#oh no i created a wretched creature and immediately regretted it

[notsp1derman]

a somewhat despairing review of "frankenstein", by mary shelley

[may contain spoilers]

"I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy the one, I will indulge the other.”

Cruelty can be born of love, just as empathy can spring even in the worst pits of hell. So until what point can we judge a creature without knowing its life?

For me, Frankenstein has become more than a classic horror story, more than a cautionary tale about progress without ethics. It's the picture of a wretched creature made in rejection and misery, surprisingly eloquent and gentle despite its origins, but that still didn't bear its own despair and succumbed to hatefulness. It's full of tragedy and bitterness, along with some of the most devastatingly human feelings written beautifully on the pages.

At the same time, life's tribulations don't justify cruelty, at least for me, and that applies as much to Victor as to the Creature. Both commit terrible and selfish acts and do complicated mental gymnastics to validate them, but it's impossible to pick a side; in the end, we all do things to our own benefit sometimes, harming others in turn. Victor had a somewhat noble cause, but was blinded by his ego and distracted by his own self-pity and cowardice. On the other hand, the Creature absolutely can't be blamed for its own cursed existence, but its heinous crimes didn't solve a single thing.

I don't have a single ounce of pity towards Victor; he deserves the hell he paid in the end. But I can't help but sympathize towards the Creature despite its sins. The feeling of not fitting in, of being alienated from society, hits me even though I'm not disfigured or horrifying in appearance. And it's not far-fetched to imagine many who feel this even deeply, in a world obsessed with youth and aesthetic perfection. Yet there are things that will always be unfair, and though we can and should do our best to lessen them and work towards a better future, it is overwhelming and despairing sometimes.

And that is the saddest part: we'll be forever victims of the opinions of others,and things won't just conveniently solve themselves just because they're unfair. Nobody is inherently evil, and that doesn't mean everyone is fruit only of their circumstances, so we are left to chalk it up to the many unfortunate probabilities of living. I believe the answer to the mysteries of one of the world's most famous stories is actually quite simple. Despite everything, in the end it's just human nature.

★★★★☆

[xpouii]

Tentacletober Day 2

I’m on time-ish this time! Day 2 and the gloves--and pants are off!

Prompt: Under the Sea

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Characters: Remus, Roman

Warnings/Tags: NSFW, tentacles, dubcon, mind-altering substances/hypnosis?

           The smells of salt and warm sand tickled Roman’s nose as the breeze gently blew his hair away from his face. He sighed and took in his surroundings, carefully crafted down to the last detail to enjoy on his day off. The ocean, impossibly blue, and the lush greens of the nearby islands. He stood on a beach with a small rocky outcrop growing from the sand, making the rushing waves that much more musical. He hummed to himself as he took off his boots and socks, letting the sand warm his feet. With a happy sigh he began to undress until he was down to a pair of regal red boxer briefs and with a look around—more ceremonial than actually necessary—he lost them too and the sun kissed his skin as he strode toward the water. In the nearby canopy, tropical birds serenaded him, and he smiled as the waves, cool enough to send goosebumps up his legs, beckoned him deeper into the water.

           Pulled along by the nature of his own making, Roman dove into the water and swam out past the more insistent waves, taking a breath and diving below where melodical crashing waves gave way to the slow, heavy sounds of the ocean depths. In this perfect world, the salt didn’t sting his eyes, and his lungs didn’t burn as he swam down to the elaborate reef that spanned the ocean bed as far as he could see. Fish of all description darted in and out, and tolerated his touches more like wet, scaled cats than fish, even leaning into him. A pod of dolphins greeted him with clicks and whistles as they rushed by, and Roman turned to watch them, his handsome smile lighting up the otherwise darkened surroundings. Before he could turn back to the reef, several long, dark tentacles from an unseen creature wrapped around Roman’s waist. He looked down and tried to pry the appendages off of him, kicking his legs and struggling to resurface. In his distraction, he lost some control; eyes and lungs burning and begging, he fought harder. The tentacles didn’t let go, but he was hauled to the surface.

             Roman broke through the water and gasped and sputtered, wiping the stinging water from his eyes. His world had shifted; the skies had darkened with gray clouds and the waves were pounding into his little beach without mercy. As Roman’s wretched coughing finally subsided, he resumed struggling with the creature that had him ensnared. It had risen with him, and he could see the flat, angular head. Two dark eyes glared up at him and Roman kicked at the creature, landing a few solid blows before he was lifted horizontally into the air, more tentacles joining the fray. He gasped as the cold, rough wind made him shiver; above, the clouds finally broke, and rain began to fall. Roman grit his teeth and tried to ignore the cold that bit into him.

           The creature below held him aloft as the tentacles shifted and writhed over him. They gave off an unnatural warmth, and Roman found himself both disturbed and comforted. Either way, he definitely needed to get back to shore before his daydream got out of hand. He closed his eyes and pushed, searching for the obvious seams of his little world, looking to tear it open. Each red line he’d left for himself, however, was stitched over in green, and he opened his eyes with a cry of frustration, “Remus you get out of my daydr-“

           Roman was dropped into the water and picked up again, dangled by one ankle as a laugh reached his ears. Remus stood on the beach, and he gave Roman a playful wave, “I just couldn’t resist joining! What a wonderful little playground you have here!”

           “Remus make this thing put me down right now! I don’t have time for your stupid games!” Roman shouted, crying out again as he was dunked into the water.

           When he was raised again, sputtering, Remus was closer, perched on a jagged rock that rose from the turbulent water, “Stupid games? We’re creating here! Working together, just like we used to. Isn’t that fun? I can be the Ursula to your Ariel, the Kraken to your… crack?”

           Roman let out a decidedly nonmasculine sound as one of the tentacles suddenly coiled up his leg and slipped uncomfortably close to the aforementioned area of his body, “Remus! Cut it out!” He shouted, slapping the slimy intruder away.

           The tentacle instead grabbed Roman’s wrist and pulled his arm behind his back, the same happening on the other side, and he was unable to defend himself. “Stop being a spoilsport, Roman,” Remus said. “It’ll be fun! My little pet has been so lonely. I’ve really been neglecting him.”

           Another tentacle slid across Roman’s face and he could feel the slime it left behind; he winced, “Remus he’s disgusting!”

           Remus put his hand over his heart, “Roman I’m surprised at you! Is that any way to treat a loyal creature who just wants to be loved?”

           “I’m not entirely happy with the way you said loved,” Roman said. “And I’ll have no part of this. Go tempt Deceit with your muculent miscreant!”

           “Don’t want to,” Remus said. “If you didn’t want company you shouldn’t have been so inviting.”

           “Inviting?!” Roman squeaked as more of the tentacles twisted between his legs, just a bit too high. When he spoke again, his voice was shaking, “Remus this has stopped being funny now. Stop this game at once.”

           Remus leaned forward with his chin in his hand, “Oh this is no game, not anymore. My mission is quite serious. Open up now, Roman.”

           Roman snapped his mouth shut, fighting the slimy pressure against his lips, but when the tentacles between his legs squeezed his mouth flew open and the tentacle pushed inside. Roman gagged and tried to bite, but his mouth was soon stretched too wide and the tentacle was too strong. The slime was bitter, acrid, but slowly became sweet as he was forced to swallow, breathing through his nose. His vision blurred and his muscles relaxed; even as he fought, the stormy skies above them took a stronger hold, and Roman’s power over his own dreamscape faded with the control of his body. Half-lidded eyes sought out Remus, and he smiled. Then Roman let his head fall back, his neck no longer interested in holding it up.

           The tentacles holding him went more lax, and he melted into them, feeling everything, but unable to react beyond a muffled groan. Remus chuckled as the tentacle slid from Roman’s mouth, trailing a line of drool and slime down Roman’s well-muscled chest. Roman’s eyes rolled to meet Remus, and they were sharp, afraid, but his body just wouldn’t follow suit. Remus blew Roman a kiss just as the spit-covered tentacle made its way between Roman’s legs, nudging its way past the others, and Roman let out a tired grunt of protest. The tentacle pushed and angled until it found its way inside, and a moan slipped from Roman’s mouth. More and more tentacles moved to steady Roman as he was breached, slowly but not gently. His heart was racing inside his still body as the burning stretch grew sharp enough to make him moan out again. The two teasing tentacles had wrapped around Roman’s cock, now fully erect from their effort, and the prince’s eyes dulled. The fear became something else, and the next moan from Roman sounded almost indulgent.

           “There you go,” Remus purred. “I told you you’d love it. Where else are you going to get this sort of lavish attention?”

           Roman opened his mouth more willingly when a smaller tentacle wrapped around his throat and pushed against his lips. He eagerly swallowed the sweet tasting fluid the tentacle fed him, and his racing heart slowed, evening out. The tentacle inside him had found his prostate, and was assaulting it with every serpentine movement. Roman gagged as the tentacle in his mouth pressed into his throat, and Remus whistled to get the creature’s attention, “If you choke him out he won’t be nearly as fun to play with. Trust me.”

           Roman’s chest heaved as the tentacle eased up, tears slipping down across his temples. He lavished the tentacle with his tongue, his eyes squeezing shut as his first orgasm rocked through him. The tentacles squeezed him harder, pulling his shoulders back at a painful angle and arching his back like a bow, and Roman sobbed as pain and overstimulation shot through his body, chasing one another along his nerve endings. His body recovered quickly, and he was already fully hard again when the gentle rain picked up into a respectable storm. The drops of water stung his skin where it was exposed and stretched over taut muscles. The tentacles felt more like shelter than attackers now.

Remus conjured a floating green umbrella, keeping his keen eyes on the prince as lightning began to weave down in fearsome bolts, setting several trees on fire. Roman’s mind was burning, and Remus let the world burn with it until the raging fire colored the ocean red. The second orgasm tore a scream out of Roman, a desperate, animalistic sound that was muffled quickly when the tentacle in his mouth slipped back into his throat. This time, relaxed to the point of mindlessness, Roman managed to swallow without choking. The prince was rapidly covered in fluids both inside and out, his own and otherwise. His consciousness began to fade, and as he slipped away, he heard Remus chuckle. “Have all the fun you want. Just remember, leave him on the beach when you’re done.”

           Roman jerked away, sitting up and immediately regretting it. He let out a rasping groan and fell back onto the beach. He was covered in sand crusted to his body by something sticky, and anywhere that wasn’t was smudged with soot and ash. His body throbbed with the pain of overuse and his muscles complained from even the smallest movements. Roman took a deep breath, closing his eyes and exhaling. The darkness receded, taking the smoke and soot with it. Nearby, the birds started singing again. Roman was warmed by the sand as he decided another day off wouldn’t hurt.

[broken-clover]

Goretober Day 9- Medical

Man, this one is weird. In hindsight there were so many other options I could have gone with, and I went with this one? Meh. Honestly I wonder how coherent this is in the first place, I’m probably gonna edit it in the morning to try and make it less disaster-y because I can’t make an informed opinion right now I don’t have enough brainpower to do that. Hopefully the long weekend will let me catch up on everything (including the sleep)

Well! Onto the important stuff. I figured I’d been away from Blazblue for long enough, so have a Tager! Because I love him, and I love to hurt him. Also maybe a warning for canon compliance because I dunno how well this works, I tried to do some background research but Blazblue is confusing and at some point I just kinda gave up.

He’d learned two lessons that day, ones that he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to forget anytime soon. The first was the idea that brute strength was a powerful tool, if used wisely. Bare hands could do a lot of damage, even matched up against machine weaponry.

The second was that the feeling of having your ribcage torn clean open was the worst sensation that a person could live through.

The whole fight had been a whirlwind, and he’d barely remembered where it started. They were supposed to have been retrieving Nirvana, but the group that had commissioned them had said that Nirvana was supposed to be dormant. Maybe it wouldn’t have been the cleanest mission, but they hadn’t been expecting-

“GOOD! Keep squirming! I LOVE it when they squirm!”

A flash of sea-blue hair and burning red eyes sent everything back into disarray.

“Artillery! Keep on the left, don’t lose track of Nirvana!”

He couldn’t remember when he’d dropped his weapon. It was nowhere within reach. Partizan always had extras, just in case something happened while they were out in the thick of a mission. But Partizan had been the first to fall down and not get up. He could still see a pale hand clutching her long spear, even as they both marinated in her own blood.

“Flamberge! Pull back!”

It had swiftly turned into a losing battle, and they all knew it. But they also knew that not all of them would be able to make it out. That…thing, it was too fast to outrun.

“Take everyone who can still walk and RUN! I’ll try to hold him off- !”

Even that had been wishful thinking. He’d watched Artillery get his jaw torn clean off, Flamberge stabbed on her own blade, Francisca left bleeding out from her snapped-off leg, and Krieg nothing more than a mashed-up pile of flesh, half-crushed under a support beam.

The monster had killed them all, deliberately, right in front of him, as though a punishment for trying to be the martyr. It had left him alive for last, savoring every moment with a wretched sense of satisfaction.

”You made for a bunch of fun toys. Never had any of ‘em last that long before.”

He didn’t want to think about some of his best and closest friends, butchered without mercy, not offered a moment to say goodbye to the world before they were taken out of it. All that was left now was him, sprawled out on the hard ground, bleeding and pinned down by something that looked human, but couldn’t be. No human could commit such an atrocity.

Some manic, hysterical part of him laughed in triumph, realizing that he wouldn’t be parted from them for very long.

It seemed to exert so little effort when it ripped him right in two. Almost like opening a present. Though the pain sparked off of every nerve, dragging out a scream that could shake the heavens above, he found himself wondering about the creature that was mauling him. Who had decided to create it? Did it know anything else besides the blood and sweat and tears of war? Was battle all that it knew, or did it simply not care about anything else?

Sharp teeth grazed his exposed innards, ripping out a mouthful of something. The creature was eating him alive.

”Never had a toy that’s so tasty, either…”

As long as Bullet was far, far away from there...she’d begged to come along, insisting that her wounds had finally healed. They had all ribbed him over it, laughing about how easy it was for her to get him to say yes. But he had been firm. Of course he cared deeply about their younger member, that was why he wanted her to fully recover before she could go back onto the field, no matter how much she pleaded and scowled.

He wasn’t sure how he hadn’t died yet. He could see a single arm off on its own, and the action of tearing through his ribs had definitely snapped the spine. One eye had been punched clean out, and he could barely manage breathing without trying not to choke as blood pooled in the back of his throat.

There wasn’t much after that. Blood. Screaming, but not his own. Flashing lights. Something was lifting him. Had the goddess of death finally arrived to release him from the agony?

It had been dark then, for a long time. He could make out the vague faces of his friends, staring out in the gloom. They never moved, never said anything, just stood and stared. It still offered a sense of comfort, being with people he knew. It felt less lonely.

The sound of a light switching on felt like a gunshot whizzing past his head. It was the first real sensation he could remember in what felt like an eternity. It was odd to feel something again.

He immediately regretted the thought, as a tidal wave of pain slammed into him at full force. It was a sensation that he recognized. The memories flooded back a moment later- the twisted, mangled bodies of his companions, a horrible, satisfied smile, drowning in his own blood-

“I know, it’s not like I’ve forgotten about you.”

The unfamiliar voice snapped him out of the memories. He couldn’t remember anything, who was she? Why was she talking to him?

The light burned. He barely had enough energy to squeeze his eye shut to hide from it. Something like footsteps clicked in the distance.

“I’ll help you right now.” The strange woman’s voice came back. “No, let me rephrase- I’ll give you a ‘chance to be helped.’”

He had no idea what she was talking about. Was this woman death? Had she come to judge his soul? Perhaps that’s why the light felt so blinding.

The sound of footsteps was joined by the clink of metal, things being pulled and pushed around. He didn’t tend to think of himself as an especially curious person, but the lack of understanding of his current situation definitely had him wanting to know more, even if it hurt.

The light still hurt. It was hard to focus on much more than that. But he could make out a pair of shining lenses looming over him, adjusting things that he couldn’t see. The light glinted off of a dozen cables and wires, attaching and affixing themselves to...was that his body?

There wasn’t much to be seen. It was clear that nearly all of it was broken. Only one limb appeared to have anything useful still attached to it. Needles were stuck into his sides, with no proper arms to find the veins to. He didn’t look like a person. He didn’t look like he was supposed to be alive.

“Hey, can you hear me?”

She was talking to him now? What for? It didn’t make any sense. He managed to get a dry groan out, before it made his head spin.

“I’ve got some interesting readings from you. You’re really lucky. I think you’re compatible.”

“‘Compatible?’ Compatible with what? What was she talking about? Why was he even here in the first place?

He must have made some noise without realizing it. The stranger’s voice came back, sporting an oddly soothing tone. “Hey, hey, you’re my test subject now. I can’t exactly have you die on me.”

Test subject?!

“But I hope you’re ready to become a demon…”

Oh, no. Was this what everything was all about? She’d managed to scrape him off the ground and stitched him back together just enough so that he could be used as a lab rat?! Was this woman absolutely deranged?

He desperately wished he had the power to move. Even attempting a pathetic wiggle was too much, and it only made him writhe in pain. There was nothing he could do as she finished looking him over, and fetched a sharp needle to stick in him.

He could feel the foreign object digging in, pooling out. It burned in his blood, ripping skin and muscles and cells apart and eating what was inside. Was this some kind of torture? It had to be. It felt like being split in two all over again. He could almost see those menacing eyes, boring into his soul as it tore him into bits.

When he finally felt lucid enough to think, all he could focus on was the thought that this couldn’t be his own body, it looked nothing like it.

He wasn’t supposed to be this big, or this red, or this…metallic. Something had been welded onto the stumps of his legs (hadn’t there been more of them left? What happened to his other leg?). What were all these extra parts? Why were they here?

“You’re up?”

His eyes snapped towards the source. The strange woman. Something about her face was frightening.

“W-what-” It didn’t sound quite like him. But it was close enough. Closer than everything else.

“Whatever. You don’t need to worry about that.” She held something in her hand. A thick cable came off of it, which she connected to another that snaked across the floor.

As soon as she did, an odd rush of coldness flooded his body. The second cable seemed to connect to him in some way. That wasn’t supposed to be there, so why was it?

“I’ve still got a few more jobs to do with you. But to do that, I’ve gotta clean the slate and start over.”

What? Why did she say so many strange things? Everything felt so confusing. He didn’t know what any of it meant. What did she was with him? Why-

She twisted something on the strange object in her hand, and everything went dark.

>IDEA ENGINE PROTOTYPE SYNCHRONIZED<

>SYSTEM ACTIVATION IN PROGRESS…<

>ACCESSING STORED MEMORY<

>WOULD YOU LIKE TO DELETE?<

>YES

NO

>MEMORY FILE CLEARED<

[classywastelandbread-blog]

Charred or Chard The Cat

Just a little silly thing I scribbled down today. 

I tend to collect a lot of random (and usually useless) bits of knowledge. The facts here are based on what I learned when I spent time with my aunty who was once a breeder of cats on a whim.

“Han,” Jesse said, a pained look on his face. “No…”

The…thing…hung complacently from Hanzo’s hands, its hind legs curled demurely over its groin which was a blessing because it wasn’t neutered.

…and it was hairless.

“Yes,” Hanzo said seriously. “You said you wanted children of the four-legged variety.”

Jesse sighed, running his flesh hand through his hair. “Han…I think said of the furry variety. That…thing…” he shuddered. “Hon, it looks like a shaved ball sack.”

“You would know,” Hanzo replied, much to the discomfort of the kitten’s owner. He scooped it into his arms like one would hold a baby and turned to the woman that had put the kitten up for adoption. She looked very much like she regretted agreeing to meet with them but she still smiled kindly at them. “How much?”

Jesse whined. “Han.”

The woman’s eyes flicked to Jesse. “Hon,” she said gently to Hanzo. “Maybe you should make the decision with your…friend?”

“Husband,” Hanzo corrected absently as he toyed with the cat’s paws. It was complacent enough to bat at his hands gamely; when it “caught” Hanzo’s finger, it brought it to its mouth and licked at it.

Never had Jesse wished so badly for someone to be homophobic and take the cat…thing…away from Hanzo. But the woman was a kind sort and smiled. “Husband,” she repeated sweetly. “Maybe you should ask your husband what he thinks.”

“He thinks he looks like a shaved ball sack,” Hanzo pointed out. “He made it very clear what he thought of him.”

The woman winced. “Yes, but I’d rather not cause a break in a marriage over a cat,” she pointed out. “And I’d hate to get this poor guy’s hopes up that he’d find his forever home.”

Jesse could never get used to that phrase. “Forever home”. It made sense and was kind of sweet but at the same time he thought it was kind of weird…but that was just him.

Startled, Hanzo looked back at Jesse. He groaned. “Ma’am,” he said kindly to the woman. “Y’ mind if we have some people-talk? Guy talk? Like…me and my husband?” It still felt weird to call Hanzo his husband but it was a good kind of weird that sent thrills up and down his spine.

The woman smiled and held out her hands for the cat which Hanzo very reluctantly handed back to her. “You can go in the dining room over there,” she said, pointing to the room in question. “Just give a holler if you need me.” Murmuring to the cat, she lumbered off to the couch and sat down with a groan. The kitten curled up on her ample belly and closed its eyes as if to nap.

Hanzo looked so honestly concerned that Jesse had to tug him into a tight hug. “Now don’t think that, Han,” he murmured. “If you want ‘im, get ‘im. I’m just…not on board with the whole ‘hairless’ thing. I’m serious when I say it looks like a shaved ball sack.”

“So you’ve said,” Hanzo muttered into his chest. “I just…”

Jesse tipped his head up and gave him a soft kiss. “It seems like a sweetheart,” he said. “I’m just…not confident I can hold it without being disturbed. But…if you want it…it’s yours. And I’ll support you and…it…I’ll get used to it eventually. But darlin’…never worry that I’ll make you give it up. That ain’t happening.”

Hanzo searched his eyes before gently kissing the painted thread around Jesse’s left pinkie. “I like him.” While it was relieving to hear – they had searched seemingly hundreds of shelters and ads for cats that met Hanzo’s apparently strict standards – Jesse wasn’t sure he really liked this particular cat.

“Then let’s get him.”

His husband (!!) looked so pleasantly surprised and Jesse received a truly warm kiss in thanks. It made him feel almost guilty for already hating the hairless monstrosity.

When Hanzo told the owner-breeder of the kitten that he’d take it, Jesse got a truly pitying look from her husband. Great.

“Damn,” Fareeha said as the kitten explored the common room before their weekly Chopped marathon.

Angela peered at it. “It’s ugly,” she said and wrinkled her nose. “Do all cats have that much skin? And where are its whiskers?”

As if protesting her words, the cat gave a raspy meow.

“Yeah,” Fareeha agreed. “It’s ugly and…hermano…you’re so whipped.”

Zarya tucked her legs up on her couch when the cat wandered her way. “Is unnatural.”

The doors slammed open and Rein, still a little dirty from work in the Diner, stumbled in. “I heard Hanzo’s cat was here!” he boomed. The cat in question had frozen in terror, its bright blue eyes wide as it processed the sudden noise.

“Yeah,” Jesse said as neutrally as he could. “Close the door so it doesn’t run out.”

The big man scrambled to obey, nearly smashing Ana in the process but she was quick and managed to avoid death that day. “Where is it?” Rein asked excitedly. “What kind of cat is it?”

“Looks like shaved nuts,” Zarya said flatly, eyeing the creature where it crouched under the coffee table.

Rein’s excited face froze awkwardly. “What?”

Hana giggled where she was curled up with Jesse. Bastian occupied the other side of the couch with a safe distance so Hanzo could sit beside his husband; Lucio was perched on the arm, frowning down at the cat.

Everyone’s reaction to the cat, in Jesse’s opinion, were absolutely priceless. Rein’s was no exception – his excited face fell immediately upon seeing the wretched creature. “Where is that cat’s fur?” he asked flatly.

“It doesn’t have any,” Jesse said, running a hand over his face tiredly. Hana giggled.

“Actually,” Sombra corrected, once more startling everyone with not only her presence but her willingness to talk. “They do have fur, it’s just very fine. They still can and do create dander but it’s just at a much-reduced rate and volume – why they can be called hypoallergenic.”

They all frowned at her. It was the longest she had spoken in a long time and most of the time no one knew what to do with her when she did speak or laugh. But where Sombra was, Gabe couldn’t be too far away.

“How?” Bastian asked curiously.

Sombra shrugged as Gabe entered the common area. Seeing the cat – which had begun to emerge from the table, he turned around and walked out without a word. Giggling, Sombra heckled him in Spanish as she followed. Some of her suggestions were that he should knit The Cat clothes so it wouldn’t be too cold.

It suddenly occurred to Jesse that he had no idea how to take care of it.

Is this what being a parent feels like? He signed to Hana and Bastian who turned to look at him when he began signing. Being terrified when you realize you have no idea how to take care of another life? Hana laughed and said nothing; Bastian shrugged solemnly though his clear eyes were amused.

Ana was peering down at The Cat which had slowly begun approaching her. “It looks so worried,” she said with a laugh, running a careful finger over the wrinkles between its ears. It butted its head into hers, trying to solicit more pets which she obliged. She laughed again. “It’s so soft! You should feel it!”

“Like shaved nuts!” Zarya roared, outraged, from where she was curled up. Angela and Fareeha giggled and joined her there.

Jack, who had just opened the door, paused. “What?”

“Don’t ask,” Jesse told him tiredly. “She’s talking about The Cat.”

The man visibly hesitated. “You guys finally found one?”

Hana giggled. “Yes!”

“Does he have a name?”

It suddenly occurred to Jesse that he had absolutely no idea if Hanzo had named The Thing. “We can ask Han,” he said when everyone turned to look at him.

The cat grunted when it was picked up in Rein’s massive hands but didn’t struggle like Jesse half-expected it to. “He’s so tiny!” Rein exclaimed.

“Isn’t he soft?” Ana asked, wiggling her finger in the cat’s face. He batted at it without his claws and went limp in Rein’s hands.

Jack leaned over the couch by Jesse. “That…thing…is a cat?”

“Yup!” Hana said a little too-loudly.

Rein’s booming laughter echoed. “Shaved nut sack!” Zarya roared when he tried to hand the cat to her.

“Oh!” Ana tsked. “Just hold him! Or touch him!”

Zarya didn’t look amused as he was dangled into her space. The cat’s legs were extended as he tried to keep his balance. She tilted her head all the way back in an effort to not look at the creature. “I feel like I’m violating him,” Angela said faintly, also looking anywhere but the creature being dangled in front of them.

The residents of that couch were saved by Hanzo’s return. What exactly he thought when he saw Zarya, Angela, and Fareeha cowering away from the cat which was being dangled over them by Rein, Jesse couldn’t be sure, but he seemed pleased enough that not only were they interacting with the wretched thing, but that Hana looked happy.

Jesse collected a kiss from him as he moved past and scooped the poor animal out of Rein’s massive hands. It met Jesse’s eyes over Hanzo’s shoulder and he tried not to laugh at how utterly relieved it seemed.

“He’s so cute,” Ana said and Jesse made gagging faces at Zarya, Angela, and Fareeha who nodded in agreement. “Does he have a name yet?”

Jesse’s couch was becoming crowded but privately he thought it was strange to learn after five-odd years of sitting on the same couch in the same spot that there was a recliner chair built in, but it worked in his favor because it meant that not only could Hana, Bastian, and Lucio all sit on the couch with him, but he could also cuddle with Hanzo.

Except now he cuddled with Hanzo, who sat between his legs with his back against Jesse’s chest, and Charred, the hairless cat.

Ugh.

The cat, despite still being rather young, was very mild-mannered which was nice. It didn’t run around or seem to get sick of being in one place for so long but simply seemed content to sit on Hanzo’s lap and accept scritches.

Despite Jesse’s own dislike of the ghastly thing, he loved the smile it brought to Hanzo’s face.

Worse, the thing was friendly and tried to solicit pets and scritches. Fareeha, Zarya, and Jesse were the only ones so far holding out. Angela was a little disturbed by the sensation but would occasionally pet Charred though she privately admitted that she felt bad that it was named such a depressing name.

But he was more Hanzo’s baby than Jesse’s so he really couldn’t protest the name so much but it really was rather morbid. As Sombra (and his previous owner had) explained, the strange grey-black splotches over Charred’s back were from the color of his nearly-invisible fur. If it had been longer, he’d be white with black or grey splotches but now he was a strange shade of fleshy pink with big ash-colored spots.

More than his unfortunately morbid name, Jesse felt almost bad – almost – for not giving Charred the scritches he obviously wanted from him. He was a very well-behaved cat when asking, patting the leg or arm of a person with his claws retracted and trying his best to plead with his wrinkly face.

“Looks like E.T.,” Zarya said flatly when Charred tried to solicit pets from her. “Like E.T. had baby with shaved ball sack. No.”

Charred was endearing, Jesse had to give him that. Once he got used to his…unfortunate…features he could almost find Charred cute.

He just couldn’t bring himself to actually touch him which made it hard when Charred tried his best to endear himself to Jesse.

He’d wind around Jesse’s legs when he fed him in the morning (something he volunteered to do despite Hanzo’s insistence that he could), would try to rub against Jesse and get his attention as much as press up against him with a cute little mew. Jesse always felt bad nudging the cat away with a socked foot but he just couldn’t deal with the thing.

It was insufferably cute though, to see the little knitted clothes that Ana made for him. Unsurprisingly with no fur to keep him warm, Charred needed some assistance. If he transported the cat between the Barracks and Base, Hanzo tucked him in a hoodie or in his coat with him.

Though Gabe thought Charred was disgusting, he created a lined pouch that looked like a messenger bag that would keep the cat warm while he was outside. He shrieked outright when Charred tried to rub against him, seemingly in thanks.

Two weeks after Charred came to the farm, they learned that his name was actually Chard.

Like the vegetable, which turned out to be one of Hanzo’s favorites, especially to cook with. Like the rainbow chard he had on his tattoo on his right arm.

Chard, not Charred, like he was crispy.

Huh.

For his part, Hanzo was no stranger to Jesse’s thoughts on Chard. (And Zarya’s…and Fareeha’s…and Gabe’s. Really, he could go on.) He was pleased that Jesse kept his promise – not that he doubted he would – to not mind Chard’s presence. He volunteered to feed him, would bring back toys or treats, but he still staunchly refused to touch him directly.

At first Hanzo was hurt because he at least enjoyed the feel of Chard’s fuzzy skin and he and Ana often played with the cat’s wrinkled forehead and scraggly whiskers. Yes, his junk was disturbing, but they got used to it.

(Hanzo, did, at least. He could still hear the cries of disgust when Chard flipped his tail up in a friendly greeting and treated everyone to an eyeful.)

Still, he was beginning to worry about Jesse’s reticence.

He need not have worried because nearly a full month after adopting Chard, he found the two of them napping in a golden beam of sunlight in their room. Jesse was cradling the majority of Chard’s body with his whole arm and the stump of his other. The cat’s head was tucked into the crook of his neck and one of his paws rested on the bared flesh of his collarbone through the open collar of his flannel.

From the flick of Chard’s ears as he unlocked his phone, he knew Hanzo was there but Jesse didn’t stir as he snapped a few quick pictures. Chard grunted and shifted and Jesse’s hands tightened on him instinctively before relaxing as the cat settled again.

Hanzo managed to get a few more pictures before Jesse peeked his eyes open. He smiled sleepily at Hanzo and tipped his head back for a kiss.

His thumb rubbed gently along Chard’s lower back where he cradled him gently. “L’ke ‘a shaved ball sack,” he said sleepily. It was almost smug and it was the tone that got Hanzo.

The startled burst of laughter from Hanzo startled Chard enough that he leaped to his feet and raced away. Even Jesse agreed as Hanzo cleaned them with hydrogen peroxide with Chard watching them reproachfully from the doorway that the lines of scratches over his chest were almost worth it.

Fun facts about Sphynx (”hairless”) cats I learned from my aunty (and also some things about Chard):

As Sombra mentioned, they do actually have fur, it’s just really short. Due to fluctuations in their hormones, the mama cats sometimes grow fur which is surprisingly soft. 

My aunty’s breeding female’s fur was tight and swirly for lack of a better word. It wasn’t quite curly but just the way it grew it made it look wavy. 

Even after she had weaned her kittens, she kept her fur. Not sure what happened there but whatever. 

The breeding female was more or less pure evil. She was the queen of the house and was absolutely enamored with my aunty. 

They do actually have whiskers and “eyebrows” even if it doesn’t appear that they do - they just grow in so fine and brittle that they break off. 

Chard looks kind of like this. His coloration is based off of one of my aunty’s cats and she told me recently that she had initially considered naming him “Charred” but the rest of his family’s names ended in an “O” sound so she couldn’t. 

He has blue eyes.

His attitude is very friendly and relatively laid back. 

Some cats are very amenable to training due to breeding, natural aptitude, and/or their general demeanor. Chard is definitely one of those cats. My cat in RL is not. 

[bigbeargraue]

Day 17: Slipping the Rift

(([WP] Eva calls her ability to travel between dimensions "Slip," and Slip is totally boring because every dimension is almost exactly the same until one day, one minor difference changes everything.))

Eva awoke as she had every other morning, her eyes half-closed with sleep, her body weak, her hair a mess, and her steps slow and unsteady as she made her way to her bathroom. The small apartment she had was quiet. Living alone had its perks, especially with her power, but it sometimes felt more like a cage than a domicile. Her soft brown eyes peered through the haze of sleep and into the mirror, eyeing her wretched state before grabbing for a brush and running it through her hair. She imagined that her day would be like any other. After her shower, she’d Slip again and then head off to work as usual.

Her eyes closed, her hair slowly becoming less tangled and knotted. There was peace in her morning routine. A serenity that slowly filled her with the delightful warmth of a world with meaning and substance. It was the one point that she knew would never change even as she Slipped through realities one after the other without a care in the world. The shower was brief, the water was cold as always thanks to the old boiler in the basement of her apartment building having never been truly fixed. Still, standing in the cold of the bathroom, Eva sighed as she looked to the empty towel bar that sat on the wall. She shivered as a cold draft made her body chill. Closing her eyes, Eva silently wished to herself that she were in a dimension where she didn’t have to put up with cold showers every morning. Then she Slipped.

She didn’t move. She never moved during a Slip, but she also never Slipped without meaning to. It took conscious effort to Slip and yet here she had Slipped without even thinking about it. Glancing about the new dimension she was in, the first thing she had noted was the fog on the mirror and the warm tingle on her skin. She was warm, in fact, more so, she was cozy! Every time she had Slipped before, nothing had changed. She was never richer, she was never more popular, she was never different until now. Then the thought came to Eva as she reached out and gripped the luxuriously soft towel hanging from the towel rack next to her, “What was different?”

If the towel was different and the boiler was different, what else changed? Eva quickly dried off and moved into her bedroom once more. Dirty as always, clothes strewn about the floor and furniture, but then something caught her eye. They seemed to be all the same set of clothes. A pair of black track pants, a light black jacket, a white t-shirt, and a set of white underwear. She began to question the reality she had come into, what kind of monster would create a dimension where the standardized uniform was a tracksuit. Surely this was hell. Looking to her closet, Eva saw more of the same outfits, cleaned, pressed, loose-fitting tracksuits all in black and all well-kept.

Then her phone buzzed, her alarm was going off, and when she looked to the screen Eva’s brow furrowed in confusion. The screen simply read, “8:30 am, Leave for Morning Commencement.”

Eva glanced about the room for a moment, this dimension was becoming more and more interesting by the moment, and yet there was a deep worry growing inside Eva’s mind. Without another option for garments, Eva donned the black tracksuit. It fit well, her body felt light and comfortable. Then, without another word, a text came through her phone with a buzz, “Where are you? Commencement is about to start!”

Eva quirked her eyebrow as thoughts of 1984 came to mind, she quickly tapped out a reply, “Sorry, woke up late, will be there soon. Where is it?”

There was no reply for a moment, then her phone buzzed with an incoming call. Eva eyed the green “answer” button for a long moment before pressing it. The voice on the other line was shaky as it began to ramble, “Listen, I don’t know if you’re on anything, but don’t ask questions like that. Okay, just log in to the network and I’ll wait for you at the start point.”

“S-Start point?” Eva hadn’t realized she had spoken out loud, but when she had, she immediately regretted it. Her worry began to grow to encompass every feeling she had about this place, and instead, she spoke into the phone with only the barest of hints of determination, “I’ll be there in a moment.”

Eva began to concentrate on Slipping, her mind raced to think about the last point she had woken in, and then it happened. She Slipped, but she was still in her tracksuit. Phone in her hand, voice on the other end, and her mind began to panic as she Slipped again. Nothing. Slipped again. Nothing. Slipped again. Nothing. Then, when she was just about to give up, she Slipped once more only to find the darkness of night barreling through her window as the moonlight cast shadows over her apartment. Her eyes looked to her hand and there was no phone. She quickly looked around, eyeing the world she had come in to, and Eva quickly noticed the new missing feature.

The Apartment was the same, her outfit was the same, but everything Electronic was gone. No lights, no clocks, no phone, no TV, no fridge. No outlets, not cables, no light switches, and certainly not a single bit of artificial light in the world. Then, as if she had forgotten all about it, the phone in her hand lit up the night. A loud shriek sounded from the darkness as though a thousand tiny creatures had all screamed in utter pain at the first light. The world shook, the shadows grew, and as though she were hiding a child from the evil of an unseen force, she hid her phone in her pocket and snuffed out the light.

It was too late though, a large swooping creature of pure black slammed into the window in her room, tearing it from the wall with massive talons. Its grotesque face gnashing rows of teeth that seemed impossibly sharp and large for its jaws. It glanced about the apartment, eyeing the dark shadows with its beady eyes before sniffing the air and slowly reaching inside towards Eva. Eva’s breath caught in her throat, her body desperately trying to step away while she begged herself to Slip once more. The beast stopped just inches away from gripping Eva’s trembling form with its immense claws, turning its head to the distance behind it before crying out in a deafening roar of a scream before launching itself into the darkness of the night once more.

Eva’s body trembled as she tried to concentrate on Slipping again, her entire body covered in goosebumps. Eva’s mind Slipped again, nothing different. Slipped again, the lights came back but everything was green. Slipped again, finally, the room she had left this morning was back. She quickly looked to her phone and noticed not a single contact out of place. Eva’s eyes scanned the room carefully for anything missing. The silence of the room filled her, the sight of her old clothes made her smile, and as one final check, she looked out of her window to the street below. Men, women, children, all bustling about and heading to wherever they needed to go.

Eva could only heave a sigh as nothing came to her attention, nothing out of the ordinary, and with a breath of relief, she sat on the edge of her bed just as a rather large man with red-scales covering his body and a very Dragon-like appearance stepped into her room carrying a tray of food, “Ahh, Madam, I see you’re awake. Breakfast is served. Oh! Is that a new outfit? It certainly looks... Err... Comfortable, madam!”

[readbookywooks]

The voyage came to an end. We landed, and proceeded to Paris. I soon found that I had overtaxed my strength and that I must repose before I could continue my journey. My father's care and attentions were indefatigable, but he did not know the origin of my sufferings and sought erroneous methods to remedy the incurable ill. He wished me to seek amusement in society. I abhorred the face of man. Oh, not abhorred! They were my brethren, my fellow beings, and I felt attracted even to the most repulsive among them, as to creatures of an angelic nature and celestial mechanism. But I felt that I had no right to share their intercourse. I had unchained an enemy among them whose joy it was to shed their blood and to revel in their groans. How they would, each and all, abhor me and hunt me from the world did they know my unhallowed acts and the crimes which had their source in me! My father yielded at length to my desire to avoid society and strove by various arguments to banish my despair. Sometimes he thought that I felt deeply the degradation of being obliged to answer a charge of murder, and he endeavoured to prove to me the futility of pride. "Alas! My father," said I, "how little do you know me. Human beings, their feelings and passions, would indeed be degraded if such a wretch as I felt pride. Justine, poor unhappy Justine, was as innocent as I, and she suffered the same charge; she died for it; and I am the cause of this - I murdered her. William, Justine, and Henry - they all died by my hands." My father had often, during my imprisonment, heard me make the same assertion; when I thus accused myself, he sometimes seemed to desire an explanation, and at others he appeared to consider it as the offspring of delirium, and that, during my illness, some idea of this kind had presented itself to my imagination, the remembrance of which I preserved in my convalescence. I avoided explanation and maintained a continual silence concerning the wretch I had created. I had a persuasion that I should be supposed mad, and this in itself would forever have chained my tongue. But, besides, I could not bring myself to disclose a secret which would fill my hearer with consternation and make fear and unnatural horror the inmates of his breast. I checked, therefore, my impatient thirst for sympathy and was silent when I would have given the world to have confided the fatal secret. Yet, still, words like those I have recorded would burst uncontrollably from me. I could offer no explanation of them, but their truth in part relieved the burden of my mysterious woe. Upon this occasion my father said, with an expression of unbounded wonder, "My dearest Victor, what infatuation is this? My dear son, I entreat you never to make such an assertion again." "I am not mad," I cried energetically; "the sun and the heavens, who have viewed my operations, can bear witness of my truth. I am the assassin of those most innocent victims; they died by my machinations. A thousand times would I have shed my own blood, drop by drop, to have saved their lives; but I could not, my father, indeed I could not sacrifice the whole human race." The conclusion of this speech convinced my father that my ideas were deranged, and he instantly changed the subject of our conversation and endeavoured to alter the course of my thoughts. He wished as much as possible to obliterate the memory of the scenes that had taken place in Ireland and never alluded to them or suffered me to speak of my misfortunes. As time passed away I became more calm; misery had her dwelling in my heart, but I no longer talked in the same incoherent manner of my own crimes; sufficient for me was the consciousness of them. By the utmost self-violence I curbed the imperious voice of wretchedness, which sometimes desired to declare itself to the whole world, and my manners were calmer and more composed than they had ever been since my journey to the sea of ice. A few days before we left Paris on our way to Switzerland, I received the following letter from Elizabeth: My dear Friend, It gave me the greatest pleasure to receive a letter from my uncle dated at Paris; you are no longer at a formidable distance, and I may hope to see you in less than a fortnight. My poor cousin, how much you must have suffered! I expect to see you looking even more ill than when you quitted Geneva. This winter has been passed most miserably, tortured as I have been by anxious suspense; yet I hope to see peace in your countenance and to find that your heart is not totally void of comfort and tranquillity. Yet I fear that the same feelings now exist that made you so miserable a year ago, even perhaps augmented by time. I would not disturb you at this period, when so many misfortunes weigh upon you, but a conversation that I had with my uncle previous to his departure renders some explanation necessary before we meet. Explanation! You may possibly say, What can Elizabeth have to explain? If you really say this, my questions are answered and all my doubts satisfied. But you are distant from me, and it is possible that you may dread and yet be pleased with this explanation; and in a probability of this being the case, I dare not any longer postpone writing what, during your absence, I have often wished to express to you but have never had the courage to begin. You well know, Victor, that our union had been the favourite plan of your parents ever since our infancy. We were told this when young, and taught to look forward to it as an event that would certainly take place. We were affectionate playfellows during childhood, and, I believe, dear and valued friends to one another as we grew older. But as brother and sister often entertain a lively affection towards each other without desiring a more intimate union, may not such also be our case? Tell me, dearest Victor. Answer me, I conjure you by our mutual happiness, with simple truth - Do you not love another? You have travelled; you have spent several years of your life at Ingolstadt; and I confess to you, my friend, that when I saw you last autumn so unhappy, flying to solitude from the society of every creature, I could not help supposing that you might regret our connection and believe yourself bound in honour to fulfil the wishes of your parents, although they opposed themselves to your inclinations. But this is false reasoning. I confess to you, my friend, that I love you and that in my airy dreams of futurity you have been my constant friend and companion. But it is your happiness I desire as well as my own when I declare to you that our marriage would render me eternally miserable unless it were the dictate of your own free choice. Even now I weep to think that, borne down as you are by the cruellest misfortunes, you may stifle, by the word "honour," all hope of that love and happiness which would alone restore you to yourself. I, who have so disinterested an affection for you, may increase your miseries tenfold by being an obstacle to your wishes. Ah! Victor, be assured that your cousin and playmate has too sincere a love for you not to be made miserable by this supposition. Be happy, my friend; and if you obey me in this one request, remain satisfied that nothing on earth will have the power to interrupt my tranquillity. Do not let this letter disturb you; do not answer tomorrow, or the next day, or even until you come, if it will give you pain. My uncle will send me news of your health, and if I see but one smile on your lips when we meet, occasioned by this or any other exertion of mine, I shall need no other happiness. Elizabeth Lavenza Geneva, May 18th, 17- This letter revived in my memory what I had before forgotten, the threat of the fiend - "I WILL BE WITH YOU ON YOUR WEDDING-NIGHT!" Such was my sentence, and on that night would the daemon employ every art to destroy me and tear me from the glimpse of happiness which promised partly to console my sufferings. On that night he had determined to consummate his crimes by my death. Well, be it so; a deadly struggle would then assuredly take place, in which if he were victorious I should be at peace and his power over me be at an end. If he were vanquished, I should be a free man. Alas! What freedom? Such as the peasant enjoys when his family have been massacred before his eyes, his cottage burnt, his lands laid waste, and he is turned adrift, homeless, penniless, and alone, but free. Such would be my liberty except that in my Elizabeth I possessed a treasure, alas, balanced by those horrors of remorse and guilt which would pursue me until death. Sweet and beloved Elizabeth! I read and reread her letter, and some softened feelings stole into my heart and dared to whisper paradisiacal dreams of love and joy; but the apple was already eaten, and the angel's arm bared to drive me from all hope. Yet I would die to make her happy. If the monster executed his threat, death was inevitable; yet, again, I considered whether my marriage would hasten my fate. My destruction might indeed arrive a few months sooner, but if my torturer should suspect that I postponed it, influenced by his menaces, he would surely find other and perhaps more dreadful means of revenge. He had vowed TO BE WITH ME ON MY WEDDING-NIGHT, yet he did not consider that threat as binding him to peace in the meantime, for as if to show me that he was not yet satiated with blood, he had murdered Clerval immediately after the enunciation of his threats. I resolved, therefore, that if my immediate union with my cousin would conduce either to hers or my father's happiness, my adversary's designs against my life should not retard it a single hour. In this state of mind I wrote to Elizabeth. My letter was calm and affectionate. "I fear, my beloved girl," I said, "little happiness remains for us on earth; yet all that I may one day enjoy is centred in you. Chase away your idle fears; to you alone do I consecrate my life and my endeavours for contentment. I have one secret, Elizabeth, a dreadful one; when revealed to you, it will chill your frame with horror, and then, far from being surprised at my misery, you will only wonder that I survive what I have endured. I will confide this tale of misery and terror to you the day after our marriage shall take place, for, my sweet cousin, there must be perfect confidence between us. But until then, I conjure you, do not mention or allude to it. This I most earnestly entreat, and I know you will comply." In about a week after the arrival of Elizabeth's letter we returned to Geneva. The sweet girl welcomed me with warm affection, yet tears were in her eyes as she beheld my emaciated frame and feverish cheeks. I saw a change in her also. She was thinner and had lost much of that heavenly vivacity that had before charmed me; but her gentleness and soft looks of compassion made her a more fit companion for one blasted and miserable as I was. The tranquillity which I now enjoyed did not endure. Memory brought madness with it, and when I thought of what had passed, a real insanity possessed me; sometimes I was furious and burnt with rage, sometimes low and despondent. I neither spoke nor looked at anyone, but sat motionless, bewildered by the multitude of miseries that overcame me. Elizabeth alone had the power to draw me from these fits; her gentle voice would soothe me when transported by passion and inspire me with human feelings when sunk in torpor. She wept with me and for me. When reason returned, she would remonstrate and endeavour to inspire me with resignation. Ah! It is well for the unfortunate to be resigned, but for the guilty there is no peace. The agonies of remorse poison the luxury there is otherwise sometimes found in indulging the excess of grief. Soon after my arrival my father spoke of my immediate marriage with Elizabeth. I remained silent. "Have you, then, some other attachment?" "None on earth. I love Elizabeth and look forward to our union with delight. Let the day therefore be fixed; and on it I will consecrate myself, in life or death, to the happiness of my cousin." "My dear Victor, do not speak thus. Heavy misfortunes have befallen us, but let us only cling closer to what remains and transfer our love for those whom we have lost to those who yet live. Our circle will be small but bound close by the ties of affection and mutual misfortune. And when time shall have softened your despair, new and dear objects of care will be born to replace those of whom we have been so cruelly deprived." Such were the lessons of my father. But to me the remembrance of the threat returned; nor can you wonder that, omnipotent as the fiend had yet been in his deeds of blood, I should almost regard him as invincible, and that when he had pronounced the words "I SHALL BE WITH YOU ON YOUR WEDDING-NIGHT," I should regard the threatened fate as unavoidable. But death was no evil to me if the loss of Elizabeth were balanced with it, and I therefore, with a contented and even cheerful countenance, agreed with my father that if my cousin would consent, the ceremony should take place in ten days, and thus put, as I imagined, the seal to my fate. Great God! If for one instant I had thought what might be the hellish intention of my fiendish adversary, I would rather have banished myself forever from my native country and wandered a friendless outcast over the earth than have consented to this miserable marriage. But, as if possessed of magic powers, the monster had blinded me to his real intentions; and when I thought that I had prepared only my own death, I hastened that of a far dearer victim. As the period fixed for our marriage drew nearer, whether from cowardice or a prophetic feeling, I felt my heart sink within me. But I concealed my feelings by an appearance of hilarity that brought smiles and joy to the countenance of my father, but hardly deceived the everwatchful and nicer eye of Elizabeth. She looked forward to our union with placid contentment, not unmingled with a little fear, which past misfortunes had impressed, that what now appeared certain and tangible happiness might soon dissipate into an airy dream and leave no trace but deep and everlasting regret. Preparations were made for the event, congratulatory visits were received, and all wore a smiling appearance. I shut up, as well as I could, in my own heart the anxiety that preyed there and entered with seeming earnestness into the plans of my father, although they might only serve as the decorations of my tragedy. Through my father's exertions a part of the inheritance of Elizabeth had been restored to her by the Austrian government. A small possession on the shores of Como belonged to her. It was agreed that, immediately after our union, we should proceed to Villa Lavenza and spend our first days of happiness beside the beautiful lake near which it stood. In the meantime I took every precaution to defend my person in case the fiend should openly attack me. I carried pistols and a dagger constantly about me and was ever on the watch to prevent artifice, and by these means gained a greater degree of tranquillity. Indeed, as the period approached, the threat appeared more as a delusion, not to be regarded as worthy to disturb my peace, while the happiness I hoped for in my marriage wore a greater appearance of certainty as the day fixed for its solemnization drew nearer and I heard it continually spoken of as an occurrence which no accident could possibly prevent. Elizabeth seemed happy; my tranquil demeanour contributed greatly to calm her mind. But on the day that was to fulfil my wishes and my destiny, she was melancholy, and a presentiment of evil pervaded her; and perhaps also she thought of the dreadful secret which I had promised to reveal to her on the following day. My father was in the meantime overjoyed and in the bustle of preparation only recognized in the melancholy of his niece the diffidence of a bride. After the ceremony was performed a large party assembled at my father's, but it was agreed that Elizabeth and I should commence our journey by water, sleeping that night at Evian and continuing our voyage on the following day. The day was fair, the wind favourable; all smiled on our nuptial embarkation. Those were the last moments of my life during which I enjoyed the feeling of happiness. We passed rapidly along; the sun was hot, but we were sheltered from its rays by a kind of canopy while we enjoyed the beauty of the scene, sometimes on one side of the lake, where we saw Mont Saleve, the pleasant banks of Montalegre, and at a distance, surmounting all, the beautiful Mont Blanc and the assemblage of snowy mountains that in vain endeavour to emulate her; sometimes coasting the opposite banks, we saw the mighty Jura opposing its dark side to the ambition that would quit its native country, and an almost insurmountable barrier to the invader who should wish to enslave it. I took the hand of Elizabeth. "You are sorrowful, my love. Ah! If you knew what I have suffered and what I may yet endure, you would endeavour to let me taste the quiet and freedom from despair that this one day at least permits me to enjoy." "Be happy, my dear Victor," replied Elizabeth; "there is, I hope, nothing to distress you; and be assured that if a lively joy is not painted in my face, my heart is contented. Something whispers to me not to depend too much on the prospect that is opened before us, but I will not listen to such a sinister voice. Observe how fast we move along and how the clouds, which sometimes obscure and sometimes rise above the dome of Mont Blanc, render this scene of beauty still more interesting. Look also at the innumerable fish that are swimming in the clear waters, where we can distinguish every pebble that lies at the bottom. What a divine day! How happy and serene all nature appears!" Thus Elizabeth endeavoured to divert her thoughts and mine from all reflection upon melancholy subjects. But her temper was fluctuating; joy for a few instants shone in her eyes, but it continually gave place to distraction and reverie. The sun sank lower in the heavens; we passed the river Drance and observed its path through the chasms of the higher and the glens of the lower hills. The Alps here come closer to the lake, and we approached the amphitheatre of mountains which forms its eastern boundary. The spire of Evian shone under the woods that surrounded it and the range of mountain above mountain by which it was overhung. The wind, which had hitherto carried us along with amazing rapidity, sank at sunset to a light breeze; the soft air just ruffled the water and caused a pleasant motion among the trees as we approached the shore, from which it wafted the most delightful scent of flowers and hay. The sun sank beneath the horizon as we landed, and as I touched the shore I felt those cares and fears revive which soon were to clasp me and cling to me forever.