#they were still cress' songs. should be fixed now

[leatherforhell]

REPOST & LIST 6 SONGS THAT INSPIRE YOU TO WRITE YOUR MUSE.

ㅤㅤI DON'T TAKE INSULTS LIGHTLY by madds buckley ----- concrete cracks and crumbles / foundations turn to rubble / the jaws of death are snapping / the beak of ravens cackling / i break the high and mighty / i don't take insults lightly

ㅤㅤIN THE WOODS SOMEWHERE by hozier ----- his bone exposed / his hind was lame / i raised a stone to end his pain / what caused the wound? / how large the teeth? / i saw new eyes were watching me

ㅤㅤUNDERGROUND by cody fry ----- I woke up underground / not a light, not a sound / threw my voice into the dark / but the dark had no remark / just repeated what i said / claustrophobic at first / struck by hunger and thirst / i stood up and looked around / there was nothing to be found / just a world i couldn't see

ㅤㅤPLENTY by aeseaes ----- we want violence, we want blood / we want superhero love / we want all the answers that you promised us / we want laughter, we want pain / and everyone will know our name / did you know that no two missteps are the same?

ㅤㅤI WAS AN ISLAND by john-allison weiss ----- I was an island before you came along / put your boat in my sand, hand in my hand / your heart in my songs / i was a fighter and i was so brave / but i lowered my sword when you held me and swore / you'd stay, stay, stay / i can't do this alone anymore / 'cause i'm no good on my own anymore / what did i do to deserve this? / what did you do to me? / baby, come back / you know i don't wanna be free

ㅤㅤTHE CALL by regina spektor ----- it started out as a feeling / which then grew into a hope / which then turned into a quiet thought / which turned into a quiet word / and then that word got louder and louder / 'til it was a battle cry / i'll come back when you call me / no need to say goodbye

& 6 QUOTES THAT INSPIRE YOU TO WRITE YOUR MUSE.

"You cannot make everyone think and feel as deeply as you do. This is your tragedy... because you understand them, and they do not understand you."

"I love you more than my own skin and even though you don't love me the same way, you love me anyways, don't you? And if you don't, I'll always have the hope that you do, and I'm satisfied with that. Love me a little. I adore you."

"I don't think I am allowed to kill something because I am frightened."

"I have been trying, for some time now, to find dignity in my loneliness. I have been finding this hard to do."

"You save everyone, but who saves you?"

"You are your home. Take care of yourself."

tagged by: literally me. i took it from my cress blog bc i love it so fucking much. tagging: @lapinecide @wallcrawld @h0b1e @batcaller @riselazarus @firemourn @tcaleaf @fightwing and anybody else literally whether you follow me or not i don't wanna clog this up by tagging everyone but this is my favorite dash meme pls do it and tag me

[rapunzelfromthemoon]

Rampion crew boys as 1D songs that remind me of them (mostly about their relationship with their love interest)

Pt. 3: Thorne

Stand up

"I would walk through the desert, I would walk down the aisle, I would swim all the oceans just to see you smile, whatever it takes is fine

so put your hands up 'cause it's a stand up

I won't be leaving 'till I finish stealing every piece of your heart

and I will steal us a car, and we will drive to the stars, I will give you the moon, it's the least I can do if you give me the chance

I'm a thief, I'm a thief, you can call me a thief, but you should know your part:

I'm only here because you stole my heart"

(The desert! The moon! The stolen vehicles! This song is about Carswell Thorne).

Alive

"I don't know why I wanna be with every girl I meet, I can't control it, yeah, I know it's taking over me

I said, hey, it's alright, if it makes you feel alive, don't look back, live your life, even if it's only for tonight

we got to live before we get older, do what we like, we got nothing to lose, shake off the weight of the world from your shoulders, oh, we got nothing to prove"

(This song screams YOLO and so does Thorne's whole existence).

Last first kiss

"I wanna be last, yeah, baby, let me be your, let me be your last first kiss, I wanna be first, yeah, wanna be the first to take it all the way like this, and if you only knew, I wanna be last, yeah, baby, let me be your last, your last first kiss

baby, tell me what to change, I'm afraid you'll run away if I tell you what I've wanted to tell you, yeah, maybe I just gotta wait, maybe this is a mistake, I'm a fool, yeah, baby, I'm just a fool, yeah

girl, what would you do? would you wanna stay if I were to say?"

(During Cress, Thorne went through with his promise not to let Cress die unkissed. And by the end of Winter, while still doubting and feeling terribly undeserving of her, he still couldn't help but ask if she wanted to stay with him a little longer).

Where do broken hearts go?

"counted all my mistakes and there's only one standing out from the list of the things I've done, all the rest of my crimes don't come close to the look on your face when I let you go

yeah, it took me some time, but I figured out how to fix up a heart that I let down

yeah, the taste of your lips on the tip of my tongue is at the top of the list of the things I want, mind is running in circles of you and me

tell me now, tell me now, tell me will you ever love me again, love me again?"

(Just like with the rest of the boys, we don't get a lot of his POV, but if I had to guess what was going through his mind during all that time in Winter when Cress and him were going through that awkward-ish rough phase, I'd say it was probably something like this).

Part 1: Kai

Part 2: Wolf

Part 4: Jacin

[typicalmidnightsoul]

Home video fic

My first prompt fic. This was requsted by  @ Dayanna_Cahill_Fray_Chase and @my-fan-side. Nesta discovers a home video which she watches with her sister basically.

The edits are basically a story board so plz check that out I wasn’t going to post these but my cousin made me <3 Love ya cuz.

If you have anymore prompts feel free to send them to me <3

Cassian woke up trying to reach for Nesta but instead finding a cold side of bed. He had gone to the rooftop pool with Nesta and safe to say they had a…rough night. He pushed himself up and leaned against the headboard, the bathroom door was open giving him a full view of his fiancé’s back in that pretty white bathing suit. She was putting on mascara, her clothes on the heating rack in the bathroom.

“Where are you going?”

“Starbucks then my old house. It’s about time I cleared that place up.”

He grimaced, the old house as in the villa she grew up in that have reminders of her dead parents.

He started getting up only to have Nesta push him down, “You didn’t get much sleep last night,” She started fixing her bandanna in the mirror, “Stay. I’ll see you later.”

He rolled his eyes, “You didn’t get much sleep either.”

“That’s why I’m going to Starbucks,” She winked and trotted down the stairs leaving.

Well then he could also get Starbucks.

------

She was waiting in the line, scrolling through Instagram not bothering to look behind her. As she got to the front she smiled at the barista,

“Hey could I have-” a hand came around her waist.

“Caramel macchiato, Venti with extra whip, please.”

The barista smiled, “And for you sir?”

Cassian smiled, “me? Well-“

“He wants a Venti iced hazelnut macchiato, no whip and light ice.”

“Names?”

Cassian pinched her waist, “Nessie and Cassian.”

Nesta threw him a harsh look.

They moved along to the end.

“What are you doing here?”

“Helping you clear up your parent’s villa.”

She rolled her eyes.

“You know sweetheart you chug down coffee like its water I don’t think it’s healthy.”

“Shut up Cassian.”

The baristo handed their drinks to them giving Nesta a flirtatious smile which Nesta returned only to piss Cassian off.

Cassian growled.

She pulled him out of the coffeehouse before he could make a scene.

“Did you bring your car?” she asked him, because she hadn’t, she was planning on taking an uber.

He grunted a response she assumed was a yes.

As they got to his car, he opened the car door for her but didn’t look at her. She rolled her eyes.

She got in his black Bentley, as he got in next to her she pressed a kiss to his cheek, “Baby.”

No answer, “Baby!”

“Yes?” He turned, his lips so close to hers.

“I love you.” She pressed her lips to his, it always worked.

As she sat back, his hand went on her thigh.

“Are you sure you should be going there wearing that, babe? I mean as gorgeous as you look, will you be able to move around in it?”

She looked down at her baby blue Bardot tie front and high waist shorts.

“You’d be surprised sweetie.”

As they pulled up to the rustic villa Nesta sighed. Home.

She jogged up to the front door and opened it.

After all the Archeron sisters had moved out with their respective boyfriends and their father…passed the house was left the exact same way. She assumed it was an Archeron thing as after her mother died everything was left the same in her chambers as well.

She sipped her coffee.

“I’ll get started on clearing up the cellar babe, you get started upstairs ok?”

She mindlessly nodded heading upstairs; she had somewhere she needed to go. Something that was begging her attention.

She trotted down the marble hallway into her mother’s second room. The room she didn’t share with her father that she slept more and more in after their marriage was breaking. She went in and gasped. If Nesta didn’t know better she’d think her mother had gone to a party, because the room was immaculate, but still somehow like her mother.

Her mother’s perfume slanted on the table as if she’d just used it, her coat slung over her arm chair, a corner of her duvet folded over.

Her eyes got watery at the jewellery box on her mother’s dressing table.

She opened the box and sighed at the tune playing which she always sung along too and did so now.

“…and when you speak angels sing from above and every word seems to turn into love songs. Give your heart and soul to me and life will always be-”

She broke off at the twin bracelets in the box. She had given it her mother, when she was 13, in the morning for safekeeping because school wouldn’t allow it and forgot to get it back.

White gold chain bracelets with white gold hearts on them. She slid the bracelets on and underneath them, now out in the open from their absence were…pen drives. They had a gold geometric stick.

She giggled at how classy her mother is. Was. Her smile faded.

But what would her mother need to hide in a pen drive in her jewellery box of all places. Footsteps coming upstairs, she slipped the pen drives inside her pocket and closed the jewellery box.

Hands on her waist, lips skimming her neck.

“Clearing up, baby?”

She turned, “I was just about to start.”

“Oh really?” he looked around, “Who’s room was this?”

“My mom’s chambers, her second room.”

“Funny how she left everything for you. You must’ve been her favourite.”

“I was.”

They had countless arguments on this. Him defending Feyre and Elain, her standing her own ground. He was under the impression that Feyre was a villain in her story. She was. And Cassian wouldn’t accept that. He tried to justify Feyre’s actions. Nesta ended up not talking to him for 4 days, because on that topic she never argued for too long, just shut down.

This is why he didn’t push an argument today. She was trying to fix the bond between her sisters. But when the wound is fresh it doesn’t heal as quickly.

She was meeting them tomorrow. Ugh.

At least Cress would be there.

“My heads hurting I wanna go home.” He nodded and led her downstairs. As they got in the car Nesta felt like a hole was burning her pocket.

“Babe you ok?” He asked.

She nodded. Looking back onto the clear expanse of her childhood estate.

“You weren’t wearing those bracelets when we went in. In fact I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear those.”

She smiled, “I was getting in the car for high school and mum came out to give me my watch and she said, ‘Nesta jewellery isn’t allowed at school’ so I gave these for here to keep safe and forgot to take it back, she’s kept it safe for 11 years.”

He reached over and kissed her cheek. “They look amazing on you.”

-----

She clicked off her phone and tried to pull her brown mini skirt lower.

“Cresseida says she’s still on her flight from Manhattan. She should be here in a couple of hours.” Feyre and Elain both nodded, Elain stood.

“Want coffee?” Feyre nodded.

“Wait, Elain it’s my house I’ll-” Elain waved her off getting out three mugs. Nesta went and sat opposite Feyre.

“No need to make anything I have a stash of frappe’s in the fridge.”

Elain put the cups away and started picking out flavours.

Nesta took a deep breath.

“So I went to our old villa with Cassian yesterday…” Elain stopped her rattling of the bottles, Feyre sat up, “And I found these from mom’s old jewellery box.” She took out the pen drives.

“Cute. Have you seen what’s in them?” Feyre asked.

“No I thought I’d show you guys as well, just in case it’s a list of bad people.”

Feyre chuckled, “You watch Blacklist too much.”

Nesta rolled her eyes and got her projector out.

Elain came passing around the glass bottles she had topped with whipped cream and red straws.

Feyre gave Nesta a look.

“What? I brought this projector and literally haven’t used it since.”

She plugged it in.

A video started playing.

“Momma I can’t reach!”

A woman came into the shot, picking up the little girl in the middle of the orchid.  

“It’s ok sweetie! Mama’s here.” She picked out the lemons and handed one.

A male voice from behind the camera said, “Nesta look at the camera darling!”

The woman turned showing her pregnant tummy and pointing the camera out to Nesta.

“Daddy I want to pick a lemon.”

The camera was passed onto to someone else and Randolph Archeron ran to Nesta taking her from his wife and placing her behind his head. Nesta picked a lemon and giggled showing it to her mother who was behind her. Adelaide took the lemon from her and went on her tip toes. Nesta leaning back to kiss her mother on the lips.

The video froze for a few seconds.

“Nesta what is-” Elain asked.

“It’s a home video, from when we were younger.”

Feyre glued her eyes back to the wall.

The video changed.

Nesta, Adelaide and Feyre were picking and posing with oranges. Elain holding the camera.

“Smile!!!!” her voice said.

Nesta dropped an orange.

“OMG Nesta!” Elain shrieked, “You’re ruing my shot!”

Nesta picked up the orange, “Ok geez.”

Feyre had started peeling the orange in her hand causing their mother to burst into laughter at Elain’s shriek.

Again another video slid in, a longer one this time.

“Come on Feyre!” Nesta shouted.

“Cominggg.” The camera started running towards Nesta and Elain.

“We were really cute,” Elain said.

Feyre nodded, “I can’t believe she kept these. Where even are we?”

“In Verona I think.” Nesta said.

They were wearing hats too big for their heads.

Elain stopped.

“Dad can I go with you I’m tired.”

Randolph chuckled from behind the camera and held out his hand.

“You were such a daddy’s girl,” Nesta said to Elain.

Elain swiped cream on Nesta’s cheek.

“Get Cassian to lick that off later.”

“Idiot.”

“Come on Fey,” Adelaide picked up Feyre and took Nesta’s hand.

She took their hats off, and held them.

They made their way through the tomato fields into the house. Nesta took the camera from Feyre and ran into the hall. She set the camera down on a counter and started dancing on her own.

“What are you doing Nes?” Adelaide came and picked Nesta up giving her a piggyback; Nesta giggled and clutched her tight.

“She loved you a lot,” Elain looked at Nesta, who was staring at the screen. She didn’t answer, unable to at the longing in Elain’s voice and in Feyre’s eyes. They had always been their father’s child; Nesta had always belonged to her mother. She had stayed with her mother till the end.

Little Nesta in the video said to her mother, “Where’s Feyre?!”

Her mother chuckled, “I don’t know sweetie.”

“Let’s find out, we shall go on a secret mission,” She took the camera off the counter and shoved in her mother’s hands,

“You hold the camera.”

“Oop, ok wait for me,” They ran through the house hiding next to the door look into the kitchen. Feyre had taken out an easel and had started painting.

“Honestly, she’s already started painting, Help me God,” Adelaide laughed at mini Nesta’s sass.

Nesta burst through the door, “Oh Feyre, whatcha doing?”

Feyre looked up and grabbed Nesta, “Good thing you’re here Nes, I needed someone to paint.”

Nesta flicked a lock of hair over her shoulder, “Of course.”

After a few minutes of Nesta fidgeting, Feyre screamed at her to "Sit still Nesta!!" But Nesta kept on looking over at what Elain was doing in the garden.

Adelaide sat down on the kitchen table, the camera jolting.

The video flicked to the next one.

Adelaide was walking up the stairs.

“We seem to have a messy situation downstairs. Proceeding with caution.” She flipped the camera hiding on the landing to show Randolph and his 3 daughters making cookies, Nesta as the first person to notice squealing,

“Momma!!” She ran into her arms smearing her with flour and icing.

“You smell like cookie dough!!!”

Their cookie making continued, throwing flour at each other.

The clip ended. Another one rolled.

“Welcome to our house tour at night.” Adelaide started.

Adelaide started walking through explaining the pictures on the wall.

“There’s me and the girls. Me and Nesta. Randolph with a very tired Nesta. Aw, look at my baby. Nesta with Oliver. Good god if he wasn’t like a brother to her then I would’ve predicted these two would’ve got married.” She laughed, “Well the guy who does get married to Nesta must be a really lucky man. There’s Feyre with her canvas look at her artist in the making. Elain with her flowers that she grew herself, my little gardener!” She moved along to some other picture her voice growing less fond, “Mine and Randolph’s wedding pictures, our anniversary. Lord knows where he is nowadays.” She went quiet, “Anyway let’s check on the little ones the nanny must have put them to sleep.”

She went into a big room, where Nesta was sleeping. The room was light and airy with fairy lights on the wall and Polaroid pictures.

“There’s my baby,” she caressed a hand down Nesta’s face pressing a kiss to her face. Nesta wriggled.

“Goodnight baby.”

She moved into another room, a pink one this time, “There’s baby Elain with her little elf doll.” Elain lay in a plush pink bed in the middle clutching onto a knitted elf doll. Her mother fixed her covers and pressed a kiss to her head.

The next room was covered in with plush toys, the walls covered with stuck on paintings she did at school and at home.

Feyre was still wearing her apron. Adelaide tutted, placing the camera on the desk and holding up a sleeping mini Feyre getting her out of the apron. She put her back to sleep and pulled the covers over her. Pressing a kiss to her forehead as well.

She looked at the camera.

“Can’t wait till they grow up. Hopefully they won’t turn out like me or Randolph. Oh Lord just let them be happy. Especially Nesta. I overheard her telling her teddy that “Daddy doesn’t love her,” I hope she finds someone who does. Who chooses her and keeps on choosing her every day. And this one-” she stroked Feyre, “she should get out from behind that easel every once in a while, just like how Elain needs someone who will be gentle with her as she is gentle with her flowers. I’ll probably show this video to my grandkids, embarrass their mums.” She laughed at the thought.

A door opened and shut.

“Randolph’s here. Let’s find out where he’s been. So bye future and old me and Nesta, Elain and Feyre. I love all of you.”

The video clicked off.

Nesta was toying with her ring. Tears slipping down her face as she knew it was slipping down Elain and Feyre’s. Her mum would have loved Cassian. Well, maybe not at first but…yes she really would have. She smiled at her sisters. Not being able to say anything.  

-------

She had showed Cassian, obviously.

And he’d…well.

He was a fan of their mother.

And then she’d started crying,

“Baby, are you ok?”

“I miss her.”

“well couldn’t we get all those pictures she was talking about in the video and bring it here.”

She hadn’t thought of that, “But the house is in Verona.”

“Book tickets for us tomorrow so we can go the day after.”

She paused for a minute then squealed,

“Baby, baby!! You are the best.” She kissed him deeply.

She broke away smiling mischievously down at him.

“Can we take the yacht?”

She squealed again kissing him even deeper.

Tags: @skychild29​ @my-fan-side​

[killerqueendynamite]

for your consideration: lunar chronicles high school teacher au

Cinder: Mechanics/Shop teacher

always a mess, never dresses professionally even for meetings. astounds students when she dresses nice for special events but there’s always still an obvious grease stain somewhere

seems organized and she is but unbeknownst to you she decided to completely redo her lesson plan at 2am last night so she is flying by the seat of her pants

kids are always trying to figure out her ~mysterious~ past, like how she became friends with Miss Iko and Mr Thorne

always drinking coffee, stirs it with screwdrivers +other random objects she has laying around

fixes students’ cars if they break down or stall in the parking lot

Kai: Social Studies/History teacher

always wears a full suit, confuses people when he takes his jacket off once a semester

75% of students have had a crush on Mr Rikan at some point (taking his jacket off makes it worse, rolling his sleeves up makes it more worse)

the Most Organized™ teacher in the school, also the Vice Principal

kids know he is the easiest to distract and send on a rabbit trail. surefire distraction topics include social justice, politics, asking his opinion on various world leaders, Miss Linh

makes sassy comments constantly but only a few kids get them

Scarlet: Foods/Home Ec teacher

kind of a hardass, kids are lowkey scared of her

the best at classroom management

brings cookies and cake and stuff for her students at least once a week

brings cookies and cake and stuff for the staff at every meeting

pretends to be gordon ramsey when marking food projects. it terrifies students at first then becomes a school legend. older kids tell their younger siblings about it, younger siblings come into her class waiting for it with bated breath

wears a leather jacket and drives a motorcycle to school

Wolf: PE teacher

kids coming into his class are terrified but soon realize he’s the Softest and Nicest

the school’s version of the unexpected john cena meme. pep rallies are a lot of blaring horns and ‘NOW FOR OUR COACH, MR ZE’EV KESLEY’ *john cena song blows the speakers* he is highly embarrassed by this

his sports teams may not always win but are always the most sportsmanlike

rides to school on the back of Mrs Kesley’s motorbike

figures out when the shy kids are being bullied and does something behind the scenes to help no one ever knows its him

Thorne: Physics/Chemistry teacher

never makes lesson plans but somehow meets all his outcomes/standards

he’s the substitute bus driver and always drives like a maniac

drives his shitty but classic car to work and talks about it constantly

his own adherence to safety standards is questionable but his kids are always safe. blows things up in class at least once a week. blinded himself for 3 days once trying out an experiment

tells students embarrassing stories about the other teachers including how he met Miss Linh in prison which everyone thinks is probably a joke but Miss Linh plays along and seems serious about it???

insists students call him Captain Thorne or just The Captain

Cress: Music/Computers teacher

shorter than all her students

keeps a stash of unhealthy snacks in her filing cabinet, gives them away constantly in violation of the healthy meal policy. Coach Kesley visits her often.

“Miss Darnel, The Captain said you were a genius. Like an actual for real genius. Is that true?” Cress, completely emotionless and matter of fact: “Yes, now today we’re going to --.” they're all very intimidated

everyone knows she’s in love with Mr Thorne and that they were caught making out at the school dance once and that’s why they’re not allowed to chaperone together anymore

fixes all the computer problems. the district has an actual employed tech person but their school never calls them bc Miss Darnel can fix it faster. spends 90% of her breaks fixing the copier w Miss Linh

Winter: English/Art teacher

stereotypical crazy english teacher (chaotic good), also the stereotypical crazy art teacher

talks in riddles and weird metaphors, reads really dramatically and has a habit of jumping up on desks. assignments are sort of abstract but she grades really easily

somehow related to Miss Linh but no one really understands how?

hits on Mr Clay in front of her students

75% of students have had a crush on Miss Hayle at some point, 99% of students would die for her, a couple students have actually gotten into fights defending her honour

her unit plans look like the wall in a conspiracy theorist’s office

Jacin: Math teacher

roasts the other teachers during his classes. this is the only way to distract him

cranky and everyone complains about him but they secretly like him because he’s really clear and direct

everyone says he’s in love with Miss Hayle bc he always hangs out in her classroom but no one has ever seen him respond to her flirting? (someone claims that someone else saw them kiss, but no one has proof and no one else ever sees it, it becomes a school legend)

kids are really confused when they see their teachers in public and it actually looks like Mr Clay is friends with them???

rumor has it Mr Thorne punched him once. some say that’s wrong, it was Miss Linh. it’s a school-wide debate. they think teachers don’t know about it but they do. what the students don’t know is that Mr Clay has been punched multiple times, by both Thorne and Cinder

Iko: Fashion teacher/Counselor

only teaches one class bc ~fashion~

has convoluted mental trees of ships, one for students, one for teachers

students are always asking her where she gets her shoes/complimenting her outfits

constantly getting phone calls from parents who don’t like her advice to their kids

knows all the gossip, more than even the other teachers or the students themselves

goes by her first name

always brings starbucks for the other teachers, has memorized everyone’s faves but sometimes gets them something new and different and makes them try it

Levana: Principal

Evil™ -- everyone says she killed her husband but no one could prove it

every student is terrified of her but Miss Linh and Mr Rikan and Captain Thorne make fun of her in class sometimes and the kids are??? in awe???

acts as a sub when necessary and the students dread it. teachers avoid calling in sick to save their students from her

particularly enjoys subbing for Mr Rikan and intentionally skews the lesson to her completely opposing political views

always trying to get Miss Linh fired

Sybil: Librarian

also Evil™

wears scary clicky high heels, students scatter when they hear her coming

has been known to make kids cry for yelling at them for being too loud in the library

rumoured to have made Miss Darnel cry once, which is rumoured to have made Mr Thorne do something that almost got him fired

Miss Linh used to prank her but found out she took out her revenge on students and stopped

bans books from the library for almost no reason. Miss Darnel has a stash of banned books in her closet bc of this

Dr Erland: former School Nurse

they hire Aimery when he retires

Miss Darnel has dragged Mr Thorne to see him on multiple occasions after lab incidents, lowkey thinks Thorne shouldn’t be a teacher, isn’t entirely wrong

rumour has it that he used to work for the mob or something?

lowkey crazy

doesn’t really have a relationship with any of the kids or teachers, the ghost teacher that you only see once every two months

Aimery: School Nurse

no one admits to being sick or injured bc they don’t want to have to go to the infirmary

that one teacher that everyone has a creepy or uncomfortable story about including the other teachers

everyone knows he likes Miss Hayle and hates Mr Clay and also that Mr Clay hates him

he gets fired one day and no one knows why – he just disappears. someone says he pushed it too far with Miss Hayle and she sicked her wolfhound on him. others say Mrs Kesley shot him but they checked the news and there was no obituary so??? their next guess is that he’s in prison but someone says he’s too beautiful for prison

Kinney: Biology teacher

that one teacher that’s always complaining about how pointless option courses are

always arguing with Miss Iko but no one ever takes his side

the only teacher that never talks smack about other teachers (except Miss Iko)

sometimes has old-fashioned borderline prejudiced ideas but he changes over time. older kids who had him can’t believe when their younger siblings come home saying he’s dating Miss Iko

someone draws him as a robot once and he’s irrationally offended by it. Miss Iko frames it and hangs it on her office wall

Torin: School District Administrator

comes to visit the school from time to time, always leaves exasperated

half the school complains to him that Ms Blackburn should be fired, the other half complains that Miss Linh should be fired. he’d like to do the first but doesn’t have enough evidence, doesn’t want to do the second and therefore ignores the evidence

has known Mr Rikan since he was a baby, may or may not have supplied Miss Linh with an unfortunate baby picture which Mr Thorne may or may not have stolen and given to Miss Darnel to add to an assembly presentation

used to be a teacher and gives really good advice to the new young teachers (which is most of them)

[ezrisdax-archive]

dance the night away

While at Scarlet and Wolf's wedding Iko finds a dance partner, and maybe more. (also here at ao3)

~~

Iko lowered her face to the croquembouche, sulking at it.

“It looks so pretty,” She sighed to no one in particular, “Stars I wish I could eat.”

A laugh made her look up to see Émilie standing there grinning at her, “I’ll take that as a compliment, thank you.”

Iko straightened up and smiled back, “Oh you should.” She stuck her hand out, across the table and careful not to knock over the pastry tower, “I’m Iko.”

Émilie took her hand, “Scarlet mentioned, apparently you were the spaceship?”

“Oh,” Iko took her hand back and waved it in front of her face in embarrassment, “Please let’s not talk about that.” She pleaded and let out a dramatic sigh, “I was so big. I look much better now.”

Émilie shook her head, “Scarlet certainly keeps interesting friends now.” Her gaze fell past Iko where Scarlet and Wolf were sitting, completely immersed in their own little corner, “I’m glad she’s happy though, things were so rough…” Émilie broke off into a frown that hardly seemed to suit her and Iko couldn’t say she liked it.

“Have you danced yet?” Iko asked, bringing Émilie’s attention back to her, “I could use a partner.” She winked at Émilie, reminiscent of old net dramas she had watched and when Émilie blushed slightly she could help but feel almost pleased. Almost human, not like a robot at all. “Come on.” Iko took a step back, signalling Émilie should follow her.

Émilie walked around the table to meet her in the middle of Scarlet’s living room that they had turned into a dance floor. She took on of Iko’s hand with a grin and between one moment and the next they were dancing to the upbeat tune that Thorne had put on.

Their hips brushed against each other and Iko let herself get lost in the music, it almost felt like her wires were short circuiting, like there was a thrum around her that she could pretend was a heartbeat. Émilie certainly looked like she was having fun, laughing when Iko playfully spun her around the dance floor.

“Oh,” Émilie breathed out, her face flushed from that dancing and it only made her look more attractive. “This reminds me of Dancing Passions,” She named a net drama, “I loved that show.”

Iko squealed suddenly, “Wasn’t it amazing?” She asked, “‘I’ll never want another partner, you’re the heart of my rhythm’.” She quoted the main character easily, not even needing to connect to the net it was so buried in her memory chip.

Her fingers slipped through Émilie’s as they drew closer, the tune had changed to a much softer one. On impulse she rested her forehead against Émilie’s as the characters in the show had done and Émilie giggled at the action but didn’t pull away.

Iko could have spent forever like that, focusing just on Émilie and feeling. But the song ended with a burst of static as Ze’ev and Scarlet bumped the table with the player during their attempted dance.

Émilie pulled away, walking over to tease Scarlet and Iko just watched her with a tilted head. She didn’t even know Cinder had come up next to her until she spoke.

“Iko?” Cinder asked softly and Iko turned towards.

“Stars I think I’m love.” Iko said, not even with her usual dramatic flair that she put on.

Cinder smiled at her, resting her hand on Iko’s shoulder, “Maybe you should ask for a date then.”

Iko felt like she’d frozen up, like all her electrical impulses had just stopped and she was just a shell of a robot before. She knew that was impossible but stars she swore she could feel it. “You think I should?” Iko glanced towards Émilie, “She’s the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen.”

“So I won’t have to worry about you crushing on Kai?” Cinder teased, elbowing Iko playfully and making her laugh.

“He’ll always be handsome, but he’s just beyond my grasp.” Iko sighed deeply, “But Émilie…” She looked at her again, “Oh Cinder…what’s it like to feel?”

Cinder was quiet for a second, “I think you already know Iko.” She settled on, “You’re more human than anyone I’ve met.” She said and then pushed Iko slightly, “Now go for it.” Cinder’s eyes sparkled with humour and Iko couldn’t help but reach back and pull Cinder into a hug.

She let go and skipped away, past Winter trying to show Jacin how to waltz when there was no music playing and grinned at Winter when she smiled secretly at Iko. She made her way to where Émilie was still standing and trying to show Ze’ev the proper moves to the dance while Scarlet snickered. Cress had just fixed the player, smacking Thorne’s hands away when he tried to help and music once again filled the air.

“Can I cut in?” Iko asked, fluttering her eyelashes and Ze’ev looked relieved as he let Émilie go and swept Scarlet back up in his arms.

“He certainly only has eyes for her.” Émilie laughed, “You know I set them up?”

“Really?” Iko asked, slipping a hand on Émilie’s hip.

“Well,” Émilie admitted, “Sort of.” She took Iko’s other hand in hers again and they stepped around Kai and Cress dancing, to the back of the room where Winter had switched her dance partner to be Cinder and Jacin was trying to blend into the wall while Thorne was trying to convince him to try dancing again.

“So,” Iko began and cleared her throat, “Seems like you’re quite the matchmaker. What do you think about you and me?” Émilie’s eyes met her and if Iko had to breathe it would have faltered there and then while she waited for an answer.

“I think you ought to take me dancing another night.” Émilie said and her mouth quirked upwards into a smile that Iko was desperate to commit to her memory, “Or a night of net dramas.”

“I’ll sweep you off your feet.” Iko promised as she did just that and preformed a dip. Émilie’s arm wrapped around her neck as she laughed.

“I’m certainly looking forward to it.” Émilie told her and Iko beamed.

Eating was overrated she quietly thought, dancing was truly where her humanity lay, with Émilie and a song to take them there.

[ladytrollfishes]

Cresce and Shupaa: Make an Acquaintence

You don't get out of Arkady as often as you like, really. You're in Ghoulisar on business of course, but that doesn't mean you can't take a little time to yourself. Ghoulisar had an excellent creamery- you hadn't tasted all their flavors yet so you stopped by for a cone. You bounce through the streets, working through your cone and sorting through the melodies of the passerby on the streets, separating strings that trembled with every day stress, brass that burst with the joy of a good song, xylophones of excitement, bass of fear- the every day melodies of the crowd pass you readily as they shift through their thoughts and the physical space  around you

.All but one. It's been trailing for you awhile. A combination of boredom and tense anxiety constantly radiating you while you travel around the city. Someone's following you. You don't know Ghoulisar as well as you know Arkady, and Ghoulisar doesn't know you as well as Arkady! It's your signmate, you're sure. You turn off into a corner.

Kitty | neriticNomad12/31/2018

Your new assignment is unusual in nature, but the process is the same. You have a mark. You have informants, then, information. You follow the trail until it takes you to your mark, and all of it happens like clockwork. The difference is that you aren't allowed to kill her, which means your job is exceptionally harder. You keep your eyes straight ahead. They never view your target directly. 

You see her in reflections, and in your peripheral vision, but never more than that. She's easy to watch, because she doesn't seem to be expecting you, and unlike other marks you've had, she doesn't seem to have anything to hide. It isn't your job to speculate, but your mind still wanders: What could Lyrian want with her? What's the long con? And why go so far as to hire you? You say none of this out loud.

The only sign of your thoughts are the waves of pensive cerulean, which pass over the light of your implants, before fading back into neutral jade. You stick out a little, when you aren't trying to hide. 5'6" isn't a terrible height, and your boots push you up to 5'7". The real intimidation comes from the strange-looking machinery in your body, so you hide it, with long sleeves, high collars, and a hood, which hides your implants from view. You distract from it, with a leash, and a medium-sized two-headed dog at the end of it. 

Everyone loves a cute dog. Your mark makes another move. You wait, and give her room, then follow. Your senses search the area for anyone that might be lying in wait, but perhaps, tonight, you're a bit more relaxed than you should be. "Cress" hasn't given you any trouble so far. Why would she do so now?

Tang | MD (indigo) IT (maroon)12/31/2018

You listen for the melody to follow you, waiting around the corner and take a nice long lick of the ice cream. It's a cherry garcia and dark chocolate flavor. Very good, but not your favorite so far. You've been taught a dozen different ways to lose a tail, but you don't plan on using any of them tonight. You want to know what this stalker is here for. So when you hear them coming around the corner you turn back like you made a u-turn and smash your ice cream right into the center of their chest.

 "Omigosh!" you exclaim. "I'm so so so sorry!" You make a show of pulling out a hankerchief while you take a look at whose been following you. Covered face, walking a lusus, could have been a jogger, really. There's a glint of something from under their hood but you can't quite tell what it is. Jadeblood. You take a moment to consider if this might be anyone besides your signmate, then dismiss it. Your position in Torrent is solidly middling, Melete's not the sort to leave this work to someone else- no it had to be her.

Kitty | neriticNomad12/31/2018

Your lusus has two heads. Asterion isn't very talkative. She tends to speak only when she feels a need. Chara, on the other hand, loves the sound of her own voice, and that's the head that barks in alarm, when your mark collides with you. You take this exact second to realize just how badly you've fucked up. Now you just need to fix it. Unpleasant, but necessary. The words of your strength trainer echo, momentarily, in the record of your memory: Muscle up, buttercup. "It is fine," you start, neutral and expressionless. You lift your mouth to where it's visible, with no protruding teeth, and only a few haphazard marks. Most trolls have a few. It's nothing special. 

"Forgive my... carelessness." The reddish-colored ice cream sends an unpleasant chill through your sensory receptors. Your gloved hand scrapes the bulk of the ice cream from your chest, and flicks it to the side- oops, that was too hard. You dented that trash can. Way to go, Becvar. "... Are you offering this cloth for my aid?" you ask, but it doesn't sound like a question. This is why you're not a birdie. You can't fucking talk to anyone.(edited)

January 2, 2019

Tang | MD (indigo) IT (maroon)01/02/2019

Oh honey no. The stalker blares of alarm and anxiety. Her words come out neutral, and the line of her mouth you can spot from under her hood barely moves, even when she speaks.  Her words drop like gravel on glass and when she dents a trash can with more strength than you'd expect from a jadeblood and her melody is mournfully mortified. You'd wince except for the fact you're actually a little charmed. You take another moment to mourn your taste. 

 "Of course I am," you witter, blinking at her and offering her the handkerchief. It'd be rather forward of you to press it to her chest,  but you do consider it. She's either too uncomfortable to refuse or uncomfortable enough to do something even more drastic and you can't be the judge of it just yet. Better to pull your punches. "You weren't so careless at all," you exclaim. "It was a complete accident, and your shirt is ruined! Let's get some water on that. And let me buy you coffee as an apology? There's a cafe right around the corner where we can get both."

Kitty | neriticNomad01/02/2019

As if your situation couldn't get worse. If you survive this, you'll consider different employ. (That's a joke. You'd never change jobs, and you're most certainly going to die.) "... That is... very thoughtful of you," you pronounce, slowly, but the alarm bells are still going off in your head. The glowing lines in the side of your hair run red with anxiety, as your computers run the calculations. If you say no, you'll seem suspicious when she sees you elsewhere. She knows how to spot you, having seen you up close. If you say yes, that's direct contact with a mark, and you don't do direct contact. You do the opposite of direct contact, which is staying the fuck away. If you were killing her, this would be convenient, but you're contractually forbidden from doing that. Briefly, you ponder if Lyrian would understand, if you explained the situation. ... Likely, no, which is a shame, you think.

 "... This offer seems favorable," you decide, finally, interrupting your silent beat. You take the handkerchief, visually scan it for any hidden hazards, and dab, somewhat mechanically, at the spot on your shirt. It would be difficult to poison you this way, and you're wearing gloves. There are no blades or concealed weapons, or at least, not ones you can pinpoint, with the knowledge in your databank. Indeed, the handkerchief doesn't kill you. You record this data for future analysis, and schedule a virus scan. The handkerchief stays in your hand. You want to rinse it before giving it back to her. 

 "Are you quite certain you wish to fraternize with an unknown person?" you ask, studying her from beneath your hood. The red light in your implants fades, but stays red. You're on alert. "Dangerous individuals are present in the vicinity." That's you. Potentially, that's her.(edited)

Tang | MD (indigo) IT (maroon)01/02/2019

Her alarm only grows as you speak, and she's slow to find the words to respond to you. You wait patiently, pleased as punch that she can't even figure out a good excuse to try and get out of it. Instead she resorts to vague intimidation, like she can threaten you, in a city full of imperials and you're a trained soldier of the empire. It's positively adorable. You beam at her and you don't even need to fake it. 

 "A stranger's just a conversation away from being a friend," you explain patiently. "But you're so sweet to worry. I insist! We're so lucky, this café is one of my favorites. They have spiced apple cider to die for, but the coffee is also excellent!" You smile down at the fluffy lusus at your feet too. "And they're lusus friendly. Let's go!" "What's your name anyway?" you exclaim as you take two steps backwards before you turn, keeping your eyes on the stranger. Was that a slip of red light under hood you saw before?

Kitty | neriticNomad01/02/2019

That's the moment you realize this isn't a friendly offer. In fact, it wasn't a question at all. She was making a demand, and the saccharin in her smile promises more than you can handle. There's a flicker of yellow - fear - which runs across your implants, before being washed out by the red of baseline anxiety. They'll likely stay that color, until you find a way to leave.

 "Charm-ing," you say, and your eyes don't leave her for a second. You walk. The night air bites at you, through the damp stain in your shirt. You can't reroute your sensory input, which means you have no choice but to endure the double discomfort of being here, and feeling exposed. Your peripherals stay on her, even when your focus shifts away. Asterion and Chara don't know what's happening, but Asterion keeps looking back at you, under the mop of her fur.

 "I am called Maera," you say. You don't give her your hatched name. Again, you contemplate incapacitating her, but you have too many witnesses, and you don't know what she's capable of. So, instead, you have to pretend you know how to talk to people. "What are you called?" you reply, even though you already know. Maybe you'll glean something useful yet.(edited)

Tang | MD (indigo) IT (maroon)01/02/2019

Oh, well she's got sense enough to be afraid, her melody flickering with a little tremble of fear. Perhaps she's realized you aren't quite the ditz you're pretending to be? It's a little disappointing, really, you were wondering how long you could string her along without her realizing you know what you need to know. You don't expect for a second that the name she gives you is real at all, but at least she shows some respect for social normalities. 

“Call me Cress!" you exclaim with a smile, and spin into the coffee shop. It's a quaint little thing with a little stage you've performed on occasionally, enough that you're familiar with the staff, at any rate. There aren't too many customers at this time of night, but it's busy enough that you won't be overheard, at least. 

"Hiiii," you say as you approach the counter. You only know the barista by sight, but they're all wearing name tags. They smile as you approach. "Hey Cress! Glad to see you're back in town," they say. You steal a glance at their name tag. Heliop. "Glad to be back!" you exclaim with a smile. "Could I trouble you for a cup of water? I'm such a klutz, I dropped an ice cream cone on my friend here by accident. Also could i get an apple cider and a-" You turn back to "Maera" for a second, hesitant. "What kind of coffee do you like? Oh, and a treat for the lusus."

Kitty | neriticNomad01/02/2019

"Heliop," as their name tag informs you, stands about an inch shorter than you. They're green, somewhere towards olive, but the low, filtered lights of the shop are coloring everything just slightly yellow. They drum their fingers across the counter as Cress speaks to them, but the way they lift their wrist tells you they've taken piano lessons - without thought, their hand forms the same shape it should when resting on a keyboard. They have a moderate amount of confidence in their work. It must have been a slow day. They seemed relieved, when you first walked in, to have something to do. Very slow day, in that case. 

 "Mocha," you finish, for Cress. You glance up at the menu, briefly, and add, "Peppermint, if possible. ... Mother does not like to share. The medium biscuit, please." You'll break it in half. Asterion and Chara don't need to know. Cress - Cresce - is in her element. She's enthusiastic about this place, and she never once drops her cheery attitude. You file away the location of this shop in your databanks, note the exits, and memorize Heliop's general features. The location of her "favorite" coffee shop is promising information, in some small measure. If Cress knows your real purpose, she likely won't come back, but that's the great part about being bound to Alternia: A troll can only run so far before they run out of room. If you have to track her halfway across the planet a second time, you will. When the server turns away from you, you eye Cress again. "Do you come here often?" you ask, which is the most cliche thing you've unknowingly done, ever.(edited)

January 7, 2019

Tang | MD (indigo) IT (maroon)01/07/2019

Maera doesn't ease very much, even when ordering for herself and her lusus. There's a moment of casual consideration and affection as she orders a biscuit, and then more careful tense beats. You can barely see her face from under the hood but you bet she's watching you. You take care not to seem like you're watching her either, keeping your eyes on the desserts they have on display as you review the information you do have. She's not a spy, that's for certain. She's almost as bad as Melete at conversation. She has to be at least on par with you strengthwise, as easily as she dented that trash can, despite being nearly halfway down the spectrum from you. That feeling, too, when you crashed into her, the glint of red you caught from under her hood.(edited)

Tang | MD (indigo) IT (maroon)01/07/2019

The hood was an interesting choice. They were pretty much only good for keeping your ears warm. They blocked your peripheral vision. The were obvious. Having your hood up constantly was more noticeable in a crowd than if it was down. Despite popular media, hoods were generally very bad for stealth. Unless, of course, whatever was underneath it was more noticeable than the hood. If you placed bets you'd place them on Maera being some sort of augmented cyborg, built for power rather than stealth. An assassin, most likely. Someone who didn't want to attack you in public at least. Plausible deniability perhaps? Did your signmate hire someone to kill you? That surprises you- she did seem more like the type to get her own hands dirty, so to speak. You press your hand to your collar at the unpleasant memory. Fucker. 

 She's still doing recon, obviously, otherwise you'd have noticed her following you ages ago. Most people doing wetwork dangled on the edge of legality and the murder of an imperial agent by a mercenary would draw far more attention to her than she'd like. It would be difficult to pull off an assassination of an imperial soldier in the middle of Ghoulisar, and she'd need to know as much about your habits and commonly frequented locations as possible if she were to make a getaway. She's even bold enough to ask you about your coffee habits.You giggle as she asks. 

"Whenever I'm in Ghoulisar! As often as I can, really. I love this place." 

Depending on how this conversation turns out, you're obviously never coming back here without company. "Here's your order," Heliop says, and slides you two drinks and a biscuit. "Thanks!" you exclaim, handing the biscuit and the mocha to Maera. "Hold on, you grab a seat first. Heliop, can you grab me one of those apple turnovers actually? Sorry to tack something at the end of my order like that, but just looking at this batch makes me hungry!" It wouldn't be the first time you had coffee with someone who desperately wanted you dead. Only Maera isn't desperate. You wonder what she wants. Not just with you, but as a person. What sort of person took a job as insane as this one?

Kitty | neriticNomad01/07/2019

A person who doesn't see any other choices. Her next line doesn't follow the script. Something is wrong. You take note of it, but it's a small enough divergence that you don't think now is the time to panic. Maybe. Probably. You hate the uncertainty of all of this. Killing someone is easy! They're either dead, or you need to try again. Cress is confusing you. You're not sure yet if it's intentional. Regardless of your reservations, you take your drink. You don't see any reason to speak again, and, not being one for needless words, you find a place to sit. This is an alchemy on its own. You want something where your escape route is quick and easy, and you don't have your back to any current patrons. You choose a seat by the window, for a few reasons. The first is that you want to keep her guessing. If you really wanted to kill her right now, you'd choose something more discreet. 

Again, you remind yourself, you're not trying to kill her for real. This is for show and information, but that kind of nuance usually gets missed when observed in situations like this. The second is that it grants you security, too. Trolls are a little less likely to kill someone if they know it's on display. Murder tends to be a private affair, usually, unless she's one of those bloodlust exhibitionists. Then you guess you're royally fucked. You sit, uncomfortable in the cushioned chair. Chara and Asterion sit at your feet. Asterion is still watching Cress, but Chara is more focused on the biscuit in your hand. You hide it under the table as you break it in half, and you feed portions of Chara's half to her, little by little. You need her to stay with you, and stay quiet. Cress has a game. You don't know what it is yet, but you're pretty sure you don't like it. Thinking about what might come is making you more uneasy, though, so you focus on pinpointing her center of balance, and other physical attributes, filing these away in your memory.(edited)

Tang | MD (indigo) IT (maroon)01/07/2019

The seat Maera picks is between you and the door, with her back to a window, with a clear view to anyone who may approach. The turnover is a useless exercise then- an excuse to move past her and snatch her hood off when necessary but at least it'll be delicious. You smile at her as you wait for your pastry as you pick your next move. She's so very clearly uncomfortable- you don't suppose assassins usually get bullied into tea time with their targets. She knows something's up. You assume she knows what your actually place of employment is, so you're certain she knows you're up to something, but her uncertainty speaks volumes about her experience in dealing with spies. The apple turnover slides over the counter, warm and spiced, and you breathe in the buttery aroma.

"Oh that smells so good," you say. "Thanks, Heliop!"You don't waste a moment before you bite into it, and take a sip of your apple cider. Ghoulisar did have a good apple crop. Arkady's were fine, in and of itself, of course, but there was something special about apples here. 

 "Oh, it's so good," you moan, as you slide into the seat across from Maera, placing your cup and pastry on the table. It's small, the sort of table with space for maybe two husktops, no more. Your knees could bump hers if you slid down in your chair, but you don't. You keep your back straight as you wash down another bite of your pastry and get down to business. You finger slides behind your ear to give the patch of tech there a scratch- with your mind you set your wetware to record. You're not armed, but Maera doesn't have to know it. You give her a wink and make a finger gun with your left hand, and slip your right under the table.

"Just so you know," you say with a smile, and lean forward, keeping your other hand carefully under the table, "I've got one of these under the table and pointed at your lusus." You tangle the lusus leash with your foot and step down. 

 "So maybe don't make sudden movements," you say casually. "She is actually yours, right? You seem quite fond of her. Shooting a bullet into you seems like it might not work but her?" You click your tongue and shake your head. This is why Torrent made certain to remove lusii from the equation. It was a mistake to bring her on a job like this. "So let's talk," you say, leaning forward.

Kitty | neriticNomad01/07/2019

You knew she was up to something, you just didn't think it would be this. You didn't think any troll would go as far as to threaten a lusus, and it's why you even bothered to train yours for your job. Chara whines as the leash gets pulled, and somewhere under your cold shell, there's a spark of concern. It runs lime-green across the lines of your implants, just before it trips your emergency overrides. Then it - the worry, the color - they both disappear. One of the scientists who works on your implants protested this measure. They said it was "cruel." If you were capable now, you might agree. As it stands, you aren't. 

In dire situations, the computers in your brain can strangle your emotional response, and turn you "cold," as it were, until you reach stasis again. It's supposed to make you more efficient. It's supposed to ensure you actually do your job. 

 "What do you wish to talk about?" you say, and you keep your voice even. The lights under your hood have gone dark, so the only light comes from what's reflected in your eyes. "I have little I can say." You have water capsules at your belt. You just don't know how quickly you could manipulate the water, and if your draw would be faster than hers. You're not immune to bullets, but you'll let her keep thinking that you are, if only so it gives you that millisecond advantage. You should have killed her.

Tang | MD (indigo) IT (maroon)01/07/2019

Something curious happens to her when you make your threats- the anger, the fear, the concern, those you all expected, the offense that you would do such a thing- well, honestly, dear, what did she expect? Carrying a vulnerability out like that in the first place? But that cacaphony  cuts off for a different sort. Her natural sound drops to a whisper as static plays over it. Wetware, perhaps? To keep her from intense emotions? Interesting. There's not even a twitch on her face to indicate the change. "Well for starters," you say, musing, a hand on your chin, like it's nothing but a casual coffee chat. "Why don't you take off that hood? I do so like to look a person in the eye when we're having a civil conversation."

Kitty | neriticNomad01/07/2019

You stare at her for a moment longer than necessary, expressionless. If you could feel anything right now, it would probably be resentment. However, ultimately, you comply. Your gloved hands let go of your lusus's leash. Fingers hook into the fabric, and pull it back from your face, then behind your head. You're jade, and it's obvious from the color that fills your irises, accented by the light tones in your skin. You have no facial scarring, no protruding teeth, and fairly average ears - long, but not excessively so; pierced, but only with studs. Your mouth doesn't move, and your eyebrows stay flat, your eyes on her. You'd look very plain, perhaps eerily so, if it wasn't for your hair - shaved into an undercut, with lines of tech sprawling across the sides. As it turns out, replicating psionics requires quite a few hookups to the brain. Go figure. She can't see it, but those lines connect at your spine, and then disappear under the high collar of your jade-marked coat. As your hands retreat, you take the opportunity to pull a water capsule off the belt across your chest. You hold it in your glove, black against black, and try to slip it past her notice. It's insurance. Even without your emotional response, you still have enough dry humor to ask, "Do you like what you see?"(edited)

Tang | MD (indigo) IT (maroon)01/07/2019

She takes a moment to consider your request, and you wait patiently as she struggles with it. Her hesitation tells you almost as much as her compliance. Her face is plainer than you expected, honesty. No unusual scars, no pockmarks from battles long past, or brutal disfigurements from implant injections. That was more imagination than you needed in your day to day life, honestly. She definitely wasn't wrong to keep the hood up- that sort of tech isn't common, and something you assume requires a lot of maintenance if she has to keep her hair shaved like that. The static keeps you from necessarily hearing what she's feeling- though you assume quite badly would be the answer. Her face is as emotionless as her voice though, so honestly you guess this was mostly just a power move. You know what she looks like now. You smile cheerily at her. "Well, you're pretty cute!" you exclaim. "Not exactly model material though. But there, isn't that better? Now we can see you." "Now, why are you following me? You're not doing it for your own reasons." You take another bite of your turnover.

Kitty | neriticNomad01/07/2019

You just don't like to be seen. If you could block people IRL, you would block everyone you ever met. The low-profile thing is just a bonus. "No," you confirm. Her teeth are pinging your danger sense every time she smiles. Annoyance fires, but you don't feel it. "The interest is strictly professional." 

 She seems to know how to navigate these kinds of conversations quite well. You wonder, for the third time tonight, why Lyrian bothered with you, and didn't even try to warn you that she'd be on the lookout. She isn't just a mark. She's a mark who has been marked before, and evaded them, and that gives her the upper hand. 

 "This is a job. Your name was given. You were tracked. There is nothing else to say." This is the strangest questioning session you've ever been in. Annoyance fires again as she bites into the pastry. "To reveal my employer would be destructive to my reputation. Unless you are hiring me to find them, it is against contract to discuss further. Is this acceptable?"

Tang | MD (indigo) IT (maroon)01/07/2019

You take another bite of the turnover as you consider what she was told. Only the job, and your name. No information about you? You know your signmate knows what you do for a living. She's got your name, and also Rumisa chattering in her ear. You sigh, blink prettily and drink from your cider. For the first time, you're not smiling. 

This isn't an assassination. It's a test. And it's not to test this little green pawn either. She's testing you. If she wanted you dead, she'd have given this girl all the information she had on her. Your psi, your position, your friends- then this conversation would have gone much, much differently. You ponder your options. "Let me guess," you say finally. "Your employer is a stunning mirror image of my face with the bonus of a slathering of subbjugulator paint. Goes by the name Lyrian? I'm very sorry to say, but I believe you've been a little bit set up!"

Kitty | neriticNomad01/07/2019

Why does every employer you work with have deep-seated emotional baggage? Can't you just get sent to kill a local annoyance, just once? "You realize that confirming guesses is also against the contract. Confirm?" 

 But it helps. Little by little, she seems to be easing off the trigger, and as you lean back into comfortable stasis, your override unlocks. The implants on the sides of your head burst into your jade green - neutral - as your emotions return. You still don't take your hand off the water capsule. You don't take your eyes off her, not even for a second. 

 "You already know what can be said. This is not in the contract. Make a better offer, or leave well enough alone." The computer in your head coaxes you into adding a "please" to the end, because you're speaking to your better, even if you were hired to hunt her.

Tang | MD (indigo) IT (maroon)01/07/2019

The implants at the side of her head spark green, and the radio static stops, much to your relief. She sounds annoyed, but not as tense as the conversation starts with. Even getting brave enough to bite at you! You can't help but laugh at that. It's tinkly. You worked hard on that. 

 "Leave well enough alone!" you exclaim. "When you're the one following me. I don't see how I could simply ignore it." You smile coyly up at her and lean forward on the table so the tuft of hair that dangles out from your forehead frames your face. 

 "The set up, dear," you say, "Is that I'm not a regular person you can follow around, though you've probably figured that one out. If she wanted you to succeed, well!" You snort a little then lower your voice, watching her carefully for her reaction. "She would have told you I work for the empire as an interrogator," you murmur. "I have their resources behind me if you do in fact, move against me. You'll be much better off breaking that contract with her, trust me."

Kitty | neriticNomad01/07/2019

Oh. That's cute. On a second thought, you realize this is probably the point, and push it from your mind. She drops a bomb on you, and you can recognize that she's looking for you to be outwardly shocked. You won't be, because you never emote, but in your mind, yes... you're sort of surprised. It confirms the growing suspicions you've been having, ever since Cresce first "bumped into" you, but it confuses you, too. And you also don't understand why both Lyrian and Cresce are so god damn dramatic, until you spot her sign, and... Yes, okay. That tracks. You humor her by raising one of your eyebrows, briefly. Then you put it right back where it was. 

 "Congratulations," you say, even as ever. "There is a correction to be made, however. If she wanted me to succeed, she would have allowed me to kill you." You don't think you mind breaking your contract, if you were set up to fail in the first place. "She did not. If you have gotten what you wanted, will you cease threatening Mother?" you ask, which doesn't sound as exhausted as you feel while saying it. Lyrian is stranger than you first assumed. Cresce, too, is strange. You don't like the fact that they seem to know each other, and that you now seem to be implicit in their personal dealings, but that can't be helped much anymore. However, you note one thing: Cresce is on the defensive. She's not asking you to go back out after Lyrian, though she may be planning a strike to execute later. This doesn't seem to be a two-way fight. In fact, if they're signmates, it hardly seems fair at all. You pause, and then say, "It is not against contract to share the methods used to find you, should you desire it."(edited)

Tang | MD (indigo) IT (maroon)01/07/2019

You hear it, the symbol crash of surprise as you let her know what you're capable of. A suspended chord sounds as she sorts out her confusion, her eyes glancing over you, before it resolves to a major chord. Then, as a delayed reaction, her eyebrow raises. You grin at her. Wasn't that adorable? She manages to surprise you though, by what she says next. You assumed Maera was here to kill you. 

The idea that Lyrian would refrain- that she would specifically hire a trained assassin to follow but not attack- well. Well that gives you pause. And then again, when she offers you help. Unexpected! That wasn't pity you heard, you don't think. You'll have to find time to review the recording. Usually you'd have to work at an offer like this, and she just hands it to you. You take a deep sip of your apple cider as you consider it. Murdering you isn't on the table, you don't think. Not if she's offering to help. You don't hear any trace of fear or anxiety that usually comes with laying out bait, and all she's really offering is information. Learning she was set up, must have really turned her off of Lyrian, which could be useful. You'll make concessions, you'll think. It was time to deescalate. And you find yourself rather curious about Maera! As a person.

“It’s hardly all I want,” you say, “but alright.” You motion as though holstering a gun and place your right hand back on the table. You don't lift your foot from the leash. "Well!" you exclaim. "So long as it's not against the contract!"(edited)

January 8, 2019

Kitty | neriticNomad01/08/2019

You've decided that you hate trolls, and you'll stick to just killing people from now on. They're much less talkative, and they tend to be less demanding, too. "There is a matter of reputation involved," you say. You turn the water capsule over in your hand, then... slowly, re-attach it to your belt. You do this in full view of her, not breaking eye contact. She doesn't know its significance, but that lack of knowledge might help, because - cruel as it is - you want her to feel a little bit closer to the unease you feel here. 

 "Employers are protected because they talk. No one succeeds in this business without a reputation. Personal quarrels are not so simple as cutting ties and washing hands. To speak without heed of the contract makes one appear unreliable, especially when the conversation will not end with someone dying." Because you're not going to kill her. You should have, earlier, but it's too late for that now, better luck next time. Now you're just tired, because she's acting like you selling out your clients isn't a big deal, even if those clients set you up. Those clients are terrifying. They could do horrible things to you, or they could make sure you never work again, or both. You rest your hands on the table, now, fingers knit together.

"We are still in a public space, no matter how quietly we speak. There is security in that, but not enough to willfully break contracts. Make a better offer." You hope, to whatever gods would listen to someone like you, that she isn't the type of highblood to make her offers solely on threats. You'll take it, but that doesn't mean you have to like it. Threats don't pay bills, usually.(edited)

Tang | MD (indigo) IT (maroon)01/08/2019

You watch as Shupaa places something, you don't know what, carefully cautiously into the belt draped across her chest. It's a de-escalation gesture, and the sparkle of spite tells you she's making a point of letting you know you hadn't had her all wrapped up around your fingers. You hadn't even realized.  It had to be a weapon of sorts, then, one she had in her hands, that you had no idea what would do. You wonder, briefly, how different this would have turned out if she really was out to kill you.

 Her yammering about contracts and reputations makes you want to roll your eyes but you refrain. The tune she was singing would be very different if they were where you usually conducted these things. In a blank, sealed room with a two way mirror. But no, that's too much trouble to bother with for this. You didn't want to drag your personal dirt into Torrent for everyone to prod at. And if anything was personal, Lyrian was. Maera had nothing you couldn't stand to lose, if you threatened her and forced her and she objected. But on the other hand, how useful would someone like her be? You like playing the carrot better than the stick anyway. 

 "Then let me ask," you say. "Why are you in this line of work?" You take another long drink from your apple cider. It really was quite good.(edited)

Kitty | neriticNomad01/08/2019

There's a beat. You're... left at a loss. Your face doesn't change, but inwardly, you have to process this question a second time before you answer. You still haven't taken a sip of your own drink. It sits, untouched, between you and your interrogator.

 "Opinions are not relevant to the work," you say, finally. "They are unnecessary. This question, too, is not relevant." It's a cheap escape, but it's what you know, because you don't have an answer for that - because you've never needed one before. It never mattered to anyone else why you do what you do. You feel vulnerable. You decide that she's trying to get under your skin. 

 "A request for understanding may be in order, but this is not the way these talks go. Please explain why you feel a need to explore opinions and personal feelings. You were asked only for an offer, and if you have none, we have nothing more to discuss." 

 Under that same skin, you hope you won't have to leave. You don't remember the last time you were in a restaurant, talking to anyone, when you weren't on a hunt. Your memory concludes it hasn't happened before.(edited)

Tang | MD (indigo) IT (maroon)01/08/2019

The discomfort is a chord that doesn't go away. You prop your hand on your chin as you think over her answer. You've met people like her before. People who have only traveled the path set in front of them, people who were loyal to it simply because they thought of nothing else. People answered you honestly before- power, money, justice, some ideal they slammed down on the table and spat in your face for, but the most interesting answer was one that didn't exist. A blank slate. Her discomfort with the social setting and the conversation, the tech she has and her complete lack of personal consideration- well. Well that was interesting now, wasn't it! You take another sip of your cider. "How am I supposed to offer you something when I don't know what you want?" you ask simply.

 "If it's just money well. That's no real issue. But what if, with all the resources I have at hand, I could... do something else?" 

 You raise an eyebrow in question and take another bite of your pastry. This wasn't strictly necessary, no, but you have to admit you're curious. There's a person in there, behind all that tech. You've heard her. And whoever that might be, might be grateful for a little more than a job to do.

Kitty | neriticNomad01/08/2019

"Personal desires are not relevant to my func-tion." The stutter-step of your words is an unfortunate side-effect of your condition. She mistakes you for a person, and you aren't - not in the usual sense, anyway - and it's setting you down paths of thought that you aren't equipped to handle, putting strain on your systems. It's almost as bad as the last time the science team tested you on paradoxes. You shut down for a week. 

 Your lusus had laid down under the table during your discussion. She picks up on the break in your speech, though, and Asterion nudges her nose against your ankle. You only know this because you take one brief moment to look away from her, and down at your mother. This gives you enough time to collect your thoughts, and make a decision. 

 "Money would be acceptable. Payment will not be received for the work in these past two weeks. This will be a financial hazard. However, it would be equally hazardous for an employer to decide that too much has been said." Lyrian doesn't seem to be the understanding type. Although, so far, you've held to the letter of your contract, your employers don't always see it that way - especially since you can't report much back. Cresce caught you, but you had been declawed. Lyrian has special interest in Cresce, and in keeping her alive, at least for now. She has no such qualm with you, and it would be very inconvenient to die. You look at her, and let your hands fall back in your lap. "If you have the capability to keep such a thing from happening, or to prevent it in some way, there is potential to make a deal. Can you?"(edited)

January 9, 2019

Tang | MD (indigo) IT (maroon)01/09/2019

Personal desires are not relevant to my function. Oh my god. She even stutters. You school your face still- it wouldn't do now for her to think you're laughing at her. The poor dear, she's got her personhood tucked neatly away, doesn't she? Personal desires are not relevant to my function when you can tell how badly she wants this conversation to end! Like any other person in her position would. It's sad, really, but alsoooo. Hilarious. You tap your chin as you think about your options and how you can do this. "I assume you won't consent to protective custody?" you ask, with an eyebrow raised. "Officially registering you as my informant will give you legal protection. Lyrian's no longer a part of an imperial organization, save the Messiahs, so it will force any retribution to the courts, especially if you do give me good information on her." 

 "That's assuming everything's aboveboard," you say. "And of course, as an informant, you get paid however much i deem necessary for the information you give me." Birdies aren't exactly your field of expertise. You're an interrogarroter, not a field spy. But you know the basics of the system, and it's open to all Torrents. Maera gets registered and all information you get from her is catalogued accordingly. The only people who get to see everyone's individual list of informants were the people at the top. Everyone had leeway to obtain and manage their own informants, and while it wasn't meant to be used as a personal thing, well. Lyrian's record is plenty shady. All you really have to do is say you have suspicions of illegal activity for grounds for surveillance. Sure someone might pull you off the case for conflict of interest, but all that would get you would be pulling you off the case. You play your cards right, no one could nail you for abuse of resources.

Kitty | neriticNomad01/09/2019

"No, un-fort-un-ate-ly." She knows your answer already. Good. You have work to do, and as much as dying would be inconvenient, being held in custody indeterminately would potentially be worse, especially because you wouldn't have something to do. But the other idea has potential. "Registration is acceptable," you clarify. "What qualifies as 'above board?' The current path of employment cannot simply cease, if that is what you mean." 

 Your work, at least so far, is technically legal. Probably. You've heard and seen things that have certainly broken laws, but for the most part, you're a means to an end - for revenge cycles, for people with grudges, for anyone with a chip on their shoulder. If Cresce means that she wants to monitor that activity, that could potentially be bad. But then again, could it be worthwhile, for a short time? ... "This will require clearance through someone else, as well. However, it seems acceptable." You have to talk to the lab. Ultimately, she'll have to talk to the lab. You're still their project. They're still testing you.(edited)

Tang | MD (indigo) IT (maroon)01/09/2019

The sound of hesitation and confusion leaks out of her questioning your terms, and you realize that you were probably not as clear as you could have been. "I know your work dabbles in less than legal things," you say dismissing her concerns with a wave of your hand. "What I meant was that this should protect you, unless Lyrian murders you quite suddenly from a dark corner. I may be able to press charges, but you'll be beyond caring I'm afraid!" 

 "Legally this agreement is little more than an agreement that I pay you as I see fit when you give me truthful information," you say. "I could always request something particular, but you and I are both aware you could simply choose to withhold it." Your smile is a little thin. Really, you would find out if she did anything of the sort, and she wouldn't like the consequences.

"It's a fairly free agreement," you continue, "Though if you are found to be passing on false information to the empire, you understand the consequences." You tap your fingers against your chin as she mentions someone else, and you quirk up an eyebrow in a question, even as you tick off that mental checklist of suspicions as confirmed. There was always going to be a handler for characters like this. "Someone else?" you ask.(edited)

Kitty | neriticNomad01/09/2019

You don't say what you're thinking - that you hope Lyrian won't, in fact, do that - because you know, vaguely, the way this works. She's feeding on your intimidation and fear. Even without her once-charming smile, you feel as if she's the hunter between the two of you. It's not a good feeling. It's worse when she asks you what you mean. You think there's a fan that turns on, in the back of your neck, trying to cool down your body and keep you stable. You want to evade this question, and your scan for any listening ears turns into a scan for an escape route quite quickly. But you opened this can of wrigglebeasts. 

 "Arctophi." You watch her. "Labs. It is presumed this does not come as a surprise." You have a pen. You take a napkin, and write lightly on its surface, Arctophi Labs, followed by the contact information. This will put her in touch with one of the leads on your project. It's a quiet lab, but they're an imperial pet project, kept somewhat under wraps while they develop their technology. Their aim is to replicate psionics with enhancement tech, and use that tech to create more powerful assets to the empire. You're their project, and while they improve their experimentation, you test their tech in the field. You hesitate only a moment longer, pondering the napkin, before you give it to her.

 "If you are imperial, your security clearance should suffice." If it doesn't, you have no doubt she'll find her way. She seems intent on digging up everything she possibly can. "They will know to expect your call." You don't think they'll have any issue with it. They may even be glad. This is a new arena to test you in, and you found it on your own - or, more accurately, it found you.  Still, it isn't your place to suggest it. The details are above your heavily-modified head. It's better they stay that way.

January 10, 2019

Tang | MD (indigo) IT (maroon)01/10/2019

The beat of her melody is slow, resigned, as she tells you, she assumes you've figured out that piece of the puzzle- and well. She isn't wrong. You give her a mysterious smile. Things were a little more fun when Maera was left lagging along, but now she was catching on. The name she gives you is unfamiliar to you- you slide the napkin over to you and carefully study the words and numbers before you tuck it into a pocket. You'll find out soon enough. "Alright!" you exclaim brightly. You gesture between you with a flick of your fingers. "Sooooo what are you going to tell Lyrian about this little exchange?"

Kitty | neriticNomad01/10/2019

This isn't a prompting to tell her the information you've gleaned. Admittedly, it isn't much. You mentally tuck it back into its appointed file folder, and try to think of what you might actually say. 

 "Data is insufficient to say whether Lyrian is capable of seeing through lies. True honesty would likely be unacceptable. There is little desire to give her true information on you." She probably already knows it, too, if she sent you in blind this way. "The most likely plan of action will be to develop a false report, which follows what happened today, but altered, with no mention of this discussion. She is not following or spying on the work so far, but risk-taking does not seem acceptable. Does she know about your favor towards this establishment?"(edited)

Tang | MD (indigo) IT (maroon)01/10/2019

You tap your chin and consider the cards in your hand. You share a power with Lyrian, and that would mean sharing hers means sharing yours. It's not a far leap to make, with what you've done here and the fact you share a sign. No, you decide. No sharing. There's a third party at work here that you know nothing about and that means keeping your own exposure to the minimum possible. 

"No," you say simply instead. "I don't believe so. But let's make some adjustments to your plan." You sit forward, putting your weight on your elbows as you smile.  "Lyrian undoubtly has expected us to have a conversation, not necessarily this one." She has to know that your powerset makes being tracked very difficult. The test she's giving you here isn't to find out you're being tracked, but what you do with it. That's what you do if you were in her place after all. "What you should tell her is that I noticed you following me, confronted you, and accused you of being her pawn before assaulting you and running," you say, holding her gaze before nodding at stain on her shirt. "Work in the ice cream too if you want."

Kitty | neriticNomad01/10/2019

As she speaks, you commit the information to memory. It's a simple task. You've been working with your own internal computers for some time now, and writing the data away is the easy part. The hard part is making sure you retrieve the right data at the right time. 

 "Understood." This means you need to keep the ice cream stain, though, and you're not thrilled about that. "There are no other signs of a struggle," you point out. "Will this cause suspicion?" You don't know how well Lyrian knows Cresce, but she started this conversation by cornering you, then threatening your lusus. You'd like to think she'd put up more of a fight than just throwing ice cream at you.

Tang | MD (indigo) IT (maroon)01/10/2019

You shake your head. You never even tried to hit her the one time you met face to face. "Tell her that it was a public place and people were looking," you say simply. That's part of the reason why you hadn't done anything more at the ball. If you were going to pocket Maera as your own pawn, then you'd have an advantage on her. If she thought you were weaker or more incompetent than you really were, then perhaps she'd make a stupid move. Perhaps she'd tell Maera something she really shouldn't have. Of course, that would depend on Maera not getting caught. "When are you to report to her?"(edited)

Kitty | neriticNomad01/10/2019

"As necessary." You check the time. The only outward sign is a flick of your eyes to one corner, out in space, before returning to her. "Reporting will be done in person, as soon as there is information to report. This would qualify as information to report. Departure may be as soon as eight hours from the present time." 

 The extra time is to accentuate the story. If you act as if you spent time trying to re-track Cress, only to have her evade you again, you'll look slightly less like a hunter who didn't know how to do her job. And finally, after all that, you take a sip of your mocha. It's careful - the cup blocks as little of your field of vision as possible, and certainly doesn't block anything you can see of Cress. "Your input has been noted. Will you desire a report when the meeting is over?"

Tang | MD (indigo) IT (maroon)01/10/2019

You nod with a smile. It was so cute, the way she finally drinks that coffee, like a feral cat trying to lap up a few drops of milk , with those big eyes fixed on you like you'd steal it, or attack her or something. As though you haven't basically gotten what you wanted from this game. 

 "Yes, that would be great!" you say. There was just the concern of Lyrian discovering the lie. She'd be as good at it as you were, if not better. She did have more experience after all. "Don't worry you'll be fiiiine," you say with a flap of your hand before you hesitate, and place it to your chin again. "Well... it might be good to be a little worried. She probably has a sadistic streak." You mime a grimace. 

 "Subbjugulators, you know," you say almost conspiratorially. "They get creative." The more afraid Maera would be of Lyrian, the harder it would be for her to tell what exactly was she afraid of. You take another bite of your turnover and groan. "God this is so good?" You tear off a piece and hold it out to Maera with a smile. "You want some?"(edited)

January 11, 2019

Kitty | neriticNomad01/11/2019

You're fairly certain Cress is fucking with you at this point. Fear pings at the mention of subjuggulators and what they might do, which is a healthy response that any reasonable troll might have. It's strong enough that it turns the lights of your implants yellow to match, as it takes emotional center-stage. And then she follows that up by offering you a piece of her food, and you stare blankly at her. What? Does she expect you to trust her, after having just made both vague and direct threats? You have no evidence to prove what she's giving you isn't poisoned somehow. You're reasonably certain she didn't tamper with your coffee, but the pastry is another matter. She's had that in her hands from minute one. ... You take the piece, and begin scanning it for toxins. You have no accessible record of trolls having venom, whether in their teeth or mouths, but that doesn't mean she couldn't. The number of hazards one could put into a piece this small are relatively low, but even small dosages of some could prove fatal, or could, at the very least, incapacitate you.(edited)You find nothing, from visual or tactile scans, and nothing from olfactory scanning either. The papery pasty flakes off as you turn it over, and with your finger, you delicately push these flakes into a concentrated pile. Speaking reasonably, outwardly turning down her offer now could be offensive. That would be bad, tactically, and you can't find any reason not to eat it... So you do.

 Most of your taste sensors are not equipped for actual tasting. With limited usefulness to your project as a whole, they were designed to pinpoint toxins and ingredients, by matching taste data to different profiles stored in your memory. This over-analytical process is a long way of saying that you don't enjoy what you eat. You just eat it. Enjoyment doesn't help you do your job, and like your emotions, would probably only distract you. The only taste that manages to break this pattern is mint. It's cleansing, and it's one of the only things in your accessible memory that you remember from before the experiment. As you eat the pastry piece, slowly, thoughtfully, your implants begin to fade from yellow, back to green. Now you have a new problem: You aren't sure what to say. So, after you've finished the piece (you definitely did this in two parts, even if it was a small piece, just to be sure about the poison thing) you finally say, 

"This is acceptable. It has a variety of apples." Nice. Nailed it. Perfect.(edited)

Tang | MD (indigo) IT (maroon)01/11/2019

She lights up yellow, yellow, with fear, like a little cobra spreading its brightly colored hood- except of course she can't strike you. Not now. You can't understand why the scienterrorists would work something as flashy as that into her design but it's kind of adorable and you have to stop from pressing a hand to your chest in sheer delight.

You wait patiently as she methodically and carefully examines the pastry you gave her as you chew on your own piece. She tastes it, hesitant, then eats the rest and chews it like she's chewing oats. And what she says- you laugh. You can't help it! It's so awkward! "Oh aren't you just a dear," you say, and grab another napkin. You untangle your foot from her lusus' leash as you grab a glittery blue gel pen to write your number. "Call me when you have something to tell me," you say, drawing a heart at the end and coloring it in carefully. "I'll expect to hear from you soon."

Kitty | neriticNomad01/11/2019

You're embarrassed, and it makes yellow light fade in, then right back out after a brief moment. It wasn't that funny. The glitter pen is a surprise. The heart is even more so. You look at it with wariness, commit the number to memory, and then... tuck it away in your coat. Normally, you burn everything you receive. This, though, you'd like to hang onto. You stand from the table. "Understood." Your lusus, freed from the confines of Cresce's foot, trots over to you, looking quite pleased. You pick up your coffee, and after Chara picks up the leash for you, you leave without another word.

> End thread