#I was originally going to make Julie's hair a shadow rather than clouds but decided against it.

[funyiipp]

Wahoo! Reference sheet. (I chose the name Wallerius because I just looked up 'names that start with Wall' and liked how that one sounded. I think it fits this version of the little guy.)

Uhhh something, something Dreamscape Julie (Juliette) THAT'S RIGHT YOU GET TWOOOO ART PIECES TODAY.

(you should feel special)

Also, uhh. I feel like I should reiterate so people know: If you make art of my AU you're going to have to tag me because my ass will NOT see it otherwise. I do not get on Tumblr often outside of posting and check my notifications only at 12:00 AM (EST) and whenever I wake up the next morning. Lmfao.

Anyway, BYEEEEEEE!!!!

[cranehusbands]

the sharp end of a dull blade

felix hugo fraldarius/hubert von vestra; canon compliant; white clouds; pre-relationship, realisation of feelings; one-sided(?); no cws. 2791 words

a/n: yippee i did it. after realising im a little sleepy bitch and not wanting to fight my wifi to post, i ended up going from seven fics to four and im saving one of my original plots for edelgard rarepair week at the end of july so. we stay silly. happy fire emblem everybody

likes < reblogs, any comments in the tags are appreciated!

ao3 mirror in the reblogs!

“Do you think there is any merit to his incessant exclamations?” 

The question posed to Hubert was one he should have answered quickly as assuredly, as he did with most everything else. This time, however, it had been a query that did not, in fact, register to him as anything more than white noise. Hands behind his back, stood in the shadows of the training grounds as if the sun would burn the flesh from his bones, the mage was enraptured by the scene before him. It was like some wanton war dance, watching two bodies go back and forth in training, at something of a constant near stalemate, though it was clear to most anyone who was winning. The two artists in question were as different from each other as one could conjure; the first was Ferdinand von Aegir, the irritating, annoying pest that he was, hair sticking to his forehead as he grinned through exhaustive breaths. The second, and clearly not struggling as much to keep up with a constant barrage of strength and speed, was Felix Hugo Fraldarius, a future duke from the Kingdom, armed with his sword and a stern expression. For every time Ferdinand launched an attack toward the boy, Felix parried with ease; and every time Felix took advantage of Ferdinand’s momentary weakness, it was a wonder he wasn’t knocked over onto his behind. His eyes narrowed, watching Ferdinand swing to the side at a rather wide angle in some grandiose, but predictable, sweeping motion, giving Felix enough time to jump back before striking just at the base of his opponent’s ribs in a fierce jab, the blow finally strong enough to knock the wind out of Ferdinand’s metaphorical sails, and more literally to the floor, with a loud and rather surprised cry.

The win of their little duel had been decided the moment it had been proposed. While a talented lance man- a compliment Hubert would take to his grave, for he suspected if Ferdinand knew his training was being both observed and praised, no one would hear the end of it- he was simply too far outmatched in this particular duel. Though lithe and of shorter stature, Felix carried strength in all the correct places, his sword an extension of himself and that power rather than some glorified flagpole to wave around. His weapon struck true at every opportunity it could, and remained reigned and close enough to defend himself when there was none. He was a burning flame, patient, powerful and well-trained for now, but he had the capacity to burn brighter, and faster, and wilder still- perhaps, if he were not from Faerghus, he could make a fine addition to the Imperial army- 

“Hubert? Are you listening to me?”

Hubert blinked himself out of his trance, watching as Ferdinand pushed himself to his feet with a gleeful, too-loud laugh, looking to Edelgard stood at his side. The two of them had taken refuge in the shade, together, at the insistence of the future prime minister (“I want the both of you to witness my might and resolve!” he had said, stupidly, with that stupid smile on his face). That was the only reason he had ventured out here at all. 

He gripped onto his wrist behind his back tighter, silently admonishing himself for such a childish display of distraction. “I… apologise, Lady Edelgard.”

The young woman raised an eyebrow up at him, apparently disregarding his shame and simply repeating herself instead. “I was asking about Ferdinand.”

“And what of him?”

“Do you think his claims hold any merit- about his ability to surpass me?”

Hubert ran his tongue alongside the back of his teeth in minor vexation. He knew of what she spoke- after all, it was harder to not hear of such assertions, spoken so assuredly as if they were already true, despite how inexcusable, childish, and overall- incredibly, undeniably wrong they were. But more importantly, he understood her true meaning. They were, after all, so close to seeing their plan to fruition. She wanted to know if this was going to be a threat- if someone such as Ferdinand could undo most everything they had worked hard to achieve. Such a thought could have made him laugh out loud, but Hubert kept himself measured and schooled with ease. “Absolutely not.”

Edelgard hummed, as if this was the answer she expected, looking back out to the training grounds again. “And has anyone else caught your attention?”

The mage paused, glancing down at the floor to consider for a moment. He knew exactly what she meant by such a statement, and had no interest in sabotaging their plans for the future by asking for clarification. Through his bangs, he was slow to meet the slender form of the swordsman he was just observing, cleaning his training blade and trying to pretend his opponent was not there, begging for a rematch. “...Perhaps so.”

The day continued on quickly, soon turning to night. And, just like most other nights, Hubert did not find sleep easy. Years spent watching over his charge, in case the night decided to be cruel to her, in combination with his own afflictions of paranoia, meant that the night was not for rest. It was instead meant for keeping busy, be it in his own experiments or other various machinations not known to his classmates or even his lady whom he served so loyally- dealing with problematic elements that may get in the way of their plans for the future, such as enemies within the school and faculty, or those who simply knew too much, as well as seeking out any possible sympathetic individuals. Edelgard doubted their professor’s loyalty- Hubert needed to make sure to pad out their armies for the oncoming war as much as possible. That was the excuse he used to return to the training grounds, lamenting where his feet had taken him as the moon hung over him like an ever present watcher, full of ire as he stared at the door. Just what was he hoping to find there? A glimpse of that same fire he had seen in the afternoon, flickering and burning just as it was then, now all for himself? Hubert growled to himself as he pushed through the door with both hands-

-And the fire still flickered, just as he had dared to hoped it would.

Felix did not turn to face him as he entered the training grounds, despite the loud groaning of the old doors, continuing with the repetitive swing of the sword he once again held, or perhaps never put down again. He was still in the training grounds by the time Hubert had left with Edelgard and Ferdinand for lunch, already taking a new challenger after all attempts his last one made to gain a rematch had failed (as they had been thoroughly ignored, with admirable decorum), so he did not doubt the boy had remained throughout the afternoon late into the evening, that had swiftly become night.

The mage kept his arms behind his back, watching with mild interest at the strength Felix carried in his movements, how his shoulders moved and strained beneath his uniform with the swiftness of the weapon cutting through the cool midnight air, almost as efficiently as any well trained soldier. He really would make a fine general. If only he was to fight on the right side of history, then such skill would not be put to waste. 

There was a moment or two more, where the wind was cut in two, before the movements stopped and Felix straightened his posture. A sigh left him, annoyed and heavy, before he lowered his sword to turn with a glower, just enough to shoot it in the other man’s direction. “You. What do you want?”

Hubert did not know. He lied anyway. “I came to watch you train. Is that an issue?”

“You watched me enough this afternoon. What more could there possibly be to see?”

Behind his back, he flexed a hand, with a gentle hum of acknowledgement as Felix fully turned to face him, stance defensive (though not fearful, or even apprehensive, as many other students would be, if they were to face the mage this late into the night) and sword still in hand. “There’s no gauge for ‘enough’, with things of this nature.”

“Fighting is not a spectator sport.” He had little patience for most people, and Hubert was not exempt from such a rule. “Either you pick up a weapon and duel me, or you leave.”

There was something of a subtle grimace that passed over the mage’s features, there and gone just as quickly, at such behaviour- though, such inhospitality could hardly be criticised, especially by him, a man whose few conversations began and ended with his devotion and his purpose, but never himself. It wasn't as if he considered Felix’s sentiments to be wrong, either- time was a precious and finite commodity, and needed to be used wisely, whether it be for training for an unspecified purpose or following the whims of a woman meant for greater things. 

Hubert’s eyes moved over to the rack of weapons towards the back, to the sword and axes and lances maintained to perfection. He has not picked up such a martial thing in many years, not since he was a small, stupid and weak boy of barely seven, attempting to try and wield a lance far too big for his tiny, frail form, in some futile attempt to follow a nonsensical pipe dream of becoming a pegasus knight. This, of course, had been before he'd had the sense knocked into him, metaphorically and literally, and the idea that he was anything more than an extension of his lady’s will of change was snuffed out soon after. His attention had been turned to magic after that, and it had served his purposes far better than a weapon of traditional means ever would. Still… even despite himself, he found himself considering it once more, a feeling stirring in him that hadn't been there since he could remember. 

Hubert looked back to Felix, still staring at him expectantly, standing entirely still. “...I am hardly the strong opponent you seek.”

There was a hum of consideration, as the mage was observed again, eyes sweeping up and down, as if evaluating the worth of facing an adversary that wouldn't advance his battle prowess. It was odd to watch, the sweeping of feelings in subtle changes in features, from disinterest to curiosity to want- want, Hubert thought with some bitter amusement- before Felix spoke again. “...I don't care. Now arm yourself, or leave me be.”

He considered the swordsman for a moment, as he turned away once more, assuming the same position as before, as if expecting the door to the training grounds to open and close again. Hubert ground his teeth for a moment, biting down to stop an unnecessary errant comment, still holding onto the feeling that recalling a time before his vassalage, and the feeling of being wanted, if only for a moment, and only for a purpose. He swallowed, pausing for a moment more, before striding past Felix towards the weapon rack, and unsheathing a wooden lance, the weight unfamiliar in his hands. 

And for a moment, he swore he saw the beginnings of a smile on Felix’s face. 

Such joy, however, did not last long. Like Hubert had said, he was not strong with a lance, not experienced in such a field. Though he held the advantage of height over his opponent, it was a factor that hardly mattered at all- Felix just had too much strength and ferocity for Hubert to block and, much like the bout he’d witnessed earlier in the afternoon, his own swings with the lance were too wide and too sloppy, easily being dodged out of the way like passing wind His anger at his own inadequacy only made this problem worse, too, especially with the off-handed comments about his technique that we're spoken so assuredly, as if they were wanted or asked for. If this had been a match between the sword and his magic, perhaps it could have been more evenly matched- a manipulation of Mire, maybe, to make the terrain temporarily difficult, or make movements more sluggish. But even then, the assault was relentless, and the margin for victory was only slightly more open, if the mage was able to use the tools he was more comfortable with. 

Even in the cold air of the evening, he could feel his shirt sticking to the back of his neck from the sweat of exertion. His lungs felt like they were on fire, though not more ablaze than the man in front of him, caught in the rush of the fight as he went for another swing to the side. Hubert barely had time to block with the length of his lance, but by then, it was already too late- the end of the sword jabbed into his ribs, sucking the air out of his lungs as he stumbled backwards, the world around him going white for a moment as he fell backwards.

The lance clattered to the floor, unceremoniously landing a foot or so in front of him as he joined it with a sharp intake of breath, fire shooting up his spine at the pain of his tailbone hitting the dirt. Hubert gritted his teeth into a grimace, before he growled, hair hiding his face in his embarrassment, "This is useless, and a waste of my time.”

“You’re not taking this seriously.”

The mage gave a huff of indignation, as his eyes shot up again in a glare. “Now why, pray tell, would I not be taking this seriously? You were the one who insisted I stayed, and I obliged, in a way I now see was a regrettable decision, so I ask that you don’t speak of this to anyone and-”

His ramblings were cut short by the feeling of the training lance hitting his foot. Hubert glanced up, assuming from posture that Felix had kicked the weapon over to him again.

“…What are you doing?”

“Pick it up.”

“What? No, this is absurd, and pointless. Now if you don’t mind-”

The end of the blade (not sharp, but the formation of the weapon tricked his brain into thinking as much for a second or two) pressed against his throat, just under his chin, bringing the mage to disconcerting silence and stillness. Hubert looked up again at the future duke, amber eyes narrowed in a mix of discontent and curiosity, but most importantly a hunger- to fight or to teach, he could not surmise.

“You aren’t a lost cause, mage. Your lancework needs improvement, but it isn't hopeless. Now pick up your weapon and fight me.”

His throat bobbed in a swallow against the dull point of the training sword, unable to take his eyes off Felix standing over him, barely breaking a sweat from their fight, and a star as cool as steel. If this were a battlefield, if that had been a real sword, Hubert may have delighted in the thrill of having the weapon pressed further into his skin, where blood more than likely would have begun to trickle from a superficial wound, dripping down the lines of his throat and into his shirt. He may even dare to delight in it now, staring up at a face of power and irritation. 

Lady Edelgard needed strong soldiers- powerful soldiers, willing to fight until their dying breath. Felix’s loyalty could not be spoken for, but he was certainly discontented with his position within the Kingdom. If that discontent could be twisted, moulded into something new if the fire could be tamed, it could burn even brighter on new coals. And, perhaps, this was something selfish as well, if Hubert could allow himself that. If he could allow himself a want, to see this wild thing grow into himself and his craft, with the right force at his back to guide his sword. If he could allow himself to want to be that guide, if only to keep the man close to him. If he could allow himself to simply want a man, one as strong and as stubborn and as worthy as the one in front of him, goading him on with naught but a narrowing of his eyes.

Never tearing his gaze away, Hubert reached by his foot, and once more grabbed the lance in a grip tight enough for it to show. If only to watch Felix huff a laugh and pull his sword away to prepare for another round, stoking a fire within himself.

[aivaehdaevis]

The More Things Change: Ch 14

The More Things Change

by Aivaeh

Disclaimer: Familiar characters, plot elements, and settings belong to L.J. Smith, Julie Plec, and the CW. The author of this work of fanfiction has made no money from it. Summary: I have no idea how it happened, but one morning I woke up in the world of The Vampire Diaries. Which, aside from the insanity of waking up inside a television show made real, might not be so bad—if I weren't stuck in the body of vampire magnet and doppelgänger herself, Elena Gilbert. Pairing(s): OFC x Damon, OFC x Stefan, OFC x Elijah, OFC x Klaus Rating: M Warning(s): Graphic descriptions of violence on par with the show itself. References to sex and drug use. Mind control and all the issues of consent that go along with it. Character death. Master List External Links: AO3 | FF.Net | Wattpad

Chapter Fourteen

The phone rang before I was fully up. Rolling out of bed, I stumbled more than walked to the desk and the cordless. “Hello?” I asked, voice sleep-rasped and hoarse. I used the chair to hold myself up.

“Elena! Hi!” The chipper greeting had my muddled brain begging for mercy.

“Caroline?” I cleared my throat. “Hey.”

Katherine. Out of the tomb.

I bolted upright, more awake than a pot full of coffee could have managed as my heart pounded. “Is something wrong?”

“Yes.” Despite her agreement, she didn’t sound as if she were dead and transitioning. I was fairly sure she’d sound less petulant if that were the case. “You and Bonnie. What’s going on?”

I blinked. “Huh?”

“I know you’ve got a lot to worry about with Jeremy,” Caroline began. “But this weirdness between you two started way before that. All I get from Bonnie is a bunch of nonsense about witches and dreams and weird feelings whenever she’s around you.”

Oh. Crap.

I ran a hand through Elena’s hair, falling back onto the bed. “I don’t know, Caroline. She did some reading the future thing at the Falls party. Said I wasn’t me. She’s been avoiding me ever since.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Caroline declared. “Bonnie always made out that her Grams was crazy. I had no idea she was starting to believe this witchy-woo. But that doesn’t explain why you aren’t demanding she deal with whatever it is. Why are you avoiding her?”

“It’s pretty obvious she doesn’t want to be around me. I don’t want to push.”

“Since when?” Caroline said, sounding equal parts incredulous and amused. “Elena, you are the queen of pushing.”

I ran my hand along the top of the blanket. “I—guess I’m just trying to give her space to work out… whatever.”

“Well, it clearly isn’t working. If you two don’t start getting along by the car wash, I’m going to lock you both in a room and make you work it out.”

“Car wash?”

“The Sexy Suds Car Wash?” Caroline enunciated. “The fundraiser for the athletics department next week?”

I paled. “Um, I don’t think—”

“Don’t you dare try to back out, Elena Gilbert. I know where you live.”

A little intimidated, I eyed the phone. “…Right.”

“Bring your ridiculously hot boyfriend.”

“We broke up.” I was never happier to be able to say that.

“What?! And you didn’t call me immediately?! Elena! What happened?”

I pursed my lips. “The stuff with Jeremy embarrassed him.” And then he got the original model back.

“You cannot be serious. What. A. Jerk!” Caroline huffed. “Come over. We’ll eat junk food, watch movies, and trash talk him.”

“I can’t. I promised Stefan I’d spend the day with him.”

Caroline’s voice was laden with suspicion. “You’re certain Damon didn’t break up with you because of how close you are to his brother?”

If Damon and I had been in a real relationship, he would’ve only seen that as a challenge, not a deal breaker. “Pretty sure.” I rubbed my face.

“We are going to talk all about this, Elena,” Caroline promised. Or threatened. It was hard to tell.

We said goodbye and hung up. I closed my eyes, hoping to get back to sleep. That hope was dashed after ten minutes passed where I was stuck examining the back of my eyelids.

I decided I might as well start the day.

It was another beautiful morning in Mystic Falls. A few wisps of clouds floated overhead like over stretched cotton balls, but otherwise the sky was clear. I was starting to grow used to the town and its old southern charm. I still missed the convenience of the city, but I couldn’t deny I was learning the appeal of small-town America.

The way to the Salvatore Boarding House was becoming as familiar as the high school. Pulling round and parking, I eyed the door, wary of what I’d find on the other side. Getting out of the car, I kept my ears open as I took my time walking to the entrance. I didn’t hear anything as I reached the front door. Taking a steadying breath, I knocked.

As soon as my knuckles hit the wood for the last rap it opened to reveal Stefan. “Elena,” he said, relief lightening his usually somber features. He stepped outside, leaving the door open behind him.

“Hi, Stefan.” My brow ticked up. “Eager to get out?”

Stefan exhaled. “I wasn’t sure when you’d be over, so I came back around five.”

Last I’d checked the SUV’s dash had showed nine thirteen. “You spent the whole night in the woods?”

“Stefan likes to commune with the squirrels.”

A shirtless Damon appeared in the doorway. Hair mussed, the older Salvatore radiated a languorous, after-sex glow. Stefan’s face shuttered as he turned to regard his brother.

I grabbed Stefan’s arm before he could say anything. “Let’s go for a walk.”

Stefan and Damon stared at one another. Finally, Stefan allowed me to lead him away from the porch.

“Show me the forest?” I asked, trying to pull his attention from the house.

Stefan adjusted his stride to match mine. “If you want.”

“Was the original Salvatore estate very far from here?”

“No.” His expression eased into something more relaxed. “You’d like to see it?”

“Yeah.” I meant it.

“There isn’t much of the old house left,” he warned.

I’d figured that. “I’d still like to see the area.”

He headed left towards the river. I followed.

Stefan was silent, forehead crinkled in thought as we walked. The woods were thin here. The sparsity of trees let in plenty of light and the underbrush flourished. Our footsteps rustled as the grass brushed against our legs. Mine were bare since I hadn’t planned to go hiking. I felt every blade that slid against my skin.

For the next fifteen minutes, while Stefan stayed lost in thought and I enjoyed the scenery, only birdsong and rustling leaves broke the quiet. Off in the distance was the tapping echo of a woodpecker.

Then, as the woods began to grow thicker, a small lane wound its way between the trees. The slide of grass on my legs disappeared as we stepped onto the path. Ahead stood two old brick columns topped with stone sculptures too broken to tell what they might’ve once been. “Is this…?”

Stefan’s eyes were on me, rather than the columns. “Yes.”

We walked between them and further up the lane. The first thing to catch my eye were the bricks stacked into what must have been a chimney. Half of it had fallen away, leaving the inner chamber bare to the elements. Some of the foundation’s masonry remained, but most had also crumbled away. The forest had reclaimed all the land surrounding it.

Stefan guided me around what must’ve been the main house. A small distance away stood a stone bench and the remnants of a pedestal, perhaps for a bird fountain. “Gardens,” he explained, sights sweeping across the tall trees that grew everywhere. I wondered what he saw in their place. Rows of hedges? Flowerbeds?

I turned around, staring at the foundation. Replacing it with the enormous house I had seen on the show in my mind’s eye. “A two-story white antebellum style estate.”

“Yes.” Branches crunched as Stefan moved up beside me. “How much of the past—”

“Just the… highlights.” I gazed at the trees, at how tall they were. Nearly a century and a half of growth. “Katherine arriving. You and Damon asking her to the ball. The evening after the ball.” Stefan’s brows lifted at that. My own furrowed. “She sent him away that night.” At his questioning look, I clarified, “Damon. After your confession, Katherine compelled him to leave her alone.” I turned to face him. “She always picks you, Stefan. When she’s forced to choose.” I frowned. “She’s not going to be content with Damon. She wants you. She’s convinced you want her too.”

Stefan’s gaze flickered off into the forest. “I’m not Damon, Elena. I’m not pining after someone who controlled me and turned me into a monster a hundred and forty years ago.” He looked back to me. “If it weren’t for Damon, I’d have been more than happy to leave her in that tomb to rot. Or stake her myself.”

His expression barely shifted. His voice sounded as serious as always. Yet there was something behind those eyes that nearly had me stepping back. A hatred that hardened his stare, revealed a shadow of something darker in his usually gentle gaze.

Something of the Ripper.

Uncomfortable with what I saw, I studied the whorls sculpted on the bench instead, it’s leaves and blossoms. I sat down, let the chill sink through my denim shorts into my skin. My heart began to slow.

Stefan stayed where he was, preternaturally still as a corpse. No movement in his face, no breath, no swaying with the breeze, nothing. He must have heard my heartbeat and knew I was unnerved.

His creepy stillness wasn’t really helping that much, but I pushed it aside. It was the thought that counted.

There was a pinecone beside the bench. I picked it up, tested the scales with my thumb. “I didn’t mean to say you want anything to do with her. But she’s not going to let you go so easily, Stefan.”

“You know this from your show?”

I nodded.

“You didn’t say anything about it.”

Breaking off a few of the bottom seeds, I tossed them to the ground. “The fact she was trying to gather the ingredients to break the curse seemed more important.”

Stefan leaned back against a tree, hands tucked into his pockets, staring down. “What did she do?”

“Threatened Elena’s family. Had Jenna stab herself in the stomach.” Another seed snapped off. “But you and Elena were together. She thought if she could get you to break it off, you would—I don’t know. Remember how you felt about her.” I shrugged. “Or she’s just sadistic.”

“Try the latter.” Stefan gave a harsh breath and shoved off the tree.

I flung the seed on the ground. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Elena isn’t here. You’re not together.”

He hunched over. “You should’ve mentioned this sooner.”

A crack echoed through the forest as I broke another seed. “It’s not an issue, Stefan. But she’s going to try—”

“Who said it isn’t an issue?” Stefan stared.

“Stefan, I’m not Elena,” I repeated, slow. “I know you call me that, but I’m not her.”

“I know,” he said, his regard open and steady.

I spread my hands. “Okay.” Bringing my hands back together, I snapped off another seed. “So like I said, it’s not an issue.”

A bitter smile curved his lips. “It’s not?”

My skin began to tingle. I dragged down a breath, but there wasn’t enough air. Rubbing my lips together, I managed a small, “No.”

“Elena.”

“I’m not Elena,” I snapped.

Stefan crossed the distance, sights fixed on me. “I know,” he repeated, careful and deliberate. It was my turn to stiffen as he crouched down, hands settling over mine.

I squeezed the pinecone until its seeds dug into my palms, cracking into pieces. “Don’t,” I whispered.

Stefan’s head fell forward, almost dropping onto my hands. First was the whisper of breath across the back of my knuckles. My own breathing paused. The woods became alive with the creak of swaying branches and hum of insects hidden beneath the grass and bushes.

His lips were firm yet gentle, a mere hint of pressure as they pressed against my hand. A gesture from an older time, when a grand house stood yards away, and the trees lined a great parcel of land. The hedges would’ve hidden us from the world, and the perfume of flowers would’ve filled the air rather than moss and earth and wood.

I finally dragged in a breath as his lips lifted. But then he followed, eyes big and greener than the leaves dancing overhead, watching me and gleaming with hope.

My heart clenched. I swallowed. “You don’t know me, Stefan.”

“I think I know what’s important,” he argued, soft and still careful.

But I thought of the last time he’d made declarations to this face, blind to what truly lay behind it. I exhaled a breath and pulled my hands from his. I looked to the crushed pinecone, pieces stuck to my palm, rather than the way his eyes and lips had fallen.

I stood, not sure where I was going, but needing to move. I ended up back at the house. Stepping over bricks, my sights were glued to the ground as I sought fallen and broken pieces of masonry beneath the leaves and twigs and spongy mosses. I could hear his footsteps behind mine. He wouldn’t let me go beyond arm’s length. Protective, I’d have once thought. Now I wasn’t sure if that was the only reason why.

I sucked down another breath, bringing our problems to the forefront. Hoping they’d help me forget the way his lips felt pressed against my skin. “Who were Isobel and John working with?”

Stefan sighed and answered, “Themselves?”

I did my best to ignore the disappointment in his voice.

“I suppose.” Isobel could have found out about the curse through her occult studies. And John would’ve learned through her. “Maybe I should talk to John.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Some of the Stefan I’d come to know came back, spurred on by chivalrous concern. “Damon said you think he’s like you.”

“Not exactly. I think something’s taken over John’s body, but I’m not sure what it is.” I brushed my hand off on my shorts. “It talked about a being stuck in this—hell of nothingness.” Stefan looked confused. I gave a small smile. “I know, it sounded crazy. But Esther said something followed me. And John was attacked on the other side by—whatever it is. It isn’t human, I know that much.”

“All the more reason why you shouldn’t talk to it.”

“But it wants to talk to me,” I argued. “It might, I don’t know, tell me something about what John was up to.”

“If it knows.”

“True.” I hadn’t known anything of Elena’s life before waking up in her body, after all.

“Let me try,” Stefan said. “If I don’t get anything, then you can.”

“Do you think they’re…” I grimaced, “finished?”

Stefan arched a brow. “If we’re going to talk to John, having Katherine distracted would be ideal.”

“Oh.” I rubbed my hands together, grit from the walk and the pinecone still stuck to my skin. “True.”

By unspoken agreement, we left Stefan’s old estate and headed back to the boarding house. A huge elephant trundling along between us the whole way.

As we approached the boarding house, Stefan cocked his head. “We should have time.”

I didn’t know what was more surprising. That he could hear them from all the way across the lawn, or that they were still in bed. I chose not to comment on either, following Stefan into the house.

We went straight for the door that led to the basement. Stefan opened it silently, pressing a finger to his lips and motioning me ahead.

I tiptoed as quietly as I could down the steps, Stefan moving down behind me. We reached the storage room and crossed it in silence. Stefan put a shoulder on my hand before we reached the door and stepped ahead of me. Lips pressed together, he pulled it open. It groaned. Stefan glanced upward, listening for a moment. They must not have heard us, because he swung it far enough for him to pass through.

This time he led the way through and held out a hand. He wanted me to stay near the storage room while he crossed the few feet between us and the cell. I hugged my upper arms and watched Stefan lean forward and peer inside.

Stefan’s eyes widened. He unlatched the door, taking no care to keep from making noise, and disappeared into the room.

“Stefan?” I whispered.

At first, there was no answer. Then, “Elena,” Stefan appeared at the doorway, mouth screwed into a grimace, eyes serious. “John’s dead.”

“What?” I darted down the hall and grabbed the door frame, skidding to a stop.

John was on the ground, eyes shut. Even without getting closer, I could tell he was gone. There’s something about the eerie stillness of death. It’s much more than just the lack of the chest rising or falling. It’s a total absence of everything, even warmth, as the body settles. The skin stiffens and turns sallow as the blood drains inside and pools. Everything freezes into place, from muscles to bones to tissue and veins.

But I had to be sure. Stepping carefully inside, I looked down at John. At the torn pink and white flesh of his neck glistening in the dim light. The blood that had dried beneath him, dark and sticky against the floor. There was far less than there should have been. Careful, I crouched beside him and pressed my fingers over his wrist.

I didn’t need to look for a pulse. He was cold.

My head turned to Stefan, who stared down, mouth a grim line. “Who did it?”

Stefan’s eyes narrowed. “Katherine.”

“Not Damon?”

“Maybe,” Stefan allowed. “But he could have killed John anytime.” He frowned. “It’s more likely he stood and watched. Or stayed upstairs and drank.”

I turned back down and stared at John. “Why?”

“Does she need a reason?” Stefan asked, bitterness darkening his tone.

Katherine caused death and chaos, but there was usually a reason behind the things she did. Manipulative, selfish reasons—but… Perhaps it had been nothing more than hunger. John had been convenient.

But perhaps not.

“Where’s Zach?” I asked, turning around.

“His car was gone this morning.”

“But where’d he go?”

Stefan shook his head. “I didn’t ask.”

Zach was right. They really didn’t notice what their human servants were up to. Not even Stefan. He and Damon still must’ve believed Zach could be compelled.

I stood and turned around, hurrying through the storage room. Whatever had been in John was back on the Other Side. I gripped the bracelet, rubbed my thumb along the beads and charms, inordinately glad of its presence. The thought of that—thing—being able to spy on me chilled me to the core.

But right now, I had hot blood pumping through my veins, thawing my fear. Either Damon had done it, or he’d done nothing to stop it.

“Damon!” I shouted, stomping up the staircase.

Stefan kept behind me. “Elena—”

“You swore you wouldn’t kill anyone, Damon!”

I reached the top and made for the stairs that led to the second level.

“Elena!” Stefan appeared in front of me, hand up. “Stop.”

“He promised!” I said, angling over his shoulder and shouting. “I guess his word is worth nothing.”

Stefan opened his mouth, then paused, turning to look up over his shoulder. He sighed.

A moment later, Damon appeared at the top of the staircase. Shirtless again, a lone pair of silk pajamas hung off his hips. “What’s she yelling about?”

Stefan rubbed his forehead. “John’s dead.”

Damon arched a brow. “And I’m supposed to care because?”

“Did you kill him?” Eyes narrowed, I climbed the last steps between us. I could smell the sweat on his skin. The musk of sex that had my nose wrinkling.

Damon glared down his nose at me. “No. I didn’t.”

“The man in the basement?”

I had to lean to the side to see around Damon. Katherine strutted down the hall, legs bare beneath the silk top that partnered Damon’s pants.

“Yes, the man in the basement,” I said. “Did you kill him?”

“Mhmm.” She stopped behind Damon, hand curling down one shoulder while she lifted up onto her toes, resting her chin on his other. “He was delicious.”

My head turned, glaring accusations as my lips pinched together. “You didn’t have to kill him.”

“No, I didn’t,” she agreed, lips turning into a little smile.

As the buffer separating Katherine and I, Damon’s eyes flickered between us. Stefan was wound so tightly, he practically vibrated behind me.

“Why?”

“Why not?”

I glared. “You don’t do anything without a reason, Katherine.”

Her hand slipped back off Damon’s shoulder. She sauntered slowly around him, coming up to me, instead. I found myself reflected in her dark eyes, expression as placid as a lioness as her sights swept over my figure. “You talk like you know me.” Her eyes flickered back up to mine. “But you don’t.”

“I know you well enough,” I shot back. I took a steadying breath. “I know you won’t kill me.”

Her brow arched. “You didn’t think that in the tomb.”

“You didn’t know who I was, before. You do now. I’m too valuable to kill.”

She leaned forward, and a finger trailed over my collarbone. “You’re assuming killing you is the worst thing I could do.” Her finger came to the end of my shoulder and fell away. “It’s not.”

…There was that. I took a deep breath through my nose to try and slow the sudden uptick of my pulse.

Damon watched us, eyes bright and gleaming.

“You haven’t heard my offer, yet,” I countered, once I was sure my voice wouldn’t tremble.

Katherine’s brows dipped. “Offer?”

I dared a step closer to her. It felt like stepping into a tiger cage. “Are you still interested in making a deal with Klaus?”

“You don’t deal with Klaus.” Her eyes wandered over me again. I wasn’t sure if she was trying to unnerve me or read me. Probably both. “You give him what he wants, or you die. Those are Klaus’ terms.”

“Then why go after the moonstone? Gather up a doppelgänger, a werewolf, and a vampire if not bargain with him?”

Katherine gave a slow blink. “I’ve been locked inside a tomb for over a century.”

I had nothing to say to that. I bit my lip.

“But your offer has… potential,” Katherine finally allowed, narrowed eyes fixed on me. “What is it you propose, exactly?”

“You give Klaus everything he needs to break the curse. And with your freedom leave Mystic Falls alone. Forever.”

“You leave. And don’t come back,” Stefan clarified.

Katherine looked past me to Stefan. Her eyes shifted back to me. “If you can deliver what you claim.”

“I’m the hardest ingredient to get, aren’t I?” It was a rhetorical question, and we both knew it. “And I know where the moonstone is.” Probably. Unless that was different too.

Head turning to the side as she gave a small curl of her lips, Katherine said, “We have an agreement, then.” Her chin tilted up. “I hand you and the moonstone to Klaus for my freedom, and never return.”

“I’ll go with you, Katherine,” Damon pledged.

Eyes narrowing, Katherine glanced over at him.

“Fine with me,” Stefan said, folding his arms.

My heart dropped. “You swore you’d stay.”

“If the tomb was empty,” Damon retorted. “It wasn’t.”

“You never stipulated the condition of the tomb.”

“Elena.” Stefan took my arm. “Let him leave. We’ll manage.”

Katherine’s head tilted further, displeasure stealing the gleam from her eyes. “You won’t be coming, Stefan?”

“No, Katherine.” Stefan turned to look at her. “I won’t.”

Katherine’s lips curled into a frown. “But it’s to be the three of us.”

“That was what you wanted. You never gave me a choice. If it were up to me, I’d have nothing to do with you.” Stefan nodded to me. “Elena insists we deal. But I’ll be all too happy to never see you again.”

Eyes wide, I held my breath. Katherine frowned. “That hurts, Stefan.”

“I don’t care,” Stefan replied, voice rough with hatred.

Katherine stared at him before that intense, predatory gaze transferred to me. I realized there was a way to tell us apart. Her eyes were darker than Elena’s and glittered with malice. “Hm.” She moved closer. “We’ll see how you feel after Klaus drains this—little shadow of mine,” she turned to look at the tense vampire beside me, “Stefan.”

My shoulders tightened as my stomach turned rock hard. I couldn’t even swallow against the sudden rigidness in my belly.

“If that’s all?” Damon said, taking hold of Katherine’s hand.

Stefan shook his head. “It’s not. John’s body needs to be dealt with.”

Damon’s brows rose. “So deal with it.”

“She’s your problem, Damon.” Stefan turned, and with a hand still around my arm, took me with him. “You clean up after her.”

Stefan led me back down the stairs. It wasn’t until I realized he was leading me out of the house that I asked, “What—”

“You’re leaving.” His tone brooked no argument.

Once outside, he guided me to the SUV. He let go at the driver’s side, turning me to face him. “That was dangerous, Elena,” he said, concern in the draw of his brows and the low curve of his mouth. “You shouldn’t antagonize her.”

My own brows pinched together. “What about you?”

Stefan shook his head. “I heal fast.”

“Stefan—” I was about to protest, but what sense I had reasserted itself. “You’re probably right,” I admitted.

He looked taken aback by my agreement. His lips quirked upward. “Call me when you get home.”

I nodded and climbed in. Before Stefan could shut the door, I asked, “What are you going to do?”

“Commune with the squirrels,” he said, voice wry, and shut my door.

We shared another of those long looks that were becoming typical for the two of us. I pulled out my keys and started the car.

That afternoon Jenna and I made a trip to the police station for another fun hour of sitting in awkward silence. I spent the rest of the day finishing up Elena’s homework.

It was a little after seven o’clock when the phone rang. The caller ID read Salvatore, Zachary.

“Zach?”

Damon spoke instead. “Turn on the news.”

Taking the stairs, I walked into the living room and picked up the remote. Powering on the television, I asked which channel. Damon directed me to Mystic Falls’ local station. A handsome reporter that epitomized telegenic spoke into a microphone. The graphic beneath him identified him as Logan Fell.

“…saying little about the remains. A tip to the Sheriff’s office identified the burial site. The sheriff promises…”

“They’ve found Sheila and Isobel,” Damon explained, annoyed, as the report continued.

I watched replayed footage of body bags being loaded into a coroner’s van. “You’re sure it’s them.”

“I know where I bury my bodies, Fake-lena. That shot’s off Brookside, a half-mile’s hike from where they’re at. Were at.”

“Maybe it’s another vampire’s burial ground.” My god. Had my life become this? Talking about burial grounds?

“Doubt it. I’d have smelt any other bodies.”

“What, like a cadaver dog?”

Damon ignored that. “It’s interesting they only found two bodies. I suppose they could still stumble across John.”

“How do you know one of the bodies isn’t John?”

“Because the report opened stating they found two women buried off Brookside road,” Damon explained, all faux patience.

“Liz could be covering up the fact they found him, too,” I muttered.

“We need to do something about this council of yours,” Damon replied.

“It’s not my council. And you infiltrated it.”

Damon hummed. “That does sound diabolically brilliant.”

“Or reckless and stupid,” I shot back.

“Someone’s in a snit.”

“Two bodies whose murder I was involved in were just dug up, Damon,” I hissed into the phone. “How should I be?”

“Technically, Isobel was already dead,” Damon pointed out, so unhelpfully. “Either way, don’t worry. They won’t find anything.”

“This is the era of CSI and DNA.” I was definitely going to worry.

“This isn’t my first time covering up forensic evidence, Fake-lena.” I could hear Damon’s impatience.

I was about to ask if he was always this much of an ass when his murder victims were uncovered—though I supposed technically they were Stefan’s—when I heard the front door open. “Someone’s here.”

“Not me.”

“Yes, Damon. I figured that,” I sighed, moving back to the hallway. I rounded the doorway and took one glance down the hall towards the door.

I nearly dropped the phone.

John smiled at me. “Hello, Elena.”

I stared at the large bandage covering his neck, mouth open, horrified. His color was horrible. Even under the yellow houselights, he looked bleach white. “John?”

“Where the hell have you been?!” Jenna demanded as she appeared from the kitchen like an avenging valkyrie.

“Detained.” He winked at me.

“Damon,” I uttered into the phone, “I have to go.”

“What? We have a situation—”

“John’s here.”

Silence, then, “What?”

“I said Uncle John’s here.”

“Uh, no. No he’s not. Because I have his ring, Elena.” There was distinct irritation mixing with confusion in his voice now. “The one that raises the dead?”

“Uh huh. I’ll… call you later.”

“No. You come over. Right. Now.”

Uncle John was staring at me over Jenna’s shoulder. “Fine.” I hung up and placed the phone on the hall table. “Jenna? I’m heading over to Stefan’s.”

Jenna paused in her tirade against John to turn to me. “Again?”

“I’m not sure I like you going over to the Salvatore’s, Elena,” John said. Whatever it was, it didn’t look happy.

Jenna’s lips mashed together and she glared at John. “You know what? Have fun. Be back by nine.”

“Okay,” I said, heading off to the kitchen as fast as I could go without outright running. “Bye!” I shouted, grabbing the keys off the holder and rushing out the door. I did run, once the storm door shut behind me, all the way into the garage.

My hand shook as I stuck the key into the ignition. What the hell? How was John back? He’d been dead!

I forced myself to breathe and calm down as the garage door lifted. By the time I backed out, my heart was merely trotting instead of galloping. I eased out and started for the boarding house. Again.

It was a crisp night out. Chilly enough I kept the window up and turned the heat on. My head swam with implications. How the hell had John—or whatever was possessing John—gotten back up? More than that, it sounded as if Damon had buried him. His clothes hadn’t been dirty. Where had he gotten them? What about the bandage on his neck? Was his wound still there? Didn’t the ring heal wounds like that? But he hadn’t had the ring, so—

A person appeared in the middle of my headlights.

I gasped, slamming the breaks and twisting the wheel hard to the right. But there would be no avoiding them.

The body thudded against the corner of the SUV’s hood. Coming down like a mallet, their head cracked against the windshield. There was another thud as it flew up and over the roof. They rolled off the side of the SUV and slammed into the road.

The SUV screeched to a halt. Gripping the wheel, I stared out the windshield. Through the spiderweb of cracks spread out from where a forehead had smashed into the glass. “Oh my god,” I whispered, repeating myself a few times. I turned, was about to shove the door open when…

I remembered what world I was in.

I blinked, hand resting on the door handle. This was Damon’s favorite trap. Get hit and run over, then when someone runs over to check on him, grab and feed.

They had come out of literally nowhere. The road had been clear, and then someone was standing in the middle of it, looking at me.

Unless I was misremembering things in order to assuage my conscience. Had they been crossing? Mind swimming in adrenalin, making it hard to think, I wasn’t sure.

“Shit, shit, shit,” I whispered, uncertain what to do. I couldn’t just… leave. What if it wasn’t a vampire? What if I’d actually hit someone?

What if it was a vampire?

Skull buzzing, I wrestled with the question of what to do. Get out, check? Drive off? What if I left someone to die I could’ve helped? But in this world… I ran a hand through my hair, torn. I looked back over my shoulder.

The body was gone.

I cursed and slammed down on the gas.

The engine revved. The wheels screeched against the road. The SUV didn’t move.

A fist smashed through the window. It unfurled into a hand that gripped the door.

Twisting and tearing apart, metal screamed as a yank ripped the door clean off the car. Tossed aside, it whooshed through the air. Rubber burned against concrete as spinning tires struggled to propel the SUV forward.

The hand wrenched at the seatbelt and broke it from its mooring, flinging it aside.

It grabbed onto my arm. I had the wheel in a death grip, the gas pedal pressed to the floor. I nearly broke my fingers and wrists trying to hold on when the vampire hauled me out. I ended up pressed against them in a kind of Heimlich bear hug. The swell of a chest told me my attacker was a woman.

I shouted, fear and fury powering my scream. I swung my feet with wild abandon. Each kick smashed my heels into sharp shin bones. If she flinched, I couldn’t tell. She did nothing but stand there, holding my back flush against her.

Another vampire covered in a dark hoodie let go of the back of the SUV, explaining why the vehicle hadn’t shot off. Not that I could’ve outran them.

An arm moved from beneath my ribcage and a hand wrapped around my throat. It squeezed. The breath I’d drawn all my life stopped. My eyes bulged. Frantic, my mouth gulped for air I couldn’t suck in, even as my belly moved to draw it down. There was nothing.

Suffocation is a long process. It’s terrifying on a primal level. A whole minute and a half passed until the need to breathe became urgent. Another thirty seconds before the night began to close in and colors danced in front of my eyes. My struggles weakened as my body and mind grew lethargic. Everything slowed, even my once frantic struggles to breathe.

And then it all went dark.

[travellerr2017-blog]

About a month ago it was decided to go away on a road trip up to Byron Bay and Fraser Island; unfortunately, this didn’t happen but due to already asking for a week or so off it made sense to take advantage of that and go visit those who needed to be seen. So instead of the road trip, 6 days were spent in Melbourne and 4/5 days were spent up in Newcastle (Salamander Bay/Port Stephens).

Leaving Sydney on the 6th of July the plane landed in Melbourne around 7 pm. The sky bus was caught to go to the Southern Cross ($19 for a one way) where Damo a friend of mine picked me up. Picking up his housemates we headed to a pub to grab some food and play pool for a little while before the two of us snuck off back to his place. The following day after a long debate as to where to go, a train journey and a 5-minute walk later Brighton beach boxes were in our view.

The weather that day was cool but brisk, so as we walked down the beach the wind gently brushed over us causing all sorts of trouble with everyone’s hair. Walking towards the boxes to take photos you come across those types of people who think that they are models on a photo shoot and spend ages taking just one snap. It’s rather irritating, to be honest. But saying that the boxes are honestly not as exciting nor as good as people make them out to be. Half of them need some TLC whilst some looks as if they’re about to just crumble into pieces. Yet they sell for millions? How and why? They don’t even get used, maybe a couple of the nicer ones do. Eventually getting the snaps that were wanted we carried on with our walk to St Kilda’s stopping only to put my trainers back on and buy some ice-cream; it’s never too cold for ice cream. Once arriving at St Kilda a photo of Luna Park was taken then it was time to go home; first time ever on a tram!

The next day a trip into Melbourne was in order to go to Flinders Street (well Hosier Lane) to photograph the street art. My god, it’s incredible! The detail, imagination, colour etc was mind blowing. It is impressive knowing that people just go out and paint/spray paint whatever comes to mind. Every step was a different style, different pattern, technique. Literally walking down these lanes was pretty damn awesome. We must’ve spent about two hours there just going back and forward taking photos, embracing it all, standing in awe at the impressiveness of the art work. Once we’d walked the whole way round, a quick visit to the state library was needed. ‘Once a bookie, always a bookie’. Looking down at the library from the top is rather tantalizing. For a bookie, there’s this thrill of excitement you get from walking into a book store or library; so much imagination, history, knowledge just laying within arm’s reach. If a choice had been given my day would’ve been spent in that library running my fingers over every single book and cranny. Books would’ve been read and history would’ve been taught. But by the end of this day, the weekend with Damo had come to an end for in the morning a new adventure awaited with Chris and Monica.

Sunday morning came and it was time to catch the train down to Lara. Chris was waiting at the station for me in his BMW; taking me back to the house to drops off my bags and pick up the girls and Monica before heading to the grandparents to drop the girls off for the day.  The grandparents have this beautiful German Shephard called Yogi, who is massive!! 20 minutes later after cuddling yogi to death, we hopped into the car and we’re on our way down the Great Ocean Road.

As we’re cruising along around these bendy roads the houses and views were just phenomenal. Stopping at the sign for the Great Ocean Road we waited and watched as these stupid people were standing in the middle of the road to ‘get that shot’, like how idiotic is that? People are so stupid sometimes it’s unreal; they had to run onto the path to get out of the way of oncoming cars. Eventually, we got the shot that we wanted, hopped back into the car and on our way we went.  Coming to a village we stopped for lunch where on looking kookaburras sat on the ledges trying to steal chips whilst people weren’t looking. Rather amusing to watch. So again it was time to hit the road.

Looking out of the window a rainbow was spotted, not just one but two! At first, it looked like one then further down it was two and then the second one vanished leaving only one. At this point, it had started to rain and the clouds started to come down and cover the horizon making taking a photo of the rainbow nearly impossible.  About half an hour and a quick rain shower later we ended up at the Twelve Apostles. There isn’t actually twelve anymore, more like 8 are left standing and even then they are falling away. In maybe 20 years or so the Twelve Apostles will no longer exist. If you get the chance go now whilst they are still standing. Even here to get a photo you had to wrestle all the other tourists and it was raining! Took us by surprise as to how many people were there considering the rain. But again the views were just astonishing. Trying to think up or find words to describe something that you’re not quite how to describe is kind of hard to do, and usually the same word gets used more than once. The Twelve Apostles are so worth seeing, even if you don’t find it that incredible, the colours; the waves the atmosphere makes it all worthwhile. The whole day was spent driving around the Great Ocean Road, Chris stopping every now and then to show me the views, so on the way home, you can imagine how tired we all got, starting to fall asleep in the car we pull up outside a noodle bar. Delicious! Picked the girls up went home and ate this delicious pot of chicken noodles; perfect dinner to a perfect day out.

The following few days were uneventful, we took the girls to the park and mostly just played with them home. Playing hide and seek, making trails out of all of their toys, watching films, playing with dolls, organising Sophia’s teddies on her bed and mostly spending every now and then out in the garden with their kelpie dogs Millie and Mack. The day for me to leave came around far too quickly, but without a shadow of a doubt, they will see me again soon.  Monica dropped me off at the train station, once arriving at the Southern Cross the sky bus took me back to the airport where my next adventure would begin.

Landing in Newcastle around 6 pm Christo picked me up, running out to help me put my stuff in the car as it was pouring it down! The car journey turned into me crying. A phone call from back home brought me some more bad news which wasn’t expected at all. The week before this phone call, a phone call was made to let me know that my granddad had passed away. Getting bad news from back home when you’re out exploring in a foreign land isn’t really what anyone wants to hear, and getting the second bad news a week later was a shock.  This get away came at the perfect time but also at a very bad time. It still hasn’t set in even weeks down the line that my granddad is no longer with us, what makes it worse for me is that he was back home in England whereas I am in Australia. But back to my adventures, he wouldn’t want me to be upset over it, he’d want me to carry on doing exactly what it is that I’m doing.  So this bad news hit me whilst in the car on the way to Christo’s and Tracyann’s, but getting to the house a beer was placed in my hands and pizza was eaten whilst watching the origins game. Sadly New South Wales lost badly, like it was so hard to watch how badly they played that last game. There are three matches for the state of origin game. New South Wales against Queensland, the first one NSW won the second QLD so the final game was the decided as to which state won and it was QLD. The following day was stay at home look after the kids whilst the parents worked so myself and their current au pair Shara took the kids and their dog Wally to the park for a little bit before going home and popping out to the beach!!  And then the next couple of days literally were just spent on a different beach. It was beautiful. Shara and I walked around Nelson Bay for a bit, went into some shops (there are some really nice ones but expensive) looking for a birthday present for Tracyann. Time goes by rather quickly so Sunday came and a 3-hour journey was taken to get back to Niagara Park.  It had been an amazing yet upsetting week or so away.

A little get away About a month ago it was decided to go away on a road trip up to Byron Bay and Fraser Island; unfortunately, this didn’t happen but due to already asking for a week or so off it made sense to take advantage of that and go visit those who needed to be seen.