#i wanna build my own boat and said with an army of people all over the world ):

[jarayus]

I don't want to be part of the modern world anymore I'm so bored of it. I want to be a viking farmer. I want to live in a little village and grow crops and battle in raids and have a daughter named helga or something and sacrifice goats to the gods and be a part of the earth rather than trying to control it. If anyone knows of secret viking societies I can live in pls lmk thanks.

[cutesilyo]

no place in the world (like manila) — an amephil fanfic

A few months after the outbreak of the Philippine-American War, Alfred falls in love with and is betrayed by a bright-eyed teenager with the prettiest smile on this side of the Orient in a single night. 

This is not a love story.

Also available on AO3.

—

"Sir, I don't think it's safe for you to leave the camp," Major-General MacArthur warned. "I don't know how, but the revolutionaries know your face. They could attack you!"

"Pshaw," Alfred snorted. "I'm a nation. What could they do that could take me down, huh?"

MacArthur's mustache bristled in displeasure. "Be that as it may sir, might I remind you that you only arrived in Manila a week ago? Knowing you, you'd just get lost and I'd have to put together a whole squad of troops just to hunt you down. You could get captured, Alfred. I don't know how to tell you just how badly that would bring down morale."

Alfred just wagged his fingers, a bright grin on his face. "Look, if I get captured, I'd bust out of whatever crappy holding place they'd put me in without barely breaking a sweat! And knowing our soldiers, that's just the stuff that would make a great story to tell at dinnertime. How's that for morale?"

The way that MacArthur simply stared at him blankly told Alfred that this was not a convincing argument.

"I hate it when you do that," he groaned, slumping back on his seat. The leather was hot with the heat of the tropical sun and it stuck uncomfortably to his skin. Oh, how badly he wanted to just finally get up and leave. "I'm just saying, I can't stay inside here forever just waiting for you to dictate our next move."

"It's part of our strategy—"

"And it's boring. I'm bored, Major-General. I might as well look around." Alfred's eyes glinted dangerously. "Besides, you'll capture the whole nation for me soon enough, won't you? No harm in wanting to see what we're winning once this war is over."

The silence lasted for a few seconds before the major-general sighed in defeat.

—

Private Patton R. Wilkes was assigned to “accompany” Alfred while he roamed around Manila, but he knew that MacArthur just wanted someone to make sure he would actually return to camp instead of getting lost or, God forbid, taking the next ship back to America. Though the both of them were dressed in civilian clothing, the private carried himself with a strict stiffness that just screamed hardened military man. If Alfred wanted any chance of escape, it looked like the private would be hard to shake off.

Alfred tried to stay optimistic about the trip anyway. He hadn't paid much attention to the city while he was on the way to the American camp, but he certainly expected it to have an air of exoticness. He was a bit disappointed not to see anything like the palaces of Japan or the distinctly oriental architecture of China. Instead, he found street signs written in Spanish, the excited chatter of fast-talking brown-skinned people, and the cacophony of guitars, church bells, and the sound of horse-drawn carriages trotting along the stoned roads. Walking around Manila was like looking at a funhouse mirror version of Mexico: more or less the same, but with just enough differences to make his head spin.

"Uh, you alright there, sir?" Patton asked.

"Was just thinking about a bad memory, is all," Alfred grimaced. He's sure that Alejandro would have his head once he returned to the continent. He's been pissing off a lot of Spanish-speaking nations recently, that's for sure. "Come to think of it, the Philippine Islands must have its own personification too, right?"

The private's face darkened. "He's a force to reckon with, sire. Haven't seen no hide nor hair of him myself, but some guys in the other squadron barely survived after fighting with the kid."

"A kid?" Alfred furrowed his eyebrows. He didn't know there were still nations out there who were that young. Then again, he was only a teenager himself, and he was even younger when he fought against Arthur as well. "I don't know how I feel about fighting a kid. Couldn't I just give him a lollipop or something and this could all just work itself out?"

He meant it as a joke, but Patton seemed to take it seriously and started furiously shaking his head. "Don't think you could even try negotiating with him sir, the kid's a savage. Hacked and slashed his way through the guys with some kind of golden knife, they said. We're lucky our medics are so darned fast, otherwise, we would've been down almost a dozen men from him alone."

Something in Alfred's resolve hardened at the thought of losing his soldiers to someone so brutal. He clapped the other man on the shoulder and said, "Don't you worry, Pat. We'll end this soon, and when we win, we'll make sure that nobody from these islands ever lays a hand on any of our own."

That seemed to comfort Patton somewhat, though he was still shaking with anger. "I'll give them a good walloping right by your side, sire."

"Now that's the kind of patriotic determination I wanna see!" Alfred crowed. He then immediately scrambled for his wallet and hurriedly gave the private a wad of bills. Some onlookers openly gawked at seeing the number of dollar bills in his hand. "Tell you what, why don't you buy some booze, head back to camp, and inspire your fellow soldiers, eh? God knows we need some fun around here."

"Um," Patton blinked, caught off-guard. "I don't know if Major-General MacArthur—"

"Tell Major-General MacArthur that I'm just trying to boost morale," Alfred winked. "Also, tell him I'll back by next morning!"

He didn't get to hear Patton's response as he took off running wildly in the opposite direction. He barely registered running past the stores, wet market, and the cathedral; he just wanted to be alone and independent, exploring this new land to his heart's content. The buildings were shorter and the roads were narrower here than in his own country, but Alfred was just so glad to finally be in a place filled with people just like he was used to.

Alfred collapsed on his knees, winded. When he looked up, he was surprised to see that he had apparently made it to one of Manila's many ports. Past the numerous small fishing boats and trading boats, he could see that the sun was already beginning to set. The sky was painted in a pretty combination of pinks and oranges in contrast to the ocean's blue, the stars already starting to twinkle faintly into appearance one by one. The rhythmic lapping of the waves against the rocks seemed louder than everything else around him — a stark reminder that no matter where he went, there was always something bigger to discover.

He stood there for a moment, mesmerized when a loud grunt startled him out of his stupor.

He turned to find some kind of bull staring at him with its beady eyes, its long horns curving towards the back instead of to the front. It was pulling a wagon full of leafy vegetables that Alfred couldn't recognize, and the old man riding it looked startled to come across a foreigner.

"Hijo, padaan naman po," he said, with a strained smile.

"Oh, sorry, I don't know what you mean," Alfred tried, but the man just continued smiling at him. He was starting to think that maybe abandoning Patton, who wasn't fluent but at the very least conversational in Tagalog, was a bad idea.

Luckily, someone came to his rescue. A teenager with bright eyes approached him, an amused twitch of the lips on his sharp face. He was dressed simply: unlike the suit and tie ensemble of the richer Filipinos he'd come across or the pale blue uniform of the Philippine Army, he wore a thin white top and trousers cut just above his ankles. The scabbard on his hip would have been concerning if Alfred didn't know just how many Filipinos carried knives in their daily lives. All in all, he looked just like any other street vendor, but the red handkerchief tied around his neck was vibrant enough to make him stand out. "You are American, yes?"

"Ah yeah," Alfred flushed, a bit flustered. The way the stranger leaned in was a little too close for comfort, but he looked harmless and at least he spoke English. "Can you help me? I think that man is talking to me, but I can't understand what he's saying."

The teenager grabbed his arm to pull him to the side. The old man tipped his straw hat in thanks, and the teenager smiled, saying: "Pasensya na po, lolo! Hindi kasi taga-rito."

The two of them watched the wagon pass them by. They stood there in silence for a moment, and then Alfred blurted out, "I didn't know I was in the way, I swear."

"You did seem quite distracted." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the other boy laugh. The both of them turned to each other at the same time, a small smile on each other's faces. "Not that I blame you. I am sure you have sunsets in America, but it is different here than in other countries. I think the colors are more vibrant, do you agree?"

"Certainly takes my breath away," he admitted. "I do have to ask, how come you speak English so well? I've only been in Manila for a few days but I don't think I've met another Filipino that's as good as you are."

The teenager only laughed again and held on to Alfred's arm tighter. As he looked up at him, his eyes and grin were equally bright with mirth; and despite himself, Alfred was a bit charmed. "Us Filipinos are not as stupid as you think, señorito. Now, you say you are a stranger to Manila, yes? Come with me, and let me show you around my city."

—

They ended up hailing a tranvia, a carriage made to carry a whole group of people instead of just a pair. Alfred found it small and quaint, making an internal note to build tram lines in the city once he was able. Yet the energy that the teenager had with him was larger than life. He had apparently noticed the other passengers giving Alfred a suspicious side-eye, and immediately launched into a round of jokes to dispel the tension. Though he barely understood the jokes due to them being told in a mix of Spanish and Tagalog, the way that the whole tranvia burst into loud laughter was enough to assure him that his companion was quite the comedic performer.

When they got off, the driver even thanked them for the entertainment and told them not to pay the fare anymore. Alfred let out an excited whoo! as the teenager did an exaggerated bow.

As the carriage rode off, Alfred turned to his new friend and exclaimed, "Wow! The way you handled that was amazing! I mean, I've been through worse than an awkward train ride, but you definitely saved my ass back there."

The teenager blushed slightly. "Think nothing of it. I would rather see my companions happy and comfortable in my care than anything else."

"Still, that thing you did was certainly a swell sight." Alfred breathed in the cold evening air and let it out with a contented sigh. He looked straight into the other boy's eyes as he said, "And it's really nice that you're going through all the trouble to be with me tonight too! Like, we don't even know each other's names but you just whisked me away like some kind of fairytale hero! That was really awesome of you, I have to say."

"You are a man of sweet words," the teenager said, with a smile that looked almost bittersweet. Then, as if he had completely forgotten about his melancholy, he grabbed Alfred's arm again and dragged him towards the next street corner. "But let us not waste time talking! Most of these shops close soon, and I would hate for us to miss them!"

Helpless, Alfred let himself be strung along.

Sadly, most of the shops they went past had already closed for the day. Still, the teenager cheerily talked his ear off about what wares they sold and the local gossip about the people who ran those stores — like Pepito, owner of the clay pottery store, who had apparently given away all his lotto winnings to the next city's blacksmith. The one time that they had actually been able to buy something was when they came across a small, brightly-colored cart that apparently sold the Filipino version of ice cream. Both the vendor — Mang Tomas, as he was introduced — and the teenager had chuckled when he brought out a wallet full of dollars, so the teenager had to reach into his own pocket to pay with a few coins. As they walked past yet another cathedral, Alfred caught his friend singing the hymns under his breath. When they reached the plaza, the teenager then asked the lady standing nearby — Aling Nena, he was told — to give him a jasmine garland, the scent of the white flowers so powerful that it immediately made Alfred sneeze on his friend's face when he put them around his neck. Yet instead of getting mad like he expected, the teenager had only laughed and told him he looked handsome.

No matter where they went or who they talked to, his friend always seemed to know everyone's names. Alfred had no idea how he had the time to possibly get so familiar with all the people around him, but he certainly understood the sentiment; he loved talking with all the Americans that he came across with too. Personally getting to know the people who made his nation always made him feel more connected with them in a way that war and politics never could.

And if the Philippine Islands was truly to be his someday, Alfred knew he wanted to treat them similarly. More than anything or anyone else though, nobody in the archipelago had intrigued him most than the young man beside him whose smile was brighter than any star.

Yet all his experience in small talk failed him tonight, and not for lack of trying. Every time he asked questions about his friend, he was always diverted away from the topic.

Which part of the city are you from? was met with a vague Do you ask the flower which vine it came from? You are better off simply enjoying the whole garden.

Where is your family? had been completely ignored as his friend said You must be hungry, yes? I know a place with the best empanadas this side of Binondo.

What is your name? earned him a cheeky wink and a teasing If your mind still ventures to inane questions like that, then I am not doing very well in completely impressing you.

How old are you? made the teenager burst out into loud, hearty laughter that lasted for more than a minute. Alfred didn't even bother to try asking anything else after that, choosing to focus on his empanadas and arroz a la valenciana for the rest of the meal.

Later, when they were served a bottle of gin to share along with a bowl of peanuts, his friend had the grace to apologize for his behavior.

"I truly am sorry," he said, but the playful grin on his face made it difficult to take his apology seriously. "I simply do not think that you knowing more about me is more important than us having a good time together."

"How am I supposed to find you again if I don't know who you are, huh?" Alfred couldn't stop himself from whining. He ignored the glass in front of him, taking a swig straight from the bottle and letting the alcohol burn down his throat. His friend watched him in bemusement. "This has been the best night of my life in a long time. And if this is the last time we see each other, I don't think I'm going to forgive myself if I don't push you into giving me a hint."

This time, it was his friend's turn to take a drink: he filled his glass half-full and downed it all in one go. "You are certainly bold, señorito, I will give you that. A good friend of mine warned me about how loud and annoying Americans were, but it seems he neglected to tell me about how forward you all were as well."

Alfred resisted the urge to roll his eyes; of course, he would get deflected yet again. "Alright, I'll bite. Tell me more about your friend."

The teenager looked surprised. "You wish to know more about a man that insulted you?"

"If this is the closest I get to you telling me more about yourself, I'll take it," he shrugged. "Besides, I'd love to know how this friend of yours thinks. Americans are the greatest people in the world! He must be stupid if he doesn't know that."

The other boy laughed. "Of course you would say that, you biased brute. And I will have you know that my friend was quite smart, actually. One of the smartest men I have ever known."

Alfred felt like he wouldn't like the answer, but he asked anyway: "Was?"

All traces of laughter from his friend's face faded away into a hollow smile. "Killed by firing squad a few years ago."

Silently, Alfred poured gin into both of their glasses. They drank in solemn solidarity.

"My sincere condolences," said Alfred, and he meant it: he had lost too many friends himself over the centuries. "And I'm sorry I called him stupid."

His friend waved it off. "No worries. Pepe was incredibly intelligent, but he definitely had his fair share of stupid moments — you wouldn't believe how many times that man fell in love over the course of his short lifetime. Still, I miss him terribly and I wish he was still around. God only knows what he would have thought about everything happening at present."

"Oh, I know the feeling." Despite him dying decades prior, Alfred still longed for George Washington's steadfast guidance sometimes. He reached, a bit messily, for another drink. "It's uncanny, yeah? Some people just have this weird ability to analyze the present and predict the future. I certainly don't know how they do anything like it, really. I kind of just talk big and hope for the best."

"Funny that you talk about the future," the teenager chuckled. "Somehow, my friend even managed to predict that you would come here, Alfred. I did not believe him at the time, of course, but here you are."

"Here I am," Alfred repeated faintly. "Hold on, how did you know my—"

"Why were you all alone in my city, señorito?" His friend interrupted, looking up at him through his eyelashes. He leaned closer, close enough for the skin of their arms to touch, and Alfred suddenly forgot about all his worries. "I was very surprised to see you on your own, looking every bit like a lost little lamb. You are very lucky that I found you."

"Lucky indeed," he murmured, adjusting the collar of his shirt. It felt like the temperature in the room had risen by a dozen degrees. "Just wanted to explore, is all. MacArthur told me we had to stay low for a few more weeks, I got bored, and he let me out."

Those bright eyes were practically glittering as the teenager looked up at him, his fingers slowly tracing up his arm. "And you were alone? I always thought American soldiers traveled in pairs, but perhaps I was mistaken."

"No! No, you're right, you're definitely right," Alfred stammered out. He was sure his face was completely red by now. "I was with Private Wilkes earlier, but we, ah, got separated. He must be on the way back to Bulacan by now."

"How unfortunate," the other practically purred, clearly delighted. "Say, tell me, how did this Wilkes look like? Because I am sure that he does not look as handsome as you do."

That damned smile, now coy instead of kind and sweet, was tantalizingly close. If only he had the courage to lean down—

Alfred, trying desperately to distract himself, grabbed the bottle again and took a long swig.

There were about a million promises that threatened to spill from Alfred's lips, each one more outrageous than the other: Come with me. Stay with me. I'll keep you safe. I'll love you. Yet at the moment, he found himself tongue-tied. He didn't know if it was the alcohol or the atmosphere or the way the young boy across the table had so effortlessly allured him, but he felt like he was about to go insane. He barely registered the both of them standing up to leave, didn't question why they didn't need to pay at the restaurant, paid no heed to what his friend had whispered to the men standing guard by the door. His mind was in a muddy haze, and all he could focus on was the fact that his friend was holding his hand as he was led into the dark streets.

Dimly, Alfred thought that however striking he looked by the setting sun, he looked much more ethereal bathed in moonlight.

He must have said this aloud because the teenager laughed.

"You are a man of sweet words," he said, and there's that oddly bittersweet smile again. "And I wish we could have met in better circumstances."

"What's wrong with the way we met today? I had fun," Alfred argued. He swayed slightly on his feet, and his friend held on to him to keep him from falling. "Didn't you have fun?"

"You forget we are at war, señorito. And you forget that you are seeking to control me and my people, not find a lover." Despite the harsh words, the way his friend said this was soft and sad. Almost like he was somehow hurt. "It does not matter what we feel today if we are bound to fight each other tomorrow. Should you not know this by now?"

They walked together in silence, each supporting the other. Slowly, Alfred's alcohol-induced dizziness began to subside. It was replaced by a growing emptiness in his chest — and a heavy, heavy realization.

"You knew I was America this entire time." When his friend deigned to respond, he continued. "Then, why...?"

At this, the teenager laughed — broken and wistful and desperate, all at once. "I do not know myself. I was ready to attack you, but for some reason, the look in your eyes as you watched the sunset stopped me. I thought, if you could look at my country with such amazement, then you could see that this war is unnecessary. That if you could know my land and my people the way I knew them, full of vibrancy and color and light, then you could realize that they did not deserve to die.

"Yet as the night went on I began to realize my efforts were fruitless. It was not them you were looking at anymore, but me." Here, his friend faced him; Alfred barely catching a glimpse of his wet eyes before the teenager looked away. "Believe me, I would love to spend another night like this with you. But you have your responsibilities and so do I."

"Fruitless," Alfred repeated hollowly. The cold night wind was in stark contrast to the hot rage he felt bubbling inside him. He forcefully wrenched himself away from his friend, yelling: "You made me tell you classified information!"

In seconds, he watched the teenager's face go from shock to hurt to an angry glare.

"Do you not understand how badly I need to win this war? My people did not give their lives to free me from Spain just so you could swoop in and take over! So forgive me, señorito," his friend spat mockingly, "for trying to find whatever advantages my poor nation can get against such an imperialistic nation like you!"

"And do you not understand what we're trying to do here?" Alfred shouted. "We are fighting this war to save you! Don't you see that your country is a mess? That you're underdeveloped, uneducated, and unfit for self-rule? I was the hero who helped save your people from Spain, jackass, and—"

"—and you promised to give us independence, and yet all your countrymen seem to do is kill." The teenager finished, both his eyes and the hilt of his knife glinting golden under the moonlight. "Is that what freedom means to you, America? I beg to differ."

As Alfred stepped away from him in furious, furious betrayal, all he could think about was that the other boy looked so small.

"I thought of you as my friend," he said.

"And I thought of you as my liberator," the teenager said coolly. "I see we were both wrong."

A harsh whinny interrupted them both. Alfred turned to find Patton riding a chestnut brown horse, his face red from exhaustion but seemingly unharmed. The private stopped in front of him, dismounting without grace on the pavement. His face was red from exhaustion and his clothes looked considerably ruffled, but otherwise, he looked unharmed.

"It ain't my position to say this sire, but don't you dare ever try to run away from me like that again," Patton panted, giving a quick side-eye to the other teenager before dismissing him. "We best hurry now, because those two won't be happy about their stolen horse."

Just as he was about to ask who those two were, a pair of Filipinos with muskets turned the corner and ran towards them. He vaguely recognized them as the same two men who were standing guard at the restaurant. They shouted loudly, a mix of Tagalog and Spanish expletives that Alfred could barely recognize, and a phrase distinct enough that he felt like it was something significant: amang bayan.

Patton evidently recognized the words. He looked at him in a wide-eyed panic, saying, "Sire, we need to leave—"

And as quick as lightning, Patton fell to the ground with a sickening crack. Caught completely off-guard and his arms restrained, he was helpless against the teenager who had a knife at his throat: a knife that, as Alfred began to realize with a horrified lurch of his stomach, was engraved with golden flowers and the insignia of an eight-rayed sun.

"You must be Private Wilkes," the Philippines smiled. "I do hope you are enjoying my country."

"Get off him or else!" Alfred screamed, the combined events of the night making him feel like he was about to reach his breaking point. He reached for the pistol he kept hidden on his belt and took aim, hoping to God that the other nation wouldn't force him to shoot. Even after everything, he didn't feel like he had the nerve to hurt Philippines after the hours they spent together; maybe some other day, but not tonight.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that the two men had caught up to them. They angled their muskets at him from a distance. The horse, which Alfred had been planning to use for escape, had already taken off running in the commotion.

Patton stared up at him with fear in his eyes, a bleeding gash on his forehead, and Alfred's hands began to shake.

Above all else, Philippines was still smiling: eyes bright, amused twitch of the lips on his sharp face. Slowly, he stood to approach him.

Like a switch had been flicked, his features turned soft and kind again — more like the boy that Alfred had met earlier, the boy who had dragged him around the streets of Manila with lighthearted laughter, the boy whose smile was brighter than any star. All Alfred could do was stand there, mesmerized once again, as his hand was gently pried away from the gun.

"Alfred," Philippines said this quietly, almost like he was invoking a prayer. He motioned the men to stand down. "I do not wish to fight."

"I don't want to either," Alfred admitted. Maybe there was hope... "C'mon, we can talk this through, right? Look, we haven't had a battle in months. It should be really easy to negotiate, yeah? I'll set up a meeting with your generals and mine, we'll have a civil discussion with no weapons allowed, and we'll reach a compromise."

The other nation was leaning in, and this time, Alfred took his chance. He held Philippines' cheek in his hands and they kissed, soft and quick and chaste.

"Of course," Alfred said, as he pulled away. "I would need your complete surrender—"

He was swiftly kneed in the stomach, disarmed, and shot.

"Alfred, I do not wish to fight," Philippines said, as he watched Alfred collapse to the ground. "But I have to. I hope you understand."

He vaguely registered Patton reaching out to him as his eyes closed and the blood pooled around him, but all he could focus on was watching the other nation walk away into the darkness.

—

When Alfred came to, he was already back at camp. Without thinking, he immediately trudged to the general's war office.

"Good morning, Major-General MacArthur," he smiled, bright and cheery. "Gather the troops. I want to destroy Manila immediately."

—

Notes:

This is set in October 1899, during those months when there were no battles or skirmishes between the two armies. On the first day of November, the Americans launched a major attack on the Filipinos. This attack happened in San Fabian, Pangasinan, not in Manila, but let's forget about that.

Major-General MacArthur is, of course, Arthur MacArthur Jr., who was a major military figure during the Philippine-American War. I also claim artistic license in hinting that the American camp was in Bulacan because it probably wasn't.

Alfred's comments about Manila looking like Mexico are based on a comment by former president Manuel L. Quezon when he visited Mexico back in 1937: "Everything was the same." He meant that very, very affectionately.

Here's a nifty map of modern Manila. Alfred and Patton start out in Quiapo, which is basically the heart of downtown Manila. Alfred runs all the way to Muelle del Rey, which, coincidentally, happens to be the same place where the Jones Bridge stands today. Alfred and Phili take the tranvia to Binondo, Manila's business district and home to the world's oldest Chinatown.

The names of the store owners and vendors that Phili talks about are references to assorted media in Philippine pop culture. Pepito is a reference to Pepito Manaloto, a long-time comedy show about a man who won the lotto. Mang Tomas (Mang being an informal way to refer to a male adult older than you) is the name of a popular brand of gravy. Aling Nena (Aling being an informal way to refer to a female adult older than you) is a reference to the song Tindahan ni Aling Nena, about a boy who falls in love with a storeowner's daughter.

The garland of white jasmines that Phili puts around Alfred's neck are supposed to be sampaguitas, our national flower. They're usually sold near churches and are given as a sign of respect.

I have no idea if there are actually empanadas and valenciana sold somewhere in Binondo, but let's jot that down to artistic license. But these are very much Filipino foods that were adapted from Spanish foods, which is why Phili brings it up when Alfred asks about his family.

The old friend that Phili keeps talking about is Jose Rizal, our national hero. He is primarily known for being a great writer, whose novels inspired the Philippine War for Independence, and for being killed for it. He is also known for being having a long list of lovers, many of them not even Filipino. Lesser known is the fact that he visited America, hated it, went on a train ride with an American, and hated it. He wrote a whole diary entry about how much he didn't like America and Americans. He had also predicted that out of all the world powers, it would be America who would probably take an interest in conquering the Philippines when Spain was out of the picture. Go figure. Rizal was also affectionately known by his nickname, Pepe.

I imagine Phili to be particularly proficient in arnis, which is also known as kali or eskrima. It's a kind of Filipino martial art, most easily recognizable as that one martial art where everyone is dual-wielding a pair of sticks. The sticks are actually for training. Traditionally, arnis is fought by dual-wielding knives or swords, and it's meant to be quick and efficient in defending, attacking, disarming, and killing. Phili's fictional ornately designed knife is inspired by this very real ornately designed knife. The detail of the eight-rayed sun is a reference to the eight-rayed sun in the Philippine flag.

Lastly (phew!), some Tagalog to English translations!

Hijo, padaan naman po - Young boy, kindly let me pass Pasensya na po, lolo! Hindi kasi taga-rito - Sorry, grandfather*! He's not from around here. Lolo literally means grandfather but is a general way to refer to any elderly man regardless of any actual blood relation. Amang bayan - Fatherland

[all-might-can-smash-me]

The Dads at Disney World Headcanons cause why not

Aizawa Shouta/Eraserhead, Toshinori Yagi/All Might, Taishiro Toyomistu/Fatgum, Keigo Takami/Hawks

No Sir Nighteye in this headcanon, sorry

Masterlist

Builds off of this headcanon

Did NOT want to go to Disney World

To many people, too much noises, too much work, money, crying children, annoying adults

TOO MUCH!

Broke down into saying yes when all his kids begged for a family vacation there, or to at least have one family vacation for once.....you were kind of excited that he said yes, so it wouldn’t be hard to get him on the same page as everyone.

He will stress the FUCK out!

“Where is kid number 4? Number 6? Oh crap, sorry Eri, I didn’t mean to bump into you. You dropped your ice cream? I’ll get you another one sweetie. HOLD MY HAND! THERE’S A BIG GROUP OF PEOPLE SO HOLD MY HAND!”

Will kind of relax once everyone is all clutching onto one another so they don’t get split up.

Will have a list of rides to get to and make sure everyone gets to where the next fast pass is. Also did his research on what character is where so that everyone can meet whoever the hell they wanna meet.

Enjoys the rides where you just sit down and freaking relax. Haunted Mansion? A+! For his younger kids who clutched onto his side as those corny little heads popped out in the cemetery while on the verge of crying? F-...

Kind of really enjoyed Tower of Terror and Rocking Rollercoaster....kids didn’t, so oldest teen gathered everyone up so he and you could go on it together....it was amazing.

Kind of really made him happy though to see his whole family piled up at a restaurant at one of those long tables, all excitedly talking about what was their favorite part of the day and what they can’t wait to go on next and showing off the souvenirs they chose.

He couldn’t help but just reach over the table to grab your hand

Aizawa also made sure they all got a spot at the front for the firework show, you and him making sure all your children were in front of you and him and that they could see.

Got A LOT of comments on how big his family is....which he just proudly nodded his head as you and him ushered your children along around the many parks.

He enjoyed Jungle Cruise way too much, mostly because his family literally almost took up a whole boat, so he didn’t have to worry about getting stuck with annoying people.

At the end of each day...he kind of just wanted to curl up in the hotel bed with you and pass out, but his army of children didn’t allow that since two rooms were purchased to fit everyone comfortably, so you stayed in one room and he stayed in the other

You both had to deal with giggling children excited for the next day though

He’s a good sport, he agreed to wear matching ears with everyone

Literally made everyone wear coordinated outfits to make every easily visible

Going to Disney World was a surprise for you and his little girl

His daughter made everyone double check EVERYTHING before leaving

Also made Toshinori remember EVERY princess, no cap

Toshinori held onto one of your daughter’s hands, you held onto the other the first few hours of the first day, but.....she ended up getting tired of walking, so Toshinori ended up just carrying her around everywhere.

Kind of wanted to go on the bigger rides, but that wasn’t really an option to do with himself, you, and your young daughter, but he didn’t mind riding rides like Winnie The Pooh and It’s a Small World with you and your daughter

Made sure his daughter got her signatures from her favorite princess when meeting them, since she would get forgetful with all that excitement rushing though that small body of his

Couldn’t help himself but get her the few things she really wanted, like a princess makeover or the cute little Winnie the Pooh plushies. Or an ice cream even though you were against her having so many sweets throughout the day

Disney Princess breakfast buffet? Hell to the yes! You actually kind of enjoyed it too when the princess would come and interact with your daughter and sign her notebook she had brought.

Would go on the spinning teacups over and over again just for his daughter

Seeing his daughter almost passing out while eating dinner back at the hotel while watching Tarzan in the room just made him feel great as he looked to you who ate away at the slice of pizza you had, intently watching the movie on the tv.

At first he would be cuddling with you, daughter having her own bed....but the sound of other familiar getting back and talking loudly late at night kind of spooked her, so she would end up crawling in the bed between you and Toshinori

Daughter would FaceTime Gran Torino every night too to show him all the things she got and tell him all that she did too.

Would have to tuck her in with all the plushies she had gotten from each park

He thought the Carousel of Progress slapped, but his daughter thought it was boring

Took time off specifically for this moment!

Disney World was a dream of his

Mostly for the food though, sorry not sorry

At first he was under the impression that his daughters and you would have wanted to go on the rides targeted towards...you know....younger girls

Well yeah, but they wanted to ride everything! Tower of Terror? Check! Rockin Roller Coaster? Check! Test track? Check! Just everything!

It just made him so proud on how brave his girls were on the bigger and slightly scarier rides. They just screamed and laughed on all of them and hung from his arms afterwards to gush about all the exciting things they saw or how certain things felt on the ride.

Breaks would be taken to try the most iconic foods sold at the Disney parks, but his favorite? The pretzels, the pretzels, the freaking pretzels! Of course the rest of you were hooked on the sugary greatness of the churros though....but you would always sneak a bite of his pretzel.

Would honestly listen to his oldest daughter search up conspiracies and secrets of Disney....and then would try to find the secret, hidden things in each park for fun with the whole family

His girls weren’t really into the whole meeting someone dressed as a Disney character ordeal....but exceptions were made at Galaxies Edge....

They couldn’t miss on meeting Chewbacca and Darth Vader

Or to geek out on all the Star Wars memorabilia on display while waiting to meet them.

You and all your daughters dressed as Sith Lords....Taishiro was kind of disappointed to be the only one to choose being a Jedi, but everyone else in the park found it funny.

Yeah....so the Star Wars rides were his favorite since his daughters would get so into it

Especially his younger ones on Rise of the Resistance when Kylo Ren would appear

“No you big meanie! We are getting out of here!” One of them yelled, Taishiro not being able to hold in his laughter as he looked to you trying to hold in your own giggles at your daughter’s reaction

Back at the hotel room everyone would just end up piling up onto one bed to excitedly talk about the day while everyone took turns showering...

everyone would just end up falling asleep together on the same bed

You and him would end up migrating to the other empty bed during the night

You mentioned wanting to go to Disney World once in passing? Guess that’s an invitation to plan a whole week trip!

Though everyone had to sit down and listen to you say that it was NOT ok to start flying around the park, that was a big no no

Keigo would end up riding a lot of the big scary rides with his two sons, the three of them having a blast together

Your daughter would just happily skip along side you, holding your hand as she was up for anything

Just not scary rides....she didn’t like the way her butt would kind of lift up from the ride’s seat sometimes

Though sometimes she would give a small tug on Keigo’s shirt and ask to ride a certain ride they were about to walk past. He would reroute themselves to head directly to that ride next

She was more into the Disney classics

Peter Pan, Winnie the Pooh, Haunted Mansion, Pirates of the Carribean, Carousel of Progress

Though she really enjoyed Pirates of the Carribean...though during Magic hours the ride was having difficulties which she was disappointed about

So he bought a few things at the gift shop and once back at the hotel room, you pushed her around on a chair while he dressed himself up with a hat, eyepatch, and hook and begin goofily re-enactmenting some of the moments she would giggle at on the ride, her two brothers joining in

Her brothers on the other hand loved Star Wars....but would often get into arguments about certain characters and the lore of the show and would ask their sister for her input...but she would only shrug her shoulders

“I like Princess Leia” she would simply stare as they would wait in line for a ride in Galaxies Edge

Keigo may have had no idea what was going on in Galaxies Edge, but he still thought everything was cool as hell and listened to his kids talk about what they liked about Star Wars.

Popeyes fried chicken was a MUST HAVE for dinner when they would head back to the hotel room

His kids would take that chance to put on Star Wars to educate him too at that moment.

Kids would be kind of tired in the morning because Keigo would honestly cause such a dang ruckus of bird noises because he was so dang tired by the time he went to bed

[porkchop-ao3]

A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 45)

Opening Up

This chapter focuses on reader and Charles, I really liked writing this one, I love Charles so much <3

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

-

I'd been following the same path in circles around the bayou for a while, crossing over to each side of the Kamassa River over and over again. I'd been out on a ride around Scarlett Meadows but when it began to get dark, I'd started heading back. I couldn't quite bring myself to return to camp, however. I thought a ride would help clear my mind, give me a chance to get my head straight and absorb what had gone on. But truthfully, I felt no different than I had when I left. It was so odd, continuously bouncing back and forth between sinking into a deep cavern of grief and dread, then reminding myself that I didn't know for sure the boat that had gone down was carrying Arthur. It was all I could think about, though, I couldn't shift my focus for more than a moment. 

Bored of seeing the same path, I veered off. I headed down the familiar trails of the swamp, knowing exactly where I was headed but not quite knowing why. Rayna carried me from the denser part of the bayou, and out into the surrounding land where there were fewer trees. It was as if she remembered, and I barely had to direct her before we came upon the place. 

It looked a lot different now. Someone had moved in and tore down what once was my house and rebuilt it into something smaller, yet more solid. Though, that wasn't saying a lot. Like most buildings in this area, it looked a little run down; perhaps it was the moist air taking its toll on the wood by softening it. I didn't know or particularly care. I stopped a ways away from the shack, glancing around the patch of land, recognising it despite the changes. There was a particularly tall tree over to the left, underneath which sat two crosses. I didn't look at them for long, looking down at Rayna instead; I petted the top of her head, breathing out a soothing shushing sound despite the fact she wasn't in need of soothing. It was more for my own benefit. 

There was a light on inside the shack, and I knew that if I stayed too long or made too much noise, whoever was inside would likely come out and blow my brains out. That's just how the people were in these parts. I kept my distance, hoping the trees and the shadows would be enough to conceal me. 

I sighed softly and leaned forwards, leaning against the horn of my saddle and pressing my forehead against the back of Rayna's neck. I closed my eyes, listening to the toads and the crickets. If I focused hard enough I could place myself back in the night Arthur and I had laid down on the deck of the shack back at Shady Belle, staring up at the stars side by side. I imagined that he was close to me and took comfort in it. If I kept my eyes closed then my brain couldn't know that it wasn't true. 

In those few peaceful moments I was finally away from it all. I didn't notice the hoof beats or the huff of breath through horse nostrils as someone sidled up to me. That's why I all but shit myself when–

"Hey."

I jolted upright. Charles and Taima were by my side. 

"Jesus Christ," I hissed, slamming my hand against my chest. 

"I'm sorry," he said. His voice was low, all but a whisper. 

"How did you find me?"

"It's a skill of mine," he shrugged.

"Just like creeping up on people?" I questioned, it came out harsher than intended. Charles didn't flinch. 

"Come back to camp."

"I–" 

"I don't care if you don't want to. I don't wanna have to be tracking down your corpse in the morning."

"I wasn't going to say that," I said, narrowing my eyes slightly. "I was just about to come back." 

"Oh. Okay then," he murmured, softening his tone. "I'm sorry. I'm just… I'm a little worried about you. Today was not a good day." 

"Don't worry about me. I'm alive and well," I shrugged. 

"Physically, maybe. I'm more worried about what's happening up here," he pointed to his head. 

"I'm not going mad," I frowned.

"No, you're not. But you're hurting and you're isolating yourself. When that happens, it's rarely a good outcome." 

"Charles you keep to yourself more than anyone I know. I could say that you isolate yourself," I pointed out. 

"No, I just don't talk much. I don't walk around in circles for hours on end– and by the way, what the hell?" He gave me an incredulous look. 

"I was taking a ride," I grumbled, feeling my face get hot. 

"Some ride. You're not yourself right now. What if the nightfolk jump you while you're in this mindset? Do you think you could fight them off?"

"No, probably not," I admitted with a shrug, and he stared at me, slack jawed. "And no, that's not what I'm hoping for, before you start to think I'm…" I trailed off, shaking my head. 

"Speak to me," Charles sighed. 

"Charles, I'm not going to sit here whining and crying to you, using you like that."

"So, if I was upset and wanted to let it all out, you'd think of it as me using you?" He asked. 

"Of course not," I frowned at him. He stared at me, letting my words speak for him. When I didn't seem to respond correctly, he sighed. 

"So why'd you think you'd be using me?" He asked. I didn't have an answer. Charles sighed my name, "you're my friend. At least I like to think so."

"I think so too," I clarified. 

"Then let me be your friend."

I stared at the ground for a while, letting the silence drag on. Eventually, I met his eyes, then nodded. 

"This is where I grew up, you know," I started, and Charles looked over at the shack ahead. 

"In there?"

I shook my head. "Our house was torn down. But it was here. My parents are over there," I nodded towards the tree with the crosses underneath. Charles followed my gesture with his eyes and I found his expression hard to read. 

"Do you miss them?" He asked. I pursed my lips.

"Of course, sometimes. But I don't often think about it, now, until I came back here anyway," I explained and he nodded in understanding. "Do you still have your parents, if you don't mind me asking?" I looked at him, and his brows jumped a little at the question, surprised I'd asked. 

"No. I lost my mother when I was just a kid. I grew up with her tribe, then the army came and destroyed our way of life, then they took her," he told me, his voice flat and level, far calmer than I'd expect from such a story. I closed my eyes, shook my head. 

"That's…" I didn't just want to say that it was a terrible thing, sound hollow, I just trailed off. "I can understand why you're so eager to help those at Wapiti."

Charles nodded, paused for a moment, then continued. "My father didn't deal well with it. He fell head first into a bottle and I didn't stick around long enough to see if he ever came out. Ran away when I was something like thirteen, fourteen," he told me. Then his eyes flickered to mine. "I thought we were talking about you. You're sly."

"I'll find it easier to open up if we're both exposed," I reasoned, and he seemed to accept that. "I know what it's like to watch a parent lose themselves to alcohol. My mother," I looked over at her grave. 

"I'm sorry." 

"She didn't die that way. She was sick with the flu, just like my pa. But she had a problem with it. I don't like seeing Karen how she is right now, it reminds me too much of her."

"I understand," he nodded sympathetically. 

"I don't know why I came here. I guess I wanted to see how it'd changed. I thought it might change the way I was feeling somehow. I'm not… I'm not doing well, Charles. I know that's obvious. Perhaps admitting it will help," my voice was just above a whisper. 

"Come on, let's dismount and find somewhere to sit down," he suggested, and we did just that. 

I led Rayna over to a spot nearby, further from my old home. We found a fallen tree to sit on and we lit a lantern, placing it on the ground in front of us so we weren't sitting in complete darkness. I checked the area thoroughly for snakes and gators before sitting down next to Charles who was leaning forwards, elbows on his knees, watching a moth flying around the light. 

"Can I be completely honest with you? And you won't judge or tell anyone, or think badly of Arthur or me?" I queried, so desperate to tell him the truth about what had been discussed between Arthur and I. 

"Of course. That's the idea of this," he said. I nodded and looked down at my hands. I took a few moments to build my nerve up. 

"Arthur and I made a plan," I began, speaking very quietly. "He was worried about me being in this gang. He was starting to feel restless too, questioning whether he needed to make different choices. After this bank job… Arthur was counting on us having enough money to go and start a life somewhere else. We weren't going to join Dutch in Tahiti." 

"You weren't?" He murmured, though he didn't sound shocked. 

I shook my head. "He didn't want to go to some tropical island. Neither did I. We said we'd try and head west, avoiding Blackwater. He thought we had a better chance with just the two of us."

"I see," he nodded, a crease forming between his brows.

"I guess this is just… if this hadn't happened, he and I could be somewhere completely different," I pointed out, feeling tears coming. I resisted them. 

"I'm sorry," he momentarily leaned over, pressing his shoulder against mine. 

"He wanted to make sure that you were all okay. That you had money and a plan, a future. He didn't want to leave before he had that peace of mind. It was difficult for him, and honestly I felt awful about it, that he was doing it for me–"

"He was doing it for himself too, don't feel bad about that. I know Arthur, he wouldn't quit the gang if he didn't want to, that's for certain," Charles interjected. "He must've really wanted to start a life with you to talk about walking away from Dutch." 

"I– I suppose you're right," I squeaked. "It doesn't really– well, it's all changed now. Charles, what if he's–" I couldn't say it, my eyes welling. I blinked to try and clear them but one tear escaped down my cheek, I scrubbed it away. 

"There's nothing I can say that will make this better, I know that. But it's a fact that we don't know what boat they boarded. It's not necessarily set in stone," he reminded me softly, then squeezed his hands together, fidgeting, "but of course. I wouldn't be doing you any favours trying to convince you that he was definitely okay." 

"I know," I nodded. "I'm sorry Charles. Arthur's your friend, too." 

"Yeah," he breathed, eyes fixed on the lantern. "I hope that we're mistaken, I truly do. That bank job," he shook his head, scrubbed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets then dragged them back over his head.

"The worst idea Dutch ever had," I sighed, then shook my head, "but I can't blame him. None of us saw this coming."

"Do you think you'll stick around if Arthur– if they don't–" Charles didn't finish and he didn't need to.

"I have no idea. What about you?" 

"I don't know, either. I'm wondering if the gang will disband without Dutch. Molly's already gone," he pointed out and I looked at him.

"Yeah? I don't know. My understanding is this gang formed from people with no place in the world, and they found it here. You think it's just Dutch holding everyone together?"

"It's hard to say. Things haven't exactly been great since he and the others haven't been here," he noted and I hummed in acknowledgement, "what if he does come back, you think you two'll still leave?"

"I hope so. Especially after all this. I don't really want to tempt fate any more, I doubt I could handle him robbing any more banks, you know? I used to be able to tell myself he'd always be fine, he's been living like this for years and years, he knows exactly what he's doing. It'd be enough to calm my nerves until he came back. Now I know what it's like when he doesn't, and this is so much worse than when the O'Driscolls had him. That was a couple of days. This…" I sighed and held my head in my hands. I felt Charles' hand on my back. I could no longer prevent tears from spilling. I sniffled, pressing my hands into my eyes. 

"It's okay," Charles reassured me, his hand rubbing back and forth across my shoulder blades. I broke.

"I love him so much," I sobbed, "and the worst thing is, I never told him that. I never said the words to him." 

Charles' arm wrapped around my shoulders, tugged me closer, against his chest, his hand scrubbing up and down my arm briskly. I surrendered to it, leaning into him and letting the tears come as they pleased, ignoring the voice in the back of my head telling me I'd be embarrassed about it once I pulled myself together. 

"Love is more than just the words. People show that they love each other in the things they do; I'm certain Arthur knows how you feel." 

"Have you met the man? He barely believes that I think he's handsome," I said and despite it all, Charles released a fond chuckle. "I used to count on him just knowing but now I fear I'll never get to tell him for sure, I wish I'd told him every damn day." 

Charles didn't say anything, he didn't need to, all he had to do was listen to me and give me the chance to pour my heart out as he held me. I hadn't hugged many people in my life. Just my parents, a couple of the gang members, and of course Arthur. Charles' hug was solid and steady, I felt protected in his arms, but there was a distance to it, too. He did not feel over familiar, he kept it to the tenderness of a friend. Which was why it felt so different to being held by Arthur, and though the hug comforted me, it made me miss him all the more.

"Being with Arthur felt like the first time I'd felt true happiness since my parents passed. I don't know how to deal with the fact that he might now be– that he could be gone forever. How do I begin to get over it? My heart feels like it's–" I shook my head, unable to put it into words. "It hurts."

"I wish I had answers for you," Charles said quietly. "I've– I've never really loved a person, not like that," he revealed. 

I shifted and he loosened his arms, allowing me to sit up again. "You haven't?" I asked. 

He shook his head. "Anyone I have gotten close to, it just hasn't–" he shrugged, "I've never felt that way in the end."

"I hadn't before meeting Arthur," I told him. 

"I understand what it's like to lose someone important. Just not like that. I'm sorry, I'm not really good with advice. I'm a better listener than a talker," he said under his breath apologetically and I shook my head, patting his arm. 

"I'm not looking for advice. For something like this, I don't believe there is any," I admitted, glancing off to the side, "but you've shown me a great deal of care. That means a lot."

"I promised Arthur I'd look after you when I left the docks," he told me, pressing his thumb into the palm of his hand, rubbing at a patch of scar tissue idly, "seeing you these last few weeks, looking as down as you have been; didn't feel like I was doing a good job."

I didn't know what to say to that. To think my name had been mentioned that night, amongst all that disaster, Arthur had thought of me. My chest hurt. 

"It's funny. I've spoken to you more than I've spoken to some of the others, and you've been here for the shortest time. I guess I'm not particularly sociable. But when you arrived, you reminded me of myself when I first joined. You threw yourself into work, never wanting to sit idle. I'll never forget when you pleaded with me to let you go hunting," he chuckled. "I think when you're alone you get so used to doing everything yourself, you're constantly active. Joining a group where the workload is spread, it's an adjustment."

"Yeah, it is," I nodded. 

"I think that may be why you and I gravitated towards Arthur," he pointed out, looking at me. "He seems to have a similar attitude. Doesn't want to let anyone down. But he's never– I may sound like a cold bastard, but I find certain members of the gang very annoying. Arthur's never that. His company is preferable to the rest of them," he waved a hand in the general direction of camp. 

I nodded. His company was certainly preferable over anyone I'd ever met, but I may have been biased. 

"I don't really know where I'm going with this. I guess I just wanted you to know that I feel like I relate to you in a number of ways. And you've never been annoying. Only when you lie and say you're fine, thinking I'm dumb enough to believe it," he nudged me and I exhaled a laugh through my nose.  

"Thank you, Charles," I told him softly, smiling, "this may sound strange, but I've always found your company very calming."

"It's not strange. You're not the first to tell me that," he said. 

"Well, maybe this is your calling. Bringing people back down to Earth, calming them down."

He chuckled to himself. "I guess I've had a lot of practice calming myself down. I used to let my emotions – usually anger – get the better of me. Years ago. I try not to let that happen anymore. It still does, sometimes, but now I feel things can usually be solved better with words, so long as people keep their heads about them." 

"That's very wise," I said. 

"It's what I'm trying to convince Eagle Flies of. He's the son of the chief of the tribe I've been helping. He has a lot of passion, and with that comes anger. And rightly so. Unfortunately, it's not the right solution for their problems. His father knows that."

I perked with interest, looking at him with curved brows. "What exactly are they going through right now?"

"Yet another treaty has been broken. Their people are being treated like animals, no regard for their health whatsoever. A lot of the tribe is sick, and vaccines and medicine are being withheld. The whole situation disgusts me," he explained, his voice low and resonant.

My mouth opened, but I didn't know what to say. Charles sighed, his silence lasting only a moment. 

"War has weakened them. If things get worse with the army– I fear for them," he admitted. 

"What those people are going through… what the army and the government are doing to them; it's shameful," I said, and I saw him nod from the corner of my eye. 

"I'm doing all I can for now, to convince Eagle Flies to listen to his father. If he continues to fight with anger and violence, it will only add fuel to the flame. They like to think of our kind as savage, as reckless and uncivilised. They expect these reactions and take it as proof, never mind how much they provoke it," he said and I nodded in understanding. 

"I don't know what use I would be, but if there is anything at all– please ask me," I whispered, and he met my eyes.

"I will. Thank you," he replied. 

A noise came from behind us, a rustling and a snap. We both jolted and looked towards it. I couldn't see anything through the dark, our lantern only serving to light up the mist surrounding us, making everything beyond a few feet invisible. I looked at Charles, his eyes were narrowed as he scanned the area from which the noise came. Nothing happened for a few moments, but he slowly rose to his feet, taking my arm in his hand. 

"We should leave," he said quietly. He didn't need to ask twice and we made for our horses. 

We left not knowing if anyone or anything was actually there. It could've been the nightfolk, it could've been a rat, it could've been a falling twig. Neither of us felt it was worth the risk of sticking around to find out. I maintained my opinion that the bayou was creepy, especially at night. It was incredibly easy to run away with your imagination there, convincing yourself that all sorts was lurking in the mist and the foliage.

A lot of the gang was asleep by the time Charles and I returned to camp. Lenny and Miss Grimshaw were both on watch duty for the night, and they asked how I was feeling when I passed. I told them I was starting to get my head on straight, I just needed everything to sink in before I could begin to deal with it. They were kind to me and reminded me that the gang was a family, we were there for each other.

We crept into the main cabin where most people slept and went to our respective bedrolls, guided by the limited light of the two lanterns that were dotted across the space. I sat down on mine, curled up on my side, facing the wall with Mary-Beth behind me fast asleep. My satchel sat next to Arthur's in my line of sight and I reached out to touch his, running my hand over the front of it, feeling the soft, pliable aged leather interrupted by the coarseness of warn, scuffed spots as my fingers passed over it. I pulled it over to me, tracing my fingertips over the partially matted fur that made up the flap. I inhaled. If I was being honest, it didn't smell great. There was an undertone of leather and Arthur's own smell, but it was sadly overpowered by a bouquet of spoiled food, too many herbs and plants clashing with each other, blood and horse.

I had taken the liberty of throwing out the rotting meat and cheese I'd realised was in there about a week ago, when I kept catching the odor when laying in bed. I hadn't pried too much into what the contents of his bag were, but I'd noticed a mishmash of all sorts of stuff; drawings, photographs, trinkets. He carried around the world in his satchel. 

Without thinking, I lifted the flap and reached inside, my knuckles immediately brushing against his journal. I paused for a moment, then retrieved it. Sitting up on my elbow I placed the book down in front of me, bracing my palm on the smooth, well-loved and broken in leather of the cover, flexible from continuous opening and closing. My thumb inched towards the strap that held the thing closed, mousing along its raw edge, dipping underneath and prying it away from the cover but not quite releasing it from its fastening just yet.

I drew a breath, long and slow through my nose, then released it, wondering how Arthur would feel about me peeking inside his journal. A sad, nasty little voice told me he would never know if he was dead, and I would end up looking at some point during the grieving process. I sighed and relinquished the strap from its slot, smoothing it out away from the cover. I fingered the edge of the page, toying with it, not quite giving myself permission to open it. Instead I slipped my hand under the front cover, running my fingers across the page, feeling the grooves and indentations where his pencil had once pressed into its surface, revealing his inner thoughts. 

I was struck with this uncanny feeling at once. There was a sense of grief, longing, of course. But then a surreal sense of personal connection, feeling the marks that Arthur had made. It brought tears to my eyes in an instant and I removed my hand, closing the strap once more and concealing his journal back within the confines of his satchel where I decided it would stay for the foreseeable future. There was no way I could bring myself to read it, not while there was still a chance that he was out there, alive, tangible, of flesh and blood and with privacy that needed respecting. 

I decided I would read it only when given his direct verbal permission, or when beginning to forget the sound of his voice.

[lindsaylouus]

7 Swans a-Swimming 🏊‍♀️🏊‍♀️🏊‍♀️ (Monsta X - I.M)

A/N: Back to the inaccurate emojis. Can you believe there isn’t a swan? (Spoiler for the 6th day, there’s not a goose either).

Just wanna say, I love Changkyun, you love Changkyun, we ALL love Changkyun

Boxing Day is always a weird one, right?

You’ve had Christmas Day, and all the build up before it. Now, there’s this massive come down. 

But usually, you’re still super festive, refusing to let the Christmas spirit leave you and gripping onto it for dear life.

This year though, was different. You didn’t feel like holding on to that joyous nature, and Changkyun had noticed.

You sat on the park bench, staring into space. You could feel the Christmas hangover in the cool air, hear children excitedly chatter to each other about what they got the day before and see loved up couples on swan boats, sailing carefree along the river.

However, when usually you’d be filled with other people’s joy, all you could focus on was your own pain.

Ugh, brooding much? But you couldn’t help it. 

Comes to something when you’re looking at the real swans paddling away in the water, and you’re jealous of them for not having relationship problems, or no relationship at all, now.

Your boyfriend had left you on Christmas Eve. Yeah. Christmas Eve. For another girl. It was still so raw, you’d been going out for almost two years, and out of the blue this happens. Well, not exactly out of the blue.

Changkyun hadn’t heard from you in almost 24 hours, which was very out of character for you, and instantly knew something was up.

‘Y/N, what the Hell, where have you been?!’ He’d finally tracked you down, knowing you always came to the park to clear your head. 

He figured he’d find you here at some point. He even thought about heading to your house on Christmas Day, but he thought better, leaving you to spend time with your family, and him.

You looked up at your friend, and slowly turned away again. You didn’t want to talk about this with him, yet there was no one else you’d rather talk to about it.

It didn’t take a genius to work out that your best friend was not the biggest fan of your boyfriend, and never had been. It wasn’t without good reason, either. 

Not long after the two of you began dating, Changkyun and his friends invited the both of you to their New Year’s Eve party. They wanted to meet your new man, and size him up, as friends do. Especially Changkyun. He was always wary and protective whenever you started dating someone new. 

You wanted to confront him face to face while you had the chance. You loved him, but he just never seemed to approve of your choice in men. 

He was retrieving beers from the fridge before the party kicked off, just you and him in the kitchen, this was your chance.

‘You’re young and naive, Y/N,’ Changkyun had said in response to your question.

‘I’m older than you, dumbass,’ you retorted, pinching his cheek. You were forever winding each other up, ever since you met a few years ago. A chance encounter involving a shopping cart and a rather angry shopkeeper.

It’s a long story.

‘Maybe in years, Y/N, but not in mind,’ he continued, lecturing you like a rebellious teenager, ‘I’m just doing my job as a friend, and filtering out the dogs for you.’ He winked and gave you a look that screamed, you’re welcome.

‘What does that even mean?’ You pinched a beer from his arms.

‘See? Where would you be without me?’ He tried to make a get-away, but you blocked his path.

‘Why do you always talk in riddles when I ask you about this? Do you not trust me? I could really do with your support, instead of your judgement for once, Im Changkyun.’ Oh yeah, you pulled out the big guns using his full name.

Changkyun’s tongue was firmly in his cheek, before he responded.

‘It’s not you I don’t trust,’ he began, ‘and I am supporting you, by making sure you’re not being taken advantage of!’ His voice started to grow in volume.

‘Another lover’s quarrel?’ A voice said from the kitchen doorway. Kihyun had appeared behind you. ‘Why don’t you two just kiss and get it over with?’

He began to gather up a variety of covered plates to take through to the living room, as per, enough food to feed an army. Or seven hungry mouths.

‘Not you as well,’ you rolled your eyes and knocked your beer bottle on the kitchen counter, opening it.

‘So you’re the reason we have dents in this!!??’ Kihyun stopped in his tracks, extremely unimpressed by yet another small nook on ‘his’ counter. You froze, but at least it took his mind off teasing you and Changkyun.

He huffed and left the kitchen in a flurry, tutting at you both.

You giggled at each other. One thing that united you more than picking on each other, was picking on Kihyun. 

‘Changkyun, can you please, just try to be nice. Just this once, for me. I really like this guy and I don’t want to screw it up.’ You’d resorted to begging.

Changkyun saw the pleading in your eyes, ‘OK,’ he huffed, ‘but I’m doing it for you, because you asked so nicely.’ He mimicked you and swayed out of the kitchen. You wanted to both laugh at him and strangle him, all at once.

The night had been going pretty well, laughs, jokes, pleasantries, you were impressed. Especially with Changkyun, he really was trying. He’d been chatting to your boyfriend for a while now and they seemed to be getting along. Just the idea of him liking your new man, put a huge smile on your face.

If only it lasted. That same night, whatever positive thoughts you had, were eradicated.

‘I SWEAR Y/N, I wouldn’t make this up!’ Changkyun grabbed your wrist, as you tried to turn away from him.

‘ENOUGH CHANGKYUN! I don’t care what you think you heard, OK? I don’t care, I’ve literally had enough!’ You escaped his grip and stormed down the stairs.

‘Y/N, please! You have to believe me!’ He rocketed down the steps after you. Both of your voices were reaching volumes that others were noticing, including your new boyfriend.

You turned suddenly, stopping him in his tracks, your voice lowered, almost as a warning. ‘Just stop, Changkyun, please. I can’t do this with you anymore. Something always comes up, there’s always a reason. Always. I don’t want to lose you. But, I can’t do this.’

With that, you and your date left.

You couldn’t help but cry that night. You just couldn’t win. Since when did this friendship become so hard?

As time went on, you and Changkyun reconciled. You couldn’t not be in each other’s lives. You agreed to turn the other cheek, and not force Changkyun to get on with your boyfriend. In turn, he agreed not to talk about him at all when he was with you. 

Not an ideal arrangement, but it was worth it if it meant you two could just hang out.

Now you were both sat on the park bench, trying and failing to think of what to say.

‘I’m sorry, Y/N. It was a long time ago now..’ Changkyun was sat about a foot away from you, legs stretched out, hands in his lap.

‘But you were right. All that time I thought.. I don’t even know what I thought. I guess part of me always knew you were right, that he was seeing someone else. I just didn’t want to believe you.’ You sighed heavily and finally looked Changkyun in the eyes.

Those eyes. Eyes that you trusted more than anything else in the world. Even if you didn’t act like it. 

Looking back, he’d always been right. Whenever he had an inkling, a hunch or any kind of negative vibe about someone, he’d always been right. So annoying.

He let his mind wonder back to that party two years ago. He’d overheard your new boyfriend talking to another girl on his phone. Changkyun had stuck around long enough to know for sure and immediately relayed it to you.

He knew what would happen. He knew he’d been quick to judge your other dates in the past, but this was different. But he had to step back, it was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. It’d been a long couple of years. But it confirmed one thing for sure. He was completely in love with you.

Shocker.

Changkyun finally met your eyes, and neither of you looked away.

‘I’m so sorry, Changkyun,’ you meekly said, as tears were brimming in your eyes.

He quickly wrapped his arms around you, saying nothing, not needing to. He was your friend first and foremost and he wouldn’t let anything threaten that. He also knew that there was only one way to react in this situation.

‘I don’t want a lot for Christmas...’ 

Your eyes shot open, was he singing?

‘There is just one thing I neeeeeed.’

Oh Lord, he’s singing.

‘I don’t care about the presents, underneath the Christmas Treeeee.’

Why is he singing?

‘I just want you for my own, more than you could ever knowwww.’ 

He was getting progressively louder.

‘Make my wish come truuuuuuuuuuuueeee, ooooh ooo ooooh.’

He’s too into it, you’ve lost him.

‘All I want, for Christmaaass, iiiiiiiiiisssssss YOOOOOOOOUUUUU.’

You wiggled out of his grip, and before he could utter another note, your lips were on his.

Changkyun’s eyes opened, his arms were out by his sides. He couldn’t quite process what was happening. As your hands held either side of his face, he decided to just go with it. He relaxed and closed his eyes, but placed his hands on his own thighs. 

He didn’t want to kid himself that this would go further than a park bench.

To you, something about this felt right, yet so weird at the same time. I mean, this is Changkyun, your friend, the dude who sings loudly in public to make you laugh, he was your confidant, your emotional support...

Wow, he’s everything that other guys hadn’t been. Woah, serious lightbulb moment.

You broke the kiss and pulled away, but still remained close enough, that you could feel his warm breath against your face.

‘I’m so sorry Changkyun, I.. I.. I’m so freaking stupid!’ Realisation had hit you like a tonne of bricks.

‘Can I get that in writing please? Or I can record it on my phone, if that’s easier?’ The smallest of smirks appearing on his face. A face that you had forced yourself to be blind to for the last three years.

You hit him on the shoulder and he dramatically fell back on the bench, feigning injury.

You smiled for the first time in two days.

‘I don’t deserve you,’ a solemn truth in your words, hung in the air.

‘No, Y/N,’ Changkyun lifted himself up to look at you once more, ‘you deserve better than what you’ve been settling for.’

You stared at your friend, wide eyed, things continuously falling into place.

‘Ahh, I’m so cheesy,’ Changkyun giggled, there he was, forever unchanging, ‘but it’s the truth.’

‘So.. what now?’ You looked at him expectantly, everything was so up in the air.

He takes a deep breath, ‘I’ll be your friend for as long as you need me to. And, if you ever need more than that from me, I’ll be right here.’ 

You couldn’t believe how lucky you were. The friend who’d stuck by your side, who loved you, who had to sit and watch you make a complete fool of yourself for years, still wanted you.

‘But for now,’ he continued, ‘we go on one of those.’ He pointed to one of the large swan boats you’d been looking at earlier.

‘Really?’ This guy was just full of surprises today.

‘Yep, you’ve always wanted to go on one of these, but all your previous suitors were all scrooges. Not this guy. Consider it a Boxing Day gift.’

Changkyun stood up and offered his hand to you.

You take it, and don’t let go. Before walking off to the boats, you place a soft kiss on his cheek. You never felt worthy of someone like Changkyun, you didn’t think you’d be good enough for him. He was such a special guy, you felt like you had nothing to give in return.

And yet, settling for others was what could’ve torn you apart. Turns out you were the dumbass, not him.

He smiles at you again, before saying, ‘let’s not tell Kihyun about this, we’ll never hear the last of it.’

‘Agreed,’ you replied whole heatedly, good old Kihyun, reuniting you once again.

[gwoongi]

𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗎𝗌 ✰ taehyung (9)

𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗎𝗌 kim taehyung / reader genre: zombie apocalypse au words: 4761

On one hand, it could just be the neighbours cat who did, sometimes, come into the house when your grandparents left the back door open. On the other hand, this could be the exact same as The Walking Dead and you could open the door and find a legless zombie chasing after you- 5 dumb seconds of adrenaline.

a/n: this fic is still on hiatus, due to the rest of it being rewritten and revised!!! please be patient and thank u for all the love :D

warnings: flashbacks, drug use, alcohol, gore, death, twd references, brief suicide mention, struggling mental health

01. denver ↝ 02. holiday with me ↝ 03. sad forever ↝ 04. surely ↝ 05. scorpion ↝ 06. shakespeare ↝ 07. thrones ↝ 08. moon motel ↝ 09. zombies

When Kyungmin heard the distinct sound of boots along the metal fire-escape she looked up from the gun in her hands, spotting Namjoon emerging up the small spiralled staircase to sit on the roof of the motel. She looked back, watching the stars appear sporadically in the dark sky with her feet dangling off the side of the roof, comfortable when her brother sat down next to her.

Namjoon reached into his coat pocket, opening a packet of Marlboro. He toyed with his between his lips, passing the packet to her openly with the raise of his brows, “want a light?”

She shook her head, cringing. “Can’t get over the taste. I’ll pass, thanks, Joonie.”

Namjoon shrugged, pocketing the cigarettes. With one hand, he lit the butt, and the other wrapped around Kyungmin’s hand, tightly, as if afraid to let go. He inhaled the smoke, letting it fill his lungs and choked it out, watching the smoke rush out towards the forest.

“Think they’re getting comfy back there,” he started, and Kyungmin looked over with raised brows, a smile twitching at her lips for a brief moment until it fell. “What? Jealous?”

Kyungmin shrugged.

“Maybe if you ask her, she’ll share him with you,” Namjoon teased, but then he paused, noticing how the skin on Kyungmin’s nose wrinkled, as if disgusted by the idea of being with Taehyung. Funnily enough, that’s exactly how it was. “What? You jealous of him?”

She shrugged again, huffing hair from her face. “It’s whatever, Joon. It’s one of those crushes where you’ve got nobody else to crush on.” Kyungmin waved her hand, “it’ll pass, don’t worry.”

“I guess. She’s pretty, though.”

“Yeah, she is.”

He thought for a long moment. “Is that why you came up here?”

More shrugging. “I had a hunch they’d get to it soon. In any case, it’s not like I wanna be with her. It’s just...a weird attraction. I don’t know. We get along. It’s nice to get along with someone other than you.”

Namjoon scoffed. If this had been any other normal day, without dead people roaming the streets, Namjoon knew everything would be different. 

Back home, back in Korea, he and Kyungmin were never close. With a couple years age difference, Namjoon never wanted to be with his little sister. He had his own friends and his own hobbies, he didn’t need the annoying sister he had to come by to his room and cry when she wasn’t allowed in to play Yugioh with his friends. She got him back for it; when Kyungmin got her first girlfriend aged fourteen, she didn’t want her big brother driving her around, knocking on the door to ask if they wanted something to eat when she knew the only reason he came in was to see if everything was okay. Kyungmin and Namjoon were never close, at least not until he went into translating for a big idol company in Seoul and Kyungmin transferred to LA for University.

He often thought it was funny, how they only got close when they were dragged further apart.

“I’m not that bad,” he muttered, offended.

Kyungmin dipped her head, fiddling with the gun. Bored, she began to reload it, spinning the chamber, the bullets rolling on the concrete next to her, ready to be slotted in. Namjoon barely paid any attention to it, glancing over at the spinning sound and dropping some ash off the edge of the roof.

“You shouldn’t play around with that.”

“Not playing, I’m loading it.”

“No difference,” Namjoon muttered, taking a drag. “If you accidentally shoot yourself, it’s gonna be on me or one of them to get it out of you. And I’m not trained in medicine.”

No, Namjoon had studied literature at a community college back in Korea since he couldn’t afford to go a proper University. That’s the difference between him and Kyungmin- one got all the good stuff afterwards because his parents got better jobs. Not that Namjoon minded much. He was happy studying something he liked at his own pace, whilst working for some company he couldn’t remember the name of for a couple months, building up his muscles and stamina, nicknaming himself Backbreaker with a couple of colleagues who worked in the statistics department.

Namjoon had never considered the slight chance that a zombie apocalypse could happen. Nah, it wasn’t possible to think about back when he was eight, thinking about what he wanted to do for a living. If he had known, he would have gone into medicine, or at least the army. Things would be different if the apocalypse was planned.

Namjoon gave up trying to lecture Kyungmin, knowing her well enough to understand that by now she was old enough to do her own thing and make her own choices. If she wanted to fuck around with a gun and twirl her butterfly knife like some Mob movie gangster, he couldn’t stop her. Taking a long drag from the cigarette, Namjoon glanced at her and held it out between his fingers one last time. “Final offer.”

Kyungmin glared at the cigarette, and Namjoon was shocked to see that the cigarette didn’t set up in flames at the intensity of it. She bit her lip roughly, and snatched it from his fingers. Namjoon smoked a lot lately; she knew that no matter how hard he tried to hide it, she could tell from the yellow staining on his fingers, the black nicotine pushed underneath his nails. Bringing the cigarette to her lips, she took an equally long drag, inhaling the smoke, coughing it out and stubbing the butt. The cigarette then fell, like suicide, from the roof onto the grass down below. Namjoon watched it fall, no longer an advocate for keeping the environment clean like he would have been before the Nukes. The world was ending anyway.

“God, it tastes like shit,” she spluttered, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

Namjoon chuckled from next to her, nudging his shoulder against hers. They didn’t say anything after that, not much besides idle chat about the weather and how food supply was running low. Namjoon was a practical person, he liked things being neat and ordered and under control. As a silence fell over the siblings, Namjoon suddenly realised how easy it was to be around Kyungmin. Realistically, it had nothing to do with the fact that that they were blood related. Even if they hadn’t been related, Namjoon reckons it would have been easy being with her, being around her. Kyungmin had that vibe that mother’s have with babies, that somewhat maternal instinct that makes them nice to be around for a while. Kyungmin liked pretending she was Namjoon’s Mom. Maybe he liked that, maybe he liked having a sister and a mother at the same time, even when she was a couple years younger.

“Joon, I wanna stay with Y/N and Taehyung.”

He said nothing at first, swallowing the nicotine flavoured saliva and looking at her with a blank expression, devoid of emotion. Kyungmin frowned deeper, shuffling to face him, “hear me out.”

“I hear you, Kyungmin, I hear you.”

“It’s not right,” she breathed out, at last, shaking her head. “After everything they’ve done for us, and us them...it would be wrong to just leave them behind. We can’t leave them, Namjoon. I don’t want to.”

Namjoon pondered on that. “You’re my baby sister. The only thing I have left- I know, it’s hard, but I have to think beyond a couple of days. I need to think of the future- our future, Kyungmin, and-”

“We’re alive because of them,” Kyungmin continued, her voice raising slightly. But Namjoon didn’t flinch or cringe or even bat an eyelid. “This world is dark, and cruel, and evil. Like hell, are we leaving them behind in that. Look, Joonie, I know it’s not what you want to hear, but we need to consider the possibility of us not making it back home.”

Namjoon groaned, moving, “Kyungmin, no-”

“Please, Joon,” she rasped, holding onto his sweater paws. “Y/N has a group in Georgia with a boat-”

“-We don’t know that-”

“-and our best bet is on that boat,” Kyungmin explained, heating up her cheeks as she spoke. “And even if there is no boat, then fuck, at least we’re not alone on this ugly planet in this ugly country. Namjoon, I wanna go home more than anything else, but, it’s just not realistic right now. I want to stay safe and I think our best bet is to stay with Taehyung and Y/N. Or, fuck, I don’t know, invite them to come with us. Please, Namjoon. I don’t want to leave them behind.”

To be honest, Namjoon didn’t want to either. But it felt like he was the only person thinking realistically about the situation; there was absolutely zero guarantee that there would be anything in Georgia. Namjoon’s watched about a thousand apocalyptic movies, and the ending is never that simple. Without really realising he reaches for a second cigarette, the small box almost half empty.

Namjoon let out a puff of dark smoke, hissing between his teeth. God, no matter how many fags he smoked, he could never get used to that fucking taste. “I’ll bring it up with Taehyung tomorrow. Kyungmin, I just don’t know what to say anymore. We have to think of us. What do we wanna do?”

They left that question hanging for a bit, quietly watching the sky, trying to pretend that the world around them wasn’t falling apart by the second.

After the second night of staying over at the Moon Motel, Taehyung began to feel as though they had overstayed their welcome.

He proposed it over a tinned dinner, the little fire of salvaged wood from outside and pine cones, a leftover newspaper dating back to 2001 reporting the news of the Twin Towers. Just a quick run, to the small village he knew was nearby, nicknamed Shell-Shock, as he recalled from what he had seen on a left behind map back in the suite.

“It will take less than a day,” Taehyung had said. Namjoon didn’t look convinced. “We’re running low on gas, we’ve got about a day’s worth of food left…”

“It would be really helpful if you went, actually,” Kyungmin said around a mouthful of sweetcorn. “The world still spins, and menstrual cycles still exist.”

The plan was simple, the simplest of plans they’ve ever had all together. Taehyung and Namjoon would take the van for a short ten minute drive to the nearby town, scavenge the area and salvage some parts, and then come back. In that time, Kyungmin and yourself would completely pull apart the motel, looking for anything and everything to help the journey to wherever the fuck they needed to be.

“You know how to shoot this, yeah?”

“Of course I do, Taehyung,” you said, approaching him as he hesitated by the door to the van. Namjoon blinked, not caring about the slight delay, using the time to lecture Kyungmin on things she already knew off by heart. “You’ll be gone for a couple hours tops. We’ll be okay- I’ll be okay.”

He nodded his head frivolously, pulling you by your cheeks to plant a small, dry kiss to your temple. “Just making sure,” and then he was off and inside the van, pulling the doors closed.

Taehyung had never really paid much attention to the interior of the van until given the chance to look around. As Namjoon fiddled with the keys and anxiously checked the meter at least four times before driving off, Taehyung fingered the worn, holey leather and scrunched up his nose at the old and stale smell. It reminded him, now he thinks about it, of his first car after high-school. It was old, a 1983 Dodge Colt in red that had been sitting in a junkyard for around three months until he decided to save up at a job in his local cinema and buy the baby. Like the van, his Dodger had worn leather seats that he was too poor to replace, a deep maroon colour, the insides sticking out like tufts of fur.

For a first car, it wasn’t bad. Actually, it was kind of amazing, the kind of car you saw in those 80’s movies about vampires at your high-school. After he bought his first car, Taehyung bought a leather jacket, regretfully real instead of faux, and smoked his first cigarette. In his defense, it had been down to the peer pressure of his best friend, Seunghee, who picked up smoking from her friend Arin, who picked it up from her Dad during a weekend helping out at the garage he worked in. But, it’s a good memory.

He thought about the memory as the van rolled off beyond the small woods, onto the clear road and down towards Shell-Shock.

“C’mon, Y/N,” Kyungmin said after a while, tugging at the end of Taehyung’s leather jacket- the leather jacket- dressing your arms. “We should start near the kitchen, make our way up.”

3 YEARS PRIOR.

One, two, three. 

Seunghyun’s feet kicked annoyingly into the wooden frame of your bed, pushed up by the off-white wall, his head lulled back onto the dry paint as Jiyong stood hunched over your desk, one finger on his nose, the other tapping the table.

“Fuck, you got any more of this shit?”

Spinning in your chair, you pulled it across the matted carpet towards the bookcase covering a wall with a couple drill holes in. Honestly, when you moved in with your grandparents the Autumn after your mother passed away, you felt as if there had been little need to decorate the attic that was already looking reasonably liveable. With its slanted ceiling and cream walls, a running cream skirting board and old carpet that had been cut and lazily slapped down on the floor, it was enough to call a home.

The bookshelf ran a metre wide, a dripping deep brown shade with all sorts scattered on the shelves. Books from years ago that your grandmother had just put up for storage, a cactus from IKEA, a few photographs in worn out frames presenting Jiyong and Jennie and Seunghyun and whoever else had scurried into your life after the accident, and a sea-shell ornament placed at an angle, reflecting the light in a coral shade. A conch shell, from a trip to Portugal that your Dad went on after he divorced your Mum and spent the next three months pretending as if he gave a damn. The shell, pretty in its design, came in handy in several ways, as you fingered the hole to retrieve a little packet of glittery white powder, an obnoxious J written on it in red ink.

“There’s the beauty,” Seunghyun narrated, his attention alerted. He sat up straight, holding his hand out expectantly. “Gimme.”

Jiyong let out a sigh of relief, his gums aching as he collapsed onto the floor, shuddering like the shivers after a sunburn. “On second thought, that’s enough for me.”

“If you say so,” you said quietly, kicking the chair back towards the door where it hit the wood with a silent pad, enough to remind your grandparents that you were still up here, although occupied, and very much alive. They rarely saw you, actually. Not that they minded that much. 

Even before the accident, they were never very talkative, opting to living life as if their granddaughter wasn’t in the roof snorting lines and popping pills, doing everything and anything to forget and numb the pain, haze the memory of the cancer.

Seunghyun took the bag from you, promptly switching positions as he put the bag on the desk next to a sugary pile of cocaine Jiyong had yet to snort, bringing his attention back to the bed where you lay, staring up at him. You lay still, like a slice of ham. 

He grunted with satisfaction, always ready to dominate, and bunched up your shirt to roll it up over your head. Seunghyun sucked in a breath at the sight of a silk bralette, and a surprised gasp elicited your lips as Seunghyun brought back the packet.

“Please don’t fuck while I’m still in the room.”

“Whatever, we’ve done it before,” Seunghyun said, taking the vial from the desk and using it to draw a line of white on your stomach, a beginners position. Without a word, Seunghyun held his thumb to his nostril and sniffed hard, and with experience cleared up the line of white with a groan following. He tilted his head back afterwards, his eyes folding back, strands of bleached white hair falling back into his eyes when he looked back down at you.

His fingers were still white as he hooked his hands around your bralette, “can this come off?”

“Sure,” you breathed. Jiyong let out a groan, or something, you couldn’t quite remember, rolling back over to the desk to finish off the other line. The loud sound of Jiyong sniffing up the powder overpowered the inhale of breath from Seunghyun as he, with one hand, pulled away your bra, tossing it to the side to palm your tits with both hands, his fingers cold and powdery, the taste on his gums.

“Fuck,” he murmured, using the vial once more to draw a more shaky line down your sternum, gently holding back your breasts to clear the space. With what he had leftover, Seunghyun rubbed his fingers over his gums, groaning, and whilst numbing slowly, brought his face back down to snort his second line. That’s all your bedroom was now, a cave filled with white powder and the quiet sound of “Breaking News” that had disturbed the playlist session showcasing the newest album from Yeseo.

Yeah, you fucking druggies, North Korea might be sending cryptic messages about how those infected by their bomb are gonna rip everyone’s faces off, but it’s okay, yeah? As long as you’ve got your white lines, you’re cool.

“You want some?” Seunghyun asked after a long pause of silence. Pushing yourself up on your elbows, you shook your head, sitting up to push his chest back. He stumbled.

“Nah. I’d rather not become a coke addict,” you replied. “Besides, we had a fair trade. Coke for the weed. As per usual…”

Seunghyun smiled razorblades. “Ah, you never let me down. You’re a good girl.”

“D’you think the Denver Quarantine is gonna burst?”

Seunghyun pocketed the remains of the coke in the packet, glancing at Jiyong hunched on the floor. In a whiff, Seunghyun noticed the smell in the room, something like weed and off-cheese, the twang of alcohol and the same old lavender candle on the dresser by the mirror on the wall. He grimaced, reaching towards the window to push it open, airing out the room.

“What’s that got to do with...anything?”

“Just asking,” Jiyong shrugged. “Cause the radio just said that. Said the one in Washington got blown up this afternoon.”

Neither you or Seunghyun said anything. The elder shifted uncomfortably on two feet, already starting his cigarette for the way out. “Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, at least it’s them and not us,” Seunghyun replied as if it was the easiest answer in the world. “Denver ain’t coming down. You seen the size of those walls?”

“That’s what they thought about the Washington ones, too,” Jiyong shrugged, tightening his belt. “Ah well, fuck it. If the tossers come out, they come out, eh?”

Seunghyun shook his head, sniffing once. “You’re too deep on crack, man.”

Jiyong snorted but said nothing more. Jiyong was practically family at this point, having been a friend since before the start of high-school, during the divorce, after the cancer; he shrugged on his brown Oak and Fort coat, kicking around a packet of pills off the floor and using his foot to shoot it up into his hands, already opening the door leading downstairs. No doubt your grandparents would smell Jiyong before he bounded down the stairs, since he never came round smelling like anything other than booze, fags or faint sweat. Naturally the smell didn’t even matter to you anymore.

Listening to the sound of Jiyong’s socked feet disappearing down the stairs, Seunghyun adjusted the waist of his jeans and shrugged into his own jacket, then moving to pull your face in for a brief, nonetheless deep, kiss, all in one movement. “Thanks, Y/N.”

The boys vanished together, as they came, back outside the small home and into Jiyong’s jeep. It didn’t take watching from the window to hear it groan to a start, the engine revving obnoxiously as if Jiyong was trying to make a statement. Too high to drive, he reversed into one of the ditches across the road, struggling to get up, and then he cruised down the road at a desirable speed, the sound of Babymetal on the speakers.

Downstairs, you could hear your grandparents shuffling around, switching off lights and moving into the back bedroom where they’d probably stay all afternoon. To avoid the smell, maybe. Moving on the chair to kick the door closed, you relaxed when it clicked shut and you rolled back to your desk, switching on the lamp, sliding into a shirt and opening Google Docs on your laptop. You rubbed your finger across the leftover powder on your desk, considering sprinkling it to the ground but at the last second spreading it across your own gums. Because nothing beat writing Seunghyun’s essay on Henry VIII’s foreign policy than being off your face whilst doing it.

The scheduled hour of essay writing slowly turned into six hours of sleeping at the desk, your face shoved into the crook of your elbows with the sound of Childish Gambino in your ears on full blast. By the time you stirred awake uncomfortably, the sky was a blood orange, and you barely registered the faint line of charcoal in the sky until the Childish Gambino record looped for probably the 100th time, the beat making your head bop as you moved to the open window to stare at it.

With the earphones still in your ears, you remembered feeling incredibly uncomfortable listening to Donald Glover sing in a high tone, watching the smoke rise from the Denver cityscape beyond the dense woods, and the sight of oil and blood and about three starfish bodies on the road outside your window. At first, it didn’t seem real, as if you were dreaming vividly. It reminded you of the movies, the first episode of The Walking Dead where Rick has no fucking idea what’s happening. Oh, what a day to feel like Rick Grimes.

Slowly you pulled your earphones out, Donald shutting up, straining to hear absolutely nothing outside besides the obnoxious car alarm, something like gunshots in the city and the very faint sound of scratching behind your door. 

At first you almost missed it, the sound so quiet that you could have ignored it all together. You probably would have done, if it hadn’t been for the fact that there were three starfishes out on the main road, and nothing but the very unusual sound of literal warfare in the city.

Setting your phone and earphones to the side, your feet moved towards the door, slowly enough that the noises didn’t cease as they would if something approached the door. Instead, the scratching continued, almost sounding like a kitty pining for attention. 

You didn’t own a cat.

Refraining from the stereotype of horror movies, you didn’t bother calling out to whoever- or whatever- was outside the door. As if out of instinct, you paused before turning the handle, suddenly as still as stone. On one hand, it could just be the neighbours cat who did, sometimes, come into the house when your grandparents left the back door open. On the other hand, this could be the exact same as The Walking Dead and you could open the door and find a legless zombie chasing after you-

5 dumb seconds of adrenaline; you yanked open the door and hurried back a few steps, a strangled noise clawing at your throat as the door hit off the wall and revealed an empty staircase. Well, partly empty, if you ignored the fact that your grandmother was literally on all fours on the floor with half of her face missing.

Fuck you, Rick Grimes.

Unlike most pop-culture-induced teenagers, you had never given a zombie apocalypse much thought. Understandably, you had no idea what to do except stumble backwards in panic when she- or it- crawled forwards on all fours, scurrying like a feral animal. With half her jaw hanging by a slick piece of flesh, she picked one bone thin knee up off the second to last step, and in a frenzy, you moved to kick it, sending her tumbling down the stairs in a small nursery rhyme sounding set of thuds.

A groan from down the stairs began to get louder, and you pushed yourself back towards the bookshelf, in a position where you wouldn’t make it to the door before she got up to you. With one million different thoughts racing through your head, and the sight of a white nightgown out the corner of your eye, you turned to the bookshelf and scanned for something- anything to use as a weapon.

You threw a stuffed animal. 

You don’t know why, knowing it would do zilch as it bounced off the top of her head, bobbing up the stairs like a buoy on water. And then you saw it, the same coral colour of the conch shell, the spikes protruding like tiny swords. It was this or nothing. Sorry, Dad.

Grabbing the conch with one hand, you turned on your sock to face the groaning and grunting body of what should have been your grandmother, her legs hanging down on the floor like they were useless, and they probably were. The nightgown she always wore to bed was shredded at the hem, one breast hanging out with blood smeared over her neck and jaw, her face torn open like a lion to a gazelle.

It groaned upwards, a hand pointing out, asking for something to grab, and you kicked it away. You cringed at the feeling of bone underneath your foot, your heel digging into her voice box as you moved to stand over her and her biting mouth, and all at once, you brought the conch shell to her face and smashed. 

The demon that had always been inside of you somewhere snapped, the smell of blood driving her insane as she wrapped her body around yours, lacing her fingers between your own, moving your hand down, down, down, down, down, to smash, smash, smash, smash, until the face between your knees was bloody and red, with piles of flesh and blood clots and a glass eyeball that rolled on the floor underneath the bed. Even with half her face missing, the grandmother-imitator writhed, her hands clawing at your jeans, although her blunt fingernails made no damage to the material.

“You gotta aim for tha head,” Rick Grimes said in your head, pointing to your temple, and you swore you could feel the coolness of a gun against your skull. “Come on, Y/N, it’s dead. Ain’t gonna get ya. Aim for tha head, darlin’-”

Smash. One dent in her forehead. Smash. The skin caved in, like a sinkhole, muddy red rising up as the white smashed against the blade of the conch. And she wouldn’t stop controlling your hand, guiding it down like a virgin in sex, whispering the ways of murder in your ears, “that’s it, sweetheart,”, cutting off Rick Grimes as he pulled the trigger of his gun against your head, the air escaping through your lips and as you jolted in surprise, you noticed that the conch shell was coated in glistening red, her skull smashed in to the point where the brain had been punctured, blood pooling out like a water feature, the body of the grandmother-imitator still and comatose on the floor.

Oh, what an inappropriate time for Zombies to play in your earphones on the bed.

[torybrennan]

my 42 favorite quotes from code bc i’m avoiding homework again

“‘I re-jiggered the settings to ignore trash metal. No more false alarms.’ ‘No more anything. It just beeps.’” (12)

“‘This game is popular?’ Ben was sitting on his tackle box in the shade of a large elm. ‘Sounds pretty nerdtastic to me.’ ‘We can’t all practice birdscalls like you.’” (18)

“‘This watch is low-rent. Plus, I’m getting a new one for my birthday. But you owe me, Stolowitski.’ ‘Owe you what?’ Hi said. ‘Who wears a wristwatch anymore? Cavemen?’” (22)

“‘Coop really doesn’t like that box.’ I knelt and rubbed the edgy wolfdog’s snout. ‘It better not be stuffed with dead squirrels or something.’ … ‘It’s not a rodent coffin!’ Hi huffed. ‘This cache is legit. You’ll see.’” (22-23)

“‘Don’t use up too much drive space,’ I warned, watching the screen from over his shoulder. ‘We bought this stuff to research parvovirus, not so you can watch “Boom Goes the Dynamite” twenty times a day.’” (53)

“Frustrated, Hi rose and wandered to the computer. ‘I’m going to check my email.’ ‘I’m going to kill myself,’ Ben muttered. Shelton ignored them.” (56)

“Soooo many dorks,’ Ben muttered, his coal-black eyebrows forming a steep V. ‘A giant nerd army, digging up plastic boxes they hide for each other.’ ‘Like everything you do is cool,’ Hi snorted. ‘Still have that ninja costume you wore to my twelfth birthday party?’” (62)

“‘Wait.’ Ben glanced from face to face. ‘We’re actually going to pursue this nonsense? We suddenly care what this fruitcake hid in a box somewhere?’” (65)

“‘We’ve got over an hour before dark.’ I yanked my hair into a ponytail. ‘Let’s show Mr. Gamemaster how quickly Virals solve puzzles.’ … ‘We’ve got to work on our decision-making process.’ Shelton was shaking his head. ‘Right now, we just follow Tory over every cliff.’” (74)

“Hi called into the black. ‘Your cache is mine, clown! I’m coming to getcha! Uncle Hiram’s got the scent!’ His words echoed in the darkness as he scrambled through the opening. ‘Zip it!’ Shelton hiss-whispered. ‘This building is struggling to hold your buck-sixty. Don’t yodel the roof down on our heads.’” (82-83)

“‘This is stupid.’ Shelton started toward the doorway. ‘Let’s bounce. We can toss that iPad in the freaking harbor.’” (90)

“‘Watch where you’re going,’ Ben snapped. ‘I am,’ Jason said dryly. ‘I’m going to chat with Tory.’” (100)

“‘Hey, check this weirdo out.’ Hi was inspecting a bust on the mantel. ‘This face is ninety percent eyebrow. What do you wanna bet he owned slaves?’ Scowling to match the carving’s expression, Hi spoke in a gravelly voice. ‘In my day, we ate the poor people. We had a giant outdoor grill, and cooked up peasant steaks every Sunday.’” (106-107)

“‘State your business.’ ‘To see my father.’ A beat. ‘That’s usually going to be my business, FYI.’” (112)

“Hudson’s eyes narrowed. ‘Dodgeball?’ ‘District champs.’ Hi pounded his chest. ‘I’m a gunner. The key is to reach the balls first, and then throw with a little touch of spin, so that—’” (113)

“Jason had attended debutante balls. Knew the drill. My crew would have to conduct research on YouTube. Jason was popular on the cotillion scene. My guys weren’t even on the radar. Asking Jason would get Whitney off my back. Inviting only Morris Island boys might plummet her into a depression.” (132)

“I wore a white tank and jeans, shooting for ‘sexy-casual.’ Hoping it wasn’t ‘left farmhouse, got lost.’” (170)

“‘It has to mean something!’ Hi slapped a knee in frustration. Shelton glanced up from his iPhone, but when Hi didn’t elaborate he resumed surfing. … ‘Care to elaborate?’ I was sitting between Hi and Shelton in the stern. ‘Or was that a yoga move I don’t know?’” (233)

“Hi looked at me strangely. ‘We’re a little busy Friday night.’ ‘Busy? Doing what?’ The boys exchanged a look. Hi snorted. ‘I don’t know about you,’ Shelton said, ‘but I’m escorting my friend Victoria to her debutante ball.’” (235)

“‘Your advice, remember? No fear?’ Instantly regretted. I didn’t want Chance thinking about last summer. ‘Oh, I recall.’ Chance smiled thinly. ‘I haven’t crashed on your floor so many times that I’d forget.’” (240)

“‘I found something interesting,’ Marchant continued. ‘Are you free to meet? I’m headed out for a caffeine fix in thirty minutes.’ Um, what? Did this guy not understand I was fourteen? Bolton wasn’t big on students popping out for midday lattes.” (245)

“‘Ben, stop the boat.’ He looked at me funny. ‘We’re in the middle of the ocean, Victoria.’ ‘Stop the damn boat!’ Ben rolled eyes, but eased off the throttle. Sewee decelerated until we just bobbed along with the current. ‘Did you want to jump in?’ Ben asked dryly. ‘Water’s pretty cold in October.’” (251-252)

“‘Okay, people.’ Ben crossed his arms. ‘Care to share?’ ‘No big deal.’ Shelton’s tone was nonchalant. ‘Just a quick stop at Mepkin Abbey to get a new headshot of Mr. Dead Guy.’” (260)

“‘Options?’ Ben asked as he pulled out onto the highway. ‘I think some charitable work might be in order,’ Hi said. ‘I’m not a Jesus man, but I’m pretty sure getting ripped a new one by a monk is bad karma in any religion.’” (264)

“‘Oh man, she really did it this time!’ ‘Should we call the nurse?’ Panicky. ‘An ambulance?’ ‘And say what, exactly?’ hissed a third. ‘That our friend passed out after some bad telepathy?’” (271)

“‘She’s coming around!’ The roundest shape coalesced into Hi. ‘Tor? You okay? If you’ve gone vegetable, blink at me.’” (271)

“My splitting headache had proved the experiment had been dangerous. Had I learned my lesson? Probably not.” (273)

“Hi, naturally, had opted for flair. His tux was crushed purple velvet with tails, accented by all white silk—tie, vest, gloves, and suspenders. He completed the outfit with a freaking top hat and cane. Whitney had nearly fainted on seeing him.” (279)

“‘Those who enlist complete a rigorous program combining academics, physical fitness, and military discipline.’ … ‘So—book learning, push-ups, and war games.’ Hi ticked off fingers as he spoke. ‘Check, check, and check. Plus gray is my sexy color.’” (279)

“‘Paging Miss Brennan.’ Chance waved a hand before my eyes. ‘You okay?’ No. ‘Yes. I’m just…surprised I’ll be first.’ ‘I’m sure you’ll dazzle. Until then.’” (286)

“‘Gamemaster?’ Jason looked confused. ‘Search the basement? What are you talking about?’ ‘Oh, we’re, um, playing a pretty fierce game of Dungeons and Dragons,’ Hi stammered. ‘I’m, like, the head…unicorn master, and Tory has to find my magic…beans. Seeds.’” (299)

“‘Always trapped!’ Shelton actually stamped a foot. ‘Always underground! If we get out of here, I’m moving to a high-rise on a mountain-top. Penthouse! And y’all ain’t invited!’” (304)

“‘I assume there’s no antique cash register in need of special oil?’ Jason said. No one bothered to answer.” (331)

“He launched into an improvised tale of woe and misfortune. We’d found ourselves in the dark. Flustered and disoriented, we’d blundered through an emergency exit. Then we’d tumbled down a staircase in a complicated domino sequence that incorporated each one of us. The story was bizarre, confusing, and wildly improbable. They’d bought it without hesitation.” (333)

“‘Yet you four ripped the grate from its tracks. Then you ripped the tracks from the wall, bending the metal bars like they were drinking straws. How? How is that possible?’ ‘I read once where this guy in Ulan Bator powerlifted a Chinese tank after—’ ‘Can it, Stolowitski. Let Tory explain.’” (335)

“‘You look ready to chew nails.’ Shelton grinned at me from his own stoop. ‘There’s a certain murderer I’d like to chat with.’” (340)

“‘You okay, Tor?’ Shelton had a sandbag on one shoulder, hauled up from the beach. ‘We don’t have time for an ER run.’ ‘We could amputate,’ Hi suggested. ‘Shelton, get the whiskey.’” (342)

“‘I called Marchant’s office and left a message. Less than a minute later, my cell rang and March—’ I gritted my teeth, ‘—the Gamemaster asked me to meet him at City Lights Coffee. So I did.’ ‘So dumb,’ Hi muttered. ‘And it really was a murderer.’” (350)

“‘And you know this how?’ … ‘I dreamed it.’ ‘Aha! You dreamed it.’ Hi yawned and rubbed his eyes. ‘I think it’s time we get you medicated.’” (352)

“I turned on Ben and Hi. ‘What about you two? Ready to bail? There’s a deranged psycho out there who knows what your mothers eat for breakfast. That cool with you?’” (353)

“‘Any plan for that bit?’ Shelton asked dully. ‘You keep glossing over how we’re actually gonna make the citizen’s arrest.’ ‘Of course.’ I chucked his shoulder. ‘We’ll improvise.’ ‘Great. Well thought out.’” (362)

“‘You’re a hot, steaming ball of crazy,’ Hi said. ‘You know that, right? Freaking Looney Tunes.’” (373)

[nochiquinn]

So there is a book series called The Saga of Edda-Earth that you should absolutely read if you haven't; the basic premise is "what if Rome never fell and also all the gods are real and also magic". The characters are engaging (in both good and bad ways) and the world-building is tight and woven wonderfully. It's by the author of the doorstopper Mass Effect fic Spirit of Redemption, so if you read that and it was your jam then you will most likely enjoy this (and enjoy picking out the similarities, as I believe they were written concurrently).

I'm rereading it for the 405th time, and if I livetweet it again everyone's gonna block me, so I'm just gonna throw it under here. (Mainly for @malaloba​, who for some reason enjoys me saying “shut up, Adam” five hundred times.) If you wanna read it don't read this, because I am not shying away from spoilers. If you DO read this, please be aware that I love this series to tiny ridiculous pieces and any criticisms I have are, believe it or not, part of that love.

Away with us, for the entire first part of the book oh god this book is so long help me

"I’m not fond of fish,” she returned, with aplomb. 

Adam grinned at her. “You are hardly a good representative of the people who built the boats who brought the armies of the Empire to these shores, Sigrun.”

One of the things I do bc I'm both an asshole and a nerd is rewrite some of these unwieldy lines that crop up occasionally. I came up with "'Hardly what I expected from a member of a seafaring culture'" for this one, which removes some of the background info BUT also doesn't make my brain trip over its own feet reading it.

"[...]You god-born are arrogant, and your arrogance will be your undoing. You will not always be able to cow everyone you meet with a show of force. A new day is coming. One in which the power of the so-called gods will be in all our hands, every man and woman will be as a mage, and there will never again be common-born and god-born.”

Take notes, this'll be on the quiz. (I have a whole separate highlight color for prophesies and foreshadowing.) (Because I'm a nerd.)

The Atenist, on the other hand, looked past the woman’s shoulder. Made eye-contact with the man at the table, and the Egyptian’s eyes narrowed, and a smirk crossed his face. Adam stiffened slightly, suddenly wary. He knew that look. The Egyptian suddenly smiled, without mirth. 'Oh. I understand. The barbarian woman likes sucking circumcised c—'

At the table, the hooded man looked up at the ceiling. "Bad move," he muttered. “Very bad move.”

Another clap of thunder shook the building. And before the Egyptian could even react, the tall woman caught him by the wrist with her right hand, stepping deftly in behind him and pulling smoothly up between his shoulder blades. There was no effort in her movements, and though the man resisted, her single hand remained rock-steady, forcing him forwards onto the bar with an ungentle thump. “All right,” she said, her voice tired. “That’s one count of proselytizing without a license to preach, and in a public establishment, at that. One count of disrespect towards an officer of the law. The first is usually a two solidi fine.” Two solidi would pay the rent of a one-bedroom apartment in most major cities in the Empire and thus represented a stinging rebuke to someone found guilty of a crime. “The punishment for the second offense is usually determined by the whim of the magistrate in question. By happy chance, I am a magistrate.” She paused. “Do stop struggling. You have no hope of freeing yourself.”

She produced her rarely-used shackles from where they rode at the small of her back, and clicked them into place around the first wrist, casually planted a knee against the Atenist’s back, and reached around to seize his other hand. At which point, he managed to turn his head and spit into her glowing face. “God-born whore.” The man in the corner uncoiled from the booth at that point, taking two steps closer. “Sig—” The woman let the Atenist’s left hand loose just long enough to shift position, still retaining control of his right. Her own left hand slid up, found the back of his neck, and she slammed his head, face-first, into the counter. Hard.

okay this is a long quote BUT it's always bothered me; Sig only got in the guy's face in the first place because he was badmouthing god-born, of which she is one (the previous quote was said to her), so absolutely all of this reads as a gross abuse of power that she gets away with because she's a god-born of the local population's pantheon and a high-level bodyguard type person to boot, and the only excuse she gives at all is "I have logged over eighteen hours in a plane and quite a few more in a crowded motorcar in the past two days. So I might be ill-tempered." Like. Not an excuse, Sig.

"I’m perfectly aware that there are other gods. They’re just not my god."

the only good thing Adam ever said

"Ley-power has given people light and power for devices in their homes—without being bound to smelly coal-burning plants—”

“Judea uses nuclear reactors, these days—” He felt compelled to defend his homeland.

“Oh, that is obviously so much better.” A hint of sarcasm in her tone. “And think of this. Ley-powered devices, like those motorcars out there? Travel used to be something reserved for the wealthy, in the main. People well-enough off to own horses, which required stabling, fodder, land, exercise, and constant care. Ley-taps and ley-power are a miracle of the modern age, and the ley-grid employs thousands of technomancers and ley-mages. Sorcerers . . . the users of seiðr, as my people call it . . . have not always been held in high esteem. The Gauls have treated their ley-mages better. And the result is a better standard of living for everyone. It’s hard to see the harm in that.”

“That doesn’t make it right.”

Shut up, Adam.

“Hmm. His version of the story . . . now that he’s regained consciousness. . .” a sidelong and slightly disapproving look at Sigrun now[...]"

That's right local police guy you shame the godborn

“I wouldn’t stoop to using the power of the gods on one such as him.” Sigrun’s voice was flat. “It would be dishonorable. After he insulted me personally, I did, however, execute justice on him.”

That's not justice, Sig, that's pettiness. (The cop says as much a moment later but gets shut down by Sig's fancy Secret-Service-slash-Federal-Marshall credentials, which is gross)

Even after two years in India, and a year on this continent, he still didn’t entirely trust anything that didn’t run on electricity.

Because he's an idiot, and whatever -ism would be applied to hating mages for no good fucking reason

She was a puzzle. And Adam ben Maor enjoyed puzzles.

wow that doesn't sound like a serial killer at all

Sigrun, on the other hand, for all that she was god-born, didn’t have faith. She didn’t need it. She had assurance. Two very different things.

Didn't Wonder Woman and Hawkgirl have a conversation about this in the JL cartoon

So Adam sat and watched the news with a slightly jaundiced eye, shaking his head over the protestors in Xunantunich, all holding signs in Quecha and Latin, demanding an end to a Roman occupation that had already lasted for centuries. “Yes . . . that’s going to get results."

Shut up, Adam

Propraetor Antonius Livorus sat in the bathing area of the hotel room, patiently allowing his personal body-servant to shave him with a straight razor [...] “I will never understand how someone can do this properly themselves,” he murmured, gesturing at his face as he turned to study himself in the mirror.

Livorus I love you but that's just a little ridiculously privileged

A serpent and a jaguar were visible there, and, on his arms, bared to the elbow by his rolled sleeves, images of his strange, squat-looking gods.

This is referring to Aztec gods, and Sig's being racist.

“Sometimes, the worst monster of all, is humanity itself.”

ow the edge

“We have something in Judea now. We call them flak jackets. You should consider them. Unless the armor is just for show?”

"You should do this thing I say instead of the thing that's important to your religion, because I don't think it's necessary and therefore you shouldn't either"

“We’ve got a turnoff in about a mile,” Sigrun warned. He could see how tightly she was gripping the inner handle of the door, in spite of the fact that the car was barely going forty-five miles an hour. She was not an easy passenger. Another facet of her personality that amused him.

"Your fear is hilarious to me!"

In his left hand, Livorus held a bundle of sticks. The fasces.

I cannot read this word or a description of the item and not picture an old man in a toga bopping someone on the head with it

“If that one opens his mouth again to lie,” Livorus said, conversationally, gesturing at the young man, and speaking to Ehecatl, “please tell the king and his elders that I request that they remove his tongue and present it to me as a gift. In reparation for my time . . . and Rome’s time . . . that his words waste.”

Antonius Livorus has Zero Chill

“This is how we teach the young what’s important, yes?” Ptah growled it out.

yes. by shooting them. good job, ptah.

“Darkness is coming, Roman.” The eyes closed, then re-opened, vaguely. “Do you know...where your gods are?”

I don't even have a comment, I just like this line, for all its clicheness

“Sigrun, my dear, can you walk? Can you help this young lady back to our motorcar?” “Yes, propraetor. I think so.” Sigrun started to get to her feet, the lines of her face tautening as she did.

Ben Maor cut in, sharply, “Sir, she should not be walking, and I do not care what kind of magic was used to repair her wounds.

Shut up, Adam

The man stepped out of the way. “Go. Bring your machine. And tell your Roman that the chief would speak to him.” 

“I’m sure the propraetor will be happy to speak with your king [. . .]”

I forgot about this; there's a lot of just...not respecting native terms or customs. And I know it's Because Rome and the whole...do as the Romans do, or whatever, but also: stop it

Adam thought she might have been beautiful, if not for the lines of a very hard life on her weathered face.

she is gorgeous and you are a tool

Livorus nodded slowly, absorbing the woman’s words, and said, quietly, “And you were given as a wife to this friend of your brother, weren’t you, my dear.” It wasn’t quite a question.

And the woman nodded, rapidly, and Adam could only stare in shock. They’d killed both her father and her husband, in one day, and while there was sorrow in her face, there was no vengeance at all. Either the strongest woman I have ever seen, or the most worn, he thought, stunned.

1. the entire preceding conversations suggests she might not have even liked either of them 2. not everyone starts barfights over petty insults, Adam

Some god-born aged more or less as humans did. Some, like Sigrun, did not age physically at all.

which Adam will never notice until he decides to be mad about it

“He was a good man, in the main. A good enough husband.” Another weary shrug. “He was faithful, and he did not beat me. But I would not call what I felt love. More the memory of it. Love’s shadow.” She looked at Sigrun, and then down at the corpse of her father. “Love dies.”

and this, adam, is why we do not make assumptions. tool.

“Do I look Hellene to you?”

"is he, y'know...[pantomines letting your critically injured friend lay his head in your lap on the way to the hospital] gay?" (all hellenes are gay. all of them. queer as a bunch of three-dollar bills.)

"Instead, I require that one child from the family of each man who is executed for having taken part in this conspiracy, be sent to a boarding school in Novo Gaul. Close enough to visit their relatives, but they will be expected to improve their minds, and learn Latin. Roman ways. Roman thoughts. Roman ideas."

I know, okay. I know. Roman Empire, whatever, this just gives me such uncomfortable feelings of indigenous kids getting "civilized" in Christian schools

Still, the young man’s eyebrows rose. “Oh, and now I am consumed by my curiosity.”

“Then be devoured by it, Adam ben Maor, and may you give it indigestion.”

get vored by your emotions

“The chain mail is heavy, and does you very little good.”

stop mansplaining her armor at her adam

"First, I wear it when it is Tyr’s day. Respect."

so shut up, adam

"And third. . .” She shrugged. “I can still die, Adam. I’m not a goddess.”

[stares into the camera like I'm on the office]

“I am a valkyrie. [..] “That means, largely, that I will die in battle, Adam. No sickness will claim me. And even in battle, it would probably take an immediately mortal wound. Decapitation, or complete obliteration of the heart."

"Tyr is not a god of healing. He is a god of justice. His gift is...tempered. He requires that I understand the suffering of a victim, in order to restore them. [...] It’s not a mercantile arrangement. But there is a saying: ex nihilo nihil fit.” Nothing comes from nothing. “You have to give, if you wish to receive.”

"ex nihilo nihil fit" has been lodged in my mind since the first time I read this

“But [Fritti’s] strong. She’ll be just fine.”

citation needed

[Adam] was highly amused to note that Sigrun had gripped onto the arms of the chair, and that her knuckles were already white. They had yet to leave the ground. “Would it help if I held your hand?”

[braun strowman voice] you can GET THESE HANDS

It wasn’t that he was unused to other cultures;

it was that he was a tool

"he’d had his mind forcibly expanded in India and in the course of serving Rome"

adam is that guy who spends a week in a resort town and never shuts up about how "worldly" he is now

(I swear I get nicer once other characters are introduced and we don't spend so much time with adam)

Sangua Foederis. Blood Pact.

i c u mass effect reference

“Since when is Matrugena my summoner?”

Oh, just you wait, Sig

Adam grinned at her. She reacted rather nicely to teasing.

g r o s s

In the public baths, people sat around stark naked, in the pools, or taking a steam. The most one might have was a towel. It required certain mental adjustments. Most notably remembering not to hit anyone whose eyes dropped below neck level.

but adam you're so enlightened

The Pict had dark blond hair, dressed back in a half dozen braids

I never ever picture him as blonde. he always has red hair. I don't know why I have so much trouble with this when it is clearly stated, right there.

“What woman is ever going to be interested in things like that? You might as well put up a sign that says ‘in bonded servitude to books, in perpetuity.’”

leave trennus alone he's a Good Boy 

He had...no idea what to do with the fact that he had just gone from seeing her as a weapon, then a woman, and now, suddenly, as both at the same time.

admit that you're a gross tool and then get out of my book

“True enough,” Adam admitted, tautly. “I can’t say I’m thrilled with the idea of working with a summoner. It’s an inevitable and slippery slope into desiring more and more power, Trennus; dealing with spirits is inherently evil.” He paused; the man was regarding him steadily. “Isn’t it?”

"Knowledge is neither inherently good nor inherently bad,” Trennus told him, with a certain sober intensity. “Knowledge is neutral. It's what we do with what we know that matters."

trennus is a Good Boy

“What does it matter? There’s no one on this team who’s a noble.”

Trennus coughed into his hand.

Kanmi turned and gave him a pained look. “Eat shit and die. You’re not a noble.”

#kanmikin

Another long, steady look. “I can’t hate him,” Kanmi announced, after a moment. “It’d be like kicking a puppy.”

don't take it personally, everybody loves trennus. like literally, it’s a Thing

“She kills things. I carry her bags.”

this is in fact your only purpose in the world

“I do have other options besides lightning.”

“Yes, but how many of them are non-lethal?”

A pause. “I could just punch them. Carefully. Being mindful that their teeth do not grow back.”

Sigrun Caetia is a forever mood

“I don’t think I’m capable of being anything more than what I am right now.”

eat the fucking apple, sigrun

[quoteoftheweekblog]

QUOTATIONS - STORMZY’S ‘SHUT UP’ (2015), ‘BLINDED BY YOUR GRACE PART (2017) AND ‘CROWN’ (2019)

‘Shut Up’:

State your name cuz! Stormzy init. What we doing today? Rapping init Yeah, fucking rapping, Yeah fire in the park, let's go!

Man try say he's better than me Tell my man shut up Mention my name in your tweets Oi rude boy, shut up How can you be better than me? Shut up Best in the scene? Tell my man mehn Shut up

Couple man called me a backup dancer Onstage at the BRITs, I'm a backup dancer If that makes me a backup dancer The man in your vids, backup dancer The man in your pics, backup dancer Man wanna chat about backup dancer Big man like me with a beard I'm a big man, how the fuck can I back up?

Army comes everywhere I go I can't run when my enemies show Walk in the club with all of my tugs Party's done, everybody go home Apart from the girl dem, you lot stay Walk in the club, all the girls say hey Tell a man like I'm K to the A There's no champagne, we don't rave

Yeah, I'm the best, I'm so cocky I've got a mob like A$AP Rocky I set trends, dem man copy They catch feelings, I catch bodies They roll deep, I roll squaddy Got about 25 goons in my posse They drink Bailey's, I drink Vossy I get merky, they get worried

If you got a G-A-T, bring it out Most of the real bad boys in the south If you wanna do me something, I'm about I'm not a gangster, I'm just about But you see my man over there with the pouch Dare one of you man try get loud All of my mandem move so foul I might sing but I ain't sold out

Nowadays all of my shows sold out Headline tour, yeah blud, sold out When we roll in, they roll out I'm so London, I'm so south Food in the ends like there ain't no drought Flipz don't talk like he's got no mouth I wanna make my mum so proud Like "Yo, mum, book a flight, go now."

All of my ex girls talk to me hard Talk to my face, don't talk to my palm Had four bills and I bought me a car Little red whip that I bought for my marge I straight murk, it's a walk in the park I take care when I water my plants These MCs wanna talk about Lord of the Mics You ain't even lord of your yard

Dead MCs, blud, leave me alone Me and your girl, we speak on the phone Kill a whole crew of MCs on my own Kill a whole crew of MCs for the throne I was out hungry, so damn hungry Man tried eat then leave me the bones Now these niggas, they need me to grow Hot chocolate and a panini to go

I'm a big man, fuck a postcode war Man were upset about the MOBO Awards Yeah, I was gassed at the MOBO Awards Why? Cause I ain't won a MOBO before Der, all of you MCs sound so bitter Shut down wireless, shut down Twitter Shoutout Deepee, shoutout Flipper Best my age, yeah blud, look

If you don't rate me, shame on you If you don't rate me, shame on you Can I order a deathbed for an MC? He wants beef with me? Make that two Anyone else wanna make that move? Anyone else wanna pay their dues? Stiff Chocolate, yeah my face so smooth Impostors wanna take my tune, check it

Don't even talk too much, you're a talker Dem man still go halves on a quarter Saw me turn from a prince to a pauper Two cigarettes and a bottle of water Told the bouncer I'll get the bottles in order Man in the kitchen putting in orders Stiff Chocolate, skin clear like water Smooth on this ting, start locking up daughters Brown skin girl and a couple of dark ones

Yeah, so shut your fucking stupid mouths Chatting bare fucking shit Shut the fuck up, shut your fucking mouths Oi rude boy shut up One time yeah, chatting bare fucking shit Shut up man Pussy's what’ (Stormzy, 2015).

Blinded by your grace. Part 2′:

‘Crown’:

‘Amen, in Jesus’ name, yes I declare it Any little seed I receive, I have to share it Bruddas wanna break me down, I can’t bare it But heavy is the head with the crown, I still wear it You can’t hold me down, I still cope Rain falling down at the BRITs, I’m still soaked Tried put a hole in our s---, we’ll build boats Two birds with one stone, I’ll kill both (What?) Pray I never lose and pray I never hit the shelf (Two) Promise if I do that you’ll be checkin’ on my health (Cool) If it’s for my people I’ll do anything to help If I do it out of love it’s not to benefit myself, ooh Gotta stay around but make a comeback too I know my only mother wants her son back too They sayin’ I’m the voice of the young black youth And then I say “Yeah, cool” and then I bun my zoot And now I’m –

Searchin’ every corner of my mind (Search every corner, look for the answers) Lookin’ for the answers I can’t find (No, I can’t find ’em, no silver lining) I have my reasons and life has its lessons I tried to be grateful and count all my blessings But heavy is the head that wears the crown

Amen, in Jesus’ name, oh yes I claim it Any little bread that I make I have to break it Bruddas wanna break me down, I can’t take it I done a scholarship for the kids, they said it’s racist That’s not anti-white, it’s pro-black Hang me out to dry, I won’t crack All these fancy ties and gold plaques Never had no silver spoons in our mouths, we sold-, like Don’t comment on my culture, you ain’t qualified Stab us in the back and then apologise If you knew my story you’d be horrified The irony of trappin’ on a Boris bike Gotta stay alive and save my brother as well Look at all these legends on the cover of Elle Long time comin’ but we come to prevail I guess a little bit of heaven has to come with the hell, you know

Searchin’ every corner of my mind (Search every corner, look for the answers) Lookin’ for the answers I can’t find (No, I can’t find ’em, no silver lining) I have my reasons and life has its lessons I tried to be grateful and count all my blessings But heavy is the head that wears the crown

Heavy is the head that wears the crown’ (Stormzy, 2019).

REFERENCES

Stormzy (2015) in AZLyrics (2017) 'Stormzy Lyrics - Shut Up'. Available at: https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/stormzy/shutup.html (Accessed 1 July 2019). 

Stormzy (2017) in AZLyrics ‘Stormzy - Blinded By Your Grace, Pt.2. (feat. MNEK). Available at: https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/stormzy/blindedbyyourgracept2.html (Accessed 1 July 2019).

Stormzy (2019) in Lyricsfa (2019) 'Stormzy - Crown Lyrics'. Available at: https://lyricsfa.com/2019/06/21/stormzy-crown-lyrics/ (Accessed 1 July 2019).

[fableweaver]

Arc of the Blind Warrior

Ian had grown used to life in a saddle, and so too had Will and Matt. They took to riding much like walking, and Ian wondered what imprint this would make on them when they grew older. When he thought of his sons he thought of the future and wondered when he could about what it would bring. He found he couldn’t imagine a simple life in Daun anymore, but his own limited experience could not tell him what life would be like in Alda. Besides what change the Phay might bring to the world as well.

He had plenty of time to ponder on the road, there was little to do as they rode. Bailey had taken to knitting as they rode, the soft clicking of her knitting needles only audible to Ian over the tread of the horses and wind. Ian felt almost at home with that sound. Matt and Will often babbled and talked nonsense to each other as if having a conversation. Rork was the only silent one of their party.

Since they had left he had been unusually silent, Ian unable to read his mood by his aura. Unwilling to breach the silence Ian let him be until one-night Rork broke it himself by the fire after dinner.

“Ya’ll want ta go beyond L’acrimaros,” he said softly.

“Aye, ye kenned that already Rork,” Bailey said. “Ye can take us baint?”

“It be a better idear ta just wait in L’acrimaros,” Rork said. “If the King aint there we could get word ta him.”

“Rork, why baint ye wanna take us beyond L’acrimaros?” Ian asked.

“It aint be I don’t wanna,” Rork said, Ian sensing his apprehension. “It be I aint able ta. No body gonna let ya beyond the falls.”

“Ye mean soldiers would stop us?” Bailey asked.

“I mean ya won’t even get a dingy ta take ya,” Rork said. “Outsiders have never been beyond the falls.”

“Ye said that afore,” Ian said remembering. “Baint be like ye hidin any what, ye’ll just baint want yer ways disturbed.”

“We won’t disturb yer ways Rork,” Bailey said.

“I coggin that lass,” Rork said. “N so do many, but it be more en that. Ya’ll coggin o the great plague?”

“Aye, the un that I saw with the Piper,” Ian said.

“I suppose,” Rork said with a shrug. “Any o the little nasties that spread, there be many from the Cursed Age.”

“They spread from Daun ta Xin takin whole villages,” Bailey said.

“Except Hyria,” Rork said.

“Ye do it take keep disease out,” Ian said amazed.

“Aye, we make sure ta introduce new diseases slowsome if at all,” Rork said. “There be more reasons too, ta control trade n goods, ta protect those other kingdoms would kill, n much else besides. Ya’ll be asking me ta break a cardnal law o my people, n I won’t do it.”

The silence lasted some time, the crackle of the fire the only sound in the night.

“N we won’t Rork,” Bailey said kindly. “The king’ll be at his palace at L’acrimaros most likely, n ifn he baint we’ll send a message.”

“That be it?” Rork asked surprised. “Ya’ll aint gonna argue more?”

“Be pointless,” Bailey answered. “Like ye said, I’d have ta convince a lot more en ye.”

Rork didn’t seem convinced, so Ian spoke.

“Bailey kens yer people will see our power n respond,” Ian said. “I ken too, we’ll be let beyond L’acrimaros if the need be.”

“How?” Rork said. “How do ya’ll coggin that?”

“The Elder Magic be strange,” Bailey said, and left it at that as she stood to put Matt and Will to bed.

“She likens ta be all misteriousome,” Rork grumbled.  

“Nowt, she baint ken really what’ll happen,” Ian answered. “She has faith.”

Rork didn’t answer, Ian taking his silence as doubt. He had come to find his faith again and went to Bailey to share her bedroll. They simply slept together, the habits of their marriage coming to them again as easily as breathing. Somehow Ian’s body just remembered Bailey, and though he had slept next to her many times, each time seemed special.

The only difference now were her dreams. Ian did not know what plagued Bailey’s dreams, but she often twitched or moaned in her sleep, sometimes even her body jerked, or she would get up and sleepwalk. He knew her spirit was wandering and feared asking what she saw while she slept. As always that night she slept fitfully and Ian woke to her already awake in his arms.

“Mornin,” Ian said softly, their faces inches apart. Her indigo eyes seemed so deep as she stared at him, Ian unsure if she was even awake.

“I be searchin,” Bailey said softly.

“Fer what?” Ian asked, knowing what she meant.

“Fer the triplets,” Bailey answered and Ian felt his heart break. “I ken they baint be ours but I just…”

“Shhh lass,” Ian said pulling her closer. “I ken.”

Bailey cried, a soft whimpering cry she tried to muffle in his chest. He knew she couldn’t help her spirit wandering, and knew she knew the dangers that came with it. When she calmed they rose to begin their morning routine as if nothing had happened.

Setting out again on the road they joined regular traffic of Rhodin, traders, and farmers, on their way through the kingdoms on their tasks. A ragtag party they may have been, somehow they drew little attention through the villages and towns they passed through. Riding through the Mark however was showing the signs of the Legion active and thriving in many villages. Sects were either burned down or torn down, the people skittish and cautious around strangers. They took little chances in staying in villages and camped when they could with the Rhodin.

The Rhodin were armed to the teeth and so wary of strangers that at times it was dangerous to come near their camps at dusk. They took to riding with some Rhodin when they could, but the wagons moved much slower than their horses so often they left them behind. Ian wondered why the Rhodin were still out on the roads if it was so dangerous for them, but it seemed the wandering people would not be stopped from their wandering if they could.  

The weeks of travel soon brought them through the borderlands at last into the fens of western Hyria, just a moon after they had left Alda. Ian began to wonder if there would be any time to gather an army in Hyria let alone march it all the way back to Alda, but he knew they had little choice in the matter. What they would do if Alda fell he had no idea. Yet word still stood that the forest had yet to fall to Lir.

Travel through the fens went on by boat, Rork stating that it was far faster to navigate the water meadows by the lazy boats of the Hyrians.

“Be the rest o Hyria like this?” Ian asked one day as he sat next to Rork trying to fish unsuccessfully. The swirls and shapes he perceived in the water could be fish or undine, and the Wild folk were more likely to tug at his line in a trick than to take his bait.

“Like the fens?” Rork said as he laughed. “Naw mate, the mater ways only twist here cause it keeps bothersome folk from going too deep. By the time any outlander managed to march any army through the fens they were too exhausted, and midge bitten ta give a lark about L’acrimaros. Then they got a real good licking, I can tell ya ja.”

“So the heartlands baint be twisty?” Ian asked and Rork’s aura glowed with more mirth.

“Naw, they be more so. Most of the land be marsh or bog, flooded with cypress knees the only ground to walk on. We all live on boats or houses raised on stilts. It be hot too, n there be gaters, manatee, n turtles luring in the water.”

“How do ye live in that?” Ian asked intrigued.

“Like any other,” Rork said as he shrugged. “Many build houses on stilts, some live only in boats. We grow rice n the likesome in the water, much else we get from the earth n water.”

“Like fish,” Ian said.

“Aye, naw thing better en a good piece o fish,” Rork said, pulling in his line to show a fish.

The Hyrians ate much else besides fish; turtles, snails, crabs, crawfish, shrimp, and even frogs could be found in stews, deep fried, or just plain grilled onto the dinner table. Bailey, Ian, Matt, Will, and Rork ate well on the river boats, Hyrian hospitality holding in the fens. Bailey and Ian wisely kept their desire to travel into Hyria to only Rork, they weren’t willing to trust anyone else yet.

Despite their winding path and seeming easy pace, they arrived in L’acrimaros in a week’s travel, the Buck Moon giving way to the Red Moon. Ian could hardly perceive the city with his limited sense, but the sounds and smells were enough to overwhelm him. He was forced to let Bailey lead him, though he didn’t mind having her hold his arm as they walked through the crowds.

Rork led them through the bustle until they arrived at the King’s residence. Ian could see nothing of the building but Bailey told him it was a big house made to look much like a boat. Rork spoke with the guard in Hyrian for some time before he returned to them.

“The King’s gone inta Hyria,” Rork said. “Aint likely he’ll be back soon.”

“Where in Hyria?” Bailey asked.

“Nawt matter sweetie,” Rork answered. “He aint here.”

Bailey stared at him, Ian sensing the stir in her aura.

“Ye right,” Bailey said. “It baint matter, cause I’ll find him.”

“Sweetie, ya aint goin inta Hyria,” Rork said. “I aint leading ya.”

“You don’t have to,” Bailey said. “We will go on our own.”

“Ian,” Rork said looking at Ian, his aura shifting with worry.

“Sorry Rork,” Ian said as he shrugged. “I ken Bailey can do it.”

“Best ye leave Rork,” Bailey said as she walked off. “Ye baint wanna get tangled in with us.”

“Naw lass I’ll tag along,” Rork said.

“Won’t you get in trouble?” Ian asked.

“Naw, aint a crime in Hyria ta lead outlanders in,” Rork said. “Just the outlander gets in trouble not the Hyrian. Sides which I wanna see how ya gonna pull this off.”

Bailey didn’t answer, Ian still able to imagine her look of smugness as she led the way back through the city. Ian wasn’t sure if she knew where she was going but he knew she wanted to get to the edge of the city to the exposed waters of the lake.

“Ye sense it baint?” Bailey said lowly to him.

“Aye, the bones o the city,” Ian said. He could feel below the wood and water of the city a stone city throbbing with power. He couldn’t perceive the wood of the city, but he could sense the stone below in a dark blue aura. “It sank baint?”

“Nowt,” Bailey said. “It be a city o the Cold Children, the Merrow. It were always underwater.”

“The Merrow baint marched,” Ian said, remembering sailor’s tales of the Merrow.

“Nowt, but they left ta the sea after the March,” Bailey said. “Probably because their Queen went ta sleep.”

Ian nodded and they at last arrived at the edge of the city. Bailey let go of his arm and handed Will to him, walking out to the water’s edge. Bailey reached out over the water, murmuring under her breath as she sought the name of the one she sought. Ian could almost perceive her call through the air as a ripple, sensing it go deep into the water. At last one answered her call, Ian grinding his teeth at the power of its aura. The water seethed and rippled, fish fleeing and the air growing latent with power.

The Greater Undine rose out of the water in a great leap, falling back a drenching them with its wake. It rose again more gently to face Bailey. Ian could not see it, but sensed it by its deep blue aura. To him it resembled a giant glowing fish, he had no idea what it really looked like.

“Greetings,” Bailey said to the Undine. “I seek the King o Hyria, the leader o the people that ply yer waters.”

Ian knew things such as kings were meaningless to the Wild Kin, but Bailey projected the meaning to the Greater Undine with her power. A great deal of power was needed to make this spirit understand her and what she sought, as the greater spirit’s mind was hardly like their own. Ian watched as the Unine swished its tail in slow contemplation.

At last it responded with a simple nod; Ian unsure what that meant but Bailey seemed content.

“He be ready, get on,” Bailey commanded. Ian didn’t hesitate, taking Will and Matt he stepped off the dock onto the back of the Undine. It was spongy and wet, Ian unable to keep his foot and fell onto his rear on the soft back of the Undine. It didn’t seem to mind, and Ian was content to sit despite the soaking he was getting. Will and Matt seemed fascinated, both trying to wriggle free to explore the wide back of the Undine.

Bailey joined them, sitting as she set their packs next to Ian. Rork scrambled to join them, Ian guessing that even he could see the Undine if he was able to mount it. Without a word the Undine set out over the lake, Ian’s senses unable to process much other than the sound of the waves and water.

“Hail!” A shout sounded from the water, Ian guessing they were passing a boat. The Undine’s speed didn’t change but Ian guessed they were moving fast by how quickly they passed the sounds of shouts and pursuit.

“Bailey,” Rork said sounding very worried. “We be approaching the falls lass.”

Bailey was unconcerned so Ian wasn’t worried, he wondered how the Undine was going to deal with the falls. Rork however wasn’t as settled, and he screamed as they went over the falls. Ian didn’t sense much in their speed or motion other than now they were going down, the Undine’s back still level under them. They landed gently in the water and continued on down the river.

Ian could tell nothing of their speed, the ride gentle and smooth. Though telling by the sound of the river the water around them must have been chaotic rapids, no one able to speak over the sound of the water. Eventually this soon quieted and at last they could speak.

“It be a whiles down these twistsome water ways,” Rork said. “Then we’ll hit the bogs when we get out o the highlands.”

The twisting waterways continued for the next week, a maze of water through the hills and grottos of Hyria. They saw no other people, either because of their speed or because few Hyrians lived in these waterways. They traveled at a fast pace despite the twisting ways, resting briefly at night on the shores. Their Undine stayed with them the whole time, seeming unbothered by the long time it traveled with them.

At last the river lands emptied into the flooded waterways of the lowlands. Bailey described the land for Ian, who could only perceive everything as green and blue blurs. They were traveling through a forest of cypress trees, knees of twisted roots sticking up out of the water that covered the entire ground except for a few muddy islands of reeds. Moss and lichen hung from the trees in veils, pond scum and moss even growing on the still water. Mosquitos were their main pest, though Bailey spotted a few caiman and alligators in the water. Birds sang in droves in the trees, heron and storks wading through the water hunting fish and frogs. Giant turtles floated in the water, their backs the size of wagon wheels.

“There,” Rork said one day pointing out into the water. Ian could perceive a glow of animal life under the water, large animals he couldn’t make out. There also seemed to be a boat telling by the dark spot in the vegetation he could see. “It be a herd o sea cows n the boat must be their hand ja. We must be getting close.���

“To where?” Bailey asked, Ian surprised that the Hyrians herded sea cows. “The palace?”

“Ifn ya’ll cogging the King lives in a palace ya going ta get a big surprise ja,” Rork said. “Naw we getting close ta the Jambles.”

Bailey didn’t ask so neither did Ian, he suspected they were about to find out. They continued on, Ian hearing the sing song voices of songs in Hyrian. They were passing boats now telling by the songs, most falling silent when they saw the party on the Undine. Ian wasn’t sure what it looked like to them, if they could even see the Undine, but he doubted it mattered. They were the first non-Hyrians to enter the Riverlands probably since Absalom of the Deep Woods, reason enough for the silence that followed their arrival to the Jambles.

Bailey described the scene because to Ian it was a mass of color and life. Thousands of boats clustered together to make a haphazard city, lashed together on the shallow lake. Giant cypress trees stood over the maze of boats sheltering them from the sun and weather. It was hard to tell where the Jambles began and ended, and from what Bailey described he wondered how they would find the king.

The Greater Undine took them to the edge of the city and deposited them on a dock before vanishing into the aether.

“Well?” Bailey said turning to Rork.

“I taint cogging where the king be in the Jambles,” Rork answered. “The city shifts n changes lass. But I cogging what his boat looks like ja. Come.”

They entered the city, Bailey leading Ian as they walked through the city. Sounds of songs and laughter faded as they walked, but none stopped them. The smells of the city were unlike any other Ian had been to, spices and cooking mixing with the early stench of rot from the boggy water that sat under the city. The sound of the city was raucous and musical at the same time, shouts and calls mixing with an undertone of laughter and music.

At last they reached what seemed to be a town square telling but the opening up of sound and more crowds of people. Bailey pointed out a fountain in the middle of the square where some people seemed to be gathered drinking. They approached only to have a few Hyrians surround them. They spoke in Hyrian to Rork who answered, Ian guessing them to be guards and they had at last found the King.

The conversation turned heated, Rork arguing back with the guards until someone interrupted in the trade tongue.

“Let ‘em pass ja,” a woman said. The guards moved away and they were permitted to walk forward until they stood before two people. One sat on the edge of the fountain, his aura telling Ian he was a man and someone with a lively aura which spoke to humor and unpredictability. At his feet sat a witch, Ian perceiving her aura much like Bailey’s. She must have been the one to have spoken.

“So ya’ll have come,” the woman said. “Took ya long enough ja.”

“Ye have the sight,” Bailey said.

“So that is why ya whined we dink here by the fountain,” the man muttered. “Well aren’t you going to introduce us then ja?”

“This is King Wildlough,” the woman said. “I am his betrothed Romsca.”

“Betrothed?” Wildough sputtered, his aura shifting to embarrassment. “I’ve not meant to ask ya.”

“Ya will,” Romsca answered.

“Well who are they?” Wildlough asked haughtily. “Wedding guests?”

“I don’t cogging,” Romsca answered. “All I saw was this meeting and the power of the woman, which is far greater than my own.”

“Thank ye,” Bailey said. “I be Bailey, this be my husband Ian, n Rork our guide. Our need is dire, majesty. Ye ken o what be happenin in the east?”

“So ya’ll here ta call me ta war for that prick Elrik?” Wildlough said sounding bored. “Came a long ways fer nothing darling.”

“No, I came for Alda,” Bailey answered. “I am a princess of the house Alvar, n we need yer help.”

“Well an army will cost ya a pretty penny ta be sure,” Wildlough said. “And from what I recall Alda didn’t have the money ta buy us in the King’s Wars. Doubt they’ll have it now after losing the crown.”

“I can offer no money,” Bailey said. “But if Alda falls the rest of the Nine will follow, ye ken this.”

“If Alda falls en it’ll be just eight kingdoms,” Wildlough said with a shrug. “Why should I risk the lives of my people for the lives of Alda with no reward? Don’t blabber ta me bout the threat of the kingdoms, we Hyrians will wait it out like always.”

Bailey paused, her aura shifting and churning as she thought.

“Ye haven’t told him,” she said realizing something, speaking to Romsca.

“Saw no point,” Romsca answered. “He be thick as molasses n stubborn as a mule, best ta let him learn on his own.”

“Nowt, best be now,” Bailey answered. “The Phay mean ta march.”

“Ya mean those wives tales n rumors,” Wildlough said as he snorted through his nose. “Nawt but horse shit.”

“Ye best listen,” Ian said lowly, a n idea forming.

“Er what?” Wildlough said. Ian looked to Romsca, her aura strong and bright. He reached out and with a tug of his power he pulled her aura from her. She fell senseless, men shouting and steel being drawn.

“Kill me n she dies,” Ian said.

“What witchcraft is this?” Wildlough asked angrily. “Wake her!”

“Nowt til ye listen!” Ian shouted, everyone growing still. “Ye care fer her, n baint ye ever lie bout that. If the Phay don’t march, if Alda is destroyed n everyone o the Aldan be killed, next will be Hyria. Do ye ken what’ll happen ta her? Much worse en what I’ve just done, much worse majesty. Think on what ye just felt now seeing her go limp, do ye ever what ta see the likes again?”

Wildlough was silent, his aura a turmoil of pain and fear. Ian decided he had enough and let Romsca’s spirit back. She woke with a start and Wildlough was at her side instantly.

“I’m fine,” she said softly. “I did not foresee yall’s power,” she said wryly to Ian. Wildlough stepped back as if he wasn’t as concerned as he really had been.

“Ifn I were ta help Alda,” Wildlough said cagily. “When would ya need the aid ja?”

“As soon as ya can,” Bailey said.

“N this isn’t ta help Elrik?” Wildlough asked.

“It’ll put a real bone is his craw fer sure majesty,” Rork said, Ian seeing Wildlough’s aura shift with pleasure.

“Aye that it would,” Wildlough said and laughed. “Alright, lets go ta battle.”

He said it so casually, but the cheer that went up around them spoke to what kind of power the king of Hyria had with his people. The sudden action that accompanied that announcement was immediate even if the King did not act. He swaggered off and they followed, unsure what was happening.

“So ye’ll march fer Alda?” Bailey asked unsure after such an easy reaction.

“Naw love,” Wildlough answered. “We’ll sail.”

“Sail?” Bailey asked. “Would that be faster?”

“For the Hyrians aye,” Rork answered wryly. “We’ll get there faster than on our feet ja.”

“Don’t ya worry yer pretty little head,” the king said. “We’ll get there lickety split.”

Ian wondered but decided not to argue the point. They had arrived at the water anyways and Bailey whispered the description of the boats. They were deep bellied and built in the Hyrian style with colorful triangle sails and gaudy paint. Ian wished he could have seen them because they sounded like a sight to behold.

“We only have three here ja,” the King said casually. “We’ll be taking my flag ship, the King’s Wind, on ahead while the other two work ta gather the fleet. Should be ready ta go by the time we reach the coast.”

They boarded the boat surrounded by a buzz of activity as men and women prepared to sail. The King led them into his cabin and they sat to get comfortable, an easy task in the luxurious cabin. They sat on plush pillows and rugs from Xin, Ian setting Matt on his lap so he could nap.

“It baint take long will it?” Bailey said. “Ta gather the army.”

“Aye well I’d have ta be a moron ta put my feet up in these times ja,” the King said. “Not hard ta see through me eh lass?”

“Ye were waiting fer the High King ta pay up baint?” Ian said and the King laughed.

“A little ja, but truth ta tell I aint too keen on that lad n wasn’t really willing ta lend a hand ta the likes o him.”

“Ye be alright then?” Ian asked. “Ye’ll be helpin Elrik.”

“N worse I won’t be paid,” the King said with another chuckle. “Naw I be fine, it’ll sure stick in Elrik’s craw ifn the Aldan survive this war.”

“I aint see how they will though,” Romsca said. “Their population never recovered form the last war I hear, n then this one.”

“The Phay mean ta march,” Bailey said. “You must have seen the signs.”

“Aye but what does that have ta do with it ja?” Romsca asked.

“The Aldan be kin o the Phay,” Bailey answered. “More en likely they can mingle un more ta have more children. Besides which the Phay will need space ta live.”

“The merfolk, did they march?” the King asked leaning forward.

“Naw ya cogging that given all those tales from sailers,” Romsca said annoyed. “Ya looking fer un ta spend a toss in the hey with?”

“Naw lass, they have cold feet so I hear,” Wildlough answered lightly with a laugh. Romsca didn’t laugh, but Ian could see her humor and affection for the King.

“The Merrow baint marched,” Bailey answered. “Though I baint ken more o their fate other en that. Likely they’ll come out o the sea when the Phay march.”

“Well I cogging some sailers that’ll be keen on that idear,” Wildlough said. Ian saw Romsca’s aura shift with jealously though she said nothing.

“Sos the Hyrians will welcome the Phay with open arms baint?” Ian asked. “Even inta yer boarders?”

“From what history says we baint able ta do much ta stop em,” Wildlough answered.

“That were a long time ago,” Ian answered. “When ye Hyrians were little more en wanderin tribes o’er the rivers n marshes. Er pirates stealin any what nowt tied down. The Daunish were hill folk prey ta the dwarves ta the north. Xin were all nomads, ifn even that then. Lir were the only real rival ta the Phay n Aldan, n they had as many civil wars as Emperors.”

“Yar point lad?” Wildlough asked.

“Ye can drive off the Phay now,” Ian answered. “It baint be like afore, they will be beholden ta us.”

Wildlough was silent, Ian the only one to see the emotions he was sure the King kept hidden behind a courtly mask. Greed and lust stirred in him as well as pity and malice. Ian saw however over all this was a varnish of wonder in a dusky rose over the King’s aura.

“I doubt that lad,” Wildlough said at last. “Ya cogging how those Dridians lord over us all high n mighty like, well I bet the Phay’ll do the same with the powers they have. They’ll stir the pot alright, till it boils over.”

Ian watched the emotions of wonder and excitement in the King and realized Wildlough was just a bit mad. He didn’t care what was to come, the blood that would be spilled, so long as it was entertaining. At the same time this wild-life in the King was almost intoxicating, Ian could understand why his subjects liked him so much; he truly was the King of the Hyrians.

“DA!” Matt said interrupting the silence with a needing wail and Ian realized he needed his nappy changed.

“Aye lad, sorry,” Ian said to him pulling him away as Bailey joined him.

“I’m going ta the deck ja,” Wildlough said as he stood and quickly left. Romsca followed leaving them alone to tend to their children, with only Rork as company. Rork though soon left as well, seeming bored with just sitting. Matt and Will though soon fell asleep, leaving Ian and Bailey the first private moment they had for a long time.

“Ye be alright?” Ian asked, trying not to read too hard into Bailey’s aura.

“Aye, but ye can tell that baint?” Bailey said, not unkindly.

“I try nowt ta Bailey,” Ian said.

“Why?” Bailey asked. “Is it not better to see into the heart of the one you love. Then ye never have ta doubt.”

“Do ye wish ta see inta my heart?” Ian asked. “Cause ye ken ye can just look at me n see fer sure.”

“Nowt Ian I can’t,” Bailey said. “Sometimes I baint able ta tell what ye be thinkin.”

Ian had always thought his mind and mood were easily read by others, realized he might have been a closed book to some.

“Ye baint ever have ta doubt my love fer ye Bailey,” Ian said. “N it baint take me feelin yer aura ta ken yer love fer me. Ye’re pain o’er what happened be plain.”

“I baint doubt Ian,” Bailey said reaching out and taking his hand. “Well when we’re tagether I never doubt, but sometimes when we’re apart those dark thoughts come. But when we’re tagether I feel yer love in every little action er touch.

“I want ta see yer heart cause I want ta ken what ye be thinkin. I want ta ken more bout ye, n what ye like er ken sos I can ken what ye want n what makes ye happy. I want ta ken more about ye Ian.”

Ian felt his heart swell with so much emotion he reached out to hug Bailey closely.

“Bailey ifn ye could see inta my heart right now ye’d see it burstin with light o joy,” Ian said.

“En I’d be a blind as ye baint?” she said playfully and he laughed.

They settled down and continued to teach Matt and Will words or little acts of ritual for the Elder Magic. Ian was surprised that Bailey had insisted on this for their sons, though he supposed it was important to learn control of such forces. They eventually moved to the deck so Bailey could teach them about Slyphs and Undine. Ian doubted Matt or Will would ever have her command, but he was sure they would not out grow their power either, given their birth and parents.

The sailors and King let them be, unable to see the Wild Kin they could only see the effects of their manipulation of the water and wind. The ship sailed on a deep river, the shore far and speckled green with trees from Ian’s sense. The river was full of life, he could sense fish and alligators moving through the ripples of blue of the river he could sense. He could even sense the currents, watching them swirl around Undine in hypnotic beautiful patterns.

They passed villages and more water pastures where sea cows grazed peacefully under the water. It wasn’t long before more ships were joining them, Ian wondering how they communicated.

“Aye ya aint able ta see the flags ja,” Rork said when Ian had asked. “We use colored flags, fly em from the mast er have a sailor wave em about like. Each un has a meaning n the way they’re waved does to ja.”

“Ye always use those?” Ian asked.

“Aye, be best, surprised other ships aint use em,” Rork answered. Ian guessed Rork was right, though he knew little about sailing so could not state why other nations did not employ such a method.

They sailed on until they reached the ocean, five days from the Jambles, Ian only knowing it was so when his sense showed him nothing but water around. The blues of the water to him swirled and churned around Greater Undine, who seemed to swim with great ease beneath the water. He sometimes spent hours just watching the patterns out on deck, even at night since his sense was not hindered by light.

“What ye doin?” Bailey asked him one night up alone on the deck.

“I can sense the sea,” Ian answered. “In all swirls n currents, it be amazin. N the greater Undine, n…”

He stopped dead because out there in the sea he could sense a shoal of something that was not fish. He stood straighter, leaning out over the rail. Whatever was out there was big, five shapes moving under the water unseen to others in the night.

“What?” Bailey asked.

“Tell em ta turn that way,” Ian said pointing. The creatures were swimming parallel to them, looking to make an arch away from them. “They be getting away.”

Bailey nodded and hurried off, Ian sure that she could convince the captain or at least the King to turn the ship. It wasn’t long before the ship was turning to follow Ian’s directions. They peeled off from the fleet alone, lanterns this time signaling the other ships to keep their course. They sailed on with Ian’s direction, the shapes in the water still swimming ahead at a good pace. After a few hours an island came into sight of the ship, the shapes swimming towards it. Ian could sense the island as a dark shape with shades of gray of the earth.

They stopped outside the entrance of a cavern, the shapes in the water having entered it.

“What be this bout ja?” the King asked coming up to Ian. “What be here?”

“I baint ken,” Ian answered. “There were somewhat in the water. We need ta go ashore.”

“Alright,” the king said puzzled but intrigued; not asking about how a blind man could have seen anything in the water. He whistled, calling his sailors to attention. Bailey was suddenly at Ian’s side taking his hand.

“Ye ken it be…”

“Aye,” Bailey said interrupting. “Merrow.”

Ian nodded, surprised that they had found the younger Phay in the ocean. There were plenty of tales of the Merrow, but they were rarely seen. They didn’t have to surface for air so they could just dwell in the depths of the ocean. The only time they were encountered was lone sailors when rescued from sunken ships. Which made Ian wonder what the Merrow were doing so close to the surface at this island.

The dingy was prepared, Ian, Bailey, Rork, Wildlough, Romsca, and three sailors boarded it and rowed out to the island. From what Ian could sense of it, the island was little more than a collection of tall boulders sheltering a lagoon. They rowed into the lagoon, Ian sensing the Merrow under the water. Bailey was the one to lean forward towards the water, putting her hand on the surface.

“Ye can come out,” Bailey said. Ian was probably the only one to sense the shapes under the water move toward Bailey until a head appeared just under her hand. Ian could only make out a blue haze of aura, strangely with a red smear around her head.

“Greetings,” the Merrow said in trade tongue. “You found us.”

“Aye we did,” Bailey said unnerved as she withdrew her hand. “Yet I baint be sure how unless it were what ye intended.”

“No, we came here to meet another,” the Merrow answered.

“Another?” Bailey said puzzled. The Merrow merely laughed and withdrew into the water, joining her kin to swim around.

“Bailey, I baint like this,” Ian said breathlessly, feeling the air thrum with power. The Merrow were swimming together in a pattern, one that seemed like many of those that Bailey had taught him. He could sense the lines of the power, weaving through the water like the strange ripples of the ocean. They were doing a greater working, one beyond Ian’s ability to understand.

“A calling,” Bailey breathed, able to sense the same Ian was.

“A summoning,” Romsca said amazed.

“Who?” Ian wondered as he sensed the aether coming into the cavern like a thick mist. It swirled and shimmered, Ian able to see it like the others he was sure. A shape formed from the aether, consolidating into the shape of a bird. The great eagle flew out of the aether, veering and crying out in a great cackle as it nearly crashed into the stone walls. It quickly righted itself before its form blurred and changed into a man. He dropped down and landed elegantly on his feet, straitening to look around. Ian was surprised to see it was Ghillie Dhu, unchanged since the last time he had taken the triplets away.

“Who has summoned me,” Ghillie Dhu said sounding annoyed.

“Why be he here?” Ian asked afraid. “Wasn’t he suppose ta be guardin’ the Triplets?”

“He baint have been able ta be summoned from beyond the Gates o Bone n Horn,” Bailey said equally worried.

“I have,” came the answer to Ghillie Dhu’s question. The voice seemed to come from all around, deep and low like the reverberation of a drum. Another Merrow emerged from the water, this one twice the size of the others. She was speckled like a giant whale shark, a large fin coming from her back. Her skin was black with white stripes and spots, her red hood a shimmering woven net of coral and shells.

She swam to the shore and shed her hood, becoming a naked woman who stood ten feet tall. Immodest of her nudity she walked over to Ghillie Dhu, staring him down.

“Ika-Roa, Long Shark of the Early Dawn,” Ghillie Dhu said, naming the Queen of the Merrow.

“Ghillie Dhu, He who Runs in the Wild,” she answered, her voice rich and deep. “I have awoken from my slumber, the aether rings with the song.”

“Yes, we are to march,” Ghillie Dhu answered. “Is that why you have summoned me?”

“You seemed the best choice, others would not wander as much as you,” Ika-Roa answered. “When will the answer come?”

“I do not know, but it should not come soon,” Ghillie Dhu answered. “There is a soul eater loose on the lines, it means to eat our kin should they march.”

“With Hors to lead the way I do not see it as much of a threat,” Ika-Roa said with desertion.

“Much has changed Ika-Roa,” Ghillie Dhu answered. “Hors went missing when we marched, the Dullahan slumber in Tir Aesclinn, and ages have passed in Miread since we marched. Have your children not informed you?”

Ika-Roa turned to the other Merrow, a frown upon her face.

“I admit they have tried to tell me tidings yet I would not listen,” Ika-Roa answered. “I had believed it would be simple thing that our kin would return.”

“Not as simple as we have wished,” Ghillie Dhu answered. “I need to return to Tir Aesclinn, I left it in a bit of a knot. If you wish to know more speak to the humans there.”

Ika-Roa turned to Ian and the rest, her dark blue eyes without pupils so they seemed as deep as the ocean.

“Why them?” Ika-Roa said surprised.

“They are powerful witches and have been chosen by Arke to carry her will,” Ghillie Dhu answered. “Work with them to aid our kin. For now I must go.”

Ika-Roa turned to him seeming annoyed with his sudden departure, but Ghillie Dhu had already vanished into the lines. With that Ian’s sight returned to the limits it had once been in, Ika-Roa becoming a large colorful aura. Ian could sense her aura shifting with annoyance, but then Bailey spoke.

“Queen o the Merrow, we be pleased ta serve ye,” Bailey said. “Ifn ye wish we will answer all yer questions.”

Ika-Roa’s aura shifted to a more pleased tone, and she nodded.

“Very well,” Ika-Roa said. “Come, tell me of what I have missed while I slumbered.”

They rowed over to the shore where they could gather and sit more comfortably on the rocks there. Ika-Roa sat so that she seemed more the audience, Bailey becoming the center of attention so that she might relate their story. Ian didn’t interrupt as Bailey told her story, even going over their travels though some played little into the March of the Phay. Ika-Roa and the other Merrow did not speak, their aura’s shifting with the story. Ian knew tale telling was a power of the Elder Magic, one that held a truth and a life of its own. A witch with a deal of power could tell a tale that evoked images and feelings in a listener no other teller could match; and Bailey had a great deal of power. The fact their story was something like the legends of old also made it worth telling.

Bailey finished her story just as the moon set, her listeners silent as they digested the tale. At last Ika-Roa stood and bowed to Bailey.

“Thank you for the tale and the telling,” Ika-Roa said. “And for the aid to our kin.”

“I be kin ta ye as well,” Bailey answered. “I be o the line o Eileen, n so I be Phay.”

“True,” Ika-Roa said bowing her head once more. “Then you may call upon us as kin. You speak of battle on the land, battle with creatures intent on the death of our kin. If you will have us, we the Merrow will aid our kin the Aldan.”

Ian could sense the shift in Bailey’s aura, the weight of her coming words laying on her spirit.

“Aye,” Bailey said. “We call upon ye fer aid.”

“Then you shall have it,” Ika-Roa said. “I will gather all the Merrow and we shall join you.”

“Thank ye,” Bailey said, her voice thick with tears. “Thank ye fer yer aid.”

“As you said, we are kin,” Ika-Roa said. With that she donned her hood again and slipped into the sea, disappearing quickly into the depths.

“Come, we need ta return ta our ship,” Wildlough said, his voice betraying the awe he felt.

“So that be it then,” Romsca said in awe. “The Merrow shall fight with us?”

“Aint sure they’ll be much help been only lasses,” Wildlough said, then yelped as Romsca dug an elbow into his ribs.

“The Merrow be different,” Bailey said. “N the Aldan women fight too, n in Daun in days o old women fought. Ye mistake our reluctance ta fight as weakness King, but it be far from it. We be slow ta anger er fight, but when we do we be mightier en men when it come ta guardin our kith n kin.”

“There be male Merrow too ta be sure,” Ian said. “But the lasses be the real warriors ta be sure.”

Wildlough decided wisely to keep his mouth shut as they returned to their skiff to row back to the ship. They set out once more and it was no long until the caught up to the fleet once more. They kept the coming of the Merrow a secret for now, Bailey couldn’t answer how long it would take Ika-Roa to muster the Merrow.

They sailed into Windfall Bay a moon into their journey over sea, the late summer sun burnishing the water gold. Ian and Bailey found the King of Hyrian lounging in a hammock, sunning like a lizard.

“What be yer plan fer gettin an army through Hyria?” Bailey asked but Wildlough didn’t even open an eye.

           “Bluff,” Wildlough answered.

           “Bluff?” Bailey said puzzled.

“That whelp Drasir has been hounding me to send troops,” Wildlough answered with a wicked grin as he opened one eye to wink at Bailey. “I’ve brought troops, just not for him. I’ll just say I’m on my way to Regis to report to the High King when stopped and then we’ll just march right past Cair Leon to Alda.”

“There still be quite a bit o land betwixt the two,” Bailey said. “What’ll ye do ifn Drasir sends a force ta stop ye?”

“From my sources he aint got ‘em.” Wildlough answered as he pulled himself to his feet. “Most be at the Lirian boarder ta the east guarding in case the Orc army moves their way. By the time he’d get ‘em turn round bouts we’ll be nippin at the Orc’s heels.”

Bailey nodded once and thanked Wildlough, moving away.

“Will it work?” Ian asked.

“I suppose,” Bailey answered. “I baint ken state work er the High King, Wildlough does so I hope he kens what he’s on about.”

“I baint ask you ifn’t ye thought it’ll work,” Ian said. “Ye can do a reading baint?”

“I baint have the sight Ian,” Bailey said. “It be a true talent er trick o birth what makes un able ta see inta the future, n it often makes em mad as rabbits.”

Ian nodded remembering Meredydd, he would not wish that fate on Bailey.

“Looks like we have ta trust the king then,” Ian said.

“Ye can trust him,” Rork said sauntering up. “None better ta keep his word ja.”

“It baint be his word we be worried bout,” Bailey answered.

“Well we surely have enough fighters we’d win any scrap,” Rork answered. “I’d be more worried bout those beasties.”

Ian nodded, the Orc army should be their main concern.

“N also ifn the Merrow ever show,” Bailey answered.

“They will,” Ian said sure of it.

It only took them a few days to arrive finally at the port of Bayton, a small Regarian town. The town seemed over-whelmed with the arrival of the army, but the officials let them land though there wasn’t much choice in the matter. Ian stood on the edge of the dock with Matt in his arms, his senses bent towards the open water.

“Ya shouldn’t look back,” Rork said. “It be unlucky ja.”

“I baint be ‘looking’,” Ian answered and Rork chuckled. “N they be arriving.”

Rork quieted, looking out into the bay. Ian wasn’t sure what he could see, but for him he could sense the thousands of auras under the water there. They were moving fast, having just come into the range of his senses. The largest aura arrived at the shore first and emerged from the water. Ika-Roa shed her red hood and stood on the shore, more merrow doing the same. Ian heard Rork whistle in admiration and turned to him.

“Their armor, it be o shells n mother o’ pearl,” Rork said, “I wish ye could see it.”

“Here,” Bailey said as she touched Ian’s arm. She let aether flow into him and for a moment his sight returned. He saw Ika-Roa wearing a long coat of mail made of thousands of tiny seashells sewn together, plate mail of shimmering mother of pearl covering her shoulders and thighs. She wore a great breastplate of a scallop shell, and a helm made of a nautilus shell. At her hip she carried a conch horn, magnificent covered in mother of pearl and trimmed in gold.

Then the vision faded and Ian was left once more with the smudged auras.

“I’d been wantin’ ta try that,” Bailey said softly. “Did it work?”

“Aye briefly,” Ian answered. “But I’d rather see ye en Ika-Roa.”

Bailey’s aura blushed and she laughed.

“Well Iak-Roa be a sight ta behold,” Bailey answered. “Baint be often ye get ta see a Queen o the Phay equipped fer war.”

“Aye,” Ian said. “Next time though ye should try that when we be alone.”

“Aye I will,” Bailey said, her aura glowing with pleasure. “I baint do it often though, yer spirit could become engorged with aether ifn I do.”

“Aye, I trust ye ta use it wisely,” Ian said. “Thank ye.”

Bailey’s aura glowed more as she leaned up to kiss him lightly on the lips.

“Well we’d best go greet the Merrow before the townsfolk tear em ta shreads,” Rork said.

He was right, the arrival of the Merrow was causing a panic in the village, shouts and screams ringing in the streets. Luckily the villagers seemed to be fleeing rather than gathering to fight, doors slamming and being bared left and right. They walked over to Ika-Roa, who hardly seemed to notice the villagers. She was busy giving orders to her kin.

“Hail,” Bailey said as she bowed.

“Hail witch of the moors,” Ika-Roa answered. “We have come to kill the enemies of our kin. Are you ready to march?”

“Nowt, we have ta unload our ships,” Bailey answered.

“Good, much more of our kin must emerge still,” Ika-Roa answered.

“How many have ye?” Ian asked.

“I have gathered a thousand shoals,” Ika-Roa answered. “Each have committed about thirty fighters.”

“They all be women,” Rork said.

“Aye, the males of our kind tend to the young,” Ika-Roa answered. “I have brought all that I could.”

“That be all,” Bailey said shocked. “O the Merrow only thirty thousand can fight?”

“Aye, fewer and fewer have been reborn of late,” Ika-Roa answered. “The Phay need to march if our numbers are to be restored, their exile has been too long.”

Ian wondered then if the Crippled One might also be the reason fewer of those with Phay blood were being reborn. No, Fors guided and guarded those who rode her wheel, there might be a few who were taken by the Crippled One but not enough to be such an impact on population as now. Ika-Roa was right, the Phay needed to march.

“For now, we will march for war,” Ika-Roa said. With that she raised her conch horn and blew into it, an almost musical note ringing out over the land, calling her people to battle and war.

[ancientbooshartifacts]

Ok, Honey Pot!

Author: Thymeth

Year: 2006

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Bob Fossil/Dixon Bainbridge

The hand went up and a flash of light blinded momentarily. But too quickly the world was back into focus and the knife was on its way down again. It plunged into the newt's stomach and the sand turned green and brown and grey and red. "Don't!" "Shut up, Robert, you little coward. God, you're such a cry-baby." * "Mommy?" "What?" she snapped, her arms deep in bread dough. "What's 'love'?" She turned and glared at him. "Love doesn't exist, littleums," she said in a deadly-sweet voice that made Robert take a step backwards. "But," he stuttered, "Miss Smith said that love's the biggest thing in the world and I thought you'd... y'know... seen it...?" * "Mommy?" "What?" she snapped, bent over the potato plants. "Where's Daddy?" She straightened up slowly and Robert wished he hadn't said anything. Stupid, stupid, stupid! "You know where Daddy is, you ungrateful thing," she said with a smile, "Really, child, I would have thought not even you were that dumb." "But," Robert said, "The Second World War ended years ago, Miss Smith said." "Miss Smith can go stick the war up her ass!" Robert fled. * They would have picnics down by the creek and Mommy would let them build a fire and they would roast apples and sit around until the sun set. She would tell them stories about animals in other countries and answer their questions with a smile. * "Robert pissed in the bed again." Robert didn't even need to look up to see Wilbur's smug grin. "You horrid, disgusting child," Mommy said and slapped Robert hard across the cheek. Robert kept his eyes on his porridge. Robert kept himself awake that night and hid in the cupboard. He could just make out his bed in the tiny half-dark room, a bundle of clothes under the duvet looking very much like a person. The door opened and Wilbur came tiptoeing in. Robert watched him piss in the bed and leave. "Mommy, Robert pissed in the bed again," Wilbur said the next morning. "I didn't!" Robert protested. "You did!" Wilbur said. "I didn't! Mommy!" Robert turned indignantly to Mommy. She stood by the stove, hand on hip just watching them. "I didn't! It was Wilbur. I saw him, I did!" "Stop lying," she said to no-one in particular and turned away. Wilbur stuck his tongue out. * "Mommy!" "What?" Mommy snapped, hauling the heavy laundry basket out into the yard. "Mommy, look," Robert said and showed her the tiny bird he'd found on his way home from school, "I think it's been hit by a car." "Oh, the poor thing," Mommy said and patted Robert's hair, "You're such a good boy, Robert. Come on, we'd better give it some water." Mommy sent Wilbur to stay with the neighbours that afternoon and she and Robert and the little bird hitch-hiked into town on a truck and went to the zoo. A kind, old man took the bird and said he'd take care of it. Robert had wanted to stay and help him, but Mommy dragged him with her and they walked around the zoo looking at all the different animals. She squeezed his hand and pretended to hide behind him when they came to the lions' cage. He laughed and so did she. They had ice-cream on the way home. * "You horrible thing! I hate you! You spawn of dirt, you make me sick!" Robert sat quietly with his head bent over his homework listening to Mommy shouting at Wilbur. He heard teeth rattling as Mommy shook him and the sharp sound of her hand slapping his face. The torrent of abuse continued and Robert bend closer over the book, trying to make himself as tiny as possible. The words in front of him swam together, letters swapping places and making no sense. 'And they lived happily ever after.' * "Ah, Robert Fossil." The man rose and held out his hand. Robert took it. "So," the man said as they sat down, "You wanted a bit of careers advice." "Yeah." "Do you have anything particular in mind?" "I'd," Robert said, looking down at his hands, "I'd like to be a vet." "Uh-huh," the man said and Robert heard him ruffle through some papers, "I don't think you'll manage that with your grades." * "And his name was?" Mr Jones glanced out over the disinterested class. "Robert," he said. Robert jerked his head up and stared at Mr Jones. He knew this. He fucking knew it. "Er..." he said. What was it? He had fucking known it just seconds ago. "Er..." he stalled, waving his hand in front of him. A few of the girls giggled and Robert's mind went even blanker. He knew what the man looked like but he couldn't remember the name. "The slick-haired black moustached guy!" he blurted out. A second everything was quiet, then the whole classroom exploded in laughter. Robert frowned. He knew now that he was the dunce Mommy had always said he was. He saw Mr Jones hide a smile behind his hand. "Almost, Bobby," he said, in a strangely kind voice, "The answer is indeed Adolf Hitler." * "Mommy hates you, you know." Robert looked up from the book he couldn't read. "She hates you too," he mumbled. "So? I'm leaving this dump. Wanna come with me?" "No," Robert answered automatically, regretting it instantly, "Where?" "England." "Why?" "Dunno, sounds cool. Wanna come?" "Sure, why not." "Ok, we leave on Thursday. Don't be late." * The next day Wilbur was gone, leaving only a short letter behind. "Gon to Ingland. Not caming hom nevr. -Wilbur." * Robert gave up on school. He didn't care any more. The only reason he went at all was to get away from Mommy. The other kids would flock around him and make him talk, and laugh when he couldn't think of the word and made up new ones. He started doing it consciously and soon he couldn't stop. They called him Bob and he made them laugh. * "Despicable child, useless thing! I hate you! You should never have been born!" Bob only half-listened. It was much easier pretending he didn't understand. "Yeah, well, I'm leaving! I'm going to Vietnam!" he found himself shouting and stomped out of the room. He threw some things into a suitcase and he was free. * The boat reached England several months later. They paid him quite well, or so Bob thought, and he went ashore. * 'Zookeeper wanted. No experience necessary. Apply within. Ask for Tommy Nooka.' * "Bob," Tommy said one day a few years later, "Meet Howard Moon." Bob looked up from the newts he was attending and saw a tall, scruffy, brown-haired guy with a moustache. "That's Bob Fossil there," Tommy said to Howard Moon, "Used to be my pupil, him." "Used to?" Bob interrupted. "Yes, training's over," Tommy said, "Howard's my new pupil. You're your own man now. You've been upgraded to a proper zookeeper." "But..." Bob said. But Tommy was already leaving, his hand on Howard Moon's back. "Remember, Howard," he said, "Dolphins are evil." * "Hi," a woman's voice said. "Hi," Bob answered, not looking up from the peanuts floating in the spilt beer on the bar counter. "Why the long face?" "I've been promoted," Bob said. "Oh," she answered and touched his arm, "Hey, let's get married!" * 'Dear Mrs Fossil. We regret to inform you that your son had been killed in combat. He died a hero. Best regards, The American Army, Vietnam Division." Bob read Little Wife's note again and stuck it in the envelope and posted it. He was truly free now. Little Wife had set him free. She could do anything. * "I'm getting old," Tommy said, addressing the keepers assembled in his office, "I can't run this zoo much longer. But I don't want to sell it to some stranger; I want one of you to have it. Keep it running like I have, following my principles. I'll be watching you these next few days and make my choice." As the keepers left, talking excitedly amongst themselves, Tommy beckoned Bob to stay. Tommy closed the door. "I already know who I want to give the zoo to," he said, looking up at Bob with a smile, "And I want to hear what you think." Bob's heart jumped in his chest. Had Tommy chosen him? Could it really be? "Yeah, sure," he answered, fidgeting nervously. "I want to give it to Howard Moon." * "Howard Moon, that jazz-fucker?" Tiny Wife exclaimed, "That's an outrage! We have to do something about this." * Bob followed her orders and before anyone really knew what had happened, Tommy was locked in the Jungle Room and the other keepers told that he had been eaten by ocelots. Bob was now the owner of the zoo. * 'Posishun as hed kiiper open. Apli to Bob Fossil.' By rights, Howard Moon should have gotten the job instantly, but Bob delayed, trying to find some fault with him. * "Alright?" Bob turned and found himself staring up into a face he couldn't place. He couldn't quite decide if this was a guy or a girl even. "Do I know you?" "I'm Vince," the boy-girl answered, "You hired me." "Did I?" "Well, Howard hired me, really," Vince chatted on, "He's told me everything about you." "Howard Moon hired you?" Bob still couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. "Yeah," Vince said with a grin, "Said GCSE's weren't important, said..." But Bob didn't hear the rest; he was half-way to his office already. "Moon!" he shouted over the intercom, "Get your blue-pantied ass to my office now!" "You wanted to see me, Mr Fossil," Moon said, closing the door behind him. "I just met someone you hired," Bob said, standing behind his desk, hands on hips. "You met Vince," Moon said, his face lighting up, "Isn't he a find?" "I hire people 'round here!" Fossil shouted, "This is my zoo!" "You didn't mind when I hired Naboo," Moon protested, pointing at Naboo sitting as if frozen on the stool next to the desk. "That's different, dingo piss," Bob shouted, "Naboo's useful. He's unique. This zoo is already overrun by zookeepers as it is." "Look, I couldn't let him get away," Moon said, "Vince can talk to animals." "I don't fucking care if he can talk to fucking sock puppets!" Bob shouted, his head swimming in rage, "This is my zoo and I do the hiring! You can kiss the head keeper job's sorry ass goodbye!" "But, Mr Fossil," Moon interrupted desperately. "Forever!" Bob yelled. * "Good day," came a deep, rich voice. But Bob couldn't look up. The numbers on the page in front of him were right in the middle of a funny dance and he wanted to see it through. "I'm Dixon Bainbridge, the famous explorer," the voice continued, "I came about the head keeper position." Bob looked up and saw a tall, tanned man with dark-blond, almost golden, hair and a huge moustache. It was as if something fell into place in Bob's mind when he looked into those eyes, as if whatever had been missing in his life had suddenly come back to him. He loved his man. "It's yours," Bob said without thinking. "Don't you want to see my CV, my references?" Dixon Bainbridge said, staring back at him. "No," Fossil said. "Very well," Dixon Bainbridge said, still a little perplexed, "I'll start tomorrow then." "Ok, honey pot!" Bob answered as Dixon Bainbridge turned to leave. "What did you call me?" Dixon Bainbridge asked, looking over his shoulder. " 'Honey pot'," Bob answered. "I wouldn't advise you do that in public," Dixon Bainbridge said and left. Bob sat staring at the door for what seemed like hours, just smiling to himself. Then he heard something that sounded very much like a giggle coming from Naboo's direction. But when he turned, Naboo was sitting with his face as blank as always. "My Mommy," Bob said to Naboo, "told me that love doesn't exist. And d'you know what, Naboo? She was fucking wrong! Suck on that shit-sweet, Mom-face!" And he began dancing around his office, so dizzy with happiness it was like flying. * But an explorer can never be happy cooped up in a zoo day in and day out and soon Dixon Bainbridge was off again. Bob could hardly get up in the mornings knowing he would not see Dixon's face when he arrived at the zoo. Little Wife had to drag him out of bed and push him out of the house. He gave up trying to understand the dance the numbers on the page were doing and soon creditors were knocking on the office door, the next more frightening than the last. He even tried to cut costs by firing Naboo, not knowing that Naboo just went and set up a kiosk and took most of the profit himself. * And then, when Bob thought life couldn't get much worse, he had to send Tony the Prawn to Wilbur's Zoo for Animal Offenders. And Wilbur, the cockshit, had told Mommy that Bob wasn't dead after all and she had insisted on meeting them both. Bob returned home three days later almost unable to speak. But Little Wife had made him tell her everything nonetheless and then she disappeared. * A few days later, a policeman stood on Bob's doorstep. "Mr Fossil?" he said as Bob opened the door. "Yeah?" Bob said blearily, rubbing his eyes. "Is this your wife?" the policeman asked, holding up a picture of Little Wife. "Yeah." "And is this your mother and brother?" he asked, holding up two pictures. "Yeah," Bob said. "You'd better come with me, Mr Fossil," the policeman said. The policeman drove down to the police station and him and another policeman told Bob that Mommy and Wilbur had been killed by Little Wife. They kept him there for hours, asking him again and again if he had had anything to do with the murders. And Bob couldn't understand why they were asking. He knew nothing. "She's, well... mad," one of the policemen said to the other. "He's innocent," the other said, "But can we let him go? He's unable to look after himself. He's the owner of a zoo. How is that possible?" "She's a very clever woman." "Excuse me," a younger policeman said from the door, "There's a man who wants to see you, sir." "I'll be right there," the first policeman said. "No, he wants to come to you," the younger man said. "Fine," the policeman sighed, rubbing his eyes. The younger man disappeared and Bob looked back down to his hands on the table. "Good day," came a deep, rich voice. Bob snapped to attention instantly, as if slapped. Dixon Bainbridge! But, Bob almost shouted as he looked up, what had happened to him? His hair was silvery now, and his moustache too, and he had grown plumper and his face was no longer tanned. "He's a friend of mine," Dixon said, pointing at Bob, "I'll take care of him." * "What's happened to your hair?" Bob managed to ask as he sat in Dixon's car a few minutes later. "Dragonflies in Borneo," Dixon answered, "Bastards shat on my head, turned it grey overnight." "I think it's pretty," Bob said. "Thanks," Dixon answered humourlessly, "The tan's gone too. No longer in the Arctic sun now, you know." "I like it," Bob said, "I think you're beautiful." * Back at the zoo, Bob's office was cram-full with creditors who all started shouting the instant the door was opened. "Quiet!" Dixon boomed and the room fell silent at once. He turned to Bob. "I'll pay your bills," he said, "in return for the zoo." "But..." Bob said, thinking hard, "Then it won't be my zoo any more." "Exactly," Dixon said, "But you can stay on, as manager. Deal?" Bob knew he should have thought about it, but he was staring into Dixon's eyes and nothing else seemed to matter just then. "Deal!" he said and clapped his hands in pure delight as he saw a smile spread on Dixon's face. * Dixon's club was classier than anything Bob had ever seen. It was dark and heavy but sort of cosy at the same time. Bob could like it here. "Ah, Bainbridge," an elderly gentleman with icy-white hair said, holding out his hand, "Friend of yours?" "Yes," Dixon said, "Bob Fossil. Manager at the Zoonivers." "No," Bob corrected, "It's 'Fossil's Fun World'." "It's changed," Dixon said and turned back to the elderly gentleman, "He's a bit simple. So, tell me about those scientific experiments you had in mind. I have the zoo now, you know." And they wandered away, leaving Bob feeling ever so slightly lost in the sea of leather-bound chairs and fine-suited men. "And then he put on a Bambi costume and was twatted by an electrical baton!" The crowd gathered around Bob exploded in laughter. "Oh, that is brilliant, Mr Fossil," one of them said, "I'd never have thought that working at a zoo could result in that many mishaps." "Frozen jellyfish, vaulting penguins, porpoise races!" another said, "I'd never had believed it had someone else told me." "Hullo! Bainbridge!" the first one called to Dixon sitting a short distance away, "I like this one. Would you mind awfully if I borrowed him a couple of days?" "Yes, I would," Dixon said, getting out of the chair and grabbing Bob's arm, "Come on, we're leaving." "Spoilsport," the man said. "Watch it," Dixon said, pointing up at his face, "I've been keeping a close eye on your business transactions. You wouldn't want me to let slip what I know about those shares you've been selling." "Bastard," the man hissed, taking a step back and turning to Bob, "Well, it was jolly entertaining meeting you, Mr Fossil. Do mind you come back again." "Yeah, I sure will!" Bob called over his shoulder as Dixon pulled him out into the streets. "You're not to get too chummy with those men," Dixon said as they arrived back at his house. "Why not?" Bob asked, following Dixon into a long, richly decorated hallway. "I don't like sharing," Dixon said and pushed Bob up against the wall and kissed him possessively. * "Do you know everything?" Bob asked. He was lying next to Dixon in his big bed, even though it was past midday already. "Pretty much," Dixon answered, not looking up from his newspaper. "I only know one thing," Bob said. Dixon didn't answer. "One thing," Bob repeated, "That I love you." Dixon turned and looked at him. "Indeed." "Yeah," Bob answered with a smile. "Don't say 'yeah' like that, Fossil, you sound like an American." "But I am an American." "I know, but don't flaunt it; it's not fashionable. Had you been Japanese it would've been different. I only keep you because the others think you're eccentric." Bob wasn't sure how to respond. He didn't really understand what Dixon meant. So he just smiled. "Ok, honey pot!" * "I kinda miss the zoo," Bob said one day. "I got good money for it," Dixon said, "I don't see why you're complaining. I keep you well, don't I?" "Yeah," Bob said. But he couldn't help feeling a little wistful. He had loved that zoo, in his own way. * "I got a letter today," Bob said, "Your friend, whatshisname, I don't remember, wants me in his new cop drama, y'know, 'Big Leg', in America." "You're not doing it," Dixon said simply. "I already said yes," Bob answered. "You son of a fool!" Dixon snapped, "Don't you remember I told you last week how Philips had it all planned, how he was deliberately making it so it would flop?" "Yeah..." Bob said, trying to think back. "You'll make a complete fool of me," Dixon exasperated. "You?" Bob asked, "Are you in it too?" "No, of course not, mush-for-brains, but everyone knows you and I are connected. They'll laugh at me. You're not to do it, do you hear?" "I already signed the contract," Bob said quietly, "I'm leaving tomorrow." * Bob hated every second of it. Well, that's not quite true. He loved the filming and the hanging out with the cast and crew. But he hated going back to his tiny hotel room and sleeping there alone. He hadn't slept alone for years and the first few nights he couldn't even close his eyes. Half a year passed and the show was finally broadcasted. Everyone hated it. Bob was forced into press conferences and meetings together with the director and producer, meetings where they were accused of wasting money and dumbing down and all kinds of things Bob didn't know what meant. After one particularly gruelling meeting, he slumped his way back to the hotel, head hanging low. "Good day," he heard a voice say. It couldn't be. There was no point in looking up. He had heard that voice so many times in his dreams lately. Maybe he was going mad, unable to tell the difference between wake and sleep. Then something touched his arm and he stopped. "You're just a dream," he said, "Go away." "I am a dream," the voice said, "I'm every woman's dream. Many men's dream too. We're bored at the club. Come home, Fossil." Bob had to look up, just to make sure. And there stood Dixon Bainbridge in all his proud glory and Bob couldn't help smiling, the world finally put to right again. "Ok, honey pot!"