#{vaguely the rest but mainly vigil}

[thebadtimewolf]

WHAT IS YOUR MUSE'S DARKER LOVE LANGUAGE?

violent devotion

Everyone seems to think you are faithless, but the thing is you haven’t yet found someone who will bring you to your knees and make you raise your head in reverence. This world has stopped bringing you joy, you want more of the divine. You want to dedicate your entire existence to someone; you want to make them realise they are not something terrible, make them see just how much beauty they are bringing to this world. You want to be the only one for them, the only one they have chosen to love. There’s a god shaped pit inside of you and only they can fit in it. And what if they choose to walk away? Didn’t I say this was violent devotion?

she saw her siblings (@themadvigilantist) do this & now she's just like: 😎👌

[raelly-writing]

Until the Morrow

Thancred/fWoL, 5.0 spoilers for the MSQ. Takes place after the level 77 dungeon :)

-----

Thancred stared up into the top of the old bunk bed. In the dark, he could clearly hear the sounds of Urianger and Alphinaud’s slow and even breathing.

A vague, nonsensical feeling of envy stirred in his chest. Sighing, he twisted onto his side, pulling the covers closer around himself. The hasty movement made his muscles ache, battered and bruised as he still felt after all the fighting. Really, after a day so long and exhausting as the one they’d had, he should be dead to the world as well.

Try as he might tho, sleep would not come to him. His thoughts kept twisting and turning, picking over the events of the day, regret like a black void in his chest as each one inevitably made his thoughts loop back to another memory - of things he had not said when he should have, how he could now see how keeping Ryne at arm’s length had hurt her so deeply, and picking over each and every moment of the past few weeks, years, vowing to do better, to be better for her sake.

But he wouldn’t be to any good use on the morrow if he didn’t get some rest.

“Seven Hells…” Despite that his gruff whisper was muffled against the thin pillow it sounded so loud in the quiet room. Try as he might, even when resorting to old meditation techniques, the uncomfortable energy that simmered and crawled right beneath his skin just wouldn’t go away, leaving him twisting and turning in search for a comfortable sleeping position.

Finally, with a twinge of annoyance at himself, Thancred threw aside the covers and rolled out of bed. Maybe a walk would let him relax. The old worn floorboards shifted beneath his sock clad feet as he silently made his way to the door with his boots in hand, yet neither of his companions thankfully stirred from their slumber.

When he closed the door behind him and the stillness of the dark corridor enveloped him, Thancred let out his breath in a slow exhale and quickly pulled on his boots.

Now that he was fully awake and resigned to contemplating the past day, that familiar, painful ache in his heart that had been his constant companion for so many years stirred. Minfilia truly was gone now - at last freed from her long vigil over this world and allowed to rest. A part of him wished he could have seen her one more time, heard her calm melodic voice for the last time... That he could have told her those things he should have so long ago, and been allowed to say his farewells to her, to assure her he’d look after Ryne and the rest of their friends.

Automatically, his steps carried him to the next door, where he paused and let his fingertips settle against the rough wood, as though he could sense the rest of their group sleeping beyond it.

Well, Minfilia was not entirely gone - part of her did live on in Ryne. A faint smile curled the corner of his mouth. The events of the day had clearly taken their toll on her, yet she’d put on such a brave face right until they arrived back here to Twine, unwilling to admit to her fatigue until everyone else had been yawning widely.

It was a very strange and confusing mix of feelings but despite his restless mind, he felt… somehow more at ease than he had in a long time. Like he finally could see the hints of a clearer path ahead of himself, no longer obscured by the darkness of his mourning and sense of failure, that there was no longer an old intangible weight bearing down on his chest and shoulders.

Shaking his head, Thancred silently stalked further down the corridor of the former mine workers’ quarters, towards the door out to the balcony. He needed some fresh air, to let his thoughts settle until they no longer twisted and turned in whichever direction they pleased. If they didn’t linger on the past, it they trailed forward - to the battles ahead, the things he’d need to speak of with Ryne so he could properly clear the air between them, the old regrets that still clung to his conscience that he felt he needed to make up for, the lingering hypervigilance against Eulmore’s pursuit of them, of Viana and the sudden change to their relationship after so many years…

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth at the pleasant memory of kissing her, still so fresh that he could almost still feel her lips against his. If he didn’t know better, he’d think it had all been a pleasant dream, and that he’d wake up at any moment with Urianger and Y’shtola hovering above him as they tended to his wounds.

Wouldn’t be the first time his dreams elected to taunt him with what he thought was beyond him. He pushed open the door, the refreshing cold night air rushing into his lungs and immediately nipping at his skin laid bare by his pushed up sleeves. The glow of a lantern took him by surprise, as did the figure leaning against the banister. Thancred stopped dead in his tracks, just as the very person he’d been thinking of whipped around, her body language tense and ready.

Even though they both immediately visibly relaxed, the air was at once thick with tension as they stared at each other. They hadn’t been afforded any time to speak in private, not with their friends around, everyone utterly exhausted after the day’s events, and the multitude of questions the inhabitants of Twine had had upon their return.

The surreal sensation tugged at him once more. For over five years he’d clung to memories of quiet moments he’d spent in her company, missing their comfortable companionship, worrying about what was happening on the Source, his heart yearning to be by her side once more - all while trying to force himself to cut off those stubborn feelings that had blossomed from that friendship. He’d been so certain that it’d been for the best not to act on them, that if he did not, she’d let go of whatever she thought she might feel and move on to someone more deserving of her affections.

Someone who was more trustworthy than he.

And yet, there in the soft lantern light, he saw the undeniable warmth in her gaze as she looked at him. Clearing his throat, Thancred offered her a small, apologetic smile. “Pardon me, I didn’t know the balcony was occupied.”

Viana huffed out a quiet laugh, her smile earnest if a tad tired. “Fret not, I believe there’s enough room for the both of us,” she replied quietly while shrugging one shoulder. The blanket she had wrapped around herself, already hanging precariously after her sudden motion when he’d startled her, slipped a little further off that shoulder. Instantly, Thancred felt an itch in his fingers to readjust it, to pull her close once more - to feel her lips against his again and soak in the warmth of her leaning against him without the hard press of their respective armours in the way.

An unfamiliar nervous tingle sparked in his stomach as he carefully nudged shut the door behind him. Hells, he’d yanked her into that first kiss out of fear and adrenaline - a leap of faith, before he lost his nerve and accepted the easy out she had given him of what her accidental confession could entail, to let him just carry on as he had without confronting what lay between them - but he wasn’t about to act quite so impulsive now.

With slow, measured steps he closed the distance between, giving him time to observe her. Viana leaned against the banister, despite the uncertain energy to her pose looking more at ease in his presence than he could recall for… well, ever since they’d been reunited in this dying world. It no longer felt like there was a vast expanse between them - one he knew had mainly been of his own doing, holding her at arm’s length, until it had reached that breaking point in Twine.

“Shouldn’t you be asleep?” he asked.

She raised an eyebrow at him, the teasing glint in her eyes so painfully familiar from years past, when they had both been standing on the Source. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Thancred couldn’t help but huff out a quiet laugh. This felt familiar. Comforting. Perhaps grabbing her around the waist to keep her from leaving had been less a leap of faith off a steep cliff with a long drop and more a leap to join her on her side of the rift between them.

Perhaps that was why he felt so uncertain in this moment, his footing not yet stable on this new ground he’d suddenly found himself on.

Thancred leaned against the banister, keeping a small if unassuming distance between them, and shrugged while staring out across the moonlit landscape. “Hard to shake the feeling that Eulmore will be snapping at our heels any moment now,” he replied.

“I think we’re safe for now,” Viana hummed and turned to rest her elbows on the railing. “The loss of Ran’jit is sure to upset the chain of command for a little while, maybe even rattle morale a bit. Suspect we’ll be bringing the fighting to them, if we wish to reach the Kholusia lightwarden...”

“The sooner the better,” he replied. “Vauthry has a lot to answer for.” It was hard to keep the grim tone out of his voice. For years he’d harboured anger towards the city for locking away Ryne in a dark cell, far below the sea level. While striking down Ran’jit for good eased some of it, he was not the sole person responsible for the treatment of her. And three years were not enough to wipe away the memories of the weeks he spent infiltrating the city, of the debauched acts of hedonism and heartless cruelty that he’d witnessed while slinking from shadow to shadow, seeking a way down to the gaol.

The remnants of his anger from earlier in the day stirred at the back of his mind, but a warm touch to the bare skin of his arm drew him back to the present.

It was a small, hesitant touch - just the back of Viana’s fingers pressed against his arm, thumb brushing over his wrist - but he felt it as surely as the comforting heat of a fire on a cold day. “Did you have a chance to speak with Ryne yet?” she asked softly.

Thancred cast a glance at her, and shook his head. “Only a little. She was so tired that I said we’d speak further once we’re back in the Crystarium.”

She made a quiet sound of understanding, and much to his regret she withdrew her hand. After a moment of hesitation, he reached back out for it, sliding his fingers along the inside of her wrist in a silent question. Something in his stomach twisted, a nervous jolt of energy he was unfamiliar with, when she immediately opened her hand so he could loosely entwine his fingers with hers.

They stood in silence for a moment, with only the muted sounds from the other side of the small town where the miners were celebrating the night’s return as their company. Her hand was warm against his, and he found himself relishing in the small, innocent contact.

Exhaling slowly, Thancred rubbed his thumb against her hand. How many times hadn’t he seduced and tempted men and women, confident that his easy smile and grandiose compliments would win their favour - be it to coax information out of them or merely for a night of simple pleasure. Those grand words had never worked on her. But, where Y’shtola had always had a sharp, dismissive remark at hand, Viana had thrown his words back at him with an amused roll of her eyes, her teasing retorts just as void of sincere intent as his.

As memories of trading jabs and barbs with her, faded by the many years that had passed, played in his mind, an awareness crept up on him of his every touch and word that quickly grew into a nagging worry that any gesture of his now would be mistaken as disingenuous.

“Hey… something wrong?”

Wetting his lips, Thancred kept his eyes on the far horizon. “Forgive me,” he drawled with a self deprecating lilt to his tone, “I used to be good at… all of this.”

Viana was quiet for a moment, before the warm weight of her upper arm settled against his as she leaned against him. It prompted him to look up to see her give him a reassuring, if nervous, smile. “It’s okay Thancred, I don’t have any expectations.”

By reflex, he raised an eyebrow, a joking remark right at the tip of his tongue, but before he had a chance to speak her eyes grew wide and she jerked upright, yanking her hand out of his loose grip in the process.

“I mean - Hells, that came out wrong,” she rushed to explain as a deep blush coloured her cheeks. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t how - It’s not that I think you’ll-” Embarrassment flitted across her features and she sharply averted her gaze, turning her head away from him with a frustrated sound.

Thancred blinked, caught a little off-guard at seeing such a flustered reaction from her, but then gave her a lopsided smile. With a fond laugh under his breath, he felt some of his own worries ebb away. Turning his body towards her, he pulled up the blanket that barely clung to her arm so it rested more securely over her shoulder, then let his hand settle at the small of her back. “Viana, relax.”

A couple of seconds passed before she exhaled slowly, her shoulders slumping a little when she turned to mirror his pose, leaning on one elbow against the banister, gaze downcast and an uncertain frown on her face. One of her fingers tapped against the banister in a nervous manner before she reached out and took his hand between hers.

“What I meant is that I have no experience with these sorts of relationships either,” she finally said, her tone even and measured, like she’d thought each word over. The feeling of her trailing slow, random patterns over his palm that left a tingling sensation in their wake, but he kept still, his other hand having fallen to rest at her hip. A look of weary amusement flittered across her features, “Casual encounters, yes, though those never seemed to be particularly satisfactory.” Her fingers stilled, and she just held his hand between hers, enveloping it in her warm grasp. “But there was never that… trust, to let someone close for something more long-lasting.”

The weight of her words settled in his chest. Swallowing thickly, Thancred curled his fingers around her hand and raised it so he could brush a kiss to the back of her fingers. Wherever this between them went, for however long she wanted him by her side, he’d rather the gods struck him down on the spot than ever risk hurting her. “I suppose we’ll just have to learn together then,” he rasped out.

Viana laughed quietly under her breath as she moved to cup his jaw with her free hand. “I’m willing to,” she replied gently. A warm sense of contentment swelled up in his entire body when she lowered her head to rest her brow against his - there were no urgent tasks to see at this moment, no need to do anything to rush things. Humming, he slipped his hand beneath the blanket to wrap his arm around her waist, relishing in the warmth radiating off her through her thin shirt. Slowly, he nuzzled his nose against hers, soaking in the moment, before capturing her lips in a tender, lingering kiss. There'd been so many times that his traitorous dreams had fed him figments and shards of what it’d be like to kiss her, to hold her close, that part of him still reeled at the knowledge that he was welcome to do so now.

He could feel her smile against his lips, her thumb brushing over his cheekbone while her other hand slipped out of his grasp to settle on his shoulder. With a dull thud, the blanket fell to the floor, but she made no move to break away from him. The kiss melted into another, then one more. A shiver that had nothing to do with the cold night air rolled down his spine, and he subconsciously tensed his fingers, pressing them into her back, his other light on her hip. After all these years without much physical contact, his entire body sang with satisfaction at feeling her body settle against his - not accidental brushes while they sparred or went about their daily business, but comfortably leaning her entire frame against him. When they finally broke apart, the stillness of the night settled around them, and Viana moved her arms to rest around his shoulders.

It took all he had to suppress a shudder as he pressed his nose against the crook of her neck, his thoughts fuzzy and disoriented, merely relishing in having her close, of being enveloped in her embrace, warmth and scent. If only he could stay like this with her for many more hours, just holding her and being held in turn.

“This is nice,” she finally whispered.

Thancred chuckled and gave her hip a small squeeze. “Glad to hear I am not too out of practise after all these years.”

Viana laughed under her breath, but made no move to break the embrace, not even when he a few moments later felt her shiver.

As if to remind him of where they were, the cold night air nipped at his skin, and he realised she was in just a short sleeved shirt. Concern stirred him to turn his head and press a kiss to her neck. “Do you want to head back inside?”

Immediately, she leaned back from him, her expression apologetic. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you from your sleep.”

With a low laugh from deep in his chest, Thancred shook his head and rubbed his thumbs against her waist. “You’re not, darling.” Then he leaned down, picking up the blanket from the worn out timber floor. When he straightened back up, he slipped his hand into hers and guided her over to the simple bench that was pushed up against the wall, the lantern perched on one end of it. “I’m not opposed to staying out here for a little while with you, ” he explained with, what he hoped, was a charming smile. Twelve, he felt so rusty.

There was an amused, affectionate glint in her eye as she accepted his invitation, and they settled down together, the blanket large enough to wrap around both of them.

“Comfortable?” he asked.

“Mhm,” she replied, just as her hand found his beneath the blanket and laced her fingers with his.

“Good,” he whispered, squeezing her hand. Despite the nervous simmering energy that lingered in his stomach, in the end it felt so… easy, knowing that his touches were welcome. No pretenses were needed, no sugar coated words to vye for her good graces or that game of measured and careful touches to tempt and seduce. Just the slow, timid return of the companionship he had missed so dearly since he’d been torn to this world.

He knew her. And for all his faults, she had accepted him, chosen him.

As they sat there, shoulders pressed together, quietly speaking about things that did not pertain to the labours that lay ahead of them, while staring up at the stars twinkling so far above, he felt himself relax, a small smile playing on his lips. There were other, practical things they would need to speak of - of their responsibilities as Scions, their pasts, and experiences - but those could wait for a later time.

After all these years, he could let himself just enjoy this small moment, as it were. Duty would call soon enough for both of them.

[jeoseungsaja]

🍻 + “ do you regret letting me close ?” (princess verse after he gets injured)

@spoiledsovls ♚ from x.

♔ ———–

He can't be fully inebriated whilst being next to her. He can't be, because it's his duty to stay alert, regardless of being behind closed doors; regardless of just being the two of them present within room. His hand maintains neck of glass steady; a few droplets left inside. There's a bit of ease by his side, though his eyes still brush the perimeter on occasion; gaze soft but vigilant. Thumb brushes crystal as sudden question reverberates through, garnering his attention.

Regret? He sighs, somehow knowing why such inquiry has been placed on the table. Unconsciously, free hand goes to rest on his chest, bruises still a bit latent under his clothes. They don't hurt as much as they did before; they've been closing well, leaving nothing but mere scars that'll be a vague reminder of what transpired weeks ago.

"Regret is the one I would've felt if I missed the opportunity to meet you, all those years ago."

The difference between this mellow version of him and his usual-self, is that he's a bit looser with his words. There are things he tends to hide; notions he keeps to himself rather than saying them out loud, mainly because he prefers to be seen as wintry presence, instead of a warm one anyone could rely on. That way he can keep everyone far away --- yet, it's obvious that with Hyejung it's different.

It's always been different.

"So don't be silly. I don't regret anything regarding you."

———– ♔

[thehonestreader]

The Raven Boys by Maggie Stiefvater

Rating: A

To see the original review click here.

Every year on St. Mark’s Eve, Blue Sargent stands vigil at an ancient church, watching with her psychic mother as the soon to be dead walk the corpse road. She’s doesn’t have her mother’s Sight, which means she’s never been able to actually see them, until the night she watches a boy emerge from the darkness and speak to her. His name is Gansey, and sometime in the next twelve months he’ll be dead. And worst of all, he’s a Raven Boy, a rich student from the local private school. Blue knows all the trouble that Raven Boys bring, how careless and conceited they are, and she actively avoids them because of it. Yet, somehow, her fate and Gansey’s seem to be tied, and soon she meets him in real life. In many ways he’s exactly what Blue expects, but in many ways he’s so much more. He’s on a quest to find Glendower, the mythical Welsh king who’s rumored to grant a favor to the person who discovers him and wakes him from his sleep. It’s so magical, so impossible, and yet all at once Blue knows that it’s right. She finds herself joining Gansey and his friends, Adam, Ronan, and Noah, as they continue their search.

--

Quarantine has made me do some things that I don’t usually do, one of which is going back and rereading books. I don’t reread books. I think I’ve said that at least a dozen times in the countless years I’ve kept this review blog up. I don’t do it because there’s always that chance that the second time around I may end up hating a book that I once loved. It’s happened before, and I’ve learned it’s not worth taking that risk. But when you’ve been stuck in your house for months on end with no easy way to access books from your local library, you tend to do things you normally wouldn’t have done in the past. Look, it’s 2020. If I end up just rereading books for the rest of the year, then so be it.

So, since my memory is absolute shit, I more remember vague strokes of this story instead of actual details. Honestly, in many ways it felt like it was the very first time I was reading this. Sure, I knew the big plot twists that were coming, but the other stuff had pretty much all faded from my memory. With that being said, I have to say that I like this book even more now than I did before. I mean, I did manage to finish this in two days, which is all the proof I need of showing my undying love. Plus, this is a Maggie Stiefvater book, an author I adore. Plus, you know that feeling you get when you find a story that feels like it was tailored just for you? This book gives me that feeling.

There’s so much happening in this, but in all the best ways. Like me having to write that summary up top? I didn’t even manage to get in all the major plot details, like how Blue’s entire family has some psychic ability and the part that plays. I couldn’t include that Blue’s been told her whole life that kissing her true love will lead to him dying. I couldn’t even include things about Adam or Ronan or Noah because they’re all so complex with so much going on between them, that if I did try to add in these things, that “short” summary would have been half the length of my actual review. It’s already too long as it is. It’s why I have to talk about all this stuff here. And, technically, I STILL haven’t even started my review! And we’re three paragraphs in!

Okay, okay, time to actually, you know, write a review. Someone decided that the big selling point was to talk this up as a paranormal romance, and it’s not. Some people might find that disappointing, but I’m so happy that the romance is not the focus of the story. There’s already so much happening that adding anything else would have made this feel bloated. And it might have been insta-love and I would have absolutely hated it. I like that there’s just enough mystery and it blends so well with the supernatural elements. The only weird thing is that sometimes the narration gets strange. The entire story is told in third person, with each chapter usually focusing on one character and delving into their thoughts and what’s going on with them, mainly with Gansey, Blue, and Adam. But there are times when it just jumps between them, giving that section a weird omnipresent feeling.

My copy of Call Down the Hawk is waiting for me. I know I can’t read that until I finish all four books of this series because, surprise!, I can’t remember all that much about them. I don’t know why my brain remembers things about books I absolutely hate but not things about books I like, but that’s how it is.

-Review by C.M.

[dungeons-and-divination]

Oath of REDEMPTION PALADIN - Draconblood DRAGONBORN - Prisoner

I don’t necessarily have a love for paladins despite how much my characters usually end up being “spiritual”. But I gotta admit, I was kinda fascinated by what came out from his story and I wouldn’t mind playing him myself at all. I hope you all enjoy him just as much.

NAME: Zral’thid Benorax (52yo)

TAROTS

Mind: Knight of pentacles (upright) I wasn’t really expecting to get a card with so many positive traits linked to a character with that kind of background. Apparently Zral’thid has always been a person of common sense and practicality, someone that believes that honest hard work is the way to truly achieve your dreams. It made me wonder how he even got imprisoned in the first place, but don’t worry, you’ll found out about it later. I still had from this immediately the feeling that because of his very determined and loyal nature, he probably was doing something related to protecting other people most likely. It also seems like his time in prison made him even more committed to the kind of person he used to be though, like instead of breaking him, Zral’thid found purpose in the punishment. Very noble intents indeed then somewhere in there.

Body: Five of wands (reversed) This card just confirmed that impression that there was some kind of struggle that Zral’thid had to live through. It was something deep in his mind and spirit, so much so that he felt physically ill at times. Till he just exploded and did something rush, totally contrasting his practical nature. It seems his time in jail was enough for him to find peace and harmony once again. Where others might have surrendered to despair, he found a new balance, like I already mentioned, in his focus for order. I do feel like he also probably came to a solution to the dilemma that made him end up in jail in the first place, even if maybe it wasn’t necessarily a solution he wanted at first or particularly liked.

Spirit: Page of swords (upright) The tarot are being very good to me with all these confirmations of my impression going on here. Indeed, Zral’thid found a balance between his protective nature and the need to be patient, to wait for the right moment to act. He’s more vigilant, but he’s still the same man that doesn’t like injustice and always tries to be fair to people. He will always be inquisitive, on the hunt for the truth and a stickler to rules, but he’s also well aware that the justice system isn’t always right nor fair. All in all, he has this tormented, wise, loner vibe to him, but deep inside he’s just an overprotective bear that prefers to use words to defend people instead of a sword because of his oath.

Past: Eight of cups (reversed) So, I had already pretty much a good idea of what Zral’thid’s “past” tarot could have in store for him. I was not surprised when a card that expresses a deep discomfort with the status quo came up, then. I knew that he’d been kind of struggling with something but at the same time his instinct to follow the rules was probably holding him back from acting of whatever the problem was. Yet, this card adds a layer of fear for the uncertainty that lies within the change that his actions might have brought were he to actually succeed. I felt like I needed to clear a bit where this fear might have come from, and the deck gave me a Four of swords reversed. Which made me even more confused for a moment. Then I remembered that one of the meanings of this card is losing faith, and I can see him crumbling under the pressure of whatever situation he was dealing with and losing the righteous path he’d been following, especially if he felt like there was a lack of support or deceitfulness around him. Maybe not a lack of faith in his deity, but on something else then.

Present: Six of cups (upright) It just makes sense that after that big hit from the “past” tarot he gets something related to nostalgia of better times. Yet, Zral’this is well aware that he remembers them as good times cause he did not know, at the time, of the deceitfulness around him. So, like I said previously, despite his facade of the loner wolf, he actually craves the company of a new family so that he can leave behind that homesickness for a home that he knows he doesn’t belong to anymore. Very, very fitting indeed.

Future: Four of pentacles (reversed) I’m so happy that this is the last tarot for him. A hopeful ending after such a hard life is just what Zral’this deserves honestly. So, I really hope that he in fact has the chance to let go of the past, that he stops regretting not being able to do more for his people. But especially, that he realizes that he absolutely can’t control what happens to others, and that he can only do so much to save the world when it crumbles around him. As a general suggestion on how to play him, I’m pretty sure I said enough already, but in case it wasn’t obvious, I’d say have him be slow to trust the people in the party, especially those that like to lie a lot. He’s not necessarily gonna be confrontational with them; actually, he’s probably just gonna be quiet most of the time. Just, I imagine him being able to open up at first only with those that are more open and friendly with him in the first place.

FULL BACKSTORY

Zral’this was born in the house of family friends. By the time he was born, his father, Galxer, had already been executed for treason and his mother, Praam’teth, was still a member of the same rebellion group his father had been part of. It wasn’t long after his birth before his mother had to flee the Realm and leave him behind to avoid being executed herself. (The rebellion was trying to get rid of the people that had forcibly taken power of the Realm he was born into.) With no other family left to raise him and none of his mother’s friends left in town to help him (since they all were put to death or had to go into hiding), Zral’this ended up in an orphanage, where he was raised to despise his own family and believe in the laws of the new established power. It wasn’t a happy childhood, but the orphanage was basically a preparatory school before he was allowed to join a true military academy. So it was pretty much a given that when he reached the right age he started to train to become part of the Realm’s army. Being part of the military, despite how unimportant he was all in all, made Zral’this have a taste of the corruption he had vague memories of his mother and her friends talking about it all before he “moved” to the orphanage.  Despite how much Zral’this hated himself for doing it, he started giving information of what he overheard to someone that approached him once they recognized him as Praam’s son and they presented themselves as an old friend of his mother. It wasn’t long before Zral’this was found out for giving information to a newly reformed rebellion group. Despite his crime, it was decided that he was just to spend some time in jail instead of being put to death, in hopes that he would see his mistakes and return to his service of the Realm. Apparently, one of his superiors saw some potential in him and believed he could make a good general out of him, with enough time. In prison, Zral’this had time to reflect on how wrong he had been to trust the Realm; just because the people in it had shown some mercy in raising him, it didn’t mean that everything they did was right. Actually, it was mainly the contrary. He’d just been a pawn, like many others before him and many more would become if nothing changed.  With that realization, came the calling of a greater purpose, the growing knowledge that sometimes the better course of action is in fact not action, but waiting for the right moment or the right word placed in front of the right person. But most of all, he wanted redemption, not for himself, but for the people he hurt while following a leader that aimed only to hurt and manipulate their people instead of serving them. So, Zral’this promised himself, and the god that started to guide him, that he would make the world a less violent place with each world he uttered once he got released from jail.

SUGGESTION CORNER

Suggested features Ability scores: High Charisma and Strength, Low Constitution (I know, I don’t really think a lot of players would actually do this. Cause it’s not really a good thing to do mechanic wise. But sometimes you gotta do these things just for the sake of it. It was my first instinct.) Skill proficiencies: Athletics, Religion; replace Deception from the Prisoner Background with Persuasion (discuss it with your DM, obviously). Gaming set proficiencies: Cards or Chess Other: his Ex-Convict feature can seem a little bit in conflict with his backstory. But it’s actually not. Once again, a little bit of rephrasing, and everything is fixed. Instead of knowing people that accept bribes or having a chance to find shelter with criminals, he knows guards that are lenient because they don’t really like the people in power, or he might have an idea of where to look for groups of rebels that are organizing uprisings against tyrannical people in power. Give it a little bit of a flavor with the help and approval of your DM.

Suggested Characteristics Trait: I hoard information, you never know what may come in handy. Ideal: I never betray those who trust me. Bond: I will not rest while others suffer fates similar to mine. (This is referencing unjust imprisonment and unjust laws.) Flaw: I hate lying. If the choice is between dying and lying, I just might choose dying.

[bearxclaws-blog]

Arc Headcanons // POST-SKIP PT.2

Now that I’ve absolutely made her a Straw Hat, I need to do more of these. Reminder; might be mentions of Sanji x Anita.

PUNK HAZARD

— Arc Outfit ( when she’s subjected to the cold )

— Because she’s never met Laboon but knows of him, she’s convinced by Brook’s frantic shouting that one of the whales they run into while being swept away by the White Storm is him. When she learns it’s not, she’s bummed.

— Reaching the surface was exciting for her, until she saw the sea of flames. Immediately shrinks back and starts to sweat for reasons other than the heat. Luffy wanting to go to the flaming island only makes her want to panic more. Despite roasting himself, Chopper gives pats and gentle words.

— She is relieved when the straws they draw reveal she doesn’t have to go with. Almost weeps with joy. No fire, please.

— Is abducted with the remaining Straw Hats when they’re knocked out with sleeping gas. I feel like Chopper and Anita would be able to smell it ahead of time but not realize what it is if it isn’t odorless.

— Being the heavy sleeper that she is, she doesn’t wake up until the rest of the captured Straw Hats start talking to the disembodied and mismatched head in the corner. Half-asleep, she doesn’t notice that they’ve been captured. it eventually sinks in while she’s attempting to piece together the head. Fails utterly. Puzzles aren’t her thing.

— She isn’t the least bit pleased she’s on the island with flames, even if they’re on the colder side.

— Finding the children is a shock to her, but she’s on Nami’s side when it comes to saving the children. She’s spent too long entertaining and trying to make children happy that it hurts her to hear them wanting to be saved. Doesn’t know why they want to be saved, but she’s behind Nami with her support.

— Stays behind with Sanji and Franky to fight the guards in her bear form, helping tear into gas tanks and swatting masks away when she sees Sanji doing the same.

— Nami’s scream forced Sanji to encourage Anita in their direction, since he and Franky are still taking care of the guards. Totally misses Sanji’s hissy fit over Kin’emon’s head.

— Along the way, she scoops up as many of the smaller children as she can and lets them ride on her back. Still does the SUPER pose, even in that form and with children clinging to her. Can’t stop her.

— She didn’t care so much about Law and his crew at Sabaody, so she doesn’t recognize Law. Doesn’t recognize Smoker or Tashigi either, since she wasn’t recruited until after Alabasta. Asks Sanji who they are and he explains. She feels an immediate dislike because they’re with the government, but take her crew’s opinions of those two in particular into consideration. She won’t trust them at first, especially when they turn to run back inside and they order their men to take chase.

— Heart switching;                                 Sanji         >>     Nami                                 Nami         >>     Franky                                 Franky      >>      Anita                                 Anita         >>      Chopper                                 Chopper   >>      Sanji

— Anita being inside Chopper’s body feels strange. She doesn’t like being that small and switches into his Horn Point so that she’s at least taller than his Brain Point. His horns are heavy as heck, though, so it’s still a struggle. Franky inside Anita’s body isn’t any better. At least she has muscles he can use. Super muscles, even!!

— Once they’re together and vaguely safe, Anita does find amusement in trying Chopper’s different forms. Since she only has the two she’s comfortable with, she enjoys seeing what it feels like to be in the large and fluffy Defense Point. It’s harder for her than it is Chopper, since it’s not a concept she is familiar with. Has a new appreciation for all of his training and his abilities.

— Franky probably tried to turn into a bear and failed a few times. Comments on how short Anita is, causing her to ram into her own body while in Chopper’s Horn point out of anger. She hates being the second shortest member of the crew. Regrets doing harm to her own body, but revels in Franky groaning.

— Loves her little face button that Usopp sticks to Chopper’s head. She’s keeping it.

— Franky’s face in Anita’s body is still gross. 

— Franky can’t throw a rampage in Anita’s bear form for obvious reasons, but I’d like to think that Anita’s bear form is still hulking enough to have helped do some damage.

— She’s happy to be back in her own body, but it’s sore as all heck. Thanks, Franky.

— Anita’s included in the list of people that can use haki, but it’s only armament. She is capable of using it in her human form to protect herself, but she mainly uses it in her bear form to harden her claws and teeth. I know I’ve said this already, but just in case——

— She loathes Caesar’s powers because she can’t do jack-shit against gas no matter how hard she tries. Swatting paws ( even with armament haki on them ) are easy to dodge, and I can’t imagine for a second that biting a man made of gas would be a good idea. I can also see her hating his powers because of the explosions he can cause. Explosions almost always mean fire, and — y’know.

— Despite that, she sort of wants to keep the dragon clinging to Brownbeard’s tail. She’s dumb and thinks it’s cute, doesn’t consider it could very well burn her to a crisp.

— Except that when it does try to burn them, she is a screaming lil’ ninny and has to hide behind someone. Nope. No fire. But after Kin'emon and Brook take care of it, she’ll gnaw on it. >( Yeah, take that you dumb dragon.

— God, Anita hates this place. She would hate it so, so much. She’s rude and uncouth and just all sorts of awful at times, but she can’t stand seeing children behave this way because of an addiction that was forced on them. Straight up child abuse and manipulation. She’s gonna be so sick the whole time.

— Anita can at withstand some of the cold Monet can cause, at least on a temperature level. She doesn’t get cold as easily because she has fur. She doesn’t suddenly get the urge to hibernate when the temperature drops because she wasn’t born with those instincts. And even if she did hibernate, beats maintain a normal level of heat when they do so that they can react quickly to danger or food, which makes them different than other hibernating mammals.

— She can’t claw through Monet’s snow walls, but she can put sizable dents in them. I can see her being a perfect distraction / tank, smashing into walls and forcing Monet to build them up again.

— Seeing Mocha swallow all the candy and react poorly to it is going to make Anita feel even worse. She’s entirely too soft for children thanks to where she’s from and what she used to do. Children aren’t supposed to suffer. They’re supposed to be happy and healthy. Not crumpled over from a debilitating overdose. She’s going to force herself to help Sanji and G-5 take care of the other kids to stop herself from getting upset over Mocha.

— All I want are some of the smaller kids ( and maybe even one of the bigger ones ) riding on Anita’s back while they’re heading to building R.

— Gomu Gomu no Grizzly Magnum. I totally forgot he had a move called that. Anita will either be super cocky and think it’s because of her, or she’ll be offended he’s using an attack with a bear in its name. Excuse, that’s her shtick, LOAFY. Nah, she’ll be giddy about it. Even if it has NOTHING to do with her. That’s if she ever witnesses it for herself or hears about it.

— Again, I just CAN’T not let Anita be impressed with the robot. I know it breaks the gag, but come on! Franky’s stuff is amazing!

— Party time means lots of snuggles from the kids and playing with them! She’s so different when she’s around children. She’s a literal ball of sunshine when she has someone to entertain. She does flips, bends over in odd ways, dances around as a bear. She almost seems to forget that she’s a pirate now and is 100% enthralled with the children and making sure they’re happy. Especially the ones in the infirmary, although I doubt Law would allow her in there if he’s taking care of them. Although although.  .  . he lets Bepo into the same room he’s in when he’s doing surgery. Hmm. No, I feel he’d still not allow her in, but I dunno! I’m not good at understanding Law ;;

— She’s gonna eat the hell out of Sanji’s food! It’s been too long since she had a real, cooked meal and she missed him his cooking.

— She will shed beary tears when the kids say goodbye to them. She can be a sensitive bean sometimes.

—  Anita’s going to give Caesar dirty looks and probably go out of her way to keep an eye on him. CONSTANT VIGILANCE.

[the-space-case]

Hi! First of all I love your art and I love you

Hello and Thank You!!!! I’m not sure if you’re talking about a fan comic or an original, or long or short but I’ll give you some tips. GRANTED I am not a professional and you may find a different way that is easier for you.

1.) Think of a basic storyline or prompt. Like, “Man is dying and is going to a mountain to see it before he dies and meets his DESTINY???” it can be stupid. It can be silly or vague so long as you have something to start with.

2.) Think of the protagonist, as well as a bit of the timeframe or universe. Are they human? Alien? Medieval? Elf? For our example here lets say its a medieval man from a heavily forested area. He is a lumberjack who hates potatoes and his old man told him stories of the mountain in the west that holds a magic temple; only the pure of heart may enter. He is dying, and wants to see this mythical place before he passes. Draw a few examples. You’ll want some basic refs to look back on.

3.)Think of the antagonist. It can be nature, machine, man, elderich horrors, etc....(typical story tropes are something like man vs. machine or man vs. nature). For our case lets say its mainly man and nature. Bandits, bad weather, illness, etc...DRAW SOME OF THOSE REFS. These beginning ones don’t have to be in depth. just basic stuff.

4.)Hash out what you want to happen in the BEGINNING, MIDDLE and END. These are kind of the most important parts. Its definitely important to think of the end ahead of time instead of thinking about it when you’re halfway through; thats a quick way to never end it at all. Our lumberjack begins his journey selling all he owns and getting a horse to set out to the mountains with nothing but a bit of gold, an old axe and a sick ride.  In the middle he encounters various trials that test his “pure of heart”-ness. Probably three, they can be as long as you want so long as they are generally even alongside each other. (3 or 7 are magic numbers WINK). In the end he reaches the temple and is welcomed inside due to his good deeds and it was allllll along a metaphor for the journey to the afterlife.

5.)get some good references. You have a time period set, a scene in mind, and some tools. Gathering from our example, we’re going to want; various forest scenes of pines, plains, dirt roads, medieval towns, mountains, temples, animals, people, cultures, etc. We need refs for our horse, axe, and gold. Remember those quick refs of characters you made in steps one and two? Now is the time to finalize those. They’ll have developed with the level of detail in your story. Add background nonsense no one else will notice but will enliven the story like how our axeman always ties his beard when mad or how he prefers apple cider over beer anyday. Give those fuckers some names. Bandit Bill challenges Axeman Abel for his horse and loses his head (literallly???)

--if you can go to like, museums or lectures or fairs about these things and take notes. USE YOUR RESOURCES!! ASK QUESTIONS!!! (For ilulatte I visited a couple of coffeeshops and roughed out some cafe drawings haha)

7.) Separate events into chapters. Generally theres a prologue, chapters 1-whatever, the end, and an epilogue. Our axeman has a prologue of starting out on the road, chapters 1-3 depicting pure-heart-trials, climax/end of reaching the temple, and an epilogue of someone else starting their journey to the temple based on his influence on the world because this shit is cyclical, baby. 

6.) make a fuckton of thumbnail drafts. You know these characters now; you built em out of your own head. You know how they move and talk, so slap down their journey in tiny pages. add minor details to the sides. (Here’s a shitty example of mine from ilulatte!!!!!)

7.) finish allllll of them. or at least the first few chapters. Its good for you I promise. You’ll notice the pacing much better this way! You can add a bunch of extra details in the margins like extra panels and bg notes. Don’t be afraid to experiment with the direction of your story, but try to keep the overall plot the same! (sticky notes are great for this!)

8.) start roughing out the actual pages. You’ll change things from the thumbnails (like I always do haha); thats okay!!! They’re more of a helpful guide than solid stone rules.  It’s like making the scaffolding to make the base for the rest of the building.

9.) do the lineart, bgs, text, etc. There’s tons of helpful art programs for this like CLIP studio paint or medibang if you’re doing it digitally. Remember those refs you collected for our horse, axe, and bgs? Now is the time to use em. BE VIGILANT. Keep copies of the originals. Go back frequently to look for mistakes or missing details. Keep a check list. Freckles? check. Scar on nose? check. shading???? UHHHHHH----SHIT.

10.)you should probably number the pages. keep em in a nice sized resolution if you want to print but lower it if you’re posting to the internet to dissuade reposters. keep em all in one organized folder if possible. Slap your signature on em for extra safety.

11.) ????? Sell it on gumroad idk.

GENERAL TIPS:

-start with short stories. Build your own stamina.

-have relatable characters with flaws. Tumblr seems to hate “problematic” characters but thats literally the point of character building and narratives. THEY’RE RELATABLE IF THEY’RE FLAWED. If a story doesn’t have characters that conflict with each other its a boring one. Axeman Abel wants to help everyone; Bandit Bill wants to help himself only. LET THEM HATE EACH OTHER.

-its also good to have characters that are friends but still conflict with each other. The Dragon Age series is phenomenal with this (their characters are good in general, take notes!!)

-theres a lot of shitty people out there. USE THEM. (seriously though examine other peoples interactions and you’ll make better characters. )

-bad things happen to good people. Bad things also happen to bad people. Bad things just sort of happen. Don’t shy away from unfortunate events; your story will fall flat without conflict both planned and random.

-Obviously you don’t have to share the same world views as your characters. (dont let the antis fool you.) Axeman Abel can hate broccoli but you can still enjoy it. Bandit Bill can be a racist piece of shit but that doesn’t mean you are.

-have characters of various personality, body type, race, height, etc….it really livens up the story.

-generally you don’t want the bg to overwhelm the characters, so most people do a sort of painterly bg against the solid outlines of the characters but thats all really up to you and how in-depth you want it to be.

-you should also make a regular schedule, if you can. Say, something like “twenty finished pages a month” or “four pages a week” depending on the level of detail. Simplistic style and palettes of course take less time to make than full color/heavily detailed pages, so plan accordingly to prevent burnout. If you post weekly, having a few pages done ahead of time will be good in case you need an emergency break.

-be open to critique but don’t be a doormat, either. ESPECIALLY if you’re doing it for free. People will try to take advantage of you; don’t let them. Block them and move on.

-above all; BE DEDICATED. Comics take a great deal of time by yourself, but doing them helps you develop important skills in the end like time management and general technical know-how like digital programs and writing. It’s not just art, though that’s a major part of it.

-probably should’ve said this earlier but make what you enjoy??? People can generally tell if you dont enjoy your own work. There’s less effort there. 

THIS WAS REALLY LONG SO I HOPE IT WAS HELPFUL IN SOME WAY ILU HAVE FUN BE SAFE OUT THERE

[oops-prow-did-it-again]

Pokémon Black: The Novel - Chapter 13 (Fierce)

Prologue and more info

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Pokémon Black: The Novel on FFN

Pokémon Black: The Novel on AO3

Pokémon Retold the series on AO3

—————————-

Traversing the straight path through Pinwheel Forest had been so much easier than when he had fought his way through the dense forestry to find that stupid skull. Even so, they paused at the gate between it and Sky-Arrow Bridge because they knew the walk across would be long and uncomfortable. It was growing warmer by the day and this day proved to be especially harsh. Despite the rising heat, Hil stubbornly kept his hoodie on, much to the combined annoyance of Cheren and apparently, Noodle. The Snivy had taken to Hil’s head, refusing to rest on his shoulders or hood.

Inside the gate, Bianca wandered over to the digital sign giving news to travelers, while Cheren and Hil bickered.

“You’re going to sweat to death,” Cheren complained. He had ditched his thin windbreaker within the last week, and instead wore just a white shirt with red trimming around the neck, which met at a stripe down the center. Combined with his slender, dark pants, he looked nice. Hil didn’t quite like his appearance without the baggy clothes obscuring his frame. He pressed his lips to a thin line as Cheren continued to nag him. See, this was why he called him ‘Daddy’ all the time, if not for the jokes. It was just true. “Take the hoodie off, for Arceus’ sake.”

“I wonder, do you hear yourself?” Hil asked with genuine confusion laced in his voice. “Like, were you ever a kid, or did you just come out as a dad?”

“Har har,” Cheren said pointedly. “Maybe if you had any sense, I wouldn’t have to worry so much.”

“Aww, you’re worried, about me?” Hil rose his voice in a mocking way, making it sound as if he had been truly touched by Cheren’s sentiment. Truthfully, he was; Cheren’s comment from the Nacrene City Museum when he had gone to face Lenora had not left his mind. “Yeah. I was worried. Now stop making it some weird joke. It’s not always a joke, you know.” As soon as he’d finished, he felt a little guilty for turning it into a joke yet again, but he stuck to his guns and kept up the taunt. “Also, I do have sense, thank you very much.”

“Sense enough to at least wear a light-colored hoodie if you’re going to wear one when it’s eighty degrees outside,” Cheren muttered.

“Hey!” Bianca interrupted them. “Guys, come check out the news on this board!”

Oh, joy, the news. Hil threw his head back to glare at the roof. This ought to be good. He followed Cheren over to her and all three of them then stared at the digital, animated sign. Yellow letters crawled across the screen and slowly told news of the next area over. This particular sign had news mainly about Castelia City.

The temperature today is 84* F!

Yeah, Hil knew that from how hard he was sweating.

Castelia City has a population of eight thousand! This makes us the most populous city in Unova!

Arceus, that’s a lot of people… Hil thought as he sucked in a fast breath. As that text took its sweet time creeping across the banner, Cheren piped up. “That seems like a lot to us, but research suggests human population would be way higher if not for pokémon. Like, between the amount of time people spend traveling, unfortunate encounters with wild pokémon people aren’t prepared for… Humans would be a lot more populous without pokémon. It was actually a really fascinating read.”

Bianca shrugged. “Oh well! I think pokémon are great and the people that are here are pretty great, too!”

“Yeah, it’s crowded enough everywhere as it is,” Hil yawned. Bianca rolled her eyes at him but kept smiling.

“Wait, wait, read that,” Cheren said, patting each of their shoulders that he could reach distractedly. Then he jabbed a finger at the sign.

Crime on a rise? Castelia City has been experiencing a string of robberies recently. Police want your help if you have any tips! The culprit is described as a person in their mid to late teens with dark hair and is known to carry a Samurott. Rewards are on the table for more information that points to the culprit’s whereabouts!

The message took quite some time to scroll past, but once it finished, Hil crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. “That’s exciting to know,” he said dryly.

“Oh, we better keep an eye out, then!” Bianca said fiercely.

“Bianca, dark hair, carrying a Samurott, and mid to late teens could describe a fifth or sixth of Castelia’s entire population,” Cheren sighed.

“Aw, but we can still keep an eye out!” Bianca bounced a little. “I wonder what kind of rewards they are talking about?”

“Keys to the city,” Hil suggested with a noncommittal shrug. He grinned at Bianca and knelt on one knee. He held open an empty hand to her. “For you, madam.”

“Why, you shouldn’t have,” Bianca flicked her hair and raised her chin, adopting a pompous edge to her voice. She smirked down at Hil and pushed his hands shut, then turned away from him.

“Ugh, rejection,” Hil groaned and clasped his hands over his heart. Cheren, looking rather hostile all of a sudden, scoffed at him.

“Get up,” he hissed, “you’re embarrassing.”

“Uh, yeah,” Hil snorted as he got back to his feet and brushed himself off. “What was your first clue?”

“Boys, play nice! And Hil, stop it!” Bianca called back at them from the other side of the gate. Hil then noticed that the helpdesk woman situated behind a deep blue counter had a hand over her face, as if trying to direct her attention at the computer in front of her and nothing else. “Let’s get going, why don’t we?” Bianca asked exasperatedly.

Hil and Cheren agreed. Before following her, Hil cast a glance back at the sign one more time.

…irearm awareness and vigil for Vincent Whitacre to be held at Castelia City Gym and Studio in three days! Castelia City wishes to make its community aware of the…

Wrenching his face away before the message finished, he could tell their stint in Castelia City would be fun already.

 -----------

The trek across the Sky-Arrow Bridge had been nice at first, but about three quarters of the way across that massive strip of walkway, Hil had finally relented and taken off his hoodie. Partially because he intended to beat Cheren with it to make him shut up about it. The heat must have been getting to all of them, as Noodle simply jumped from Hil’s head and ran ahead to get out of the crossfire and Bianca had snapped at them both to get it together. Then she had snatched Hil’s jacket from his grasp and stuffed it into her bag, which bulged with the effort of trying to hold it all.

On the other side, though, the tension seemed to dissipate at arriving in the large city. The dull roar of chattering civilians passing them by, and the occasional car, drowned out any other bickering between the three friends. They silently decided to make their way to a restaurant known for diner fare, to relax and escape the heat for a few minutes. They were seated at a booth, Bianca and Cheren on one side, and Hil with Noodle on the other. A pale wooden table separated them.

After that, everyone was in a much better mood, and they discussed their plans for the day. Despite how uncomfortable the walk between Castelia City and Nacrene City had been, it admittedly hadn’t taken that long. It was still about midday.

“I think I’m going to head to the gym right away,” Cheren stated. “Gym Leader Burgh is said to have quite a few trainers that help challengers get stronger before they face him. I think it’d do me good to face them instead of just wild pokémon.”

Hil shrugged. “I’m gonna head to the Pokémon Center, I think. I just wanna hang out with my team for a while and probably wait until tomorrow to face the gym…”

“I just want to sightsee!” Bianca cried giddily, lightly tapping the table with her fingertips. “I hear the piers are really pretty and there’s this boat that will take you on a short cruise around Castelia! The Royal Unova! I want on!”

“Huh, that does sound like fun…” Cheren mused as a waitress arrived and settled their drinks on the table. “I mean, I hope you have fun,” Cheren corrected with a cough. “You’ll need to tell me about it.”

“Of course!” Bianca beamed at him.

They spent another hour there—Hil fed Noodle a few scraps despite Bianca and Cheren’s concerns—and then went their separate ways. Hil, as he told his friends, retreated to the Pokémon Center with the intention of spending some quality time with his team in a private hostel room. The Nurse Joy had looked as if she had seen a ghost when he asked for the room key and offered him the private room before he’d even had a chance to speak. He thanked her as sarcastically as he could manage, having no patience for her or anyone else’s pity, and headed upstairs.

As he entered the room, he felt guilty, as if he had neglected most of his pokémon other than Noodle; Noodle was just so easy to carry with him outside of the Poké Ball. But another anxiety had begun to develop as well. His team consisted of a Munna, Patrat, Purrloin, Snivy, Blitzle, and Panpour. He knew from the past ramblings of his father and Cheren that most of those were considered difficult pokémon to train and use viably. He felt it was his responsibility to carry them through to the end now, having asked them if they wanted to (he had made sure to ask his newer teammates as well following their capture and they had also seemed to agree), but even if he managed to fight off the occasional freeze-ups, what if it simply became too difficult? He sighed as he tossed his team free of their Poké Balls and instead opted to just feed, pet, and groom them, idly ignoring the doubt. By the end of it, he was curled up in his bed, and fell asleep in the process of brushing out Lucky the Purrloin’s soft, violet fur.

He woke to claws digging into his chest and the obnoxious ringing of his Xtransceiver. He was vaguely aware of Lucky hissing as he jolted awake, slamming his head against the headboard behind him. Cursing under his breath, Hil groggily reached for that Arceus-forsaken device and saw he had a whole slew of missed messages and calls. His eyes flew open wide and he began to comb through the list, noticing a significant amount from his mother from over an hour ago, and then the more recent ones were from Cheren. As he went to press Cheren’s name to call him back, Cheren called again, so he answered.

“Cheren? What’s—”

“Get to Cruise Dock!”

“O-okay, calm down, dude, what’s going on?”

“Just get to Cruise Dock, I don’t have time to explain. Hurry! It’s Bianca!”

Like that, Cheren hung up. Hil blinked at the blank screen, and then it was like his brain went on autopilot at the idea of Bianca in trouble, his mother’s missed calls and messages forgotten. He gathered all of his things and stuffed them into his pockets, grumbling when the weight of his Xtransceiver, Pokédex, and badge case began to sag his pants. Anchoring them in place with some awkward leg movements, he retrieved his belt from the corner of the bed and then recalled his team.

“Sorry guys, we’ve got to go, Bianca might be in trouble,” he muttered as he went. At that, they seemed to still and willingly return to the balls. Noodle hopped to his shoulder from the bedspread and nudged him in the head with his pointy nose, as if to urge him on. Hil cast a glance around the room one last time to make sure he didn’t miss anything, and then slung his bag over his back, speeding out the Pokémon Center.

Cruise Dock was one of the five piers in Castelia City, spreading from its south end like the fingers of a human hand. That odd detail allowed Hil to remember them since Cheren had taught him about it ages ago. For once, he was grateful for Cheren’s quirk of constantly sharing his reservoir of seemingly random knowledge. He’d be amazing at trivia.

Once free of the Pokémon Center, Hil bolted through the throngs of people and found the pier just a few buildings down the way. People moved out of his way as he went, giving him clearance, though they also gave him the occasional hurtful remark (not that he paid them any mind). Down the middle of the long dock, he saw a small group of people gathered. Policemen patrolled the pier and one halted him with a Stoutland at his side. It snarled at Hil and he skidded to a halt, his nose nearly pressed to the officer’s outstretched hand.

Hil started to snap something at him, but Burgh’s familiar voice interrupted them both. “That’s okay, officer, let him through.”

The officer called his Stoutland and stepped aside, allowing Hil to see Burgh, Cheren, Bianca, and a girl with a comical amount of violet hair gathered at the center of the pier, between groups of police officers.  “Bianca!” Hil cried as he booked it over to them. He pushed the others away and hovered his hands over her shoulders as if he wanted to grab them, but he didn’t touch her. He bent his eyes down to her level and noted that her eyes were clenched shut and her face red and puffy. “Bianca, are you okay?”

“Someone stole her Munna,” Cheren told him tersely, waving Hil away. “Please, give her some space…”

“Ugh, I tried to chase him, but…” the violet-haired girl had a loud, booming voice for a girl, and she clenched both her fists at her comment. She looked to Bianca sadly. “I’m really sorry, Bianca.”

“I-it’s not your f-fault…” Bianca sniffled. “Th-thanks for coming out, H-Hil…”

Hil exchanged a look with Noodle on his shoulder and then put his hands on his hips. “So, what happened? Who did it? Why are we all just standing around here on the pier like idiots?”

“Bianca and Iris here say that they don’t know who he was, just that he was a guy dressed in all black, sunglasses, mask, the whole nine,” Cheren sighed. “We—”

“Watch it! Get him!”

Screaming and hollering cut Cheren off and the police on the pier began to swarm where the pier met Castelia City’s main road, barking at civilians to get out the way. Hil could barely hear it above the noise, but the policemen’s walkie talkies were broadcasting something to each one of them, something clearly very important. He saw one of them point at a pokémon flying through the sky. Hil narrowed his eyes in confusion at it but jerked his head to the side when he noticed Cheren had pulled his Pokédex out.

“Archeops, the First Bird Pokémon. They are intelligent and will cooperate to catch prey. From the ground, they use a running start to take flight,” the Pokédex prattled away from within Cheren’s palm. Just like that, the birdlike pokémon disappeared from sight, dipping between two of Castelia’s towering buildings. The cops had all but vanished after it. Some had, in what would have been an amusing sight had the situation been less stressful, jumped onto their Stoutland and rode them away.

Cheren squared his shoulders and groaned in frustration. “She just had her pokémon stolen! What are they going after a stupid Archeops for?”

“It’s that new thief,” Burgh answered so quietly he was nearly inaudible. He was staring after where the Archeops had disappeared with a distant, lost expression. “They likely think he took it. They’re wrong, bu—I mean, yeah… they probably think he took it…” His expression turned sour after that. Hil paid it no heed due to the anger prickling in his chest.

Cheren narrowed his eyes at Burgh when he stumbled over his words. Hil rolled his eyes at them. “Okay, well, while you all stand here and look pretty,” Hil sneered, “I’m gonna go find the Munna.”

“Finding it is a lot easier said than done, but I promise, we’ll find it,” Burgh said as he turned back to Bianca and placed a hand reassuringly on her shoulder. He glanced at Hil over his shoulder. “Hil, please, calm down, you’ll just upset her worse.”

Hil took a deep breath, reminding himself it was unfair to be harsh on Burgh like he wanted to be in that moment. “Right.” He exhaled.

Burgh looked Iris in the eyes. “You did everything you could,” he told her with conviction and a stern smile. Even in the face of such stress, he was still so positive. How on earth could anyone be like that? “But while I go find her Munna, can you stay with her? Keep her safe? The police will come back here once they’re done chasing the thief, but I’m sure she’d appreciate the little cocoon of protection in the meantime.” He winked at her.

“You got it, Gym Leader Burgh! I’ll be her bodyguard!” Iris pumped her fist and then brought it over her heart in a symbolic gesture. She added something in what seemed to be a foreign tongue.

“Hil, Cheren,” Burgh turned to them next, “I want you two to come with me, okay? We’re going to look through the city for anything sketchy. If we spot nothing still, I’ll look around the sewers. Meet me at my gym if you come up empty.”

“Don’t bother.”

Bianca screamed and jumped, latching onto Iris. Iris wobbled dangerously on her feet before anchoring herself in place. Civilians that had gathered around them curiously also gasped and shrieked. Hil, Burgh, and Cheren whipped their heads to the person that had spoken, and Hil soon saw why everyone had panicked upon seeing him. He was tall and lithe, boasting solid black attire from head to toe, all except for a black mask that covered most of his face. Crudely drawn on in what looked like white charcoal, a wide, chaotic, Cheshire cat-like smile stretched from ear to ear, making him look quite deranged. Sunglasses blocked his eyes from view and messy, dark brown hair, oily and unclean, lay in clumps across his head. He had both of his hands stuffed into his baggy hoodie’s pockets. “The Munna thief booked it for the office across from your gym,” he added quickly. Hil noted that his voice trembled with effort, as if he were speaking differently than he was used to. “I’d have stopped them, but ah… seems the police are feeling extra antsy today. Had to ditch them to even get over here to you.”

Burgh glared at the man dressed in black with an intense gaze. Slowly, he nodded. “Thank you.”

“Who are you?” Hil found himself asking as he looked over the new guy curiously. He looked like he had jumped straight out of a heist film, like he was someone that would have held people hostage at the top of a tower. He turned to face Hil, but with all the garb and masking, it was difficult to tell what his expression was at all.

“Nobody at all,” he answered Hil softly. Nobody noticed, but Burgh flinched when he said that. He then gave a low whistle, and from the west end of the pier, a Samurott burst free of the water. It paused briefly in front of the guy in black, who swung a leg over its back and clung to the cream-colored armor on its head, and just like that, they were gone. It had dived for the other side of the pier, the guy still clinging to it, as if they had practiced it many times before.

Hil stared after them almost dazedly. That had been an amazing show of pokémon and person working together! He couldn’t believe someone like that was capable of such a feat! Not to mention the mask had honestly been cool… “Was that—”

“The thief,” Burgh sighed. “He sent off his Archeops so the police would go after it, so he could get away.”

“…And tell you about Bianca’s Munna’s whereabouts,” Cheren pointed out with crossed arms. “Just what was that about?”

“Who cares?” Hil snorted as he regarded Cheren. He jogged ahead of Burgh and threw a look over his shoulders. “We know where her Munna is! Burgh, let’s go get it!”

Burgh nodded quickly. “No time for that now, Cheren, care to follow us to go get her Munna back?”

“Am I the only one here with brain cells? The local thief just told us where the Munna is! Why are we trusting him? For all we know, he’s involved!”

Burgh waved him away and began to walk ahead. “Never mind that, Cheren. Hil, Cheren, Iris, Bianca, follow me, please. Now that we know where it’s at, I’d like you all to come with, keep you all with me.”

Hil fell into stride with the gym leader. Now that he had come to an understanding with Burgh, it felt rather comfortable to have him by his side. Cheren flanked the other side, muttering under his breath, while Iris and Bianca brought up the rear. Hil glanced back at her a couple of times and noted she was still hysterical despite the promise of getting her Munna back.

“It had already been through so much! And I let it get hurt again! Oh, Munny!” Bianca howled as they moved. Iris was helping hold her upright. She mumbled something Hil couldn’t understand again, and then wrapped an arm around Bianca’s shoulders tightly. Hil hardened his gaze and looked away. Whoever was responsible for this, there would be hell to pay. He would not let them get away with this, not if he could help it. He was going to help. He would never be useless when another person needed his help again.

Never, ever again.

It wasn’t long before they found their way to Burgh’s gym. Across the street from it, a nondescript office building sat wedged between a gaudy fashion boutique and a flower shop, shorter than either of them. Burgh protectively urged the rest of the group behind him and banged his fist on the door. “Gym Leader Burgh! Please answer!”

A man in an all-too familiar cloak and tall hat answered the door. At the sight of Burgh, his eyes bulged, and he brushed wiry gray hair from in front of his eyes. “Gym Leader Burgh! To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit today?”

Burgh took a deep breath and his lips pressed to a dangerously thin line. Whatever patience Burgh had seemed to evaporate. “I see you’re a Sage for Team Plasma,” he growled, “so tell me, why have I been told of a man thieving a girl’s Munna that scurried off to your establishment today? Do tell me, Sage, what is Team Plasma’s message, hmm? Take what you want from people? Because lately, I feel like that may be it!”

Hil couldn’t help the wild smirk that crossed his face. He glanced to Cheren and found he looked excited, even if a little apprehensive. Were they about to see Burgh stomp out some of the dark side of Team Plasma? That would be amazing, Hil thought darkly. Then his mind thought back to how Lenora’s Watchog had physically attacked one of the other Sages… he winced at the thought. He hoped it didn’t escalate to anything like that again… That had been hard to watch, a gym leader losing her cool like that…

The Sage held up his hands in surrender and backed up slightly. “No, no, Gym Leader Burgh, of course not! Please, all of you come inside, we’ll see what we can do to sort this out. My name is Sage Bronius.”

“No,” Burgh growled, throwing his left arm out to stop any of the children following him from entering the building. “No. I want to speak to your leader. Sage Ghetsis, isn’t that his name?”

“He’s not here,” Bronius answered cagily.

“Convenient,” Burgh retorted icily.

“Please, come inside,” Bronius insisted again, moving aside to give them room to enter. Hil could see the interior of the building looked normal. Stark, white walls, sterile tile flooring, a reception desk… it looked like how he’d imagine a normal office building. Suddenly, he wasn’t so sure about the information they had been given… Perhaps Cheren had been right to question Burgh, but at the same time, he knew the gym leaders—especially Burgh—weren’t stupid. If Burgh had reason to believe the information he’d been given, then surely it was best to simply trust him? Questioning a gym leader’s judgment was an uncomfortable feeling…

Burgh silently entered the building at last, motioning for the kids to follow him. He never took his eyes off Bronius, and he made a conscious effort to try to keep the group behind him. Bronius gestured at a few soft, white recliners in the lobby, but Burgh pointedly refused.

“So, Gym Leader Burgh, what is the problem today?” Bronius asked kindly. He took a seat in one of those recliners and crossed his hands patiently over his lap.

Bianca burst into tears again and Iris hugged her close. “One of you stole her pokémon, that’s what!” Iris snarled.

“What do you mean?” Bronius blinked and cocked his head in concern. That stupid, gaudy hat tipped dangerously, ready to fall at any second. “We have not stolen any pokémon. We have claimed some from abusive trainers, yes, but not stolen.”

“It was a Munna,” Burgh explained coolly. “And define ‘claim.’”

“A Munna?” Bronius’ eyes bulged for a moment before he cleared his throat and regained his composure. “I… we did take in a Munna today. From a particularly nasty young girl, by what I was told.” Bianca howled a sob.

“You shut your mouth,” Cheren marched forward and actively shoved at Burgh when he tried to hold him back. Hil grabbed him by his shirt then.

“I’ll call my footman that took in the Munna,” Bronius sighed, rubbing his temple. He stood up and ambled over to a callbox next to an elevator. “Grunt Lancaster, please report to the lobby.”

Within a few minutes, the elevator doors opened, and a redheaded man in a silver hood exited. He froze when he saw everyone gathered in the lobby, the color draining from his face rapidly.

“You!” Hil spat, recognizing him right away. “You were one of those jerks in the Dreamyard!”

“Well, this just gets better and better,” Cheren growled.

“I know,” Bianca wailed desperately. “I-I-I s-saved Munny once, a-and then… th-then… she got taken r-right back by the m-m-man who b-beat her up!”

Iris murmured some more soothing, foreign words at her.

Lancaster swallowed hard and looked up at Bronius. The Sage scowled down at him. “What are they talking about, Grunt Lancaster? You told me this girl had beaten this Munna within an inch of its life.”

“Sh-she did!” Lancaster exclaimed lamely, scooting closer to Bronius as he did.

“Liar!” Hil stamped his foot and raised a Poké Ball. “I watched you kick it! I saw you! Did you really go back after her because you were mad you had to leave? It wasn’t even really Ghetsis there, anyway! It was a Musharna!”

“I know!” Lancaster snarled back at him suddenly. “I know, because I came back with the other grunt, Virgil, apologized to Ghetsis, and he had no idea what we were talking about! So, thank you, but I know!” His eyes blazed furiously. “And for your information, yes! I did take that Munna from her. To send a lesson.”

“Lancaster!” Bronius hissed. “How dare you—”

“It seems I was not invited to this party. How hurtful. I’m such a gracious host.”

Everyone fell silent as yet another person disembarked the elevator, but this time, there was no immediate accusatory screaming. Everyone fell quiet and took a step back, giving the man some space. It was Ghetsis, there was no doubt about it. The slack right half of his face clashed frighteningly with his devilish smirk. He raised his chin and overlooked the lobby. “What appears to be the problem, gentlemen?”

“I am tired of playing games. We just want this girl’s Munna back,” Burgh said sternly. “Give us the Munna back, and we’ll be out your hair.”

“Of course. Grunt Lancaster, give this girl her Munna back,” Ghetsis said calmly as he looked over the irate grunt. Lancaster eyed the floor, seeming to not have the nerve to glare at Ghetsis, and then hurled a Poké Ball at Burgh. Cheren caught it out from in front of him and bent down next to Bianca, handing her the ball tenderly. She squealed in excitement and hugged him and Iris both at once, spewing rapid ‘Thank yous’ as she went, even when she briefly looked up to cast a glance at Lancaster.

“Don’t thank him,” Iris scolded, “they stole it in the first place!”

Bianca didn’t have a response for that. She merely hugged them both tighter.

“Please do not misunderstand the actions of my selfish subordinate,” Ghetsis said, clearing his throat. Everyone’s attention was drawn back to him. “Grunt Lancaster will be reprimanded as seen fit. He does not define us. We must change hearts with words because violence just creates more violence. Puts more pokémon in harm’s way. Just like that poor Munna.”

His voice was dry and emotionless despite the inflection. Hil narrowed his eyes at him. He couldn’t quite place it, but he just didn’t like this guy.

“Then reign in your organization!” Burgh snarled at last, making everyone bar Ghetsis jump. “Everyone in this entire country can call me whatever they like, they can slander me six ways to Sunday on the news, they can say any actions I take against you are to silence you for propaganda for the League, but I will not stand for anything like this! Nobody will come to harm under my watch, understood? Make your speeches. Hand out your pamphlets. But if any more trainers are attacked here, do not expect me to just stand idly by!”

Ghetsis nodded along with Burgh’s speech thoughtfully, unfazed by his yelling. “A moving expression, Gym Leader Burgh. Your determination is admirable, especially considering how you would let your reputation go up in smoke for your cause. It’s people like you that allow Team Plasma to be so effective. You’re an intelligent man. I am truly sorry you had a run in with one of our lesser members.” He sighed. “And I am also truly sorry that the public has decided you are to blame for so much recently. The public can be cruel, we would know. We just want people to reconsider their relationships with their pokémon. That’s all. Our extremists do not define us.”

Hil gritted his teeth. That was it. The inflection without emotion suddenly made sense. Hil remembered the holidays and birthdays spent with Vince in the time while he was training there in Castelia. He would laugh and joke, but he would always look like he was somewhere else. His voice would change in tone, but it felt tired and as if it took all the effort he had to do so. Even if now he understood Vince’s reasons were likely far different from Ghetsis’, the ultimate goal was the same—deceive and lull the other into a false sense of security.

“Let’s go,” Hil said quietly. “We got what we came for. Let’s leave and call the police on them. Don’t listen to him.”

“Agreed,” Burgh said as he looked at Hil, shaking his head as if to shake away what Ghetsis had said.

Burgh led everyone out of the lobby. Neither Ghetsis or Bronius tried to stop them, and Lancaster was too busy cowering against a wall to say anything. Once they had left, Bronius had sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I can’t believe you did that, Grunt Lancaster. I am deeply ashamed. If we use pokémon to satisfy our personal vendettas, then we are no different from those that abuse and use them as tools in battle.”

“I am growing weary of the complaints against you, Lancaster,” Ghetsis mused as he shot the grunt a deadly, piercing look. “Watch your step.” Ghetsis suddenly raised his left leg and brought his foot down hard against Lancaster’s right shoe. The grunt yelped and staggered, losing balance and landing on his elbow. “Didn’t I tell you that you were lucky to escape the Dreamyard incident with your friend alive? Perhaps the gym leader is right. I do need to reign in my team. Bronius.”

Bronius perked his head up. “Yes?”

“We’re leaving this office here in Castelia. I have no more need of it.” He chuckled darkly. “Was fun to have a hideout across from the gym leader of the most populous city in Unova while it lasted, but I suppose it was only a matter of time.”

“…Yes, Lord Ghetsis. I’ll gather everyone in the lobby.”

“Thank you.” Ghetsis took a deep breath and then raised his left arm high. “Shadow Triad, come to me!”

[readbookywooks]

And so it was that, a week later, Granny locked the cottage door and hung the key on its nail in the privy. The goats had been sent to stay with a sister witch further along the hills, who had also promised to keep an Eye on the cottage. Bad Ass would just have to manage without a witch for a while. Granny was vaguely aware that you didn't find the Unseen University unless it wanted you to, and the only place to start looking was the town of Ohulan Cutash, a sprawl of a hundred or so houses about fifteen miles away. It was where you went to once or twice a year if you were a really cosmopolitan Bad Assian: Granny had only been once before in her entire life and hadn't approved of it at all. It had smelt all wrong, she'd got lost, and she distrusted city folk with their flashy ways. They got a lift on the cart that came out periodically with metal for the smithy. It was gritty, but better than walking, especially since Granny had packed their few possessions in a large sack. She sat on it for safety. Esk sat cradling the staff and watching the woods go by. When they were several miles outside the village she said, “I thought you told me plants were different in forn parts.” “So they are.” “These trees look just the same.” Granny regarded them disdainfully. “Nothing like as good,” she said. In fact she was already feeling slightly panicky. Her promise to accompany Esk to Unseen University had been made without thinking, and Granny, who picked up what little she knew of the rest of the Disc from rumour and the pages of her Almanack, was convinced that they were heading into earthquakes, tidal waves, plagues and massacres, many of them diverse or even worse. But she was determined to see it through. A witch relied too much on words ever to go back on them. She was wearing serviceable black, and concealed about her person were a number of hatpins and a breadknife. She had hidden their small store of money, grudgingly advanced by Smith, in the mysterious strata of her underwear. Her skirt pockets jingled with lucky charms, and a freshly-forged horseshoe, always a potent preventative in time of trouble, weighed down her handbag. She felt about as ready as she ever would be to face the world. The track wound down between the mountains. For once the sky was clear, the high Ramtops standing out crisp and white like the brides of the sky (with their trousseaux stuffed with thunderstorms) and the many little streams that bordered or crossed the path flowed sluggishly through strands of meadowsweet and go-fasterroot. By lunchtime they reached the suburb of Ohulan (it was too small to have more than one, which was just an inn and a handful of cottages belonging to people who couldn't stand the pressures of urban life) and a few minutes later the cart deposited them in the town's main, indeed its only, square. It turned out to be market day. Granny Weatherwax stood uncertainly on the cobbles, holding tightly to Esk's shoulder as the crowd swirled around them. She had heard that lewd things could happen to country women who were freshly arrived in big cities, and she gripped her handbag until her knuckles whitened. If any male stranger had happened to so much as nod at her it would have gone very hard indeed for him. Esk's eyes were sparkling. The square was a jigsaw of noise and colour and smell. On one side of it were the temples of the Disc's more demanding deities, and weird perfumes drifted out to join with the reeks of commerce in a complex ragrug of fragrances. There were stalls filled with enticing curiosities that she itched to investigate. Granny let the both of them drift with the crowd. The stalls were puzzling her as well. She peered among them, although never for one minute relaxing her vigilance against pickpockets, earthquakes and traffickers in the erotic, until she spied something vaguely familiar. There was a small covered stall, black draped and musty, that had been wedged into a narrow space between two houses. Inconspicuous though it was, it nevertheless seemed to be doing a very busy trade. Its customers were mainly women, of all ages, although she did notice a few men. They all had one thing in common, though. No one approached it directly. They all sort of strolled almost past it, then suddenly ducked under its shady canopy. A moment later and they would be back again, hand just darting away from bag or pocket, competing for the world's Most Nonchalant Walk title so effectively that a watcher might actually doubt what he or she had just seen. It was quite amazing that a stall so many people didn't know was there should be quite so popular. “What's in there?” said Esk. “What's everyone buying?” “Medicines,” said Granny firmly. “There must be a lot of very sick people in towns,” said Esk gravely. Inside, the stall was a mass of velvet shadows and the herbal scent was thick enough to bottle. Granny poked a few bundles of dry leaves with an expert finger. Esk pulled away from her and tried to read the scrawled labels on the bottles in front of her. She was expert at most of Granny's preparations, but she didn't recognise anything here. The names were quite amusing, like Tiger Oil, Maiden's Prayer and Husband's Helper, and one or two of the stoppers smelled like Granny's scullery after she had done some of her secret distillations. A shape moved in the stall's dim recesses and a brown wrinkled hand slid lightly on to hers. “Can I assist you, missy?” said a cracked voice, in tones of syrup of figs, “Is it your fortune you want telling, or is it your future you want changing, maybe?” “She's with me,” snapped Granny, spinning around, “and your eyes are betraying you, Hilta Goatfounder, if you can't tell her age.” The shape in front of Esk bent forward. “Esme Weatherwax?” it asked. “The very same,” said Granny. “Still selling thunder drops and penny wishes, Hilta? How goes it?” “All the better for seeing you,” said the shape. “What brings you down from the mountains, Esme? And this child - your assistant, perhaps?” “What's it you're selling, please?” asked Esk. The shape laughed. “Oh, things to stop things that shouldn't be and help things that should, love,” it said. “Let me just close up, my dears, and I will be right with you.” The shape bustled past Esk in a nasal kaleidoscope of fragrances and buttoned up the curtains at the front of the stall. Then the drapes at the back were thrown up, letting in the afternoon sunlight. “Can't stand the dark and fug myself,” said Hilta Goatfounder, “but the customers expect it. You know how it is.” “Yes,” Esk nodded sagely. “Headology.” Hilts, a small fat woman wearing an enormous hat with fruit on it, glanced from her to Granny and grinned. “That's the way of it,” she agreed. “Will you take some tea?” They sat on bales of unknown herbs in the private corner made by the stall between the angled walls of the houses, and drank something fragrant and green out of surprisingly delicate cups. Unlike Granny, who dressed like a very respectable raven, Hilts Goatfounder was all lace and shawls and colours and earrings and so many bangles that a mere movement of her arms sounded like a percussion section falling off a cliff. But Esk could see the likeness. It was hard to describe. You couldn't imagine them curtseying to anyone. “So,” said Granny, “how goes the life?” The other witch shrugged, causing the drummers to lose their grip again, just when they had nearly climbed back up. “Like the hurried lover, it comes and goe-” she began, and stopped at Granny's meaningful glance at Esk. “Not bad, not bad,” she amended hurriedly. “The council have tried to run me out once or twice, you know, but they all have wives and somehow it never quite happens. They say I'm not the right sort, but I say there'd be many a family in this town a good deal bigger and poorer if it wasn't for Madame Goatfounder's Pennyroyal Preventives. I know who comes into my shop, I do. I remember who buys buckeroo drops and ShoNuff Ointment, I do. Life isn't bad. And how is it up in your village with the funny name?” “Bad Ass,” said Esk helpfully. She picked a small clay pot off the counter and sniffed at its contents. “It is well enough,” conceded Granny. “The handmaidens of nature are ever in demand.” Esk sniffed again at the powder, which seemed to be pennyroyal with a base she couldn't quite identify, and carefully replaced the lid. While the two women exchanged gossip in a kind of feminine code, full of eye contact and unspoken adjectives, she examined the other exotic potions on display. Or rather, not on display. In some strange way they appeared to be artfully half-hidden, as if Hilts wasn't entirely keen to sell. “I don't recognise any of these,” she said, half to herself. “What do they give to people?” “Freedom,” said Hilts, who had good hearing. She turned back to Granny. “How much have you taught her?” “Not that much,” said Granny. “There's power there, but what kind I'm not sure. Wizard power, it might be.” Hilts turned around very slowly and looked Esk up and down. “Ah,” she said, “That explains the staff. I wondered what the bees were talking about. Well, well. Give me your hand, child.” Esk held out her hand. Hilta's fingers were so heavy with rings it was like dipping into a sack of walnuts. Granny sat upright, radiating disapproval, as Hilts began to inspect Esk's palm. “I really don't think that is necessary,” she said sternly. “Not between us.” “You do it, Granny,” said Esk, “in the village. I've seen you. And teacups. And cards.” Granny shifted uneasily. “Yes, well,” she said. “It's all according. You just hold their hand and people do their own fortune-telling. But there's no need to go around believing it, we'd all be in trouble if we went around believing everything.” “The Powers That Be have many strange qualities, and puzzling and varied are the ways in which they make their desires known in this circle of firelight we call the physical world,” said Hilts solemnly. She winked at Esk. “Well, really,” snapped Granny. “No, straight up,” said Hilts. “It's true.” “Hmph.” “I see you going upon a long journey,” said Hilts. “Will I meet a tall dark stranger?” said Esk, examining her palm. “Granny always says that to women, she says -” “No,” said Hilts, while Granny snorted. “But it will be a very strange journey. You'll go a long way while staying in the same place. And the direction will be a strange one. It will be an exploration.” “You can tell all that from my hand?” “Well, mainly I'm just guessing,” said Hilts, sitting back and reaching for the teapot /the lead drummer, who had climbed halfway back, fell on to the toiling cymbalists/. She looked carefully at Esk and added, “A female wizard, eh?” “Granny is taking me to Unseen University,” said Esk. Hilta raised her eyebrows. “Do you know where it is?” Granny frowned. “Not in so many words,” she admitted. “I was hoping you could give me more explicit directions, you being more familiar with bricks and things.”