#tw for dark themes that may be darker than usual

[grim-faux]

3 _ 22 _ The World of Chasm

First - An Echo Rebounds Through the Silent City

TW The usual dark themes. But some darker than usual. Please read with care.

 The speek was… familiar. Not the familiar in shapes and marks that gave suggestion to the broken world and creatures that lurked in the long corridors, or the shape of the world she and other kids drifted through to reach the scarce few safe areas. Something about the way the marks dug deep into the wood, the style of the strokes to form the varied and distinct shapes, of figures and broad shapes she recognized. That was all familiar. And she thought the creatures looked… even more familiar.

 She knows the monster with the lumpy head. That other kid wasn’t there, but she recognized the one with the blocky head. A triangle mark made the body, and a pair of twigs carried an... axe.

 Right. The door was locked and she was left. She doesn’t know for how long, but it was until her stomach groaned and it hurt to stand for too long. The sing box helped. The repetitious turn and twirl of the crank and resistance of the gears, all moved her from the musty air and the chilled space of the room. Listening to the sing blotted out the creaking walls, the thumping steps, and the shrill whining. Everything went away and she could forget, if only for a short while. Forget and leave the scraps of memories in dark lagoon of nightmares.

 She set her palms onto the grainy wood and stared at the speek of the boy. Why did she think this was a boy? The marks were vague shapes, but she was certain. She remembered Him. She just couldn’t recall specifically where He was in her head. When did He grab her hand, where did He take her? There was something about mad and frustrated, too. She could understand (almost) why the other kid scratched out the speek. Something about the axe made her angry, and the hurt. All of it made her quake and wobbly.

 “Hoo.”

 Six slid her hands off the wall and turned only slightly to the kid with the flashlight. Right sat on the floor among toys and unknown knickknacks, his flashlight glittered through a transparent block. The neat thing about the block was not that it was a solid or specific shape, but the glow from the beam glittered through the rectangle shape and threw colored patterns on the dusty floor.

 “E’i dekhu.”

 She moved to crouch across from Right, and sat there staring at the vibrant colors glistening at her feet. How did that work? Colors. And on both sides? This mystified Six. Sorcery like this was unnatural and frightening, but right now, it wasn’t doing anything. That could change. It might delude her into security, and then trick. That wouldn't happen again. She knew better.

 She did cast a suspicious glare toward Right, as he shifted the flashlight and caused the glimmer of shapes to twirl and shuffle. It was like fire, but not hot. The boy did speek about fire once. It made her curious. She didn’t know much, aside from keeping it caged and tame. Something about the flames breaking loose and stealing his pack. He didn't do speek about what happened, unless when he didn't think she was looking. The boy always growled at smoke.

 Cautiously, she slid her hand across the floor and touched the fringes of color, but quickly snapped her hand back. Did it burn? She didn’t think so. The colors made her eyes water, though. It made her think hard about a place behind her dreams, a memory of something but the sensation was odd. Halls and running. She was always running. The click of steps rattled through the veil of nightmares, ringing clean and precise, always cutting through the panic of her fleeing.

 Coming. Him follows. It lived in these withered corridors, navigating the twisted passages and chambers filled with false places. This was its lair, and if her legs couldn't carry her, the monster would find her. It would steal her again, and it wouldn't give her another chance for flee.

 Six gave her head a shake. The colors morphed and the shapes changed from boxes to triangles, and kept shifting into paper-thin beams. How did it do that?

 While the bars lay small and behaved, she lashed her hand out and patted the color. Still no burning. With more confidence, she batted the floor and the colors sitting placid and inert. Each touch and swipe fortified her assessment that these colors couldn’t hurt, even if she lay her hands under their care. She did snap her hands back when the colors glittered and shimmered. Just to be safe.

 When the kid shifted the flashlight over to the next side of the block, the colors moved! She couldn’t figure how he put the beam on one side, but colors fell from a different side. Nothing made sense! And despite how she turned or peered into the scuffed block, she couldn’t decide how the beam bumped through the chipped wall. It felt solid and heavy, and in no way hollow. Some kids had hollowed heads. She remembered. She broke one open once, so she knew what it felt like.

 Once she was certain the colors wouldn’t hurt, she let the fluttery patches sit in her palm. It wasn’t warm and felt like nothing at all. She tried to cup her palms into a bowl and held the wispy shards, but that was impossible with how Right shuffled the flashlight around. It annoyed her whenever the beam smacked across her face, though the kid kept the searing light fixed to one flat side of the block. When the kid slid that harsh light across her face AGAIN, she grabbed the nearest animal toy and flung it his way. Right crashed backwards, the stupid flashlight went drumming across the floor.

 Six swiped the crumbs off her coat as she stood, and gave the room another scope. She and the kid worked on the gathered packages for a while, but not much of the food was good for eating. The first thing she ate gave her a bad tummy stab, and she sulked for a good while. That gave Right a chance to gobble on his dibs, but she did have enough resolve to scoot some boxes away and guard them. Despite not feeling good, she did give Right a few scars for his stubborn head.

 “Psst.”

 The kid tucked the flashlight away and moved to the doorway of the room. Six scurried and followed in step, both of them peering around the doorway edge before creeping into the hall. None of the other rooms had anything, except more scratches and speek pictures. Not all of the marks made sense, she thought the pictures resembled animals from books, but it was impossible to make connections. Aside from speek, no food and no clues about whoever... or whatever, gathered the food rations. It might've been an other kid, since a room had a nest.

 She suspected it could be pack, with all the food and marks. The thing bugging her was all the food stored. A monster must've wiped out the whole pack. Staying in one safe area for too long was dumb. Danger was relentless and never stopped.

 They didn’t bother to call for the other kids. Good riddance. Dealing with Right was big enough, he was okay but... one more was a lot, and duck boy.... As it was, she and Right had a hard time keeping away from the Case Worker. If they hadn’t broken off from the others, the monster would still be chasing them. She hadn't seen that monster in… forever. It made her wonder if the pack that once nested her, were taken by it. For whatever reason, the Case Worker wasn't interested in this place.

 That was why she and Right stopped in the dwelling. Nothing had chased them off. No televisions, either. Some Viewers did lurk on the lower floors, clambering around or staring out the windows, mindless and vacant husks devoted to staring at storm clouds. The Viewers didn’t bother them, so long as they had something else to look at. It was rare they encountered one thundering through a corridor in a mad dash to reach… somewhere, and usually in the process plow into a wall. That was something Six never got tired of watching.

 The two of them did have close calls, but only when they panicked or got surprised by the abrupt appearance. She was (sort of) amused when one time, while exploring a dwelling, she observed Right go right up to a Viewer blissfully lost in window gazing. The kid did an elaborate kick to the back of the creatures leg, and bolted for a crate – where he hid for a long while. The Viewer didn’t budge, aside from the expected sway and twitching.

 Navigating through the building wasn’t going too bad, considering the only issue they had were Viewers rampaging at random shifts of the weather. The weather didn’t matter, but it was the only way to really decide on a passage of time, peculiar as it was. She and the kid only saw a few black corridors that really needed a flashlight, but most of the lamps and bulbs in rooms gave enough radiance to find their way around without too many disasters. And avoid fissures in the floors.

 For a long storm and some bright clouds, the two wandered over and between two levels of building, unable to find a passage or route that would get them out of the corridors. After rechecking open elevator shafts, all broken and with no lever to call a lift, the Right kid found an actual rope tied to the partially hidden door gate, shuttered in the splintered wood of the doorframe. Below was thick and black, all robbing any indication of where below would be. It could be a floor, or the center of the building was hollowed and delved deep beneath the cities crust. Even with Right using the flashlight, neither could make out anything but more empty and swirling dark. It was thicker than the Hunter’s bog.

 A rope was a warning, too. Kids made bedsheet ropes as a solution to no routes. It took a lot of time to knot and twist and tie something sturdy. Real rope didn’t need anything but tie and drop. The only good thing about this, was that whoever previously used the rope maybe didn’t fall to their doom. Maybe. The rope could have snapped somewhere below, too.

 Right was already climbing down, not a thought or second guess about it. Without a better option, Six lowered herself down as well. In a few shuffles, the hazy doorway above began to dissolve into the hazy murk. Along with it, a shape that pursued her through the half sleep terrors that haunted her mind. The deeper she went the more obscure, and the less that glower burned into the hood of her jacket. There were times she couldn't bear looking at the shade. It wanted her to... know something. In the haze of memories, some voice wanted to be recognized from the nonsense chatter, but she could never recognize the speek. The sounds sifted beneath the ramble, sizzling static, like crawling through a television screen, and being disjointed between worlds. She arrived into a place she didn't recognize, but felt connected to it through sharpened instincts.

 She could no longer see the rope directly in her hands, and didn’t loosen her grip for fear it might vanish entirely. The only consolation was that Right's stifled huffing echoed through the abyss, giving some fix on his whereabouts. She kept track of the clumsy, breathy sounds, to prevent herself from bashing into the kid. She really didn’t want that invading silence to eat away at the fading wail, and she didn’t want to wait ages for the anticipated impact. If a thud ever did echo forth.

 By the time the metallic drum changed tones around her, Six was barely able to hold on. A few more shuffles and dips, despite how pained her arms and shoulders became - she couldn't falter. Don't let go. Somehow, she managed to cling on keep her descent paced with Right's measured strafe. The air and smell changed, that much was clear. They should be—

 A harsh sheen sliced across her eyes, blinding her with a searing blast that left her seeing red and black blotches. However, she could make out an orb of light illuminating dust, and the area where Right crouched, chewing on his palms. The kid gave the walls a look over, tilting his head back.

 She let her toes touch the crusty bottom before releasing, even then, Six stumbled under her own weight and fatigue. There was no time for rest or stalling, she hurried after Right when he dashed toward a glimmering bulb set into a curb encircling the bottom of the shaft. A round but cracked porthole breathed musty air, the abysmal opening the only optimism available in this dank pit. The interior beyond lay dark and ambiguous, same as this ravenous chasm they willingly climbed into. Regardless where it could lead, Right flashed his light into the hole and began anew.

 The narrow tunnel sloped downward, but eventually leveled out. Every step sank into soft grit mingled with pointy rocks, the beam glowed across specks of glass or other stuff. At some distance, the path broke into other segments. Right chose an opening and went – sometimes Six wondered if Right knew she was following, or cared. It didn’t make a difference to her, but she didn’t want to get lost in the winding tunnels they began stumbling through. Sometimes he used the beam to find his way, other times he seemed to go off fickle choices.

 None of this impromptu navigation ever alarmed her. Kids didn’t get much in choices or anything when getting around, especially while being chased or on the cusp of capture. Any path could lead into danger, but in those moments it was best not to think that far ahead. Doubt or fear got kids killed, hesitating stole the momentum needed for a desperate leap. Do-overs didn’t happen. Caught was....

 Jumping was better than fall. It was always better to jump… and… not….

 Right struggled with the grate above. It was wide and specks of light brushed over his shoulders. She scooted in close and pressed at the icy metal, grunting with the kid as rust chipped loose and globs of mist scattered over them. They barely got the lid up enough to brace it onto the floor above, then they could coordinate and shove it to the side. They made enough space to crawl up through, but it was a tight squeeze.

 She hadn’t noticed, but her feet were covered in mud. As they walked across the tiled floor, gummy liquid soaked the stains off her foot soles. Much of the floor glistened, the fierce light from above burned against the liquid, erasing blemishes and buckling with a pristine, glossy sheet. Counters stretched high, corralling much of the floor at every wall with bent cabinets. Atop the counters, stacks of plates leaned against each other; the food streaking the interlocked layers seemed to judge their trespass in their domain.

 No danger lurked on initial inspection. Six stayed alert, ears tuned to the dull gurgle of water and the splattering rapids gushing over sink rims. She hurried after Right, when the kid zeroed in on a stack of plates left on the floor. She took a last glance around, before scraping some food lumps off the cracked sides of the plate. Meanwhile, Right jammed his pockets full of goop. Meh. Eat first.

 That would have been a good thing about Right, him not being picky. If he didn’t try stealing her food or wasn't always sneaking in close to sample whatever, when she had her hands busy shoving something into her mouth.

 She growled and shoved him away. While the kid was on his back and momentarily defenseless, she was going to pounce. Up until another kid crashed into her, and she with this other kid crashed into the plates. Six’s reflex was scramble away and get her bearings, but the floor was slippery from the mud and slime – the other kid must’ve tried the same, but skidded into her. Rather distance and gather themselves, the two settled to claw and bite on the floor. And hiss.

 In the tussle, Right managed to get up on his feet and snag the other kid by the back of his pants. Right wrenched sideways and launched the kid off.

 Six made it to her feet at last, her coat dripped with water but otherwise she was okay. She stood beside Right, while he shuffled away from the other kid.

 “Oya.” Right pushed her, and she didn’t resist.

 Taking her eyes off the other kid, she skimmed across the cabinets. They could either follow the wall, or climb up a set of drawer handles and—

 Right did a sharp pivot, while Six stumbled on her heels and toppled backwards. Six barely glimpsed the figure emerging from a wall of hot mist clustered around the burning bulbs, the face twisted into an ugly sneer.

 A hand snatched her wrist and jerked her upright. Right tugged her towards a set of island cabinets mounted solid in the center of the room, and after the swiftly fleeing figure of the other kid. She tried to rush her feet, but the floor was slicked and she was losing her balance with each footfall.

 At the same time, a nasally snort rocketed behind the kids. The heavy boots boomed against the floor, the creature was gaining on them with its strides and its mastery of the soaked ground. If not for the flood rushing over their feet, or the sleek floor, or the rocking steps, they would have left it miles behind.

 She and Right darted around the edge of the island counter, close to the broken doors sat a pile of boxes with the scent of earth and greens encapsulating them. They both ducked between the stacks and hunched low, hiding in the faint shade cast by the heaps. The hulking feet staggered a ways beyond the hide place and stopped on a hairpin. When inspiration didn’t strike the creature immediately, it tottered forward, gaze locked on a trolley cart parked beside another line of cabinets.

 When Six began to move, she saw that the hide place was not entirely original. The kid that rammed her before, he was squatting behind a box and peeking between wilted green stalks. She and… it looked like a her, they looked at each other. This girl gestured to her and Right, then turned and slipped away behind a lumpy sack.

 She and Right shared a glance. With a shrug, Right tucked down and followed the general path the other girl went. Six took a deep breath and did the same.

 The creature was dressed in some kind of suit with a bow, and its face was all gnarled and the lines in its scowl sank deep into its flesh. It knelt and examined the trolley, pushing aside cylinders and bowls on the shelves. It mumbled to itself, while the items it touched clinked.

 Six listened, while she and Right followed the girl to a space separating the row of cabinets ahead. When the distinct clatter of bottles ceased, she and Right ducked beyond the edge of the cabinet and crouched down. The bombarding steps moved further away, and the sizzle of running water cut off. Six tilted her head inside the hood of her coat. Her heart pulsed, and black shadows whirled around her vision.

 Or was the shadow around? She tipped her head back, searching the counter edges and the swirling patches prowling near the the rooms misty background. Nothing immediately alarming loitered in the furthest corners beyond the tile - the places where children went to be caught. Clear. If they didn’t get cornered anywhere, kept near walls or put tall obstacles between them and the monsters, they had a chance. They could find a way. But only if they kept moving.

 Never stop. Never slow. GoGoGo....

 The girl tugged her sleeve, and tipped her head aside when Six looked her way. Six nodded – it was okay. Everything was fine.

 Behind them and across the floor, the monster found the collection of boxes and sacks they once hid in. It opened lids and kicked a crate, all the while making a nasty rasping noise in its throat. The work it undertook to search or flush them out, made Six shudder. She thought it was safe to hide in cover, but they would've been blocked in. No place was really safe.

 On first glance of the cabinets curving along the inner walls, no hide or openings stood out that might get them out of sight. The cabinets covered the wall, in some spaces the cabinet gave way to shelving and a countertop with a thick slab on the high surface. They could squeeze under the ledge and hide, or pull a cupboard open and duck away - until the coast was clear. Right veered ahead of them, moving on a set of doors to the left side of the room. This would put out of cover-

 The creature thumped around at the boxes and made a deafening racket, more than when the water was gushing.

 Right moved ahead, detaching from the group and walked quickly. She and the girl hurried to keep up, each of them casting their eyes back to the edge of the counter and the slowly descending shape of the monster as it stooped from view. Good.

 In the lull, Six took a moment to gather in the new girl, if they were a girl. They had scruffy hair hacked short and wore an oversized shirt, but the sleeves had been ripped, or wore away from use. About the same attire Right wore, and more drastic than what the other kid garbed himself in. Looting good armor was hard, and keeping armor was harder still. She hadn’t had to fight anyone for her amazing coat, but it didn’t look like much and was a like a searing flame against everything drab and decayed.

 But that’s what made her important.

 A sharp bark cut through the room, and the three glanced back. Or the girl did. Right and Six raced the last meter to the large doors and shoved! Six lost her footing and crashed to her shoulder.

 The girl caught up fast and hoisted her up, as a pack, they heaved against the door. The three lined up by the center edge and pressed full body, grunting and snarling at the stubborn access refusing to cooperate. Their toes slid, the doors resisted – Six could only remember one other time like this, but without the monster. All the same, it almost ended badly. The black pit and dozens of suspended beds haunted her mind.

 Don’t look, just push. Six hissed, and rammed her shoulder into the solid panel. The monster shrieked as it closed in, it’s large shadow cloaked them with a chilling embrace.

 A rush of dry air exhaled as the door creaked an inch. The girl scooted through the wedge first, pausing only to hold the panel from her side and shove her feet against the other door. Right caught Six by the shoulder and hauled her through.

 Inside the new room, none of them dawdled over the layout. Right and her shot after the girl, ducking among towering wire aisles, the lowest shelves corralled them in with more crates and moldy boxes. Six’s reflection dashed across an occasional large jar or glossy ceramic pot sticky with fluid - she’s not sure, but once she thought a dark silhouette peered back at her with a sheet-black stare. With a blink the illusion vanished, but the subdued hissing drowned her ears.

 The boy faded in the same way. His eyes burned through the tatters of memory, but she can't place where-

 Both doors swooped inward with a dramatic explosion and the hulking creature thundered in. The thing made certain the doors shut tight at its back, before it swept around and hunched over to inspect the gray floors. It lifted one foot then the other, examining both soles.

 Six caught the girl by her collar before she could dash away, and hauled her back. She pressed a finger to her lips when the girl looked at her. After a few deep breaths, the girl nodded. She with the girl and Right, huddled down behind a shelf loaded with sacks. The lights doused as the monster paced by, grumbling to itself and snuffling. It watched the ground intently, sometimes stooping to check between boxes or pushed aside glass bottles. Its voice echoed with a groan and it kept moving.

 If they got higher, it wouldn’t find. It was so-so focused, any movement would warrant its immediate fascination. Staying quiet and small was their best defense, but staying put was danger.

 Six swallowed, and turned her gaze to the highest shelves. The spacing of the slates was too much for climb, and all the tall containers had soft of tipsy bottles in-between - nothing to use as a boost. The end corners would be too risky, but they could think about it. While searching beyond the endless layers of wire racks, she spotted a tall but narrow shelf at one end of the room. She pointed.

 Right turned his head. It took a brief search, but he caught on and gave a nod. He hoisted himself onto the lowest wire shelf and shoved aside one of the boxes. She and the girl followed, removing themselves from the aisle before the creature stepped into the space they occupied.

 Despite how careful and well thought out their movement was, the solid containers were not as stable as they looked. They had several close calls where a misstep nearly sent a jar tumbling, or the contents of a overburdened box spilt free - they had to work fast to keep everything from clattering to the floor. Other times they had drawbacks, due to a large and weighted row of crates barring them from reaching the end of an aisle. In some sections they could get on their stomachs and slip under the shelves, but not always. Filth and all manner of garbage, junk, and other castoff chunks of rot lay in thick heaps beneath the slates. Sometimes their hands or clothing got stuck, and the residue yuck clung to dirt.

 Once, Right reversed backwards and smashed into Six! An echoing Crack! rebounded when the metal door of a trap snapped shut, missing his toes by a breath.

 The clatter of the horrible contraption alerted the monster to stall whatever rummaging it was doing on the other side of the room, and it listened with a silent ferocity. Soon, too soon, it began roaming. The creature drifted among the rows, shuffling closer to the range where it heard the trap go off.

 Six rushed down the aisle with Right and the girl in pursuit. She skid on her heels and scrambled the other way, when the monster changed its direction in the parallel lane and rushed in the opposite direction. Rushing to head them off. It gave a bellow, the crashing steps rattled the rusted shelves.

 They reached the end of the second to last aisle and darted around the edge, coming fast onto a pile of crates cluttered among the shelves. The kids crashed into the rubbish and clambered up the sunken lids, scrambling for solid footing or clawing at soft and unknown materials shrouded in the murk. They tumbled to the floor on the other side, in all the scuffling and panic something clattered.

 Six didn’t see who, she thought it was Right, crashed into a jar on the shelf. Ceramic dashed across the floor, sending fetid juice and goopey clumps to spread around them. The goo stung her noise and the substance soaked into feet and hair, and spread for miles. The whole side of – it was Right – was doused, and his head was slopped with the stuff. He was quick to recover and catch up, as they made it to the end of a island counter mounted to the cement floor.

 A hand shot between containers on the low shelf, knocking aside several boxes and displacing a jar of squiggly stuff. Right scarcely vaulted over the grasping fingers and scrambled away before his foot was snagged. More parcels and an assortment of metal tins fled off the shelves, as the creature swiped at bottles and whatever it could dislodge.

 It was chaos. Glass and thick fluid splattered everywhere, coating the children in waves. Along with powder of every color and consistency – Six couldn’t stop between hacking or sneezing, and her eyes stung despite the protection of the hood. She licked her palms and dragged her hands across her eyes, much of the gunk clumped but she managed to scrape an inch off. It didn’t abate the burning.

 A shape darted to the other side of the room and slipped beneath the low shelf of a counter. “Aye,” she croaked, and rushed after the other kid. It only occurred to her that the pummeling abuse ended, and the barreling steps had resumed. Careening for them with terrible speed.

 Someone was beside her and hauled her along. They raced among several counter islands as more glass erupted at their ankles, the liquid flashed a variety of green and amber shimmers, while the smell burned her eyes and the cuts left on her shins. She nearly lost her footing on a clump of slime, but she stole back her pace and lunged beneath the low shelf of the bench counter.

 Whoever was following close, crashed into her back and shoved her the rest of the way up beneath the low shelf. It was Right, cramming her all the way into the furthest wall. They shuffled back and forth, shoving aside moldy food or whatever else left to melt into grunge. It was near impossible to see, until the flashlight clicked on.

 The girl gave a snarl when the creatures hand reached under the shelf and clawed around.

 To the side, the flashing light rebounded with Right’s movement. He clucked, while scooting through the dirt and grime on his feet and hands. Six was about to follow, until the sharp beam lashed across her aching eyes.

 The girl grabbed Right by his vest and yanked him free of the fingers. A scuffle of limbs, fumbling, and garbled yelps ignited. All while the flashlight spiraled where it landed, beside the flickering silhouettes of black flames. The girl kicked at the underside of the shelf, in the next flare Right was scooting on his backside, in another twisted jumble the girl wrenched sideways, with another blaze a set of fingers curled down.

 Six recoiled further into the muck. In one sharp movement, pale light glared between a pair of shoes. One kid crammed in close to her shoulder and looked up. It wasn’t—

 Whack!

 The girl’s breathing came in suppressed, ragged wheezes. Six realized she wasn’t breathing, and her whole body was locked tight like a coil. They huddled in stony silence, not moving, muscles wound tight to snap.

 Thwack!

 WHACK-CRACK!

 The flashlight was no longer rocking where it was abandoned. It lay facing the shoes, the vibrant beam glowed off a thick trickle pooling in a crack of the floor.

 In the scant hush, the girl slipped away from Six and crawled closer to the wall furthest from the shoes. Without a glance, Six shimmied after the other kid. Neither dared touch the orphaned flashlight. Through the sturdy bench, the whisper of sawing and clacking hummed through the stained wood.

 The work that the monster undertook diverted its attention, giving her and the girl a chance to get out from underneath the cabinet and take in the new surroundings. They didn’t dare consider the shelves and up above. Stay low, keep in cover.

 She and the girl maneuvered as far from the creature as they could, before they risked moving into the open. They searched for any indication of a way out, a door or hidden passage. After roaming, and the tedious stall on ever grating scratch - all staying at the bench. If not for the smudged handprints and footprints left by other travelers, Six would have missed a duct concealed by a crate of compost.

 It took both to move the weighted container aside, barely enough to squeeze into the broken flue. The girl did pause to grab a piece of some sort of chunk out of the crate, but hastened to follow Six.

 Wandering among the cold and narrow passages was bleak, the murk was sullen and choking. Even after traveling for some time, and the smell of the place fading, Six kept clenching her fists and looking back. Not at the girl, she wriggled ahead on the bazillionth time Six glanced over her shoulder. For whatever reason, she thought a hand or… something was creeping through the vent, following her with sinister purpose.

 The blank void carried silence and offered only an emptiness that thrived in the suffocating, black vacuum. More than once, she thought the strange shadow in her shape crept along, staying just out of sight. It had to be her head insisting something was missing, or someone was… everyone was lost. That never changed. But It followed like an omen, demanding her to recall some discarded idea. It warned her about… things lost, and better off forgotten.

 Yet every time she looked back, nothing was really there. No boy, no other kid… no one. Everyone was gone. It was best to keep moving and stop looking back.

Next

[aesopsharpmybeloved]

No Need To Make A Wish

Or; Father Paul spoils you on your birthday. Requested by anonymous. Takes place sometime after More Than Sinful. I tried to write this in a way in which it would work whether your birthday is in July or December or any other month. I truly think the weather on Crockett Island can get this shitty any time of the year ;) Hope you enjoy!

No Need To Make A Wish - 3.2K

tw: suggestive themes (implied)

The weather was ghastly. Wind and rain most of the time these days. You normally had no problem staying inside and minding your own business, having many hobbies and chores, not to mention your work, but this was getting ridiculous. It’s been a week since you had a proper stroll without fighting the wind for your umbrella. You hoped the weather would get better again soon, as you were getting a little antsy and you knew so was everyone else. Sunday mass was half emptier than usual and not even Annie and Leeza showed up to the daily one.

Luckily, that meant one thing - Father Paul spent much more time with you. And despite your want to go outside and take a nice long walk, you supposed that this was much better. Not to mention the priest did a marvellous job at distracting you.

You spent this night at your home. Which was a little out of the ordinary ever since this ‘rain season’ began. Normally, you’d be at the rectory, Paul would get up and ready himself for mass without waking you, and then, after waiting in the church for twenty minutes in case somebody actually showed up, he’d go back home, take off his clothes and hide right back under the covers with you. However, yesterday he said that he’d like to spend some time in your house too, to maybe ‘watch your favourite film, you do have a better telly, after all,’ and because ‘I really need a change of surroundings, getting bit of a cabin fever in here’ . He listed a few more reasons, none of which you believed much, but didn’t want to question him. After all, the idea of cuddling with him watching your favourite film sounded way too good to pass.

And so, another morning, your bed this time. He got up and it actually woke you. Pretending to still be asleep, you watched with one eye sneakily open how he slowly dressed himself. Stepping into his boxer briefs, he soon located his socks and jeans. You couldn’t help yourself. You propped yourself on your elbow, now obviously watching him with interest. “Enjoying the show, are we?” he whispered, his bare back to you. You could hear the smile in his voice. “Don’t I ever?” you said back cheekily. He turned around towards your bed and kneeled upon it: “I’m sorry I woke you. Get some more sleep and I’ll be back in a bit.” Sitting up, you pulled him close to feel his bare chest against yours and kissed him slowly on the mouth.

After a while of unhurried kissing and soft touching, he drew away from you. Father Paul traced your lips with his thumb and smiled: “I’ll be here soon.” You nodded and lowered yourself back onto the mattress, content to just watch him finish putting on his clothes. It was very early, still rather dark and the clouds in the sky made it seem even darker. When he was finished, he gave you one more soft kiss and left. He had a thick raincoat and boots in the hallway, just so he wouldn’t get absolutely soaked the second he stepped out of the door. Though you absolutely wouldn’t mind caring for him again, he was very much not keen on the idea of catching another stupid illness.

You dozed off again and when you woke up, more light was pouring in from your windows. It immediately struck you as odd that your bed was entirely priest-free. You looked at the alarm clock and it said half past nine. Hm . Normally, Paul would be long back by then. But then again, perhaps there actually were some attendees for the mass today, and maybe one or more of them stayed for confessions. Well, whatever it may be, you knew Paul would come back eventually. Until then, you wanted to clean the house a little; it got a little bit dusty, since you spent so much time at the rectory.

—

Meanwhile, Father Paul was standing in a classroom, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. In front of him, behind a desk, stood Bev Keane, looking sour and cold. “It’s just until the weather clears up, Bev,” tried Father Paul, his voice soft, “you know as well as I that the church is empty everyday, save for you and me, everyday except Sunday.” Beverly looked at him coldly, unrelenting: “Well, what if somebody does show up, what if someone finds themselves in need of your guidance and they’re met with a sign that says ‘Daily mass cancelled due to bad weather’?” “Then I am a phone call away,” replied the priest immediately, fishing out the basic smart phone you got for him to use. You couldn’t fathom how he managed to hold on to his old java phone for as long as he did…

“Besides,” he continued, “I’m thinking of your health, too.” His voice was warm now and it caught Bev off guard: “My health?” Paul smiled: “but of course. Annie told me Ed fell ill a few days ago with a cold. Warren too, though you already know that. Surely you can’t enjoy walking all the way to church everyday in such a downpour!” He looked at her expectantly. After a few moments, she finally spoke: “So, what now? Just cancel daily mass? What about Sunday?” ‘Got it!’ Father Paul cheered inwardly, giving Beverly a calm smile on the outside: “Sunday mass will be held as usual, of course. Daily mass will be cancelled until the weather is more favourable and if anything else needs to be done, home visits, confessions, I’ll be in the rectory or on the phone.” The woman didn’t look pleased nor angry, and just nodded her head: “Very well then. I hope you know what you’re doing. You’ll find letters for the board in the rec centre.” And with this, Paul knew it was time for him to leave.

As he left the school, he breathed a sigh of relief and finally smiled genuinely. “So, what’s the verdict?” asked a familiar voice behind him. Erin Greene stood to the side of the building, holding an umbrella and looking at him expectantly. “No mass except Sunday.” he said, turning to face her. “Wow. You actually did it, I’m impressed,” Erin chuckled, “anyway, you can come pick it up in two hours or so, I should be done by then.” And with that, she took off towards her house, leaving Paul standing there in his raincoat. He smiled again, wider this time - his plan was coming together nicely.

—

When Erin told him your birthday was coming up soon, Father Paul knew he wanted to do something special for you. A picnic, then a cinema date on the mainland, followed by a romantic dinner. Well, man plans and God laughs - he sure wasn’t planning on this weather which seemed to come out of nowhere, destroying his ideas. An outside picnic was out of the question, and a single ride on the ferry would probably mean the only thing you’d be doing in bed would be nursing a cold. But he wasn’t about to give up. Erin was more than willing to help, offering to make her famous pasta primavera for the two of you, so you could still have your romantic dinner and Paul gratefully accepted. She laughed at him, when he confessed he bribed Sturge to bring him a list of things from the mainland a day before your birthday. This resulted in a rather uncomfortable Sturge meeting him with a bag of items priests don’t usually ask for, but he didn’t say a single thing about it.

Now he had everything he needed. In his messenger’s bag was a bottle of champagne and a small box wrapped in brown paper and tied with strings. The priest had a thermobag containing the still steaming hot dish in his hand. Everything well hidden under the raincoat, of course. Once he stood outside of your house, he looked around. The streets were empty and he didn’t see any prying eyes in the windows either. He knocked once. Then twice.

—

You opened the door to find him just standing there, smiling from ear to ear, his face flushed from the cool air and his raincoat dripping. “Hello! Oh, come in,” you hurriedly stepped away from the door so he could enter, “I say, what have you been up to? Don’t tell me the church was full.” He chuckled: “It wasn’t. In fact, there won’t be anyone there until Sunday. ‘Daily mass cancelled due to bad weather’.” Paul winked at you and started to shed his coat, mindful of the items in his hands. You stood closeby, looking at him with interest: “What have you got there?” The priest looked sheepish all of a sudden. He hung his coat and took off his boots. He finally went to embrace and kiss you, once he put both his bags away.

You still regarded him curiously and he looked down shyly: “Erin told me about your birthday. I wanted to do something special for you.” You made a soft ‘tsk’ sound. “Oh come here, you!” you sighed, deeply touched and held him to you once more, kissing his neck softly and slowly moving to lay a trail of kisses to his cheek, then to his mouth, then upon his chin and back again. “You know you didn’t have to do anything though, do you? Just being here with you is very special to me.”

“I know,” he said, finally looking at you, “but, well. Since Erin already prepared her pasta primavera for us, and I made Sturge get a good champagne…” He had to laugh as your eyes went wider and wider and the excitement was evident on you. You prepared the plates and cutlery while Paul fetched the glasses. He knew where you kept candles in your house and covertly lighted a few of them and brought them closer to the table. Of course, you noticed immediately and went to kiss him again. Not that he argued. Once you started eating (and making content soft noises as the food was delicious), Paul told you of the things he wanted to do with you originally, but couldn’t because of the weather. You didn’t mind at all, though, seeing as you were sitting opposite your amazing lover, eating mouth watering food and drinking sweet sparkling wine.

More than the champagne though, you were getting drunk on his attention. His eyes didn’t leave yours and his hand always lay atop your own, if you weren’t currently using it. It was dizzying in the best of ways. But then something caught your attention. His leg bumped into yours a few times under the table and then stayed there. “Do you remember that one day we were on the mainland together? The one that ended with me kissing your cheek for the first time?” you asked suddenly. Paul grinned into his plate: “I’m glad that you only talk about the day like this and not as the day I caught the flu from an another priest.” You giggled softly and grabbed his hand, caressing his fingers. “Yeah… we were sitting in that restaurant and I kept losing my train of thoughts because your legs would bump into mine just like that. Back then, I understood, you know, with your long legs and the small table, but now I’m not that sure. Was that on purpose, back then?” you asked, bumping into his leg to show what you meant. Father Paul looked a bit sheepish again: “Yes,” he said, his cheeks flushing a little, “I mean, it was an accident at first, but then once I found I could get away with it… “ “You scoundrel!” you laughed loudly and he joined you.

Soon, you were both done with your food and were engaging in flirty and loving banter, looking into each others’ eyes. “What do you say,” began Father Paul, his fingers playing with the hem of your sleeve, “I take care of the dishes and you run us a hot bath?” You grinned at him, tracing your fingertip along the rim of the glass: “ ‘I love you, Paul’ , that’s what I say.” And without another word you got up, grabbed both of your glasses and the bottle and ran into the bathroom. Oh, thank god for that bathtub. You and Paul got to try it together on two occasions already, and it was very comfortable and relaxing… among other things. Taking a nice soak seemed like the perfect thing to battle the cold that seemed to attack Crockett Island so unexpectedly.

Soon enough, Paul joined you in the bathroom. You smiled when you heard him and bent over a little to feel the temperature of the water, deeming it perfect. The priest came up behind you and grabbed you gently by the shoulders, pulling you back and into him, finally wrapping his arms around your torso and burying his face into your neck. You curled your arms around his own and swayed with him softly into an nonexistent rhythm. You then turned around in his arms and grabbed his face, laying your forehead against his and staring deeply into his eyes. Without another word, he gave you another soft kiss to your lips and tugged at the hem of your t-shirt. You raised your arms and let him pull it up and over your head, your hands immediately going to the buttons of his shirt once they were free of the garment.

You continued undressing each other until you were completely bare and Paul wordlessly stepped into the bathtub, made himself comfortable, then reached a hand towards you. You took it and climbed right after him. Some minor adjustments later, you were leaning into him, your back against his chest with his arms once more enveloping you in their gentleness. “I love you,” you said again, your eyes closed. Your body was absolutely relaxed, as was your mind for once, and your heart sang with bliss. Paul left a trail of kisses on your neck and shoulders. “I love you too,” he whispered into your skin, “so much.”

—

“I’ve got one more thing” he said once you were finished with your bath and got out of the tub. “Hm?” you looked over to him a bit distracted, still drying your leg into one of your fluffy towels. “I’ve got one more thing for you. But I’m going to need you to close your eyes.” said Father Paul with a smile and stepped out into the hallway, naked like the day he was born. You smiled and closed your eyes, waiting for your lover to return. You heard footsteps drawing near again: “got them closed?” You hummed in affirmation. The priest grasped your shoulders again and walked behind you. Except he continued walking, making you walk too wherever he was leading you. “Stay there and keep them closed,” he stepped away and there was some rustling. You felt his presence behind you once more and jumped a bit when something cool touched your collarbone. Still, your eyes were closed. The cool feeling now spread around your entire neck, except the very back of it, where you felt Paul’s warm hands fiddling with something.

“Open your eyes,” he said against your ear and put his hands upon your shoulder again. You did and your gaze fell immediately to the little piece of jewellery that now adorned your neck. It was a thin silver necklace, plain, and its ends met in the middle of your throat, both of them connected to a single small angel’s wing. It was simple, with no complicated decor or grand stones, but it was the most beautiful necklace you have ever owned in your entire life. Looking at it and your own reflection in the mirror brought tears into your eyes and you covered your mouth. “Do you like it?” asked Paul. He too was observing you and himself in the mirror, and he sounded a bit worried at seeing your tears. You couldn’t speak and just nodded your head frantically, turning around to fall into his embrace again. You clang to him, wanting him to feel all of your love.

“I love it,” you said once you finally found your voice again, “it’s so beautiful. Oh, Paul, it’s so beautiful, thank you.” He just held you tighter. Once you’ve calmed down a bit, he took a hold of your face to look at you. He lovingly took in every part of your face which became so very dear to him and his eyes trailed lower, towards the necklace. “I hoped you’d like it. Made me think of you. My beautiful angel.” You caught his lips in a kiss filled with love and passion, pushing your tongue into his willing mouth almost right away, and your hands found their way into his hair. You kissed him desperately, adoringly, pleadingly, absolutely devotedly and he reciprocated in the same manner. When you had to part for breath, else you lost consciousness, you once again caught yourself in an intense eye contact. “I just realised,” you said dreamily and Paul hummed in question, “it’s Friday tomorrow. And you said masses except the Sunday one were cancelled.” Paul grinned at you wolfishly and the look sent shivers down your spine, and made your blood boil and rush into all kinds of places. “Due to bad weather, yes,” he said, his voice low, lustful, “thanks to bad weather, we’ve got the entire night. Just to ourselves.” And with that, he picked you up bridal style like you weighed nothing at all and carried you out of the bathroom.

—

Later, much, much later, you were lounging around in your bed, sipping on the champagne Father Paul ever so  helpfully brought from the bathroom, talking softly and in hushed tones. “So, how did I do?” he asked suddenly. Your cheeks just began to lose their flush, but it started to settle back in again immediately. “Oh,” you purred, “you know very well that you did wonderfully.” He chuckled and landed a very light slap upon your bum, making you squeal quietly, delighted and amused. “Not what I meant,” he said, smiling still, “I meant your birthday.” You tipped your head back in realisation and laughed, but then sat up and put your glass onto the bedside table. You tucked your head under his chin and curled into him like a happy tired kitten: “Best birthday ever. I mean that.” The priest smiled and ran his warm strong hand up and down your back, making you close your eyes in bliss. “I love you my angel,” he whispered then. “Love you too, dearest” you replied, your voice sincere, and huddled closer to him, as close as you could. You probably didn’t even realise it, but Paul noticed almost right away. Every so often, every few minutes even, your right hand would go to your throat, then your collarbone and lower, before finally resting against your heart with your fingers touching that little angel’s wing. And you would smile. And Father Paul, he smiled too.

I hope you enjoyed reading! As always, you can find this story and the entire series on AO3. I am always a happy little sucker for feedback!

.

[thee-achilles]

Please do a post on 8H stellium. I love your interpretations 🥺🥺

OF COURSE!! 8H stelliums are extremely interesting.

TW: mentions of darker themes. skip if uncomfortable. there will be a • by them.

8TH HOUSE STELLIUM TIDBITS

ft world-renowned d!lf and poontang master, toji.

alright.

i feel like stelliums in houses have lessons that come with them. while sign stelliums merely put a lot of that sign’s energy into a chart, a house stellium puts a lot of energy into the house the stellium occupies. so, lessons are a plus to this awesome stellium you’re sporting.

the eighth house is the house of transformation. other than transformation, it rules things like death (physical as well as metaphorical), sex, the taboo, secrets, handling other’s money, etc.

so, lessons of letting go and just letting life take its course could be evident here. every 8H stellium holds onto something, so the lesson here is to just relax. go into the unknown with a daring charisma. it’s bound to treat you well since so much of you is there already.

other things you may learn with an 8H stellium:

• keeping secrets to yourself. bitches be ruthless.

•putting yourself out there: you’re full of talent, go stunt on some bitches‼️‼️

•taking what you want: i feel as though because you are so hidden, if you portray a kind and loving persona, people have most definitely tried to take advantage of you. don’t let them. you’re INSANELY powerful and intuitive. you ooze what the kids on the tiktaks call, como sé dice, “girlboss”.

•LISTENING TO YOUR GUT FEELING. listen to her‼️‼️ she is loud and clear for a reason 😒 that’s your north star. go follow her with ease.

now that i have gotten lessons out of the way 🙄 here are some tidbits on the 8th house :)) these include observations as well as just astrological fact:

with an eighth house stellium, these individuals are very prone to be very private and keep things to themselves.

these people are the types of people who have little cool talents that they never talk about until they just do it one day, leaving people amazed and in shock.

may work in government systems, accounting, as a clerk, magic/spirituality, or the medical field.

they’re usually very good at looking at gory things without batting an eye, but they always have ONE thing that gets them. for my mother, nails. the sounds of you flicking them together, ripping them off, cleaning them... it just DISGUSTS her. she was in emt training and she was fine until that came up during one of her calls.

when they get angry, it drains all the energy in the room. like it physically gets cold. they also smile when they’re angry. 😭😭

•when it comes to sex, these people are very experimental. they aren’t afraid to try anything, but they won’t kiss and tell. they usually keep it to themselves. also if they want something, they aren’t afraid to use their body, but this doesn’t mean they’ll do it at any given moment. just as a “i mean if i have to 😒”. (fyi, you never have to.)

they’ve got this stare. their eyes are so hard to look into.

prone to utis and can’t hold their excretion for long periods of time 😭 this is a gross fact, but i’ve seen this in many 8H stelliums i’ve met.

they may be the one to deal with their parent(s)’s money when their parent(s) are older in age and may inherit the most valuable possessions.

great at managing other people’s money.

VALUES intimacy. and i don’t mean just intercourse. i mean like soft touches, doing little acts of service, putting someone’s jewelry on and having that little air of comfort in the quiet, laughing so hard with each other you could cry, etc. loves loves loves when you tell them things. anything really.

will take your secrets to the grave unless they have to tell someone for the protection of your well-being.

candles and short nails.

their skin tone stands out in some way. either super light, super dark, nice undertones, vitiligo, etc.

•may go through an extremely transformative experience before they find their true purpose. these experiences may include darker themes (abuse, drugs, toxic relationships, death, financial insecurity etc.) , but that doesn’t mean it’s GUARANTEED.

ex: my mom has an 8H stellium, but her NN is in the 4H in gemini at 14° (ruled by taurus). before my brother was born, she was in an extremely abusive relationship which she stayed in. that is, before she found out she was pregnant. my brother was my mother’s wake up call. she left him lived with her mother for a while. 18 months later had me with another man. they got married and then divorced and then she got a job working in a federal system (i won’t name for her privacy :)). her purpose was to have a family (4H) and create a stable home and foundation (14° taurus) for her two children (gemini). mind you, my brother and i share an ascendant, so the “twin” thing here is kind of emphasized.

may be the breadwinner of the house. MATERIAL GWORL💪💪‼️‼️

could have started working/saving money when super young.

feelings of being “exposed” or “not exposed enough”.

may prefer fostering children > actually having children because of birth process, relationships, monetary purposes (like medical bills), because of empathy for people in darker situations, as well as other things.

loves buying things for their home or just to decorate in general.

gives advice with a lot of inner insight and wisdom. you don’t expect it either and it just.. shocks you a bit tbh.

thank you so much for your ask. it makes me happy to know you love my interpretations!! i hope you enjoyed. have a fantastic day!! :)) <33

©thee-achilles 2022

[jikookiekosmos]

Classified & Confidential || kth (Part 1)

➥Pairing: detective!taehyung/reader

➥Summary: It’s been years since your close friend passed away, case going cold due to lack of evidence. You never once believed the story the police gave you, since they classified it under an ‘unfortunate accident.’ Now that there are telltale signs of something similar at play regarding someone else you hold dear, you decide to take things into your own hands. You hire world renowned private detective, Kim Taehyung. And he goes above and beyond everything you expected.

➥Genre: strangers to lovers (kinda slow burn), detective au, mystery, angst, eventual smut, fluff

➥Rating: 18+

➥Words: ~7.1k

➥Content Warnings: detective/mystery au, (tw: mentions of death, brief mention of suicide in relation to a criminal case, implied foul play, stalking behavior, non-graphic detailing of a crime scene), slight forensic talk, mentions of nervousness and anxiety, some cursing, mentions of cops/police, unhelpful law enforcement (like they’re kinda terrible with the whole solving this case thing), feelings of unease and tension, we get bestie hoseok, tae is kinda extra but for good reason, no suggestiveness/smut in this chapter but it’s still 18+ due to it involving some of the aforementioned warnings

A/N: This will be a multi-part series that explores some darker themes, and each part will have appropriate content warnings listed; please read at your own risk. This part touches on backstory and introduces the characters, things will start getting a little more intense in the following chapters. I don’t have any kind of specific update schedule but ideally I’d like to get updates out every few weeks at the latest! I hope you look forward to this, and if you wanna be added to a taglist, please let me know~

Thank you @dntaewithluv​​​​ for your constant motivation and support (and for always beta-reading for me, even when we scream at each other about our ideas); hopefully I do Tae justice for you! I love you lots ❤️

taglist: @inlovewiththemoonn @mwitsmejk​ @bangtanhome

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

5 Years Ago

The night sky was dark, blanketed by stars as it emitted a peaceful aura. There was no way to bask in the calmness of the night, however, with all the hustle and bustle that surrounded you outside of the apartment complex.

Crime scene tape marked off the area, and many onlookers had gathered to try and get a glimpse of what happened. You were one yourself, but you weren’t there out of sheer curiosity.

Your breathing was ragged, staggered, as you tried to hold yourself together and observed the scene in front of you unfold.

Police wouldn’t let you beyond the tape, despite knowing the person currently covered by the white tarp.

Minutes prior, one of the cops had been politely trying to hold you back as you thrashed around, mind muddled by the vision of your best friend’s face before the tarp concealed it.

“I’m sorry, we can’t let anyone unauthorized come past this tape, please stay where you are.”

“You don’t understand, that’s my best friend, please let me through, please-”

You couldn’t control the volume of your screams, prompting a few of the other bystanders to try and calm you down seeing as you were very clearly distraught.

An unknown amount of time passed before the thickest part of the crowd decided they’d had enough excitement for one night, retiring to their own homes. You stayed planted in your spot, prepared to not move until you got more of an explanation for what was going on.

You’d resigned yourself to the fact that if someone wanted you to leave, they’d have to do it by force, but you eventually complied after two cops convinced you to come down to the station and issue a statement, given your relation to the victim.

They didn’t grill you hard, which was something you appreciated at the time, since you were really in no state to handle a grueling interrogation. You knew you could be marked down as a potential suspect, but everything from their investigation pointed to them believing it had either been an accident or a possible suicide attempt, the latter of which would almost entirely exclude your involvement.

Over the next few weeks, you cooperated with the investigation and helped them with whatever leads you could provide; you were determined that foul play was involved, because you knew your best friend better than anyone, and the story the cops were feeding you wasn’t adding up.

The theory as you knew it was this: she jumped from her apartment window, which was up a significant amount of stories, more than enough to kill a person. A potential suicide note was found at the scene on the nightstand by her bed, typed on a sheet of paper, so handwriting analysis wasn’t an option. The apartment was undisturbed aside from the window having been open.

It almost seemed like a cut-and-dried case, aside from one other small factor: unknown DNA from a hair follicle was found in the apartment alongside the victim’s own.

This didn’t surprise you…at first. You knew Ky had been perusing multiple dating apps and would often invite people over to her place after successful dates. But as far as you also knew, Ky hadn’t recently been on any dates, so there wasn’t a clear reason for that DNA to show up.

Ky had told you in the weeks leading up to her death that she was afraid someone had been following her around, and it unsettled her so much so that she deleted all the dating apps on her phone until she felt safe again.

Sadly, that day never came, and this fact alone caused the nagging suspicion of foul play to burrow itself even deeper into your subconscious.

Since the DNA was unknown, tracing it would be no easy task, but that didn’t stop you. Anything you could do to shed light on what had actually occurred, you were going to do it, plain and simple.

Which is why when the police decided to close the file on the case and label it as an ‘unfortunate accident,’ you were floored.

You begged them to keep focusing on leads when there really weren’t any, offering to aid in any way you could because there was no way that there wasn’t something missing.

Their response?

“Go home, Y/N, there’s nothing else you can do.”

You left the station that day only after you had caused somewhat of a scene, arguing back and forth with one of the lead detectives until you were ‘carefully escorted’ outside. Enraged, you banged your hand against the glass of the door before you slid down the wall beside it, hugging your knees as you tried to compose yourself.

You weren’t sitting that way for long before you felt a gentle tug on your sleeve. You looked up reluctantly and were met with one of the softest pairs of eyes you’d ever seen.

The stranger offered you a kind smile, one that made your heart ache in the aftermath of everything you’d endured the last several weeks. You’d been tackling this situation all on your own, with barely any help from mutual friends or Ky’s family since she’d been estranged from them.

But now, this man stooped down in front of you and smiling at you like everything would be alright…

It almost made you want to believe it.

“Hi, I uh, couldn’t help but overhear about your situation,” he finally spoke up, sounding somewhat bashful. He had bright red hair that peeked out under a cap he wore, and he was sporting a rainbow colored sweater.

A tinge of embarrassment fluttered through you. “Oh. Sorry you had to witness that.”

So this random stranger heard you telling off the police by yelling at them in broad daylight. Way to make a first impression.

To your surprise, he simply shook his head, smile widening. “No, don’t be sorry! I was, uh – happy to be able to listen.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Ok…may I ask why?”

“Well,” there was that bashful tone again, hand flying to the back of his neck as he looked to the side, “I’d been coming up here for a while, hoping to hear something regarding this case specifically. Usually when I stop by, there isn’t much going on and it’s not like I can just walk in and ask for classified information-”

He stopped speaking immediately once you held up your hand. You didn’t want to be rude, but you were thoroughly confused.

“Is there a reason why you’re eavesdropping for information about this case?”

He nodded eagerly. “Sure is! See, I’m working as a crime reporter, and-”

You scoffed as you pushed yourself to a standing position. “Unbelievable.”

Without sparing another glance to the gentleman, you shouldered past him, earlier hopeful mood soured by the fact that he was just another person looking for a scoop about Ky’s demise.

He was quick to follow, almost jumping down the steps to catch up to you.

“Hey, wait! Please.”

The way he begged pulled at your heartstrings because of how genuine he sounded, and for reasons beyond you, you turned around to face him and decided to hear him out.

You crossed your arms as he sighed with relief.

“Thank you. Ok, to start with, I’m a crime reporter, but I’m not trying to report on this case as everyone knows it.”

Another eyebrow raise from you. “What do you mean?”

The man smiled shyly, brushing away the red hair in his eyes. “I want to bring the injustice of the system to the public’s attention.”

That got your attention. “You do?”

“Yes. And I think your story could help with that.”

“My story?”

He nodded again, this time more eager than the last. “You’re pretty adamant that what happened to your friend was no accident, am I correct?”

Any mention of Ky caused the dull pain in your chest to come back, but at least this time, she wasn’t being mentioned in a gruesome or negative light.

“Yeah, I really don’t think it was an accident. But no one believes me.” You looked down at your shoes, scuffling one against the pavement.

You only looked up again when you felt the stranger’s hand on your shoulder.

“I believe you.”

All of the breath was knocked out of you.

“You…you believe me?”

The smile he gave you this time was bright and sincere as he dropped his hand by his side. “I do. I’ve been following everything posted online or in the newspaper about this case, and some of it just really does not seem plausible. And then after hearing you today, it made so much sense as to why.”

It still bothered you a bit that you were loud enough in the station to be heard outside, but that worry was now being overshadowed by the possibility of having someone else who could stand by you on your conviction.

“It…really means a lot to me that you would even consider my side of things. Truthfully, I think the police only tolerated me this long due to protocol.” You wrapped your arms around yourself.

The red-haired man grimaced at your remark. “Yeah, no kidding. For as long as I’ve been in this line of work, I don’t think I’ve ever seen them take things as seriously as they should.”

“How long have you been doing this?”

“About a year. But trust me, I’ve seen a lot during that time.” His determined expression might have made you giggle under other circumstances because it clashed so much with the rest of his soft demeanor.

“I don’t doubt it.” You walked over to the nearby bench seated a few feet away and the stranger followed hesitantly, only sitting beside you when you didn’t give him any indication his presence was unwanted.

The both of you turned toward each other slightly before you spoke up again.

“So, how can I help you with what you’re wanting to do?”

He seemed pleased that you were on board, eyes shining. “For starters, do you think I could interview you? I’d have to ask some sensitive questions, but I feel like I could have a better understanding of the case that way…only if you’re comfortable, though.”

You swallowed as you thought it over. Your participation in the numerous interrogations during the investigation had now proved to lead nowhere, but maybe this time the outcome would be different.

“Sure, I don’t mind. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, to the best of my ability.”

The stranger beamed, looking happy enough to nearly jump out of the bench, despite the current subject matter. “Great!”

His cheerful nature was a little infectious, you had to admit, because you already started to feel a little lighter in his presence. A hand appeared in your line of vision.

“My name is Hoseok, by the way. We haven’t been properly introduced yet so that would be the next best step, I think.”

You did giggle this time at his action. “Nice to meet you, Hoseok. I’m Y/N.” You took his hand into your own to give it a small but firm shake.

“It’s my pleasure, Y/N. Now,” he regarded you with that same soft look he had in his eyes when you first saw him at the station, “what do you say we discuss some logistics over lunch? My treat, of course, since you’re agreeing to help me.”

For the first time in ages, the smile that graced your face was wholeheartedly genuine. “Sounds good.”

Thus, the beginning of a beautiful, long-lasting friendship bloomed that day outside of the one place you’d begun to loathe more than anything else. Over the next few years, Hoseok stood by your side in more ways than you could count, and he was now someone you considered to be one of the best friends you’d ever had.

One of the only best friends you’d ever had.

What you never expected was to be seated with Hoseok at the same diner that started your initial conversation about Ky’s case 5 years later, discussing something much too similar for your liking.

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

Present Day

You sipped from your coffee mug, enjoying the warm beverage as you waited at the diner. The weather had been less than ideal, with rain pouring all day long and displaying little signs of stopping.

But Hoseok had been adamant about the two of you meeting up after your voicemail you left the previous night.

As you were thinking about your close friend, you heard the bell above the diner door ring, signaling his arrival. He spotted you across the room and quickly rushed over to your table, leaving rain droplets in his wake.

Hoseok shrugged out of his soaked jacket and tossed in into the booth seat beside him as he shook his head to – hopefully – rid himself of the water trying to slide down his face.

“Hey,” he finally breathed out once he was settled. His usual wild red hair was darker now thanks to the rain, stern expression plastered onto his face.

“Hey.” You responded meekly, attempting to give him a weak smile. Your stomach was churning with unease at the conversation you were about to have.

Hoseok took a deep breath before he folded his hands together and rested his elbows on the table. The coffee you’d ordered for him had been pushed to the side, momentarily forgotten.

He lowered his voice. “Are you sure the pattern of behavior is the same?”

You nodded slowly, going over all the details again in your mind. “I’m positive. The only difference is Yuri waited longer to tell me that she thinks she’s being followed than Ky did.”

Ky. Not a day went by where you didn’t think about her, seeing her smiling face when you would close your eyes at night and try to drift off to sleep.

Slumber came much easier these days than it did those first few months, but every now and then the same nightmare would plague you about the night you saw her on the sidewalk.

You shook your head to shrug the thoughts away. Now wasn’t the time.

“Shit,” Hoseok finally responded. “That doesn’t seem like good news for us.”

“My thoughts exactly. Who knows how long this has been going on. And she’s been receiving the same kind of ‘gifts’ Ky would get, too. Random text messages, voicemails from unknown numbers…she tries to brush it off, but I know this scares Yuri.”

“She doesn’t recognize who’s speaking in the voicemails?”

You shook your head solemnly. “No, they’re using some sort of voice modifier.”

Hoseok cursed again, this time under his breath. “Well, what do you want to do?”

You gulped. Truthfully, you didn’t know the answer yourself. On the one hand, everything currently happening to your friend mimicked what happened to Ky, almost exactly. But on the other hand, Yuri made it known time and time again that she thought you were too paranoid for your own good sometimes.

So, you were at a loss.

Yuri and you were close, in a sense. You’d been friends for the last 4 years, working at the same company after graduating from college and even getting transferred to a new one in the same division so as to not be separated. Outside of Hoseok, you considered her your dearest friend.

But at the same time, you knew that Yuri had those she held very dear in her own life that were there before you, and you’d never try to overstep.

Still…the events surrounding Yuri were too specific to be coincidental in your opinion, and if the hunch you had right now was correct, you needed to do something.

You wouldn’t – you couldn’t – let another person die. Not if there was some way for you to prevent it.

Something you didn’t do with Ky, and that would haunt you for the rest of your life-

Hoseok pulled you out of your thoughts by calling your name, frowning deeply once your gaze focused on him again.

“I…I don’t know. I feel like if I push too hard on this, I’ll also push Yuri away, and I don’t want that.” You worried at your bottom lip, your most infamous nervous habit.

“Be that as it may, this doesn’t seem like something you should ignore either. What’s worse: pushing her away but potentially saving her life, or not saying anything and she ends up in danger?”

A heavy sigh wracked through your body.

Your silence was enough for Hoseok to continue with his own line of thinking. “Well, we could consider going to the police-”

“Absolutely not,” you answered fiercely, with more emotion than you’d displayed the entire conversation, “not after how they handled everything with Ky and how they treated you.”

You and Hoseok had made a name for yourself throughout the town as ‘Public Enemies 1 and 2’ with the local police department. You, due to your persistent insistence that they were wrong in their deduction about Ky, and Hoseok because of the article he published that shamed their name.

The article was the first – and last – one that he published under the company that had hired him to be a reporter, seeing as the police department had enough sway to get him fired afterwards. He wasn’t able to find another reporting job anywhere within the town or those surrounding it.

There also weren’t any remaining records of the article anywhere online or in paper publication, but as a ‘fuck you’ to the department, Hoseok had a copy of it printed and hanging up on his wall for anyone and everyone to see. You had always admired how he handled the situation with grace even though it made your blood boil every time you thought about it.

Even so, some good had come from the whole ordeal. After failing to find another reporter job, Hoseok had made a somewhat notable career as a crime novel author, popular among locals because of how he came to be a novelist, and eventually rising to fame due to his own amazing writing skills.

He enjoyed his career and had a happy life, but that didn’t mean you had to forgive and forget the shitty events that happened to get him to that point.

Hoseok nodded in understanding. “Ok, so no police. Does that mean we try to tackle this whole thing by ourselves?”

“Neither of us have any legit experience with this kind of stuff, so that’s out of the question, too.”

Hoseok tapped his chin as he pondered another idea. The way his eyes lit up as it came to him made your lips curve upward.

“What if we go to someone who isn’t involved with the police but does have experience with that?”

“…not sure I’m following you.”

Hoseok huffed in an endearing way. “Have you ever heard of a private detective?”

The word ‘detective’ made you wince, considering your last encounter with one evolved into a screaming match…but it was also how you met Hoseok, so there’s a silver lining for everything.

“I’m not familiar with a private detective, but I’m open to listening to your idea.”

He grinned. “Perfect. Ok, so in my research for my latest novel, I actually ended up looking into some real-life private detectives.”

“And what did you find?” Your own curiosity was definitely piqued now, as it always was when Hoseok would talk about something so passionately.

“There’s one who’s basically world renowned, like he’s really fucking good. And his office isn’t too far from here, it’s basically in the next town over.”

You took another sip from your coffee, swirling the now lukewarm liquid around in your mouth as you contemplated.

“What else do you know about him?”

Hoseok’s shoulders slumped slightly at that. “Not much. The only information I have on him is his name and how you can contact him. From what I’ve read, he seems to be pretty selective with clients.”

“No idea what he looks like?”

Hoseok shook his head. “None. There weren’t pictures or anything like that, I’m not even sure how old he is.”

You hummed as you pictured this mystery man in your head, automatically defaulting to envisioning an older man, maybe in his 50s with already graying hair. A wise old soul who had seen so much in his long years of investigation work.

“Not like all that really matters, I guess. Do you think I should reach out to him?”

Hoseok nodded around his coffee cup before he tilted his head back to take a large sip. “That’s our best shot right now. And if it doesn’t work out, at least you tried.”

Such a simple statement but it made your stomach twist at the memory of Ky and how you weren’t able to save her because you didn’t know how. “Right.”

Hoseok pulled his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through what looked like Google search results. When he found what he was looking for, he texted you the information.

“Kim Taehyung?” You said the name aloud, making sure you got the correct info.

“Yup, that’s him. If you do decide to contact him, let me know how it goes, ok? I’m already worried as is about you delving into something like this again.”

You patted his hand. “I know, Hobi. Don’t worry. I’ll be careful, and I’ll keep you updated as much as possible.”

He smiled brighter than the sunshine. “That’s all I can ask for, bub.”

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

You paced around your apartment, staring at the text that Hoseok had sent you earlier. The rest of your time with him at the diner had been calm and helped to quell your nerves, but now that you were alone again, you were riddled with anxiety.

You had typed in this Kim Taehyung’s number into your phone, ready to call him and just get it over with. The worst he could do is decline your ask for help, but you wouldn’t know unless you tried.

After a few more minutes of useless pacing, you finally hit ‘send’ and raised the receiver to your ear.

You were met with an answering machine almost immediately, wondering if maybe you typed it in wrong until you heard ‘you have reached the number for Kim Taehyung.’ The name had been uttered by a human voice, one that was deep and took you off guard.

You had barely enough time to ponder over the voice before you heard the tell-tale ‘beep’ signaling for you to start your message.

“Oh! Um, hello, Mr. Kim. This is Y/N- well my name is Y/N. I was referred to you by a friend of mine who said you may can help me with a situation I’m having. There’s…some suspicious behavior involving someone dear to me and I’m afraid they could be in danger, but I’m not sure who to turn to. I-If you’d like to give me a call back, you can reach me at this number…”

You finished your voicemail with your contact information before thanking him and wishing him a goodnight. Once you pulled away your phone, you checked the time.

10:36 PM. No wonder you got his answering machine.

The anxiety that had settled down while you were leaving your message started to come back, so to combat that you made the decision to go ahead and get ready for bed. There wasn’t anything else you could do right now, anyway.

You texted Yuri just to wish her a goodnight, and when you received a response almost immediately, you breathed out a sigh of relief. At least she was alright and that was one less thing to worry about for now.

You didn’t dream that night – which was a blessing in its own right – as you thought about the deep timbre of the voice from the answering machine. You’d only heard it briefly, but it left enough of an impact, that was for sure.

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

You awoke around 8 AM, your typical time no matter what day it was. It was the weekend, so you could get more sleep if you wanted, but a quick check of your phone had you sitting upright at a record speed.

[Unknown] 6:28 AM: I got your voicemail. If you want to discuss your case, meet me at this address.

Your heart thumped faster as you re-read the words over again. The following message had an address attached, and when you opened it, you noticed how it was for the neighboring town.

With all of the context clues, and taking into account everything Hoseok told you yesterday, you figured that it was Mr. Kim who had texted you. Obviously it would be from an unknown number, and he wouldn’t give out any explicit personal details to lead back to him; that’s just how he did things, as Hobi had mentioned.

And if he contacted you back, that meant he was interested in helping you!

Well…he was interested in hearing you out, at least. Still, you wouldn’t pass up on this opportunity. You quickly crafted a response before you started to make yourself presentable.

[y/n] 8:03 AM: Thank you! When should I meet you?

You had just finished brushing your teeth when you heard your phone chime again.

[Unknown] 8:06 AM: Whenever is best for you. I’ll be here all day and don’t have any other clients lined up.

You clutched your phone to your chest. This was really happening.

Once you were done getting ready to head out, it was just past 9 AM. You called Hobi to let him know what you were doing, and his excitement was tangible even through the phone. He urged you to keep him posted about all the details, which you assured him that of course you would.

The drive to the address you’d been given didn’t take too long, maybe around 20 minutes or so. What surprised you when you arrived, though, was the outward appearance of the building.

It looked abandoned, for lack of a better term, and you checked the text message 3 more times to make sure this is where you were supposed to be.

[y/n] 9:28 AM: I’m here…but I’m not sure if this is the correct place?

There was an eerie feeling settling in your stomach as you waited for a response. Maybe this had been some sort of trick? Had someone set you up?

The sound of a deadbolt clicking grabbed your attention, and the door a few feet in front of you opened up to display an older woman. At first, she seemed a bit disgruntled at having an unexpected guest, but before you could apologize for intruding, her gruff expression was replaced with a warm smile.

“I take it you’re Y/N?”

You gulped and nodded, placing your phone back into your jacket pocket.

“Follow me.”

She turned on her heel to walk back into the building, not bothering to wait and see if you would obey. You quickly scurried after her, only stopping once you were a foot or so behind.

You walked through about 3 or 4 different hallways, trying to remember the directions you’d taken but failing miserably. There wasn’t much to this building…you saw what appeared to be a few offices here and there but otherwise, not much else.

“Here we are,” the woman croaked, gesturing with her arm to a much nicer looking door that had gold lettering on the window.

The etchings were bold, and it was very evident where you were as you read the words:

KIM TAEHYUNG

Private Detective

The older woman rapped on the door 3 times with her knuckles before she walked off. You were standing there, dumbfounded, until you heard a voice softly telling you to come inside.

The doorknob clicked easily under your hand, and as you entered the room, you were in awe of how different everything looked.

The office was tidy and, dare you say, extravagant compared to what surrounded it outside of this room. There were two brown leather couches that had a decent sized coffee table seated in between them; further into the office, you saw the same type of leather chairs, one in front of and one behind a large wooden desk. You also spotted a few plants that looked to be well taken care of, one sitting in a windowsill and the other on a small table next to some black filing cabinets.

Whoever had designed this room clearly had a knack for matching furniture together, because it all meshed well and you appreciated the sleek look to everything.

Your eyes ended their scan as you looked over to the far wall, almost letting out a gasp when you noticed the figure across the room whose back was turned to you.

When you softly shut the door, the other person in the room turned around. It took you a second to start thinking properly again, because he was not at all how you pictured he would be.

For starters, he looked much younger than you thought originally, closer to your own age, which you thought was admirable considering his high status as a detective. He had brown hair parted down the middle that was slightly wavy, with bangs covering his forehead. He had very handsome facial features as well, some of the most handsome you’d ever seen, if you were being honest with yourself.

He was wearing dark jeans and a shirt with black and white print that was hidden underneath a black leather jacket. Everything about this man seemed to scream fashionable and it was throwing you for a loop. You weren’t trying to stereotype him based on your own experience with detectives in the past, but he was just…so not what you expected him to be.

You were wondering again if this might be a prank, until he finally spoke up and acknowledged your presence.

“Y/N, is it?”

You nodded dumbly, scrambling to walk across the office as he motioned to the chair in front of his desk. He sat down in his own once you were close enough, and you shrugged out of your jacket before following suit.

There was a moment of silence between the two of you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, you felt small under his scrutinizing gaze. He was leaning on one elbow, chin resting in his palm as he stared at you with intensity.

He spoke suddenly, almost making you flinch with surprise.

“So, you mentioned a friend of yours might be in danger?”

You nodded, not sure what to say or if you should say anything.

“Does this friend know you’ve come to a private detective about their situation?”

You opened your mouth, closed it, and opened it again. “Well…no.”

The man nodded, more to himself than you, it looked like. “Alright. That’s not an issue, just have to cover all the basics first.”

“What do the basics entail?”

He seemed amused by your interest as you took the initiative to ask questions now.

His fingertips drummed along the desk, a rhythmic sound that you found to be oddly soothing.

“It entails me finding out as much about your case as I’m willing to before I decide whether or not it’s something I can assist you with.”

He started twirling a pen with his unoccupied fingers, clearly waiting for you to speak first again before he continued.

“What do you want to know?”

“Anything you feel is pertinent to tell me.”

You sighed. “Well, to start with, I think my friend is being followed by someone-”

“Proof?”

You frowned. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Do you have proof? Does this friend have pictures or a video of them being followed, or is it just a feeling?”

“To my knowledge…no. It’s more that they sense it than have actually seen it.”

“And you want me to find out if this is happening or not?”

“Um…yes?”

It was his turn to sigh this time. “You don’t sound very confident in your answer, Y/N.”

His tone rubbed you the wrong way. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What it means,” he broke off to look away from the pen to your face again, “is that I need to know what it is you want from me before I can agree to help you.”

You were catching onto his game now. He wanted you to very specifically lay it all out for him, instead of leaving him to figure it out by grasping at straws.

“Well, Mr. Kim-”

“Taehyung.”

“Sorry?”

“Taehyung. You can call me that, if you want. I’m not super big on formalities for myself.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek. Why was his presence so overwhelming?

“With all due respect, Mr. Kim, I’ve never done this before. All I know is something isn’t right, and I don’t trust the police to offer assistance in the way I need.”

You swore you saw something flash in his eyes.

“Why don’t you trust the police?”

You crossed your arms and leaned more into the chair. “The last time I worked with them, it didn’t end well.”

“You’ve worked on the force?” He almost sounded impressed.

“No, sorry, poor choice of wording. I tried to help them with a case before.”

“Ah,” his eyes narrowed as he busied himself with the pen again. “Were you a suspect, or?”

“I was close to the victim,” you said softly, almost a whisper.

For a moment, his expression softened. “I’m so sorry.”

You shrugged, inhaling a shaky breath as you looked at your lap. “It’s fine. Just…there’s your answer. I don’t want to work with them again, so I came to you.”

“If I’m able to take your case, I’ll make sure you don’t regret that decision.”

His tone had you picking your eyes back up. You noticed a fire within his own, one that made you feel like he meant every single word he’d just said to you.

“Thank you.”

He carded a hand through his hair, the action drawing your attention to the silver watch that adorned his wrist.

“Can I ask…could you tell me about the case you were involved with?”

A slow nod from you. “If it’ll help, I can do that.”

He motioned for you to continue. As you started telling him the details, you noticed as his eyes widened. At one point, he politely interrupted you.

“Sorry, just – I remember that case. You were involved with that?”

“Yes.” You were twisting your hands together in your lap. “Ky was my best friend.”

“And the police just let the case go cold, without considering all traces of evidence?”

“I begged them not to, but there wasn’t much I could do. They made that known several times,” you trailed off. You thought you heard some semblance of a growl coming from the detective.

“I always knew something was weird about that…every report they published made no sense, and none of the pieces of evidence seemed to corroborate their theories.” His hushed tone suggested he may have been talking more to himself, but you didn’t question it.

“There were signs of suspicious behavior leading up to her death that they never considered, and any time I tried to bring it up, I was shut down immediately.”

“Are these ‘signs’ something you’re noticing now, with your other friend?”

“Yes, exactly.”

Taehyung hummed. “I see. You want to inspect this before it gets out of hand, so you came to me because the police are a lost cause.”

You nodded feebly, voice softer than ever when you spoke again. “I don’t want to see another person die.”

“You won’t.”

His answer startled you, even if it was as quiet as your own. Your eyes met briefly before he started looking anywhere but your face.

Another hush befell the room, and this one seemed more awkward than the last, considering Taehyung cleared his throat before he rifled through one of his desk drawers.

“Before you tell me anything else, I need you to look over something first.”

“Sure, whatever I need to do, I’ll do it.”

A crooked smile tugged at Taehyung’s lips. “You know, you’re a lot more obedient than most of my other clients.”

You…weren’t sure how to take that.

“I am?”

“Yeah. Most of the time they come in with demands and don’t like to listen when I push back on something. It’s part of the reason why I’ve gotten choosier about who I decide to do business with these last few years. But you,” he fished out a piece of paper from the drawer, “are proving much easier to work with. I appreciate that.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

He chuckled, the sound low. “You’re also way more polite than most people I encounter.”

You smiled at him for the first time. “I’m grateful you’re taking the time to hear me out.”

His eyes lingered on yours for just a second before shifting down.

“First and foremost,” Taehyung slid a piece of paper across the wooden desk that separated the two of you, “if we agree to do business, you’ll need to sign this contract. It lists my stipulations and services I can provide.”

You picked up the paper, not quite sure what to expect.

“Take your time to read over all of it carefully, just so everything is clear on both our ends.” He leaned back in his chair, the sound of squeaking leather breaking your concentration for a moment.

You scanned through every line, all of the contract terms seeming straight-forward and easy to agree to-

-but the last line caught your attention.

“Could you explain this last part, please?”

Taehyung leaned over to look at which line you were pointing to before he let out a soft chuckle. “Ah, that. My #1 most important rule. Never get involved with clients’ personal lives.”

“But don’t you have to sometimes?”

“For work, yes. But this is more referring to what happens outside of that. Things can get…messy.”

“You talk like that’s happened before.”

Taehyung smirked but offered nothing more to that specific conversation.

“So, are we in business?”

You didn’t have to ponder long before you signed the contract with a flourish. When you passed it back across the desk, Taehyung smiled.

“Perfect,” he stood up to shake your hand, “I’ll be in touch with you shortly, once I’ve reviewed your case.”

You returned the shake. “Thank you, Mr. Kim.”

He squeezed your hand once before letting it go.

“The pleasure is all mine.”

You waited to see if there was anything else he might need from you, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. He leaned down and sifted through his drawer once more, this time pulling out a Manila file folder.

“I use these to get the typical information needed for me to start my research. It just asks for client’s name and contact info, as well as a summary about what you’re wanting from me and other names of those involved. In this instance, it would be your friend. You can give me as little or as much info as you think I need.”

He handed the folder to you, and upon opening it up, you saw everything he had just mentioned to you on a sheet of paper stapled to the inside.

“I’d prefer you fill it out now so you can leave it with me, but of course I can’t force you to do anything.”

His tone suggested he was teasing, but you were quick to sit on one of the couches and begin filling out the paper. It didn’t take you very long, and when you were done, you noticed he was sitting on the opposite couch, elbows resting on his knees with his hands folded.

“Finished?”

You nodded as you slid the file across the coffee table, his pen placed on top. He accepted both and smiled at you.

“Alright, if that’s all you want to discuss, you’re free to go. As I mentioned before, I’ll be in touch with you after I’ve looked over everything and have some sort of plan on how to proceed. And of course, all of this information is strictly classified. You read that in the contract, but I always reiterate it anyway, due to some problems I’ve had in the past.”

“Of course.” You agreed with no hesitation. Honestly, you couldn’t fathom just how much he’s had to endure in his line of work, how many times he’s probably had to change locations and phone numbers.

Hell, Kim Taehyung may not even be his real name, and you’d never know.

“Any questions for me?”

You mumbled some form of ‘no’ as you shook your head. Taehyung walked over to the door to open it for you, and you certainly weren’t expecting the same woman from before to be out in the hallway, but there she was.

“Ms. Choi will show you out since this place is a bit of a maze,” his tone was light, a sheer contrast to the mood that had settled over the two of you from when you stepped into his office. “Don’t forget: I’ll contact you.”

“Yes, sir.” You couldn’t help the authoritative term as it slipped past your lips, and you walked through the door before you could see the look on his face. You thought you might have heard some sort of laugh from Ms. Choi as she escorted you back to the front, but your imagination liked to play tricks on you sometimes.

Besides, Taehyung said he wasn’t one for formalities, so it didn’t really matter that much, did it? He had to be older than you anyway…right?

You spent the entire walk through the building trying to justify in your head what had just happened, and Ms. Choi gave you a soft smile as she held the door open for you to leave.

When you settled back in your car, you gripped the steering wheel and took a deep breath, leaning your head back as you shut your eyes.

You still couldn’t quite believe that the last 30 minutes or so had happened. Taehyung had proven to be quite different than what you anticipated, but he was truthfully better than you could have hoped.

He seemed driven and motivated about his line of work, and the way he reassured you when you had your doubts-

-it made you feel…safe. Like this was a step in the right direction after all.

As you called Hobi to fill him in on everything during your drive home, you started to believe that maybe, just maybe, things would turn out alright.

⊱──────── ✬ ✬ ✬ ────────⊰

➥Part 2

➥Series Masterlist

➥All Works Masterlist

[elenamegan14]

Twisted Wonderland: Headcanons for Dorm Haunted Houses Pt.4 - Savannaclaw

MASTERLIST

Part 3

TW: Themes of Cannibalism and Gore in Haunted House. 

THE ATTRACTION:

Savannaclaw’s haunted house is centered on the Elephant Graveyard’s theme. Only darker and gorier.

It’s a “Cannibal” Rave Party where the menu on the house is… YOU!

Guests entered a large gate out of a giant mammoth skeleton amongst the rocky hills. Green lights and fogs shrouded them everywhere. Graphic animal carcasses and skeletons littered on every single step that the guests took around their haunted house. Dark Tribal and Progressive House music echoes all across the hills. 

As they climbed on top of the rocky hills, they saw a rave party being celebrated amongst the whooping Savannaclaw students, dancing amongst the strobe lights with a DJ on top of the hill. As they beckoned guests to come closer, they can see limbs, heads and organs splattered across the banquet table. Everyone is sporting a bloodied mouth, tribal tattoos and a nasty smirk as they tried to grab the guests by force. It was primal - many guests are quite spooked. 

Ruggie is the second-in-command of all the ‘predators’ and the saboteur of the team. His role is to sabotage the participants during the obstacle course as well as instructing the ‘predators’ to hunt as many participants as they can. He was wearing a hyena-themed like rave tribal outfit along with a mask made out of antelope skull. He accessorized himself with pieces of teeth and bones. 

After going through the mini haunted house, participants and guests were then escorted to the start lines where they were given each towel and water bottles to refresh themselves.  

It may not look like it, but Leona did put a bit of an effort to the dorm’s haunted house, only because it’s a chance for him to unleash his beastly side upon the poor guests and first-years. 

Their dorm’s haunted house is the most athletic one out of the dorms. Think of the Zombie Run or The Walking Dead Obstacle Course marathons, only this one has hungry predators chasing the hell after you. 

Of course, guests who are willing to be a little sporty tonight are allowed to participate in this interactive obstacle course, but while they went on a normal route, the students who took on the charm challenge are instead given a more difficult course. 

They’re selling the usual merchandise: t-shirts, flags, water bottles, and sports bands are quite popular but the most fast-selling items are their unique necklaces. And pictures of Leona. Rook and Vil hunted him down to pose per Ruggie’s request. The Crafts Club took this as a chance to show off their skills at making tribal accessories and keychains.

Leona’s costume evoked a sense of raw power - ripped off tribal-like punk-like leather with his black tribal tattoos and makeup. His teeth are bleached with red dye, to make it seem that he already ate up his ‘preys’ before and his stomach had room for seconds. 

Strangely, most of the female guests are willing to be captured by ‘Leona’ when they have to go through the ‘Predator’s Cove’, perhaps it was their strange kinks but who he is to deny when he plays along as their ‘king’. 

Actually, most ‘predators’ who already got romantic partners took this as an opportunity to play ‘predator and prey’ kink to a whole new level. They were responsible for the massive loss of participants because the participants themselves were willing to be ‘captured’ by the ‘predators’ to be ‘eaten’. Get it? -winks-

THE MISSION: 

Their mission for this haunted dorm is the same as the guests - they enter an obstacle course marathon challenge where they have to evade, survive and go through all the traps on this challenge. They will encounter ‘hungry predators’ along the way, so they have to make sure that the predators won’t mark them by smearing ‘blood’ on their shirt. 

They were warned that the predators would also ‘bite’ as well, which is a NO-NO in MC’s group case. 

Of course, the host is also considerate to tell that, since this is an athletic event, they have to carry a water bottle at all times to rehydrate themselves. Epel and Jack already brought more than ten bottles to reserve their stamina, and share it along with everyone on the team.

And of course, they were allowed to use their MagicPens to blast some magic limited only to this event to ward off the Savannahclaw “predators”. 

...well, they can try. Those ‘predators’ are fast as heck. 

MC’s group and the poor students run like the wind when the predators are unleashed. Only 55% of the participants remained. 

ANGRY RAVE MUSIC PLAYS ON THE BACKGROUND. 

Did I mention this is also an obstacle course as well? 

They got sticky floors, nets to go through, falling boulders, hidden pits, climbing the cliffs, tightropes, and...

“WHOSE IDEA IS IT TO PUT A CIRCUS FIRE RING IN THE OBSTACLE?! This is so randomly dangerous!” Ace yelled while putting out the fire on his butt. In Jack’s defense, he has no idea that they’re going to use HIS suggestion.

Epel went through the obstacles smoothly, even down to kicking a few Savannaclaw students. 

Ruggie got Grimm by his arms and he prepared to mark the poor flying feline, but Grimm being Grimm, decided to bite Ruggie’s hand instead. He dropped Grimm with a yowl, nursing his hand as he watched Grimm with vengeance on his eyes. 

But MC? Poor MC might be slow or their stamina is not as strong as the others, so they’re having quite difficulty in keeping up with the others. While they’re not looking, one student jerk enough to cheat tripped MC’s feet, causing the charm they got from Heartsyabul’s challenge to fly out. 

THAT DAMN STUDENT GOT THE CHARM. 

MC watched helplessly as his other friend held you back, laughing as they held the charm to defend themselves against the attacking Savannaclaw ‘predators’ as they left you at the mercy of the ‘predators’. 

Luckily, Grimm and Deuce came to your rescue by hauling your butt up as they blasted the predators back from ‘harming’ you. 

Ruggie’s sabotage team went nuts. They’re a hindrance to the students, like making them slipped on oil floor and banana peels, Ruggie using his magic to redirect some students to the wrong courses (or walls if he was feeling sadistic), putting low-level mines on their path that explodes (students blasting off like Team Rocket), trapping legs on bear-trap-like clamps and caused some students to get zapped by some electronic shocks to buy time for the predators to catch up to them.

Ace saw a familiar glint of the charm on one of the students. One look at it and he gets the gist of what happened. Ace gave that poor student a karma by tricking him to look down ("Hey! Your fly is open!”), causing that said student to panic out of embaressment and run into a wall of sticky web. Ace saunters back with a whistle, stealing the charm back and gleefully as that student is pounced by Ruggie and the ‘predators’. 

In the end, almost everyone made it. Still, no one complained and is happy that they’re still in one piece. 

Their last obstacle mission is quite simple: inside the den of predators, there’s a charm tucked right next to Leona. The students must creep amongst the sleeping predators WITHOUT waking them up. 

That sleeping part is Leona’s idea. 

Easy huh? Do you think that’s easy? It turns out that Savannaclaw had set up traps that guaranteed to make the poor students scream out of their wits. Five students found out the hard way when they stepped on a klaxon, got toy spiders rained down on them, and gas released on the nape of their necks. 

Finally, they decided to use a straw lot to determine which student should go down like a man to retrieve the charm. 

Spoiler alert: MC got it. Their group protested. 

BUT THEY DECIDED TO TAKE IT FOR THE SAKE OF FREEDOM. Touching tears were shed. 

Grimm decided to follow MC to make up for abandoning them in the first place - he will be the one who warned MC about possible traps. As they went in, they did not realize Ace was biting his nails and Jack gripped a boulder so hard that it cracked from the intense suspense. 

MC tried their best to endure everything - the cool jelly floating down their face, the spiders, the gas and even tickling feathers. They were screaming internally. 

When they finally reached the location, they found out that Leona is hiding the charm inside the jar that he holds. 

MC tries to lull him into a deep slumber by singing ‘The Lion Sleeps Tonight’. It actually works. No seriously. 

MC’s group also secretly joins it from outside. They make a good acapella. 

In the middle of the song, Leona unconsciously grabbed a hold of MC and put them on a tight hold hug as if MC is a dakimakura. Still, MC is got the guts to finish the song and escaped from Leona’s hold, holding the jar carefully on their chest. 

It all went well until Grimm and Ruggie happened. 

...hey, yeah. Remember the Emperor’s New Groove? The part where Kuzco pisses off a squirrel so the cute squirrel decided to get even with Kuzco by tricking him to wake the entire jaguars using balloons? Well, Grimm’s the Kuzco and Ruggie, being the little shit, IS the squirrel. Guess what happened next. 

“ROAAAAAAAAARRRRRR!!!”

“THAT DAMN RACCOON HAD WOKEN UP THE PREDATORS! RUN, YOU ASSHOLES!” 

They all run. MC seems to run the fastest. The students had no chance against the speed, power, and agility of the Savannaclaw students - they got “eaten” one by one. Most of them are Leona’s victims. 

“AAAAAAAAHHH! DON’T COME ANY CLOSER!” One of the students screamed as he tried to shoot Leona several times using his MagiPen, but failed due to Leona’s unbelievable speed. He got his “throat” ripped out.  

While they were running, another student body checks MC so hard that they lose their charm, prompting that students to roughly grab it before they do. 

“Thanks for the charm, loser!” That was his last words before Ruggie pounced on him from above, Epel hurriedly grabbed the charm before anyone could steal it back. When another student tried to fight Epel for it, he was rewarded with a serious eye poke from Epel, followed by a knuckle sandwich from Deuce that escalated into an actual scuffle. IT WAS WILD. 

Meanwhile, MC, is seriously cornered down by Leona who took this opportunity while they were down. “Nowhere to run, herbivore.” Leona gave MC a frightful smirk as he leaned down towards their doom. So MC was left with no choice but to do… THIS. 

They got down on one knee and reluctantly cringed as they said these words: “Please, Leona-senpai! I’m just a small, insignificant herbivore who wants to live! Therefore… Leona Kingscholar, will you do the honor of… -gulps- MARRYING ME?”

The shock that came from the participants and the ‘predators’ is enough to momentarily stop the chaos. 

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHHHHHHHH???!!!” Jack, Ace, Deuce, Epel, and Grimm simultaneously yelled. 

Leona just stood there dumbfounded. 

MC took the opportunity to book it before Leona could realize what’s going on. Once he does, he shrugged… AND CHASE THEM LIKE HELL. 

They barely made it to the exit gate. Leona snapped at them, but he couldn't do anything as the survivors celebrated their victory along with the other participants that escaped from the predators. 

MC apologized to Leona about the proposal. They were just scared at that time - any rationality that they had at time flew out when Leona almost got them, Leona-senpai is truly terrifying out there. Leona ate up the complement and seemingly forgives MC...

...but not before he licked MC’s neck as a warning. MC is left flushed - please do NOT do this, senpai! 

Some girls wanted Leona to lick them too. XD

The rest of MC’s group watched blank-faced. Jack had to slide you away from Leona’s gaze - there are people watching sir, please be reasonable. GOSH. 

They were tired, their breaths almost depleted, but they enjoyed it. It was fantastic - they feel reinvigorated, Savannaclaw may put their participants at risk, but it was the best fun they ever had. After resting for quite a while, they went on to their next dorm.

The scent of the sea and motor oil greets them in the first place. It’s time to enter the den of Octinanivelle’s haunted dorm...

TO BE CONTINUED...

Part 5

[bigscaryyanderewriter]

Pitchwoods and Darker Dismay (Part 4 of Dragonshifter Shouto x Reader)

I left a little choice at the end of this part and it is to encourage engagement! I'm excited to see what you will choose, because these choices will greatly alter the path of our story.p

Tw: yandere themes, blood

2.5k words

The mist that hung around clinging to your skin and the humidity thickened with the coming morning. Sero slept and you were left alone after you had calmed down. Denki was sleeping where you had been now, using the spot that you had essentially warmed for him.

At least everyone was getting rest, but it would be best if you woke one of them to help keep watch soon. Mina would be a good candidate. Your eyes feel heavy as you leaned up against the tree you sat by, the roots cradling you a bit. The thorns along the bark couldn't penetrate the cloak as you hummed quietly. The night so quiet and calm.

Then you heard it. It was a pulse, thudding and gushing. Like you were in the heart of a massive beast. Moving to sit up, you saw a movement, a strong smell in the air. Like the trees intensified, like they were oozing and looming. Caging you. It hadn't occurred to you that your breathing was heavier and your eyes were so heavy.

Everything began to feel fuzzy as you saw a dark form dart through the trees. Two forms… Your eyes were playing tricks on you. You tried to shake yourself awake, but it didn't make your head clear. It just made you dizzier as you called out, "Who's there?"

You heard a whisper below the light crackle of dying flames nearby. Quickly turning, you went to the sleeping group, but found nothing there. No fire, no sleeping warriors, no one. 

You looked back out into the forest. Where you finally saw him. The black cloak and purple hair beneath the hood caught your eyes as he came into plain view. His pale hand reaching out to you. When had he gotten so close? How hadn't you noticed...

Your eyes looking down to the slightly sharpened nails before they touched your cheek, trailing to your jaw. His hand grabbed your chin and tilted it up, purple eyes looking beautiful in the night. Bags under his eyes adding complexity to his alluring features. Elven. A dark elf.. 

His mouth was moving, he was telling you something. 

"Tell me, what are you doing in this forest?" His voice commanding you and making you want to just nuzzle against him, tell him all your secrets.

"We're just- just passing through…" The voice that came out of you was hollow, not sounding like yourself at all. Your insides curl in on themselves. The sick ooze within you twisting like worms. 

"Where are you going?" He hummed, his eyes looking down on you with the tired appraising look. Examining you, sizing you up and staring into your mind almost. It left you trembling inwardly. Your inner self shaking like a terrified child.

"Somewhere safe for me, out east. Away from the Todoroki dragon territory." You told him the truth and it horrified you. 

"Interesting… Running from dragons or their followers?" 

"Shoto… A dragon. I need to get away from him..." That small voice from your mouth was quiet and sad. 

"Ah, a dragon. Even more intriguing. I will let you go now, but before I do… Your singing tonight was lovely and I would love to one day hear it again. Maybe you will no longer scream in the night when that day comes. My mentor almost wanted to strangle you when he heard it." The purple haired man chuckled. He was a dark elf. The very faint purple-gray tint of his skin and his pointed ears that sat under the hood. "I hope that you do not die." 

Your eyes stung and a warm tear dropped onto your hand, the spell broke. You jerked away and the purple haired man was gone. Stumbling, your head spun as you twisted to go back to Denki. To the group. The place where the little troupe had been sleeping...

You turned to see no fire, no signs of where you had been. Just the haunting forest. Looming black barked trees. You had to be close… Unless that man had spirited you away. There was never any walking or moving, but you only remembered look at him. Being under his control and focussing only on what he wanted you to focus on. You moved on through the trees, calming a bit, wrapping the yellow cloak tighter around you. It was warm and the lingering smell of the blonde who had lent it to you still clung to the fabric

You feel almost helpless as you walk on, not seeing the camp. A lump in your throat, unshed tears and a wish inside you to just collapse onto the autumn leaves scattered across the ground. 

The longer you walked, the more tired you got and you hadn't been exactly on a fuel tank when you had been whisked away. 

Your stomach growled as you walked on. Feet aching and eventually sweat falling from your face. The cold making you clammy. It was an uncomfortable sensation as you put your hand out to rest against a tree, pricking yourself on the thorns and yelping quite loudly at the pain. 

Blood now trickled down from the palm of your right hand and onto the already blood red leaves. Blending and mixing with it.  

You hissed, but you could taste something in the air. A familiar smell, it made you stiffen. It was smoke.

It was wood burning. You looking through the trees, gauging whether you were going to be walking into a forest fire or not, but you saw no smoke rising in heavy streams towards the sky. Just a single, small string on the blue of late morning sky.

You began to jog, despite your aching muscles that were already proving just how unathletic you were and how used you were to riding in the wagon. It was a bit pitiful. You were weak and you would have to work on getting stronger.

That was when you saw the fireplace built into the base of a tree and a table set for a feast. It would be alarming by itself, but two figures sat at the table. Seeming to have been waiting just for you. Food laid out in a sort of bounty. It all smelled delicious and would probably taste just as good. You knew not to take it immediately. You didn't know these elves.

And you would have recognized that purple hair anywhere. Fuck that guy.

The elf from last night. 

Your blood boiled a bit as you went to give him a piece of your mind and then the other male dark elf spoke.

"Would you like to sit down at the table? You're late. Sit across from Hitoshi." His tone was tired and it was like he was burdened by just being in your presence.

It was this moment that you noticed the large lower half of his body was that of a spider. A drider. Usually they were loners… You had bever met one or seen one, but you feel your blood running cold as you remembered every single horror story that you had heard about the species. Eating people, filling them with eggs, using them as unwilling incubators… Only to have their young hatch within you and eat you from the inside out! Maybe that was not a factual story, but the other things were highly unpleasant.

"I'm… Late!? How exactly does that make any sense? Didn't really get an invite." You growl before marching over to the table, slamming your injured hand onto it in a moment of irrational irritation. Crying out, you saw the crimson staining the white table cloth and you feel tears fall from your eyes. It hurt like a bitch. You regretted doing that, holding your hand close to you as it throbbed with pain. "Good Gods! Fuck..."

Neither of the men got up, but Hitoshi, the purple haired man from the night, looked up before going back to his glass of tea. 

It annoyed you that neither was phased. You moved to the seat and pulled it out. A plate sat at the spot, prepared for you. 

The dark haired man sighed, looking more than ready for you to leave, "Are you always this loud? You're getting blood on the table as well." 

He gestured to the stains on the table cloth, one currently forming beneath your hand. 

"It can be washed anytime, but my hand needs looked or else I may get an infection." You insist, showing the rather deep gash you had gotten from the thorn and the little scratches from others. The Drider looked at it and to Hitoshi. 

"That is a rather deep cut, go get something to help her."

He quickly got up and went to a box on a stump to pull out a needle and thread. The drider poured you a cup of tea as Hitoshi came over to you, reaching for your hand as you clutched it to your chest. Eyeing the needle wearily before he just held his own hand out, waiting for you to hand it over. 

The tea placed by you was the least of your concerns as Hitoshi went to stab you with the needle and paused. "You may want to drink some tea before I do this. It'll not hurt nearly as much."

"Wait, is it magic?"

"It's something."

Smartass.

You eyed it before taking it in your left hand to sniff it. Hitoshi not moving to stitch you until you drank it. It wasn't tea. It had a strong smell, like alcohol. That was definitely not something you put in a teacup. You coughed at the burning in your throat and tried to pull your hand away, but the needle pierced your flesh… You screamed out, the eyes of both men widening quite a lot as you swayed like a too tall stack of dirty dishes ready to shatter on the ground from being neglected to pile for too long.

You blacked out, face slamming into the table. 

When you woke up though...

Your body was on a pile of leaves. Some were scattered on you and late evening sun warmed you as it set in the distance. Groaning, you stretched. Pain went through your hand as you looked at the dried blood on you. On the yellow cloak as well. Guilt shot through you, knowing that you would have to give the cloak back dirty… If you ever saw Denki again. 

You were up with the tree that had been previously serving as a fireplace. And the table that had been there was gone. Only a fallen tree remained and it was littered with small white flowers growing on its dead bark.

Blood splattered part of it. You would think you hallucinated, but your hand was all stitched up. It was good stitching, but the pain was there. It looked like it had been cleaned while you were out and there was only relatively fresh blood on your hand. Liquid and clear ooze coming from the cut, at least you were going to start healing yourself. Sooner or later you would be back to grabbing things without pain. 

If you ever saw any of them again, really. They must be still looking for you. Wasting a day's worth of travelling because you were stupid enough to think you could handle guarding the ones who saved you by yourself. It was stupid to think you could.

The leaves were poking into your back uncomfortably, forcing you to get up. The joints in your legs popping when you stretched them out. It was a relief to have the sensation. A groan softly escaping you. The life in the forest was unseemly quiet as the sun set. It was unnatural. Even on the plateau, there was constant buzzing. Magic or insects, you couldn't tell really.

The sky was red and orange, full of rich color and beauty. Painted by an expert artist as the clouds drifted across the open air. Walking, you found you were lower into the valley than you had been prior to passing out. You could look up and see the looming ridges in the distance. Snow would cap them and ice would form over the creeks and streams. They would melt in spring and flow into the valley. Watering the inhabitants and blooming new life. 

It would be behind you before you knew it. You would be free. There was going to be an ending to this adventure and you hoped you never saw another dragon again. Something deep within you twisted with sadness at that thought, knowing that it was unlikely. An awful sensation within yourself at the idea of being doomed.

The trees were smaller as you went, less intimidating and ominous. More greenery littering the landscape as you left the pitchwoods. Black trees looming in the distance, foreboding as you would soon be forced out into the plains. Wide stretches and no coverage for you to use for protection. 

No more dark elves or driders, just lovely green forest. More pines going north as you changed your direction a bit, adjusting as you saw large rocks. Three in a semicircle and a couple stacked together. It looked like it had been built rather than formed naturally. Still, it was a relatively interesting sight. Curiosity overcoming you as you went to it. It could make a good camp for the night if nothing else.

You moved down to the rocks and your foot slid along the pebbles. Sliding down, you barely manage to keep your balance as you swiftly move to catch yourself with your uninjured hand the large rock on the edge of the forest. You look to see a small tent. You quickly did a double take. It was a camp. 

There was a campfire and various belongings. Bedrolls and a makeshift roof. Some group was living here. You could hardly stop the shiver that ran through you as you looked a bed laden with knives, all were spotless. Though, you heard and saw the buzzing of flies as they circled something behind the cot. 

A large discarded bowl of meat, uncooked and bloody. It wasn't rotten. It made you shiver at the sight, knowing that whoever had been here was recently cleared out by something or someone. 

A pile of dust got picked up slightly by the wind and it was then that you noticed some of the things were turned over and scattered. No one had cleaned up or they had gotten into a scuffle. 

A torn scrap of bloody cloth sat on the ground, slightly scorched.

You moved over to the fire and made to touch the ashes. They were warm. Now your hand was covered in ashes. Dipshit.

Wiping them on a bedroll, you frowned and stared out at the rolling hills with trees dotted along them. You could could continue into the forest, or you could rummage through the camp… There was a twinge of guilt at the thought of stealing, but you had nothing. The forest was not likely to be as plentiful as this opportunity before you and it most definitely would lack a fire. Plus night was coming. You would need to sleep… Where would you sleep?

Are you going to stay here at this camp? 

Or

Go in the forest with nothing?

[savinscripts]

Part II (TALK #1) TW: Implied self harm, trauma, murder

For a long time after her visit, Fane stood staring at the door wondering over Faye’s words. Words which sparked a simmering anger in him, what did she know? She didn’t, and if he had his way she wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Because how could any of them not loathe him for what he did to them and what he put them through?

It made no sense. Why wouldn’t they hate him with a burning passion? They all had cause to do exactly that.

But it was what it was, and what else could he do? Finally, he left the spot by the door and headed out back in search of a very strong drink. He was going to need it.

---------

The weeks came and went, most days relatively the same as Fane continued to unpack the bits and pieces with the first few shipments coming in; rare and curious items from all around the globe he’d managed to acquire for his customers. Entirely above board, not to say backroom dealings didn’t occur but they were done with such meticulous discretion and intermediaries none of which Fane handled directly. Though even Fane noticed the presence of Auror’s and extra forms he was forced to sign with almost every legitimate transaction he conducted to completion.

But as the time went by, there was no sign of Faye or Tuah, who had promptly introduced his fist to his face before leaving. The only person who even seemed… happy to see him was Maya who he had sought out more recently rather awkwardly turning up on the doorstep of her clinic feeling utterly uncomfortable in his own skin to say hello. But even he could tell she had some opinions about everything. Despite his best efforts to focus on work and any other distraction he could find, there was no helping the fact that the sheer coldness he’d received from practically everyone had left him feeling… Well, nothing positive even with the company he did manage to get. The stress and anxiety it brought left him feeling too tired some days to even get out of bed let alone do normal tasks… He just felt, disheartened.

To the point he was seriously considering packing up again, other thoughts crossed his mind, darker and far more permanent ones. No one wanted him here anymore. They had all made that clear enough. So what was the point in kidding himself? What even was the point?  It wasn’t like any of them cared what happened to him.

His visit to Maya involved plenty of accounts and tales; telling her about the years of adventure oblivious to the underlying theme of how for the last fifteen or so years he’d never let himself settle, never met anyone significant or let them get close. Or even how, despite surrounding himself with vast and varied people people was entirely alone. A ridiculous notion that. He wasn’t alone. Wasn’t lonely, why would he be lonely when he was never short for company. He didn’t need Tuah, didn’t need Faye or anyone else for that matter. Why should he want them when they clearly didn’t want him? Failing to realise that she was entirely correct in her assessment that he was indeed an incredibly lonely, untethered and unstable emotionally compromised idiot. Maya had ended their first conversation by welcoming him home and the thought left him feeling unsettled the entire journey back to his flat because… nowhere felt like home, nowhere made him feel welcomed or like he truly belonged. And nowhere truly felt like he really belonged in his thirty-three years on this god forsaken rock.

Not since Hogwarts. But even that had been forever tainted.

It was only after one too many drinks, and a bicker with Cato that Fane shut the shop early, retired to his office and took out a parchment and started to write. He wrote until his hand ached and he had inumerous copies of his letter until finally he possessed a single long letter neatly folded up addressed to none other than one Faye Delacroix that was deliberately left unstamped. Even now he figured she wouldn’t read it if she knew the sender.

The letter was a long winded apology, admitting none too concisely that he recognised he had majorly fucked up and that despite everything he was glad to have seen her again and it seemed she was doing well which he was glad for. Ultimately, the letter concluded that if Faye wanted, he wished to sit down and talk with a time and date enclosed for an Indian restaurant he’d be at (simply coincidental it was one that served her favourite food). The letter was a crossroads, Fane had come to realise that if he wanted to close this chapter on his life and finally move on there were stories he would need to see an end to, an ending that may very well define his own.

For Faye, the next few weeks were passed in a haze of work, work, and more work. Followed by going home, making herself eat, and then medicating herself to sleep. She’d even made the mistake - after too much wine - of calling Roger Clemons, a colleague who she’d tried to date a few years back but decided it wouldn’t work out for various reasons - only one of which was that he was a narcissistic, controlling douche - and inviting him over one night. She let him fuck her on her kitchen counter, and then kicked him out.

She would like to pretend that she didn’t think about Fane at all after she left his shop. She liked to pretend that she didn’t see him in her dreams - as the smiling boy she’d met at Hogwarts, and then as the boy who’d grown so tall over the summer, and then as the boy who’d kissed her so gently that night before everything went to hell - or that she didn’t see him when she had closed her eyes and pretended it wasn’t Roger making her cum. Faye pretended all these things, but she was only lying to herself.

So she went about her life as much as she could, her attitude even more brusque and cold than usual. Her boss tried to ask her what was wrong, but she told him it was none of his goddamn business. He left her alone after that.

Weeks went by, and Faye had almost been able to push things down deep enough to start forgetting. Or at least not feeling. And then she got a letter.

Unmarked, which raised her Auror hackles immediately. She cast every spell she knew on the envelope before determining that it was just a simple letter. But when she opened it, she realized how wrong she was. Because it was anything but simple. She almost threw it away. In fact, it landed in the trash bin, and Faye nearly set it on fire. But something stayed her hand.

Finally, after a stiff drink, she pulled it out of the bin and sat down on her sofa to read.

And goddamn Fane Savin to every circle of Hell that existed, but by the time she was done, she believed him.

She let the letter fall to the floor, pulling her legs up under her chin and resting her cheek there. Faye thought long into the night about his request to talk if she wanted. She went over the reasons why it was a bad idea, why she shouldn’t give two shits about him anymore… and the list was long and varied and not very kind.

The list of reason why she should was much, much shorter, but oh so much more convincing. It only contained one thing, and it was that one thing - Faye damned him again for having so much power over her even now - that made up her mind. How many people got this chance? How many people got to say that the person they loved was alive? And not dead and gone forever like so many others?

So that was the one and only reason why Faye stepped into the restaurant that night. It wasn’t that she felt she owed him anything. Or that she felt sorry for him. Or that she even wanted to see him again, though that was just another lie she told herself and refused to think about. It wasn’t even that the image of him sitting alone in the restaurant, waiting… and her never showing up… tugged so sharply at her heartstrings that it physically hurt.

She sat down across from him - dressed in a pair of dark-red leather slacks, strappy heels, and a fitted black top, her hair down this time instead of pulled back so severely - after spotting him, but didn’t say anything. This was his show, so Faye would listen. And after that.... Well, it all depended, didn’t it?

Fane knew he didn’t deserve her time of day, but when was that news? How many times had he told himself it was futile, pointless even to even think for a single second of a single moment that he might ever be worthy. He wasn’t, never would be, and she was leagues and leagues ahead of him but the letter was sent and the potential damage done. What more could he do now but wait?

The shop had lay dormant for a few days after that letter was sent,  what more could Fane do? It wasn’t the first time he’d vanished but everyone’s reaction, their anger, it only served to twist his guilt deeper. Perhaps that was why he’d come back, to punish himself even more because, even now, although he would never admit it he still sought punishment. The punishment he felt was his due for his sins even if by now it was entirely subconscious in nature.

But the letter was sent, and Fane who had grown rather partial towards suits of late ensured the sleeves and cuffs sat neatly at his wrists. He only wore dark colours these days, they made him feel better. His suits and clothing had become just another layer of armour with which to protect him from anything that wished to do him damage. After all, if they didn’t see how it affected him then they couldn’t get smug about it. His eyes trailed the material of his arm fingers lightly tugging at the sleeve to ensure it was pulled down enough to cover his wrists, he’d felt out of control, and to reestablish that… Well, he’d taken back control in an indirect and bloody way. But it had helped, because he felt like he was a tensioned pipe and how did you fix that problem? You let some of the water out, what was a bit of his own blood by comparison to the amount that stained his hands. But murtlap essence had helped on that front; soothing the cuts to not be so bad as they once were.

She wouldn’t show. Why would she?

It was what he’d kept telling himself as the time he’d listed that he’d be present came and went, and every minute that ticked by his insides knotting themselves up over it. He’d been debating getting up, to leave because well, this hurt and maybe it was a small taste of his own medicine in a roundabout way. His features were kept carefully masked as he nursed a glass of water that was lukewarm by now. But the sound of heels on the floor caught his attention, there was no way they wouldn’t and a flutter of hope stirred in his chest.

He was almost certain his breath got stuck in his throat there and then, as his eyes drifted over her outfit that was so… Remarkably Faye. Whether he was staring or not he couldn’t say, but unfortunately the sight of her and the impending conversation… Frankly it terrified him and that trumped any awe he felt as he looked at her, immediately getting up and out of his seat to move around the table and pull out her chair. “You look…” he looked at her for a long moment, some of the jagged edges smoothing some as he tried to think of the best word… What could he say? Beautiful, wonderful, radiant, divine and any other word felt too strong or like he expected something from them which he didn’t… Even if they were all words that popped into his head. Finally he settled on something simple, neutral but with a tad of hopefulness in its choosing. “You look well,” he wasn’t sure whether he could say the same for himself he’d done his best to clean up but it was what it was and after he pushed her chair in he took his time trying to figure out where the hell he was going to start. Sitting down his hands settled on his thighs, uncertain what he was supposed to do with them right now. For a moment he seemed to debate what to say, “I wasn’t sure....” he cleared his throat slightly starting again “I wasn’t sure whether you’d come or not… I’m um…” relieved “I appreciate it.”

Faye’s anger had eased a bit over the last few weeks. The hurt, however, had only increased. But it was no longer the sharp, visceral pain that had ripped through her upon seeing Fane standing in front of her that day. Now it was a deep ache, like something chronic and debilitating. And the urge to cut it out of herself was very real. But Faye hadn’t done that in years. And she wasn’t about to start back now. She was stronger than that, or at least more stubborn.

There were other vices she preferred anyway. Ones that wouldn’t get her sidelined from her job.

When she saw him her first thought was that black suited him. With his dark coloring - hair and eyes and tanned skin - it looked elegant and refined. Unlike her in her blood-colored leather with her unruly, flyaway hair and skin that was paler than it should be. Her second thought was that he looked both familiar and like a stranger all at once. And the third thought… Faye didn’t focus too much on that one.

But she gave him a semblance of a smile, barely a twitch of her lips, as he pulled her chair out for her. She watched him, noting the subtle tells of nervousness and uncertainty. And she almost felt bad. Almost. But she wasn’t quite there yet.

“So do you,”’she said honestly. He sat, and Faye continued to watch him, her eyes reflecting the glow of the low candlelight the restaurant used in the evenings. “I almost didn’t.” There was no need to tell him why, or that she’d nearly tossed his letter as well. “But… you’re welcome.” She nodded once, hesitated a moment, and then leaned forwards, crossing her arms as she leaned them on the table.

“I’d say you owe me an explanation… but seems you’ve beat me to it.” There was the tiniest, most minuscule hint of ironic humor in her voice, repeating his words of weeks before back at him: that she had beat him to the punch when it came certain revelations. But her expression was closed off despite that.

Unlike Faye, he had no real reason to be sidelined from his job. Considering he was in charge of himself and his work therefore, what he did only impacted himself that was the long and the short of it. Fifteen years entirely by himself with no web of people around him he cared for enough or cared for him in kind that may have picked up the self-destructive tendencies and called him out on it meant they had long gone uncontrolled.

But just because his own private behaviour lacked control didn’t mean his social persona needed to be such. He knew his manners; had had them drilled into him young, and while he had rebelled the manners he’d been taught were something he never saw any point in kicking. Why would it? Better people think him a gentleman than… Whatever else they might think about him.

Her response earned a hand raising to scratch his ear, uncertain about whether this was true or just pleasantries before things went… Well, wherever they would end up going. He wanted to say I’m glad you did, but that put him in a precarious position of potential comfort a tad too soon. He noticed her posture, the forwards lean indicating she was listening and paying attention but the cross of her arm defensive and protective in nature. He could recognise those patterns anywhere.

“Glad to see you haven’t lost your humour,” he remarked drily lifting his shoulders slightly as he shifted, subconsciously mimicking her posture though still maintaining a semi-open positioning. Considering everything, he tried to figure out the best point to start, rubbing his temple his eyes flickered up to her uncertain of where she wanted him to start  “I guess you want me to start at the beginning?” Pausing his fingers lingered at his hairline, “I’m not going to try and excuse what I did… it was a selfish decision and in hindsight I realise that… But I guess I just want to say I understand if whatever i have to say doesn’t change anything.” She was entirely entitled to her feelings, and he wasn’t sure whether he would ever be forgiven for what he had done. But, he was here and he was willing to start trying to mend however many bridges he’d burned.

Faye still had a few good friends that she saw on a fairly regular basis. Maya and Tuah mostly. She hadn’t isolated herself completely, even though she’d been fairly resistant to forming any /new/ close relationships since school. Her few attempts had failed miserably, not always her fault, but the standoffish attitude that had earned her the whispered moniker ‘Ice Queen’ in the department wasn’t anyone’s fault but her own.

Another tiny smile flitted across her face. “Well, it’s either a sense of humor or St. Mungos, so I’ll take the latter.”

When he offered up starting at the beginning, Faye shrugged a bit, looking down at the table. “Wherever you think is best,” she said. Part of her wanted to tell him that doing what he felt he had to do wasn't selfish. But she couldn’t bring herself to say it. The feelings were still raw, and she didn’t trust herself to be genuine. She would wait until she could be.

“I guess that depends on why, doesn’t it?” It was a rather cold assessment of things, but it was (partially) how she felt. Even though a thousand questions and accusations popped up instead. But he held them back. Why had he pushed her away their last year? What had happened to him that summer? So many things. But she kept quiet.

“I hope you mean former,” he remarked a touch of the old banter they used to share underlying the back and forth remarks. Though if anyone had been rumoured about being incarcerated it was him, Fane knew the rumours; that he’d survived and been locked up in Azkaban for his trouble, or that he’d been in and somehow escaped and survived. There were plenty he’d heard, and he couldn’t admit all of them were all too wrong. Except he’d been there entirely of his own volition on the two separate occasions he’d been.

Did he want to relive this story? Not in the slightest, and he was glad for the fact that he’d gotten a bottle of wine in the time he’d been waiting for Faye to arrive. Reaching for the bottle he poured some into her glass and topped up his own needing the liquid courage if he was indeed going to tell this tale. So with her open ended invitation to start wherever he felt best Fane sat back mentally and almost physically bracing himself. “The night Dumbledore died… a lot changed,” understatement, things between them had been going so well that year and even thinking on it now ached. “Erich… his um--” even saying the name of his younger brother made bile rise in his throat, but Fane took a long gulp of wine unable to look at her knowing the guilt was easy to read but just as it had been then Fane knew it would be mistaken as guilt for not stopping what the Death Eaters did to his little brother. He’d never served to correct anyone after all. “His… his death,” murder “it…” he had no idea how to explain this and he knew his voice wavered even trying to broach this topic especially with her “it hit me hard, it hurt maybe more than anything I’d ever felt before and the guilt from it-- Even if I wasn’t really his family anymore. He was my little brother and-- and, he deserved better…” Better than me. “I felt like I failed him… I was his big brother, the one who looked out for him and he died and that was my fault…” Fane blew out a low breath “it’s why I no one saw me those last few days and that summer… That guilt… Fucking hell the… guilt of him dying… It sent me somewhere dark. Somewhere I struggled to get out of because all I could think about was how… How he died and why it was him and not...” his words trailed off and his eyes reflected the light, the last word going unsaid not that he needed to speak it aloud. Fane had wondered that question more times than he could count. Why him and not me? Why didn’t I die.

For a few moments he gathered himself, before he resumed the tale, explaining how he knew that summer when the Ministry fell what was coming, knew that when they returned to the castle… It was going to be living hell and that summer he’d spent holed up building up his strength and refining his magic because he knew he was going to need it. “A part of me debated not going back, they were already rounding up people they thought could be truants but… I couldn’t bring myself to do it when I knew you would all be going back without someone there to look out for you… And I know even then you could hold your own well enough but this wasn’t the school we grew up in…”

He stared at his glass for a moment, “at first I just tried to fly under the radar, but being who I was… They ended up making me a prefect, promised me I’d be head boy by the next year if I wanted it. Then the blood status checks started… I delayed them and delayed them as best I could to stop them from getting to other people’s checks but that would only work for so long…” Setting his glass down he shifted a little “they tried to drug me with Veritaserum once… get me to admit muggles killed my dad and that I was secretly harbouring this hatred for muggles because of it…” he snorted derisively “like I give a fuck what happened to my dad… But a few nights later… I found myself face to noseless face with Voldemort himself.”

No doubt Faye knew of this fact, the castle had been abuzz with the news that Fane had been invited to a private audience with The Dark Lord but the details were vague, further adding fuel to those who believed that he’d been converted by the end of that year. Little did they realised the truth of it was quite the opposite.

Fane paused as the waiter came over with a couple of menus, taking one if only for the sake of giving his hands something to do despite his lack of an appetite that came as a result of these topics of conversation. He still didn’t look up at Faye, uncertain how she would take his account of that year and he was barely even getting started.

“Depends on the day,” Faye said back.  She gave him a small look of thanks at the wine, figuring she was going to need it before the night was done. Finally, he chose a place to start, and it was a night Faye thought back on often. For many reasons. But even more so than whatever had been starting between them after so long as friends, Faye remembered that night because of the terror and the chaos.  The fear that had taken over the entire castle when Dumbledore was killed. Faye didn’t know what it was like to lose a sibling, or a parent, so she couldn’t say she understood that sort of pain. Though the pain she had felt over his loss - while misplaced now it seemed - and the loss of her friends was terrible enough; though what Fane’s ‘death’ has stirred up in Faye was unlike anything she’d ever felt, or hoped to feel again. And she could see, even through her anger at him, how much his brother’s death, a death he thought he was responsible for, hurt him.

“Death Eaters killed your brother, Fane,” Faye said quietly, her voice sad as she thought back on that terrible time. She didn’t know the truth, didn’t know that it was actually Fane’s hand that had ended Erich’s life that night. She only knew what the official reports had said. As for the words left unsaid, Faye could only offer him a sympathetic nod, having wondered the same thing herself, about her own survival. “They call Survivor’s Guilt. The thought that… why us? Why me? Why this person and not that person?” She looked down at her glass. “You can’t change the past. What’s done is done. And it’s all just fool’s luck and chance. There is no… bigger reason for any of it. A maniac decided he wanted to take over the world. People died. Doesn’t make it any less terrible, but it does mean we should appreciate the life we have.” Faye didn’t say if she appreciated her life. Sometimes she did, sometimes she didn’t. Some days she was fine, other days she wanted to curl up in her bed with a bottle of Scottish whiskey and drink herself stupid.

She wasn’t trying to sound cold, or harsh, or anything of the sort. Her words might have seemed that way, but her eyes would always give her away. Her eyes ached for what had happened to him. How he’d fallen down such a steep, dark path. A good bit of her wind disappeared as he continued on, talking about that final year, and Faye could only frown. “I remember that. You being Prefect. I was too. Not that you talked to me enough to realize it.” The words were mumbled softly as she watched him from under her lashes. Her brow furrowed as he mentioned the blood status checks. “That was you?” she said, surprise evident in her voice. “You… it was you who changed my status? Why would-?” The waiter came over with their menus then and Faye took hers with a quick smile, but set it down, eyeing him intently. “Why would you do that? You would’ve gotten in more trouble had they caught you than I would have being a half-blood.”

She sat back in her chair, tapping her nails on the table. “What happened? With the veritaserum? I’m guessing you withstood it’s affects?” The mention of the Dark Lord made her eyes tighten. Even now the name could evoke fear. Though in Faye it wasn’t fear, but memories, that made her tense. “Everyone heard about that. Said you’d turned traitor.” She shook her head. “I never believed them, even if you weren’t speaking to me anymore.”

The menu was mostly forgotten by her as well, her appetite next to nothing right now. He still wouldn’t look at her, so Faye stared hard at what she could see of his face. For a long moment she didn’t say anything, until finally she asked, “Is that why? Because of him? Because of the Death Eaters?” Had he pushed her away to try and protect her? If so, Faye wasn’t sure if that made her angrier or if it suddenly all made sense. Maybe a bit of both.

But she waited, eyes still boring into him, for an answer.

The declaration that his brother’s death had been a consequence of Death Eaters caused his face to pinch slightly, but for now he made no effort to correct her knowing that the guilt he felt even now outweighed almost anything else that might have been present in his features.  Survivor’s guilt. Fool’s luck. Except it hadn’t been luck, it had to be deliberate because the curse he’d cast that day… That day he’d seen Death Eaters sneaking into the castle and he’d rushed to the Dungeons only to see his little brother trying to kill his-- Except, she wasn’t his and with how things stood now he wasn’t sure he would ever get to say that. His chin tipped down pressing a little into his shoulder but eventually his head returned to a neutral setting. He didn’t comment, not even as she offered her advice, she was right, there was no changing it.

“I knew,” he didn’t need to talk to her to know these things. Everything that happened that year… It had been entirely deliberate. His grimace was the only form of confirmation to her question, still finding the table of particular interest. Instead he opted to avoid answering the why with a how, “I almost was caught, had to sneak into Snape’s office to do it… Pretended that I was there on Death Eater business but I ran into him on my way out...” Fane could still recall the conversation. The way Snape had tried to read his mind, but years of living with a skilled Legilimens meant occlumency was a skill he was rather proficient in. “I lost my temper at him… Yelled his office down because I couldn’t understand how he could do this… It was his house, his school And… he just, had this unreadable look and turned it back on me… Guess I know why now.” He knew a lot in hindsight.

Sods all hindsight could do now.

“Nothing, I refused to drink it because I figured it was spiked out of the wazoo.” Fane dwelled on the conversation, even now he could recall the snake like charm that Voldemort had possessed “don’t blame them… It was hardly common for someone to meet him and survive if they were insolent.... All the rest of my family had joined his cause, why not me? He wanted me to be his heir, apparently thought we were similar and that he could be the father I never had…” Fane merely shook his head slightly at the memory “instead I ended up calling him out on being a half-blood himself in front of all his lackies… Most of them were waiting for me to throw myself at the ground and accept the apparent honour I was being offered…” But any trace of humour or potential pride at having stood up faded, as his eyes drifted to a point just over her shoulder his expression clouded. “I think… Maybe, a part of me wanted to see how far I could push… Because despite everything all I felt was like… like I deserved whatever might come from provoking them… I felt like that guilt I had over what happened to Erich… It always felt like it wasn’t enough for how I--” he pressed his lips together eyes narrowing a fraction as he drew in a short sharp breath of air. “Guess,. I felt like I needed actual punishment or maybe… something worse for failing like that...” It was a dark thought, especially to admit this was something he contemplated when he was only sixteen years old.

Fane took a pause, needing it to swallow down some more wine as she seemed to digest what he’d said. But when she spoke his eyes finally lifted, uncertain and a touch confused though after a moment considering what she meant the confusion was replaced by a sort of understanding. He was left sitting there wearing a look of wary but tired fragile sadness. “I did it because I knew the more trouble I caused for them personally, the less time they would spend hurting other people and more time they’d focus on me… Better me than anyone else… I knew they wanted me to join them, and… I guess they figured the torture would help bring me around to their side.” The final statement was spoken so calmly that he could have almost been talking about the weather and not the horrendous punishments he’d endured..

It had been Fane’s own twisted punishment he set upon himself for what he felt because of his brother. And for a time, it resulted in his complete inability to write let alone hold a wand and cast. Except, with time something changed as he developed his own resistance to their spell to the point that he knew at least a few of them were uncertain around him.

“You knew,” she repeated his words back at him. “Of course you knew.” A huff and a shake of her head. She didn’t say anything as he explained about almost getting caught, about arguing with Prof. Snape. Though she hummed as he mentioned Snape’s thousand yard stare. “He was a double-agent. He protected Harry… all those years… because he loved Harry’s mother.” Faye shook her head, a tiny smile gracing her lips as she took another sip. “A war was won because one man loved one woman more than his own life.” It was putting it in simplistic terms, Faye knew, but it was what it was. Snape had protected Harry for Lily. Because he was Lily’s son. Her death - her unwanted martyrdom - set in motion events that would change their world forever.

But there was more.

And every bit of it twisted Faye’s heart a bit more. Thawed the thick layer of ice that had grown around it over the last decade and a half. She coughed a bit on her wine as he admitted to calling the Dark Lord a half-breed, but didn’t comment, letting him continue. But she sobered quickly. “You let them hurt you because of what happened to your brother? Fane…” Faye sat back, rubbing a hand over her mouth. She didn’t say he shouldn’t have, or that it was pointless. It was done. It had happened. Clearly he felt he deserved it at the time. Perhaps he still did. Feelings like that didn’t go away easily.

“None of us asked you to do that. Not me, not Maya or Tuah. You could have… you could have come to us. We would’ve… we would’ve helped you.” Faye’s voice was strained, and slightly confused. She understood to an extent. They wouldn’t kill him if the Dark Lord wanted him so badly. But when he said they’d tortured him, a look of tightly controlled anguish passed a cross her face before she reined it back completely. Before she knew what had happened, she had slammed her fist against the table. “We didn’t need a martyr!” she hissed, drawing a few looks from people at nearby tables. “We needed our friend.”

Remembering herself, Faye had to look away, her ire withering to a low simmer. She wrapped her hand around her wineglass, staring at it for a moment before draining it in one.

Something about her words, it made him swallow thickly blinking as he sat there and doing his best to keep his control on how he felt and more importantly what crossed onto his features. There was no point dwelling on the feelings he’d carried around for who knew how long now. “Yeah, guess it was” he agreed quietly because what more could he say to that?

He had no intention to guilt trip or anything of the sort, he was just attempting to list as clinically as possible the events. Trying to keep it clean and professional to avoid the quagmire of emotional trauma that accompanied them, more than once he needed to collect himself and his thoughts. He didn’t need to look at her to see the shock or maybe pity registering on her features, what other reaction was there to the news that at sixteen he’d actively sought out his own destruction because of his failings? It wasn’t exactly the truth, that would come with time but neither was it a lie because the guilt of his failure regarding his brother was one of many reasons on the list for why he felt like he paid his due.

“How? How could I have come to you? I knew they would have an interest in me as soon as I came back… Coming to any of you would only… it would put you in harm’s way because of your association to me and I--” for once his calm exterior broke slightly as his words faltered. “I couldn’t stand to see any of you hurt… And maybe it’s selfish of me, to have made that decision but I was hardly in any stable mindframe then to consider the consequences beyond the fact it was one small way to try and keep you all safer even if it was at my own expense.” Fane’s lips pressed together as he studied his glass setting it down his palm flattening on the table at her outburst.

“I never said I was a martyr, I never claimed that title and I never will…” he grated out lowly a dangerous flare glinting in his eyes though he kept this leashed ignoring the looks from nearby tables. “I didn’t sacrifice myself for a cause, I didn’t do it for some grand scheme to save the world… I did it because I was selfish and I’d rather suffer several  lifetimes of pain than ever witness any of those I love and care for come to harm.” Tamping down on his emotions he merely sat back, “there’s no way you can understand.... There are things I did…” for you “things… that I would do again if it meant keeping you safe from…” me. “And those things they terrified me… Not Voldemort, not death… The things and lengths I would go for the people I love… That’s what put the fear of God into me.” His palms turned over then staring at her plainly, “that’s why I ran… I ran because I was afraid of what I would see when I faced you all again, and you learned of what I did. That you’d see that… I’m not worthy of being your friend… You’re all so much better than me in so many ways and I don’t deserve any of you...” He knew his words could be interpreted to mean his decision to be tortured to keep the Death Eater’s busy… Fane had no intention of revealing tonight about the real story regarding his brother but there were too many emotions for him to functionally deal with. After so long of suppressing it everything was gradually coming to light.

“So… there you have it, I was a sixteen year old coward at the lowest point in his life who was too afraid to see his friend’s looks of loathing when they learned the truth about what a... freak and monster he is. I couldn’t handle it emotionally or mentally,” staying any longer risked unfathomable consequences. “By the time I finally realised what a mistake I’d made I convinced myself that maybe you were all just better off without me in your lives… Because what was I really  compared to any of you?” Finally his eyes raised, staring at her across the table with a fierce intensity in his gaze pain, fear and so many other emotions rolling across him as he sat there tense, upset and uncertain. “I’m not going to ask for your forgiveness… I don’t deserve any of it but I will say I’m sorry… for hurting you like I did” he didn’t deserve her nor Maya or Tuah or anyone else for that matter.

After all, what was he but a monster?

“But… That’s the truth of why I ran… I was sixteen and afraid.”

If Faye had been the type of woman to romanticise things, perhaps she would have found the notion romantic in itself. Tragic as it no doubt was. But she wasn’t. Love had done nothing but bring Faye harm and heartache. Professor Snape had died for love. Lily Potter had died for love. Everyone she ever knew had died for love of someone.

“Because we were your friends, Fane. And we were already in harm’s way. The moment we stepped back inside that school. With or without you there.” Perhaps he had drawn the brunt of the Death Eaters’ ire, drawn eyes away from first years and those too frightened and weak to fight back or stand up for themselves. Her ire dampened once more as he went on, saying that he’d only wanted to protect the people he cared about; the people he loved. Regardless of the consequences.

His eyes flared as his temper slipped, and Faye saw, though it was gone before she could make much of it. But she tucked the information away for later, to watch for.

“No,” she said quietly. “I don’t suppose you were,” she said of his being in a position to make any sort of rational decision. She spun her glass between her hands, warring with her anger and her fear and her sadness for him. But not pity, never pity. His words continued, Faye also ignoring the looks they were drawing. But the way he phrased what he was saying at one point… it seemed like he’d been.... Protecting her? That he had… loved her? No. No, Faye was reading into things that weren’t there.

Life wasn’t that cruel. At least that’s what she told herself as she swallowed past the tightness in her throat.

He said he’d done things that she could never understand. Perhaps. But Faye wasn’t so sure. Though she wasn’t about to argue the point with him. Not when he went on to say he didn’t deserve any of them, that they were better than he was, and on and on. He turned his hands up on the table, in a gesture that was both open and leaving him looking vulnerable and scared. And Faye wanted nothing more at that moment than to pull him into her arms and hold him tight, like she couldn’t do that final year.

Everything he said both horrified Faye and struck a feeling of coldness into her belly. Coldness because she should have known he was alive. She should have known, and she should have been there. Maya always said he wasn’t dead. That he couldn’t be. But Faye had seen him duelling his mother… seen the wall collapse… and then… nothing. And for fifteen years, nothing.

So she looked at him, knowing his truly didn’t owe her a thing after so long, if he ever did, and tried to push past her own feelings. Because like her reasons for coming here… how many people got this chance? How many people were sitting across the table from the person they… cared for… after thinking them dead for so long? How many people would have traded places with her?

Hundreds. Thousands. Maybe more. So it was for them - and not, as Faye told herself, for her - that Faye slowly reached across the table and curled her fingers every so slowly around his own. Her face changed then as well, the mask falling away and the hard edges softening into something more serene. Into something like the girl she used to be. And when she smiled, it was small, but it was genuine. “Apology accepted.” She wouldn’t tell him there was no need, because he felt there was. So be it.

“But there is nothing to forgive, my friend.” The last two words were said in Romanian, one of the few phrases Faye remembered him teaching her from their time in school. Her fingers curled gently around his. “I’m sorry as well. For… overreacting.”

“Doesn’t mean I couldn’t try to keep you all safe…” his voice had grown quieter as he spoke of that time and everything that came with it his eyes lowered again a small pinch existing in his brow. “It’s hard to explain what I was thinking and doing then… All I know is that I was in a dark place ‘n’ it made sense to me at the time… Kill two birds with one stone, keep you safe and get given my dues for what I thought I deserved” and still did to a degree. But that was neither here nor there.

Fane ignored the looks, his voice returning to a more conversational level versus the fractional rise in it earlier and people settled back into their meals.

He hated letting his feelings cloud his judgement, especially the negative ones but they were barely skimming the surface of these things. Fane knew that if he was going to stick around the truth would come out in its entirety, but for now, he’d rather give her the framework. He could fill in the contents to the story when he felt comfortable enough to broach it. He hadn’t lied, just temporarily left out some details that would cast an entirely different perspective on his behaviour that year. So he sat there, palms open and eyes betraying the fear that still lingered in him hating himself every moment that passed. Hating that he felt so exposed and wanting to run away and hole up to stop the potential risk of harm that now existed.

He wasn’t looking at her again, so he missed how she reached across the table for him until he felt the warm press of her fingers curling against his own. The sudden touch startled him a little, and he almost flinched under the touch. But as he looked down to see how their fingers brushed he swallowed thickly as emotion clouded him again. A part of him wanted to cry, but that would never happen here. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d let himself cry. Instead, he tentatively looked up at her his fear melting away slightly when he saw her expression and in that moment he knew her, could see his friend despite everything that had come to pass. A small bit of hope bloomed in his chest when she smiled and his hand curled more around her own grasping it like he couldn’t quite believe this was happening. She accepted his apology and those two words caused his head to dip, his eyes to close and a shudder of emotion to wash through him “I’m so sorry… God I’m so sorry. I never meant… I never meant to hurt you like that… I just never thought about the consequences at the time… I was so wrapped up in getting away from my own pain I never stopped to consider what you’d all be feeling too.” He let out a low breath as he held her hand, his eyes opening to stare down at it and ensure this wasn’t some sort of vivid fantasy, thumb brushing reverently over her skin.

Her use of his native tongue caused him to look up at her, “you still remember?” But her own apology was met with a small shake of his head “you had every right for how you reacted…” Still, Fane felt a little better for getting over this hurdle at least. “C’mon enough about me…” he needed a break from the spotlight “tell me about your life… What adventures you’ve been on?”

“It was a long time ago,” Faye said quietly. “We were kids.” That’s not to say they didn’t know their own minds, but they were young and scared and angry. There had been a lot of decisions made that may not make sense at the time.

His face changed a bit and some of the sadness left. And when he curled his fingers around her, Faye felt a tiny bloom of something in her own chest, but she didn’t put a name to it. “It’s alright. Like I said… you did what you thought was best. It’s all any of us could do. Besides, you’re here now, hm?” She didn’t know if he planned on staying long in London, but it seemed so, with his business already flourishing.

“And of course I remember.” She gave his hand a squeeze before letting her fingers slip - a bit reluctantly, but she want ready for too much yet - from his and wrap back around her glass.

“Me? Nothing much. I work all the time. Visit my parents once every couple of months. As for adventures… well… I’m afraid nothing quite as interesting as you.”

She was choosing to forgive him, and it was all Fane could do not to sit and stare at her wondering what he’d done to ever deserve that. He didn’t, he was convinced of it yet a selfish part of him was pleased for it. Glad at least that perhaps one or two people may no longer hate him for what he did and Faye especially...

As she questioned him being here, it was all he could do not to break out in a smile and laugh. His emotions were on a rollercoaster it seemed; plummeting to their depths before rising once more. “I’m here… Yeah--” all of a sudden it felt like a weight was being lifted from his chest and he could start to breath again “I missed London, I spent so long here growing up there was something about it that I couldn't find anywhere else…” he paused wondering if it was too soon to admit it but figured what was the harm in it. “I missed you...” more than he could put into words, so many times he’d wondered what she had gone on to do and being back here with her… Fane immediately felt some of the tension he hadn’t even realised existed leaving him.

His expression grew a touch bashful as she mentioned that of course she would remember. He shouldn’t be surprised, but… A part of him figured she must’ve tried to forget. He wanted to hold on, to grip her hand and keep that warmth that linked them in that moment. Wanted to keep it for as long as he could covet it before it was gone again… But despite his wishes he reluctantly let her hand slip choosing to draw his own back towards himself as he wasn’t entirely sure what else to do with it. Realising that they hadn’t even considered the menus he glanced at them “um-- are you hungry or?”

Fane’s head tilted a little, curious as she mentioned her job. “I’m sure you’ve got some stories to tell me.”

Faye had been so angry when she’d first seen him again. So angry, and so shocked, that her first reaction - her first instinct - was to make him hurt like she had hurt in that moment, and all the years before. So forgiveness hadn’t been anywhere on her mind. But after the weeks had worn on, and her anger had dulled to a low roar and not a violent scream, Faye had tried her best to remember that she didn’t know his story. She didn’t know why he’d left, or not contacted anyone, or why he had only come back now. She didn’t know anything.

Hell, she’d even been wrong thinking he was dead.

So that, and the feelings dredged up by the letter, had made her come. And to finally hear the reasons behind what he had done, at least in part, Faye found it nearly impossible to stay angry with him. But then, she always had. He just had a way about him… a way of knowing just which of her strings to pluck in just the right manner. Not that he wasn’t sincere in his… plucking. But he knew her. He had to have known she’d come, and that once she knew the truth that there would be nothing else to do but forgive him.

His admission caught her a bit off guard, however. He had… missed her? Faye felt a twinge of that anger rise up again, wanting to ask ‘then why didn’t you come home sooner?’ but she tamped it down. He’d just told her why. And besides… “I missed you too.” She had. The last thing she’d ever said to him had been in anger. Because of how he’d been acting all year. And then… he been killed in the battle. Or Faye thought so. And she carried that guilt with her still, even now, of the last words she’d spoken to him not being kind ones.

Faye had almost forgotten about the menu. Listening to his story, and the familiar warmth of his hand in hers had pushed all else from her mind. “Oh, well… sure, yeah. I haven’t eaten today. Are you?” She didn’t want to eat if he wasn’t going to. It would feel awkward.

A strange smile flitted across her face. Not quite sad, but not quite happy either. Something a bit in between. “I might have a few yeah,” she said quietly.

The waiter came back over, and left with the menus after they’d ordered. “I was top of my class when I graduated from the Auror program. I um… they figured out that I’ve got some sort of… photographic memory? I… remember things. I can… recall the tiniest details from photos or crime scenes. Turns out it’s useful.” She shrugged, sipping her wine. “Helps when people try to bullshit me too. Not that you are,” she amended with the tip of an eyebrow. “Just in general.”

They had both said and done things they regretted, especially when it came to their own relationship. Mostly it was his fault, but there were especially those numerous occasions on which he’d tried to convince her to see the threads and points of connection he made. The predictions that between himself and Maya which, if anyone had really paid any heed would have seen that they weren’t actually all that wrong in what they observed and pieced together about the goings on of the castle.

In the end, it was what it was. Neither he nor Maya had made an impact in the long-run despite their correct predictions relating to many of the events that occurred at the castle. Even more impressive being the fact that neither of them were a Seer.  That was Dani’s area of expertise after all.

But his relationship with Faye, it had always been different to the others. Even from the beginning, others were hesitant to approach him whilst she had walked straight up with a barrage of questions about who he was and where he’d come from and what it was he knew. Some might’ve been intimidated by the bold greeting and while it had thrown him initially, Fane had grown to enjoy Faye’s blunt approach. They had both always understood what they could say or do to gain a rise out of the other, you couldn’t be friends as long as they had been without learning the nuances and subtleties of each other’s minds. Not that he was trying to exploit those right now. He just wanted to try and get her to understand some of the reasons why he’d done what he did.

“Yeah-- Famished,” as it was Fane often forget about the simple things when he was busy with everything else. Food, sleep and other generally considered key functionings of daily life more often than not fell by the wayside partly explaining his slender frame. Constantly being in a rush to do things and having too much to get done had left him on the thinner end of the spectrum. Not to say he was lanky by any means, just generally rather tapered.

“Well that’s ominous,” he remarked doing his best to keep his tone a little lighter. Though as she went on to explain how she had something of a photographic memory his expression grew intrigued, body shifting and growing more open in comparison to the carefully neutral positioning of before. “Wait-- photographic? And you’ve always had that? Is that why you always seemed to be able to remember stuff for lessons? And there was me thinking I was the swot out of the pair of us.” His words were light, and a touch of a smile graced his features hoping that something lighter like a little humour might help them both settle into the conversation.

“I mean-- I never could bullshit you before anyways so that’s hardly new,” she always had annoyingly been able to see through his fronts. “So, I doubt I’d be all that great at it now either.” Not with her at least, or so he thought.

Faye did her best to get enough sleep. Though she had to medicate herself to achieve it most nights. There was the rare occasion where she was just so exhausted that she fell asleep the moment her face hit the pillow, or got drunk enough to pass out on her couch. But usually it was a carefully crafted routine of getting home, bathing, warming something up to eat, washing and tidying up her mess, and then taking one of the little blue potion bottles out of the rack in her bathroom cabinet. She’d sit on the bed, sheets carefully folded back, and swallow it, setting the bottle aside before laying down and pulling the covers up. Her alarm was set, and Faye would watch the clock tick away the minutes. It was nearly always 9:30 when she took the potion. And before the clock hit 9:35, she was asleep.

Things didn’t always work out that way though, and Faye would stumble in from work at all hours, not eat, not bathe, and down a potion before falling clumsily into bed. Those were bad nights.

“Maybe,” she said. “Or I’m really just boring and do a lot of desk work.” She tapped her nails on the table as he asked about her memory. “Yeah… it’s like… I can look at something once, scan it in a few seconds, and then I remember it like I was looking right at it. It wasn’t as sharp in school, or as accurate. But… yeah. That’s how I made it through most exams.” Faye grinned a bit, swirling her near empty wine glass.

“This is true. I never was better at you at much. But my bullshit meter…” She waggled her finger at him. “Always on point. That and well, Quidditch.”

Fane had his own personal routines, little tasks he preferred to do in the evening versus the day, he’d medicated for a while but since his experience in his absence of the potential harm mixing magic and other substances could cause he simply did his best to wear himself out these days. He’d had too many brushes with death, and he wasn’t sure whether he was glad to wake up to hear that he’d been found and the hospital had managed to clear the magic from his system or if he’d have preferred to stay gone even if it hadn’t been intentional. To the point that now most evenings he would simply pass out from sheer exhaustion not that it always worked but he tried. Otherwise, it was simply a matter of laying awake until he did pass out.

Whatever the case, it was with a few charms he knew how to hide most of the effects of sleep deprivation and his suits certainly helped him feel a lot more put together than he perhaps truly was. “C’mon, you can’t tell me that a cool job like being an auror isn’t exciting. You’re doing good, right? You’re hunting down bad guys and you’re putting them away where they can’t hurt anyone else.” His head tilted a little as he studied her seemingly fascinated by this newfound ability she had, he had a few of his own but none of those were technically legal by any status here and while their friendship was starting to rebuild it was tenuous right now. He didn’t want to fray what was slowly starting to come together. “Can’t tell if I’m damn well impressed or whether I just feel cheated,” his words held no malice in the slightest though and his grin grew toothy to prove that fact.

When she declared she wasn’t better than him he chuffed slightly, “I don’t know you handed my ass to me a few times in duelling when we were younger.” Now though? Fane wasn’t sure who was better, her with her training or him because of the sheer number of new skills and techniques he’d picked up and trained into his duelling style. “To be honest I always thought you’d go pro at Quidditch, you could’ve probably made a name for yourself with it.”

“I’ve had enough excitement to last a lifetime, but… yeah. It’s a bit of a rush sometimes.” She thought back over the last couple of years, pushing past a few of the more traumatic memories, tugging at her sleeves without realizing it to try and cover the scars on her right forearm. That wasn’t a topic for tonight. She looked up at him, her eyes a bit faraway and sad. “Yeah… I’m okay.”

And she was. She wasn’t great, but what survivor of war was? Her work was her life. She didn’t have a family, other than her parents. She didn’t have children. She’d never been married. She had a cat, and lived in a little house by herself. Every now and then she’d let Maya or Tuah drag her somewhere social. But other than her job, her life was fairly boring.

“Hunting the bad guys is pretty gratifying.” Faye observed him for a minute before speaking again. “You know… part of the reason I became an Auror is because of you. I mean… I always wanted to be one, but… the war.... And what I thought happened to you… it clinched it. So… part of who I am is because of you. Every… bad guy I put away is one less that can hurt someone’s loved ones. One less innocent person that’s harmed. That’s my satisfaction in life.”

Faye didn’t say it was her only real satisfaction, even if it was the truth. Nothing made her feel the way she felt when she closed the doors on a prison cell.

“Well,” she grinned. “It’s not like you were a slacker, so… we all have our talents.” But a full-fledged laugh melted from her as he mentioned their days in dueling class. “I did, didn’t I? You were so skinny those first few years, I almost felt bad. But… you grew up that one summer. Got taller than me. I’ll never forget the first time you put me on my ass.” Mischief glimmered in her eyes, and she wondered what it would be like now, to duel him. They were both older and more experienced, and there were few agents in the Auror department who could best Faye.  So to say she wasn’t curious about Fane would be a lie.

She blushed a bit. “Quidditch was fun. But I wouldn’t have wanted to play pro. Not satisfying enough. You were pretty good yourself. Even if you could never outfly me.”

His eyes drifted down as she tugged at her sleeves, and he idly wondered whether the topic of work might perhaps be a thing best avoided for the time being. he’d said something that had caused such a reaction. Her answer perhaps provided further evidence to support this point, and he studied her curiously. What war survivor didn’t come out the other side with their own share of trauma and experiences? Anyone who said they didn’t were either a rare few or they were lying. More often the latter than anything else.

But what Faye had to say next, about why she chose this job and her reasoning behind it made him shift slightly in his seat a little bit of heat warming his neck unsure quite how he was supposed to respond to that. Of course he’d known about Faye’s aspirations, how couldn’t he? But he’d assumed that she had pursued the job just because it was what she wanted to do. However, the moment she mentioned putting bad guys away for hurting someone’s loved ones the uneasy disquieted feeling returned but he masked it well instead opting to act as though he was listening to what she had to say. “It’s good… I mean your dedication is what keeps normal citizens safe.”

Her grin was the first real sign of a positivity returning to her mood, and the sight-- Fane was almost certain he had to shake himself from staring at her for too long. “You look good when you smile,” he remarked with a small one of his own, and her laugh-- Fane could have sworn he felt the chill melting out of his bones right there in that moment and his entire expression softened some. “Everyone wondered how I was even considered a Durmstrang student when they saw some of the others in our third year” Fane chuckled a little at the memory. “But it’s when you were looking at my solar plexus when I grew that summer and I got back and turns out none of my clothes fitted anymore” he chuckled fondly at the memory “I was so distraught over that.” Though as talk moved to their time together in duelling club, his brow quirked marginally at her.

“You know, I’d be interested to see who won out of us these days” little did he realise they were both thinking along precisely the same lines. “See who can put who on their ass” his eyes mimicked a similar level of playfulness in them.

The dark lines of his eyebrows raised as she said Quidditch wasn’t satisfying enough, “is that you admitting you’re a hard to please woman?” He was teasing of course, and there was a clear double entendre to his words; proof that despite the years not all of his quirks were gone. “Pah, obviously I let you win” he teased with a cheeky wink quietly pleased at the turn of their conversation.

It wasn’t her work itself. It was just a bad memory associated with one particularly bad moment in time during a high profile case. One that still affected her to this day. It was why she always wore long sleeves and long pants. But that was for another time.

There was nothing she expected him to say. It was simple fact. A part of her career choice, of the voracity with which she went after those that hurt others, was because she’d never been able help him. Because he had died - or so she thought - at the hands of the bad guys. So she vowed to put away as many as she could. “I suppose it is.” She have him a small smile.

It grew a bit, but seemed a bit tighter, as he said she looked good. It stirred feelings in Faye that she hadn’t thought on in a long time, and wasn’t sure if she wanted to now. So she settled for a quiet ‘thank you,’ and that was the end of it. “You shot up three inches at least!” she laughed at the memory. “I remember not recognizing you at first. And then being so mad that you were taller now.” He laugh settled into a low chuckle that drifted off as talk moved to dueling. “I’d say I’m still a fair match for you.” Her eyebrow tipped up, and she gave a small nod. “But yes… I’m sure it would be something.”

“Impossible to please. Get it right.” It was a dig at herself, though there was still humor in her voice. Everyone that knew her - except perhaps Tuah and Maya - considered her as such. “And obviously.” She raised her other eyebrow to join the first as she swirled her wine and took a sip.

There food came then, and they ate, chatting companionably until they were done. And then they chatted a bit more, until it seemed like it was time to go. They were the only ones left in the restaurant. “I um… I suppose we should go? They probably wanna go home.” The staff was lingering in the shadows, waiting on them it seemed. Faye herself didn’t really want to go yet, but it seemed like there was no helping it. And at the same time, she knew this had been more than a one time meeting. That they wouldn’t hug, or say how good it was to see each other, and then go their separate ways. No. This wasn’t it. Not after fifteen years.

This was just the start.

And Faye didn’t know whether to be happy… or absolutely terrified.

”Came back and most people were staring at my solar plexus” his own laugh radiated with her own, his catlike grin lazy as he settled back into his seat the wine helping relax him more into the conversation. “Oh you wanna bet?” his expression grew a tad devious. “I’d be game to put a bet on it… Still up for a wager darling?”

“Ooh,” he wagged a finger at her slightly his expression growing bright with a childish and impish sort of delight “see that’s just a challenge now. Bet I can do something that’ll impress you, if not that it’d definitely please you.”

He’d been so invested in their conversation and learning about what had been going on and things she got up to with her work he’d barely even noticed how others had gradually gotten up. The stony cool start to the evening by the end had lifted into something similar to their old companionable enjoyment of one another’s presence. So, it was only as Faye pointed out that it was time to go he glanced over at the staff and chuckled quietly. “I suppose you’re right-- yeah,” Fane couldn’t help the twinge of disappointment he felt. A part of him wishing he could stay for longer before they would have to go but knowing that they would have to part ways eventually. Looking at her for a long moment he debated inviting her to continue chatting back at his, but there was time for that.

“We should do this again-- what are you doing this weekend?” he asked curiously as he rose from his chair feeling warm and pleasant as he moved around to pull her chair out politely. “There’s this market I was thinking about going to-- if you’re free that is?” there was no helping the touch of hopefulness that laced the invitation. A wish to see her again.

“Don’t put up too much money. I’d hate to see you lose it.” His grin was infectious, just as it had always been, and Faye couldn’t help herself. “But why not. I guess you owe me after I hexed you.” She felt a bit bad now, in hindsight. She’d apologized, but not for the way she felt at the time. Her feelings were what they were, and she wouldn’t take them back. Though she’d tried to reevaluate certain things.

Faye shook her head at him, rolling her eyes a bit. “I’m much harder to impress these days.  Even harder to please. Ask anyone. Though you’re welcome to try.” It would be amusing to see what he had in mind, unless he was simply bluffing. Who knew.

The night wore on, and when it was time to go, Faye found herself reluctant. She stood as he pulled out her chair for her, and once the bill was settled they were standing outside on the street. Faye pulled a pack of muggle cigarettes from her purse, offering Fane one if he wanted. She lit it with a flick of her hand. Thinking over his offer as he exhaled through her nose, Faye wondered if she should lie and tell him she was busy. Because she was far too eager to see him again, if she were honest.

She debated for a moment as she nodded that they should walk. “I’m actually off this weekend. I don’t usually… go places.” It was said a bit awkwardly, as she was unsure how to actually say ‘I’m a bit of a shut in when I’m not working.’ “But… yeah. Okay. I um…” She ashed her cigarette, hoping she wasn’t making a mistake.. “What time?”

He always had been able to make her smile, and it seemed even now, even after fifteen years of separation and distance he still had it in him to get a smile and on this occasion a grin out of her. The simple fact left him with a warm feeling of-- well, he couldn’t really place it - satisfaction perhaps? It didn’t really matter though, “sure, sure whatever you say” Fane was just trying to think of as many ways to see her again as possible and this seemed like both an interesting and fun way to see just what she’d learned over the years. Though her mention of the hex made him shrug slightly, barely even recalling it due to his sheer shock of seeing her. Honestly, even relatively strong hexes and jinxes had little effect on him these days unless done in magnitude-- his body having built up a sort of tolerence to the pain and consequences of most duelling magical effects.

At least he could claim the torture had done something for him. Not even the cruciatus curse really touched him, which was a testament in itself to his mental fortitude rather than anything else especially considering how that very same curse sent two of the best Aurors in the division utterly raving mad.

“See, there it is again. You’re just setting me up for a challenge” the thing about it was, he would need time to think of something genuine and worthwhile. But Fane always had been one for taking up things people considered a challenge. He loved to win, but even more than that a part of him he wasn’t willing to acknowledge wanted to impress her.

As they stepped outside after Fane tipped the staff gratefully for their service, Fane glanced over as Faye pulled out a pack of cigarettes having just been about to do precisely the same thing himself. Ironic how they shared such a vice, and idly as he took the proffered stick he wondered whether there were any others they shared. Much like Faye did a small wave of his hand caused the end of the cigarette to burn into life and he took a drag whilst she considered his suggestion.

“All the more reason to come out then, sounds like you need something fun in your life” he remarked over the soft orange glow of the tip of his cigarette hardly seeming fazed by the awkwardness with her admittance. He tended to find people got more clammed up and awkward if you acknowledged such things directly. “Say three o’clock? They’ve put the lights up along Oxford street so once we’ve been to the market we could go for a walkabout if you fancied?” he also figured that perhaps dinner would be a good way to finish the evening and perhaps if she fancied it a show but they could arrange such things on the day.

Faye blew out smoke through her nose. “What’s fun?” she said sarcastically. “I work and then I go home. I have a cat. A few plants. I visit my parents. Sometimes Tuah or Maya drags me out, but otherwise what’s the point?” She ashed her cigarette again. She had gone on a few dates as well over the years, even had a year long ‘on again, off again’ relationship with a colleague that didn’t end well. After that, Faye had given up on dating. Other than that night a few weeks ago when she’d called Roger over. But that was a distraction from her true feelings. And she’d kicked him out right after. He’d tried to talk to her again on Monday, but Faye had told him bluntly that she had used him, and went on her way.

Though she doubted that would deter Roger forever. It was simply the type of man he was. Which was part of the reason she had ditched him a long time ago.

Faye looked over at him, a small smile on her face. It was not a pleased smile, damn him, it was simply a surprised one. “Oxford? I’ve haven’t walked down Oxford during the holidays in years.” It was beautiful all lit up, Faye remembered. “But sure. Three o’ clock. Do you want to meet there, or…?” 

“Merlin’s balls Faye, consider yourself in possession of yet another person willing to give their time to drag you out to enjoyable experiences...” He merely looked entirely displeased as she described her life “yep, you’re too young to be a crazy cat woman just yet. Consider this entirely an intervention of my own design.” Fane has dated around here and there but nothing had ever struck or felt truly right. Ultimately, it had culminated in more one night stands than he had the mind or real wish to recall.

It was entirely a pleased smile, at least by Fane’s opinion it was even if it wasn’t. Either way, Fane was positively jubilant at the potential possibility of them getting to do this again at some point down the line. “Yeah, Oxford Street there’s a few others that are up as well that are always nice to look around from what I remember…” Fane remarked with a nod her mention of not having done it in years clinching it for him “all the more reason to do it and since you’re free I will happily walk around as many as we can find” of which there truly were many.

Considering the proposed question Fane scratched the dark scruff that covered his jaw and neck partially. “Meet me at my store? It’s not far from town and the we don’t have the hassle of trying to find one another in bustling streets!”?”

“I don’t need an intervention, thank you very much,” Faye protested, giving him a side-eyed look. “I can manage just fine on my own time. I just… prefer it. Staying in.” It was the truth, mostly. Did Faye get a bit envious of the friends and coworkers that had lives outside of work? Hobbies, families, kids? Sometimes. And there had been a time when Faye had wanted all those things. She remembered doing lazy circles around the Quidditch pitch with Fane, the pair of them daydreaming about what their lives would be like after school. Faye had wanted to get married, have kids, be an Auror. Have a cottage where it was quiet.

She’d gotten two of the bunch: the job and the cottage. But the others had slipped away the day she thought she’d lost Fane. And she’d never spoken a word to anyone again. Not even Tuah, who was Faye’s biggest confidant. When she was drunk or sad enough to feel like sharing.

But anyway.

“I’ll be there then,” she said, already feeling a bit nervous. Why, she wasn’t sure. Though this time of year had always made her feel particularly lonely, even though she always visited her parents on Christmas Day. But otherwise Faye just put up a small tree and decorated it. Stuck a few gifts for her friends and parents beneath it, and yes, one for the cat too. Though he preferred the paper wrappings. It would be nice, maybe, to spend time with an old friend this time of year. Someone who had always loved the holiday as much as her. Perhaps that’s why Faye had always felt lonely: because of Fane not being there. Christmas at school had always been a special affair, and once he wasn’t around to celebrate with, some of the light had gone out of the season for Faye.

“I suppose this is where we say goodnight then,” Faye said eventually, once they’d walked a good ways down the sidewalk. It seemed as if neither of them wanted to go just yet. But she needed to. “It was good to see you, Fane. Truly.” She smiled, looking down at her feet for a moment, as if she was deciding on something. Then she stepped forwards and wrapped him in a hug, not too fast, but still quick and tight. She held on for a moment longer than needed, and then stepped back.

“I’ll see you this weekend.”

And she was gone.

[silverwindsblog]

A review on Vices

A review on Vices for @atemusluckygal-fanfiction

Summary: "The Seal of Orichalcos is much more dangerous than a spell card, its agenda much grander than a game. Rated M for mature content (TW inside). Contains subplot Revolutionshipping, discussed Peachshipping."

A dark deconstruction fanfic of season 4 that mainly focuses on Tea and Yami. This fanfic takes a darker turn from the canon as the story exploits Yami's flaws. What happens when Yami is pushed into extreme pressures? Tea serves as a deuteragonist in the story, which is refreshing from the damsel in distress role she is often played. She is actively in the story and has her own voice. Tea, fed up with Yami protecting her and making choices for her, clashed with each other. This is an interesting case since both characters are assertive and both are struggling to maintain their hope to defeat Dartz.

This is a mature and complex story which contains violence, sexual content, suicide references, drug references, cult references, strong language, and more warnings are inside the first chapter. It may not be suitable to younger audience since the story has mature themes similar to GoT. Some readers may find it hard to read in certain parts where characters do and say terrible things. The story is written pretty well in terms of characters going through psychological stress and dealing with their vices in a realistic way. The romance is a subplot, but there are no guarantee that any pairing will happen due to the nature of the fanfic. This is not a "Disney" romance story so if you want to read a light hearted romance story, you may want to look elsewhere. Yami and Tea's relationship in this story is darker than the canon version, yet their relationship is portrayed in a realistic way and is explored deeper than the canon version. Some readers might be put off by Yami's abrasive attitude towards Tea and others. Despite that, the writing is well written on developing the dark themes and portraying the psychological stress Tea and Yami went through in a believable way, rather than taking the usual route of putting dark themes for the sake of being edgy without the purpose.

The fanfic is mainly dark, but it contains a lot of comedy, angst, steamy and heartwarming moments. Just be aware that the fanfic shifts its mood quickly. Their relationship has the potential to be healthy as well unhealthy depending what direction the author goes. This story explores their relationship in a unique way that few revolutionshippers do. If you are looking for a dark fanfic that explores revolutionshipping that you haven't see in other fanfics, I highly recommend this fanfic.

[macdnald-old-blog]

Under the cut you will find Mary’s app, minus the para sample + the ooc info!

* DEVELOPMENT :

Character Name, age, pronouns and house:

M A R Y / M A R I A ;; her name is biblical and means sea of bitterness, rebellion and wished for child. These fit Mary quite well: while she tries hard not to be a cynic, a bitterness sits inside her and makes her look at the world with a dark look; she’s filled with determination to do what is right and to stand up against those who are in her eyes wrong, and she is thus rebellious (she also grew up pranking her sister and brothers quite a lot), and Mary waswished for, as her parents are nothing but loving.

The Mary/Maria thing is, I think, a confusing one and I will clear that up right away: Mary’s mother is Puerto Rican and her father is Scottish, and when she was born they could not quitedecide if they wanted to name their first daughter the English or Spanish name of Mary/Maria. Her birth certificate says Mary, and it’s the name she goes by at Hogwarts, but to her mother and extended maternal family, she has always been Maria. As she’s proud of her Puerto Rican roots, Mary doesn’t keep quiet with this, and loves the fact that she kind of has twonames.

A G A T H A ;; this name was picked because of the famous writer Agatha Christie, whose books Mary’s parents loved deeply. It means good woman, which I do truly think Mary is, despite her faults and flaws.

M A C D O N A L D ;; a Scottish surname of a proud family that lives in the Scottish highlands. A long line of farmers, they’re hardworking and no-nonsense, but have great love and respect in their heart. Mary loves her name, except for the fact that a lot of people tended to sing Old MacDonald whenever they saw her or her siblings in town: it simply grew annoying.

A G E ;; sixteen years old. Mary was born October 25th 1959, which makes her a Scorpio:

       Positive traits include magnetic charisma, ambition, drive, a penetrating mind, curiosity, intensity of focus, emotional depth, consistency, persistence, willpower, and the potential for inner transformation and regeneration        Negative traits include selfishness, obsessiveness, vindictiveness, hypersensitivity,ruthlessness, cynicism, an inability to understand the word “moderation,” and jealousy

P R O N O U N S ;; she/her.

H O U S E ;; Gryffindor.

Choose five of the follow questions to answer.

What is their patronus?  Why does this fit your character?

The P H O E N I X is a creature that’s constantly reborn, that constantly rises from its ashes. One of my most important themes for Mary is that she always gets up. Always. Whatever might knock her down, whatever might make her feel more lost than anything, she gets back up. I feel like this fits in with the Phoenix beautifully ( and while I feel a little guilty using a ‘rare’ patronus, I cannot help but love this one so much for her ).

Phoenixes are also creatures that are associated to fire a lot and while Mary had quite the fear of fire as a child, she is firehearted. She’s warm and compassionate and inflammatory and spirited. She’s someone who can burn entire empire and walk over its ashes as well as give warmth to those who need it ( she will usually pick the latter, but in the future she has no trouble fighting back with gritted teeth ).

This bird also doesn’t die, and Mary is ( in canon ) the only one of our beautiful trinity who comes out of the war physically & mentally healthy, unlike Lily, who dies and Alice, who loses her mind. Many others she loves die too, and to her it will more than often feel like a burden than a gift; for what is life without your loved ones there by your side?

The Chinese Phoenix is also thought of as a gentle creature, and while Mary has her rough edges and dark sides, I do believe she is gentle in her core. With her friends, she’s warm and loving and barely ever brash, and with strangers she will hardly be rude unless they give her reason to be.

In Chinese culture, when a house was decorated with a Phoenix, this meant the people living there were loyal and honest. Mary is loyal to her very core and could never be moved to betray those she love; she would die, if she could keep them safe. As she’s not a good liar, Mary’s also honest; she’s not always happy about this fact, as it doesn’t always benefit her, but it does make her an outspoken individual.

What is their wand and their wand core?  Why does this fit your character?

Sycamore, Dragon Heart String, 12 ½ inches, reasonably supple.

                   The sycamore makes a questing wand, eager                    for new experience and losing brilliance if                    engaged in mundane activities. It is a quirk of                    these handsome wands that they may combust                    if allowed to become ‘bored,’ and many witches                    and wizards, settling down into middle age, are                    disconcerted to find their trusty wand bursting                    into flame in their hand as they ask it, one more                    time, to fetch their slippers. As may be deduced,                    the sycamore’s ideal owner is curious, vital and                    adventurous, and when paired with such an owner,                   it demonstrates a capacity to learn and adapt that                    earns it a rightful place among the world’s most                    highly-prized wand woods.

I think this fits Mary quite well; she gets restless when there is nothing to do and doesn’t feel inspired when she’s doing something that doesn’t interest her. Mary, even though her spirit is somewhat damaged at the moment, is a vivacious being, someone who does not do anything half-heartedly.

I chose the Dragon Heartstring, mostly because I really didn’t think a Unicorn Hair core would fit; Mary would, even though she hates it, dabble in some darker spells if it could save lives. I also didn’t think the Phoenix feather core fit as well as the Dragon one did. Dragon Heartstring cores fit fast learners, and Mary definitely is that. The wand is also temperamental, and so is Mary.

What is a song lyric that represents your character?

i’d rather be spitting blood // than have this silence fuck me up (…)  i’d rather have broken bones // than feel myself turn to stone                                               ( troye sivan, the quiet. )

How would your character react if they saw an older student bullying a first year Muggleborn?

First, Mary would understand; she has been in that situation more than often, has seen her best friend Lily end up in that situation ( even having been bullied by someone who called her a friend ) and knows what it is like. She knows how it makes your skin crawl with a feeling of powerlessness; how useless the anger you feel usually is, as these pureblood elitists will not change their mind because of you; she knows how somewhere, even though you may not like it, there is also fear sneaking in the back of your mind, because this is what a great part of the wizarding community thinks.

Secondly, there would be anger. Because of her understanding of the situation – better than most, considering last year – she will feel an outrage, because this shouldn’t be happening. Bullying in the first place is something that makes her feel nauseous, but when it’s based on something like this, it also causes a rage. She will use this to speak up, to show the older student that this not okay: because Mary will never sit idly by and watch injustice happen under her nose. She’ll snap and her words will be cutting and her eyes will be narrowed. Fear will not be present, not when there is something to be done.

Lastly, there would be comfort. Once the older student vanishes ( which, hopefully, is sooner rather than later ) she will look after the younger student her brothers do for her with soothing words and a few promises she cannot keep. Mary is compassionate and warm, and while it could become a weakness, it is a strength at present time: it makes her stand up to injustice and look after those who need it.

Is you character a virgin?  How do they view sex?  What’s their sexuality?  Does their gender align to their canon gender?

Mary is not a virgin. She lost her virginity just before Christmas break last school year at the age of sixteen to someone who did not mean too much to her in that way: they were both a bit more than tipsy, both attracted to each other and both filled with the energy that had been pulsing through the party. It was no bad experience; Mary doesn’t feel regret about not losing her virginity to someone who meant a little more to her, as in her eyes it’s not a big deal.

Even though Mary was raised Christian and is still religious, her thoughts on sex do not really fit her upbringing: she feels no need to wait for marriage and doesn’t think sex should just be between two people. No, Mary thinks sex is something that people should simply do if they want to, and not do if they don’t want to. She, herself, has not yet has sex with someone sheloved, and this is something that doesn’t bother her at all: she is, after all, young, and she’s having fun.

    ( internalised ) biphobia tw for the coming paragraph

Her sexuality is something she did struggle a little more with than sex in general. Mary is bisexual, and this is something that wasn’t much of a surprise to her, but it did take a while for her to figure it out. Mary was confused about liking girls for a few years, was not sure how shecould, as she liked boys as well. She knew some girls liked girls and she was okay with that, but she felt like that wasn’t just the case for her. Eventually she came across the termbisexual, and a weight seemed to roll off her shoulders when she did. Mary took the label and applied it upon herself, coming out to her friends with a slight nonchalance but a relieved grin still on her lips. She hasn’t told her family yet and knows she won’t until she really has to. With all the things going on around her, she doesn’t wish to deal with the potential reaction her parents might have.

Still, there is no shame surrounding her sexuality. Mary might not have come out to her parents, but she is not necessarily quiet about her sexuality to her friends and other schoolmates. She takes pride in it, actually —– Mary might be an insecure person, but she does take pride in the ways she can identify. She’s proudly half-latina, she’s proudly muggleborn and she’s proudly bisexual.

Mary identifies as a woman and has never questioned her gender much. She’s got sides that are very traditionally feminine and sides that are more traditionally masculine, and she won’t let people judge her for either of those. She can wear lipstick and play football, can wear dresses and still kick ass and she takes pride in her being a woman.

What’s the best thing that’s ever happened to them? What’s the worst?

T H E   B E S T ( discovering she’s a witch )

Mary turns eleven and this is what she knows: she’s a farm girl, she prefers speaking Spanish because then she gets to roll her R’s, she has two brothers and one sister, she is good at history and bad at maths, and strange things happen to her. Strange things that no one can quite explain, strange things that excite and frighten her at the same time. Strange things that happen when she’s happy or angry or scared.

                     One time, Carlos cut all the hair off her favourite doll’s head                      and Mary got so angry that his favourite car exploded in little                      pieces of plastic.

Mary turns eleven and a day and she knows all the same things and this: she is a witch. Suddenly there is an explanation for all these sparks and explosions, and Mary for a moment looks at her parents in fear, because doesn’t the bible say magic is evil? But the MacDonalds are accepting and open-minded and shake their head, because if magic flows through her daughter, there is no way it could be evil.

And so Mary accepts the truth and makes it her own. She’s a witch, and she’s proud and intrigued, as there are a thousand things she does not know yet. She gets her books and her wand and her robes, and her parents tell her she can take one of the family cats with her so she doesn’t have to miss him, and Mary dreams of a beautifully big castle with endless opportunities.

This moment in her life, of course, leads to many more beautiful ones. It leads to her meeting Alice and Lily, who soon become two new siblings of hers. It leads to her discovering that she has great power and that she can use it in incredible ways. It leads to her finding out about Quidditch and actually making it on the team — Mary played football back at home, you see and the team very much reminds her of her siblings and the sport of football, too. It leads to tasting Fizzing Whizbees and Chocolate Frogs. It leads to learning about new creatures and parts of history she did not now yet. It leads to meeting people who inspire her constantly. It leads to her growing as a person and a witch.

It also leads to things that are less pretty. It leads to her discovering that discrimination is a big part of the wizarding culture as well. It leads to her hearing slurs thrown at her and her red-haired sister. It leads to moments where she fails at spells. It leads to tumbling down stairs and losing her way and feeling overwhelmed with all these things that are new to her. It leads to being the victim of an Unforgivable curse. It leads to her being told that there is nothing they can do. It leads to her feeling lost and unsafe at a place that had become her second home. It leads to Hogwarts being attacked and Mary finding herself in a battle at sixteen years old. It leads to her seeing the dead bodies of people who taught her, of people she saw in the hallways. It leads to her learning of a war where people like herself and her friends are constantly killed for the things they are labelled to be.

Still, it’s the best thing that ever happened to her, and even though there are many bad things that happened because she entered the wizarding world at age eleven, she would never go back to just being a muggle.

T H E   W O R S T ( mulciber )

She was in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was pure coincidence that it was her who had been there. It had not been personal, but it was, of course it still was.

You cannot take someone’s will away and say it wasn’t personal. You cannot cause mental harm to someone and say that it wasn’t even that bad. You should not even be able to get away with a thing like that, but Arjun Mulciber did.

He did, and left Mary fractured and confused, even if she didn’t like to admit it.

Perhaps the fact that it was random, that it could all be blamed on coincidence, was what made it even worse: Mary felt guilty wishing this hadn’t happened to her, as that would mean it would have happened to someone else. Another muggleborn, who was condemned for something they had no power over. And while she hated what had happened, while it made a cold feeling run over her spine whenever she thought of it, she could never wish it upon someone else.

                                                                          – / –

Here’s the thing about someone taking away your will and forcing you to do things: it makes you distrustful of your own body, makes you feel unsafe wherever you go. While no physical harm had come to Mary when she was cursed, there was plenty of harm caused mentally. She had suddenly grown paranoid and scared, was damaged in a way she didn’t like to think about.

Mary, in all honesty, felt weak the moment the curse broke and even weaker now that months have passed. Because she is still not over it, is still worried about seeing his face again, is still haunted by that one afternoon and all the things that followed.

Maybe, if he’d been expelled, things would have been better. Maybe then, Mary would be able to move on and feel a little safer in the castle that was supposed to be her home. But he was still at Hogwarts, he was still laughing with friends and taking the same classes she would take next year. He was still there, very much okay, and she was, too, but she was not okay at all.

Her confrontation with Mulciber is something that has changed Mary. It has given her a new kind of bravery, but also more fears. It has given her paranoia, but also determination. It has given her a reason to cower in a corner, but that is not her, and so it has also given her a reason to move on with her head high and her entire being filled with a determination to prove people like him wrong.

Because if there’s one thing she’s sure of ( and there are not many of those ), it’s that she won’t allow this to happen to anyone else as long as she has a say in it.

Is there anyone they would kill for?  Would they die for anyone?  Where does that list differ?

Mary is, in the end, a selfless being. She looks at the war and wishes to fight to contribute to the greater good, to stand up for what is right and work towards a future of freedom and safety. Because of this, she would have no trouble dying in the war if it was meaningful. If she could save a life, she would, if she could buy a group of people time by facing death with a raised chin, she would. Mary isn’t necessarily scared to die, but she is scared of dying for no reason, with no purpose at all.

When I say that Mary would die to save a life, I don’t mean any life, of course. Mary might be noble and selfless, but she’s not reckless. She’s seen Death Eaters, she’s been attacked by a purist and she knows that she wouldn’t die for them. She wouldn’t die for people who’d kill her if they got the chance, wouldn’t die for people who are even less aggressive about their discrimination.

Still, the list for people she would die for is long: on top, of course, are her family and friends. Then follow classmates and students that are not blood purists, civilians, other victims of the war, etcetera, etcetera. Honestly, Mary hasn’t spent to much time thinking about it, but in this sense she’s very much Gryffindor: she is ready to die in battle, ready to die a death that is glorious and heroic. Mary is loyal and committed and is set on taking a big part in this war, as she feels like she has no choice either way.

Killing, however, is a different story. It’s not only a sin, but also just something that is very much wrong in Mary’s eyes. Still, she is not naive and not at all pacifistic, and knows the Death Eaters do things much worse than kill. While she would never kill out of choice, she knows that – if she were to become part of the war – she might have to choose between killing or being killed, and as it’s a war, she thinks she would be able to. Not that she likes the idea of it much.

If her killing somebody would save somebody she loved, she would without a thought. Mary is very much human and would not think about the moral side of it all ( which she would, was it her own life that was at stake ), as she will go to the end of the world to keep those she loves safe. The people she would kill for are Alice and Lily, naturally, all of her other friends and her family members.

As for other people, I’m not sure. There’s a lot of different scenarios to consider and the options are endless and I won’t bore you too much with them. If Mary could save a life by taking a other, she would feel very conflicted ( if this life didn’t belong to a loved one ) and I think it all depends on the situation, on who these people are and what the stakes exactly are. I can’t give a proper answer, but I do know that Mary would kill to save some lives, even though she doesn’t know this yet. Of course, she will always try to stun first.

How do they feel about the war?  Do they plan on getting (more) involved?

Mary feels a wide range of emotions when it comes to the war:

    - She is A N G R Y. Angry, because the school that was supposed to be a safe place was attacked, because there is a movement in the world that is against a certain group of people, a group that is willing to use violence to reach their goal, which is based on a crooked ideology. She is angry that there is discrimination, angry because it makes no sense and is only making the world a place that is scary and filled with terror. Mary knows the effects discrimination can have — her mother is a Puerto Rican living in a small Scottish town, after all — and has always been very strongly against it. The fact that blood purism has such a large following makes her feel hot with rage, in all honesty, because it’s simply wrong.         A lot of her anger is also caused by a feeling of powerlessness. There is not much she can do, at this point, as she is still in school and has not even finished her education. And even if she was a fully qualified witch who no longer had to attend classes, there is only so little she can do. It’s frustrating to know that this war comes from a long, long history of purist thoughts and anti-muggle sentiments, and that it because of that won’t disappear as quickly as she would like. It’s frustrating to know that even though she might work her hardest and try her best to influence the world around her, it won’t be enough. This, of course, does not mean that Mary won’t try.

   - She is F R I G H T E N E D. Fear is a funny thing, Mary learned last year. It’s like a different person altogether, living in a corner of your mind, and even when you think they’re gone, they’re still there. Whispering, softly making your muscles tense because the world around you is slowly falling apart and so are you, and while it’s enough to make someone angry, it’s also really scary. Mary knows what some people are capable of, has seen it, has felt it, and it’s simply unnerving to know what they are willing to do for their cause.        Mary is frightened for the future and what is to come. She is terrified that the war will only get worse, that it will cost the lives of people she holds so very dear, that she will lose herself. She doesn’t like to admit it, but her fear is a thing that greatly influences her. It’s part of her, and Mary prefers to deny it rather than accept it, as she feels weak for being scared. Of course, it’s only logical that she is: this war is a terrifying one, after all.

   - She is D E T E R M I N E D. The two emotions mentioned before both lead to Mary feeling determined. She’s someone who gets up every time, someone who will never be fully beaten down no matter what. Mary is determined to stand up for what is right, to fight in this war and show people that she will not stand for this injustice, that there is no way to silence her besides ending her life. Last years happenings had great impact on her, and while they have left her spirit somewhat fractured and her heart filled with invisible scars, she is trying to use her negative experiences to learn.        Mary wishes to become an Auror, to practice the law the way she deems right. She wants to become part of the Ministry, an institution she does not back fully. That, however, is just another reason for her to work there: to be part of something that feels corrupt to her. The only way to make sure things are one the right way is to do it yourself, after all.

I don’t think I need to clarify it, but the answer is yes, Mary does plan on getting involved. She’s filled with determination, fear and anger and with those three emotions swirling through her being she will not sit by idly as a war rages on. Mary doesn’t know in what way she wishes to get more involved, as she doesn’t know what ways there are for her to do so. All she knows is that, eventually, she will. And rather sooner than later.

What’s their best class?  How will that skill benefit them as they begin looking for a job?

Mary is, usually, best at Defense. It’s a class that comes natural to her, something that she also just enjoys very much. It’s a very physical and practical subject, and while Mary is good at theoretical stuff, these kind of things simply come more natural to her. She’s able to channel her emotions into her magic quite well, which is why spells as the Patronus are ones that she likes most.

It is not, however, her favourite class: the teacher changes every year, of course, which is something that very much bothers her. It’s tiring to her that she has to adjust to a new professor each year. No, Mary’s favourite subject is Transfiguration: she holds an immense amount of respect for Minerva McGonagall and as the class is a challenge it’s something that constantly keeps her interested and alert. She’s not as good in it as she’d like, but she’s never been bad at it.

In all honesty, Mary’s quite a good student. She’s skilled in many departments of magic and very much enjoys learning. It does depend on the teacher how motivated she is. With History, for example, she’s not very motivated because Binns is not the most inspirational teacher, to put it lightly. She dropped the subject because of this, but does enjoy reading history books very much ( it was one of her favourite subjects in elementary school ). Potions is a class she struggles with a lot, but as Lily is one of her best friends, she’s able to get help if she needs it.

Mary’s skills in DADA will definitely help her with the goals she has set for herself. Of course, becoming an Auror is more than dueling and fighting against the dark arts, but it is a very big part of it. She’s got her mind set on doing some extra assignments for the class this year as well, just to become better at the subject and so she can feel more prepared should another battle come.

How did they react when they learned of Dumbledore’s death?

Mary didn’t hold the same amount of respect for Albus Dumbledore that most of the people at Hogwarts and in the wizarding community did: he did not back her up when she needed him to, and it very much shattered her blind admiration for the man. Still, she knew that he was an important person to Hogwarts and was doing very much to keep the place safe from the war.

When she learned he had died, Mary was shocked. Dumbledore seemed like someone who could not be defeated, an immensely strong force in this war who was on the good side. On her side. She felt grief, too, of course. While he had disappointed her before, he had still been a good man – flawed, yes, but still good – and it was terrible that good people were killed. Fear followed once her shock and grief had become less loud, as this meant only terrible things for the future of Hogwarts. Mary hadn’t felt safe at Hogwarts for a couple of months before the battle, but this feeling only grew when Dumbledore was murdered. Even worse, she knew that other people would also start to feel unsafe and she didn’t wish that uponanyone.

* WRITING SAMPLES :

Respond to the following prompt as though it was a short chat.  Be sure to include a gif.

“Yeah mate, I saw them snogging in the astronomy tower.  I know it’s a bit unconventional, but we’re in the middle of a war.  Love is all that matters at a time like this.”

“Whoa, slow down there, buddy,” said Mary, taking a sip of her coffee. “Love is all that matters? That’s … I mean, it’s a beautiful sentiment, but that’s not true. Not to be a smarty-pants, or anything, but morals and security and respect and all those things matter too.” A pause. “Still, though, really? Them, snogging? I had not seen that one coming at all.”