#thankful that haven has it and my wife commented to me which prompted me to check it is indeed compatible w/ sve unlike what i thought

[landgraabbed]

[ethod-reo]

Zutara week day 2 (and 1..)

Well, while i totally forgot to post for the first day, i did write for the two prompts. So here is a link to the ff.net version of this. And here, second prompt. Which consists of letters exclusively because i liked it x) (if you want the first one, it’s on ff.net sorry about that)

@zutaraweek

Zutara week 2018 day two- Letters

“Dear Zuko,

This is the first letter I attempted to write since Aang and I left after the coronation. I cannot tell you how sorry I am for not writing sooner. We just kept travelling and travelling, you won’t imagine the lengths I had to go to in order to keep Aang still for more than two days. I have not much to say, I am roaming the earth, but as fantastic as it has been, I must confess that I miss the comfort of one place. I think it will ease with time. How are thing back in the Fire nation?  I hope you are not frightening too much your poor servants.

With love,

Katara”

“Dear Katara,

Your letter surprised me, but I did miss having a friend to talk to, even through letters. As you must know, Sokka and Suki retuned to the Southern Water Tribe a few days after your own departure. He lacks a certain talent in redaction, but he did make the effort to announce me his engagement to Suki. Although their wedding should not be officiated until at least next spring. But I am guessing that you are already planning a visit soon.

You should not worry too much about your seeming aversion to the nomad lifestyle, I am positively certain that it will grow on you. And my servants are perfectly happy thank you very much.

With love,

Zuko”

“Dear Zuko,

You mean Sokka wrote you before I did? What a terrible friend I must be if even my brother is more on point than I am… I heard about the engagement, but it slipped my mind to ask Aang for a detour, I shall do so soon. I hope I would get to see you before the wedding, it’s already been almost a year and I think I am actually missing you.

With love,

Katara”

“Dear Katara,

Sokka being the man that he is, he did not write me more than two letters, I think you don’t have to worry about him looking more devoted than you. I am sure Aang wouldn’t mind, you two are now free as the wind, right?

Last but not least, you are missing me? I never lived to think such a thing possible. Does this mean that I have earned your liking? It wasn’t that hard, a little lighting here and there did the trick.

With love,

Zuko”

“Dear Zuko,

I am not in the best mood to answer you, but I didn’t want to risk a greater delay due to my travels. Aang did mind, he planned some travels during this autumn and because of the celebrations that took place during this time, he wouldn’t hear anything. I don’t think that he realizes how childish he’s acting, you must know that past a certain date, the poles are unreachable, as the weather allies with the absent sun, to make any travel impossible. I feel exhausted after all the flying he did. Can you believe that I haven’t bended any water in days? I’m sorry for letting my emotions take control, I could use a vacation. How is the Fire nation at this time of the year?

Of course you earned my liking you Firefool, but when did I earn yours?

With love,

Katara”

“Dear Katara,

If you were suggesting a vacation in my humble country, I will be most happy to provide you living quarters, for as long as you wish. This applies to Aang as well. I can’t really comment on your couple issues, as you might have noticed, I am not the greatest expert in that field. But I do think that you should bend daily, it is not a luxury it is a necessity. Aang might not understand this, being surrounded by his element at all times, but water to a waterbender is as vital as sun to the firebender.

And if I can be blunt, I must confess that you earned my liking long ago, in a crystal-lighted cave, this was followed by one of the greatest mistakes that I ever made, as you know.

With love,

Zuko”

“Dear Zuko,

I was delighted during every second of my stay at the palace, I just regret having to leave so soon. I might ask Aang to leave me there alone for a little while, so he’ll be able to travel to his liking. Your palace seems well-managed. I don’t know what to say, I feel as if I only left you yesterday. I deeply missed the food, and the coast is so beautiful at sunset! You live in a haven that I envy. You know what? I will stay longer. Aang is facing dreadful meetings with the Earth ministers and I always hated this forsaken city that is Ba Sing Se. This letter should arrive a few days before me.

Perhaps I should also tell you that you don’t have to carry that cross no more, I have forgiven you a long time ago and you repaid me in more ways that I thought possible.

With love,

Katara”

“Katara.

I think there are some things we have to discuss. You know how happy I was to see you again a fortnight ago. And as much as I appreciate your presence, I believe you would agree that our last meeting did not end in the most fashionable way. What happened the night before was greatly influenced by the Fire whiskey as I am sure that you acknowledge. I am simply hurt by you sudden departure, in a boat of all things! I will have to face Aang and explain him why his girlfriend ran away. I do not like to lie to my friend, but I think I have no other choice for now. In order to protect your relationship and my crown.

I don’t know how to appropriately greet you anymore,

Zuko”

“Dear Zuko,

Do you think that your façade fools me? I see through your walls, you know as well as I do that the events previously discussed were displayed by two sober persons. And as much as I regret the pain that this will cause Aang, I can’t hide it either. I know you, I see what you try to hide behind your stiff words and outraged sentences. I am sorry, sorry that I didn’t realize sooner what I felt. I still don’t know. But I know that Aang did not so much as cross my mind during the two weeks that I spend with you. And I know what I felt when Mai appeared in front of you. I did not have my full senses that night, but if they were blurred by something, it was not Fire whiskey.

Katara”

“Katara,

You are so talented at piercing through my shields and even now I can’t be certain of what hides behind yours. In regard of this, you can see the following words as the desperate prayer of a long-lost man.

I can’t express my feelings very well. Karata, dearest Katara for dearest you’ll always be, I can’t feign my indifference any longer. Since a day that I can’t quite identify, you have held a particular spot in my heart. I never wished to act upon it, I did not wish for anything other than your happiness. And I was convinced that Aang was the best of the persons that could suit you. As I wrote to you, I started to feel guilty, wasn’t I betraying my friend? Not that I had any misplaced intentions, still, I couldn’t help but doubt my heart, too weak and too smitten maybe, to be reliable. I was confident in my own restrain though, during your stay here, I was convinced that nothing could go wrong. But you did not make things easier for me and I must now confess what I have dreaded for so long, how I am simply and desperately in love with you.

Zuko”

“Zuko,

I am sorry, so sorry, for putting you through all of this. I did not clearly see myself until the days that you know. I won’t lose myself in long declarations as you did. I could express my feeling with better accuracy, were they not so powerful. I shall see you soon, and then, I hope we will not have to part anymore.

With love,

Katara”

“Dear Katara,

As I am writing this letter, I know that you are sleeping in your room. You will probably receive this in the morning, I will be in my study. I should have chosen a more special way to do it, I know, but letters helped us get where we are now, which is why I ask you know, without further ado, will you, Katara of the Southern Water Tribe, do me the honour of becoming my wife?

With love,

Zuko”

“You might think that such a trick you keep you from facing my father, if so, you are mistaken.

Expect some shouts from Sokka, but I think the rest will go just fine.

Surely you must know what my answer is, as you know that I could not stop loving you, should the world go up in flames.”

Yes this is full of fluff, i have no shame. i hope you enjoyed it though! The formal language was a bit special i know but it was really fun to write

[transcendence-au]

The Manor of Alcor (1/?)

Happy Birthday TAU! It only took 6 MONTHS to finally feel comfortable with how the story should go, but here’s an anniversary present to you. And I’m sorry that a lot of the more recent hc for this prompt couldn’t be added; I started planning and writing long beforehand. Anyway, here’s a murder mystery plot involving Alcor. Or, well, you’ll see…

 Also on ff.net

He checked the time on his phone once more as he continued to walk down the secluded path. 7:00AM. He was still thirty minutes ahead of schedule. Perfect!

Still, after readjusting the straps on his backpack and his hold on his suitcase, Orrie increased his pace. Though this road just on the outskirts of town was assuredly safe, and streetlights brightly lined the pathway, it was still early in the morning and anything could happen to a boy out in the woods alone. So when he saw the bus stop just at the top of the hill he let out a thankful sigh. As he neared, it turned out he wasn’t the first to make the trek here.

Three others sat on the short bench flooded with artificial light. Two, who had to be a couple judging by the way the young woman was resting her head on her husband’s shoulder and how the two of them were dozing, sat nearest the sign. The other man with the incredibly long silver hair and summer trench coat sat closer to the other end, reading a novel. He glanced up when Orrie approached and scooted over some to give the boy a space to sit. Orrie, smiling shyly, took the offer graciously. As he put down his backpack and suitcase, the man closed his book. “Are you here by yourself?”

“Um, yes sir,” Orrie answered, letting his legs rest. The man, which Orrie could now see had some long, pointy ears, frowned only slightly.

“You didn’t want to come with anyone else?”

Orrie blushed. “Well, I’m kinda treating myself to this excursion. An early birthday present.”

“Ah.” The man’s expression instantly brightened. “So it’s also your first time going to the manor?”

“Yes sir. It took me ages to convince my parents to let me sign up for the event. I think they only agreed because they thought I wouldn’t be one of the two to get randomly picked to go. But I’m so glad I was. It’s a really popular attraction, I hear.”

“That it is,” agreed the man, “I chose to go on the waiting list. It was a year’s wait, but I’m not going to complain.” He lifted a brow at Orrie. “You know, I’d never thought someone as young as you would be very excited to visit the Manor of Alcor.”

“No way! I love Alcor.” He then laughed, embarrassed. “Okay, that came out so wrong. I mean that I find Alcor a really cool guy.” By now the other couple had woken up and turned their attention to the two. “My grandfather used to be part of a tiny Alcor branch when he was a teenager– you know, back when cults were a big deal. He’d tell me all the times he and his friends would summon Alcor and they’d just do fun stuff like play a real-life version of DD&MD and get the whole town involved, or have music battles in the middle of the street with the local musicians, or tutor kids after school through the use of sock puppets. I mean, they also did other cult stuff, but that was mainly just for formality; most of the time it was just hanging out with Alcor while also helping the community.” He blushed faintly. “I’m not scared of him like others are, though I know I should be.”

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” the man stated gently. Orrie glanced up at him, his blush still present. “You grew up knowing of the kinder side of Alcor, the side most of the world doesn’t get to see. While I myself have grown accustomed to the dark stories involving the Dreambender, I’m well aware he’s not the pure evil most regard him as.” Orrie nodded, his small smile growing. The man held out a hand. “Flynn Fairfern. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Orrie Walter,” answered Orrie, shaking his hand. “May I ask why you’re here?”

Flynn smiled wistfully. “Oh, it’s for nothing important. I just want to test my skills one last time so I can fully enjoy my retirement.”

“Retirement? But you’re young.” To Orrie, the man looked no older than maybe his mid-thirties.

Flynn chuckled. “I appreciate the compliment, but I should inform you that elves are typically twice as old as you think they are.”

“Oh.” Well, that was embarrassing. “You say skills. Are—were you a detective?”

“Yes. I specialized in organized criminal investigations, usually working undercover to gather information. I tried to steer clear of actual confrontations if I could help it.”

“Still, you must have had quite an exciting career,” the young woman from the other side of the bench spoke up, “I wouldn’t envy a bit more adventure in my life.”

Flynn’s eyes went distant for a moment. “Exciting, sometimes. But most of my days were simple if not a tad dull. Honestly, I preferred those days over the exciting ones.”

“I hear ya,” the young man replied, squeezing his wife’s shoulder, “Sometimes it’s nice to just sit back and enjoy the tranquility.”

“Is that why you’re going to the manor?” Orrie asked them.

“Partly, though we’re going to try and solve the mystery too,” the man admitted, “But it’s so far from the hustle and bustle of civilization that even if we don’t Zahia and I have a spectacular scenery to enjoy nonetheless. It’ll be our perfect honeymoon.” They nuzzled each other on the nose before the young husband shook Orrie and Flynn’s hands. “Cliff Lionhart. This is my wife Zahia.”

“Pleasure to make your acquaintances. And also congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Zahia smiled at Flynn. The sounds of brisk footsteps grabbed all of their attentions. A fifth member to the party approached, wearing a red coat even longer and far more extravagant than Flynn’s. He had a rugged face and large mustache, and for the oddest of reasons he reminded Orrie of a circus ringleader he saw in those old movies and outdated books. The newcomer dropped his bag by the sign, looking at the lot.

“And here I thought I’d be the first to arrive. Nice to see so many youngsters this time around.” Flynn made nothing of the comment as he and the others introduced themselves. “Siegfried Connolly. And don’t take this the wrong way, lady and gents, but I intend to be the first to solve the mystery at the Manor of Alcor.”

“Oh you do, do ya?” Cliff chuckled. It was obvious he was only teasing, but Siegfried leered at him nonetheless. “You sound pretty confident, Mr. Connolly. I’m going to use my deductive reasoning skills and say you’ve been to the manor before.”

“Indeed I have,” sniffed Siegfried, straightening his coat, “And the last time I came I was this close to solving the mystery.” He brought his index finger and thumb close together. “I’ll admit I was with several of my colleagues last time, though, so I had a lot more help. But I don’t believe it’ll be as difficult for me to find all the clues again.” Zahia giggled as Cliff rolled his eyes, still smirking.

Orrie, however, grew even more excited. “Are they really that hard to find? I mean, if the outing lasts the whole weekend and no one has yet solved the mystery it must be challenging.”

Siegfried grinned. “Of course it has to be challenging. You have to really know your—ah! I can’t say; it’ll spoil the fun. But don’t doubt for a moment that it’s hard. After all, it is no small prize given to whoever solves the mystery.”

“Oh yeah, I heard about that,” said Zahia, “They never did advertise much about the prize, just that there was one if you could solve the mystery. I guess because they want to keep guests more focused on that. I wonder what it is, though.”

“One million dollars,” Siegfried answered, to the gasps of several of them. “Though I’m not supposed to tell. Contracts, remember. But I intend to win it all. No hard feelings or nothing.”

“None taken,” Flynn replied curtly, returning to his book.

“Ditto,” answered Orrie. While the prize’s value was definitely enticing, it still didn’t change his true excitement of just solving the mystery, whatever it may be.

“A million dollars would be nice,” mused Cliff.

More minutes ticked by, the group chatting amiably when the next two guests made their way slowly up the hill. They were an elderly couple, and Cliff and Siegfried hastened to assist them to the bench, where Flynn and Orrie readily offered them their seats. “Oh, you are all too kind,” the old lady smiled sweetly, sitting down next to her husband. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s nothing at all,” spoke Flynn, and the others nodded.

“Are you youngsters going to be solving the mystery?” the old man asked, somehow sounding not at all nosy. When the other guests confirmed they were, he chuckled, a light wheezing sound. “Ah, well, you don’t have to worry about us old geezers. Jillian and I won’t be participating.”

“Why not?” Orrie asked, curious. Jillian set down her cane.

“We just want to enjoy one weekend in a nice place. We’ve never been to an elegant home before, and we heard the manor is an idyllic haven for those wanting to get away for a small while. Jackson and I, unfortunately, may not have much longer together, so we wanted to share one last, happy memory with each other.”

Siegfried nodded respectfully. “Then you won’t be disappointed. The manor is as beautiful as you picture it to be, with its many rooms and scenic gardens. If ever you need anything, the housekeepers will provide.” The old couple smiled warmly at his words.

Heavy panting could soon be heard, and they all turned to see a rather large man struggle to make the climb to the bus stop. He staggered over to the sign, collapsed under it, and snatched a small bag of chips and a water bottle from his suitcase. He immediately downed them both in a matter of seconds. “Too…far…” he huffed, wiping moisture away from his one eye. Jackson leaned over towards the cyclops, handing him a handkerchief. “Thanks.”

“We’re only half a mile away from the nearest town,” Cliff said to the newcomer, a bit of concern highlighting his tone, “Are ya sure you’re up to the task?”

“Of what, solving the mystery?” the cyclops grumbled, reaching for another bag of chips. “I don’t care about that. I’m only coming because I had nothing better to do and my friend offered me xir ticket. Hear the place has some good food, though.” He finished his second bag as he said this. “The name’s Duglas Segal, by the way. Just call me Dug.” The rest greeted him in turn.

It wasn’t long after when the bus finally showed up. The party grabbed their various belongs and made their way toward the small white vehicle once it stopped and opened its doors for them. Orrie silently thanked the person in charge of all this for sending a bus with comfortable seats; the bench had been too hard for him. As the lot boarded, Orrie frowned, counting silently in his head. Disregarding the secondary guests who were allowed to come along with a ticketholder, there should be seven people boarding. At least one person was missing.

“Hey, someone’s still missing,” Orrie said, flashing his ticket before he could board. The driver shook his head.

“Everybody was told the bus would be leaving at exactly 7:30AM and to be at the stop on time. The drive’s nearly four hours long, kid; we’re on a tight enough schedule as it is.”

But it just didn’t sit right with Orrie to leave without the last person; this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that no one should miss out on. “Can’t you hold on for five more minutes? My, uh, my friend told me they were running a bit late and would be here soon.”

“Kid, we got to go. We need to beat traffic if we’re to get to the manor on time.”

“But—”

“On the bus. Now.” Disheartened, Orrie grabbed his suitcase and took a step onto the bus. He could just make out pounding footsteps coming towards them and turned just before his head could disappear behind the door. The last two guests were running as fast as they could, their luggage banging wildly against them as they raced toward them.

“Wait, hold on! They’re right there!” Leaning out the bus, he waved them to hurry up. “Come on, you guys! You can make it!”

“Kid, sit down already.” But the final two members leaped onto the bus, huffing and laughing with relief that they just made it. Orrie helped them get their stuff, guiding them toward the back of the bus. The grumbling driver didn’t wait for them to take their seats, already backing up and driving back down the road he came. Orrie took the seat all the way in the back, the other two taking the row across from him, placing their luggage under the seats in front of them.

“Phew! That was a close one,” the teenage girl grinned, still trying to catch her breath. The boy next to her leaned his head against the window, also smiling.

“For the record, I was ready to go before you even got up,” he said.

“Yeah right. You were in the middle of double-checking everything in your suitcase again by the time dad started the car.”

“I’m just glad you could make it,” said Orrie. At least now he wouldn’t be the only kid going to manor, even if these two were a few years older than him. Perhaps fifteen? “I’m Orrie. Are you two also a couple? Because we have a couple of those already.” He nodded his head toward the Lionharts and Jackson and Jillian. The girl snickered.

“Ew, no! We’re twins.” She held out her hand, which Orrie shook. “I’m Belle. This is my dorky bro-bro Dipper. Nice to meetcha’, Orrie.” Dipper reached past his sister to shake Orrie’s hand as well.

“So did you drag your brother along for the ride?”

“Actually, I—”

“Are you kidding?” the sister spoke over her brother, “Dipper’s the one who begged me to come along. He was one of the lucky two to win a free ticket.”

“I didn’t beg you, I asked,” he retorted, but Orrie wasn’t really listening, his eyes lit up.

“Really? Me too!” And he showed them his ticket. “So why’d you sign up? Are you going to solve the mystery or to relax in an awesome mansion?”

“Honestly, I’m more interested in whatever they have to say about this Alcor legend,” Dipper answered, smirking slightly. “Solving the mystery should be hardly a challenge at all. But I’ve heard nearly every story there is about Alcor, and not once did I hear of him owning a mansion of sorts.”

“I know, right? You’d think if he did it’d be all over the history books and demonology texts. Nah, the only building that frequently pops up in articles about him is the Stanley Pines Memorial Library in Gravity Falls, and I just think that’s a place he visited a lot because of where it is and the amount of knowledge it holds. If you ask me, Alcor doesn’t seem the type to want a mansion of any kind unless it was with, uh, people…” He noticed how Belle and Dipper were giving him odd looks. He coughed nervously. “Er…so I presume.”

“…You seem to know quite a bit about Alcor,” Dipper narrowed his eyes ever so slightly, “For a kid, I mean.”

“I spent hours reading about him, his cults, Mizar, the Transcendence– everything,” Orrie admitted, looking away and messing with his glasses. “My grandfather was the one who introduced me to the subject, being in an Alcor branch when he was younger. The Seekers of Starlight? You probably never heard of them.” Dipper leaned back against his seat, his eyes closed.

“I think I have. Wasn’t it that tiny cult located in a small town in Delaware?” Orrie nodded, surprised the boy knew that. “Its name popped up once or twice during my readings,” Dipper hastily added, sensing Orrie’s look.

“Oh. I didn’t know it was that popular.”

“Oh yeah. They did a lot of interesting stuff, I hear.”

“I wish I could meet him,” sighed Orrie, leaning back in his seat as well. “He sounds like a neat guy. Bringing shelter to the homeless. Defending the defenseless. Fighting evildoers alongside Mizar. If only I could summon him like my grandpa did.”

Dipper cracked an eye open at him. “You do know it’s not a good idea to summon the most dangerous demon known on a whim, right?”

“Oh, I know, I know,” the boy hurriedly assured him, “Grandpa always warned me never to try summoning anything unless in grave trouble. He told me how Alcor would constantly lecture them about that kind of stuff. Still, it’s just…” He paused. He shook his head. “Nevermind, you’re right. Forget it.” The two eyed him curiously, but they fortunately didn’t press the matter further. They spent a little over two hours talking about other things, school and personal life, and Orrie was really starting to like them. The twins—Belle and Dipper Sterling he found out—seemed to be magnets for trouble and adventure, something Orrie always secretly craved in his own life. Between running away from cultists and finding sea demons there seemed to be a never-ending amount of stories they shared with him. “Wow, you guys practically live the life of Montana Martinez. Lucky!”

“Wait, you watch those movies too?”

“You bet! He’s awesome! Did you know they’re rebooting the franchise?” And so that developed into the topic of movies for the next half hour with them ignoring Belle as she rolled her eyes and teased “Dorks,” under her breath. Orrie was having such a great time with them that it didn’t feel like much time had passed when he felt someone gently shaking him awake. He rubbed his eyes gingerly, wondering when exactly he dozed off.

“We’re here,” Flynn said, giving him one last nudge. “You should wake your friends.”

Orrie sat up, looking at the time on his phone. It was half an hour before noon. He quickly turned to his new friends and woke them up, telling them they’d arrived. Belle yawned as Dipper stretched, but it wasn’t a minute later before the three of them and Flynn were stepping off the bus. Orrie gasped in awe.

The manor was spectacular. The three-story structure made of faded tan bricks stood impressively over the wide, open yard of freshly cut grass. The cobblestone pathway cut the massive yard evenly in two, with a miniature hedge maze located to its left and a stone lagoon swimming pool with surrounding outdoor furniture to its right. Nestled beside the manor was a fairly large greenhouse with various plants and shrubs growing inside it (Orrie couldn’t help chuckling at the rainbow pinwheel spinning merrily on top of the glass structure despite there not being a breeze). Men and women all dressed in identical but comfortable attire were gathered around a barbecue and table, and the delicious smell of grilled burgers and corn was making Orrie’s stomach growl eagerly. Orrie looked back, watching the bus drive through the tall metal gates that closed with a heavy slam behind it.

The guests walked silently down the pathway, ending up on the front stairs of the manor. Before anyone could knock, the front doors opened by themselves and an old maid stepped out, beaming cheerily at them all. “Welcome to the Manor of Alcor,” she greeted them before stepping back and bowing slightly. “I’m Ms. Wheatly. Please come in, kind guests.” They all stepped inside, steadily if not a bit slowly making their way to the large foyer that split into several hallways. Ms. Wheatly led them down the one on the far right. “The Master will be with you shortly,” she spoke, opening a door and letting them step inside the room before closing it behind them. It looked to be a parlor room with its numerous chairs and sofas, mantle, and tiny bookshelf. Orrie made himself comfortable in one of the chairs, dropping his luggage down in front of him. Most of the others were inclined to do the same, with only Flynn and Siegfried preferring to stand and pace around the room.

Orrie was beginning to let his mind wander and wonder when they were going to have some grilled food when the lamps in the room began to flicker. He sat up straighter, watching the other visitors glance around to what could possibly be causing the faulty wiring. Suddenly, the lights went off entirely, and with no windows in the room, it was eerily dark.

“…H̛mh̴m,͞ we͠l̀c̵ome̡ t͞o ͝my ́manor͟…” Golden irises flashed in the darkness. Moments later, the lights slowly came back on, and a young man hovered in the air before them, smirking down at them all. Orrie had to give him props: he looked exactly like the Dreambender he always imagined. Cool demeanor, elegant black suit, velvety wings, floating top hat, inhuman gold irises, and an air of dangerous mystery about him. Orrie could see from the corner of his eye the other guests’ reactions. They ranged from stunned disbelief to mild bemusement, the latter mostly sported by Siegfried and Dipper.

In fact, Mr. Connolly stepped up to the figure, a smile of familiarity on his face. “I must say, that’s a better entrance than last time, Mr. Dreambender. Glad to see you haven’t lost your touch.”

‘Alcor'—because Orrie was well aware this was an actor—blinked once before grinning himself. “Oh, I ̶̡re͡member y̴o͏ų, Sie͏g̡fried̕ Conno̶lly. Y̧ou c̵am͏e ̶v̧ery c̷lose to ̧so̵lving my ̀mýs̴ter̀y̵ last time.” His grin grew, mocking. “But you d͝idn’t quite ma͡ke͟ it.”

“Sadly, no. But you’re in better luck this time around. We have ourselves some very bright detectives to help solve your mystery. Assuming you don’t scare them off, that is.” At that, 'Alcor’ smiled mischievously at the youngest members, and Orrie couldn’t stop himself from being just a tad unnerved. Dipper, on the other hand, burst into giggles.

“Oh come on! Are we supposed to be scared? You don’t even look like Alcor!” Belle elbowed him in the side, earning a small wince from him.

“Dipper!” she hissed.

“Well, he doesn’t. Look. Where are the claws? The sharp teeth? The pointy ears? I’ve seen better cosplayers of Alcor at TwinCon. And he does not smile that much.”

Did it really matter? Yes, the actor had some things off—even Orrie had noticed that—but it wasn’t like anyone was trying to prove he was the real deal. This was all just part of the gig. Orrie supposed Dipper could simply be a more passionate fan of the Alcor legends, taking some offense that the professionals weren’t getting even the small details correct.

“Though you got everything else more or less correct,” Dipper finished. 'Alcor’, his grin falling, huffed and straightened his coat. Orrie spotted the small wings peeking from behind his back flutter with the movement. Evidently, Dipper spotted them too. “Let me guess– attached by wire through the back of the sleeve? Cool trick, but the wings should be further down.”

“An̷d h͢o͡w ̕w͢o͢ul̀d ͝y͡ou ̷k͟n͞o͢ẁ so m̨uch a̢bout ̛my appȩár̢anc̕e͏?” 'Alcor’ growled, lowering down to lean over Dipper. Dipper shrugged.

“I read a lot,” was the smooth reply.

“Ţh͢en͞ perha̵p̷s you’ve ̢read̢ th̛a͢t Í can̵ alter͠ m͢y ̷a̧p̕pe̴a͢r̨anc͡e̢ t͝o ̶m̛a̧k̀e myself̀ not l͡o̶o͞k̴ ve͡ry frigh͏t̀e̷ning̀. Mayb͡e I̡ d̨idņ’t ẁan̢t ́ţo̵ terri̷f͏y potentíàl m͏or͝tals w̢ho dec̢i̕de ͝to come ̨to ͢my m̧anor̛ and͞ śo̷lve i̧ts m̛ystery͞.”

Belle very hastily slapped her hand over her brother’s mouth before he could so much as inhale a retort. “So what’s the mystery exactly? I’d like to hear more about it.”

“Same here,” Orrie agreed a little too emphatically, grateful for the change in topic. 'Alcor’ looked more than eager for an excuse to ignore the brazen teen.

“W̴hat͞?̧ Yo͞u͏ have̶n'̀t h̴eard̶̕ i͡t̛?̷” He shook his head, as if ashamed by their ignorance. “Mak̢es m͠e w͡on̶der ͏why ͞y͞o̷u’re ́here͞.̕ A̵s i̡t ̕s̀t͟ands, I ̢do ̵n̴ee̕d śome͞ he͡lp̵, s̵o I ́suppos͝e I'̧ll have t̡o inf̷or̕ḿ you.” He clapped twice, and the lights dimmed again, though they didn’t go out. Dipper, still with his mouth covered, rolled his eyes.

'Alcor’ began the tale, the synthetic reverb in his voice toned down so they could understand him better. “You s̨ee, this̵ ma̛nor̡͞ ẁa̛s͝n't͏ o̕r̷íg̴ina͟lly m͠i̡n͞e. I̡t ̛w̷as b͏ui͟lt b̛y a ͡group of ͟b͞right, gi͢fted, and gr͏eedỳ h̢um̨a̕ns. Ea̡cḩ on̶e so͢u͏ght ͝͝un͟li͟mi̧t͝éd͡ p̛ow̢er fo͟r thei̴r own̕ ńefa͏rious n̶e̢eds, bu̷t͏, b̧ei͝ng hum͡ans, t̕h́ey h̵a͏d no̡ m̶ȩa̧n͠s ̕t͏o ̨́gèt ̡it̀ ou̶ţs̴ide of̴ a d̶eal wi͟th a d́e͟mon. And̵̴ s̢uc͞h a ̕c̶ostl̴y dea̵l̡ it wo̴uld̷ be, ͡too.” He floated over to a portrait of the very manor, the yellowed paper encased by thin glass. “T͞h͏ìs ma̧nor̴ wa̧ş c͡ons̢truct̛ed͏ w͡ít̵ḩ thé inte̢ņt o͝f ̢ca͞p̢tųrin͢g m̛e, fo̧rcing̷ me̴ t̨o cơmp̶ly to th͡e͠i͢r ne̴eds. Its͠ fra̴mes a͟r̛e en͞gra͟ve͠d wit̨h́ an̷ciȩnt runeś. Its͞ walls̀ are marr̨ed̨ with̢ hi̕dd͢e͟n̕ wa̢rd̢s. A͏nd̨ aļl th͏at'̀s not in͞clud̡ing ͏t͏heìr͡ m͏o͝st̷̢ p̨ower͏fúl of̧ co͢nf̵i̧ne͢me͏nt t̡o̡ols͝.”

“But͏ some͡t̨h̶in͞g̵ happȩn͡ȩd ͞t̨he nig͏ht ̀͡b̢e͠fore they ̢tri͠ed̀ t̨o̶ capt͠uŗé͡ m̵e̷. An͠d͝ I͝'̶m no͟t̕ şure̡͡ what. All͟ I do kno̷w͟ i̷ş t̷h̷a͟t six o͞f th̨e ͞sev̶e̡n̷ h̡u̧ma̕n̶s w̛er̵e͡ mu̢rdered, the̕͏ s͞ev̢e̵nţh ͞fleein͢g ͏f̵r̷om th̴i͏s plące be͏fo͏re the͟ý̨ cou̵l̕d ̛̀be ͝arrestéd. W͞hy? I͏ h͟ave̷ m̨y suspic̢io͞ns̵, aś̕ I’m su̢r̢e yơu ḑo as̡ w̢el̶l. B̷ut ͞͝who ͝exactl͢y? I ca̶n’t t̡éll yo͠u, a̡nd t̵ha̵t͢'s̶ w͝h̴a͏t ̕I w͞ant for you t̵o s͏olve. T͠he ide͢ņtity̷ of the s̡ev̛e̷n ͟pȩople̷ wḩo͢ tried̷ to captuŕe me ̡an̢d ́t͠he ͟c̴u͢l͢pr̛it béhind̵͏ th̶e murder͞s͡. Do t͞hat̡ àņd̴ I'l̛l o̷ffe͠r ͝y̕o̴u̢ a g͡e͏n̕e̴ro̡us rewa͢r̵d̡ f̛or y̢our tr̶o͏uble̶s.”

“That seems fair,” Cliff said, rising to his feet. “A luxurious stay and the chance to win a million dollars in return for solving a mystery even Alcor can’t. I’m ready for this.”

“Me too!” added Zahia.

“Of course you know where I stand,” commented Siegfried, pointedly ignoring the accusing glare 'Alcor’ was giving him.

“These youngsters sound so excited, honey,” Jillian said to her husband, who nodded in agreement. “We wish you all the best of luck.”

“A million dollars? You know, I’m starting to appreciate coming now,” Dug muttered.

“We can totally solve this, bro.” Belle and Dipper were sharing mirroring grins.

“I’m ready for a challenge,” Orrie chimed in.

“As am I,” Flynn spoke out.

'Alcor’ chuckled. “Goo̵ḑ͟ to ͏he͏a̡r. B̴eca͟use ͏a͡͞ ch͞a͢ll̴enge i͟s wh̛at̡ t̛his͞’ll b͟e. Y̢o̷u ha̷v͞e̵ u͝ņti̴l̶ n̶oon of the͡ th͢ird̢ da͠y t̷o s̷olve th͟e̛ my͏sterý. If you̡ ma͡na͡ge to succeed̵, the pr̵ize is yours͞, th̨ough͢͡ thos̷e wor͝ki̛ng i̛n̷ gr̴o̵up̴s will h̷av̀e to sp̴lit it. If ͢none͞ o͟f yǫu c͡a͟n sol͢ve the̷͟ m̷y̢s͠t̢eŗy̧ by tha̛t time̶ t͡h͡e͟n yo̡u l̷e͞a̷v̴e w̷it̨h nothin͡ǵ. D̀eąl?” Blue fire engulfed his hand.

“Deal.” Cliff answered for them all, stepping forward to shake the proffered hand. He looked a little nervous when the fire wrapped around his own hand, but didn’t say anything.

“P͞e̕rf͏ȩct͞. I'l͞l͏ l̢e̕av͠e t̕he hou̕se̛kȩe̛p̧ęrs͏ to get͏ yơu a͞ll s̶eţtled into y̷ou̧r r̵oo͠ms̨. In th̴e me͏antíme͠, good̶͟ luck̶.” And with that the lights flickered again, turned out completely for less than a second, and 'Alcor’ was gone.

The grandfather clock in the corner of the room chimed twelve.

The doors reopened and Ms. Wheatly stepped inside, holding several white envelopes. “These are for you. They’re where you’ll be sleeping during your stay.” She handed one to each of the primary guests. Orrie took his, noting the masterful penmanship of the calligraphy. 'Orso Walter’ it read. He opened it to find a tiny slip of paper inside. All that was on it was a single word: 'Keller’.

“Please, come with me. Your rooms are upstairs. I’ll guide you to them.”

[gold3nberry]

I Remember Our First Kiss

@gugle1980 I’m so, so sorry for the delay! I hope you like this and thank you very much for this sweet prompt!

Cullen Rutherford X Demetra Trevelyan Post Trespasser A touch of angst, a lot of fluff, arm loss mention

“I remember our first kiss. It was around this time of the year, if I’m right.” Cullen murmurs sleepy, one arm limply resting around her waist, the other tucked under the pillow they’re sharing. Demetra looks at him - her husband - sniffing slightly, a bit shocked he remembers such a tiny detail after the giant mess of the last days in Orlais “Do you?”. She hasn’t expected that answer, when she has asked him what he was thinking about.  “Yes.” he replies, cracking an eye open to kiss away a tear from her cheek. She feels guitly, she knows he needs to sleep. Cassandra has told her he refused to move when she was unconscious, after their return. And she has been knocked out by the painkillers for a full day at least.  “I bet you didn’t expect to end up with a woman who can’t even botton up her shirt alone.” her voice cracks despite her efforts. Fully awake, he puts his hand on her cheek, and she basks in the feeling despite the lump in her throat. It has always been in that way, He can soothe her pain just showing her that he cares. Such a terrible and wonderful power.  She feels guilty crying for her lost hand when she has feared for her life, for not having a chance to truly build a life with her husband. At a certain point, travelling through the Eluvians, she has realized there was a big possibility she wasn’t going to see him again. So, a hand for a life is a good price, after all. But she feels stupid, so stupid, because the more she tries to be optimistic, the more she notes there are tons of things she has always done without realizing that are simpler with two hands.  Demetra presses her face on his neck, sobbing loudly. For her hand, for the tension accumulated when the world started to see her as an unwanted figure, for what Solas confessed and wants to do, for the Inquisition, whose time is over, for her friends who are going to leave her. She cries for all these thing and others too, past and present mixed confusely in front of her. Too changes, too fast. Again. She remembers everything, since the very beginning. Ostwick, with its white palaces and the air which smells of salt and water. A lovely place, but a younger her carved for more. Haven, and its scent of the fires and the ale in Flissa’s tavern, and her confusion to be all in a sudden a Herlad and a heretic. Skyhold, with its majestic halls and mighty walls, were she has found peace and safety for a bit. And all the other places she has visited, all the people she has met. In the furious carousel of memories and colors, her husband’s voice is quiet but clear “I didn’t expect to marry you, if I have to be honest.” Cullen confesses, caressing her back with gentle and slow circular movements. His words calms her inner turmoil, his voice stronger than the confusion of tangled feelings in her heart. Cullen continues, chuckling “I mean, I was sure you were going to leave after I commented the weather, that day on the ramparts!” Her laughs takes her by surprise. Cullen holds her a little tighter “I swear, I was so sure I messed up everything!” “I... I found it bewitching, actually.” she admits quietly, arching her neck to look at him. And his eyes make her feel breathless. There’s everything she needs: love, affection, trust. Not an inch of pity or fear or anything less than good. Cullen kisses gently her fingers “Thank the Maker you have a poor taste about flirting!” “And dancing!” she replies, a hint of mirth in her hoarse voice. He chuckled again, encouraging her to continue “At least, you never asked me if I took chastity vows! That was awkward!”. His laughter this time is stronger and, incredibly, his cheeks turn a bit pink “How did we get there?” “I wanted to speak to you, but you intimidated me and my brain refused to cooperate!” ”Oh, did I?” he arches an eyebrow, and she punches him lightly “Don’t be smug, Commander Sunshine. It’s your fault if I acted like an idiot around you!” He kisses her quickly “I did the same. All the time. Do you know that Varric and Bull had a bet about us?” “The one about if we truly had sex or not on your desk all the night?” “What?!” he almost jumps. “Ah, uh... nothing, I’ll tell you another time!” “Did they...?! Those two truly have no shame!” he grumbles “Well, the bet I was aware of, was about how long me and you would take before confesses our feelings to each other.” “Oh, that’s kind of... gentle, for their standards. Who did win?” “Cassandra.” This time she is the one who is shocked “No way! Cassandra would never...” Demetra pauses a moment. Her best friend has a great sense of honor and a greater sense of privacy, but her love for romances probably is even bigger. And it’s quite an innocent bet, after all. Cullen smirks “Bull told me she knew you were going to come to my office that afternoon because you... apparently, you...” a laugh escapes from his lips. Demetra groans “Because she chaught me trying my speech for you, right? I knew she had heard me, I knew it!” “I’m curious. Since my brilliant, meteorological start probably wasn’t what you expected...” this time is her turn to giggle “what did you plan to tell me?” “I...ah, basically my speech was along the line “I know you can have much more better choice than me, but would you be willing to give it a try, pretty please?””. He caresses her cheek, carefully avoiding one fresh bruise near her nose, and she shakes her head before he can protest on her choice of words “I wouldn’t expect you actually kissing me very romantically like in one of Cass’ books! When you started to remind me about my role and the war... Maker, here we go, I told myself, he’s going to kindly reject me and I’ll have to find a place where hiding with my shame. I’m glad I was wrong.” she chuckles, a bit embarassed. He smiles back, gently lowering his head to kiss her properly, gently, carefully. He’ll give her time, she knows it, time to heal and figure out how to settle in her new life. In their new life, she corrects quietly herself. He touches her forehead with his, inhaling slowly “It’s going to be alright, wife.” “I know. I trust us, husband.” she whispers. Tomorrow, it’ll be a difficult day. But for tonight, she can rest in the safest place for her in all Thedas.

[emmapalova]

In the rhythm of anger, fear, terror and violence

 Note: The “Greenwich Meridian” © 2017 Emma Palova memoir is an evolving novel covering our immigration saga spanning three generations that started with the Russian invasion of former Czechoslovakia in 1968 up to date.

I also wrote this in response to the Daily Post prompt @rhythmic, as violence overshadows joy Rhythmic

By Emma Palova

Lowell, MI- It’s 5:53 a.m. EST on a regular Thursday morning. Husband Ludek just left for work coughing, and I am recovering from a bout of cold that kept me inside yesterday. It’s still dark outside, and I light some candles, so I can meditate before writing with a cup of coffee, and a cup of nettle tea.

But, something else kept me indoors yesterday, as well as in my own shell. I was dealing with a red fury, called anger that topped off with an apple that my husband didn’t take to work with him. I always get an apple ready for him thinking about his health in the morning.

Rhythmic changes of nature withour our contribution, a sunset in South Haven, Michigan.

When the apple was still there yesterday, I thought he was angry at me.

I felt the anger building up in me since Monday, as I watched the disturbing evening NBC newscast on “Tonight at 7.”

“I’ll never forget this one,” I said disgusted to Ludek. “I won’t sleep again.”

It was a slew of everything from my 1970s teen idol David Cassidy’s announcement of dementia, to the one year anniversary of the Uber shooting in Kalamazoo, Michigan, that left six dead and two wounded.

“We don’t want Kalamazoo to be remembered for this,” said the speaker at the Monday night vigil held at the K-Wings Stadium teary eyed.

The newscast showed Laurie Smith, wife and a mother, who’s loved ones where shot on that dreadful night at a car dealership, shopping for a truck. The daughter was supposed to go too. She didn’t. That saved her life.

Laurie held little urns with ashes as dreadful charms tied to a necklace in her fingers, crying.

“I carry their ashes around my neck,” she sobbed.

How can you not remember this? I would have to be a piece of stone.

All the colored beads representing different emotions.

Kalamazoo is home to one of the best universities in the country, the Western University Michigan (WMU). Other than being the home of the Broncos, it is the alma mater of many and an intellectual oasis in Midwest America.

My son Jake went to Western. He graduated in winter of 2010 in an auditorium decked out with red and white Poinsettia plants in pots with glittery wrap around Christmas time.

Surreal.

Early on when we settled down in the Grand Rapids area in the 1990s, I took online classes in psychology from WMU. I love the entire university environment along with the culture, the libraries, the ethnic restaurants, the university cafeterias and the sports. My parents worked at Ferris State University in Big Rapids until retirement in the 2000s. I studied at the Technical University of Brno, my dauther Doc Em studied at Charles University in Prague.

We have university blood circling in our veins.

I celebrated one of my birthdays at the WMU Performance Arts Center with the longest standing performance of all times, the “Phantom of the Opera” in 2007.

“Can you imagine those actors doing it over and over again?” said my friend Sue, when I complained to her that every day at the newspaper office was the same.

Many years later, as I think about all these moments, like grains of sand, sifting through time in an hour glass. The little sand grains that represent anger, fear, terror, joy, love and hope in a cyclical rhythm.

Grains of time sift through the hour glass rhythmically. To the right: my parents Ella & Vaclav Konecny with grandpa Joseph Drabek in 1987 during grandpa’s only visit to the USA.

Below is a photo essay representing the victory of joy & hope over rhythmic violence: left 1001 Days of Blogging Annie Conboy of UK who blogs for the future of her daughter Erin. Right top: son Jake Pala who teaches Josephine Marie Palova, 3, the Czech language to preserve our origins. Below right in the small frame, French granddaughter Ella, 6, on summer break in Parnell to learn English. Pictured in the bottom frame is Mrs. Irma Richmond, teacher from the one-room schoolhouse at Fallasburg in the 1960s. Today, kids from Murray Lake Elementary and on the http://www.fallasburgtoday.org come to visit the school thanks to the advancement of technology. Mrs. Richmond says hi to all.

Before that lovely opera performance, we enjoyed a  meal at Rasa Ria, a Malaysian restaurant with my parents Ella and Vaclav in downtown Kazoo.

It was one of my best birthday celebrations, ever. And it was in Kalamazoo, in the university city of intellect and terror.

And now this additional piece of terror, that will always stay in our minds, and in those charms with ashes around Laurie’s neck.

I can still recall the actual coverage of the Uber shooting one year ago, when the police contained the rampage in 4 hours and 42 minutes. The footage showed cars chasing the suspect, finding the victims at innocent places like Cracker Barrel and at the Seeley dealership in Kalamazoo.

“Why did he do it?” Ludek kept asking me.

The news report mentioned that the Uber driver said that the devil told him which people to shoot through the phone app.

“Crazy?” I ask.

One year later, crime perpetrator, Jason Brian Dalton, 45, still hasn’t been convicted. A hearing is set for March 9. If convicted, he faces a life in jail, according to news reports.

As I watched the vigil for the victims, my memory flashed back to a trip to France in 2016 with our granddaughter Ella. We were waiting for a Uber driver to take us from Charles De Gaulle (CDG) Airport to Gare du Nord train station in Paris.

“Emma, are you sure this is safe, you know about that shooting in Kalamazoo?” I asked my liberal daughter Doc Emma, who permanently resides in the wine village of Fixin, in Burgundy France.

“Oh, it can’t happen here,” she said, “only in America.”

“Really?” I asked.

I thought about all the violence of the past two years in France as it flashed through my mind; from attacks in Paris, Nice and Belgium.

Now, back again to the current reality as of Feb. 23, 2017. The two Uber shooting survivors, Addie Kopf, 15, and Tiana Carruthers, 26, continue to fight forward.

After undergoing several surgeries, Kopf has difficulty speaking and remembering, in spite of overall improvements. Carruthers, who shielded children from the gunfire, is now walking without a cane, according to news reports.

I glanced at the comments following some of the broadcasts of the one-year anniversary of the Uber shooting that occurred in Kalamazoo on Feb. 20, 2016.

robandhan1 day ago

Huh…  another white guy with a gun…

jime4441 day ago

@robandhan and how many die in chicongo each day?  not many white people, either………libturd.

charlie251 day ago

Does anyone remember this??? There have been so many weirdos killing people in the past year to remember this one. 

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Some useful links:

1001 Days of Blogging by Annie Conboy

https://emmapalova.com/2016/12/15/1001-days-of-blogging/

Recent news Uber shooting one-year anniversary coverage on Wood TV 8 and other regional channels.

http://www.wxyz.com/news/kalamazoo-shooting-rampage-victims-to-be-honored-one-year-later

Have we grown cynical to people suffering around us? Have we grown used to anger, terror and violence as a rhythm of life?

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Rhythmic fears of violence In the rhythm of anger, fear, terror and violence  Note: The “Greenwich Meridian” © 2017 Emma Palova memoir is an evolving novel covering our immigration saga spanning three generations that started with the Russian invasion of former Czechoslovakia in 1968 up to date.