottles made a clink noise and they took a drink in unison: she took another sip compared to his hearty swig. “I'm sure Frankie'd wanna join in on that, too. And I think it’s just the heat of the moment, but I really wanna watch you draw now.”

[royallypsychotic]

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[buckner-in-australia]

Day 26: June 21, 2017

This morning I realized just how miserable I'm going to be when I get home. In the morning here it's a nice 52 degrees and by the afternoon a pleasant 65, but at home... At home it's like our state, the state of Arizona is prancing on the sun. 123 degrees!!!! Lord have mercy! I have been so spoiled here that it doesn't make any sense! Oh how I'm gonna miss this weather!

Once again we were broke off into our little groups, not because we have class but because we had the Writers Walk. At 9:00 this morning my group, the Wallabies, met up with our tour guide at the Sydney Opera House. She explained how she was an English teacher and how she is going to inform us of all the writers of Australia. We literally had no idea what we were getting into lol. Come to find out at Circular Quay on the very ground we walked in there were circular plates that indicated a writer that had an impact on Australia. Similar to the stars of Hollywood, the people featured ranged from Peter Carey, who wrote our novel about Ned Kelly, to Charles Darwin. I found the tour rather interesting especially the markers that showed where the old shoreline was. Contrary to my enjoyment, the guide ended up talking bad about my group saying this and saying that. I didn't care to mind because this lady had a lot of opinions from people featured that she thought was a waste a space, novels that were horrible, to not liking how we were focusing on Aboriginal authors like Alexus Wright and how "that's not a reflection of Australia, they only make up 3% of the population". Crazy right? You know Dr. Miller stepped in ever so swiftly with, "Well they did used to make up 100% of the population and it's about time their story is being told." I know that shut that lady up real quick lol. So yea, that's how the Writers Walk went lol.

Since we were divided in groups, when we were finished, Kayla and I had to wait for Ash and Morgan. After getting a croissant, we wound up moseying along the harbor and stumbled into an Aboriginal Art Gallery. The art was beautiful, vibrant, and full of so many stories. What intrigued me the most was the didgeridoos. Magnificent instruments and pieces of art with a sound harmonious and from the earth. I wanted to purchase one so bad but my budget was saying otherwise lol. The one I particularly liked was $990 lol. After having to part from the gem I found, I needed to catch up on some reading so Kayla and I sat in a Hungry Jacks to be productive lol.

After reading and then meeting up with Ash and Morgan we headed to Cafe Extra right in Circular Quay. This, by far, has been the most American restaurant that we have yet to go to! Everything was exactly how we imagined it, especially the hash browns. I had recently been missing home so I helped myself to a nice bowl of Spaghetti Bolognese which is basically spaghetti and meat sauce. For lunch Delilah and Jessica Fong accompanied us and it was very delightful.

Once our lunch was completed we headed to the Art Gallery of New South Wales. When I say I have never seen a museum that massive and well thought out! Y'all it was absolutely breathtaking! The museum had a little something for everyone. If you love Victorian art, there was a section. Anything, you name it, it was there! Aboriginal, Contemporary, Japanese, Hindu, Oragami, it was there! And any possible medium you could imagine was there! All shades, shapes, sizes, and vibrancy, it was amazing! My favorite piece was (I didn't get the name or artist) was a massive wall piece behind a royal blue background. It sparkled, shined, and also told a wonderful story. It was breathtaking!

After taking my time through the museum we decided to check out St. Mary's Cathedral. I'm not catholic at all, but I do know a few things about their religion. One, is that they pray to the Virgin Mary. Two, rosaries assist one with their prayers. Three, cathedrals are always beautiful. And boy was this one gorgeous! Massive ceilings reaching for the sky! Vibrant stain glass depictions of stories from the Bible of Jesus. Sets of three confession booths aligned along the parallel walls. And most extravagantly, the pulpit of which the pope resides during service. I even got to see the baptism bath. Everything was amazing! I can't wait to show my mom and my grandma! They would be speechless!

After the Cathedral we headed back to APX in Chinatown and took a nice nap. Lol, I swear naps have always be my best friend but now they were like a tangible piece of heaven. After our nap, Ash had been saying how she was craving ramen. I have never had ramen from a restaurant before or even authentic ramen for that matter. The closest thing I've ever gotten to ramen was the summer of my 6th grade year where my mom bought boxes of Ramen to satisfy my siblings and I. Just so y'all can picture how much ramen that is, I haven't made a square yet and I'm currently 20 lol. After researching she ended up finding this place called Menya Noodle Bar. So guys, that was our next destination.

At first I was really skeptical about the whole ramen thing because I don't like broth and because I have never had it before.  Before we left, I found a ramen option that didn't have broth so score for me! The one I selected was Dragon Jya-Jya Men. It was a chilli infused ramen, that resembled spaghetti a lot because it didn't have the broth. I wanted something spicy and usually add extra spice into whatever I get but thankfully I asked the lady taking our order how it was because Lord Have Mercy! That ramen was on fire! And I loved it! It was so good! Plus it paired very well with the teriyaki chicken I order (ya girl needs that protein). I was so good I couldn't even finish it! And luckily I had a whole meal to take home because I couldn't eat all of it (score for Nia once again!).

On our way home, Ashley and I got some gelato. I swear I'm gonna turn into one lol. It's just so good! The place we found, once again, had the Durian fruit. So y'all know I avoided it lol. After that we went down to Coles so Kayla could pick up a few things. Since Ashley and I didn't need to buy anything we went into the neighboring wine shop and had a go. It was crazy how expensive everything was. Very common wines and liqueurs back home were nearly triple the price here, how crazy is that?! I don't even drink and know they're prices were outrageous!

After Coles we made it back home and decided to chill. During lunch Ash had found this brochure for whale watching, so I decided to bring it back into conversation. Since we don't have anything planned for Saturday during the day, we thought that whale watching would be a great last hoorah before going home. Now, I since being on this trip I have discovered my love for water BUT my love for boats is not congruent.  I knew that I wanted to see whales but the only thing that was getting in the way was the boat situation. Y'all this boat looked a bath toy for a toddler, an inflatable for a backyard pool! It was so small!! But guess who ended up purchasing a ticket anyway? This girl! Lol, though not really caring too much for the boat, I am SUPER excited. It also would've helped if I would've known the boat would be airborne! But hey, I love a good rush lol.

Also guess what??? HOT BROWN HONEY IS TOMORROW NIGHT  & YA GIRL CAN'T WAIT!!! I've literally dreamed about the opera house and seeing a show there! A dancer's dreams really do come true!

Things I’ve learned - Smoothies have icecream - Cathedrals are more beautiful than I ever imagined - Japanese Ramen is GREAT (not the broth kind though lol) - You can never assume that if a food has the word "burger" in it that it actually does lol - Many schools travel to Sydney for field trips - Sydney and Melbourne feud. Reason for why Canberra was created as the capital - People in Sydney think Melbourners are stuck up - You can tell a lot about people from the city they like the most - Melbourne was a planned settlement whereas Sydney just popped up and started booming - The wharf/harbor area used to be the slums of Sydney. People of high society would not step foot in this area in fear of contagions - Heroes of Australia are the paupers from the working class - Peter Carey had a spot and is infused in Aboriginal Dreamtime - The world of writing is never a vacuum