#poor woman got et by wolves

[theriu]

Beginning of Dracula Daily: Haha what fun, so many memes, paprika, Jonathan is delightfully oblivious to context clues. There is a cowboy, what a lark.

June Dracula Daily: Oh right, this is a HORROR novel, and anyone shipping anyone with Dracula in earnest is insane.

[what-do-1000-swords-look-like]

Holy crap this episode was funny as hell until it wasn't and then we were plunged right back into the intensity. But great episode!!! I don't lb so I don't get spoilers but man I had a lot of reactions as I watched. Ngl, a lot of cursing and caps ahead but damn was this such a good episode:

“One minute before the blackout” - now we’re to 1 minute from 1 week last week

“The place where this heart’s from, it was a tragedy. But once we land, it’s gonna turn into a miracle, right?” “Yeah, I like that” -- so once we land and settle after all of this craziness, a tragedy will turn into a miracle? I like that *looking at you Eddie*

EDDIE GET OUT OF THAT CHOPPER RN, DO NOT DO THIS TO ME AFTER SEASON 4, DO NOT!!!

Bobby going in to save the heart, hmm...

Oh, thank God - Eddie, Hen, and Bobby are all safe

Dr. Salazar - we need more of her. I love her so much.

4 Days later - hmm...

Wow, they’re really bringing Harry to the forefront here, this whole kidnapping thing is going to happen isn't it?

Harry charging neighbors and Michael and David in a sort of co-parent situation - first of all, Harry you are a GENIUS and love that Michael and David with Harry are being focused on in this episode, ahem, is there possibly a reason...?

Lou survived!!!! THANK GOD

Nearly 5 days Lou was in hospital

5 day head start for Hudson - is there something with 1, 3, 4 and now 5? I'm keeping track here, Tim

Buck is the power czar LOL - omg I love this man so much

Ravi!!! We need MORE Ravi!!! but where is Albert???

CHIMNEY!!!!! OMG I LOVE YOU - "Give me a charger or Uncle Buck will never see his niece again" - "Give him a charger" - "Well played" - "Let this be a lesson, never give that man a clipboard" - "Excuse me for being efficient" - "That’s one word for what you are" - okay #1 I will forever be in love with Chimney, probably one of my top favorite characters on this show & #2 LOVE this whole brothers interaction, Albert may not be there but Buck and Chim are still going with the whole older-brother-is-exasperated-with-the-younger-brother's-shit vibe

Oh God, here comes more cringe, yay... not so much

Eddie kisses Ana on the cheek AGAIN (Eddie, can you hear me? This is your subconscious speaking, when are you going to end this, my man?)

Ana says going to visit was Christopher’s idea since he missed Eddie and thought he was hungry - muy interesante

Buck rushing over to greet Christopher and hugging him tight is a moment I live for - outside of the whole Buck and Eddie story, I LOVE this relationship with all of my heart, I am so glad Christopher has Buck, he really is his second dad (with or without Eddie being involved)

Eddie not introducing Ana to Ravi (nor Buck saying hi) - Buck’s expression - “You must be Eddie’s wife” Christopher: “Not yet” I FUCKING LOVE THIS KID, OKAY!!!! Buck’s smile, he loves Christopher, too - love how Ana and Eddie don't say anything to dispel or clarify this

SAME FUCKING TRIGGER AND THIS TIME BUCK SEES IT!!!! OMG (Eddie, this is your subconscious again, you need to listen! The universe and I are trying to tell you something, please before any more shit hits the fan like me having to watch more uncomfortable interactions between you and your placeholder friend!)

Eddie sending Ana and Christopher on a tour with Ravi IN THE DARK at his work place so he can put SALADS AWAY

Buck’s expressions the entire time - Buck knows something's up

Ana’s expressions the entire time - she KNOWS

Thank God Bobby wasn’t around - hear me out, I have a reason for this that I am still working on in this long ass meta

Buck makes sure to not make eye contact with Ana (except quickly when Ravi is waiting to be introduced), even when Ana laughs at his “Constantly”

Eddie being a probie when Shannon came back in season 2 (and Eddie pulled her into the locker room to talk) & Ana being left to tour the station house with Ravi aka Probie - hello parallels & contrasts, my old friend

“I don’t want these things to wilt” - interesting choice of wording there, Eddie (newsflash, it's already wilting, Eddie)

I almost feel a little bad for Ana here because she did do something nice and she gets the brushoff and some discomfort/embarrassment in return (I mean the woman brought three salads in the middle of a blackout that she most likely made herself, come on - I'm sure some people think salads are easy to make but to those of us in the inexperienced/uninitiated cooks' club, it's not that simple)

Lila dead - hmm...are we surprised? (Hudson didn't give a fig about her and what's sad is Lou would have saved her)

“I think she was smitten like those other fools. I think she saw him being led away in cuffs and she intervened on his behalf” - interesting line there, Athena...

I need more scenes with Athena and Elaine - I know Elaine is the captain and Athena is on her own with no partner but I gotta say I am enjoying this

Athena! Why are you not warning the survivors!!! I mean I get it but still!!!

OMG “He takes Christopher all the time, he’s got the place memorized” - BUCK LISTENED TO EDDIE IN 3x03 - OMG!!!

Oh Buck my poor baby, he knows what they’re walking into - I LOVE Hen’s line of “Just smile, Buck” and then Eddie and Chim both smile wide at him - OMG I AM LIVING FOR THESE SCENES WITH THE 118

“Welcome to the Jungle” - nice touch 911

OMG Buck you are cracking me up - no animals are getting past him

1 hawk or eagle or raptor maybe? I’m not good with bird species okay!!!

3 emus again

1 bird I have no idea what kind (wondering if that’s what we saw the back of last episode near the emus)

Giraffe again

3 wolves

3 camels

Elephant

“The animal makes a move, control it” - YOU GOT THIS BUCK (yes we are finally getting that scene we saw filmed!!!)

Buck’s expression when the camel runs by is KILLING ME 'yeah, that's right Camel, back up, back up, you don't want any of this, yeah that's right'

Stuffed animals in the souvenir store, interesting

2 for $5 sign - even more interesting

1 alpaca

I guess I kind of wonder why Hen didn’t become a vet at one point in her life? Like I’m glad she’s a first responder and about to be a doctor but damn she knows so much about animals, she’s like the 118’s resident animal expert, that’s my girl

“We were gonna get one” - um...what? Hen...

“I wouldn’t” LOL oh Bobby you slay me

Is it just me or do we hear ET almost type music in the background as Hen lays chips down for the alpaca? Bobby mentioning the Reese’s Pieces, the flashlight shining on the Alpaca when it steps into view...are we getting an ET reference?

“It’s calling its friend!” *another Alpaca appears through coats “Clever girl” - a Jurassic Park reference - It’s a fucking Steven Spielberg reference, holy shit!!!!

Okay so that scene was Eddie looking over at Bobby, got it, near the fire trucks

Oh Buck I love you so much “So you ran from an Alpaca?” “Two Alpacas and no one was running” - both Buck’s and Eddie’s faces and then laughter are freaking hilarious

Chimney: “After careful consideration, I have decided not to endorse this park” - OMG I have not stopped laughing for like five minutes straight, can you imagine a Jurassic Park AU for this team? - shot of T-rex above Ripley’s Believe It Or Not (nice one, 911)

Weird looking bird that I've never seen before and 2 emus and 2 vulture, 1 hawk/raptor bird, 1 rhino

May is awesome!!! And so are those neighbors!!!!

Eddie in the tank top!!! Buck with a clipboard!!!

“Hey are you sleeping or just pretending?” Buck is taking no prisoners today

Buck is trying to make sure he’s not having any symptoms, omg, seriously how do you not love this guy???? Eddie you better make an honest man out of him soon, I'm not sure how much longer I can take this

“You don’t give up, do you?” Oh Eddie you did not just say that, to Buck of all people, come on man (hello season 3 Eddie, my old friend)

Get him, Buck! Get him!

“Since when do you panic?” “That’s what I said, I don’t panic” Buck once again out there proving that he knows Eddie better than anyone else

Oh wow!!! Eddie came right out and said it “If I’m being honest with myself I think it was Ana”

And there it is folks “She’s been a constant through all of this, staying with Christopher”

“Somehow we became a ready made family and I don’t know if I’m ready for that” - wow, this is an excellent scene, he’s totally letting that wall down to talk candidly with Buck, nice - and him being stripped down to a tank top for this scene just reiterates that fact, he's baring some things

“I think I’m gonna stick it out. Ana’s the first woman I’ve wanted to spend this much time with since Shannon” - oh Eddie, you really need to shit or get off the pot my friend, this isn’t good for you, Christopher or Ana - how can you sentence all three of you to this? come on

“My kid loves her” but YOU DON'T - okay my heart is breaking, Eddie is making the same goddamn mistake all over again just like we predicted - Eddie please, what did Carla just say to you three episodes ago? Where the hell is Carla btw????

“Stick it out? That’s not the way you talk about someone you’re in love with” “That enough?” - thank you Buck, seriously THANK YOU

Okay my heart just broke again but for Buck this time “Eddie, I have been Ana” - aww =( I love my chaotic firefighter son with all of my heart

And of course Denial!Eddie aka repressed!Eddie are back, sigh - 5x03 has to be where it all comes to a head, it has to be, now even Buck is forcing him to face what he's trying so hard not to - word of advice Eddie, my repressed firefighter son, you can try to deny it mentally/emotionally all you want but it will come out one way or another, just like it's coming out in panic attack symptoms and anxiety - you have to end this, sweetie

And I think it’s very interesting that Eddie looks right at Buck during “If I’m being honest with myself” *looks away then right back at Buck* “I think it was Ana”, “staying with Christopher”, then right after “I don’t know if I’m ready for that”, “I think I’m gonna stick it out”, “Ana’s the first woman I’ve wanted to spend this much time with since Shannon” “My kid loves her”

OMG Eddie’s expression when Buck says “I know what it’s like to be in love with someone who’s not all the way in and deep down you know it and it hurts. It hurts worse than the truth” — RYAN WHERE IS YOUR GODDAMN EMMY??? If anyone ever doubted that Eddie was in love with Buck, there’s the freaking proof written all over Eddie’s face at Buck’s line!!! It’s not something he thinks he can have and it hurts

Okay seriously, Eddie saying “Ana’s the first woman I’ve wanted to spend this much time with Shannon” — VERY PURPOSEFUL MENTION OF A WOMAN HE’S WANTED TO SPEND TIME WITH, EDDIE PLEASE, CAN YOU HEAR ME!!!!

Then they go right to Chim calling Maddie, uh huh, I see you 911

I really love Hen’s full support of Maddie btw & I love how Chim is able to talk to Hen about it all

Oh no!!! Maddie please don’t fall asleep!!!

Oh thank God!!!! It’s going to be okay, Maddie, you got her, it’s going to be okay - I seriously want to give my girl a hug and tell her it's going to be okay

Omg Jee-Yun is so cute!!!

Day 4 or day 5 hmmm - I'm still keeping track, Tim

“Why is it every time the world ends, it ends some more?” “It just keeps us on our toes” “More like knocks us on our asses” - Universe is that you?

Awww Bobby just called Athena “baby” <3 I'm not crying, you're crying

YES more Athena and Elaine

Lou is awake!!!!

Awww Lou =( I may or may not be ugly crying rn

I cannot tell you how relieved I am that Lou is alive

Oh God!!!! Athena get the cops there now!!!!

Yeah you should have let Harry charge them Michael lol, of course they were there to just use the generator power (though I love and appreciate the contrast they gave us in the neighbors who helped the boy with the ventilator so we know not all people take advantage)

OH NO GET AWAY FROM HARRY YOU BASTARD!!!!

On a side note, it’s nice to see more Michael and David but at what cost, Tim? Can we please get more of them and especially David in a more lighthearted episode for crying out loud? Is that too much to ask???

Go Bobby!!!!

Good for you, Athena!!!

Omg this is practically Athena’s nightmare come to life, shit

Omg Hudson unplugged the goddamn generator, THAT FUCKING ASSHOLE!!!

HARRY!!!!!!

I’M SORRY BUT ARE YOU TELLING ME THERE’S NO BOLO WITH A PICTURE ON THIS GUY?!!? - oh right, no power, but STILL

Okay that was super intense, I really hope Athena is the one to take Hudson down, just like Bobby said

I have a few more rewatches to do before breaking things down but damn, I think I need a drink after that one.

[knittastically]

A Lioness Amongst the Wolves Pt 26

Raymond de Merville did not die on a beach in Ireland, of course he didn’t. He made it back to Rouen and has decided to marry a feisty little baggage called Isabé.

A fiction, based hardly at all on a fiction, with the addition of some other fictional characters and one or two real ones

Part 1  Part 2   Part 3  Part 4  Part 5   Part 6 Part 7  Part 8  Part 9  Part 10

Part 11   Part 12   Part 13  Part 14  Part 15 Part 16   Part 17  Part 18

Part 19    Part 20   Part 21  Part 22  Part 23  Part 24  Part 25

You can also find all chapters here on AO3

If you want in or out of the Tag List (at the bottom of the page) just let me know via message and it’ll be done in a flash

“I must go Isabé.” Raymond’s breath is warm, his lips are barely touch my skin as he brushes them against my temple. Leaning back against the planks of the stable wall he holds me gently against him. There is a tender look in his eyes and boyish smile on his lips as he strokes his fingers down my cheek and gently traces them along my jaw. “l am neglecting my duties and being a poor host to his Majesty,”

I can’t help but laugh at him. “Raymond that’s the third time you have said you must return Home. If you really think His Majesty doesn’t know where you are, then you’re a fool, of course he knows and so, if he needed to speak with you, he would no doubt have sent for you long before now.”

“Well I suppose can’t argue with your logic Chérie.” Cupping my chin in his palm, he brushes his lips against mine, his beard is soft against my skin and tickles a little.

“Whilst you’re here talk to Blanche again about your Father, and this time really listen to what she has to say.”

“Maman did tell me about him Raymond.” I have the grace to sound contrite.  

“But it will do no harm for you to hear it once more hein? He brushes his lips across my forehead. “Shall I speak to Sebastien for you when I get back to the Chateau?”

“No, it falls to me to make it right, I’ll speak to him tomorrow. I promise.” He strokes his hands up and down my arms, his fingers barely brush the sleeves of my gown, but I feel the heat from his touch and I look up at him, as our eyes lock I feel my face begin to burn. 1*Tu te souviens de ma Chérie, tu te souviens de la sensation de ma bouche sur ta chatte?

The words slide from his lips in a low feral growl, my breath stalls and before I can answer his mouth curves in a lazy smile and he spins me around. With that one smooth move he now has me pressed hard against the side of the stable; arms high above my head with both wrists gripped firmly in his right hand he sweeps his left up my side. When his thumb strokes over the curve of my breast, my breath hitches and my eyelids flutter. His smile is oh so innocent, but his eyes aren’t. Tightening his grip on my wrists, he leans in, his breath is hot against my ear. “Isabé you did promise that when you returned to the Chateau, you would be a good girl and behave; will you be a good girl for me?” He presses his lips to that sensitive spot at the back of my jaw then nips, hard.

I stutter out, “I did not promise, you arse, I simply nodded and that was just to shut you up.”  He seems amused and jut out my chin staring at him in defiance. Beneath his high arched brows, there is sweet danger lurking in those blue eyes, will I ever learn?

“Then promise me now Isabé, promise me you will be very good.” The words rumble from him as he thrusts his knee between my thighs pressing his own thigh hard against me, the double meaning of his words is not lost on me, but his kiss is not what I expect, it’s teasing, slow, a gentle suckling of my lips as he grinds his thigh even harder against me and curls his fingers a little more tightly around my wrists. 

“I promise.” The words float into his mouth and he breathes them back into mine as he kisses me again then releases me chuckling. “But I beg you don’t be a simpering miss for too long my love, I doubt I could stand the boredom of it.” Pursing his lips, he gives a long low whistle and, on the command, Diable walks out of the stall towards him, two shorter whistles and Voluceur follows suit.

“You are taking Diable back with you?”

Raymond shoots me a look; it’s the look every parent gives to a child who has just asked the most stupid of questions. “Isabé do you think I would leave him here only to have you racing around on him as soon as I’m out of sight, you must think I’m simple woman.”

I huff and carefully study my foot as I scuff it against the dirt floor. “I wouldn’t, but I could ride him back tomorrow if you leave him here.”

“No.”

I open my mouth to argue.

“I said no Isabé, now be content.” He means it.

When we are out in the yard I try again. “I could accompany you as far as the road, will you at least allow me ride him that far?”

Raymond blows out his breath and slowly shakes his head, but he is smiling “Sweet Christ I swear you are worse than Nicolette.”  He steps quickly behind me and I squeak as he lifts me up. “You ride at my pace mind.” As he vaults up onto Voluceur I hear him hiss in his breath, there is a hint of pain in his eyes, he looks across at me with a tight smile. “It’s nothing Chérie, I will have Guillaume look at it later.” Then he sets Voluceur at a sedate and boring walk, twice I look sidewise at him and both times I catch him watching me with a silly smile on his face. We amble along in silence, but as usual the devil is on my shoulder, a press of my legs, the slightest touch of my heels and Diable springs forward. Raymond isn’t caught out; he notices my slight shift of balance and Voluceur matches Diables stride.

“A race Raymond, a race to the road or are you afraid I’ll win?”

“Isabé no.” He yells at me above the sound of hooves pounding on hard ground.

I kick harder and race ahead laughing as the dust swirls up and my hair streams behind me. But Voluceur is lighter, faster,  Raymond draws alongside, passes me and stops dead in front of me blocking my way. I am laughing with the sheer joy of the ride, but as he dismounts the laugh dies in my mouth and my stomach twists. Raymond’s expression is hard and cold, he’s seething; for a few moments he glowers up at me, my heart is thumping, and I try to speak, but he holds up his hand to silence me.

2*”Tais-toi, ne me parle pas et surtout ne me défie plus jamais comme ça.” His voice is low and surprisingly calm, but his anger is unmistakeable; blinking rapidly he grabs at my waist and without another word hauls me from the stallions back then snatches up Diable’s reins and remounts Voluceur. His back and shoulders are rigid with fury as he rides away. I watch until he reaches the turn of the road, sure he will at least raise his hand but there is no acknowledgement and he keeps riding.

Cowed and miserable I trudge my way back to the Manor, feeling the stab and press of every stone through the thin leather soles of my shoes. Then I hear hoofbeats on the hard ground and my mood lifts, though I steel myself not to look and when the horse is reined to a walk beside me, I keep plodding along head down.

“Isabé, ma Chérie, I heard you had fled back to the Manor, is something troubling you?

It isn’t Raymond, the voice is too light, and has the affected, nasal twang I have noticed some members of the court have adopted. I am covered in dust, my hair is likely in rats’ tails, but I think of Eleanors advice and try to remain poised and calm as I shoot him a look of pure contempt.

“Théo I am not, and doubt I ever was, your Chérie, and I strongly advise you not to call me that in Raymond’s hearing.”

He reaches down offering me his hand.  “Sit up behind me, we can ride to the Manor together.”

“No thank you Théo.” I smile sweetly “I’d sooner walk barefoot over hot coals than ride up with you.”

He turns his horse, riding round and round me gradually tightening the circle then stops close, leans right down and grabs a fistful of my hair, pulling it so hard it makes my eyes water and I’m forced to look up at him. “Remember bitch, you were mine once, I had you body and soul, long before Raymond grew hot for you. You’re used goods Isabé; if you think he’s marrying you for any other reason than to get an heir on you then you’re more stupid than I thought. I doubt though that you’ll manage to give him a brat that lives or did you perhaps make sure mine would not, what did you procure, did you go to some old witch hein?.” He keeps tight hold of my hair; his smile is pure evil as he sees the shock on my face.

“Christ, he knows about the child, he thinks I rid myself of it.”  I feel sick, my voice is a broken whisper.

“Théo, I did not kill your child, though God forgive me if it had started to grow in me, I might have done so and would have either been damned, dead or both; I wanted nothing to remind me of you, nothing.”

His tightens his grip on my hair and tugs so hard that I can feel small strands tearing from my scalp.  

“Have a care Isabé, don’t think you can hide anything from me and don’t try to cross swords with me woman, I give no quarter and take no prisoners; make no mistake if I want you back I shall have you, and no one, not even Raymond de Merville will stop me.” He laughs and lets go of my hair.  “Cat got your tongue, hein?”troubling you?”

I shiver, not with fear but with pure loathing as he strokes his gloved fingers down my cheek, he takes it to mean something else.

“Leave that ageing old warhorse here in Rouen Chérie, let me take you to Paris, you will love court life and the court will love you. His Majesty already admires you and I would make sure you wanted for nothing.”

I spit back at him. “Except for perhaps a long life; tell me Théo, exactly how did your wife die?” I blurt out the question and immediately regret it. It does not do to challenge Théo Fontaine, especially on a quiet track with no one else around.

“Stand your ground girl, show him no fear.” 

He releases his grip on my hair and is remarkably calm as he answers. “There was nothing that could be done to save her Isabé, but praise God her release was swift and easy.” It is really no answer at all.

“Are you proposing marriage Théo?”

“If that is what it takes to persuade you, then yes.”

I manage a sweet smile.  “Hell will freeze, and Satan will fart perfume out of his arse before I abandon Raymond for the likes of you. I don’t know how I ever could have thought myself in love with you, I must have been crazed. You always were an arrogant bastard but you’ve changed, now you’re cruel there is something unsettling about you; but I’m not afraid and you have no claim on me, so go back to the Chateau and leave me alone.”

Scowling he slides down from is horse and his vile grin reappears. “Oh, I think I shall stay for a little while, it would be discourteous of me to ride here and not visit old friends don’t you think, so will you ride with me?”

Shaking my head, I step away from him. “No, I shall walk, I prefer my own company.”  

His right arm snakes around my waist but as he pulls me forward I slam my palms hard against his chest. “Just one kiss sweetheart, just one.” With his left hand he forces my head towards him; I twist and turn my face and body this way and that, pound my fists against his chest as I try to avoid a kiss. His lips slam against my tightly closed mouth as I kick at his shins and try to wrestle myself free; when I jerk my knee upwards he shifts but his mouth never leaves mine, letting go of my waist he grabs between my legs; as I gasp in surprise he forces his tongue into my mouth. I gag then bite, sinking my teeth into that lump of probing flesh. Yelping he jumps back red faced with rage and raises his arm to slap me.

“Mam’selle, Mam’selle Isabé.”

“Thank God.”  As Hugh lopes towards us, Théo steps away from me, his eyes full of malice in spite of his smile. I compose myself as best I can.

“Yes Hugh, what is it?”

“Forgive me Mam’selle but you have been gone for such a time that Madame sent me to look for you, she thought you might have changed your mind and decided to return to the Chateau with Sieur Raymond.” He forces a grin but it’s obvious from his expression and tone of voice that he has seen what has just happened.

“No Hugh, I just rode down to the road with him, we had much to discuss and took no notice of time, besides I would not have left without saying goodbye, but look we have another visitor, you remember Master Fontaine, we were just ambling along talking of old times and the wonderful life he now has in Paris.”

“Aye, Master, I remember you well, it’s good to see you again.” The lie drops easily from Hugh’s lips, he has never liked Théo, and gives him the most grudging of bows. “Mam’selle Isabé, Madame is waiting for you in the orchard, and if you would care to ride up the the Manor Master Fontaine, one of the lads will tend to your horse.

Théo has no choice, he takes my hand and presses his lips to the back of it. 

“Perhaps we shall meet later Isabé.”

“Perhaps.” I give him the best smile I can manage, pull my hand away and slip through the little gate into the orchard. Glancing through the trees I see Theo remount as Hugh starts to make his way back up the track, I should be hard pressed to say who has the more thunderous expression on their face.

“There you are Isabé, I felt sure you had decided to return to the Chateau.”

“No Maman, I only went down to the city road with Raymond.”

“For a sweet, farewell?” She slides her arm through mine.

“Hardly, he was in a foul temper and left without a word, then as I was walking back Théo Fontaine came riding up the track.”

She links arms with me, and her tone is one of resignation as she sighs, rolls her eyes and asks, “Oh Isabé, what have you done now?” I hope I manage to look at least a little contrite and as we stroll through the orchard towards the Manor, I tell her.

“Isabé, Raymond loves you; anyone can see that; be warned though, if you cross him once too often, he can be unforgiving.” There is a cool edge to her voice, it tells me she knows just how harsh he can be she adds “As Henri’s mother used to say, it may come back to bite you on the arse.” She smiles then presses a kiss to my cheek. “Growing up you had far more freedom than any of the other young girls around here and sometimes I wonder if that was the right thing.”

“It was Maman, but look at those girls now, they are mostly all dutiful wives, hidebound, hobbled and cowed, without a thought in their heads save for the ones their husbands put there.”

Blanch smiles and shakes her head at my passionate reply.

“Daughter, I love you dearly just as you are.” Maman slides her arm around my waist and I know there is a “but” there always is. “But I beg you Isabé, listen to me, as a young, unmarried woman, your behaviour might be excused up to a point, it may even be considered a little amusing.” I start to speak but she raises her hand. “It will not do Isabé, you are soon be married to a powerful man, a man who has the ear and favour of the King, you will be the Chatelaine of a Great house and you will do yourself and Raymond a disservice if you don’t rise to that. I’m not asking you to change completely and I’m sure Raymond wouldn’t want that either but do try on occasions to be a little more decorous.”

“I can't make that promise, because I’m certain I would break it, but I shall do my best.”

“I suppose that is the best I can hope for child.” Her smile is infectious and we both begin to laugh. “I should like something cool to drink, perhaps we should go and join Henri and Théo?”

“Maman I’d rather not see Théo again, not ever, if that’s possible.”

“Was he unkind to you?”

“I give her the barest details of our meeting, and she watches me closely. “The man is a fool, what possessed him to say such idiotic things to you?”

“I have no idea, but it seems Théo is a man who will always crave what others have."

By the time he enters the courtyard Raymond’s anger has cooled. Riding back he thought of little else but Isabé and her unconventional and sometimes rebellious behaviour which makes her infuriating and endearing in equal measure. He smiles to himself, certainly marriage to her will never be dull, but he also knows that she will need to temper that feisty side of her nature if she is to be respected and well regarded as the Chatelaine; but not for one moment does he relish the thought of being the one to point that out to her.

As soon as he rides into the exercise yard and reins up outside the stallion stables, Mathieu and Guillaume leave off their sword practice and stride towards him.

“Sieur,” Mathieu bows his head. “His Majesty requires your presence in his chamber….

Guillaume is quick to notice that Raymond is in some discomfort as he dismounts, and the small dark stain on his master’s tunic gives him cause for concern. “Sieur, let me examine your wound before you go to meet with the King.”

“Later Guillaume, His Majesty won’t wait, so your ministrations will have to” He tosses the reins to his squire. “Stable these two, then wait in my chamber I will meet you there as soon as I’m able then you can do your worst.

“But Sieur, I really think you should..”

Raymond stops him short; his voice is firm though the tone is gentle as he pats Guillaume’s shoulder.

“I said later, a few more minutes will make no difference.”

“With me Descoteaux.” He jerks his head towards the chateau and Mathieu hauls on his tunic and falls into step beside him.

“Trouble?” Raymond flashes a wry smile at Mathieu”

“Truly Sieur, I can’t say, though his Majesty does seem a little agitated.”

“Not what I would have wished to hear, is he at odds with things in general or something in particular?”

“I think his Holiness has been rattling him.”

“About the problem in the South?”

“Yes.”

Shaking his head Raymond mutters. “I have a bad feeling about this my friend, a very bad feeling.”

They climb the stairs two at a time and with each downward press of his right foot, Raymond feels a stab of pain from the wound. Mathieu notices the tightness around his eyes.

“Perhaps you should have let Guillaume tend to you first?”

“It’s nothing, stop fretting like an old woman.”

The Guard opens the chamber door, steps aside and salutes. Raymond can feel the tension seeping out of the room, his heart sinks and he forces a grin. 

“Mathieu, why don’t you go and find Jehanne, I’m sure she would be more than happy to spend some time with you away from the wedding preparations.” He winks. “I’ll send word if I need you.”

Descoteaux frowns, after years in service to Raymond he knows his Lords moods, and this one says “Spoiling for a fight.”

Raymond strides towards Philip, who doesn’t rise to greet him and merely extends his right arm. The large red stone set into the ring on his third finger, appears to throb with a life of its own. His Majesty is signalling his authority and expects the appropriate response, It seems to be of no consequence that Raymond is a close friend and confidante. Being the dutiful subject and soldier that he is, Raymond genuflects before his Sovereign, takes hold of the proffered hand and barely touches his lips to the jewel before leaving go. He remains on his knee, head bowed, because until Philip gives him leave to stand, Raymond must stay where he is. Philip takes his time.

“It would seem you have had an interesting morning de Merville, rumour has it that your pretty little bird has flown.”

Raymond clenches his jaw and flicks his gaze upwards, blue eyes to blue eyes. “Sire I have never known you deal in rumours, your information is accurate, and I don’t doubt most extensive, but I doubt you know that Isabé will return here tomorrow morning.”

The Kings lips twitch as he stifles a smile, “No doubt, bound hand and foot and slung over your saddle?” At the withering look he receives Philip laughs. “Oh for God’s sake get up Raymond and pour yourself some wine, we have matters to discuss and it is impossible to conduct a conversation with the top of your head”

Guillaume has set out everything he might need to attend to his Lord: A large basin, ewers of hot and cold water, clean clothes are ready and waiting. On the flat topped chest beside the bed is a tray of food and a jug of wine.

With an expression on his face that would make Satan blench, Raymond bangs and crashes his way into the chamber muttering foul oaths under his breath. Guillaume does not speak straight away but pours a cup of wine, he knows his Lord too well, knows it is better to wait. The wine is downed in one. “I see you have your instruments of torture ready.” Raymond nods towards the table as he holds out his cup for a second fill and downs it as quickly as the first, not a good sign.

“Ready and waiting Sieur, so if you will allow I shall set to work.”

Raymond slams down his cup unbuckles his belt and begins, Guillaume’s help to haul off his clothes.

“Kings, Guillaume, the bastards pull our strings this way and that like puppet masters” he wipes the back of his hand across his mouth.

“You'd  best have pity on me boy, pray for me too if you feel inclined,  because as sure as hell is hot, your dear Sister will likely have my balls on a platter when I give her my news.”

Straight faced Guillaume stares at Raymond. “Then might I suggest Sieur, that whatever it is you need to tell Isabé, you do so after your Wedding Night!” His tactic works, Raymond glares back,  then he shakes his head and laughs.

“Good advice, though I think it would be better to do it sooner rather than later.” Stripped to his braies, Raymond stretches out on the bed and winces as Guillaume cuts away the bandage and removes the pad of linen. The wound has bled enough to soak through, stitches have torn from the flesh, but there is no smell, the edges of the cut are a little swollen, but pink and clean.

“Well, am I likely to die from this scratch?

“Rather more than a scratch Sieur, though it’s unlikely to send you to an early grave and at least it has stopped bleeding.”

“Fuck!” With a hiss Raymond grips at the undersheet as he jerks upwards, his back arching up from the bed as his squire continues to clean the wound with old wine and then it dry with a fresh piece of linen. “Christ's Pizzle I’m getting too old for this, every year It hurts more and I take longer to mend.”

Guillaume says nothing as he trickles more wine where the stitches have torn away then sets to replacing them. There is not a murmur from Raymond now, he has endured this more times than he cares to remember. Though he has released his grip on the undersheet his jaw aches from being clenched tightly for so long and his eyes are narrowed beneath a deep frown.

“My Lord, Brother Anselme cautioned you against too much exertion and he will have my hide if the wound turns bad. This would not have happened if you hadn’t decided to vault on and off horses to career around the countryside after my troublesome sister.  If only for my own sake I beg you, take care and do not exert yourself overmuch.”

Straight faced Raymond drawls. “In which case my wedding night will prove to be extremely uneventful.” Guillaume catches the glint in Raymond’s eye and smirks back at him.

“Are you done with mauling me about?”

“Yes, Sieur.”

“Good then help me dress, I wouldn’t want to ruin your needlework; Satan’s Arse but this is going to be a boring day without your sister around the place, she tends to keep everyone on their toes.”

“It was always the same at home Sieur, never dull.” Guillaume speaks with the deep feeling borne out of being a younger brother and Raymond grunts in sympathy.

“I doubt I will need you much more today, Guillaume, I want you to go and find Mathieu and Jehanne, but I suggest you don’t search too soon or too diligently, he winks. When you find them, send them to me, we will be leaving for the Manor early tomorrow morning, you too and it’s “Best Rags” Guillaume, I intend that my bride-to-be shall return home like a Queen, not some scullery maid sneaking in through kitchen door; we leave straight after breakfast.”

“Of course, Sieur I will be ready to leave as early as you wish.”

Guillaume clears away everything but the food and takes his leave. He knows that Sieur Raymond de Merville, is head over heels in love and it is bittersweet that it should be Isabé, not himself that has captured his Lords heart.

Raymond stands in the deep embrasure of the window and stares absentmindedly into the distance. He wants Isabé here with him, to whisper inappropriate and wickedly funny comments about the courtiers and their ladies, to make him laugh and bring some light to his dark places; to watch her as she goes about her business or engages the King in easy conversation. It’s going to be a long day indeed and the weight of what he must tell her presses heavily on him.

As he rests his head against the cool stone, he groans, yes, it will be a long day and an even longer night.

1*Are you remembering my darling, are you remembering the feel of my mouth on your cunt/pussy?

2*Be quiet damn you, don’t speak to me and above all don’t ever defy me like that again.

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[wolfgabe]

The Gauntlet my own mini reviews and thoughts

Mac n Me

The Gauntlet started off with quite the bang with this relatively infamous ET Knock Off. I had actually heard of Mac n Me prior but this is the first time I actually experienced it myself and it was quite the cheesefest if I say so myself. I love how at times Mac seems to fluxuate back and forth between a Looney Tunes character and a bootleg ET. The scene with the gun fight at the store might be one of the most WTF moments I have ever seen in a film period. Add in some of the most blatant and shameless examples of product placement and in film advertising and you got an alien turkey that just begs to be given the MST3K treatment. I almost lost it when the kid just plummeted off the cliff, no wonder that scene has become the source of many a Conen O Brian jokes.

Atlantic Rim

As of now the most recent film MST3K has ever done. This little gem comes courtesy of The Asylum which from what I have heard is notorious for making knockoffs of well known blockbuster films and Atlantic Rim is no exception. If its not the laughably awful CGI and generally unlikeable protagonist, its the absurdly hammy villain who feels like Big Boss from MGS fused with the General from The Angry Video Game Nerd movie. Just curious but did anyone get the urge to crack a Gurren Lagann joke at some point or another cause I sure did. Also Graham Greene is in this movie the same actor who played Kicking Bird from Dances with Wolves and was even in one of the most remembered shows from my youth The Red Green show, let that sink in for a moment.

Lords of The Deep

Next up we have what can be best described as a poor man's Abyss that also tries really hard to be like Star Trek and ends up falling flat on it's face. At some points you can tell its even trying to pull an Alien but it just fails miserably. I also couldn't help but notice they seemed fond of reusing the same footage over and over. Whenever the girl has visions from the goo I don't know if I was watching the opening to Dr Who or some early beta footage from James Camerons Avatar. The villain also has some similar issues to the villain from Atlantic Rim in that he tries to come off as domineering and threatening but I think ends up overdoing it a bit. Also Magic Stingrays for the win!!

The Day Time Ended

Have you ever watched one of those movies where it seems like the film makers had absolutely no clue what they were doing? The Day Time Ended is a perfect example of such a film and one of those movies that only feels watchable on MST3K. The plot just seems to bounce all over the place from one element to the next with nothing really being explained or elaborated upon. A giant kryptonite pyramid that can somehow become small enough to fit in your pocket, a cute little dancing green alien, killer cambots, and lets not forget a couple of aliens that look like they were dredged out of the dumpster from Ray Harryhausen's place. In all of this mess its only until the end that time travel is actually mentioned and even that plot point just seems to come out of nowhere with very little explanation or context. This would probably be what I consider one of the standout films of The Gauntlet.

Killer Fish

At the beginning its seems like Killer Fish can't seem to make up its mind on what exactly its supposed to be. There is a bunch of terrorists blowing up a power plant I think, a couple of guys sitting round a casino, and maybe some hokey romance plot. thrown in for good measure. Its around the half way point where I feel the film figures out its identity which is basically an imitation of Piranha mixed with a good old fashioned jewel heist story. Still that does little to save the film as the titular Killer Fish don't show up until around half way and most of the characters deaths consist of them flailing around drunk while we get some pretty shoddy camera work of their skin being eaten off. Maybe its just me but I had a feeling the fat guy was gonna die.

Ator The Fighting Eagle.

Finishing off The Gauntlet is a prequel to MST3K classic Cave Dwellers and its practically just as cheesy as ever. I can't help but notice mockbusters and knock off films have been a pretty recurring trend this season with Ator in fact being a knock off of Conan the Barbarian. I must say though I found the films description somewhat misleading as there aren't really any demonic spider gods in the film at all. Instead what we get is King Leonidas twin brother who apparently enjoys cuddling with tarantulas. There is one giant spider fight right at the end but its dragged down by the fact that the spider is barely shown on camera at all. I find it kinda hilarious how they just seemed to gloss right over the warrior woman's death at the end. Nothing though comes close to Cave Dweller's WTF moment with the hang glider. All in all an excellent way to finish off season 12

The Gauntlet ranked

1.Mac n Me

2. The Day Time Ended

3. Atlantic Rim

4. Ator The Fighting Eagle

5. Lords of The Deep

6. Killer Fish

Other thoughts

I like how M Waverly and Growler have become accepted as part of the crew. They really help add a new element to the riffs and host segments. You can tell much of the new cast by now are really starting to find their groove with how much of a step up from season 11 the jokes are. I also love how Jonah actually managed to turn the tables on the Mads. The new musical numbers were excellent as well with Concepts and Below the Dam being some of my new favorites.

Personally I would rate this season around 9/10. Its shorter than season 11 but it definitely makes up for it with quality

[feynites]

Sharp and Shiny Circle AU

The latest (well, written) Aili x Uthvir AU! Co-written with @lillotte17, wherein Aili is a Circle Mage (of sorts) and the Nightmare is the tower’s resident haunt.

Aili is six when her magic first comes to her. Trapped and screaming in the dark of a small cave. Petrified and all alone. Her desperation manifests in an explosion of heat and flame that nearly kills her along with the scurrying beasts she had been trying to fend off. As luck would have it, the blast also manages to knock a fair amount of stone and earth loose from the mouth of the cavern where it had collapsed in on itself earlier when a deafening crash of thunder and lightning had sent the whole place quaking. It takes nearly twenty minutes of burrowing on her part, but she escapes, filthy and crying and slightly singed, but wholly alive.

Even if she is also somewhat scraped and bruised and terrified.

The storm that had caused her to seek shelter in the first place is still raging, though not quite as fiercely as before. She finds herself soaked through, and much farther from Clan Lavellan’s campsite than she had meant to wander, as night begins to fall in the forest. She makes attempts to find the hunting trails her mother had shown her. Halla tracks. Underbrush crushed flat by the wheels of their aravels. But everything looks the same to her eyes in the failing light of day.

Aili trudges aimlessly for a while; slathered in mud from her bare toes clear up to her knees, in what she thinks must be the direction she came from. She can hardly see anything anymore, and her teeth are chattering from the cold settling into her bones, and she wonders if she could maybe make the fire in her hands again. Just to keep warm, and help her find her way.

The first few tries yield no results, but after a while, she discovers that if she screws her face up and concentrates very hard, a half dozen or so tiny sparks will flare around her fingers. She can't quite seem to hold it, so she just keeps walking, and shooting out little puffs of fire every now and then to get a better sense of where she might be headed.

Eventually, she comes upon a road. Which is distressing. The Dalish do not typically use roads, unless the terrain offers no other safe means of travel. Roads mean human settlements. Bandits. Templars. Danger.

Aili crouches down by the foot of a tree and hides her face in her hands. Crying hard, and finally resolved to the fact that she is utterly, hopelessly lost.

Hours pass, until night has well and truly fallen, and there is nothing to see by except for the faintest pinpricks of starlight through the trees. She is stiff with cold, and her clothes are stiff with mud. Her stomach growls loud enough to rival a bear. And she finds that she is almost too exhausted to fall asleep.

Too exhausted to notice when the sound of creaking wooden wheels and a rattling cart being drawing closer to her on the road.

She jerks suddenly into wakefulness, thinking that perhaps it is the sound of an approaching aravel. Bounding to her feet with a joyful cry. A few more of her little sparks to come bursting out of her in excitement.

The horse shies and rears, making a terrible screeching whinny, that has her dashing back towards the side of the road again.

But it is too late.

A pair of figures get down from the cart. A short scrawny man, and a tall dark-skinned woman holding a lantern. They seem mostly interested in seeing to their horse, and making certain the creature does not turn their cart over, and Aili hopes against hope that if she stays very quiet, perhaps they will not think to look for her.

"Here now, Bess, what's got you all a flutter?" the man asks his horse, peering out into the darkness. He seems genuinely surprised when he catches sight of her, and Aili wonders if it would be worth it to try and run away. "Hello there, little one! What are you doing out here in the dark?"

"Raff, you don't suppose tha' flash of light came from her, do ya?" the woman beside him mutters in a deep sooty voice.

"Calm down, Vel, " Raff chides her, "It's jus' a little girl."

He turns back to Aili with a smile. As he walks a few steps closer, she can make out the pointed tips of his ears. Her shoulders relax slightly.

An elf.

Even if he is travelling with a human woman, surely one of her own people would not let anything too terrible happen to her.

"D'you drop your candle in the mud, sweetheart?" he asks her kindly.

Aili knots her fingers together, and shakes her head 'no'. Papae always told her to tell the truth, and Mamae said to respect her elders. And both of them told her not to leave the boundaries of the campsite on her own. They're going to be so mad at her…

The man makes a face, and the woman makes a sound of smug triumph.

"You can make lights with no candles or lanterns?" Raff checks, eyeing her up in a way that makes her wholly uncomfortable. She thinks that he does not want the answer to be 'yes', for some reason. She almost feels brave enough to lie to him about it, but before she can quite muster the courage, the fire poofs out around her fingertips again. He jumps away from her with a curse.

"Get back in the wagon before she sets the whole woods ablaze!" he hisses at his companion, taking her firmly by the elbow. The woman wrenches herself away from him, and gives him such a scathing look, that Aili doesn't imagine he could look more cowed if she had hit him.

"What kind of man are you?" Vel snaps in reply, "You really gonna leave some child out here by her lonesome to get et up by bears and wolves? Probably some poor little urchin cast out by them wild elves that camp in these parts. They toss em out when there're too many wot got magic, don't they? Don't even try to send them to the Circles for proper learnin'. Better off dead than with humans, or some tripe like that. Shameful is what it is."

The man gives her another assessing once-over, and Aili is not quite sure what they are talking about anymore. Wild elves? Magic? Do they think she is a Keeper?

When Raff steps over to her again, he seems wary, but also strangely sad.

"Are you hungry?" he wonders softly.

"Yes," Aili lisps out, too desperately famished to hide it.

"You come with me an' Vel, we'll get you taken care of," he tells her, reaching out to take her hand. "We'll get a nice warm meal in you, and clean you up good and proper, and in the morning, we'll make sure you end up where you belong."

"I wanna go home," Aili says in what is almost a sob, her fingers tightening around Raff's. He has very warm hands. Callused and rough, like her father's.

"It'll be home soon enough," he promises.   

~

It is not often that the Nightmare finds itself trapped, in any significant capacity.

Carelessness, it thinks. A lack of precaution. It is always a lack of precaution which leads to such things. The trick, of course, is knowing what precautions to take. It thought it had, but, time had proven that arrogant. The twisting layers of its realm had been cracked an age ago, when The Body, up above, had finally been destroyed. Blood and lyrium and torn pieces. It had rushed to try and gather what it could, before the memories were all torn away. It would be easier to forget, of course. Easier and more peaceful. But...

That is a luxury they offer to others. Not themselves.

Itself.

Regardless, past is past. The Nightmare had hurried to try and hold onto the pieces, and in so doing, had finally been dislodged from the nest it had built up across the centuries. Dragged closer to the currents of the Waking World, the place it was drawn to; the place most dangerous to it. It would need to build another nest, to go back to its waiting ways. Feeding, in the darkness, on fears and the foreboding dreams of a broken world. But with the memories it had scrambled to catch, the siren's lure of the Waking World had called that much more strongly to it.

Folly.

The mages which had tried to bind it had failed, in part. They had been easy to overwhelm. Their fears were dark, and deep, and in the throws of their terror and paranoia, they had turned on one another. Thoughts of betrayal became a reality, as the trio tore into one another. But their trap was less easily rent apart than their flesh. The Nightmare found itself restricted to a certain quarter of the Fade. Looming and lingering in it, in the shadows below a Circle. And in circles, it wandered. Never starving, of course, for the Circle of the Waking World knew no dearth of fears and dread. But it was too weak to simply break free. To return to its half-forgotten quest, of waiting and seeking safe ways to return.

So, it remained. Feasting on nightmares, growing and growing, as other, lesser demons clustered in its wake, seeking to prey upon the mages above. Seeking folly, for these demons were young, and did not understand the bite of blades, or the heavy weight of the world they sought. They had never known it.

The Nightmare had.

It remembered. Not perfectly. But enough.

It is there for a long time, before it meets Her.

Another mage. Elven. Small. She has been in the Circle for some years. Bad dreams, of spiders and shadows, and losing people. Being lost and trapped. Forgetting. Normal fears for any Circle mage. The Nightmare had not seen her fully until the Harrowing. That was when it saw most mages for the first time. Pulled into the Fade, trapped among the demons, with swords at their backs. It had made a habit of watching many Harrowings, but rarely interfered. Most of the mages of this Circle were humans. Round-eared, pale-faced, caught in fleeting years. They did not seem... right, for any opportunities beyond providing sustenance. The templars were always close, on the other side.

But this... She is different.

An elf, yes, darker and more fair than most of the others in this place, small and bright-eyed and steady as she walks into the dream. That alone would not be enough to capture its interest, and yet, the Nightmare finds itself drawn in. There is something about her face. It does not quite grasp what, but the fact that is drawn at all compels it, and brings it in further. It remembers... a woman of importance. Or women? Someone. She?

The Lady?

A beating heart. Heartbeat...?

The mage has one of those, certainly, though as with all others who come to be Harrowed, the continued beating of Her heart hangs on a thin thread.

The lesser demons move in. A demon of Anger is the most potent in this region, apart from the Nightmare, but it is still not much compared to them. Fear is the most potent resource in this place. The Nightmare is drawn into the dream as well, though. Unprecedented. The Harrowing trap is not strong enough to hold it, not like the ancient summoning, built into the lines of this Circle. But its own interest in Her is enough that they are swept up by the currents of summoning anyway.

They could leave. The Lady is dangerous, they know that. The mage does not seem to be much of a threat, but appearances are deceiving.

But...

They have seen mages killed by the lesser demons in these Harrowings. By the templars, too. Their deaths echoing through the Dreaming, as they are cut down before it is done. The fear they feel in those moments is potent. The Nightmare has built minions of it, a thousand spiders that lurk in the corners of the Circle, and gnaw at the walls of their prison. If She dies, then they will never know what has drawn themselves to her. That could be dangerous as well. A persistent mystery, perhaps bound to strike again, at a less opportune moment.

The Nightmare culls the lesser demons in the dream. Spirits drawn in of their own volition flee, before it can catch them. It calls spiders to close off the edges of the dream, and silences the summoning. Snuffs out most of the lights, until the dream is all but empty, save for shadows and the clicking of dozens of legs, crawling over stone floors. The little mage stands in the middle of a chamber, and hastily summons a light. She clutches her staff close. The Nightmare can feel her fear growing, rather than receding. Despite the fact that the lesser demons are all gone, now.

They move closer. Their wings stretch out from their back, nearly as dark as the darkness they have called, and their own many legs tap across the floor with a louder, less hurried clack-clack-clack.

The fear grows. What's coming, what's that, where did all the spirits go, why has it all gone dark, what's moving in the shadows...?

She brightens the light in her hand, and sets it onto the top of her staff. Bracing her feet apart. Her grip is white-knuckled, and her fear tastes familiar...

She does not like spiders.

The Nightmare does not know where the knowledge comes from. Not the usual place of knowing such things, although... perhaps it is? It is disorienting, for a moment. The light is brittle and too bright, and it cannot remember if it is hunting or seeking, or if it is afraid of this Lady, or if it is here to listen to the beating of her heart. It draws closer, and spreads the darkness. Swallows the light. The mage tries to make another, but they catch her before she can. Her skin crackles with magic, and her staff slams against their wing. Hard enough to hurt, but, as they touch her. the Nightmare almost knows... knows...

"Vhenan."

I don't want to die!

They let go of her.

The dream is starting to come undone. The templars are moving closer in the Waking side. The Nightmare considers for a moment, and then withdraws. With no demons to hold the Harrowing, the dream breaks, and the dreamer wakes.

~

The Circle never feels like home.

It is a cold, cramped place, with bars across the windows, and a lone flat courtyard with high stone walls. The only place Aili is permitted to be outdoors, where all the mages practice the approved fighting spells, and tend to herbs and flowers. And she occasionally slips her shoes off and wriggles her toes in the soft cool grass, and tries to recall the distant smell of forests.

She cries a lot in the early days of her captivity. Frightened of the faceless metal masks of the Templars. Of the flat-toned Tranquil with their blank expressions. Of the thought of never seeing her parents or her clan again. Of the dark spindle-legged monsters that chase her through her dreams.

Aili tries to explain to the First Enchanter that there has been some horrible mistake. She was naughty, but her parents would never simply abandon her. She tries to convince them that she is not a mage, tries to hide her powers as best she can, but her anxieties seem to bring it to the surface, manifesting in sparks of lightning and tiny spurts of flame.

There are very few elves in this particular Circle, and she is the only one not from an alienage. 'Everyone is equal here', they insist, but she find it is not true. A handful of the human mages are from noble houses, and they wear finer robes, have thicker blankets on their beds, and a few even get permission to visit with their families on special occasions. With Templar supervision, of course.

The elves have nothing, even if it is supposedly the same nothing that the common humans have. Most of them came from large families packed into tiny crumbling houses where there never seemed to be enough food to go around. The Circle is a blessing in that regard. Three meals a day, a bed you don't have to share with anyone, and a better education than any of them could possibly hope for.

Half of them don't even believe her when she told them she was Dalish. And after a while, she starts to doubt it herself. The snorts of the halla, the smell of leather and cookfires. The stories Hahren Theron taught them. Her mother's voice. Her father's eyes. All growing hazy in her mind like a passing dream.

The years roll by, and Aili grows. Trying to find her place. To balance who she is now, with who she feels she was born to be. There are not many books about her people, and the few she finds seem incongruous with the memories she has managed to keep hold of, but she holds fast to them regardless. She seeks the truth of their past, trying to align what she can remember with the skewed perspectives of human historians.

She hopes to be granted permission to leave this place someday. To continue her research into Elven histories and magic. To study the ruins that she has only ever seen in drawings.

To find her way back to her clan. Her family.

Aili is awake when they come for her in the middle of the night. Taking her to be harrowed. Forcing her to dream. To face her demons.

She does not relish the thought.

In the twelve years she has spent trapped here, she has yet to have a pleasant night's rest. Even in her good dreams, there is always something lingering at the edges of her perception. Some dark spirit. Some old wound waiting to reopen. She is never lucid enough to quite make out the shape of it, but it always leaves her with a deep sense of unease. This place has seen too much pain, she thinks, and anyone who is sensitive to it is liable to be drawn in.   

It is worse than she had imagined.

The smaller demons and spirits are all chased off, and everything she can perceive about this corner of the Fade is shrouded in inky blackness. Thousands of skittering feet all scrabbling towards her. Indiscernible shadows that somehow shape themselves into one her oldest fears. And ocean of hungry chittering spiders. Massive dark wings. Sharp grasping claws.

Aili tries to keep her head. Be brave. Make light. Take no deals. Fight back. But nothing she does seems to hinder the creature that seems to have caught her at long last.

It lifts her in its strange conglomeration of arms and claws and long, spindly hands. She draws in a sharp breath, tries not to scream. Wondering if she is about to be possessed, or eaten, or destroyed entirely.

I don't want to die!     

The thought shakes throughout her entire being, and for half a second, the dream around her disappears.

Thick, heavy manacles around her wrists, binding her magic and limiting her movements. A filthy cell far beneath the earth. A sense of impending doom.

I don't want to die!

The words had burst from her in a flash of panic, despite all her efforts to hold them in. She had wanted to be brave. There are eyes in that room. Not hers. Dark and anguished, surrounded by lines written in blood.

She had not wanted them to see her in her moment of defeat.

Run! Leave! Escape this place!  

Unaccountably, the demon lets her go. And when it does the vision disappears. The dream fades, and she is pulled back into the waking world. Surrounded by anxious Templars with their blades drawn.

They spend a long time checking her over for signs of corruption, but they cannot seem to find anything amiss. So, they let her go. Let her return to her books and her studies, and her penchant for taking naps in odd places. A fully recognized Mage of the Circle.

Aili is glad for the scant freedoms that it brings, and she certainly had not wished to be slain, or have her connection to the Fade severed, but…

The dreams are getting worse.

She is too scared to tell anyone, for fear that they will take it as a sure sign that she had not left her Harrowing completely as herself, but the vague presence she had noticed when she was younger has grown closer. A dark shape standing at the edge of her sleep. Watching her silently.

And there is more.

Faces and voices of strangers which nearly bring her to tears. Scraps of songs that she has never heard, in a language she has never learned. Brief flashes of memories that are not her own. A shinning city. Hungry golden eyes. A palace in the woods. A figure in red.

She tries to sleep less. To only doze for an hour or so at a time. Drinking strong teas, and reading late into the night.

It makes her a bit…peculiar. Twitchy and jumpy, and even more prone to dropping things. A few of the children that she tutors seem concerned for her health, but thankfully none of the Templars seem to think she is acting suspicious.  

With all the unrest brewing in Kirkwall, it is hardly surprising that they have less attention to focus on a young mage suffering from sleep deprivation.  

She can only hope it stays that way.

~

The Nightmare watches the Lady, after she leaves the harrowing dream.

She reminds of them things. Of memories, buried and broken, and long thought by them to be lost. It is like a light, shining on pale words still imprinted upon weathered, torn pages. The closer they draw, they more clear things become. But so slowly. Bit by aching bit, and they must gather up the newly illuminated text of their memories. Must secret them away, to where they will not be lost again, nor confused for any others. Whether they are their own memories, or the Lady's, or the body's, or the old, bright and burning Glory's... that is harder for them to sort out, at times.

They are painful memories, and full of fear. Yet the Nightmare cannot escape the persistent, compelling impression that they must find more. That in finding more, they will find something important. Something they have been looking for, for... ages. For long enough that they cannot recollect the start of their search.

The Lady dreams of Arlathan, and of palaces long fallen to ruin, and other places which the Nightmare can also recollect. One night she dreams of a stable. Halla mill around a verdant pen, as She lies in the soft grass beside one of them, and turns a flower over and over in her hands. Staring at petals that look like glass, and a stem that curls into a delicate bracelet. A piece of jewellery that would once have been considered modest. But She smiles as she wraps it around her wrist, and the glass petals flutter. A gift. The Nightmare thinks...

It moves. Red rather than shadow. Blood in place of darkness. She looks up at them, and for a moment, She smiles.

"You're finally back! I thought..."

At the joy and welcome in her tone, something in the Nightmare twists. Such an unaccustomed reaction to their presence. It does not know what to do, and in the moment of confusion, the sky darkens, and its form slips back into a more customary shape. Thoroughly enough so that they cannot recollect the one which they had been holding before. The Lady's face pales, and the halla rear; the Nightmare calms the illusion of them by seizing control of them. White forms and carved horns warp into spindly spider shapes, dark and hard, but easy to command. They scurry off, but the Lady screams.

The pervasive sense of danger and deception, hidden threats suddenly leaping out, overcomes the dream. The Nightmare moves, trying to find the cause of the disruption. It gathers the Lady to them, and covers her light, so that they might hide. But the sense of dread only grows, until there seems no recourse but to break free of the dream and flee. So the Nightmare does, carrying the Lady through the Fade, down into the deeper recesses where its makeshift lair has accumulated. Far enough that the tether between her mind and body begins to tremble, and only then do they recollect, and stop themselves.

If they take her too far, she will break.

Shatter, they think. Pain, and ruin, and empty husks left behind.

The Lady struggles in their grasp. Their hold on her is like heavy shackles. They have seen her shackled before. They wanted to break them, but they couldn't... but these shackles are their own doing. They loosen their grip on her, but tighten it again when she nearly strikes out and escapes it. If they leave her here, others might find her. Others will hurt her. They cannot leave her here, but they must get her free. They carry her up, back towards the Waking. Far as they might go, and they find it is further than they expected. They have not ventured so close to the Veil in centuries. Have not tested it in far longer than that.

Yet, the prison which bound them seems to hold them more tightly in the Fade than it does at the Veil itself. They carry the Lady back to her body, and find themselves filling up the shadows of her room. The small square space, with its tiny cot, and worn oak wardrobe. Half-finished tea on the bedside table, and a book lying open on Her body's chest. Her dreaming mind slips from their grip and back into her body.

The Nightmare lingers, curious. Watching as she opens her eyes, and lets out a breath of relief. As she runs her hands down her face, and then sits up, and goes still.

Staring at the shadows.

She stares at them for a long moment, fear pounding into her heart. How did it get out of the Fade? Her hand reaches, slowly, for the staff beside her bed. Eyes still fixed towards the corner of the room. The Nightmare moves into the shadow in the opposite corner, and the Lady pauses.

And then she closes the last inch of distance between her hand and the staff, all in a rush, and aims a spell directly at it. Magic flaring, wind knocking over a chair as the book slides off of her book, and a lamp beside them flares to life. The Nightmare redirects the spell with a bat of its wings, and it breaks into dozens of light motes. The flash draws notice from the hall outside. The sound of heavy boots, and the feel of suppressing spells. The Nightmare withdraws, reflexively. Pressed further down into the Fade as the door to the bedroom opens, and two armoured figures rush inside.

~

For half a moment, Aili is profoundly relieved when the Templars burst through her door and crash into her room. After all, they are supposed to be specially trained to ward off demons, aren't they? Whatever has chased after her from the Fade, they will slay it, and she may at last be able to have peaceful dreams.

The hope is a fleeting one, as they close in on her. Angry faces and drawn blades. She flinches reflexively, and she can sense the creature in the shadows shift, as though aware of her concern.

A fear demon, then. But she has never read an account of one this large or powerful. It must have been laying beneath the tower for centuries, gorging itself on the terror of those held captive within.

But why has it chosen to plague her, specifically?

"Why were you casting battle magics in your room?" one of the Templars demands, leveling his sword at her chest. An older guard, Cedrick by name, firmly Andrastian, and steadily growing more brittle and temperamental as the lyrium vials he drinks regularly slowly eat away at his mind.

The other is Hester. Young. Rigid with commands, but reasonable with her mercy.

It is she that Aili chooses to fix her gaze on when she answers, her tone just shy of pleading.

"I fell asleep," she tries to explain, "I had a bad dream, and when I woke up there was…something. The demon must have followed me out of the Fade somehow, and when I saw it was in my room, I tried to kill it. Or at least drive it back into the Fade."

"There is…something here," Hester agrees after a moment, looking around the room with a frown. The demon seems to have withdrawn deep into the shadows, pooling beneath her dresser, and tucking itself into odd corners. Aili cannot see it outright, but she can tell that it has not left her chamber.

"Only one way for a demon to follow a mage out of a dream, " Cedrick grunts.

"I didn't summon it!" Aili insists with a hint of panic.

"Even if you did not mean to, you must have accepted some offer from the creature, if it was able to leave the Fade with you," Hester says, her voice filled with a vague sense of pity, "I have heard of mages who did not even realize they had been possessed, until it was too late. The demon had taken hold of their body and used them to commit atrocities without their knowledge."

"I'm not possessed, I'm me!" AIli swears fervently, unconsciously backing towards one of the shadowed corners. "Whatever this thing is, it's been following me for years! I don't feel any different than I always do when I wake up from a bad dream. Please, you have to believe me!"

"As if you'd just admit to it," Cedrick scoffs, "Listening to all those rumors about Kirkwall, were you? Thought a little rebellion sounded good, eh? We're a smaller Circle; summon a few demons to help you out, round up a few followers, and suddenly you're free as a bird, is that it?"

"No, I promise, I haven't done-" she begins as the pair of them slowly begin closing in on her.

"Even if what you say is true," Hester interrupts, "There is a demon following you. You've attracted it somehow, and that's a serious risk. We can't just let you endanger everyone else."

"I'm not dangerous!" she shouts, raising her hands and attempting to make a barrier. If she could just call the First Enchanter…

Cedrick makes a gesture with his hand, and Aili's shield shatters around her, slamming her back against the wall with enough force to knock the wind out of her lungs. She gasps, reaching for her stave, but even as she takes it in hand, Hester begins draining her of her mana. Her body grows sluggish, dizzy, as she sees Cedrick's sword arcing through the air, aimed for her throat.

A cold gust of wind rushes through the room from nowhere, there is a terrible screeching roar, and suddenly everything goes pitch black.  

~

It has been a long time since the Nightmare fought beings of flesh and blood. Bone and sinew.

But it remembers how.

The gruff one draws his blade on their Lady, and they know that he means to cut her down. That cannot be allowed to happen. The Nightmare's own fear is potent, intrinsic to its nature, and runs down to something even deeper in it. Something that is answered in magic, and a rush of power more potent than anything it has felt since being trapped here. Fueled by a memory of chains and blood and the thought that they did not save her then, but they will not watch the blade fall this time. The shadows break, and the windows of the little room do, too, and the sword is halted with a shriek by the black feathers of an extended wing.

The world feels so heavy.

But the templars are afraid, and blinded by their darkness.

They try to make the world heavier. The fight moves quickly, as they call prayers and the second one tries to strike down their Lady. The Nightmare pulls her away, drawing her into the darkness of itself, and unfurls spiked tendrils. Like jagged legs and blades combined, they burst through the templars' armour, and pin them, twitching, to the floor. Blood runs. Power in it, power to defy the heavy nature of the world, like liquid fire. The Nightmare ignites it, holding their Lady close as the templars breathe their last gasping breaths, and the door the room blows open. Red flames licking at black shadows.

It surges out into the hall. Into the tower, the Circle cage. But on this side of the Veil, it is full of gaps and openings. If only it can find them.

There is much fear, as it races through the halls in a rush of darkness. Even though it can taste it, though, the nature of it all is harder to parse. Slower. There are screams and more footsteps, blades drawn, staves lifted. The Nightmare cuts down two more templars, and uses the rivers of their blood to burn through the floors. A spell crackles against the edges of one of its wings, and it nearly cuts down the caster, too, but the Lady cries out.

"Don't!"

They stop. Escaping is what matters. They wind down through stairwells, seeking the path that will lead to an exit. Doors are locked and halls are barricaded, and there are places where the air drags and their magic does not come as quickly or strongly as they need it to. The power is still there, but the templars can push it back. The Nightmare targets them, in turn. If they would hide away its magic, then the Nightmare will take their blood, and use that instead. It takes five templars to burn through the stone of one of the outer walls.

Breaking out through the Circle, even in the heavy, woken world, is a profound relief.

The Nightmare's wings stretch outwards, and it veers away from the rooftops of the few nearby buildings. Arcing towards the calling shadows of forest and trees, with its Lady clutched tight to itself. Its shadows cannot hold the darkness well here, in the light of dawn. Their Lady draws in a gasp as they turn beneath the clouds. And then she releases a long breath, and the Nightmare glimpses her eyes wide as it carries them both into the canopy of the trees.

It does not stop, though. It is fear, and it is running, and so it goes and goes and goes. Traversing the heavy world as best it can, crossing over streams and clearings, and open fields, and yet more trees. It needs to hide, to rebuild, to find a place to nest, but somewhere far away. The hunters are coming. In one moment it sees templars, in another, it sees elves in pelts and armour, but the ends are the same. The hunters are coming to kill their Lady.

But at length, it finds it - a hollow cave, wedged between the roots of two old and weathered trees. Surrounded by overgrown ruins, and already occupied by some creature which has not returned in at least a day. Nothing fierce enough to worry the Nightmare, however. As it tries to enter, however, its Lady struggles in its clutches. The staff in her hands gleams, and the Nightmare drops her as the unexpected burst of magic burns them.

They let out a hiss, confused for a moment. Before recollecting that it is the purview of Ladies to cause them pain. And then they relent, withdrawing themselves, and watching uncertainly as their Lady rises to her feet.

They remember something of how to act, when they have displeased their Lady.

"...Apologies," the Nightmare manages, in a voice rough from disuse, and unaccustomed to speaking in so heavy a place. It echoes around them, called up by magic until they remember the shape of a mouth with which to speak, and create one to use instead. "My Lady."

~

Aili stares at the creature that has kidnapped her, heart pounding in her chest. Gripping her stave with both hands.

It almost defies description. Wings and arms and half a dozen legs and other appendages all shifting and reforming themselves at random. Dark as the deepest shadows with only the vaguest suggestion of a mouth. With sharp sharp teeth.

She's not certain what they were planning on doing once they got her into that cave, but she's willing to bet that it wouldn't be anything pleasant. It stares at her expectantly after its strange, gruff apology. Or at least, she thinks it does. It's hard to make out any eyes in the area she supposes must be its face.

Without a word, Aili turns on her heel and makes a mad dash into the woods.

She has no idea where she is, and even if she did, she wouldn't know where to seek aid. Most of the common folk would not be willing to pit themselves against a demon for a stranger, and any Templars she might meet would likely have the same reaction to her story as Hester and Cedrick. If they even bothered to wait for her to explain.

All she can do is run. Run and run, and hope that whatever interest the monster had in her is worth less to them than the exertion of pursuit.

She can hear it behind her.

A flurry of scrabbling legs racing after her through the underbrush. The sound of their large wings snapping low branches off passing trees. A strange whine of what almost seems like distress.

Aili does not look back. She does no turn her head to see how close it is to catching her. She doesn't want to know. All of her focus is put towards the effort to keep moving. Keep hold of her staff. Keep pumping her legs. Gain distance. Get away.

Her lungs burn. Her eyes sting with exhaustion and tears. Her feet ache, and even after this comparatively brief burst of exertion, she can feel blisters forming on her toes.

Her foot catches on a root, and she falls hard. Palms scraped and lip bloodied. Too tired to force her limbs to rise.

It has been so long since she slept.

The beast comes for her, and Aili presses her eyes shut. Bracing for death. For whatever end it might have in store for her.

Instead, she finds herself scooped back into their arms. She struggles weakly, but there is almost no strength left in her after her last bid for freedom. She is held firmly against the shifting blackness of their body as they turn unexpectedly, and head back the way they came. Back to the cave.

They do not attempt to enter right away, as they had before, circling the perimeter a few times. As though wanting to ensure that nothing has happened to it in their absence. They set her down near the entrance and venture a few feet inside. Inspecting.

"…Safe," they manage to burble at her a few minutes later, as though they are still not quite used to using their mouth, "My Lady. Here…it is safe. For now."

Aili looks them over again. Still deeply unsettled, but also somewhat curious in her exhaustion and mild delirium.

They have not actually…tried to kill her? At least, not yet. And, in fact, they had almost certainly saved her life back in the tower. Although, her life might not have needed saving if they had not been stalking her in her sleep.

Still.

"What…do you want with me?" she asks, not entirely certain it is a question she wants answered.  

~

The Nightmare pauses at the question.

What does it want?

The question is a trap, probably. Ladies can trap them, can ask questions that are riddles, that need right answers. But this Lady does not quite match with that image. Even though she tried to hurt them. She is huddled by the cave. There is blood on her lip, and mud on her robes, but her face makes them think of other things. Of heartbeats, that must keep beating or else suffering will follow. Of softer touches, and a different sort of fear.

They can almost remember...

"I want you safe," they say, because that much is true. Whatever else the Nightmare might still be wrestling with, they are certain that they will get no further in any of these affairs if something should happen to their Lady. Particularly if she should die, but also if she should come to any sort of harm.

The Lady sits up a little. She picks up her staff again, and despite their assurances, moves further away from the cave. The Nightmare ventures outwards too, and lets loose a hiss of protest. It has come into the Waking World, somewhat, and it never expected to do it... like this. However it has actually managed to do it. It is not entirely certain, But, it has, and it knows beyond a doubt that the Waking holds more dangers than the Dreaming does. Here, its minions are too far to call. Here, it has no nest, no spirits to devour, nor demons to enthrall. All is heavy and harsh and resistant to reshaping.

It is also vital and bright and solid in a way that they have missed for so long, they forgot how to articulate the longing. But they never lost it, either. The Lady moves further away, watching it. Her brows are furrowed, and she is frightened. Frightened of lurking dangers, of her own confusion at the situation, and of...

...Oh.

Caves.

Their Lady... does not like caves?

The Nightmare hesitates. Caves are good to fortify, but it could find a lair somewhere else. But not quickly. It must find a place to establish itself, to make certain things are safe. But if their Lady deems this one unacceptable, then there is little for it. They move the rest of the way out, letting their shape fold down into one of shadows, and wings, and a blackened, skeletal form.

Their Lady raises her staff.

The Nightmare waits, to see what she will do. What she might command. They hope she does not run again. It is dangerous, here. There are wild things about, and hunters looking for them.

After a long moment, their Lady lowers her staff a little, and leans some of her weight against it instead.

"Why would a demon want to keep me 'safe'?" she asks them.

The Nightmare hesitates, uncertain of the question. Is it a trap?

"I... do not know all demons," they finally settle on saying. Their voice is getting better, now. Their mouth more distinct, their shape more akin to the one of the Lady across from them. "But I must keep you safe. You are my Lady. I failed you, once before. I cannot fail you again."

Their Lady is still afraid, as her brow furrows, and she regards them silently again. This makes sense - the Waking World is dangerous. But the Nightmare is having troubles grasping what she is afraid of. Too many things at once, perhaps. Perhaps she is too uncertain of the situation to know what to be afraid of. They move a little closer, and fold their wings against themselves. Hoping to help offer some clarity. Immediate dangers are the greatest concern. But as the air around them darkens, their Lady raises her staff again, and they halt.

"The cave is safe," they say, again. "For now. I can defend it. But... if my Lady knows somewhere else to go, I will take her. So long as it is safe."

~

For all that she does not want to take shelter in the cave, or any other small space that might be easy to trap her in, Aili can concede that she does not have any other ideas about places to make camp.

Going back to the tower is clearly not an option, the Templars there would kill her on sight. She is surprised at her own sense of loss at the situation. She had always meant to leave, of course, but she had a few friends there. Colleagues. Students. The institution of the Circle had been oppressive and terrible, but the people… They were the closest thing she has had to a family for the larger portion of her life.

She didn't even get to say goodbye.

Aili frowns down at her muddied boots for a moment, sucking her bloodied lip into her mouth.

"If… If I left," she begins slowly, shifting her gaze to watch them, looking for potential signs of danger in their body language, "If I tried to go somewhere else…would you follow me?"

"Yes, my Lady," the demon answers easily, "I will come with you and make certain that it is safe. If I do not go, my Lady might be injured. If the place my Lady wishes to go is not safe, we should not stay there."

Aili sighs. She had suspected as much.

"This person…this 'lady' that I remind you of…did you possess her?" she wonders, tightening her grip on her stave again.

The question seems to confuse them.

"Possess… Yes. We were possessed," it mumbles after a few minutes of thought, "The Lady possessed us, and we were hers. Yours. The body was a gift from…someone. But we gave the other parts willingly."

Aili makes a face at them. What they claim doesn't make any sense; mages can't possess spirits. Can they? Perhaps, it means that the lady bound them?

"This lady bound you in a body and you had to obey her commands?" she asks. "You were a person before?"

The demon's expression falters. Its form ripples. Shuddering and becoming more amorphous for a few moments in apparent distress.

"No… Never a person," it admits with something that almost seems like shame, "I came to the body when the other fled. Shattered. We were permitted to…pretend. To survive."

Aili swallows hard. She honestly can't make heads or tails of most of their story, but it seems to strike a chord within her all the same. She feels strangely…sorry for it.

"Is there any way I could convince you that I am not your 'lady'?" Aili asks finally, sounding as tired as she feels.

The demon tilts its head at her. It looks vaguely elfish now, which is almost more unsettling than its other shape, in a way.

"But you are my Lady," it tells her flatly.

"And you expect the two of us to just spend eternity camped out in this little cave?" she wonders.

"No, that would be unwise," it replies, "A secure nest is important, but if we stay in one place too long, the hunters will come, and it will not be safe."

Hunters… Her mind turns to the blood the Templars took from her after her Harrowing. Her phylactery. No matter where she goes, there will always be the risk of someone coming for her. After all the knights that were killed during her escape, they will be out for revenge.

"I…didn't exactly get a chance to pack for this trip," Aili points out, "I don't have any spare clothes or supplies. I haven't held a bow since I was six, and hunting with magic tends to end up with things sort of…exploded. Or so I have been led to understand."

"I can hunt," the demon says with an air of confidence, "I can keep my Lady safe."

Aili lets loose a gusty sigh. Resigned to her fate. For now.

"Do you have a name?"

~

The question gives them pause, again. They have been called many things - mostly the things that they are, or have been. Sympathy. Fear. Demon. Doll. Pet. Hunter. Abomination. Nightmare.

But these things are not names. They have had a name, and they think they can remember the shape of it. The sound of it. It was theirs for a very long time, though, not in terms of years. A long time in terms of forming themselves. They had forgotten the name for a time, but it had been waiting for them in the ruins of the body that was destroyed. In the memories they scavenged, written in defiance. I will endure. They are still here; the promise has wavered, but not broken.

"...Uth...vir," they manage. "Uthvir."

Their Lady blinks at them.

"...Your name is Uthvir?" she asks. She seems surprised.

"You do not have to use it," the Nightmare assures her. "If it displeases you. I am called other things. Nightmare. Terror. Fear. Demon. Monster. My Lady once called me..."

Vhenan

They do not say it, though. They feel a lurching moment of confusion, for surely their Lady never called them that. But also, She did, unquestionably. The Nightmare recedes, as their Lady watches them. They consider the situation again instead, shying away from the matters and the memories which they are struggling to parse. They will have to acquire things, to make certain their Lady is safe and well. Shelter and the nest are good, but bodies have needs that must be met. Food, warmth, weapons, books. Things of that nature. The Nightmare will have to acquire them, and if they cannot leave Her to do so, then She will have to come along.

So, rest must be had first.

"Uthvir sounds like an elven name," their Lady notes.

On her tongue, the syllables feel familiar. The Nightmare pauses, as an odd ripple passes through it. Uthvir.

They have not heard it spoken aloud in a very, very long time.

"It is elven," they admit.

Their Lady ventures a bare step closer.

"Did an elf give it to you?" She asks them.

"No," they say. Somehow, she feels dangerous, but not in the way of physical threats, or a looming strike. She is too bright and near, they think. Near to something that feels fragile, that could break with only a whisper. Something they are only tentatively grasping - something they are afraid will shatter, before they can fully understand it.

"Where did you get your name?" She presses.

"Myself."

"Do you speak elven?"

This question is easier. The Nightmare tilts its head, and realizes for the first time that they are not speaking elven. It had not consciously noted the shifting of languages. In the Fade, meaning is more important, and linguistics was never something it had felt inclined to take note of, before. Nor really even consider much of a subject. While there had been variations, there had only really been one prevalent language in the days before the Veil. Though it knew of others, eventually, and had managed to work the concept into its understanding, it had not stopped to truly consider all of the implications.

"I speak it," they confirm, discovering how to shift their voice back to the language they had first learned. And yet, cannot ever really recall learning.

Their Lady's expression turns towards one of startled happiness.

"That was elven!" she exclaims. "What did you say?"

"I said that I can speak it," they admit, switching back to common. For some reason, this makes their Lady let out a long breath, and close her eyes for a moment longer than a blink. She does not truly let down her guard, though. Which is good. They are still in the wilderness, though nothing dangerous is nearby now.

"I must make this place safe," the Nightmare asserts. It gestures towards the cave again, using four limbs and a wing for emphasis, even as it bows deferentially. "Please, my Lady, it will be safest in there. I will not go far. I will find you food." They can detect the persistent, low-grade fear of prey animals, near enough that they are within range of the cave. That will change, once they know the area is dangerous. They will have to take their Lady with them to venture out, past a certain point. But at least, for now, there will be sustenance, and safety.

"Please," they ask again.

They must keep her safe.

~

Aili glances over at the cave warily.

“You’re going to leave me in the cave…alone?” she wonders.

“I will not go far,” the demon promises, “I can put a barrier over the front of the entrance to ensure that nothing gets in.”

“It would also ensure that I could not get out,” Aili notes dryly.

“It is safe in the cave,” it blinks at her in confusion, “Why would my Lady need to get out?”

"Oh, I don't know, all sorts of reasons," Aili shrugs, "Fresh air, exercise… Maybe needing to go to the bathroom? Just to name a few."

The demon tilts its head at her and she sighs.

"I see humor is not something they teach people in the Fade," she huffs with a brief quirk of her lips, "Look…Uthivr…I am willing to…compromise. In this instance, anyway. I will go into the cave, like you want, but I will set the barriers, so I can get out if I want to."

"If…that is what my Lady wishes," Uthvir replies, sounding doubtful at the prospect.

"And my name is Aili, not 'my lady'," she asserts firmly, keeping a good amount of space between them as she edges her way just past the lip of the cavern entrance.

"…Aili," Uthvir repeats slowly, as though turning over the shape of her name in their mouth. It sends a strange trembling shiver down her spine. She clutches her staff tighter as they take a few steps closer to her. Looming. "My Lady Aili, please stay where it is safe. I will not be gone long."

So saying, they move farther back from the cave, and shift into some sort of monstrous black bird. They hover for a few moments, inspecting the area, and perhaps waiting to see if she will make another attempt to run. When she raises her barrier across the mouth of the cave, however, they seem to decide that it is safe enough to leave her to her own devices, and wheel around towards the surrounding trees.

She waits until they are out if sight before pulling her barrier down again.

Aili doubts she could make it very far if she made another run for it. She is still physically wrung out, and lost, and the demon seems to be capable of sensing her somehow. It is a notable list of detriments to her plans of escape.

But she also has no intention of standing around in a cold damp cave, of all places.

She wanders around the outside of what is potentially going to be her home for the next little while, checking around for any good hiding places in the crumbling ruins and large roots of old trees, in case her new 'friend' decides to turn mean, or she finds something worth secreting away. Perhaps she should make a private stockpile of rations, just to be prepared for when the opportunity to get away presents itself. It would probably help if she could remember a bit more about which varieties of plants were safe to eat.

Eventually, she starts gathering up twigs and branches to make a fire. She's not likely to have anything soft to sleep on tonight, so she might as well be warm if she can't be comfortable. Besides, she's not about to eat whatever wriggling thing they bring back for her without cooking it first.

The wood is damp, and it takes her a few tries to really get the fire going, and when it does, there is enough smoke to make her sputter and choke for five whole minutes. And yet, when it is finally done, and she can sit just inside the cave and be warmed by the heat of the fire she built herself, she feels…oddly proud of herself. Even if it is a bit…haphazard.

Aili curls into herself and lets her mind wander. Turning over the events of the previous night, and the day that had followed. She does not trust this demon. This Uthvir. Not by a long shot. But she can't quite shake the feeling that they don't want to harm her.

Whether or not they might harm her unintentionally is another matter entirely.

Still. If she can be clever and cautious, there is a potential for enormous intellectual gain to be had here. A demon fluent in ancient Elven! If only she could convince it to translate some of the texts that had been found scattered among the ruins of her people. Or better still, if she could get it to teach her how to read it. She has always felt that if she returned to her people, the Dalish, she should bring some sort of tribute. A token of her intentions and her loyalties, to prove that she had never forgotten them.

Her joints are stiff, and her muscles are sore, and she has not slept for a full night in so long. And the fire is warm, making her eyelids heavy. The light in the forest is fading. The wind whistling through branches, as though the trees are whispering to one another.

Stirring up old memories.

Halla out in their pen. The sails of aravels rustling in the breeze. A hunting horn. Her mother's hands, slender and callused, fletching arrows and humming to herself. The light scent of citrus and spices and leather. A warm kiss pressed into the curve of her neck.

…Uthvir.

~

Their Lady Aili needs food.

It has been a long time since they hunted for things of flesh. How much is enough? They do not remember. Their memories can offer feasts and halls. The food from the Circle kitchens, served in a long dining hall. The food on older tables. Vast spreads of venison and goat and rabbit, Beasts of Best Parts, and other foods, too. Not just hunting, but foraging as well. The Nightmare... Uthvir remembers this. When their name was theirs, and their duty at times was to fill tables. Their Lady must have feasts.

The forests are not as replete as they could be. It takes long and at first they catch only two nugs, but then they track and find a herd of wild goats. The one with the biggest horns they take, in a snap of talons and magic. A clean break to the neck, and a single bleat before silence. The rack of horns will look impressive, for their Lady. They shift forms and use black threads of themselves to tie up their kill, and remember more of the shape that walks with fresh prey carried on its shoulders. The scent of blood follows them.

But so does the heaviness of Waking. So does the scent of pine, and the curl of the wind. Leaves, and bark, and bushes. Wild trees. They find some berries, but they are only the kind that is good for birds. The bushes lead on towards others, however. Tangled shrubbery and trees, and near a clearing, closer - but still not close - to the dangerous flat farmlands, they spy fallen fruit on the ground. Worm-eaten, but only just. Uthvir looks up and sees several fruit still on the branches. Ripe.

Aili likes apples.

They... think?

Their hands hesitate for a moment. Something is whispering to them, memories and dream-things. Their Lady is calling for them - they have taken too long, she is impatient, perhaps. They reach with clawed, grasping limbs. Up into the tree, to where the fruit is. They pull down as many as seem fit, and then begin to make haste back to the sanctuary. The wind grows stronger as they speed through it. Their shape more formless, as they adjust, and try to hurry. Sprouting wings and scurrying legs, to climb over logs and flit across narrow animal trails. They move faster, sharper and more focused when they see the flickering of an unfamiliar light.

Enemies?!

Uthvir bursts into the clearing. Flames flicker, from a small space outside the cave.

Their Lady is lying down. Lying down and not in the cave, with no barriers. No protection. They call up shadows and seal away the whole clearing as best they can, tired and uncertain. Their catch is dropped. The flames flicker, and their Lady Aili curls up more tightly in on herself. But the movement permits them to calm, at least a little. She is still alive. They can hear her heartbeat, and her breaths. Warmth that is from her as well as from the flames.

Why fire? It draws attention... but, they remember. Banquet halls. Fires to prepare food.

Their Lady Aili fell asleep waiting for them. They took too long. Uthvir hesitates for another moment, unsure of what they should do now. The memories prod - prepare the kill. Keep Aili safe.

The cave is safer.

Uthvir moves to where their Lady is sleeping, and lifts her up into their grasp, to carry her there. A soft breath escapes her, and her arms wrap around them. It... reminds them. They have held her like this before. Their shape changes again, as it did when they were carrying their catch back to the clearing. An elf-like shape, the shape of the body they once had, solidifies. It is still imperfect, they think. But they cannot pinpoint the specifics; whether they have put sharpness or softness in the wrong places, whether they have too few or too many limbs. It suffices to carry their Lady Aili to the cave, but then they encounter a new problem.

Their Lady will not let go of their neck.

Uthvir attempts to put her down several times, but her grip is too thorough to break without disturbing her.

Safest is with me.

Perhaps their Lady is wise. The cave might be the safest location, but their grasp is still a more immediate refuge from danger. Uthvir carries her back out again, and gathers up their offerings, and brings it all back to the mouth of the cave. They set about cleaning their kills, extending new limbs to the task as they keep their arms around their Lady.

And, unbeknownst to them, they begin to hum.

~

Her dreams are washed in reds.

The dark auburn of her father's hair falling into his eyes as he bends down to inspect one of the halla's hooves. Brushing the stray curls away with the back of his hand as he speaks to the creature in a low steady voice. Sweat on his brow and dirt on his clothing. His face is harder to make out, but she can tell he is smiling. Content.

The leaves in the forest turning, as though the cool autumn air has ignited them into a great roaring fire around their clan's campsite. Her mother takes her hand and guides her through the twisting secret paths that only the hunters seem to see. Aili picks up the vivid leaves from where they have fallen, and brings them back to show her mother her treasures. Her mother's smile is a thin white curve, a sliver of waxing moon, as she takes the offerings in her hands. Turns them over carefully to show her the differences in their shapes. Telling her the names of the trees they came from. What uses their barks and roots might have. Which wood might be the best for crafting.

The scarlet robes of the senior enchanters. The emblems of flaming swords blazing on Templar armor. The red ripe apples hanging in the Circle's small garden.

And then there comes a figure swathed in bright crimsons. A warning, and a signature, of sorts. Small, but strong, she thinks. A contradiction of sharp and soft. Danger and safety. Love and violence. They are…very far away from her. Facing in another direction. Beyond reaching.

If she called out to them, would they turn? Would she see their face? Would she know them?

She distantly feels arms around her. Warmth and comfort. A familiar voice humming a familiar tune. It makes her ache, but it is a strange, pleasant sort of ache.

Her voice speaks words she does not understand. Something in her chest thrums briefly. A chord plucked by careful fingertips.

Vhenan?

The figure turns, but she finds herself blinded by a flash of golden light before she can see them. The vision breaks, and her body trembles. Dropped into a sudden darkness.

She can smell something burning. Flesh sizzling at contact with heat. Between her lungs. Along her wrists. Around the base of her neck. The taste of something metallic in her mouth.

The red of blood.

She feels warm and heavy. Drugged, perhaps. The arms that had been holding her are chains now. Pinning her in place so that no precious parts will be lost in her struggling. The blood must flow into the proper channels to fuel the magic needed. To serve, as she is meant to serve.

There are golden eyes. Cold and calculating. Picking her to pieces. Cutting and slicing and burrowing deep. Making and unmaking her over and over again for all of eternity.

The gaze shifts to other eyes in other rooms. Blue as a winter night. Icy and possessive. Furious.

You love me! You are mine. You were built for me. Every part of you is a celebration of my greatness. You love me and only me! Say it!

Hands move to her throat, grasping and clawing. Tightening the leash. Her vision blurs, and the world feels as though it is melting around her. Her whole body spasms, desperate for air.

She screams with all the strength left in her.

And wakes in the multitude of Uthvir's arms.

~

She wakes in violence.

The scream ripples through them, as does the flare of her magic. The lashing of limbs. Uthvir tenses and tries to react, to perceive the danger that they have missed, or the error that they have made. The fire spits and their Lady strikes them, pushing and struggling until they realize that it is their grip that she objects to. They let her go, and let their being flare backwards and out. Shape distorting as they fall into the fear of the moment, and can only tell that something dangerous is happening. The cook fire snuffs out, as they lift a barrier around the clearing.

Their Lady is moving. Running. What is chasing? They look for hunters, for predators. Danger, danger, no, no, no... something twists inside of them, and echoes through old, broken memories. Like a different sort of light, flaring before eyes that have not seen it in centuries. It hurts, in a way that no lashing nor spells so far have. It pulls at them from the inside and drags them down, as their Lady reaches the barrier and smacks her fists against it. The magic is sharp. It lashes back out.

For a moment, then, everything goes still as Aili is repelled through the air. As she hits the ground in a heap, with red on her hands.

Bleeding.

No.

Uthvir grasps her and pulls her, drags her into the cave, and ignores her struggles as they set a firm barrier before the entrance. Closing them both off into the darkness, and verifying the thrum of their Lady's pulse. They hold her until her struggles and her spells have stopped. Until the only sound they can hear is the ragged in and out of her breaths. The two of them, safe in the total darkness, as Uthvir's form aches from bruises and burns, and the scent of her blood grows no stronger.

When she has stopped moving, they grow another set of limbs, and begin to check her over. Feeling for damage. The skin of her hands is split, and she has bruises of her own. But only superficial. The fear in her is stronger than the pain. But they do not know what else to do for it; they have no safer place to take her, no better spells nor barriers to offer. They wrap themselves around her, and try to offer that shield, too. Yet, it only seems to make things worse. And after a time the fear breaks into sobs, and Aili's voice, shaken in the dark.

"Please, stop," she says. "Please, just let me go. I want to go home."

There is more to the words than just themselves. They ring deep, as Uthvir holds her. As they see caves and towers, the Circle and the darkness. Templars and demons. Chains, always chains, binding and constricting, holding fast against all strength. Too heavy to escape. Even when they are invisible. Cages of all kinds, and trapped, so trapped, I want to go home, Mamae, Papae, I want to go home please I'll be good I'll never wander off again I didn't mean to, I didn't mean to...

Understanding slots into place with all the fervency of their being. Fear. They know what she fears; they know why it is not working, now.

With a thought the barrier in front of the cave drops. Uthvir carries Aili out into the evening air again, as she cries, and then lowers her carefully down to the ground. If she runs, it will be dangerous. But they can follow. They will keep pace. It is the caging she fears; it is them, and that will not do. They are not chains. They did not mean to do this to her.

"I am sorry," they offer.

Aili sucks in several long breaths, and does not respond, at first.

After a moment, when they are sure she does not mean to immediately get up and run, they relight the campfire. No new dangers seem to have presented themselves, in the midst of their chaos. And the prevalence of fear in the air at least makes them strong, as they gather up their things again. The meat is not finished yet, but it is still on the spit that they managed to make. They consider Aili for a moment, and then scoop up some of the apples.

Very carefully, they extend a single limb, and set one onto the ground in front of her. It is too ripe, perhaps. But a moment more and their Lady's breaths have calmed. And then she reaches forwards, and carefully picks the offered fruit up. She does not wipe it off or bite it straight away. Her eyes stick to it, and though her unease does not suffuse the air, it feels as if it should.

"I am very tired," she says, at length. "I know you probably don't understand, but nightmares ruin my sleep. If you give me bad dreams, I won't get any rest, and I... I can't keep going without it."

Uthvir hesitates.

They do not want to refute her, but they have conjured no bad dreams for her.

On the other hand, they know how to prevent such things. They should have considered that; but it has been so long, and they had forgotten. Had not considered. The oversight is theirs - so perhaps it is still their fault, in that sense.

"No more bad dreams," they promise. They will safeguard her against them - as they should have done before.

~

Aili nearly begins crying again when they promise to let her sleep peacefully. It feels as though a millstone has been lifted from her shoulders. Potent, visceral relief. The Fade is never truly safe for mages, but at least she can be assured that nothing will be actively seeking to torment her dreams.    

"Thank you," she manages to scrape out, her voice thick with unshed tears.

Uthvir nods, and returns to their task of roasting whatever dead thing they have dragged back to the clearing. A goat or a sheep by the looks of it. And either a pair of nugs, or some very large rabbits.

Silence hangs between them for a time, as Aili observes them quietly, turning her apple over in her hands. She's covered in bruises and the scrapes across her palms still sting, but she doesn't have the energy to do much about it now. As she looks them over, she sees that Uthvir is not quite free of wounds themselves. Nothing serious, but still, it must be at least a little painful for them. And she caused it.

Aili sucks her bloodied lip back into her mouth, worrying it nervously. If they don't trust her, it will be likely be much harder to get away from them later on. She cannot really be held accountable for her reaction to a dream, especially not if they were the reason she was having it, but… The incident had seemed more like a misunderstanding than anything else. Perhaps Uthvir cannot help but cause bad dreams when they are near someone who is sleeping. It is their nature, after all.

She rolls the apple between her palms; thoughtful.

"I'm…sorry," she begins, not quite meeting their eyes, "I'm sorry I hurt you, I was just…afraid."

Uthvir tilts their head at her.

"I know," they reply, sounding a little nervous themselves, as though uncertain where this conversation might be heading, "My Lady Aili was afraid because I was careless and did not find the proper means of keeping you safe. You were right to punish me for it. I will do better in the future."

"N-no, that's not-" she stammers, shaking her head in a strong negative, "It was an accident! I wasn't trying to punish you, I just needed to get away from… From something. Someone. It…was not a happy dream."

"No more bad dreams," Uthvir reiterates. Aili nods in agreement.

"No more nightmares for me, and no more accidental singeing for you," she says, hesitantly extending a hand for them to take, "Sound like a fair deal?"

"Yes, my Lady," Uthvir agrees simply. They extend one long shadowy limb with something vaguely like a hand attached to the end. She does her best not to shudder when she takes it, but she does. She shakes it once and quickly lets them go.

She glances at the food they are cooking.

"You brought a lot back for just the two of us," she notes, trying for a more casual subject, "Do demons need to eat that much? I thought you subsisted on the energies of dreamers and weaker spirits. Although, I don't rightly know what a spirit thrives on when they aren't in the Fade anymore…"

The nightmare pauses, considering their meal.

"Is it too much?" they wonder after a moment, sounding unsure, "Do you not wish to eat, my Lady?"

"It's fine!" she assures them hastily, "I am very hungry, as it happens. I just… Well, I don't think I could manage to eat all of that on my own, that's all."

"You did not eat your apple," Uthvir points out slowly, "If that one is unsatisfactory, I brought others that might be more acceptable."

"Oh," Aili remarks eloquently, stopping to look down at the fruit in her hand, "I just forgot I had it, I guess. There's nothing wrong with this one though, really. I like apples."

"Your favorite," Uthvir hums, nodding once in agreement.

Aili blinks in surprise.

"…yes. They are."

Uthvir's form ripples slightly as they fix her with a look that she supposes is somewhat expectant, seeming oddly pleased with themselves.

She wipes off the apple on the cleanest corner her sleeve the that she can find, and takes a bite. It is a little soft, but the taste is still good. Sweet with just a hint of tartness.

She offers them a thin smile.

"Delicious."  

~

Lady Aili approves of the apples, which makes things much better.

Uthvir cooks their kills for her, as she finishes her apple, and then has another one, too. She seems dubious of the meat for a moment. Worried about the quality, which in turn makes them concerned that they may have prepared it incorrectly. They do not have seasonings, nor any sauces to serve it with. But roasting is good, they think? When Lady Aili ventures a bite, however, her worry ebbs. After a few moments she begins to eat ravenously, and then mentions thirst. Uthvir ventures far enough to find clean water, and brings it back to find their lady still devouring a haunch of goat. She glances at them uncertainly for a moment, before murmuring thanks at the drinking vessel they offer her. It is conjured. She examines it extensively before her thirst seems to override her interest in it, and then she drinks until there is no more left.

"Are you going to eat anything?" she asks them, afterwards. There is roasting grease on her face, and her voice and movements have grown more sluggish.

Uthvir considers.

They are supposed to eat with their Lady, they think. And they remember eating. But that was back when they had the body. The body has since been destroyed, and with it, the need for food. Except... they are in the Waking again, now. And there is something corporeal about them. The specifics elude them, but they can feel a change.

So... perhaps they should?

They leave the apples for Aili, because they are her favourites, and instead pick up a segment of goat. Meat and bones, juicy and burnt towards one end, where the heat had been uneven. They recollect eating, and what they witnessed from Lady Aili's own recent actions, and they make a mouth. Sharp teeth and an open maw splitting the void of their face. Lifting the bone and meat, they shove the entirety of it into the opening. It feels very heavy, and hot, and it crunches and cracks as their teeth gnash through it. Juices spill down something like a throat. Shards of bone settle in the approximate middle of their being, along with shredded meat. For a moment, they think that they have made a very bad decision. But then something in their being interacts with the food, and they feel it all begin to disintegrate.

As it does, the rest of them starts to feel just a little bit heavier, in turn.

That seems to keep in line with their memories. Somewhat.

Lady Aili's eyes are wide as she regards them, afterwards. There is a fixation in her that they can pick up on for several moments. Teeth and crunching and unease, but after a few moments it passes, and they do not follow it very well. A nebulous fear, perhaps. Those are very common, and often do not linger much beyond a single situation. They decide to do a sweep of the clearing again, just to be certain that things are safe. Lady Aili settles next to the fire, as they do.

By the time they have finished, she is asleep again.

Uthvir settles down next to her. Now, they must attend her - properly. As they should have done before. They rest a limb against her, and pull a barrier over the space around them. It is not so secure as the cave, but it will do. As Lady Aili's breaths fill up the silence, along with the steady crackling of the fire, they let some of themselves sink into her - and into the Dreaming, in turn. It is not possession. Nor is it a crossing of the Veil. It is only a pathway, through fear and a sleeping mind, and they would be easy to dislodge if she wished to be rid of them. But it is also the best way for them to call their minions on the other side of the Veil, and to ensure that her rest is undisturbed.

For their own part, it is a bit like dreaming, too.

Rooms with pelts and trophies, pieces of armour and weapons settled on racks by the walls. A wide bed and a private bath, and doors that lock and seal. Windows that can close out the world, so many safeties written in blood and rune and sigil, alarms and warnings and barriers. None will get in without permission, save one person, and if She comes then it will be warned of. Night has fallen. Moonlight is pooling on the floor, and the lamps glow softly. They sit at a desk. Papers and books around them. On the bed, Aili turns in her sleep, and lets out a sigh. She stretches her arms, and then pats the mattress next to herself.

"Vhenan?"

They move. Somehow they know she is calling for them, as they cross the room, and settle onto the bed beside her. The mattress dips. Aili turns again, and settles a hand onto them. Her eyes gleam in the moonlight.

"You're wearing armour, still," she murmurs. A glance down, and they see it is true. Hard coverings. Sharp spikes. They think that they are supposed to take it off - or at least some of it? - but they do not remember how. Aili does not seem to know, either. Her fingers fumble with latches and buckles for several minutes, trying to take off their gauntlets, and then moving to the more obvious prospect of their belt. But none of it will give way. She frowns a little, and then sighs at them.

"Not taking it off?" she asks.

"I forgot how," they admit.

"Hmm. Well, I guess we'll just have to manage," she says. And then she pulls them down to the bed. Lumping the blankets between them, and using a pillow to block off several spikes, until she can wrap her arms around them. Then she makes a sound of satisfaction. Uthvir brushes the points of their fingertips through some of her curls, and finds the arrangement pleasant. Warm. They linger in comfort until the light begins to shift, and the silver moonlight turns to a grey morning. As it does, the window grows larger. The bed beneath them becomes a grassy meadow, and the walls become a cluster of tree trunks, with long, sheltering branches.

They slip into the ground. Not horrifyingly; it just sort of happens. The grass folds around them, and they are still there. But they are no longer in Aili's arms. She looks around, puzzled for a moment. They worry over the unhappiness in her expression. There are no untoward spirits to chase off, however. And after a moment, her displeasure gives way to the dreaming, again. Her eyes land on some small flowers, growing in abundance around them. She begins to pick them, and starts weaving them together. Forming a crown, as she hums softly to herself.

By the time Lady Aili wakes, the flower crown is finished.

~

Aili wakes to the light of a new day to find that being well-fed and well-rested have worked wonders on her mood. She's a little stiff from sleeping on the ground, but the demon doesn't seem to have maimed or terrorized her at any point during the night, so it seems like a small grievance in the grand scheme of things. She can't remember the last time she saw a sunrise that wasn't through the barred windows of the tower.

Her situation is still a precarious one, to be sure, but the evidence seems to be mounting that her kidnapper has no plans for harming her. At least not immediately.

Uthvir is sitting close to her, but not so close as to be alarming, tending to their small fire with one set of limbs, while another puts the finishing touches on what seems to be some sort of floral wreath.

"Good morning," Aili greets them quietly, scooting a little closer to the fire in order to warm her hands. Her palms sting as she stretches her fingers, reminding her of her injuries from the evening before. She takes a moment to look them over before murmuring a healing spell and effectively seals the wounds shut.

While she is still looking downwards, she feels something settle lightly over her ears.

"Good morning, my Lady Aili," Uthvir returns, pulling their now empty hands away from her.

A quick brush of her fingers confirms that she has most definitely been adorned with the flower chain they had been working on earlier. It tickles a little, but there don't seem to be any thorns or bugs in it. It's strangely endearing, and she finds herself feeling more surprised than anything.

"You…made me a flower crown?" Aili wonders, adjusting it a bit so it sits a little further back on her head. "Why?"

Uthvir pauses, uncertain of what answer they should give perhaps.

"My lady dreamt of flowers, and I suppose…I thought you might want some when you awoke," they explain slowly, "I apologize if I presumed too much…"

"I'm not upset about the flowers," she assures them hastily, "Though looking in on my dreams is a bit…odd."

Uthvir blinks.

"But…my lady bade me to fend off bad dreams," they remind her hesitantly, "I cannot protect your sleep if I do not watch."

Aili sighs, she supposes that having them watch her dreams is better than having them meddle in them.

"Did you not sleep well, my Lady Aili?" they wonder.

"I did," she confesses, "Thank you for letting me rest."

"And…you are not displeased with the flowers?" they continue curiously.

"…No," Aili reassures them, smiling a little despite herself, "They're actually sort of…sweet. How do I look in my new fancy headdress?"

"My lady looks beautiful, as always," Uthvir replies easily, their form rippling slightly. In pleasure or amusement, it is difficult to say.

For her own part, Aili can't help but laugh, knowing full well that she's completely mussed and covered in mud and likely looks like she lost a fight with an especially crabby tree.  

"Well, then, you should have one, too," she decides, picking at a few scattered clover flowers and little daisies that happen to be blooming near her, "I haven't been good for much else out here."

"Lady Aili is skilled at many things," Uthvir states with a surprising amount of certainty, "It is best that I should hunt and gather. My lady should stay where it is most safe."

They begin cooking the nugs that did not get eaten the night before. She watches them silently for a while as she continues her task of braiding a multitude of tiny flowers together. Thinking over all that has happened.

"So…how long are we going to stay here?" Aili asks them.

"Until it is no longer safe to stay, my Lady," Uthvir hums in reply, picking up another one of the apples and moving it so that she can reach it easily, if she likes.

"And where will we go?" she presses, taking an absentminded bite out of the offered apple.

"Does my lady have a place she wishes to go?" Uthvir asks instead, turning slightly to look at her.

"Well…sort of," Aili hedges nervously, getting to her feet with her newly crafted flower crown in hand, "But I'm not sure how to get there."

"If it is safe, I will help my Lady Aili find where she wishes to be," Uthvir promises.

Aili reaches up on her tip toes trying to place the wreath of flowers over what she assumes must be their head. They are a little more firmly elf-shaped this morning, but it is still hard to tell. Uthvir bends slightly to accommodate her wishes, and she finally plops the garland around the vague shapes of their ears.

"I want to go back to my clan," she tells them quietly, "I want to go home."

~

Uthvir pauses, as Lady Aili explains that she wants to go home. Home is... what? It is not the Circle tower. It is a clan? They cannot fathom that concept, however. Clans are distant things. Stories and whispers, and dreams of their Lady's. Fogged over and old. Clans are old things. Home is an old thing, too, and for a moment they think of a dangerous place. A place full of hunters, and hiding, and fights. Always fights, to keep from becoming the weakest, to try to be the strongest and to serve their Lady.

"...Home?" they repeat, carefully. They know where the place is, in a sense. The palace. They know the parts of it that are in the Dreaming, and they think they could find it in the Waking World as well. Is the clan there? Are hunters there...?

It is far from here. They can tell that much.

"Yes, I want to go home," Lady Aili confirms, however, with a long sigh. She reaches up, and her fingers brush the flowers they have placed on her. Their own flowers feel heavy. But, pleasant, in a way. Like an anchoring weight. A gift, from Aili. They think they like gifts. To receive them and give them both. The flowers are a success, because that has happened in each case.

"I don't know where my clan is," their lady admits. "I was very young, when I got lost. Humans found me, and took me to the Circle. But I know I didn't travel that far. I didn't cross the sea. The wilderness is wide, but, if I could just find a campsite I could find... there are signs, sometimes. And the clans come back to the same places when it's safe to, because they have what we need. Even if no one was there, eventually, someone would come..."

Uthvir considers this.

"Does my Lady Aili's clan have Hunters?" they wonder.

They do not think they should take Lady Aili to the palace. It would not be safe.

Lady Aili blinks at them.

"Um... yes?" she says, as if she is not sure of the answer. Except that she seems to be. "Not like the Templars, though. They don't hunt mages. Or demons. They're just... like this kind of hunting." Moving her arm, she gestures towards what Uthvir has provided. "They hunt food and things for the clan. And they protect us, and sometimes find lost people. I'm sure some of them tried to find me, when I..."

Lady Aili swallows, and trails off. She stares into the fire.

Uthvir does, too, though they can see nothing particular within the flames.

"I will try to find the way," they offer. "But if they are too dangerous, then we will go."

Lady Aili looks surprised. She moves a little closer to them, and stares intently at their eyes. There are only two of them at the moment, so it is easy enough for her own pair to manage.

"You could find them?" she asks.

Uthvir inclines their head. They are a hunter. They find things, just as she described. And there are ways to find persons in the Dreaming, and in the Waking, too, though they are less versed in the latter state. With the Veil, it is much harder. But, not impossible, perhaps. They try to explain this. They are not certain that they do it correctly, as their Lady Aili seems hesitant over many things. She does not seem to know what they mean, when they speak of a palace, or the ways in which hunters and magic and old currents of belief can weave themselves together.

"There's a... palace in the Fade? Where you think you can find hunters?" she surmises, after several attempts.

Uthvir supposes that is the best explanation.

"It is a dangerous place," they say.

Lady Aili bites her lip.

"I couldn't ask you to go somewhere dangerous," she tells them. Then her brow furrows, and she taps one of her apples with the tip of her finger. "But if it's a place in the Fade, then there must be a correlating place on this side of the Veil? Right? What if we went there together?"

Uthvir shakes their head, and hisses in displeasure. Lady Aili pales, and the fire goes out.

"No," they say. "Much too dangerous."

"But-"

"No."

They cannot take her there. She will die. But if she commands them...

Lady Aili only raises her hands, however, in a gesture of placation.

"Alright, it was just a thought," she replies. "I guess we will have to find another way. If... you want to help me?"

Uthvir waits, to see if there is some trap or reprimand waiting to fall. But when Lady Aili only regards them for several minutes more, they tip themselves forward, in a bow of agreement.

"I will help, to find Lady Aili's home," they agree.

[timetogoawaynow]

Melz meets Alexei SL with @MelzWithABite and @AWanderlustCur

Alexei meets Melz

Melz: *I was really starting to wonder why I'd come back. Okay, that wasn't completely true. I'd missed Brie terribly and felt horrible for leaving her for so long. She barely let me out of her sight these days and had taken to sleeping in my bed every night. For such a little girl, she had been through enough in her short life. I only hope I didn't do too much additional damage. So I let her stay attached to my hip as much as possible. I knew the break for Lark was welcome. At least I hoped it was. I wouldn't have to be a genius to pick up on how unhappy Lark was with me either. It had been completely selfish of me to be gone for as long as I  was, but then, it hadn't been the human half’s decision at all. The guilt was still mine, even as now, my wolf chuffed derisively in my mind. Yet another problem I still had to deal with. I was terrified of repressing her, yet terrified of shifting again. Being constantly at war with myself was exhausting.

The fact that I'd come back because of the fanged threat was another unknown frustration, patrols yielding no additional evidence or information so that we were at a dead end there. And as if I didn't have enough to deal with, Lyric's update consisted of a bombshell wrapped up in a time bomb! Now, that wasn't exactly fair. I didn't begrudge him his happiness, but finding out we'd had squatting wolves in our territory for however long that I'd known nothing about didn't sit well, let alone another one that was apparently now staying with her. Plus the fact that he was engaged after a week to an Alpha’s daughter no less?! I was all for standing up to her father, honestly, because fuck that heavy handed alpha wolf bullshit, but talk about a blind side. Needless to say, my coping mechanisms at this point were basically nonexistent, but I was trying. Once I got a read on this second? Or was the the third? New wolf in my territory, I'd be able to try and make heads or tails of the situation. One thing at a time. Glancing at my phone, I rolled my eyes, exhaling a sigh. Of course he was late.*

Alexei: -When I’d gotten Austen’s text I’d been summoned by the Alpha of the area, I started to shove it off. I’d tried to avoid Austen and her little boyfriend as much as possible, staying at home while she was at work, out while she was home. We hadn’t gotten off on the best foot, and I was too damn tired of explaining my shit to people, least of all her. The more I thought about it, the more I was pissed at her dad for what he’d done. I was a fucking part of that pack, and on top of that, his family, and he just dumped me out like trash. Every day made it worse. It didn’t help I stayed mostly intoxicated, but it was better than being high. Heroine was expensive and I was almost broke, and add onto that it was illegal, and it was a step in the right direction. I bummed a ride to the address Austen gave me, not willing to stoop and ask for a ride, I looked down the long road and began to hoof it. I’d never dealt with a female alpha, and I didn’t know what to expect. I wasn’t warm and fuzzy with those types of personalities anyways, more a buck the rules kinda guy, sometimes just because I was bored, but I had to be good today. If she kicked me out of her territory, it could affect Austen and Brent, and I wasn’t that much of an ass. Brent had the gym and Austen her shop, and her boyfriend. I had no one. So it was just her and me and I planned on keeping it that way. I reached the barn door, pushing it open and stepping in, looking around. I smelled only her a while back, so it was really just a formality to check around for others, there were none, but her. Standing in the middle. I kept my distance, ‘bout ten feet, stuffing my hands in my jeans and staring for a moment, then bowing my head slightly- Alpha. Sorry I’m late. Like to make an entrance.

Melz: *Ooooof. Course. I mean, I wasn't expecting an ugly wolf. They really didn't exist. Besides, his cousin was gorgeous. But...damn. did he have to be...damn. Although...eyes narrowing slightly as the good looking loner entered the old been, my alpha senses tingling. Yeah, Alexei James was something more that he was trying really hard not to be, even if I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Some way back memory buried deep was trying to come to life, but I didn't know. Shaking my head before I looked like a comatose idiot, I kept my features blank, giving him a slow, assessing top to bottom once over.* Do you work at a distillery, or are you just doing your part to keep them in business? *Arching a brow, I gave a sniff before starting to make a slow circled walk around him. I hated this posturing bullshit, as anyone that knew me well knew, but I didn't know him. From the sound of things, his home pack didn't give much stock to females, so I didn't want him to think he could waltz in here and run roughshod over me. His uncle was already on my shit list for not only allowing two of his heirs to establish businesses in my territory without as much as a word to me, but because of his disgusting treatment of his own daughter. Yeah, that was one alpha I never wanted to meet for fear that I wouldn't care about containing my wolf in his presence, but I digress. Coming around to face Alexei once more, I met his eyes, held them for a long moment as I let the alpha power fill the air. It was a calculated risk to let my wolf this close to the surface, my eyes turning amber, but it was necessary.* I'm going to need you to be real honest with me about your reason for being on my territory. And what your plan is while you're here, if I decide to let you stay. *I knew Austen’s version of his “why", but I wanted the whole store from him and to see if it meshed with what she'd said.*

Alexei: -When she did her alpha thing, the one that made my wolf cower inside, I realized male alpha, female alpha, it didn’t matter. It was nothing to fuck with. That kind of dive bombed my first plan, which was charm her, but it looked like Austen had already dimed me. Princess must have been all ready to impress the new alpha that she just gave me up. Figured. Like father like daughter. Fine. I never needed anyone to stick up for me. I got myself in this shit, I’d get myself out.- How nice of you to notice my contribution to the fine establishments in your territory. I do my best to be an ass—et. And as the brat may have already told you, my pack put me in time out. So, I have nowhere else to go. Technically, I’m not supposed to have contact with any pack member, which means my family wants me to live under a fucking bridge for a year so I’ll learn not to be a fuckup. -I chuffed, looking down and shaking my head.- Thought I’d get a job, I’m pretty good with my hands, woodwork, maintenance shit. Make some money, get me a place so I don’t have to have the princess on my ass, and wait. -Boy, if I were me, I’d really want me in my territory. What happened to making a good impression? I laughed a bit, reaching up to rub the back of my neck- Look, if you want me to move on, I will. I'm not saying my pack was wrong about me. You asked for honesty, so that’s about as much as I can give you. Truth is… -and I’d been thinking this for days, and it just rubbed me the wrong way, sending me into the bottom of another bottle- I don’t think they’re gonna let me back in. So. It’s whatever. -I hated that alpha shit, that thing that made you spill your guts and not hide shit.- I don’t need a fucking therapist or your pitty, so if you’d ease up I’d really like to shut the fuck up now.

Melz: *I hadn't used my “Alphaness" like this, probably ever. My pack was my family by choice. We'd been through it all since before I was alpha. We'd each taken turns losing our shit, yet been there when we came back or needed a good slap across the face. We'd dealt with imposters before and come out stronger. Whatever had been set in motion, we'd handle it together. So exertion any sort of compulsion hadn't been thought until it had. Worth it though. His side of the story filled in a lot of the blanks Austen’s had left out. At least the picture I was painting in my head was...interesting. Filing certain details away for later, I snorted a laugh as he finished talking, reeling in whatever it was I was doing.* No, you definitely don’t need my pity. You've got plenty of your own. But when your party's over, the pack owns a garage if you're looking for something to do with those hands besides lift a bottle. If you can change an oil, I can give you a few shifts a week. Last thing I need is some drunk ass were going wolfy and attacking a tourist. At least your cousins have kept a low profile. I have a feeling that's not really your style. If you can pull your own weight, I'll give you a shot. *Standing legs shoulder length apart, I let an authoritative flair pulse the air before taking a step back.* Does that sound like something your poor abused ego can handle?

Alexei: Me? Pity myself? -I laughed out loud, shaking my head. It was only then that I took a long moment to really look at her, head to toe in a way she’d know I was looking. She was fucking gorgeous, in that take no shit way, that I am woman hear me roar thing that I loved. In other circumstances, I’d be all over it, but I’d never cower, and it seemed like that might put us at an impass- Woman, you are delusional. All that alpha shit’s gone to your head. You asked for the facts. I told them to you. -probably not the smartest thing to say, but dammit, I didn’t appreciate being called a whiner.- Thanks for the offer of a job, pretty big of you, but I don’t know a thing about cars, and I didn’t come here for charity. Maybe I like lifting a bottle. Maybe… -I smirked, tilting my head- it's exactly what I want to do. Seeing as I’m doing it, that’s probably accurate. So thanks for the offer, but I’m going to have to say no thanks. -I rocked back on my heels a bit, feeling her influence, but as soon as I got my bearings, which was much later than I had hoped, I gritted my teeth a moment and shrugged- Don’t sweat your tourists. I’m not a pup. Only thing they may be in danger of is being given incredible sex by yours truly. Don’t worry about my ego, either. It’s far from abused and going strong. -I wasn’t stupid enough to duck out of an alpha’s presence without being dismissed, but I sure didn’t have to take her ridicule. Insult on injury. I could just as easily move on, and would rather do so, than have her talk down to me like I was nothing.- So, like I said, if you want me to move on, just say the word and I’m fine. Austen and her boytoy will kiss your ass and call you queen. All one big, happy family. But if not, I’d like to get back to the bar I was enjoying and finish my evening. Cute little redhead gave me her number and I don’t want to miss the end of her shift.

Melz: *Oh. Hell no. I'd met a lot of dumb fucks in my day, but this one was at the top of the list. The more insults and disrespect he touted, the angrier I got. My wolf didn't care if he was baiting me in some type of fucked up bid to get himself killed. She was pissed enough about the lax way I let my own pack function, no way she was going to take it from some punk loner wolf who'd been expelled from their home pack already. Fuck no. Before the last word left his lips, I was on him. Sweeping his legs out from under him, I slammed him to the ground and came down on top of him. My growl rumbled through the room as my teeth sharpened, claws extended as I wrapped my partially shifted hand around his throat, deadly points resting just over his jugular. Leaning into his face, my eyes blazing with fury, my voice the gravelly bark of my wolf as I spoke.* The hard way it is. I don't know who the fuck you think you are, but this tough guy loner shit ain't going to get you nothing but killed. Now, it seems like that might be what you're looking for, but fuck you. I'm not that merciful. My pack pulls their fucking weight. You ain't my pack, but you're on my land. I already plan on having words with your uncle, but at least your cousins have contributed to the area with their businesses. I'll be damned if I'm going to start letting your uncle send his trash here too. *Chest heaving, spittle on my lips as my fangs rested there, I held his gaze for a long, long moment. He wasn't getting another shot at this. I would not be a doormat to some broken asshole. I had enough shit to deal with.* You have no idea who you're fucking with, Alexei James and you know nothing about my pack. No one kisses anyone ass around here. That pack hierarchy bullshit is for the birds. But we do respect the positions and work as a unit. I'm not offering you to join, so don't get your hopes up. I was willing to let you lie low for your year if you could follow two rules. Work. And don't be an asshole. Looks like you can't do either, so you've got to go. *I didn't need to justify myself or explain anything to him, but I wasn't going to take his shit. At. All. Pressing in my pin point nails just enough to break the skin, my nostrils flared when I scented his blood before climbing back to my feet. Back to him, I showed him exactly how little of a threat I considered him.* You have an hour to get the fuck out of my territory. I'd wish you luck, but I don't like lying, so fuck you, seems sufficient. *Walking deeper into the barn, I didn't check to see if he'd gone. If he didn't, I'd kill him.*

Alexei: -I’d feared for my life a few times, a few deals gone wrong, a few sunken escapades, but nothing like this. Nothing like her wolf right on me, in my face, and my life in her hands. She should have killed me. Part of me probably wanted her to. But the longer I lay on that barn floor, bleeding, shaking now, I realized a few things.

I had to make it right. My wolf demanded it, and something in the pit of my stomach just wouldn’t let me be this person anymore. Shame rolled over me, and I rolled over onto my knees, my neck bared, my voice low- I’m sorry doesn’t even cover my disrespect. -I swallowed hard, trying to hold back the tears. What kind of fucking man cries? So I sucked it up, kept my eyes to the ground, and continued- You’re right. About me. I had no right to act the way I did. Even offering my life wouldn’t do anything, because you have every right to take it. -I thought of my family, of my mother mostly, and my brothers, how devastated they’d be. How long had it been since I’d thought of anyone but myself? The tears came anyways, but I refused to acknowledge them, my wolf cowering before this alpha, as I begged for my life- Please. Give me another chance. I’ll work wherever you want me to. I’ll do whatever to say. I...don’t have anywhere else to go. I’m at your mercy, and I don’t deserve shit, but I’m asking. Please. -And that was all I could do. I had no other option. If she didn’t kill me, I’d be lucky. But I had to try. I hated what I’d become, and maybe, if I tried, maybe if I cared about my life a bit more, I could make all of this right.-

Melz: *If I was any other Alpha, I'd kill him right then and there. The groveling was nice, but didn't quite cut it. But I hated how black and white every other pack I'd known operated. Black or white. In or out. Live or die. With the paths Zoey, Jessy, Bray, Lyric and I had taken, we should all be dead or disowned. Had been over the years. If it weren't for that one chance we'd each gotten when we needed it most...I didn't owe this wolf anything. And I'd probably regret it, but I wasn't ready to take a life over it. My wolf would, of course, disagree, but I'd taken enough of them.

Glancing back over my shoulder, I raised a brow, not hating the sight of him on his knees begging. I stood for a long time in silence, making him sweat, suffer. Yeah, I was going to spare his life, but that didn't mean I wasn't going to make him pay for his mouth. Let him cower, wonder if these were the last seconds of his life.* Be at the garage at eight am. If you're late. You're gone. Bitch about the job? Finito. Slack off? Pack your bags. Basically if you o anything that pisses me off, take one step out of line, I will end you. *Turning to face him fully once more, I flashed my still elongated teeth, the growl in my voice returning.* Please, try me and think that I'm fucking around. I really hope that you do. Because underestimating me will be the last thing you do. *Long strides closed the distance between us as I shouldered past him and exited the barn. I hated the structure tucked at the back corner of my property. It was only for pack use, and we hardly used it. Without a backward glance, I made my way across the lawn toward the house. That was checked off for now. On to the next disaster on the list.*

Alexei: -I stayed on that barn floor, my arms covering my head, face to the ground for a long time. I didn’t know how long, really. Seems I found myself on my face more often than not these days. When it didn’t feel so shitty, I stood, wiping my face on my shirt and walking out to the road, pushing my thumb out and waited. A few people didn’t bother, but soon, a guy did, and I hopped in the back of the truck after giving him the address to the garage, and I was on my way.

I sleep outside the place, leaned up against the building, so there was no chance of being late. I was hungover as fuck, probably going through some withdrawals, but I stood when the man came to open the place and introduced myself. Respectfully. Weeks passed, and I toed the line so tight. Melz came in periodically, and we didn’t speak, but I was alright with that. Head down, work. Lyric didn’t speak to me either, and that was fine too. I wasn’t there for him. I was shit with cars, but I picked it up fast, gophering, too, and cleaning up the place after everyone left. Some days we’re on the clock. Some days I just came in because if I didn’t, I was gonna be at a bar, and I couldn’t do that right now. There was a small room up above the shop with a shower and stuff, and I stayed there. Nobody said anything, not Melz or Bray or Lyric, and I closed up, but I kept it free from my stuff just incase it became an issue I could just...find another place. Most nights, I fought my demons alone, going to bed early, picking up a few books from this used bookstore beside the place the guys liked to get lunch. Tonight, I pushed the broom across the room and sang a little Willie Nelson.- Maybe I...didn’t love you. Quite as often as I could have. -The acoustics in the garage were great, and singing always seemed to calm me down.- Maybe I...didn’t treat you. Quite as good as I should have. If I made you feel second best, girl I’m sorry I was blind. You were always on my miiiiiiind. You were always on my mind. -Another night in the books. Only a few more hours and I could sleep, making that a few more hours I had to come up with a good excuse to stay put.-

Melz: *I hadn't had high expectations at all for this Alexei guy, I had expected him to turn tail and run and never look back. Needless to say, I was shocked to get a text bright and early the next morning from Bray, asking what he was supposed to do with him. My “bitch work" reply seemed to be all he needed to know, which was fine by me. I had no qualms about him doing all the grunt work at the garage. When he showed up for a few consecutive days, proving that he was somewhat reliable I put him on the schedule. When he showed up for more time than those listed, I pinned a note to the board telling him that I was only paying him for the times he was scheduled. He wanted to keep showing up anyway, fine by me. It rankled that he'd started using the spare room above the garage without permission, but when I went up to remove his shit because of it, there was nothing to throw out the window. Sneaky jerk. Even so, I could tell over the next week that he was actually trying to keep his head down and his nose clean. I'd wait and see for how long.

Finishing up the billing on the 67 Chevy Lyric had just finished the restoration of, my brow furrowed as I heard a voice I never had join to tune pumping from the speakers. I thought I was the only one left. Shutting down my laptop and closing the safe, I let my curiosity take me to the back bay, where I propped my shoulder against the wall and listened. He had a really nice voice. It was a shame I couldn't say anything else positive about him.* Hey, Willie, you about done? I'm ready to lock up. Planning on squatting upstairs again tonight?

Alexei: -I stopped singing immediately, standing up straight, and the embarrassment in my chest was real. I just hoped it didn’t travel to my face. I looked over at my bag by the door, then back at the alpha, and shook my head- No ma’am. I’m almost done. -I held her stare for a moment, then went back to sweeping, doing it much quicker and making a pile before putting it in the dustpan and dumping it in the trash. I put the broom back where it went, walked over and grabbed my pack, and walked to the door. I’d gotten used to being invisible there, so it was odd when she spoke to me, and I didn’t want to take carte blanc and start a full fledged conversation if that wasn’t her intention. I knew a few shelters, but it was iffy if they had a bed this late. Guess I’d go and find out.- Have a good night. -I waved, pushing both arms in the pack and hoisting it on my back, pushing the door open carefully. I guessed I’d have to find a permanent place, seeing as she obviously minded that I stayed there. I could, in a month or so. That wasn’t long. Brent would let me in to the gym to shower, I think, and...it wouldn’t be too bad. I stopped outside the door as it closed behind me, putting the hood on my hoodie up and stuffing my hands in my pockets. Walking was good for my health-

Melz: *Brows raised as I watched him finish, I was surprised that none of his bravado from out first meeting came out. He didn't seem able to shut himself up before, now he might as well have been a mute. Could it be that sobriety made him meek? Standing back with the door held opened when he grabbed his back that looked like it held everything he owned, my brows now furrowed in confusion. I almost didn't ask. It was none of my business what.he did or where he stayed, except that it was if he was going to keep sneaking around, staying in the upstairs room like no one noticed. Calling after him as he began to cross the lot, I didn't chase him. He'd hear me.* Hey, I thought you were staying at your cousin's place? Why do you need to use the upstairs anyway?

Alexei: -I turned back, shocked a bit that she’d care where I stayed. My impression when I left the barn was that she was done with me, and even at work day in and day out, she didn’t seem to give me the time of day.- I can’t. She can throw a fit all she wants about being independent, but she’s pack, and I can’t associate. -I winced a bit, pointing at my healing black eye- Brent reminded me. -I waited, not sure what to do now, hanging onto the straps of my backpack- Do you need anything else? -part of me wanted to just ask to use the room, but it seemed I still had too much pride and a lot to learn. Maybe a few months sleeping outside would be...a character lesson, maybe that’s what I should call all this. A lesson in character.-

Melz: *Goddamn, this guy was something else. Too proud to ask for anything even when he had literally nothing else? Grinding my teeth, my mind warred with itself. If anyone knew broken and beaten and how it either caused lashing out or shutting down it was me. Hell, I should be the poster girl for building up brick walls encased in steel and topped with barbed wire. My own pride didn't want me to offer something he didn't ask for, but if I wanted to be different from the way other Alphas operated, I'd have to act like it. If I didn't help, it didn't seem like anyone would. He wasn't my pack, but he was connected to someone I now considered under my protection. Damn my penchant for adopting strays…

Blowing out a long sigh, I dropped my arms to my sides and unbleached my jaw.* Hey, asshole, if the pavement get too...pavementy, the room is yours. I pretty much was considering your unpaid shifts as covering your rent. Just don't go hooking up the ultra deluxe cable packet and we'll be straight. Or sleep on the street and prove absolutely nothing to no one but the fact that you're an idiot. It really won't phase me. *Hitting the key fob, I headed towards my Mercedes, cursing him out in my mind as I went.*

Alexei: -I stood still, just watching her, wondering where the punchline was. No one, no wolf, did anything for anyone like me. I’d realized that in the last few days. You were either working to benefit the pack or you were out. At the shop, I was working to benefit the pack, just not mine. Instead of a place, I was working for my life, my right to exist here. And that was fine. But this was...she owed me nothing. Before she got in her car, I spoke carefully- Thank you. -And I turned back toward the shop, heading inside to lock up. My hands were shaking, but I wouldn’t even acknowledge it. I simply climbed the stairs and put my stuff down, looking around. I took out my few pair of clothes I’d bought, setting them on the bed. I put “Stranger” by Albert Camus on the nightstand. I took a family photo and set it there too. Then I sat heavily on the bed and put my head in my hands. I couldn’t do this all the time. I didn’t want to be in my head. I wasn’t this person. I didn’t want to think anymore.

Shedding my jacket, I left it on the bed, with my shoes, and walked outside, jogging to the edge of the woods. I stripped, hid my clothes, and the shift had never felt so good. My wolf took over, and I immediately threw my head back and howled. Here, the loss of my pack was deepest. Here, I couldn’t hide. But I could run. So I did.-

Melz: *Shaking my head as he turned and walked back to the garage, I was surprised he even let me see that he was taking me up on the offer. Blowing out yet another exasperated breath, I climbed behind the wheel of my car, put the top down, and was off. Merging onto the highway, hair blowing in the wind, the howl of the wolf that carried on the breeze had my breath hitching. Eyes closing briefly, my heart ached for the pain that filled it. What was I going to do with this one?*

[zerablackwell]

Chapter 3: Seeing a Ghost

Opening her eyes, she was sitting in a clearing in front of her mother. Unlike Zera, Marnie's purple hair fell in curls framing her face, her blue eyes ironically shining with life. Marnie cupped Zera's face, giving her a warm smile. "Ça va Colombe?"

"Fine Mother, but I do have questions..."

Marnie smiled and nodded, patting the spot beside her, "Of course Colombe." Zera giggled lightly and moved to sit next to her mother who began to braid her hair. "First...tell me, darling. How have you been? How has your father been treating you? Not too harshly I hope."

"No Maman, he just hasn't been too forthcoming with answers I'd like. Per usual..." Zera pouted and her mother giggled.

"Your father is a stubborn man; it takes time to peel back the layers for him to open up. Be patient...it is a virtue after all."

Zera scoffed, "When have you known me to virtuous Maman?"

"Come now Colombe, things would be much easier for you. If only you were a bit less like your father." Marnie reached over to push Zera's hair out of her face and back into the braid.

Zera looked at their surroundings, they sat on a beach looking out at a beautiful sunset. "I'll be honest, we just can't see the beauty in things like you do Mother..."

At this, Marnie was silent for a long moment, "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you..."

Zera gave a weak laugh, "You can't be blamed for being dead. There was never anything you could have done."

Marnie gently kissed the crown of her daughter's head, lingering for a moment before finishing off the braid. "I wish you weren't so pessimistic...you get it from your father."

"There are many things I get from him." Zera pointed out as she turned to face her mother who had a sad smile on her face.

"That there are, but I love you both even if you two drive me crazy." Marnie giggled softly, cupping her daughter's face as she stared at her eyes. "You two always push each other too far, if only I was beside you both..."

"You are Maman," Zera's gaze softened as she looked at her mother. "You are always with us, in my heart and with Father's. At least I think he has one."

Marnie laughed as she embraced her tightly, hiding her head in Zera's hair, closing her eyes and enjoying the moment. "I am so blessed to have such an amazing family..."

Zera smiled up at Marnie and shook her head, "Father's lucky he was able to love you. I'm lucky to have been able to meet you, even if it's like this." Zera leaned against her, then looked up at the starry sky. "You really like sunsets, don't you?"

Marnie giggled and nodded, "Yes I do, they're beautiful. What's the word used now? Cliché? I know it's a cliché, but just look at the view."

The two stared at the starlit sky and smiled at its loveliness, Zera would be lying if she didn't admit the stars were calming. "It is beautiful...Father did a good job with this place."

"Your father knows me well." There was a longing in her eyes, a distant look on her face as she stared off into the colorful sky. "Colombe?"

"Yes, Mother?"

"Even though I'm not around. Promise to help keep your father on the right path. I'm not fully around, and half the time he forgets that I'm real. He doesn't always listen to me." Zera looked at her, "I shouldn't be asking this of you, but he really doesn't have anyone else...he won't listen to Elijah. Especially not to Aviana, the poor thing."

Zera looked curiously towards Marnie, "What do you mean by that?"

Marnie frowned, "I'm sorry Colombe... Aviana is someone who your father took in. It was a request I convinced him to fulfill. She's unfortunately always been pushed to the side by Azazel, despite my efforts."

"Her family gave her up?"

At this, Marnie paused and tilted her head from side to side thoughtfully, "Yes, the family did have moments where they were cruel."

Zera nodded, biting her lip before asking, "You have met Aviana's family, but what about Father's? Did he ever talk about them?"

"I actually did meet some of his family, not everyone though."

"Then what were they like?"

Marnie hummed softly for a moment, "Well, his mother was a very kind woman, Seth was funny, but I never met his father. His mother thought it for the best until a later date, which never came."

"Why is that?"

"Our union was never to be blessed, my parents long deceased and many of the archangels did not approve. He wanted to elope, but I insisted that we stay. He had duties to his family, and I was not going to be the reason he ran from it all." Marnie explained as she gently ran a hand through Zera's hair, pulling her in for a hug. "I hold no ill will towards them, they are a traditional bunch. Humans and angels were never even thought of to come together in such a manner."

Zera shook her head, "You never cease to surprise me, mother."

"Why is that Colombe?"

"Your kindness knows no bounds; Father is petty even if he won't admit it. Then there's you, always forgiving towards others." She explained, looking up at her mother who smiled.

"That is why your father and I matched so well; I was always able to reign him in. Even now that he pretends to be some wild beast, he has me chirping in his ear to bring him back down." Marnie replied.

"Mother?"

"Yes?"

"Do you know what Heaven is like?"

There was a long silence, "No, I don't. I remain by your father's side, I always have."

"Do you ever want to go to Heaven?"

Marnie hesitated before answering, "No...No I would rather be here, with you and your father."

Zera frowned deeply, "I never pegged you as a liar Maman."

"I love your father Colombe...I just wish that things would be easier, for all of our sakes..." Marnie sighed, closing her eyes. Zera shook her head, taking her mother's hand in both of her own. "You don't need to be exposed to all this..."

"We cannot change the past, what is done is done Maman." Zera looked up at her, offering a reassuring smile, despite heavy air lingering between them. "I love you Maman..."

"Et je t'aime aussi ma petite Colombe. » She smiled sadly, pulling her daughter in for a hug. She hummed a soft melody that easing the tension that hung between them, Zera could feel herself practically melt into her Mother's hold.

"Maman?"

"Oui?"

"Do you know if Father ever mentioned someone named Madeline?"

Marnie tensed up at this, her face written with a deep sadness that instantly caused her eyes to well up with tears. She covered mouth, muffling a sob as she slowly shook her head. "I'm... I'm sorry. I..." She choked out before burying her face in her hands.

Zera completely caught off guard from this sudden change in her mother's demeanor. "Mother? What's wrong?" She gripped Marnie's shoulders who immediately pulled away. Their surroundings began to blur and fade to black as Zera continued to cry out to her distraught mother began to say something she couldn't hear.

Zera awoke with a start, she looked around frantically seeing Ace clearly upset by the sudden and rude awakening. Shakily, she pulled Ace into a tight hug and let out a deep breath. After calming her nerves, she got up and checked the time. "3 a.m., of course."

Ace then hopped off the bed and vanished in a burst of flames mid-air. She pouted, "Fine then, leave." Zera got out of bed and put on a silk mauve robe. She left her room and walked down the stairs, making her way to the kitchen and opened the fridge.

"Grabbing a midnight snack?" Aviana opened her piercing jade eyes, slit irises larger than usual.

Zera looked up from the fridge to find her friend sitting on the counter with one leg over the other. "Mhmm... I couldn't really sleep, then I began to feel a bit peckish."

"I thought you were spending time with your Mother?" Aviana tilted her head curiously.

The younger nodded and closed the fridge, looking to Aviana. "Yes, but Ace decided to wake me up before he left, I love him but not his habits."

Aviana's lips twitched in annoyance at the mention of Ace, Zera pouted slightly. "So, Ace went hunting then?"

"I believe so, otherwise I will not be letting him into my room for a week."

Aviana got down from the counter and untied her ponytail, "You don't have school, tomorrow right?"

"You are correct."

"Then let's watch some TV. We could watch a movie to pass the rest of the night." Aviana suggested as she began to braid her hair, smiling down at Zera.

"Only if you let me ask you a couple of questions."

The brunette eyed her curiously, "Okay, I'll bite. Can I ask what prompted interrogation?"

Zera giggled, "I was talking with Mother, she mentioned a bit of your family. Did you happen to know or ever meet them?"

Aviana finished braiding her hair as they made their way to the living room, "No. I haven't met my family, but that's not uncommon among us. You are more of a special case in that area, Zera."

"Demons don't normally know their parents? They're family history?"

Aviana shook her head as she took her seat on the coffee table, "When demons are young, they are essentially thrown to the wolves. Some rare cases, higher ranking demons will keep their young close without actually hindering their growth."

Zera grabbed the control and started searching for a movie, "What do you mean by hindering?"

"It is believed when you are too involved with a baby's growth, it's believed that they will be weaker. Bloodline really matters very little to our kind, but you are an exception." Aviana elaborated, Zera looked over to her friend. "Your father and your mother had a union that is rare."

"Because of the different races?"

"The only bloodlines that matter are those of the original families, such as Lucifer and those within his close circle." Aviana elaborated.

"Yes."

"Much like the humans back in the 1900s, no?"

"Exactly so. However, not to the same extent. Demons ridicule but do not behave so violently, it's seen more like a waste of time." Aviana replied as she stretched her arms upward. Zera nodded and leaned against Aviana as they settled down in front of the TV.

"Aviana?"

"Yes?"

"If I come to you for answers regarding anything my father is hiding from me, can I count on you to help me?"

A long pause before Aviana responded in barely a whisper, "I cannot promise that..."

Zera was hurt and disappointed, but she expected it. "Father takes you for granted Aviana." They passed the night in silence, watching the movie marathon playing on the screen until the early hours of dawn.

[stopkingobama]

The SPLC: Race-baiting hucksters or terrorist sponsors?

Photo source: Pixabay, TheDigitalWay, CC0 Public Domain, https://pixabay.com/en/criminal-police-reaction-force-1577887/

The Southern Poverty Law Center rakes in millions of dollars each year claiming to be a “watchdog” that “monitors” so-called “right-wing hate groups.”  In reality, they’ve been sued for racially abusing what few black employees they ever hired, and their hate-filled rhetoric has been tied to two assassination attempts.  In 2012 a SLPC supporter shot his way into the headquarters of the Family Research Council, after seeing an SPLC attack piece labeling the FRC a “hate group.”  In reality, the FRC is largely nice little church ladies.

Now, the mass shooter who attempted to assassinate Republican Members of Congress has been linked to the nasty, racist, organization.  Is it time for the FBI to infiltrate the SPLC like they did the KKK? – Editor

The Granny Warriors are a dangerous hate group. Just ask Mark Potok and his crack staff of investigators at the Southern Poverty Law Center.

Just one problem. Try finding the Granny Warriors. There is a website with that name; a fashion blog of sorts that has not been updated since 2015. There is another one-page website that shows pictures of an RV with the name Granny Warriors on the side. When the Granny Warriors first appeared on Mark Potok’s list, CNN was able to find the woman who founded the group who at the time was 74, making a quilt and suffering from congestive heart failure.

The richest poverty group in history

What is the Southern Poverty Law Center (SPLC)? They fashion themselves as the protector of America from hate. They issue reports on “hate groups”, and occasionally sue one of them, usually those so poor they can’t muster a defense. And they have gotten fabulously wealthy doing it. Charlotte Allen, writing in the Weekly Standard, called it “the richest poverty organization in the history of the world.” The group is sitting on cash reserves of $350 million and raises upwards of $50 million every year, mostly from direct mail, making northern liberals believe we still live in a world where black men are lynched with impunity and KKK riders-in-the-night burn crosses and even houses.

There is obviously a large dollop of hucketerism in what SPLC does. Morris Dees, who founded SPLC in 1971, got rich long ago on direct mail selling “everything from doormats to cookbooks,” says Allen. Dees is even in the Direct Mail Hall of Fame. Like any good carnival barker, he must scare the rubes into the tent and shake the shekels out of their pockets. He does this by making them think the dark night of fascism is upon us at every moment. Hence, even Granny Warriors are a threat.

Skeptics to the right of them, skeptics to the left of them

There are many SPLC skeptics, certainly on the right, but many on the left as well. Leftist Alexander Cockburn went after Dees et al at Counterpunch saying they were taking advantage of Barack Obama’s election to frighten “trembling liberals” into thinking “millions of extremists [were] primed to march down Main Street draped in Klan robes, a copy of Mein Kampf tucked under one arm and a Bible under the other.” Left-leaning Harper’s ran a 2000 piece called The Church of Morris Dees” charging that most of those on the SPLC list were fringe groups that perpetrated no violence and that most of the examples of violence cited by SPLC were lone wolves associated with no groups whatsoever.

When SPLC’s new list came out in 2013, the one with Granny Warriors, no less than Foreign Policy Magazine asked, “is American really being overrun by right-wing militias.” That year, SPLC claimed to have identified an all-time high 1360 hate groups, up from 1007 the year before. Foreign Policy questioned SPLC’s motivations and their methodology. SPLC is not an “objective purveyor of data,” they reported. “They’re anti-hate activists….their research needs to be weighed more carefully by media outlets that cover their pronouncements.”

Foreign Policy charged SPLC with using tricks to drive up the numbers. They do this by not making a distinction between national groups and local chapters. American Third Position Party, for instance, something you have certainly never heard of, is listed 17 times in SPLC’s 2012 report. The American Nazi Party is listed six times and the Council of Conservative Citizens is listed 37 times. Foreign Policy says when you eliminate multiple listings, the 1007 groups in 2012 becomes 358.

And among the remaining 358 are a blog called Crocker Post, a website/podcast called The Political Cesspool, and an anti-Islam cite called Silver Bullet Bun Oil. Foreign Policy scoffs at the notion that these are “groups” at all.

‘Hate’ labeling is not harmless

The charges made by Mark Potok and his colleagues are far from harmless even if some of their targets are. Charles Murray was targeted as a hater by SPLC and this caused the now famous riot of students who attacked him and a Middlebury College professor who hosted him.

To this day, you can visit the downtown Washington DC offices of the Family Research Center and see the bullet holes left by Floyd Corkins who invaded the office 4 years ago with the intent of mass murder. He testified under oath that he decided to attack FRC based on Potok’s listing of FRC as a hate group. The attack came only months after the release of SPLC’s 2013 report.

Potok himself has said the intention of his group is not to simply monitor hate groups but to “destroy them.” Given the propensity of the left to resort to violence these days, this is of increasing concern to the other Christian groups who are in the crosshairs of Mark Potok and his chief “investigator” Heidi Beirich. It is reported the shooter of Congressman Steven Scalise on a ballfield in Northern Virginia had “liked” SPLC on Facebook.

SPLC’s campaign against the Center for Family and Human Rights

Of the many problems when considering SPLC’s hate list is how any group lands on the list. What is the criteria and methodology? How did the Granny Warriors land on Potok’s list? Frankly, it’s hard to tell.

The Center for Family and Human Rights (C-Fam), the group I run, landed on the list a few years ago. In the report issued at the time, SPLC accused us of having “lauded” Scott Lively. You would be forgiven for not knowing Lively’s name. Hardly anyone does. He runs a tiny organization with a miniscule budget. He’s an Evangelical pastor who has worked with Christian groups in Uganda against what Pope Francis has called “ideological colonialism.” The left says Lively is responsible for the Ugandan “kill the gays bill”, a charge that is laughable on its face. Nonetheless, how did we “laud” him? In a news story about a federal lawsuit brought against him by a group of Ugandan homosexuals, we described his ministry in Massachusetts of giving out coffee and bibles to homeless men. That makes us a hate group, according to SPLC.

The SPLC report also cited our legal work in Belize when there was a national debate about their sodomy laws. We were asked for our expert legal opinion on Belize’s obligations under international law regarding sodomy and informed them they were free to decide the issue on their own, that international law did not require them to change their laws. My group did not take a position for or against sodomy. We never have. Giving legal advice on international law makes you a hate group, according to SPLC.

The goal: ‘destroy them’ – with the help of the media

SPLC likes to portray itself as a neutral referee, merely involved in calling balls and strikes when it comes to “hate.” But in a 2008 speech, Mark Potok let slip the mask when he said, “Sometimes the press will describe us as monitoring hate crimes and so on…I want to say plainly that our aim in life is to destroy these groups, to completely destroy them.”

The problem here is that the media gives SPLC a free ride. Whenever my group is covered in the press, or FRC, or Alliance Defending Freedom, or American Family Association, or any of the many other conservative Christian groups, the report inevitably tags us “designated as a hate group by the Southern Poverty Law Center.” No reporter that I know of has ever done his own research to determine if this label fits or is fair. Consider also the word “designated”, as if SPLC is a governmental entity with the authority to determine such things.

The media is not the only group utilizing SPLC’s hate-labeling. So does Wikipedia. Every article in Wikipedia about a Christian group on the SPLC list also mentions their “designation” as a hate group. Keep in mind that Wikipedia is among the very first places anyone goes to research a group they are interested in.

Amazon is in on it, too. It does not allow “hate groups” to participate in its affinity “Smile” program whereby a piece of every purchase can be earmarked for a designated charity.

Within the past few weeks the non-profit monitor/reporter Guidestar has incorporated SPLC’s “designation” into its listing of charities. Guidestar is often the first stop for donors when considering a gift because it has complete tax information for every non-profit in the United States. So now, when you turn to the Guidestar page for Family Research Council, blazoned across the top is SPLC’s logo and the warning that FRC is a hate group. Stay away donors.

Suing the defenceless

Besides their hate list, one of SPLC’s specialties is suing small groups or individuals who barely have the wherewithal to defend themselves so when SPLC inevitably wins, they get to claim once more to have beaten back fascism. Even though they sit on a mountain of cash, they also get to ask their donors to fund the suit, which they almost certainly do.

Two years ago, SPLC sued Arthur Goldberg who then ran a New Jersey-based psychological referral service for those wishing to leave the homosexual life. SPLC sued under the New Jersey consumer fraud law accusing Goldberg of duping his clients with the bogus theory that they could stop acting out sexually with men. Goldberg was well-represented with pro-bono attorneys from California. At any one time, however, SPLC had 15 attorneys working on the case. To give you an idea of what Goldberg was up against, the judge wouldn’t even allow expert testimony on change therapy since he said it was a crackpot theory. Goldberg lost and now owes millions. SPLC now goes around with Goldberg’s scalp and extracts beaucoup bucks from grateful gays.

It is a neat trick to be able to label your political opponents “hate groups” and get the media and major corporations to go along, and to get rich doing it. The purpose, of course, is to silence free speech, to end debate, and in the words of SPLC’s Mark Potok “to completely destroy them.” Many are asking how this has any place in our modern political discourse.

Austin Ruse is president of C-Fam (Center for Family & Human Rights), a New York and Washington DC-based research institute in Special Consultative Status with the UN Economic and Social Council. He is the author of “The Littlest Suffering Souls: Children Whose Short Lives Point Us to Christ” (Tan, 2017) and the upcoming (Fake Science: Exposing the Left’s Skewed Statistics, Fuzzy Facts, and Dodgy Data” (Regnery, 2017).

This article by Austin Ruse was originally published on MercatorNet.com under a Creative Commons Licence. If you enjoyed this article, visit MercatorNet.com for more. See more at: https://www.mercatornet.com/features/view/splc-a-poverty-project-whose-aim-is-to-destroy-christian-pro-family-groups#sthash.qaQllIie.dpuf

[americanlibertypac]

The SPLC: Race-baiting hucksters or terrorist sponsors?

Photo source: Pixabay, TheDigitalWay, CC0 Public Domain, https://pixabay.com/en/criminal-police-reaction-force-1577887/

The Southern Poverty Law Center rakes in millions of dollars each year claiming to be a “watchdog” that “monitors” so-called “right-wing hate groups.”  In reality, they’ve been sued for racially abusing what few black employees they ever hired, and their hate-filled rhetoric has been tied to two assassination attempts.  In 2012 a SLPC supporter shot his way into the headquarters of the Family Research Council, after seeing an SPLC attack piece labeling the FRC a “hate group.”  In reality, the FRC is largely nice little church ladies.

Now, the mass shooter who attempted to assassinate Republican Members of Congress has been linked to the nasty, racist, organization.  Is it time for the FBI to infiltrate the SPLC like they did the KKK? – Editor

The Granny Warriors are a dangerous hate group. Just ask Mark Potok and his crack staff of investigators at the Southern Poverty Law Center.

Just one problem. Try finding the Granny Warriors. There is a website with that name; a fashion blog of sorts that has not been updated since 2015. There is another one-page website that shows pictures of an RV with the name Granny Warriors on the side. When the Granny Warriors first appeared on Mark Potok’s list, CNN was able to find the woman who founded the group who at the time was 74, making a quilt and suffering from congestive heart failure.

The richest poverty group in history

What is the Southern Poverty Law Center (SPLC)? They fashion themselves as the protector of America from hate. They issue reports on “hate groups”, and occasionally sue one of them, usually those so poor they can’t muster a defense. And they have gotten fabulously wealthy doing it. Charlotte Allen, writing in the Weekly Standard, called it “the richest poverty organization in the history of the world.” The group is sitting on cash reserves of $350 million and raises upwards of $50 million every year, mostly from direct mail, making northern liberals believe we still live in a world where black men are lynched with impunity and KKK riders-in-the-night burn crosses and even houses.

There is obviously a large dollop of hucketerism in what SPLC does. Morris Dees, who founded SPLC in 1971, got rich long ago on direct mail selling “everything from doormats to cookbooks,” says Allen. Dees is even in the Direct Mail Hall of Fame. Like any good carnival barker, he must scare the rubes into the tent and shake the shekels out of their pockets. He does this by making them think the dark night of fascism is upon us at every moment. Hence, even Granny Warriors are a threat.

Skeptics to the right of them, skeptics to the left of them

There are many SPLC skeptics, certainly on the right, but many on the left as well. Leftist Alexander Cockburn went after Dees et al at Counterpunch saying they were taking advantage of Barack Obama’s election to frighten “trembling liberals” into thinking “millions of extremists [were] primed to march down Main Street draped in Klan robes, a copy of Mein Kampf tucked under one arm and a Bible under the other.” Left-leaning Harper’s ran a 2000 piece called The Church of Morris Dees” charging that most of those on the SPLC list were fringe groups that perpetrated no violence and that most of the examples of violence cited by SPLC were lone wolves associated with no groups whatsoever.

When SPLC’s new list came out in 2013, the one with Granny Warriors, no less than Foreign Policy Magazine asked, “is American really being overrun by right-wing militias.” That year, SPLC claimed to have identified an all-time high 1360 hate groups, up from 1007 the year before. Foreign Policy questioned SPLC’s motivations and their methodology. SPLC is not an “objective purveyor of data,” they reported. “They’re anti-hate activists….their research needs to be weighed more carefully by media outlets that cover their pronouncements.”

Foreign Policy charged SPLC with using tricks to drive up the numbers. They do this by not making a distinction between national groups and local chapters. American Third Position Party, for instance, something you have certainly never heard of, is listed 17 times in SPLC’s 2012 report. The American Nazi Party is listed six times and the Council of Conservative Citizens is listed 37 times. Foreign Policy says when you eliminate multiple listings, the 1007 groups in 2012 becomes 358.

And among the remaining 358 are a blog called Crocker Post, a website/podcast called The Political Cesspool, and an anti-Islam cite called Silver Bullet Bun Oil. Foreign Policy scoffs at the notion that these are “groups” at all.

‘Hate’ labeling is not harmless

The charges made by Mark Potok and his colleagues are far from harmless even if some of their targets are. Charles Murray was targeted as a hater by SPLC and this caused the now famous riot of students who attacked him and a Middlebury College professor who hosted him.

To this day, you can visit the downtown Washington DC offices of the Family Research Center and see the bullet holes left by Floyd Corkins who invaded the office 4 years ago with the intent of mass murder. He testified under oath that he decided to attack FRC based on Potok’s listing of FRC as a hate group. The attack came only months after the release of SPLC’s 2013 report.

Potok himself has said the intention of his group is not to simply monitor hate groups but to “destroy them.” Given the propensity of the left to resort to violence these days, this is of increasing concern to the other Christian groups who are in the crosshairs of Mark Potok and his chief “investigator” Heidi Beirich. It is reported the shooter of Congressman Steven Scalise on a ballfield in Northern Virginia had “liked” SPLC on Facebook.

SPLC’s campaign against the Center for Family and Human Rights

Of the many problems when considering SPLC’s hate list is how any group lands on the list. What is the criteria and methodology? How did the Granny Warriors land on Potok’s list? Frankly, it’s hard to tell.

The Center for Family and Human Rights (C-Fam), the group I run, landed on the list a few years ago. In the report issued at the time, SPLC accused us of having “lauded” Scott Lively. You would be forgiven for not knowing Lively’s name. Hardly anyone does. He runs a tiny organization with a miniscule budget. He’s an Evangelical pastor who has worked with Christian groups in Uganda against what Pope Francis has called “ideological colonialism.” The left says Lively is responsible for the Ugandan “kill the gays bill”, a charge that is laughable on its face. Nonetheless, how did we “laud” him? In a news story about a federal lawsuit brought against him by a group of Ugandan homosexuals, we described his ministry in Massachusetts of giving out coffee and bibles to homeless men. That makes us a hate group, according to SPLC.

The SPLC report also cited our legal work in Belize when there was a national debate about their sodomy laws. We were asked for our expert legal opinion on Belize’s obligations under international law regarding sodomy and informed them they were free to decide the issue on their own, that international law did not require them to change their laws. My group did not take a position for or against sodomy. We never have. Giving legal advice on international law makes you a hate group, according to SPLC.

The goal: ‘destroy them’ – with the help of the media

SPLC likes to portray itself as a neutral referee, merely involved in calling balls and strikes when it comes to “hate.” But in a 2008 speech, Mark Potok let slip the mask when he said, “Sometimes the press will describe us as monitoring hate crimes and so on…I want to say plainly that our aim in life is to destroy these groups, to completely destroy them.”

The problem here is that the media gives SPLC a free ride. Whenever my group is covered in the press, or FRC, or Alliance Defending Freedom, or American Family Association, or any of the many other conservative Christian groups, the report inevitably tags us “designated as a hate group by the Southern Poverty Law Center.” No reporter that I know of has ever done his own research to determine if this label fits or is fair. Consider also the word “designated”, as if SPLC is a governmental entity with the authority to determine such things.

The media is not the only group utilizing SPLC’s hate-labeling. So does Wikipedia. Every article in Wikipedia about a Christian group on the SPLC list also mentions their “designation” as a hate group. Keep in mind that Wikipedia is among the very first places anyone goes to research a group they are interested in.

Amazon is in on it, too. It does not allow “hate groups” to participate in its affinity “Smile” program whereby a piece of every purchase can be earmarked for a designated charity.

Within the past few weeks the non-profit monitor/reporter Guidestar has incorporated SPLC’s “designation” into its listing of charities. Guidestar is often the first stop for donors when considering a gift because it has complete tax information for every non-profit in the United States. So now, when you turn to the Guidestar page for Family Research Council, blazoned across the top is SPLC’s logo and the warning that FRC is a hate group. Stay away donors.

Suing the defenceless

Besides their hate list, one of SPLC’s specialties is suing small groups or individuals who barely have the wherewithal to defend themselves so when SPLC inevitably wins, they get to claim once more to have beaten back fascism. Even though they sit on a mountain of cash, they also get to ask their donors to fund the suit, which they almost certainly do.

Two years ago, SPLC sued Arthur Goldberg who then ran a New Jersey-based psychological referral service for those wishing to leave the homosexual life. SPLC sued under the New Jersey consumer fraud law accusing Goldberg of duping his clients with the bogus theory that they could stop acting out sexually with men. Goldberg was well-represented with pro-bono attorneys from California. At any one time, however, SPLC had 15 attorneys working on the case. To give you an idea of what Goldberg was up against, the judge wouldn’t even allow expert testimony on change therapy since he said it was a crackpot theory. Goldberg lost and now owes millions. SPLC now goes around with Goldberg’s scalp and extracts beaucoup bucks from grateful gays.

It is a neat trick to be able to label your political opponents “hate groups” and get the media and major corporations to go along, and to get rich doing it. The purpose, of course, is to silence free speech, to end debate, and in the words of SPLC’s Mark Potok “to completely destroy them.” Many are asking how this has any place in our modern political discourse.

Austin Ruse is president of C-Fam (Center for Family & Human Rights), a New York and Washington DC-based research institute in Special Consultative Status with the UN Economic and Social Council. He is the author of “The Littlest Suffering Souls: Children Whose Short Lives Point Us to Christ” (Tan, 2017) and the upcoming (Fake Science: Exposing the Left’s Skewed Statistics, Fuzzy Facts, and Dodgy Data” (Regnery, 2017).

This article by Austin Ruse was originally published on MercatorNet.com under a Creative Commons Licence. If you enjoyed this article, visit MercatorNet.com for more. See more at: https://www.mercatornet.com/features/view/splc-a-poverty-project-whose-aim-is-to-destroy-christian-pro-family-groups#sthash.qaQllIie.dpuf