#and her daughter was there so i got to make commiserating eye contact

[notquiteaghost]

customer making small talk at work: [legal name] is a good name, i've always liked unique names

me: yeah, so did my parents!

customer, who also clocked my pronouns & definitely just assumed i meant 'Actually, that's my birth name': oh, really?

me, who has a similarly unique birth name but also i inadvertently stole my brother's name with one syllable changed and i dont want to get into all that while ringing up her shopping: haha yeah. i like it though!

[ashdoesfandomarchieved]

For your requests: Lower Decks senior crew meeting when they talk about dumb stuff. I saw the bar stool meeting in moist vessel and honestly, that was favorite part of that episode.

My apologies! I know this has been sitting in my inbox forever!!

Set in season 1 II AO3 Link

T'Ana is three fingers into her whiskey when Carol drops into her chair. Stress lines combined with her haphazardly styled hair indicates that she's been dealing with a certain wild ensign again. T'Ana feels equal parts amused and exasperated by the fact that Mariner could so easily get under the skin of their captain, but makes no mention of it.

"Aren't you on duty?" Ransom asks, sitting in his chair backwards like he's William fucking Ryker. Whatever, she's not going to ruin his dreams.

She throws back the rest of her drink. "And what of it?" T'Ana lets a bit of a growl into her voice.

Ransom holds up his hands placatingly. Carol eyes her empty glass longingly.

"Sorry-!" Billups yips, flying through the doorway so fast it almost doesn't have time to open for him. "-I didn't realize we had a-"

"It's fine," Carol mutters. "Take a seat."

Billups sits next to Stevens, who's been making weird eye contact with Ransom.

T'Ana doesn't want to know. She pulls her flask out of her lab jacket and takes a swig.

"Is this about the away mission?" Ransom asks, sighing. "Because I swear I didn't know the Gadaorianzes believed bathbombs were devil worship-"

"It's not about that," Carol interrupts, rubbing her temples. By the look on her face it's clear she and Ransom are going to be discussing that in great detail later.

"Okay then," Ransom glances around the room puzzled. "Then what's-"

Carol mumbles something incomprehensible to everyone but T'Ana. Sometimes having enhanced hearing is a perk.

This is not one of those times.

T'Ana pulls out her second flask from her boot and drains it.

"Uh, I didn't quite catch that-" Stevens begins.

"It's about Mariner!" Carol snaps.

T'Ana flattens her ears and rolls her eyes. "You've got to be kidding me."

Shaxs, who's been relatively quiet thus far, exchanges a commiserating glance with her.

"She's never where she should be, she disregards mission protocols, she sasses her superiors, she's not even adhering to dress code half the time-"

"Just demote her then," Ransom says, looking relieved that he's not about to be reamed out in front of the entire senior crew. Yet.

Carol narrows her eyes. "I can't," she mutters.

T'Ana raises an eyebrow. Or her equivalent of one, anyway. "What, she some bigwig's daughter? That make sense," she snorts.

The Captain's eyes get even more squinty. "What's that supposed to mean, Dr. T'Ana?"

"Oh, you let her get away with waaay to much shit for her to be anything less than an Admiral's daughter."

"I heard she's a spy for section-"

"Everyone knows you can't trust shit from the rumor mill on this ship, Billups."

"I'm saying it would make sense! Do you know how much she can bench press?"

"And she's so tiny too," Ransom says, mournfully.

"Eh-"

"Not really-"

"Actually she's taller than me-"

Ransom, who has about eight inches on everyone present, just scowls at the table.

"Cool, so Mariner's making the Captain spazz out," Steven's says, leaning back in his chair. He clearly trying to pull off casual and suave, but not succeeding due to the fact that you can only lean so far back in the swivel chairs before toppling over. "What are we supposed to do about it?"

"This isn't 'problem solving meeting,'" Ransom hisses, "it's our weekly group therapy session, Steve, keep up."

"Wait that's a thing?"

"How long have you been on this ship?" T'Ana asks.

"Four years."

"And you haven't noticed that Freeman calls us in here at least once a week-if not twice-to complain about her mentee?"

"She's not my mentee!"

"You're emotionally attached to her, just sign the adoption papers already," T'Ana shoots back, earning a chuckle of Shaxs.

"You do get this strangely constipated look around her," he adds.

"Hmm, just like the one you get when you look at Ensign Rutherford?" T'Ana adds, smirking.

"I don't have fatherly feelings toward-"

"You all disgust me," T'Ana says, shaking her head.

"Don't worry, someday you'll find an adorable, wide eyed Ensign to adopt," Carol says, patronizingly, something of a grin melting away the stress in her face.

"So you're admitting that you wanna adopt the problem child?"

Carol scowls. "I didn't call this meeting to be-"

"We are in fucking basement levels of denial," T'Ana groans. She drops her head onto the table and feels around in her back pocket for another flask.

"Just throw her in the brig again and be done with it," Ransom mutters, circling back to the original topic at hand. "It's not as if she can get up to much trouble there."

"Don't say that," Billups moans, probably remembering the last time Mariner was thrown in the brig. T'Ana hadn't been there for it personally, but she knows Carol deleted the security footage for therapy related reasons.

"Can't you just bribe her? Can she be bribed?" Steven muses.

"That's against regulation." Carol's considering expression is at odds with her words.

"Find her weakness and use it against her," Ransom says, filing his nails.

"She doesn't have weaknesses." Carol's face is now intense.

"She has friends right? Surely they're an influence on her."

Carol scowls. "Trust me, I tried that. Her best friend has some sort of loyalty crush on her and the rest of them would sooner break the rules than try and intervene."

"You have only one choice than," Shaxs says, voice rumbling.

Everyone turns to look at him.

"Give up."

"What!"

"Did he really just say that?"

"Shaxs!"

"No no. He's right."

T'Ana grabs the bottle of vodka ducktapped under the table and uncorks it. It's going to be a long afternoon.

[coeurdastronaute]

Essays in Existentialism: Atlantis 6

Previously on Atlantis

The moment she woke, Clarke kept her eyes closed and just listened, realizing that things were not what she’d expected. She felt the familiar weight of her blankets, and she smelled the smell of her parent’s house, the smell as old as time, that she often never noticed, but after being removed for so long, inhaled greedily as she dug her face in her pillow. 

There were noises downstairs that finally registered before she opened her eyes, held her breath, and hid in the pillows. She heard some clamor of her parents making breakfast, coffee steam sifting up through the vents. She heard the squeak and chatter of some birds in the trees outside her window. For a moment, Clarke pretended that she was miles underwater, and there might be a beautiful girl awkwardly standing outside her door. 

But there wasn’t, and there wouldn’t be. Clarke rolled to her back and stared at the ceiling before digging the heel of her hands into her eyes and sighing. A day ago, she was in a beautiful palace, and now she was back at her parent’s house, without a job, without a career, without a mentor, without any idea of what was to come forward. 

Her body was completely healed, a feat that was mind-blowing considering her wounds and condition after the explosion and being stranded at sea. But now, when it was quiet, and she was safe in the familiar, Clarke realized the massive grief heaped upon her, that surviving came at a cost. 

When it got to be too much, when she cried silent tears that covered her face and left her chest fluttering and aching, Clarke wiped her face and took a few deep breaths, hoping to find some sort of center amidst the flood of absolute pain that washed over her entire body. She wanted to take another sleeping pill and pass out until her heart didn’t hurt anymore, but that seemed unwise. 

As soon as she made it down the stairs and stepped into the kitchen, Clarke realized she’d made a horrible mistake and should have stayed in bed. 

“Clarke! Oh my God!”

“We were--”

“I’m so glad you’re--”

“You look!”

The chorus of voices erupted and she took a step back, confused and overwhelmed by the outpouring of her closest friends as they began to circle and reach out and smother. 

“Okay, okay, back up everyone,” Abby jumped in carefully, keeping the horde from her terror-stricken daughter. “Give her a moment to breathe. I’m sure she’s not used to being around people, they had her in isolation due to exposure during the explosion.”

“But luckily, she didn’t come in contact with any of the pathogens she was studying,” Jake smiled graciously behind the island as he added more pancakes to the pile forming on the large breakfast display. “Better safe than sorry though.” 

“You should have seen your mom. I think she nearly got arrested for trying to break into a government installation,” Raven offered with a smile as Abby hit her shoulder. 

“Come sit,” Octavia hurried, clearing more of a path. “You must be hungry.” 

“Not really,” Clarke smiled softly and took the seat anyway. 

The friends shared a look as Clarke sat there and looked at the display of everyone trying to be normal. Abby hovered, rubbing her daughter’s back, soothing away the worries that remained. No one knew about the ten minutes ago, where she broke down and clawed at her chest in her bed. No one. 

“Your appetite will come back,” her mother promised. “Let me make you a little plate. Everyone can dig in. Your friends have been anxiously waiting to see you.” 

The general hubbub of people moving about the kitchen really only settled well after Clarke had a plate set in front of her. She ate a blueberry and nodded, smiling at her mother to tell her not to worry. It felt like before, like how it always was, since middle school, the whole gang fighting over this and that, piling over each other to eat. Even when college and life took them different ways, they were never far off. There was something grounding in it, just like her sheets, just like the noises of the morning. 

“So what happened, Clarke? We only heard bits and pieces on the news,” Raven explained between mouthfuls of Jake’s famous pancakes. “They kept repeating the same things, over and over again.” 

“What did they say?” 

Clarke already knew the story. She’d been held in a government facility for six hours and briefed on how to behave and what to say. She had a business card with FBI on it and Agent Barne’s number hidden in her sock drawer. 

“Just that a bad storm led to the ship sinking. I can’t imagine how bad it must have been,” Octavia shook her head. “At first they said no survivors. We all thought you were dead for seventeen hours.” 

“I’m… I’m…” Clarke furrowed and shook her head, looking guiltily at her food, afraid to meet their eyes. “I’m so sorry.” 

“But you’re not,” Bellamy interrupted. “And you don’t have to talk about what happened.” 

A pointed look was exchanged between him and the rest, warning them to behave and not push. 

“There isn’t much to tell,” she shrugged, perking up a bit and deciding to pick up her fork. “The storm was bad, and then I woke up in a government hospital. I wish there was a better story. I was checking weather reports in the navigation center, and I think we hit a wave or gust and I must have hit my head and blacked out.” 

“It’s not every day that a concussion is a blessing,” Jake offered, finally taking his seat with the rest. “But it must have saved you.” 

“A blessing,” Clarke repeated, contemplating the word for a moment before taking a big bite of breakfast. “Like these pancakes. I feel better already.” 

The group chuckled and refused to talk about the accident again, while Clarke ate and smiled until she couldn’t any longer. She explained that she was still a little drowsy, and wanted to lay down. Every person promised to be back and see her again, demanding that she call if she needed anything at all. With grateful and long and tight hugs, her lifelong friends filed out as Clarke slipped upstairs. 

It truly was exhausting, to finally think about it, to remember the storm and her colleagues and all of the people who died. The numbness-- that was the true blessing of Atlantis. There wasn’t time to grieve when her body was overloaded with stimuli, unlike now, where everything was mundane and allowed her to think. 

Clarke slipped into her childhood bed again, and she pulled the blanket over her head, rolling into herself tightly before drifting off to an uneasy sleep. 

XXXXXXXXXX

For about a full week, Clarke existed in a fairly mundane routine of recover that all at once suited her and drove her nuts. Simultaneously, she felt prepared to do something-- anything-- and yet, could not imagine doing anything other than nothing. Her body and mind and soul needed time to come back, and she knew it. It didn’t make it any easier for her to stomach, but she begrudgingly listened. 

Every morning she got up and had a special breakfast her father made, even though her appetite was minimal and favored banalities. And then she would take a walk, sometimes with a friend, sometimes alone before coming home to shower and read or watch tv before a nap. Usually someone came by in the afternoon before dinner to occupy her, keep her busy, keep her doing something. Then came a family dinner, every night, her mother arriving right on time to join them. Dinner led to a movie, which then led to sleep. 

It was a safe and easy schedule in which she didn’t talk about anything with anyone. 

Until the arrival of the invitations for the funerals for the people finally confirmed dead after the concluded investigation into the crash and retrieval of bodies from the water, an initiative led by the Atlanteans as a gesture of good faith. 

Two weeks after her return, Clarke found her schedule consisting of funerals, nearly every day, each more difficult than the last, but as the final crewmember standing, as the only representative of her research team, she sat there at each and remembered with everyone else, commiserating in their grief. It helped and hurt, as any cathartic thing is meant to do. 

The third week she returned somewhat to her normal schedule with an intermittent funeral, the last residual ones ending quickly. 

A month after her return, Clarke felt marginally normal, except that she had no idea what the future held. 

It took five weeks for her to schedule an appointment with the university, despite her mother and father telling her she could take more time. 

Only after six weeks, did Clarke allow herself to really think about her time in Atlantis. Most of the time, she found herself daydreaming about Lexa in some form because it was one of the few thoughts that made her feel unburdened and less heavy in her chest. But, she actively kept herself from thinking too much, often shaking away the thoughts when her mind began to drift. 

After the nightly movie, and after she excused herself to sleep, Clarke sat at her desk and look at her laptop, knowing full well what was about to happen. She moved to lift the lid and then stopped, closing it and drumming her fingers along the top before looking over her shoulder at her closed door, straining her ears to hear anything. 

Though it was quiet, she hurried to place an old sweatshirt near the bottom of her door to block out any light, listening again, closer to the hall, at the familiar noises of her parents getting ready to go to sleep. 

Satisfied that no one would see her, Clarke ripped open her laptop, and quietly as she could type, logged in and began to type her query. 

L-E-X

Backspace.

A-L-E-X-A-N

Backspace.

P-R-I-N-C-E-S-S O-F A-T-L-A-N-T-I-S

Enter.

In the dark room, the glow of the screen colored her face, but she didn’t care. She bit her lip and looked at the photos first, and upon not finding many, looked through the first few search results. Little was known about Atlantis, let alone the heir to the throne, and any pictures that existed were not good. 

Mildly disappointed, Clarke slumped back in her chair and toyed with the scroll, debating what to do with no information and how deep, exactly, she was willing to dive into conspiracy theories and doctored photos. 

Backspace.

A-Q-U-A-G-I-R-L

Enter. 

Clarke paused only to look back at her door and close her laptop slightly, though not all the way, when she heard a sound in the hall. She held her breath and waited for her parents to go to bed before opening it fully again. 

There were more search results for that name, and Clarke mildly regretted it, because the images of Lexa, in a skin-tight suit, with a weapon, was a little disorienting. And then she stood beside her father, who was, even though it was an understatement, an actual mountain of a human. Lexa had his eyes, his chin, his grin, and goodness, did she have a similar fitness regime. 

Slowly making her way through the gallery, Clarke smiled to herself when she thought about Lexa, shy and with red-tipped ears, kind and gentle and soft to her for no reason at all. And then she looked at Lexa’s biceps. 

“Fuck,” Clarke sighed and shook her head. 

Backspace.

A-Q-U-A-G-I-R-L -B-I-C-E-P-S

Clarke hesitated before smiling to herself. 

Enter.

XXXXXXXXXX

The meeting at the university didn’t turn up much good news, as the semester was just ending and the summer was approaching. With an epic catastrophe to handle and fix, the powers behind all decisions, didn’t have any answers other than to enroll Clarke the following semester to finish her degree requirements. 

It was fair and just and gave Clarke time to recover and get back into thinking about existing again. Of course, Clarke found anything reasonable to be exhausting, in and of itself, and so she hated having to wait, hated losing her research, hated everything about everything that left her stuck. 

Three days later, however, she found herself back at the Spindrift, unsure of why she was there, and marvelling at how it operated when it was opened. People were buzzing about, familiar with their duties, as if it hadn’t opened merely two months prior. 

“It’s nice to see you again, Agent Barnes,” Clarke smiled, shaking the agents hand as she approached the waiting area. 

“Thanks for coming down.” 

“I don’t think I had a choice.” 

Clarke looked over her shoulder at the two men that picked her up for her ‘appointment.’ When she looked back, the agent was not amused. 

“You are being formally offered a position here, at the Spindrift.” 

“I might formally ask why?” she furrowed and looked at the blue folder that was handed to her, complete with the seal of Atlantis on it. “I’m still in my degree program for the Masters, and haven’t decided to complete the doctorate…. Is this salary serious?” 

“Government salaries are never a laughing matter.” 

“I could make three times this in the private sector.” 

“Yes,” the agent nodded. “And you would never work with any Atlantean healers or products ever again.” 

“Why me?” 

The agent opened another folder she was carrying. 

“You searched Atlantis comma Princess Lexa six times,” Barnes read from the folder, dragging her finger along the words there. “And Biceps comma Aquagirl, approximately a dozen.” 

The manilla folder shut quickly. 

“Per the queen herself, in conjunction with your university and the United States government, you are being offered a position at the Spindrift for research in intercontinental knowledge sharing.” 

Clarke furrowed and shook her head, not sure of what she was following entirely. There was certainly some mortification in there, she knew that, felt it eating her alive in front of the agent with an inability to change her inflection at all. 

“I find this idea the best case scenario, and you to be a complete risk to yourself and the sanctity of Atlantis,” the agent muttered, tossing the folder on the table. “Accept it so that I can watch you behave yourself and stop doing searches online of a reclusive and dangerous foreign entity that only you have visited.”

“You… you-- you hacked my computer?” 

“You are an intern and only living non-Atlantean who has been to Atlantis, of course your government is watching you.” 

“But why? I don’t know anything.” 

“You know enough.” 

“Who else has seen this?” Clarke blushed, though she attempted to hide it as best she could. There surely was no surviving this level of mortification. 

“No one.” 

“Was my offer made because of-- because I know--” she paused and took a breath. “Who did this?” 

“This offer was asked for by the Queen herself on behalf of one of her greatest medical researcher. Apparently you are the only person this researcher could tolerate.”

That feisty old broad, Clarke thought to herself as she shook her head. 

“How is… um, how-- How is the-- uh-- How is Aquaman? I heard about a battle before--”

“You have seventy-two hours to think about this. I will only ever communicate with you regarding official matters in this office, and anything relating to activities done by Atlantean royal family are unofficial until commented upon by official state representatives.” 

“You sound like a blast at parties.”

The agent didn’t move at all at the comment. 

“I’m sorry,” Clarke apologized. “That was rude. You are just so-- intense.” 

“I’ve worked fifteen years with the King to make this a reality. If I wasn’t intense, it would be for nothing.”

“Can I ask about, um, the Prin-- about Lexa?” 

“Officially, no.” 

“Unofficially?” 

“Unofficially, no.” 

“But you just set it up like you would say something unofficial.”

“I cannot control any inferences made.” 

With growing frustration, both at the agent and herself, Clarke pursed her lips and looked down at the seal on the folder. It was something, and some sort of direction in a time when she very badly needed it. 

“Unofficially,” the agent finally started, lowering her voice. “Just save the pictures. Why would you keep searching the same thing?” 

“After a brief, embarrassed pause, Clarke nodded and looked back at the agent. 

“I’ll look this over and get back to you. Unofficially or officially or whatever, thank the Queen, if you see her.” 

The agent nodded instead of arguing, nudging her head slightly so the agents would continue to escort the scientist back toward the entrance. 

XXXXXXXXXX

Three months after her shipwreck and rescue to an untouched land, hidden in the depths of the sea by a beautiful princess with a mythical bloodline and inheritance in the shape of a trident, Clarke sat at her desk in a very small cubicle, in a very small office, with six other research associates. 

It was a very tedious job for the first few weeks, and just on the horizon was the actual research that Clarke hoped would lead to figuring out what the healer did to heal her so quickly, and if she could figure out how to help other people. 

There was an element of escapism to worke each day, enough that Clarke found herself staying late to avoid her worried family’s glances and the mothering that all of her friends did. It was appreciated but also extremely stifling for someone who was stubborn and willingly admitted it. 

“You heading out soon?” Wells asked as he shouldered his bag and looked over the cubicle wall to see Clarke’s small desk, covered with pictures of Atlantean books. 

“Yeah, in a bit,” Clarke nodded, not looking up from the notebook she was writing something down quickly. 

“I could wait around and we could go grab dinner. There’s this great place in town. Only like fifteen minutes from the main gate.” 

“I’m not sure how long a bit is going to be. I want to finish looking at this property sheet before we get samples next week.” 

Kind and bright, Wells was a soft-spoken doctoral student with a knack for keeping an eye on Clarke without being overbearing. Always firmly pressed in his khakis and tucked primly with his button downs, he hid behind thick-rimmed glasses, but ran marathons. He wasn’t overwhelming in the eye he kept on his co-worked. Sometimes, Clarke thought he might even fancy her a little bit.

When Wells didn’t say anything, Clarke looked up and offered a smile as he debated the next step for the evening. 

“Get out of here,” Clarke told him. “I won’t be too much longer, and some quiet will help me.” 

“If you’re sure.” 

“I’ll see you on Monday.” 

“Have a good weekend.” 

Clarke watched him nod and returned to her work, doing her best to transcribe an ancient language with limited training and the most basic knowledge of what some of the ancient plants used. She felt like an archaeologist, investigating something she would never truly understand, and yet she’d been there. She’d heard the words spoken. 

The ‘little bit’ she mentioned gradually turned into a while, and the evening settled outside on the water, calming it until the waves were nearly non-existent. There was still a fading light outside when Clarke closed her notebook and shut her laptop for the evening, and it only truly disappeared after she shouldered her bag and shoved in a few folders to work on over the weekend. 

With a final look around the office, Clarke nodded and made her way to the door, preparing for two long days of her parents making sure she was alright. She needed her own place, and enough space to stop thinking about--

“Lexa?” 

The same smile, the same caught look in her eyes, the same stance, the same eyes-- the entire package looked back at Clarke expectantly. Gone were the formal Atlantean clothes, and in their place was simple jeans and an old sailor’s sweater, a shoulder lovingly patched by expert hands. Gone were the intricate braids and armor, and instead a wild mane perched itself atop Lexa’s head, blown about by the wind and her hands in equal measure. 

“You’re here late.” 

“You’re here.” 

“You said you’d be close.” 

Without meaning to, Clarke took a step forward before catching herself. Lexa tucked her arms behind her back, ever vigilant to remain proper and royal. 

“Have you eaten?” Clarke finally broke the quiet. 

“You were my first stop after my grandfather’s. I don’t know my way around land that well.” 

“I’m honored.” 

“Care to show me around?” 

The question came with a grin, and Lexa extended her elbow willingly, waiting for Clarke to take it again as she hadn in the Hanging Gardens. That was all she needed, to remember that it hadn’t been a dream, that three days, three months ago happened. 

There really wasn’t a question to it at all. 

Clarke nodded, smiled, and took the arm offered to her, and whatever else would come attached.

NEXT

[darkestcrows]

Chapter 1

It was cold. I could feel the cool fall air settle into my very bones. This was the most beautiful time of the season. All the trees shed their leaves of yellow, red, and orange to fall asleep for the winter. By the biting cold of this morning, I could tell it was going to be a formidable winter season. I rose from the stump I was sitting on and started the trek back to the camp. My fingernails were nearly blue, but I didn’t care. I could sit in the woods and look at those trees forever while soaking in the song of the birds and the soft patter of elk hooves in the distance. I was nearing the camp when I heard a branch crack behind me. It wasn’t fear that settled into me; it was pure predatory focus. I reached for the hilt of my favorite iron hunting knife on my left thigh. The hilt was warm and familiar in my hand. I had used it enough times and trained with it enough that holding it was just like adding an extension of my body. My mother made sure of that. Quietly, I turned and scanned the trees behind me. Fine, I thought. So this is how you want to play. I turned back towards the camp, still listening intently at my surroundings. I walked at a leisurely pace, as if I had all the time in the world. I wanted to be slow enough to hear, but calm enough to have my wits about me when the time came. I could see the camp and the smoke from our fires. I could also hear breathing, not 10 yards behind me. Then, it got closer. I could hear steps now. I could hear it tensing; readying to strike. I grabbed my knife and turned in one swift, calculating move. My fist and left side lunged forward. The hilt of my knife and fist made beautifully, precise contact with his left leg and down he went. I stared smugly at the pair eyes that looked up at me, stunned; my eyes. The blue-grey eyes of our family that had been passed down for a millenia. My cousin roles over moaning at the pain in his leg. His brown hair flops in his angular face as he finally stands in his leith form once again.

 “Damn Ria! You didn’t have to hit that hard! I have to use that leg, you know!”

“Yeah I know, but watching you cry on the ground after I bested you is so much more entertaining”

“You’ve been practicing.”

“Don’t sound so surprised, Kaius. You know Mother makes me train.” 

“Well yeah, but you’ve never been so focused and efficient.” 

“You know what’s coming up.” 

We both knew very well what was coming up. The Lunar people celebrated every Lunar child’s 18th birthday with a big feast and a dangerous task to complete in Hades’ Woods. That was why there was a camp set out in the woods. It was in preparation for my feast and task. I dreaded to see what the task would be. Most children who went into Hades’ Woods never came out alive. And if they did come out alive, they were never the same. They were husks of the people they used to be. It would be a mercy to kill them. To end their suffering after seeing what those woods held. 

The rest of the walk to the camp was silent between my cousins and I. Neither of us minded. We were both naturally quiet and thoughtful. Ever since we were children we always found each other at feasts and other social gatherings, just to have someone to commiserate with. All the loud noises, smells, and emotions filling the rooms at the gatherings were almost intoxicatingly, unbearable, but having Kaius there as an anchor always made me feel better. Kaius’ feast and task would come three moons from this one. My train of thought was cut short as we walked into the village. I immediately went to my mother and I’s hut to wash up to get ready for the feast tonight. I looked in the mirror over the wash basin. Wavy, golden-brown hair grazed my collar bones and those blue-grey eyes stared back at me. My face wasn’t soft or angular, but it held an air of strength and femininity. I stepped back to examine my body before getting in the tub to scrub all the sweat and dirt off of my lightly freckled skin. I just grew into my body these past two years. My hips widened and took form and my breast grew a little too. I had a feminine form, but I was also muscular under all the softness of my figure. I didn’t think I was some great beauty; however, ever since I gained my figure, the young men in our community would often stare at me. I couldn’t tell if it was in disgust, indifference or in desire. I would occasionally catch one of them looking at my tits. I knew that look of course. Mother reassured me that I was the most beautiful Lunar girl in our community. I don’t believe her. Mothers are supposed to say such things to make their daughter feel good about themselves. I got in the tub and started scrubbing. The nerves of what tonight would hold made my stomach turn. I held back my nausea and continued scrubbing. I dressed in warm, leather pants and a fur lined tunic. I stepped out of the tent and walked towards where the fires burned for the feast.

[siverwrites]

Press Start Letter

AO3: Siver

There are some pretty big groups here, so I’ll try to keep things short. Prompts are just possible starters. As long as the DNWs are avoided it’s all good! Really can’t go wrong taking anything from my Likes list. A lot of found family vibes happening in this batch so anything in that vein in particular is great.

All requests are for fic or art. Art: Interactions of some sort: emoting at each other, talking, sharing some activity, taking a walk, hugs are always welcome, soft things, whatever suits the pair/group

Likes: fluff, hurt/comfort, comfort, missing scenes, friendships, long-term friendships, close relationships of any sort whether romantic or platonic, familial bonds, found family, sickfic, AUs, fandom crossovers or fusions, angst with a happy end, bonding, cuddling/hugs/holding, banter, mutual care and support, emotional bonding, loyalty, pre-canon, post-canon, reuniting, slice of life

DNW: NSFW, non-con, dub-con, underage relationships, unrequested ships, infidelity

Ghost Trick

I love this game, its characters and pretty much everything about it, so whatever you want to do will be great I am sure. New timeline mysteries and missing memories are always welcome where it makes sense. Alternate timelines and what-ifs are cool to explore. Fluff, comfort, family found or otherwise and friendships are always a go. Any combination of these characters is more than welcome too!

Alma & Emma: Friends! Mom-friends? Knew each other before the girls were born? Is Alma Emma’s beta-reader?Is a certain detective husband merely a great inspiration and Alma is endlessly amused?

Alma & Sissel: That cat is Strange shenanigans. Alternatively Alma knows and teamup times of any sort! Or just some good old comfy cat times

Cabanela & Jowd: Close friends (or more), partners. Determination and loyalty. Really can’t go wrong with anything and these two. Case fic? Just time spent together? Mutual insufferability? Nothing like it!

Cabanela & Kamila: Best weird cool uncle! Best cool niece (whether kids are a what do situation for Cabs or not). How do they spend time together? How does he spoil her rotten?

Cabanela & Missile: Loyalty to the max--of course they get along. Anything cute/fun for these is welcome. Dog snuggles! Dance lessons! Rookie Detective Missile is on the case bark bark!

Cabanela & Pigeon Man: I’m always down for anything during the year they worked together. Alternatively what the heck might pull them together in post-game?

Cabanela/Jowd: No infidelity please. So, this could be a no-reset scenario, something during the game events–ch.9 and ch.15 stuff is always great. Or on a less angsty route, it is the ot3 or some kind of happy V. but Alma’s simply not involved if they’re at work, she’s at work, or a trip or she’s on a trip, etc, so the focus is on their end.  Fluff, bonding, banter, travel, domestic stuff, on-the-job antics either at the station or out on a case.

Cabanela/Jowd/Alma: Post-game. All the polyamory fluff! Domestic fluff, travel fluff, vacation fluff, road trip, picnics, beach trips, train trip? etc. Go for a date whatever a date might entail for these three. Hugs, snuggles, and love.  Light angst is fine too, as long as they get a happy end.

Jowd & Lynne & Memry: Detective group/mentor shenanigans. Likely chicken.

Jowd & Pigeon Man: Old friends. Anything from their past working together, or new timeline working together! Jowd’s gotten strange. There’s a meteorite. PM is intrigued.

Jowd & Sissel: Detective and Ghost Cat. Working together!

Kamila & Amelie: Anything friendship is good. Current ages or future fic/art when they’re older!

Lynne & Memry, Lynne/Memry: The Odd Girls working together drawing all the oddest cases!

Pigeon Man & Blue Doctor: Who is the Blue Doctor. How long has he been around? How might they meet and what do think of each other?

Rindge & Lynne & Memry: Odd Girls + trying-to-be-normal Rindge in an odd world. Contrasts! Clashing ways of working that manage to work!

Sissel & Missile & Lovey-Dove: The animals just hanging out doing animal things. The animals getting on a mission of their own?

Cabanela: Anything Cabanela being his sparkly determined Cabanela self. Something during his five years goal? Day to day life? A hobby? Post-game fun times? Just. Cabanela.

Crossover settings are cool too. Some other settings that I like born of Discord Talks:

FFVI: Half esper Sissel? Magic infused Cabanela with the Empire working in secret? Jowd suplexing a train? Returner Lynne somewhere back there? General Final Fantasy VI shenanigans with these characters. World of Balance? Reunions in the World of Ruin? Opera Cabanela. More info here https://archiveofourown.org/series/1169099 or here: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1196335 or here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16407494

Ivalice: Viera Cabanela! Nu Mou (Tactics Nu Mou specifically) Jowd and family! Anything here. I am more familiar with Tactics versions but anything goes. Fluff? Intrigue? Mist frenzied Cabanela and after effects–maybe the first time Jowd’s seen this happen, and particularly startling from the usually controlled Cabanela who relies more on magic?

FFX: Summoner Jowd, devoted guardian Cabanela who hates this whole process, but isn’t about to leave Jowd. Something during the journey? Something with Yunalesca? Even shortly after it’s all over but they have this new world and old scars to contend with?

Crystal Chronicles: No idea what races they’d be but if there’s something fun to be had here, fly at it. Lilty Jowd? Yuke Cabanela (got that tall bird thing going)? Something more fitting? Something something miasma, something crystals. A moment in their caravan journey?

Trails Series: The cast in Zemuria! Dominion Cabanela undercover in Arc-en-Ciel. What might his stigma be? Knight Alma of the Gralsritter assigned with Cabanela. Crossbell Chief of Police of Jowd separated from Alma some years previously to some disaster (like the manifestation of Cabanela’s stigma) and doesn’t know the other two are alive, along with his daughter Kamila who’s learning all she can about orbal tech. Reuniting! Hermit Pigeon Man orbal scientist and contact for Jowd? Is Lynne a Detective under Jowd or a Bracer? What of Memry? Other ideas entirely!

Trails in the Sky | Sora no Kiseki

Anything in any of the three Sky games or something in between them. Missing scenes, scene extensions, travel along the roads, airship travel times, etc. Ample opportunity for anything in the Garden in 3rd. I love these characters, their world, their relationships or potential for.

Estelle Bright & Cassius Bright: Any kind of father-daughter bonding time. Pre-FC, post-SC before she and Joshua set off, post-return to Liberl, anywhere something can fit really.

Estelle Bright & Olivier Lenheim | Olivert Reise Arnor: Estelle is perpetually and understandably exasperated with him, but what about a quieter moment? Parting ways after SC, or some encouragement at some point during SC for Estelle, or Estelle catching Olivier in an off moment (example: like their talk about the dreams from Luciola).

Estelle Bright & Tita Russell: Sisters! Anything showing a sisterly bond is great.

Julia Schwarz & Mueller Vander: They share the same role with drastically different charges. Relate to one another in some respects? Do some training? Commiserate? Encourage through some similar worries for Kloe and Olivier respectively?

Kevin Graham & Ries Argent: Kevin is a dumbass and is lucky Ries is patient for this self-deprecating fool. More seriously anything about their relationship is good during 3rd or post-3rd (nothing that could spoil Cold Steel III or IV please)

Olivier Lenheim | Olivert Reise Arnor: Just Olivier being Olivier during his Liberl travels either when he’s alone or while he’s with the group, whether it’s outrageous Olivier or quiet time Olivier with a hell of a long road ahead of him on this battle he’s chosen.

Kloe Rinz & Julia Schwarz: Beyond their bond as knight and princess I think they love each other platonically. Sisterly? Something showing their close bond. Helping each other out? Julia protects Kloe but Kloe protects her back in turn? Talks of duty but also personal wants?

The Legend of Heroes VII | Zero/Ao no Kiseki

These games hit my found family buttons hard. Anything portraying some kind of relationship among these characters is awesome. Any combination of these characters is more than welcome too!

Elie MacDowell: Explore Elie’s thoughts and feelings on everything that’s happening in Crossbell. What about her personal feelings on the Croises and betrayed by Mariabell? Her feelings on her own standing and what she wants?

Cecil Neues & Ilya Platiere: They’re an odd friendship and both married to their work but they make it work. Anything exploring their friendship or the time while Ilya was hospitalized--hard on both of them in different ways.

Elie MacDowell & Tio Plato & KeA: Girl’s day out! Aidios knows they could use one. Some kind of Mishy involvement is a bonus (or a necessity in Tio’s eyes).

Lloyd Bannings & KeA: Lloyd is the daddest of dads. Lloyd and KeA time of any sort is good.

Lloyd Bannings & Randy Orlando: They’ve both lost family but they can be brothers for each other. Supporting each other

Randy Orlando & Tio Plato: Big brother Randy and little sister Tio? They both lost their childhoods. Something to relate on?

Rixia Mao/Ilya Platiere: While Ilya clearly cares for Rixia, Rixia’s love may be one-sided (for the time being at least, perhaps more in the future?). Rixia’s thoughts and fears while Ilya is hospitalized. Once awake, Ilya’s concerns for what Rixia really wants and her place--she belongs with Arc-en-Ciel and they both know it

Sergei Lou & Alex Dudley: Past working together or connections in current time. Wildly different personalities but Dudley still listens to Sergei. Anything exploring their working relationship, or anything exploring them off the job on break.

Sergei Lou & KeA: Grumpy uncle Sergei cannot resist the charms of KeA. Anything familial (possibly despite himself) between these two.

Shizuku MacLaine & KeA: Let these kids be happy. Give them a good time together.

Wazy Hemisphere & Noel Seeker: The temporary SSS members, outliers that never quite fit the same as our core four. They’re completely different in personality but how might they connect at least for a little while?

Randy Orlando: Always interested in anything exploring Randy’s struggles with home and family and where his place is (the night he runs away included!). He belongs with SSS but it’s hard for him to see. Also appreciate how casino owner Drake looks out for him. He’s cared for even if he can’t always see it!

Trails of Cold Steel | Sen no Kiseki

Following the theme of these games, bonds! Old bonds, new bonds, forming bonds!

Elliot Craig & Fie Claussell: They don’t get much interaction in-game all told, but I have a special soft spot for a budding friendship between them. School days activities or something during the month they (and Machias) spent in the Celdic area between CS I and II?

Fie Clausell & Instructor Beatrix: Fie finding comfort in Beatrix’s presence. Beatrix looking out for her.

Olivier Lenheim | Olivert Reise Arnor & Alfin Reise Arnor & Mueller Vander: Olivier is Too Much. Alfin is Too Much. What is a Mueller to do when he’s got both of them around?

Olivier Lenheim | Olivert Reise Arnor & Alfin Reise Arnor: Alfin is very much Olivier’s sister. Little sister and big brother shenanigans! Or maybe something welcoming him back to Erebonia?

Olivier Lenheim | Olivert Reise Arnor & Mueller Vander, Olivier Lenheim | Olivert Reise Arnor/Mueller Vande:  Gen or romance slant. I’m good with either or one with shades of the other. I enjoy Mueller and Olivier’s closeness and how they contrast each other. Olivier’s more eccentric and flamboyant nature, but also his more serious side. And Mueller’s regular exasperation with him, but also his care for him. Being there for each other. I’m fond of the little things like how Mueller always calls him Olivier even in Erebonia when Olivert’s identity is known and public. Heimdallr fun or trouble (Olivier…). Planning against Osborne. Look after a tired Olivert? Something during the civil war when they’re in the west?

Principal Vandyck & Instructor Beatrix: Both are more than they appear. I loved the Instructor teamup in the last part of CS I and these two have a history. Explore their connection, or reminiscing. Would also be interested in their activities during Trista’s occupation.

Towa Herschel & George Nome & Angelica Rogner: Anything exploring their friendship, or perhaps something during their time as the proto Class VII or their memories of that time in comparison (or contrast) to the new Class VII?

Mueller Vander & Elise Schwarzer: Elise is sliding into a similar role for Alfin as Mueller for Olivier. Maybe he can give her some advice? Or the two stand by while their respective charges/friends are <vague gesture> That. One way or another the siblings are a handful and Mueller and Elise know it (and if forced into honesty wouldn’t have it any other way).

Pyre

Another case of give me all the found family joys. Daily activities while they travel? Post Peaceful revolution activities? (Note: I’m good with any of the _ae options for Vagabond girl for naming purposes)

Big Bertrude & Volfred Sandalwood: I adore their close friendship and that it came about from Bertrude’s unrequited love, but it’s okay, better than okay! Anything between them in their history, or during the Nightwings travels or post revolution would be great.

Big Bertrude & Sir Gilman: Big snakes and little snake. Grump and enthusiast. Awkward mutual (grudging?) respect?

Jodariel & Sir Gilman: Contrasts in everything from personality to size. Something exploring that would be great

Tariq | The Lone Minstrel & Big Bertrude: We don’t see a lot of interaction between them. How do they get along? What stories might they share? An appreciation for music or something to tolerate? What does a day in the blackwagon look like between them?

Tariq | The Lone Minstrel & Sir Gilman: The Moon and the Wyrm. Music and Knighting. Just these two interacting somehow

Vagabond Girl & Jodariel: Jodariel going mom-mode on _ae? Or just a big hug? _ae being far more enthusiastic than Jodi is used to these days?

Vagabond Girl & Sir Gilman: So much energy!

Volfred Sandalwood & Sandra: So much potential for interaction as a reader. And snark. And an unimpressed Sandra. But on some things they can maybe agree...

Volfred Sandalwood/Tariq | The Lone Minstrel: Something gentle for the tree and the moon who somehow fell for him, any time period

Ti'Zo: Imp doing imp things. Anything Ti’zo will make me happy

FFVI

All that travelling time is ripe for more interaction or character exploration. Equally interested in what they might be doing after the world is saved too.

Cayenne Garamonde | Cyan Garamonde (FFVI): Where does Cyan go when the world is saved? What is a new home for Cyan? Alternatively a look at Cyan’s time during the year between the World of Balance and the World of Ruin

Celes Chere (FFVI): Opera Celes! Celes time away from the party after Vector. Celes after the world is saved--what does she do, where does she go?

Edgar Roni Figaro & Setzer Gabbiani: King and Engineer in a mechanical moving castle? Pilot of the only airship? They could have some great talks. Maybe some proposed airship upgrades?

Thank you for anything you do!

[roslinadama-sinequanon]

Major Crimes Re-Watch-The Deep End.

“Nicole wants to walk down the aisle with me and her step dad who she knows I can't stand so I'll just pay for the wedding which is all she wants from me and I'll look at the pictures later.” 

It sounds like Andy is feeling a bit sorry for himself here, but though we don’t know the whole situation it doesn’t sound like Nicole has handled this very well. It’s understandable that she might want her father and her stepfather to walk her down the aisle, especially if her stepfather has been a part of her life since she was a kid. My cousin did that with her father and stepfather and I’m not going to say there weren’t a few hurt feelings, HOWEVER, she did not drop this bomb on her father’s head the day before the wedding. That’s where I took exception. We’ve been hearing about this wedding for several episodes. Andy was meeting with his ex about it when he fainted. He’s been on the phone discussing things a lot, so he has obviously been part of the planning. And he is the one footing the ridiculous $30,000 bill, so there has been plenty of time for Nicole to sit down and talk to him about this in person, rather than throwing it at him over the phone the day before the wedding. 

Andy is an emotional person. He has a temper and tends to overreact at times and Nicole had to know that he would be hurt by this and that his hurt would manifest itself in anger. However, as stubborn as Andy can be, he does often come around after he has calmed down and had time to really process things. A mature, responsible person would have sat down with him weeks ago to talk through her reasoning for this decision thus giving him time to reconcile to the idea. If it wasn’t for Sharon and the case they were handling I’m not sure Andy could have worked through his feelings as quickly as he did.  

The case-Two Latino boys break into a famous swim coaches’ home. In the beginning, the theory is robbery. One boy is shot and supposedly, one got away. The press is in a frenzy screaming, “race” because the shooter is white and rich and the boys are Latino. What starts out as a kind of typical robbery/murder, actually ended up being a very emotional case that drew me in as much as the personal stuff—which if you’ve been reading my synopsis is not usually the case. 

“I agree. There is more to being a father than signing a check. It doesn’t matter because I'm not coming.”

“His daughter is getting married tomorrow and he's being an ass about it.”

“Andy, will you join me with the victim's parents.” 

Andy has been stressed about this wedding for a while now. Although he’s been part of the planning I think he feels a bit like an outsider. Like he’s just being used to pay for the wedding—tolerated because of that but not particularly wanted. He is also not looking forward to being around Sandra’s family who hate him, which puts him in a really tough and uncomfortable position. This decision Nicole has made only exacerbates those feelings in him. I feel like, while Andy could have handled this better, so could Nicole.

Sharon has always seen her team as people first, not just colleagues and she is interested in what is going on in their lives and trying to help them. She does this here with Andy. Andy is upset and distracted and she reels him right back in by having him in the interview with her. 

“Look, keep Raymond out of this, what are we doing here?” 

The look Sharon gives Andy, one parent to another is very touching.  Andy takes the cue and informs the parents that their son is dead. I noticed this time around that Sharon rests her hand on Mrs. Torres to emotionally support and comfort the woman. By having Andy join her in this interview she is showing him that he's lucky, his daughter is still alive and he still has a chance to make things right. Sharon is always so subtle with her little life lessons. 

Sharon and Andy aren't in clothing sync yet, but, after the Jack episodes where we had very little Shandy interaction, they are working as a team again. This episode is chock full of Sharon/Andy teamwork and lots of little glances and non-verbal communication. To me this illustrates the difference between the antagonism of Sharon/Jack where they were never on the same page and Sharon/Andy who work seamlessly together, are always on the same page and are able to communicate without words. 

"They started in with the questions and I answered them, you know, just trying to be honest. And then this morning they decided that Kris can no longer spend time with me outside of school.”

“Well, that's not really nice.”

“It's really not that big of a deal.” 

Oh, Rusty honey you did not play that one right. Sharon is SO right on to him, and with the look she shares with Provenza, so is old Gramps. When Rusty is truly upset about something, he reacts like Andy, with anger. If he were truly upset he would be ranting and raving about how unfair it all is, but by just shrugging it off Sharon can tell that this was an outcome that actually pleases Rusty. 

“A restroom, please.” 

I was surprised that Provenza sent Amy off to console Mrs.Torres. You'd think it would be Sharon who would have gone since she too is a mother, but it looks like Sharon wanted another crack at Mr. Torres who had already broken down saying it was all his fault. Fathering seems to be an overriding theme in this episode, with Andy having several moments of fatherly feels. In this scene, Andy gives Mr. Torres a rather sad look through the glass, a father commiserating.  

"Matty was a swimmer." 

Finding out that Coach Frey was Matty's coach changes things.  The case has gone from being a robbery to something more personal. 

“Captain Raydor is in a meeting right now but maybe I can help you. My name is Lieutenant Provenza.” 

LOL, Provenza is hitting on Kris's mother. Love the way the team is all watching him in action with amusement. 

“It's a video he was making, Captain. He saved it as a work in progress.” 

The team watching the video is extremely moving. I liked the way they had the camera constantly moving to get the reactions of the whole team and the sidelong glances they gave each other.  The music, the sadness, the teary eyes and the look that Andy and Sharon share when they watch Rusty walk away all combined to make it a very moving scene. 

“So let's protect him. Let's put out a press release saying the rumors of molestation are groundless.” 

Sharon has Andy's interest here. He seems to be impressed by her sneakiness in using the press to draw out other kids who had been molested. 

"Hey"

"Hey, I was just going to bed."

"Did you have dinner yet?" 

As soon as Rusty hears the door opening to the condo he quickly scoots down the hall but doesn't make it to his bedroom before Sharon enters the condo. He is trying to avoid a conversation about Kris but Sharon isn't letting him off the hook. 

“If you just want to be friends with Kris, you could tell her.”

“Oh come on, you're still married to a guy you haven't lived with in 20 years and you're giving me break up advice right now!” 

Rusty expects Sharon to shout back at him, probably because Sharon Beck would have, but Sharon R. just stares at him with a slight quirk to her brow and that de-escalates Rusty right away. He apologizes, telling her he doesn't know why he says things like that; he just got mad because she was acting like he'd done something wrong. Deep inside Rusty knows what he did was wrong, he knew better than to listen to Jack and he's really angry with himself so he takes that out on Sharon. Sharon is Rusty's conscience.  

“That kid Matteo, Matty, whatever his name is, he had a sad stack of cards in his lap. I mean 13 is really young for all that.” 

“15 is really young too.” 

There is obviously more that is bothering Rusty than the Kris situation. Seeing Matty’s video has brought out some emotions that he isn't sure how to process. Sharon let's him know here that he also shared that sad stack of cards and that he was just as molested at 15 as Matty was at 13. 

Jack wasn’t around for long, but his presence lingers with the bad advice about Kris coming back to bite Rusty on the butt and now the comment about the sad stack of cards which seems like something Jack would say. 

“I know there are things that you may not want to discuss with me but there are professionals—“

“No, no shrinks Sharon. Look, I’m not the one who needs a doctor, my mom needs a doctor, Philip Stroh needs a doctor, the men who came to me on the streets need a doctor. Okay? That kid Matty he needed one for sure. Look I know what I did and I know why I did it.” 

Because he wasn't physically attacked or overpowered and because it was his decision to prostitute himself, Rusty has never believed that he is a victim. He thinks what he went through cannot be considered molestation or a crime because he initiated the contact. He likes to believe that he was in control of the situation and because of that, he doesn't feel like he should need any help. He doesn't want to be lumped in with people like his mother and Stroh and the guys that paid for an underage prostitute, he views those people as “sick” and admitting that he needs help would make him “sick” too. I think the struggle with his sexuality feeds into this as well. He later tells Sharon when he comes out to her, “I can’t fix this.” So he does feel like there is something wrong with him, which is why it’s great that Sharon finds Dr. Joe to help him. 

“There is no pressure from me except to be kind and be safe.” 

Sharon never puts pressure on Rusty, which is why he is able to come to conclusions on his own and doesn't run from her. She is a far different parent with Rusty than she is with her other children. When she is upset with Ricky’s behavior about her adoption of Rusty, she doesn’t beat around the bush and try to let him figure things out on his own. Nope, she lays it all out for him with anger, guilt and shame. She lets him know just how disappointed she is in him then TELLS him exactly how she expects him to behave. She can do this with Ricky because she raised him. He knows that she can be angry and disappointed in him and still love him and Sharon knows that she can yell at Ricky and he isn’t going to run away and disappear from her life. I give her a lot of credit for understanding the difference in the way she has to parent Rusty. 

“We need you to understand that though your son’s story will be used as evidence in the trial we won't be able to charge Frey with Matty's murder.” 

Sharon closes her eyes while Andy tells Mr. Torres this sad fact. It’s a hard pill for her to swallow. It’s hard for all them when someone is punished, but not for all their crimes. In the episode where Sharon was bringing Andy home from the hospital, she laments the fact that although they caught the perp and made a deal they were unable to prosecute him for rape as well. 

"We'll get Frey in prison for the rest of his life, I promise." 

Andy firmly grabs onto Mr. Torres shoulder, again father to father, in the same way that Sharon placed her hand on Mrs. Torres earlier in the episode, mother to mother. They are definitely in sync. 

"And how does that help Matty? Where do I go to talk to him and say I'm sorry, I didn't know what you were going through?” 

and  

“Your son was a hero.”

“Matty was a hero and what was I? What was I?” 

Andy looks down at the ground. You know he is thinking about Nicole. He has the chance to be the hero here, to make things right with her, and he's going to take it however difficult the day will be for him, because this is her day. 

“My daughter’s wedding is, well, it's in three hours actually.”

“And you've decided to go.”

“Yeah, even though most of the people there hate me. Yeah, I uh, I think it's the right decision.”

“Could you use a buffer? Lt. Provenza has volunteered to take Rusty out for burgers and I like weddings.”

“Really? Are you sure? How would I introduce you?”

“How about as your friend Sharon.”

“So, it's not like a date or anything?”

Of course not Lieutenant. I'm a married woman.”

“Oh, well thank you, Captain...I mean, Sharon. I owe you one.” 

The first time through, I never noticed the little look Provenza gives Andy as he heads to Sharon's office. Love the idea that two people who care about Andy concocted this little scheme. I do wonder if Provenza knew what this was going to lead into if he would have been so smiling and happy about it. I doubt he ever thought this wedding "date" would eventually blossom into a romance and ultimately a wedding. There was a time he was not happy about the relationship and was probably kicking himself for helping light the spark. That said, this would be a great anecdote as part of Provenza’s toast at Andy’s bachelor party or at the wedding, if we had a hope in hell of seeing either event. You just know that despite his initial disapproval of the relationship, now that Sharon and Andy are getting married he’d definitely want to take credit for getting them together. 

One other thing before I close out--This scene makes it super hard when writing fanfic. I'd always felt that with Sharon having been separated for 20 years from Jack that there had to have been a couple men in her life—she was after all probably just entering her thirties when she and Jack separated and she’s a beautiful, healthy, vital woman.  Mary McDonnell also said in her podcast that she thinks Sharon had seen other men between Jack and Andy. However, this comment Sharon makes in this scene about it not being a date because she's a married woman kind of contradicts this. There is no way I can believe that Sharon Raydor would be okay with sleeping with a guy but not okay with dating him. So this statement here makes all that so hard to reconcile. So, my head canon is that Sharon finds Andy very attractive and since he's become her right hand man they have become increasingly close. However, he is also her colleague so when he asks her if it's a date, she says of course it isn't because she's married as a way of trying to keep something of a barrier between them. Also, Andy is under enough stress with the wedding, he doesn’t need the added stress of possibly being on a date with his boss. By saying she is attending as his friend it takes the date pressure off both of them and they can just relax and have a good time. 

The episode ends with Mr. Torres shooting Frey as justice for Matty and being led off to jail. I wonder what happened to him, if they were able to convict him of 1st degree murder or not? He did plan the murder, however, I have a hard time believing a jury would convict him for his actions giving the heinous crimes Frey committed against his son and so many other boys. I wish we had a little follow up.

[smartgirlsaremean]

Stiltskin Family Bonding - Chapter 5 - Barbecue

Fandom: OUAT

Relationships: Papafire, Henry & Neal, Rumplestiltskin & Henry (also Rumbelle, Snowing, and Swanfire)

Rating: N/R

Summary: The Stiltskin boys bond in a variety of ways. Sometimes it goes well, other times...not so much.

AO3

Chapter 5 - Barbecue

A hundred million years ago, @zapiarty prompted: I know we saw Rumple's nightmare about Henry's birthday party in show, but what about in this? Oorrr Halloween! I can see the Charming Clan host barbecues?

So this answers the first and last of those ideas!

“This is a terrible idea,” Rumplestiltskin muttered as the Cadillac pulled up outside the white farmhouse the Charmings called home.

“No, it’s just what everyone needs,” Belle said beside him. “We’re all family, and Henry deserves to have everyone at least try to get along.”

“If they say anything to upset you, anything at all, we’re leaving.” He glanced uneasily behind them at their son, who was entertaining himself by waving his hands in front of his face.

“What could they possibly say?” she asked, amusement creeping into her voice.

Rumplestiltskin turned red and averted his gaze, and Belle reached out to squeeze his hand on the steering wheel.

“Rumple, I’ll be fine, and so will you. It’s not like you have to be here with people you hate. You like David and Emma, and I know Snow isn’t your favorite person, but I can keep her occupied, okay?”

“I don’t know that I like the shepherd,” Rumple protested, switching off the engine. “He simply doesn’t irritate me as much as most other people do.”

Smirking, Belle leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll make you a deal.”

His eyes lit up at that and his mouth quirked, a hint of the imp shining in his expression. “Oh? What deal could you possibly offer me, sweetheart?”

“Be pleasant to everyone for the duration of the party, and I’ll make this worth your while when we get home.”

He swallowed. “Worth my while? But…”

“I’ve already asked Granny if she wouldn’t mind watching Gideon tonight. I thought you might need some persuasion, and I’ve been doing a little research.”

“....Ah. What...what sort of research?”

“I guess you’ll have to be pleasant to find out,” she said with a saucy smile. “Come on, the sooner we get in there, the sooner we can go home.”

Belle got out of the car and carefully removed Gideon from his car seat, Rumplestiltskin lifting out the bag they carried everywhere, but they both froze at the sound of an extremely unwelcome voice.

“Well, if it isn’t the old crocodile.”

Every muscle in his body tensed, and Rumplestiltskin felt magic begin to burn at his fingertips.

“Oh, damn,” Belle muttered.

“What in the seven hells are you doing here?” Rumplestiltskin growled. One of his arms wound around Belle and pulled her and their son in close to his side.

“I was invited, mate. You?”

“Well, I am Henry’s grandfather,” the sorcerer said wryly, “and this is, after all, a family affair.”

“Killian!” Neal suddenly appeared on the porch. “Hey, can you come in and help David with the canopy? He doesn’t know how to tie knots as well as you do.”

Jones smirked and tilted his head at Belle, who frowned at him. “‘Course. Be right there.”

“Sorry, guys,” Neal said as soon as Jones had ambled around to the back of the house. “He saw Snow and David buying supplies at the store and kind of - wormed an invitation out of them. You know them, they can’t say no to a ‘reformed villain’.”

“I don’t suppose his pretty face helps him at all,” Rumple said sourly.

Neal pressed one hand to his heart, his eyes huge with disbelief. “The royals? Taken in by charm and blue eyes? Say it ain’t so.”

“Neal, will you please get back out here?” Emma poked her head around the corner of the house. “Oh! Hi, guys. Come on back. Henry can’t wait to see you.”

Rumplestiltskin stared at her and Belle poked him. “See? Told you. You’ll be fine.”

“Just don’t let him near the grill,” Neal teased.

Emma scoffed. “Please, I wouldn’t put him in charge of the birthday candles.”

Rumplestiltskin tried his best to keep his smirk under control as he bent to take the brightly wrapped box out of the back seat. Belle winked at him as she adjusted Gideon in her arms, and they followed Neal and Emma into the backyard, where David and Hook were completing construction of a large white tent and Snow was placing Graham in an outdoor playpen. Neal headed for the large gas grill set up by the picnic tables and Emma called for Henry who was tossing sticks for Pongo and chatting with Grace, to come greet his guests.

“You guys came!” Henry was taller than Belle now, his dark hair beginning to wave in much the same way Bae’s had at that age, and his voice was beginning to crack now and then.

“Happy birthday, Henry,” Belle said warmly, pulling him into a one-armed hug. Henry hugged her back and thanked her, and then bent close to his baby uncle.

“Hi, Uncle Gideon. You’re getting big.”

Gideon smiled and waved his arms.

Henry shook one of the baby’s hands solemnly and then looked up at his grandfather. “Hi, Grandpa.”

“Many happy returns, m’boy,” Rumplestiltskin said gruffly. He wished he had the courage to hug the lad himself. It wasn’t as if Henry hadn’t hugged him before, but Rumplestiltskin had never initiated contact, and he wasn’t about to start now. Instead, he held out their gift and Henry took it.

“Cool. Thanks. I’m gonna put it with the others, okay?” He walked off and Rumplestiltskin felt Belle gently bump his arm with her shoulder.

“You’re doing great so far,” she murmured.

“I haven’t had to talk to anyone insufferable yet,” he muttered back.

“Belle! Mr. Gold! We’re so glad you could make it!” As if on cue, Snow White fluttered up to them, her smile wide and her eyes bright. “Hello, Gideon,” she cooed. “We have a playpen set up if you’d like to visit with Graham.”

“Maybe in a little while,” Belle said. Graham was now fourteen months old - Rumplestiltskin was never quite sure why babies’ ages were counted in months even after the one-year mark - and a very inquisitive little fellow who adored the younger baby. Rumplestiltskin considered this a mark of the toddler’s excellent taste. Even now, Graham was standing in his pack-n-play and grinning over at them, his chubby fist waving.

“May I hold Gideon, Mrs. Gold?” Jefferson’s daughter appeared seemingly out of nowhere, and Belle smiled at her.

“Why don’t we find somewhere to sit and we’ll see if he’s in the mood to socialize,” she said gently. With a questioning smile at her husband, which he answered with a nod, she followed Grace to the tables under the canopy and settled into a chair, where she was promptly surrounded by Grace, Gretel, and three more of the girls from Henry’s class. Rumplestiltskin watched her just long enough to be sure she was comfortable before walking slowly toward his older son, who was turning hot dogs and hamburgers on the grill.

“How’s business?” Neal asked.

“Not bad, now that my customers have stopped fearing death every time they come in.”

“I guess that’s not at all due to the fact that half the time you’re carrying Gid around in a baby sling.”

Rumplestiltskin shrugged. “I could still turn them all into snails, and they all know it.”

Neal snorted. “Face it, Pops. You’re a tamed Dark One and you love it.”

Studying his wife from afar, the sorcerer allowed himself a small smile. “Perhaps.” His good mood was short lived, as a moment later Hook walked up and clapped a hand on Neal’s shoulder.

“A shame you’re shackled in the kitchen, so to speak,” Hook said, a meaningful gleam in his eye. “Leaves your lovely lady somewhat unprotected.”

Neal rolled his eyes. “Unprotected from what?”

“From my devilish good looks and charm, obviously.” Patting Neal’s shoulder a few times as if in commiseration, he smiled. “I’ll woo her away eventually.”

“You’ve been saying stuff like that off and on for over a year,” Neal said patiently, moving the hot dogs to a plate. “You’ve invited her for drinks and dinner and dancing and sailing. Face it, Hook. She’s with me now, and she doesn’t want you.”

“She hasn’t given me a proper chance.”

“She doesn’t have to. Look,” Neal placed the burgers on another plate and studied Hook with compassion, “I get it. Emma’s beautiful and smart and tough and she didn’t fall all over you when you smiled at her. It sucks to have someone you want turn you down. But seriously, man. Let it go.”

Somehow Rumplestiltskin hadn’t known that the pirate still carried a torch for Emma Swan; whether his feelings were genuine or he was simply being stubborn he supposed was anyone’s guess. Neal’s simple assertion that he and Emma were together, however, took him completely by surprise.

“Is that true, Bae?” he asked as Hook sauntered away.

“Is what true?”

“You and Ms. Swan?”

“Oh.” Neal turned red and looked away. “Yeah. We weren’t hiding it or anything. Snow and David and Regina know, and I was going to tell you later. It’s...we’re together again.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thanks. Henry’s pretty thrilled.” Neal picked up the plates of food and walked toward the tables. “Come and get it!” he shouted, and there was a small stampede as the party guests hurried over.

Rumplestiltskin took Gideon from Belle’s arms and carried him to the pack-n-play. Young Graham grinned up at him.

“Hi!” he chirped. “Baby!”

“Yes, Gideon’s here,” Rumplestiltskin said, placing his son carefully on the mat. “Be gentle, little princeling.” Taking a seat in one of the nearby chairs, he watched as Graham sat next to Gideon and patted the younger boy on the chest.

“Baby,” he said softly. “Baby.” Gideon gurgled and kicked his feet.

“They’re gonna be best friends when they get older.”

Rumplestiltskin looked up to see that David had joined him, holding out a plate of food. The sorcerer took it with a nod of thanks, and David sat in the other chair. For a few blessed moments, Rumplestiltskin thought the shepherd would sit in silence, but he should have known better.

“Can you believe we made it this far?” he asked.

“How do you mean?”

“Look at us.” David waved his fork between them and then gestured at the tables full of people with it. “We were commoners. I was staring down a life of poverty with no chance of true love. You were about to lose your son to war. Now here we are - shepherds and wizards and princesses and pirates and queens - at peace. Breaking bread with people who were once our enemies.” He grinned down at their sons; Graham was trying to introduce Gideon to peek-a-boo. “Our kids are gonna grow up together, forge new bonds, make new alliances. There aren’t any heroes or villains anymore. We’re just...us.”

Something like warmth blossomed in Rumplestiltskin’s chest. Acceptance had never been so explicitly offered, even after his marriage to Belle. David said nothing more, allowing a comfortable silence to fall over them as the party guests ate and drank and laughed. At last, the candles were blown out, the cake was cut, and it was time for Henry to open his gifts. Everyone stood around, Belle with Gideon in her arms again, as he worked through the pile.

There were various trinkets and books and cards from his schoolmates. From Regina he received a thick leather journal and a fountain pen.

“Wow,” Henry breathed, turning the pen over in his hands. “This is awesome.”

“I thought it might be time for you to write some stories of your own,” Regina said, her eyes grave.

Henry hugged her tightly, allowing her to clutch him to her just a little longer.

From the Charmings he received a new saddle for his horse, from Neal and Emma a beautifully woven dreamcatcher and a new game for his Xbox. Hook appeared to have forgotten a gift. When Henry lifted the lid of the box from Rumplestiltskin and Belle, his eyes widened.

“Whoa…” Carefully he removed the hand-woven tapestry from the tissue paper and ran his fingers over it.

The background design was a large, heavy-limbed tree. Henry’s name was embroidered in gold in the center, and branching out away from it were slender golden strands that formed a web. The strands connected to other names, also embroidered in gold, so that his lineage was laid out for him to see, beginning with his great-grandparents on both sides and including everyone up to the current generation.

“This is amazing,” Henry breathed. “Is it…?”

“Magic? Yes.” Rumplestiltskin leaned forward and traced the line that ran from Henry’s name to Baelfire’s. “Each birth, marriage, and death will be recorded. The tapestry itself will grow to accommodate new generations when necessary.”

“Look, Mom, you’re on here too,” Henry said to Regina, pointing out where her name was connected to both Snow’s and his own.

“I am?” Regina raised startled eyes to Rumplestiltskin’s.

“Of course you are,” Emma said firmly. “You took him in when he needed a home. You raised him for ten years. You’re his mother, Regina. Why wouldn’t you be there?”

Regina looked a little lost, but she smiled shakily.

“Uh...hey, Grandpa?” Henry sounded confused.

“Yes?”

“There’s...there’s another line here by Mom and Dad, but there’s no name. What does that mean?”

“What?” Rumplestiltskin leaned over him and scrutinized the tapestry, then chuckled. “Well, well. It seems congratulations are in order.”

“Huh?”

The sorcerer straightened and grinned at his son. “It would appear I’m to have another grandchild.”

[pinkpeccary]

all of the "get to know me pick some numbers" asks? :D :D :D :D or if that's too many, any five? ^-^

10. are you good at hiding your feelings?

too good. i basically didn’t let myself express emotion for the second half of my childhood because #abuse, so while i’m a bit better about that now i still have A Lot of experience with how to shut them off.23. fear(s)

i’m afraid of horses cause they’re big and could kill me, heights somewhat, roller coasters and the like because i hate the adrenaline rush, people not liking me, and the big one is hand trauma (like hands getting cut off or smashed in a door or something) and to a lesser extent the same thing with feet/legs.

32. are your friends mainly girls or guys?

growing up, mostly girls, but at college it’s mostly guys. if i had to give a reason i’d guess it has to do with 1) being at a left wing liberal arts school as opposed to suburban connecticut, 2) being more open about expressing my not-a-girl gender stuff and as such not feeling like i have to be in the “girl” group, 3) letting myself act more naturally and fitting in better with different types of people, or 4) being terrible at social stuff so that while when i think about it i have friend groups that are mostly girls but i feel less close to them because they are more social and less active and idk how to participate as much.

44. age you get mistaken for

14. fucking. fourteen. i’m 18, i’m a legal adult, i can vote and shit. (to be fair i am smol and have a childish face, plus i think i’m perceived younger based on nd behaviors like posture/stimming/lack of eye contact)

53. 5 things that make me happy

1. i keep freddy bear (which is the teddy my bf gave me for christmas) on my desk where i can see him, and it makes it a lot easier for me to remember that he really does care about me, even when i’m not around him.

2. my psych professor’s daughter is nonverbal autistic, and the professor’s super nice and in psych so i’m looking forward to this class a lot bc she probably knows more about autism stuff than the average person i tell i’m autistic and is probably not an Autism Mom bc she’s in the Science, so fingers crossed

3. my shark blog has a lot of followers and has gotten a bunch of messages from people saying how much they like it and sharks are one of my SIs so that makes me happy

4. in bio today we had some time to practice pipetteing and the lab intern was abroad last semester but i met her yesterday because she’s in my circus group and friends with my main friend group and we had to do something else before i got a chance to try and she said “we’ll have you do it next time, love, you’ll be a pro” and it’s probably just how she is but i feel like she likes me and i like when people like me :)

5. okay so i chose this question because i figured it would be good for me to think through and i’m having a really hard time coming up with a 5th thing, but i guess in line with the “people validating me” stuff that all of these have been themed around, i really like when i yell into the void on tumblr and people like/respond to my posts or smth, or like a couple mutuals have messaged me about things i post at times to check in or commiserate or smth and i really like that.

[lpdwillwrite4coffee]

CHILDREN OF LILITH CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

“I guess… now we wait,” Boz said, threading his fingers together and pressing his elbows into the tops of his thighs.

Lisa shifted, the hard plastic chair squeaking as she moved. “What about… when we can’t wait anymore?” She asked quietly. “We only have twenty-four hours to get out of the city. To pack up our lives…” She bit her lip. “What do we tell the others?”

“The truth?”

“But how do we convince a whole group of Hunters to leave a city. Their city. Especially if Griffin’s still…” She couldn’t finish the thought. Couldn’t imagine trying to do any of this without Griffin.

Boz took a deep breath and leaned back, staring at the ceiling. “We need a plan.”

“Griffin’s family is still in Massachusetts,” Lisa offered. “We could go there.”

Boz shook his head. “He never wanted them to know he’s a Hunter. It’s why he’s stayed away this long.”

Lisa thought a moment. “Doesn’t he have a friend in Connecticut?”

“Yeah, Cheryl, out in Hartford,” Boz said. “Except…”

“What?”

“Well, I don’t know if I’d really call them friends.” A small grin played at the corner of his mouth. “She’s Griffin’s ex-girlfriend.”

Lisa huffed out a laugh. “Good ol’ Griff.” She paused, looking at her hands. “Do you think they’d help us though? If they knew the situation?”

“Yeah, maybe.” Boz ran his fingers through his hair, glancing down the hall. “Hey, I’m gonna get some coffee from the cafeteria. You want anything?”

“Coffee sounds good.” She watched him stand up. “I’m gonna go make some calls.”

Boz nodded, starting to walk away when he stopped and turned back. “Ah, don’t tell them how bad Griff’s condition is…” He winced faintly. “Not yet.”

“Okay.”

When Boz rounded the corner, Lisa pulled her phone from her pocket and stood up. Phones weren’t allowed in the ICU but there was a small outdoor area the floor below them she figured would be private enough for a call, so she headed that way, already scrolling through her contacts.

* * *

Lilith’s white satin flats muffled her footsteps as she strode down the hospital corridor. The pull at the center of her chest drew her around the corner, where she hurried past a brunette woman looking down at her phone. Griffin was close… close enough for her to feel his heartbeat under her skin.

She stopped short in front of a closed door and she glanced at the chart hanging on the wall next to it. O’Connor, Griffin, she read.

Looking to make sure no one saw her, she slipped inside and locked the door. The glowing heart monitor was the only source of light, but Lilith moved easily through the shadows. Going to the window, she opened the blinds, fragments of ever-present city lights illuminating the room. She glanced over her shoulder, watching Griffin sleep. It made that pull in her chest ache.

She could feel his agony, pressed right underneath his skin, threatening to drain the life from him. But his pain wasn’t from the beatings he’d taken, though she knew each one of his injuries as if they screamed out how they’d been ma No, his anguish marred his soul, and that was far more dangerous than the wounds to his flesh.

Lilith slowly settled on the edge of his bed, white cotton dress fluttering around her legs. Brushing his right cheek with her knuckles, a trail of healed skin appeared where she touched, sickening purple fading away to nothing. She ran her index finger across the jagged cut at his hairline, knitting the torn skin back together. With her thumb, she sealed his cut lip and repaired the small fracture in his jaw.

At that, Griffin stirred, eyes dancing behind his lids. With considerable effort, he blinked at her.

“Don’t be afraid,” she whispered.

He glanced all around her, trying to understand. “Are you… Are you an angel?”

Lilith breathed a laugh, ducking her head. A lock of hair fell in her face and she tucked it back, looking up at him. “No. I am not an angel.”

“Oh. Okay.” Griffin swallowed, throat painfully dry. “You’re a hallucination. I can handle that.”

Cupping the side of his face, Lilith said, “I’m not a figment of your imagination, Griffin.”

“Then who are you?”

“This may be difficult to understand, but I’ll try my best to help you comprehend,” she told him, pulling her hand away. “My name is Lilith. I’m your first mother.”

Griffin stared. “My mother lives in Boston.”

Lilith shook her head, smiling ruefully. “You misunderstand. I know I’m not the one who birthed you.” She faltered, playing with the hem of her shawl. “My story is… complicated.”

“Try me.”

Meeting his gaze, she inhaled deeply and nodded. “Have you read the book of Genesis?”

“Yes.”

“There’s a part that was left out. My part. I’m Adam’s first wife.”

Griffin’s brows drew down. “You’re the Lilith?”

“You’ve heard of me?” She asked, surprise coloring her words.

“Um, yeah, actually. A lot of people have.”

The corner of her mouth quirked up but the smile soon faded. “The interpretation of my existence is… muddied. Convoluted at best. As I said, I was Adam’s first wife. But I wasn’t a very good one.” She paused, twisting her fingers together. “I fled from the Garden, leaving everything I had been given behind. It was a mistake. One that still ripples out, affecting everyone to this day.”

Griffin watched as memories shadowed her eyes. He cleared his throat. “They called you… a demon,” he said, afraid of offending her with the word. “Said you turned against God and became this… horrible creature.”

Lilith met his gaze with no heat in her eyes, only sorrow. “That’s because I did.”

The muscles in her delicate throat worked before she spoke. “I was found by a fallen Angel. Some theologians speculated it was Lucifer, but in fact it was a comrade of his in the war of Heaven. His name was Samael.” Her eyes fell to a spot on the hospital issued blankets. “I joined him, and we dwelt together, commiserating in our hatred and anger towards God. He promised me everything I had been denied before. All I had to do was give myself to him.” Inhaling a shaky breath, she forced herself to look up at Griffin. “Samael didn’t turn me into a horrible creature. I turned myself into one.”

Lilith fidgeted at the edge of the mattress, and Griffin wanted to reach for her, but his arms were too heavy to move.

“He made me immortal,” she murmured. “Gave me freedom. I became his queen. And I gave him children. Seven of them; four sons, three daughters, and they were all monsters.” Her voice broke, eyelids fluttering. “They were the first.”

Realization gathered in Griffin as he watched her. “They were Vampires.”

Lilith dipped her head. “Yes. But they weren’t like the ones you know. They were… a plague. More demon than human, they ravaged everything. If it breathed, they devoured it, and nothing satisfied them. And then they discovered their ability to create.”

“They sired more.”

She nodded. “They weren’t the same as my children, but they were still monstrous. And the scourge multiplied.” Her fingers tightened in the fabric of her dress. “I saw what was happening, what they did, and I begged them to stop, but they wouldn’t listen. And Samael… He thought it was funny. He said, that if God could throw them out of heaven, then they were allowed to rape the earth and take whatever He put there, as retribution. He used my children as a weapon against the divine, and all I could do was weep.”

Lilith was silent for a long time as grief flowed out of her so tangible Griffin could taste it at the back of his throat. When she spoke again, her voice was soft and trembling.

“Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. I walked into the desert, crying out. Not for me, but for the people wounded by my sins. I screamed for days, wailing into the sandstorm around me, begging to be buried alive. Instead, I was rescued. Gabriel found me and gave me shelter.”

Griffin faltered, staring at her. “Gabriel… the Archangel?”

Lilith nodded. “The Messenger. The mouthpiece of God.” Absently, she touched the carved moth broach pinned to her shawl. “He wasn’t sure what his purpose in being there was- he hadn’t been given a vision- but that didn’t deter him. He stayed with me, watched over me. I couldn’t go back to Samael, and the Garden no longer existed. I was homeless and afraid, but Gabriel persevered.”

A small smile curved her lips. “I thought he would hate me for what I had done. I was already well aware of my reputation. But it didn’t matter to him. Somehow, he saw past all that. He saw my ugliness, and loved me more for it.” She shook her head, as if still confused by it all.

Griffin attempted to push up on the bed, still watching her. “You said… you were my first mother,” he started. “What does that mean?”

Lilith averted her eyes, playing with the corner of her shawl. “Gabriel had shown me something I had never had before: unconditional love. And I found that I loved him too, just as much. I honestly hadn’t thought I was capable of it.”

Griffin could see where this was going…

“That spring, I gave birth to triplets.”

Yup. Definitely saw it coming.

“So, you and Gabriel were, um…”

Bright green eyes met his. “Lovers. The one time, at least.”

“Right.” Griffin cleared his throat. “Guess you got a lot of bang for your buck,” he muttered and immediately cringed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean-”

Lilith laughed, truly laughed, and it was one of the most melodic sounds Griffin had ever heard. A blush tinted her cheeks and her eyes sparked.

“It’s alright,” she said. “I’ve heard worse.”

“So… your triplets…?”

“Two girls and a boy,” she said with a smile.

Griffin nodded, beginning to understand. “They were special, weren’t they?”

“Unlike my children with Samael, they were mortal, but obviously different. They grew fast, were stronger than other humans, and they had gifts very similar to Gabriel’s.”

The biggest puzzle piece imaginable thunked into place in Griffin’s head.

“They were Hunters.”

“We didn’t know that at the time,” she said. “Like I said, we only knew they were different. We didn’t know the extent of it until much later, after we had given them up.”

“What?”

“It wasn’t safe to raise them ourselves. I knew Samael would come looking for me, and if he’d found them…” she trailed off. “It was better for them to go where they did.”

“So you gave them to normal families?”

“Yes. We split them up thinking that if Samael tried to find them it would make it more difficult. But Gabriel kept watch, just like he always did.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “They grew up happy and healthy, and soon had families of their own. And with each generation, more of Gabriel’s traits came through. And soon they found a purpose for those gifts.”

The heaviness in her voice made the explanation clear, but she still uttered the words. “I gave birth to monsters,” Lilith whispered. “And to those strong enough to slay them.”

There was a beat of mournful quiet before Griffin said, “You never told me why you came here.”

“Gabriel asked me to,” she replied. “He said there was something I could give you… something I could do for you that no one else could. Unfortunately, he didn’t tell me what that is.”

The morphine must have been wearing off, because Griffin felt torn asunder by pain. His eyes watered and he couldn’t breathe.

“Shh,” Lilith murmured, leaning closer. “It’s alright…”

She laid her hand over his, and the puncture wounds at his wrist healed.

Griffin gaped down at the new pink scars on his arm. “What did you just do?”

“I healed you.”

“How?”

“It’s one of my few gifts that have lingered,” she explained. “I can heal my children.”

Griffin went from not being able to take in air, to taking it in too quickly, and he vaguely noticed the uptick on the heart monitor.

“You can… You can heal me?”

Lilith frowned. “Yes, I-”

“If you heal me, I can get out of this hospital.” Griffin looked around for a clock. “What time is it? Do you see the time?”

Lilith glanced above his bed. “Not yet ten,” she said. “Why-”

“There’s still time. It hasn’t been twenty-four hours yet,” he said, trying to sit up.

Her hands planted on his chest, holding him still. “What are you talking about?”

“Nikki. She made a deal with an Alpha to save my life. They gave her twenty-four hours, and then…” His throat closed up, cutting off the words. Inhaling through his nose, he tried again. “After that, they plan on killing her.” He locked eyes with Lilith. “But if you can heal me, I can get out of here, and go back for her.”

“Griffin…”

“Please. I can’t let her die in there. Not like that.” He gulped. “I love her,” he said firmly. “I love her, and I can’t leave her to die, scared and alone, at the hands of-” He broke off, suddenly aware he was talking to both his mother and Rex’s.

Lilith seemed to know, however, and she understood. “I applaud your bravery Griffin, but your injuries are severe…”

He felt himself sink inwards. “You can’t heal them.”

She shook her head. “No, I can, but the price-”

“I don’t care.”

“Griffin, I can heal your wounds, but the pain… I can’t take all of that away, not when you’re so badly hurt. Maybe some of it but not everything. And the scars…”

“I don’t care,” he cut her off again. “I don’t care about the scars or the pain.”

“It wouldn’t be as bad if you let your own abilities heal you-”

“Please, I’m begging you. Just get me up and mobile, so I can get out of here.”

Lilith’s mouth fell open as her own realization hit her. “This is what I was supposed to give you,” she whispered, barely audible. “This is why…” Her eyes widened as she stared at Griffin. “I will heal you-”

“Thank you.”

“But I must warn you,” she added, shaking her head. “Healing you like this… It will not be pleasant. In fact, it will probably hurt as much as it did when you received these wounds.”

Griffin wrapped his hand around her wrist, holding her tight. “Lilith, if you are who you say, and you can do everything you’re talking about, then please, do it. Help me get back to her. Please.”

Lilith leapt up and bent over him, cupping his face and kissing him gently on the forehead. When she pulled back, she looked close to tears.

“I will help you, Griffin,” she murmured. “I will help you be with her.”

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Flattening her hands on his chest, Lilith caught his eye one more time as reassurance. He gave her a short nod and inhaled deeply.

“Good luck, Griffin,” Lilith said before pressing down.

Sheer agony thundered through him, and Griffin was plunged back into darkness.

* * *

Lisa stepped out of the elevator and rounded the corner just as she heard mechanized alarms going off. Three nurses jogged past her, shoving into Griffin’s room.

“No,” she breathed, taking off after them.

Through the scrub-clad mob she saw the top of Griffin’s head and the pale gown falling off his shoulder. He was upright.

And then she heard his voice.

“No, I don’t want to lie back down,” he said to one of the nurses. “I’m fine.”

Griffin was yanking at the tangle of wires he’d found himself caught in, swatting away anyone trying to ease him into a horizontal position.

“I don’t need to see the doctor, okay? I’m alright. I just want out of this,” he said, waving to the web of cords.

When one of the nurses tried to put his blood pressure cuff back on, he glared at her and tore it off.

“I’m telling you, I’m fine,” he snapped. Jerking his thumb towards the ringing monitors, he said, “Can somebody please turn that off? It’s driving me nuts.”

“Griffin,” Lisa called over the other voices. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” he said, pulling off one of the leads from his chest. “I took myself off the heart monitor and the damn thing went off.”

“Are you kidding me?” She asked, pushing past one of the nurses.

“Does it look like I’m kidding?” Catching the same nurse trying to replace his BP cuff a second time, he stopped and stared at her. “Really?”

“Griffin, please, just relax,” Lisa said. “You just woke up.”

“I am relaxed,” he said. “But that noise is pissing me off.”

Sighing, she strode to the electrical outlet and pulled the cord out of the wall. The beeping continued.

Griffin rolled his eyes. “These things run on batteries Lisa.”

Cursing, she went to the monitor and tried to find the right button. “Can someone just turn this damn thing off before he goes full-on Frankenstein’s monster and chucks it out of a window?”

An older nurse with a deep set frown stepped over and pressed a series of keys, turning the alarm off.

“Thank you.” Lisa and Griffin said together.

“Frankenstein’s monster? Really?” He said, arching an eyebrow. “I’m not gonna go on a rampage through the hospital, Lisa.”

“Well that’s what it looks like right now,” she said, gesturing to the mess he made. “Griffin, what are you doing?”

“Leaving.”

All the nurses began talking at once, ordering him to stay.

“Mr. O’Connor,” a voice called over the chatter.

Doctor Chen came over with his chart in her hand. “What’s this I hear about you taking yourself off the monitors?”

Griffin stilled, his lips pressing into a tight line.

Doctor Chen motioned to the door. “Give me the room, would you?”

The pink and teal group filed out and the doctor shut the door behind them. Tossing his chart on the foot of the bed, she folded her arms and stared at him.

“Tell you what,” she said. “I’ll be straight with you, if you’re straight with me. Okay?”

Griffin nodded, giving his full attention to the doctor.

“Good.” Pointing at the folder, she said, “Would you like to know what kind of shape you were in a few hours ago? Broken bones, severe lacerations to your back and torso, extreme blood loss, and oh yeah, the tiny detail of us having to shock your heart back into a healthy rhythm because you were going into shock.”

The frown on Doctor Chen’s face stayed firm as she gave him a cursory glance.

“The fact that you’re awake, and not still in the medically induced coma we put you in is already cause for concern and a hefty dose of suspicion.”

Griffin cleared his throat. “Look, doctor-”

“Did I say I was finished?”

“Sorry,” he murmured, ducking his head.

Doctor Chen continued. “Now, I should sedate you and put you on lockdown for your erratic and aggressive behavior.” Her glare softened. “But I won’t.”

“What?” The question fell from his mouth.

She tilted her chin towards his right wrist and glanced at Lisa’s.

“I’ve seen those tattoos before,” she said, noticeably quieter than before. “A few times actually, in my twenty odd years of working here, and every time the people who had them were the biggest pain in my ass.”

Lisa snorted a laugh and coughed to cover it up.

“I don’t know what you do,” Doctor Chen said. “I don’t need to know. But somehow, miraculously, the injuries you came in with-the ones that should have taken weeks to heal- look to have healed in less than an hour, since the last time I made rounds.”

Lisa blinked, her brain finally catching up to the present. She had just been so relieved to see Griffin alive and awake she hadn’t noticed the extent of his condition. She felt like an idiot.

Yanking at the back of his hospital gown, Lisa arched over him.

“Lisa,” Griffin muttered, trying to move away from her.

“Oh my God.”

Her fingers traced over one of the scars along his shoulder. It was solid, as if he’d been wounded years ago, not earlier that day. She’d seen him heal fast before, but never like this. She didn’t think it was possible…

“How…?” She started to ask.

Griffin pulled the fabric back over himself. “I’ll explain later.”

“Yes, you will,” Doctor Chen interjected. “But you’re gonna save that discussion for when you are far, far away from here.”

“You’re letting me leave?” He asked.

She nodded. “I’m going to give you a quick check just to be sure you’re not going to split at the seams and spill your guts in the hallway, and then I’m going make a few very illegal alterations to your records. You are then gonna sign the hell out of some paper work because I’ll be damned if I get sued for malpractice because of you.” She picked up his chart and leveled her gaze on him. “And then you are going to get out of my hospital, without causing another scene, and you’re going to go do whatever it is that’s so important to you, that you inked it on your skin.”

Turning, she headed for the door and glanced over her shoulder. “I don’t usually say this but… I’ll pray for you Mr. O’Connor.”

She jerked open the door and was met with Boz on the other side, his arm raised like he was about to knock.

“Oh,” he exclaimed, dropping his hand. “Sorry, doctor.”

He skirted around her and kicked the door shut, balancing the tray of coffees he had. His eyes lifted and the soles of his boots squeaked on the tile as he halted. For a moment Boz didn’t even look to be breathing. Finally, a smile broke over his face.

“So those pissed off nurses in the hallway were talking about you,” he said, moving closer to the bed.

“What?” Griffin frowned.

“Oh, just ranting about some belligerent jackass taking himself off the heart monitor,” Boz said, smirking as he handed Lisa her coffee. “And I thought ‘huh, that sounds like something Griff would do,’ and whaddya know!” He waved a hand at Griffin, chuckling.

“I wasn’t belligerent,” Griffin muttered. “In fact I think I was pretty civil given the circumstances.”

“Yeah but ‘civil’ coming from an overly muscled giant like you is still pretty intimidating,” Lisa commented over the lip of her cup.

Griffin rolled his eyes but caught the gentle look Lisa gave him. Boz handed over his coffee to Griffin and tossed the cardboard tray.

“Seriously though,” he said, pushing his hands into his front pockets. “Glad you’re up man.”

Griffin nodded, fingers closing around the warm cup. “Thanks.”

It was real. He was awake, alive. He was whole again.

Lisa hummed, gesturing to his back. “And you’re gonna fill us in on the details of this when exactly?”

“Once we get me the hell out of here,” he said.

“I’ll go get an extra set of clothes out of the van,” Boz said, starting towards the door. “Don’t want you having a hospital wardrobe malfunction. ‘Cause buddy, I love ya’, but that’s a boundary I’d rather not cross.”

Griffin chuckled, lifting his coffee and taking a sip. Quiet enveloped the room and he felt Lisa staring at him.

“What?” He asked, looking up.

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “We thought we were gonna lose you,” she whispered. “We thought…”

Griffin caught her hand in his, squeezing her fingers. “Hey… you haven’t lost me yet.”

Lisa swallowed hard, inhaling shakily. She opened her mouth to speak but no words would come. So she just nodded and tightened her grip around his.

* * *

Lilith paused outside the hospital exit, looking to the sky. She wished she could see the stars…

A shadow behind one of the concrete pillars near the ambulance bay shifted, whispering to her it was angelic. Tilting her head, she waited for him to step into the light.

The zipper on his leather jacket glinted, and Lilith’s heart plummeted.

“Hello, Michael,” she said, trying to calm the tremor in her voice.

There was no warmth in his eyes as he scanned her face, expression teetering on indifferent and cold. The longer he waited to speak, the more the muscles in her legs quaked.

“Lilith,” he said finally. Reaching into his jacket pocket for his Marlboros and gold lighter, he stared as if able to bore a hole through her.

She forced herself not to glance away from him. He would have taken it as a sign of weakness.

“Did Gabriel send you?” She asked, though she already knew the answer.

Michael placed a cigarette between his lips and lit it. “No.”

“Then why are you here?” She tightened her shawl around her arms, pretending it was the night air that caused her chill, and not the darkness that skirted across his eyes.

Holding his cigarette between his knuckles, he gestured behind her to the hospital and leaned against the pillar.

“I’m keeping watch,” he said. “You know, doing the whole guardian angel, Roma Downy routine.” Exhaling a cloud of smoke, he continued. “I’m making sure your great, great, great, great, grand-whatever makes it through the night.”

“I healed him,” she said, feeling a hint of confidence return. “He’ll be fine.”

Michael chuckled darkly. “A few broken ribs are the least of his worries.”

“What are you talking about?” Lilith frowned.

Flicking ash on the ground, he smirked. “You just auto-tuned your boy back into fighting shape. And that’s what he’s gonna go do. He’s barreling towards a war at lightning speed, and he has you to thank for that.”

“He’s going after the woman he loves,” Lilith countered. “I consider that a just cause.”

He gave a quick derisive snort and shook his head. “You would.”

Anger flared in her chest, hardening her stare. “Does Gabriel know you’re here?”

“Nope,” he answered casually. “I told him I didn’t want to be involved anymore, and I made with the disappearing act.”

“So you lied to him.”

Michael narrowed his gaze on her. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s something you know a little bit about, huh?”

Bitter rage rose in her throat, but Lilith refused to spew it forth, no matter how badly she ached to.

“Good night, Michael.” Turning on her heel, she strode towards the parking deck of the hospital.

“Tell me something,” Michael called after her. “Does it hurt you too?”

She halted but didn’t face him.

“Seeing him,” Michael continued. Pushing away from the concrete, he tossed his cigarette on the wet ground, following after her. “Does it kill you? Tear you up inside for months, years, afterwards?”

Taking a full breath, she slowly turned to meet Michael’s gaze. Her skin burned from the heat of his anger.

Unflinching, she whispered, “And then some.”

Michael nodded, satisfied with her answer. “Good,” he said, starting towards the building.

Lilith’s resolve fractured. “You can hate me as much as you want, Michael,” she called. “But it was Gabriel’s choice too.”

He paused, shoulders stiffening, before twisting to look at her.

“You’re right,” he said, icy indifference returning to his expression. “I can hate you as much as I want.”

The angel strode back into the same shadow he had emerged from and with a pop of electricity, he vanished.

Lilith exhaled until her sternum ached. Touching the moth pinned to her shawl, she started walking again, and didn’t stop until the hospital, with all its shadows, was far behind her.

[cenniedolls]

So, I have this Luts event head coming with my order from them around the end of the month, and I’m hoping it will work on this body, a SD13 from Volks’ last Michele release (he’s so short and cute! the hands are really nice).  I had to have one of those Boy’s Dormitory outfit sets, and ended up getting the body too.  

If these things work together, the doll will be Shae, my grumpy runaway prince-turned-librarian.  I probably have eyes in the right color that will work at least temporarily, but I’ll need to get a wig (shouldn’t be too hard; Shae’s hair doesn’t have much particular style, just long and straight and blond with some kind of layered fringe).  I tried drawing him in the Volks outfit from memory and close enough; mostly I just love the cape.

Shae story introduction under the cut, if you’re interested.  Basically, his family is murdered and he ditches out to live in the library in a country that’s pretty much as far away as possible; eventually someone comes to find him oh and he’s eternally 15 and immortal 

Yesterday, Shae had watched the anxious little satyr walk away from the library for the last time, hooves clip-clopping against the cobblestones in the square, and wondered who the next strange misfit to disturb his peace would be.  When he had crossed the ocean to live in Cydrane, he had underestimated how busy making his life in the library would be.  Every year or two, someone would show up wanting to learn - about history, magic, science; as many topics as types of people - with the assumption that the Great Library would have all the answers.  They always left, weeks or months or sometimes years later, in varying degrees of satisfaction; there were some things, especially magic, that just couldn’t be contained in paper, even in this most grandiose shrine to preserved knowledge.  Shae himself knew a few things about magic that couldn’t be learned here, not that he ever shared them with the visitors.

Today, he was pleased to be alone again.  Helping those visitors with their research wasn’t his responsibility.  Shae had carved out a very particular niche for himself, dealing exclusively with the maintenance of the oldest collections the Library held; unlike the other librarians, he didn’t guide guests in their search for information.  It had taken a while before everyone forgot how he had stormed in one ordinary morning and ensconced himself in the underground stacks, but now, very few people ever bothered his peace.  The library staff had realized his value with little delay, and encouraged him to stay right where he was.  Only that special type of outsider sought him out now, and only after the more sociable librarians had tried their best.

 Staring vacantly into the antique mirror over his vanity, Shae finished brushing his hair.  His own wide eyes stared back, framed by golden fringe and perfectly smooth skin.  He was past wishing that the royal family of Etenkellankar had sent their children through the Chaos Gate at an age later than fifteen.  These days, no one batted an eye at the apparent child who oversaw the deepest areas of the stacks.  Still, Shae occasionally wished that he hadn’t been the type of child to indulge his mother’s wishes for his appearance; brushing out all of this hair was tedious, and cutting it was no longer an option.  Most of the noble children who went through the Gate came out unchanged.  Shae had come out unchangeable, though it hadn’t been clear how much so until later.

Well, no one here knew the details, and it was well known that fey-blooded individuals with extreme anomalies cropped up from time to time.  People thought he merely had more magic in his blood than usual.  Shae didn’t try to correct the impression that there was simply something strange in his family history.  It wasn’t entirely innaccurate; after all, few things were more rare and unusual than foreign princes.  The handful of library staff who had been here as long as he had were all discreet, protective older figures, now, and didn’t ask questions.  Other than whether he was eating enough.

Most people assumed that he was older than he looked, but in the sense that they saw a precociously successful young adult with a youthful appearance.  He had been both precocious and mature at fifteen, so that made sense.  There weren’t many people he knew for long enough that they began to wonder.  As long as he didn’t slip up in conversation, no one connected him to the prince who had vanished from Etenkellankar a generation ago.

Well, anyone who had been looking for that prince, would have been looking for Elishon Shaiel Etenkellanka’er, not a blonde child who went simply by Shae.  At first they would have been looking for a similar teenager, but what the Chaos Gate had done to him was still a little-known secret when he left, so anyone still searching now would be expecting an adult, affected by the passage of time in the usual way.  Before he left, everyone had thought he was simply late blooming.  The bitterness he couldn’t hide at their commiserations was typical of boys who really would gain that extra height, someday.  It had been an easy enough farce to play, for the three years in between his ceremony and the murder of his family.  

The assassins had found out his secret that night, when the youngest prince stood back up with swords in his back.  None of them had lived to tell about it, though; at eighteen, Shae had been a dangerous mage.

Then he’d left the country.  Walked out of the castle that same night.  Orlie had tried to talk him out of it, but even his best friend couldn’t sway him; Shae had gotten on the first riverboat he could, and the first ocean ship after that, and ended up here, walking out of the depths of the library into the sunlit back courtyard.

Rhoselle expected him to show up in the outbuilding where the librarians who stayed on site lived every morning.  If he didn’t, she would only come down to his rooms beneath the stacks to find him, and drag him blinking into the fresh air regardless.

This morning, it was just Rhoselle and Lewis, her husband, cooking breakfast in the old-fashioned kitchen; Sylvaness, the youngest permanent staff, was sipping tea at the table.  A few others came and went, and of course most of the staff didn’t live at the library, but most mornings found half a dozen people tucked into the small dining area.

“Rhoselle was just about to send Lewis after you,” Sylvaness informed him, barely looking up from her tea.  

Across the room, Lewis shrugged, with a smile that crinkled the skin around his eyes.  The light streaming in the windows washed the grey out of his hair, turning it nearly as blond as it had been, when they’d met.  Shae had watched he and Rhoselle fall in love, years ago.  He had played with their daughter as she learned to walk, endured a phase of childish infatuation, and attended her wedding a few years past.  Now that she had gone to live in the city with her new family, Rhoselle treated Shae as a sort of replacement child, not that there was much difference in her behavior.  Even when they’d been the same age, she had mothered him.

“I didn’t realize you were beck,” Shae said, sitting down across from Sylvaness.  She was in charge of unusual acquisitions, and last he had heard, she’d been out in the salt marsh to the south, after some mythical manuscript.

“Last night,” she confirmed.  Straightening, Sylvaness braced an arm on the table and turned to look him in the eyes.  “I got some interesting information on my way back.  Apparently there’s a man who arrived in the city a couple days ago, looking for someone.  He was asking around about the Library yesterday, which is why I heard about it.”

Shae raised an eyebrow at her.  “That doesn’t seem particularly relevant.  Plenty of people who visit the city ask about the library.”

Sylvaness, of course, simply arched a brow back at him.  “Sure, but it doesn’t always get reported to me.  More than one of my contacts mentioned this man to me, when I was checking around.”

“Well, the boy will show up soon enough, if it’s the Library he wants,” Rhoselle said, plunking a plate of breakfast in front of each of them.  “They always do.  Now eat up, you two.”

They always did, that much was true.  Then again, it was hard to miss the Library, towering as it did over the city from atop one of the two hills the capital was built around.  Surrounded by a cluster of outbuildings and an ancient wall, the library was nearly a city in itself, though the gates always stood open.  Even Shae had been impressed, when he first came to this country.  Cydrane valued knowledge, and a long history of its princes had guaranteed that tradition.

Shae went back down to the stacks after breakfast, with a promise to Rhoselle that he would come out for supper.  Sylvaness brought him a few brittle old tomes from her latest excursion, and he catalogued them; beyond her brief visit, the expanse of narrow shelves that made up his realm was silent.  Shae preferred it that way.  Without distracting visitors, he could sink into the slow, steady flow of what needed to be done.  There were always collections to check, sections to reorganize, and new books to take care of.  One of Sylvaness’s most recent deliveries demanded serious restoration, and Shae had a few other books that needed maintenance.  The day flew by.

Back up the narrow stairs, back through the lower levels of the public areas of the library, back up the main steps, around the edge of the ground floor, out the understated back entrance.  Back across the courtyard, sunset casting long shadows all the way to the walls of Rhoselle and Lewis’s little dormitory.  They would be waiting, and Sylvaness would be there; more of the other librarians too, this time of day-

“Elishon?  Ellie?  Is… Is that really-”

Shae froze at his name, and hearing the old nickname too turned all the blood in his veins to ice.  His own hair blinded him as he spun, catching the bars of sunlight that made it past the Library’s austere shape in a haze of gold.

Squinting against the light, Shae tried to make out the person saying those names, names that ought to be thick with nearly four decades of dust.  He took a step back as the person moved forward, backlit beyond hope of recognition.

“I didn’t think I’d actually find you- Well, I did, or I wouldn’t be looking, but it’s still a shock-”  The man stepped into the library’s shadow, and Shae could finally see that no, he wasn’t Orlie, though the smile, the shape of his shoulders, the color of his hair, even the hint of a joke in his voice, these things were the same, familiar traits.  This man was older than Orlie had been, when Shae had left Etenkellankar, yes, but still far younger than Orlie would be today, even though Shae himself had stayed the same.  Shae gasped in a breath, feeling his heartbeat rushing in his chest as the first moment of blinding horror passed.

“You really do look just like the portraits.  Father said you would, but it’s hard to believe, still.”  That not-quite-familiar grin was swimming in front of his eyes, now; Shae tried to breath again, but the pounding feeling wasn’t subsiding.  As he tried to focus, the smile on the stranger’s face began to turn anxious.

“Are you alright?  I suppose I should introduce myself, my apologies…”

The rest of his words vanished, flooded out by the pounding of his heart and the sharp white light of unconsciousness.