#swain's fine i'm sure

[collidescopeeyes]

requesting some viego or pyke HCs with a sick reader who is all like "no i'm fine i swear" but girl CLEARLY ain't. swain bonus if you wanna? love ur work!

Sick!Reader HCs with Viego, Pyke & Swain

Viego isn't gonna let you get away that easy, you aren't fooling him. Will literally pick you up and make you rest, you WILL be going to your nice cosy bed with a cup of tea, a handmade lunch and the best medicine money can buy, you do not get a choice about it. You will also be cuddled until you feel better, it's not like he can get sick, he's your 24/7 nurse and if you ask for literally anything he'll go get it (tbf that's true the rest of the time too). Also, he's so worried the whole time, please cooperate and put him out of his misery, he hates seeing you uncomfortable.

Pyke trusts you to know your limits up to a certain point, and after that point you're going to make good choices if he has to drag you kicking and screaming. You're going to bed and you're drinking plenty of water and he brought you medicine, yes he knows it tastes like salty lemon juice and bile, you're drinking it anyway, this is not a negotiation. He has a lot of weird folk remedies that are inexplicably super effective, are absolutely vile to taste, and somehow always involve fish parts. It's bizarre but it works. He'll stay with you the whole time though, and he has a way of stroking your hair and humming that makes you instantly fall asleep no matter how uncomfortable your symptoms are.

Swain’s getting you daily check ups from the Imperial physician, you're not arguing with him about your health, you're arguing with the person with the ten year medical degree + fifteen years practice and honey you're outclassed. He can't really take time off work to look after you but he makes sure you have everything you need to the highest quality before he leaves, and he actually finishes work on time, which is an act of god with the amount he's got in his plate on any given day. There WILL be a bird following you around the whole time he's gone though so he'll know if you're on your bullshit and you WILL be hearing about it later. And possibly pecked if you're trying to do something you really really shouldn't. He'll read you a book to make up for it though, he has a very soothing reading voice.

[tamelee]

I love the way you write, you're so articulate, I wish I could write like that 😭 I'm guessing you get good grades in school? Do you have advice on how to write articulately and clearly while also sounding professional? Like in essay writing?

Huuuu, that’s very kind of you 🥹;-; I’d never imagine anyone saying that to me… ever. 

Well, my grades are good, I have my last exams soon ^^

I do have a few tips! Or rather, there are things I’m still currently learning that may be helpful to you as well📝: 

(Sentence) Structure: I read a book called ‘elements of style’ by William Strunk (revised edition) recently and I learned that no matter how grammatically correct your sentences are, there are still ways to improve its structure. (I had to learn it all over again in English -.-) This is a big topic so I'll name a few specifics you can dive into.

Learn the difference between active and passive voice (passive isn’t bad and sometimes necessary, but active is almost always preferred). Don’t mind all this on your first draft though. It’ll only hinder you.

Study MRU (motivation-reaction units), often used in Fiction writing, but it helped me for essays as well. It is the logical pattern of cause and effect introduced by Dwight V. Swain and I read about it in 'techniques of the selling writer'. Here's an article on the topic as well.

Mind paragraphs. There are different rules for this depending on what you’re writing, but it helps its readability. For Essays especially it’s always good to keep topics separate and lead the reader to your conclusion in a way that makes sense. (It's sorta like holding their hand and going like "because of this... there is this... and therefore... and so.... that's why....") This may need some reorganizing of your premises/subjects at times. I especially need to organize my thoughts before I even start writing.  

Understand what it is that you need to write about and delete everything that isn’t relevant. If you’re like me and you get a ton of new ideas once you delve into a subject, then it’s good to keep a folder (or something similar) for these new ideas. Often these are entire topics on its own and including these into another will only make both unclear and your conclusion muddy. So, ask yourself whether it strengthens your point, or if it’ll make it more confusing. If it won’t make a difference then delete it anyway or save it in your folder for later.  

I always learned that objectivity is important in order to sound professional, though it depends on the kind of essay you’re writing. If you need to convince the reader of something then transparency about your own opinions can help your conclusion be more honest, but be careful of sounding preachy as well. I had to learn all these things when I still studied marketing/communication in entertainment, but it often makes me feel slimy because it’s all very manipulative. (Hence, I quit that path.) It's in fiction as well. Some authors let their own views bleed through their characters in such a way it becomes uncomfortable because it doesn’t argue for the story nor adds to the character— it attacks the reader’s personal morals which possibly gives them an ass-spanking while they’re at it which just really isn’t necessary. Emotional language is fine I think. Sometimes I got compliments from teachers especially because I didn't sound too professional, it requires a bit of knowledge when you can get away with it probably. Just make sure you can back up your arguments/statements and possibly add different views as well. In a way it's more about the confidence in which you present an idea than sounding professional and not being able to understand all the 'why's' I believe.

This one isn't that relevant for school-essays, but sometimes when writing one the question isn't clear. It helps both you and the reader to reformulate it in the beginning. Essays as well as stories are often nothing more than a problem you need to give an answer to. Even if there's no question, it helps to make one anyway so you don't wander off endlessly and drown in a sea of possible subjects you could write about.

Something that may help you as well— I created a roadmap for myself and the different types of things I have to write. That way I always know what to do first and it helps me structure both the essay and my process as I can get easily distracted otherwise. Making more decisions than necessary makes me freeze up, but with a roadmap I don’t have to do either.

Uuh, I've probably picked up on tons of helpful things lately, but I think these are great to start with. I hope they are helpful to you.

I always wanted to (story-)write, but gave up on it and decided to learn how to draw instead. Then, I sort of realized that I was being an idiot, because that desire never left and I had to write other things anyway— like this for example, and simply accepting the fact that no one can understand the load of incomprehensible rubbish I wrote, just wouldn’t do. You can check my older posts… it’s awful. If I ever intentionally want to give myself another headache, I’ll go and read those. 

It’s definitely not perfect now, but hopefully I improved though. I think so. Sometimes I still get scolded as I tend to ping-pong between thoughts suddenly and I can hardly tell the difference between BrE/AmE. (As I grew up I learned English mostly through a sort-of-aunt figure from Canada that always forced me to watch British tv with her.) But, the past few months I especially had to write many essays and (argumentative) case studies so I decided to learn and become better in writing. If that translated back to Tumblr then I'm happy and you’ve made my day >< 

[hummingbird-of-light]

Round 3: Fourth story for @badthingshappenbingo ~

Title: All For One

Fandom: Sea Patrol

Character(s): Chris "Swain" Blake, Billy "Spider" Webb

Relationship(s): Chris "Swain" Blake & Billy "Spider" Webb

Rating: T

Words: 778

Prompt: Barbed Wire

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Injury, Blood & Injury, Strangling

(You can also find this story on AO3)

~ All For One ~

Chief Petty Officer Chris "Swain" Blake crept through the jungle as quietly as possible. The away team had split up to track down the wanted criminals as quickly as possible.

The Hammersley crew had caught a gang of smugglers who had been trying to get valuable stolen diamonds out of the country, but three members were reportedly still missing and hiding somewhere on the island.

The crew had been instructed to locate the hideout and arrest the last members of the gang.

Swain was traveling with the young Able Sea Man Billy Webb, known as Spider. Chris could tell that the young man just couldn't wait to find the criminals' camp and throw himself heroically into the fray. His steps were quick and purposeful.

And indeed, it was the two of them who reached the hiding place first. A small hut deep in the jungle.

Swain gestured to Spider to inform the rest of the landing party of their find and their location, while he himself cautiously approached the building.

He hid behind one of the nearest trees and even from this distance, a glance through one of the dirty windows told him that two of the three men they were looking for were inside the hut. They appeared to be in the process of taking some of the blood diamonds from a hiding place and stuffing them into bags, which they then repacked inside a crate filled with fruit. That was their way of smuggling the diamonds.

Chris watched the men for a long moment before trying to move again to get closer to the hut, but that didn't happen.

A strangled scream escaped the Chief Petty Officer's throat as he felt something wrap around his neck from behind and strangle him. His heart skipped a beat and adrenaline instantly kicked in as he started to squirm.

"You shouldn't have come here."

A deep, menacing voice reached Swain's ear and he somehow tried to fight off his attacker. Of course, he was a combat-trained member of the Australian Navy, but the attack had taken him by surprise and the other man appeared to be extremely strong.

It took Swain a moment to realize that his neck was not only abraded, but aching. So instead of trying to turn around, he grabbed whatever was wrapped around his neck to somehow loosen it. To his horror, he realized that it was not a rope but some barbed wire.

The sharp spikes dug mercilessly into his skin and when he tried to pull the wire away, they even penetrated his gloves and pricked his fingers.

Swain grimaced in pain. He knew that the more he struggled, the deeper the spikes would dig into his flesh. But he had to try to free himself somehow, otherwise —

"Australian navy. Get away from that man at once. And don't you dare warn your partners in there."

Chris was not particularly surprised when Spider's voice suddenly rang out. What did surprise him, however, was the fact that the voice was quiet. The young Seaman had actually snuck up on the criminal to surprise him from behind instead of simply playing the hero and shouting loudly. A wise decision.

Slowly, the barbed wire around Swain's neck loosened and he was able to breathe again. He quickly picked up the weapon he had dropped during the attack and turned around, but Spider already had the situation under control. He handcuffed the gang member before looking over at Chris.

"You all right there, Swain?"

The older man just nodded as he carefully ran his fingers over his bloody neck. Every touch and every swallow hurt, but they would get that taken care of.

"I'm fine. Thanks, Spider."

Billy nodded to him, a proud smile on his lips. He would surely tell every other crewmember about this story later on.

"The others are already on their way. So we just need to keep an eye on these guys and keep them from running off." Spider pressed the barrel of his gun against the shoulder of the already arrested man.

It wasn't too long before the rest of the landing party arrived and all four criminals were arrested. And when Swain was finally back on board the Hammersley and Bird was helping him dress his wounds, he knew once again how grateful he was to be working with such a great crew.

Everyone stood up for everyone else. All for one and one for all. And that was a good thing. Because if it hadn't been for Spider, Swain would certainly not have survived the attack and a poor child would have had to grow up without his father.

[deathdxnces]

» — ⌜𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙴: 𝚁𝙸𝙾𝚃 𝚁𝙴𝙲𝙾𝚁𝙳𝚂.⌟ 

𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚊   𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚝   𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛   𝚊   𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎   𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝   𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎. it is an immutable constant in her life since its beginning, and what led her to stardom. the early years of her childhood were spent in carefree learning of traditional korean dances from her grandmother, but she soon moved on to learn myriad other styles, from classics to contemporary and everything in between. trained as an idol from a young age, she made her debut as part of a group at age fourteen. following their disbanding, irelia launched a successful career as a soloist, achieving worldwide fame.

the more specific information tidbits.

irelia is the fourth child and only daughter of lito and iseul xan. zelos, kai and ohn are her older brothers; ruu is her only younger brother. her grandmother, hayun, also lived with them (her eldest brothers might have had places of their own already? idk). they were a happy family and led a comfortable life.

she was around 3yo when she started dancing, learning from her grandmother. her first contact with dance was through traditional and folk dances, although she would start branching out to different types as she grew up. to her grandmother, their dances still held power, being more than just performance; irelia didn't share her beliefs, but always respected them.

at age 10 she became a trainee, and would debut as part of a kpop group at 14. i don't have the specifics for the group but if for whatever reason it'd be interesting for anyone to plot something in that sense just come yell at me 🫡

her family was almost entirely murdered when she was 11. irelia and her brother kai were the only survivors, due to not being home at the time. she was the one who found their bodies — and who had to stab two men to get out of the house alive. if they were targeted for a reason, irelia doesn't know.

i'm sure she made swain lose his arm at some point idk how but that's a canon event always has to happen in every universe.

kai, already an adult by the time their family was killed, was the one who raised irelia from then on.

irelia dedicated herself entirely to dance and music and her training after losing her family, and left a lot unprocessed and ignored in favor of focusing on that. she wasn't open to accepting help either, honestly. you can see when the 'suffers in silence and says she's fine' attitude began. i think she's also very angry and resents what happened to her but she won't talk about it. and she learned to not act on her anger and always try to, well, act as if it doesn't exist, because she was being trained to be an idol after all.

kai is the only one she'd sincerely listen to for the longest time. she's very attached to him and i feel the opposite would also be true, considering they lost their entire family. her brother is very very important to her.

it's public knowledge that her only living family is her older brother, but the fact her family was murdered, as well as what irelia herself went through when that happened, aren't widely known facts. i think with enough investigation people could probably find out, but it'd take digging into it.

irelia is very dutiful and dedicated and harsh on herself trying to not let anyone down. being trained as an idol from a young age, she had to face a lot of pressure and developed the very unhealthy habit of facing everything quietly on her own because she has to be good enough to deal with everything on her own. it's what people expect of her. she can't falter when others look up to her like that.

as the leader of the group she debuted in, she was extra prone to trying to shoulder everything on her own, on top of being very perfectionist, though irelia was always harsher on herself than anyone else. like, i don't think she'd fight or criticize or argue with anyone for any mistakes (unless they were purposefully not taking things seriously), i think as a leader she's more. inspirational and helpful. but i think when it comes to herself even a hair out of place is enough for her to be quite harsh on herself.

she still struggles greatly with a lot of pressure and a complicated relationship with perfectionism in that at the same time she feels she has to do everything to not let people down and to live up to expectations, she hates the expectations and that people expect her to be perfect and don't really see her as a person who is human and flawed. yes, just like canon c:

between her personal tragedies and the pressure and strictness of the industry, there's a lot she didn't really have the chance to experience as a teen, and i think nowadays irelia is still learning to embrace her freedom (which is part of why i think she very much enjoys spontaneous people and people who just. do whatever they want. it isn't always something she does easily and i feel she'd appreciate the nudge in that direction).

i think she can come across as cold/haughty at first (in part, it's the resting bitch face), but she's super caring toward people close to her. very protective and affectionate and too willing to excuse their wrongdoings tbh skdjfnksjfn she can also be silly but that's usually reserved for the people she's very close to.

toward fans and such she's always very warm and attentive. irelia would always try to take the time to interact with anyone who tries to approach her when she can, and she always tries to be as nice and kind to them as possible.

she's not nearly as warm toward reporters and paparazzi. i think she handles interviews well, but like, anyone trying to pry into her personal life and paparazzi type of things she has 0 tolerance for.

she can sing and dance and act. she also speaks korean, english and japanese. i haven't decided if she knows more languages so uh i might add to it later..

[bloodforvlad]

/ Ending Beginning /

For once, he doesn't feel a pulse, or a heartbeat. He feels, instead, a wave of sheer absence. It's cold, and it pushes through his senses like a wind. He looks up from his books, peering through the window of the library, and is horrified to see smoke. Billowing, broiling, spilling out across the sky. Vladimir leaves the tomes and moves towards the glass for a better look, feeling his stomach drop as he realises just what he is seeing.

The Harrowing Mist is early this year. It is reaping the birds from the sky, the beasts in the fields, and the people in the streets.

He feels sick. People are dying and he can feel it happening. Even from up here, in the Bastion, he can feel people's hearts stopping and their bodies going cold; he can see them getting to their feet again, but he knows there is nothing left in them that one could call 'alive'. The smoke is clambering, climbing the walls, reaching and lashing like malicious hands. Vladimir has never seen the Mist like this before, and the soul-lights of the Hungry Lost are far too numerous. It's like an army has descended on Noxus--

A hand clamps down on his shoulder, and he almost screams. But he exhales the nervous sound into a wheeze of a laugh, instead, as he recognises the perfume, and the heartbeat, of the woman. "Matron."

She says nothing. Her grip stays tight. Vladimir's smile - risen during the embarrassed moment - fades, then drops entirely. She isn't saying anything. She is watching the chaos unfolding outside with a stony expression. Her eyes are grim, and unflinching.

There are few things Vladimir knows for certain about the matron, his mentor and patroness and much more besides. But in this moment, as she grips his shoulder and watches Noxus being lashed by death, he learns two new things: she had known this was coming, and she was afraid.

"... Matron?"

He keeps her eyes on the window, watching the armies below as they fight the smoke, and then their own comrades. Her grip tightens, her nails digging into the fabric of his coat. Her face turns to him, and the last part to move is her gaze, which snaps from the view to his face. "We're leaving, dearest one." Her voice has none of the soft, smoky teasing to it that it normally has. Now, her words are low, and crisp, and there is such quiet force behind them.

She sounds as imperious as a queen.

The last time she had made this insistence, he had been forced to resurrect Sion, to power the behemoth's heart and flood the dead man's veins with loyal servants that had been rendered to fluid. He had resisted, then, and he had been punished for it, and forced to obey. Now? Now he doesn't dare think about second-guessing her.

It will not be long before the Mist climbs the Bastion. He will not be safe without her.

"... Yes, Matron." He doesn't ask where they're going. He doesn't ask about the rest of the Trifarix. He doesn't even ask about his servants, who are wide-eyed behind him and looking to him in panic, in plea. There is death everywhere, and she is here to save him, that is all that matters.

She is afraid. He can read it in the beat of her heart. She had known this was going to happen, and so she knew she was going to be afraid, but even so there is fear in her. She has never been afraid, but now she is. That frightens him more than the Mist.

He says nothing, letting himself be steered towards the nearest mirror. The silvery glass ripples like water, and the Matron's tight grip turns to a push, forcing him through to the shadows on the other side, before she joins him.

He hears Marie and Jacques scream, and he tries to turn back, tries to save his servants, but the Matron links her arm through his and pulls him, striding into the dark, leaving him no choice but to follow.

[tragedybunny]

Wise Men Say, Only Fools Rush In - Chapter 5 - Let's Go Crazy

❤ Hello lovelies. I'm still working on this as you can see. Slowly but surely. I hope you enjoy. Sorry it takes so long.

Katarina Du Couteau desires only one thing in life, to make her own destiny beyond her family's legacy and manipulations. To that end, she accepts a job with Noxus Holdings, working under CEO Jericho Swain. It isn't long though before she finds herself challenged in ways she never expected and making choices that will alter her life forever.

The diner smelled like grease, fried eggs, and strong coffee, the perfect cure for a hangover from hell. Throwing on yoga pants and a t-shirt, I’d grabbed a Basilift and headed there after we’d negotiated where to meet. It was a tense few texts but eventually, we reached an agreement that we both wanted to talk it out. My stomach flip-flopped and the blazing sun outside made my eyes burn. Sunglasses still firmly in place, I followed the waitress to a corner booth and ordered a coffee while I waited for Garen. The menu promised me all sorts of glorious delights from fried potatoes to pancakes to giant omelettes. I did decide against ordering what was a very tempting looking Bloody Mary.

When Garen finally slid into the booth across from me several minutes later, I pulled the glasses off and set them aside to look at him. “Hi.” His brow was furrowed and his blue eyes were stormy.

“Hi.” I shot back just in time for the waitress to show up with the coffee pot. Bless her. I stared at him over the brim of my newly filled mug trying to understand what exactly I felt. “So.”

“Kat.” He exhaled, a sound full of frustration. “Look, I know I wasn’t completely in the right last night, but we both had a hand in things.”

“No. No way you’re laying this on me. You stormed out on a perfectly decent evening.” Anger, that’s what I was feeling. “You absolutely embarrassed me last night.”

“Oh, it’s all my fault? You’ve been pushing me away and I’m supposed to just be calm while you eye-fuck the CEO and your slimy coworkers cheer?” He snapped.

I gasped in shock, he’d never shown me an aggressive side before this. My mind whispered that maybe this was exactly what I deserved. I suppressed it and hid behind my indignation. “That is not what happened! You’re just upset I’m not doing what you want, you’re trying to control me like my family.”

“Enough Kat.” he stood abruptly as faces from all around turned to stare at us. “Clearly now’s not a good time to talk about this.

“Clearly” I gazed out the window, rage receding into heart-rending sadness.

“I’ll call.” Silence was the only response I had for him, continuing to stare out into the busy street. I heard him walk away just in time for the waitress to reappear.

I ordered a massive omelette to console my gurgling stomach and aching heart. It arrived quickly enough with a sympathetic look from the waitress that I could have done without. Eating in solitude, I scrolled my socials a bit and told myself everything was fine.

After paying and leaving a rather generous tip of hush money, I caught another Basilift back home and shambled up the stairs to my apartment. I wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep and pretend this was all a bad dream. That probably wasn’t going to happen though, and neither was kick-boxing. I was in no mood to get tossed for excessive force again. Instead, I drifted in listless, empty hours.

Morning had passed into afternoon and I paced my apartment looking for anything to occupy my mind. All I found was my own continued seething and moving pictures of the two of us out of my sight. My phone buzzed and I leaped on it, eager for the distraction or another chance to fight this out.

Talon’s signature unreadable expression greeted me along with his message. “Hey Sis. So you left the practice and now you’re too good for us? Cassie told me to write that.”

A small pulse of shame made me forget my other situation for the moment. I hadn’t thought about them much at all as I tried to navigate this new way of life. But it wasn’t the first time we had gone without speaking for a while. I had to laugh too though, the statement was absolutely typical Cassie. “Sorry, it’s been hectic.” No time like the present though, and I did still need a distraction. “Want to meet up? The Hidden Shroom, get some tapas.”

“Cassie just rolled her eyes, so yeah, I guess.” Sounded like she would be real fun tonight.

“Give me two hours.” I needed to shower and get something decent to wear. There was no way I was going to show any weakness in front of Cassie.

The Hidden Shroom was a trendy tapas and craft cocktails place in the heart of downtown Valoran City. They say that KD/A ate there after their last show in town. Usually, it’s a pretty exclusive spot that’s a nightmare to get into, but Cassie had her fangs pretty deep into the owner, so the bouncer just waved me in with an impatient look as I skipped the line and darted through the door.

The two of them were at a booth on the second floor, away from the thrumming dance floor and hectic bar on the ground level, already one drink in. I slid in next to Talon, consciously choosing to face Cassie instead of sharing the space with her. “Well, it looks like you haven’t fallen apart completely at least.” Cassie needled and I forgot for a second that they didn’t know. No one did. It only took a moment for me to decide to keep it that way.

“Jealous I’ve got the less stressful gig?” I smirked, happy to trade barbs that were mostly meaningless to me at this point.

“Whatever.” She looked back down at the menu.

A waiter carrying a single glass who looked like the type that was ‘being a server until his acting career took off” arrived. They’d taken the liberty of getting me a drink as well, a strange but pleasant surprise. Haplessly he flirted with Cassie a bit while taking our orders. Poor thing didn’t realize that was probably the only tip he’d get from her tonight.

Sitting next to me, Talon was as quiet as usual. “Thanks for the invite.” I prodded.

For a second, he gave me a teasing grin. “It’s been a minute since you thought of us, huh?”

“Sorry again.” Even if Cassie vehemently denied wanting me around we were…used to a certain dynamic, a routine between the three of us. “So what’s the latest?”

“They’re fighting more than ever.” Cassie replied dryly before Talon could open his mouth.

I shrugged. I knew she wanted to bait me out and blame me, but I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction. Our parents’ relationship was a mess of their own making. “That’s what they do. Didn’t I hear that case of your’s got thrown out?” They’d been working together, big client, facing a disastrous lawsuit. They’d managed to have the whole thing scuttled.

That got a triumphant smile from across the table. “All my brilliant work. Father was so proud.”

Next to me, Talon huffed, but I elbowed him slightly and let her carry on. Once she’d been able to brag long enough she’d be easier to handle. Sure enough, after a few minutes of talking about all the documents she’d managed to get excluded to the point where the plaintiff had nothing left, she wore herself down and he took advantage to cut in. “And that’s that. How are things with you? Surviving the notorious Mr. Swain?”

My brain scrambled at the thought of him and I shook my head to chase the feeling away. “Yeah, it’s not bad. He’s tough, but I seem to know what he wants.” Cringing, I felt my cheeks turn pink at my phrasing. What the hell was wrong with me?

“And how's Garen?” Cassie asked with poisoned sweetness as she lifted her martini glass. She had never been his biggest fan.

“Great, got in the city softball league. We’re making some big plans.” The half-truths were easier to disguise than a lie, and I couldn’t give them the real truth just yet. Maybe I just wasn’t ready for her gloating. And it wasn’t like we were really broken up. At least I wasn’t sure we were. It was none of her business anyway.

A fake gagging noise was the response I received and I rolled my eyes in return. “That’s really…nice.” Talon, as usual, tried to walk the middle road between us.

I sighed, letting my exasperation get the better of me. “You know what, let’s get another round and bring this down a notch.”

“Mmhmm, I’ll pay. I know you’ve got it rough with rent and all.” Her voice was full of fake sympathy.

I chucked a neatly rolled napkin at her and laughed when it made contact. Next to me Talon gracefully looked away and pretended to see nothing. “Sounds good, I’m happy to accept your charity.”

For the next couple of hours, we ate, and drank, and snipped, and complained, and laughed. It was odd, almost like how you’d imagine a normal family could behave. I really had done the right thing by leaving, the distance was good for us. When we were ready to go, Talon enthusiastically hugged me and Cassie gave me a half-hearted side squeeze. “That’s enough, let’s not get all syrupy.” She admonished, pulling away quickly.

“Right.” I gave them one last look as we all headed for the door. “I’ll see you two around. We should do this again soon.”

Talon nodded but Cassie was already checking her phone. Too good to last I guess. The mixed emotions plagued me all the way home. I settled in for a night of trashy TV and thought hard about the bottle of wine in my pantry before deciding against it. I needed to be back on top of my game for Monday. There was no telling what would be the next project I was assigned.

Turning on one of my secret little faves, teams of five random people have to battle it out in an arena with armor pads and foam weapons. They have the best arguments and breakdowns, no team ever gets along. It served as a fair enough distraction, but as soon as I turned it off and had to face silence again, I thought of him. Anger and sadness both threatened to overwhelm me.

I unlocked my phone and thought for a long minute about what to say. Nothing came though. Despite my roiling emotions, I couldn't bring myself to own any part of that incident. I closed the app and dumped it in my pocket before heading to bed. Tomorrow, I promised myself, I would deal with this tomorrow. The time would give me clarity. Finally, before settling in for the night, I put my engagement ring in a box on my dresser.

Monday came and with it, as I predicted, another task and contrary to my promise, no conversation with Garen. This one was much less intense, simply reviewing some employee conduct policies for legality. “Nothing earth-shattering, but I trust you to get it done efficiently.” Mr. Swain had said, passing me the now familiar binder. Something was off though, his signature intensity was lacking. I was a little bewildered by how to respond to the much less formidable man sitting across the desk from me. Was it all a ruse to test new employees or had he seen some failing in me and decided to write me off? Fingers brushed against mine leaving a trail of warmth. “We will…touch base later this week.” He looked away, all attention suddenly on his monitor. “That will be all for now.”

The odd interaction was only added to my growing agitation. I dove headfirst into the new assignment rather than risk failure, if indeed his view of me was shifting. It was also my way of giving myself an excuse to put off the other pressing matter in my life. For the next few days, Garen and I still didn’t physically speak at all, instead exchanging terse texts that danced around the issue. By Thursday night I felt as though I’d run a marathon, my body worn down with exhaustion by the mental load. Finally pulling out the pantry wine , I fought tears and lost myself in another crappy show. With all my focus, including some nights at home to give me something else to think about, I’d finished reviewing the new policies that morning. On top of everything else, my day had ended with a meeting with Samira that was as joyful as ever. We’d exchanged tense barbs as we discussed how we were going to distribute work amongst our team members. Alyssa was still high on my list as dependable and she was friendly with me despite Samira, something I couldn’t say for the rest of the team. Somehow this had become our responsibility, Mr. Swain declaring it without Darius’s input, much to his clear annoyance. I’d given up trying to figure out what any of this meant at this point. We’d ended in another near shouting match over some slight I couldn’t quite recall.

Halfway through the bottle of wine, I realized I couldn’t do it again tomorrow. I was on a treadmill running myself ragged and I needed to get off, even if it left me with guilt and anxiety. My Father would’ve been livid at the notion of me taking a “mental health” day. Decision made, I sent Darius a quick text before I could waffle on it, apologizing and claiming to be slightly under the weather. Of course, he didn’t mind, Darius was the sane, firm but fair, mirror to Mr. Swain’s demanding harshness. I wondered how they’d ended up working so closely together given how opposite they seemed. Maybe he was selected in a conscious attempt at balance.

With that task accomplished, I went back to my wine, letting go and ignoring the voice whispering that I really should call Garen. With my alarm turned off, I slept hours late that morning, my body trying to recover its sense of well-being. Something close to peace washed over me as I drank my morning coffee, once I finally made it out of bed. Today I wouldn’t worry about Garen, work, or anything. I was going to think of myself only. After that, I’d figure out what came next and what I really wanted to do.

With that in mind, I slipped on some comfortable clothes and spent my morning with a good book before heading out on an excursion for a few new outfits and accessories. My look needed updating, another way to step away from the family business. As I returned home and put away my acquisitions, I felt my stomach rumble. It reminded me I’d eaten nothing but granola bars that morning. But in the spirit of self-care, I knew just what wanted, and it was only a couple of blocks away.

Between the towering apartment buildings in my neighborhood, and on some of the ground floors of them, were little shops and restaurants, with the odd food truck pulled over to service the crowds on these pleasant afternoons. The scent of fresh fried chicken wafted down the street as I meandered toward my destination, Birdio’s. The small takeaway joint was a hidden gem specializing in chicken any way you could want it, sandwiches, wings, and of course buckets of fried goodness. The beer in my fridge and a lot of greasy delectableness seemed to be the best way to end the day. I stepped into a line that stretched out the door and onto the sidewalk, a crowd already having taken up the small inside space. The sun warmed the concrete and I gloried in it. This really was the best idea I’d had in a long time and I was starting to feel strangely at peace. I could even start to contemplate working things out with Garen, finally admitting to myself how much I’d missed that steadfast presence over the last few days. The line inched forward and I pulled out my phone. “Hey, I miss you. Let’s meet and talk tomorrow. Come over in the morning?”

My heart thudded a little bit as I waited for a response. It didn’t take long though for a ding from my phone to end my anticipation. “Sure, but let’s be ready to really talk it out.”

No accusing, no passive aggressiveness, this was as good a place to start as any. Everything was falling into place and it felt as though the universe was on my side for once. And I was almost at the front door of Birdio’s, the heavenly smells now almost tangible.

“Ms. Du Couteau, you seem to be feeling better.” Never before had I wanted to sink into the ground and disappear as much as right then, hearing that familiar, dark voice behind me.

With horror, I turned to face him. “I…I guess I am. It was more of a headache actually.”

“Hmm, really. I thought it was some sort of mild cold Darius had said. Curious.” His expression was unreadable as he stared at me.

“Well…” I went quiet, there was no way I was going to not be fired.

After an excruciating moment of silence, he spoke again. “Relax Ms. Du Couteau, I will keep your little secret out of any official record.” A devilish smile spread across his face and I breathed a sigh of relief. “If.”

“If?” A new anxiety took over as I tensely awaited what terms he could offer.

“You let me join you in your spot in line.” He gestured to the enormous crowd that had gathered behind me by this point.

I forced myself to speak, realizing the immensity of him letting this pass. Part of me wanted to ask why, but questioning it didn’t seem wise. “Yeah, sure.” I stepped back slightly, leaving a gap for him to step into.

Instead, he stayed at a distance, studying me. He was clearly fresh from the office, suit jacket and tie absent and his shirt sleeves rolled up, allowing his prosthetic arm to glint in the late afternoon sun. “I was only joking with you Ms. Du Couteau. Use of employee personal time is entirely up to your discretion. I see I’ve made you uncomfortable though. Let me buy you dinner to make up for it.”

At this rate, he was probably thinking he'd be getting my notice on Monday. I mentally kicked myself knowing I looked like an emotional child. "You don't have to, it's fine." I added what I hoped was a convincing smile

"I insist. I'll even give you a lift back." He seemed genuinely penitent for the joke gone wrong.

"On the motorcycle?" I gave him a skeptical look.

"Would you expect anything less?" He smiled back at me and it was the most genuine one I'd ever seen from him. My mind reeled and my throat tightened.

"Fine, I accept.” He slid in line in front of me just as we were able to cross the threshold.

The smell of deep-fried delicious enveloped us as soon as we were inside. The chaos, cacophony, and scorching heat, together with the scent made me almost forget about the awkwardness between us. An ill-advised amount of chicken and fries were ordered and I thought of the Everfrost ale waiting in my fridge, the perfect accompaniment. Mr. Swain paid as promised and stepping to the side, we waited for our food

The silence that settled between us seemed strained despite no real hard feelings about earlier. "Sooooo, come here often?" I instantly regretted how cliche it sounded and nervously ran a hand through my hair.

"Not as much as I would like, I tend to be at the office late." He seemed almost like he was admitting some secret sin. As though it wasn't well known he was essentially always there.

"And yet today you're here. You must have sensed an employee being dishonest since you seem to know everything anyway." I needled him but it was fair play for earlier.

"I can still have you terminated you know. " He shot back without hesitating.

"Well let me know then so I don't bother coming in on Monday." The order was up and our little verbal sparring match was cut short. The thrill of it remained with me as we collected our prize and pushed back out into the late afternoon sun. Mr. Swain led the way to what was thankfully not actually his motorcycle but a decidedly expensive SUV.

I breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank God." I mumbled before I could think better of it.

"Don't worry, I'll make sure I have it the next time." That wicked grin was back and I rolled my eyes. "You can learn to love it Ms. ... hmm that seems terribly formal out here. would you mind if I just called you Katerina?"

The air rushed from my lungs at the sound of my name spoken by that lustrous voice. "You can just call me Kat. Everyone does." I hurried to load the food in the back of the SUV and get seated. For some reason, I found the weight of his stare unbearable.

He climbed into the seat next to me. "Kat." It was as though he were growing used to the sound of it.

"Jericho." I answered back, if this was how it was might as well make it even.

Something indistinguishable passed over his features and he began to drive. It was only a few blocks to Bastion Towers and it flew by. The car halted in the unloading area but I hesitated before getting out. "You live alone? "

"I do." There was a note of suspicion in his voice.

A notion overtook me. It didn't seem right somehow, just walking away and leaving him by himself after he had paid for everything, even if he had tormented me earlier. "Would you want to come up and have dinner together?" Hell, why not? Today was already weird enough, might as well continue with it.

"That is very kind, but you are in no way obligated." I noticed he didn't look away from the windshield.

"I wasn't thinking of it like that." I was but it didn't feel like the whole truth of it. I stood there awkwardly for a second, fingers entwining with one another to give my hands something to do. "It just might be nice to have a little company."

His neutral expression faltered. "I suppose that does sound nice." It felt like a victory. "Let me park and I'll head up to your place.”

Did I leave it a mess? I panicked for a moment but it was too late to change anything now. "Number 2019," I added, exiting and grabbing the food from the back seat.

After hurrying to the elevator, I ran to my door as soon as it released me. Glancing around between the kitchen and living room I was satisfied it wasn't a total disaster and quickly put the throw blanket I'd been hiding under earlier on the back of the couch. The sight of the dining table haunted me. I hadn't really thought this through. Sitting together there felt too formal. “Like a date,” my mind accused and I ignored it, instead turning to the coffee table. Beer and a little background noise on the TV would make things just casual enough. Another thing I hadn’t thought of, what could he be reading into this? That was ridiculous though, there was no way he can mistake this, or would even want to.

The knocking at the door broke me out of my thoughts and I answered it, utterly unprepared still for this whole mess I'd started. "Hey." Brilliant opener.

Stepping inside, he glanced around making a quick assessment. "Very cozy. Again you surprise Ms. Du – Kat. "

"At some point, you'll learn I'm not just some bloodthirsty lawyer. I mean I am, but I’ve got other things going on too." It seemed we'd gotten comfortable with banter.

"I suppose I'll have to at some point, since you were so kind to invite me up. And I do hope you really didn't feel obligated. Given our roles that could be problematic." There was sincerity to his words. He was right though, it could be a risk for him to be here. Why did he even accept then?

"Of course not. just tired of talking to myself." I laughed it off. What were either of us even doing here, for that matter? “Thought maybe we can put on a movie or something." He settled on the couch while I grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge. "Hope you like Everfrost." He wrested the chicken and fries from the bag and spread it over the coffee table.

"That's perfect." He took one from my hand, our eyes locking for a second before he looked away again.

Settling next to him, I picked up the remote. "Any preferences?"

"I can’t possibly impose any further. You pick." Imposition, obligation, I was beginning to think he didn't actually spend a lot of time around other people.

"All right, but I'm painfully boring." I put on an old black-and-white movie I'd been meaning to watch. Sitting back with a box of chicken and starting to eat, I noticed he kept his posture rigid not really relaxing. The movie played and I took a few drinks from my beer in between bites. Delightful as expected but the silence and the rigidity of him next to me distracted me. "I don't bite, I promise."

"Are you sure? I've seen you and Samira go at it.” He did finally seem to settle a bit after that. "Apologies, it's been a while since I've had casual company." Was there a bit of melancholy in his tone?

So he really didn't spend much time around people. "I'm flattered you made an exception for me." It seemed too heavy to let sit without deflecting.

"I'm just trying to keep my best lawyer on staff.” He slid back into glibness as well.

"Ha. Now you're taking it too far, the flattery is too much.” I took another drink, my mind starting to react to it. “So, what do you typically do with your free time, besides chase down errant employees?"

Setting aside the box of chicken, he took a drink. "Nothing terribly exciting; read, take care of Beatrice, my bird, cook, play the occasional game of chess."

"Chess and cooking, not exactly what I'd imagined." Truthfully, I wasn't sure what to imagine his life was like in his free time. What little of it he gave himself anyway.

"Unfortunately whenever I go to the club, I have too many women throw themselves at me." With a smirk, he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket and put one in his mouth.

As he was reaching for his lighter I cut him off. "No way, not in here. I rent this place and that will cost me my security deposit."

He shrugged. "It's not as though your family doesn't have money."

It was the exact wrong thing to say and I could tell my genial expression darkened. "I take care of myself."

He seemed to sense he'd misstepped and I cringed as a pleasant evening seemingly soured. "I'll take it on the balcony." His tone was conciliatory and I instantly felt awful.

"Let me grab another beer and I'll join you." There was no way I could let the CEO walk away knowing I just snapped at him. Grabbing a second one, I handed it to him as I stepped out into the cooling evening air. An apology almost came to my lips but I wasn't sure exactly what to say. His gaze on me left me self-conscious, and for the first time in a long time, I thought about the scar that ran down the left side of my face. Subconsciously, I ran a finger along it.

In silence, he passed me a cigarette and I took it, lighting it on his offered flame. This would become a habit if I wasn't careful. "The view is better from the other Tower." He walked to the edge to glance at the busy streets below. No apology passed between us, but it was like we both understood we'd been wrong and none was needed.

"Now you're just bragging." I joined him at the edge. He was right though, the better part of the sunset was blocked by the Western Tower. I took another drag of the cigarette and flicked ash into the empty bottle he’d brought with. "Too bad I've never seen it."

"I should invite you over some time." He said it almost hastily, like he wanted to rush through the sentiment.

The thought of it caused my mind to blank for a moment and I fought to regain focus. "I'll buy next time, you provide the sunset." My voice sounded thankfully normal.

"Deal ." He smiled and it was genial and diabolical at the same time.

The last of our smoke vanished in the air and we wandered back inside. Another round of beer and more chicken awaiting us. I turned the movie back on just to keep silence at bay. “And what does Kat fill her hours with when she's not at work? You keep telling me you're not always a lawyer."

"Oh nothing crazy; kickboxing, hitting the gym, the occasional good book, old movies.” I gestured at the screen. What would he make of it?

"And seeing your fiancee?" He prompted, a note of curiosity and his voice.

There was a pang of bitterness that came along with thinking of him. "Right, and seeing Garen." I fumbled around trying to change the subject. "Didn't you say you had a bird earlier?"

"Beatrice. she's a raven I rescued." He suddenly exuded affection and I could tell how much she meant to him.

We kept a steady flow of words, drinks, and natural lulls where the movie filled the silence. All the beer and chicken left me warm and drowsy, the last thing I remember was him laughing at some offhand comment I made. And then I was opening my eyes realizing I was covered in the throw blanket from the back of the couch.

Horror filled me and I sat up abruptly. The morning sun was peeping in, giving the apartment a soft glow. I threw the blanket off and glanced around anxiously to make sure he wasn't still there. Instead, I found a note on the coffee table. "Kat - you fell asleep. Hope you don't mind that I gave you the blanket. I'll lock up behind me."

All I wanted in that moment was to curl up and die so badly. But there wasn't time to be mortified I told myself, snatching up my phone from the table. Garen would be here in an hour.

[nithhaiahh]

Lately there have been several campaigns being prepared behind closed doors. Nith understood that this was but a portion of what she would have to endure as the Grand General's wife, but fear still ran deep in her thoughts. Separating from him by one means or another was a frightening thought. Once the meeting was over, all the commanders having left, the woman entered covered by her black veil.

"Busy day?"

She commented as she approached with a small package in her hands.

She took a breath of air. It was not the first time she had done this but it still caused her panic not being able to predict his reaction.

"I was thinking for a while about some way to surprise you, considering I can no longer jump out of nowhere using my mist. So after a long battle I've come to the following conclusion."

And with that Nith set the package down on his desk, waiting for Swain to open it to find inside... two rubber duckies.

"The power of the ducklings is incredible. It can calm someone's anger or save endless arguments. Believe me, I've lived it. In case one breaks, you have another one! ... I actually bought a dozen just in case but, well..."

With her right hand she moved her veil, her cheeks were a little red and her eyes looked a little embarrassed. Underneath the toys, covered by a piece of paper was a small box.

Opening it, Swain found inside a metal pen, but not just any metal. It was very light, dark in color, lacked a head, and in itself was just a thin metal structure with a slight sheen that gave it the appearance of the night sky. Subtly, on one side, were his initials.

"I'm not sure what it's made of, but it doesn't break easily, it's very light and comfortable. It has no ink or lead, it's just a piece of metal with a fine point. The interesting thing about it is that its composition makes it so that when it is placed on a piece of paper it oxidizes the material, that is to say, what you can read is actually the burnt lines of the paper. I thought it was nice and useful for you and Raum, because you mught be able to use it with your left hand! Although, you may already have other and more useful ones... I... well... Anyway, happy first month of marriage Jericho..." @corvoimperiale

[haddonfieldproject]

<<PREVIOUS⏺<<CONTENTS>>

1.2.3 HALLOWEEN NIGHT/NOVEMBER 1st 2:10 AM

Haddonfield, Illinois

As the Tate family continued eastward through Missouri in the rain, Officer J.T. Swain pulled his police cruiser into the parking lot of the Warren County Sherrif's Office. Swain jerked the hood of his rain slicker up, took a long and shaking breath, and braced himself for the deluge from above as he gripped his door handle. He quickly exited, shutting the door with his hip, and sprinted toward the doors, kicking up large splashes as he sloshed through the puddles in the parking lot---a parking lot that had been empty a few hours before when Samantha Nguyen had entered it.

It was now full.

His fellow officer, and friend, Greg Mullenix, met him at the front entrance, and held the door open for him as he stepped inside. “Where the hell have you been man?”

Swain threw his hood back, “I had to escort the Tramer's from the police station to the park.”

Mullenix winced as he opened the glass door on the inside annex.

“It was horrible,” Swain continued, “that boy's mom kept crying and crying, and I had to hold an umbrella over her while they ID'd their son.”

Mullenix put a hand on his friend's back. “I'm sorry man.

“What did I miss?” Swain asked as they headed through the lobby, passed the plastic chairs, and to the right of the front counter with it's frosted glass window...still shut. They could hear Officer Williams and another voice, a female voice, talking away from behind the glass. The phone still rang incessantly.

“It's a shit show.” Mullenix replied, pulling his wallet out of his pocket and tapping it to the little white square beside the large metal door that read: AUTHORIZED PERSONELL ONLY. His little plastic keycard inside reacted to the pad and a light at the top of the square went from red to green. He jerked the door open.

A cacophany of voices hit them immediately. The first door on the left gave way to a large conference room. The overlapping conversations were emanating from there. Six or seven Officers sat about the large mahogany table and about the same number stood in various places around the room. As Officer Mullenix and Officer Swain entered the doorway, they were bumped from behind by two other men. Deputy Sheriff Ben Meeker had exited his office from across the hall and pushed through the crowd. He was holding a manilla file folder in his hand. Another man, with a receding hairline and smart black and white business attire, followed him.

“Feds?” J.T. Mouthed to Mullenix as they moved to get out of the way of the two men.

Greg shrugged.

“Alright everyone!” Meeker rose his voice to a level that could be heard over the other conversation. “Everyone shut up!”

The conversations ceased.

“So as you know, Sheriff Brackett is of course in the hospital with his daughter so all operations has been handed over to me.”

He looked around the room, took a deep breath and then said, “Look---I know tonight has been,” he stopped for a moment, looking down at the desk, trying to fight the urge to get emotional. “Well,” he continued, “let's just say it, tonight's been really shitty. I know and you know we're stretched to the breaking point right now as it is, but US Marshals have something else we need to pay attention to, so this is Deputy McGrath out of the Springfield outfit, I need you to give him your full attention.”

The room was dead quiet, save for a solitary cough from the back corner of the room. Meeker switched places with the man who had come in with him. He cleared his throat and when he spoke, a sharp New England accent came through,

“Hello,” he said, pausing for a moment, thinking about what to say. “Deputy Meeker here has been telling me about the clusterfuck of a night you guys have had,” he looked around the room at the tired faces of the officers, “and I want you to know that the last thing I want to do is add to the little shitstorm you guys got going on in this little town tonight, but I'm afraid I'm gonna have to.”

Meeker handed the file folder to the officer next to him, a fat, snow white young looking kid with pink cheeks and frosty blonde curls all over his head. The kid's name was Kip Kinnerly, but all the other guys called him “Doughboy.”

“Kip, look at this and then pass it.”

“Yes sir.” Doughboy replied curtly as he took the folder.

Meeker raised his voice. “I want everyone to take a good look at this!”

The man in the suit cleared his throat again. “As he told you, I am Deputy Mark McGrath from US Marshals, and as most of you have no doubt already heard, we have been hunting two extremely dangerous persons and we believe they may have just arrived in your back yard, that is, in the general area of Warren County.”

“Are you fucking serious?” An Officer who stood in the corner of the room spat. “Are you talking about those two shits from Mississippi?”

“Let's watch the language Spaulding.” Meeker snapped.

“It's alright Sherrif Meeker,” McGrath smiled. “Two little shits are exactly what they are. Their names are Lloyd and Lee Chumway of Biloxi Mississippi. And we are requesting---hell we are begging—for your assistance so we can nab these sonsabitches and at least give y'all a silver lining to this terrible night.”

“Oh fuck.” Officer Malcom Donald breathed as he looked into the file folder. “I thought I'd seen enough of this kind of shit tonight.”

The photograph of the Chumway brothers had reached Mullenix and Swain. They had already seen their faces on the television the days before. Hell, all of America had.

“Someone snap pics of that with their cellphone and text it out to everyone. I want everyone to have those two faces burned in their brains.” Meeker said.

“I got you boss.” Swain replied. He passed the picture back to Mullenix and began to dig in his pocket for his cellphone. “Here, hold this.”

“Who is this chick?” Spaulding asked, taking another pic from Doughboy and handing it to Officer Emrah Lagenbruner next to him who had just squeezed himself into the circle that was forming around the conference room. .

“Whoa,” The young African American officer said upon seeing the picture, “Gonna be a closed casket for sure.”

McGrath pointed to the photograph in his hand.

“Her name was Marina Madden, Lee Chumway's brother...he's the younger of the two. On Thursday afternoon, around 13:30 Central Time, these two upstanding citizens apparently brutally raped this woman, and then pummeled her with a bedside lamp.”

Mullenix took the picture from Lagenbrunner. The aforementioned Marina Madden was sprawled out on burgundy carpet, near the foot of a bed-frame, her lifeless eyes gazing upward at a ceiling that was out of view of the camera. Blood was congealed on the side of her head, a broken bedside lamp lay beside her, a dark spot in the carpet spread out from beside her head. The darkened puddle was flecked with bits of brain matter.

Mullenix passed the picture to Swain.

“Who's this?” Spaulding asked, holding up another picture before passing it to Lagenbruner. “Whoa, hello sexy!” Lagenbruner quipped again upon seeing the picture and passing it to Mullenix. It was a circa 1977 Olan Mills portrait of a woman, wearing a bright floral print dress, cat-eye tinted glasses and a large brown bee-hive hairdo in front of a tacky painted background with a sunset, trees, and ducks. Two young boys in white suits and red ties sat on her knee.

McGrath answered, “That is the mother of these two fine citizens. Melba Jean Chumway. Aparently they grew bored of Miss Madden and decided to drive over to their mommy's house. They beat her to death with a hammer.”

Lagenbruner whistled as he saw the next photo. “Good night,” he breathed as he passed it to his left.

Mullenix's stomach tightened as he saw it. Even though she was face down on a linoleum floor, you could tell it was the same woman. Her dress was different, but an equally as offensive floral print. Her bee-hive was gray now, and a different, more modern pair of glasses lay broken beside her. The side of her head was split open, and old darkened blood was pooled on the tile beside her. Large shoe tracks were printed in blood all around her as well. A blood soaked hammer lay just beyond her elbow.

For not the first time tonight, Mullenix was feeling nauseated. As the wave of sickness washed over him and through him, he closed his eyes, gulped and opened them again to receive another photo. The time, a pretty but a little chunky woman in a Lynyrd Skynyrd t-shirt and camouflage pants was sitting atop a tractor. A field of snowy white cotton gleamed in the background. An older gentleman stood beside the tractor with a cigarette handing out of his mouth and a battered confederate battle-flag hat laying crooked on his head. He wore a simple blue shirt with the words TRUMP in bold white letters, along with the tag-line in red below it: Make America Great Again.

“I'm guessing this one is their engagement photo?” Swain tried to quip as he took the picture from Mullenix. It came out hollow as his voice cracked.

McGrath guestered to him. “They then left for Lloyd's apartment where Lloyd's unfortunate girlfriend Kelly Willis-Ross was living. They nearly decapitated her with a kitchen knife.”

Another grizzly crime photo was passed over. Poor Miss Willis-Ross lay in a bathtub, soaked red. Her head lay disjointed on her shoulders, her chin impossibly almost touching her right breast. Swain felt another surge in his stomach. He tried to focus on something in the picture so that he would appear to be looking at the slide, but not really looking at the carnage itself. His eyes fixed on a blue bottle which sat on the side of the tub next to the unfortunate carcass of Lloyd's now ex-girlfriend. HERBAL ESSENCES CONDITIONER. BLUE RASPBERRY.

“Jesus Christ,” Mullenix breathed.

Swain shot him a glance. His friend and partner's face was caught in a grimace.

“I know,” Swain whispered, “good luck sleeping tonight.”

“I don't think I'm ever going to sleep again,” Mullenix mumbled.

McGrath continued, as more horrific scenes of gore was paraded down the line.

“They then drove to their place of employment: a Papagayos Mexican Restaurant. These two star employees were on the clock for only 53 minutes before they murdered their boss and everyone in the store with kitchen knives. They have been on the run every since.”

“How do we know they're coming here?” Meeker asked, taking a seat on the edge of the conference table.

McGrath answered, “On Thursday night around 20:00, 911 operators at a Southern Star Gas Station near Oxford Mississippi were alerted to a robbery and homicide, and closed circuit cameras in the store captured the Chumway brothers. Two of the men they beat to death inside the store were concealed carry operators who were overwhelmed before they were able to withdraw their weapons. The Chumways stole the weapons and are now considered armed and dangerous....well...more dangerous.”

A few more cops trickled into the conference room from outside, looking pale and cold, shaking off the rain. McGrath paused as they took their place around the room, then continued, “Early Friday morning, around 02:30 we got a bead on to what direction they were heading in when 911 dispatch got word of a robbery at a Dixie Donuts outside Memphis Tennessee. Again surveillance at the location confirmed that the Chumway brothers were perpetrators of the crime. They were tracked to a strip club in the area and then to a motel, but apparently just missed the grasp of Memphis police. Their pursuit was also put off by trick or treating traffic, something I heard you guys had trouble with as well as you were tracking your own psychopath through the town.”

A few of the cops nodded and murmuring in agreement. Agent McGrath paused , rubbing his chin, his eyes clouded over, as if he were lost in his thoughts. After a moment he said, “We have every reason to assume they continued north, and would be entering this vicinity very soon if they continued at their assumed rate of speed. Unfortunately we have no idea what they could be driving now, they keep switching vehicles, but we just need you boys to keep an eye out.”

There was another cough and a few moments of heavy silence. Then Doughboy snapped to attention, his blue eyes wet, and barked: “Sir yes sir.”

The others officers followed suit, but all were less exuberant and most were merely mumbling. Deputy-Sheriff Meeker sat up from the edge of the table and approached Agent McGrath, and placing a hand on the shorter man's shoulder. McGrath gave a half smile, shooting a glance to Meeker and then back to the assembled officers. “Well okay then, we know what to look for, and we'll do our best to nab these sonsabitches.” Meeker extended his hand and McGrath took it.

Officer Mullenix yawned. Officer Ted Mitchum came in to the room with a large WANTED poster of the Chumway brothers. He lifted a stapler and stapled it to the wall next to the whiteboard at the far end of the conference room. Mullenix fixated on their face.

They look so normal, he thought, like just two simple men....two...really normal simple men.

NEXT>>

[technicallyoneofakind]

Running Away

Author's Note:

We're back with the group during the events of the game! Woot! This time I wanted to write one where Swaine and Esther have a friendly chat. They never really just talk to each other, it seems. I mean there is that one scene late in the game, but otherwise… yeah. They just argue like siblings…

Again, shout out to moonbird for inspiration here- at least for the first portion. As for those of you who have been just as generous to favorite, review, comment, or- hell- even read this mess, I thank you greatly. I mean it.

Anyway, on with the show!

Disclaimer: While I may own a copy of this game and wish I owned Swaine… I don't own the rights to it or Swaine. I do own the ideas I use for my fics, though… I think.

~.~.~

A peaceful sleep did not find him that night. He thought the nightmares would have ceased since he joined the three since they destroyed that thing that plagued his heart. No. As it turned out, nightmares, especially his, had many sources.

He dreamed he was in a world of darkness. He wasn't alone- the two kids in the group, a young Al Mamoonian girl and a boy from another world, were there as well. They weren't standing by his side as they always did when things looked serious. Instead, they had been taken, ensnared by an unseen adversary. They were being dragged under, reaching out for help.

He froze. Part of him wanted to run away, the instinct of self-preservation screaming at him. Part of him wanted to pull the two out of danger, to pull them to safety. Part of him knew, that despite whatever choice he made, it was already too late.

He ran toward them, an overwhelming urge to protect his friends overtaking him. When he reached toward them, the blond girl was quickly dragged under. He cursed himself for being to slow. Instead, he reached for the young wizard.

He hesitated when the face he saw shifted to that of his brother's, the sage's eyes possessed by the shadows. He froze, out of shock.

"Why try? Just run away. That's all you're ever good for," it mocked, the voice distorted. It sounded like multiple people, especially his own, speaking in unison. He grimaced, hesitating further.

When he withdrew his hand, it cackled at him. It almost sounded like an anguished cry.

"Stop it," he shouted. "Just stop!" He gripped his hair, pulling at it. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry," he repeated, backing away. The cackling grew louder. When he looked up, he found its source. Possessed faces of the two he had just tried to save as well as his own father's and brother's hovered over and surrounded him. He lowered his gaze again to avoid the horrid sight.

The cackling suddenly stopped. "You call yourself a prince?! You're barely even a man. Coward," the voices sneered.

"Just, shut up, would you! Leave me alone," he cried, falling to his knees. They roared with laughter at his suffering. He could feel them converging in on him.

"No," he shouted. "Don't-," he began to protest.

"Swaine, wake up," a familiar voice called. He found himself being shaken awake. He opened his eyes to find Esther, the blond. She sighed tiredly and rubbed an eye. "You were thrashing around and shouting in your sleep," she began to explain to him. "You woke me up."

"Huh," he found himself only able to groan. He rolled over, frowning. "Sorry. Go back to sleep," he groggily ordered despite the fear of that dream coming back to haunt him again.

"Are you okay," Esther asked the thief. "You sounded like you were having a really bad nightmare."

Silence. Perhaps he hoped she would think he fell back asleep if he didn't answer.

"D-do you want to talk about it," she prodded, seemingly wide awake now. That trick would have never worked on her. He tended to snore rather loudly when he did fall asleep.

"Go to bed, Esther," he growled, looking over his left shoulder. He knew sleeping on her side of the fire was a bad idea from the start. The other two took the other side so if any wandering creature approached they would know to alert the rest. He was left with the familiar tamer- the girl who he'd come wager as someone who'd poke a sleeping bear if it snored too loudly.

"I'm not going to bed until I know what's going on, Swaine," she demanded, huffing.

He rolled over to face her quickly, scowling. "I had a nightmare. The end. Now, will you kindly: Go. To. Sleep," he snapped in a vain attempt to keep his personal dilemma quiet.

"That's the part I want to help you with, though. The nightmare," she persisted, oddly concerned about his wellbeing.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Since when do you care? Here's a bit of knowledge you seemed to have missed, Esther: everyone has a bad dream every now and again. Everyone."

She sighed and finally returned to her sleeping bag. "Fine," she grumpily adhered, snuggling down into the purple sack. "Wake me when you need to talk."

An hour seemed to pass. He couldn't go back to sleep, he quickly found. He dreaded to think if what horrors would await him. He sat up and rubbed his forehead. He looked around and recalled their location. They were on No Isle of Mine, a rocky island near the shores of Autumnia. He could wander off and return by the time everyone got up. No one would miss him.

Something told him otherwise. He shook his head, closing his eyes and remained there in thought. What did it mean, he pondered. Why am I so shaken up about it? It was just a dream, he argued in his head.

He looked at the sleeping familiar tamer and considered her offer. He didn't want to disturb her… but maybe the girl was right, for once. Maybe this was something he needed to talk to someone to work out.

He crawled down to her sleeping bag and shook her awake. "Esther, hey."

She turned her head, her eyes squeezing shut even more so before they finally opened. She looked up to see a tired thief smirking down at her. "Hmm? What is it," she yawned at him.

"About that chat. I could use some help working that nightmare out after all...," he sheepishly admitted. "Sorry for pushing you away, earlier. I was just being stubborn." He looked away and rubbed the back of his neck.

She giggled and sat up, flashing him a reassuring smile. "It's alright. Tell me about this nightmare..."

"Oh, wow… that sounds horrifying," the blond gasped. She had her hands over her mouth and her eyes wide. "Do you think it's guilt? Of running away when… well… you know."

The man shook his head. "I'm not sure. The demon called me a coward, too…," he admitted. "And I couldn't save you or Oliver." At that, he winced and looked out to the ocean. "In the end, I couldn't even save myself." He held his hands up in front of him and looked down at them.

"Maybe you're worried you'll let us down," Esther proposed, confused herself.

"Well, now I am. If you lot get in a bind, who's to say I won't hesitate," he asked her, though it was more to himself. "Who's to say I won't just…" He threw his hands down in a fit of frustration.

"…run away," Esther finished. "But… You wouldn't. You haven't before. You've pulled through for us when we needed it so many times," she recounted, recalling countless battles where, if it hadn't been for the thief, they would have been done for.

He locked his eyes with hers for a moment. He turned his head away slowly, pensively. He sighed through his nose and closed his eyes and slowly nodded. "I know. But still…" He opened his eyes again, glancing down. "I really am a coward, Esther. I'm always afraid. It wouldn't matter who I'm with, or where I'm at. I'm always going to be afraid." He shook his head, chuckling. "I don't know how you and Oliver can just plunge into danger without a single doubt in your mind. I kind of admire that, really."

Silence fell on them for a moment. Esther looked down, contemplating his words.

"You're not a coward," she stated.

His attention snapped back to her. He looked at the blonde, surprised. "I'm sorry… what did you say?"

"You. Are not. A coward," she spelled out for him. She looked up at the man with that usual headstrong look in her eye. "It takes courage still stand up and fight, even when you're afraid. A coward really would just run away. You can't be a coward!"

He let out a sigh, shaking his head. "I can't believe what I'm hearing… Esther…" He looked at the girl with an incredulous expression. "I think if you lot weren't there, I'd be running for the hills. I really do."

"Then that makes you even less of a coward, doesn't it? A coward would just abandon his friends," she argued, glaring up at Swaine.

"Hah! You're confusing courage with responsibility, aren't you?" He looked back out at sea, avoiding her glare. "I'm just doing what I think is right, that's all…" There was a tinge of disappointment and longing in his voice. He eventually turned his entire person towards the view of the distant shore, hoping to end the conversation

Another wave of silence passed over them. The sound of the sea and distant mechanical creatures moving around kept them in a soothing company.

"Then it's your sense of responsibility that gives you your courage…," she finally answered. "It gives you a reason to fight!" She placed her right hand over her heart, gripping the fabric of her top. "All of us… we all have our own reasons for enduring what we have. It's what gives us our strength, our fearlessness."

The man didn't respond. He continued to stubbornly look out at the moonlit sea.

Esther sighed, her hand loosening its grip as she looked down. "I'm… I'm always scared, too…," she divulged quietly.

The thief's eyes widened, unseen by the familiar tamer. He turned his head to glance at her. "How?"

She looked up, turning her gaze to the lanky form next to her. "Huh," was all she offered.

Turning quickly so he could directly face her he clarified, "How are you, of all people, scared? I mean, we are going up against the Dark Djinn- but honestly… You always seem so… Agh…" He shut his eyes and looked away before looking back at her. "You don't seem to worry about it at all, is what I'm trying to say." He motioned with his hand, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm… I'm actually terrified of facing the Dark Djinn," she muttered. "I'm always a little worried that we won't make it when we fight something big." She looked up, sporting a fierce strongminded expression the thief had seen many a time. "I know, though, that I can't let it get the best of me. I won't be intimidated! What kind of person would I be if I didn't at least try?"

He smirked and then laughed. "So, you're running away, too?"

The girl tilted her head, confused. "What do you mean?"

He motioned around himself, a nonchalant attitude about him. "We're both running away… from ourselves."

She raised an eyebrow. "'From ourselves'?" He wasn't making a bit of sense. "What does that even mean?"

"Think of it as a metaphor. We're both trying to avoid things about ourselves we don't want to acknowledge." He wasn't exactly sure if his analogy would take. Giving motivational speeches on a limited amount of sleep wasn't exactly his forte.

She paused for a moment. "But… if I'm running away from my fear, then… what are you running from, Swaine?"

"There's quite a bit, really. The biggest one being my own sense of identity. I've been trying to work that one out for a while now." He collapsed down on the ground, his arms spread over his head. "Even now, I don't know who I am, Esther…" He looked up at the sky.

"You seem pretty confident in being a thief," she noted coyly.

"But I'm a prince, too. What do you make of that?" He studied the stars, admiring their beauty in the clear night sky. Swaine the pickpocket and Gascon the prince seemed sometimes polar opposites of each other. "I can't be both, you know."

"Of course you can! Just don't act like a common criminal," she suggested. "You're both the same person. And just because you happen to be a prince, that shouldn't change anything. You're still you, aren't you," she noted while leaning on her arms, bent over from her cross-legged position on her sleeping bag. "Why don't you just focus on that?"

"Am I, now? I wouldn't exactly call myself princely material, Esther, especially in my current state." He lied there in thought. I guess, though… she has a point- maybe there really is no point separating the two, now.

Another hour seemed to pass.

"Swaine," she started, observing the man. He had closed his eyes in silent contemplation earlier. She started to think he'd fallen asleep when he didn't answer. She sat back up, an unsure face taking over. "I'm actually kind of envious of you… I can't be my self- not really. There's probably still so much you hide from everyone, too but…" She hesitated. "Even if you aren't sure of who you are, you always seem so confident in your abilities. I'm always worried I'll mess up." She let out a nervous laugh. "I guess that's a pretty common fear. I just never felt brave enough to admit it."

"I can't just say I'm scared either like you can." The blond looked at the thief, his facial expression unchanged. "I've got to be strong, right? That means putting on a brave face, righting wrongs, and helping people, doesn't it? I-," she faltered, her words were full of doubt. "I shouldn't be scared- not of anything." She swallowed, a lump of anxiety forming in her throat.

"It's alright to be afraid, you know," a voice from beside the girl consoled. "You don't always have to be so headstrong."

She looked at Swaine. The man had his eyes closed, still. "I…," she started. There it was again, the proud attitude of a former prince.

He sat up again, massaging his temple. "Gees. What did we just talk about? You're just running away from it again." He crossed his arms, analyzing the situation. It seemed she had built this up for quite some time. He leaned forward. "Don't bottle it up… It will eventually explode, your worries, I mean," he advised softly.

She smiled, grateful for his support. "You mean like you were doing earlier," she joked, elbowing him.

He winced, holding his abdomen and leaning away. "Yeah, I'm no saint," he coughed. He looked at the giggling teen. "I wouldn't mind lending an ear, you know."

"Alright, but don't fuss if I wake you for a midnight chat," she warned, wagging a finger.

The thief huffed and rolled his eyes. "I make no promises."

The two couldn't go back to sleep after that. They kind of just sat in awe of the night sky and the large moon that hung overhead. For once, they sat in silent agreement with each other. When morning finally came, things finally went back to normal.

"You guys are up early," Oliver observed groggily, not noticing what was really going on for a moment. They seemed to be leaning on each other for support, the lack of sleep caught up with them. "Umm… Swaine, Esther- you two okay?"

The fairy walked in front of them and snapped his fingers in front of their content faces, unaware of the awkward position they were in. "Flippin' heck, mun. They're out like a light! No wonder they ent pushing each other away right now!"

Oliver walked over to the pair and gripped the familiar tamer's shoulder, shaking it, figuring he could survive a magic harp attack to the face better than a gunshot. "Hey, Esther. Esther, it's time to wake up."

The girl blearily opened her eyes. It took a moment for her to register where she was. She felt her cheek rub against the sleeve of the man's coat, causing her to look up slightly. She quickly woke up, straightening herself and scrambling a couple feet from Swaine. "Agh," she yelped. She punched the man she had accidentally used as a pillow.

"Ouch! Hey! What was that for," the thief snapped, instantly wide awake and rubbing his arm.

"For letting me lean on you like that!" She scowled at him.

The thief looked at her, though his focus was on what had exactly happened. He stayed silent for a moment.

"Honestly… I don't remember even turning in for the night, Esther. Do you," he wisely asked, having put the pieces together. Honestly, he thought. I have more of a thing for the ground than anyone here, considering that's where everyone usually sleeps. The hell, Esther?

The girl thought for a moment herself. She realized she didn't. "…Yeah… Sorry for jumping to such a silly conclusion, Swaine," She apologized to the rugged mess of a man who still held his arm. He looked back at the boy by now, blearily taking in an explanation of the day's plans.

"Oi, we better get goin'! Sun's already up," the fairy shouted at the group. All in agreement, they packed up camp and prepared to be whisked away by a purple dragon.

Oliver sounded the horn. As they waited, Esther nudged Swaine gently. "Hey."

"Hmm," he nonchalantly responded, not bothering to look at her.

"Thanks for the chat." It was kind of funny, in a way. She felt as if he had helped her more than she helped him.

Tengri landed in front of them and they were off, flying where the wind would take them on their adventure to save the world.

~.~.~

A/N:

Tried to keep it platonic with some fluffy humor at the end. I actually don't pair those two together. Really. They really do come off as siblings that bicker more than anything to me. We need more platonic Swaine and Esther fics where they just talk or do stuff together as friends. I feel that's kind of lacking in the fanbase.

Fun fact, I actually wrote part of this staying over at a friend's place. We stayed up late and talked about stuff. She even showed me this cool comic she found! I find it funny: I think it affected how I approached this one-shot in a positive manner. Like the part where Swaine lays back on the ground while he's sitting next to Esther? Yeah. I did that a couple of times while sitting on her bed with my laptop in my lap. I took small little breaks when I found it hard to come up with reasonable reactions between these two- that's when we chatted and had fun.

In any case. Please, do review. I'd love to hear your thoughts!