#the shorts on gem are like you know the ones women wore under skirts before the ones

[jestroer]

dont you just love hot weather

[bard-of-worlds]

Chapter 2 Beginning in Kalos

“Where is he?  He should’ve gotten off that plane by now.”   A teenage girl sighed as she leaned against a pillar in an airport in Lumiose City.  She looked light she had just come from a Gothic rave, her dark hair was done in a twintale style that reached her butt, two purple streaks went down her hair facing her front.  She was wearing a black tube top that had a small v that showed the sides of her large breasts and that exposed her midriff with a black open vest over it with a tight short skirt that ended at her upper thighs with a belt around her waist with six pokeballs, knee high black boots completed the outfit.  Her face was heart shaped; her lips were a shiny black and her eyes had purple eye shadow that brought attention to her blue eyes, a pair of sunglass with black gems in the frame was around her neck on a chain. Next to her was a small bag, out of place for a traveler if not for some tech from home.  She snorted as she saw some of the other women glare at her and the men around her stare at her in lust but not a single one had even an ounce of courage to approach her.  A few of the younger girls were staring at her in wonder and a few might have talked to her if their mothers hadn’t been there but then again this wasn’t home so maybe she could cut them slack based on different culture.

So this is why everyone back home hate outside assignments so much. She thought to herself, this was why they preferred to stay in their home; at least there people could dress how they wanted without people talking about them, at most they commented about the fashion behind hands and doors, and if a man looked at her like some of them were he would have at least walked over to talk to her by now.  Lady Camilla had grabbed her from that party her cousin had dragged her to and thrown her on that train to the airport so fast she had to have two of her Item Cubes with her full wardrobe and her Aura Equipment sent to the airport. And she only got it a half hour before she was told to board the plane, so when she got to the travelers hotel later tonight she could put her cloths and outfits for her mission in order, but she had to be carrying her ‘Party Clothes” Cube in her bag with her Cube Reader, ‘Founding Day is an excuse to dress differently at every party you go to’, she would never listen to her cousin about stuff like that again.

 “Boss I really, really hope that old man was right about her and him; for your sake at least.”  She muttered as she looked to the doors to the tarmac as they opened and she glazed upon the woman walking in with a Helioptile on her shoulder.  For an instance seeing it brought a flash of rage to her face, but she forced herself down, the woman wasn’t one of those sexiest Inquisitors, those bastards had been slaughtered by Sir Mordred and a woman would never be one of the Knights!

 “Hmm, good figure, clothes and makeup could do with some work but her muscles seem to hint that she’s someone who makes a living by traveling so she probably has some stamina, not the best but I’ve recruited worse.  At least if it not really him…” She trailed off as she saw the figure follow her in. A blue short-sleeve jacket, a red hat on black hair, darker blue jeans, red shoes and a black shirt under the jacket and his face, it was like looking at a younger version of the boss.  The Pikachu riding on his shoulder sealed the deal, this was her target and by the boss he was who they hoped he was.

 “I will never ever bet against the longshot ever again.” She grinned as she reached down and grabbed her bag and started to watch her target walk with the woman over to a city map outside the airport.  They talked for a minute before he ran off.  The woman he had been with smiled good naturally as she watch him dash off, but this left Lilith with a dilemma.

 “Hmm, I could try to catch up with the princeling… or I could chat up that cutie and get his destination from her directly, what should I do?” She smirked as she brought a black painted nail to her lips, a smirk on her face as she looked at Alexa.

   Alexa smiled as she and her Helioptile shared a look with each other about their friend's exuberance. She did feel a little bad that her sister had to have gone on a journey without sending any word to her, but that was her sister for you.  As she walked back toward the airport to her get her bag she collided with someone as she walked through the door.

 "Ohmph." Alexa cried as she fell backwards, her Helioptile fell off her shoulder and she fell on her bottom.

 "Sorry about that, I wasn't looking where I was going." A female voice said as a hand with black nail polish reached down to help her up. Alexia grabbed the hand and got to her feet checking that her pokemon was okay before turning to the person she bumped into.

 "No problem. .." Alexa trailed off as she stared into blue eyes that seemed to take up her entire view.  She felt herself drifting away, until all she could see was the color blue.

 "Say, about that boy you were with, could you tell me where he was going?"

  Alexa shock herself awake as her Pokémon started to shake her, looking up she realized she was inside the airport with her bag siting by the escalator.

 "Helioptile, how'd we get inside and get my bag?  I… it doesn't matter, let's make sure we didn't miss our bus and have to have Gogoat take us home once we get out of town."  Alexa said as she and her Pokémon walked away, not noticing a female shadow with a grin on its face, a fang poking out of her mouth as she blew a kiss after Alexa.

 "Thanks for everything Alexa dear, we'll meet again and we'll see what side you’ll be on when we're done."

   “So the prince is headed for the cities gym, a fierce start worthy of his father.”  Lilith mused as she walked toward the gym.  All she had to do was watch the entrance, scan him and send a report back home.  As she got insight of the tower she stopped dead when she saw Ash and his partner thrown out of the pokeball symbol on the building.  She raised her hand began to cast a spell when she heard two voice much closer to her target

 “I’ll try to catch that boy!”

“I’ll catch Pikachu!”

 Lilith stopped her spell as she saw a blond boy in blue and yellow jumpsuit and black and white tennis shoes throw a backpack under the prince that released a crash pillow while a blond little girl wearing a dark brown blouse with a black ribbon on the chest, white skirt, black shorts, and pink Mary Jane flats grab the prince’s Pokémon. She breathed a sigh of relief as the blond girl was shocked by the Pikachu.  

 “Quick thinking you two now let me cast a quick scan while I can.”  Lilith muttered as she put her sunglasses on.

 “Tool to see, Sight beyond, Show me that which hides from All.” She chanted as her glasses glowed pitch black.

 “So the two of them are brother and sister hu, the boy’s aura shows that he has quite a mind and the girl is someone who wants her brother to have someone in his life, something about their father and mother?  Looks like I could teach her a few things, but let’s take a look at the prince.…how in Arceus’s name is he able to walk let alone think with those seals on him?”  She asked herself in horror at what she over a hundred seals on his Aura.  She reached with a shaking hand to touch one of the gems in her glasses and started to chant.

 “Sights Seen, Sights Unseen, capture them for All to See.”  She popped the gem out and ducked into a nearby alley to and grabbed one of her pokeballs.

 “Fly high, Murkrow.” She called as the ball opened in midair and released a black flying type with a crooked yellow beak.

 “Murkrow, Murkrow.” The Flying type chanted as it appeared and landed on an out stretched arm.  Lilith slipped the gem into a necklace around its neck, reached into her bag and pulled out two blue colored pieces of hollowed metal shaped like her wings which were met with a look of worry from the Flying type.

 “Girl, I know these make it so you can’t fight with your wings, but you need the Wing Sheaths to make it back even sooner than with the Wind Road alone, this report has to get to Lord Magnus sooner then you could normally, it’s that important.” Lilith said as her Flying type looked her in the eye before raising its wings straight up to make equipping the Wing Sheaths that much easier.  After a quick fastening she was ready, Lilith had a look of pride on her face as she gave out her orders.

 “Thanks girl, now go, as fast as you can, but stay safe.  The boss has to find out what the state of his son is so the prince can be helped as soon as possible.”  Lilith said as she scowled at what had been done to Ash.  If his mother had anything like that done to her, the boss was going to find the people responsible for this affront of Aura itself and impale them alive, and they would deserve  it.  As her Murkrow shot off into the open sky, climbing higher as she flew away from the alley, Lilith looked down at her cloths and remembered the airport and gave a short sigh.

 “Better hide behind an illusion for a while.   To Walk Unknown Upon the Land, Change my Form to What I Command.”  Lilith chanted as a black flash covered her body.

 As the flash faded away a completely new Lilith had completely changed her appearance!  Where a gothic party girl was, there was now a teenage honor student stood in her place.  She wore a white dress; grey heels with only a hint of makeup on her face, red hair flowing down her back and a modest figure with B-Cup breasts.

 "So not my style; but beggars don't slip by the hungry Snorlax." She muttered as looked for her target, but was unable to spot him.

 "The seals must have shocked me more than I thought to lose track of him so.... Mandibuzz, take flight!  Fly around and find me a trainer with a Pikachu with two blonds!" She cried as she released her other Flying type.  Her Pokémon had a Searcher Gem in a tiara on her head, so she could identify types from above, and she was trained to identify targets in groups. She would soon know where he was, and with a chant she would see what her Pokémon saw.

 "Sight Of All, Sights Beyond, Share with me What the Searcher Saw."  She chanted as she closed her eyes, and saw through the vision of her Pokémon augmented by the Searcher's Gem, a rainbow of colors representing the Pokémon and humans within the city.

 After spotting an electric with three normal auras next to one of the town's Pokémon arena, she ended her spell and ran toward the battlefield, mentally going over how she would interact with the prince, as a Trainer or a Coordinator?  She did have a flare for glamor and showmanship from her time on the circuit, but she had a few powerhouses with her, maybe bring out her whip and say her family lives in one of the Old Regions that still followed the Treaty of Defense?

 “Wobbuffet, time to Shine.”

 “What is this?” Lilith muttered as she hid behind a tree.  She saw two people in white with red R’s on their cloths behind a Meowth and a Wobbuffet face down the blonds and the prince, she recognized the uniform from tactical information about Kanto.

 “Team Rocket of Kanto, after the prince; are we?”  She snarled as she started to release a purple aura as she watch the prince’s Pikachu be hit with its own attack by the Wobbuffet.

 “ We’d better retreat. Using Mirror Coat reflects special attacks with double the power!” we can’t stand up to that kind of strength.” Blondie boy said he looked at Ash

 “Gotta give Blondie points for tactical ability; but minus points from turning away from the threat to talk to someone.  But this might give me an opening.”  Lilith mused as she grabbed one of her pokeballs.

 “We’ve always stood up to them before and we always will! As long as Pikachu is okay, as long as Pikachu doesn’t give up I’ll be right here, battling to the end!” Ash cried as he stood back up and unfelt by all but Lilith, he released a spike of aura energy before the seals sapped it back.

“Boss, if I doubted he was your boy, its’ so gone now.” Lilith said in a tiny bit of awe in her voice over the feeling Ash’s speech had invoked in her had echoes of his some of his father’s speeches.

 “All you’ll get is reruns.” The Female Rocket cried in response to Ash’s words.

 “Now, Pikachu, Electro Ball” Ash commanded.

 “Pik! Pika! Pika! Pika! Pika!” Pikachu cried jumped up and generated the attack its trainer ordered.

 “We’ll help you out, too! Bunnelby, use Mud Shot!” Blondie cried.

 “You’re on, Wobbuffet!” Female Rocket cried out.

 “Wob! Buff! Buff! Buff!” Wobbuffet cried as it jumped up, dodging the Mud Shot while activacting Mirror Coat, bouncing the Electro Ball back toward Pikachu.

 “Pikachu!” Pikachu cried out as its mouth dropped open before a small blue pokemon jumped between the attack and the electric type.

 “Froakie!” It cried before the attack hit and exploded.

 The blue pokemon land after the attack with Pikachu in its arms, electric sparks crawling over its blue skin.

  Ash gritted his teeth; Pikachu was fine but only because a small blue pokemon had intercepted an electric attack sent back by Wobbufett, a rookie mistake!  The pokemon in question was a small one that had light blue skin, white hands, and a dark blue stripe from the center of its oval head to its nose, its eyes were closed.  By its skin tone he had to guess it was a water type, but it had a mane of…clouds around its neck that he was made him wonder if it was a dual type.

 “It’s a Froakie!” Clemont cried as he and Bonnie ran over to Ash.  At the look Ash sent him he went on.

 “It’s a water-type that new trainers can get in Kalos. So that Electro Ball must have done lots of damage.” Clemont continued as he looked back as Froakie tensed as electricity ran over its skin.

 “So where is its Trainer?” Ash asked with a worried look in his eyes as he, Clemont and Bonnie looked around as Froakie hoped toward Team Rocket.

 “Where’s Froakie going?” Bonnie asked in confusion.

 “Froakie Froak!” it cried out.

 “What’s with the yapping?” Jessie wondered.

 “I think that Froakie wants to help us.”  Ash said as he stood back up.

 “Fro!” Froakie cried as it opened its yellow eyes and glared at Team Rocket

 “Froakie’s saying bad guys rub it the wrong way!”  Mewoth cried as its mouth dropped open

 “You can’t take them on if you’ve been hurt! Stop!” Ash cried as he raced to Froakie as it inflated the back of its mane and jumped toward Team Rocket.

 “Froakie!” Ash cried as he looked on in concern.

 In midair it grabbed the inflated part of its mane with its hand and threw toward the Rocket operatives.

 “Wow, Froakie just used its Frubbles!” Bonnie cried out as her and her brothers mouths dropped open in shock.

 “Big whoop! We’ll just send that right back at you!”  Jessie sneered as Wobbuffet jumped and activated its Mirror Coat, only for the move to have no effect as the Frubbles hit Wobbuffet, forcing it backwards as the remaining Frubbles hit Jessie, James and Meowth.

 “What’s this?”

 “I Can’t get this gunk off!” Jessie and Meowth cried as Team Rocket struggled against the sticky frubbles.

 “How come it didn’t bounce back?” Ash wondered in confussion.

 “Of course!  Froakie’s gummy Frubbles isn’t a move, so Wobbuffet’s Mirror Coat was completely ineffective!” Clemont exclaimed as he realized what had happened.

 “Awesome, Froakie, way to go! Pikachu and I can take it from here!”Ash cried as he and Pikachu advanced to stand by Froakie as the frog like Pokémon looked at Ash.

 “We’ll lend a hand, too”

“Bunnelby!”  Clemont and his pokemon proclaimed as they stood next to Ash.

 “You guys better not forget about me!” Bonnie declared as she ran next to Ash on his other side and puffed her cheeks.

 “Now, Bunnelby, us Dig!”

“Bunnel-brree!” Clemont command as his Pokémon jumped and used its ears to tunnel into the earth, coming up under Team Rocket, sending them skyward.

 “Yeah! Way to go!”

“Nice work, Bunnelby!” Bonnie and Clemont cried as they saw Team Rocket fly into the air.

 “Let’s wrap this up! Pikachu, Thunderbolt, go!” Ash cried as Pikachu and Froakie both jumped into the air, Pikachu fireing a Thunderbolt and Froakie throwing a water bubble that merged and hit Team Rocket together.

“We’re blasting off again!”

“Wobbuffet!”  Team Rocket cried as they disappeared into the sky.

 “Wow! Awesome power!” Bonnie declared as both Pikachu and Bunnelby ran to their trainers.

 Froakie groaned as it collapsed to the ground.

 “Froakie!  Something’s wrong!”  Ash cried as he ran to the water type and took it into his arms as the others gathered around them.

 “Froakie needs help right away.”  Clemont said as he looked at the water type, seeing the injuries he had sustained in their defense.

 “Is there a Pokémon Center?” Ash demanded as he stood up with the water type in his arms.

 “Well from here, I’m trying to think…” Clemont trailed off as he looked around, trying to remember where the Pokémon Center was.

 “I think it would be a lot quicker if we brought Froakie to the Professors lab instead!”  Bonnie declared as the others looked at her.

 “The Professor?

“Yeah, Professor Sycamore’s Research Lab! There’s no doubt he’ll know how to help Froakie!” Clemont answered Ash as he turned to his Pokémon hold out its Pokeball.

 “Bunnelby, return Thanks a lot!  You really helped out!”  Clemont said with a smile.

 “Come on Ash, this way!”

“I’m coming Bonnie!”  Ash ran after the younger girl with the water type in his arms, Pikachu on his shoulder, Clemont grabbed their bags before hurrying after his sister and his new friend.

 If he’s this strong with only one Pokémon, I can’t wait to see what he’s like with a full team!  Lilith thought with a smirk on her face.  She signaled her Mandibuzz to follow their target, while she trailed the elder blond.  After a while she saw him go into a building behind a steel gate, this must be the Professor Sycamore’s lab.  Seeing her searcher in a tree along the road, she then moved into a nearby ally, quickly checking to make sure that no one was looking or could overhear her, she chanted a spell.

 “Send my Voice, Unheard to Others, To my One Amongst them all.  Girl, I’m heading to the hotel.  Stay here, head over once and perch across from where my room is supposed to be so I can recall you when you get there.”

 Seeing her Pokémon nod, she move deeper down the alley, dropping her illusion around herself, time to rest from all the traveling she had been doing.  Slipping back onto the main roads, she headed toward where her hotel was.  Her target had finished with the only excitement he was going to have today, so time to finish her planning.  As she walked her mind went to the older and started to walk with a swing to her hips.   She didn’t know why, but there was something about him….  

  OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

  The flying type had flown through the Wind Road with the aid of the Wing Sheaths, dodging flocks of migrating flying types as she flew toward her destination.  For the last few minutes she had felt something, was she being hunted, on the Wind Road, the neutral territory for all flyers?   She hugged her wings to her body and dropped 50 feet, dodging a silver blast of energy by seconds.  Pumping her wings she risked a glance backwards, spotting a trio of Skarmory in arrow formation pointed at her.  Hearing the other flying types react to the attack she increased her knowing they were after her she flew faster she tried to think why they had committed such a taboo, what could she do?  Angling down she flew out of the Wind Road, she would need every advantage to escape.  Barreling to the right as she her instincts screamed out at her, she saw one the Skarmorys fly by with a white glow about it, as it flew past she realized with horror, that they were trained!  They had to have been looking for something, did their trainer know about her mission, her trainer’s mission, what she was carrying?!!  Looking ahead she spotted a group sea-stacks ahead of her, she was nearly home, and she could use this, she had to gamble on her movability to escape she just had to bait them.

 Flying slow with while trying to act like her wing was hurt she flew between the pillars as the three Steel-Types followed her. The three Skarmorys flew faster as they moved in for the kill; their master will receive a prize soon.  Dodging blasts of silver energy from her pursuers she flew between the rocks hoping to escape them.  After a while she looked back and saw a single Skarmory chasing her before…. She was blindsided by one of the other two, it had come at her from above, tackling her onto one of the sea stacks

 She moved her body up from where she had crashed and saw the three Skarmory land around her and slowly walk toward her. ��She prepared herself to fight to her end when six energy rays hit the three Armor Bird Pokémon.  Around her landed three Pidgeotto while two more hovered with a Pidgeot, each had a look of anger on their faces for the actions that the three had performed on the Wind Road, it was neutral territory for all who used it.  The three Skarmory didn’t even reacted as 5 more of them landed on surrounding rock pillars as one of the three in formation gestured with a wing at her and convoyed the command to leave her and go.  As the Bird Pokémon braced themselves for battle a blast of fire hit two of the Skarmoys on the pillars behind the standoff before energy blasts hit the other three.

 “I didn’t want to believe what my boys told me, but it seems they had seen the situation clearly.”  A gruff voice said as a shadow covered the pokemon.  Raising her head, the Dark Flying type saw an Aerodactyl, one of the Elites was here, she and her rescuers were safe, with that realization she let herself stop fighting, and passed out.

  She awoke to the smiling face of one of the Pidgeotto in a room with medical supplies all around it, she was in one the Homelands Care Centers, she was home.

 “That one wouldn’t leave until you woke up, I guess what they say about Pokémon loyalty is not to be questioned.”  A melodies voice said from the doorway.  Walking into the room was a pale woman with red hair in a bun wearing a nurse’s outfit under a lab coat with a smile on her face that turned to a frown as the nurse saw the effort her patient was making to rise and leave the bed the Flying type was in.

 “You were only out for about two hours, so if your message is time sensitive you should make it on time. You can go as soon I slip this note for your trainer around one of your legs.”  The Nurse said as she moved toward the bed, did what she said and opened the window.  With a bow to the healer the Murkrow took flight.

  Joy sighed as she saw the Murkrow leave with the Pidgeotto flying into the sky, it was to early for this. In all the years she had be in residence here at Castle Town, Pokémon on missions for their Trainers always gave her such problems, they always pushed themselves for ‘time sensitive missions’, really, drama queens 9 times out of ten the lot of them.  Not to mention the problems Founding Day always brought to her Care Centers.

 “Headmistress Joy? Headmistress where are you?”  A female voice called worriedly from outside.

 Back to the grindstone, at least the patents from Founding Day parties are all almost gone.  Joy thought as she walked out to see a black haired woman in a business suite running toward her.

 “Yes Sara, what problems have come up now?”

 “The Skarmorys that were brought in their all dead!  No, they were dead BEFORE the General and his team killed them, they had machines inside!” Sara stammered as Joy lost what little color she had, what her assistant described was one thing only, a thing that her King had tried to destroy down to the roots of knowledge.

 “Frakenmon.”  Joy whispered in horror before her eyes hardened and she walked down the hall.

 “Have the most intact of the corpses brought to Operating Theater 1, contact Lady Camilla with what findings we have.  I want a full security team ready to transfer whatever I can carve out for a full diagnostics wherever it’s decided to send them, contact all off duty morticians report to theaters not in use to carve up the rest of them.”  Joy ordered as she pounded her way to her Theater, time to find some answers about where the bastard who made these things might be hiding.

  As the Pidgeotto followed after her she heard it call out a traditional parting she returned as angled upwards before she saw the castle above the town.    There was her target.  She flew as fast as she could and when she reached the window she started to peck when it opened to let her in.

 The room was full of occult books and tapestries, model of the solar system hovered near the ceiling without wires, near the door rested a staff.

 “I believe you have a scan of my Nephew for me to look over little friend?”  A cultured male voice said as the Murkrow proudly landed on a desk and puffed out its chest, the gem it had protected had reached its destination and the person who would help the Prince.  After a rest and some food she would return to her trainer with her mission completed.  

 “I think this is the Flying type me and my team rescued a few hours back my friend.  Good thing I decided to bring the patrol a few miles out after all.”  The gruff voice from the Aerodactyl said as the gem left the necklace and a hologram of Ash with seals running all over his body appeared over the desk.

 “I don’t think the Master will like what has been done to these two comrades.”  A voice sighed the three shadows converged at the desk.

  Item Cube: Arcane Science device that turns inorganic items into digital data through the power of users Aura

 Cube Reader:  Arcane Science device that reads Item Cubes’, must have code for Cube to recall items

 Aura Equipment:  Catch all term for items which increase or give abilities to humans or Pokémon depending on item; items must be tailored for species that uses said item

 Wing Sheaths: Aura Equipment; Pokémon Armor Type. Appearance;  Hollow blue metal shaped like wings that fit over the wings of the Pokémon using them  Increase flight speed of Pokémon with wings, denies moves that use Wings as mediums

                   Searcher Gem: Aura Equipment; General Gem Type. Bestows Aura Sight on user

 Wind Road:  Bands of wind in upper atmosphere that Flight enabled Pokémon use to migrate around the world.

 Treaty of Defense:  In time of old after a war that covered the known world, a treaty was signed, this treaty granted the right of self-defense with a weapon to all travelers.  In the centuries that followed and new lands were settled, countries that still followed this ancient treaty became known as the Old Worlds, and those places that paid it no mind became the New Worlds

 Frakenmon:  Pokémon reanimated by Arcane-Science.  Forbidden practice punishable by death or enslavement.

[almost-fun-drabbles]

Charred Lily

Chapter 1: First Morning

“Happy birthday, Ghirahim,” she said. Happy birthday, a phrase said to a being on the day of the year they came to life to recognize or celebrate that being. Ghirahim, a name, his name.”

          Notes: Oh shit y’all it’s here!! For a long while now, I’ve been thinking hard about Ghirahim’s backstory, and what he went through leading up to the events of skyward sword. So! I finally got a chance to begin writing it! I wanna thank my friends @savvyzelda and @curious-corvids for the inspiration and motivation!! Let me say I’m really proud of this, and I really wanna continue it if I get the time.

        The first time his eyes opened, they were graced with a blurred mound of vibrant greens and the sky’s blue. Spring’s colors were softly blended together, framed around a white figure like a halo. It glowed faintly with a gold shine. Something in his consciousness told him this figure was alive, this figure was powerful.

        The world turned dark again as his eyes closed, open again, and the colors rearranged themselves. Green became blotches of leaves on the trees that stretched over him, granting him shade from sunlight. The blue grew wispy clouds. The being had a face. The being’s eyes were blue, they crinkled up as a soft smile found a home on her lips.

        “Good morning…” she said as he realized he could focus his sight on other things in his view. Good morning, a phrase spoken from one being to another as a greeting, said before the sun begins traveling across the third quadrant in the sky.

        “Happy birthday, Ghirahim,” she said. Happy birthday, a phrase said to a being on the day of the year they came to life to recognize or celebrate that being. Ghirahim, a name, his name.

        Ghirahim blinked, he saw a bird fly overhead. He opened his mouth to speak and could taste the air of the earth on his tongue with his first breath. “Good morning, Your Grace,” he said, because his mind told him the title was appropriate.

        Her smile, which he hadn’t noted had faded, returned, bringing along a warm and quiet chuckle at his response. Ghirahim became aware of other things. He himself was not just a formless, mental entity. He had a face, which had grass blades tickle his cheeks in time with the breeze. He had a torso. His back was cooled against the morning dew and soft patches of dirt under him. He could smell flowers and his ears twitched to birdsong.

        Finally, he’d realized movement was possible, and took to lethargically sitting himself up. Then, he looked down. The body below him, his body, conjured his first opinion. He was beautiful. His entire being was a sculpted obsidian black, decorated with intricate designs, diamonds. Facened into his chest was another diamond shape, a clean cut silver colored gem. It glistened in the light, and radiated warmth. He could feel it pulse inside of his core. He took his time touching the tips of his fingers together, twisting his wrists, curling his toes, bending his arms and legs, all only slightly, and slowly. Just to get a taste of solving his first puzzle, living.

        When he looked to the land in front of him, he was given a new scenery of tree trunks and shaded over forest flowers. He sad idly, his eyes narrowing and widening as he became aware of every new item in the forest, trying to memorize every bit around him. His neck swiveled and his view panned to drink in the world. His mind fed him definitions and explanations to every object he focused on.

        Ghirahim’s attention was ripped from the woods when another voice rang in his ears, it wasn’t the golden woman.

        “Did you make him quiet?” she asked. His head turned towards the source of the voice. This woman was different, she had a petite form, compared to both himself and the other woman. Her blue hair was short and airy, grown barely past the tip of her chin. Wide, curious, blue eyes, blue eyelashes. Blue was a very prominent feature on her, but the color stuck out because of her pale skin, void of any cut or scrape. She was dressed in royal purple and navy hues, her most prominent piece of fashion was a ruffling cloak that draped itself over her arms, exposing her shoulders.

        “I didn’t intentionally,” the woman answered, “But perhaps that is just how he is.”

        Ghirahim took a moment to examine the golden woman as well. She was a great, large, being. A powerful aura radiated from her. It exuded a warm, bright feeling that was like the sun that shone down on them. A part of him found that light appalling, wanted to shy away from it. However, he did not move, for a greater piece of him felt an air of safety in her. The dress she wore was a simple white, it was long and flowy, and draped itself far across the grass below her. Surely, she was too ethereal to be any mere creature, Ghirahim concluded she was a goddess. He gazed upon her face again, and realized how long her hair really was. Her golden locks were fine strands that fell over her like a curtain, the ends reaching out even farther than the skirt of her dress.

        “Are you going to talk to us, Ghirahim?” the goddess asked him when he turned back to the forest.

        He paused to contemplate a proper answer. “Right now, I cannot.” Ghirahim replied. The unpredictable, random sprouting and growth of nature was much more interesting to him compared to the symmetry of the two women’s bodies. “I am busy.” He thought that was a satisfactory explanation, for he felt totally occupied with this need to analyze and discover.

        “Busy?” she asked, a giggle, “Admiring our handiwork?”

        He studied her with a scrutinizing gaze. Was everything she spoke going to be filled with bubbling chuckles? What did he say that was amusing to her?

        “Your handiwork?” Ghirahim asked.

        She smiled, “Yes, the work of us divine beings. You should know of us, Ghirahim. I did not create you unequipped with knowledge.”

        Yes, Ghirahim thought, it was obvious he was knowledgeable, but of exactly what, he was not certain of yet.

        “You are divine beings?” he asked. The blue woman did emanate a sun-like aura as well, but it was nothing in comparison to the golden woman.

        The blue woman shook her head. Her expression was cheery, eager to speak, yet dialed down to keep herself composed. “I am not. I am only a servant to my goddess, Hylia.”

        Ah, that was all he needed. Things began to fit together now, at least a little bit. The golden woman was a goddess, she was the goddess of life, Hylia. She was known as the mother of the Hylians, a race of beings created in her image, which were renowned as blessed, as holy. She had created many other races and animal species, but her love truly shown for her crown jewel of creations, her hylian people.

        “Only?” Hylia asked the blue woman. “You speak like you are unimportant!”

        The blue woman shared similar bodily composition to Hylians, but she was not one, Ghirahim was certain of it. What was she? He wondered.

        “Your Grace,” she began, turning her head towards her goddess, but her eyes were fixated on the swaying grass. “In your glorious presence, I am unimportant.”

        It was then, in Ghirahim’s silent study, that he noticed Hylia had wings. They kept themselves tucked behind her back, and laid themselves slack upon her like a cape. He compared them to the clouds overhead, for the long feathers bunched in stripes much like the wispy, white formations above. He decided he liked them, as they looked quite lovely there, sparkling in the sunlight.

        Her wings moved with her when she spoke, they swayed in the wind when she adjusted them. “You’re my sword spirit, Fi,” was all she could manage.

        Ghirahim’s ears perked. He caught that term, sword spirit. A sword spirit was a being created to serve. In exchange for life, the spirit relinquishes it’s free will to serve whoever is deemed their master by their creator. This person, Fi, was a sword spirit.

        “Do you know what you are, Ghirahim?” Hylia asked.

        “A sword spirit.” he said to her, loudly and clearly.

        She tilted her head slightly, preparing to inquire again. “Who are you owned by?”

        “I am your sword spirit.” he said to her.

        At that, she smiled again, the expression being pulled forward from the beginning of quiet chuckle. Ghirahim’s eyebrows knitted in confusion, was that not the correct answer? He had not been given to anybody just yet. By default, he was Hylia’s sword, yes?

        “For now, I suppose you are.” So, he was correct? “But you won’t be for long. I’ve actually prepared you as a gift for somebody I know.” Then, her smile formed into a giddy grin as she began to scoot just a little closer to Ghirahim. “Sword spirits are mostly created to be servants, yes, but I have a plan for you.”

        She raised her hand and waved it in a motion that said ‘come here’, beckoning him closer. Curiosity tugged at Ghirahim, and he scooted closer to her as well, even tilting his head a little to listen to the information Hylia was about to relay to him.

        Like a child passing one meaningless secret to another, she loosely cupped her hand near her mouth, and spoke in a small, but excited voice.

        Her next words conjured an indescribable feeling in Ghirahim.

        “I want you to be a friend.”

[2hrs2nevada]

a lil short story i wrote uwu

i am proud of this hh pls give it a read!!

Clara

Clara was going to be late.

The ball was set to start in five minutes. The fact that it was taking place in her own manor was a blessing and a curse-- she would not have to take a wagon (she was terrified of the things anyway), but the pressure to look nice was multiplied tenfold. She sighed as she scrutinized her reflection in the mirror. Bustle dresses made everyone who wore them look stupid, but even so, she still felt like an idiot wearing one in public. Smoothing the powder-blue frills with her gloved hands, Clara racked her brains for anything else she could fix to make herself look presentable. She could hear Lucille puttering about in the other room, undoubtedly facing a similar challenge.

Deciding nothing more could be done, she picked up her hat and pin. She wouldn’t wear it the whole time, of course-- she found hats of such magnitude to be dreadfully uncomfortable, and besides, wearing one during a ball was strictly forbidden.

A blue stone on the pin glinted in the candlelight. Clara stopped to admire the long, sharp shaft and the elegant arrangement of gems on the end. She traced the sharp end over the palm of her hand. It hurt-- not terribly, but if she pressed down much harder, it would surely draw blood. It was long enough to do some real damage, and sturdy, like a spear. She rolled it over in her hands, and wondered what would happen if, say, she tripped while holding it, and someone made to catch her and met the sharp end of the pin instead…

“Clara.”

She jumped, not having heard Lucille come in. She dropped the hatpin onto the mahogany surface of her dresser and met her sister’s eyes in the mirror.

Lucille approached the younger woman and began to tighten her dress, probably without even realizing what she was doing. It was an old habit, one that Clara had learned to live with.

“Are you having the thoughts again?” Lucille said, as if asking for the time.

Clara nodded slowly, staring into her own eyes in the mirror.

Lucille let go of Clara’s dress and moved on to her hair. “There’s a man coming to the ball tonight-- Jasper Thomas. I heard he’s done some bad things.”

Clara made a half-hearted attempt at an acknowledging noise, barely listening.

“Very bad things,” Lucille continued. “The mutton shunters won’t take him away because they’re scared of his father, but frankly, I’m concerned about his presence in this house.”

Clara snorted. “Please, Luce, they’re called policemen. Show some class.”

Lucille exhaled stiffly through her nose. “I don’t think you understand what I’m saying.”

“That is true.”

“He’s a bad man. Probably has no friends.”

“Okay.”

“Wouldn’t be missed.”

Clara froze. Lucille raised an impatient eyebrow at her in the mirror.

“No,” Clara whispered. “Luce, stop it. You know I can’t do that.”

“It might help the urges, and you’d be doing the police a favor--”

“No!” Clara shouted, slamming her fist on the dresser. Lucille went silent. “I won’t.”

“But why? Why not indulge for once in your life?”

“Because I think I’d like it,” Clara whispered shakily. “I think I’d want to do it again, and again.”

Lucille sighed and nodded. But as they made to leave the room, Clara slipped her spare hatpin into the folds of her dress.

***

The ball was not a grand one, and not crowded, although Clara almost wished it was. The air was heavy and dreadfully hot. Deciding that the weather was the reason for the mediocre turnout, Clara seated herself on a chaise longue outside the reception room, where the other women waited regally for an invitation to dance.

Chipper music could be heard playing on the other side of the wall-- a minuet, or something of the sort, although Clara hardly considered herself an expert. She tapped her foot sparratically on the hardwood floor. A hot breeze was wafting in through the open window across from her, and she could feel beads of sweat trickling down her pale face.

To her relief, a man walked in at that very moment, and turned towards the women. Clara stifled a laugh as the girls seated next to her sat up stick-straight in perfect unison.

She fiddled with her dress. The pin resting on her thigh under her petticoat felt hot and heavy. The room was still horribly warm, so she pulled out her fan and snapped it open.

Too loudly, apparently, because the man’s eyes immediately fell on her. She took a moment to survey his appearance, as she was in no mood to dance.

He was tall and thin, with a face that might have been delicately handsome if not for the heavy scarring that reached his neck and ears-- he had the pox as a child, Clara decided. His hands were behind his back. She couldn’t help but worry about what they held, even though she knew he was simply in position to bow.

And bow he did, but not the kind of deep, obnoxious bow Clara was expecting. He asked her to dance, and his voice was deep and clear. She touched the slight lump in her dress where the pin lay before standing up to accept.

“May I ask your name, miss?” he said softly.

Clara made a face of absolute insult. “Why, the queen herself, of course. Did you really not recognize me?” She wasn’t quite sure where this sudden sarcasm came from, as she was not, in fact, the queen, but she wasn’t the least bit sorry.

A flicker of bafflement crossed his face, but he obliged. “Pleasure to meet you, your highness,” he smirked. “My name is Jasper Thomas.”

There was a terrible pause.

“A pleasure,” Clara smiled. She rested her hand on his arm.

In the reception room, pairs were standing ready to dance. The smell of sweat and humid hardwood made it hard to breathe. The music began again, and they danced as stiffly and maturely as anyone could dance. At one particularly boring bit of a song, Clara held her free arm out in imitation of a windmill-fan, which was of the highest offense at a ball such as this one. Jasper smacked it down, so swiftly and nonchalant that no one turned their heads. She let it hang loose at her side for the rest of the evening.

The last dance was coming to an end. Clara’s sweaty hand barely touched her partner’s as they waltzed rigidly, the floor squeaking beneath their tired feet.

“Jasper,” she whispered through the side of her mouth.

“Shh.”

She ignored this. “This is my house, you know.��

His mouth formed a tight line. “I believe it is your father’s. A shame he’s on holiday.”

The train of her dress swished around her ankles as she twirled in unison with the other women. “After supper,” she hummed, almost inaudibly, “I invite you to escort me to my room.”

His nostrils flared. “Enough, church-bell.”

Clara gaped, without breaking her stride. The use of slang was utterly forbidden during a dance. “Excuse me?”

The couple next to them glared. Clara glared back, breaking eye contact only for a scheduled spin.

“It’s not allowed,” he pressed. “I cannot accept.”

“Oh, come off it,” Clara murmured as the music began to reach its final crescendo. “It won’t hurt you to get out of those gas-pipes. And I’m clearly not actually the queen.”

She was surprised to hear him snigger. He said nothing, which she took as a yes.

***

The ball was over. The guests had left in wagons, rubbing their feet and swatting away the bugs that the nighttime brings. The moon was half-full and casting a blue-white glow across the house and the lawn, making everything appear faintly monochrome.

Jasper was waiting in the drawing room. Clara imagined he was standing in front of the window, looking out across the green with his hands clasped behind his back. Or maybe he was pacing.

They were alone in the great house, aside from the maids, and Lucille, who could be heard in the front hall, locking the door and closing the windows to protect the house from insects. Clara waited to hear her ascend to her room.

When she did, she met Clara’s eyes briefly, but did not stop to inquire. Clara said nothing, but could see her sister’s hand trembling slightly as it traced the railing. But then she was gone, and Clara hurried to the parlor to retrieve Jasper, who was seated in an armchair and gazing mildly out the opposite window. He looked up and smiled, genuinely, so that Clara felt a pang in her stomach that she ignored altogether.

“Shall we?” she said softly, fiddling with her skirt.

He nodded, and they made their way up the stairs, down the creaking hallway, and into her room.

There was a moment of stillness, and Clara stared deep into Jasper’s eyes, as if searching for something less pure and unadulterated than he himself had unfortunately turned out to be. Upon finding nothing, she turned around and made her way to the dresser, where she began to remove the many layers of her dress.

She watched Jasper in the mirror as she removed her excessive garments and jewelry. He trailed his fingers over the bedrail, and peered at the hip bath as though he had never seen one in his life. Clara smiled.

He hit your arm down, remember? He’s not a good man. You don’t even know him.

And even still, she felt a quiet excitement as she let the last layer of her dress drop to the floor. She was fine. Everything was fine. Maybe she didn’t have to kill him at all. The thought was strangely calming.

Some other time, maybe, she decided. But not tonight. She smiled to herself.

She turned to face Jasper, and his eyes travelled up and down her body with wonder. She crossed her arms over her chest automatically, gazing shyly at the floor.

Their embrace was quiet, rapid and careful and beautiful. Clara had never been to the beach, but she thought of one now. She thought of crashing waves, and being lulled peacefully to sleep.

But she wanted to stay awake, and so did he, so they got to talking about Jasper’s infractions. He shared with ease, as though there was no possibility at all of consequences, which may well have been true.

“My father is very rich, so I never had any need to steal,” he murmured, as Clara stared, intrigued, into his eyes, stroking his arm absentmindedly. The sheets were bunched up at the foot of the bed, thrown off due to the heat.

“I got involved with some rough crowds, thought, which no one even believed existed where I lived, but they did, and their main market was cannabis. I was stupid and young, and sick of my pretentious lifestyle, so I joined the business. But, half-rats, I ended up shaking a flannin with a group of my competition, and things didn’t end as they should’ve. I managed to get out only having copped a mouse, but the others didn’t fare quite so well. Meaters, all of them, good as dead before they were, but I had to run from the mutton shunters anyhow.” He stopped to take a breath. Clara’s eyes were wide, and she leaned in closer. Surely that was the most slang she had ever heard anyone use at once.

He continued to tell her about his past, his voice sounding completely different from the way it did during the ball. Clara’s insides were bubbling with fresh infatuation.

When Jasper finally caved to the irresistible call of sleep, Clara got up quietly and tiptoed to her dresser to blow out the candle, only a dripping stub after the long evening.

The most trivial of injuries! How prosaic a trouble, but it hurt nonetheless, for Clara had stubbed her toe on the leg of her dresser, handicapped by the darkness. She knew the urges would come, even before the shock of agony could reach her brain.

And they did. She keeled over, leaning on the dresser and breathing hard. Tears started to stream down her face. She wanted to scream, or sob, or stab someone, or stab herself.

In the moonlight, she caught a glimpse of her face in the mirror-- red-eyed and ghostly white, beads of cold sweat rolling down loose strands of hair. She let out a choked sob and picked up her hatpin. The pain in her toe was gone. Her whole body was shaking.

Everything inside her was screaming at her to stop, but it was as if she were possessed, or being controlled like a marionette by some malicious external puppeteer. She stumbled to the bed, hovering over Jasper’s peacefully sleeping figure, hatpin clutched tightly in her hand, poised high above his chest.

Maybe it was her dim shadow over his face, or the sound of her labored breathing, but something caused Jasper to stir and open his eyes, blinking sleepily. Clara froze.

He saw the hatpin and recoiled, suddenly fully awake. His eyes jumped from the pin to Clara’s face and back again, scared and confused.

“Clara?” he muttered, his voice hoarse. “What are you doing?”

“You’re a bad man, Jasper Thomas.” She wiped a tear from her cheek. “You deserve this.”

“I don’t understand.”

Clara sniffled pathetically. The hand holding the pin was shaking madly.

“Please,” he breathed. “Put that down.”

“I can’t,” Clara choked.

He stared up at her, and even in the dark Clara could see he was crying.

“Is this why you brought me here?” he inquired. “To your room? Was nothing we did out of your own passion?”

Clara rapidly shook her head. “I didn’t want to do this,” she whispered. “I don’t want to.”

“So don’t,” he pleaded. Clara heard a tear fall onto his pillow.

She let out a choked sob. “I--”

He lowered his head and slowly lay back down. “All right, church-bell,” he sighed shakily, and Clara could tell without seeing that his face was full of pain as he looked up at her like a sad dog. There was another emotion, too, and it startled her-- a sudden acceptance, or even indifference. “Do your wor--”

And before he could finish, the silver, jewel-encrusted pin was through his throat.

Clara sank to her knees as blood began to pepper her face. Her lungs convulsed, and she clutched the edge of the bed for support, recoiling at the feel of Jasper’s hand, still warm to the touch. She stumbled to the window and yanked it open, then fell to the floor… she didn’t remember being sick, but the carpet was slick with vomit, and the stench mixed with the hot blood on her face made her gag. Tears cascaded down her temples as she lay, naked and sobbing and cold on the floor, but the warm night air flowing in through the open window began to calm her riled nerves, and she sighed heavily, inhaling the smell of summer trees and smoke and the sweet aroma of the ever-shadowing nighttime.

[elliemarchetti]

A Red Lover part 8

In the beginning the chapter was born to be longer, but when I realized that it would become practically a novel, I decided to break it in two, so let's say that this could be considered as chapter 8 part one. @chaoslaborantin a thousand times thank you for the wonderful comment to the previous chapter and for your support. I hope you like the first, short court meeting between Thomas and Mare. 

Previous chapters here 

Words count: 2092

Thomas hadn’t seen Maven for thirty-four days. Every day, with a fork, he engraved a notch on the skirting next to the bed, to keep track of the passing time. It was nice to leave a mark, to cause a little damage to the golden prison, comfortable and well furnished,   where Maven had thrown him, apparently forgetting about his existence. His Reds jailer didn’t mind; they probably hated that place too. Yet they continued to serve here, to remain silent, to keep their position, seated for six hours on either side of the door like living-eyed statues. None of them had ever returned, and Thomas wondered what Maven did of those he sent to check on him. Did he kill them? It wouldn’t make sense. He probably replaced them for fear that they would pity him. But in their eyes, he didn’t read any kind of feeling. What lie was told to them? Thomas didn’t really want to know. In any case, no lie could have been worse than reality. He was a killer, and he hadn’t killed in war, to defend himself, when the choice was to kill or be killed. He had deliberately enjoyed seeing the body of that witch burn in the flames; his spirit had risen to new life at the sound of those screams. He had become a monster, just like Maven, just like the one he despised so much. Or maybe the choice not to use someone else for his own purposes made him better? These were questions that he had no answer to and that he didn’t intend to pose to his jailers.

Sometimes he still dreamed of Maven. Nothing too articulate, just flashes of his face, his dark hair, his broken promises of love. There were no mirrors, not even in the bathroom, but Thomas knew that imprisonment and silence were ruining him: he could feel his face dug day after day, making him a ghost of who he had been; he could see the bones under his skin, more angular than ever. Despite the poor food, when he was at the front he was healthier. Even at the time he was in a cage, but it was a larger prison.

He hadn’t much to do, except to sleep or read a few tomes that he could hardly understand, yet for a few days he had been seized by unbearable fatigue. Perhaps he was ill, even if he couldn’t understand how. Perhaps they were slowly poisoning him. Perhaps he was becoming paranoid. And yet, at the dawn of the thirty-fifth day, he turned away the breakfast plate without even touching it, despite the sugary cereals, the fruit and toast tempted him.

"Finished," he announced, speaking for the first time in thirty-two days. His voice’s sound was strange, not the same with which he articulated his thoughts and not even what he remembered from his dreams; it looked like a child's, ridiculous and flickering. He felt pathetic, but it had to be just what Maven wanted, so he threw away the thought.

One of his jailers, two women had come over that turn, took the tray, looking at the untouched meal in disarray. It was the first emotion he saw on someone's face and it almost moved him, as well as investing him with a wave of pride: he wasn’t going crazy; Maven was really trying to poison him.

When the door opened, Thomas looked up immediately, hoping to see at least a glimpse of the antechamber outside the room. It was empty, as always, and his heart tightened: no one had gone to save him that day either. Perhaps he had finished his chances of salvation, perhaps that imprisonment was what he deserved, or perhaps he had to try to save himself. But how? He glanced out the window. The only way to escape the guards was to jump, but from such a height, it meant certain death. The familiar, yet wrong, shot of the lock distracted him from his mental wanderings. It was unscheduled and it interrupted a routine that was now law for him. On hearing that noise, he suddenly turned his head, just like his jailer, who lost their concentration in surprise. The adrenaline rushed through his veins and he jumped out of bed, uncaring to be wearing one of the pajamas Maven made available to him. If Farley, Kilorn or Rasha had seen him wearing silk, they would’ve make fun of him for until the end of his days but it would’ve been a torture that he would’ve been more than happy to endure: it would’ve meant that he still had days to live in his friends’ company. But it wasn’t them who entered his field of vision but an anonymous guard, wearing the Samos’ colors, who was escorting a young man who was anything but anonymous and whom Thomas had learned to recognize.

Ptolemus Samos’ black eyes peered at him from head to toe and returned with the tenderness of a whip. He threw the same look at Tristan before killing him in that Summerton’s cell. Who knows what they had done with his body. Probably the same thing that they had done to Ann’s. Surely nothing that was worth saying to Rasha. Without a doubt something very different from what would happen to his. Because if Ptolemus Samos was in his room, it could only mean that he had come to kill him.

"You don’t have permission to stay here." said the cat-faced woman, now standing between Ptolemus and Thomas. The newblood was stunned by her audacity: no one stood between Ptolemus Samos and his prey, the demonstration was the way he had shaken off his own sister and the prince that damn day at Summerton.

Ptolemus didn’t even look at her, and the guard took her away coldly. He crossed House Samos first-born’s gaze and Thomas prayed that he would read the hatred he felt for him.

"Wear something acceptable, the king demands your presence." he said, loading every word with contempt. Suddenly, thirty-five days of imprisonment seemed too few. A part of him would’ve wanted to oppose, but even the isolation hadn’t affected his survival instinct: any move was an extra possibility to escape. Therefore, he opened the wardrobe and looked at the clothes that Maven had left him: they were all well-made, probably old garments that had belonged to him in the past. Only when he recognized a military suit he realized how wrong he was: they weren’t his clothes, they were Cal’s.

Maven sat on a throne of Silent Stone. It was slowly wasting him, but at least he was certain that his mother's hand wasn’t in his thoughts; it had been more than a month since her death, yet he was still terrified that something had remained in his mind. He was sure he wasn’t crazy, that he had heard her whispers well after Elara had taken her last breath. Therefore, he had built that hurried in a hurry, no gems or precious metals to embellish it: it had to do his duty and until that day, it had done it very well, but something seemed to break when he caught Thomas’ gaze. An abyss of distractions, full of noise and elegant confusion, separated them, but the room could’ve been very empty. He shouldn’t have been there. He should’ve been in his room, dying slowly, away from his eyes. But not from your heart, whispered his mother’s familiar voice. For once, he agreed with her of his own free will: Thomas could never be away from his heart.

Slowly, he also recognized Mare. She still wore the collar and the white shirt and a sentinel Arven kept her on a leash. Thomas too noticed her and turned, showing him his pronounced cheekbones. Captivity had physically tried him but it hadn’t bent his spirit; when he met his gaze again, in his eyes he read a silent reproach. He twisted his hands, uncomfortable. What was he doing there?

"I demand an explanation!" he snapped, leaping to his feet, but being careful to keep his grip firmly on the throne’s high arms. The anger’s explosion made the music stop, just what he would’ve preferred to avoid, although it was just what he had agreed with Evangeline, and with it the dance, shifting his guests’ attention to the scene.

"You gave orders that the terrorists were imprisoned, locked up as useless wine bottles, and after a month of council deliberations, there is still no agreement on what will happen to them." Evangeline answered. He didn’t read in her eyes the same fear he had felt in Templyn, but the same couldn’t be said of her brother. Ptolemus Samos was stiff and immobile, his hand clenched in a fist, as he shuttled between him and his sister with his eyes. But what could he do? She had deliberately disobeyed his orders but she was still Volo Samos’ daughter, his betrothed and future queen. He certainly couldn’t punish her, not when his position on the throne was still shaky. Of course, not doing it would’ve meant other cons... With Thomas so close, he couldn’t concentrate and he decided to postpone the decision later. For the moment, he would stick to the plan.

"The crimes they committed are many," Evangeline continued, "so much that they would deserve a dozen death sentences and a thousand life sentences each, according to our laws, as they have killed and mutilated hundreds of your subjects, including your parents."

At the deceased rulers’ mention, both prisoners shivered, but for different reasons: Mare had witnessed what had happened to his father, while Thomas had been the cause, along with him, of what happened to his mother. Only the thought of having burned her alive made him sick and at the same time filled him with a strange sense of lightness. Did the Reds feel like that when they managed to kill a Silver? Was that the feeling of getting rid of your oppressor?

"And you, who are not even part of my council, would like to talk about their punishments here, during a party?" Maven asked dryly, thanking the Silent Stone for preventing him from incinerating Evangeline instantly.

The girl ignored his modification of the script and went on anyway, shortening the distances between them.

"If the council still treats you like a child, I'm willing to do that!" she snapped, shortening the distances between them. It was obvious that it was all a fiction, a show performed on that stage because the court was there to assist and he had to end it before anyone noticed it.

"The Queenstrial has certainly highlighted the most skilled girl." he commented, taking her hand, repressing the disgust he felt toward her. Then he turned suddenly, just like an actor in the theater, addressing his uncle, accepting his interrogation. He felt sorry for Mare, he knew well what it felt like to have a whisper in his head, but she was a person who was willing to sacrifice for his own kingdom. Contrary to Thomas.

When Mare began to beg him, the newblood also began to do so. They must have become friends, after all.

"Maven, please, don’t let him!" he shouted, but his voice seemed to get lost in the hall echoes. He hadn’t used it for too long and now the silence so prolonged showed off its fruits.

He hadn’t enough strength to escape the Samos guard’s grip, nor to resist when Ptolemus grabbed him by the shoulders. Both held him there without too much difficulty, forcing him to be a passive observer of the terrible scene that ran before his eyes. He couldn’t decide who to watch, if Samson crushing Mare's throat, his big hand squeezing tightly above the metal collar, Mare herself, the personification of terror, which she called Maven in a last, desperate attempt to persuade him to change his mind, or the latter, who held one hand on the throne and with the other clutched Evangeline's. They were a couple of monsters, perfect for each other even in the lack of love they could mutually give each other. He met his gaze, his eyes blue like ice, so familiar and ruthless. Her eyes. Maven didn’t have the strength to bear his delusion and broke eye-contact. Then he turned, leaving him alone again with two silent jailers, wondering what would happen to Mare and how and why she was there, aware that no one would give him the answers he was looking for.

[legendofzeldaalinktothepast]

Pathetic, Clinging Poetry - Chapter 18 (of 25)

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter 

Tw for religious abuse in the beginning. 

The trees outside swayed in roaring wind, threatening to crack and come crashing down with the weight of the snow on their branches. The storm had left Pearl and Peony cold and bored -- well, mostly Pearl. As long as Peony's gameboy had a working battery, she probably wouldn't notice if a meteor crashed into their house. Shivering, Pearl adjusted the blanket on her shoulders and held her hands towards the crackling fireplace in an attempt to warm herself up. "How are you not freezing?" she grumbled, half expecting Peony not to respond. 

* 

"It's not even that cold yet." Peony's eyes didn't stray from the screen in her hands. "The power's only been out for... maybe an hour at the most."

"If you say so." Pearl sighed, adjusting her position so that she could hug her knees up to her chest.

A comfortable silence filled the room. As she began to relax and adjust to the warmth of the fire, Pearl's eyes slowly fell shut... And just as she began to doze off, a clash jolted her back up. Whitney had tossed a chunk of wood into the fireplace; how on earth had she gotten into the living room so suddenly? Pearl hadn't even heard her footsteps.

"Don't sit so close to the fire, sweetheart." Whitney said, giving Pearl a little pat on the head. "That blanket could very easily catch flames, and I don't want you breathing in those fumes."

"But it's so cold..." Pearl whined, shivering visibly (a bit dramatic, she knew) just to further prove her point.

Whitney chuckled. "I'm sure you can handle it, honey. It'll certainly do you some good; after all, once you're in that lake of fire, you'll be wishing you enjoyed the cold while you could."

It took Pearl a moment to process what she'd just said, but when she did, the rage that boiled in her chest was hot enough to start a second fire. Gritting her teeth, she rose to her feet and faced Whitney. She was so tempted to snap back at her, but... Her expression was so calm, as if she'd told a mere lighthearted joke. For a moment, Pearl wondered if she'd even heard her right, or if she'd drawn the wrong conclusion -- but the concerned expression on Peony's face assured her that she'd interpreted it exactly how Whitney had wanted her to.

"Fine." Pearl huffed, making her way over to the leather couch and seating herself beside Peony.

"Thank you." Whitney responded warmly. With that, she turned and headed back out of the living room without another word.

As her frustration began to cool down, it gradually turned into a mixture of fear and grief. Pearl buried her face into the blanket as she fought back tears, and Peony rested a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her.

"I don't think you're going to hell." Peony whispered, gently stroking Pearl on her back. "Mom's just worried about you... And she's just being a little excessive about it. But she means well, though, I think..."

Pearl didn't respond; part of her wanted to be angry at Peony for daring to show any sympathy towards their mother. But at the same time... hearing that someone believed she didn't deserve to burn in hell was a little bit reassuring. So she simply buried her face into her sister's shoulder, and Peony hugged her tight. 

* 

Peony's heart raced in her chest as Spinel rang the doorbell. Even after repeated reassurance that, yes, her aunties were going to love her, she still couldn't help feeling nervous... 'There's so many ways this could go wrong... And if it does, we don't have anywhere else to go...' she thought, reaching for Spinel's hand for support. 'Ah, but there's no sense getting myself worked up. There's so many ways it could go right, too!'

Before they knew it, the door swung open and Peony locked eyes with one of the tallest women she'd ever seen in her life. "Good morning, girls!" she greeted, her voice soft yet enthusiastic. Her salt-and-pepper hair reached down to the middle of her waist, and her skin was a light shade of brown; she wore a dark blue dress with baggy sleeves, and a heavy silver necklace lined with clunky blue gems. She leaned forward and pulled both of them into a tight embrace, nearly lifting them off of the ground.

"Hey, Auntie Bella!" Spinel giggled, returning the hug.

"I'm so glad you two got here safely!" Bella clasped her hands together once she finally let go. "You must be Peony!" she continued, turning towards Peony with a smile and pinching her cheeks. "Gosh, you are just so cute! You poor angels must be so exhausted... Oh, and you just missed Yasmine -- she headed off to work a mere couple minutes before you got here. But I'm sure she'll be thrilled to see you when she gets home!"

"She still works at the high school, right?" Spinel said, cupping her hand over her mouth as she yawned.

"She sure does!" Bella said. "Come on inside, let's get you settled!"

The two of them followed Bella into the house, letting the door click shut behind them. Peony clutched her bags in her hands as she walked in, carefully toeing off her shoes and nudging them into the closet. As she made her way into the living room, Peony couldn't help but notice just how high the ceilings were. 'Rich people always have such high ceilings... But with how tall she is, at least they have an excuse.' Peony thought, looking around at all of the decor. There was a huge mirror hanging above the fireplace, a minimalist painting here and there, and -- ugh -- the godforsaken Live, Laugh, Love decals. They had a massive sectional couch, and a deep blue chaise by the window. 'Yep, it's a rich person's house alright.' Peony silently remarked.

"The guest room is right over here!" Bella said. Peony realized she'd been zoning out, and that Spinel and Bella had wandered off while she was still gawking at the living room. She hurried to catch up and reached for Spinel's hand so she wouldn't get left behind again. "Are you girls hungry at all? And how was the trip? Did you have any trouble?" Bella continued, cupping Spinel's face in her hands.

"It was fine; just super long. And I honestly just need some sleep, but I can't speak for my lil Peeps." Spinel said, giving Peony a little nudge.

Peony blushed. "Oh, um..." In all honesty, she was a little hungry... But if Spinel wasn't going to eat with her, she knew she'd feel incredibly awkward. "I think I need to sleep, too! But thank you for the offer."

"Alright! Well, make yourself at home, then!" Bella said. "And if you need anything at all, like a glass of water, a softer pillow -- "

"We'll let you know in a heartbeat. Nighty night." Spinel gave Bella a thumbs up, heading into the room with Peony and closing the door behind them before she could ramble on even more.

"--Or blankets! We have extra blankets if you get cold!" Bella called from the other side of the door. "Nighty night, girls!"

Spinel flopped down onto the bed with an "oof". Peony giggled, sitting down beside her. "I see what you mean, now."

"She's a lot to take in. But she means well." Spinel said, sitting upright. She tugged her shirt off and kicked off her jeans, crawling under the thick comforter in just her sports bra and boxer shorts. "Anyway, I'm out..." she mumbled, dozing off in a matter of seconds.

Peony, however, lingered on the edge of the bed. She was tempted to try and sleep -- but knew it would be to no avail. From the unfamiliarity of the house, to the growling in her stomach, she knew she'd just spend the next few hours with her eyes open and her mind racing. With a sigh, she slid down from the bed and looked at herself in the body length mirror. There were bags under her eyes, and her hair was still standing up all over the place. Her face burned with embarrassment as she realized that Bella's first impression of her was that of a disheveled, sleep deprived mess. So she hurried over to her bag and dug for her bottle of hairspray, and changed into a fresh skirt and blouse. Once she'd freshened herself up a bit, she glanced back at Spinel one more time. 

Enamored by the sight of her sleeping girlfriend, Peony felt a slight boost of confidence. She pushed the guest room door open and quietly made her way down the hall.

When Peony reached the kitchen, she saw Bella sitting on one of the bar stools by the counter, typing away on her laptop. Once she noticed Peony was standing in the doorway, her expression immediately brightened up. "Oh, hello!" she greeted, clicking her laptop shut. "Is there something you need, sweetheart?"

Peony blushed. "Um -- I couldn't sleep, so I decided I might have some breakfast after all, if you still don't mind."

"Not at all!" Bella rose to her feet. "Have a seat, I'll fix you up anything you'd like!"

"J-just a slice of toast. And some yogurt, if you have any." Peony lifted herself up onto the bar stool.

"Of course! You don't mind greek yogurt, do you?"

"Greek yogurt is just fine." Peony responded.

Bella opened the fridge and pulled out the tub of yogurt. "And how about some granola on top? It's good for you!"

Peony smiled. "That would be nice, thank you."

As Bella prepared Peony's breakfast, she hummed softly to herself. "It's been so long since I got to prepare breakfast for someone! My honeybear always wakes up before me, so I never get a chance to..." she said with a sigh, popping a slice of bread into the toaster. "Anyway, there's a question that's been on my mind ever since you got here..." she continued, sprinkling a few crumbles of granola on top of the yogurt. "You look... Very familiar. Have we met before?"

"I... Don't know if we have, actually." Peony said. "But I have a twin sister named Pearl, so perhaps that's who you're thinking of. She used to date your daughter back in high school. Or step-daughter? I don't remember which of you is Rose's biological parent..."

"Yasmine is, but I still consider Pinkie my daughter nonetheless." Bella brought the bowl of yogurt over to Peony and placed it in front of her. "And Pearl must be who I was thinking of!" Bella added with a grin. "I never knew she had a twin! You are her twin, correct? You have to be -- you look identical!"

Peony giggled again. "Yep, we are! We look and dress similar, but we're very different from each other... Well, at least we think we are. Everyone else seems to mix us up, though." She dipped her spoon into the bowl of yogurt and took a bite.

"That's amazing!" Bella gasped, resting her elbows against the counter. "How is she doing, by the way?"

Peony tensed. "I'm... not completely sure. I'm hoping she's alright. S-she actually, um... ran away from home before I did... And uh, moved in with one of her friends... But we haven't talked since..."

Bella's expression softened. "Ah. I see. Don't worry, you don't have to elaborate if you're not comfortable. Perhaps I shouldn't have been so nosy." she admitted.

"It's alright. I'm not sure how much Spinel told you..." Peony said, resting her elbow on the table.

Ding. Bella retrieved Peony's slice of bread from the toaster, and after spreading a little butter on top of it, she placed it on a glass dish and set it down beside Peony's bowl of yogurt. "Well..." she began, seating herself across from Peony. "She told me that her parents were planning to kick her out. And that your mother wasn't treating you very kindly... And that you met at church, and fell in love over these past few years, and were both in need of a better place to live... And now you're here."

Peony ripped a piece of crust off of her toast, dipping it into the small bit of yogurt left in her bowl. 'That's one way to summarize it...' She was grateful Spinel (supposedly) hadn't gone into all of the gritty details of Whitney's behavior; she wasn't fully sure if she wanted a stranger knowing about all of that. "Yes, that's the general gist of what happened." she finally responded.

"I see." Bella clasped her hands together. "Well... If there's anything I can do to make you feel more at home, please let me know. I'm sure this is probably a very jarring transition, and Yasmine and I will do anything we can to help."

"Thank you... I appreciate that." Peony said. She grabbed her now-empty dishes and began to rise to her feet, only for Bella to take them from her hands. "I'll put those in the dishwasher for you, sweetie." she reassured, giving Peony a little pat on the head. "And after that, I think I'm going to go outside and work in the garden. You're free to join me if you'd like -- and if not, the house is yours."

"A-alright, thank you." Peony said, blushing a little bit. Spinel definitely wasn't exaggerating about her aunts being... excessive. She almost feared that the other aunt would be even worse... But she reminded herself that Bella was simply trying to be polite, and that she'd probably tone it down a bit as time went on. "I think I might just watch some T.V."

"Of course! Go right ahead. And if there's anything else you need, just give me a holler." Bella headed over to the closet and pulled out her gardening gloves and boots. Peony simply nodded and gave a "mhm" in response, turning and making her way down the hallway and towards the living room before Bella could try and talk to her again.

She seated herself in the middle of the giant couch, grabbing the remote from the glass coffee table. 'So many places to sit in this room... And for a house of only two people? I wonder if they have a lot of parties...' she thought. A smirk spread across her face as she imagined the living room full of pretentious rich people, sipping wine and eating tiny sausages and chatting about the oh-so-elegant decor of the house.

She turned the T.V. on, adjusting a little bit so she could get comfortable, and flipped through the channels for a few minutes before finally settling on a children's cartoon -- it was the middle of the day, and a weekday on top of that, so there wasn't very much to choose from. With a sigh, Peony laid down on her side and hugged a pillow against her chest; the leather of the couch was cold against her skin.

'I wonder what Pearl's doing right now...' she thought, her heart aching. 'I really hope she's alright... And that I'll get to see her soon.' Letting out another soft sigh, Peony clasped her hands together, closed her eyes, and prayed. 

* 

After nights of editing with a red pen, tearing up sheets of paper in frustration, and staring blankly at the wall while thinking about writing but not having the motivation to even open her notebook, it was finally done. Pearl had put the finishing touches on her final draft and was finally ready to present her story to the children -- but not before having Jasper and Amethyst proofread it for her, of course.

Pearl decided to approach Jasper first; after all, she'd promised her she would be the first one to read it back when she'd written the first draft. "Here you go!" Pearl said, thrusting the stapled-together papers over towards Jasper, who was laying on the living room couch with her laptop in front of her. "After three days of blood, sweat, and tears, the story is finally finished!"

"Hm? Oh, right!" Jasper set her laptop aside. "That's the one you wrote for the daycare kiddos, right?"

"Not exactly a daycare, but yes, it's for the kids." Pearl said with a grin.

"Awesome, lay it on me." Jasper said as she reached for the paper.

"Let me know when you're done reading -- if you don't mind, I'm going to pace around like a madman until you're done."

Jasper snorted. "Pearlie, I'm no literature snob. I promise I'm not gonna roast your story."

"I knowww, but it still makes me nervous!" Pearl said as she rushed out of the room. "Call me in when you're done!"

Jasper simply rolled her eyes. "Alright, I'll let ya know."

Pearl hurried into the kitchen and lifted herself up onto the counter. 'Alright, just breathe. Jasper's my friend -- she'll certainly love it! And even if she doesn't, she'll be kind about it, won't she?' she thought to herself, anxiously tapping her stubby nails against the counter top. 'It'll even be a good thing if she finds a mistake or two... I'll still have time to fix it. That's what proofreaders are for, after all!'

And so Pearl waited. And waited. And waited. Her anxiety grew with each second that passed and Jasper still hadn't called her into the living room; what was taking her so long? Was the story really that bad? Pearl's heart sank down to her stomach. What if it was so bad that she was angry with her? What if something in the story had offended her in some way? What if --

"Alright Pearlie, I'm done!" Jasper called from the living room. Pearl let out a dramatic sigh of relief and buried her face into her hands. When she picked her head back up, she glanced at the clock on the stove and realized only four minutes had passed. 'Time really drags when you're anticipating criticism, huh.'

Pearl jumped to her feet and headed back to the living room, nervously fidgeting with her hands. "So uh... What do you think?" she asked.

"It was pretty cute." Jasper said, setting the little booklet aside.

"Thank you!" Pearl said, letting out another sigh of relief. "W-what about my diction? How was my diction?"

Jasper shrugged. "It was alright. I mean, it's a kid's story, right? How much does the diction matter?"

"Diction always matters!" Pearl gasped, almost offended at Jasper's suggestion.

Jasper laughed. "Alright, alright. Well, it was good. It worked for the kinda thing you're writing. You kept it simple and easy for kids to understand, but didn't dumb it down, either."

"Good, good... And you're certain it's not bad?" Pearl asked, still noticeably anxious.

"Trust me, I wouldn't lie to make you feel better. If I think something sucks, I'm not afraid to say it. It's creative and cute as hell, just like you." Jasper teased, handing the stapled papers over to Pearl.

Beaming, Pearl pulled Jasper into a hug. "Aww... You're too sweet. Thank you, Jasper."

"Just telling you the truth." Jasper said, patting Pearl's back as she returned the hug. "What'd Amethyst think of it?"

"Oh, um, she hasn't read it yet!" Pearl said. "I told you I'd let you be the first to read it, didn't I?"

"Ah... Guess you did." Jasper smiled a little. "I dunno, just assumed Ame would be the first to read it, seeing as she's your girlfriend and all."

Pearl's cheeks flushed; it was the first time she'd heard Jasper outright acknowledge their relationship. Not that she'd been in denial over it, but still, hearing someone else use the word "girlfriend" for the first time was a bit surreal. "Yes, but you're my friend, and I'd told you I wanted you to read it first. Just because she's my girlfriend doesn't mean she's my only priority." Pearl hugged her again. "I promise. I'm not gonna love you any less just because I fell for her, okay?"

Blushing, Jasper held the hug for another few moments before awkwardly pulling away. "I mean, I didn't think you would..." she said, turning her gaze in the other direction.

"Ah, alright. Maybe I shouldn't have assumed you were feeling that way..." she mumbled, now regretting being so dramatic.

"Pfft, it’s fine." Jasper ruffled Pearl's hair and pulled her into another hug. "Promise.” 

* 

Now, it was Amethyst's turn to read. As she sat on the edge of the bed with the story in her hands, Pearl lay face-down against the pillows, too nervous to look Amethyst in the eye until she'd finished reading. Once she heard her close up the booklet and set it down, Pearl pushed herself upright and turned her gaze towards Amethyst. "Well... What'd you think?"

"I thought it was cute!" Amethyst said, setting the story on the nightstand and turning to face Pearl. "Nice job, Pierogi girl. I'll get working on that coloring page real soon."

"And you're sure it's good? You didn't notice any grammar mistakes?" Pearl asked, shyly reaching for Amethyst's hand.

"Nope, not a single one." Amethyst said. "And I'm positive it's good. I definitely would've loved to hear that kind of story when I was a kiddo." She leaned in for a kiss, and Pearl obliged; but her body was still tense and Amethyst could sense it. "I have no reason to lie to ya, cutie..." she whispered, running her chubby fingers through Pearl's short hair.

"I guess so... I guess I'm just overthinking it." Pearl sighed.

"Wouldn't be the first time you did that." Amethyst teased. She flopped down onto her back, sprawling out across the bed. "Now stop thinking and come and kiss me. I'm gayyy..."

Pearl giggled, laying down beside Amethyst and pulling her into another long, soft kiss. "Hello, Gay. I'm Pearl." she whispered against her lips, unable to hold back her snicker.

"Ew, that joke was staler than the potato chip I found in the couch yesterday." Amethyst snorted.

"But it made you smile, did it not?" Pearl winked. "And... Please tell me you did not eat that potato chip."

"You bet your ass I did."

"Amethyst! That's disgusting! You better not have kissed me afterwards!" Pearl cringed in disgust.

"I did, and I'll do it again!" Amethyst cackled, pulling Pearl into another kiss. Pearl fake-whined in protest, rolling over and pinning Amethyst down beneath her. She pulled away from Amethyst's mouth once she had her pinned, panting softly. "You little rascal..." she growled.

Amethyst licked her lips and gazed up at Pearl with half-lidded eyes. "Whoa there. Didn't know you had such a dominant side."

Pearl's cheeks flushed. "And why is that such a surprise?" she said, puffing out her chest.

"I mean, have you seen yourself?" Amethyst said. "Or heard yourself talk?"

"That's true... But I've worked on apologizing less!" Pearl said.

"I'll definitely give ya credit for that." Amethyst said. "So, uh... Are you gonna do something else, or just stare at me all night?"

"I wouldn't mind staring at you until the sun rises..." Pearl tilted her head. "But that'd probably get boring for you, wouldn't it? Especially since you're looking at me from such an unattractive angle..."

"No such thing as an unattractive angle when it's you." Amethyst purred. "Now if you're not gonna come down and kiss me, I'll go up there and do it m-"

Amethyst trailed off as Pearl brought their lips together once more, and she let out a soft whimper of content. She melted against her lips, slowly reaching up and wrapping her arms around Pearl's torso. "Love you..." she mumbled once they pulled away to breathe for a moment, before going back in once more.

"I love you too..." 

[comefollowtherainbowroad-blog]

Welcoming the New Guys

Katherine sat at her desk staring at the couple before her. The look of disgust in her mud brown eyes couldn’t have been stronger. Her oak-colored hair was pulled back into a stiff tight bun and not a single hair was out of place. Her pursed lips were highlighted in a nauseatingly pink lipstick that while complementing her blush and liner was applied way to heavily. She wore a light blue business suit whose tight pencil skirt somehow managed to be professional, feminine and double as a restraint at the same time. Her silver heels were about three inches long and pencil thin. Somehow she managed to sit crossed legged in the pink low back chair as she studied the screen before her. Her hands clutching the golden cross on her necklace.

“I see,” she said her voice a judgemental chirp. “According to our records, you served three months in Saint Margarets prison rehab.” The couple across from her shifted uncomfortably.

“Yes.” The smaller of the two squeaked. Her partner put a supportive hand on her shoulder. This wasn’t the first time the two women had to face a sex counselor. It was just a fact of living in this day and age. The smaller woman was dressed like a plaid watermelon. She wore a pair of light green sneakers, pink and green plaid pants, a pink long-sleeved shirt and a pink and green plaid vest. Her hair was in a pixie cut and currently dyed lime green. Her liquid honey eyes watched the counselor's pink manicured nails twist the cross around.

“I see so this is the second time then for both of you. I assume at this point you are aware that same-sex relationships outside of an approved sanctuary is against the law of our Lord.” She turned toward the larger female. Dressed head to toe in black, leather and spikes she had the air of someone who couldn’t care less about her opinion and the build of a marine.

The two females looked at each other. Neither had told their parents yet but this was their third strike. They nodded in agreement it was time. So long outside world, hello prison.

“Good then. Here is a list of approved Sanctuaries in your area. Honestly, I recommend Peter’s Palace but it’s your choice. Choose wisely cause it’s your final one.” She handed them a sheet of paper that had three names on it. “Or if you are up to moving here is your login code for the country database.” She scribbled down a collection of barely legible letters and handed them the paper.

“Good luck ladies.” her voice was anything but reassuring.

      ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Skye was waiting outside the main gate of the Rainbow Road Sanctuary. When she asked Nat to redesign the old cast iron gate this isn’t what she had in mind. Sure the old version was more “Alcatraz chic” but this wasn’t much better.

“Umm Nat I’m not one to judge but what is this?” She looked at the colorful chaos before her. “Is that a unicorn?”

“Honey it just screams open-mindedness.” He clapped his hands together and looked at her with those puppy dog eyes.

“It’s screaming alright just not sure what exactly.” King walked over careful to stay on the rainbow brick driveway. He was wearing his usual black leather speedo thing and spiked black harness, a leather whip was strapped to his side.

“Hey, at least I included your kink in my fabulous mural. Although Sister Margaret was happy since she thought you were the devil punishing a drag queen.” He pointed over towards a section showing a monkey in bondage gear chasing a peacock. “Cause we all know you are so into the Painted Peacock owner.”

“Nat lay off of king, please. King, you need to get to work. I need to get to the main office and Nat please ensure everyone is on their best behavior today we have a pair of lovely ladies taking a tour today. They are checking out Randy’s Rodeo first so make sure your mom is in her office in about an hour.” She took one last look at the newly painted front gate. The old cast iron was now a bright golden color. A large rainbow featured a variety of animals real and mythical making their way down it toting their respective flags being led by a fabulous unicorn. Yep, that’s Nat for you, never what you want but probably what you need.

Laughing she made her way up the quarter-mile long driveway. He even painted the brick road leading up to the main clubhouse. Wait, she stopped to double check it. Nope, not painted. He actually located someone who makes colored bricks and redid the entire driveway. Well, now it’s an actual rainbow road. Hopping into the sole method of travel inside its gates she started the electric golf cart and scooted off.

The main clubhouse was a two-story brick building. The first floor served as her office, the main gathering hall, housed the indoor heated pool and where they hosted amateur drag shows on the last Saturday of every month. The second floor was where Skye, her two sisters, Rose and Raine, and their mom Pheonix lived.

When you first walk in it opens into what most people describe as a giant living room. The entire place was decorated in caribbean pastels. Sky blue walls with beach and forest murals gave it an open feel. Light grass green tile could be found throughout. Wooden benches were placed around a fireplace instead of sofas. Some were decorated with faux moss and fungus.

It looked like a scene from a kids book. Nat’s great-grandfather was inspired by a camping trip he took to Long Key State Park back in 2095. He was commissioned to design the place two years later by Solar Hellion Skye’s grandfather. He jumped all over the opportunity to build a place where he and his partner could live in peace.

Heading to the right and down the hall lined with mushroom lamps takes you to the bathroom/changing rooms and indoor Pool.  It looked like the mermaid’s grotto from the Peter Pan movie. Faux willow branches hung from parts of the ceiling as carved trunks doubled as a towel rack.  In the center of the pool sat a fountain in the form of a mermaid bathing under a waterfall. Yeah, extravagance runs in his genetics.

The true gem, however, was on the other side of the sliding doors that doubled as walls in the pool room. On warm sunny days like these, they are left open creating the illusion of a never-ending room. They opened onto a large stone patio that housed a giant summer kitchen featuring three large grills, one smoker, and a three compartment sink. A mini fridge and chest freezer stored in the indoor common room could be moved outside during special events.

Heading to the left from the living room took you to the common space. A two-story cafe that held a stage used for everything from kid plays to amateur drag shows. Every Saturday they have comedy night and Sunday is half price drinks. Raine had overseen six weddings there so far and a seventh was planned in the fall. The old wood furnishings and fake birds gave it a strange beachy feel that many found comforting. At the far end was the stairs to the second tier.

Heading straight through that first room led to the offices and stairway to the second story. She headed upstairs to change into her work clothes. The ladies would be here any moment and she wanted to make a good impression.

Once changed Skye headed back to the main gate. It was 7pm and they’d be here any second. Sure enough, a bus from Saint Pauls Retrainers pulled up. Out stepped two women. One obviously distressed, the other on the verge of murder.

The upset one was very pixie like, dressed in an ankle length lime green dress and her, also lime, hair pulled back into a bun. She also wore a pair of silver heels she obviously wasn’t used to and a green sweater. Her eyes were red and puffy obviously from crying so much. No doubt Sharon was their counselor.

The other one however was dressed in a similar get up only with purple hair and a black dress. She was much taller than the other and built like a bear. A silver bracelet on her left wrist told Skye all she needed to know. Her and this woman would get along well.

“As you can guess our gate says it all but if you have any questions I’ll be happy to help.” She gestured toward the rainbow monstrosity behind her. Yeah thank Nat for his in your face style.

The small one looked up and gasped. Surely this couldn’t be true. The others said this place was a living hell. There is no way a sanctuary could actually be a safe haven. The taller one went from murder from pure amusement.

“So this is what Catholic hell looks like.” her tone seemed overly cautious. “What’s it called?”

“Yeah we’ve been called that before.” Skye laughed. “Unofficially, Dear Gods Why Nat Why You Know Sharon is Going to Call the Cops Again. But they call it Open Mindedness”.

“They?” the smaller one asked.

“Yeah Nat is asexual and a gender fluid hermaphrodite. If you ask depending on the day it’s short for Nathaniel and others it’s short for Natasha. When they leave Nat prefers he because men have more freedom. Nat is also our resident artist and does most of the detail work around here.”

“And you just accept this. No trying to change us or fix us.” They asked in unison. Skye motioned for them to step onto the first row of rainbow colored bricks. The bus took off leaving them in peace. Once they were further from the road she answered.

“Rainbow Road doesn’t work like most places do. It’d be easier for me to show you because as you’ve seen words are hollow.”

“Alright we’ll give it a shot. I’m Molly and this is my partner Isabell.” The one in black responded.

“I’m Skye and this place was started by my grandfather so he, his wife and his sisters in law could live in peace. We are an open minded group all we ask is that everyone is of age, consenting, no one comes to harm and that it be done in the designated areas. I know the last ones weird but we accept ALL KINDS here.” They pulled up to the main club house. She ran in only to come out a few seconds later.

“It’s early so I need my keys. We are an actual sanctuary so you will see a lot of people who don’t live here on property. This allows those stuck in the “Real” world a chance to escape. The property Itself is broken into two areas. The common ground which is an LGBTQ+ safe space featuring clubs, bars, cafes, gyms and other locations for people to gather and chill. It also has grocery stores and shops since some residents aren’t allowed or don’t feel safe leaving.” She gestured toward the right where they passed a small produce stand and florist.

“Not allowed to leave?” Isabell whispered her voice shaking.

“Yes those who have four plus strikes are banned from polite society” Skye scoffed “unless escorted by a member of the Good Church. Anything they can’t get in here me or Rose will do runs once a week to pick up. This includes medicines and other specialty items. We are hoping to get a few pharmacists, doctors and surgeons in so we can set up a clinic. But until then those who need them must leave which is why even here some things are frowned upon.” She explained.

“Ah so that’s how it’s done. Sorry but me and my girl are one of those banned pairs unless we get three or more months of counseling.” Molly admitted.

“Is cool I’m actually taking you to Nat’s mom Charlene. She is the resident psychologist and proud supporter of pet play, if you know what that is.” Her tone was pretty upbeat.

“Okay then. What’s the second area?” Molly asked.

“Second area is residential. Residents are divided by, what we call, their kink though you’d know it as their mental problem. Back to your earlier question, no we don’t try to fix you because you aren’t broken. We provide a space, or rather spaces, for you to do you.” She pulled up to a restaurant called the Pan Pan. Pulling out her keys she unlocked the door.

“I don’t know about you but it’s like 7:30 am and I haven’t had breakfast. You hungry.” She motioned for them to step inside. “I’ve heard that Saint Pauls Retrainers are big on withholding if you don’t meet their standards. Your hair is stunning so I’m thinking you haven’t eaten in a few days.” She watched Isabell nod slowly as she studied the menu. Molly was a little more hesitant. She was going to need a few weeks.

“One moment. Hey Rose, Laura, Fred I need you guys.” She called toward the kitchen. Three females popped their heads from behind a door. The shortest and roundest of the three came running over to hug her. Her hair was black and done up into two little buns at the top. Blue eyes shined with mischief as a cockeyed smile danced on her lips. Her uniform was a black knee length fluffy dress with a white apron that ended at her thigh. With it was a pair of black leggings and steel-toed non-slip boots. The other two had similar hairstyles but with black pants and long sleeved shirts and white vests. All in all they looked like pandas.

“Molly, Isabell this is my sister Rose and her partners Laura and Fred. Fred is male but the queen around here. Rose can make us a lovely breakfast before you open. These lovely ladies are thinking about moving here from Saint Pauls Retrainers in GA.”

Rose took one look at the girls turned and drug her two accomplices into the kitchen. Their was the faint sound of excited squeaking, the clash of pans, a few slaps and an army of kitchen timers. Around half an hour later they returned with enough food for eight people.

“We got excited,” Fred said sheepishly. The six then sat down at one of the larger tables to eat. A Lot of what was on the table wasn’t on the menu. There were pancakes, sausage, biscuits, eggs both fried and scrambled, bacon, omelets and cereal. Oh and waffles, lots of waffles.

“So what brings you down here.” laura said in her best attempt at a southern drawl. Like Rose, her hair was black and in bear ears but originally it was a deep pine brown. Her amber eyes studied the pair cautiously.

“Same as most people I guess, fell in love with the WRONG person.” The wrong was put in air quotations. Isabell snorted in response which only got a light chuckle from Molly.

“If you don’t mind my asking..” Fred’s voice was hesitant. “..what about your parents?” He looked prepared to slip under the table and run. Rose and Laura traded concerned looks. They both knew his history, good and bad. It was Howl who spoke.

“Fred never really came out. They found out the first day they visited him here. Long story short I threw them and a brother off of a second story balcony. His other brother, Reese was cool about it. Gave me my first three dings and thanked me cause if I hadn’t he would’ve. Now he always wonders if that’s a normal thing.” She picked up bagel as sho spoke casually showing off a silver bracelet.

“Ha, same here except I punched both my dad and hers in the face. I could handle them attacking me but not my honey bunny.” Molly showed the two grooves on hers. After breakfast, the three left leaving Nami and crew to clean up.

They stopped by Sense8 where Queenie, King and Doggo were currently passed out in a bed hosting some plushy ties. Howl noped out of that one pretty quickly. Instead they headed to the painted Peacock. Vainglorious was cleaning up after the last few stragglers. They traded some greetings but for the most part he was busy wiping down tables.

After that a tour of the private residences. Their apartment was located on Pride way. Most were two story townhomes with screened in porches on both levels. Isabel was excited about the rooftop deck which had plenty of room for gardening. It was a two bedroom one and a half bath place with a large kitchen. The Patios overlooked the Neptuna lake.

After approving the apartment they headed to a pastel blue house on Ally way. Charlene and Nat were waiting in the living room with cookies. Howl introduced them, grabbed Nat and left them to their first session.

Charlene was a tiny pixie of a woman. Her hair was curly and red and eyes greener then new spring leaves. Her skin was pale but covered in freckles. She wore a patchwork floral dress and no shoes. She smiled revealing crooked white teeth. She motioned for them to sit.

“Now I know your counseling sessions have been way different in the past. So today I’m here to answer any questions you have about our community.” She took a drink from her cup and set it on a paint splattered table.

An hour later Howl came back and heard the three laughing. She knocked lightly on the open door and walked in. She immediately regretted it.

“That’s whenever Samuel showed up. She was holding this guy by his ankles from the balcony as her mom chanted drop him drop him, from below. I had to subdue Pheonix as Sam ran upstairs to wrangle the guy from her grasp. He barely managed to to but the damage was done. The cop who showed up, Officer Reeves, gave her the silver bracelet.”

“Am I intruding Ladies.” She said with a smile. They nodded no, barely stifling their laughter.

“Will you be staying with us?” she asked. They nodded yes the occasional giggle slipping through. “ Good then, Welcome Home.”

[harryandmeghan0-blog]

This Is Why Meghan Markle Isn't Wearing Her Engagement Ring - Grazia

New Post has been published on https://harryandmeghan.xyz/this-is-why-meghan-markle-isnt-wearing-her-engagement-ring-grazia/

This Is Why Meghan Markle Isn't Wearing Her Engagement Ring - Grazia

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It’s surprisingly relatable

Meghan Markle loves to wear a ring. And, from the aquamarine Princess Diana ring she wore as she dashed off to her wedding reception, to the stacked Pippa Small gold and diamond ring she wore to Princess Eugenie’s wedding, she’s certainly not short of options to adorn her fingers with.

However, eagle-eyed royal watchers spotted Meghan out and about last week without her engagement ring on, prompting calls of ‘how dare she’, ‘what is she doing?!’ and ‘what an insult!’ But if you were one of those outraged by her slipping off her engagement ring, please rest assured – she had good reason.

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The most prominent theory about why Meghan Markle attended her engagement at Canada House with Prince Harry without her ring is that her fingers have swollen due to pregnancy, and so she’s taking a break from wearing it. She did however wear her gold wedding band, which was made from Welsh gold by Cleave and Company.

Some others speculated the diamond engagement ring, which features gems from Princess Diana’s collection, was being cleaned.

READ MORE: The Best Of Meghan Markle’s Pregnancy Style

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Making a surprise appearance at the British Fashion Awards calls for a pretty spectacular outfit. Enter this timeless number, which has since set the bar high for one-shoulder gowns.

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Making a surprise appearance at the British Fashion Awards calls for a pretty spectacular outfit. Enter this timeless number, which has since set the bar high for one-shoulder gowns.

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Meghan visited Smart Works, which one of the four new patronages, wearing a simple maternity dress from Hatch. She paired this with a classic trench coat from Oscar de la Renta, and part-sheer printed heels by Gianvito Rossi. Understated yet elegant.

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Whilst attending a Royal Variety performance, Meghan dazzled in a sleek black skirt and monochrome top that featured a floral pattern. We love.

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During a visit to Brinsworth House (which is the Royal Variety Charity’s residential nursing and care home), Meghan stepped out wearing a clean white floral dress by brand Brock Collection. To beat the chill, she threw on a long grey coat Soia and Kyo, before completing her look with a classic nude clutch and heels.

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When visiting Birkenhead with her beau Prince Harry, Meghan wore a bright purple dress under this striking red coat by fashion brand Sentaler. Her statement red shoes were from Stuart Weitzman, and we’re pretty obsessed with them.

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Meghan wore a Roland Mouret sequin gown during a visit to watch a charity performance of Cirque du Soleil at Royal Albert Hall. Her sequined evening look was paired with black heels by Stuart Weitzman, and she donned a slicked back bun and bold lips.

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Drawing inspiration from her sister-in-law Kate Middleton, Meghan often to wear an affordable cream dress from H&M during a visit to Mayhew, one of her royal patronages. She covered the dress with a smart Armani coat and heels. Chic.

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Burgundy is definitely the Duchess’ colour! This Club Monaco coat and her collared dress make for a match-made in heaven. And when paired with with black tights and chunky heeled boots, we have a winning winter outfit.

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For the final Armistice Day service at Westminster Abbey, Meghan wore an elegant navy skirt and boxed-style shoulder peplum top, complete with a headpiece and large poppy pin.

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Can we just take a moment for this custom Givenchy outfit? Created for her last royal engagement in New Zealand, Meghan married a classy navy sweater with a pleated maxi skirt which showcased different shades of blue.

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The Duchess has opted to wear navy on several occasions during her pregnancy, including the time she wore this Antonio Berardi dress with a pair of Aquazzura heels.

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Yes, Meghan Markle is often spotted wearing heels and princess-worthy gowns, but she’s also capable of rocking a more laid-back style with ease. Take this Karen Walker blazer, J.Crew skinny jeans, and practical rain boots as proof.

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In New Zealand, Meghan wore this gorgeous plaid trench by Karen Walker. She layered it over a black dress which was sold on ASOS, proving that designer and high-street go hand-in-hand.

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For her speech at the Invictus Games closing ceremony, Meghan donned a tailored, olive green dress by the designer Antonio Berardi. She completed her look with a poppy pin.

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Meghan accompanied Harry to watch the wheelchair basketball finals at Invictus Games, and donned a casual yet chic outfit. The Duchess proved that a simple pair of skinny jeans and a wrap top are in still very much in style.

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Meghan wowed the crowd at Australian Geographic Society Awards in this flowing Oscar de la Renta gown, which she styled with slingback heels.

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Have you ever seen a Veronica Beard Cary Dress and blue suede shoes look so chic together?

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What does one wear to dinner with the King and Queen of Tonga? Only a white gown by Theia, pumps by Aquazzura and earrings by Birks, of course!

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Whilst attended the unveiling of a statue in honour of a British-Fijan soldier, Meghan chose to wear Jason Wu green mid-length dress with pointed heels and an arm cuff.

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The Duchess’s eye-catching blue gown by Safiyaa, married with a pair of diamond drop earrings, is one of our favourite Meghan Markle outfits of all-time.

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White 3/4 sleeve dress + matching Stephen Jones fascinator _ straw clutch = Heaven in an outfit.

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We’re obsessed with this black Emilia Wickstead dress which features dainty buttons all the way down the middle. And it looks even better when paired with this Philip Treacy fascinator, don’t you think?

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A striped Martin Grant dress is the only plausible outfit to wear on the beach, right? We certainly think so.

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See, we told you that Meghan is a fan of the colour navy. Lots of her dress choices – like this two-toned number by Roksanda – feature varying shades of blue.

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Let’s face it: we can’t blame Meghan for her love affair with navy – she really does know how to pull the colour off, and it’s complementary against her dark hair colour.

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When we first saw Meghan wearing this forest green Brandon Maxwell dress, we fell hard in love, and in all honestly, we haven’t stopped thinking about it since.

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This classy white dress by Australian designer Karen Gee was the first item that Meghan was spotted in after the news of her pregnancy was confirmed.

Interestingly, protocol dictates that royals don’t have to wear wedding rings at all. Prince William, for example, doesn’t wear one at all, nor does Prince Phillip. It’s all down to personal preference, and royals can choose whether to wear a ring or not; Princes Charles and Harry both wear wedding bands.

But Meghan Markle isn’t the only expectant mother to forgo wearing jewellery or tight shoes due to swelling, here are some other strange things the body does when pregnant:

Your voice can get lower as more oestrogen and progesterone are created, which affects lung capacity and muscle control, this can result in swelling of the vocal chords.

Hair starts growing all over your body, including the face, chest and arms.

Bad breath is common among some pregnant women as hormones changes contribute to excess bacteria in the mouth, but on the plus side – NHS dental appointments are free during pregnancy.

Your vagina can go blue. Yes you read that correctly, it’s all because of an increase in blood flow to the area.

You can get really sweaty. Just another joyous side effect, thought to be caused by increased blood flow and metabolism.

Source: https://graziadaily.co.uk/celebrity/news/the-real-reason-meghan-isnt-wearing-engagement-ring/