#i threw this together on a whim with this morning's writing session

[bookshelf-in-progress]

Stars and Shadows: A Fairy Tale

An extremely experimental piece I've decided to submit for @inklings-challenge.

If you wait patiently, there will come a day--in a month, in a year, in a hundred-thousand hopeful days--when you will stare outside into the deep blue-black of a cold winter night and not be able to tell the snowflakes from the stars. It will call to your heart and pull you from the warmth and light of home--wrapped up in coats and boots, scarves and gloves, and one thick woolen blanket thrown over your shoulders like a cloak--in the hope of becoming, even for a moment, a part of the beauty of this moment of creation.

The cold of night will bite your face and steal your breath, but in a moment, you will find yourself racing across the white expanse, snow crunching beneath your boots, soul expanding toward the shining heavens in one upward rush of joy. As soon as home and family are safely out of view, you will slow from your sprint and find yourself content to amble, and wonder, and be, with the shy, slender moon watching patiently above.

You will carry no light, for the world will be light, with the moon and the stars and the snow wrapping all the world in bright illumination. Your breath will shine before you in delicate white clouds, your very life made visible for the fragile, lovely thing it is. In the silence you will hear the snowflakes fall, hear the hushed sound of your footfalls, feel every beat of your strong and pulsing heart.

And then, if you close your eyes and listen long enough, just at the moment when your heart is near to breaking from the beauty of it all, you will hear a cry. For a moment you might think it a phantom of thought, your own soul giving voice to all the aching loveliness that surges through you, but then, you will hear it again. Over and over, thin and wailing, the cry of a child newly born horrified to find the world so great and cold.

The sound will travel like an arrow in that crisp, cold air, and you will follow it without hesitation--over a rise, down a hill, through a twisting stand of trees and countless banks of snow, and at last to an old well, such as you've only seen in illustrations--a construction of wood and stones, covered with moss and aged with time, that you can say with certainty was not there a day before.

Standing by that well will be, not an infant, but a child. A little girl three years old, reaching desperately for the rim of the well and crying for water. Everything about her--her skin, her hair, her eyes--will be white as the snow she stands in, and she will gleam faintly with the light of the stars above, and she will wear nothing but thin, white rags, torn at the edges and singed at the ends, a ragged line of ash the only color in her form.

You will notice all these things and think it strange, and then you will forget everything because the child is crying. You will find a wooden bucket on a chain by the well, and in sheer desperation you will throw it down, though there will be nothing but ice in an open well on a night so cold.

But to your shock, you will hear a splash, and you will pull up a bucket full of liquid water that looks like light itself. You will give it to the girl--you would not dream of taking even a drop for yourself--and she will drink with cupped hands and lapping tongue, and gaze at you with silent gratitude.

When she has drained the last drop, the faint gleam of light around her form will become a white glow. She will seem a bit taller--perhaps a bit older than you first assumed--and for the first time, she will seem to feel the cold. She will shiver and wail and curl in on herself, and you will suddenly understand--or at least bless--your mad impulse to take a blanket out into the night. You will take it from your shoulders and wrap it round her form, head to foot, with only her shining white face peering out. Then you will take her in your arms, settle her on one hip, and carry her across the vast expanse of snow toward your home.

It will be a long trip--you have walked a long way--and before you have gone far, the child will grow too heavy for your strength. You will look to her and find that the blanket you have wrapped around her no longer seems so large, and clings more closely to her form--like something between a deep blue dress and cloak--so you will feel safe in setting her on the ground and letting her walk beside you, her thin white hand in yours.

You will wonder for a moment if you've fallen into a dream, for all seems so strange and perfect--the light, the snow, this silent child--but the bite of the cold and the burn of your legs will assure you that you remain in the waking world. Yet you won't think to question the child--who or what she is, or from whence she arrived--because she is so like the snow and the light and the stars of this crisp, cold night--things that do not become, but simply are. Your wonder make peace with the night's mystery.

The way back will seem longer than you remember--the trees taller, the stars brighter, the air colder. The night will seem large and you so very small, but you will not be afraid, for there is one beside you too innocent for fear. You will walk in the tracks you left on your way, stretching between footfalls that seem much more distant than you expected. Yet the moon will look larger, and you will take comfort in that. You will need the comfort before long.

For just when you are in the very midst of the trees, you will hear a sound from the shadows--dark and dangerous, like the growl of a wolf or the rumble of a distant train. And then the shadows will seem to take shape, growing arms and legs, teeth and claws, and they will gather in a great black wall that blocks the way you mean to take.

The voice that speaks will be less of a voice, and more like the clench of fear in your chest, the monster that mocks you as you lay awake at midnight with all the shame and sorrows of your wasted youth.

We will have the child.

You will know that the voice promises death for disobedience, and you will know to the depths of your soul that you would rather die than obey. You will hold the child close, and she will cling to your neck, and you will sprint with all your strength back toward the well. The shadows will surge and swirl around you, grabbing at your clothes, tearing at your face, and once--only once--drawing blood that drips a red path upon the snow.

You will sprint through the snow and twine through the trees, each step seeming a mile, each moment a lifetime. The shadows will gather--closer, darker--and the light of the child in your arms will fade with fear.

At last, you will see the well at the base of the hill, seeming to shine in a circle of light. If you can reach it, you know, you will be safe--every childhood game seeming suddenly like training for this very moment.

And yet, at the very edge of the clearing--somehow you always knew this would happen--you will lose your footing and fall face-first into the snow. You will shield the child's face from the snow by holding her close, and you will shield her body with your own. The shadows will fall upon you, tearing you to pieces. Your very body will seem to dissolve in pain.

Through their snarling, the shadows will promise relief, if you will only relent--the child's life for yours. Not so great a sacrifice, is it, for a child you've known for mere minutes? These words will tear at your mind, but it is your heart that will reply, drawing strength for defiance from you know not where. And you will. not. move.

You will feel the night fading--the stars and the snow and even the cold growing distant, like some faraway world in which you have no part. Even the pain will seem like something happening long ago and far away to some ancient hero in a dusty, tattered book. Yet you will feel the child beneath you, her beating heart still alive against yours, and that hope will keep you clinging to the tatters of breath in your body.

Then, at last, there will be light. So bright that it blazes white even through your closed eyes. The shadows will crumble like ash, retreat like the dark from a flame, and the destruction of your battered form will cease. The child you shelter will cry with joy.

A gentle touch will lift your shoulder so you lay on one side, and attempt to pull the child from your arms.

With a cry of defiance, you will hold her with what remains of your strength.

But then a voice will flow through you, lovely and feminine, like water and winter and moonlight given tongue. Peace.

Peace will come, perfect and pure, and you will release the child without fear. But without her presence, your need for strength will fade, and all your pain will come rushing in upon you, dark and hot and crushing, and you will have no strength to hold it back.

Absurdly, you will be most aware of an all-consuming thirst. Tears will pour from you--precious, wasted droplets. Then it will be you, and not the child, who cries for water. Then it will be the child who will draw water from the well and put the shining liquid to your lips.

You will drink, and the first mouthful will bring the cold climbing back upon you. But you will welcome it as re-entry into this world, and drink deep, again and again, until you find yourself freezing, but wholly alive, your wounds as if they never were. You will sit and gaze up at a woman dressed in midnight blue, as white and glowing as the child, who clings to her as she would to a mother, and you will find yourself alight with the same glow.

You have served my daughter well, that lovely inner voice will say again. Come and be at peace.

She will turn your eyes toward the heavens, and offer you a place there in the shining light, far from the troubles of this dark world. It will draw you as the snowflakes drew you from the warmth of home, so many long moments ago. Yet you will find yourself standing, and bowing your head, and with utmost humility refusing the honor. You will not leave this world, be there ever so many shadows, while there is still more beauty to behold.

The woman will smile, pleased with your answer, and the light surrounding you will fade. And you will see your home alight on a nearby hillside, waiting for your return.

You will say your farewells to the child--who embraces you with gratitude--and turn your path toward home. The child and her mother will do the same, fading as the sunset fades with the coming of night. And you will notice two stars in the sky above where you had noticed none before.

You will smile up at them and walk home--warm, alive and fearless. There will be no more shadows lurking along your path. But high above, and all around, you will know there is--and always will be--light.

[guiltysecretpasttime]

Blended

I was (thankfully) given some time off during this holiday season; which I promptly used to spend time with the family and recharge at home. Also spent time watching various movies during this time and a little LoK story idea came from it.

In my usual writing preference – it’s still a Lin/Tenzin endgame story but – in sort of a modern setting AU, blended family/semi-highschool themed with ages differed a bit (Lin and Tenzin was aged down by around 5 years). Expect it to be tropey and may be a bit of a cliché. This is written on a whim so if it doesn’t make sense…ah well. Haha! May edit this piece later on…

I’m considering this to be a short story, just a little self-indulgent-written-for-fun type of thing. But if other people enjoy it too then that’s such an added bonus so I’m sharing it with you as well. 😊 Let me know what you think since this is somewhat different from my usual style, I guess.

Also – I have misgivings regarding creating OCs so I’m likely to lean on canon characters and take a lot of creative license in developing them for the story.

 ---

Title (tentative):  Blended

Legend of Korra, Lin/Tenzin, Modern AU, no bending

(Not sure if one-shot or will be multi-part yet)

 ---

Tenzin, Republic City Primary School

“Thank you for making time to meet today,” The silver-haired lady clasped her hands together on her desk. “I know you must have a packed schedule, but I think it would be good to have the check-in session for your daughter today.”

“Yes, of course – anything for my daughter.” The bald and bearded man threw a look at the door’s window, where he could see his daughter swinging her legs while seated at the corridor.

“Ikki is a bright child and she’s been doing her best to catch up with the class requirements. She excels the most at individual tasks.” The teacher continued to talk a little bit more about the projects that the students have been working on.

Teacher Yue handed the father a folder marked “Ikki”. Tenzin carefully picked it up and looked into the contents, smiling as he saw Ikki’s artworks and class outputs.

“However, I see that she seems to have challenges in adjusting in a large class set-up.” Yue shared. “It’s nothing to worry about though. We’ve had several transferees in the past as well and this is usual; I expect that might take a little bit longer since it’s a transition from homeschooling to a big school.”

Tenzin frowned and he hurt for his daughter. His two children had both been homeschooled until recently.

They also had to experience a lot of upheaval in the past year or so – from the divorce, to being uprooted from their childhood home, moving to a new city, and then going to a new school.

He did notice that while his son was as precocious as ever (maybe owing to his young age?), his daughter had become more subdued since their move.

“What can we do for her?”

“Well, we have a big sister-little sister type of mentorship program.” The teacher pushed forward a brochure and several index cards. “It’s mostly an afterschool interaction activity, we have here several students who have been volunteering. Maybe you’d like to ask Ikki to join?” She pointed at the index cards. “Feel free to select which mentor you think would help her best. We usually ask the parent or the student to select their preferred mentor profile from the roster. We would not want Ikki to feel uncomfortable; you’d know her best than any teacher.”

He nodded. After a few moments perusing the index cards and the brochure and pulled out one from the pile. “Let’s go with this girl.”

Tenzin pointed out to a profile labelled Jinora.

 ---

Jinora, Home

The ten-year old girl has just finished putting hair in a bun when she heard a knock on her bedroom door.

“Jinora!” It was her oldest brother. “Mom says I can use the car today – want to leave with us instead of riding the bus?”

“Sure!” She called back, quickly grabbing her backpack. “I’ll be down in a bit.”

“Alright!”

Smack!

“Hey! Why did you do that for?”

“Good morning bro!”

Jinora rolled her eyes good-naturedly. That was probably her other brother slapping the arm of the other one.

Even at eighteen and sixteen years old respectively, they tend to act like children occasionally to the consternation of their mother.

She hurried down, knowing that if she did not do so, there would be no pancakes left for her.

Jinora heard her mother’s gruff voice in the dining room. “Bolin! Leave some eggs for your sister!”

“But, Mom,” Bolin spoke through a mouthful of scrambled eggs. “I’m a growing boy. I need this stuff.”

“And Jinora is a growing girl,” Their mother drolly responded, taking a sip of her coffee after putting down the last batch of pancakes on the platter. “There should be enough from everyone.”

“It’s fine, Mom,” Jinora immediately sat down and her brother forked two pancakes to her plate. “Thanks, Mako.” She slathered butter all over the cakes then squeezed a load of maple syrup.

She ignored Bolin gagging at her left at the amount of sweetness. She also ignored her mother who was hiding a smile and shaking her head at seeing the display.

In their family, it was only Jinora had a penchant for sweets. Her mother said she likely took after her father in that regard.

Her father…her absentee father…

Jinora shook off her maudlin thoughts when she saw Pabu, Bolin’s pet guinea pig, land on her mother’s shoulder, probably hopping from her brother’s backpack which was hung behind his chair.

Pabu began chewing their mother’s greying hair without warning.

Wheek-wheek-wheek.

“BOLIN!”

“I’m so sorry, Mom! Pabu get down from there – leave mom’s hair alone!”

All in all, it was another morning in their household.

It was noisy and sometimes chaotic, but Jinora would not exchange it for the world.

 ---

Ikki, library

Truth be told, Ikki liked going to school. She even liked her teacher and classmates.

She liked to be busy and the activities were very interesting. Getting homeschooled and only seeing their tutor, nanny and Meelo had become very tedious anyway.

Staying at their old home also reminded her acutely that their mother was not there anymore. She did not understand what happened, but she tried to.

It has been more than a year since their parents sat her and her brother down to explain that they were separating but it did not mean they did not love her and Meelo any less.

At first, she thought it might have been her fault (or maybe Meelo’s fault for that matter, he did fart a lot and that annoyed her terribly). Her dad and mom were quick to quash those theories, however. They spoke of drifting apart, change in priorities and other grown-up things that she supposed she will understand when she gets older.

But for now, she supposed as she opened her notebook on one of the long tables in the library, they would need to get used to their new living arrangement.

It was difficult last year as they were shuttled to and from two households. It also did not help that their mother was starting out with her new venture had been spending less time at her home. On the other hand, Ikki noticed their father spending more time with them, cutting down his work hours. It all came to a head when Pema had said she will be moving to another country to establish her new business. And so, they ended up -.

“Hey, are you Ikki?”

Ikki looked up to see an older girl with dark brown hair in a bun.

She nodded her head yes.

The girl gave her a bright smile and extended her hand.

“I’m Jinora and welcome to Republic City!”

 ---

Lin, Future Industries Head Office

Lin tiredly wiped her glasses clean before putting them on again, rereading her email response for one last time before hitting send.

It had been a long yet productive day. Her team had managed to fulfill all the visual design requirements that were due that day. She reviewed the different files sent to the printers, making sure that the final and correct collaterals were attached.

Her last task was to ensure that the last set of proposals were on-brand and aligned with Future Industries’ visual identity. Once she had provided her comments and revisions needed on the file, she sat back as she waited for the files to be uploaded to their server.

She reached for her cellphone, wanting to check on her kids while waiting. She looked at their family group chat and read messages from the last time she sent one.

 Ohana (Lin repressed the urge to cringe. That was the final time that she would ask Bolin to create their group chat)

Lin: Kids – as mentioned earlier, I’ll be home a bit late. No need to drop by to fetch me; have dinner already and don’t wait up.

Jinora: Mom, I’ll be staying behind after class – I got a mentee! ☺ Mako Bolin can you wait up?

Mako: Jinora Bo has training today; I think we can wait for you.

Bolin: Jinora 👍🏼

Jinora: Mako Bolin thanks! 🙌

Jinora: Mako what will you be doing while waiting? You sure you’ll be okay?

Mako: Don’t worry about me. I’ll manage.

Lin scrolled through some more messages. Knowing her eldest, Mako would like skulk off to the library.

Jinora: I met my mentee this afternoon. She’s such a lovely girl.

Lin smiled at this. Her daughter had always been the polite one.

Jinora: Her name’s Ikki and she’s two years younger than me. She said she and her father had first checked out Patola Mountain Primary.

Lin frowned. Patola Primary was far; she went there as a child.

Mako: Kid didn’t like it there?

Jinora: They didn’t have the chance to know. They had to move besause of her father’s job.

Bolin: heeey sorry guys- just about to be done with training. Just gonna shower …unless I just shower at home?

Jinora: Ew, no Bo. Shower first please

Mako: Agree. You’ll stink up the car, bro.

Ding!

Lin drew her attention from her phone as her laptop screen indicated that the files have been uploaded. She hit the send button and packed up for the day.

She was looking forward to spending some quiet time with her kids tonight.

 ---

Bumi, White Lotus Headquarters

Bumi leaned back in his fully ergonomic chair, thinking about how times had changed.

Being in an office was something he balked at when he was younger. But now, after serving a long career in defense and military, he submitted his retirement and come to the aid of his younger brother.

Ah, his only brother – back in the day, he would be hard-pressed to keep contact with his brother.

His brother who took on the role of spearheading their family’s company back when their father died.

His brother who had the task of continuing to revive the company and making sure it keeps up with the times.

His brother, who, despite being the youngest, was tagged by the board of directors as the heir apparent owing to his excellent academic records.

His brother who Bumi had felt envious of at some point. He later on realized that his brother actually missed out on a lot of freedom in his life.

His brother who managed to keep their company part of the Top 100 and make malls relevant again.

His brother who probably made some life decisions for the benefit of their company rather than his own.

His brother who had been through hell and back the past year when he and his much younger wife called it quits. His brother whose ex-wife is now galivanting somewhere in the Fire Nation, expanding a business built on horticulture and floristry.

His brother who, despite making some decisions that Bumi might not agree with, is still family.

And if there was anything that their parents taught them – family is permanent.

The ex-military man took a deep breath, looking at their last family photo. For what it’s worth, he liked to think that their fragmented family had found its way back into each other in their adulthood.

Bumi had to admit that Tenzin did have remarkable business acumen that benefited their company, a conglomerate built on the mall industry. With the fourth industrial revolution at hand and the shift towards virtual and digital, the White Lotus Corporation had been challenged during the last years of their father’s life. Tenzin had worked hard to change the ways of working and the culture in the company.

To do it, he had to make sure that there is a buy-in from the board. Ironically, to bring the company to the current century, he had to abide with one of the most archaic practices – an arranged marriage, a marriage that would serve as a press release to the business world in general, that their company was stable and there to stay.

Bumi had been surprised to get a call from Tenzin back then. He had called to let him know of his impending engagement, seeking support. Bumi had cheered, given his congratulations – but named the wrong bride. He had launched into a long tirade, berating his brother for his choices. Tenzin had shouted back his defense.

He still did not understand why Tenzin acted the way he did. However, he could never regret his niece and nephew which came from this questionable business-like union.

Bloop-bloop-bloop.

Speaking of which…

“Hey Uncle Bumi!”

“Hello there, cloudchild!” Bumi greeted his niece with a nickname his sister Kya came up with, given that the kids were actually born somewhere near the mountains. “How’s the new school?”

“It’s great!” Ikki beamed at him and gushed into a long narrative of what she had been up to in the past days.

Bumi enjoyed video conferencing with his niece and nephew. Granted, Meelo had a short attention span but Ikki had always had the flair for storytelling.

It pleased him to see her spark back. He had heard from his brother and their trusted bodyguard/chauffeur Shung that Ikki had been withdrawn during the first weeks in Republic City. It saddened him to learn that the otherwise bubbly child had been affected in that way.

“…And then, I invited her over! Daddy said it was okay – and she’s sooooo nice. Didjaknow she also knows how to play the piano! We practiced a bit. She’s good even if her family didn’t have a piano, they only had this electronic keyboard but it’s so short. But she did well. She said she had a stepdad and it was totally okay. They’re a happy family. D’you think I’ll have a stepmom too? I think it would be okay if Daddy thinks so and maybe we’ll be a happy family here too and you know I joined this contest in school and I-.”

“Whoa, slow down, kiddo.” Bumi let out his booming laughter. “I didn’t quite catch it – what’s the name of your new friend?” He was heartened that Ikki seemed to have adjusted better now.

“Jinora!” His seven-year-old niece practically chirped the name. “She’s actually here!” Ikki turned to someone from beyond the view of the webcam. “Jin, it’s my Uncle Bumi – I want you to meet him!”

“Um, it’s fine, Ikki.” A calm voice of an older child can be heard. “I can wait here.”

“Nooonseeense.” Bumi could see Ikki pull something, rather someone to the camera. “Uncle Bumi, this is my friend Jinora. Jinora, my Uncle Bumi.” She said by way of introducing them.

Jinora gives a small wave and a soft hello.

Bumi gives them a short bow. “Nice to meet you, Jinora. It’s great to meet the friend of my favorite niece (Ikki ­please don’t tell Korra).”

Ikki gives a delighted clap and proceeds into another lengthy tale on what she and Jinora were working on that day at home.

Bumi smiles back at them, observing the children’s banter as they demonstrate the monologue that Ikki was preparing for. It was amusing.

Heh, they could be cousins.

He recalled when he was young, he, his siblings and even the sisters-who-must-not-be-named would stay over in one house after school to work on school projects. It had been one of the highlights of his childhood. He was glad that his niece would be somewhat experience it; he had been worried a few years back when Tenzin and Pema (primarily Pema) were very protective of their kids. It was to the point that they were both homeschooled and basically kept out of the public eye and the public itself.

It can’t be good for socialization. But what can he say? He didn’t have kids so he probably wouldn’t know what he was talking about, right?

He’s just fun ole Uncle Bumi.

Nonetheless, as he turned his attention back to the two girls, Bumi promised himself that he will always be there for his brother’s kids. It’s the least he could do as their godfather.

 ---

Mako, Republic City High

“I worry about Mom.” Mako picked at his dumplings during lunch time, a stark contrast to his brother who was eating a lot (“Coach said I needed to bulk up!”).

“Why? Has my dad been overworking her?” Asami slipped beside him at their usual lunch table. She brought out her packed lunch of pasta and a bottle of coconut water. “Just let me know and I can try to look into it.” She was, after all, interning at Future Industries in her spare time.

“Now that’s just powerplay.” The exchange student from Ba Sing Se High chortled, taking a sip of his sparkling water. “And that’s a no-no and Auntie will definitely get mad if she hears about that.”

“You would know about powerplay,” Bolin swallowed a mouthful of chicken, pointing his fork at the other boy. “Wasn’t that why you got the last slot in the elective you wanted to take this year?”

“Who? Me?” The other boy dramatically placed a hand on his chest, eyes widening. “You think, I Wu would stoop so low as to manipulate the results of the audition for the voice elective? Don’t you think I have enough talent to get into that class?”

Bolin just snorted into his food and Asami choked on her drink. Wu cracked a smile at their reactions.

“Again, Wu – don’t let Mom hear you call her Auntie.” Mako reiterated for the nth time in their friendship. “She hates it.”

“That’s why I do it.” Wu winked at them.

“Wait, Mako, what were you saying about Mom?” Bolin managed to ask in between bites of food. “Is something wrong? I mean, she’s a little bit run-down but she said it’s just because of the time of the year.” The last quarter of the year, after all, is usually the busiest.

“No, it’s just – well,” Mako sought words to explain it. “I’ll be leaving for college, you’ll be away for training, and okay, Jinora would be there but she’s in middle school now…” He trailed off. With Jinora’s aptitude and interests, Mako would not be surprised if she took on a lot of electives and extra-curricular activities. “Mom works too hard, you know?” He ended lamely.

“She has always looked out for us, but yeah,” A shadow passed over his brother’s face. “Ever since Pa passed away a few years back, she poured much of her energy to ensuring our welfare. She’s barely spent time for herself.”

Mako met Bolin’s now worried eyes.

The brothers knew that their mom had sacrificed a lot for them and Jinora.

When they first met Lin and one-year-old Jinora, she had already been under a lot of duress – taking care of a baby, leaving behind Jinora’s deadbeat dad, settling down in a new neighborhood and restarting a career. It had been two years later when she married their father San, who had been a sergeant at the city’s police station at the time.

And, Mako thought wearily, history has not been kind to Lin Beifong at all. While they did have four years (four wonderful years that Mako will treasure for the rest of his life), their fairytale-like family life came to an abrupt end.

San was involved in an armed bank robbery four years later and had not survived the gunshot wounds – leaving Lin behind with two boys at the brink of puberty and a young daughter.

Bolin and Jinora had been very confused at the time. Mako, already fifteen, had been expecting that he and Bolin would be forced into the system or sent off to their relatives in Ba Sing Se. He felt that Lin would not be in any way obligated to take him and his brother in; they were not blood relatives anyway. They were just stepchildren.

To his stunned astonishment, Lin did neither.  He recalled crying in Lin’s arms that night after his father’s funeral.

She had asked him, with a confused expression, why he was packing. Lin wept alongside him as she explained that Mako and Bolin are her sons and there was no way that she was sending them away.

Since then, Mako made sure to look after his mom the way she looked after them. The brothers’ protectiveness was soon well-known in their neighborhood.

Probably also why no one had expressed any type of interest towards Lin even years after…

Mako reflected that it might have been a good move on their part but now it might have been a little bit selfish.

He and Bolin would now need to rethink their strategy…

After all, their mom Lin deserves all the happiness in the world.

 ---

Tenzin, Republic City Primary School – Parking Lot

“Are you sure you’re not just using this as an excuse to have a sleepover?” Tenzin looked over at his daughter, a teasing grin out of place on his face.

“Of course not, Daddy.” Ikki replied indignantly, kicking pebbles as they waited at the parking lot.

“Why can’t you do the project at our house?” He was actually leaning towards allowing Ikki on her first ever sleepover/overnight but he wanted to hear from his daughter.

“We’ll need a big big printer, Daddy.” Ikki raised her arms to show him just how big. “We’ll need to print out my project and Jinora’s mommy has a big printer and lamin-lami-lamintor (“Laminating machine, dear?” Tenzin clarified.) because she frilancets (“Freelances?”).”

“Mmhhmm.” Tenzin looked across the school building, shifting Ikki’s overnight bag on his shoulder.

Ikki timidly approached him the other night, asking if she could spend Friday night and Saturday at her friend Jinora’s house. They had an output required of them of the big sister-little sister program. Tenzin was actually unclear as to what is the specific output that the girls had decided on but it did require a large-scale printer and a laminating machine.

Jinora attempted to explain to him what they were going to do during the last week that they were in his house but he felt out of his depth so he had nodded and let them work on what they needed to.

The father had met Jinora several times already in the past months so he knew the child was in earnest that their intent for the overnight activity would be mainly to finish a project. He also realized (well, Bumi made him realize) that Ikki was old enough for a sleepover (and Pema’s overprotectiveness would be to the detriment of their kids’ development). Additionally, he thought grimly, it would also keep Meelo from wreaking havoc on the work area of the girls.

Nonetheless, he took up Jinora’s mom’s offer to meet up for snacks before she takes the kids home. This would give him a chance to meet the mom, discuss some ground rules and as well thank the mom privately for letting Jinora help Ikki come out of her shell during her first months in Republic City Primary. Jinora did say that her pa and mom used to do the same before she spends the night over at her other friends – the parents meet up, share a small meal, get to know each other. Tenzin thought this was a good parenting tactic; it would definitely assuage his fears as well.

But now, said mom was late.

Jinora had hurried to them, dragging with her a large cartolina and illustration board. She explained that her mom’s work meeting overran and if it would be okay if she rode with them? Her mom will be meeting them at the local diner instead, so they don’t get caught up in traffic.

Tenzin could feel his impatience growing.

So far, this woman was not making a good impression on him.

How on earth she produced a lovely daughter like Jinora was beyond him.

 ---

Lin, Narook’s

Damn Sato, Lin ground her teeth as she finally parked her car into the last parking space in front of Narook’s. Of all the days for a meeting to go over time, it has to be today when she had explicitly asked to leave early to fetch her daughter.

Jinora had provided her enough context to know that making a good impression with Ikki’s dad was important to her daughter.

Lin heard that the dad was some big shot divorced corporate guy, who, she thought, was a bit paranoid about his kids’ safety.

Lin acted as an arts club moderator so she was regularly present at the Republic City High, which gave her chances to meet Ikki whenever she drops by the primary school to fetch Jinora.

The girl was a sweet child – energetic and delightful once she felt comfortable enough with you. It had come to her attention, in the short conversations with the kid, that she was not allowed to go out and play with other kids in their old neighborhood so she was very much excited to have a new friend outside of her class and her family.

When Jinora mentioned their culminating project and their dilemma on the timeline and materials, Lin suggested that they take the project home to work on.

The crestfallen expression of Ikki as she stated that her dad would not allow her pushed Lin to share that she’s willing to talk to the dad to help convince him to give his permission.

The infectious smile that burst on Ikki’s face was enough to convince Lin that she made the right decision.

Now, however, as she entered the diner, spotting her daughter at the corner booth, she froze and started to doubt all her life decisions that led to this moment.

Wondering and questioning the universe what had she done in her past life for her to deserve this.

Across Jinora, beside the talkative Ikki, sat Tenzin – her former boyfriend and Jinora’s father.

 ---

Note: Soooo hmmmmmm. What do you think?

[sepiadice]

DiceJar Campaign 0.1: A Slippery Slope (2020/01/03)

So I return to the mighty throne of the GM Screen! To pull the strings, interpret the weavings of fate, mold the world to my whims and desires!

However, I’m going from a module, namely Crypt of the Everflame, made famous by Trix’s adventures. So I’m treading old ground, though with fewer players, and only one returning from that adventure. The better part of a decade has passed since I played it, so plenty of details should’ve left the veterans.

The reason I’m playing out of the module is as a sort of learning experience: Viewing box text and published adventure design so that it may help develop my original adventures. As for why I chose this one: I really like the opening premise. New young adventures thrown together deliberately for their origin story. Often players get focused on making an exciting backstory that they forget to make what happens at the table be the most interesting part of their life. I think it’s charming.

It’s an element/theme I want to incorporate in future campaigns.

Anyways, how will the tomb dive go without Team Pesto?

Cast

Mogui (IndigoDie): A Hedge Mage for a Lord Grey. Essentially a living lawn ornament. He helps take care of the Lord’s menagerie. Sole repeat player of the Module.

Bernard ‘Bean’ Dipp (NavyDie): Still just a child, but his father is (supposedly) suffering polio, so young Bean needs to become the man of the house. GM of the campaign I just finished. Revenge time?

Yot (LimeDie): A traveling mercenary slash adventurer nevertheless being pulled into things because some players struggle with direction. Player is a vetran of an Improv club Navy and I were also members of.

Delilah Dunford (VermilionDie): The unruly daughter of the local snobby nobles. Roguish interests and talents. Player is also from my high school days, but not the High School game group.

Game Master (SepiaDie/Me): Everyone and thing else. Nervous wreck caught in his own head. Attended a High School once and participated in a college Improv Club.

Session One

I failed to change any proper nouns like I wanted, but I also avoided needing to say anyone’s names, so there’s still time.

There’s an immense backstory I summarized, because it was too long for me to read out and I can’t trust players to read.[1] Kassen is a town that evolved out of a hold built by a guy named Kassen, a soldier turned adventurer. One day, he went to fight an evil band of… bad people. Kassen succeeded, but succumbed to injuries taken. He was entombed in a crypt, where an eternal flame was lit. Every year, the mayor rides out to bring back a lantern lit by the flame to bless the town to survive the winter. Every couple of years, town youths are sent instead as a rite of passage.

This is one of the rite of passage years.

The mayor first meets with Mogui, a lonely mage working for one of the town’s two noble families. The mayor awkwardly stumbles through his invitation, which Mogui gladly accepts.

Next, the Mayor finds Bean waiting in the market square. The mayor, again, stumbles through his invitation, which Bean seems rather confused by the semantics of, needing to be specifically told not to just wait in the town center for two days but to come back on the actual day of departure.

Yot is found in a tavern, and attempts to talk a big game as the Mayor asks him to join the adventuring party. I still need to force a firmer connection between Yot and the town of Kassen, as my original plan of Yot belonging to what once was Kassen’s band of mercenaries was sunk before I could work it in.

Delilah pops up from behind the Mayor as he’s on his way to her family’s manor, and she eagerly joins the quest.[2]

Thus is our party arranged!

Two days later, at the predetermined time, they walk into the market square and I gently prompt them to give physical descriptions of their characters. Delilah is described as having slightly asymmetrical dark hair, while the rest focused more on height and relative ages.[4]

Mogui arrives with some sort of bipedal creature. Indigo didn’t actually know what he intended the creature to be, so I’m going to assume it’s a chocobo until gently corrected.[5] Everyone promptly forgot about it, even though it supposedly was following them.

The four mingle for a bit as I lost focus trying to recenter myself and review the next step. I tend to let my players just fill time until they get bored of their scene. I probably should work on keeping a good pace with the plot, but I also don’t want to step on their fun. It’s a difficult balance, especially if there’s no NPC handy to gently snark at them to move forward.

The bells of the Church of Polyhymnia[6] ring in the noontime.

The townspeople, dressed in blacks and other dark clothing, start to form a crowd around our adventurers. The mayor emerges with an old pony pulling a cart of supplies. He distributes backpacks to the adventurers, gives a prepared speech,[8] and sends our young heroes on their way.

Mixed into their supplies is a fourth of a map that, at an actual table, is supposed to be a real piece of paper torn and distributed to the players. Since we’re not in the same room and split between two states, I instead alluded to the paper in their bag for them to ask about, while also prepared to gently drop the detail if the players don’t engage. Pivot and roll!

Initially the torn map pieces are overlooked, and the party walks south, into the Fangwoods, following a trail that starts well-worn, but progressively fades.

A few hours into their hike, they come upon a fallen tree. Three orcs emerge from behind it, and initiative is rolled.

I overlooked a mechanic I was supposed to employ, a problem I had throughout the session. The module imbedded vital instructions mid-paragraph in the description, which means I overlooked having the players roll to disbelieve when they land hits or are hit. I did read the module in advance, though, but it’s easy to forget the details, especially details hidden away like that.

I’m a terrible note taker. In school, if I was taking notes, then I wasn’t paying attention to the lesson because I was focused on writing. This also made me a terrible stage manager. Half the reason behind these write-ups is to get the information down and in circulation in my memory because I’m not able to mid-session.

What I should be doing is reading (or writing) the module, and making a bullet point list of the bare mechanics. I sometimes do similar when trying to learn new systems.[9]

Delilah climbs into a tree to shoot arrows at one of the three Orcs, the other three taking the ground battle.

The orcs are quickly defeated, their corpses fading away. What a curious event that I’m sure has no explanation to be uncovered in the future. An utter curiosity.

At this point, the party finally pauses to ask if they know where they’re going.

Ah, time for pay off.

At this point, I describe how they’d been following a shrinking trail, but soon they won’t have it to rely on.

I’m asked to post the list of supplies to the text chat for them to pour over. A careful edit of the description of the map is needed, and I do so.

The party discusses the supplies shortly, and someone looks at their part of the map. I tell them it appears to be a fourth of a map.

NavyDie shrewdly asks if they’re all the same fourth of a map. He likely learned from the time I gave my players descriptions of dreams then later threw some wood blocks at them not to take paper for granted.[10]

I confirm that they each have a different fourth of the same map. So they jigsaw puzzle it, and Mending is cast. Now they have a single map, and a burned spell slot![12]

They follow their map for the remainder of the day. The sun began to set, and the party needed to make camp.

When the opportunity arises, players will want to roll dice, because rolling dice feels good,. So everyone rolled for the survival check meant for one.

Bean, our ranger, was the only one who failed. I punished him by having him punch a hole in his tent. Everyone goes to bed, though Yot elects to take watch for a few hours, with no intention of waking anyone to take a shift after him. He chose enough time, and made the proper check, to spot a wolf investigating the border of the campsite before slinking off.

Yot decides to increase the length of his watch a little longer. So he was still awake when the wolf returned with three friends.

New combat! Yot shouts to rouse his allies, succeeding in waking Bean and Mogui, who come out of their tents to assist. No one thinks to go wake up Delilah, so she gets to sit out of this combat.

A few rounds occur, with the lead wolf eventually knocking Yot down and mauling him a tad. Mogui uses magic to scare off the other two, but lead wolf stays intent on his objective:[13] food.

The wolf makes his way into the camp, takes a mouthful of food, and skedaddles. I declare the end of combat. Bean buries the remainder of the food,[14] and everyone goes back to sleep.

With the morning arrival, and the completion of a long rest, the journey to Kassen’s Crypt continues.

The map leads them to the shore of a large lake on a misty morning, the grey skies and fog obscuring the horizon. A bandit lays dead on the beach. Our protagonists investigate the body, and find signs of an attack by a massive serpent. The body also has a sword and a wallet of gold on him, but they are left as the body is entombed into a shallow, sandy grave.

Travel continues, and they crest a small hill overlooking a serpentine valley, within which rests Kassen’s Tomb.

This then proceeds into my second big mistake: I overlooked the acrobatics check hidden with the descriptions and had my players roll directly on the failure table. Again, the table carefully set apart drew my eye. I’m learning! Poorly!

Still, someone ran into three different trees on the way down, so at least it was amusing, if unnecessarily punishing. I’ll quietly retcon away any damage taken in apology at start of next session.

Down the overly slippery hill, a small stable’s worth of dead mounts await: two horses and three ponies, the horses long dead, the ponies a little more recent. None the same day our party arrived, however.

A description of a fancy rune in the doorway’s keystone is given, and the session ends, exploration of the dungeon saved for the next session a fortnight later.

As usual, the session was characterized with me being stressed over keeping it running and attempting to follow the script of the module. The few times I’ve managed successive sessions has hinted that I’m able to settle in as things go on and the players figure out the table dynamic. I’m mostly confident I’ll figure it out.

While I am learning the value of boxtexts,[15] modules still invoke a sense of containment on me. A fear that if I, as a GM, stray too far, I’ll accidentally break something. I don’t enjoy scripts, that’s why I did improv. Scripts means you can make mistakes that need course correction.

But I’m playing with friends, we’re learning to be a cohesive performance troupe, and hopefully this will turn into a podcast. For the future.

Until next time, may your dice make things interesting.

-

[1] I’ll grant them the benefit of the doubt that they’re literate. [2] I’m seeing a combined Trix and the Sorceress[3] from her party. I’m going to have fun with that. [3] Indigo says her name was Makenna. [4] Which will make the process of creating sprite pawns for them slightly more difficult. I’ll ask them on the discord for physical appearances when I’m done writing this. [5] Were it not bipedal, I might’ve steered him into making it into a riding jackalope. They’re… kinda my pet fantastic beast. Usually ridden by mail carriers. [6] Originally the Church of a Pathfinder Deity, but I’m transplanting the module into D&D Fifth Edition anyways, so might as well sneak the details of my setting[7] into the margins. Helps everyone’s already just human. [7] Is this canon with the abandoned Genesys campaign? You decide! [8] When I have something to read, the mayor loses the stammering and uncertainty he has when I’m doing it off the cuff. This is because I’m not awkwardly trying to do things off the cuff. [9] I should have a file that’s basically Maid RPG Lite floating around due this same habit. [10] The one time I planned for my players to ‘cheat’ and show each other the notes I gave them, and the clowns kept the notes to themselves. You literally cannot rely on anyone to do anything like they should.[11] [11] I’d say you can trust players to make things harder for themselves, but return to footnote 10. [12] When I played through this module, I arrived after the mayor distributed the backpacks, and the party already had investigated their maps. So I don’t know how this puzzle was solved then. I also don’t remember the Orc encounter. [13] Behind the screen fun: while I rolled three times fairly, I applied the single success to who I wanted. For narrative reasons. I often play favorites in this manner. [14] Sure. [15] Along with listening to Dice Friends streams/podcast.

[illyriantremors]

Beneath the Stars Bonus Chapter II: Among the Stars

This the second Moriel bonus chapter for my Modern AU fic. I hadn’t originally intended to write it, but @acotarshipweek gave me the perfect excuse to for Moriel Smut Week. Day 3′s prompt is First Time. Thank you for including this prompt!! And thank you to @kitashiwrites for reading it over and providing endless support and encouragement while you play video games. I love you!!

AO3 Linkage

Summary: Morrigan and Azriel have been together for several months now, but they still haven’t made the all important decision to sleep together... yet. Feeling nervous about it, Mor drags Feyre with her on an unexpected shopping trip to help her work out some of the details. When her and Az sit for their portraits later that same day as part of Feyre’s AP exam project, things escalate quickly between them afterwards as they realize they both might finally be ready for the next step. NSFW

Among the Stars

“Don’t worry, it’ll be easy! And all of the paints are non-toxic, I promise. Everything will wash out.”

I listened to Feyre chat merrily on about my afternoon portrait session ahead of us for her AP Studio Art exam. Feyre hadn’t told any of us much about what to expect for these portraits and Rhys was keeping his lips sealed shut with the details except to say he hoped Feyre didn’t give us quite the same treatment he had received - whatever that meant. All Feyre would say was to pick a time to come by the gallery she worked at and bring a change a clothes, something we wouldn’t mind getting dirtied up in.

Naturally, I panicked a little. I didn’t like not having a roadmap for where I was going or what I was getting myself into. Which was probably why it was a good thing Feyre didn’t know where I was dragging her to as we walked around the mall. She might not have agreed to come if she’d seen today’s roadmap.

Even seeing the store some fifty feet ahead of us as we wove between the crowds, our shoes clicking on the shiny tile floors, I was worried I might have trouble getting to not just wait outside.

But damn it, I had a problem only Feyre and a credit card could fix. So one way or another, I was getting her in that store.

“The paint’s mostly going on your skin anyway, so it won’t be hard to wash up,” Feyre said by way of finishing.

“Ooh, do I have to get naked?” I asked adding a little shimmy and batting my eyelashes at her.

She snorted. “Why do you look far too happy about that idea?”

“You know you want me.” I feigned a dirty gesture and she shook her head, looking away, but not without a smile.

“Save it for Az, please.”

She threw the comment out right as we came to the doors of the store behind today’s hidden agenda.

“Well actually,” I said, stopping at the doors. “I sort of could use your help with that.”

Feyre shot me apprehensive look wrought with discomfort. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing horrible! I just need your womanly wisdom on a few choice ideas is all.”

“Okay, well… Express is a few doors down. You can tell me in the dressing room after you help me find a dress to try on.”

Instantly, a huge grin overtook my face. I clicked the heels of my patent leather pumps together while my hands danced nervously in front of me. Feyre’s entire face fell.

“Oh shit, what is it?” she asked.

“Nothing!”

“Don’t you nothing me, Morrigan. You’ve got that - look.”

“What look?!”

“The look! Where your lips smile so wide, it’s like I can count every tooth you’ve ever had. It’s the look you have when you’re trying to con me into something, so spill. What aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing I haven’t already told you! Gosh, Feyre. You make me out to be some horrible devil of a friend.” I pouted in jest, but Feyre was having none of it, raising one wary eyebrow until I caved. “I really didn’t lie. I asked you to help me shop for some new clothes today.”

“What exactly does that have to do with your love life?”

I bit my bottom lip trying to stifle the smile of infamous the look! fame as I turned my head towards the bright pink doors of the Victoria Secret on my right. Feyre followed my gaze and her jaw slowly sank open.

“Are you kidding me?!” she gaped. “You told me you wanted to go dress shopping for graduation. Not to help you pick out lingerie for to wear with your boyfriend! Which… I don’t even… no.”

“Please! Please, please, please, Feyre!” I was dancing on the balls of my feet like a five-year-old. “Technically, I never lied to you. I just casually mentioned new clothes and graduation in the same sentence.”

“Ha! As if a bra and a g-string qualifies as new clothes.”

“Feyre,” I grabbed her hand, mustered my biggest brown puppy dog eyed look in the arsenal, and fired. “You are my best friend. My very best friend in the history of forever. After two years with all boys and Amren who never deigns to come out in the sun, I finally have a girl to help me kick all these boys into shape.” I lowered my voice so no one shopping around us would hear the next part. “I think Az and I really close to finally sleeping together and I… want it to be special. For both of us.” Feyre’s chest deflated.

Bingo.

“So would you…” I nodded towards the store, into which I could see the glorious displays of lace and straps I was dying to dive into, “you know, help me be an awesome girlfriend pretty pretty please with a cherry on top and Chipotle on me for lunch because you love me???”

“Alright, alright! I will help you, but you don’t need to buy me Chipotle. Let’s just-”

I pounced, attacking her with the viciousness of my arms drowning her before she could say another word. I may have gotten a tad carried away because I kissed her on the cheek for good measure. Feyre simply tugged my arm and dragged me inside. “Come on,” she hummed, but I knew she was happy.

We looked first at the separates, all manner of lace and silk from low rise panties to push-up bras in every color and cut imaginable. But it all just seemed so… unexciting. I already had enough thongs to last me a lifetime and I had a feeling Az would appreciate the sensuality of something that left a little more to the imagination.

Which was why Feyre and I quickly ended up in the dressing room with no less than ten different one piece ensembles between us, four of which she held outside the door for me since the attendant would only let me take in six sets at a time. I quickly shed my top and skinny jeans along with the boring set of underwear I’d brought (but totally kept the red heels on because they were gonna look bangin’ with several of the pieces I’d chosen) and started slipping into the first new set of lingerie. An emerald green lace number that pushed my ass into the middle of my back in ways I never knew I needed.

“Morrigan,” Feyre said on the other side of the door as I hooked myself together.

“Mhm…”

“I thought you and Az had already slept together.”

“Oh.” I giggled and took a moment to admire myself in the mirror, fanning my hair out around me to imagine how it might look if Azriel saw me like this, if he’d like it. “Yeah, he and I decided that first night in the tent we were gonna wait.”

“Really?”

“Why do you sound so surprised?”

“It’s just…” I tensed as she paused, wondering if I’d really given off that impression and starting to feel a little hurt that she might think I was that shallow - or that it should matter in the first place. But then Feyre carried on. “I could have sworn I heard you giggling like the love-struck idiot you are upstairs the morning after Starfall.”

Relief had little more than a second to sink in before I had that dressing room door flying open in her face. “I knew you two were together on Starfall! I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!” Feyre blushed a bright shade of crimson.

I told Cass when he’d dropped Az and I off that night and we saw Rhys’s car in the driveway that Feyre was more than likely downstairs with him. It had been an effort not to go to Azriel’s knowing what Feyre and Rhys were likely doing… but my house didn’t have chaperones mulling about for the evening given that Rhys’s dad was an inconstant workaholic, so inside and upstairs it was.

But we didn’t sleep together. Not then. We had only just started dating and even though the night was set up perfectly for it, in the end… we just laid awake in my bed, snuggled up for most of the night talking. We didn’t even take our clothes off.

Well, Az did remove his dress jacket, but I stole it to wrap myself in anyway before he tucked us both in with a blanket.

I walked fully out of the stall and let Feyre get a good look. “So, whaddya think?”

She made a squishy face and shook her head. “Phenomenal as ever. You make me wish I had four years of cheer under my belt to pull that little number off, but I don’t think the green is quite, well, you.”

I stood up straighter. “What do you think is me, Feyre darling?”

“I wish you wouldn’t call me that, especially while we’re lingerie shopping.”

“Why’s that, Feyre? Thinking of someone in particular?” I stuck out my tongue and cackled like a madwoman as I disappeared back into the dressing room. “I’ll try the red one next.”

“You always pick red, though!”

“Then be helpful! If you’re gonna turn down ideas, then you need to suggest some of your own.”

There was a brief silence while I waited and then finally Feyre offered, “Got anything blue?”

I perused my options and found one. A deep cobalt color that could have moved heaven and earth itself - and hopefully my boyfriend - it wasn’t what my eye would have been drawn to first. I think I’d even grabbed it on a whim, but it was worth a shot. “Got it!” I called to Feyre.

“So seriously,” she said when I was halfway through switching garments. “You two never… not even once?”

“Oh Feyre, you’re adorable.” Damn, this blue lace was soft. “No, we haven’t had sex, though not for lack of wanting to. But… our entire relationship has taken so much time, it didn’t feel right to rush it. And at first - shit, just holding his hand was practically enough to make me cream myself. Everything has been so different compared to past boyfriends who just wanted to feel me up and get the show over with before some stupid breakup. But with Azriel… it’s like every little touch and look actually means something. I don’t know if this would sound weird to you or not-”

“Never.”

The immediacy of her interjection and support bloomed a sweet smile on my lips. “With Azriel, I feel like I’m experiencing everything the way a person’s supposed to. It’s like the first time all over again, but better. Right. Because it’s with him…”

There was a long pause as I stood in front of the mirror feeling the way the material clung to my skin. It was a corset combining lace and satin, with a sheer overlay on the breasts so that my nipples peaked through some.

“Are you… are you going to say anything?”

“Show me the blue one,” Feyre replied and there was a surety to her statement that boosted my confidence.

“Are you sure? This one’s a little more revealing than the last.”

“Hit me with it.”

I unlocked the door and walked out, leaning against the frame with one ankle wrapped around the other as I balanced in my pumps. Feyre looked me up and down in barely no time at all before she’d made her call.

“That one.” And there was no question to it as she smirked and grabbed the remainder of my options from the dressing room so I couldn’t change my mind. I spun around to look at myself in the mirror again and knew it too. She was absolutely right. The way the corset hugged my hips, accentuated my breasts - wasn’t a dorky little teenager anymore, but a real woman, and I looked incredible.

“Azriel isn’t going to know what to do with himself,” Feyre said. “I hardly know what to do with myself.” I looked at her in the mirror with a little curious playfulness. She shrugged. “What? You look hot. I ain’t afraid to say it.”

I knew I’d brought her for a reason.

The bathroom at Feyre’s art gallery was glorious. My opinion of public restrooms was forever altered just from washing my hands in the stone basin sinks adorned with the sweetest honey-scented hand soap I’d ever come across. As I straightened the elegant chignon I’d fixed my hair into as per Feyre’s request, I vaguely wondered if her boss needed an extra receptionist for the summer because I could get used to this kind of bathroom treatment.

Azriel was already inside the studio getting set with Feyre for his portrait while I changed and I wondered if making him go first hadn’t been a mistake because when I walked into the employee studio, Feyre immediately pulled me aside with a fistful of the plain white button up shirt I was wearing (also per Feyre’s request).

“He’s tense,” she said. I scoffed.

“He’s Azriel. When is he not tense?”

Feyre frowned. “When he’s with you - that’s when. Can you do something?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Just…” She eyed my Starbucks and shrugged. “Drink your mocha, giggle obnoxiously, make goo-goo eyes at him. Just be the perky little brat we all know and worship, yeah? But don’t touch him.”

“Yes, Madame Secretary,” I said with a mock salute. “I will do my best to shoot sunshine out of my ass and make Azriel not tense.”

“That’s my girl.”

I followed Feyre further into the studio and saw Azriel looking at the broad white expanse of the canvas behind him. He was perched on a plain wooden stool, his hands gripping the seat between his thighs, wearing plain denim jeans and… nothing else. His hair was a floppy mess around his ears.

I stopped dead in my tracks at the sight of him. Az without a shirt was something I would never get used to and I’d only seen the spectacle a handful of times. His chest was beautiful, allowing the scars of his hands to weave up his arms and disappear into a solid expanse of skin that I could have kissed for days.

It was a little surprising to me he’d agreed to go shirtless for this. His scars were something he normally shied away from showing off, they made him too self-conscious. Even when we were together a bit more intimately, there were times I found him pulling back from touching me, or if he did touch me, it was always so sweetly like he was afraid he might get his scars on my skin and ruin me.

But I loved his scars and I made it a point to soothe and love them every chance I could. They were a part of him - my Azriel. I was glad they were allowed to be included for his portrait.

“Azriel?”

Feyre’s simple question was quiet, but it was enough to drag Az’s attention away from the canvas. His eyes glanced over Feyre for the briefest of moments before they spotted me and the relief that washed over him in that single second our eyes hooked on each other… it brought my Starbucks cup darting up to my mouth to hide the grin that was spreading.

“Called it…” I heard Feyre mutter as she mixed a last touch of paint before walking over to my boyfriend. “Do you mind if I paint you? I promise it won’t be much and it will all come off. And you can tell me to stop if I do anything you don’t like.”

Azriel took one look at Feyre before his eyes whipped back to me and I nodded casually, offering him the shyest of smiles, the one I reserved only for him. “Okay,” Azriel said.

And just like that, Feyre began to paint. And it was… sort of fascinating.

Within a few strokes, she switched to a soft makeup sponge and blotted dark clouds of greys and blacks along his skin in a way that pulled the sharpness of his bone structure out to the forefront. But where it all should have looked jagged and intense, Azriel just looked… rather elegant.

Beautiful, even.

His hazel eyes shined beneath the darkness of the paint that Feyre dragged downwards into little clouds of smoke along his neck and collarbone, stopping just above his pectoral muscles.

“See, that’s all,” she said when she was finished. “Now just sit tight for a bit. I’m gonna work on the canvas and then I’ll take your photo.” She turned to me and added, “You can talk if you want. Just no-”

“Touching, I know, I know.”

I couldn’t be annoyed though. There was something magical about watching Feyre work, how focused she was. She just had this instinct about her that was bringing out all these new wonderful facets of this man I loved that I could have watched go on and on forever.

Loved.

I still hadn’t told him I was in love with him. I didn’t doubt he knew it. He knew it everyday, but he also knew how badly I was trying to work up the nerve to tell him and I think he liked that for once he wasn’t the one battling a ridiculous amount of nerves. So he waited patiently for me, gave me every opportunity and never scoffed once as I fumbled my way through it. That was the best part about being with Azriel, though: he let me be me in my own way on my own time, something my family had never once given me.

It made me love him more. And I thought he loved me too.

I just had to figure out when I was gonna say it. I wanted some sweeping romantic gesture, like a candlelit dinner or moonlit walk on the beach, typical cinema cheesiness, but just something that was more than the usual date night to make it special.

We didn’t really talk as Feyre finished up on the canvas. I realized she was almost done and that in a moment, I’d lose this sight of Azriel for who knew how long and I couldn’t have that. So I pulled my phone out and held it up at just the right angle that I could snap a few pictures while pretending to text. He’d die of embarrassment if he knew I was immortalizing him like this, but to hell with it. He was gorgeous and I was utterly shameless.

“Picture time!” Feyre chimed, wiping her hands free of paint and reaching for the insanely legit Nikon that must have cost the studio a fortune, but would undoubtedly kick my stupid smartphone snaps out of the water.

I drew back to give her space to work and she stepped in front of me, taking a few photos. But after a moment, she brought the camera down and tisked, stepping back aside. “Morrigan?”

“Hmm,” I said trying to sound distracted as I continued to text. And then I looked up and Azriel was staring at me. Just staring. I heard the click - just one before Feyre said, “Got it,” and Azriel was done. Which meant…

My turn!

My session was much quicker than Azriel’s. Feyre flecked my face and neck with spots of bright metallic gold paint that sparkled and shined in the light. I held the collar of my shirt down a tad so she could reach my collarbones too. She did a similar technique on the canvas. It was simple and not nearly as done up as Azriel’s, but Feyre told me she had her own art magic to work with the photos and I would understand when I saw the final portrait.

And just like that, I was done.

“You don’t need anything else?” I asked after Az and I had cleaned ourselves up.

Feyre set the camera down and connected it to the computer over the wifi. “Nope! You guys can clean up and peace out if you want. I’ll be here a while and besides, I don’t want you two peaking early and spoiling the surprise!”

I looked at Azriel who smiled down at me and took my hand. “Shall we?” he asked. There was a spark in his hazel eyes that I hadn’t quite seen in him before, something that made him hold on to me a little tighter, lean in just a little closer. I squeezed his hand in reply.

“Absolutely.”

“It’s a shame you had to wipe it off,” Az said in the car on the way home. Outside, the sun had started to set.

“What, the paint?”

“Mhm.” He nodded, his gaze intently fixed on the road as one hand gripped the steering wheel and the other rested around the back of my seat. His thumb just reached down far enough to brush against the back of my neck making me feel all warm and gooey inside.

“Why?”

“Because,” he said with a pointed attitude that it should have been very obviously why I should dress myself in paint day-to-day. “You looked exquisite.”

Too giddy to blush, I reached over and brushed against his own neck. With the way the sunlight streamed the through the window against his skin, Azriel looked radiant, a strong contrast to the boy in shadows and smoke from an hour ago.

“I could say the same thing about yourself, shadowsinger.”

Azriel lifted a sharp brow, turning onto our street. One of the many perks of dating Azriel was the fact that we lived next door. He was never far, never lost to me. Always waiting and close by if I needed him or he needed me, precisely the way it should always have been.

“Shadow… shadow what?”

I giggled and brushed my thumb over his neck as he was doing to me. “Shadowsinger.”

He parked the car on the street just in front of his house and killed the engine so he could turn in his seat to look at me. It was momentarily painful to feel his hand leave my neck so he could park, but a moment later he was taking my hand from his neck and pressing a kiss against the inside of my wrist.

“What on earth is a shadowsinger?”

“I don’t know I made it up.”

Azriel snorted with a small smile. “Of course you did.”

“That’s what you reminded me of today when Feyre painted you. All mysterious and phantom-esque with the clouds hanging about you. It was like you were singing to the shadows themselves.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Of course! Azriel,” and this time, I took his wrist and applied my own lazy kiss, “my sweet, sexy shadowsinger.”

His eyes sparkled with night and for a second, he returned to being that same person Feyre had painted - powerful and elegant, rippling with the might of some other worldliness none of us knew about but him. But then his gaze softened, and a sly smile turned up the corners of his lips.

“You think I’m sexy, eh.”

“Every day. Now do me next!”

Azriel laughed. It was a sound I could have listened to for the rest of my life. Hearing that sound come sweeping out of him no matter how gentle or full it ever might be, was like being granted access to some divine secret in life, and I was hoarding as many of those secrets as I could get my hands on.

“Well you… you looked…” He stared off, refusing to meet my gaze as he tried to find the right words, and a faint pink color spread beautifully across his face. “Morrigan, you looked like a queen. Like the strong warrior who won her crown enshrined in gold and glory. You looked… positively radiant. A dreamer dancing in the sunlight.”

His eyes met mine as he finished his speech and my heart cracked open, my face breaking into a decadent smile just for him.

For Azriel - my shadowsinger.

I should have never let us be just friends for so long. I should have told him every day how much I cared for him, from the second I met him and it was all shy smiles and accidentally on purpose touches under the table and stolen glances after school.

Without warning, Azriel leaned forward and captured my lips with his in the tenderest of kisses. His lips were soft, applying the carefullest of pressure as we sat suspended in time for several long seconds that made my head explode. I wouldn’t have been surprised if the sun had finished setting and come back to rise again in the moments we sat their getting a gentle feel for one another.

Azriel was the one who broke the kiss. Between us, our hands remained firmly clasped though no other part of us touched. “Morrigan” he started to say, considering our hands between us, and there was more certainty in his voice than I’d ever heard. “Do you want to come inside?”

Heat sizzled over me in one great wave that had me biting my lip. I could practically feel the sparks dancing in my eyes as I looked at him and I knew he could see it too because all too quickly, Azriel was smirking at me suggestively.

“I’d love that,” I said.

“Okay,” he replied.

“Okay.”

“Inside.”

“Uh-huh.”

We fumbled for the doors and strolled up the short driveway to Az’s house towards the front door. I spared half a glance towards my own house next door and noticed Rhys’s car and his dad’s.

“Is your grandmother home?” I asked, my mind starting to buzz with how to navigate the rest of the evening.

“Nope.” Azriel slid his key in the door and swung it open. “Her bowling league plays tonight. She probably left right before we pulled up, so…”

…we had the house to ourselves for a considerable amount of time.

We stepped inside and no sooner had the door closed behind me did Azriel guide me promptly up against it and this time, his mouth consumed me with an intoxicating rush of need and want that I could never have refused. His kisses were hungry, devouring, and insatiable. On and on they took me even as the rest of him held still against me, his hands holding firmly at my waist while I was lost to the corruption of his lips.

And all the while, a small ache blossomed in my core that led me to his face where I clung on for dear life down to the nape of his neck getting lost in the haze. And all I could think was Azriel, Azriel, Azriel.

I yanked my lips from him, rather roughly, and a trembling gasp came out of me as I searched for my voice. “Az…”

He leaned his forehead against mine. “Morrigan, I think I’m ready.”

It took a moment for his intentions to sink in and when they did…

“Are you sure?”

I didn’t really need to ask. He had been sounding more and more confident since we left the studio. Azriel rarely spoke as it was unless he was sure about what he wanted to say, so this… this was serious business.

“I’m absolutely sure,” he said and the intensity of his stare threatened to tip me over past the breaking point of what I could handle. “I want you, Morrigan.”

Morrigan.

Fuck me, no one ever said my name like that. Not with such promise. Not with such piercing adoration. Not ever in the way that Azriel said it, cradled it with his tongue and sung it from his lips.

Slowly, in one long motion, I nodded. An infectious grin spread across both our faces.

“Say it again,” I said, asking him for a gift he’d once asked of me. Azriel leaned down to kiss me and when he’d finished…

“Morrigan.”

His kisses continued across my jaw, peppering my skin with such utter devotion until he’d reached my neck to spread his heat across me further. And all the while in between…

“Morrigan.”

My neck…

“Morrigan.”

My collarbone as his fingers deftly unbuttoned my blouse…

“Morrigan.”

Along the tops of my chest hovering just over my bra…

“Morrigan.”

My bra! Shit.

“Wait!” I yelled suddenly frantic and Azriel downright froze against me. “Wait, wait, wait!”

“I’m sorry,” he said instantly recoiling from me. My entire body went cold feeling him take a step back, undoubtedly worried he had hurt me somehow or misread my cues. “Morrigan, I’m so sorry. If you don’t want to-”

“No! I want to, but I…” I felt myself blush what I was sure was a shade far darker than the pale pink lipstick I had on and stammered.

My bra. My damned stupid, plain, undecorated, no lace whatsoever, boring, beige bra.

In my nervousness, I reached up and undid the chignon my hair was still in enjoying the release of tension it gave me as my hair fell in waves around my shoulders. Azriel watched it fall with a saddened look on his face and it nearly killed me to think I’d caused that with how completely daft I was. I had to fix it.

“Azriel,” I said reaching for him and mercifully, he let me take those beautiful blessed scared hands of his back. “Make no mistake. I want to sleep with you. Trust me, heaven knows I want nothing more than to get inside your bed and do unspeakable things to you until I’m forced to sneak out several hours later.”

Azriel brushed off a laugh and my chest sighed in relief. “But?”

“But I bought special lingerie for this - the really dirty trashy kind! Lingerie that I’m not wearing! And you,” I spread our interlocked hands wide and motioned up and down to my torso that he’d exposed unbuttoning my shirt, “have already spoiled the big reveal!”

Azriel stared at me for ten seconds or ten minutes, I wasn’t quite sure. And then he laughed. Laughed so hard, I could have cried.

“You bought lingerie… for me?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“That’s fucking hot.”

And then he took me back in his arms, and that’s when I really did start crying.

“Morrigan,” he said bringing his face very close to mine again so that I could feel the heat of his breath against my skin. Our noses just touched. “Morrigan, Morrigan - my Morrigan, please don’t cry. Look at you.”

He looked down at my chest and I followed his gaze, landing on that very boring bra of mine. Azriel’s hands went to my waist and slid up slowly, caressing me so gently with the patience and skill only he could control, and when those damned beautiful fingers of his reached the hem of my bra running around my chest, Azriel stopped and returned his gaze to mine.

“You’re perfect. Absolutely perfect. This is the Morrigan I want.” His hands gave a little squeeze. “Right here.”

And it utterly overwhelmed me to hear him say it, to watch him look at me like the most precious person in his world, to hold me as his own, to take me and care for me in all the ways that only he could. It cut me to the heart, spilled the truth pouring right out of me.

“I love you,” I said, blinking back tears that Azriel took care to wipe away for me. “I love you. Never has anyone meant more to me than you.”

Azriel nuzzled against my brow, his eyes closing softly as he lingered before opening again so he could look me in the eyes as he held me close and whispered his greatest secret, “…I love you too.”

Nervous smiles broke out between us. Azriel’s hands moved to my hips and scooped me up. I brought my legs around his waist and stared down at him, my hair curtaining around his face.

“My dreamer,” he said and I grinned like a wildcat. “Let’s go upstairs.”

“Mhm,” I said, too blissfully giddy to say anything further.

Az took me up the stairs. He took me into his room. He closed the door. He laid me down on the bed and finished undoing my blouse. When he removed my bra, he flung it aside and made me realize the packaging was far less important than the treasures it contained.

We’d been with other people before, but we both agreed after it was all over that nothing compared to the way being with each other felt. He fit perfectly with me - alongside me skin on skin, around me as his arms held me tight, inside me as we moved together. Heaven on earth was cradled between our breaths, the laugh he made when we both had trouble getting the condom out of the wrapper, the giggles I made when he tickled my skin, the groan he made entering me…

And all the while, that chorus sang fluidly between us.

Morrigan.

Azriel

Morrigan…

Azriel…

Until at last we were left a shattering, fragmented mess, stitched together each of us by the other and the love we’d been building for two and a half years.

The love that I would treasure for many more years to come between us - a shadowsinger and his dreamer.

xx