#all. levinia

[efficiiency]

Recently, Bernie bought herself some headphones. Big, gaudy, bright pink headphones that slid over her ears and pinned her black hair to her skull unattractively. They're perfect; just obnoxious enough to make Bernie feel like she's making some sort of statement without having to actually say anything. She likes wearing them on her walks around town, groceries stretching out the fabric of her Baggu reusable bag while Spotify slowly kills her phone battery.

There's only one stop left on her trip: Serenity. To her surprise, Lavi's standing outside, an enticing tray balanced in her hands. Bernie pushes her headphones with just enough force to knock them around her neck and she does a little skip to propel her closer faster.

" Please tell me these are free, " she says, excitable tone lifting her words. " I've been desperate to break out of my norms but I hate the idea of buying something and finding it gross. "

Bernie takes a cup with little care for what flavor it might be, pausing to smile warmly at Lavinia and her joke. They're not friends, but they could be; Bernie's in here often enough, gabbing her ears off. " It's so nice to see you! How have you been? "

for: @aurorabaystarter (0/5)

It was shaping up to be one of the slower days at Serenity Tea Room. Days like today were typically early days for most employees, if they felt like leaving early. Today was one of the days in which a majority of them had taken the offer, so it was just her and a skeleton crew by three pm. In order to keep herself preoccupied Lav brews up six different types of tea and separates them into little sample cups. She places the cups neatly on a tray, then creating labels for each little section to help identify which tea was what.

With a light, but cozy, winter jacket on Lavinia makes her way outside. This was her way to both promoting the tea shop but also to help keep the citizens of Aurora Bay warm while they were out and about. “Hello! Would you like to try one our teas today? Great way to keep yourself warm, and energized. Except Lavender, that one might make you a tad too relaxed.”

[ultimatebabygirlsupremebattle]

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[omalahsocs]

And my second LaSombra, a definitely smaller intro this time but to be fair I'm still fleshing her out as I'm not sure of too much. She may need to be put through peer review (friends look at her and say she's too much of a sad sack, pls try again)

So she has no name at the moment, I was originally thinking something like Levinia, but I already have an unrelated character with that name so I'll likely pick something else that's old fashioned.

She's from modern day nights and the idea I had picking at me so far was that her Sire found her and she was one of a handful of missing students. Her Sire was playing with the idea that one would become his fledgling while the rest would just become blood dolls, but he couldn't decide which one would be the best fit.

So what better way to find out how resilient someone is than to torture them! They don't heal that quickly because they're still human, but there's something to be said about someone who stops crying after a certain point and gets that gleam in their eye like they'd kill you if they could just get loose.

While the other students broke in their own ways. Disassociation, crying, begging etc. She was the only one who went quiet in a way that enticed him. ...plus if he was wrong, he could just kill her and try again. Or send her off on a mission with a small pack that would likely see her dead. Just one more test right? With that in mind, he Embraced her and waited for all his brilliance to unfold!

...and then the pack priest told him that he had to stop making messes that he couldn't cover up. And when he refused he uh... He got ate. Part of his blood went to the pack and part of it went to the new fledgling to keep her from frenzying when she woke up dead.

And that's all I've got for her unfortunately, like I said she's still percolating but she's more than likely going to be a Sabbat fledgling under the wing of a brilliant Ventrue pack priest.

[andagii-writes]

Andagii Writes

I've populated my writing!

Find my WordPress entries in this tag.

Note: On desktop, All Works will take you to a similar page.

SHORT STORIES - ORIGINAL

"AS YOU'VE ALWAYS BEEN." Teen & Up Completed May 2024 1,715 words

A sage and a hero rest at their final camp. The sage will witness the hero's death tomorrow.

ORACLE CALLING Teen & Up Completed April 2020 7,497 words

Miss Levinia is the master of The Oracle Winery, a quaint yet historic operation nestled in Napa Valley for the last couple centuries. Her day staff tends to the mortal patrons, but at night, the tasting room transitions into a haven for displaced demigods, Levinia their overseer and protector, “Switzerland,” by some accounts. What begins as an uncharacteristically quiet evening quickly evolves into a night of revelation, when a specter from her past crosses her threshold. A father-daughter drama.

MULTI-CHAPTER FANFICS

STARDEW VALLEY | A DROP ECHOES IN THE HOLLOW Mature Completed July 2018 170,083 words Tag

Kutone was once a successful businesswoman, an executive assistant who helped expand Joja Co.’s repertoire to the Republic-wide success it’s become. Then, she lost it all. She fell to the depths of modern life’s insanity. And she held on for as long as she could, but loneliness - self-inflicted and otherwise - leaves her empty, apathetic, and unalive. Her late grandfather, however, has left her a gift, a disused, overgrown, but fertile plot of river land, in the hopes of helping Kutone relearn kindness. But even as the peaceful days in Stardew Valley begin to heal her, the past rubs her scars wide open again… 

STARDEW VALLEY | WITHIN THE HEARTS OF SUNSET STARS Teen & Up Last Updated November 2023 23,794 words Tag

Levy Luce Young has it all: his dream job as an androgynous fashion model, a high-rise suite he shares with his successful, well-aged older brother, and the abrasive attitude that helps him stay always on top. Levy’s pretty face do nothing, however, to save him from the many fist-fights and throw-downs he provokes across the city, earning him an indefinite suspension from his job, and exile from his brother. Cast away to Stardew Valley, and living under the same roof as the “family friend” he’d love to smear across the front of a bus, Levy must come to terms with every facet of his wrath. If he doesn’t, he risks losing not just his job and his family, but also the few good things he finds in the valley… 

FIRE EMBLEM HEROES | CHANGING BREATHS Mature Completed November 2018 14,366 words

The Order of Heroes awaits news from the Muspell front, before they decide their course in striking back against the Kingdom of Flames. Summoner Rinslet, in the meantime, continues her duties and studies as summoner, commander, and student to a certain Ylissean tactician. She’s even falling for him. So when Rinslet summons Robin’s fallen reflection at Askr’s summoning dais, she knows she’s got the power of an entire army in her command. Grima’s oppressive evil, however, as well as his ill humor and scorn for both Rinslet and all humanity quickly scratch her optimism. “For Askr’s sake,” Rinslet must find a way to work with hubris and evil personified, or end up between the Fell Dragon’s jaws for dinner. 

"INDOLENT MARCHIONESS" EXCERPTS

"When he meets her" | 455 WORDS "The Quayles were hiding..." (Heads Up, Seven Up) | 109 WORDS Lore: Observer and Beloved (Writing Share Tag) | 174 WORDS "...something about loneliness" (Writing Share Tag) | 263 WORDS "Bryony Quayle" | 412 WORDS

SHORTFORM - ORIGINAL

Guardian Angel | 507 WORDS Like a Date | 1,407 WORDS Of Bleeding Eclipse, Excerpt 1 | 565 WORDS Of Bleeding Eclipse, Excerpt 2 | 542 WORDS The Guidefire Heir, "First Paragraph" | 158 WORDS A Sage and a Hero, Excerpt | 162 WORDS

SHORTFORM - FANFIC

STARDEW VALLEY | ADE Bonus 1 - (shower) | NSFW STARDEW VALLEY | ADE Bonus 2 - (name) FIRE EMBLEM HEROES | Toward Power Tenfold FIRE EMBLEM HEROES | Cub, King, Commander FIRE EMBLEM HEROES | Rinslet's Resort Review

ASK ANSWERS

Answer 1: A DROP ECHOES | Kutone and Jane Answer 2: A DROP ECHOES | Orchard Party

MOODS DRABBLE ON - ARCHIVE

Journal-like entries from 2018 to 2022. Featured on a separate blog, I've brought them over here as an archive before closing that blog.

Please note: these entries are from when I wasn't in a good place and so contain themes of self-hatred and General Sadness. And a lot of pining.

2.1.2018 - lyricism 2.2.2018 - choices 2.3.2018 - dates 2.4.2018 - be 2.5.2018 - gulls 2.6.2018 - shortcake 2.7.2018 - moment 2.8.2018 - you 2.9.2018 - sun 2.10.2018 - blackout 2.11.2018 - rest 2.12.2018 - spire 2.18.2018 - body 6.23.2018 - ligature/addendum 7.19.2018 - haze 3.7.2019 - wake 3.31.2019 - galaxies 4.15.2019 - raincloud 11.27.2022 - liberation

[dorkula-notfound]

Sooo… I may have tried my hand at what I personally think Frida (and the other sister I decided to name Levinia!) would look like.

I swear I’ll draw the sisters getting along with their brothers (someday)

Basics:

Basically I decided that in my take of how the mission of finding the sisters go, Levinia is in a forest-like dimension. Probably some wacky part of the Hidden City, idk honestly but thought it would be a cool setup. Her smarts and kookiness comes from survival instincts and being isolated from society (that’s why she’s on all fours hehe)

Growing up in a dog-eat-dog side of the Yokai realm… she probably wouldn’t take kindly to other “turtle Yokai” at first ;-; (Poor Leo)

And for Frida:

Frida was under the care of Big Mama as her assistant and daughter. Being raised by Big Mama and training to fight in the Battle Nexus, and henceforth being rather scared of the outside world and threats… Frida is jumpy at first. Poor Raph came out for a snack while she was meditating… big mistake, oops.

[padfootdaredmetoo]

Please could I request a Tommy Shelby x daughter fic where she sneaks out to a party and he has to go and get her?

I LOVED writing this request. As you can see it got out of hand like everything I write. <3 Thanks for sending this in and I hope you enjoy it!!!!

Summary: Ruby is persuaded by her cousin Levinia to go to a club while the family is out at the races. The night doesn't go to plan.

Rating Teen: Just violence in this fic.

Warnings: Slight graphic violence, a man tried to attack the reader. It doesn't end well for him. Quality dad time, so many feelings. Bodies get buried.

Please could I request a Tommy Shelby x daughter fic where she sneaks out to a party and he has to go and get her?

“Come on Ruby! It will be fun. I promise no one is going to find out. They’ll be busy at the races.” Your cousin said moving around in your closet trying to pick a dress suitable for the kind of party she was dragging you to.

You flopped back on to your bed staring up at the ceiling, if you got caught your dad would kill you, then Aunt Polly would resurrect you only for your mum to kill you again. You never went to the sorts of parties Lavinia went to. She was five years older than you, something that used to make her seem impossibly wise and cool, but recently you noticed the gap between you closing. Must have something to do with growing up. You let out a huff.

“Fine i'll go but we have to be back at least a half hour before they get home okay? A half hour.” Your dad ran things precisely like that, everyone was supposed to be back by 11:30pm, Fin was in charge till then. But while the younger kids played outside and Charlie was out riding in the fields, Fin was very busy with a girl he’d been seeing.

Levinia squealed and threw a black dress at you from your closet. You pulled it on and looked at yourself in the mirror, you were almost certain your parents didn't know you owned this dress. It was relatively covering except for the dangerous neckline.

Levinia looked you over, making you laugh with her mock sexy facial expressions. She pulled you over to sit at your vanity and took her own makeup out of her bag. You noticed that she did your make up the same way Aunty Esme did, you thought back to times when she used to let you sit and watch.

You looked yourself over and couldn't help but smile. You looked good.

You both got out the front door, scarves draped around your shoulders and made your way down the long driveway. Once shutting the gate you walked a little further down the road then stopped by a large tree. She stopped and lit a cigarette.

“My friend Bill should be here in a moment. Here” She handed you a cigarette and you took it, taking a long drag.

“Wow Ruby, that's definitely not your first one eh?” She winked at you making you feel infinitely cool. You were known for dealing cigarettes in the girls bathroom at school and smoking the occasional one when feeling stressed. A business you’d have to sell off at the end of next year when you graduated. You frowned, a part of you was desperate for a life different from what you knew here, hence the reckless behavior. But the other side of you had seen enough danger to last a lifetime, and you took a lot of comfort in your large family. Your thoughts were interrupted by a loud honking sound that made you jump. A beat up car pulled over and you followed Levinia into the back seat.

“Bill this is Ruby, Ruby this is Bill.” You saw him look you over in the rear-view mirror and smile.

“It's nice to meet you.” You both said at the same time. The drive passed while they gossiped about some University prof that was rumored to be sleeping around with students. Eventually you parked and walked into the busier part of town. It was dark now and Levina took you through a back alley stopping at a red door.

“Just relax okay. No one should recognize you here, heck I hardly recognize you with all the makeup. But just try to enjoy yourself and don't leave with anyone and only take drinks from me. Got it?” You gave her a curt nod as the red door swung open revealing Bill and a tidal wave of loud music. She gave you a wicked smile and pulled you inside. Before you knew it you’d had a couple sweet tasting drinks and were dancing with lots of university boys.

Sure they were handsome in a way that boys your age weren't, but you found it laughable how arrogant they all seemed. You had to bite your cheek multiple times to keep yourself in check as they tried to explain something to you incorrectly, or tried to be impressive about politics. You were on your best behavior. After another drink and dance you’d excused yourself to run to the bathroom. You were hoping it was a large powder room like the clubs your dad owned, but instead it was more of a broom cupboard near the back entrance.

After finishing up and checking your makeup one last time you stepped out only to feel a tight grip on your arm. A large man pulled you out the back door, your shouts were useless over the loud music. Once in the alley way you saw a shitty looking car parked at the end of it. You gripped your small purse in your hands. Much to your mother’s displeasure you were your fathers daughter. Once you started getting cat called, you’d taken it upon yourself to sew razors into the seam on the bottom of your purses.

Gripping it tightly you jerked your arm back causing the man to turn towards you. You wasted no time going for his eyes. He screamed out but unfortunately for him no one could hear his screams over the loud music spilling into the alley way. Bastard had the audacity to prey on young women, and ruin your first real night out. You felt yourself lean into the situation more than you thought yourself capable. You heard a man climb out of the car at the other end of the alley way. So you let the bloody man hit the floor turning on your heel and you ran the other way. You made it out the alley way and into the yard, you ran until you saw Curly and Charlie sitting around their usual spot by the fire.

“Ruby!?” Charlie looked at you in disbelief.

“Charlie I fucked up. I need you to call dad.” He quickly pulled you inside and dialed the phone to the private booth you prayed they were still in. Curly came over and handed you a damp cloth and a glass of whiskey. You gave him a confused look till he motioned for you to pat your face. You whipped your face, then started to shake when you saw the white cloth stained with blood. You quickly wiped at your skin and the rest of your neck line. You grabbed a cigarette off the desk and lit it leaning against your hand.

“What happened?” You looked at Charlie waiting for the call to go though.

“I went to a club with Levinia, some guy dragged me back into the ally way and I fucking cut him. But she's still there and I shouldn't have left. But I panicked.”

“But your alright miss Ruby?” Curly asked, draping a small blanket around you allowing you to cover up a bit.

“Yeah, I'm alright Curly.” You downed the whiskey he’d brought you and you hated and welcomed the burning feeling as it slid down your throat. The phone patched through and you heard yelling on the other end.

“It’s alright Tommy, I've got her here.”

“No, she's not harmed. Just a little shaken.”

“Of course I won't let her out of my site.”

“See you then”

He hung up the phone.

“Levinia noticed you were missing and phoned them from the club. He was just about to call me to get the boys ready to come find ya.”

You let out a groan.

“I'm so fucked.”

“That you are love, but they aren't here yet. Go get cleaned up and come sit by the fire.” You used his small bathroom to get most of the blood and make up off and wrapped yourself in Curly’s lap blanket like a shawl, keeping your chest covered.

You sat down on the stool next to him and he handed you another hearty helping of whiskey. Despite knowing better, you drank it down.

“Curly’s gone to get Levinia and assess the damage.”

You let out a hum staring into the fire.

“It's not like you to get into trouble like this?” Charlie said, looking into the fire.

“No it’s not” You were wondering if he would lecture you, Charlie had always been like a grandpa to you.

“Or do we just not find out about it?” He gave you a knowing look. You thought about the statement, other than the cigarette trade and the occasional beating doled out to a boy who didn't know the word no, you were top of the class.

Okay, maybe a few other beatings helping out some of the girls in your class. But other than the violence and business, you were a shining star of innocence.

“I don't know what you mean.” But there was a smile in your voice that couldn't be hidden

“You're just like him ya know? Especially before the war.” the words sank into your chest.

You heard tires pull up and you already knew it was your dad. You took a deep breath as his footsteps approached in the dark. Charlie gave you a sympathetic look.

“In the car now!” He shouted, you flinched knowing it would be a long ride home.

“Thanks Charlie.” You said in a small voice standing up.

“You’ll be alright, love.” He stood up and gave you a hug. You passed your dad without a word and got into the car. You watched him stand by the fire with Charlie for a moment. He looked out of breath, hand running through his hair.

You saw Charlie give him a pat on the back. He climbed into the car and drove you out of Small Heath without a word. You weren’t going in the direction of the house but you didn't have faith that you wouldn't sound tipsy if you tried to talk. Instead you just rested against the door and closed your eyes. When you opened them you were in the middle of nowhere.

“Get out the car and take your shoes off.”

You stretched and did as you were told. Slight panic welled up inside you. You saw a truck’s lights flash as they turned around on the dirt road. Did the man who tried to take you have business with your father? Suddenly you felt the need to throw up. You held yourself together and followed after your father down the street to where the truck had been.

“Grab an end.” There was a man-shaped bundle on the ground. You turned away and tossed up the contents of your stomach. After the heaving stopped you grabbed an end and you carried half of the man you murdered. The soft grass under feet was a welcome feeling you tried to focus on instead of breaking down. After much effort you reached a hole in the ground. Your dad dropped him there and you rolled the man into the hole.

“Now. This man was a bad man. Sold girls and kids to other bad men, shipping them off to who knows where. You killed him. The boys caught the car before it could make it out of Birmingham. His accomplice is down there under him.” You looked at your dad's face and resisted the urge to puke again. “You're not to leave the house without me knowing. If you want more freedom it can be arranged, but don't you ever do something like that again.” The tone of his voice broke your heart and he pulled you into a hug. You couldn't help the tears falling down your face.

“It's alright, lamb. You're okay now. Ive got ya.” His voice made you feel like a little kid all the times you’d run to him when you were scared or didn't know what to do.

“Dad I’m sorry” You said through sobs.

“Don't apologize, you're a Shelby.” And with that you both piled the dirt over the two men, and walked back to the car. You brushed your cold feet off before putting your shoes back on and climbing into the passenger seat. He got back in and handed you a handful of mint leaves.

“It’ll help.”

“Thanks.” You munched on them happy to get the horrible taste out of your mouth. You slid closer to him on the seat and rested your head against his arm.

“I think what you did was punishment enough. I know you well enough to know you didn't go looking for any trouble tonight. As far as your mother is concerned, tell her I really gave it to you on the way home. Might save you from the lecture.”

“Alright. Did Levinia make it home okay?”

“Yes John came and picked her up. She knows about what happened to the scum bag.”

“Great.”

“What did you use on him anyway?” He gave you a curious look. And you pulled open the seam at the bottom of your beaded purse. You thought you saw a small smile creep onto his face.

“Started stitching them in when I was ‘bout 13 or so?” he only nodded in reply. You pulled up to the house and groaned when you saw all the cars out front.

“Fuck.” he ran a hand through his hair. “Look I’m just going to scream at ya, you just run up to your room and I’ll deal with everyone else. You’ve dealt with enough tonight. If you can’t sleep, come down to my study later alright?”

You paused for a moment not sure how to get the words out.

“Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

“Never again right?”

“Promise.” He kissed your forehead and you both climbed out of the car.

“THE ABSOLUTE RECKLESSNESS. I HAVE HALF A MID TO LET YOUR MOTHER DEAL WITH YOU FROM NOW ON.”

You threw the front door open and made a run for the stairs.

“I HAVE NEVER BEEN SO DISAPPOINTED IN MY LIFE. MY OWN DAUGHTER OUT ACTING LIKE A FUCKING WHORE. GO TO YOUR ROOM AND STAY THERE - ”

You closed your bedroom door and fell onto your bedroom floor. The night's events took a toll on you. Eventually you went into your washroom and cleaned yourself up enjoying the hot water. After changing into your PJ’s you had half a mind to go down to the landing and try to listen in. Instead you curled up on your bed, but it wasn't long before you started shaking, the man's face unavoidable in your mind. The tears just wouldn't stop. Eventually you heard the house settle, some of the cars leaving. A quick glance out the window showed you that Polly’s car was still here. Once your mum had shut her bedroom door you waited a few minutes and then set off down the stairs. You slid into your father’s study, closing the door softly and you turned around to see Polly sitting at his desk.

“Oh I'm sorry, I can come down later.”

“It's alright love, come here.” You came over and sat down next to Polly. She quickly grabbed your hand and held it tightly. They continued talking about business, something about Michael in America. You were happy for the distraction leaning into the big chair.

“He didn’t hurt you did he?” Polly looked at you and brought the conversation back to you.

“No. I hurt him before he got the chance.” Your eyes focused on the desk and you tried not to cry in front of her. Crying in front of your dad was one thing, but you’d have to be on death’s door before you cried in front of anyone else.

“Good girl. I'll go fix you something to get you to sleep.”

“Polly.” Your dad said pointedly giving her a stern look.

“Just tea Tommy.” She announced as she floated out of the room.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn't be like this.” you whipped the tears out from under your eyes.

“Don't apologize.” He said sternly. He got up and pulled you over to the couch in front of the fire. You sat on his lap resting your face against his shoulder. His arms wrapped around you and you tucked your feet in the cushions to keep them warm. Despite everything, you took a moment to enjoy his embrace, you knew deep down you’d be out in the world soon enough. Moments like this were rare since you were tiny, they’d only get more rare as time passed.

“Why do I get like this? I've seen you do it and walk away like it's nothing.” You whispered into his chest. He winced slightly at your words, after a long pause he broke the silence.

“I guess that part of me broke in the war. But I did all of this so you and Charlie would never have to be like this.”

“I -” You stopped yourself from apologizing again. He pressed a kiss on the top of your head.

“I know love.”

Polly came back with a cup of hot tea that you gratefully accepted.

“Your mum will want to talk to you in the morning. And John’s lot will be around after breakfast to talk to you too.” Polly said sitting down, she tucked your toes under her thigh to warm them up.

“Is Levinia in trouble?”

Polly snorted.

“Really it was my idea.” You felt the need to protect your cousin and instantly felt worse about leaving her at the club then again when you came home. You should have gone in there and owned up to everything. Polly let out a laugh.

“We all know that’s not true love.” Your dad replied. Your face fell.

“Goodness, you look like we're going to throw her into the cut. If you had any idea what these boys used to get up to at your age, let me tell you - “

“Polly” Your dad said as a warning. You looked up at her and she mouthed “Later” you smiled knowing you had something good to look forward to. You drank your tea while they continued talking and eventually you felt your eyes fall and you let sleep take you. You had a foggy memory of being moved up to your room and your dad tucking into your bed next to you. You tried to thank him for staying with you, but your mouth couldn't create the words.

----

You woke up the next morning with a headache the size of England. You stumbled out of bed and went right to the kitchen for water. You grabbed a glass from the sink and downed a glass then poured another one. Everything was bright and horrible, you sat down at the table and put your head in your hands.

“There she is! Regular Peaky girl you are!” Arthur's loud voice boomed and he patted your shoulder.

“Come of it Arthur” Polly moved into the space and was handing you something to chew on before you could respond. “That should help with your head love.”

“Breakfast is out in the dining room. But I'll bring yours through. Sit up at the grown up table now.” He announced leaving the room. Polly gave you an empathetic look.

“Just a hangover it’ll pass”

You answered with a nod and then a plate of food was placed on the table in front of you.

“Thanks” you mumbled. Then your mum floated in, hugging you tightly.

“Don't you ever do that again.” you hugged her back.

“I won't.” You started in on your breakfast and the rest of the family floated through. You hated the dining room, and they all did too; they were just too proud to admit it, except for Arthur. After the seriousness was spoken of, Levinia apologized and you waved it off. Then the jokes started about you having more peaky blood in you then the rest of the kids put together. You couldn't tell if that was something to be proud of, but laughed along anyway.

_______

AH! this was so much fun to write!!!!!!

Thank you again for writing in a request! <3

[shespureheartblood]

Blood and Vanilla (Alcina Dimitrescu)

The Lady perfumed her skin with blood and vanilla.

Levinia always knew when the countess was looming nearby because there was no mistaking the two scents coiled together. Even now, as they both sat in the study, Alcina applying a fresh coat of lipstick to her already rouged lips, Levinia felt her senses heighten.

It was the smell of a threat. The scent of a predator. The mark of a woman unhinged.

And, yet, when she moved, her gown fell around her frame like the smooth marble of a statue. Her hourglass body swayed to the tune of Fantasia, a living Venus among all womankind.

Alcina was a masterpiece painted in gesso with touches of chiaroscuro.

It would have been an insult to touch her.

“Darling, why are you so silent?” That honey-sweet accent tingled Levinia’s ears, sending a shiver of paranoia through her body. She had encountered bad people in her past. Long before the village. But now, Levinia realized, those men and women were only pretending, putting on an act in some miserable play.

This woman, this goddess whose skin caught the sharp edges of moonlight wavering through the library curtains, was a beast by another name.

So, why then, did Levinia only see sunrise when she dared to stare for a moment too long?

“Because I want to understand what makes this place work.” What makes you work. Levinia was startled by the hoarse texture of her own voice in juxtaposition with the Lady’s smooth syllables.

Alcina dipped down low and cupped Levinia's chin in her hand, “Honey, there is no written language known to man that would describe the secrets this castle holds.”.

Then she let her hand fall away, and chuckled.

Warm, deep, predatory.

The feeling of cobwebs lingered as an afterthought on Levinia’s face where Alcina’s hand had been. She reached up to brush off what didn’t exist and when the countess spoke again, “You know, you don’t owe me an explanation. Do what you want, read the whole damn library for all I care. But you really need to stop explaining yourself.”

“So, what should I have said then?”

Alcina looked over her shoulder, taking drag from her cigarette, and thought for a moment before answering, “I don’t know? Maybe something like ‘Fuck off, Big Bitch. I’m reading?’”

And, with a wink, Alcina Dimitrescu sauntered from the room muttering something about dinner and her daughters..

Levinia let a smile tug the edge of her lips upward as she turned back to her book. Yeah, like she could ever talk like that to the Countess.

“You were wrong though,” She muttered into the empty space. “There is one passage here I understand.”

Levinia ran her fingers over some pen inked scrawl beneath a passage. It was messy, distressed, barely legible. Like clockwork, when her fingers touched the ink, a small shadow appeared, slipping onto the floorboards. It took the shape of a person, his hands held up, some invisible force piercing his chest, shaking him like a ragdoll until he fell limp. When there was no more death to show, the shadow picked itself up, and returned to its resting place within the jittery ink that read:

Irruunt stulti quo pedem inferre timeant angeli.

Fools rush in where angels fear to tread.

Levinia nodded, casting her gaze to where the shadow had given away another secret, another meal for the Lady. But instead of feeling frightened, Levinia merely wanted to find a new book. She was surprised at the comfort she felt in a castle that wavered between Renaissance and Baroque, stuck between eras, stuck in time. Full of women brutally broken, who ask the moonlight questions about love when they think no one is listening through the walls.

Levinia shut the book, and pondered what new shadows her touch could bring to life in Castle Dimitrescu. What new mysteries might she uncover?

To anyone else, falling upon the village in such uncertain times would have meant a grisly end. But all Levinia could do at that moment was smile in anticipation.

“A fool, indeed.”

[freifraufischer]

A Gymnastics Mystery: Was the 1981 World Championship Stolen?  Part 2 - A Nearly Perfect Year

In our last episode I introduced one of the greatest mysteries in gymnastics history.  Did the East German government ask Maxi Gnauck to fake an injury thus taking herself out of the 1981 All Around World Championship which was held in Moscow and won in a podium sweep by the Soviet Union.  To understand why this is even a question we first have to examine the 1981 elite season (and some of the insanity that happened during it).

The previous year the 1980 Olympics was an unseemly mess where the Romanian vice president of the Women’s Technical Committee held up the All Around for almost half an half an hour trying to get Nadia Comăneci beam score raised so that she could win her second Olympic AA.  When she couldn’t convince the judges and technical officials to raise the score she simply refused to the score into the computer.  Meanwhile on the sidelines Bela Karolyi was screaming about corruption and unfair scoring against his gymnasts including Emilia Eberle in the uneven bars final.  The winner of that final was 16 year old East German Maxi Gnauck and she also had to share the AA silver with Nadia.

If the drama and ill spirited corruption was at unprecedented levels during the 1980 Olympics, things just got worse (and stranger) at the beginning of 1981.  In January 1981 the Romanian gymnastics team, coached by Bela Karolyi, visited the United States to attend an invitational competition where their headliner was to be Ekaterina Szabo, the reigning junior European Champion.  Except the girl carrying Szabo’s passport wasn’t Ekaterina Szabo but Levinia Agache (another future Olympic gold medalist).

We’ll never know why the Romanians did this.  Some people have suggested the meet organizers were aware of the deception though Kathy Johnson on twitter strongly denied that, saying the only reason anyone knew something was wrong was because an American gymnast in the crowd had seen Szabo at a previous meet and alerted officials.  But as the passport was issued by the Romanian government and they had no more proof of the impersonation the matter was dropped for the time.  Two months later the Romanians would return to the United States this time with the real Ekaterina Szabo and Levinia Agache carrying her own passport.  Because.... why... anyway it was on this trip that Bela Karolyi and his wife Marta would defect.

A few months later the first major gymnastics meet of the year the European Championships was held in velodrome in Madrid.  [As an aside, for some reason velodromes were very popular for hosting gymnastics meets in the 1980s, not only the 1981 Euros, but the 1985 and 1987 World championships and I seem to recall at least one other Euros that decade were held in velodromes.]  At this meet the USSR did not send Olympic AA gold medalist Elena Davydova, but instead 3 rising talents Alla Misnik, Natalia Ilienko, and a “new senior” age falsified Olga Bicherova.  It’s important to remember that in an age when the sport was dominated by European gymnasts the European championships was a bellwether for the winners of world and olympic competitions.  Nadia Comăneci announced herself to the world, not at the American Cup as the American gymnastics federation liked to say, but rather at the European Championships before the Montreal Olympic Games.  It can be assumed that the Soviets wanted to use the event to introduce their new stars to the world.

The only problem with that plan was Maxi Gnauck turned that Spanish velodrome into her personal stage to demonstrate her dominance.  She won the AA by .3 over Romanian Cristina Grigoras, with Misnik and Ilienko come in 3rd and 4th.  Bicherova had a disaster of a meet and came in 23rd.  Gnauck also took 3 of the 4 event gold medals, having to settle for “only” a silver on vault.  Now one of the great things about 1981 Euros is that we have incredibly high quality film of the event (without commentary so you can hear how incredibly loud it was whenever anyone landed a vault or a beam dismount).  it’s worth looking at those event finals to see what kind of shape Gnauck was in.

Let’s start with vault, the only gold medal that Gnauck did not win...

Skip to 13.37 for Gnauck’s vaults, if you want to watch the entire final I suggest you skip ahead in the video as it includes both the beginning sound test and the full warm up period.  The things I want you to see here are just how much power she had coming down the runway and how good her form was.  Remember this was an age before Yurchenko entries where gymnasts had to get all their power from a handspring block. Gnauck would tie for silver with her countrywoman the amazingly named Birgit Senff.  

It’s as good as any time to talk a little bit about ties in 1970s and 1980s gymnastics because they can be an indication of corruption in that a rightful winner wouldn’t be denied outright but would have to share their win with the favored gymnast.  But generally I think modern viewers just don’t realize how easy it was to tie when scores could only be given in increments of .1 and there were only 4 judges two of whose scores were dropped.  There were only so many possible scores and so you were simply mathematically more likely to tie before the judging panel was expanded and deductions could be given in increments of .05.  It also helped that no one seemed particularly interested in breaking ties.

After that “disappointing” silver we move onto Gnauck’s stroll through dominating the entire European field.  Skip to 20.08 for her bars routine.  As with her 1980 bars I’d like you to look at how good her form is, and let me repeat again this bars set was so consistent that you could essentially pick any competition between 1979 and 1984 and see the same thing from her.

Next came the balance beam.  Start at 19.21 for Gnauck.  Now Maxi is not the kind of beamer that you will want to write poetry about, and she has two significant balance checks here.  She barely won this title by .1, a margin she carried over from the AA (a routine you can see here at timestamp 2.01.31).  I urge you to look at the AA beam performance without the balance checks to understand just the high level of beam tumbling difficulty Gnauck had in 1981.

At this point you may be wondering about the socks/ankle taping, since the question of the injury at worlds was her ankle.  But this kind of extreme ankle taping was not just common but basically universal among East German gymnasts.  It’s not evidence of an injury.  There is a reason I will sometimes describe a heavy ankle tape job as “being taped like an East German”.  But hey if you are doing that level of beam difficulty and landing on those cardboard mats I think you might proactively tape your ankles too...

And then we come to the floor final which she wins by .2, not entirely by her carry over score (she did better in the final relative to the silver medalist and lost ground relative to the bronze medalist).  The European Championships was an optionals only competition (the AA acted as qualification for EF and the scores carried over) so you couldn’t hide score fixing in compulsories like you could at the World Championship.  You can find Gnauck’s routine at 7.00 minutes into the video (the floor silver medalist Alla Minsk of the USSR is at 10.40, and the floor bronze medalist Cristina Grigoras of Romania is at 31.39).  I think you can understand the placing simply based on landings and tumbling difficulty.

Normally this is the point when I talk about East Germans that I have to try and make an excuse for their weird floor music and chorographical choices.  Gnauck has her share of them and I wouldn’t call her balletic.  But she is performing, clearly has dance training, and I think if you look at her and think about any “power gymnast” of the modern era you can understand her.  As it happens at this competition I don’t feel the need to defend her choreography given that the Soviets were in their disco period and the Romanians were still using Geza Pozsar choreography (he had defected only weeks before).

I think there are arguments to be had about Eastern Bloc leotard bonuses at Worlds (and I think in particular Ma Yanhong had legitimate grievances over it), but the thing I want to emphasize here is that the people Gnauck was beating here weren’t the Chinese or the western Europeans or the Americans.  She was beating the Soviets and the Romanians.  Even if the East Germans were overscored they weren’t being overscored over the Soviets or the Romanians.

Gnauck came out of the 1981 European Championships with 4 gold medals, and 1 silver medal.  She had come away from the 1980 Olympics with 4 medals as well as a 4th in the Balance Beam final that Nadia won IMO on reputation (only .1 of a point covered 1-4 in the 1980 Olympic Balance Beam final).

Coming into Moscow there would have been no question that she was the prohibitive favorite to win the World All Around.

Next time:  The world’s most comically corrupt elite gymnastics meet and the strange events of the 1981 World Championships.

[itssowholsomicoulddie]

Anybody else been kept up at night thinking about a BBC Merlin JATD crossover? No? Too bad! If I must suffer so shall you!

I can’t decide if it should be before of after the magic reveal.

They have a wizard! But he makes fireworks and has never been said to do any actual magic, so I’m thinking he’s more of an alchemist.

Merlin would be so conflicted when he hears the knights talking about a wizard, because on one hand, he’s so lonely. He perks up like a sleep deprived little puppy because, friend? Magic friend who gets it?! But also suspicious because poor boy is traumatized.

Arthur is doing his best to be chill with the wizard because this isn’t his kingdom, they don’t have any treaties yet, he can’t just execute him.

Then the wizard is just a person.

Theodore voices his surprise that more experienced knights didn’t accompany the king. Leon explains that he IS the most experienced knight. Theodore has now adopted Arthur’s round table.

King Carodoc feels for Arthur, he knows what it’s like to suddenly be thrust into the role of a young king.

Arthur did not blink twice when he met Jane. He grew up with Morgana and is married to Gwen and I’m giving him realistic character development. That makes Theodore like him more.

Gwen likes to hide in the kitchen with Pepper. Pepper is super scared/uncomfortable at first, but then they swap recipes.

Arthur sees so much of his younger self in Gunther and so he offers him a lot of advice. Most of it unhelpful.

Merlin sees so much of Arthur in Gunther and it makes him want to punch his dad.

DRAGON!!!!!

Everybody freaks out. Arthur wants to kill him and just like that he gets on everybody’s kick list.

Merlin is so happy he starts to cry. Arthur just thinks he’s scared and remembering the trauma of before.

Merlin has to tell Dragon that there are only two others out there. He introduces him to Athusela.

Athusela loves him and he’s working on teaching her to talk like humans.

Levinia plays with the baby dragon, still the size of a pony, and declares them best friends, like Jane and Dragon.

Maybe Merlin would give Dragon a name.

Dragon loves messing with the knights. Gwaine especially has a similar sense of humor.

Speaking of humor, Jester brings the group to tears nearly every night from either laughter or moving songs/poems.

Smithy(Jethro) talks shop with Elyan and Gwen. They are super impressed by all his innovations.

Rake and Merlin talk about medicinal plants and where they grow best. Rake plans to send Merlin home with some little herbs that will grow in close, indoor environments.

Percival knows a lot about flowers and their meanings, he and Rake talk about them all the time. Percy gives Rake the courage to give Pepper a red tulip, symbolizing romantic love and royalty, because he just loves her that much.

Gwen gets in on the matchmaking and suggests to Pepper that Rake was in fact flirting when he compared her to shrubbery.

Arthur gets dragged in and thus is redeemed from the whole, trying to stab dragon thing.

Jester totally catches Merlin doing magic on accident and just nopes himself right out of the room.

[selkiewitchtips]

Using witchcraft to get pregnant in movies

The baby is probably satanic

If not Lilith is trying to eat it

Mother faces massive complications

A cult is around her at all times

Using witchcraft to get pregnant in real life

Hehoo the baby is named Levinia

Can't eat nutmeg

[ultimatebabygirlsupremebattle]

Left is by @sweetheartwannabe - art here!

Right is by @chaoswithcausation - art here!

Please give all art appreciating notes to the original posts!

[beachytablecloth]

prompt fill for @ghalind, who requested a fluff piece about Toph and their OC Levinia! it was so fun to write for a new character; I hope I did her justice! 

Toph Beifong was many things, but a coward was not one of them.

She was an earthbender (the best earthbender in the world, and don’t you forget it) and always preferred to tackle situations head-on.

Well. She usually did.

That kind of changed when she met Levinia.

One of the most unexpected things about the end of the Hundred Year War was the disappearance of this constant fear that had kept many people in hiding for years. And over the course of the past year, Toph and her friends had met people from around the world—Fire Nation citizens who had fled because they disagreed with the war, families in the colonies that had both Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom ancestors, and even, incredibly, another waterbender from the Southern Tribe.

Levinia had suffered greatly at the hands of the Fire Nation. She’d lived in a village separate from Katara’s and Sokka’s—one they hadn’t even known existed. The Fire Nation had raided them, burning it to the ground, leaving Levinia, miraculously, as the sole survivor.

(She had hidden for days, behind a snowbank, waiting in complete terror for the soldiers to find her. They hadn’t.)

When Toph met her, it was on one of their many trips to provide aid to refugees in remote Earth Kingdom villages.

They had hit it off immediately, Toph’s brashness mixing well with Levinia’s awkward shyness.

(Not that she would ever admit it, but Toph had found it endearing how Levinia had been so nervous, at first, to be with people her own age, to make friends.)

After spending a few weeks in that village, it had been hard to part with Levinia, but their group was needed around the world, and they had moved on.

Toph had forced Katara to help her write letters to Levinia each week.

So when Zuko and Aang had the idea to revive a long forgotten festival in the Fire Nation, Toph had written to Levinia, and invited her to come.

(The week that it had taken Levinia to respond had been one of the longest of Toph’s life, and if she hadn’t been able to stop smiling when Katara had read her Levinia’s “yes”, well then, that was nobody’s business but her own.)

The festival took place over the course of three days; it was held in the heart of Caldera City, and there was music and dancing and food. Hundreds of people had come, some even from the other Nations, which had been a source of great pride and happiness for Zuko and Aang.

On the final night, Toph found herself sitting with Levinia on the outskirts of the main town square. It was getting late, but people were still dancing, and it seemed like no one had plans to leave any time soon.

“I’ve never been to the Fire Nation before,” Levinia remarked. “I—this really wasn’t what I was expecting at all.”

Toph laughed.

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t like this before.”

“Yeah.”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence. They could hear the faint sounds of music and laughter carrying over from the square. The air was balmy, and Toph found the heat comforting, rather than oppressive as she had initially thought. She could smell the scent of fire flakes and fried Komodo-chicken wafting over from the vendors.

“I wasn’t sure at first. The Fire Nation has taken so much from me, and I thought it would be impossible for me to ever be okay coming here,” Levinia paused, taking a shaky breath. “But I’m glad I came.” Toph could hear the smile in her voice as she said those last words.

Toph was really glad, too. She had not been able to stop thinking about Levinia since they’d met; there was something about her that drew Toph to her in a way she had never experienced before.

And that scared Toph, but she was no coward.

So when Toph replied with a nervous, “me too,” and Levinia had reached her hand over to hold Toph’s, she took it, despite the way her heart raced and her stomach filled with unease.

She would tell Levinia how she felt, soon; but not here, not tonight. Tonight she was content to sit with her, listening to the fading sounds of the festival as people celebrated in a way they hadn’t been able to for one hundred years.

[ghalind]

OC/Persona asks please. Ones I would like asks on:

Levinia

The Shattered

Dialith

Danor

Monica

Assistant

Takes One

All Personas

[tillman]

streaming high noon over Camelot and i just gotta say. thank you. this is incredible. is there anything else i should know abt the album besides it's sheer existence

THERES SO MUCH. WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE TO KNOW!! Fun deets r merlin (or. Brian) is a reference to the guy who sings him, drumbot brian. The mechs r fans of inserting their characters into their albums. I love brian hes nice.

If u wanna know any specific references (the previous captian joseph being the fisher king, levinia stone, The X-caliber rail gun, ect) LEMME KNOW I LOVE TALKING ABOUT IT. themeatically its my fave album I think its so good but PLEASE listen to all of the mechs qork.

Oh little detail listen to “lost in the cosmos” on their tales to be told album before hnoc. It flows into it, being the backstory of brian :-)

[shespureheartblood]

After The Factory... (Heisenberg x OC) Vignette

Levinia ran her fingers through the pile of ash, letting it fall in silky ribbons through her fingers back down to the frost-hardened earth. It was late in the day, the time where the Eastern European sun hid behind the clouds and turned the wheat fields a rich sepia.

No wind blew, nothing to stir the remains in front of her. Nothing to remind her that the world existed outside of her and the humming of the factory in the distance.

Winter had come on like so many other harsh realities. Cold, hard, and fast.

And, like all things broken and wild, she decided to blame everything external from the situation. Because it got out of hand.

Because she couldn't stop it.

Because Levinia couldn’t pretend she didn’t come face to face with horrors, vain and grotesque, and act like she didn't fall in love with every one of them.

And because she didn’t want to blame herself for taking the place of his cigar so many nights in a row.

So, she decided to blame the weather. And whenever winter blanketed broken cobblestones, she would hide away in her apartment, wrap herself in a peacoat that would never shake the smell of blood and oil and metal, and curse the time of year where all that she had loved calcified into crystal.

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

Hi hi! Okay, but just imagine immediately following the battle at the factory Heisenberg's lover coming to terms with the fact that he's gone :(

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

Just so everyone knows this and some of my future pieces will feature my OC, Levinia Albarne. Just in case you are wondering who Levinia is haha

[andagii-writes]

Oracle Calling

Hydrate me with a Ko-Fi!

Summary

(inspired by Rick Riordan’s Percy Jackson series, as well as Supergiant Games’s Hades)

Miss Levinia is the master of The Oracle Winery, a quaint yet historic operation nestled in Napa Valley for the last couple centuries. Her day staff tends to the mortal patrons, but at night, the tasting room transitions into a haven for displaced demigods, Levinia their overseer and protector, "Switzerland," by some accounts. What begins as an uncharacteristically quiet evening quickly evolves into a night of revelation, when a specter from her past crosses her threshold. (7,501 words)

Cross-posted on AO3 and WordPress.com

Glossed lips pursed in a frown, and with deliberate severity in her gaze, tall, dark Miss Levinia stood, arms crossed, behind the bar of her winery’s tasting room. Only a faint hum pervaded The Oracle Winery, as though the evening had forgotten its role in Levinia’s routine, as well as an earlier camaraderie.

But rather than making herself maudlin by recalling those regulars—twin brats of Hades and their snuffling, oversized Cerberus pups—Levinia turned her attention to administrative catch-up. With no one barging in for asylum or medical attention for the half-divine, or even for a drink, she at least had the perfect amount of peace to attend to the tasting room’s inventory. Clipboard in hand, she wove between the wicker lounge chairs and glass-top tables, pen scratching notes on a log sheet. Wheat crackers and cheeses for the main bar. More bottles of riesling and moscato for the refrigerator at the secondary dessert bar. Prepare the menus for the upcoming seasons. Oh, and inventory the grocery bags the twins had left at the end of the main bar.

The twins had, for the first time, asked about the otherworldly fare they brought for her in those bags. What exactly did she brew with the stuff?

“You’d have to drink them to know,” Levinia had responded. “But you might find yourselves on an express ferry back to your lord father if you did.”

They asked no more and finished their drinks on their way out.

Without paying, yet again.

Shoulders heaving in a deep sigh, Levinia set aside her clipboard and unrolled the long receipt detailing the twins’ tab, readying herself for the weekly recalculations. Pen rocking between two fingers, she punched numbers on her phone’s calculator while her mind added more to the to-do list. Check the stock on the venom and hallucinogenic brews. Re-apply poison to the knives hidden under the bar top. Regular protective maintenance, though she avoided altercations whenever possible. After all, unlike most of Levinia’s patrons, The Oracle afforded her a boring life of stability and routine. The day staff, a rotating roster of demigods, maintained the vineyards, the cellars, and the tasting room, while Levinia oversaw the operation at night, when she donned her waistcoat and customer service smile, and presided over what the brats called their personal Switzerland.

Though she appreciated the mystique and respect, even ancient Miss Levinia saw distress in the face of constant monotony. She enjoyed her stability, yet the quiet made her reminisce, made her memory clear away the fog over her childhood, made her consider the stars outside as she once considered the stars above the ocean spray of her old home.

Home? She scoffed at herself. The Oracle was home. She’d made this place her home. Even halfway across the world in this foreign wine country, history ensconced her, in a petrified forest further up north, neat rows of grapevines at her flanks, and splendid wineries for miles in either direction, each lot boasting more history and grandeur than the last. Among the pueblo-style bungalows, stone castles, and even a mountaintop vineyard that required an airborne cable car for access, The Oracle Winery stood proud yet modest, little more than a glorified cottage.

Levinia, sighing, rolled her shoulders. With the tasting room’s mood lights dimmed to gentle amber flares, The Oracle needed a distraction as well, lest it fell into a fitful doze with her. Music, she thought, would lift the spirits of the place. She added that note—'hire nightly entertainment’—to her list, since she, unfortunately, never inherited her father’s knack for revelry.

As she started her calculations again, a breeze swept outside, disturbing the ivy leaves and grapevines to a gentle rustle. A visitor had arrived.

Levinia re-rolled the twins’ tab and nestled it against her register. Whatever came through her doors deserved her cordial welcome as thanks for the break in the evening. Tugging her waistcoat straight, she drew back and fastened the curlicue waves of her hair with golden ivy pins: mementos, Mother once claimed, of Father.

The doors opened. Levinia curled her lip in her customary slight smile. She started, “Welcome,” then choked in surprise. As she stared wide-eyed at the silhouette on her doorstep, her smile hardened into wariness.

She knew that broad shadow. She remembered that height.

‘No,’ she told herself, shaking her head. ‘I don’t know. That’s not—My mind’s just playing tricks.’ Just a specter from her memories. Reminiscing had never been good for her. She sucked in a sharp breath and loosened her clenched hands. What an embarrassing mistake to make of a likely regular patron. Or an enemy. ‘Come on,’ Levinia scolded herself. ‘You’re working now.’

Even while eyeing her customer, Levinia kept her tone civil. “Welcome to The Oracle Winery,” she said again, then gestured to the bar stools. “’Tis the tasting room. Have a seat; tell me what you need.”

The man stooped to clear the threshold and said nothing as he closed the door behind him. Levinia curled her lip in slight offense, but swallowed her snap. After all, most of The Oracle’s first-time patrons kept to themselves, usually out of sharp distrust. The same probably held for this man. Curled hair sprung in stray sprigs from under his hood, some shade of dark color muddied by the amber lights. His shoulders filled out the corners of his thick jacket, zipped all the way up. Despite the suffocating choice, a strange gracefulness helped the man to navigate his long legs as he turned about, apparently investigating every possible corner of The Oracle.

Levinia lowered her hand to an alcove under her counter, brushing her fingers along the handles of her hidden knives. Why survey the space so? Looking for surveillance or a way out?  Yet, strangely, no sign of intimidation came off his height or hooded visage. No anticipation prickled in his silence. Rather, Levinia thought as she drew her hand back, a welcoming gentleness surrounded him.

Which made Levinia offer her hand instead. “Shall I take your coat?”

He shook his head, electing instead to partially unzip his jacket. After a hesitant moment, hands firmly balled in his pockets, he finally spoke. “You’re not asking who I am?”

He used a gruff tone to mask his voice, but its familiarity echoed in Levinia’s ears. She choked down the knot tangling in her chest and replied, “You can tell me if you want, but I won’t ask or tell. That goes for anyone visiting at this time.”

“Say I tell you, and you realize you’d rather throw me out. Would you do so?”

Levinia grimaced at the poorly-veiled sentiment. “I can’t break my own rules, now can I? Just don’t make any trouble for me.” She held her breath, as the man slid into one of the barstools before her. “So, what can I get you tonight?”

“Just a glass,” he sighed, shoulders relaxing. “A black, if you please.”

She considered the hooded man, his head low. “A ‘black’ wine at The Oracle,” she murmured, hands on her hips, “is considered divine fare. So don’t disrespect me. Take your hood off.”

The man flinched and threw a glance over his shoulder, the motion freeing another curling lock of dark hair from his hood. “You speak so fearlessly,” he said, a chuckle lacing his voice. “Like a goddess of protection. Or a mother. Have you become one since I last saw you?”

He had dropped his gruff tone as well, opting for a natural mellow accent, one Levinia occasionally heard in her faded recollections of Father’s bedtime stories. He used to talk about foreign lands, waters, and adventures.

“I only ask,” the man hurriedly added, likely in response to Levinia’s lips pursing into a thin line, “since there was no one back home to tell me what had happened to you.”

“And just how long ago did you visit those ruins?” While she had stopped herself from spitting, a dangerous edge sharpened her voice. “And no, I’m neither goddess or mother, heaven forbid me. All I do is make and maintain the rules of my house, so again, no trouble past those doors.”

He folded his hands over the countertop, still refusing to meet Levinia’s eye. “I remember that. Your mother had a similar rule.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Stomach roiling, Levinia covered her face and counted each long second of her breath. “Just take your damn hood off, Father.”

“I—I believe you have me mistaken.”

“Let’s not play this game. You might as well be standing before me in full regalia. Where’s your wand? Your chariot? Your attendants? What happened to excelling at disguise?”

“To protect the mortal eye, yes. But you, your mother…” He finally, sheepishly, shed his hood. The rest of his curled hair, some tied back in a half-pony, cascaded over his shoulders. “Your mother had a sharp, fearless eye. You’ve clearly inherited that.”

Levinia’s stomach, which had coiled backwards, now pitched forward, as she let the specter’s words and visage sink in. She remembered that voice. That face. She hated that she’d seen through him so quickly.

Mother called him Daeon. And he hadn’t changed, even after hundreds upon thousands of years. Levinia’s lord father Dionysus, despite his languid, unshaven features, still held traces of the young father who once cradled Levinia among the vineyards. No disguise could hide the gravitas of his divinity.

Remembrance stung in Levinia’s eyes, as she ground her palm into one. She’d prepared for everything—riots, medical emergencies, death threats, ichor hunters—but not her own father’s return. Why did this have to be her distraction for the evening?

Daeon went on, his voice wavering. “Levinia,” he said, “you’ve grown so much.”

“Time does that to a little girl,” she snapped, squaring her shoulders. “You missed Mother’s deathbed.”

“I swear to you,” he said, “Hades was to notify me as soon as she arrived at Elysium, but, nothing. I even made the journey below; I was ready to bring her back.

“But she wasn’t there. You sent her off correctly, didn’t you? An obol under the tongue?”

“Even if I hadn’t, the old attendants would have made sure of it,” Levinia spat. She laid her palms flat against the countertop and counted the seconds of her breath. In, slowly. Then out. “So let’s face the truth, shall we? You were too afraid to watch her go.”

“Not true. I knew where she was headed.”

“Then why? How hard could it have been? We lived on Olympus’s doorstep! Just a few steps outside, Father, and you could have seen Mother off yourself!”

Mother, who, after Father had disappeared that distant morning, waited upon the balcony every night and stared across the sea. She wistfully called it “The Promised Spot.” Yet that soft longing eventually hardened into bitter anger, solid until her final breaths when she begged Levinia to look after the family’s treasures.

The memories prickled into fury. Levinia stepped back from the bar top. Heaved another deep breath. Her staff called her tough, but, she reminded herself, the master of The Oracle Winery operated with far more finesse and impersonality regardless of the customer she faced. She straightened her back and cleared her throat. “Pardon me,” she said. “I’ll get you your drink.”

Taking a glass from the rack, Levinia knelt below as she guessed her father’s expression. Despairing, hopefully. Or guilty. Regretfully reminiscing. Self-pity, she told herself, she’d slap.

Above her, Daeon released a burdened sigh. “I had a theory,” he said, “that perhaps her soul had wandered elsewhere. You sent her off properly, yet she never arrived at Elysium. Never even saw Hades or Persephone to receive her decree.”

“Can’t say I care about your theories,” said Levinia, flipping a switch under her bar top. Soft amber light illuminated a cabinet below the register, as she produced a key from her pocket. “Take them to Athena or, I don’t know, Aristotle, since you’re so willing to head back down there. I’m sure Hades stashed him or some other philosopher in Elysium.”

“I’ll…consider it.” His tone deflated, yet he went on. “Your mother. Was—how angry was she?”

Levinia turned the lock on the cabinet. “She once promised to eviscerate you herself, if you came back while she was alive.” She simpered at her father’s groan and opened the glass door. Inside, mounted on its side, sat a plain, sealed amphora, a spigot retrofitted at its base. “But she never doubted your divinity.” Unpinning one of her ivy pins, Levinia felt about the patterned crest above the spigot. She turned the pin and fitted it into the crest, at the same time sliding the wine glass into place. “She never abandoned the craft you helped her master.”

“Which I see she also passed on to you.”

Holding the glass at a tilt, Levinia released the spigot. Dark red wine slipped in with hardly a bubble. “I like to think I did well by her.” She gingerly pulled the lever back, removed her hair pin from the crest, and stood, pocketing the pin as she nudged the cabinet shut. Pinky cushioned under the stem, she set the filled glass before her father. “But if she kept any secrets from me, she left them in this brew here.”

Levinia crossed her arms, as her father’s features creased with bafflement. “But why would she keep anything from you?”

Despite his confused tone, however, a strange, sharp clarity glinted in his eyes. Without realizing, her father had already, dimly, divined an answer, but needed a few moments longer to solidify his conclusion. Levinia shrugged anyway. “Experiments. Signatures. Something like that, if I had to guess. All she said was this one’s not complete ‘’til it received the blessings of Lord Dionysus.’” She gestured to the glass. “But you’ve already guessed that, right, wine being your domain? So go on. You’ve kept her waiting long enough.”

“With all of my gratitude,” Daeon replied, and picked up the glass. He tilted the wine toward the light and watched The Oracle’s amber lights flare through the deep red. His guilty remembrance softened into a fond smile as he brought the glass to his lips. He closed his eyes. “She’s created a masterpiece. I can tell already.”

Levinia rolled her eyes.

After another long moment and final deep breath, he tipped the glass back for the smallest sip.

Wonder filled his features then, his eyes practically glowing, while Levinia smirked. An old giddiness stirred in her as Daeon took another sip, longer this time. Then another. And another.

“Take your time,” she chuckled, dimly recognizing her own honest simper. Old memories stirred within her, reminding Levinia of fond memories of mother-daughter winemaking—to remind Father to come home!—until Mother had faded into a lonesome morosity some long, horrible time ago. After that and over the years, Levinia’s own love had withered into a desiccated husk of sadness, leaving her with the professional motions of winemaking, but none of the zeal.

‘Until,’ she thought, ‘now.’

“She’s mulled it well,” Daeon sighed. “There’s a bite, yet it’s kind. Soft.” He held a melancholic smile in his features. “As though she’s speaking to me. But this isn’t like her usual brews—what is that I taste? Persephone’s pomegranates?”

“As if she’d let you have the fruits of the dead. You’re tasting cherries, from what later became the Ottomans.”

“And the grapes?” Desperation strained his voice. “Did she use a blend?”

Levinia snorted. “Of only the grapes you raised. She wouldn’t agree to anything else for the private collection.” As her father put down his glass and cradled his head, Levinia swallowed the rest of her rebuke. She couldn’t berate his sincerity any longer. “I looked after what I could after you left. Still do. I’ll never be as good as you, but I did my best.” She smirked, sardonic. “Even stopped myself from burning them down, especially that ugly one with all the ivy.”

“Because Lyridice taught you to regard that one as though it was me.”

Mother had begged not only for the protection of the wine amphoras, but also, with sharp emphasis, the old grapevines in the private garden terrace. “For your father,” sighed a resigned Mother. “He’ll return to you during your long, long life. I promise.”

And now, millennia later, that promise had finally delivered.

Levinia raised a brow. “How did you figure?”

“I could never reach you through them,” Daeon reluctantly answered, “but I could still hear you. Your prayers. I heard both of you, whenever you called upon me through that grapevine.”

Levinia’s head spun, sour rage prickling again at the back of her throat. By force of habit, she had continued her one-sided conversations with the ivy-choked grapevines, increasingly so after her mother had passed. Even though passing time left her home in ruins, Levinia protected those plants with her life, taking them from the terraced gardens above the Mediterranean and across the world from new home to new home. Currently, they stood still and peaceful, enshrined in Levinia’s private garden.

And she still talked to them when she tended the garden. Through that conversation, Levinia realized, her father had found her. “I knew I should have burned that damn bush,” she hissed, every word pinched with more venom than the last. “So you really did know when Mother passed. You knew as soon as I told you and you still chose to not come home?”

“Forgive me, Levinia.” Distress mounted in Daeon’s voice. “I beg you to forgive me, but I know—I’m not—!” He sighed. “I’m not foolish either. You can’t forgive me. I heard that as well. Loud and clear.”

Levinia, remembering her wailing curses before the grapevine, bit her lip. Had her straight honesty then already done the damage she wanted? She leaned against her countertop, replying in a tight voice, “So what are you really here for? Obviously not to ask after Mother.”

“Lyridice has always been my reason—both of you have always been my reason.” Head cradled in one hand, he swirled his wine with the other. Exhaustion shadowed his features as he mockingly snorted, “Zeus advised me against coming here, ‘til I questioned him on his own children, those he left behind on this earth. He granted me some of his understanding then.” He lifted his head and met Levinia’s eye again. “Lyridice prayed that I look after you, Levinia. I’m sorry it took so long.”

“Your point?”

“I’m here to take you home with me. To Olympus.”

She stared, fighting to keep her expression of ennui while pure rage pounded harder and harder against her temple. Home? Olympus?

With Dionysus?

Her breath ran icy hot through her nose, as dumbfounded Levinia curled her fingers around the edge of the countertop. The wood groaned under her grip. Even Daeon pulled back. “So that’s it?” Her stomach lurched over and over. Her eyes, her cheeks, her ears, even her neck and throat, all burned. “This? After all these years? Do you take me for a damn child?”

“It’s for your safety—!”

“—My safety?! Where was this proposition when the pirates showed up? When they burned down our home looking for ‘divine ichor,’ answer me that!”

“I never heard—when was this?”

“Who cares when it was! They hung me—hung me, Father, do you hear me?!—draining me for my blood! Where were you then?!”

“I was looking for your mother!”

“You mean my dead mother?”

“She wasn’t—Levinia, listen to me—Lyridice’s not in the Underworld. She promised to wait for me at Elysium without drinking from Lethe, but I swear to you, she wasn’t there.”

She could have snatched up the glass on the table and smashed it into her father’s face. She could scream at the insolence, the disrespect, but she swallowed the rage scalding her throat. How had she not already vaporized or combusted? Pressing both hands to her temples, Levinia blew out a long, thin, tremulous breath. Then regarding her father with seething disappointment, she blew another breath and lowered her hands. Fists balled, she rounded the bar and stood before Dionysus.

Miss Levinia lifted one hand and pointed at the door. Her voice, icy and curt, sharpened further as she hissed through gritted teeth. “Get out.”

She snapped against his protest. “Mother was more right about you in her anger,” she pressed, “then she ever was in her love for you. You choose to smear her memory? Deflect your responsibility to her? Then I won’t listen to another second of this asinine talk, you hear me, especially in here! Get out!”

A shocked Daeon rose before her. “I never smeared or deflected—!”

“Yet you insist she’s not where she belongs?”

“Zeus forbade me from asking after Lyridice!”

“She was beneath you anyway, is that it? Leave her in peace!”

“I have been fighting, Levinia, fighting for leave this entire time—!”

“And it’s only now that Zeus is granting you this oh-so-necessary permission to see me? To look for Mother? Spit out that wine and cry me a river! Mother must have drowned herself in Lethe, just to avoid seeing you again!”

“By the Styx, child, relinquish your stubbornness for just one moment!”

“Take your patronizing and shove it, Father, because that stubbornness was all I ever had! For years, for centuries, for so goddamn long, all I ever had was that stubbornness to live! To survive!” Every nerve, every breath, every bone in Levinia’s body rattled. Yet somehow, as she regarded her father’s perturbed expression, she scoffed. Why even bother anymore? Why care so much now? Suddenly exhausted, she turned away. “So leave me to it. What’s another lost child to you or the gods, anyway?”

She tottered back behind the bar, as Daeon, shaking his head, fell back into his seat. “You were never lost to me,” he said. “Never.”

“Thanks for the nice thought,” Levinia muttered, “but you’re lying. Get out of my store.”

He lingered, however, drumming his fingers against the bar top. “Divine ichor,” he reflected. “How could anyone have figured that out about you?”

“Live just twenty years past your dead mother without looking more than a teenager, and people start wondering. And don’t try your persuasion on me. I’m of your blood.”

“But your ichor’s mixed, a far cry from that of the gods.”

Levinia rubbed her temples and squeezed her eyes shut as the dust cleared from her memories. Her mother had died, her father disappeared, and the people of that old vineyard had all passed on, leaving behind rumors of a ghost girl wandering the ruins of that once-hallowed estate. In the following lonely years, she ran pirates and treasure hunters for loops around the ruins and cackled at their bumbling expense, until they lashed her by her ankles and heated their cursed knives. “Details,” she mumbled. “Humans don’t care for them when they’re afraid of death.”

Pulling back from the counter, Levinia embraced herself, flinching as her body recalled the searing lacerations, one by one. Her breath shuddered in the icy hollow of her chest. ‘It’s all in the past,’ she told herself. ‘Just nightmares now.’

Just a nightmare. The distant memory of her mother’s voice sounded so close in Levinia’s head. But now you’re awake. And see? Mother is close to you. Father is always with you. The nightmares can’t reach you now.

“Levinia.”

She jerked back to reality—eyes wide, nose flaring, breath still shallow—to find her father offering his hand. “I thought,” Levinia snarled, albeit weakly, “I told you to leave.” Doubt and nostalgia pummeled her inside as she regarded the open palm before her. When was the last time she’d seen and held this hand?

“You spoke so many times before the vines—in joy, in anger, in sorrow—yet you never spoke of your suffering. Why?”

“Because…” Neither snark or sarcasm broke past the knot of honesty tangling in her throat. To tell, or not tell? After all, the last time she spoke to her father about her fears was the night before he disappeared. That was the last time they held hands.

What was that fear again? What had she told him? Levinia stared still at the offered hand, long fingers, knuckles somehow graceful, skin tanned by the Mediterranean sun. That same hand had given her a spoon of honey to soothe her, when she woke up screaming that night.

It was a nightmare.

Just a nightmare.

Wasn’t it?

A nightmare, of a thick black sea crashing forth from beyond an infinite horizon. Dark water coiled up her ankles and seized her wrists and throat and pitched her into the brine. The shadows flooded her nose and darkened her vision, whispered yet screamed, sang yet cried. She flailed and kicked for the surface, but the choking darkness dragged her lower and lower. Something—someone—grabbed her by the root of her soul, and she stilled, paralyzed. Ever deeper she sank, ever aware of the unending depth; she was returning somewhere, a place neither Mother or Father, a place from which her soul shrieked for escape.

She told Father this nightmare after crying against Mother.

Father left the very next morning.

“If you were listening at all after that,” Levinia finally responded, “I didn’t want to give you a reason to truly abandon me.” She laid her fingertips against her father’s. Like hers, and like she remembered, they were soft, maybe a little dry from tending the grapevines. And as she’d done so often as a child at the dinner table, she tapped her fingers against his, lightly, to escape Mother’s rebuke though she laughed eventually.

“It was never my intention—I didn’t mean to—no.” He curled their fingers together and gently gripped Levinia’s hand. “None of that matters.

“I’m sorry, Levinia.”

The apology hung thick, slowly permeating. Tears beaded in Levinia’s vision.

“I’m sorry, for leaving you so alone, so suddenly. I’m so sorry.”

She laid a hand over her eyes and turned her face askance. Biting her lip, she shook her head and swallowed in choking shudders. Miss Levinia, always stoic, never shed tears, not even for friends or close associates. Not even, she hoped, for her father.

Yet he, in silence, tightly held her hand.

“Levinia,” he then started. “As a child, you so desperately wanted to see your lord grandfather. I denied you that, but, do you remember how you tried to persuade me? The one thing you tried?”

Levinia, afraid of a habitual snap coming out instead of a question, sucked in another breath.

The one thing she tried?

The words came out before her foggy memory cleared. “I stole one of the wine amphoras,” she said. “A heavy thing of some special brew you made with Mother.” Lifting her hand, she narrowed her eyes and cocked her head, her memory’s eye following the movements of that little girl. “I… I drank some of it. And I fell asleep.”

Daeon nodded. “Then you had your nightmare. But, hear me, Levinia. It wasn’t just a nightmare.” He took her hand in both of his. “Your divinity shone when you told us about it. That wine opened your vision—your power. You had a vision with far more clarity than even some of Apollo’s oracles.”

“Talk about a stretch of the imagination.” Levinia sniffled. Still turned aside, she drew back and crossed her arms. “I’ve had no prophetic visions since then.”

“Have you had a wine blessed by your father since then?”

Her father’s smugness instilled Levinia with further disbelief. “You’re not a god associated with prophecy.”

“So let’s call it an epiphany. That you call this winery ‘The Oracle’—fate has good taste.”

Levinia wrinkled her nose. Still, the man had a right to believe whatever he pleased, so long as he provided the information she wanted. She crossed her arms. “Epiphany it is. So what did I see?”

In the ensuing silence, Daeon’s features fell again. He folded his hands together. “You’ll believe me, then?”

“I won’t guarantee it.”

“That’s fair,” he snorted. “Your unquestioning faith is certainly far more than I can ask for.” He took a deep breath. Then, despite the uncertain furrow of his brow, he began. “We took some time to decode your epiphany. We still have some disagreement about the details, but overall, we think you saw the seas of Chaos.”

That shapeless, tumultuous beginning of all? Levinia raised her brow. “What about it?”

“Them,” Daeon corrected. “They’re an entity, as well as a place. Considering what happened to you in that dream, there’s reason to believe They’re rising.”

“You’re insinuating that Chaos—which just is, and once abdicated Their supremacy—has adopted purpose and direction?”

Daeon chuckled. “And there’s the disbelief. But you’ve noticed the shift in this world, haven’t you? Humanity is slowly sliding this realm back into Chaos, as though to meet Them halfway.”

“Humans have always been a chaotic species. It’s their fate.”

“So you believe the Moirai designed the arrival of their siblings? The children of Nyx?”

“You say it like they’ve never been around.”

“Certainly, they’ve always had their governance over humanity—in dreams, in sleep, in death—but have they always been here, among the mortals? They’re becoming more and more deliberate in their duties, and the humans resist those machinations. You know what defiance of destiny invites.”

Defiance of destiny is the rejection of the gods’ order, and thus, a ticket for Chaos to emerge. The ichor hunters of Levinia’s youth demonstrated as much in their desperate resistance against death, and her network had reported even more: retribution stirring within and between countries, mass, fatal siren calls of both needles and firearms, older generations passing ill will rather than wisdom to the young. “So it was all one cohesive pattern,” Levinia muttered. “They’re goading humans to reject order.”

“Thus allowing the primordial gods even greater reign across the mortal realm. Their efforts will cloud humanity with the mists of Erebus, and so ready this world for Nyx’s sovereignty.” Daeon’s voice fell. “Once Nyx veils all in primordial night and refuses return to Tartarus, Chaos will surge forth to reclaim what They bore.”

“Unbelievable,” Levinia snorted, shaking her spinning head. “You inferred all of this from a drunken nightmare I had as a child, and you’re only now coming with a full analysis of it?”

“We had to be sure we correctly understood this particular thread of fate. Our preparations needed to be perfect.”

“And leaving lovers and demigod children behind in the meantime?”

Here, Daeon met Levinia’s eye. Guilt, and at the same time, conviction, reflected in his expression. “That was never my intention. We all had our parts to play in this matter, what with closing the gates of Olympus…”

Levinia blinked, eyes bugging out. “Come again?” she scoffed. “Zeus would have you and his family abandon this realm?”

“I’m sure,” Daeon interjected, “I’m certain, he made the decision with a heavy heart—humans have always fascinated him! Yet I hear the scale of this conflict won’t compare to the war against the Titans, or so Poseidon assures.”

Levinia pressed her fingers against her temples, her scrambled disbelief pounding a headache. Slowly, she parsed her thoughts.

One, her father sat before her at her bar. He wanted to take her home, to his home of Olympus.

Two, the children of Nyx, even Nyx herself, worked to set the humans against themselves. To invite Chaos back. And Levinia had had a dream prophesying this some long, ancient time ago.

And, according to Levinia’s up-til-then absent father, her assuredly dead mother had somehow missed the road signs and ferry to the Underworld. She never took her rightful place among the dead.

“Whew…” She lowered her hands and laid them flat on the polished bar top. Refocus, she told herself. What’s here? What’s now?

Herself, first of all. Her father and his unannounced visit. The wine between them, Mother’s “Prayer”—Ah, Levinia, I am so sorry. I’m nobody more than a winemaker’s daughter and yet I find myself wishing—though Levinia would not tell Dionysus this name.

And then The Oracle. She’d been here so long, along with others too. Others that mattered. “What about the other kids like me? You’ve all abandoned us for so long—now you have a plan?”

“We’re in disagreement there as well.” Daeon met Levinia’s sharp, accusatory glare and hurriedly added, “I will grant you protection, of course, but some would rather maintain Olympus as hallowed ground, and prepare those children for war instead. A crusade, they say, to restore order.”

Did you hear, Levinia? Your father finally has his throne among the Olympians! Apparently, bringing his mother back from Hades was the final test of his divinity. And now she’s ascended as a deity on Olympus too!

I… I wonder, if that honor could ever be extended to me?

Soft orange flares glowed in the crystal of Levinia’s neatly lined glasses. She asked, quietly, “Would you have protected Mother, were she still alive?”

“That’s why I made my way to the Underworld again.” Daeon murmured, as if their whispers could somehow reach the shade in question. “Hades was cross with me, but I had every intention of bringing Lyridice back. Only, she wasn’t in Elysium.”

Semele was beautiful—is beautiful. You see, beauty makes the difference between two mortal women. Look at me. I’ve always been cross. I’ve never been beautiful. I’ve this ugly red mark on my face that I wrapped and hid every day, yet your lord father unveiled me. Looked upon me. Embraced me and called me beautiful. I told him he’ll someday wake up from those delusions.

But now, without him? I miss him, Levinia. I miss him more every day.

I tell myself he’ll come home. Do you think the gods will forgive my vanity?

“She would have waited. You’re right about that, at least.” She waved aside Daeon’s touched, tearful look. “At least I’m still here. You’d have me head for Olympus as a refugee, then?”

Noting her father’s affirming nod, Levinia regarded the quiet winery. For sanctuary within Olympus, she’d have to give this place up. Whether this “rising” of Chaos happened tonight or within the next five hundred years, Olympus would supposedly protect her. Her father was luckily one of the kinder Olympians who reveled in celebration more than sacrifice.

But the more pragmatic gods meant to outfit their demigod children for war. With war came carnage, meaning those abandoned kids would inevitably be the first casualties. The thought soured in the back of Levinia’s throat. “Can’t you extend your protection to the rest of our kind?”

Daeon folded his shaking hands together. “It’s my word against those of older siblings and my father. Some have no kindness or wisdom, but I will continue asking them to reconsider. Demigods or not, our children shouldn’t have to suffer their parents’ whims.”

Levinia snorted. “You could say that twice and a few times more.”

“Please, Levinia.”

“I don’t think so, Father. I’m not as bitter now, but I still have a right to my anger. Rage is also part of your domain, after all.”

She smirked at her father’s exasperation, yet Levinia’s thoughts wandered again. Less fortunate kids had no divine or living parent to speak of or with. Those lost children floated about and survived, until rumor clued them into a haven nestled in the heart of some far-flung wine country. Half-disbelieving, they stumbled on, following the word of equally mistrustful kids until they fell upon the doorstep of The Oracle. Levinia gave them food, drink, a bed, a bath, no questions, and only one rule: no trouble. After a few silent days, they usually asked about their almighty parents, because surely Miss Levinia and her network would have answers, but she always gave her sobering response of, “No one knows.”

Now she knew—Chaos is coming and the gates of Olympus are closing—but then what? Absent parents never had sudden changes of heart. Even Dionysus needed a reason. So how would an answer change any of the demigods’ circumstances? If Levinia left The Oracle, where would those kids go next?

‘They’re resourceful,’ she told herself. ‘They know how to get by.’ Yet a sense of proud duty answered, that without Miss Levinia, who knew the ways of the divine children because she was one too, the kids had nowhere else to go. After all, she maintained the store’s front not only for her devotion to winemaking.

She tapped the bar top. “You’ll be returning to Olympus,” Levinia finally answered, “without me.”

“Without—wait—without?”

Levinia smiled despite the pang against her chest. “Ah, Father. Think of it like this: if I could get you to choose me over your other children, would you stay with me here among the mortals?” She noted Daeon’s alarmed, ponderous expression and waved her remark aside. “You see? Much as I would hate and appreciate my lord father’s company, either I would have to abandon this place, or you would have to stay with me in this possible war-zone.” Levinia took a dry cloth from a cabinet, wet and wrung it, and began wiping down her bar top. “I don’t think we can compromise either of our positions.”

Understanding visibly dawned in Daeon’s expression. He said nothing for a long while, only picking up his empty glass to let Levinia wipe. Then, “Tell me, Levinia,” he started, “about this place. You never spoke much about it through the grapevine.”

“Professional necessity,” Levinia replied. “I said nothing about this operation in case someone up there didn’t like the idea of a bunch of demigod children gathering in one place.”

“How long have you been doing this?”

“Since I realized humans believe immortality’s worth bleeding a kid dry.” She snickered at Daeon’s flinch. “I’ve had a lot of help, since I’m moving shop all around. This place is only a couple centuries old.”

“Why reveal this place to mortals as a winery?”

Levinia shrugged. “Tending to and establishing this network takes money, you know. I make good wine, and some of the kids want jobs. So I help them by keeping this place in operation throughout the day.

“Kids are smart, see. They rotate their own roster and keep me a secret. The humans believe the original owner’s long dead.”

Daeon, tracing the rim of his glass, finally smiled. “A compelling ruse. You truly do make a fantastic protection goddess.”

“Don’t joke like that,” said Levinia. “It’s just volunteer work. I only started this because I needed a place like this as a child. Figured there were others too.” She eyed her father’s glass, its bottom caked with the last drying drops of Lyridice’s “Prayer.” Then squaring her shoulders and straightening her waistcoat, Levinia folded her hands behind her back. “Well then. You have your answer, and assuming you’re telling the truth, I shouldn’t keep you. Thank you, Father, for finding me.”

To which Daeon regarded with a somber shake of his head, before he broke into a chuckle. “I see you’ve inherited that terrible habit of hers,” he said.

“Habit?”

“That dismissive tone. Lyridice was always cross, even as a young woman. I believed I could persuade her to soften her edges, but I never succeeded.” He snickered, low and fond. “I couldn’t. She was bright. Hardworking. Sensible and fearless. She eventually revealed her vulnerability to me, but I always found her snap quite charming.”

“And I’m her daughter,” Levinia snorted. “Notice, that while you confused me and pissed me off, you never persuaded me.”

“I stopped you from throwing me out.”

“Save your breath. That wasn’t your persuasion.”

“So you say, but I believe I can yet convince you to come with me.”

Levinia narrowed her eyes. “If you’re telling the truth, your father’s gates will close before you convince me to do anything, much less rely on your protection.”

“Is that a challenge? I do intend on returning to enjoy Lyridice’s masterpiece a few times more.”

“Then take the entire jug. I’m sure she’d like that.”

“Do you think it’ll lead us to her?” Eager hope made him breathless, as he leaned forward on the bar top. “She asked you to preserve this wine for a reason, something more than simply my blessing.”

Levinia raised a brow. “You’re overthinking it. She left no records or recipes, and told me nothing. So I doubt you’ll glean anything from this brew, let alone where she could be other than avoiding you in Elysium.”

“She was never a woman to back out of her promises.” Hands folded, Daeon stared, pensive, at the glass before him. “Zeus will leave the gates open to the very last minute. I’ll find Lyridice by then.”

Levinia, still wordlessly impressed by her father’s faith, shook her head.

Then a wind stirred outside, heralding the arrival of another visitor. Two, in fact, by the sounds of familiar motorcycle purrs and deep, soul-curdling barking. Levinia eyed the glass panes of her doors and watched as the twins’ silhouettes approached The Oracle. Sensing drawn blades should they recognize an Olympian at their favorite haunt, Levinia cleared her throat. “Consider yourself taken with a grain of salt,” she said, “but I’ll see what I can find on my end.”

The statement had her father beaming. “A grain is better than none,” he said. “Know that I’m proud of you, Levinia.”

She averted her eyes from Daeon’s smile as the flare of her own ears choked her smartest responses and left her grumbling, “Now I do.” While she snorted against the embarrassed tangle in her chest, her gaze darted across the tasting room. Setting her eyes back on her father then, she knew, spelled trouble for the still-restrained tears prickling across her face. “And, uh, if you could kindly see yourself out soon? You’ll—you’ll send the brats running for the hills.”

Daeon turned toward the doors, where the twins peered through the glass. “Well, that wouldn’t do,” he said, softening his voice. The doors swung open, revealing the twins already in their ready stances, hands clenched over the handles of their weapons. “I’ve truly overstayed my welcome, then?”

The brother’s black steel sword and the sister’s ebonywood flute shone orange under The Oracle’s amber lights. Lips pursed, Levinia eyed her returning customers and shook her head. “Truly,” she replied, flinching at her own cold civility. “Go on. Get out.”

Yet Daeon kept his steady grin. He rose from his seat and buried his hands in his pockets. “I hope you’ll allow me to come back, then.”

Heart leaping up her chest, and with little trace of her old bitterness, Miss Levinia returned Lord Dionysus’s radiant grin, albeit with a huff. “’Tis a promise,” she said, “and I’m personally holding you to that this time. Don’t come ‘til the store’s empty, you hear?”

“Loud and clear, my dear. Loud and clear.”

He lifted his hand in farewell, and bowing his head, passed the tensed twins on his way to the door. The door closed behind him, and like fading smoke, Father disappeared into the night. Levinia released her held breath in a deep exhale.

The twins, sheathing their weapons, slid into their stools. They leaned over the bar top, brows furrowed, eyes narrowed and shoulders tensed. Who was that man in that hideous purple hood? Did he seriously have leopard print down the sleeves and sides? That hoodie alone’s enough for an assassination request, Miss Levinia, and—friendly reminder—the twins had cleared their schedule for the evening. She knew, right, that if she ever were in trouble, she could ask them, and they’d do whatever necessary to return their favors. And their tab.

Levinia nodded, blankly rinsing her father’s glass. A part of her cursed the twins for their prickly mistrust. Another part applauded herself for avoiding an altercation between god and demigod. As she drew her sleeve across her wet eyes, she dimly registered another part of herself fading—the rage that once flared in the back of her throat, up into her head, and all through her body for centuries untold. And as she dried her father’s glass and set it next to the amphora in her sealed cabinet, a newly assured part steeled her new gamble: Mother’s prayer would again bring Father back home.

Now her business began. “You two—you’re alright,” Miss Levinia remarked, beckoning her customers to calm down. She wore her customary smile again, improved, she realized, from the new stretch of her lips and the crease of her eyes and cheeks. “I just got hold of new information for you and the other brats. New job too, personal this time.”

She set two glasses before the twins and retrieved a new bottle from the wall behind her. “I need you to find a missing shade in the Underworld. And relax; this round’s on me.

“We’re celebrating tonight.”