#// i do think the madame would take strolls checking on her food -- the guests so i think it could work in that location too hypothetically

[lurxof--thxmaw]

@devouraes liked for a starter 。

Overseeing the group of Guests climing into the Maw had become a yearly practice for the Lady. Not one she is particularly enthusiastic about － she'd rather the Maw return under the surface as soon as possible － yet absolutely necessary.

Normally it would go by rather slowly: uneventful was the right term to describe it. Rightfully so, even if it comes as a detriment to the spending of her precious time.

Until a faraway golden twinkle catches her eye.

[themurphyzone]

Nova Ch 10

AN: I think that reunion with Snowball went pretty well!

Ch 10: White Dwarves

AO3 Link, FFN Link

Terran Date 2015.4.26

I’m stuck in a backwater lab with an idiot who believes you can transform a rock into gold by spray painting it. Nothing else worth reporting. 

o-o-o-o-o

Pinky winced as Brain slammed his hand against the computer mouse, saving the oddly brief recording to the computer. He didn’t bother with his usual sign-off either. Just buried his face between his hands and growled to himself. 

Brain had been in a foul mood ever since the tea party, snapping whenever Pinky tried to ask a question and making messes without bothering to clean up after himself. He wasn’t the only one affected by Snowball suddenly leaving. Madame Daisy was still pretty miffed about Snowball’s lack of etiquette when he didn’t say goodbye to the other guests or say thank you to the host. And Brain hadn’t done those either. 

Maybe Pinky should’ve warned them about Madame Daisy being a stickler for tea party etiquette. 

But more importantly, the deadline for RSVPing was tomorrow at 8 pm and they still hadn’t called Lamont Manor. More than once, Pinky brought it up in conversation and left post-it notes as reminders, but Brain always shut the topic down and shredded the notes into confetti. 

It stung when he did that, but Pinky shook it off and saved the itty-bitty scraps. One never knew when they’d need good confetti. 

Pinky’s ears twitched towards the cage at the sound of Brain’s groan. Brain had already drained a full water bottle and was steadily working his way through a second. While Pinky was happy his alien friend had gotten used to water, mostly so they could play Marco Polo and waterski with popsicle sticks, maybe there was such a thing as too much water. 

“Brain?” Pinky called, nearly slipping on a puddle. He frowned. There were several puddles and no sign of Brain at least trying to keep this side of the cage neat. “Er, don’t you think that’s enough? Awfully hard to sleep if you have to keep getting up for the bathroom.”

“Just leave me alone,” Brain muttered. He sipped from the tube again without taking his glare off Pinky. Water dribbled down his chin. 

No, he was absolutely not leaving Brain alone! Pinky stomped his foot, startling Brain when he tried to sneak another drink. 

“That’s it!” Pinky shouted. He tugged his ears and released them with a sharp snap. “I’m gonna give you tough love whether you like it or not, mistah!” 

Before Brain could react, Pinky snatched him away from the water bottle and tucked him under one arm like he was cradling a football. Brain kicked and squirmed in his grip, trying to smack him with his tail, but Pinky had a firm hold. With his free hand, he pulled a fedora off the coat rack as he marched out of the cage and over to the stereo. 

It was a little worn from age, but it still worked alright. 

He dropped Brain, who let out a little oomph when his stomach hit the counter. Smacking the play button with his foot, Pinky kept one hand on his fedora as he counted the beats until the main melody began. 

“Just say narf! Just say narf!

Don’t you know to be glad? Just say narf!

Every day is a joy and so-” 

The music shut off. 

Surprised by the lack of background music, Pinky checked behind him, arms still thrown above his head with the fedora hanging from one hand. 

Brain stood in front of the stereo, his hand over the stop button. “Just what in Orion’s belt are you trying to accomplish with this display?” he snapped, crossing his arms. 

“You’ve been a grumpasaurus rex ever since the tea party! So I’m cheering you up with one of my favorite songs!” Pinky protested.

“You can’t cheer me up by manhandling me and saying nonsense!” Brain yelled.

“I said narf, not nonsense!” 

“They’re synonymous!” 

“No, they’re not! They agreed they could date other people and they still have a trusting relationship! And you wanna know what else? They actually clean up after themselves too!” 

“GAH!” 

“TROZ!” 

Their noses were just a few inches apart, chests huffing and puffing like they were about to blow the Three Little Pigs’ houses down. Brain broke away from the staredown first, clasping his hands behind his back as he sulked.

Pinky counted one Mississippi, five Mississippis, and seventeen Mississippi’s, his hand against his racing heart as he breathed in and out to calm down. And why did they only count Mississippi? Why not Alabama, Georgia, or Papua New Guinea? 

Brain was a closed book at the best of times, it seemed. One of those heavy textbooks with lots of big words, not a happy, colorful picture book like Pat the Bunny. 

But he wasn’t a good actor, though he pretended to be above happiness, fear, and sorrow.

“You know you can talk to me, right? About your feelings or world domination or secret crushes. Anything you want,” Pinky said, wringing his tail in his hands. It looked like a very sad, wiggling worm under his fingers. The smooth surface under his fingers helped a little, but it didn’t replace a full snout hug from Pharfignewton. “I...I was just trying to help.” 

“World domination is the only topic worth discussing out of everything you said. Emotions are irrelevant,” Brain said. There was still a bite in his tone, but not much. He rubbed his arm, feet shuffling uncomfortably. “So you were truthful about wanting to...assist during my period of inactivity?” 

Pinky tilted his head. “Why would I lie about wanting to help? That would be mean, Brain.”

“Helping is just another way of ensuring someone owes a favor. Or it would be mutually beneficial to all parties involved,” Brain replied. His sharp gaze snapped back to Pinky. “Our deal is just one example out of many.” 

“What about helping you cause I wanted you to feel better?” 

Didn’t that count? He didn’t know why Brain was making it all so complicated. 

“As I stated before, your song was nonsense and your method was invasive.” Brain shot a disdainful glare at the stereo. “But I can’t entirely fault you for your intentions, however misguided, though I suggest having a concrete reward in mind next time.” 

Pinky grinned and let go of his tail. “Oh, that’s easy! Lemme grab a chunk of concrete off the street!” 

Brain sighed, stomping over to a top drawer, perching on the edge of the counter as he slid it open. “That won’t be necessary, Pinky.” 

“Looking for something, Brain?” Pinky asked. 

“I can find it on my own!” Brain tried to wave him off, but overbalanced and fell into the open drawer, landing on his stomach with a muffled oomph. He spat a scrap of paper out of his mouth, kicking a red pen aside as he rolled onto his back.

Pinky’s fingers drummed on the counter as he peered down at Brain. A light cherry color coated his sagging cheeks. 

“I’d rather direct my focus somewhere else for the time being.” Brain wasn’t making eye contact with Pinky. Which was a shame, because his eyes were the prettiest shade of pink. “I don’t require anything else after you point me to the cleaning supplies.” 

Pinky blinked at him in surprise, but they were getting somewhere now! He could do a cartwheel, kiss a cockatoo, and dance the Macarena! Maybe not in that order, or all at once, but there’s a first time for everything! 

A smile spread across Pinky’s face, and he couldn’t help but laugh when Brain’s head began to resemble a lumpy tomato.   

o-o-o-o-o

Several hours later, Pinky yawned as the first rays of sunlight gently crept across the bed. The distant sounds of cars caught in traffic on the nearby bridge combined with the gentle thrum of lab technology formed the usual background noises, greeting him with a new day. Freeing his legs and tail from the blanket, he dipped into a luxurious, catlike stretch, arching his back and raising his rear end and tail as high as they would go.

“Wakey-wakey, Brain! Narf!” Pinky exclaimed as he shook Brain’s shoulder.

Brain mumbled to himself and buried his head into his pillow, curling into a very tight cocoon to block out the light. If Brain wanted to hatch into a pretty butterfly, he needed all the rest he could get, so Pinky left him alone.

But it was worth a shot, even if Brain wasn’t a morning mouse.

Pinky ate a plateful of food pellets for a quick breakfast, then washed it down with water. The area around the water bottle was puddle-free and mostly clean, save for a stubborn stain on a cage bar by the floor. But that spot gave Pinky plenty of trouble too, so he didn’t hold it against Brain.

He coaxed a drop of water out of the tubing and splashed it on his face, then squeezed through the cage bars, hands behind his back as he strolled over to the cap Snowball had given him.

He’d spent most of his time decorating it with whatever he could find for the past few days. Glittery, colorful letters that spelled Pharfignewton were glued across the brim, give or take a few letters. Her name was so long that it didn’t fit and the ‘ewton’ was on a separate row beneath the rest. Feathers, ribbons, and encouraging messages on sticky notes covered the blue fabric.

It was coming along nicely. Pinky backed up a few steps, sticking out his tongue and placing his fingers together like he was taking a picture.

“Just needs a little something,” Pinky murmured, tapping his chin to get the idea muscle in his head working. It usually worked best after he ate, so coming up with something should be a cinch!

Then he snapped his fingers together, a little lightbulb flickering overhead with a satisfying click. Wait, no, no. That was just the light turning on cause a sleepy scientist trudged in, dragging his feet to the kitchen. He didn’t see Pinky waving good morning to him.  

Hopefully the man liked decaf, because they were all out of regular coffee.

Pinky folded red tissue paper into a rose, then repeated the step with purple tissue paper. “Thank you, DIY craft videos on Youtube!” he hummed.

He needed more roses to go all the way around. Kentucky Derby hats were always decked out with pretty roses. Oh, he could arrange the roses into a pretty red-purple-red-purple pattern!

And toss some glitter onto the roses too! Can’t go wrong with glitter!

He dumped a generous amount of pink glitter on his rose and glued it to the hat.

More scientists trickled in, shuffling off to the kitchen in search of coffee and once again ignoring Pinky and his pretty hat. They didn’t seem too keen on coming today. He couldn’t imagine why. Monday was such a lovely day and it never got the appreciation it deserved.  

Since they had a bad habit of moving items around so Pinky could never find them, he hid his unfinished hat in the back of a large drawer. Nobody ever looked there anyway.

He hauled himself out of the drawer. As he climbed back to the counter, he paused to admire the calendar picture of Mickey Mouse giving flowers to Minnie. Beneath it, the box for April 27 was circled in glittery blue.

Right, wasn’t there something they were supposed to do today?

RSVP BY 8 PM! NARF!

Right, they still had stuff to do if they were gonna have the best weekend ever! They still had to find costumes for the masquerade ball! Especially the masks! Masks were the most important part!

And they had to call soon, or they wouldn’t be able to go.

“Brain!” Pinky shouted as he ran inside the cage, snatching up the invitation card from the corner. Brain was out of bed and trying to eat a food pellet, though his expression was pinched from the dryness of his breakfast. “Oh, that brand is pretty dry. That’s why I saute it in three-and-one oil first. Anyway, you’re already up?”

Brain scowled and swallowed his morsel with difficulty. “How can I possibly sleep with all this racket?”

A cupboard slammed down the hall, followed by loud profanity that would’ve made Pinky’s grandmother clutch her pearls and faint.

Apparently, nobody wanted decaf.

Pinky held the invitation close to a scowling Brain. “See? We’ve gotta call now or they won’t let us in! Then we won’t be able to swim in the chocolate fountain or admire the ice sculptures!”

Brain shoved the card away from his face. “Heaven forbid we miss those banal activities,” he replied, pressing two hands to his cheeks.

“Exactly!” Pinky’s tail twitched in anticipation. “And we still need fancy outfits and masks!”

Brain took another food pellet, grimaced, and tossed it back into the bowl. Then he sighed and rubbed his temples. “This is a rather asinine plan, Snowball,” he muttered. “Come again?” Pinky asked. He could’ve sworn Brain said Snowball’s name.

Which was weird, because Snowball wasn’t even here. Unless Brain named the food bowl Snowball. That made more sense.

“Never mind, Pinky,” Brain sighed. “Forgive me for my reservations.”

“But we haven’t made those reservations yet,” Pinky said. Brain didn’t reply, too focused on valiantly keeping his breakfast down. Then Brain drank from the water bottle, careful not to splash too much. Once he finished, he headed to the cage door, and Pinky dutifully followed. He hopped from toe to toe as Brain unlocked the door with a bent paper clip. “Can I place the call, Brain?”

“This is a delicate operation, Pinky,” Brain replied. “We must use our given aliases so that we won’t be found out prematurely. I can’t risk you blabbing our true identities, so I’ll speak to our less than gracious host myself. Now, hand over the card.”

It was true.

He wasn’t a good liar at all.

Pinky held out the card, but before Brain could take it, a balding man with a bad combover and rumpled labcoat tried to yank him out of the cage by his crooked tail. The scientist yelped in pain as the orb sparked in his hand, leaving red marks on his skin. Startled, Freed from his grip, Brain leapt forward and tripped over himself. Pinky dropped the card and caught Brain by the shoulders before he could slam nose-first into the metal floor.

The red orbs on Brain’s antennae glowed for several seconds before fading away. Then Brain regained his footing and gave Pinky a brief nod as thanks, quickly pulling away to recollect himself.

The contact ended all too soon.

The man flicked his hand to get rid of the shock, muttering to himself as he pulled on a pair of rubber gloves.

“What’s going on?” Brain snapped. “We have important business to conduct!”

“Don’t worry, Brain. It’s just Maze Monday!” Pinky said, fixing his messy tuft as best he could without a mirror. He had to look his best for maze running! “We’ll call afterward!”

The scientist reached in again. Though Brain defiantly stood in the corner away from him, it was no use and he was pulled out of the cage. He dangled in the scientist’s gloved hand by the tail, grumpy at his current position.

Pinky was next. He swung from the scientist’s other hand as he was lifted into the air, pumping his legs back and forth like he was on an upside down swing. Giggling, he reached out and tried to touch Brain’s ears, though he was several inches short.  

With one mouse dangling from each hand, the scientist walked out of the room and carried them down the hallway. They passed the college interns who were more interested in selfies than work, the security guard who was always shouting about evil rodents and their master plan to hoard the world’s entire cheese supply for themselves, and a bored female scientist who looked like she’d rather be anywhere else but here.

The scientist entered a room on his left. Along the wall, several guinea pigs rested in their cages. Pinky waved to them, but since he didn’t have any food, the guinea pigs weren’t interested.

They were dropped at the start of a large cardboard maze. The scientist adjusted the cameras mounted above the maze, then left the room.

Just him and Brain now.

“Your scientists display a disturbing lack of regard for our tails,” Brain grumbled, rubbing the soreness out of one zigzagged bend. “Not that Selenians were any better.”

“But if they hold the tip just right, you can swing around like a little monkey!” Pinky said. “I mean, my rear gets a bit sore too, and sometimes you might crash into a wall, but it’s still loads of fun! Haven’t you ever tried it, Brain?”

“While that activity is suitable for inane creatures, it doesn’t befit a future world emperor to behave in such an embarrassing manner.” Brain dusted off his jumpsuit, though it was recently washed and wasn’t particularly dirty. “But I digress. We must focus on surviving this perilous maze so that we may RSVP to the event in time.”

Perilous?

But he didn’t see any pearls anywhere. It was just cardboard and metal as far as the eye could see. Pearls would’ve brightened this drab maze a lot.

There were four directions to pick from. Pinky scratched his head. Which one?

The left path looked fun, but the one behind and in front were dimly lit. Which left the right path. And since it was right, that meant it was the right way!

“Let’s go! The right path is always right! Zort!” Pinky exclaimed. He walked to the right path, but Brain hauled him back by the elbow.

“Don’t assume the direction and the certainty of success are one and the same, Pinky,” Brain said firmly. “We have to take precautions.”

Pinky didn’t think they had to be careful though. There wasn’t anyone else here. Unless the guinea pigs counted, but they weren’t in the maze.

His usual strategy was to run around silly-willy until he found the snack at the end. But in all his years, he’d never actually found the snack. Usually he just ran into walls and daydreamed about cheese until a nice scientist got him out.

And cheese kept the spookiness away.

“There’s nobody here but us,” Pinky said.

“There’s nobody visible in this maze but us,” Brain corrected. “If we’re not careful, we could fall victim to traps. Enough arguing, Pinky. We’re taking the left fork.”

There weren’t any forks to take, nor anything to eat using a fork, but at least Brain was nice enough to drag Pinky down his second choice instead of the dimly lit paths.

Brain stuck close to the walls, grabbing Pinky’s wrist to ensure he did the same. As they came upon a T-section where they could either turn left or right, Brain carefully held his antennae back with his free hand and poked his head around the corner. Pinky tried to lean over Brain to see what was so interesting, but a sharp nudge kept him back.  

“Whatcha looking for?” Pinky asked. “Besides cardboard.”

“Bright, confined areas are the safest,” Brain said. “It’s not a complete guarantee, but you can at least watch for disturbances on the floor or wall. We’ll head right. I can’t see the end of the left corridor from here.”

He let go of Pinky’s wrist, but gave him stern instructions to stay along the wall. It was just like giving the wall a really long hug, and Pinky licked the wall to thank it for hugging back.

Huh. So cardboard tastes like cardboard then. Not bad, but it could definitely use some parsley.

Halfway down the corridor, Brain’s breath suddenly hitched. He stared at the floor in front of them, where one edge of the cardboard was a little higher than the other. The line spanned the entire length between the two walls.

“Don’t get too close,” Brain said, pushing Pinky back before he could step on it. “Remember, strange patterns in the structure might reveal the location of a trap.”

It looked like a normal ledge though. Completely harmless.

But if the trap only worked when they stepped on it...then the trick was to not step on it!

Brain let go of Pinky’s wrist as he pondered their next course of action. Taking his chances, Pinky backed up several paces, keeping his eye on the line he couldn’t touch.

Then he sprinted forward, ignoring Brain’s shout for him to stop.

Pinky leapt as high as he could, easily clearing the line. Though he couldn’t quite stick the landing and toppled forward as soon as he touched the ground.

Still had to work on his weak ankles.

Hopping to his feet, Pinky turned to a flabbergasted Brain. Ha! He loved that word. Flabbergasted! Too bad it was a bit long for a catchphrase.

Instead of being impressed, Brain glared at him.

“Do you have any idea how dangerous your stunt was?” Brain shouted. “You could’ve been severely incapacitated!”  

Pinky stretched his legs to test his ankles, but they felt alright. No harm done.

“Narf! But my ankles are fine! See?” Pinky shook his ankles so Brain could see they weren’t hurt.

“And if there was a motion sensor?” Brain snapped. “Did you consider the possibility of spikes, projectiles, or electrocution?”

“Um…”

The scientists wouldn’t be mean enough to put those in a maze. Of course, sometimes they’d forget to take him out when he couldn’t find the exit, and he’d lay in the maze alone and listen to the lab’s scary nighttime noises, but he’d never seen spikes during these tests before.

“Thought so,” Brain said. There was something odd about the way his hand twitched towards his tail.

Like he had personal experience.

“Have you ever been caught in a trap before?” Pinky asked before he could stop himself.

Too much?

Brain folded his arms and lifted his chin, pink eyes narrowing at Pinky. Probably not then. Brain was too smart for that.

And definitely clever enough to find his way to the exit and not get stuck overnight.

Then Brain turned around so Pinky could see all the zigzags in his tail.

“Electrocution trap,” Brain said, his ears lowering. “An overload of electricity can be fatal for my species, though we’re naturally resistant to smaller shocks. I was...less experienced back then.”

There was more. Brain wasn’t telling him how much it hurt.

But Brain tensed, a silent warning not to push any further.

“They didn’t leave you in the maze overnight, did they?” Pinky asked. Brain went dangerously still.

Oh, there he went running his mouth again! Why couldn’t his mouth be good and stay zipped?

“Sorry, Brain. You don’t have to answer. It’s fine, really!” Pinky hastily corrected himself. “But if they did-”

"No, they didn't," Brain said, surprising Pinky with how much he was revealing. "They kept a strict count of all their test subjects, and preserving them was far more preferable to losing a valuable limited resource. Small mercies, I suppose.”

“Oh. Well...that’s good.” Pinky rubbed the back of his neck. He was glad Brain never had to deal with that. He wouldn’t wish it on anybody, not even that stubborn stain he could never rub out from the cage bars. “Poit.”

Brain turned back to Pinky and looked at the line between them. Then he hopped over it, bracing himself for a shock. When no electricity appeared, he seemed surprised, though he immediately tried to school his expression into a neutral one. He walked past Pinky and refused an invitation to hug it out.

They had to turn left at the next intersection since the right led to a dead end. Then they reached an open room with a cardboard path and a metal path. Brain chose the metal path, but stopped where the rough paper met cool metal. Pinky stopped behind him.

“Pinky?” Brain said. He didn’t turn around. “Were you left in a maze overnight?”

“Sometimes,” Pinky admitted. Was he worrying Brain? He didn’t want Brain to worry! “But it’s not so bad when you imagine all the cheese you’ll eat at the end, even if you never reach it. But cheese keeps the ghosts away, you know. They don’t like the smell.”

If he imagined cheese, he wouldn’t imagine long, crooked witch fingers trying to pluck him out. Or the loud air conditioning system which clicked on and off every few minutes, the ghostly breeze echoing down the hallway. Or how he called for his parents and Sis to come share a yummy feast with him, though they never came.  

“That’s horribly negligent on the humans’ end.”

And that was all the talk Brain allowed on the matter.

o-o-o-o-o

The maze was a lot longer than they thought. Just when Pinky believed they’d reached the cheese, there was always some new twist that set them back.

What time was it? Though he couldn’t see the clock, it had to be around lunchtime right now. Pinky’s stomach growled, sounding a lot like Brain in one of his moods.

He’d give an arm and a leg for a few food pellets. Or some cheese. Even a leaf.

Brain was tiring out too. His footsteps were heavier and slower. But he kept at it.

Right, focus on the goal. Focus on the yummy cheese.

What kind would they get? Moldy? Blue? Provolone? All of those sounded pretty good, but Pinky thought his stomach was calling for pepperjack. Oh wait, no, maybe it was gorgonzola.

His stomach grumbled again. Okay, it was definitely muenster this time.

They came across a path with a thick sheet of metal on top. So dark that they couldn’t see a thing in front of them. Brain took a deep breath and stuck a hand in the darkness. They only saw his wrist.

His fingers were completely swallowed by the inky, hungry darkness.

Brain took his hand out.

Oh. Not swallowed then. All his fingers were still there.

“We’ve exhausted all our options,” Brain said, pounding his fist into his hand in determination. But even that gesture couldn’t hide how he stuck to the wall like glue. Pinky didn’t blame him. It was awfully dark in there. What if they went in and were never found again? “Taking this path is absolutely necessary if we’re to make it out of this labyrinth in time.”

But they couldn’t see the traps. It wasn’t safe.

Unless…

“Brain, your orbs!” Pinky exclaimed, gently tapping an antenna. “If you make ‘em glow, we won’t get lost or fall into a trap!”

Brain didn’t look so sure. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Not a terrible suggestion for once, Pinky. Unfortunately, it’s not something I have voluntary control over. It’s a hormonal response that occurs when I’m...well, happy.”

“So we’ll just have to make you happy enough for your orbs to glow,” Pinky said.

With what? Brain raised an eyebrow, the silent question obvious. 

Then Pinky snapped his fingers. He knew what to do! He'd sing Just Say Narf! 

Except he was trying to make Brain happy, not himself. 

A no-go then.

Cream cheese and blueberry bagels? Out of reach. 

Pinky tapped his chin. This was harder than he thought. 

Brain sat against the wall, eyes squeezed shut and hands rubbing circles into his large forehead. “Statues, parades, my jewel-encrusted cummerbund…” he murmured.

He was doing one of those smartypants things. Too smart for Pinky to understand. 

Brain growled and opened his eyes in irritation. “Cease your staring at once, Pinky. I’m trying to concentrate.” 

“On what?” Pinky asked. 

“World domination of course,” Brain said, smacking his ear like he was dumping extra thoughts out of his chubby head. “Accomplishing a goal would naturally bring anyone contentment.” 

Pinky zipped his lip and threw away the key, then sat against the wall across from Brain and waited. 

Yet Brain’s orbs didn’t glow. 

Pinky drummed his fingers against his leg. When he drummed all the songs he knew, he tried to lick his elbow. Except his elbow didn’t want to be licked. He leaned in and stuck his tongue out as far as he could, but it was a very stubborn elbow.

After an eternity, Brain finally spoke, his voice full of cautious hope. “Are they glowing now?” 

Pinky shook his head, and Brain slumped against the wall in defeat. 

The clock ticked on.

“There’s gotta be other things you like besides world domination,” Pinky said. It made sense to have a lot of likes and favorites, and not just on social media. 

“Those ‘other things’ are frivolous at best and distractions at worst,” Brain replied. “Taking over this world would make me happy, so there’s no logical reason as to why it’s not working.” 

Maybe it was happy, but they had to think happier. No, they had to think happiest! 

Brain said ‘this world’. Right, he was a Selenian. Funny how it seemed like he’d been here forever instead of just a few days. 

A Selenian. Brain never revealed much about where he came from. Just that he wanted to leave it all behind. And he only spoke about their technology. But there was more than that, right? 

“Narf! It’s funny, Brain,” Pinky said, holding his toes as he rocked back and forth. Brain looked at him, confused. “You’ve gotten to know a lot about this planet, but I don’t know much about yours! There’s gotta be something about New Selene that makes you happy!” 

“Nothing about that desolate wasteland sparks any joyful feelings,” Brain retorted. “Snowball and I are much better off here. Terra’s knowledge of space is much less advanced than Selene’s, but once we’re co-rulers that’s a problem easily rectified.” 

“But there has to be something you did for fun.” 

Brain looked away. “You’re prying. But if you’re truly interested…” 

“I am!” Pinky exclaimed, nodding eagerly. “Please tell me!” 

Brain’s ear twitched as he listened for signs of anyone coming. But none appeared. “I’m going to regret this...but fine. However, everything I’m about to tell you does not leave this maze. Promise me.” 

“Cross my heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my-ow!” Pinky jabbed his eye a little too hard. 

Brain watched him for a moment longer, so Pinky tried to make himself look like a captivated audience. Finally, he gave in with a sigh. 

“Selenians have an oral storytelling tradition called Lor Altal. The loose translation to your language is ‘swapping hearts’, and given their predisposition to sordid, melodramatic affairs, I’d say it’s an accurate name,” Brain explained. “On the mother planet, it’s normally performed on the last day of the month. But explorers and scientists, including those of New Selene, often turned it into a weekly session as a way to remind them of home.” 

“Didja hear any Lor Altals on New Selene?” Pinky asked. He laid on his stomach, propped his head on his elbows, and kicked his feet in the air. 

“...yes.” 

Why so hesitant though? 

“Snowball and I...we used to sneak out of our cages for the weekly Lor Altal. When we were younger. Before they abandoned New Selene. The ones we’d listened to were...well, they could become very elaborate with song, dance, and costume. New Selene’s were more basic, but interesting.” 

“Ooooooh,” Pinky said. This definitely sounded fun fun silly-willy! “You know any good stories, Brain? Can you tell me? Please please please?” 

Brain scratched his head. “Well, there’s one that I...no, perhaps I shouldn’t be thinking about these things. Lor Altals don’t matter in the pursuit of world domination.” 

“I don’t mind!” Pinky said. Brain was so silly, insisting that he couldn’t like stuff outside his goal. He liked cream cheese and blueberry bagels, didn’t he? “I wanna know your favoritest out of the lot!” 

“You do?” Brain asked in surprise. He didn’t seem to believe Pinky. 

“Of course!” Pinky grinned. 

Brain’s cheeks flushed, but he accepted that they weren’t going anywhere. Besides, if Brain really liked these Lor Altal stories, then his orbs would glow and they wouldn’t have to be scared of the dark!

“...alright. This Lor Altal tale is called Heikro var Silda. It’s one of the most well-known stories, starring Selene’s historical figures,” Brain said, gaining more confidence with every word. “The characters were embellished from real life, but the background is mostly the same.”

There was a spark in Brain’s pink eyes now. It intrigued Pinky. 

“Three thousand years ago, before Selene’s industrial and technological revolutions, the entire planet was embroiled in a long and bitter civil war, spearheaded by two rival households, alike in prestige and influence.” 

“If they add honey, maybe it wouldn’t be so bitter?” Pinky suggested.

“Try not to interrupt, Pinky. Setting the mood is important in these stories,” Brain said, breaking out of his narrator voice. And boy did he have a lovely narrator voice! 

Pinky rezipped his lip and let Brain continue. 

“The eastern hemisphere was the domain of the House of Syar'i, of which the fair maiden Silda belonged. The western half was controlled by the House of Alkair, of which the handsome lad Heikro was selected to rule. Caught between the two powerful households, the Selenians were fearful of the violence that ensued whenever they clashed, for both commanded large networks of armies, assassins, and spies. Now, on one fateful day…” 

Soon Brain was completely engrossed in the story, just as Pinky was enthralled to hear Brain give the performance of his life. Well, Brain wasn’t the best actor Pinky had ever seen. Sometimes he was a bit flat and sometimes he was a bit hammy, but the passion in his voice made the story absolutely thrilling.

It was the type of passion someone only had when they truly loved something. 

Some breaks were necessary for Brain to rest his voice for a few minutes, others so Pinky could get a translation for the Selenian language when Brain accidentally used a different tongue after getting caught up in the story. 

Brain’s voice grew softer as he laid out Heikro’s plan to sneak into a banquet thrown by the House of Syar’i to scope out their plans for an invasion of an Akair-controlled port city. And poor Silda, having to marry someone she didn’t love but doing it for the sake of her parents! That poor girl oughta be happy! 

Pinky clasped his hands together at the moment Heikro laid eyes on Silda’s beauty and was instantly smitten, forgetting that he needed to report his findings to his council. And Silda was taken in by Heikro’s broad shoulders and sturdy build. It was love at first sight! How romantic!

“Then Silda bid her parents and their guests good night, and retired to her chambers. But Heikro, who longed to see more of the maiden’s ethereal charm, could not bear to stay away for long. Under the cover of darkness, he crept around her residence, where he found a restless Silda on her balcony. She couldn’t slumber peacefully, for her maidservant revealed the man she kissed was none other than an esteemed member of the House of Akair.” 

Pinky pounded his fist against his knee. “She needs to elope with him, that’s what! Narf!”  

“‘Nova suprhi li ihmin var altal’, he called to her.” 

“Oh, there’s that altal word again. He’s saying something about hearts, I think. That’s so sweet!” Pinky exclaimed. Realizing his mistake, he covered his mouth. “Sorry, Brain! Continue!” 

But instead of continuing, Brain leaned against the wall. Oh. He must’ve gotten tired.

“I’ll let it pass this time, Pinky,” Brain said as he rubbed his throat. “I might’ve overdone it anyway. Next time, I’ll pick a better stopping point.”  

His voice sounded a little raspy. Though Pinky really wanted to know what happened next, keeping Brain’s voice in working order so they could make the phone call was more important. 

“What did that last sentence mean?” Pinky asked. 

Brain regarded Pinky for a long moment. “It’s a favorite quote among many Selenians. But it’s rather saccharine, I’m afraid.”

“I’m not,” Pinky said. 

“If you must know, it means ‘new stars shall be born from our minds and hearts’.” Brain’s voice was so soft, Pinky had to strain to hear it. “As I said, it’s saccharine.” 

“It sounds so poetic!” Pinky smiled. And romantic too!

Brain didn’t say anything. His orbs cast a gentle red glow over his shining pink eyes.  

Egad, his orbs! They were glowing now! Even the one on his tail!

“Brain, you did it!” Pinky cheered, trying to do a cartwheel. But he landed flat on his face instead, though he popped right back up. “You found what made you happy!” 

Brain touched the orbs on his antennae, awed by their appearance. Then he turned towards the dark pathway, gesturing for Pinky to follow.

They didn’t have to worry about traps or getting stuck anymore! Pinky skipped along behind Brain, who walked at a brisk pace.

A soft red glow lit up the metal walls around them as they plunged deeper into the maze. But there were no lefts, rights, or confusing turns. Just straight ahead.

“Thanks for being here with me, Brain. It’s not scary anymore,” Pinky said gratefully, taking Brain’s hand in his own.

“Keep walking, Pinky,” Brain replied, keeping his eyes forward. If anything, the light grew a little brighter. “We should be nearing the end of the maze.”

Pinky sniffed the air. He could’ve sworn he smelled cheese.

Hold the phone! He smelled cheese!

And there was an opening ahead of them!

Pinky’s stomach growled as they stepped into the light, and lo and behold, there were two lumps of cheddar right in front of them!

Even Brain was smiling as he chomped down on the cheese.

Pinky dug in. And it was the best cheese he’d ever tasted in his life!

o-o-o-o-o

It took a long time for the lab to clear out after they finished the maze. The scientists were shocked by Pinky clearing the maze for the first time. He couldn’t blame them. 

He astounded himself too. 

Brain’s light had dimmed long before the lab closed, annoyed by the constant poking and prodding. They wanted to know who spliced him with butterfly DNA because of his antennae, though multiple people thought he was spliced with a mosquito since he bit any curious fingers that strayed close to his face. 

“Those ignorant fools will be bowing to me soon enough, Pinky,” Brain proclaimed as he dialed the number on the invitation. “Hold the card up.”

“Hurry, Brain!” Pinky urged, shooting a fearful glance at the clock. They only had thirty minutes left! 

Brain punched the number into the phone, then hit the call button. 

“Please work!” Pinky begged the phone as it rang. He wanted to wear fancy clothes and mingle and swim in the chocolate fountain so much! 

The phone rang once, twice, then the call finally went through. 

“Hello, this is Harold, butler of Lamont Manor,” a voice with a charming British accent said. “May I ask who I’m speaking with?” 

Pinky bounced from toe to toe in excitement, though he tried to curb it when Brain held up a hand for him to stop. But he couldn’t help his tail twitchies. 

“This is Mr. Clarke,” Brain said, using the name on the card. “My spouse and I will be coming to the ball on Sunday.” 

“I see,” Harold said, his tone changing into one of disgust. That was a little odd. “Another new spouse then, Anthony?” 

New spouse? Brain mouthed in confusion. 

Pinky shrugged. 

“Mrs. Clarke is on the invitation. She’s allowed inside too, correct?” Brain asked.  

“Assuming she’s still your wife by Sunday, yes,” Harold said. “I’ll put your names on the guest list. Try to do something about that awful rasp of yours, will you? Good night.” 

The call ended. 

“The real Mr. Clarke sounds like a delightful fellow,” Brain muttered. 

“I’m sure it won’t be so bad, Brain!” Pinky grinned. Now all they had to do was find fancy stuff for the ball! “You’re gonna be wearing a mask anyway!” 

“I suppose,” Brain sighed. 

“No supposing!” Pinky shook his finger at him. “Besides, you haven’t finished your Lor Altal story yet! You know, it’s funny how it reminds me of Romeo and Juliet. With the feuding families and star-crossed lovers and all! Except much happier, cause Reikro and Silda will help bring about peace to the planet of Selene and live happily ever after!” 

Brain didn’t make eye contact with Pinky for the next few hours.

My original plan was to have them mistaken for feeder mice after they finished the maze, and they would’ve been plopped into a snake enclosure with a snake named Gladys. Pinky would’ve been caught in the coils (Gladys is nonvenomous and would kill by constricting rather than venom), and Brain would rescue him. 

Ultimately, I decided to cut this idea out and have them run a maze instead, which is tedious but not life-threatening. Since the maze is light on danger, I decided to focus more on Pinky and Brain interactions here, and include the Lor Altal oral storytelling tradition, which has been mentioned in previous chapters as an aside. Plus, I believe this story would benefit from Pinky learning more about where Brain came from, since previous chapters have placed the focus on Brain learning about Earth. 

The storytelling is an aspect of Selenian culture Brain likes but never got to fully enjoy. Since Brain seems to have a hidden interest in acting and theatre, given the number of his schemes that involve cinema, broadcasting, and in one case, Broadway, I decided to incorporate that bit of his character here.  

Brain’s story is just an abridged Romeo and Juliet IN SPACE!

[phoenix-downer]

Thank you so much for the asks! I think I'm going to write Ashe and Rasler or Noctis and Luna for the "out of necessity" one, if I get a chance. But could you do the "in public" one for SoKai? Or perhaps the "out of lust" one? Because I guess I want to challenge you. Haha. Since both of them are sort of the opposite for SoKai, and I want to see how you'd handle it while probably still making it feel 99.9% canon.

Thank you for the prompt ideas, @oveliagirlhaditright! I decided to combine them both into one fic. Hope you enjoy!

No Return. ~3000 words. Set years in the future. Master of Masters!Sora AU.

“Riku, I still don’t think this is a good idea,” Kairi said one last time as she adjusted the top of her dress. She was amazed it still fit after all these years, but it was one of the more revealing dresses she had in her arsenal, so she’d decided to wear it tonight. The slit traveled most of the way up her leg, and the neckline plunged so low that the fancy necklace around her neck, with its array of rubies connected by silver loops and chains, rested completely on bare skin. The dress didn’t have much of a back, either, and it was the exact shade of red that looked good with her hair color. It had been a gift, but the giver himself hadn’t seen her wear it in years.

That was all about to change. 

“He said he wanted to meet you here,” Riku pointed out, being careful to keep his voice low as people in their evening finest streamed past them and entered the art gallery. “This is the best chance we have of catching him and stopping him.” 

Kairi sighed deeply. She’d never wanted this; never wanted to be used as the bait to catch Sora with, like he was some kind of rabid animal that needed to be stopped and put down. But here she was, outside one of the World’s most beautiful art museums where the gala of the century was being held, all because he’d invited her himself and their friends decided it would be the perfect opportunity to catch him.  

“He’ll hate me, Riku,” she choked out. “He’ll despise me forever for what I’m about to do to him.”

Riku raised an eyebrow as he adjusted his tie. “Hate you? Sora could never hate you.”

“That just makes this so much worse.” 

A part of her wanted him to despise her. That was what she deserved. Of course, they couldn’t just… let him continue on his current path, but surely there was a way to capture him that didn’t involve such cruelty, such lying and deception—

Riku touched the earpiece in his ear, and Kairi’s heart sank as she watched his expression change, as his lips pulled into a taut line. 

“Xion’s spotted him inside,” he said under his breath a moment later, though the words were unnecessary. She fidgeted with her necklace for good luck. There was no going back now. 

“Everyone’s in position?” she said, trying to stall just a little longer. Their friends were all here, too, dressed for the occasion with a little extra help: Donald’s magic to disguise all of them. All except for her. Even Riku looked different than normal; his eyes were the same color, but his hair was strawberry blond, and his face looked different. 

“Yes.” He took her hands in his. “Kairi, listen. I know this is gonna be tough. But stop for a moment and think. The real Sora, the true Sora we all know and love—what would he want us to do? Allow him to continue like this and keep hurting everyone he loves, or put a stop to him?”

“I think this is the real Sora now,” she said sadly as she turned her head to look inside the building. Sure enough, she thought she could make out his figure on the balcony, waiting patiently for her above all the crowds. “Asking questions like that is just pointless.” 

“I understand. But if it helps, think of how he used to be.” 

She sighed deeply. “That’s more painful than thinking about what he’s like now.” 

“We’ll come for you the moment you give the signal,” Riku said as he released her hands. “You can do this, Kairi.” 

She nodded. She could do this. She had to. The Sora she’d fallen love with was long gone, and in his place was a twisted shell of a man. Capturing him would be a mercy. 

She took a deep breath and straightened, then emerged from their hiding place, strolling gracefully towards Sora like a predator stalking its prey. Every movement deliberate, measured; every step drawing closer to the man who had once held her heart. With each foot forward, she put that much more distance between her and Riku. She was inside the building now, and the guards checked to make sure she was on the guest list, then checked to make sure she carried no weapons.

There was no way for them to check for her Keyblade… or for how she intended to get Sora at her mercy.  

She strolled around the main floor for a while, admiring all the beautiful artwork. There was so much of it; endless piece after endless piece. Some pieces depicted sweet, tender affection, others more passionate scenes, but they all fit the theme “Love or Lust” quite well. She was sure Naminé would be examining each piece with a true artist’s eye, wherever she was in the crowd right now. 

She could feel Sora’s eyes on her long before she intended to talk to him. The more she drew this out, the more he would want to see her, and the more desperate he would be. So it was in her best interest to make him wait as long as possible. 

She strolled over to the food and drink tables and nibbled on the finger foods but skipped the alcohol. She needed her full wits to handle what was coming up ahead. As she was about to put another little sandwich into her mouth with ham and provolone cheese and tomato and this delicious sauce she couldn’t quite identify, someone tapped her on the shoulder. She turned around, and the man who greeted her was strong and bulky and wearing a similar outfit to the guards. Perhaps he was one of Sora’s bodyguards.

“Madame, would you like to see a special painting on the upper floor?”

She smirked and set the little sandwich back on her plate. “I’d love to, but I’d like to finish eating first. Tell your master that I will come to him when I’m ready.”

The man bowed slightly. “Very well, Madame. He eagerly awaits your company.” 

“Oh, I know he does.”

She took her time finishing the little sandwich, then went back for another one. After that she took thorough stock of the desserts and settled on a piece of chocolate cake and a little cup of tapioca pudding. But at last she was full, and she figured she’d made Sora wait long enough. A quick trip to the bathroom ensured her makeup was still impeccably applied, and then she glided towards the stairs and began her slow ascent to Sora. 

When she reached the top of the stairs, an enormous painting caught her eye. It was of two lovers wrapped in each other’s arms, naked except for the wings sprouting from their backs and a single red cloth wrapped between their legs. They floated against a starlit sky, and matching laurels rested on their heads. The man gazed at the woman, and she likewise gazed into his eyes, like they were the only two people in existence. 

No wonder Sora had wanted her to see this. It was truly a magnificent painting.  

“Kairi.”

She took a deep breath. This was it. She turned around, not entirely sure what to expect.  

For once he’d ditched the black robes and wore a suit with a red vest instead. It was well-fitted, and as much as she was reluctant to admit it, he looked good. His hair was still spiky, and he carried himself with the confidence that had drawn her to him in the first place. Her eyes roamed over him like she couldn’t look away. And his one golden eye roamed over her in return, clearly appreciating what he was seeing. The other eye was hidden behind an eyepatch, but even the eyepatch matched the rest of his clothes. 

A smile spread across his face, and for a moment, she almost forgot who she was dealing with here.

“I’m glad you came,” he said. 

She forced a smile. “Of course. I wanted to see you. And this art exhibit is truly incredible. This painting in particular took my breath away.”

That much was true at least. She’d never been good at lying, so it was best to stick to the truth as much as possible. 

“I figured you’d like it,” he said as he stared at it for a few moments, then looked back at her. She was vaguely aware of the people around them moving away as he gestured to the guards without breaking eye contact with her. Even though his remaining eye was yellow, she still found herself getting lost in his gaze. 

“I wanted to see you too,” he finally said, once they were alone.  

“So much that you would risk meeting me?” she asked, her eyebrow raising. “You know the others don’t approve. They’d come after you in an instant if they knew you were here.”

“But they don’t know,” he said with a grin. “And I know you’d never betray me. The others might, but you never could. After all this time, you still care about me.” 

“Is that why you called me here?”

“Is that why you came?”

She fell silent and turned away from him to stare at the painting. “I… I don’t know.” 

She heard him take a step closer to her. “I think you do. You just don’t want to admit it.” 

Why had she agreed to all of this, really? Was it because she wanted to put a stop to Sora, like Riku had said? Or had a part of her deep down longed to see him, no matter what the cost?

“You despise yourself for still loving me, don’t you,” he murmured in her ear as he put his arms around her. Her breath caught at his boldness, but her body responded instantly to his touch. It still remembered what her heart was trying so hard to forget. He brought her flush against him, and never had being so close to him felt so wrong and yet so right the same time. 

“How could I still love you?” she choked out. “You’ve done such terrible things—”

“All to save you. All so we could finally be together. I got tired of losing you. I got sick of being separated from you over and over again.” 

“Doesn’t matter. How could you ever justify what you’ve done?” 

She tried to wriggle out of his grasp, and he finally released her. When she turned to face him, she was surprised by the honesty in his expression. 

“When did I ever say what I’ve done is right or good? I just don’t care anymore, that’s all. The only thing that matters anymore is being with you.”

His words tugged at her heartstrings, appealed to the twisted romantic deep inside her. His words were horrifying, and yet they were also one of the most honest declarations of love he’d ever given her. 

“You can’t cheat death forever, Sora,” she said sadly. “Not yours, and not mine.”

“No one can cheat death forever. But who says death has to stop us?”

He gently cupped her face and stroked her cheek. She hated herself for melting into his touch, for refusing to move away. 

“Do you remember our last date?” he asked softly. 

She nodded. That evening was still vivid in her memory. It was the last happy time they’d spent together before everything had gone wrong. A date back home on Destiny Islands to enjoy the autumn festival that turned into them strolling on the beach alone and then ended with—

“You were wearing the exact same dress you’re wearing now,” he murmured as he stepped behind her and his arms went back around her.

“I was.”

“And you look as beautiful now as you did back then. No, even more beautiful.” He nipped at her ear and teased the sensitive skin of her neck with his mouth, and her hand went over his. 

“You… you look very handsome, too,” she admitted. Even with only one eye that constantly reminded her of his corruption, she couldn’t deny it. 

“Well, the years have been kinder to you than they’ve been to me,” he said with a chuckle. His breath was hot on her cheek, and her heart was pounding in her chest.

“If only they’d been kinder.” 

“No more wallowing in the past,” he said as his lips rested at the corner of her mouth. “What matters is that we’re together again.” 

“Yes,” she said, then turned around and pressed her lips against his. He stiffened at first, then melted against her persistent mouth and allowed her tongue entry. A muffled moan escaped him as she kissed him, and he wrapped his arms around her waist and brought her directly against him, one of his hands wandering dangerously low. There was nothing shy or reserved about this kiss; neither of them had the patience for that. They kissed each other with all the pent up desire and passion their years of separation had brought because they both knew there was no guarantee there would even be a next time.

As the kiss grew more passionate, she realized she didn’t want it to end. He was right. She still loved him, after all this time. The foolish heart of a foolish woman beat in her chest, but it didn’t matter. That heart was his. Always had been, always would be. She was as hopelessly in love with him as the woman in the painting was besotted with her lover.

She brought her hands to his face. She had to tell him, tell him everything. How she felt, why she was here, everything. 

“Sora—”

She felt him stiffen. 

“Gotcha,” came a voice that made her blood run cold. Sora was pulled from her arms just like all of those other times he’d been taken from her, and his sharp cry tore at her heart. Axel pulled his arms behind his back as Ven bound him with magic. She spotted Terra and Roxas confronting some guards, and she figured everyone else was also subduing guards as quickly and as quietly as possible. Thanks to Aqua’s magic, hardly anyone noticed anything was amiss.  

“Good work, Kairi,” Riku said as he rested a hand on her shoulder, and never had she felt horrible for receiving praise from someone. 

“Sorry, Sora, but we couldn’t just let you keep doing what you were doing,” Ven said sadly as he cast another spell on top of the first round to make sure Sora couldn’t escape. “This was the only way we could think of to stop you.” 

Sora’s eye met hers, shock and disbelief in his gaze. “Kairi? You were in on this?”

Her lower lip trembled and her eyes watered, but no words would come out of her mouth. 

“You betrayed me,” he said softly, as if he couldn’t believe what he was saying. “And here I thought you never could.” He barked out a laugh. “Guess I was wrong about that. I really can’t trust anyone after all.” 

“I didn’t want to do it!” she cried. “I was going to tell you, I wanted to warn you—”

“Sure you were,” he said, and his eye was cold. Their friends pulled him forward, and his eyepatch slipped down. She gasped and put her hand over her mouth. The sad, empty socket of his other eye was laid bare; the eye itself was completely gone. The skin around it was scarred, and she wanted nothing more than to kiss it, to make up for the awful pain he must’ve endured to lose an eye like that. 

“Sora?” she said as she reached towards the missing eye. 

“That’s the Master of Masters to you,” he said coldly, and she couldn’t help the tears that slid down her cheek. Somehow his words hurt worse than everything else that had come before. 

“Enough of this, Sora,” Riku said as he grabbed his arm. “Kairi’s telling the truth. She didn’t want to do this and only agreed to it on the condition you’d be treated well.” 

“A betrayal by any other name is still a betrayal, Riku,” he said. “You of all people should know that.”

Riku stiffened but didn’t lash out. “Think what you want, but Kairi didn’t betray you. She never gave us the signal to close in. We captured you of our own accord.” 

Sora’s eye met hers once more, and there was a hint of something besides coldness in it.

“Riku’s right,” she said with a sniff. “And you were right, too. You were right about me. About us.”

Comprehension flickered through his eye, and he opened his mouth to say something when Axel interrupted him.

“Enough. We can talk about this back at the Tower. Our activities are getting us some unneeded attention.”

Sure enough, there was a group of people heading their way, even with Aqua’s magic counteracting this very thing. The sooner they left, the better. 

“Please, let me stay with him,” Kairi said. “That’s all I ask. I can’t… I can’t bear any more separations.” 

Riku and Axel and Ven exchanged glances, then nodded, and she let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank you,” she told Riku as they led Sora along. Sora was quiet and didn’t put up a struggle, just walked along with them despite being their captive.

As her eyes met his eye, she thought she saw a spark of blue. Could it really be…?

Well, real or not, she would stay by his side. Capturing him was for the best, and she knew it was foolish to dream he wouldn’t face punishment. After what he’d done, he couldn’t just get off scot-free. But if there was even the hope that the old Sora, the real Sora, would return, she would stay by his side however long it took.

She cast one last glance at the beautiful painting behind them. Hoping that things could ever go back to the way they were before was foolish, but maybe someday, or perhaps in another life even, the vision before her would be more than just a dream. 

——————————————————————————————-

A/N: Thank you again oveliagirlhaditright! I know you like Phantom of the Opera, Versus XIII, and Master of Masters!Sora a lot, so I drew inspiration from them all three of those elements to write this story for you. Hope you enjoyed!

I’m still working on the rest of the kiss prompts (thank you to everyone who sent them in!), but if you’d like to read the previous ones, they include, “A kiss to pretend, “A good morning kiss,” “A kiss on a falling tear,” and “A kiss in secrecy.” Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed!

[nowiisnow-blog1]

Are American sneakers a style don't in Paris? The Senior Editor of online magazine Paris Eiffel Tower News tends to the issue from a respective perspective.

I can't check the occasions voyagers who asked me: 'Should I wear sneakers in Paris?' and different varieties of a similar inquiry. American sightseers particularly are worried about 'not fitting in' with wrong shoes.

That demeanor is astounding in fact. Dressing so as not to stun the affectability of local people: what amount increasingly kind would you be able to get? I can just offer praise to every one of you who at any point posed the inquiry or considered it!

Paris, French style, sneakers

Paris-bound travelers are regularly of the feeling that French ladies are stalwart design exploited people. This case is unquestionably overstated, however access to jazzy apparel is vigorously encouraged in Paris where ladies magazines, for example, 'Elle' and 'Figaro Madame' direct what's in vogue and so forth.

As I would like to think, perpetual tastes look particularly similar in Paris and New York City. Globalization will in general homogenize style, making work-a-day wear comparable in huge urban areas.

Regardless, the sneaker concern stays legitimate. Sneakers are currently such a ware in the US, how is it in Paris?

The for the most part acknowledged business clothing standard in France for the most part bans sneakers from entering the professional workplace, with the exception of low-level positions. In this way the Parisian lady wears gorgeous city shoes to go to work, except if the business which utilizes her develops an energetic picture wherein sneakers locate a characteristic home.

However sneakers have become plan symbols in their own right. Adidas, Puma and Nike each have their own Parisian stores, and wrench out more models a persuading design unfortunate casualty could undoubtedly shake charge cards at. Adidas as of late cooperated with notable style fashioner Yohji Yamamoto to make Y-3, another line of spruce up sneakers. Stella McCartney likewise has her own Adidas line.

What significant contrast in shoe-mentality would we be able to distinguish among American and French she-buyers? The last will wear sneakers as structure things, not as workaday shoes. Sneakers won't be purchased for comfort, yet will locate a simple route into a tight tote when they praise dress-down jeans and make their proprietor look great. The She-Parisian loves sneakers which make her feet look slight, little, and tasteful.

A minor look at the kinds of sneakers most normally observed on ladies' feet in Paris is advising: you won't perceive any wide, comfortable, comfortable looking, plain vanilla sneakers. You will see little, slim looking, level sole, originator sneakers.

For similar reasons, a couple of Stephane Kelian or Robert Clergerie shoes will quite often be preferred over a couple of attractive Pumas. Shoes are a style articulation, and the more downplayed it is, the better.

That is another significant contrast among French and American ladies. Modest representation of the truth is a cardinal guideline in French style. Anything that is too noticeable is viewed as flashy. This is the reason the little dark dress is such a style symbol, and why Audrey Hepburn will consistently be recognized as The Quintessential Fashionable American Woman.

Voyagers and sneakers

Does this mean you can't wear sneakers when you travel to Paris? Obviously not!

Most importantly, sneakers can be open to strolling shoes. What's more, walk you will, in Paris. The absolute best approach to find the city is to stroll along its lanes. Wearing shoes in which you feel great strolling 10 miles per day at a lackadaisical pace is a significantly significant choice for the general state of mind of your stay in the French capital.

Try not to ease off from wearing sneakers if these are your best strolling shoes. Furthermore, on the off chance that you have far better strolling shoes, pack them, regardless of whether they make you appear as though you are on a trekking trip!

To be perfectly honest, you ought not pose yourself this inquiry. Who thinks about what you look like in the road? Try not to act naturally cognizant, simply be agreeable in your shoes. You are a guest, these are your excursions, this is your own one of a kind time! Pants and sneakers are worldwide. Individuals won't be affronted by your looks. Except if you dress in pink tops and electric blue jeans, with brilliant sneakers and Jackie-O conceals, no one around will have any apprehensions about your clothing.

What's more, on the off chance that they ever notice your pants, LL Bean trekking shoes, and Patagonia coat, well, push come to push, they may believe you're American. Thus what? No doubt they will value your meeting Paris.

Feasting out in sneakers

Does it mean you can wear sneakers all over the place, on any and each event? Not really.

For example, would you be able to eat in an eatery shoed with your fresh out of the plastic new white sneakers?

For it, we should envision you are walking around in your Levi's pants and Lands End boots. It's presently supper time, you are eager, and examining the scene searching for a promising eatery. There is it! The menu showed outside is appealing, costs are inside your usual range of familiarity, the spot isn't so packed... Ok, yet visitors are dressed adroitly. Will they let you in? Will you fit in?

I presently can't seem to see an entryway sign specifying 'No Sneakers Allowed' in Paris. Some high-forehead spots may expertly leave you under control: "Do you have a booking? Apologies, we are full today around evening time". In any case, alongside those uncommon affected spots, no eatery will won't situate you since you wear easygoing sneakers.

Along these lines the correct inquiry isn't 'Will I be permitted in?', yet 'Will I feel good entering a dressy spot in sneakers?' I adventure that you most likely would not. Also, the issue is that acting naturally cognizant is a surefire approach to execute your supper. Your consideration ought to be in your plate and on your nourishment, not on your shoes and attire.

My handy standard is 'Dress as indicated by the lieu'. In the event that you mean to feast out at costly, dressy eateries when you are in Paris, simply bring your Pradas. Even better: visit Stephane Kelian's and Robert Clergerie's boutiques in Paris, and get yourself beautiful looking footwear by these Parisian planners.

Different spots and sneakers

There are different spots where sneakers just won't cut it.

The Opera House is certainly one of them. However, who might be so silly as not to spruce up for drama night? The sneaker point is debatable.

Shouldn't something be said about a men's club? I would state it is greatly improved to spruce up when you eat at a men's club like 'Moulin Rouge', 'Lido', and 'Paradis Latin'. In spite of the fact that lone the stage is sufficiently bright in these spots, the truth of the matter is individuals around you will for the most part be spruced up. You will feel significantly more agreeable in some progressively formal wear.

What about the pontoons on the Seine? On the off chance that you are boarding a vessel for a supper journey, don't wear sneakers. This is a sentimental encounter, you will need to benefit as much as possible from it. A night dress is 'de rigueur'. Then again, in the event that you just need to voyage here and there the stream, sneakers are fine.

Galleries? Disregard style, wear truly agreeable shoes. No one will take a gander at your shoes, workmanship is on the dividers. Be that as it may, strolling down the Louver displays is a tiring encounter: so far and away also observe, such a large number of exhibitions, so moderate the pace. The great specialist's recommendation: go with pad and solace.

Workmanship exhibition 'vernissages'? Style is your signal. Workmanship displays are little, vernissage nighttimes are short. Night dress, dark ideally, not much, and attractive structure shoes. No sneakers.

Wrapping up

Dress for the spot you go to. In the event that you are uncertain about the clothing regulation, you may bring ahead of time to get evaluated of it. Pack a dressy pair of shoes, or get one when you are in Paris. Bring an attentive, downplayed evening dress.

In any case, don't move in an opposite direction from sneakers for other not really formal events. Wear them boldly in the road. You will mix fine and dandy on the off chance that you harbor a couple of pants and a couple of sneakers. Nike is an American brand, and it is famous in France. Levi's, Diesel, and Calvin Klein are American brands, and they rule the French pants scene as well. Indeed, I can't exactly think about any area in France where American culture didn't leave an imprint - aside from possibly food.

[the-house-of-the-nine]

In Depths Below, Masquerade, Part 5

Elsewhere...

“Yeah yeah.  I see him.  A nearsighted leper gnome could see him.”  the gruff voice of the demonic Bladewarden snarled.  

He was sitting atop the large walled structure with his lovely frozen counterpart beside him.  His leathery black wings tucked up against his spine while the pair of them watched several large carts and mounted guards stroll through the first gate into the courtyard.

“. . .what does being a leper gnome and being able to see far away have to do with this. . .let alone one another?”  she asked inquisitively as she shifting lich fire eyes locked onto him.

“Well you know. . .the. . .and then there's. . .because. . .”  Koltun stumbled through his words as he tried to find a reason for it.

“Mhmm.” she hissed, turning back to the scene unfolding as her spyglass was placed back on her eye. “It’s Dawnseeker alright. . . I can see the emblem to his House on the back rider.”

“Lepers lose parts. . .maybe he lost his eyes?  Or they’re just bad.”  the demon continued to wrestle with his comparison.  Straining to think behind that contorted face.

“And there is Sennaris. . .” Pyravari added.

They were both atop the large stone wall of the bell tower.  Below in the court, several of their Illidari and the Harbingers elite personal guard were well placed as carriage riders, valets and groomers.  Several of them were stable hands and others were just simply house folk who would be there to tidy the beautiful carts which were waiting to be taken home.

“And Zalra. . . Both of them with their meat shields.” Vari seethed while she scanned over the crowd of guards and nobles who were arriving in the entourage of the powerful Magister. “They are moving over to his cart. . .”

“I’ve got it.  A leper gnome that lost his eyes due to the radiation.  So even he could see it. . .” the demon proudly puffed his chest out.

“Focus. . .”  she added, motioning with her hand toward the lavish and grand cart that was being surrounded.

Out from the cabin, a large elven man stepped out.  His hair was a lovely flowing amber; hanging down to his middle back with braids of various sizes scattered throughout.  His robes were that of the colors of their people; the brilliant gold and crimson that so many others adorned.  He was slender, and rather graceful in his action as he was warmly welcomed by the stewards of the House Honeywell.

“And here we go. . .He is meeting with Sennaris and Honeywell now. . .Sunwood. . . they’re in. . .” Pyravari hissed when she lowered the spyglass and collapsed it in on itself.

“Go. . .You move to the southern entrance. I want a sweeping flank.  Two moving, while two recover.  No blood, no bodies and absolutely no sound.  I'm going to take the front gate and start the pincer.. . .What?. . .what is it?”

“And you’re not going to say anything about the leper. . .”  he groaned with a look of disappointment across his face, he too started to stand and prepare to depart from their bell tower. “Typical.”

“Sweet Kolty. . .” she said turning around where they had climbed up from.  In her hands was the large braided rope which was attached to the grappling hook wedged in the wall.  She wrapped the end around her back, funneling it around to her other hand and coiling it there.  “Get over it. . .”

His hopes dashed, here he had half expected her to praise him for his efforts.  And as she back peddled and leapt from their vantage, he heard her toss out a phrase.

“A blind seer.”  

“Dammit!” he snarled as his bat link wings sprung from his back.  His clawed foot stomped against the stonework as he clenched his teeth.  “A blind seer. . .why couldn’t I think of that. . .that's good. . .”  

Both he and the Harbinger separated at that point.  His silent gliding wings taking him to his destination, and her own physical prowess carrying her down the side of the bell tower and into the courtyard where they would begin eliminating their threats.

Back within the ballroom. . .

There was a dead silence that fell across the gathered guests that evening.   On the center stage, the mechanical musicians had been silenced via remote control.  And the collection of servers, chefs and artisans were asked to hold their affairs.

From the front of the ballroom, the lord of the manor and host for the evening; Magister Honeywell took the opportunity to greet everyone who had come out, and start the evening off.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, my esteemed collages and fellow Magisters. It is my honor and the honor of my house to welcome you all to our thirty seventh annual Vintner of the Year ceremony.  I would urge you all to mindfully keep away from the Sweetblossom Merlot; it is absolutely sinful.”  

Magister Honeywell was greeted to a full room of applause.  And at his wise crack about the wine; the audience in attendance would laugh and clap as if the words were some of the most rich to ever grace their ears.  

In realty though, most of these people were probably just trying to muscle their way higher on the food chain in order to gain more for their respective houses.  Bumping a few elbows always greased the wheel.

“Now many of you may also know that this night, marks a very special occasion.  It is not only our annual tasting but also the anniversary of the splendid couple, our own Magister and Madam Sunwood.” He said in announcement; his hands beginning to clap as he looked about the ballroom at the shining faces.  To his right, both Zalra and her ‘husband’ took a bow.  

The room cheered when they shared a little innocent kiss, and hoisted their glasses in celebration of the wealthy couple.  Sennaris stood beside her Master as he prepared to speak again; hands raised over his head while he quieted them down.

“We have one other reason for gathering this evening.  As we share a common ground within the courts and magistrate respectively; one among us is celebrating his centennial marker.  His house has served the court of Quel’thalas, and remained a dutiful supporter of the Sin’dorei for countless years.  We would like you all to help welcome and honor. . .”

Around the room people were absolutely astounded by the fact that they were about to meet with a very influential person within their city.  But elsewhere around the room, certain individuals were more focused on the fact that they were about extract their revenge.  Siida was sitting in a chair at the table of Magister Sunwood.  Her hands had been magically fused in her lap so she could not try anything.  

She was dressed in a lovely ball gown, no doubt the same style that the Lady of the manor wore.  Her hair and makeup had been done properly.   Everything that presented her to look like a guest, and not a sacrificial lamb.

Marseille, Verzatea and her several magical wards all continued to watch for the lead man himself.  Zalra would have to keep her emotions in check, being up front and with eyes upon her, being so close to the man responsible for all of this.

“Please. . .let us welcome Magister Darnallas Dawnseeker.” Honeywell said completing his sentence after holding for effect.

Blood was not something that would have been allowed tonight.  Because of that simple rule, Vari and Koltun had agreed they needed to use stealth, and they needed to use subtlety.  

Garrote wire, bludgeoning tools, anything that would make a softer and more silent attack.  But this was not an all out war.  They needed to specifically target the ones who were guarding these Magisters belongings and not harm the innocents.

Koltun and several of his elite moved with the shadows; their clawed hands and powerful wings encasing people.  They were working from the back and moving forward.  

“Thank you all, It is an honor to have served the courts of our beloved Silvermoon City these last few decades.  I am but a humble servant to our people and it gives me great pleasure to continue serving; hopefully for another century. . .”

Koltun locked his under arms around the throat of a guard, his larger size easily allowing him to be hoisted upward.  The guards feet dangled like two pendulums swinging as he struggled and grunted to escape the horrible choke hold.  Beside him, another one his guards were having the same treatment.  Both men watching the other die, and in a simultaneous -SNAP-, their necks were broken and they were dropped to the ground.  A pair who were there to clean up the dead swept in after Koltun and his chosen fled, they would move the bodies as the others worked.

“Years ago, my father told me about the necessary steps that must be taken and sacrifices that must be made; in order for our people to prevail.  He would say, you need to snap a few branches to get to the fruit, and that remains true even to this day.  Nothing worth having comes without a price!”

The massive winged demon took another swing, the guard dodging to his left and attempting to cut him with a blade.  “No Blood”  he thought to himself and skillfully avoided taking a jab to the gut.

“When I was just a boy, I knew that I would go on to follow in his footsteps.  And had it not been for the morals and values instilled in me when I was young; I would never stand before you, a beacon to our people for what it means to put your mind toward victory!”

Koltun stood atop the guard with his clawed foot firmly planted on his chest, his arms flexing as he proudly showed dominance over the dead man.  He had also been a bit too aggressive there and snapped his spine when he delivered the killing blow of a back breaker across his knee.  But subtlety was not always his strongest point.

The cleaners rushed in, scooping the last of the southern guards away and bounded over the wall which led to the wooded area.  Koltun and the others would cling to the sides of the manor like little dark winged bats all arranged along the cave walls.  

One after another, the dark demons would swoop down like vicious hungry birds snatching their prey and devouring them whole.  It was a singular, and brutal attack which would only be relieved once the target was dead and the ones collecting would rush in behind.

“And nothing will tarnish my resolve!  I will continue to dutifully repay the kindness our fare city has bestowed upon me with every ounce of energy I have.  It is my honor, nay privilege to stand before you.  So many faces I recognize, and so many more I hope to someday soon know very, very well!”

Vari continued to sweep through the corridors and path ways of the front part of the estate.   Her elite keeping track and rushing behind her, their own blades were locked snug one their backs.  “No Blood” She reiterated once more.  And she and her several Valkyries charged toward the guards who were enjoying the night off.

“I hope you all enjoy our festivities this evening.  Magister Honeywell has provided us with our food and wonderful beverages this evening.  As well as a fantastic little surprise, I am sure he is eager to introduce. . .Aren’t you Aloysius?”

And what a surprise it was.  She would slam her large plated forearm directly into the unsuspecting guard, while she climbed on top of him with two clawed, plated hands curling around his neck and suffocating him.  Two other of her personal guard rushed in beside her, tackling the others and matching her near perfect delivery with similar attacks of their own.

“Magister Sunwood has organized the entertainment for this evening, from what I see it is a marvelous little robotic musical box.  And of course, the many fabulous vineyards from around our beloved Quel’thalas have all entered their hat in the race to be crowned this years Vinter of the Year.  And please, do not forget to fill out your voting cards and place them in the ballot box by tenth bell this evening!”

The bodies that continued to toss aside were cleanly removed and taken with the rest as the cleaners worked from both ends, swooping in and picking off any that were marked for delivery.  One by one the Bladewarden and Harbinger would cut a swath through the enemies, and those who were innocent remained unharmed.

“Thank you Magister Dawnseeker!”  Honeywell said as he clapped his hands in unison with the rest of the crowd.  

A cupped wave would be made as one of his own personal guards handed Dawnseeker his own glass of wine as he made his way toward the rear of the presentation.

“Now, I would like to announce our very special treat for everyone.  Along the waterfront while we have been enjoying meals and festivities, a wonderful treat has been set up for all to witness.  We have a magnificent fireworks display that will carry us up to the announcement of Vintner of the Year, so please. . .if you all would follow our escorts down the carriage path out the rear balcony doors.  They will take you all the short distance through the gardens and down to the water.”

Honeywell smiled and began to motion people in the direction of the large double doors that were leading them out to the gardens.  It was this distraction that would help to ensure whatever was going to happen in the manor; stayed there.  At the behest of the young lady Kash’ebahl, no innocents were to be harmed if it could be avoided.

To be continued... In Depths Below:Masquerade,Part 6

[sassycassie-s-series]

Enchanted Castle 4

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): Vine/YouTube/Thomas Sanders

Rating: PG

Notes: (Masterlist) Having recently watched TS’s Pride vid, I feel a little awkward posting this. In my defense, I heard he was bi. I wasn’t meaning any disrespect. Sorry. I’m just going to finish posting the chapters because I already finished it. And since that’s a rarity, I’m just going to finish this. Sorry.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

^^^^^

Bang! Bang! Bang!

“I thought I told you to come down to dinner!” Thomas’ voice roared through the door.

“I'm not hungry!” I called back, actually telling the truth. Despite the fact that I hadn’t eaten since early that morning, I'd lost all appetite from adrenaline and fear. I'd probably be famished by the morning, but at the moment, I was fine.

“It would give me great pleasure… if you would join me for dinner,” Thomas ground out. There was a brief pause. “Please,” he added reluctantly.

I was surprised at the attempt at manners and raised one eyebrow, impressed but I clenched my jaw and felt my defiance rear its head. “No thank you,” I retorted sharply, whipping my head around and going back towards the window. Madame Garderobe—the wardrobe—had fallen asleep after attempting to dress me for dinner in a courtier gown from ten years ago and it went awry. I ended up looking like fluff of fabric. But since she was asleep, I'd unraveled the yards and yards of ribbons and fabric to make a rope long enough to descend the side of the castle. I bunched it up and shoved it under the valence around the bottom of the four-poster bed in case Thomas came in.

But he just roared something I couldn’t quite understand and stormed off.

I wasn’t going to escape tonight anyway. It was too dark and too dangerous.

Once a door slammed at the end of the corridor—making the walls of the bedroom rattle—I sat down on the edge of the bed and ran my hands through my hair.

The rumble from the slam woke up Madame Garderobe. She didn’t seem to notice that the gown she’d flung on me was missing. “What’s going on? Shouldn’t you be at dinner with the master?” she asked. I blinked.

“I already told you I wasn’t going.”

“Oh come on, dear! He’s really not that bad once you get to know him!”

I shrugged. “Not interested, thanks,” I remarked. “I'm going to go look around.” I got off the edge of the bed and strolled out of my room.

I made my way to the ground floor to the entrance hall facing the front door, there was a ballroom off to my right—it was on the left when I'd entered earlier so I guess that made sense. I'd had a long night and was a little turned around. So I went off to the left—my left, not the left of the front door—instead.

Somehow I ended up in the kitchen.

“Ah! Mademoiselle!” the mantel clock from before exclaimed from where he was tottering around the tiled floor. “So nice to make your acquaintance! I'm Daniel Cogsworth, head of the household—” He was cut off by metal sliding on tile and something cold taking my hand where I moved to shake the clock’s. The candelabra from before was standing there, bent over my hand and kissing it with metal lips. “This is Phillip Lumiere,” Daniel Cogsworth finished, looking disgruntled.

“Enchanted to meet you, mademoiselle!” Phillip Lumiere complimented.

“Thank you,” I offered. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

“Ooooh! What have we here?” a new voice with a different accent inquired. A beautifully ornate feather duster swooped into my line of sight. She was rich dark brown wood with silky black feathers and chocolate diamonds for eyes. The shaft and the handle were carved with intricately detailed patterns. Mrs. Potts came in after her.

“Hello there. I'm Star,” I greeted.

“I am Lyric,” the duster introduced with what could almost be counted as a curtsey.

Phillip Lumiere looked flirtatious as he scooped the handle of the feather duster into his arms. “Yes you are,” he remarked, moving in for a kiss.

“Oh no!” Lyric chastised. “I've been burned by you before, Phil!” Calling the candelabra by a nickname made me giggle behind my hand. “And I will not have you ruining my handle!” I felt my heart ache. This was pure, true love between the two of them.

Phillip Lumiere snuck a kiss anyway—on what could have been counted as her cheek.

The clock made a retching noise.

“Is there anything we can do to make you more comfortable?” Monsieur Cogsworth asked.

“Not really. Maybe just a glass of water before I head to sleep,” I remarked.

Phillip Lumiere looked astounded. “No, no, mademoiselle!” he protested. “You must have some dinner!”

I shook my head and opened my mouth to protest, but I didn’t have to.

Apparently Daniel Cogsworth was in agreement with me. “No. No. You heard what the master said: if she doesn’t eat with him, she doesn’t eat at all!”

“Oh nonsense,” Mrs. Potts put in. “I'm not about to let the poor child go hungry.”

Phillip Lumiere led me out of the kitchen and into the adjoining dining room, Lyric joining him.

“Okay, but keep it down. If the master finds out, it will be our necks!” Daniel Cogsworth hissed.

“Of course!” Phillip Lumiere replied. “But, what is dinner without a little…” I barely caught his wink. “Music?”

“Music?!” Daniel Cogsworth demanded as the door swung back and knocked him off his feet.

I moved to go help him. “No, no. He’s fine,” Phillip Lumiere insisted, tugging on the hem of my skirt. “Come, come!” I followed him to the head of a long dining table. The room wasn’t as extravagant as the rest of the castle, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t beautiful. And it was. The table was mahogany and the chairs were cushioned. There wasn’t as much gold-leafing as I'd seen in the rest of the castle, but the chandeliers still glimmered in the moonlight.

I couldn’t help but smile as a chair pushed itself in behind me, pushing me down so I was sitting in it. I yelped and then laughed. This was incredible. Impossible as it was, the sense of magic was amazing. I'd always quietly believed in magic—but more in an imagination sense. Never particularly in a real sense.

But I'd just watched a candelabra steal a kiss from a feather duster.

Either I was hallucinating or magic existed in a very real sense.

I favored the latter.

“Bonjour, mademoiselle,” Phillip Lumiere greeted. “It is with deepest pride—and greatest pleasure!—that we welcome you tonight. And now, we invite you to relax, let us pull up a chair as the dining room proudly presents: your dinner!”

And he began to sing. My mouth dropped.

All the living objects joined in—talking about how they missed having people to serve and it had been years since they had guests. And, really, it must have been. How else would they have the time to rehearse such a grand performance? No one could come up with something like this off the top of their head. It was too well put together.

It was also amazing.

While they performed, I had a small meal. They kept bringing out more and more food, but it was impossible for me to eat all of it, but sampling as much as I could was definitely enough to fill my stomach for the night—especially since I still wasn’t particularly hungry.

After their musical number, Mrs. Potts and Lyric escorted me to my room and sent me to bed.

Madame Garderobe had indeed laid out a nightdress for me—before, evidently, going back to sleep herself. It was dusty-gold satin with embroidery around the hem and short sleeves made of soft white lace. The washroom door was open and water was still steaming in a bath tub. I raised my eyebrows in surprise before gratefully pulling off my blue dress and getting in the water. It was comfortable and warm.

After scrubbing off the sweat and grime of the day—from riding Napoleon to spending some time in a tower cell—I wrapped my hair up in a soft white towel and put on the nightdress.

It was so comfortable. I'd never felt anything like it. The longer I wore my clothes, the softer they got—like how a repeatedly-crumpled parchment got softer—but this was nothing like that. The nightgown felt like I was wrapped in liquid sunlight.

I brushed my teeth with the little toothbrush before pulling my hair out of the towel and brushing it out with the hairbrush. I braided my hair down my back and tied it with a little silk ribbon the same color as the nightgown that had been resting on the bedspread.

Someone had come in while I was gone and dusted everything off. The writing desk and vanity were shiny, the quilt was more vibrantly-colored than I thought, and the gold-leafing glimmered. I checked under the bed to make sure my makeshift rope was still there. A smile lifted on my face when I saw no one had touched it.

Wow. I couldn’t get over it. The palace was so incredibly ornate and detailed. It was beautiful—like something out of one of Papa’s paintings.

But I was exhausted. The day had been long and difficult in all sorts of ways.

I climbed into the bed and felt relaxed instantly. The mattress was like lying on air. It was so comfortable. The bed was wider than mine at home, so I spread out my limbs a little bit, indulgently, before rolling onto my side. I could enjoy this bed for one night.

Not thinking too hard about the rope or escaping, I closed my eyes and went to sleep.

Next