#[zori voice] i’ll keep all my feelings right here close to my chest and then one day i’ll die

[consulaaris]

sorry not sorry for the spam of lore & screenshots but i simply must ramble on a little about zori’s love life before i stop because i’m so unwell about it. big ARR & heavensward spoilers below. this is very long and very self indulgent don’t @ me.

.

so. zori’s main (and likely endgame) romance is thancred. though they’re initially at odds, their dynamic grows into one with a lot of playful banter and back-and-forth between them, typically with thancred playfully/dramatically flirting with her and zori teasingly shutting him down (connected to the first time they met where he did genuinely try to make a move on her, and she snapped at him pretty hard). zori cares for him a lot— they do share in a lot of quiet, companionable moments, and even though they’re both the type of people who work themselves to the bone, they are able to relax with each other and zori lets her guard down around him. she starts to realize just how deep her feelings for thancred go when he’s taken over by lahabrea, and she fights tooth and nail to save him, even though it’s nearly at the cost of her own life.

but though she’s desperately glad to have him back, years of keeping her feelings to herself stop zori from actually saying anything. besides, she likes their status quo, and doesn’t want to lose what they do have.

ultimately she does lose it, though— when thancred and y’shtola bring the tunnel down in ul’dah at the end of the ARR patches, zori believes they’re dead, and has to live with the grief and guilt of knowing that they did it to get her out.

and then there’s haurchefant.

he’s so relentlessly optimistic, so kind, that he barrels right past zori’s emotional walls before she can do much about it. he’s the only person she loses her composure in front of after she loses the scions; fully breaking down in the arms of her friend. part of zori can’t not love haurchefant when he himself loves so freely and openly, and his own views make her believe that maybe there is some hope for the future and that everything will be okay. in a way, he makes zori believe in herself again, because he believes in her so strongly— and she finds herself growing ever closer to him, starting to fall in love with him. there’s a part of her that thinks maybe this time, things will work out— both for ishgard and herself— as haurchefant’s own optimism begins to work on her.

his death breaks her. when he jumps to shield her, to take that blow for her, a part of zori’s heart and hope shatters with him. there’s an immense guilt with it. if not for knowing her, he would still be alive, and when he asks her to smile at the very end she’s barely able to through her tears. she knows that he’d want her to live well, to live as a smiling hero, but she can’t bring herself to right now. she feels hollow, empty, and rage is easier to channel into action than grief. she hates most of all that haurchefant would be sad to see what his death has made of her. part of zori will never stop loving haurchefant, as much as she’ll never stop blaming herself for his death.

she’d never told him how she felt.

by the time they rescue y’shtola and she finds out that thancred may very well still be alive, zori is just at her wit’s end emotionally, but hardly even able to think about him with everything else happening around her.

the patches should be very interesting.

(also, judging by some vibes/vague spoilers i’ve seen with thancred in future expacs, his anger coupled with the way zori’s grief and loss is being channeled into just. pure rage right now makes me think they’re probably going to have a pretty explosive “breakup arc”, whether they’re officially together at the time or not.)

[wisteriashouse]

huddling.

pairing: rengoku kyoujurou x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 1482

a/n: found an old incomplete draft and completed it instead of writing something new from scratch because i am ✨ lazy ✨ smh

It’s absolutely freezing.

“I do not think that we’ll be able to make it back to a Wisteria House tonight!” Kyoujurou calls over his shoulder, his booming voice somehow dampened by the roar of the winter gale. Pulling your haori tighter around yourself in a poor attempt to shield yourself from the freezing winds, you do your best to stop your teeth from chattering before calling out a reply to the man in front of you.

“What do we do, then?”

There’s the crunch of Kyoujurou’s zori sandals on the snow as he trudges back to you, his bright hair tossed about relentlessly by the winter storm. Contrary to you, he appears completely unaffected by the cold, a vigorous smile on his face even as the winds batter the two of you. Perhaps it has something to do with him being the Flame Pillar, you think as you try your best not to shiver. 

Kyoujurou, of course, notices.

“Are you cold?” He asks, brow furrowed as he looks you over - a cursory glance of concern that has no right making your heart skip a beat as it does. Cheeks heating slightly, you turn away so that he can notice and shake your head, fisting your hands to stop the shivering. It wouldn’t do to have you embarrassing yourself in front of a Pillar.

“No, I’m alright.” 

You’re proud of the fact that your teeth only chatters once.

Kyoujurou frowns slightly, and before you can ask him what the matter is, he’s already slipping the haori from his shoulders and stepping forward. Shocked at his offering, you raise your hands to stop him in his tracks, shaking your head desperately. “No, no, I’m really alright, Kyoujurou-san-” 

The Flame Pillar pays no heed to your words, humming lightly as he sets the fabric of his haori around your shoulders, smoothing it out with his hands so that it wraps snugly around you. To your surprise, the second the haori settles around your form, you feel yourself enveloped in warmth - Kyoujurou’s gentle warmth woven into every fibre and stitch seeping into your skin.

“Kyoujurou-san, I really...” your words trail off, caught between slight guilt at taking his outer coat in this cold and the desire to continue basking in his warmth. Already, the added layer of protection against the winds make you want to cry with gratefulness. Kyoujurou only laughs at your hesitance, reaching out to sweep some snow off the top of your head. 

“It’s no problem! As you are my junior, I should be looking out for you!” His words, simple as they are, are enough to make your heart trip in your chest. He smiles at you once more before his eyes turn razor sharp again, glancing over the expanse of snow behind you before making a quick decision. “We’ll find a cave somewhere and get out of this cold. It wouldn’t do to keep wandering about in the middle of a snowstorm and the mountains are treacherous at night.”

He takes a single step forward, pauses, and glances back at you briefly. You blink at him, a little confused at the way he’s staring at you, before he’s suddenly reaching out to take your hand in his.

“Come on!” Kyoujurou says brightly, even as you gape at him. “I would hate for you to get lost in the snow! This way, I’ll know that you’re always behind me!”

With a gentle tug of his hand, he leads you through the snowstorm, shielding you from the biting winds with his own body. His hand is wonderfully warm, long, strong fingers folding over yours and holding you close behind him. Sure that you’re out of his sight, you finally allow yourself to smile - happiness seeping through the cracks of the professional facade you try to keep up around your senior.

The two of you find a small cave embedded in the side of the mountains after a few minutes of searching. Ducking into the small crevice splitting the rock face, you let out a sigh of relief to finally be out of the wind, drawing Kyoujurou’s haori tighter around yourself. 

Deep into the cave, where you can no longer hear the howling of the wind outside, Kyoujurou spots the remains of an old campfire - apparently, both of you aren’t the first ones to take refuge here from the elements. While you pick out the still salvageable twigs to burn later on, Kyoujurou works on starting the fire with a small flint and steel. A few minutes later, the darkness of the cave seems to fade ever so slightly, and you turn around to see your mentor holding up a patch of burning kindling that illuminates his triumphant smile.

“We’ll have to wait out the storm here,” Kyoujurou tells you after he gets the fire going, sitting next to you. Your backs against the wall, both of you watch the little fire you have in front of you crackle merrily, orange gold flames so much like his hair near hypnotising you with the way they dance. You nod, tuck your feet close to you and blow on your hands, because even with Kyoujurou’s cloak, your extremities still feel they might freeze at any moment. If that’s how cold you feel, you wonder how Kyoujurou hasn’t turned into a walking block of ice.

“Kyoujurou-san,” you begin to say, concerned, and his head turns around immediately to look at you with a bright smile. Golden light flicker across half of his face, the other half cast into shadow. Remarkably handsome, you want to say, but instead you ask, “Are you sure you aren’t cold? I mean, I have your haori and I’m still freezing…”

His mouth twitches into a slight smile at your question, but then suddenly he laughs, eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. “Well, when you put it that way, yes, I am very cold right now. Perhaps I should talk to Oyakata-sama about winter uniforms during the next Pillar meeting!” He laughs again at the thought, and his eyes soften. “But I am quite alright. It is more important to me that you will not freeze. I am uncomfortable, but I have been through worse. Do not worry about me!”

That doesn’t sound very good. Chewing on your bottom lip, you glance down at the haori covering you before turning back to the man sitting next to you. “Then, Kyoujurou-san, how about we share?”

He stares at you, a befuddled expression on his face that constitutes of a boyish raise of the eyebrows and a slight scrunch of his nose as he fights back a sneeze. “Share? How?”

“Well,” you hold up his haori in front of you to gauge how much it will cover. And… that was a silly suggestion to make, because you have vastly overestimated the size of his haori, but you also don’t want to go back on your word about sharing it. “Like this…”

Sidling up next to him, you try to press yourself as close as possible to his side without actually touching him, before you toss the haori over the two of you. It ends up failing to cover either of you completely, but at least now you feel less bad about having it all to yourself. “I mean, it’s important to me that you don’t freeze either, Kyoujurou-san.”

Kyoujurou is quiet for a second, before he smiles again, more slowly this time - it’s not bright as the sun, like his usual laughter and grins are, but more gentle and muted, like the small fire in front of you. “That’s very nice to hear,” he says. For some reason, you can’t bring yourself to look at him - instead, you keep your eyes firmly focused on the flames in front of you, watching them as sparks swirl into the air. 

While they are very pretty, they also make you sleepy in a record amount of time. In almost no time at all, you’re fighting to keep down a yawn, your eyelids starting to droop. When your head nearly falls forward, a gentle hand catches you by the chin and guides your head to rest on a strong shoulder.

You try your best to stay awake, you really do, but Kyoujurou hums lightly, his hand settling lightly on your head. “Just go to sleep,” your mentor says gently as you struggle to keep your eyes open. You’re practically leaning against him at this point, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “I’ll take the first watch, so you don’t have to worry about a thing.”

“Mmm, wake me up when you want to change over...” you barely manage to make out before your eyes slip shut. You vaguely remember something gentle touching your forehead, but you cannot remember what it was in the least. 

All you know is that you slept warmly that night, and that’s enough for you.

[lore-a-lie]

Chapter 1, Act 6: Clair de Loon

Daily Life

Kaede finally got to take her seat at the piano. It feels like it’s been ages since she was last able to play, she hadn’t spent nearly enough time in her lab since it opened. She’s glad she left the gloves Tsumugi gave her in her bag, so she could enjoy the feel of the ivory keys at her fingertips. Feel the music flow through her, around her. She could hardly even notice anyone else around her in that moment.

Which is how the little mage managed to startle her so badly with her innocent interruption, and Kaede hit her knee against the underside of said piano something fierce.

“N-nyeh? Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah, of course I am! What’s going on, sorry I kinda went in my own little world there for a bit.” (Nothing is okay. Everything is hell and it hurts.Why me? But I better keep smiling, so nobody needs to worry.)

“Nah, it’s okay. I do it all the time too.” (We’ve noticed. Not sure you aren’t still in it.)

“Is everything okay?”

“Y-yeah. Just wanted to tell you how pretty it sounded and thought me talking to you would be less jarring than Tenko since she’s headed this way. Sorry.”

“Kaede~ And Himiko! What do you think? Isn’t this cute~ I feel like a princess!” Tenko sing-songed right on cue, giving a twirl of a curtsy as she did. Not that Himiko was paying her any attention. (It would probably be cuter if I didn’t know her personality or need to worry about how she’d react to a guy agreeing.)

It was an elegant blue ball gown, the color not unlike her uniform’s. The dress’s ruffles even mimicked her normal skirt’s layered style, just to a much more modest degree. Her hair was done in a much more understandable set of buns too, tied with little green bows like the one large one she normally had.

“It’s beautiful on you Tenko. I didn’t know you’d be so comfortable in that sort of thing. Almost expected you in a suit like Himiko, for mobility or something.”

“Yeah, it looks great. And that reminds me…” Himiko began as an oddly serious expression came across her face. “Make fun of Kiyo’s clothes and I’ll hex you both. I mean it. I’ll use my “every time you sneeze you’ll think you’d had an accident” curse and everything, so you better be nice.”

“W-what sort of accident?! And what qualifies as “making fun of” for this? What did he do?!”

The tiny girl didn’t answer Tenko’s question as she ran off to have some words with… Maki? No, the hair wasn’t long enough for Maki. And she wasn’t anywhere near six feet tall-

Okay, now this just isn’t fair. (It is quite the relief though, I was worried it’d be something more drastic.)

Kiyo’s definition of “more comfortable” for the evening was apparently a red woman’s kimono with an orange and blue floral pattern, tied with an orange and green scale patterned obi. The mask was off as per Kokichi’s petty request, but aside from that and his hands, the dress covered nearly as much as his regular clothing did, though he had quite a heel on his brown zori. His hat was gone but he had taken his odd chain off its band to use in his hair for now.

AND HE’S ACTUALLY ATTRACTIVE NOW, THIS ISN’T FAIR! I’ve never been able to pull off even a simple yukata that well during the summer’s festival season, what gives? And why does Kiyo of all people look better like this than he does in his normal clothes!… Oh dear. Does this mean I didn’t know myself as well as I thought I did when I got up this morning? I was not ready to go through something like this today...

“Oh wow she looks amazing- W-wait, that’s not… Was Tenko mistaken in thinking Kiyo’s been another degenerate male this whole time?! Has this all been some sort of act? She is not okay with any of this!”

“Nope, he’s still definitely a guy, his sister even called him “little brother”. But I’m pretty sure the way I’m thinking about him right now is still a sign of something new and I don’t know how to feel about that either.”

“Not necessarily but thank you for the compliment.” The person in question's voice came from behind them in a needlessly cheery fashion, having lost Himiko to Angie. (HOLY SHIT HOW DOES HE STILL DO THE NINJA THING IN HEELS?!… HOW DOES HE WALK IN SHOES LIKE THOSE??? There is no justice in this world.)

Tenko’s squawk returned so it sounds like Kaede wasn’t the only one to forget how Kiyo could move like a ghost. Considering her misandry, reaction times, and combat experience it’s probably more impressive to shock her. Her responses are certainly more amusing and vocal, given how he’s gone into a giggle fit.

“... Why?” (Thank you Tenko for being able to restrain yourself to only one question. I wouldn’t.)

“I hardly saw a reason why not to give this a try. I thought it would be more interesting to see how I’d be received while looking like this. I don’t feel like... “myself” without my mask anymore I suppose, so why should I look like "myself" with it gone? Miss Shirogane’s eager acceptance and comparisons to her hobby’s notions regarding "crossplaying" were already pleasant surprises for this study.” (“Miss Shirogane” is oddly formal for him to use isn’t it?)

“Did she help you with the lipstick and eyeshadow too?”

“No, that’s my handiwork. A steady hand is infinitely useful when transcribing works you know. Did she help with your nails by chance?” (Too close! Stop getting distracted. Too. Fucking. Pretty- Wait what?)

“... Rantaro did actually. I almost forgot about that with everything that happened, Tsumugi had pulled me aside to try some nail art with me in the game room and after she used a pink “gradient” on mine he happened to pass by and thought this two-toned “French slant” might suit me better instead. It helps make them look longer he said, since I keep them short to make playing piano easier.” (And Tsumugi got super jealous that a “normie” like him upstaged her like that too, but I’ll keep that to myself for now.)

“Huh?! But they’re so cute, how did he know how to do this sort of stuff?” Tenko asked, and seemed to be having troubles actually processing this information.

“From helping his little sisters I presume? Sister needed some help with her own from time to time too.” (That explains his own nails, which are so much nicer than mine. He even managed to keep them longer than I do, those don’t look plastic! Doesn’t explain the scars poking out from his sleeves though. Gah, bad territory! Whether I’m feeling jealous or attracted to him is a much safer rabbit hole to go down than that is right now.)

“Sisters? I didn’t know he had more than one. Thought he had learned it from a girlfriend at first, to be honest, but yeah.” Kaede said with a somber smile which Kiyo seemed to have understood with the sympathetic look in his eyes as he gave a nod.

“He had a number as I understood it, but he lost contact with them and kept things rather vague. It came up when we talked about traveling, he was surprisingly experienced in that way. We even had some overlap in previous destinations. I wonder if it could have been related to his forgotten talent.” (Was Rantaro really offended when I thought he was some sort of playboy if his father was one? How else would you just lose contact with family but divorce issues?)

“I... never really talked to him at all come to think of it.” Tenko softly admitted, regret clear in her voice.

“Given your stance on men in general, this is far from surprising." Kiyo replied in a snide tone, before switching to one much more melancholy, "It is a shame how life works out, isn't it?”

“Kiyo! I leave you alone for 5 minutes and you manage to bring the mood down again. This isn’t exactly good for a “Lovely Assistant” you know, we’re supposed to be bringing smiles to people tonight!” Himiko’s apparently broken away from talking to Angie and pointed at him with a cross looking pout. (Hey, Kiyo’s not a “warlock” anymore! And at least the "lovely" thing isn't just me and Tenko. I hope this is a good sign, since she didn’t make him a "mage" too.)

“Ah, quite right. Now’s not the best time for bittersweet reminiscing, my apologies.” He said with a bow, as Tenko went off with Himiko and Angie. Which was all for the better considering how loud the person who was sashaying over to them was. In more ways than one.

“Hey dumpy tits what’s that face for- … OH COME ON!”

Nope, not even Miu’s sexy getup is enough to be better looking than Kiyo. Not sure if I’m hoping Kirumi can be the one to try and answer my dilemma. But I'm pretty sure if he didn’t start laughing again that would have been enough to set Himiko on her curse thing though. It’s sorta sweet how protective she’s being over this, given how they weren’t close before. And almost adorable given their huge height difference too, like a really weird set of siblings.

“Kukuku~ Not to worry, that’s a reaction I’m used to by now. So tell me your thoughts: Am I pretty?” (Of course, you fucking are you smugass sonuva- Oh wait I get it, this is from that one Yokai thing isn’t it?)

“Should you really be asking anyone that now when you’re not wearing the face mask?”

There’s that gleam in his eye he gets when someone finds the answer he’s looking for! It’s weird being able to see him smile along with it now, probably weirder than seeing him in lipstick and makeup like this honestly. Have his lashes always been this long?  Something about his eyes looks different tonight-  STOP CHECKING HIM OUT AND FOCUS DAMNIT, IT DOESN'T MATTER HOW NICE HE LOOKS RIGHT NOW!

“Issat one of your culture nerd things? Is that’s what’s happening here right now? Because if saying “yes” is a bad thing I ain’t touching it.” Miu huffed. (She’s pretty obviously jealous though. She keeps looking at his chest and then back at her own as if confused why her “girls” didn’t give her a bigger advantage here.)

“That’s fair, as there is often no “right” answer to the Kuchisake-onna’s query anyway.”

“The what now- ya’know what nevermind, maybe later. HEY KIBO YOU FORGOT SOMETHING!”

Miu quickly wandered off to the ‘bot, who… Didn’t look all that different aside from his hair being a little less poofy. Until his face changed colors after realizing how much leg her pink dress was exposing at any rate. Or because he noticed her plunging neckline instead, given how his height made him basically eye-level with the bottom of it. It was hard to tell as either would work in this situation, which suited Miu pretty well.

Her hair was much tamer than it usually is, though it was still a rather messy bun all things considered, but her “antenna” were quickly starting to come loose from how she’s almost dancing around him while randomly poking at certain areas. (Pressing buttons perhaps?)

Any questions about what she was trying to do were quickly cleared up as the areas that were normally glowing cyan on the robot started to cycle through colors. It was rather unsettling to see how his eyes could change to match, which is likely why she made them go back to his “natural” blue setting instead.

“Kiyo did realize I was kidding before right? About the hooke- OW, HEY!” (YOU. I BLAME YOU FOR THIS. And maybe thank you for it? I feel so conflicted right now. At least you still aren’t attractive to me.)

Sounds like Kokichi was cut off by a rough slap on his back by Ryoma who was sitting on the nearby railing, which would have easily looked like a friendly gesture between them to people just giving the two a glance and weren’t able to hear the context for it.

“Shut up man, just let him have his fun and don’t be a dick about it. Whatever makes him happy, who cares?... I’ve never even met anyone who actually knew how to put on that sorta thing before come to think of it. It’s interesting to see that bit of culture in person for a change. Makes a guy feel a bit underdressed though, even looking like this. It’s weird comparing traditional wear to western stuff.”

“You didn’t need to hit me though! Meanie. Betcha you wouldn’t have been able to reach me there if you weren’t cheating either, shorty. And why didn’t anyone tell me Kee-boy could double as a disco ball?!”

“You still have a ways to go before you can really call me that short stuff. But I don’t think he knew until just now, so not sure anyone else could’ve.”

Both Kokichi and Ryoma were in more conventional suits, almost surprising given their heights. Kokichi’s being almost all white, with a purple shirt and his checkered neckerchief sticking out of a pocket, while Ryoma’s was a traditional black with a loosely done blue tie, ginger hair out for all to see. (Is it mean to wonder if Tsumugi had to get these from the kid’s section or large toys or something? Mostly for Ryoma.)

“Yeah, his panels just couldn’t keep from tearing through anything I have on hand that I thought would work for him. If my lab was here then I’m sure I could have made him something nice, but at least Miu found an easy alternative. Not sure it’s as “useful” as she claimed it could be when she tried to explain it to me earlier, but maybe it could be related to a flashlight feature or something?”

Tsumugi’s dress was rather simple, a sexy medium length light blue qípáo with gold trim. Behind her was Kirumi, with a red rose in her lacy headband and a long black and white Victorian dress with a matching rose pattern on it. As she offered before she’s left any and all aprons she has behind for the evening.

Welp. Good news: Someone is finally prettier than Kiyo and I can safely say now I’ve definitely learned something new about my tastes tonight. Bad news: Having “really tall, dark, kinda eerie femme fatale” as my type of feminine person I’m attracted to does not bode well for me. Particularly not in this setting.

“At least everything else has worked out nicely. When exactly will Himiko’s show begin?”

“Well, I guess the first thing to make sure is that everyone’s here right? Then we’ll just need to ask her and Kiyo.”

“I think we all are, if you’re talkin’ like Kiyo’s here already. I hadn’t seen him yet.” (Of course, you haven’t Kaito. I don't think this will end well.)

Kaito’s hair is remarkably untouched all things considered, just wearing an indigo men’s yukata with a subtle star pattern to it and a white robe over it like his coat. Maki’s hair was in a ponytail, and was in a red dress that looks like it has one of those cowl necks that can be used to make a hood, and given how much she was playing with her long locks she appeared rather uncomfortable with her new setting.

Past her Kaede could see Angie skipping about in a long white sundress around Gonta who didn’t look all that different than usual. Looks like not even Tsumugi could convince him to tame his hair or wear shoes for the night. Still, her work on everyone else was amazing, especially if she didn’t base them on characters or anything. If she did it’s not like Kaede would be able to tell, but they felt original tonight.

It looked like everything was just about ready to begin, but Kiyo looked rather concerned. He hid his mouth behind his hand by force of habit or to avoid lip reading as he spoke to Kaede in hushed tones.

“Himiko might need a bit of time to settle her nerves again, would you mind playing something first?”

Kaito’s definitely seen Kiyo now, after he came over to whisper in Kaede’s ear like that, and looked even less comfortable than Maki does. Too bad seeing Kaito’s reaction was enough to set Himiko off, but she was shaking less now, as the blissfully unaware Tenko still tried to act as her one person cheer squad.

He also noticed how she was muttering under her breath and giving him her best glare, since he looked mildly terrified and moved to place the now definitely blushing Maki between him and the young witch’s wrath. Kiyo was clearly amused by all of this, given he was clearly barely able to keep himself from laughing behind his hand as he approached Kaito assumedly to try and ease Himiko’s concerns.

… Or just to make things worse on purpose because he can, that works too. Kaede could hear he had switched to using a falsetto now just to aggravate any issues Kaito was having with him as he spoke with an unkind smile on his face. But seeing them “talk” did make Himiko’s muttering stop for the time being.

Good grief. This was more the creepy semi-sadistic sort of thing I was expecting of him in general. It’s probably for the better I take up his suggestion for now until people settle down some more. Now’s as good a time as any to play that song, isn’t it? I'm sorry it’s so late Shuichi. Then I'll do a song for Rantaro too.

It was easy to let any awkwardness or tenseness from the group fall away as Kaede played Clair de Lune. It was always easy to lose herself and her troubles in her focus on the music, on the keys and pedals before her. The songs never lasted long enough, it was always as if they ended too soon for her regardless of what it was, but she appreciated the polite applause and praise she received when it did. And pointedly ignored the few wolf whistles from Miu and Kokichi.

Himiko was as ready as she’d ever be at this point, so she and Kiyo took to her stage. She had Kiyo introduce her and provide almost fairytale-like explanations for everything she’d be doing for the night.

Thank goodness he stopped doing the falsetto, that’s too random for this since we know how he talks normally. Unless he wanted to do some Rakugo thing for his talent, it might work for something like that.

She went through an interesting variety, starting with “Incorporeal Vorpal Blades”, an unusual combination of her “saw in half” trick with a “disappearing box” act that made it very hard to tell where exactly Kiyo actually was during the performance until it finished.

After a few rounds of that she went to “Wyrd Maiden” magic, which given the subject did result in some laughs as Kiyo pulled out his falsetto again to play up the title despite Himiko’s attempt at giving him a firm pout, starting with the box-of-swords trick that somehow resulted in Kiyo coming out of Himiko’s “witch’s brew” that was sitting far off to the side.

They finished up with her take on “Wingardium Leviosa”, where upon the release of her various doves Himiko moved so quickly it was like she disappeared, leaving only her hat in her place. After a few moments when Kiyo hammed it up again while showing everyone that there were no doors in that area the banners above the stage began to move, showing Himiko proudly standing between the columns up above them to everyone’s applause.

Too bad they hadn’t actually sorted out for her to get back down though as she began looking around, rubbing the back of her neck like she forgot what she was supposed to be doing, which got some laughs from those who thought it was part of the show as Kiyo and Tenko mimed to her where to go.

When she was back safely on the ground, she asked if it would be okay to run off to the restroom for a bit now that her show was done. Kaede went back to playing for the night as Gonta released the various breeds of fireflies and beetles he collected that would each release their own pleasant glow as they took off to the night sky. (Given the glowing shapes moving along the ground there were probably glowworms or nightcrawlers or whatever too. Ick.)

No one suspected anything was wrong until Tenko went to see what was taking Himiko so long to get back, given how smoothly everything had went. Even then that was easy to forget about, Kaede couldn’t even be sure how long Tenko was gone looking. It wasn’t until she came running back, scared and asking for help that a problem was clear so those closest to the door ran to where Himiko had been going last.

When she, Kaede, Kiyo, and Angie made it to the bathroom door the dreaded announcement’s chime began to sound. Himiko was dead on the floor, blood seeping from her neck with a lifeless stare.

With that, the killing game began again. Despite their best efforts, it was time to begin a new investigation. ( And now this time we don’t even have a true detective to help us figure out why. )

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[betweensceneswriter]

Jimjeran- Chapter 6:  Night Noises

The nights on Arno are really quiet. Until they aren’t.

Audio Book Version of Chapter 6

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At night in Boston, the sounds we would hear were city sounds: cars and buses, sirens, machinery, and music.  And when he was asleep, but I wasn’t, I would hear Frank’s gentle snore.

     Frank and I still lived in the townhouse we had been able to afford on his teaching salary.  Though we now made more as nurse practitioner and professor than nurse and adjunct, we had worked to pay off school loans, assuming when we married, we’d permanently commit to a home as well as each other.

    It wasn’t an expensive townhouse, and yet it effectively muffled those city sounds with double-paned vinyl windows, venetian blinds and drapes, carpeting to curb echoes, and always a fan or white noise machine to cover up the sound remnants that made it through.

    There was no such barrier on Arno. For one thing, the only source of cooling was the breeze off the iar, so the louvered windows were opened, especially at night, to let the air in. Even when closed, louvers did little to block sound.  

    The first night as I lay in bed, I was struck by the eerie lack of the sounds of civilization.  No cars or public transportation, no music, save for the random child carrying a guitar down the road, nothing in the house powered by electricity—no refrigerator humming, no fan, no pumps or toilets running.  In the silence I started to hear other, softer sounds: the lap of small waves on the lagoon shore, palm and pandanus branches rustled by the wind, the low murmur of my nearest neighbors talking.

    My brain worked to catalogue unfamiliar sounds: the high-pitched whine of a mosquito buzzing around my ears, the random crack and creak of my unfamiliar apartment.

    One strange sound I could not place, though.  It sounded the the chirp of a small bird, and it was coming from the rafters above my bed.  From a similar location, I heard a strange slapping.   It seemed to follow a pattern: Chirp, chirp, cheep, cheep, slap-slap-slap-slap-slap.  

    Finally, my curiosity piqued, I went and turned on the light. It didn’t illuminate the rafters entirely, so I added the beam of my flashlight. When I found the source of the noise, I laughed.  Two huge amber-colored lizards were mating on my rafter.  They would chirp and cheep, sweet talking each other, and then the slapping was caused by their tails beating against the metal roof as they lost themselves in the throes of gecko passion.  

    I turned off the lights, reassuring myself that while they might drop little offerings of poop down (so that’s what I’d found on the table at supper time!) at least they’d be up there catching mosquitoes.

    It had gotten easier to fall asleep in the past week.  The sounds were becoming familiar, and the lapping ocean waves were the best white noise machine I’d ever had.

    I was currently lying in bed trying to think through the events of the past six days. I had flown out with Laura on Sunday, moving my stuff into the apartment and clinic, watching Laura leave, and then cleaning and unpacking.  

    On Monday, I had met Sharbella and done well-child checkups in the morning. In the afternoon I’d had my first emergency case when Jamie had arrived with his corrugated tin boat wound.

    The following night, Tuesday, I had taken food to the Peace Corps boys at the Ine school.  Jamie had walked me home, and I’d made my first friend out here.

    On Wednesday, I had focused on re-organizing and familiarizing myself with everything in the clinic. I spent some time sanitizing the surfaces, and then read up on tropical climate skin ailments and treatments.  That was most of what I saw: people dealing with rashes, boils, burns, cuts and scrapes; and I also noticed that some wounds developed keloid scars, particularly on patients with darker skin.  What I discovered from my research was that while keeping wounds moist in other climates can aid in healing, the level of humidity and the varieties of bacteria in the tropics can actually impede healing.  The general consensus was that you should use an antiseptic, and then something to block bacteria from entering the wound.

    I had stitched up the hand of one man who cut himself with his machete attempting to split coconuts. Sharbella had explained that the one cash crop in Arno was copra—the smoked meat of coconuts, which was processed and made into coconut oil for suntan lotion shampoo, and other toiletries. The men would pick the coconuts, strip off the husks, split the shells by holding them in one hand and giving them a sharp blow with the blade of their machetes, and then stacking them on the smoking trays.  This man had gotten distracted, the blade had slipped, and he had a deep cut in the pad of his thumb.

    On Thursday Plu Rose had brought Sinana back because the boil had come to a head from the daily salt compresses. I lanced the boil as close to her hairline as possible, drained it, and then applied a sterile dressing with a warning not get it dirty or wet.

    Jamie had also stopped in on Thursday for a new bandage. He had worried that the wound was seeping clear fluid and wanted to make sure it wasn’t infected.  The wound seemed to be progressing nicely, but Jamie was a little bummed to be banned from swimming for another three days.

    But now it was finally Friday night, and after an exhausting week, I was looking forward to not having clinic hours on Saturday—of being able to sleep in, explore the island, brainstorm some better meals, and possibly do my laundry. I was feeling a little anxious about that process, having never done laundry completely by hand before.  I had the big round red tub, the washboard, and the scrub brush, plus a laundry line and clothes pins for drying everything.  I would need to draw water from the well, and then it would just be an investment of time.

    I had fallen into bed mentally and physically exhausted, with the sweet sense of anticipation knowing I would get rest and relaxation the next day.  I was almost asleep when I heard a new sound, one that instantly made my heart rate increase and my muscles tense. Outside the window right next to my bed I heard quiet footfalls and a rustling sound.

    And then I heard singing.  Sort of.  It was a tune so distinct, I could plunk it out on a piano if I needed to.  It was in a sweet voice, singing a sweet tune, but it made me feel more like I was hearing the haunting little kid voice singing a nursery rhyme in a horror movie trailer.

    “Miss Peachay, I want to talk to you,” sang a heavily accented male voice.  “Miss Peachay, I want to talk to you…”   I froze in my bed, the throb of panic in my chest, breathing shallowly.

    A voice came closer, nearly in my ear, just speaking this time, softly, enticingly.  “Miss Peachay, do you want to go to shungle with me?”

    Go?  To the jungle?  I lay in my bed, petrified.  

    “Miss Peachay! Que lukuun likatu!”

    “Miss Peachay! Que konaan bwebwenato?”

    My troubadour began serenading me again.  “Miss Peachay, I want to talk to you…Miss Peachay, I want to talk to you.”

     I didn’t want to say anything.  What could I say?  Go away?  I don’t want to go to the jungle with you?

    I was about to announce that I had no intention of talking to them or going to the ‘shungle’ with them when I heard another voice.  A deep, resonant Scottish brogue, hearty, confident, and calm, speaking fluent Marshallese.

     “Enana kaiṇṇe, Abner.  Miss Peachay ejab kōṇaan etal ippām.  Ta ṇe kwōj jerbale, Samson?  Quejjooko ñe ej kadek.”

    The other men answered, talking back and forth.  I heard all of the voices retreating, traveling farther and farther down the road toward the Peace Corps school, and then it was silent.  I listened to see if Jamie was coming back, but I heard nothing.  I couldn’t understand why I was disappointed.  I had already gone to bed.  I hadn’t wanted the company of the men outside my window.  Why would I want Jamie?

    I was just relaxing, on the edge of slumber, when I heard a different noise.  The crunch of gravel, then rubber slapping on wood, paired with a creaking sound.  Flip-flops?  On my steps?  A long moment of silence, then a creak and a rattling sound.  Someone was on my doorstep, and he was trying to turn my doorknob.  I was almost certain the door was locked.  I knew I’d locked it when I came in from going to the bathroom before bed.  Hadn’t I?  Frantically, I thought over everything I owned.  Did I have anything in here that would be a good weapon?  Sundresses, shoes, a towel?  A book.  A frying pan!

    I sat up in bed, ready to run if I needed to.  Where would I go?  Could I run a mile to the Peace Corp school?  I threw my feet over the side of the bed and crept across the floor, scrabbling for my zories at the door.  I was panting, nearly hyperventilating.  “I can’t run in flip-flops!”  I whimpered to myself, not realizing I’d actually spoken out loud.

     “Ripālle?”  The deep voice came through the door.  “Claire, is that you?”

     “Jamie?!!  Dammit, Jamie!”  I exclaimed, opening the door.  “You gave me a freakin’ heart attack!”

     “Sorry, lass,” he chuckled, stepping away from the door.  “I escorted yer drunk friends away, but thought I should check your door to make sure it was locked in case any of them tried to bother ye again tonight.  I thought ye were asleep, and I didna want to bother you.”

     “I’m quite awake,” I said, looking around.  “Do you want to come in?”

     “Sorry, Ripālle,” he said. “I think ye should close the door.”

     I moved to come outside, and he shook his head.  “No, Claire.  Wi’ you on the inside, and me on the outside.”

     “What?”  I asked.

     “I dinna want the island men to get the idea that if they just stick around longer that they’ll get invited in.”  He reached for the door knob and started to pull the door closed.

     “But Jamie, my heart is still pounding.  I’m not going to be able to go to sleep.”

     “Ye dinna need to be afraid.  I’ll make sure you’re safe,” he said reassuringly, as he inched the door the rest of the way closed.  “I’mna going home yet. I will sit on yer doorstep awhile ‘til I’m sure they won’t come back. ”

    I stood inside my apartment with the door closed in front of me for a frustrated second, and then I turned around, leaned against the door and slid down until I was sitting with my back against it.

     “Why were they here?  What did they want?” I asked.  For a moment I wondered whether he’d be able to hear me, but quickly realized the door was hollow faux wood, with a gap at the bottom—and the two louvered windows to either side were completely open to the night air.

     “What did they say?” Jamie asked.  The door moved slightly against my back as he sat down on the other side.    

     “They said they wanted to talk to me or go to the jungle with me,” I said.  “They asked nice, but it freaked me out.”

     “Both mean about the same thing…” Jamie said. “And I’m sure you can guess what that is.”  I could guess, and I could also feel the door vibrate from his husky voice.

     “What did you say to them?” I asked.

     “Dinna remember, really.  That what they were doing wasn’t good.  That you didn’t want to go with them.  And I told them they make poor choices when they’re drunk.”

     “They were drunk?” I asked.

     “Most definitely,” said Jamie.  “They wouldna be bothering ye if they were sober.  Abner and Samson are decent enough men.  They came stumbling by our house and told Rupert they were going to visit ye.  I didna want to confront them if they decided better, so I walked along the beach, matched their pace, and came out here when it was obvious they werena leaving ye alone.

     “Thank you,” I said. “That was weird.  I hope that doesn’t happen again.”

     “Well,” said Jamie, slowly.  “I canna promise that.  I’m surprised Laura didna mention the nighttime visitors.”

     “That happens a lot?” I asked, stunned.  “What do I do next time, when you aren’t here to send them away?”

     “Do ye want to learn some Majol?” Jamie asked.

     “Okay,” I responded agreeably.

     “What do ye ken already?”

     “I know ‘eh jab ma lay lay,’” I said.

     “Okay.  ‘I don’t understand.’ That���s helpful, but not here.  What else?”

     “Um.  Kway shu tal non yah!”

     “Hmmm.  Excellent, if you want to ask them where they’re going, though they already announced they would like to go to the jungle,” he laughed.

     “Okay, then what should I say?” I asked.

     “Ejab kōṇaan is pretty easy,” Jamie said.  “That means ‘I don’t want.”

     “Eh jab coe non,” I repeated.

     “Kwō etal wōt means ‘you should go away.’”

     “Quo eh tal watt.”

     “Good,” Jamie said.  “But you should say something, even if you say it in English.  They’re kind of persistent.”

     “So, let me get this straight.  I can’t walk alone at night, though now I’m pretty sure I don’t want to, but guys can just come to my house and try to seduce me through the window?

     “Or door,” said Jamie.  The door shook; I could feel him laugh.  “I’m just joking, Ripālle,” he murmured.

     “You called me that again,” I said.  “Isn’t that the word that means selfish white person?”

     “Aye, Ripālle.”

     “Rrrri pol´-lay?” I repeated.  “You’re really going to call me selfish white person?”

     “I dinna mean it that way,” he said.  “And are ye saying ye arna one?”

     I scoffed.  “Well, maybe I am, but why call me that?”

     “It’s a pretty word. I get to roll an ‘r’ at the beginning.”

     I laughed from a sudden realization.  “That’s why you Scots feel so at home in the Marshall Islands,” I said.  “You’re the only two cultures I know that roll their ‘r’s’ so often!”

     I heard a huge yawn from outside.  “Well, Ripālle,” he said.  “I’m tired.  What are ye doing tomorrow?”

    “Laundry, I think,” I said, his yawn contagiously spreading to me.  “And you?”

     “Can I come visit ye in the light?” he asked.

     “That’d be nice,” I said.  “Goodnight, Jamie.”

     “Goodnight, Claire.”  I got up from the floor, and listened to the sound of Jamie’s flip-flops crunching in the gravel, my young protector heading home.

Young Geckos in Love

On to Chapter 7 : Dirty Laundry

Jamie and Claire get better acquainted