#Embassy springs floor plan

[embassyprojectsindia]

Why Embassy Springs Devanahalli is the Perfect Destination for Luxury Living?

Are you looking for a luxurious and peaceful living experience? Well, Embassy Springs Devanahalli might just be the perfect destination for you. This magnificent residential project offers the epitome of luxury living with its state-of-the-art facilities, spacious apartments, and serene surroundings. The project is in the heart of Devanahalli, which is one of the most sought-after locations in Bangalore. It boasts of unmatched connectivity, excellent infrastructure, and an array of amenities that promise to make your life comfortable and convenient. So, if you are looking for a lavish lifestyle, read on to find out why Embassy Springs Devanahalli is the perfect destination for luxury living.

Benefits of Luxury Living at Embassy Springs Devanahalli

Embassy Springs Devanahalli is a real estate project that is designed to provide luxury living for those who desire it. The development is home to a range of high-end amenities that are designed to offer residents an unparalleled level of comfort and convenience. One of the standout features of Embassy Springs is the high-end clubhouse, which serves as a place where residents can come together to socialize and enjoy the company of their neighbours. In addition to the clubhouse, the development also features private swimming pools that are perfect for those who enjoy spending time in the water. The lush landscaping and expansive retail area are other notable features that contribute to the overall appeal of Embassy Springs. The development is in close proximity to other prominent real estate projects like Embassy Lake Terrace, which further highlights the area's potential for luxury living. Overall, Embassy Springs Devanahalli represents an excellent choice for those seeking a sophisticated, high-quality living experience.

Also, the Embassy Springs community is not only luxurious and secure but also affordable with a reasonable embassy edge price tag. The community provides its residents with an outstanding lifestyle that is unparalleled to any other. The exceptional amenities, the beautiful views, and the secure surroundings are just a few of the benefits of living in Embassy Springs. The community is perfect for families or individuals who want to live in a place that offers modern and comfortable living while still enjoying nature's beauty. Indeed, Embassy Springs is an excellent investment for anyone looking to purchase real estate in Bangalore. With all these features and more, it is no surprise that Embassy Springs is regarded as one of the best real estate developments in the city.

Investing in High-End Real Estate at Embassy Springs Devanahalli

Investing in real estate is one of the most lucrative and secure ways to build wealth. And, when it comes to investing in high-end real estate, Embassy Springs Devanahalli is an opportunity that should not be missed. This prestigious development provides investors with access to a range of luxury amenities that will make their investment even more valuable. The clubhouse offers a space for social gatherings, while the golf course is perfect for those who love to play the sport. The sprawling parks provide an escape from the hustle and bustle of city life, making it a perfect place for families to enjoy quality time together. Moreover, if you are interested in Yelahanka villa projects, Embassy Springs Devanahalli should be on your radar. With its prime location and top-notch facilities, this development is sure to attract the best in the industry. So, if you are looking to invest in real estate and want to enjoy the best that life has to offer, Embassy Springs Devanahalli is the place to be!

Yelahanka villa projects offer a unique opportunity to experience the perfect blend of urban living with nature and greenery all around. These luxurious villas are strategically located in the midst of lush green surroundings, providing a tranquil living experience away from the chaos of the city. The villas boast of modern and sophisticated architecture, with high-quality finishes and state-of-the-art amenities. They are designed to cater to the needs and preferences of modern-day homebuyers, who seek luxury and comfort. The location of Yelahanka villa projects is another advantage as it is conveniently located close to various facilities including schools, hospitals, restaurants, and shopping centres, making it an ideal choice for families. Embassy Projects in Bangalore With its serene and peaceful environment, Yelahanka villa projects are a perfect choice for those looking to escape the hustle and bustle of city life while still enjoying all the amenities of urban living.

Finally, when it comes to investing in real estate, location is everything. With Embassy Springs Devanahalli, investors can rest assured that they have found the perfect combination of convenience and tranquillity. Not only is this development situated close to the city centre, but it is also surrounded by lush greenery, providing a calm oasis during the hustle and bustle. And for those seeking even more luxurious living, the nearby Embassy Lake Terrace offers stunning views and top-of-the-line amenities. With its prime location and exceptional features, Embassy Springs Devanahalli is indeed one of the most desirable real estate investments on the market today.

Final Say

In conclusion, Embassy Springs Devanahalli is a residential project that is designed to cater to the needs of discerning homeowners who seek nothing but the best. The project's exceptional location, coupled with its luxurious amenities and spacious apartments, makes it the perfect destination for those who want to experience a lavish lifestyle. With unmatched connectivity and excellent infrastructure, Embassy Springs Devanahalli promises to offer residents the comfort and convenience they deserve. So, if you are looking for a home that offers a world-class living experience, look no further than Embassy Springs Devanahalli!

[indignantlemur]

Hi !

To you, how does common Andorian habitats look like (decoration, arrangement and number of rooms...) ?

Take care ! 👁️👄👁️ 💅🏼

Hello, zier!

So I spent some time thinking about this, as I generally do when asked a question, and this is what I've come up with.

Andorian homes and habitats vary pretty wildly depending on whether or not you're looking at smaller, modern homes for insulated family units, ancient Clan Lodges, smaller work-sleep apartments, bachelor/bachelorette pads, and so on.

Likewise, decorations and furniture can vary between all of these options. Structural arrangements are more static, at least.

🪐General Overview:

Homes of all types tend to be open plan affairs interrupted with strategic choke points and regrettably necessary load-bearing walls. Andorians don't generally go in for doors in most areas, and their concept of privacy is more theoretical than anything else - from a Human perspective, at least - but they also value security highly and will compromise such preferences for safety's sake.

Sanitary areas are, of course, another exception to the preference for open plans, but it's also very common for Andorians within a Clan to bathe and groom themselves communally or soak in hot springs together. Andorians don't view bodies as things to be hidden or to be ashamed of, and they view other species' tendencies to be body-shy as both bizarre and kind of adorable, if a little immature. Much like the Romans, most Andorians would spent all day in their hot springs and baths if they could get away with it and quite often a Clan Lodge's hot spring is a hub of social activity, particularly for Andorians who have been off-planet for some time. You're not properly home until you've had a good soak and caught up with everyone.

Sleeping quarters are separate from the main areas of the house, but the quarters themselves are large and mostly open. A popular design feature in Clan Lodges is a honey-comb like series of open, low-walled alcoves around the perimeter of a massive room, and another set around a central support beam in the middle of the room, effectively creating 'rooms' within the space. These alcoves can be collapsed or removed as needed, but no one is ever completely shut off from everyone else. Some Clans and families have a more permanent variation of this design that is built into the structure of the home itself and cannot be removed or collapsed; this allows for residents to have their own specific spaces within the home, more along the lines of how Humans think of their bedrooms, but even these are open to some degree.

Alternatively, on ships and smaller, more modern buildings you'll see the sleeping quarters as a large, inset area filled with cushions and blankets on what is effectively a floor-mattress. This is what Dagmar experienced on the transport ship to Andoria, and also in the Andorian embassy on Earth.

Kitchens and living rooms/dining areas tend to flow into one another, with the kitchen being marginally separated from the rest to manage heat output and such. Formal dining areas for observing particular traditions or hosting important guests do exist, and those are generally separate rooms, but most Andorians prefer to eat and sleep communally wherever they can; these formal rooms tend to gather dust for long stretches between events.

🪐Primary Differences:

Apartments: Work-sleep apartments and bachelor/ette pads are very similar in that they are small, compact, and generally barebones. They have all the amenities, but they're cookie-cutter basic with minimal ornamentation, three rooms total (bedroom, bathroom, open living/dining/kitchen/entrance). Dagmar lives in a work-sleep apartment adapted to suit her physiology (with doors - the horror!) which suits her just fine, but most Andorians regard them as a necessary evil to prevent ungodly commutes from their Clan territories and family homes to the major city centers. Generally, work-sleep apartments and pads are rented, limiting the amount of personalization possible, but those who make use of such residences usually go out of their way to compensate with wild furnishings and bold decorations.

Bachelor/ette pads are an even more spartan version of the work-sleep apartments, serving largely as crash pads for students and, quite often, young adults who'd prefer to play out of public view. They consist of the bare necessities and little else; generally speaking, the folks who make use of these pads aren't paying much attention to the decor or the appliances.

Some Clans own multiple work-sleep apartments and pads around their home cities for their clan members to make use of as needed. Technically, they are meant to be used for professional purposes, but as long as everything is in order when their clansman departs, no questions are asked. Many a young couple (or group, as the case may be) has taken advantage of this in the past.

Modern Homes: Modern homes are somewhere between work-sleep apartments and a Lodge, being larger and more expansive in size than an apartment by a significant margin but modest compared to the sprawling ancient strongholds. Modern homes tend to be closer to long-houses with wings added on, where all of the major gathering points (kitchen, living areas, sleeping quarters) are centrally placed while other facilities and are located in attached wings. Multiple stories are common, and usually a basement level is present for cold storage of food, but single level homes are also readily found.

Modern homes don't have access to hot springs, unless there's one available for the community at large, but that doesn't stop Andorians from constructing heated pools and steam-rooms to make up for the lack.

Fully customisable from painting to outright renovating and remodelling, each generation that lives in such a home leaves their mark upon the structure in some fashion or another.

Clan Lodges: Clan Lodges are built like ancient fortresses - because that's exactly what they are. Surrounded on all sides by towering walls, each Lodge is built to endure. Common historical features include: murder holes (also called meurtrières and machicolations), switch-back paths, massive portcullises, multiple internal gates and checkpoints, panic rooms, and barracks. Andorians adore murder holes. Additionally, Clan Lodges all have a central hearth-hall which is so named for the long, narrow hearth that runs down the center line of the room in an inset trench. Modern inventions have rendered these hearths largely symbolic, and many of the more cosmopolitan Clans have converted them to hard-light displays rather than constantly burning inefficient fuel.

Most Clan Lodges will have at least one courtyard, often multiple, and not one is decorative. Every courtyard serves a purpose, even if it's just to cultivate food or other natural resources. It is a poor Clan indeed who cannot boast at least one natural hot spring on their lands. Steam rooms and communal bathing facilities are not only common but expected, though the option to attend to matters of hygiene privately is available for those who are sick or injured.

A very small number of Lodges have the unique trait of having separate sleeping quarters for the different rankings within a Clan, but these are most commonly found in the very remote regions of Andoria and are generally looked upon as relics of a bygone era.

🪐Decorations and Arrangements:

Andorian decor is a riotous mix of wild colours, traditional folk art, modern textiles, and ancient carvings. Nearly every Andorian home has carvings throughout it, usually stonework or metal, often depicting historical events relating to the family or the Clan in some fashion. Wall tapestries are a common feature, as are heavy fur throws and decorative metalwork. There's no single rule for decorations. Just like how there's a great deal of variation in a single Human neighbourhood for furniture and decor, the same is true of Andorians.

That said, there are overarching design principles that can be applied.

Very little wood is used in Andorian design and architecture, as it's a rare and expensive material on their planet, and when it does appear it's usually as an accent rather than a main feature.

The furniture is always meant to accommodate groups of four or more. You won't see two barstools at a kitchen counter, for example, but four. Very rarely will you see configurations that Andorians would feel exclude someone from a larger group, particularly furniture intended for communal areas. Most furniture isn't terribly high off the ground, which can be jarring for some aliens, and beds in particular are either at ground level or inset into the floor.

Kitchens tend towards sleek designs for ease of maintenance and cleanliness, though that has never stopped Andorian families from adding their own personal touches to such rooms anyway.

Formal dining tables are often low-set affairs surrounded by cushions and floor-chairs, made up of lacquered rings that rotate clockwise or counter-clockwise as needed, usually laden with bowls and trays of offerings intended to be cooked in a central pot of hot oil, speared on long, two-pronged forks with hooked inner teeth. By contrast, casual dining arrangements are a much more familiar table-and-chairs set up, often in booths but not always.

Extremely formal arrangements, such as what might be seen at a high-level political dinner or gala, involve a long table studded with hot pots surrounded with stacks of tiered rings of similar trays and bowls, with the host seated at the head on one side and the most important guest seated opposite of them on the other. This is typically not seen outside of high society events.

While Humans might be tempted to apply a cold, modern-Scandinavian palette to their mental visions of Andorian homes, that couldn't be further from the truth. As a people, they value warmth and colour and comfort in their homes, and the sterile, minimalist aesthetic often seen on Earth is actually very off-putting for them.

Hope this answers everything!

[girlpornparadise]

Out and About (pt3)

Pairing: Horacio Carrillo/f!Reader (Narcos)

Word Count: ~2400

Warning: I write smut people.

You can read Part 1: At Your Doorstep and Part 2: Atop the Office. It’ll make a lot more sense that way.

Gif @el-cheung

Having missed breakfast for the second day in a row, you sit at your desk downing cup after cup of tea.

Javier passes your desk and stops. He notices the jacket that usually lives on the back of your chair buttoned up, carefully hiding the barely work appropriate sundress underneath. He smirks. "Fun night?" 

He's seen the walk of shame, done the walk of shame many times before. He knows.

You can't help but smile to yourself as you remember Horacio's lips brushing against yours.

Javi catches your wistful movements and decides not to pry further. As he walks away you giggle to yourself.

You look around surreptitiously and reach into your purse. You take out the note, and run your eyes across it once more, a sacred text that feels even more religious each time you see "ángel" written on the page. You may not have wings, but it feels like your heart does, and they're making it soar.

You want to tell everyone, scream it from the rooftops as it were, but you know what you're doing, though not forbidden in writing, is certainly taboo.

You're privy to important information and don't want anyone to think you're influenced by him in any way. He also has a reputation to maintain of being above reproach. No, this will have to remain quiet.

In your haste you hadn't made any concrete plans, but felt brighter about the future. This wasn't a quick fling, you weren't a mere plaything. You were his ángel.

The day would have been painfully slow if you weren't so distracted by infatuation. You gaze dreamily at nothing between writing reports. You hum to yourself as you tap at the letters. You sigh contentedly each time you return to your desk and see the note peeking out of your purse.

Finally, mid afternoon just as you're starting to get a little sleepy, something worth noting happens. Your phone rings and the voice you've been swimming in the recollection of filters through. 

"This is Colonel Carrillo calling from Search Bloc. Thank you for bringing by the reports yesterday on such short notice."

"Certainly sir." You reply, emphasizing and raising your eyebrows with the word sir.

"I'll need you to bring the day's reports again. There's some vital information I'm waiting on. Make sure you bring any reports containing the word "ángel" as they are very important to my case."

You smile at his cheekiness. At the embassy all of your calls are recorded so an open conversation is out of the question, but the use of his word, your word makes your heart jump.

"I'll bring those by as soon as they're completed. Is there anything else you need?"

"No, that will be all, thank you."

He hangs up abruptly, not to be rude, but to avoid any suspicion. You would have stayed on the line like a "No, you hang up!" teenager, so it's for the best.

You squeal internally to yourself about having another date night, and start leafing through the take out menus in your desk drawer to decide what "files" would be best tonight.

You decide on a little place that does burgers that you've eaten at too many times alone. 

As the clock ticks down the final minutes of the day, somehow impossibly slowly, you start to gather your things, being sure to safely tuck away the note to leave it unblemished. You make sure you have your badge with you for tonight's delivery as well as your keys.

You grab your purse and walk home with an unusual spring in your step. You're glad to get through the door and into your sanctuary. You can finally get out of that dress and you hop in the shower. Though you'd been enjoying the subtle scent of him on you all day, it's a relief to be clean and refreshed. 

You put on your next best sundress and a light application of makeup and prepare to pick up the "files" that will no doubt smell of beef and French fries.

You gather your purse and keys and head for the door when there's a knock. You peer through the peephole and instead of a green uniform, you're met by the sight of a cornflower blue button up and a pair of khakis.

You'd expected to have a few more minutes to mentally prepare for your date, but his spontaneity makes you smile. When you open the door, you're grinning at him.

"I thought that maybe sitting at a table full of files instead of a desk full of actual files would be a better way to spend the evening."

He clearly has something in mind, and you see no reason to object. "Lead the way."

The restaurant is further afield than you normally venture, but you know it's to prevent prying eyes from your combined world from seeing you together.

You laugh when you arrive. It's a burger joint, a touch nicer than the one you had in mind. Great minds think alike you suppose.

"What's so funny?" He asks, worried maybe he made the wrong choice in restaurants.

"I've just been craving a good burger all afternoon."

"Then maybe I'm psychic." He laughs.

The meal is exactly what you wanted, and admittedly a better burger than you had planned. The conversation is more animated than previously, maybe because you're out in public at a reasonable time of day. There's still plenty of work talk, but you get to know a little more about him too. Talking about himself, he understandably plays it close to the (tac) vest. He's in a position where knowing too much about him could leave him vulnerable to the lowest of the low. But he wants to open up to you, and gives you a general rundown of his family, his childhood and the hobbies he wished he had time for. You reciprocate in turn and feel like this is blossoming into a relationship and not just a physical force of nature.

That force of nature returns as he reaches across the table to hold your hand and you feel the electricity run through you. You blush ever so slightly as your eyes meet his in a slow, longing sort of way. You notice his chest rise and fall subtly beneath his shirt and can tell he has the same conclusion to the evening in mind as you do.

He pays the entire bill despite your gentle protest and you thank him for the meal. You walk back to his Jeep and pick your way back to his place. He can't help but smile to himself as you hum along to the radio despite clearly not knowing the song very well.

From the outside, his home is modest and neatly maintained and you wonder how he finds the time. You picture him mowing the lawn, though he probably hires someone else to do it. The thought makes you smile nonetheless.

As he ushers you in, a little quickly to avoid prying neighbours, you take in the interior. It's beige like his pants and sparsely furnished and decorated. Typical of a busy military man you suppose. He offers you a seat on the couch and disappears into the kitchen. He returns with a whiskey tumbler full of presumably whiskey, and a second one with what you find out to be vodka soda after a sip.

"Cheers."

You clink glasses.

The alcohol slowly disappears as the natural light outside dims and the streetlights come on. The conversation has slowed and a peaceful quiet descends on the home. 

"Can I get you another?" He's practically whispering at this point.

"No, I'm fine thanks." You say, your eyes lidded from the alcohol and the general mood.

He rests his hand on your knee and leans in closer.

Your breathing quickens in anticipation of his next move.

He subtly moistens his lips and leans in even closer. He kisses you softly on the cheek, lingering against you for a long moment. You raise your hand to rest on his opposite shoulder. When he pulls back, he gazes deep into your eyes, searching them for emotion. In them he sees desire. Not desperate and firey, but needing him to return the comfort and compassion you afforded him that first night together. In his eyes you see his desire as well, a desire to please, a desire to mirror you so that you can act as one.

He keeps his movements slow, deliberate but not teasing. He moves his hand from your knee to brush at your blushing cheek and can feel the heat radiating off of you. It is you who leans in next and plants a kiss on his slightly open lips. Your tongues find each other and intertwine, dancing to a slow rhythm as your breathing slows to match his. As the song you both feel but neither can hear ends, he pulls back from you. Your hands migrate to his collar and trace it down to the top button of his shirt. You unbutton it carefully working your way down his torso over his abdomen, to untuck it from his pants. While you work to remove his shirt, his hands sneak up past the hem of your dress to caress your outer thighs. Your hands drag up his undershirt over every inch of muscular stomach and chest back to his shoulders where your hands sneak beneath the opening of his shirt. You coax it off of his shoulders and his arms fall to his sides, allowing you to rub down his biceps and to remove the shirt entirely. It is discarded on the floor as an encumbrance to your intimacy.

He hands return to seeking your softest skin beneath your dress, and your breathing trembles as he passes over the sensitive skin that craves his touch.

He works his way upward, over the panties covering your hips, and along the sides of your waist. As he reaches your bra covered ribs, you raise your arms to accommodate him pulling the dress over your head.

You reciprocate by running your hands under the hem of his undershirt, again taking your time to let your fingers map each muscle as you raise it to his chest and as he raises his arms, over his head. It joins his shirt on the floor.

He regards you, taking in your curves, the soft flush of your skin from the alcohol and the desire. You take in his firm body, your eyes dragging along each hard edge that defines his physique. 

Your eyes return to each other's and all you can hear are your breaths mingling in the heavy air.

"Hermosa" he whispers. 

As your lips open and shut as you try to find a response, he silences your uncertainty with another kiss. While your lips press firmly to their counterparts, he releases your bra. You let him remove it and throw it on the growing heap of clothing on the floor.

His hand cups your breast and he swipes his thumb across your nipple, it hardens at his touch and you gasp. He massages your breast while leaning into you, over you, using his mass to coax you downwards until you're laying back on the couch lengthwise.

While you watch him stand and remove his belt, pants and boxers, you pull down your panties and toss them aside. You are both now fully nude and your combined lust mounts as he all but dives on top of you.

You spread your legs to allow him access to your center and he positions himself to align with your body. Leaning on his elbows, he holds your face so he captures your full attention. His thumbs smooth the hair back over your temples as he watches you. You scrunch your eyes together as he enters your body and you whimper as his length slowly fills you.

You grasp at his back and your knees bend upwards to grip at his sides, while he rhythmically draws in and out of you. You rock your hips to his pace and he studies your ever changing expression. Little gasps and whimpers escape you as he presses into your pleasure, and you hear his breath crack softly as he feels your walls tremble around him.

As your breathing quickens and you gasp for air, he increases his pace. He kisses your face lightly. 

"Oh god." You say in a voice you don't control.

He takes that as his cue to press into you harder, each thrust more deliberate than the last. Your legs begin to tremble and he can see your face begin to tense and slacken in ecstasy.

"Oh god." Your exclamation louder this time.

For an instant, your whole body tenses and you cry out as waves of pleasure radiate from your core. Every part of you then relaxes for an instant while the thrusts continue.

You can tell he's close, and you bear down to aid his release. His cry is broken as his few final thrusts press at your center. He spills his cum into you and you smile, knowing you caused such a pleasurable act.

He collapses on top of you and his weight grounds you to the reality of him. That despite the floating, swimming sensation you are feeling, you are in his home and he is at home within you.

A few moments pass and he pulls away, leaving you dripping with his cum. For a second he admires his work, and silently excuses himself to get something to clean up with.

The warm washcloth beneath his strong, gentle hands is almost more intimate than what just occurred, showing a regard for your comfort and wellbeing. He takes you by the hands and lifts you off the couch, and pulls you into a deep satisfying kiss. 

"Come to bed ángel." He says leading you up the stairs to his room.

You collapse into his bed and he comes back from his bathroom with a glass of water. You sip it gladly, and placing it on the nightstand lay your head against the pillow. He tucks in next to you and smooths a stray hair away from your forehead, which he then kisses.

You both lay back and let the quiet night lull you to sleep.

[hermits-that-craft]

Staying With The Traitor - Chapter Three

Runaway

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26695042/chapters/65467834

“Nikki, what do I tell Tommy?” Wilbur asks, sunlight filtering through the window to his room. Nikki looks up from the cupboard, putting the fresh flowers down. “About last night, I mean.”

“You should tell him the truth. You got us what we needed to get, after all.” Nikki turns around, her head tilted to the side. “Surely that's a thing he will be happy about.”

“It feels like something is off, though.” Wilbur runs a hand through his hair, sighing. “It was too easy. We didn’t really have to try.”

“Maybe thats a good thing.” Nikki shrugs. “You deserve to have things happen easily, Wilbur.”

“I’m waiting for the catch.” Wilbur sighs, resting his head in his hands. “There’s gotta be a catch.”

“Eret’s tricky.” Nikki agrees. “He’s hidden me, and when Fundy burnt my flag he comforted me-”

“Fundy did what?”

“But he still betrayed us.” Nikki sighs, looking at the roof. “I don’t know how to feel about this.”

“Can we circle back to where Fundy burnt your flag?” Wilbur asks, rage barely hidden in his voice. “How dare he! You spent so much time on that, how could he?”

“I really don’t want to think about it.” Nikki says softly. “He didn’t even look at me when he walked past.”

“That bastard.” Wilbur spits, anger bubbling in his chest. “How could he, after everything-”

“Wilbur, we need to go down for breakfast.” Nikki reminds him gently, and Wilbur nods, wrapping the brown cloak that Eret gave him around his shoulders. “We can talk about Fundy later, but I don’t think being late to breakfast would make Tommy or Eret feel good.”

“Why?” Wilbur asks. “Why do you think that it’d make Tommy upset?”

“They might think we ran off.” Nikki says. “Got the allyship and then fled the city.”

“I wouldn’t leave Tommy behind.”

“Do you think he knows that?” Nikki asks quietly. “He could still panic, even if he knows.”

“I know, I know,” Wilbur agrees, “he’s just a kid.”

“He shouldn’t be in constant wars, Wil.” Nikki sighs, running a hand through her hair. “He should be-”

“Safe, I know.” Wilbur sighs. They walk in silence down the halls, both clearly wanting to say something but neither wanting to say it, to begin an argument over who committed the worse atrocity during the revolutionary war. What is worse, enlisting children or only joining the revolution after the war was over, turning a blind eye to the pain of the children fighting?

They run into Eret, in his full royal garb, his sunglasses thrown off face as the trio tumble to the floor. Eret covers his eyes with one of his hands, trying to find the glasses without the exiled L’manburgians seeing his face. Wilbur picks up the sunglasses, handing them to the man without a comment, knowing how self conscious Eret is about his eyes. Wilbur doesn’t know if he’s even seen the king’s eyes before.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to run into you both.” Eret says, straightening up. “We’re having guests over and I really need to clean up.”

“Guests?” 

“Clean up?” Nikki asks, a frown on her face. “Eret, this castle is spotless.”

“There’s so much dust I need to clean before-”

“Have you even eaten today, Eret?” Wilbur interrupts, picking himself up off of the floor.

“There’s no time-”

“Join us for breakfast.” Wilbur orders, slipping back into his commander role without thinking. “You need to eat before you go on a dusting rampage, when will the guests arrive?”

“Around midday.”

“It’s eight am, you can afford some breakfast.” Wilbur says, leading the way to the kitchen. Nikki offers Eret a tense smile, and Eret follows the two, gently tugging at his sleeves.

They follow the scent of burnt toast and coffee to the kitchen, where they watch Tommy struggle to make eggs, toast, bacon and coffee at the same time. The teen looks up, relief written across his face as he spots Wilbur and Nikki, and Wilbur feels taken aback, surprised at the relief. Wilbur hadn’t realised that Tommy was scared of him leaving him behind. 

He doesn’t understand why Tommy would think that, they only left Tubbo behind, and Tubbo could have followed them. Really, Tubbo chose his option.

“So I tried to make breakfast - I’m not sure if I made enough or if it’s good but I think it's ready?” Tommy looks down to the eggs, frowning for a second. “No it isn’t.”

Nikki snorts, walking over to the stove to help Tommy as he struggles to cook. Wilbur walks in, sliding onto a chair and watching the two cook, Nikki showing Tommy how to make sure the scrambled eggs don't burn, while still cooking them. Eret hovers in the doorway, his left hand on his right arm, watching without walking in. Wilbur beckons him in hesitantly, not wanting to upset his host but not wanting to sit and eat with him.

“Who’s the guest, besides us, Eret?” Nikki asks, saving Wilbur from any small talk he would have to do. 

“Dream and Bad.” Eret swallows, looking at the table. “Sap might also show up.”

“What?” Tommy spits, turning around with fury in his eyes. “You invited them over-”

“I didn't!”

“-Right after you basically forced us to stay with you?”

“Tommy I swear I-”

“You’re going to get us killed! We don’t even have our spawns in other places, we’re just going to be stuck in a death loop until they get bored!” Tears spring in Tommy’s eyes, fear written across his face.

“I won’t let them hurt you.” Eret says, looking at Tommy, his voice laden with promises he can’t keep.

“Didn’t stop them last time.” Tommy glares. “Why? Why did you invite them, Eret?”

“I didn’t. I’m lucky I even got a warning.” Eret runs his hand through his hair. “If you guys want, you can leave. I wouldn’t blame you.”

“Then the Manburgians will find us.” Nikki frowns. “There’s nowhere we can go.”

“Surely there’s a place to hide.” Wilbur argues. “Either here or outside of here-”

“No, because getting to that place would let the Manburgians see us.”

“Maybe you could sneak into Tommy’s old house-”

“Not possible, it’s the embassy-”

None of the adults notice as Tommy silently plates three plates, setting them down in front of them. The arguing doesn’t stop, nor does it pause, as Tommy slips out of the room, his hand over his mouth. No one in the castle sees the teen whisper to someone, no one notices him slip into his room, taking a bag out and filling it with food and clothes and potions. No one notices him flee out of a window, even though it’s the middle of the day. The adults don’t notice, still fighting as they clean and prepare to meet with Dream and Bad, not that if they noticed they would find him, the teen in their care long since disappeared to find something.

Someone.

---

Tubbo walks along the edge of where the border wall once stood, his hands playing with the sleeves of the suit that is now the uniform that he wears. It’s uncomfortable, but he doesn’t have to wear the shackles while he wears the suit. Schlatt claims its because the shackles would make the suit fall unevenly, and that he deserves the comfort of not wearing them, but Tubbo knows better. He knows its because Schlatt doesn’t want the Dreamers to know what he’s doing to Tubbo, especially since he plans to expand the country. To break treaties.

There’s half an hour until he needs to be back with Schlatt, back in the white house for lunch. But until then, Tubbo walks along the edge of the old border. Of where the wall once stood, the ground still indented from the weight of the bricks. It would be naive of him to think it peaceful, but he does. Why wouldn’t he, with all the bees flying about and the birds singing? He’s far enough away from everyone that he can’t hear the fights, the still-hungover men playing the blame game. 

A hand reaches out from under the wooden bridge that connects Dream SMP with Manburg, pulling Tubbo into the shadows without giving the teen a moment to react. About time, he had been waiting for almost an hour. Tubbo blinks, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. Finally, he’s able to see, his dark blue eyes meeting with cyan ones.

“Tommy?” Tubbo whispers. “Is that you?”

“Yeah.” Tommy nods, a sad smile on his face. “I need to hide-”

“You can’t hide here, if Schlatt finds you he’ll kill you!” Tubbo whispers fearfully. “Or he’ll do worse, you have to go!”

“I can’t go back.” Tommy says, and Tubbo notices the bag, slightly glowing with potions and food and clothes filling it to the brim. “Wilbur agreed to stay with Eret and Dream’s coming over and I can’t-”

“He wouldn’t kill you, the treaty-”

“That only applies for citizens, Tubbo.” Tommy sits down on the dirt, his head in his hands. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Where do you want to go?” Tubbo asks quietly. “I could go with you!”

“You’d run away with me?”

“I’d run away with anyone if it means getting away from Schlatt.” Tubbo says sarcastically, but he nods in earnest. “We have like, 20 minutes until someone comes to get me, we have to go.”

“Lets go.” Tommy says, holding out his hand. Tubbo beams, taking his hand as Tommy drags Tubbo behind him, both laughing.

If someone saw the two boys, running hand in hand towards the forest, it would take them quite a few moments to realise what was wrong with the image that used to be so common. Tubbo running in a suit and impractical shoes, and Tommy in a cloak and carrying a bag of supplies. It would take even longer for those who see them to remember that Tommy is an exile of both countries, one due to war and the other due to a dictator. It would take anyone a long time to realise that Tubbo wasn’t supposed to follow, was supposed to arrest Tommy.

But only one person saw, watching from his office in the whitehouse. A smile crosses his face, and his eyes flash red. A traitor in his midst, and an exile in his land. He can use both to his advantage, to bring down both The Dream SMP and Wilbur Soot. All he’ll need is a chance, so he lets the boys lull themselves into feeling safe.

Schlatt reviews the cards in his hands, and the cards at play. The odds are in his favour to win.

---

“You’re on our side?” Wilbur repeats, dumbfounded. Bad smiles at him, and Wilbur can’t discern any lies in his face, but staring at Dream’s mask, all Wilbur can feel is fear. Again.

“What do I gain from lying to you, Wilbur.” Dream’s voice is strained, as though he’s trying to keep himself collected. “I’m on your side. I’ll supply weapons and food, but I can’t aid you anymore than that.”

“Why not?” Nikki asks, less skeptical of Dream’s sudden change of heart but far more weary of his words. “Why can’t you fight alongside us?”

Eret, Bad and Wilbur all look up from their meals, shock on their faces. Nikki and Dream stare knives into each other, trying to force the other into speaking first. Bad and Wilbur raise their eyes, both unsure as to who will win the staring competition as the tension cuts through the air.

“I bet Nikki will win” Eret whispers to Bad and Wilbur, and the two men avert their gazes as they stifle laughter as the tension rises in the room. 

“I bet Dream will try to fight Nikki.” Bad whispers to the two men.

“No no no,” Wibur whispers back. “Nikki will throw the first punch.”

“I don’t think that they’ll brawl.” Eret whispers.

“They will.” Bad and Wilbur say at the same time, and Eret chuckles.

Nikki lunges across the table, hitting Dream in the face. Bad gasps as a crack forms down the middle of Dream’s mask, and Wilbur sits stunned as Dream throws a punch to Nikki. Eret, Bad and Wilbur stand up, backing away from the table as the two brawl. Punches and kicks are thrown, until finally Wilbur and Bad pull the pair away from each other, Nikki struggling against Wilbur’s hold, even though Dream doesn’t.

“They fought! They fought for you, they fought against you! There were children among them, there are children among us now! And you won’t fight? You’re a coward!” Nikki screams at Dream, and panic crosses Wilbur’s face.

“I can’t risk him attacking everyone in Dream SMP.” Dream says quietly. “You don’t know what he’s doing to the people who live on the outskirts, he’ll force their hands soon.”

“And you think hiding from him will fix that!”

“Nikki-”

“That won’t change anything! You’ll let children die in pointless wars again, won’t you?”

“Nikki, take a walk.” Wilbur says, letting her go and standing in front of her. “We need his help, we can’t mess this up. Why don’t you have lunch with Tommy?”

“We’re going to have words about this later, Wil.” Nikki sticks a finger in Wilbur’s chest, turning and walking out of the room.

“Maybe you should go for a walk to cool down as well, Dream.” Bad suggests, and Dream nods, walking out the main entrance of the room.

The three men stand in the room, awkwardly looking at the plates of ruined food on the table. Eret sighs, collecting a bin from the corner of the room and putting the food waste into it, before finding a bag to put the broken plates into. Bad and Wilbur try to help out, but Eret waves them off with a small smile.

“I think Wilbur wins the bet.” Eret says after a moment. “Nikki threw the first punch.”

“What do we owe you Wil?” Bad asks after a second, blinking in surprise.

“A way to get into the ‘glowing eye club’ that you two lead.” Wilbur rolls his eyes. “It was a dumb bet, don’t worry about it.”

“I’m glad no one’s seriously hurt.” Bad says quietly. “Dream’ll be mad about his mask, but that’s alright. He can make a new one.”

“It’s not fully broken, so maybe he could fix it?” Wilbur suggests as Dream stands in the doorframe. “It was Nikki who broke it, not himself, so I could fix it for him if need be, Bad.”

“That’s kind of you, but Dream is really attached to those masks. He won’t let anyone see the process of making them, very secretive.” Bad wriggles his eyebrows, offering to take the bin off of Eret. “In any case, its the thought that counts. And that was very thoughtful.”

“You could make him a mask anyways. Like a backup or a peace offering.” Eret suggests, and Wilbur laughs softly, pain in his eyes. 

“Peace offerings.” Wilbur’s eyes darken, wet with sadness. “Now there’s an idea.”

“Oh no.” Bad and Eret say at the same time, alarm written on their faces.

“Wilbur, I highly doubt that Schlatt would have anything less than your permadeath as a peace offering.” Dream says, finally leaving the doorway.

“Maybe Tommy would have a home then.” Wilbur looks down. “And he wouldn’t have to fight another war.”

Before anyone can comment, can rebut Wilbur’s statement, a heart wrenching scream echoes down the hallway. Nikki. The four men race out of the room, Wilbur in the lead as they follow the sound of her scream to Tommy’s room. Wilbur bursts into what appears to be a bomb site, clothes and sheets strewn across the room. The windows are wide open, the curtains fluttering in the breeze. Nikki stands in the middle of the room, holding something in her hands, staring at it. A photo frame lies empty on the floor, the glass in it shattered and the picture stolen.

Tommy’s disks lie on top of the dresser, untouched by the chaos in the room, as though whatever or whoever took Tommy knew not to touch them. It hurts more than if they were shattered.

“He’s gone.”

---

“What do you mean Tubbo’s missing?” Schlatt asks, acting as though he didn’t watch the boy run away with Tommy. “Was he kidnapped?”

“We don’t know, sir.” Fundy says, nervously bouncing on his feet. “We know nothing.”

“We will have to ask Dream and King Eret.” Schlatt looks out the window, acting thoughtful and worried. “Was anything of his found?”

George and Quackity exchange glances, and Quackity gently puts a tie on the table, red with a dark bloodstain on it. Schlatt frowns at the blood, Tubbo wasn’t injured when he ran. The boy might be a nuisance, an enemy to keep close until he breaks, but he’s still a teenager. Just because Schlatt can and will use him against Tommy and Wilbur, doesn’t mean that he wants harm on the boy.

“He’s been hurt.”

“We expect foul play.” George says simply. “We’ve heard that Wilbur and Nikki have been in Eret’s castle, perhaps they are the reason that Tubbo’s been hurt.”

“Wilbur wouldn’t hurt Tubbo with Tommy present.” Fundy interrupts, and everyone's heads snaps to him. “He wouldn’t, Tommy would riot.”

“Perhaps,” Schlatt smirks, “Perhaps we could use that. Call off the hunting party tonight. We have teens to find.”

“Plural, Schlatt?” Quackity asks, confusion on his face.

“If we find Tubbo, we’ll find Tommy.” Schlatt says. “And I can bet that the two of them are running from Wilbur.”

Taglist:

@octosghost @firefly464 @surohsopsisofclouds @chromations @magpies-and-glitter @wwwwwelcomegays @asmoljay @ribineran @hawheckin @violet--majesty @minecraft-morelikehappiness @marzycielskagwiazda @violets-arepurple

[wavesmp3]

to infinity (and beyond); jihoon x fem!reader dystopian au (there were more tropes/aus but the draft doesn’t get far enough to touch on any of them lol) wc. 1.3k

a/n: lmao would anyone believe me if i said this world/wip actually came about for sha’s lost for words challenge... like that was two years ago whoops. ngl tho i am pretty sad to let this wip go. it was a nice idea but i really struggle with dystopias. also ‘to infinity (and beyond)’ is probably one of my favorite titles out of all my fics.  a/n 2: this is in the same world as ‘before you jump’

***

One of the wrong kind. 

Except that you weren’t.  The words described the red which was tattooed on your wrist. But the words cut through your flesh, and shred through your ribs straight to your heart. Your mind buzzed with a youthful kind of brilliance. And the red stuck on your wrist did nothing to represent that.

The Minister reminds the nation how life on earth was destroyed by greed, but life on Callademe was built to thrive.

They taught you in school that life must be separated. Into factions of color: white, blue, yellow, red, and brown. 

Wish for the wealthy white walls. Or the brilliant blue beaches. You might be enough for the yearning yellow yards. Rue the roach-infested red roads. Curse the day you’re bound to the baffling brown barns. 

“The Beyond Infinity Test,” your teacher told you one day after class had been dismissed, “will test your ability to think as if you had been raised inside those wealthy white walls.” And when you questioned how she knew what the test makers wanted to see, she rolled up her sleeve to show a fading white tattoo above the brighter, more recent red one. You assume she failed before they started tattooing over the color of your old faction with the color you tested into. 

With humanity, there are an infinite amount of possibilities. We provide the upper classes with a service that will guarantee the best out of infinity.

Is what they announced the day the Better than Infinity Test better known as the soulmate exam was launched. At 21 years of age, the youth of the white and blue factions would be given the opportunity to test for what became known as their “soulmate.” You're left to assume it's only coincidence that their match always happens to reside in blue or white

Good luck

Your teacher told you the day of your 18th birthday a week before the nationwide test date. And with the way her eyes glazed over with something resembling jealousy, you decided ‘good luck’ would be the last words you wanted to hear from her. 

To infinity and beyond. 

The lady dressed in grey told you after she sat you down in a reclined chair and right before she stuck a needle into your vein. 

You fell asleep with the last rays of sunlight flooding through the skylight of your testing room. When you wake up, the skylight is a dark blue adorned with a pale moon. You go home and sneak past your sleeping parents. Sleep doesn’t come that night instead replaced with the uneasy nerves brought by the looming initiation. 

Your parents bring you to the embassy building in the red faction the next day once all scores have been finalized. Every year, initiation was held in the embassy building on the second of January. Every year, you watch with shaking hands as your elder classmates receive their colored envelope. Every year your heart sinks when your eyes stumble upon those cursed brown envelopes. Every year you feel a little green at the absence of white envelopes and the abundance of yellow and red. 

Every year you watch as friends and family leave the faction you called home, but this year, holding a blue envelope close to your chest, you watch them stay. 

***

Your economics professor had called to talk to you after class. You assumed he wished to discuss your latest thesis, so when he hands you an invitation to an elite dinner party in the white faction, you can’t help but gape at the white and blue cardstock invitation. 

“You’re my best student,” he tells you, “it would be an honor for you to be my guest. I am determined to show you off to those white tattooed pricks.” You chuckle at his remark, keeping in mind the white rectangle painted onto his wrist. You decide there must be a reason a man from white works in blue. 

You bring your eyes up from the invitation, “I’m honored to be considered, but it’s addressed in the white faction.” 

He nods at your concern and opens a drawer in his oak desk pulling out a lanyard. “This is your pass into the white faction,” he says, “it only lasts a weekend, so use it well.” He tells you with a mischievous glint in the brown of his eyes. You think you could do plenty with a weekend inside the wealthy white walls. 

“It’s this dinner party some colleagues of mine and I host every year around this time in the spring,” he says, leaning against the oak desk, “all of us are professors, most teach in white, some in blue like me, and one in particular teaches in yellow. His students always tend to be the most interesting.” He says with a degrading sense of humor dancing in his tone, you instinctively pull your sleeve a little farther down despite the red that once infested your wrist being completely covered by a beautiful royal blue. You smile and hum at his remark out of courtesy anyways. After all, you aren’t red anymore. After all, you pretend that you never were. He holds out the lanyard to you, “Please say you’ll come, my second option doesn’t compare to what you’ll bring to the dinner table.” 

You nod accepting his invitation and take the lanyard into you hands. Later that day you go shopping, for clothes that’ll cover the blue on your wrist, and the red in your blood. 

***

You spend your first night inside the luxurious white walls exploring. You end up in an art museum. A man next to you, both boring at the same piece of art. A mutual feeling of awe yet confusion evident in you. 

“Fond of art?” Asks the boy next to you. You take note of his casual attire and the white on his wrist before responding. 

You hum, “Not particularly,” you hadn’t planned on saying much else, but when you turn to face him his eyes are trained on you with a tinge of curiosity swimming in the depths of them. He stares as if he can see right through you. Not just through your sleeve which covers your blue tattoo but also past the layers of your skin to the bright, cursed red in your blood. You think this is what it must mean to be born and raised inside the white walls. You assume they can smell the foreigner off you. Your only fear is that they smell red instead of blue. You look away first, “I’m not one for abstract. It eludes me.” 

He nods. “And then music?” 

“What about it?” You fiddle with your ticket. 

“How do you like your music?” He asks as if it’s coffee. You think for a moment. In the red faction, listening to music wasn’t very common. Of course you could find it here and there. But the general idea of music and rhythm seemed to escape the cramped red streets. But in the past year, you’ve immersed your mind with the music that seemed to be so popular within the blue and white factions. It seemed regular for many to grow up having played and learned a musical instrument. It seems safe to say that those of the white faction grew up to master most likely several instruments. And because of the judgmental nature of those in the upper factions that has become apparent to you within the past year, you allow yourself to feel a little foolish when the next words slip from the corners of your mouth. 

“I like it all.” 

This time he doesn’t nod. Or hum. Or ask anything new. 

And so you move on to the next piece of art with the red inside you  dripping off your fingertips and falling to the clean, white floors. 

***

[crowsandkruge]

Knives Drawn, Pistols Blazing

a/n: The fic I wrote for @grishaversebigbang is finally done! Yay! It was so much fun to participate in this event! I hope you like it!

Corporalki: my wonderful editors were @mybitchyoc @jesper-faheyyy and @kaz-aelin-and-jace-are-badass

Materialki: the artists in this gang were absolutely incredible!! they all made really cool pieces you should check out!! You can check out their art: @chaosvvolf here, @n8sue here, @zaleart here, and @evilfriendofmine here

Summary: Roeder’s a good enough spider, but Kaz feels his intelligence network is lacking since Inej left to go hunt slavers aboard the Wraith. To supplement his information, Kaz has taken to eavesdropping in bars across the Barrel. When he overhears two Dime Lions bragging about catching Brekker’s Wraith, he must gather old friends to get Inej back.

[without further ado, Knives Drawn, Pistols Blazing is under the cut!]

Kaz

Kaz hadn’t had a particularly good day. The cold had moved in the night before and every step made his leg scream with pain. It was early in the year for Ketterdam to be this cold, and Kaz’s breath clouded in front of him as he made his way through the narrow streets of the Barrel. The echo of his footsteps resounding against the cobbled streets. He’s inconspicuous tonight, wearing a roughspun coat and gray scarf. He left his cane at the Slat, which he sorely regrets now, but he knows it was for the best. 

In the year since Inej left, a lot had changed. Kaz had risen to prominence in the Barrel. He’d opened two more gambling parlors and had plans for a third. The biggest change, however, was Roeder becoming his new spider. He’d done a good enough job, but compared to the intelligence Inej could gather, good enough didn’t really cut it. A couple months ago, Kaz had begun to seek out his own intelligence, and besides torture, no one talked more than a drunk man.

Kaz approached The Opdrin, a dirty but fairly reputable bar located between the central area of the Barrel and the Warehouse District. It was a popular spot for sailors and gang members alike. The drinks were good, not watered down like most bars in the Barrel, but the information Kaz could gather was better. He changed bars frequently, but The Opdrin was one of his favorites. Not to mention the walls were insulated, keeping the bar building warm. So despite the near emptiness of most other bars, The Opdrin had gathered a nice crowd and the cheerful buzz of conversation could be heard even before Kaz opened the door. He got a small table in the back corner, gloved hands wrapped around a cup of whiskey. He stretched his bad leg out in front of him and settled in for a night of gathering secrets.

An hour passed with little to show for it. The Blacktips and Razorgulls were planning a parley for the next night, and rumor had it that the Menagerie would only be able to support itself for another month. Kaz afforded himself a wicked smile at that. 

People continued to come and go, but by midnight the crowd had begun to thin. Kaz was about to call it a night, when two burly men entered and took a seat at the bar, not far from Kaz’s table. Both seemed to be in good spirits and quickly ordered several drinks. The one with an old scar across his cheek from some long-ago brawl shucked his coat and his shirtsleeve raised, revealing a crown tattoo with a lion curled up inside. The Dime Lions. Now that Kaz had context, the man looked a little familiar. Sem, maybe, one of the dealers at the Kaelish Prince.

Neither of them were very high up in the gang from what Kaz could recall. Initially when Pekka Rollins had run off to the countryside, there had been a power vacuum and many of the older members had tried their luck running the gang. Each thought they could do better than the last and ended up wiping each other out.  Only the Kaelish Prince remained as testament to Rollin’s empire, but even that was long past its glory days. The customers were few and far between, and Kaz doubted it would last through spring.

Nevertheless, Kaz’s ears perked at the possibility of learning what new low the Dime Lions had stooped to. It wasn’t long before the liquor took affect and the two men’s cheeks turned rosy as they loudly talked and laughed.

“We’re back on our way to the top, Markus.”

“The Dregs won’t know what hit ‘em,” Markus replied. Kaz leaned forward at the last comment, curious what the Dime Lions had in store. But if he’s learned anything from long nights eavesdropping, it was that patience always pays off.

“Hell, the Dregs won’t dare mess with us again once they learn what we’ve got. Van Eck said it was his biggest weakness. I’ll bet you 20 kruge Brekker will come personally, on his knees, begging once he hears. That’ll teach Dirtyhands a lesson,” Sem said with a chuckle.

Kaz set his jaw and sunk a little further back into the corner, trying to escape their notice. It was rare that Kaz heard news about himself. 

Dirtyhands didn't have many weaknesses, none people knew anyway, and certainly none that would put him on his knees. Kaz is intrigued as to what these two Dime Lions thought might do the trick.

“After all the stories I couldn’t believe how easy it was to get her.”

“Musta gone soft out on the sea”

Kaz’s stomach tightened. Inej. They have Inej. There was a rushing in his ears and his vision tunneled on the two men at the bar. Before he even realized he was moving, he was out of his chair and making his way over to them.  

He saw the recognition dawn on the men the moment they see his gloves, a step before he’s right in front of them. He didn’t really have a plan, just information he needs to get.

The two men were sluggish from their drink and he landed a solid right hook on Markus. Kaz felt a satisfying jolt as his fist connected with his jaw. Markus stumbled back, bringing a hand to his face. Kaz turned briefly towards Sem. He grabbed him around the back of the neck and slammed his face into the bar. 

The bartender backed away nervously. The Opdrin was in a nice enough part of town that bar fights didn’t happen often. Kaz grimaced at the attention he’s drawing.

Sem was knocked out cold and crumpled to the floor blood gushing out of his, likely broken, nose. Kaz turned back to Markus, who threw a sloppy punch at him. Kaz dodged it easily and grabbed him by the collar with one hand, pinning him against the bar. He can smell the alcohol on Markus’s breath. With the other hand he flicked the oyster shucking knife out from his sleeve. It was one of the several knives he always kept on his person. A small and wicked looking blade, it glinted in the light. He vaguely registered the bartender slipping out the front, but didn't bother going after him.

“Where is she? Where are you keeping her?” Kaz asked, his voice like a knife on stone.

Markus, for all his bravado, spit in his face. Kaz wiped it off with the sleeve of his free hand, knife flashing again dangerously.

He made a quick, deep cut, mirroring the scar on Markus’s other cheek.

“I won’t ask again. Where is she?”

Blood ran down Markus’s face, staining his teeth red as he opened his mouth to speak.

“The Kaelish Prince. Top floor.” Markus grunted. 

“Too bad you won’t get those 20 kruge.” Kaz replied. Another quick cut. This time across Markus’s throat. Kas turned away and limped toward the door, leaving Markus to bleed out. Given the sound of him choking on his own blood, it wouldn’t be long.

As he left The Opdrin, Kaz turned right. But before he even got 10 paces, he saw the purple uniforms of the staadwatch led by the bartender. He let out a curse under his breath.

With bloodied knuckles under his gloves, Kaz Brekker turned the other way, and like the monster he was, disappeared into the shadows. It was going to be a long night.

Wylan

Wylan had missed Nina more than he realized. She was in Ketterdam for a week with the Ravkan embassy, and Wylan had invited her over for dinner. Here she was, dressed in a bright red kefta, with her hair tied back in a long plait. 

“Nina, it’s so good to see you,” he said finally, face breaking into to broad smile. 

“Good to see you too, Wylan,” she replied, hugging him.

“You look good. It’s been too long,” Wylan commented as he led her into the dining room. 

Marya was already seated at the head of the table. She has that far away look in her eye. It had gotten better since she’d come home, but despite the time, she was still not all the way back to herself.

“Mum, this is Nina,” Wylan said gently, not wanting to startle her.

Marya came back to herself.

“It’s nice to meet you, Nina. Wylan’s told me so much about you,” she replied, smiling softly. 

“Only good things, I hope,” said Nina, shooting Wylan a conspiratorial smile.

Wylan took a seat next to Marya and Nina sat across from him.

“Jesper should be here soon. I don’t know what’s taking him so long,” Wylan said.  

A moment later, he could hear Jesper’s lanky gait coming down the stairs, and tried to stifle a laugh as Jesper entered the room. Nina was far less successful and immediately let out a giggle. Even Marya has a broad smile on her face.

“Sorry I took so long. Let’s eat!” Jesper said, walking in cheerfully.

“Jesper, you’ve had a lot of… colorful outfits, but this one might be too much,” Nina said, still grinning. 

Jesper over exaggerated a pouting expression as he takes a seat next to Wylan.

“Jes, she’s right. You look like a walking sunset.” Wylan said, finally bursting out laughing. He was wearing a red and yellow checked suit with an orange shirt and blue suspenders. Each color more vibrant than the last.

“Good thing everyone thinks sunsets are so romantic.” Jesper grinned. “I figured I should look nice for our company.” 

“I’m so glad you chose this outfit just for me,” Nina replies.

Nina’s eyes sparkle when the chef brings out a heaping plate of waffles. Wylan had requested them as soon as he knew she was coming for dinner.  They spent much of the night talking and laughing, reminiscing about their time in the Dregs. The hour grew late and the talk turned more quiet. To the boy with the blond hair who didn't make it through the job. Marya looks on sympathetically and thought that these kids are all too young to deal with such loss. Wylan pours the drink and Jesper makes the toast. 

Marya goes to bed soon after, and the three of them go to the music room. Wylan plays a jaunty, dirty sea shanty. Jesper and Nina sing along much too loudly and terribly but not for lack of effort. The smiles soon return.

Just then, Wylan hears a loud knock. Marya appears in the doorway a moment later.

“Who would be calling at his hour? Is everything all right Wylan” Marya asks, brow wrinkling. 

“Don’t worry, I’m sure it’s fine. I’ll get the door, Mum. You go back to bed.”

Wylan approaches the foyer, startled to see the front door swung wide open. Kaz stood in the doorway, dressed in an uncharacteristic roughspun coat and noticeable absence of his crows head cane. His breath clouded in front of him and his eyes glinted something terrible in the light.

“You need better locks, merch. Is Jesper here?”

“Yeah. Nina too.”

“Good we need to talk.”

Wylan leads Kaz to the music room. It had been several months since Wylan had seen Kaz. He generally kept up with the Dregs activities through Jesper, who still visited the Slat about once a week, but since Wylan was a merch now, it didn't do well to be seen in that part of the Barrel.

“Kaz?” Nina asked as he and Wylan entered the music room. “What are you doing here,” her eyebrows raised in surprise.

“There’s a job I need your help with. It’s going to be messy and I can’t offer much in the way of reward.”

Wylan thought this seemed very out of character for Kaz, he never asked for help, not like this anyway. And Kaz never did something for nothing. Jesper beat him to the question.

“This isn’t like you. What’s going on Kaz?”

Kaz gives a one word reply, “Inej.”

“Whatever the job, I’m in. Inej has always had my back,” Nina replies immediately.

“I’m in too,” Wylan said.

Jesper nodded.

“Good,” Kaz says, looking around at the three of them. “Let’s figure out this job then.” He splayed his gloved hands on the closed piano as he looks at them. 

Wylan, Jesper, and Nina share a look before chorusing, “Scheming face.”

“She’s being held on the top floor of the Kaelish Prince,” Kaz begins. Wylan shudders when he thinks of how Kaz got that information.  

“The Dime Lions were hit hard when Rollins left for the country,” Kaz explains to Wylan and Nina. Wylan figured as much- Jesper hardly mentioned them anymore. Nina cocked her head at the news, though.

“I’ll have Annika and Pim keep watch on the place, we’ll plan to strike in two days time.”

“Two days? Why not sooner?” Jesper asks incredulously, Wylan can see the worry in his eyes. Jesper and Inej were together in the Dregs long before he joined, and Wylan knows how close they are. 

“We need time to prepare, I’m not leaving anything to chance with this one,” Kaz said, eyes going dark. Not with Inej on the line is what he means, Wylan thinks. He wouldn’t either though, if it were Jesper. Saints forbid.

Wylan casts a glance over at Jesper sitting next to him. His eyes are dark, angry, and his attention is turned to Kaz, Wylan sees him reach to his hip, but he doesn’t wear his guns in the house; Marya doesn’t really like it. Jesper feels safe enough here that he doesn’t make too much of a fuss about it, but Wylan knows they’re a source of comfort for him. 

“We’ll go in as two teams, one will break into the office. Make sure the Dime Lions know not to mess with the Dregs again. The other will come from the outside to the attic and get Inej. The second team should get in and out with as little fuss as possible. The sooner they realize she’s gone, the harder it’ll be to get away...”

He talks them through the plan slowly, taking their questions as they ask them. It’s nothing compared to the Ice Court job, but it’s important that they get this one right.

It’s late when they finish. The dark of the night is beginning to fade to the misty gray that precedes dawn. Nina has curled up on the small settee, and Wylan’s so tired he can barely keep his eyes open. Kaz, however, looks the same as always.

“You’re welcome to sleep here if you need, Kaz,” Wylan offers softly. 

Kaz’s eyes are dark as he looks at Wylan. “I’ve got things to do. I’ll come around later with more for the plan.”

He rises from his seat at the piano bench, and makes his way toward the door. At the threshold he hesitates for a moment. Wylan is sure he is going to turn around and say something, but Kaz just gives a small shake of his head and continues out. Wylan can hear is uneven footsteps echo down the hall, the opening and closing of the door, and then the silence that ensues. 

“C’mon Jesper. Let’s go to bed,” he says, shaking Jesper’s shoulder gently. 

Jesper makes a dramatic show of getting up, and Wylan follows his lanky frame to their bedroom down the hall. 

Inej

Inej was better than this. She was the Wraith, feared across Ketterdam. She hunted slavers on the seas who were much more formidable. It had taken no less than twelve Dime Lions to take her down, and only because… because what? She had seen Tante Heleen and turned into a scared 14 year old again. Foolish, Inej chided herself. 

She didn’t know where she was being kept or how long it had been. They had been smart enough to blindfold her tightly and chain her arms behind her. She could feel a thick coating of dust on the floor, and every once in a while a loud burst of conversation would come up through the floorboards. The slats of the floor creaked loudly when the guards were coming, giving her ample time to situate herself so it didn’t look like she was exploring the room, looking for a way out.

She wondered if her crew noticed she was gone already. Inej had given them the week off. This was a job she meant to do alone. She sent yet another prayer up to her saints for a way out of this. 

It had begun two weeks ago. Inej had been hearing rumors about a huge slaver ship coming into the Ketterdam ports. The information had been fleeting and fragmented. She never knew who the captain was or what ship it was. She hadn’t even managed to glean what country it was coming from. She only got the date and berth number for the docks. Nevertheless, her interest had been piqued. She couldn’t pass up the opportunity; these peoples stories were all to similar to her own. She shuddered at the thought of them bought and sold like livestock to end up in the Menagerie or somewhere similar. 

She had given the crew the week off to handle the job herself. It was foolish, but they were on land and this was her home turf. With her knives and her saints, she had been sure that she could take the ship. 

The first tip off should have been the lack of staadwatch patrolling around the birth. There had been no one in sight as Inej had silently scaled down from the shipping containers. She had padded silently across docks, the breath clouding in front of her was the only indication there was someone there. 

The upper deck had been empty, too. That made Inej’s stomach tighten and cast a furtive glance. She considered turning back, calling her crew, but her pride had gotten in the way. She had unsheathed Sankt Petyr and Sankta Lizabeta, and sent up a prayer to the rest of the saints before continuing into the hull of the ship. 

There was a faint glow coming from a cracked door, twenty feet into the hallway. She heard several male voices talking quietly and crept forward. Two heavily armed men came out of the door just behind her. She whirled around, knives raised, as their boots marched loudly toward her. She threw Santa Lizabeta, knife lodging in his throat. The other one let out a shout a moment before she stabbed him.

Inej sent another prayer up to the saints for their lives, and grabbed Santa Lizabeta. When she reached down, she saw the Dime Lion tattoo inked onto the man’s forearm. She had walked to a trap.

Thoughts flew through Inej’s head as she turned to face the onslaught she knew was coming. She had heard from Kaz occasionally; they shared information as often as they could but not as often as either of them would have liked. Last she heard, though, the Dime Lions had been a joke, on the brink of collapse, running penny-poor cons on street corners. Was Rollins back? She doubted it, but Inej was sure he hated her enough to pull something like this. 

She didn’t have much time to figure out who was behind this, however, before the first wave of Dime Lions was on her, all armed to the teeth.

Inej moved like the shadows, like an angel of death, slipping between the Dime Lions, so that more than one ended up with a knife in their back. But there were too many. She took a heavy punch across the face, and a brutal kick to the stomach. 

She began backing up toward the stairs, bleeding from a cut on her arm. She turned her head quickly to see if there were more of them blocking her retreat and froze. 

Tante Heleen’s hair shone golden in the setting sun, as she was silhouetted in the doorway. Inej felt the gentle rocking of the boat beneath her feet, and felt fourteen years old, again coming to Ketterdam for the first time. 

The moment of hesitation cost her, and two muscled Dime Lions pinned her arms to her side and took her knives. She struggled against their grip, but to no avail. A sharp blow to the head, and the world around her went dark.

Kaz

Kaz acutely knew the limits of his body. The way his leg would ache when it got cold. How his heart seemed to skip whenever Inej entered the room. So it was no surprise that he knew exactly how his body reacted to twenty-four hours without sleep. 

The irritability was familiar. Mornings after long nights on watch had taught the other Dregs to stay out of his way, but the restlessness was new. He was having trouble focusing on his work and sitting still for more than five minutes felt like some kind of tourture. 

After he had left Wylan’s house, he’d gone to the Slat to have Annika and Pim stake out the Kaelish Prince. He knew he was the one who set the two day period, and he knew that logically it was the right choice, but when it came to the Wraith, he seemed incapable of being logical. The thought of her up in the attic made him want to put someone’s head through a wall.

Most of the Dregs had, luckily, caught onto his sour mood and done their best to avoid him, which wasn’t hard. He had practically locked himself in his office, and tried to keep himself busy and distracted with the work of running the Dregs.

Kaz knew he should sleep before the job; it didn’t do well to go in distracted and not at his best. But his mind wouldn’t slow down enough for him to even try to get some sleep. He’d stayed up for longer before, anyway.

It was late the night after he’d left Wylan’s when he heard a knock on his door. He’d been trying to balance the Slat’s books, for his investors, and was vexed someone had come to disturb him.

“Come in,” he called, and a moment later, Pim appeared in the doorway. Kaz relaxed ever so slightly.

“What business?” Kaz asked, once Pim shut the door behind him. 

Pim hesitated for a moment, choosing his next words carefully.

“We don’t know how involved she is, but Tante Heleen has been coming and going from the Kaelish Prince pretty frequently.”

Kaz gripped the armrest of his chair tightly before flexing his fingers, palm open. It made sense, then, how they’d gotten Inej. She didn’t have many weaknesses, but Kaz knew her time in the Menagerie still haunted her. 

“Anything else?” he asked, voice grating across stone.

“We estimate there are twenty to twenty-five gaurds, but we don’t have clear sightlines on the upper floors, so it could be more.”

“Let me know if you find anything else.” Kaz said, turning back to the books.

Pim hesitated for a moment before Kaz heard him close the door and his footsteps recede down the hallway.

Kaz tried to focus on the books, but he kept going over the plan again and again, working out the knots. He would have to go to Wylan’s tomorrow and fill the rest of the crew in. The balances he usually kept so straight in his head kept getting jumbled, and eventually he slammed the book shut and picked up his crows head cane from where it leaned against his desk.

He needed some air, and he was itching for a fight.

Inej

Inej knew the sea. During the year hunting slavers, it had lent her its secrets. The boy’s name repeating in her head, like a prayer to her saints, sounded like the ocean during a storm, like waves crashing against the rocks, threatening sailors with a cruel death. Kaz Brekker Kaz Brekker kazbrekkerkazbrekkerkazbrekker. It was foolish to think he’d come for her now. He didn't even know she was back in Ketterdam. But still she clung to hope, almost childishly. What was it he once said? That he would come for her, that he would crawl to her. She raised another prayer to her saints. 

The chains around her wrists and ankles were heavy. She floated in and out of time; Inej had no idea how long she’d been in the dusty room. The guards rotations weren’t timed, as far as she could figure out, and there weren’t any windows or vents that she could find. Inej knew the basics of lockpicking, Kaz had taught her, but she had none of the picks she would need. She didn’t really know how she was going to get out of this one. 

She heard two sets of footsteps coming up the creaking stairs, and positioned herself in a defensive crouch. She could take out the guards. If she was lucky one of them would have the key. If her hands and eyes were free, Inej was pretty sure she could get out even without her knives. 

The door creaked open and the heavier set of footsteps approached her. When Inej estimated that he was just over her, she sprang up, slamming her head into what she hoped was his nose. She felt a sickening crunch, and the footsteps receded coupled with colorful swear. Without missing a beat, Inej sprang forward toward the second guard. She overshot to the right, and caught a whiff of cloying perfume as she passed- Tante Heleen’s perfume. Inej crashed into the wall, and spun around leg sweeping out to catch Tante Heleen off balance. She would not be the scared little girl anymore. She was the Wraith, the hunter of slavers, the best damn spider in the Barrel. She was unleashed. She was Inej Ghafa, and she would not be afraid. 

Her leg caught Tante Heleen’s around the back of her knee, and she fell with a crash that made Inej smile. The crash was loud enough that it must have been heard by the other guards because a moment later she heard footsteps running up the stairs.

It sounded like the first one tripped over Tante Heleen, but three others had Inej pinned despite her struggling. She smelled Tante Heleen’s perfume as she leaned close to her ear. 

“You and Brekker will pay for this, girl.” Inej heard her footsteps disappear down the stairs, but the smell of the too sweet perfume clung to her clothes and skin. 

Inej’s faint smile vanished as her mind began to race. Did they have Kaz? Was he somewhere else in the building? She still didn’t know where she was being held. After her little stunt, she was sure they’d post more guards too. She sat back against the wall, and tried to figure out how to escape.

Jesper

Jesper had been buzzing with restless energy since Kaz had shown up and told them the news a day and a half ago. He’d worked hard to stay away from the tables, but the grandfather clock’s ticking sounded like the spin of Makker’s Wheel. The pull in his gut wanted him to go to the Barrel, and if not for Wylan’s distractions Jesper’s sure he’d be deep in debt again. And despite how hard Wylan was trying, the pull never seemed to go away completely. 

When Jesper heard the knock at the front door, he practically leapt over the table to get it. He reached the door quickly, hearing Wylan’s more sedate footsteps still in the hallway. Jesper grabbed the brass knob and swung the door wide.

It was Kaz; he looked like a wolf. His eyes glinted in the light, his hair was mussed, and his eye was already beginning to bruise. He bared his teeth as he entered the foyer. 

“What the hell happened to you?” Jesper asked, incredulous.

“Is Wylan here? Pim reported back and there’s a couple changes to the plan,” Kaz replied, shrugging Jesper off. Jesper knew better than to push Kaz, but watched the other boy carefully as they made their way into the house. 

They gathered in the dining room this time. Jesper and Wylan facing Nina and Kaz. The table was silent, anticipatory.

Kaz began slowly, his voice like cold steel, as he explained the new information Pim and Annika had gathered. None of it was too big; they could easily change the plan around it. Concern had crossed both Wylan's and Nina's faces when Kaz had mentioned Tante Heleen's possible involvement. Honestly, Jesper was worried about it too. Inej had never shared those details with him, but nevertheless he knew her time at the Menagerie haunted her. But Jesper was confident in the plan nonetheless. Compared to the Ice Court job, it seemed almost too easy. 

Nina and Wylan would go in first since Tante Heleen knew Kaz and Jesper too well. Nina would cause a distraction on the first floor to try and divert as many guards as possible and then prevent them from coming to the aid of the upstairs guards. While they were distracted, Wylan would sneak back into the office and retrieve Inej's knives- likely locked in the safe. Kaz also suggested he let the Dime Lions know not to mess with the Dregs again. Wylan had just smiled. 

While that was happening on the ground floor, Kaz and Jesper would come into a private gambling den through the roof. It was already rented out under one of Kaz's aliases. In it, there was a latch in the ceiling which revealed a ladder. They would sneak up that way, dispatch the remaining guards, and getting Inej out with as little fuss as possible. They were all supposed to meet back at the Slat by eight that night.

The remaining materials were distributed, and the four of them prepared to leave the house in two hours. They would go in two shifts to avoid suspicion, but because they were so far from the Kaelish Prince, none of them thought it was too much of a risk. 

Nina and Wylan re-entered the parlor, now dressed for the event. Nina was wearing a satin, green dress that made her look just as much a mercher as any one else on Geldstraat. Wylan was wearing more casual clothes, typical of those in the Barrel. 

“You should be heading out soon or it'll be too late," Kaz said, giving them both a once over. 

Nina nodded, worry furrowing her brow. "No mourners," she said as she pulled open the door. 

"No funerals," Jesper and the others responded. 

Before he gave his body the conscious thought, Jepser's hand was reaching out to grab Wylan's wrist. Wylan started and turned around, blue eyes locking on Jesper. 

They had spent this past year in relative peace. Both had separated themselves from the Barrel as much as they could, and life on Geldstraat had been good. The big house had become Jesper’s home, and he couldn’t bare to lose Wylan. Not like this, on a return to the life that still haunted Jesper on the bad days and made him long for it on the good. 

"Be careful out there, merchling," Jesper said, voice thick and dangerously close to cracking. "You still owe me a trip to Novyi Zem."

"You too, Jes." Wylan replied quietly, before shutting the door behind him.

Jesper and Kaz were left standing alone in the silent parlor. Maybe it was because he was thinking about his life with Wylan or maybe it was because there was an ache in his chest that he couldn’t seem to shake or maybe it was just sheer stupidity that caused Jesper to turn to Kaz and ask, “Do you ever think about getting out?”

Kaz gave him a cool sideways look, and Jesper was sure he wasn’t going to answer. But Kaz turned his eyes back toward the door, flexed the hand resting on his cane, and said, “Where would I go? What would I do? My whole life has been carving out a piece of this town for myself. Why would I want to give that up?”

Jesper could do little else but shrug in return. 

“C’mon it’s time for us to leave anyway.”

They were both dressed in modest, and to Jesper’s dismay, muted clothes. Kaz with his cane, and Jesper had the two Zemini revolvers slung around his hips. He had no doubt Kaz had nothing short of an arsenal on his person. 

The two of them made their way toward the Kaelish Prince, and soon enough the quiet, austere merch houses gave way to rickety, lopsided buildings and boisterous gambling dens. They avoided the staadwatch easily, only seeing one patrol. Two streets before the Kaelish Prince, Kaz led them down a small alley to the back entrance of a theater. He picked the lock in a matter of seconds. Two flights of stairs later, they were on the roof, with an easy path to the Kaelish Prince.

They perched on the gabled roof that would give them access to the window entrance they planned to use. Like in the Ice court, they were keeping on schedule with the clocktower near the Church of Barter. Nina and Wylan were supposed to be inside at 6, Kaz and Jesper would enter a quarter hour later. 

Their breath clouded in front of them as they waited, both anxiously awaiting the chime of the clock. They had no way to communicate if things went sour, and Jesper was worried about Wylan. He snuck a glance over to Kaz, who looked unfazed, but after another second, Jesper noticed the tightness in his shoulders and the clench of his jaw. He had never known Kaz to appear anything less than cool and collected. This wasn’t a job they could afford to mess up.

Jesper rested a hand on his pearl-handled revolver as the clock struck ten past. He thought he heard a faint shout come from within, and hoped Nina was causing some kind of hell to the Dime Lions.

The five minutes seemed to move as slow as molasses, and Jesper’s restless energy was making it near impossible to sit still. After a short eternity, Kaz shifted and signalled to Jesper that it was time to go in. Jesper drew a deep breath and steadied his mind as Kaz unlocked the window.

Kaz

The locks on the Kaelish Prince were a joke; Kaz was almost insulted that they hadn’t even tried to keep him out. 

He and Jesper slid into the empty gambling parlor. It hadn’t changed much since Rollins left. The gaudy green velvet still coated the walls and a gold filigree was on the crown molding. The circular table to play three man’s bramble was filled with chips, and Kaz considered lifting a couple as one more petty gesture against the Dime Lions. The yells from downstairs were louder here; Nina raising hell no doubt. Wylan should be wrecking the safe right around now, too. 

It wasn’t hard to find the latch in the ceiling to pull down the ladder. Jesper easily reached the chord, and with a swift tug, the ladder dropped. It was rickety and disused and not entirely stable, but it’s a way up and that’s all they really need.

Jesper goes first, gun drawn, and Kaz follows closely behind, pistol in one hand, and the comforting weight of a knife up each sleeve. Jesper pauses at the top of the ladder, head cocked to the side, listening. They both waited with bated breath, but neither of them heard movement from above. After another agonizing moment, Jesper continued up. 

They reach the landing and what appeared to be a small hallway. There was a faint smell of mildew and the old floorboards were covered in dust. 

As soon as Jesper peered over the edge of the ladder, Kaz heard a loud shout, and the sounds of footsteps. Jesper ducked back down and began to swear under his breath. 

“How many?” Kaz asked, already cocking his pistol. Jesper had his revolvers in each hand. 

“One from the end of the hall, one coming out of a room, maybe more,” Jesper said. Kaz quickly maneuvered to stand next to Jesper on the ladder. It was cramped, but it meant they could fire all three guns. 

Kaz gave a sharp nod, and he and Jesper ducked their heads above the floor. There were another two guards who were emerging from the room further room, bringing the total to five. Three quick shots and they dropped back down. Kaz heard one of the guards groaning in pain, and the footsteps coming toward them had stopped as the remaining guards took up defensive positions. A moment later, Jesper popped his head up again and got off two more shots. 

“That’s all of them,” he said as he rejoined Kaz lower on the ladder. They climbed up into the attic, guns still drawn, as they surveyed the scene in front of them.

There was a door on the right about twenty feet in front of them and a second twenty feet beyond that. Nothing adorned the hallway, and it’s bareness was a shock after the gaudy gambling den they had just been in.

He’d been in this attic before, had wanted to map every inch of Rollins empire before he tore it down. Both rooms were functionally identical, a fair size with just the one door and no windows. The one closer to them had housed various clutter gathering dust; the other room held old furniture and trunks. Kaz wasn’t sure which room they would have been keeping Inej in, but the guards he had seen had emerged from farther down.

Jesper turned around to Kaz and gave a questioning look. Alright, Brekker. Make a choice. Kaz nodded silently toward the closer door, and they stepped over the bodies of the fallen guards. The two of them fell into the long ago pattern that had kept them alive through so many missions. Kaz stood to the right side of the door, Jesper next to him. He reached a gloved hand and grasped the brass handle, turning it ever so slowly. Kaz could hear Jesper drumming his fingers around the hilt of the gun, nervous energy too much to keep still.

Kaz gave another small nod as he flung open the door, moving with it so that his back pressed into the wood of the door. Jesper slid over and replaced Kaz on the right side. Both of them waited with bated breath. No sound was heard from inside. Slowly, Kaz peered around the doorframe. The room appeared empty. Kaz signalled to Jesper that he was going in, and Jesper quickly shifted to give him cover. 

Kaz took a step into the room and looked around. The room was almost the same as it had been all those years ago. There were crates stacked along one wall and various clutter along another. Everything in the room was coated with a fine layer of dust. There was a disturbance in the dust near the door, and Kaz turned to tell Jesper just as someone moved from the entryway and swept his legs out. Kaz fell flat on his back, letting out a grunt as he hit the floor. 

Jesper gave a shout while Kaz raised himself into a crouch. Finally seeing his attacker, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Inej?” he asked. She stood in front of him, hands chained behind her. Her clothes were ratty and torn, drops of what looked like blood stained one of the sleeves. She had a split lip and bruise blooming out from under her blindfold. 

At the sound of his voice, she lowered her hands.

“Kaz?” she asked, suddenly looking unsteady on her feet. Jesper gave one last look toward the hallway and moved into the room.

“Jesper’s here too,” Kaz replied. Inej’s face broke into a small smile.

Jesper holstered his guns and undid her blindfold, and Kaz was shocked at how sunken her eyes were. Inej had always been small, but now he could see her collarbone protruding. 

“Good to see you,” Jesper said, wrapping her in a tight hug. 

“C’mon, with all those shots, I’m sure more Dime Lions are on the way. We don’t have all day,” Kaz said coldly.

“It’s nice to see you to, Kaz,” Inej replied. Kaz motioned for her to sit and produced his lockpick set from the depths of his coat.

Kaz knelt down next to Inej. The Dime Lions had certainly spared no expense on the lock securing her chains. It was a new Grendelen, notoriously tricky locks.

“Are you alright? Did they hurt you?” His eyes were dark and dangerous as he searched her face.

“I’m fine, Kaz,” Inej replied, but he noticed again how gaunt her eyes look and her usual knife sharp posture seems to waver. Her hair was falling out of her usual braid; it hung limp around her shoulders.

Jesper knelt down on Inej’s other side, hands nervously fluttering over the chains. 

He’s trying to break them, Kaz thought. He hadn’t realized Jesper had spent so much time practicing to be a fabrikator. A small black cloud slowly formed between Jesper’s hands. Sweat beaded along his forehead, and he didn’t look up from the chain.

Inej’s eyes sparked. “Kaz,” she said softly, then again more urgently.

The next seconds seemed to pass in slow motion. Inej, still in chains, pushed him and he fell to the side, pain radiating up his bad leg. Then he heard the echo of the gunshot around the room.

Kaz turned his head to see where the sound came from. One of the Dime Lions had rolled over and gotten off a shot. 

He turned his head back to see blood blooming from Inej’s abdomen, her face radiating pain.

Jesper pushed his hands forward and the cloud of metal shavings buried its way into the Dime Lion’s skin, rivulets of blood pouring from a thousand tiny cuts. He screamed and dropped the gun. Faster than Kaz thought possible, Jesper’s pulled out one of his revolvers and pulled the trigger. The bullet pierced the Dime Lions skull and the screaming stopped. 

Inej’s laying with one arm pinned underneath her. Jesper pulls her up and she sways where she’s sitting.

Kaz managed finally to pick to lock, and the shackles on her wrists falling to the floor with a clang. 

“Let me see it,” he said. He knows it’s bad because she doesn’t say anything in response, just shifts her body to face him.

He does his best to keep him face calm, but Jesper sucks in a short breath at the blood drenching Inej’s shirt.

Kaz quickly removes his jacket and using his ever present oyster knife, cuts the bottom into thin strips for bandages. It’s not the right material at all, but it’ll have to do until they can get back to the Slat. Kaz lets out a string of curses as the knife cuts the pad of his thumb. He’s being clumsy and careless and he knows it. There’s a feeling of pressure behind his eyes and his stomach is tying itself in knots. He hopes Inej is out of it enough not to notice. He should have checked the guards before the went in the room. It was foolish, and now his carelessness was going to get Inej killed.

He sneaks a quick glance at her, and her eyes look glassy and distant. Jesper’s secured the bandages around her abdomen well enough and they’ve got no other choice than to try and make it to the Slat. 

“Jesper, run ahead and tell Nina. Get her to prepare whatever she’s got.” Kaz never got a new Grisha healer after Nina. It fell toward the bottom of his ever growing list of tasks, and now he’s kicking himself for not getting to it sooner. 

“Kaz, she cant-”

“Just get her, Jesper.”

Kaz sees her eyes start to close, “Stay with me, Inej. C’mon, love, you were supposed to survive this city. Keep your damn eyes open.”

He picks her up, wincing at the feel of her in his arms. He flashes back suddenly to that night on the docks before the ice court job when he had to carry her to the schooner. He damn near sends a prayer up to her blasted saints for her to be as lucky as last time.

He doesn’t even turn to see if Jesper is following him as exits the room. He makes his way toward the ladder, and by some miracle manages to get them both down. He slips out the window, and makes his way across the rooftops. His leg is screaming and every uneven step, and it makes Inej bounce painfully in his arms. They’re not too far from the Slat. He just needs to get her home. 

“C’mon Inej, talk to me. Tell me about the Wraith.” It’s the first thing he can think of to ask her.

Her eyes are distant and glassy, looking past his right shoulder. Her brow furrows as she processes the question and tries to formulate an answer. 

“There’re so many,” she replies. Her words are slow and slurred. They’re still a couple of blocks from the Slat, and at the rate she’s losing blood, he’s worried she’s not going to make it. 

Finally the familiar gabled roof comes into view. Kaz doesn’t think he’s ever been more grateful to see it. He slides in through his bedroom window.

He never let anyone else take her rooms, even when they were running short on space. He never quite knew why, but the idea of someone else living in a place that was so her was wrong. He hadn’t been in the room since she left, and everything was exactly where it was.

His leg feels like it’s going to give out as he enters his room. There’s a pile of papers on desk he’s been meaning to get to and his bed is unmade- it’s not like he’s slept in it the past couple days anyway. He moves through the room quickly and braces himself for the walk down the flight of stairs. 

Nina

Nina has no idea what the hell Brekker expects her to do. 

Her and Wylan’s part of the plot had gone off as smoothly as could have been hoped for. They’d just made it back to the Slat fifteen or so minutes before a very panicked Jesper burst in and told Nina that she needed to gather any medical supplies she had and get up to Inej’s room.

She felt useless; Nina had never tried to heal anyone without her powers before. “Does Kaz have anyone else who’s more qualified?” she asked Jesper, exasperated.

Jesper held up his hands in surrender, “I’m just passing along the message.”

Nina closed her eyes and let out a long sigh. 

“Alright, what exactly am I dealing with?”

Jesper explained what happened as she gathered the supplies she thought she might need. She sent Wylan out to get some extra things they didn’t have around the Slat, and Jesper was busy heating more water as she made her way up to Inej’s room. 

Nina anxiously paced the floor as she waited for Kaz to arrive. If she hadn’t taken parem, she could help Inej now. Or we’d all be dead in a Fjerdian prison she reminded herself. Still, Nina cast out her mind, searching for the feel of bodies in the Slat, the rush of blood, the beating of hearts. And felt… nothing. 

She heard footsteps above her, and cast a quick glance toward the ceiling. Kaz must be back. She glanced around the room again, inventorying everything they had. She cleaned off Inej’s desk to use as a makeshift table. Bandages, water, a suturing kit. They didn’t have much in the way of pain meds; hopefully Inej would be out for most of it.

She can hear Kaz on the stairs and a moment later, he appeared in the doorway. He’s a wreck. His hair’s all mussed and his eyes glint with something terrible. Completing the scene, he’s drenched in, what Nina assumes is, Inej’s blood. 

Inej looks worse than she expected. Her face is pale and her eyes are sunken. Her whole shirtfront is stained red, and Nina can smell the coppery stench from several feet away. Inej’s hair has come loose of her braid and hangs limply over Kaz’s arm. 

Nina gestures to the desk. Kaz lays her down gently and takes a step back. Nina moves toward Inej.

“Did the bullet go all the way through?” Nina asks, trying to be as methodical as possible.

“Yeah, there’s an exit wound. I checked.”

“Good,” is Nina’s short reply. 

Just then, Jesper enters the room, carrying a large bowl, steam curling off the surface of the water. 

“Thanks, Jesper. You can put it down on there,” Nina says, gesturing to the wooden chair that usually accompanies the desk. It’s now full of bandages and medical supplies. Jesper sets down the bowl and looks around awkwardly.

“I don’t think I need anything else, but I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

Jesper nods, uncharacteristically quiet, before leaving the room.

“You should go too, Kaz,” Nina says over her shoulder, already cutting off the makeshift bandages.

“I’m not leaving,” comes the reply.

“At least change your shirt. You reek and there’s nothing you can do now,” Nina says, giving him an up and down appraisal.

Kaz looks like he’s going to protest further, but he looks at Inej and storms out of the room and up the stairs. 

Nina lets out a sigh; she’s so far beyond her comfort zone, but she’s got to keep it together and help her best friend. You’ve got this, Zenik.

The last of the makeshift bandages come off, and Nina almost loses her nerve again. The wound’s bad and still leaking blood. Inej’s is going to need a fair amount of stitches. Nina gets to work.

Kaz comes down fifteen minutes later and takes a seat on the bed. He’s changed into a clean shirt and props his cane next to him. Nina’s still bent over Inej, and Kaz doesn’t say anything. They stay like that for two hours. Kaz only leaves once to get her more water.

After what feels like an eternity later, Nina steps back from the table, and Kaz looks up at her.

“I’ve done everything I can, all she needs now is time.” A sudden feeling of exhaustion comes over Nina, and she sits down next to Kaz on the bed. 

The world outside had long grown dark, and Nina could hear the loud cries of Barrel floating through the window. She should stay up and make sure nothing changed with Inej, but her eyelids felt like they weighed a million pounds.

Kaz stood up and grabbed the chair by the table, now- mostly- free of medical supplies. 

“I’ll wake you if anything changes,” he said.

“I only need five minutes,” Nina said, but she could already feel her eyelids closing. She fell asleep almost immediately.

When Nina awoke, the faint light of dawn was coming through the window. For a moment, she forgot where she was. She glanced around the room, eyes falling on Inej and Kaz. Inej’s chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, which was a good sign. Kaz, on the other hand, looked like he hadn’t slept all night. He looked disheveled and, Nina thought, exhausted. 

“She’s been the same all night,” Kaz said when he noticed Nina getting out of bed.

“You could’ve woken me up, you know.”

Kaz only shrugged a response and turned back toward Inej. 

Inej

Inej was back on the Ketterdam docks and before her stood the ship she had been hunting for weeks. The docks were empty and eerily quiet. There were no dock workers shouting out shipment numbers or even the faint noises of the distant Barrel. Inej was alone.

She sent up a prayer to her saints, and carefully boarded the ship. There was no one on the deck, so she cautiously made her way down belowdecks. Her knives were drawn; their familiar weight keeping her grounded. The stairs seemed to squeak impossibly loud as she descended. There was no one in the hall, but she thought she heard voices from a room farther down. Shadows seemed eerily dark as she continued into the hull of the ship.

Some far away piece of her mind knew this was wrong. That she’d been here before but everything had been different. Inej wracked her brain trying to remember. But the voices down the hall beckoned her, and she soon forgot her momentary deja vu. 

Inej listened at the doorway, but couldn’t make out more than indistinct voices. Cautiously, she dared to open the door. Inside she found her friends in chains. Their faces were bruised and bloody. 

Inej ran into the room, dropping her knives. They clattered impossibly loud on the deck. She knelt by Kaz first. He didn’t react- just sat staring straight ahead. Her hands fumbled over the chains, eventually finding the lock. It was complicated. Nothing she could ever hope to pick.

“Kaz, you need to help me. I need you to tell me how to pick the lock,” she said, her voice urgent. Kaz’s eyes slid to hers, and recognition dawned on his face. 

“Kaz, how do I pick the locks?” Inej asked again.

His eyes flicked past her shoulder, and grew wide. Inej tried to turn to see what he was looking at, but two pairs of strong, rough hands grabbed her biceps and hauled her to her feet.

Inej tried to fight against them, struggling even as pain bloomed across her abdomen. Tears were running down her face, but she couldn’t break their grip. She looked back towards Kaz.

“Inej,” he was screaming. 

The two men carried her out into the hallway. She could still here Kaz’s muffled screams.

Nina

Nina woke with a start. She had gotten used to sleeping in Inej’s room. She and Kaz had been taking shifts watching Inej while the other slept. Inej had woken up once, briefly yesterday and managed to eat something, but for the most part she was still pretty out of it. Things had been pretty quiet, but Inej seemed to be improving. Nina untangled herself from the makeshift nest of blankets and pillows she had made on the ground at the foot of Inej’s bed.

“Inej! Inej you need to wake up.” Kaz was leaning over her bed, and Nina could see Inej thrashing under the blankets. 

Nina sees Kaz reach out a hand and hesitate, fingers inches from her skin. He’s so still, he could be a figure in a painting. He draws a deep breath, clenches his jaw, and makes contact with her upper arm. 

“Inej,” he repeats, his voice growing louder. Nina’s not sure what to do, she sits frozen in the blankets. 

“No, stop. Let me go,” Inej protests and Kaz immediately retracts his hand. Her breathing comes in short, panicked gasps. 

“C’mon Inej. I need you to wake up. It’s not real; you’re just dreaming,” Kaz says to no avail. Nina’s never seen this side of Kaz before. Maybe she’s mistaken, but he almost looks concerned. 

Nina finally finds herself able to stand and moves over to stand next to Kaz. He gives her a look as she takes her place next to him. She doesn’t even know what she’s saying, words just begin to tumble out of her mouth. She tries to keep her voice calm and steady even when she sees spots of blood appear where Inej had ripped her stitches. 

It feels like hours, but about ten minutes later, Inej begins to settle and drift back off into a deep sleep. As soon as Kaz sees that she’s okay, he storms out of the room to saints know where. Nina gets her suture kit and prepares to fix the stitches Inej ripped.

Nina’s just about to fall back asleep when she hears the door bang open and Kaz storm in. His shirt is drenched in red and there’s blood spatter across his face and neck. His eye looks red and swollen like it’s going to bruise. He’s also favoring his bad leg.

“Where the hell have you been? And whose blood is that?” Nina demanded, voice a harsh whisper. 

“This city’s price is blood Nina, and they had to pay,” he replied. “Has anything happened?” he asks after a brief pause.

“No, I had to give her three more stitches, but other than that she’s fine.”

Kaz nods and looks over at Inej before leaving. Nina hears the stairs above her creak as he makes his way up to his room.

Kaz

Kaz doesn’t think he’ll be able to sleep again. His blood’s still boiling from the fight. He hadn’t seen Inej that bad in years. When she first joined the Dregs, the Menagerie still haunted her, more than now. Neither of them ever acknowledged the nightmares, but on particularly bad nights he would go down and wake her up. 

He washes the blood off his face and changes his shirt. Hands gripping the sides of the wash basin as he tries to settle himself. His chest has felt tight and coiled since he carried Inej back to the Slat three days ago. He’s slept maybe five hours total; he’s worried his body is just going to give out on him.

He manages to steady himself enough to make the trip down the stairs. His bad leg is screaming with every step. He collapses into Inej’s desk chair. Nina’s already asleep, buried in blankets.

From the chair he can see the steady rise and fall of Inej’s chest. There’s a little blood on the sheets, but her face looks calm, peaceful. So unlike an hour ago. Kaz tells himself that he’s going to stay awake, but at some point he’s lulled into a deep sleep.

He wakes up to the sound of crows cawing at the window. The crows left months ago. He never bothered to feed them once Inej left, and the sound is enough for him to force his eyes open. Sunlight is streaming in through the window and there is indeed a couple of crows perched on the windowsill. 

More shocking however is Inej also perched at the window. She’s feeding the crows, hair redone in it’s neat braid, and her head tilted back, surveying the city. A soft smile plays on her lips as the crows continue to peck at whatever food she’s laid out for them. His chest uncoils and he finally feels like he can breathe again.

“You’re up,” he says, shifting in the chair. 

Inej turns her head to look at him, braid falling over her shoulder as she does.

“Nina said we should let you sleep.”

“Where is she,” Kaz asked, noticing her absence.

“I think she went back to Wylan’s to get a change of clothes,” Inej says with a shrug. 

They sit in silence for several moments. The crows and calls of the Barrel in the morning filling the gaps.

Inej eventually breaks the quiet. “Thank you,” she said eyes locking with his. “I am glad you came.”

“I told you I would come for you. Knives drawn, pistols blazing.”

Inej opens her mouth to say something as Nina burst in the door. 

“I hope your hungry, Inej. I come bearing the finest waffles in all of Ketterdam,” she said.

Inej throws back her head and laughs. It sounds like liquid sunshine. Nina saunters into the room, bearing the plate of waffles proudly, big smile on her face. Kaz lets a small smile cross his face. It seems like it’s all going to be okay.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Bedside Stories ch.2 (baon)

Summary: Edge is tired of being in the hospital and that is a fact. 

Tags: Spicyhoney, Hints of Kustard Established Relationships, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Hospitals

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

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Read it here!

~~*~~

With the IVs and all the monitoring equipment removed, the hospital room could almost be mistaken for a hotel. The walls were painted in cozily muted shades and the landscaped paintings were generic enough to match any accommodations they’d been given on their travels, even the most prestigious. The bed was the only distinguishing feature and even it was less confronting with the railings lowered; there was less concern about him tumbling out since the decision had been made to lower Edge’s pain medication to what he still considered unreasonable levels, but far more acceptable than the quantities that left his head swimming.

Currently the bed was somewhat sloppily made and Edge was settled on top of the blankets, fully dressed with his casted foot resting atop some carefully arranged pillows. Not generally one for fidgeting, he couldn’t help drumming his fingers against the bed-covers agitatedly. Today was they day the doctors agreed for his release; all they needed now was an orderly with a wheelchair and he could be out, away from this room and the four walls he’d been staring at for days.

It was honestly starting to verge on intolerable; he had crutches, the walk down to the parking lot was a short one with elevators to ease the path. And having to be the one sitting and waiting impatiently while his spouse read the release papers was a new experience, one he would have been happy to live without.

Particularly since Stretch seemed to be taking some measure of fiendish delight in it, his eye lights bright as they skimmed over the paperwork. He held up the checklist and said cheerily, “okay, babe, let’s go over this one more time.”

Edge sighed inwardly and nodded. He supposed he deserved this, considering how many times their positions had been reversed. It didn’t mean he had to like it.

Stretch looked down the slight protuberance of his nasal aperture at the sheet, “first question; what are you supposed to do this week?”

“Keep my leg elevated,” Edge recited flatly.

“right you are!” Stretch agreed, chipper as an abnormally cruel chickadee. “and what are you supposed to do every three hours?”

“Ice my leg to keep the cartilage from swelling.”

“you’re on fire, which, coincidentally, is not what you should do with your leg. okay, last one, this is a toughie,” Stretch leaned forward and asked with great solemnness, “when are you supposed to take your pain meds?”

Edge glared at him and gritted out, “As directed.”

Stretch beamed at him, flumping back into his chair. “a+, baby, great job! aced the exam.” His humor faded, replaced by an uncommonly steely determination, “so, this is how the week is going to go, yeah? the docs are highly paid medical pros who know what’s what and we’re going to follow the directions they gave us, that they went to many, many years of school for, and everything will go according to plan.”

“I’d like to think I know my own body best,” Edge muttered under his breath. Not quietly enough, Stretch’s eye lights flickered orange and he scrambled to his feet, stalking over to the bed to poke Edge in the sternum with a blunt fingertip.

“highly. paid. pros.” Stretch said firmly. “look, either you do as the doc says, or you might get to change your power stride into a drunken sailor lurch. follow the directions or you’ll never get to face Kevin Bacon in the dance off, yeah?”

“Yes, dear,” Edge grumbled. The situation was irritating, but blaming Stretch for his worries would be more hypocritical than Edge could stomach. Before Stretch could flop back into his chair, Edge hooked an arm around him and pulled him in, ignoring his squirming protests to tug him onto the bed and into his arms, pressing a soft kiss on top of his skull. “Love, I’m all right.”

“uh huh, sure,” Stretch managed to wriggle free enough to glare at him. “if i tried any shit and my excuse was ‘i know better than people who’ve gone to medical school’, you’d have my ass.”

Which was true, but aside from the point. “I’d like to state for the record that since I was admitted, at no point have I disobeyed any of the doctor’s orders.”

“not yet, anyway, but you’re still in arms reach.” Stretch gave up on clever escape attempts and settled against Edge’s side. “keep behaving at home, yeah? anyway, they should be springing us soon.”

“They should.” But there was no telltale sign of footsteps, nor the sound of rubber wheels on a tile floor and the irritable tension in his soul was on the verge of snapping. “Could you help me to my feet, I’d like to go to the restroom.”

Stretch pulled back, blinking with what would be a frankly hurtful amount of suspicion if Edge wasn’t sure he would have done the same thing were their positions reversed, “seriously? for what, all that healing grow you the ability to take a leak?”

“Don’t be crude,” Edge chided, “I want to wash my hands.”

“geez, i can bring you a wet washcloth, we’ll be home in like, an hour, why do you-”

“Please.”

Perhaps it was the urgency in his voice, but Stretch faltered, his sockets narrowing to show only the rim of pale white lights. It was perfectly true, Edge did want to wash his hands; even knowing that the hospital rooms were as clean as possible, everything freshly washed and sterilized, it wasn’t enough. He’d been here for days in this bed made up with sheets that weren’t his own, dressed in borrowed hospital gowns and subjected to sponge baths from the hands of relative strangers. The urge to scrub himself clean was constant and he was very much looking forward to showering in his own bathroom, but for now even though his release was imminent, his agitation was starting to slip his hold. At the very least he wanted to wash his hands with hot running water and plenty of soap before he put on a fresh pair of gloves, he needed that.

That Stretch’s expression abruptly softened was a small measure of its own relief, as was his nod. “okay, baby, let’s get you up.”

With some effort, Edge swung his legs off the side of the bed, Stretch helping guide the way. The cast was unwieldy, but it was hardly the first he’d ever had. Not the first broken bone or even broken leg, though Edge could admit it was the worst. He took a moment for his equilibrium to adjust before easing his weight into standing, faint spots dancing in his vision; it was the first time he’d been truly upright in days, but it was fine, just fine.

“okay, here’s the crutches--”

Stretch reached for them at the same time he did, and that was enough to somehow tangle the ends with both their own feet. They worked exactly as a lever should, knocking them both off balance and Edge tried to catch himself but the damage was done. All he could do was aim them both for the safety of the bed rather than the hard floor and Stretch yelped as they tumbled down to the mattress, Edge’s not inconsiderable weight on top of him.

That yelped turned closer to a wheeze as Edge accidentally jammed an elbow into his rib cage as he attempted to untangle himself from the maze of their limbs. By the time he’d managed to somewhat free himself, Stretch was laughing helplessly between pants for breath, “sorry, babe, that didn’t go as planned.”

“Yes, I suspected as much,” Edge said dryly. He was gathering himself for a second attempt, this time without the ‘help’, when a voice came from behind them.

“huh. didn’t think they allowed that kind of action in these rooms, but you do you.”

They both looked up to see Sans standing in the doorway, hands tucked in his pockets and his normal smile playing on his mouth. The dark stains beneath his sockets were a testament to his own days in the hospital, his normal hoodie and shorts rumpled as though they’d been slept in. Which was often the case hospital or not, but seeing it here seemed particularly poignant.

“heya, what’s up?” Stretch asked. He slithered out from under Edge in an eely little move that would’ve come in rather handy only five minutes earlier.

“only the sky and satellites,” Sans said easily. “heard they were springing you, thought I should stop by.” He stepped further into the room, but didn’t close the door, and his grin didn’t touch his eye lights. “hey, stretch, why don’t you go see how that wheelchair wrangling is going, yeah?”

Stretch gave Sans a brutally unimpressed look; he might cheerily claim the title of idiot, but he was nobody’s fool. Low and through his teeth, Stretch said, “i think the orderlies know what they’re doing, doubt they need an amateur to help ‘em.”

Implying that he wasn’t about to follow the unspoken order to leave. This new protectiveness was not entirely unwelcome; to be honest it was somewhat endearing, but Edge couldn’t allow it to take hold. He gave Stretch a gentle nudge, jarring him from his glaring with a quiet, “Go on, love, see what’s taking so long.”

If Sans needed to speak to him alone, then it was likely Embassy business and from the way Stretch looked between them with an expression of distinct unhappiness, he knew it. He started to reach for Edge, his fingers curling abortively into a fist before they touched what Edge knew was a lingering bruise down the side of his face.

“fine. wheelchair wrangling, sure, yippee-ki-yay,” Stretch said flatly. “yeah, okay, but if you upset him, remember that i’m the one stuck riding shotgun with him all the way home.”

Sans only gave him a wink and a finger twirl, “don’t even worry about it, i won’t give the edgelord a reason to whip out the big guns.”

The sound Stretch made was a step past rude and when he stomped out, he yanked the door closed with a near slam, echoing in the small room. Edge spoke before Sans could, asking quietly, “How is your brother?”

Sans seemed unperturbed by the change of subject, “doing all right. about like you, itchin’ to go home. he’ll be here a few days longer yet, they’d like to keep a closer eye on the noggin, but the docs say everything’s going as expected.”

That, at least, was a comfort. “I’m sorry.”

“ooookay?” Sans said slowly, bemused. He rocked on his slippered feet and something about that was upsetting; he’d given up slippers for sneakers some time ago. To see them making an appearance outside of his own home was disheartening, a step backwards. “mind telling me what for?”

The words came with some difficulty, clogging in his throat, but Edge forced them out, “Papyrus shouldn’t have been hurt. He was my responsibility.”

Sans was shaking his head before Edge even finished. “yeah, let’s back up a few steps here. look, you were leading the security team, but you ain’t the only one on it, and if i can forgive myself for not protecting him, i’m sure as fuck not gonna blame you.” Edge said nothing and Sans’s easy smile thinned, “but hey, since you’re going with unnecessary guilt, guess we can hop into why i’m here. after you get settled in at home and you get a mo’, might wanna check out the paperwork for your psych assessment. once you’re back on your feet, you need to schedule an evaluation with the department head shrinker before you can get back to work.”

Edge frowned, already shaking his head, “That won’t be necessary.”

Sans shrugged carelessly. “maybe, maybe not, but what it ain’t is optional. i had to do it myself. it’s only an hour or so, just a chat to make sure your head is on straight.”

“I don’t need a chat,” Edge said tersely. In fact, he was fairly sure it was the last thing he needed, and it was definitely not something he wanted. “I survived Underfell, this incident is hardly comparable.”

Never had Sans’s grin seemed so like his brother’s, sharp and darkly amused despite his blunted teeth. “welp, have i got great news for you, pal. you’re not in Underfell anymore, you’re here and either you play by the rules or you don’t play, you get me, little brother?” For all his vow not to stir Edge up, those two words made him startle, unexpected emotion heavy in his chest, “and you can keep your bitching about it, this ain’t my idea, it’s from higher up. but i agree with it. get it done, you hear me?”

“Fine,” Edge gritted out. It was a terrible idea and unnecessary, but arguing with Sans was less useful than shouting into the wind and expecting it to obey, “Is that all?”

“it was everything on my shortlist,” Sans said, all languid ease once again, “stretch should be back soon. go home, get some rest, watch some shitty tv, smooch your honey on his face as many times as you can. i’ll try to stop by once paps is back home, maybe we can schedule a playdate for you two martyrs, and you can chat about tossing yourselves on grenades or whatever else you have planned. maybe if you two idiots can stop taking on the blame for any shit that rolls downhill, you’ll have a good time.”

He started turning to door and Edge blurted, “Sans.”

Sans stopped, head tilting curiously.

It was difficult to ask, given the state of whatever the relationship between Sans and Red was, and yet, Edge’s normal sources were failing him; the Embassy servers were still closed to him and normally his brother would be the one he’d go to first. Therein lay the problem. “I haven’t seen my brother since the day they brought me in.”

“no?” Sans said lightly, but before Edge could do more than keep the tight hurt from showing on his face, Sans sighed tiredly, his head drooping, “yeah, i know.”

“Do you know where he is?” It burst loose and to ask this way, so straightforward and desperate, felt wrong, almost felt like a betrayal, but it was his brother and his bottled up concern was starting to leak around the edges.

Sans sucked on his teeth loudly, but the sudden sincerity in his voice weakened Edge with uncertain relief, “working on it. i’ll let you know if i get any bites.”

“Thank you.” It was all he could hope for.

Sans gave him a nod and then he was gone, sidestepping into a shortcut. Edge sagged back on the mattress, exhausted despite having done nothing today but a foiled attempt at standing.

If he couldn’t investigate his brother’s absence on his own, then Sans was as good as he could hope for as an alternate. He might be somewhat kinder than Red, but Edge recognized a commonality between them, especially when it came to seeking information with less than traditional methods.

Sans was wrong about one thing, though; it had been Edge’s responsibility to watch over all the diplomats, and he’d allowed his personal distractions to interfere with his duty. If his mind had been properly on the task at hand, the damages would have been so much less, and he could only imagine the fallout that the Embassy was currently dealing with because of it since his access had been taken away. It was strikingly similar to the events at the Golden City restaurant with Jeff, his distraction keeping him from protecting those he was supposed to keep safe.

Liabilities, Red called them. Called Stretch. His pretty little liability.

Even worse was a truth he hardly wanted to acknowledge. If he’d given in or ignored Asgore’s instruction and brought Stretch with him, Edge had little doubt his instinct would have been to protect him to the exclusion of all others. Protocol dictated that his concern should have been for the diplomats, but he couldn't pretend that would be true if his husband was there.

Edge shifted higher on the mattress, wincing as he struggled to arrange his cast back on the pile of pillows. The room seemed too quiet without Stretch, echoing emptily, and Edge let his head drop back on the pillows, staring up at the plain white of the ceiling as he waited for the wheelchair and the much-needed freedom to go home.

But the word ‘liability’ was heavy on his mind, and the voice was his brother’s.

~~*~~

As it turned out, the coveted wheelchair was so close to their room, Stretch came damn close to tripping over it when he sulked his way out. And yeah, it satisfied a certain vindictiveness in him to sweetly ask the guy if he couldn’t come back in a half hour or so, since there was important Embassy shit going on behind that closed door.

The orderly didn’t even grumble, probably too awed imagining what the top secret shenanigans might be to think about the fact that Edge was supposed to be off-duty, like, really off, not supposed to be doing any work at all and if almost getting blown up didn’t qualify a person for some paid time off, then that contract needed some review.

But even if it was satisfying to send the transport guy off while Stretch indulged himself in a little justified annoyance, it didn’t exactly keep the guilt from skittering on up his back. Stretch ignored it and wandered down to the nurse’s station where there were a few chairs and a table lined up in a sort of ‘waiting hallway’.

The chairs were even shittier than the ones in the rooms, thin-cushioned and cramped, and way too short besides. Stretch slumped down into one anyway, letting his legs sprawl out in front of him instead of trying to sit properly with his knees up by his ears. It was awkward as hell, but even that was almost welcome. Better to get all his sulks out before he got back into the room, because he honestly didn’t want to fight with Edge today, not when he was about to get him back home. Once they were there it’d be easier, he was gonna make sure of that; one week of rest wasn’t too fucking much to ask.

He was playing a very morose round of ‘Words With Friends’ on his phone, trying to figure out what he could make out of FIX with the letters he had, when the tippy tap of shoes on the tile made him glance up.

To his surprise, it was Toriel and Frisk, and they seemed equally surprised to see him. That at least made sense, he didn’t have many good reasons to be sitting in the damn hallway like an uncommon sort of houseplant.

“Why, hello, Papyrus,” Toriel exclaimed. Sweet lady that she was, she didn’t ask about his current location, even if her shrewd gaze said she certainly noticed it. Technically, she wasn’t a diplomat herself, she only came along as Frisk’s guardian, but try to explain that to anyone who met her, staring at the way she towered over most Humans as they looked up into her regal face.

Yeah, there was a reason that most Monsters still called her the Queen even if she and Asgore were divorced.

Hearing his name from her made Stretch smile reluctantly. Tori was about the only person who called him Papyrus these days aside from his therapist. It was per his own request, way back when she’d come to him and asked for his help with the lab work. She wasn’t his friend behind the door any more than Asgore was, but somehow, it was soothing to have at least one Monster call him by his real name. Plus, she had jokes; it was something, anyway.

Frisk offered a cheerful grin of their own. They were currently making the teenager years their own, all gangly limbs and flared rashes of pimples, but their smile was always warming. Good kid, worked tirelessly to get Monsters the equality that they damn well deserved. They’d gone a long way in showing Stretch that most Humans were all right.

Not that the little fucker from Underswap really deserved the title of Human, but yeah, anyway, that was trauma for another time.

Stretch forced a little leftover cheer into his voice, “hey, guys, what’re you up to?”

Toriel smiled, dimpling prettily through her short fur. “Visiting the other Papyrus.” Her laughter was bright and sincere. “He’s a dear, truly, but it is rather like eating a clock. Time consuming.”

“especially if you go for seconds,” Stretch added gleefully, and Tori let out another peal of laughter, shaking with it as she leaned against her child. Who only shook their head and took her weight stoically, their smile sincere.

“That was a good one,” Toriel sighed finally, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. “But if you’d something a little tastier than an hour, we’re heading down to the cafeteria for lunch. Would you like to join us?”

“can’t,” Stretch said, with true regret. Wasn’t often he got to spend time with a pure spirit of the punny kind. Stretch jerked his head towards the hospital room door. “edge is about to get sprung.”

Toriel only smiled, unoffended, “That is wonderful news, dear, won’t you give him my love?” And as Frisk bounced impatiently, she chuckled again. “Apologies, our love. Yes, yes, dear, I’m coming.”

The kid gave Stretch a cheekily salute and darted down the hallway towards the elevators, but before Tori could follow, Stretch caught her arm.

"tori?” Stretch asked, low, “can i ask a favor?"

"Of course,” Toriel glanced at Frisk, who’d paused, looking back quizzically, and called, “Go on ahead, dear, I’ll meet you in the cafeteria.” She returned her attention to Stretch, her expression curious, “What is it?”

"you got enough juice for a little healing yet?" It’d been a few days, she should be replenished, but Stretch didn’t want to assume, not when he was already begging favors.

Immediately, suspicion filled her soft face, "Yes, why?"

He glanced distrustfully around the empty hallway as if someone might spring out of the walls before he tugged up his sleeve, showed her his wrist. The bruises swelling there were stark against the bone, slender, dark smudges only slightly wider than skeletal fingers. Toriel’s eyes widened briefly, then narrowed, studying them, but when she looked back up at him, Stretch met her gaze steadily. There were any number of Monsters here in the hospital with healing capabilities but none of them were ones he trusted enough to show. Not even Blue, but that wasn’t exactly about trust, now was it.

Very carefully, Toriel took his wrist in hand, the fur on her fingers ticklishly soft. Her thumb skirted over the mottled bruises as she murmured, "He wasn't quite awake, was he?"

Stretch said nothing, only nodded shortly, and her expression softened. "I spent a great many years married to a former soldier myself. Promise me this isn't an ongoing issue and I'll heal it."

"i promise,” Stretch said immediately, all stark honesty and he didn’t think he imagined a certain tension leaving Tori’s shoulders. “it's only the second time he's done anything like that in all the time we've been together.” Well, not including fun-time bruises, but that was probably some tmi. “and he was drugged to the gills, too. it was an accident, but my bro might not see it that way."

"You may be right,” Toriel said, with the tone of one who worked often with his bro and had a fair idea of his inner workings. “I have a slightly different understanding of these matters than he might. Hold still, now."

Warmth glossed out from her touch, the soft green of healing and instantly the bruises faded along with the lingering discomfort. A couple seconds of effort to keep back a possible defcon situation with his bro. Not quite a lie, not in his opinion, but even if it was, it was one Stretch could live with.

“thanks,” Stretch said gratefully, tugging his sleeve back down.

“Of course, dear. You take care now, won’t you?” To his bemusement, she leaned down and planted a kiss on top of his skull, the same way she might’ve to Frisk on any given day. “Take care of that husband of yours as well.” Her smiled turned tremulous. “I owe him a debt that I can never repay.”

“every day i can,” Stretch assured her, watching as she walked after Frisk. Come to think of it, might not just be a favor for him that she’d healed those bruises. Hiding them from Edge had been a hell of a chore, too, trying to keep him from feeling even more like shit about it, and not for the first time Stretch wished he was better at healing himself. It would be a nice trick for special occasions, for sure.

The sound of the wheelchair returning caught his attention and Stretch hopped to his feet, wandering back towards the hospital room. Looked like it was finally time to head home, and that, friends and neighbors, was probably gonna take all the patience he could get.

~~*~~

tbc

[inmyownlittlecorner5]

Moonlight Chapter 15: Alder and Spruce

A fanfic Novel by la-topolina

Rated for Mature Audiences

Warnings: Language, Violence, Sexual Content

Chapter 15/26

Moonlight Masterpost+

<< Chapter Fourteen+

Chapter Sixteen+ >>

Note:

Throughout the story, text set in ALL CAPS indicates that it is in Morse Code.

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“How was your New Year?” Rachel asked cheerfully on Friday morning.

Miranda paused in the middle of pouring herself a cup of coffee from the press-pot on the Lee’s kitchen counter and glanced at Severus. He was leafing through a book that he had found sitting on the table, but he looked up long enough to give Miranda an ironic smirk.

“Tolerable,” Miranda said evenly. “How was yours?”

Rachel either didn’t notice, or chose to ignore the exchange and she said, “Just fine, although I was in bed well before 1996 started. Do you read Japanese, Severus?”

“No. Not at all,” he answered, still studying the volume. “Is this a book of spells?”

“Not exactly. It’s a facsimile of the Murakami Tenchi hajimari no koto, which is the sacred book of the Kakure Kirishitans.”

“Kakure Kirishitans?”

“It means, ‘hidden Christians.’ During the Edo period it was punishable by death to be a Christian in Japan, so those that remained faithful practiced in secret. The Tenchi existed as an oral tradition as much, or more, than a written one, and I’ve been comparing the different versions that we have records of. It would be fascinating enough as a religious study, but there is also evidence that the Kirishitans coded magical knowledge that they learned from their contact with the western missionaries and traders before Japan closed its borders in the seventeenth century.”

Rachel had started to speak excitedly as she explained her research, but she broke off when she realized that Severus was staring intently at her. Her pregnancy-flushed cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink, and Miranda smiled behind her coffee mug, recognizing the greedy look Severus’s face always wore when confronted with some heretofore unknown piece of knowledge.

“I’m sorry,” Rachel said sheepishly. “I tend to get carried away when I’m talking about Edo Japan. I know it’s not the most interesting thing to listen to.”

“On the contrary,” Severus replied, “I would be interested to read your findings.”

“Oh. Well, I’d be happy to send them to you. Will you be joining us this morning?”

“I’m afraid not. I am here only to prevent Miranda from falling into another tebo pit before she manages to replace her wand.”

“Which you’ve done admirably,” Miranda said, blowing on her coffee.

Rachel smiled and said, “I’ll be ready as soon as I get my things. Have a good day, Severus.”

When Rachel was out of sight, Severus closed the book and crossed the kitchen to where Miranda was leaning against the counter. He tilted her chin up with the tip of a long finger.

“You are to stay out of trouble today,” he said sternly.

She opened her eyes wide and replied innocently, “What? Me get into trouble? Perish the thought.”

He gave her a withering look, and set her coffee mug on the counter in order to kiss her soundly.

“Do you need anything from Diagon Alley?” she asked, toying with his hair when they broke apart.

Despite the fervor in his kiss, his face was still stern and his tone imperious. “Salamander blood and unicorn horn. Although I hesitate to entrust the choosing of such subtle ingredients to you.”

Rachel was showing no signs of returning to the kitchen, so Miranda used the opportunity to apply her lips to a spot on Severus’s neck that was never quite protected by his high collars. It tended to render him incoherent when stimulated, something she found useful when he was becoming overbearing. The muscles in his neck tensed and his frown became fiercer as her lips began their work, but, before long, his breathing became a bit ragged, his eyes drifted closed, and one corner of his mouth curled into half of a smile.

She pulled back, the better to admire her handiwork, and asked saucily, “What was that? I didn’t quite hear you.”

“Hmmm?” he said distractedly. “I seem to have forgotten whatever it was that I was saying. When should I expect you?”

“I’m having lunch with Rachel, so late afternoon. Do try to remember to eat something. There’s some leftover stew in the icebox.”

“I make no promises. Until then.” He traced her cheek with his finger and headed back to the cabin, where his lesson plans--and Miranda’s potions--awaited.

“Miranda, if you don’t tell me everything that’s been going on with that man, I might have to stop being your friend,” Rachel joked when she returned to the kitchen.

Miranda laughed. “Over lunch, I promise.”

“I’m going to hold you to that.”

The ladies made their way up to the main floor of the Embassy and queued for the communal fireplace. Rachel shifted her weight from foot to foot as they waited, as though she were not quite used to the new weight she was carrying. She was a small woman and the baby was already rounding out her middle nicely.

“Rachel, you’re absolutely glowing. How are you feeling today?” Miranda asked.

Rachel sighed and rested her hands protectively on her belly. “Pretty well. My hands ache most of the time, but the nausea’s finally gone. I’m still exhausted in the evenings and Aaron keeps teasing me about going to bed so early. But I keep telling him that we have to sleep while we can. Once the baby’s here, there won’t be the opportunity for years.” She smiled slyly at Miranda and added, “Speaking of sleep, I was surprised to see you so early.”

“I know. You can blame Severus for that. I thought that Patrick was punctual, but Severus takes the cake.”

"How is Patrick?"

"Well. He and Anna are expecting a baby in the spring too."

"That'll be four for them, right?"

"Yes. I think they're hoping for a boy to balance out all the girls."

"And how's the Romanian coming?"

"More quickly than I'd thought. Severus seems to be a natural at picking up languages and I'll be damned if I'm going to let him learn it faster than I do. Especially since I had a week's head start.”

They reached the front of the queue and Rachel stepped up to the fireplace first. She took a pinch of Floo Powder from the mouth of the bronze Piasa bird on the mantel and tossed it into the fire. The green flames flared up impressively and she shouted “Diagon Alley” as she stepped into them. Miranda followed suit and the ladies emerged into the dimly lit dining room of the Leaky Cauldron.

“Good morning, Tom,” Rachel said pleasantly as they dusted soot from their cloaks.

“Mornin’ Mrs. Lee. Will you be wantin’ anything this mornin’?” Tom grunted as he wiped the bar with a rag of questionable cleanliness.

“No, thank you.”

Tom shrugged and Rachel followed Miranda out into the sunny January morning. It was one of those cold, eerily bright days and they pulled their cloaks more closely about them and huddled together as they hurried over the cobblestones to get out of the frigid weather.

Ollivander’s shop was on the south side of Diagon Alley and Miranda held the door for Rachel as they ducked into it. The shop was long and narrow with so many wand boxes stacked in every available spot that the light from the windows was almost totally obscured. Miranda and Rachel craned their necks upwards as they stared, awestruck at the selection.

“I don’t know how I’m ever going to choose one,” Miranda murmured.

“You do not choose the wand,” came a clipped voice from the back of the shop. “The wand chooses the witch.”

Miranda’s body tensed instinctively and her hand went to her empty wand pocket. Rachel seemed unconcerned, and she gave a friendly smile to the thin, wrinkled man who appeared behind the counter and eyed the women somewhat suspiciously.

“Americans, I see,” he sniffed.

"I'm afraid so," Miranda said easily, relaxing her stance. "My wand broke in an accident a few days ago and I need a replacement."

He gave her a horrified look. "I hope that you intend to take better care of this one."

"Of course,” she answered, but then she snapped, "Hey! That's getting a bit fresh I think." Several tape measures had begun attempting to examine most of Miranda's body and she swatted at them. They drew back as though affronted.

"Ahem," Mr. Ollivander cleared his throat. "Young lady, I am afraid that you will have to be measured if you hope to be fitted with a wand. I had thought that you had been through the process before."

Miranda pursed her lips. "We do things differently where I'm from."

Mr. Ollivander gave her a look of barely concealed contempt, and she allowed the tape measures to continue. They did so, although it seemed grudgingly. Mr. Ollivander began examining his stores, fingering the boxes fondly as he did. He went up and down ladders, pulling out box after box while he muttered to himself. Each time he chose one, he would shake his head and push it back into its stack. At long last, the frisky tape measures floated away and Mr. Ollivander set two fine wooden boxes on the counter.

He opened the first to reveal a plain, but beautiful dark brown wand. “Alder and Dragon’s Heartstring, ten inches, rigid,” he said. “Excellent for nonverbal spells and exceptionally loyal once won over. Extremely proud and difficult to control before that happens. Perfect for the duelist.”

Miranda picked up the wand and savored the feel of the smooth wood in her hand. She decided to start with something basic and flicked it experimentally as she thought, Wingardium leviosa. A stack of twenty boxes shot into the air, and clattered noisily to the floor.

Mr. Ollivander sighed and waved his wand to clean the mess.

"A bit sensitive, aren't you baby?" Miranda said with a smile.

She replaced the wand and Mr. Ollivander opened the second box. This wand was also made of a dark wood, but it was intricately carved.

"Dragon's heartstring and Spruce. Ten and three quarter inches, flexible. A powerful wand, perfect for the brazen spellcaster, particularly if she has a good sense of humor."

This wand also felt good in Miranda's hand. She repeated her test and the quill sitting on the counter floated gracefully up and down. She tried it on a few other items in the shop and each one behaved obediently.

"This one seems easier to manage," she observed. "Although I wonder if the other might give better results after I got over the learning curve."

She set down the Spruce wand and went to pick up the Alder. Her hand was still six inches away when the wand leapt into it. Mr. Ollivander raised his eyebrows and she curled her fingers around it.

Wingardium Leviosa she thought as she flicked it at her messenger bag where it sat on the floor. The bag rose quickly into the air and began to set itself lightly on the counter. All seemed well, until the Alder decided to try to set the bag on top of the Spruce wand. Mr. Ollivander snatched the Spruce away just in time, a look of patient long-suffering on his face.

"Hmmm..." Miranda repeated her test and a few more items rose and fell evenly. By the fifth try, the items were rising and sinking exactly as she chose, and even seemed to move with more grace and panache than they had with the Spruce wand.

She turned back to the counter and said, "Why don't I give the Spruce another go, just to be sure." She tried to set the Alder back in its box, but when she uncurled her fingers, the wand stuck stubbornly to her hand.

Rachel laughed and said, "I think it likes you."

Mr. Ollivander nodded solemnly. "The wand chooses the witch."

"I guess I can't argue with that," Miranda agreed with a smile.

******

It was almost noon by the time Rachel and Miranda hurried out of the cold into The North Wind. They stood in the doorway, stamping the snow off their boots and enjoying the warmth from the enormous fireplace. When they had some feeling back in their faces, they approached the bored-looking waitress by the cash register. She was young, obviously on break from school, and her electric blue hair made an odd contrast with her prim, black and white dress.

“Welcome to The North Wind,” she muttered around a wad of chewing gum. “Do you want a damask, a linen, or a checked cotton?”

“Damask, I think,” Miranda answered.

The waitress shrugged, flicked her wand, and a richly patterned green damask tablecloth floated up from behind the counter. Rachel and Miranda followed it through the wooden longhouse, underneath a ceiling that was littered with shields, spears, drinking horns, and a viking longboat. When they reached the back corner, the tablecloth unrolled and settled itself neatly over a round table.

Rachel sighed heavily as she sat down, and she took the liberty of putting her feet up on the chair next to Miranda.

“Are you sure about the damask?” Rachel asked after they and their packages were settled.

Miranda smiled easily. “Oh yes. This is a business lunch charged to Lucius Malfoy by way of the Ministry of Magic. I mean, surely Malfoy was simply testing my abilities at his party. That would make the damage done to my wand a business expense. And we have to eat after all that exertion replacing the wand. So, yes, it’s definitely a damask day.”

Rachel laughed and they put their hands on the tablecloth. Immediately, platters of Swedish pancakes, lingonberries, sausage, meatballs, and cakes appeared, alongside mugs of coffee, tea, and mead. It was a feast fit for warriors and the ladies happily tucked into it.

They had done quite a number on Diagon Alley after Ollivander’s. First they had been to Flourish and Blotts for Strega Ilithyia’s Wanderings with your Wee Wizard or Witch, followed by Slug and Jiggers for the potions ingredients. Miranda had sent the poor clerk back and forth so many times before she approved of the salamander blood and unicorn horn, that he had muttered something comparing her to Professor Snape in terms of choosiness. She felt sorry for the young man, but she knew that she had succeeded in selecting specimens that would meet with Severus’s approval. Next, they had taken a turn through Thumbelina’s Things for Tykes to finger the outrageously priced baby trousseaux. The last stop before lunch had been Kircher’s Kabinet of Kuriosities. Miranda had been looking for something specific among the astonishing array of antiques, and it had taken her nearly an hour to find it.

“Romania is absolutely fascinating,” Miranda began, avoiding the topic she knew Rachel most wanted to discuss. She did this partly to tease her friend, and partly to put off the moment when she would have to decide exactly what to say about Severus. She had spent the morning deliberating, and she still had not quite settled on what she should share and what she should conceal. “Did you know that they don’t have a school?”

“No, I didn’t,” Rachel answered. “That does sound fascinating, but…”

“Some of the families send their children to Durmstrang,” Miranda interrupted, “but most of them stay in Romania and are trained by teachers called Solomnari. There are ten Solomnari, one for each district, and the children spend a year with each.”

“That must make for a varied education. Now, about…”

“They learn to ride dragons, if you can believe it. I hope I get the chance…”

“Miranda!” Rachel gave her as stern a look as was possible while still smiling. “You had better tell me what’s going on with tall, dark, and silent, or I’ll lose my temper.”

Miranda laughed. “You couldn’t be angry with me. But I’m glad you think he’s silent. He must have behaved the night of the party.”

“He was…intense, but polite. Is he not usually?”

“He’s got a mouth on him, that’s for sure.”

“As bad as Finnian’s?”

“Worse. Finnian had Patrick and Seamus to keep him in line, so he developed a filter. Although, in fairness, I usually find Severus’s remarks amusing. Usually. He’s also very intelligent and can be quite thoughtful when he wants to be. He took it upon himself to brew all the potions I’ll need for my first month in Romania when he really should be writing lesson plans.”

Rachel swallowed a forkful of pancake and lingonberry. “That’s sweet. How did you meet him?”

“At work.”

“Oh dear. Which case?”

“The vampire one. He wandered into the alley at just the right moment, so I made him my accomplice for the night.”

“It seems as though it’s been longer than a night.”

Miranda shrugged as she cut up a piece of sausage. “It’s been off and on. He’s completely devoted to his work.”

“I think a lot of teachers are.”

Miranda shook her head. “No, I don’t mean the work at Hogwarts.” She glanced around and, when she noted that the nearest patrons were on the other side of the dining room and deeply involved in what appeared to be an argument, she added quietly, “He’s in the Order and his assignment’s dodgy. I don’t know exactly what it is, but I gather that it’s not the safest thing in the world for him to have a relationship at the moment.” She hoped Rachel’s usually keen insight wouldn’t see through her bending the truth a bit. She decided not to add anything about the Voldemort connection. That was something that she hoped she would never have to discuss with the Lees. They were understanding, forgiving people, but Miranda doubted that they would be eager to have her involved with a Death Eater--even a former one.

Rachel looked thoughtful as she sipped her tea. “It sounds like it’s getting serious if you’re risking so much to be together.”

“No,” Miranda said lightly. “It’s a fling. A great fling, but a fling nonetheless.”

Rachel’s thoughtful look turned dubious.

“What?” Miranda asked, a little defensively. “I’m a grown woman. I can’t have a fling if I want to?”

“You know I wouldn’t judge you,” Rachel reassured her. “He just seemed so worried about you when he thought you’d gone missing the other night. I wonder if he cares more for you than you realize.”

Miranda blew on her coffee before answering. “I don’t think so. If I had to guess, I’d say that he’s in love with his childhood sweetheart.” She took a sip and added, “But I don’t mind. I don’t think he’s the marrying kind anyway. Hell, I don’t think I’m the marrying kind.” This was true, for the most part. Whatever pull Miranda might have felt towards something deeper than friendship and fucking was severely tempered by a desire not to be responsible for another wizard’s undying love and devotion. It hadn’t gone terribly well the first time and she was not eager to repeat the experiment.

“You used to be the marrying kind,” Rachel observed mildly.

Miranda sighed. “That was a long time ago. David was different. I was different.” She spooned some sugar into her mug and stirred it for a moment, watching the black liquid form a small whirlpool. “I expect that eventually I’ll go back home and Severus will stay here and I’ll have a lot of spicy stories to season my memoirs.”

Rachel was silent for a long time and when she finally spoke, it was with some hesitation. “Miranda, is it possible that this is really about Isaac?”

Miranda felt a wave of panic in the pit of her stomach. It had been years since anyone had dared to mention that name to her. Every muscle in her body tensed and she said icily, “I’m going to pretend that you didn’t bring him up.”

“So you haven’t told Severus about…”

“Of course not!” Miranda snapped. “And I’ll thank you to drop the subject.”

Rachel looked distressed and said softly, “I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just surprised, that’s all.”

Miranda took a deep breath to calm herself. She knew that Rachel meant well. She laid a hand over Rachel’s and said, “I’m sorry for snapping. I simply don’t want to talk about it.” Forcing a smile, she went on, “Tell me about the baby and the pregnancy instead. I want to hear every detail.”

*****

Severus flipped the pork shoulder with a flick of his wand. It was simmering quietly in its pot and the milk was well on its way to coagulating into a delicious brown mass. He had been dubious when Miranda had made this dish for him in the fall, insisting that her sister-in-law’s recipe was foolproof. She had proved her point, though, when the result of the three hour simmer had far surpassed the sum of the two simple ingredients. There was at least another hour left now before it would be ready, and he set the lid back in place for the duration.

The sun was low in the sky and he threw on his cloak to go out into the afternoon. The wind whipped violently off the Channel, and as soon as he was free of the wards surrounding the cabin, he Apparated to Miranda’s makeshift training ground five miles inland. He appeared with a crack in a clearing surrounded by gnarled, bare trees and covered in sloppy piles of melting snow. There had been a thaw during the last few days, and dirty puddles of water sat sullenly where the still frozen earth could not absorb them. The wizened trees did manage to block some of the wind and this, combined with a ring of torches that Miranda had conjured around the edge of the tree line, made outdoor training tolerable. Miranda was standing in the center of the clearing, hard at work with her wand when Severus found her.

“Expecto patronum,” she cast with a flourish. A silvery feline about twice the size of a house cat sprang forth and ran towards him. She turned and smiled at him as her Patronus circled him.

“A lynx?” he asked, studying the animal.

“No,” she corrected. “A bobcat.”

“I am not familiar with that particular breed.”

“They’re wild American cats.”

He smirked. “I would have expected something larger, although a wild cat does seem to suit you.”

“I wouldn’t scoff if I were you,” she chided. “A bobcat can bring down a deer if it wants to.”

His face must have shown his amusement, because she asked, “What’s so funny?”

He waved his wand and commanded, “Expecto patronum.” A silvery doe leapt from it and bounded around the clearing. Miranda started laughing and the bobcat stopped circling Severus in order to chase the doe. The witch and the wizard watched the Patroni chase one another until the shimmering beings disappeared behind the trees.

When they were gone, Miranda turned to Severus and asked, “Are you up for a sparring match?”

He stipulated, “If you are certain you have that thing under control.”

She had spent quite a bit of time practicing with the Alder in the cabin, which had resulted in a fair amount of destruction and minor injuries. Severus had found the process highly amusing to watch, although the wand had paid him back in spades on the one night they had spent at his quarters at Hogwarts. He had wanted to set her wand to open his door and, when he had cast the necessary spell, the blasted thing had shocked him. Miranda had laughed and said that her wand was very loyal to her. And, the more she learned to use it, the truer that seemed.

“It’s all in the way you talk to it,” she said.

Severus took this as answer enough, and they bowed formally to each other. They turned to mark their twenty paces, and then whirled back to cast the first attack in one fluid motion. Her white sparks and his red ones met and sizzled, but it was a languid exchange, more of a tease than anything. Another volley went forth, quicker and stronger the first, followed by a third, and a fourth.

Severus felt that Miranda did indeed have her wand under control and decided to test her further. If the truth were to be told, he was eager to see what she was made of. Without further preamble, he slashed his wand at her, and a whirlwind twisted out of the tip. She grinned wickedly when she saw it ripping its way across the clearing, spewing snow in all directions as it bore down on her. She snapped her wand violently, and a jet stream of hot air shot underneath the tornado. The windstorm slowly lost speed and, before Severus’s eyes, it started spinning back towards him. He darted away to give himself time to halt the spell.

By the time the tornado had fizzled into nothingness, Severus was underneath the canopy of the trees. Miranda was right behind him, and she flicked her wand to pull a branch down on his head. He blasted it in half, and she immediately brought down another. He deflected this one to her, but she vaulted it and it clattered harmlessly to the ground ten feet behind her.

As soon as she landed, he was ready with another wand flick and she was jerked into the air by her ankle. He had started to smile by now as she rose towards the tree branches.

“I’ll bet you do this to all the girls,” she quipped, sounding completely relaxed as she undid the clasp of her cloak and let it fall to the earth below her.

“That was my reason for inventing it,” he bantered back. “Although it is much more satisfying when the ladies in question neglect to wear trousers under their robes.”

“Ha! You’d have to ask awfully nice if you wanted that sort of a thrill.”

By this time, she had floated high enough to be among the tree branches and she slashed her wand at him, knocking him to the ground. With another slash, she liberated herself from his spell. In one motion, she pocketed her wand and caught hold of a nearby branch, swinging around it like a circus performer, and landed lightly in a squat on the upper side of it. She had her wand out as soon as she landed, and sent a string of hexes at him from her perch.

“Thanks for the high ground!” she laughed as he dodged her onslaught.

“A miscalculation on my part,” he returned. “I should have realized you were part monkey.”

After he had physically dodged the third hex, he was able to start parrying them with his own hexes, but could not make any advance on her.

“This will never do,” he chided.

Miranda had fallen into a somewhat predictable rhythm with her attacks, and Severus took advantage of the mistake to counter and thrust during one of the pauses. A shower of arrows appeared over her head, and she had to ignore him for a moment in order to turn them into a harmless spray of flowers. In the time it took her to do that, he sent a stream of ice onto the branch and trunk of her tree. She lost her balance on the branch and fell towards the earth, but she slowed her descent with a flick of her wand, hit the ground in a somersault, and rolled to her feet in a fluid motion.

He applied the ice spell to the ground between them, turning it into a treacherous path of frozen earth. She turned her attention to maintaining her balance, and he used the opportunity to snatch her wand out of her hand and call it to his.

“You naughty boy,” she purred, but she did not try to retrieve her wand immediately.

Instead, she backed away a few paces, and then charged him, going into a slide as she hit the icy patch. He was so focused on catching her wand, and so surprised by her physical attack that he made for easy prey. She crashed into him, feet first, and he went tumbling over her, landing awkwardly on his side. As she reached the end of the ice, Miranda pushed herself to her feet and snapped her fingers to call her wand back to her. Severus tried to keep hold of it, but the Alder wand started sending stabbing pains into his hand again, and he had to let go.

“What on earth was that?” he demanded, but he was having difficulty restraining his desire to laugh.

“The result of having four older brothers,” she replied jubilantly.

Her face was radiant with exertion and mirth, and Severus was distracted by its beauty long enough that she was halfway across the clearing before he realized that she was headed for the ruins of a stone wall and staircase tucked into the edge of it. He scrambled to his feet and gave chase, but he could not stop her from once again claiming the high ground.

She climbed to the top of the crumbling staircase and whirled back to him, just as he had managed to leap onto the lower part of the wall. As she flicked her wand, a massive, fork-tailed bird flew forth, shooting lightning bolts at him, to his astonishment. The first one grazed his shoulder, and he had to physically dodge the next bolt before he managed to cast a shield charm. The lightning slammed into his shield, knocking him backwards off of the wall, but the shield held firm. After a few moments of the attack, he noticed that there was a pause after every seventh bolt, and he used the opportunity to cast his favorite curse at her.

The Sectumsempra flew silently at Miranda, but she sensed its approach and deflected it to the side. It grazed her arm, neck, and cheek, causing her to lose her balance on the edge of the staircase. She let herself fall lightly and rolled across the wet snow. The Thunderbird disappeared and Severus bounded over the wall to her. She was lying on the ground, singing the quiet incantation to heal the wounds from his final curse.

“You have to show me that one again,” she said as he gave her his hand to pull her to her feet. “As in, right now. Where did you learn that?”

Pride expanded in his chest and he answered, “I invented it.”

“Of course you did. Where have you been all my life?”

She said it flippantly, and he knew that she meant it lightly, but it was a wonderful thing to hear all the same. In fact, he felt rather foolish and awkward at how good it was to hear, and he frowned slightly in order to cover the reaction.

Clearing his throat, he faced a nearby tree to demonstrate. “Sectumsempra,” he cast. The bark of the tree exploded as gashes appeared on the trunk.

It took her a few tries, but soon she was casting it as viciously as he always did.

“Show me how to cast the lightning bird spell,” he ordered, when she had mastered his curse.

“I’m afraid only Thunderbirds can do that. But there’s another one I can teach you,” she replied.

“I had no idea that barbarians were so exclusive until I met you.”

“We’re full of surprises,” she bantered back, her eyes twinkling. She turned back to the unfortunate tree and cried, “Fulgur!” Several bolts of lightning struck the already damaged trunk.

He followed suit, but instead of lightning, a shower of soot and ash spewed out of his wand.

She laughed out loud and said, “You’re not saying it correctly.”

“Excuse me?” He was torn between amusement and irritation.

“You’re rolling your ‘r.’”

He tried again to the same result and she laughed harder.

“You’re flipping it now. You have to sort of swallow it.”

“Are you saying that I have to butcher it the way you do?” he asked mockingly.

“Only if you want the spell to work.

He shook his head and then flicked his wand, imitating her lilting, mid-western twang perfectly. “Fulgur.”

Lightning struck the tree so sharply that it lit on fire. They extinguished it together with a fountain of water and exchanged a satisfied glance.

*****

Later that evening, after the pork and peas had been demolished, Severus set the last vial of Strengthening Solution in its box. Miranda was in her bedroom, haphazardly throwing items into her bag. He took his time tidying in the potions room so that he would not have to watch her do so, both because her cavalier attitude towards packing agitated him, and because he did not care to think about the next day. It had been a very comfortable Holiday and he was more disappointed than he cared to admit that it was ending. Once he had resigned himself to Miranda’s mission, they had settled into an agreeable routine of work and recreation. After that unfortunate New Year’s Eve, the Dark Lord had not deemed it necessary to summon Severus again, and even Albus had left him to himself. Severus had found that if he ignored some of the details regarding what exactly he and Miranda were preparing for in their work, he could pretend for brief stretches of time that his life was actually rather normal.

When he could dally with the potions no longer, he emerged into the main room and noticed a tin and a package wrapped in brown paper sitting on the table. They had not been there when he had gone into the potions room and, when he went to examine them, he saw that his name was written on the paper.

“Miranda,” he asked, “what is this?”

“It’s your birthday, isn’t it?” she called back from the bedroom. “Or don’t you civilized Brits remember each other’s birthdays?”

It had been at least ten years since anyone had remembered his birthday. He raised an eyebrow and opened the tin, discovering that it was full of toffee. He selected a piece to sample and found that it was indeed as good as Aaron had made it out to be. He closed his eyes as he swallowed it, hand already going back for another piece.

Severus’s father had never cared much for him or his mother. Severus had never understood why and certainly no one had ever talked about such matters. He had learned early that it was best to stay out of his parents’ way—his father’s because the man was free with insults and fists, his mother’s because she was usually exhausted and impatient with him. But there had been times when his father had been out of the house and his mother would make an effort to give him some attention. This had been particularly true once he had grown old enough to begin to use his magic purposefully rather than doing so accidentally. His mother had also managed, on his birthdays, to slip him a tin of some treat or other. Consumable presents were safer as there would be no evidence for his father to find. His father considered gift-giving a waste, and so nothing of the sort ever happened in the house, except secretly, once a year in January.

His mother had continued to send him a letter by owl to mark the day through early adulthood, but it had been years since she had done so. The last occasion he had spent any length of time with his mother had been just after his father had died. He had felt the need to attend the funeral—if only to see the corpse and know that the man was truly gone. He’d stayed a week with his mother then, settling matters with an irritating Muggle solicitor. He had noticed during that visit that she seemed to find him difficult to bear. He had gone to see her once or twice after that, but she had been withdrawn and had tended to flinch whenever he frowned. He didn’t understand why this was either, and he didn’t intend to ask her about it. He doubted she would have told him the answer even if he had asked. He had simply stopped visiting and stopped writing, and she had done the same.

“You’ll make yourself sick if you eat it so quickly,” Miranda teased as she came back into the main room.

“It’ll be worth it,” he muttered, but he forced himself to stop and put the lid back on the tin. He wasn’t a little boy hiding from his father anymore. He could save the rest to eat at leisure without fear of repercussion.

He picked up the other package and unwrapped it slowly. The brown paper gave way to reveal a silver cigarette case with a mosaic of a serpent on the cover. He flipped it open and found it was full of cigarettes.

“For when the Dark Lord gets tired of your cheek again,” Miranda said over her shoulder as she continued packing at her desk. “And that’s not all it does.”

“No?”

“Watch.” She pulled out her own case, set it on the desk, and started tapping on it.

Before his eyes, the tiny bits of colored stone rearranged themselves into a new pattern of dashes and dots. He flipped over the wrapping paper and saw that the key to the code was written on the back of it. It took him a few moments to decipher the message: HAPPY BIRTHDAY

She had turned back to her desk, and so he did not try to suppress his smile of pleasure. Slowly, with much reference to the code on the wrapping paper, he tapped back: THANK YOU

She paused in her packing to reply via code: YOU ARE WELCOME

He laboriously decoded her message and then sent one of his own: WHEN IS YOUR BIRTHDAY

She laughed and smiled at him over her shoulder before sending back: MAY 4

He fingered the case, enjoying the cool, smooth feel of the metal as he studied Miranda in the firelight. He slipped it into his pocket and felt rather as moved as he had been when she had presented him with the unexpected tebo harvest. He supposed that if he were less of an ass he would say something sentimental to her. But his mind, that was so quick to invent insults, was rather stunted when it came to praise. It seemed trite to speak of friendship, crass to speak of shagging—and dishonest to speak of anything else. So he said nothing at all.

He went back into the potions room and retrieved the box he had made for her. Bringing it to her, he silently set it on the desk, letting his fingers linger on the top of it. She smiled at the box when she saw it—she was so quick to smile—and put her hand on top of his. Their eyes met and he brought up his other hand to trace her cheek with his finger. Perhaps, for now at least, there was nothing that needed to be said.

*******

Sunday evening found Severus irritably pacing his sitting room at Hogwarts. He had finished most of his lesson plans that afternoon—although he had pointedly ignored the lessons that he most detested to give. Albus had demanded that he teach the Potter brat Occlumency and Severus was petulantly refusing to prepare. It was going to be a disaster, he knew that much already. Potter was completely unable to control himself. He wore his heart on his sleeve and Severus believed that it would take nothing short of a miracle to teach the boy.

Severus had argued heatedly that Albus should take on the task himself. After all, Potter liked Albus and the boy would probably make more of an effort for him. But nothing Severus had said had made any difference. Albus still insisted, and now all Severus could do was try and watch the experiment fail. He had stipulated that he be given use of Albus’s Pensieve. Severus did not want Potter anywhere near his mind, and there were certain memories that he wanted to ensure the boy never saw.

After half an hour of pacing, the glint of the cigarette case on his desk caught his attention. The corner of it was peeking out from beneath a scroll with the final month of the First Years’ plans. He sat down at his desk, intending to finish the scroll, but his eye kept moving to the case. Surely Miranda had only intended the thing be used to summon him to put her back together after the next time she got herself maimed. And, whatever her intention, she was probably asleep. It was almost eleven o’clock where Severus was, so it was close to one in the morning in Romania. But, despite all these reasons not to, he found himself tapping: ALBUS WANTS ME TO TEACH OCCLUMENCY TO POTTER

It took him some time to tap all of that as he had only just committed the code to memory. He almost put the thing away in a drawer of his desk, he felt like such a fool by the time he’d finished. He left it where it was, though, and went back to his scroll. And, before long, a message arranged itself back to him from Miranda: MY CONDOLENCES TO YOU BOTH WHAT IS ALBUS THINKING

Severus still felt like a fool, but he replied: I HAVE NO IDEA

And she answered: THAT SOUNDS LIKE A DISASTER

Lesson plan forgotten, he tapped: I AGREE HE WOULD NOT LET ME REFUSE

She replied: TRY NOT TO KILL POTTER

An idea to turn her sympathy to his advantage occurred to him: I MAY NEED SOME INCENTIVE

There was a pause, and he could almost hear her laughing. Finally, she replied: YOU ARE A BULLY

He smirked and tapped: I THOUGHT I WAS AN ASS

She answered: THAT TOO BUT I WILL MAKE IT WORTH YOUR WHILE FOR THE BOYS SAKE

He raised an eyebrow and asked: JUST FOR HIS SAKE

She replied: AND FOR YOURS AND I EXPECT I WILL ENJOY IT MYSELF

Pleased with her agreeableness, he set down the case and wrote another line or two of his lesson plan. But he found his eyes kept wandering to the serpent mosaic, and before long he had asked: HOW IS ROMANIA

The mosaic rearranged itself to say: IT IS BEAUTIFUL I WISH YOU WERE HERE TO SEE IT

Severus studied this message for a long time, hesitating to respond. But, finally, he replied honestly: SO DO I

---------------------

End Notes:

Thank you to the amazingly awesome Jo Raskoph for betaing this chapter! I am so grateful to you for your time and your insights!

The Kakure Kirishitans and the Tenchi are real and have a fascinating history. The Beginning of Heaven and Earth: The Sacred Book of Japan’s Hidden Christians, translated and annotated by Christal Whelan (1996 University of Hawai’i Press) is a great introduction to this if you’d like to know more. I totally made up the part about the Kakure Kirishitans coding magical knowledge into the Tenchi, though. I do think, if JKR’s world were real, such a thing could have happened.

The descriptions of the wand woods, cores, and flexibility were taken from pottermore.com.

If anyone missed it in chapter 6, Miranda’s living brothers in birth order are Patrick, Seamus, and Finnian.

The North Wind restaurant was inspired by the Norse folk tale, Peter and the North Wind.

The magical education system in Romania was inspired by Romanian folklore, which includes legends of wizards called Solomnari (singular, Solomnar) who live in caves and collect children with magical abilities in order to train them into future Solomanri. They also ride dragons.

------------------------------

Moonlight Masterpost+

<< Chapter Fourteen+

Chapter Sixteen+ >>

[getzdestinationstouandtravels]

Top places to Thailand for couples

The various wonderful islands which become private paradisiacal spots for the sightseers, the trademark warm springs, the various customary Thai spas, and the conventional Thai spas for unwinding, and tropical condition great islands of Thailand. There are various eye-infectious spots in Thailand, which makes it the best spot for couples. In case you're arranging an outing with your friends and family, get your Thailand Package.

Panviman Resort

Panviman Resort is situated in the biggest urban city regions in northern Thailand. It is developed high on the mountains; sitting over the pretty valley underneath, this inn is most likely the best spot for couples in Thailand. The spot state of Chiang Mai joined with the flawless workplaces' furniture made for the welcome for the guests. This retreat is among the best places to remain inside Thailand here.

Oriental Residence

Oriental Residence is one of the extravagant lodgings in Bangkok and presumably the best among inns in Thailand for couples to remain. The lodging lies in the prime zone in Bangkok and inside find around the attractions through strolling. It incorporates attractions like the prestigious Central Embassy, Lumpini Park, and Siam Paragon and Sea Life Bangkok Ocean World.

The lodging is close by the metro station that makes guests agreeable to likewise visit the close by spots of Bangkok.

Sala Phuket Resort and Spa

SALA Phuket is the must-visit goal to include in your container list. It is the highest extravagance resort in Phuket. The hotel is arranged about to the Mai Khao seashore and filled in as best for shopping in the city. They offer various top homerooms with wonderful gallery and manors. They give the best settlement of administrations. They offer heavenly eating close to the beach.

Aonang Cliff Beach Resort and Spa

An impeccable coastline resort with a wonderful review of the sea and close to the beaches and markets of Krabi. Aonang Resort is one of the best different alternatives in Thailand. The environment is ideal for couples to get to know each other. This hotel is a spending plan agreeable and gives the best administrations. This is favored as the best spot to stay in Thailand for honeymooners.

Guests can unwind on the private coastline or spend time with your accomplice in the pool. The inclines and the seas are impeccable to give you astonishing perspectives.

Dusit Thani Krabi Beach Resort

An extraordinary inn found close to the white sands of Klong Muong Beach, Dusit Thani Resort is presumably the best spot to stay in Thailand for an uncommon night. The scene around the lodging is affluent in an arrangement of notable beaches, rich timberlands and various falls incorporate the retreat. The magnificent feign courses of action of Krabi are a critical interest around the retreat.

They have various accommodation decisions with mind-boggling sea sees. The rooms are well-equipped, light and broad with each and every fundamental obligingness regardless, and a private exhibition where you can unwind in loosening up.

Pullman Pattaya

This is maybe the best housing in Thailand for an exceptional first night. It is a well-organized work of building all of the rooms gloats propelled products, floor-to-window rooftops with fantastic points of view on the city, and present-day solaces to satisfy all explorers. Witness the radiance of the spot by visiting notable voyager spots of Pattaya.

The zone is perfect it is accommodatingly close to all the shopping and business focal points of the city, and the train stations close by are an extra favored position. They have many devouring options similarly as bar choices to browse, yet the region is, for instance, to allow you the chance to go to extravagant diners close by. An overview of the best places to stay in Thailand for honeymooners is divided without this spot.

[prelaunchapartmentssouth-blog]

Embassy Springs Bangalore

Embassy Springs Villas & Apartments Project in Bangalore

Embassy Springs, a wonderful instance to describe how an ideal residence should be portrayed in order to cope up with the necessities of the current trends coupled with the architectural luminosity resulting in such stylish community venture. This pre-launch venture Embassy Springsendeavor by Embassy Group is Launched in Devanahalli as a…

[embassyprojectsblog]

Embassy Springs is a 288-acre residential township project in Devanahalli, Bangalore, off Kempegowda International Airport road. The project is designed by the Singapore-based Cicada PTE which spans over 288 acres and includes villa plots, villas, row homes, apartments, a school, a hospital, and commercial spaces. However, a significant amount of land is used for landscaping, water features, vegetation and amenities. Also, the size of the villa sites varies from 2100 to 5400 sq ft. 

[embassyprojectsindia]

5 Reasons Why Embassy Springs Villas are an Ideal Investment Opportunity

If you're looking to invest in real estate, Embassy Springs Villas could be the perfect opportunity. With luxurious amenities, a beautiful location, and a great return on investment, these villas are a prime choice. Here are five reasons why Embassy Springs Villas are an ideal investment opportunity.

Luxurious Villas at Embassy Springs

Embassy Springs Villas offer luxurious and spacious accommodation, with amenities such as swimming pools and private gardens. These villas boast a selection of impeccable services and facilities that are designed to create an unparalleled living experience. With its great location, Embassy Springs Villas also offer competitive prices for its villa plots, making it an ideal investment for those looking for a prime property in the area. Residents of these villas also enjoy access to a number of excellent amenities, such as world-class sports facilities and entertainment options. Whether you're looking for a home away from home or simply a place to relax, Embassy Springs Villas provide everything you need and more.

The villas are located in a secure gated community with 24-hour security for maximum peace of mind. Embassy Spring offers an exclusive living experience with top-of-the-line amenities and facilities. From luxurious swimming pools to state-of-the-art gyms, embassy spring villas have everything you need for a comfortable lifestyle. The villas have been designed for maximum energy efficiency and feature advanced home automation systems to ensure convenience. Security is paramount in embassy springs, making it the perfect place for families to settle down in luxury and comfort.

The villas also have access to all the facilities and amenities available within the Embassy Springs development All in all, embassy springs villas are the perfect choice for anyone seeking a luxurious and convenient lifestyle. The villas offer residents an oasis of tranquility and peace, while also providing access to all the facilities and amenities available within the Embassy Springs development. From world-class restaurants and shops to recreational activities, embassy springs villas offer a well-rounded lifestyle.

Reasons Why Embassy Springs Villas Make a Smart Investment

Embassy Springs villas are located in a secure gated community, making them a safe and reliable investment. The embassy spring is a luxurious residential and commercial development located in Devanahalli, Bangalore. It offers a secure, exclusive and safe life for the residents with world-class amenities such as wide roads, underground electrical wiring, sewage treatment, water supply and much more. The villas are strategically located close to multiple schools, healthcare facilities, shopping malls and all other major infrastructure. With its paved pathways and lush greenery, embassy springs villas provide an unparalleled living experience in one of the most sought-after locations in Bangalore.

The villas also come with a wide range of amenities, from swimming pools to sports courts, giving owners the chance to maximize their returns. Embassy Springs is one of the most sought-after communities in India, offering a wide variety of villas with modern amenities and elegant designs. The embassy springs villas not only come with luxurious interiors but also provide access to a range of recreational facilities such as golf courses, tennis courts and jogging tracks. These villas are conveniently located close to the city centre, making it an ideal investment option for those who want to get the most out of their property.

Furthermore, villas at Embassy Springs are located close to important infrastructure such as schools and hospitals, making them a convenient and attractive investment for potential buyers Thus, Embassy Springs villas offer the perfect combination of amenities and convenience for those looking to invest in real estate. With exceptional features such as luxurious pools, spacious floor plans, and numerous other world-class amenities, buyers are drawn to these residential spaces in droves. Furthermore, villas at Embassy Springs are located close to important infrastructure such as schools and hospitals, making them a convenient and attractive investment for potential buyers.

To Conclude

In conclusion, Embassy Springs Villas are an ideal investment opportunity for those looking for a luxurious lifestyle and great returns on their investment. With luxurious amenities, a beautiful location, and a great return on investment, these villas provide investors with an abundance of opportunities. Whether you’re looking for an income-generating asset or a place to call home, Embassy Springs Villas have it all.

[businessweekme]

The 16 Best New Restaurants Opening in 2019

The year ahead looks promising for London diners as high-profile chefs and restaurateurs from the U.K. and around the world prepare to open new restaurants, even in the face of Brexit concerns.

Here’s the ones we are most awaiting.

Bob Bob Cité

This long-awaited establishment in the City financial district is the baby brother of Bob Bob Ricard, one of London’s most glamorous restaurants. At the original, in Soho, each table is a booth equipped with a button to press for emergency supplies of Champagne. The new dining room in the Leadenhall Building (aka the Cheesegrater) will serve an accessible menu created by chef Eric Chavot, who previously held two Michelin stars at the Capital. The Russian owner, Leonid Shutov, says there have already been thousands of reservation requests. It’s been a long wait. The opening was earlier scheduled for January 2018. Bob Bob Ricard is known for posh comfort food such as lobster macaroni. 122 Leadenhall St., EC3V 4AB. Opening: March 25.

Adam Handling Chelsea

Adam Handling is a Scottish chef who first made his name in East London, serving modern British cuisine at the Frog. He’s edgy and creative and in some ways was a surprise choice to head the whole food operation at the luxury Belmond Cadogan Hotel. As chef-proprietor, he’ll be responsible for everything from breakfast, through afternoon tea to room service. But attention is focused on the flagship restaurant. “There will be six starters, six mains and six desserts, plus a tasting menu,” he says. “And we’ll be serving lots of old-school Burgundy and lots of Champagne by the glass. It is going to be very elegant.” (Chef Adam Simmonds will head the kitchen.) Handling is known for fun snacks such as cheese doughnuts and dishes such as mackerel with oyster, apple and cucumber. 75 Sloane St., SW1X 9SG. Opening: March 1.

Darby’s

Irish chef Robin Gill is best known for the Dairy, a quietly ambitious neighborhood restaurant in Clapham. The ambition is on an entirely different scale at Darby’s, opposite the new U.S. embassy in Nine Elms. This 5,000 square-foot (464 square-meter) establishment in a new development will feature a bakery, a 360-degree bar and an oyster bar, as well as an all-day dining room with an open kitchen. (Darby’s will also serve a dramatic sky pool that traverses to the next building.) There will be live music, too. “I took a lot of inspiration from big establishments like Balthazar and other places in New York,” Gill says. “There will be a big menu with dishes that people want to eat. It’s going to be old school, not current and fashionable.” Darby was his father’s nickname. It sounds like a labor of love. Dishes are likely to include burgers, steaks and lobster rolls. 3 Viaduct Gardens Road, Embassy Gardens, SW11 7AY. Opening: Late March.

Soutine

This St. John’s Wood establishment is the latest from the owners of the Wolseley, Chris Corbin and Jeremy King. It’s named after the Russian-French painter Chaim Soutine, and the menu will be largely French. “In terms of its role in the community, it will be similar to Fischer’s (Marylebone) and Colbert (Sloane Square),” King says, referencing two of the group’s other neighborhood restaurants. “But it will be individual and has been created for this location and this community. St. John’s Wood has fantastic heritage in terms of artists and that was the catalyst for the idea.” The group is best known for central European dishes such as schnitzel. 60 St John’s Wood High St., NW8 7SH. Opening: April.

Others to Watch

Chef Nathan Outlaw will open a seafood restaurant at the Goring hotel in Victoria in the “late spring.” Outlaw holds a total of three Michelin stars at his two fish restaurants in Cornwall. The Goring traces its history to 1910 and is a favorite of the royal family. Cronut king Dominique Ansel plans a second bakery in Covent Garden. Details are under wraps, and the New York-based chef won’t even disclose the exact location. The opening is scheduled for “late spring.” Claridge’s has plans for a new restaurant to replace Fera, which closed on Dec. 31.

There is widespread speculation it will be a New York import but the hotel won’t confirm and has no immediate plans for an announcement. Chef André Garrett has taken over as executive chef at the Corinthia hotel and plans a new direction for the Northall restaurant, with a menu incorporating a broad fish and seafood selection influenced by the Mediterranean. Chef James Lowe of Lyle’s and his general manager and business partner John Ogier plan to open a wine bar and bakery in Borough in the “spring/summer,” Eater London reported.

Lyle’s places at 38 in the World’s 50 Best Restaurants rankings. Lowe is known for seasonal dishes with just a few ingredients, such as beetroot, cured Gloucester Old Spot and horseradish. Chef Jason Atherton told Square Meal he plans to open a 16-seat restaurant called H.O.M.E. next to his flagship Pollen Street Social. Guests will buy tickets to dine on a set menu. (No details yet on the likely opening date.) Atherton holds a Michelin star at Pollen Street Social for dishes such as saddle of rabbit, pancetta, salt-baked turnips, tarragon. Spanish chef Quique Dacosta, who holds three Michelin stars at his flagship in Alicante, plans to open a restaurant in Fitzrovia in coming months. Details may be released next week, but it’s already known the focus will be on rice dishes and Spanish ingredients.

Dacosta is known for his modern cooking using local produce. D&D London, whose establishments include Sartoria, plan to open a 9,257-square-foot (860-square-meter) restaurant in the “spring” on the 14th floor of a new development, 120 Fenchurch St., adjacent to Leadenhall. Instagram favorite chef Salt Bae plans to open a U.K. outpost of his Nusr-Et steakhouse in the Park Tower Knightsbridge, later this year. No details have been announced. The Turkish chef is best known for the theatrical flourish with which he seasons steaks at the table. Nusr-Et has 18.6 million Instagram followers.

Allegra restaurant will open at the Stafford hotel, Queen Elizabeth Park, in April. Chef Patrick Powell, formerly of Chiltern Firehouse, will serve a modern European menu in the seventh-floor restaurant, opening out onto sky gardens. Chef-patron Jackson Boxer of  St Leonards will open Orasay in Notting Hill early this year with chef Andrew Clarke. The 50-seater restaurant on Kensington Park Road will focus on seafood. Boxer and Clarke are known for their cooking over an open fire. SpiceBox vegan curry restaurant will open in Walthamstow on Jan. 29 after a soft opening (with 50 percent off food) from Jan. 23-27. The former street-food operator will serve dishes such as jackfruit jalfrezi and a three-grain pilau.

The post The 16 Best New Restaurants Opening in 2019 appeared first on Bloomberg Businessweek Middle East.

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[neverwasmag]

In the late nineteenth and early twentieth century, Canada’s railway companies built grand hotels along the routes of the country’s burgeoning rail network. Many of these hotels were built in French château- and Scottish baronial-inspired styles, rich in dormers, towers and turrets.

When air travel started to compete with the railways in the second half of the twentieth century, many of the hotels struggled. Some were closed and torn down. The ones that survived are now national landmarks.

Let us take you on a tour of the grandest of Canada’s railway hotels.

Windsor Hotel, Montreal

The original Windsor Hotel, seen from what was then called the Saint James Cathedral in Montreal, Canada, 1897 (McCord Museum)

The Windsor Hotel in Montreal, Canada with the North Annex completed, 1906 (McCord Museum)

The first of the grand railway hotels, the Windsor, embodied the commercial success of Montreal, then Canada’s largest city.

It took a few years for the hotel to become successful, but by the turn of the century it had become the center of Montreal’s elite social life. A fire in 1906 provided the impetus for an expansion, doubling the number of rooms. During their royal tour of Canada in 1939, King George VI and Queen Elizabeth stayed at the Windsor.

Grand staircase of the Windsor Hotel in Montreal, Canada, 1878 (McCord Museum)

Rotunda of the Windsor Hotel in Montreal, Canada, circa 1878 (McCord Museum)

Dining room of the Windsor Hotel in Montreal, Canada, 1878 (McCord Museum)

Another fire destroyed a third of the hotel in 1957. The damage was so extensive this time that the original building had to be torn down entirely. The Windsor continued to operate out of the North Annex, built in 1906, but the hotel fell into decline. It closed in 1981. The North Annex is now an office building.

Banff Springs Hotel, Alberta

The original Banff Springs Hotel in Alberta, Canada, 1902 (Library of Congress)

The Banff Springs Hotel in Alberta, Canada, 1929 (William J. Oliver)

The Banff Springs Hotel in Alberta, Canada, 1966 (Wikimedia Commons/Robeyclark)

The Banff Springs Hotel in Alberta, Canada, September 17, 2017 (Wikimedia Commons/Stephen Swift)

Located in the Banff National Park of Alberta, the Banff Springs Hotel has gone through several iterations.

The original hotel, which opened in 1888, was an Alpine structure adorned with stone accents, dormers and turrets. But it had accidentally been built the wrong way around, with its back to the mountain vista. Expansions were made in 1902. Only four years later, plans were drawn up for a complete overhaul. Walter Painter, the architect, designed an eleven-story tower in concrete and stone, flanked by two wings, this time facing in the right direction. For a time, the so-called Painter Tower was the tallest building in the country.

Dining hall in the Banff Springs Hotel in Alberta, Canada, November 13, 2010 (Wikimedia Commons/Adam Jones)

Back terrace of the Banff Springs Hotel in Alberta, Canada, August 17, 2013 (Gregg Jaden)

Hallway in the Banff Springs Hotel in Alberta, Canada, November 3, 2013 (Wikimedia Commons/James Levy)

World War I delayed the completion of Painter’s plan. It wasn’t until after a fire in 1926 had destroyed what was left of the original hotel that his two wings were finally completed.

Place Viger, Montreal

Old postcard of the Place Viger in Montreal, Canada (McGill Library)

Aerial view of the Place Viger in Montreal, Canada, 1921 (British Library)

The Place Viger in Montreal, Canada, March 21, 2014 (Wikimedia Commons/Thomas1313)

Killing two birds with one stone, the Place Viger in Montreal served as both a railway station and a grand hotel. Built in the Châteauesque style, inspired by French Renaissance architecture, it opened its doors in 1898.

The Viger competed with the Windsor Hotel. The first was favored by French-speaking elites, the second catered to Anglophones.

When the city’s commercial center shifted northwest in the beginning of the twentieth century, the hotel lost its appeal. The Depression forced it out of business in 1935. The railway station continued to operate until 1951. The building was then converted into office space. A highway was built next to it in the 1970s, straight through the historical heart of the city, making the whole area undesirable.

In recent years, the Viger and its surroundings have seen a revival. The building is now home to apartments as well as offices.

The Empress, Victoria

Postcard of The Empress hotel in Victoria, Canada, circa 1908

View of The Empress hotel in Victoria, Canada in the late 1910s or early 1920s (J.S. Horne)

The Empress hotel in Victoria, Canada, August 1930 (F.P. Keen)

The Empress hotel in Victoria, Canada, September 25, 2005 (Steffen Sledz)

View toward the Inner Harbor of Victoria, Canada with the back of The Empress hotel on the left, May 25, 2008 (Pat David)

The Empress hotel in Victoria, Canada, May 1, 2017 (Wikimedia Commons/Dllu)

The Empress hotel in Victoria, British Columbia, was built in the first decade of the twentieth century to accommodate Canadian Pacific’s steamship service, whose main terminal was just one bloc away. When Canadian Pacific ceased its passenger services to the city, the hotel was successfully remarketed as a resort to tourists.

The interwar years were the hotel’s heydays. Edward, Prince of Wales waltzed into dawn in the Crystal Ballroom in 1919. His brother, then-King George VI, and his wife, Queen Elizabeth, attended a luncheon at the Empress in 1939. Shirley Temple, the American actress, stayed there to escape kidnapping threats in California.

In the 1960s, it looked like the Empress might be demolished to make way for a modern, high-rise hotel, but local opposition thwarted this (diabolical) plan. Instead, the hotel was renovated.

Another renovation followed in 1989, when a health club and indoor swimming pool were added. The most recent restoration was in 2017.

Château Laurier, Ottawa

1912 view of Ottawa, Canada with the Château Laurier and Union Station on the right (Ottawa, Library Bureau)

The grandest of Canada’s railway hotels

The Château Laurier in Ottawa, Canada, 1916 (Library and Archives Canada)

The Château Laurier in Ottawa, Canada, 1947 (BAnQ Vieux-Montréal)

The Château Laurier in Ottawa, Canada, August 28, 2010 (Michel Rathwell)

The Château Laurier in Ottawa, Canada, August 15, 2015 (Wikimedia Commons/Red Castle)

Built in tandem with Ottawa’s downtown Union Station between 1909 and 1912, the Château Laurier was built by Canada’s Grand Trunk Railway, which later merged into the Canadian National Railways. The hotel was named after Prime Minister Wilfrid Laurier, who supported its construction.

Although it looks French from the outside, the interior of the hotel is more English or Scottish. Until a restoration in the 1980s, the lobby featured dark-oak panelling and a railed gallery overlooking the double-height space and trophies of the hunt.

An east wing was added in 1929, adding 240 rooms to the hotel. An Art Deco-style swimming pool and spa were added the following year.

The hotel was the place to be and be seen in those years. Richard Bedford Bennett, a native of New Brunswick, lived in the Château Laurier during his stint as prime minister from 1930 to 1935. The Canadian Broadcasting Corporation’s English- and French-language radio stations operated out of the hotel’s top floors from 1924 to 2004.

Given its proximity to Parliament Hill, the American Embassy and other government buildings, and the fact that it has hosted many political meetings over the years, the hotel is sometimes referred to as “the third chamber of Parliament���.

Fort Garry Hotel, Winnipeg

Postcard of the Fort Garry Hotel in Winnipeg, Canada, 1920 (University of Alberta Libraries)

Hand-colored photograph of the Fort Garry Hotel in Winnipeg, Canada, post 1920 (University of Alberta Libraries)

The Fort Garry Hotel in Winnipeg, Canada, post 1920 (University of Alberta Libraries)

The Fort Garry Hotel in Winnipeg, Canada, September 22, 2017 (Jessica Losorata)

Also built by the Grand Trunk Railway, the Fort Garry Hotel was the largest building in Winnipeg, Manitoba when it opened in 1913. The architecture was inspired by the Château Laurier as well as the Plaza Hotel of New York, which had been built six years earlier.

Canadian National Railways took over the hotel when it acquired the Grand Trunk Pacific Railway in 1920. The prominent John Draper Perrin family of Winnipeg bought it in 1979. It was later operated by a Quebecer hotelier. Now it is an independent hotel again.

Royal York, Toronto

The skyline of Toronto, Canada with the Royal York on the left, 1930 (Wikimedia Commons)

1945 advertisement for the Royal York in Toronto, Canada (BPL)

The Royal York in Toronto, Canada, August 27, 2007 (Lord of the Wings)

The Royal York in Toronto, Canada, July 30, 2010 (Udo Dengler)

The Royal York in Toronto, Canada, July 18, 2017 (Robin Stevens)

Lobby of the Royal York in Toronto, Canada, July 28, 2017 (Viv Lynch)

Built across the street from Toronto’s Union Station, the Royal York was the tallest building in the British Empire when it opened its doors in 1929. It was state-of-the-art. The hotel had ten elevators to reach all 28 floors. All 1,048 rooms were equipped with radios and private showers. Amenities included a concert hall and a golf course. Opening night, on June 11, 1929, was the city’s most exciting social event of the year.

The hotel was modernized in the early 1970s. The marble pillars in the lobby were covered with wood panelling, contemporary wall lamps were added and the rugs were replaced with carpet.

Some of these changes were reversed in the late 1980s, when the Royal York underwent a $100-million restoration. A health club and pool were also added. The hotel’s in-house nightclub, the Imperial Room, was converted into a ballroom and meeting hall.

The Bessborough, Saskatoon

The Bessborough Hotel in Saskatoon Canada, May 14, 1985 (The StarPhoenix)

The Bessborough Hotel in Saskatoon Canada, May 21, 2015 (Robert Linsdell)

The Bessborough Hotel in Saskatoon Canada, June 16, 2017 (Ted McGrath)

The Bessborough (or “Bess”) in Saskatoon, the largest city of Saskatchewan, was built by the Canadian National Railway in the early 1930s. Deliberately resembling a Bavarian castle, the hotel was named after the governor general of Canada at the time, Sir Vere Ponsonby, the Earl of Bessborough.

The Depression delayed the hotel’s opening until 1935. It was hailed as a sign of progress for what was still a relatively small city at the time. A railway hotel put Saskatoon on the map.

A $9-million restoration was completed in 1999 to return many of the hotel’s historical features.

A tour of the grandest of Canada's railway hotels, built in the late 1800s and early 1900s In the late nineteenth and early twentieth century, Canada's railway companies built grand hotels along the routes of the country's burgeoning rail network.

[architectnews]

Mercer Walk Covent Garden

Mercer Walk Covent Garden, 13-14 Langley Street London Renovation, Building Restoration, Architecture Photos

Mercer Walk Covent Garden, London

post updated 4 Dec 2020 ; 23 Nov 2017

13-14 Langley Street Refurbishment

Design: Ian Ritchie Architects Ltd

Location: between Mercer Street and Langley Street, Covent Garden, London, UK

photograph © Peter Langdown

Mercer Walk in Covent Garden

The Mercers’ Company, a City of London Livery Company established by Royal Charter in 1394, commissioned Ian Ritchie Architects to develop the space between Mercer Street and Langley Street in Covent Garden. The £22m scheme was completed in November 2016 with tenants taking occupation through to Spring 2017.

The design enhances and complements the surrounding urban realm and was applauded as outstanding by Westminster City Council planning committee when permission was granted. Simple, elegant and beautifully detailed groups of individual buildings reflect the historic typology and architectural appeal of the area.

A new, contemporary central piazza forms the focal point of the development, accessed from both Langley and Mercer Streets. The development is part of a new pedestrian route from Upper St Martins’ Lane to Neal Street, with the last link from Langley Street to Neal Street yet to be completed.

The piazza is orientated to optimise sun exposure. Blue Belgian Limestone slabs and setts and white granite setts are arranged in a regular chequered pattern along the streets, giving way to a more elaborate pavement design in the piazza’s centre.

photos © Peter Langdown

The refurbishment of 13-14 Langley Street, an original 19th Century Covent Garden warehouse, to create a new flagship retail store within visual reach of the busy Long Acre–Langley Street junction provides an architectural feature designed to draw pedestrians in from Long Acre. Brick bands on the retained east façade wrap onto the rebuilt south façade and determine the proportions of the three large, multi-story vertical and arched glazed openings whose detailing recalls the adjoining brewery buildings in Shelton Street.

photograph © Eva Menuhin

The three new mixed-use buildings provide retail and restaurant space at ground and basement levels with 24 residential apartments on the upper floors. The North Building is formed around one central core. The South-East and South-West Buildings share a residential courtyard. A 4-story cast aluminium screen marks the entrance to the courtyard and creates a visual link between the central piazza and Langley Street. Behind it the buildings are linked by covered walkways at each floor.

photo © Eva Menuhin

The new buildings are faced in different colours of brick to ensure continuity with existing buildings in the area. The window reveals for each building are distinct yet subtle variations of the Georgian window style found throughout Covent Garden. All the residential apartments have external space in the form of loggias. Set back within the building’s footprint, they create a distinct language for each building.

The unusual, intricately detailed cast aluminium folding privacy screens for the loggias are a key architectural feature of the development. In various bright colours, they contrast with each individual building’s brickwork, giving liveliness and visual delight to the courtyard.

Ian Ritchie Architects have since been commissioned to do Phase 2 of Mercer Walk, which is the internal transformation of the building on Long Acre.

photograph © Grant Smith

Architecture Awards:

RICS Awards (London) – Regeneration: Finalist (2018) Constructing Excellence Awards – Building of the Year (London and South East): Winner (2017) WAF Awards – Mixed-use: Completed Buildings: Finalist (2017) WAF Awards – Best Use of Colour Prize: Finalist (2017) The Building Awards – Building Magazine Project of the Year: Finalist (2017)

Ian Ritchie Architects 110 Three Colt Street London E14 8AZContact Us +44 (0)20 7338 1100 mail@ianritchiearchitects.co.uk

Ian Ritchie Architects

Mercer Walk Covent Garden London building images / information received 041220

Location: 13-14 Langley Street, Covent Garden, central London, England, UK

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Covent Garden London Market Covent Garden London Market

Covent Garden Flower Cellars Design: Kohn Pedersen Fox Associates Covent Garden Flower Cellars

New Covent Garden Market Railway Arches Building Renewal Design: Neil Tomlinson Architects photograph courtesy Neil Tomlinson Architects

Embassy Gardens image from Wandsworth Council Embassy Gardens – One Nine Elms

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Comments / photos for the Mercer Walk Covent Garden at 13-14 Langley Street page welcome

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Friday, December 4, 2020

Swamped hospitals scramble for pandemic help (AP) U.S. hospitals slammed with COVID-19 patients are trying to lure nurses and doctors out of retirement, recruiting students and new graduates who have yet to earn their licenses and offering eye-popping salaries in a desperate bid to ease staffing shortages. With the virus surging from coast to coast, the number of patients in the hospital with the virus has more than doubled over the past month to a record high of nearly 100,000, pushing medical centers and health care workers to the breaking point. Nurses are increasingly burned out and getting sick on the job. Nurses who work in intensive care and on medical-surgical floors are the most in demand. Employers also are willing to pay extra for nurses who can show up on short notice and work 48 or 60 hours per week instead of the standard 36.

Hopes for new stimulus package (NYT) Independent economists overwhelmingly favor the passage of more stimulus money before the end of the year—and the prospects for such a bill seem to be improving. Democratic leaders in Congress yesterday signaled their openness to a bipartisan $908 billion stimulus package. The next move is up to Mitch McConnell and other Senate Republicans. The economy already seems to have slowed in recent weeks, as virus caseloads have risen. And the situation will probably worsen if Congress does not pass another stimulus. Many provisions enacted since the spring are set to end on Dec. 31. Among the effects: About seven million freelancers, contract workers and other Americans who don’t qualify for traditional jobless benefits will lose their emergency aid. On average, it now equals $1,058 a month. / Close to five million more people who have been out of work for at least six months will also be cut off from aid—which now averages $1,253 a month. The usual limit on jobless benefits is 26 weeks, and a provision that extended it to 39 weeks is expiring. / Several million people could face eviction from their homes, because a federal moratorium will expire. / About 21 million people will have to begin making student-loan payments again. Moody’s Analytics forecasts that without more aid, the economy will fall into a new recession early next year.

Mexico’s president acknowledges end to killings far away (AP) President Andrés Manuel López Obrador took office two years ago promising to transform Mexico, but he acknowledged Tuesday that some pledges have been hard to keep. The president said in a sober, restrained ceremony marking his second anniversary in office that “there is still a long way to go to bring peace to the country.” Homicide rates have barely budged from his predecessor’s last year in office, with Mexico still registering about 3,000 homicides per month. Nor has the coronavirus pandemic slowed the killings, though the disease itself has killed about 106,000 people in Mexico and has devastated the economy. López Obrador touted progress in the fight against corruption and in government building projects, and claimed that over 70% of Mexicans want him to go on governing.

Voluntary and free: Portugal approves COVID-19 vaccination plan (Reuters) Portugal on Thursday announced plans to vaccinate people against the coronavirus voluntarily and free of charge, and said it hoped to inoculate nearly 10% of the population during the first phase that will kick off next month. Priority will be given to those over 50 with pre-existing conditions, such as coronary disease or lung problems, frontline professionals from sectors such as health, military and security, as well as people in care homes and intensive care units. Shots will be administered at 1,200 vaccination points in health centres across the country. Another 2.7 million people will get vaccinated during the second phase of the plan, including those aged 65 and over, and the rest of the population is expected to be vaccinated during a third phase.

Pandemic silver lining: empty Paris hotel shelters the homeless (Reuters) In normal times the Hotel Avenir Montmartre is a tourist magnet with its views of the Eiffel Tower and the Sacre Coeur church, but COVID-19 has scared off the usual guests. Instead, the hotel has opened its doors to the homeless. The hotel’s management have, for a year, handed over their rooms to homeless charity Emmaus Solidarite, which is now using them to accommodate people who would otherwise be on the streets. At the Hotel Avenir Montmartre, the cost of his room is covered by the charity. Residents receive three meals a day in the hotel’s breakfast room, and each room has a television and an en suite shower room. For the charity, the hotel provides a safe base from which they can try to help rebuild residents’ lives.

Azerbaijan fully reclaims lands around Nagorno-Karabakh (AP) Azerbaijan on Tuesday completed reclaiming territory held by Armenian forces for more than a quarter-century after a peace deal ended six weeks of fierce fighting over Nagorno-Karabakh. Nagorno-Karabakh lies within Azerbaijan but has been under the control of ethnic Armenian forces backed by Armenia since a separatist war there ended in 1994. That conflict left not only Nagorno-Karabakh itself but large chunks of surrounding lands in Armenian hands. In 44 days of heavy fighting that began on Sept. 27, the Azerbaijani military routed Armenian forces and moved deep into Nagorno-Karabakh, forcing Armenia to accept a Russia-brokered peace deal that took effect Nov. 10. The agreement saw the return to Azerbaijan of a significant part of Nagorno-Karabakh and also required Armenia to hand over all of the regions it held outside the separatist region. Russia deployed nearly 2,000 peacekeepers for at least five years to monitor the peace deal and help the return of refugees. The Russian troops will also ensure safe transit between Nagorno-Karabakh and Armenia across the Lachin region.

Islamophobia in India (Foreign Policy) A Muslim man in the Indian state of Uttar Pradesh has been arrested by police for allegedly attempting to convert a Hindu woman to Islam. The man’s arrest is the first under the state’s new law which prohibits “forced” religious conversions, which critics say is Islamophobic and is designed to forcibly segregate religious groups. The arrest comes after recent depictions of interfaith couples in Indian media were condemned by right-wing Hindu groups. Four other states, which like Uttar Pradesh are ruled by the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), are planning to pass their own laws targeting interfaith marriage.

South Korea’s university entrance exams were stressful enough. Then a pandemic arrived. (Washington Post) The biggest mission for Jo Yong-seok this week has been to keep coronavirus out of his Seoul home, where his 18-year-old son is studying 15 hours a day for the most important exam of his lifetime. On Thursday, nearly half a million students are taking the annual College Scholastic Ability Test. Known as suneung in Korean, it’s a multiple-choice standardized test similar to SATs, but with considerably higher stakes in education-obsessed South Korea. The eight-hour exam determines not only which university the younger Jo can attend, but also his future career opportunities, social standing and even marriage prospects. Students spend days and long evenings at expensive private cram schools preparing for the hypercompetitive exam. Only this time, there was a pandemic. South Korea is struggling to contain a third wave of the coronavirus. The elder Jo, determined not to infect his son, has avoided seeing friends and gave up his favorite pastime of hiking. He even offered to forgo family meals and dine separately until the day of his son’s exam. “My son has been studying all these years for this one day,” he said. “I can’t let the virus ruin it.”

Iran Moves to Increase Uranium Enrichment and Bar Nuclear Inspectors (NYT) Iran responded Wednesday to the assassination of its top nuclear scientist by enacting a law ordering an immediate ramping up of its enrichment of uranium to levels closer to weapons-grade fuel. The measure also requires the expulsion of international nuclear inspectors if American sanctions are not lifted by early February, posing a direct challenge to President-elect Joseph R. Biden Jr. It was not clear whether the action was the totality of the Iranian response to the killing of the scientist, Mohsen Fakhrizadeh, whom American and Israeli intelligence agencies regarded as the guiding force of past efforts by Tehran to design a nuclear weapon, or whether more was to come. Iranian officials have vowed to avenge his killing. Just three weeks ago, after news of modest advances in the size of Iran’s nuclear stockpile, Mr. Trump asked his advisers about military options to stop the country from producing the fuel. He was talked out of considering an attack by Secretary of State Mike Pompeo, one of the fiercest of the Iran hawks in the administration, and the chairman of the Joint Chiefs, Gen. Mark A. Milley, among other senior officials.

U.S. to withdraw some Baghdad embassy staff as tensions with Iran and its allies spike (Washington Post) The U.S. government has decided to withdraw some staff from its embassy in Baghdad through the final weeks of the Trump administration, officials say, as tensions rise throughout the region. A person familiar with the withdrawal described it as a temporary “de-risking” that will continue after the Jan. 3 anniversary of the slaying of senior Iranian military leader Qasem Soleimani last year by a U.S. drone strike in Baghdad. The individual spoke on the condition of anonymity to discuss security matters. The number of personnel to be withdrawn was unclear. The department official said that U.S. Ambassador Matthew Tueller would remain in Iraq and that the embassy would continue to operate.

Old Business (NYT) When it comes to companies that have been in operation for a long time, Japan is chock-full of them. It’s home to over 33,000 businesses that have been in operation for over 100 years. While that’s a great run that makes for some fun trivia for some well-known companies—Nintendo is 131 years old! They first sold playing cards!—there are other businesses in an entirely different league, including 3,100 that have existed for more than 200 years, 140 that have been around for 500 years, and at least 19 that have generally accepted claims of continuous operation since the first millennium. One of these companies, Ichiwa, sells mochi, another named Tanaka Iga Butsugu has made Buddhist religious supplies since 885.