#and lira was under his nose the entire time

[ulfhrafnx]

me , finding out hara.ld fine.hair had children after all: lira is the mother of his children.

i was joking at first but after seeing har.ald sigurd.sson in a berserker rage wearing wolf skin now i know it’s canon. lira’s descendants would absolutely be úlfhéðnar. in fact , they are. végeirr , her son , takes after his father in that regard.

[evabellasworld]

By the Stream

March Madness Challenge for @starwarsfandomfests

What happened, what’s wrong?

You’re sitting alone by the stream

The green grass is sprouting up

And the water splashes with the spring wind

I’m sure there was a promise

That even if you go, you won’t be gone forever

But every day you come to the stream

What are you thinking about?

Even if you go, you won’t be gone forever

Is that asking me not to forget you?

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Summary: Obi-Wan and Vanya were sitting beside the stream, not knowing what will become of the long-standing friendship that they built together.

——————————————————————————————

AO3 Link

Staring at the crystal-clear stream in front of her, Vanya was seated on a large rock, with stalks of yellow-orange daisies in her hands, with a smile on her face. Her surroundings were filled with wildflowers and polka-dotted mushrooms grown across the emerald field, along with the refreshing breeze in the air. The sun was shining on the blue sky as the puffy cloud above her glided, giving a sense of serenity inside her.

For months, the battles across the Outer Rims were bloodthirsty. Many of her troops were sacrificed in the battlefield as a price to pay for the Republic's victory. The fields that she was admiring were once soaked in blood and rotting corpses that painted across the bare valleys.

Trenches were dug deep and barbed wires were set up, marking each territory for both the Republic and the Separatists forces. Anyone who trespasses was either shot on sight or disappeared, never to be seen again. Vanya recalled assigning 35 clone troopers to gather intel from their enemies and so far, only 5 had survived.

Her heart aches as she laid on her bunk every single night, wondering whether the rest of her soldiers were still out there. It would be easier to think that the remaining 28 men and women were all dead, probably buried somewhere in the area. On the other hand, Vanya could not help but think that maybe, just maybe, they would return home to their brother’s and sister’s embrace.

Why did I even bother fighting this war in the first place? she thought, sniffing through the sweet scent of the flower. It’s not like we were protecting innocent people of the Republic in the first place.

She glanced at the stream again, only to notice the fishes that were swimming along together. For three years, she had been fighting a war that doesn’t seem to end anytime soon. Though her friends informed her that the Separatist were losing their grip on the Outer Rim, Vanya cannot be too sure about their statement.

In truth, nobody, including herself, had any idea when the Clone Wars would end. She was sure that the war would be over in a few months, but that few months became a year, before it turned into three excruciating years. If another year has passed, then she would be a forty-year-old woman, along with her longtime friends, Cinta Kaarim and Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Her former apprentice, on the other hand, would be a fourteen-year-old girl, the same age that Ahsoka became a commander of the 501st Legion. How time flies so fast, she laughed to herself. Just yesterday, Lira was the little girl who was always asking a lot of questions and talking endlessly and now, she’s blossoming into a teenager and soon, she’ll grow into a strong and brave woman.

The thought of her Padawan growing up made her shiver, realising the uncertain future for her and her twin sister, Eva. Will the girls have to grow up to finish the war for us? Vanya bit her fingernails. Will they survive, or will they die young?

That was the question that bounced around her head the moment they were assigned as Jedi Generals for the 101st Battalion, much to both her and Obi-Wan’s distress. As she watches an Eden green butterfly land on top of the flower, her lips curve downwards when it flees in fright, prompting her to turn around and figure out what startled the fragile creature.

Rather, she found Obi-Wan pacing towards her the entire time, making her cross her arms and gave him an icy glare. “You know, your tactics of scaring other people is starting to bore me,” Vanya remarked, as he let out an amusing chuckle.

“Well, in that case, I’ll have to find another way to grab your attention,” he teased, as he sat beside her and grinned, hoping to crack his stone-faced friend. “Besides, you seem to always be in your head all the time. Should I be worried or should I stay out of your internal conflicts?”

“What do you want?” she breathed, her lips stiffened.

“Well, you’ve been sitting alone by the stream,” he answered, his voice laced with concern. “What’s happened? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing really,” Vanya shook her head. “It’s just the thought of us not seeing each other again just pains me too much.”

“But even if you go, you won’t be gone forever,” Obi-Wan assured, placing his hands on her shoulder. “Besides, we promised that we would always have each other’s back, no matter what.”

“But what if I didn’t make it alive?” she pined. “The Outer Rim is currently in siege and right now, I can’t even guarantee if I’m able to make it back to the Jedi Temple.”

“Vanya, don’t say that. You will come back to the Temple once everything is over, and you will see Lira and Eva again, I promise.”

“How can you even be optimistic right now, when you’ve been seeing your own men die under your command? You’ve even lost Satine on Mandalore, and you lose sleep worrying about Anakin and Eva’s strained relationship with each other.”

Obi-Wan bobbed his head, his eyebrows drooped. “You’re right. It’s difficult to think positively, especially when both your apprentices are fighting with each other too frequently. It’s hard when Eva kept crying on how Anakin was saying nasty things to her and how he felt unfair when I called him out on his behaviour. But what can I do? Eva has been depressed for years, and I have to stay strong just for her sake. I can’t afford to break down in front of her, since she’s already been through a lot.”

“I’m sorry, Obi-Wan,” Vanya apologised profusely, her head hung low. “I didn’t mean to provoke you like that.”

“No, Vanya, there’s nothing to apologise for,” he let out a weak smile. “It’s just that I’ve been keeping to myself for too long, and I thought that it would be better if I just let it all out, you know.”

She nodded as she squeezed her nose and wiped her hands on her dress, shifting her focus to the gentle stream. “So, how’s Anakin?”

“The usual,” shrugged Obi-Wan. “You know, flying recklessly, almost getting himself for a billion times, yeah, those are the things that I have to deal with for more than ten years.”

“That bad, eh?” her nose crinkled.

“Well, he had a rough upbringing when he was around Eva’s age. He was enslaved until my master, Eva’s father, rescued him and made me his master as his death wish. Then, he had to watch his own mother die a decade later, and even till today, he blamed himself for not being able to save her from those Tusken Raiders.”

“That was sad,” Vanya sympathised. “But that doesn’t excuse him for hurting other people’s feelings, especially Eva. The girl’s only thirteen, and she’s already in a fragile state of mind.”

“That is true,” he acknowledged. “Ever since Ahsoka left, Anakin is back to his destructive behaviour. His possessiveness towards Padmé, his anger issues, says it all. I’ve tried talking to him, but you know him. He’s as stubborn as a mule.”

“The apple doesn’t seem to fall far from the tree,” she commented. “You were just as stubborn as him when you were still an apprentice to Master Qui-Gon Jinn.”

He snorted, before clearing his throat. “I could say the same for you and Master Plo Koon. You always insisted on flying, even if it was too dangerous.”

“Yup, and now, the cycle repeats with Lira. I have to admit, as jumpy as Lira is, she is one hell of a pilot.”

“It’s like you said, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” Obi-Wan repeated her words. “Master Plo was a pilot, you are a pilot, and now, Lira is following your footsteps into becoming a star pilot like the both of you.”

“And Anakin and Eva also have your piloting skills, though you hated flying so much.”

“Yeah, I had a bad experience with them,” he rubbed behind his neck, plucking a small, white daisy beside him. “You know the incident on Pijal. Even to this day, it still haunts me in my dreams.”

“I know, and I’m sorry that you had to go through that, really. No child should experience these kinds of horrors.”

“And we let a fourteen-year-old and two 10-year-olds fight in a barbaric war,” he exhaled. “I just hope that this war will end sooner. I miss the days when the only thing we had to worry about was maintaining peace in the Galactic Republic.”

She groaned in frustration. “God, I hate politics so much. It’s just too many red strings that prevent us from taking further action, you know. I don’t even know why the Jedi Council had to get involved in the first place.”

“I see where you’re coming from. Too many politicians, with a few exceptions, are corrupted. They would rather fill their pockets with credits than caring about the citizens instead. Honestly, I have a feeling that the Republic will crumble eventually. It’s too fragile to maintain its pillars.”

“True,” she relented as she got up from her seat, holding a bouquet with both hands. “Well, I should get going. The Council assigned me to another battle and I have to depart as soon as possible.”

He nodded and bowed. “Is that asking me not to forget you?”

“I guess so,” Vanya lifted her shoulders. “But like you said, I won’t be gone forever, and so will you.”

“Goodbye Vanya,” Obi-Wan gave his last wave at her. “I hope we’ll see each other again once the war is over.”

“I will, Obi-Wan,” she promised, before leaving him by the stream, where the grasses were sprouting up and the water splashes with the spring wind. Little did they know, this was their last conversation with each other before the end of the era.

[fapangel]

YOUR CUNT PRESIDICK GIVE 3000 TROOPS AND F15S FOR SAUDIS YET CANT LET 50 STAY FOR KURDS

There’s a big fucking difference between some rear-echelon guys sitting in air-conditioned offices and Patriot battery control vans sipping lattes and Special Forces operators stationed as human shields between two armies spoiling for a fight. 

I’m actually planning a Big Effortpost about this soon; my first actual writing for this blog in a long, long time - but for now, consider what this guy has to say: https://twitter.com/JordanSchachtel/status/1182718671237664768

This is exactly what the United States has done in countless places - the best example being South Korea. And for decades, the United States has largely dictated the foreign relations of states like that as the price of their patronage. Eventually, we had to compensate that patronage by tolerating unequal trade deals that disadvantaged our own domestic workers, and resulted in resentment towards our supposedly close allies - just ask anyone in my home state, home of the US auto industry, how they feel about Japanese and Korean automobiles destroying their livelihoods. These master-vassal alliance arrangements are the ones Trump is currently dismantling and re-setting on more equitable terms - which, in the long-run, will make for stronger alliances based on mutual interest, instead of arm-twisting ones held together mostly by the pressure of the Soviet Union (which no longer exists.) 

Those Cold War thinkers still make up the majority of “The Blob,” the foreign-policy “establishment’ of thinkers that include the think tanks, the government bureaucracy, and the former bureaucrats who then go to work at think-tanks publishing papers that are read by the current bureaucrats. The master-vassal relationship is absolutely what they want to inflict on the Kurds; to turn Kurdistan into a permanent tool of US regional policy.

The establishment of a Greater Kurdistan - one extending from northern Iraq all the way to the east bank of the Euphrates - is Washington’s de-facto policy. We want the Kurds to have that land, because they’ve already got a nation (their shared ethnicity) to bind together their state, and they’re far less of a pain in the ass than pretty much every other government, ethnic group or loose socio-religious polity in the region. 

... of course, that’s also supposed to be true of Turkey, as well - despite them invading a contested area (Cyprus) in what was essentially an attack on another NATO ally. And said NATO ally - Greece, the land of my ancestors - embarrassed NATO by falling under the control of a fascist fucking dictatorship for seven years in the late-sixties/early seventies. And the best part is, It was American meddling in favor of authoritarian governments (to combat the Communists) that helped that regime come to power - an American CIA agent was best pals with several of the colonels who’d later stage the coup!

I say to you, as a Greek-American well-educated by my elders in the trials of my bloodline and a fiercely loyal citizen of America: is this what you want for Kurdistan? The America of the Cold War did such things for pressing reasons, even if they weren’t right - in the contest of nukes, whoever loses the game of positioning loses everything (consider the Cuban Missile Crisis.) That era is past, but the elitist leadership class that still infests our government are full of people who would continue the crimes of the past, despite there no longer being any excuse for them. It took us a decade just to put Trump in office. It will take us a generation to remake our government entire. 

I want Kurdistan to be truly free - and it will never be so if it doesn’t fight its own battles. You won’t fight like my grandfather’s generation had to; with antique weapons and whatever they could steal from the enemy. The Greeks received European aid to prop them up as a foil against the Turks for a long time, but much of it was privately collected and donated - nothing like the support in cash and arms the Kurds have received. The Kurds are going to bleed Turkey, especially since the President has indicated multiple times that our largess is not coming to an end; that the money and the weapons will continue to flow, even as we punish Turkey for their trouble-making. If the Kurds doubt that the favors of great powers always come with strings attached, they will doubt no more once Turkish F-16s start fading from the skies when America shuts off the deliveries of sundry engines and spare parts - to say nothing of the economic sanctions. America put the Turkish lira into freefall with sanctions in August of last year - all to get back one American held hostage by Ergodan. One American. Wars run on money, and nobody can doubt our power to dry Turkey’s coffers. 

We have armed and enriched the Kurds and will soon disarm and beggar their enemies, the Turks - but Kurds must do the bleeding to secure Kurdistan’s future. It is truly incredible that the President of the United States would openly threaten our own treaty ally with possible war on behalf of people who’s state America doesn’t even officially recognize yet. He’s only raising the specter to drive the final point (”call us and mediate a deal before we make you wish you had,”) but even for Trump it is incredible to lift one’s shirt and flash his saber hilt at our own treaty ally. America is far from all-powerful, but it’s as close to a God on Earth as this wretched world is likely to see, and though Americans cannot bend Heaven, we can absolutely move Hell when we see fit. 

We have given the Kurds as much opportunity and means as we can. Ergodan’s push against the Kurds is motivated by the demands of his own political survival - any setbacks in their Syrian operations, and the inevitable slow attrition the Kurds will inflict on their “border area” will all tell against Ergodan personally. By fighting their own battles, the Kurds can do what America cannot - humiliate and discredit Turkey’s flamboyant strongman. This is about teaching Turkey a lesson it must learn - that the Kurds can bloody their nose without America holding their hand, and America’s only recompense to Turkey will be laughter. But it’s about something more, too - the possibility of changing Turkey’s political trajectory for the foreseeable future by finishing off Ergodan’s last remaining bastion of credibility. 

If America does this, then Kurds will only be seen as obedient pawns of a much bigger, much wealthier power, and Turkish resolve will only harden. 

Kurds have won Kurdistan - for all our help, our advisers, our money, our weapons, our airstrikes, it was Kurds who carried bright steel into the smoke and flames of war. Now Kurds must secure Kurdistan. They might resent us, even hate us for what we do now. I don’t give a damn if they do - as long as Kurdistan is truly free. 

Americans defend the right to keep and bear arms because they fear their own government. I suggest the Kurds consider that carefully.

[cityandking]

sky full of stars

things you said under the stars and in the grass + lira/alistair.

I found this very old prompt in my drafts and finally managed to finish it. there is a great deal of pining and also stargazing; you’ve been warned.

It’s good to see the sky again after so long trapped below the earth, buried in the Deep Roads.

She’s not the only one feeling lighter than usual for the open sky. Outside of the drunken dwarf they have managed to collect during the whole ordeal who looks up every few steps as though distrusting of the open firmament itself, the whole of their small band breathes freer. Even Morrigan has cracked a smile, proving miracles do indeed happen. Lira herself feels buoyed, unweighted without the heavy-dark rock looming over them, without the heat of the furnaces and the shouting of the darkspawn taint that threads through the earth.

So when Alistair drifts up next to her and says, “I want to show you something,” she doesn’t refuse, and blames their collective relief for her willingness to go along.

The northern reaches of Ferelden are familiar to her; even this far west it’s the same rolling hills drifting down to the Waking Sea, a dark smear to the north. The grasses here don’t rise in waves the way they do further south among the Bannorn, but between the low hills and the tufts of shrubs, the camp is a yellow flicker glow hidden in the dip between two swells of earth by the time Alistair settles. He chooses a spot at the top of one low hill, a crooked and bare-branched tree sprouting out of the dry northern soil, and sits with a heavy thump. The breeze smells faintly of salt as it curls through the branches and around them, a promise of the water they cannot see in the dark.

“Come on, sit,” he invites, and she does with uncharacteristic willingness. From somewhere he procures a wineskin that, she is surprised to find, lives up to its name.

“Where did you get this?” she asks, taking a tentative sip. It’s surprisingly good, dry and smooth and bitter. It has been some time since she’s had anything besides boiled-clean water or cheap ale; it reminds her suddenly and sharply of home, of warm meals around the table and Fergus protesting that she is not nearly old enough for a glass of her own, and she blinks back the sting of tears.

If Alistair notices, he doesn’t mention it, only leans back slightly on his hands. “The dwarven fellow, Bodahn. Has a few vintages in the back, actually.”

Lira passes the skin along to him.

“What’s the occasion?”

“Not being dead in the Deep Roads,” he replies. “Worth celebrating, I think. Staved that off for another few decades. Well done us.”

It’s not entirely something she feels like drinking to, but she wants even less to sour his good mood so she favors him with the shallow suggestion of a smile and accepts the skin when he hands it back to her, and soon it is empty, and Alistair topples back into the grass beneath the clear summer sky.

“Here it is,” he says, and Lira frowns down at him. It takes him a long moment to notice her stare, but once he does he waves her down next to him.

The wine tugs at her limbs, gives them more weight than usual, and she lays down more easily than she means to. He radiates warmth at her side.

“What?”

“What I wanted to show you.”

“Oh.”

It’s the night sky, same as it ever is. She tilts her head ever so slightly to stare at him, the even slope of his nose and the way his lips move as he speaks. “I know, I know. It’s just the sky, Alistair. You’ve seen it before.” 

Maybe it is the wine, or the fresh air after so long beneath the earth, or the slope of his nose and the way his lips move when he speaks, but no barb comes to her lips. “You wanted to show me something,” she says quietly, as much an invitation as she can muster, and when he tilts his head toward her she’s still staring, too slow to look away. She does not entirely want to.

“Yeah,” he says, stumbling over the word. His eyes are dark in the dim light of the moon. “Yeah I— Used to look up at them when I was, you know. Sleeping outside.” With the animals, he doesn’t say, but she knows it well enough, and his gaze slips away from her and back up to the sky. “Made up all sorts of stories. Arl Eamon used to say there were heroes in the sky so, well. I, um. Thought we might be up there some day.”

“As great heroes?”

“Well, sure.” He sounds defensive now, arms folding across his chest. “Assuming we don’t die between here and Redcliffe— And Arl Eamon is cured–– and everyone who promised to help us actually does— and we unseat Loghain— and we kill the Archdemon— Yeah!”

He speaks it with such confidence she cannot bring herself to disagree. Instead she humors him, rolling slightly to stare up at the guttering stars above. “Well then, which will we be?” she asks. 

There’s movement out of the corner of her eye as his head rolls to look at her, and then he swings his attention back skywards. His arm rises up to draw a shape against the darkness, and she follows it with a crooked care, eyes sliding along the path he traces.

“That’s you, obviously. With the daggers, see?” She can, just barely.

“And you?”

“Oh, well, I’m the one just next to you,” he says easily. “As always.”

Her heart twists at that, and when she glances at him out of the corner of her eye he is looking to her, not the skies. She takes a deep breath. 

“A tall order,” she says evenly. “To write our names in the sky.”

“We’re Grey Wardens,” he says with the tone of someone quoting something they have heard before. “There is nothing that can stop us from accomplishing our goal. And,” he adds, “it would be pretty cool.”

She doesn’t need—doesn’t want—her name writ large, but his boyish charm is endearing. “Then I suppose we must succeed.”

“Yeah,” he says, and he laughs, sound bubbling up and bleeding into the sea-breeze air around them. It warms her, sure as the sun. Or maybe that is the wine.

Eventually, though, the noise fades away into the starry night, and there is nothing but the rustle of the breeze through the shrubs and their breathing and somewhere, very far away, the sound of the sea. 

“Lira,” he says into the hush, and when she turns to her side he is staring at her, all hope and wonder. The empty wineskin sits between them. Her heart twists. “We will do it, won’t we?”

“Of course,” she says, and that is honest as anything. “We cannot fail.”

Something almost the shape of a smile touches his lips. “I was so afraid, you know,” he tells her quietly. He needs be no louder; they are turned face to face, only a few inches between them. His voice settles in the hollow, fills it wide as the ocean. “I almost wished I’d died with the rest of the wardens. But to survive alongside you... I though, maybe it’s not so bad I survived.”

It is not the first time he has said something in the shape of such a sentiment, but something in his face is surer now. Older, maybe, like he has cut away the uncertainty and the youth and something of the man shows through behind it. The change catches her unawares, and she cannot keep staring at him. She looks back to the sky. 

She doesn’t have words for him, cannot offer lies or truth or anything except the empty space of the hilltop and the empty wineskin between them. She doesn’t trust herself to give more.

She wants to kiss him so badly she can taste it. She digs her hands into the dry-cool earth and swallows it back.

Eventually he shifts again at her side, and when she chances a glance in his direction he’s returned to staring at the stars. The tension slowly unwinds from her shoulders; her hands unclench. The warmth of the wine sours in her stomach, bitter and sick, and the lightness that has lifted her steps since emerging from the earth punctures like a lung, seeping away and out into the night. The shock of it tightens around her chest.

“Sorry,” says Alistair suddenly. “You probably think this is very...” He waves a hand in the air. “Touchy-feely. Soft-hearted Alistair at it again.”

“I don’t,” she tells the sky. “It’s not.” He’s not, or he is but it isn’t something to be ashamed of. She can’t find the words for that, though. “It isn’t.”

“Oh,” he says, surprised almost, and her chest aches anew, and she almost misses the pressure of the earth all around her. Better that than this unmooring. “Okay.”

She sits up slowly, and he sits to join her. He leans forward a little, elbows hooked around his knees, and it turns him all to shadows in the moonlight, shadows and the slight shimmer of armor. She smiles, just a little, sad and tired and heartsick. “You really are a good man, Alistair.”

She can see the crease of his frown in the way the light dims in his eyes, brow heavy. “So are you. Woman, I mean. You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

It isn’t true, but she can appreciate the sentiment. She leans over, just a little, to kiss his cheek. She can feel the warmth radiating from his skin, and the scrape of a missed shave, the the way his breath catches when she pulls away.

“The stars would be lucky to have you,” she tells him quietly, and stands. “Goodnight, Alistair.”

“I�� Oh. Um, goodnight.”

She picks her way back down the hill alone, and the breeze drifting off the sea cuts a chill swath through the warm summer night, worming its way between the cracks in her armor and settling deep in her bones. Zevran, who sits awake on watch when she returns to camp, nods to her and goes back to his task, and she appreciates the suggestion of privacy. The others are already asleep, their bedrolls a loose circle around the low-burning fire. Lira collects hers and finds spot at the edge of the firelight, rolls it out wordlessly and tries her best to sleep.

It is a futile attempt.

So she is still awake when Alistair slips back down the hill in her wake, armor sliding and clinking quietly as he walks.

“A romantic tryst, was it?” Zevran asks him, quiet but not quite quiet enough. Lira closes her eyes and fakes sleep as best she can. “Short lived, no? If it is pointers you need—”

“It isn’t,” Alistair says, but he sounds neither embarrassed nor irritated at the elf’s suggestion. “It— I don’t know.”

“Ah, my friend,” says Zevran. “Is it love? That is much worse.”

“No. No, it—” He sighs. “I wish I knew how to help.”

“I see.” Zevran is quiet for a long moment. Lira’s stomach is a stone, weighing her down, pinning her to the earth. He sighs. “As do I.”

There is rustling, and the low sound of a hand clapped against a shoulder, and one of them huffs. Lira’s throat burns. She swallows that down too.

“Goodnight, Zev,” Alistair says quietly.

“Goodnight, my friend. Sleep well.”

She listens to Alistair bed down for the night, and it is not long at all before his snoring joins the uneven rhythm of the sleeping camp. Lira lets go the pretense of sleep, opens her eyes to stare up at the wheeling stars, silver-cold pinpricks of light so high above. She thinks of Oghren’s silent distrust, of the dwarves who say it is possible to fall into the sky, as if all that nothingness might swallow one whole, and almost wishes it were true.

It takes her a long time to get to sleep.

[pjdredful]

The AV Club

Chapter 8

 “Get it together, losers. Move!” The all too shrill shout makes me pull an ear bud out and glance around for the source. For a second there are just too many people from the Winter Formal Committee milling around for me to get a good look and then they part before her in a hurried and nervous wave of bodies. There are bullies and bitches in every school in America. There are bullies everywhere. At work places, in grocery stores, in parking lots and at summer camps. It’s just a sad fact of human life. There are jerks everywhere you go. So I’m not surprised that there is yet another one here in my school but I cringe a little internally when I see the face attached to the voice. Oh God. Mo notices my utter lack of movement and stops fiddling with the light board to stare too.

 “Evie…is that…” I just nod once and swallow a little convulsively. Audrianna Saveedra. My worst nightmare in the flesh. It isn’t that she’s just a bully. But she’s my personal bully. Orson was always a dick but he never once came close to the horror and humiliation of Audrianna. It’s almost too much for my brain to compute, her being here of all places. Deep brown eyes scan the group assembled for a minute, as if she’s judging us all already. Her gaze passes over me and I let out a slight breath of air that I know no one can actually hear. Maybe its relief that she seems to not recognize me that makes me start to ease back against the hard metal of the folding chair. Or just sheer stupidity.

 The laser like focus redirects and swings back my way and I’m pinned by her stare. I pale just a little when her lips curl up in a very Grinch like smile before she clicks her way over and stands right in front of me. I try really hard not to flinch but it happens when the hem of her skirt brushes my knuckles gone white from gripping the box of mics and cables perched precariously on my lap. “Why Evelyn Rossi, I thought that was you. I didn’t know you went here.” Liar. I know she’s lying because her smug little pig nose crinkles just a bit in too much amusement. God. I can’t even believe I once thought she was cute.

 “Yeah. What uh. What are you doing here Audri?” It’s too casually said. Too familiar and that makes her smile even more. See I was hoping it would seem nonchalant and cool but it actually came out a little more nervous than intended. All it ended up doing was reminding her that we have a history and that I remember all of it. Mo looks back and forth between us for a minute, unsure if he should say something or not.

 “I go here now. Daddy has a new pet project going and it just makes sense for the family to be closer. Blessing is more than two hours away you know.” I know. I give her a non-committal hum and a slow nod, still watching her like she may lunge viciously at me any second. Like a snake swallowing a scared little mouse. And I’m the mouse. “You know…” She leans forward a little conspiratorially and I lean back just a hair. “If I had known you were going to be here I would have brought my camp album.” Whatever color had finally risen to my cheeks vanishes in an instant. I’m sure that album is filled with all the horrible things she did to me at camp every year. Including my spectacular and totally blindsided expulsion from the closet thanks to her.

 Mo finally clears his throat a little pointedly and she turns her dark haired head towards him with a jerk making the long perfectly styled locks fling casually over her shoulder. I wonder if she practices that. “So you’re here at this committee meeting why?”

 The predatory smile widens and I have just a fleeting second to think ‘shut up or she’ll notice you!’ in Mo’s general direction. Of course. He’s not a mind reader. And I don’t think he noticed my face before his words tumbled out. Either way, it’s too late now and we both know it from the look in her calculating eyes.

 “I remember you. You’re that Jewish boy from camp. What’s your name again? Slowmo? Momo? Homo?” My teeth grind together at the last part. Not because I think she’s calling him gay. I know exactly why she’s mentioning it. A reminder that she knows all my secrets and most of my past.

 “His name is Mo.” She gives a slow nod as if to say ‘oh yes of course, how silly of me’. Like that makes it alright or something.

 “Ah. Mo. I think it should be obvious by now don’t you? I’m here to organize this committee. Properly.” Properly. It’s those little snide comments that she says without so much as a flicker of emotion that gall me. The implication that we’re just too podunk to have a school dance and do it right. And okay yeah maybe I think it galls me a little bit more that this is the third committee meeting in a week and we still haven’t picked a theme or know what the hell we’re all doing yet. “We can’t do anything so tacky as…I don’t know…Under the Sea or….whatever the little theme was last year.” Under the Sea. Which is just dumb because it’s a winter ball. Why would Under the Sea be a good theme for that?

 Several people shift nervously and glance at each other. It’s probably pretty likely those are the ones that were pushing it the hardest. It makes me want to champion the theme just because Audrianna doesn’t think it’s good enough. “We haven’t actually picked a theme yet. So…” I trail off rather stupidly because I don’t know what possessed me to speak in the first place or what the hell to say next.

 “Hm. So I gathered. Well if you two are done playing with your….” She makes a vague gesture to the collection of sound and light equipment in boxes around us. The disdain on her face is clear as she realizes that this is all the equipment for the dance set up and it won’t be up to her standards. “We should just get started. I think a fundraiser should be the first order of business.” Audri clicks away with a twirl of her skirt and starts calling the meeting to order.

 “How exactly did she just walk in and take everything over without a fight?” I just look at Mo and shrug a shoulder. He didn’t have to deal with her much but he should remember her from a few of the camp mixers that shoved camps Little Hawk and Buffalo Trails together once a summer for a night of awkward slow dancing and sugary fruit punch. “Oh right. She’s Audrianna.” My one consoling thought is that she doesn’t have a gaggle of minions. Yet. Still our county is small and the towns in it are even smaller. Which means that Audri can have her cronies up to see her reigning the school with an iron fist at any time. I smirk but it’s not at all confident and becomes less so when Audrianna starts the group brainstorming for fundraiser ideas.

 There are a mix of them. Some stupid. Some okay. All of them met with an impenetrable cold stare letting everyone know they fail miserably. It’s almost funny and that little bit of nervous tension in my gut causes me to do something so dumb that even I want to smack myself in the back of the head. I laugh. All eyes drift toward me and I immediately stop laughing. My toe taps the floor experimentally and Mo elbows me with a whisper. “Stop looking for a Hellmouth to fall into.” He’s right. There’s never a Hellmouth when I need one and really what would I do if one actually opened at my feet?

 “Is there something amusing Evelyn? Are your fellow students’ suggestions just not good enough for you?” Oh you bitch nugget. Until I laughed she was thinking that exact thing. It was written all over her face and we all could see it. But it’s just like her to turn it around on me. There is no better way to gain support than by making someone else the bad guy. I clear my throat and roll a shoulder in a shrug before sitting up a little straighter. I have to fix this. Somehow.

 “No. Not at all.” It’s a little too quickly said and a few snorts and irritated looks are thrown my way. Mo starts to sit up himself like he wants to say something but I just clear my throat and sink a little lower in my seat. Eyes start drifting back to Audrianna, already looking to her for guidance. Gross.

 “Well then any suggestions? Since you seem to think no one else here has a better idea.” I never said that! Of course if I sputter and try to deny it she’ll only wave it off. The damage is done and I can see it in the accusatory looks directed at me.

 I’m not really so great under pressure so I fidget a little more and squeak out breathlessly. “Car bake thing?” Car. Bake. Thing. My face burns at the condescending laughter she sets off in the group. It’s not that I don’t know what they are. Car wash and bake sale. They are the staple of every high school booster club or fundraising experience. But put on the spot like that, the way she’s making me look like I’m the snob…I just couldn’t make the words come out right.

 Audri stops laughing after a minute and purses her lips as if having to explain something to someone as dumb as I am was distasteful to her. “I think you mean car wash and bake sale.” I resist the urge to mock her tone and roll my eyes. Whatever. Thankfully she takes her focus from me and sighs to the group dramatically. “I was told the school doesn’t even have enough in the budget to hire a DJ for the entire dance. We’re going to have to get creative people. Think big. Think grand.”

 The alarm goes off on my phone and I silence it quickly. I slide the box of cables over into Mo’s lap and grab my messenger bag from the floor. Mo looks at me with a slight frown. He knows I’m going to meet up with Lirae to talk to her guy or whatever about following Tony around but I think he’s kind of annoyed at having to be stuck with Audrianna for the rest of the meeting. I give him an apologetic look mouthing sorry before trying to sneak out the door. I can just barely make out the sound of laughter as the door closes behind me, no doubt sparked by some mean spirited comment. And I’m pretty sure I know exactly who made it. I shake it off and jog the rest of the way from the tech room to the field. It’s not that far really and there isn’t any need to run but I need to get rid of some of this anxiety churning my stomach.

 I can see Lirae perched on some bleachers at the very top, her silver aviator’s flashing in the sun when she turns her head. The wind lifts a curl, pulling it out of the loose pony tail and dragging it across her face. Lirae’s head twists toward the wind and the lock blows back away from her. It was effortless and simple and somehow a thousand times hotter than Audrianna’s perfectly timed hair swish. I take the steps up carefully and drop myself on to the bench next to her. “Hey.”

 Lirae looks up, leaning back on the rail behind her and smiles. “Hey yourself. How was the meeting?” I don’t want to talk about it so I just wave vaguely and make some unintelligible mutterings. “Oh yeah that’s totally how those things go.” She laughs in amusement and leans in to nudge me playfully with her forehead. “You ready to go?” I like that she just accepts my non answer with a quiet joke. She doesn’t push me. It’s kind of part of why I like her so much. Everyone always wants me to just talk about things and stuff. Like all of the time. Not Lirae. She gets me and just lets me be me and it’s nice. Comforting.

 “Yeah. Mo says the boys will meet us after at the clubhouse. Orson is still pissed the door won’t stay up and wants another crack at it.” I could tell him why it won’t. My dad is a contractor after all and I’m totally a daddy’s girl when it comes to hanging out in the garage. But it’s more fun to watch him struggle to be a manly man. Lirae chuckles and I lean into her side a little more. We’re not exactly cuddling but we’re sitting pretty close and having a lot of little casual touches. Not unusual for us but it seems a little more charged these past few days what with the kissing and all.

 “Are you going to let him keep trying to get it right or just butch up and fix it for him?” It’s my turn to laugh now and I shrug.

 “I dunno. I kinda like watching him get it mad at the door like it’s defective.” It’s not like the door is fancy or anything. It was just a standard door we managed to pilfer from one of my dad’s renovation work sites. It would have gone in the trash anyway but only because it was old and kind of ugly. But that is perfect for the shack. At least it matches the structure. We make our way down the steps carefully, reaching the bottom at the same time. Lirae tugs me around by the arm when I start to head to the gate instead of the parking lot in the opposite direction. The momentum of it spins me around too fast and I put my hands up to keep us from crashing together. We do anyway and my reflexive jump back causes me to misstep. Lirae’s arm comes out like a whip, snagging around my waist to keep me from falling. And that only serves to make us over balance and topple back against a very hard concrete trash can. It hits my hip painfully but at least it saves us from falling completely to the ground.

 Although we’re now kind of awkwardly leaning against the trash bin without moving and in my case barely breathing. So close. Soooo close. “This is totally your fault.” I open my mouth to argue that and snort.

 “How?!”

 “You bumped into me!”

 “Because you grabbed me!” I laugh even though this is awkward and my hip hurts like a son of a biscuit. Her laugh echoes mine and her brow comes up before she pointedly looks down between us.

 “Oh yeah? Well it looks like you’re the one grabbing me now.” I blink once in confusion and let my eyes drift down between our chests. And that’s when I realize I’ve had my hands on her boobs this entire time. How does this keep happening?? I pull my hands back quickly and clear my throat. Boobs. Nope. Don’t think about it. Boobs. Damnit! My face is burning and I know by the tone of her laughter that I’m beet red.

 “Well that wouldn’t keep happening if you weren’t so…breasty.” I don’t…that’s not even a word. I just shake it off as she laughs and pulls back enough to let me wiggle away.

 “Oh so it’s my boobs’ fault you keep touching them. Classy, blame the victims.”

 “They keep touching me!” My defensive tone makes her laugh even harder and I duck my head to try and hide my own smile. Fine I give up. I throw my hands up in defeat and Lirae takes one with a little squeeze. “Okay. Are we going now or are you going to continue to assault me with your bosoms?”

 “Dude���you just said bosoms.” She laughs again tugging me toward the lot. I let her lead the way when I realize we’re headed to Orson’s truck. Well. More like his grandmother’s truck. It’s an old Ford Bronco II that has seen better days. It belonged to Orson’s granddad and she never had the heart to sell it so it was her daily driver. I hop in to the passenger seat and buckle my belt. It is hot as hell and I crank the window down as Lirae gets the truck started. “So what do you think?”

 Of? I look around and frown. “What do I think about what?” Are we still talking about her boobs? Because those are good.

 “My new ride.” Who’s new ride? Hers? Which? This car? I open my mouth but close it with a click before starting again.

 “Grandma sold the truck to you??” She nods full of pride as she pets the steering wheel. It’s seen better days yeah but it’s a pretty solid ride. The idle is smooth and strong and not at all like Mo’s Taurus. I run a hand over the burgundy dash board and smile. “It’s great Lirae. This is so cool. But like how did you pay for it?”

 She shrugs and I can see the slightly embarrassed but clearly pleased expression in her eyes when she turns away to put the truck in gear. “My um foster mom bought it for me. I got a 4.0 and I’m gonna get to graduate this year with everyone." It's huge for her. HUGE.

 She’s never stayed anywhere long enough be able to show any kind of accomplishment or get any kind of validation or reward for doing anything. Things changed for her when she was placed with her current foster mom, Janine. It wasn’t like things changed overnight or anything but slowly Janine has managed to convince Lirae that she wasn’t about to get rid of her any time soon and that she did have a safe place she could call home. I lunge as far as the belt will let me and wrap Lirae in a tight hug. “That’s awesome! Why didn’t you tell me you got a 4.0! I need to start cheating off you in World Civ by the way. We should celebrate!” My tone changes going from excited to playful as I bob my head a little “I know what’chu want girl.” Yup she knows what’s up.

 It’s kind of really adorable that she blushes at whatever I just said. “If you say ice crea…” my tone doesn’t change even a little.

 “Ice cream cake, y’all!” Lirae covers her face with her hands for a second then shakes her head with a laugh. Who doesn’t love ice cream cake? The devil, that’s who. “Yeah girl. You know you want it.”

 “You’re a dork.” That is one hundred percent true and I give her my best cheesy grin as she starts to pull out of the lot.

 “Whatever. You love it.” She doesn’t say anything to that but she doesn’t have to. It takes me a second to realize that Orson is probably going to be annoyed that he didn’t get the truck for himself. “Does Orson know?” She flicks her eyes at me then away going a little quieter as we drive. It makes me start to wonder why she’s acting like talking about him is awkward. We talk about him all the time. Or we used to anyway.

 “Yeah. He’s cool.” She’s a little shifty about that but I let it go because I’m not sure I really want to delve into that whole thing right now.  Lirae changes the subject on me as she lowers the radio. I look back from the window at her and raise a brow. “So listen. When we get there. Do not, Evie, DO NOT freak out.”

 I blink once at that. “What? Psh. No. I’m not gonna freak out, why would I freak out?” I’m totally going to freak out. And probably only because she told me not to. I think she knows it too because she rolls her eyes and takes a left on to the main drag before speaking again.

 “Because that’s what you do. Freak out.” I don’t say anything for a minute, just deciding if it’s actually worth it or not. I shrug like it’s nothing, making a dismissive wave with a hand because it’s no big deal. “Evie, I love you but you still look at me like you’re gonna freak out.” Well. She has a point but it’s probably not for the reason she thinks. And I’m going to totally ignore the fact that she said she loves me because if I don’t I’ll fixate on it for the rest of my life. So moving on.

 “Okay first of all it is not at all my fault you were a juvenile delinquent in your former life. And not to put too fine a point on it you did totally shake me down for my pocket change the first day we met. Furthermore, I only look at you like that because I’m usually trying not to get caught staring.” At her chest.

 Lirae reaches out and smacks me playfully as she drives. I can’t help but notice that she’s laughing and it makes her face look totally different. I like it. “Okay if you bring up that lunch money thing up one more time…”

 “You’ll what?” I’m honestly curious. “Ditch me for the star football player?” We just keep tap dancing around the whole weird love triangle thing. God, I can’t believe I actually used the phrase love triangle in reference to myself. It feels like so much bad romance novel even I want to throw up a little.

 “Shut up.” I snicker at her response but let it go as I watch the town slide past us. Truthfully it’s not really that funny because she and Orson are pretty tight and like I said before, they’re more on again than off again. It’s a worrisome situation for me. I don’t even know where I fit in. I mean I know we have on occasion recently made out but I have no idea what this is beyond that. “I’m serious about not freaking out though. If you look too nervous he’s going to think something is wrong.”

 I frown slightly. “What exactly am I going to be freaking out about?” She goes silent. I frown deeper. She doesn’t say anything at all she pulls into a parking lot of a rundown strip mall. It’s not the best part of downtown but it’s still light out and there doesn’t seem to be many people even around. We park and Lirae pauses after opening the truck door sighing as if she thinks it’s better to just get it over with now. That does not at all make me feel better.

 “I don’t know. I guess nothing.” It’s too casual and that makes the hairs on my neck stand on end a little. I get out of the truck, making sure to slam the door a few more times when it keeps popping open again. It finally catches with a click and I spin on a heel nearly plowing into Lirae. “Okay he might maybe kinda hit on me.”

 Oh. Well. I clear my throat and give a slow nod. “Oh.” I’m not really sure what to say to that. “Why would I freak out about that?” She gives me a look, her lips going tight before she rolls her eyes at me and starts walking.

 “Just come on already.” I have to jog a second to catch up to her. We’re almost at the door to the beauty supply and nail shop before I realize it’s our goal.

 “Uh…are we in the right place?”

 Lirae smirks as she pulls the door open and saunters in like she’s been there before many times. I follow along behind her trying not to look like I obviously don’t belong. I’m halfway sure I’m pulling it off when Lirae stops in the middle of an aisle and puts a hand on my chest to keep me from continuing on. “What is wrong with you?”

 “What?”

 “Why are you walking like that?” Like how? I blink at Lirae and clear my throat.

 “I don’t know what you mean. I’m just being cool. Like. Chill. Lo-pro.” Lirae gives me a very slow blink and turns away. I am apparently NOT pulling off any of that. This is probably what she meant about freaking out. Note to self, pimp-limp does not equal cool. I have to jog again to catch her before she waves at one of the nail ladies and ducks behind a beaded curtain leading to a hall. We pass an open doorway to what looks like a storeroom before stopping at a closed door. Lirae knocks a complicated staccato before opening the door and waltzing in like she owns the place.

 “Hey Chuckles.” The guy she’s talking to looks over his shoulder from his game of dominos and grins widely. He has spinners on his gold teeth. I didn’t even know that was a thing. For a second I’m mesmerized by them wondering the how and why of it all.

 “Hey Rae Rae!” He’s easily six and a half feet when he stands and pulls Lirae into a bear hug that lifts her feet from the ground. I can feel my lips pulling down in a frown and I have to force myself not to have resting bitch face. “Damn girl I thought you forgot how to get here. Where you been at?”

 “Nah just been busy doing that whole school thing. This is my girl Evie. Evie, this is Chuckie. We go way back.” I know that she didn’t mean it like I’m her girlfriend. It was probably totally just a ‘this is my friend who is a girl’. And really it shouldn’t make me all flustered and bubbly inside but it kind of does. I just wave at Chuckie when he gives me a nod still trying to decide why I’m there at all. “How’s business been?”

 He narrows his eyes at Lirae and then at me again before he shrugs and settles on to a futon couch against the wall. “It’s alright. You lookin’ for work again?” The way he says it is just a little predatory and it makes me wonder when she worked for him before and what she did. Lirae gives him a shrug and settles on an overturned bucket leaving me to stand awkwardly a little behind and to the side of her.

 “I’m good on that but I could use some help with something. It’s personal.” She doesn’t have to look at the other guys still sitting at the small folding table. They all lay down their tiles and get up without complaint. Lirae must know them from before as well because they wink or reach out to nudge her playfully as they leave the office, closing the door behind them with a solid click. Chuckie’s attention goes directly to Lirae as soon as we’re all alone again.

 “What’cha need?” His tone is oddly quiet and professional and that just weirds me out because he looks anything but professional. It’s probably the tattoos he has on his face instead of eyebrows that’s throwing me off.

 Hazel eyes drift to me and I give her a nod. Lirae reaches into her back pocket and takes out a business card. It’s Tony’s. “We kinda need this guy followed. Nothing big. Just see where he goes, what he does, who he talks to. No contact.” Chuckie takes the card and reads it then leans back in his seat.

 “What’s the dude look like?” This time she slips her phone out from where she stuck it in her bra and flips to a picture of Tony. How did she even get that? I frown slightly and raise a brow that she just smiles and shrugs off. I may never find out how she managed that. “I know this building. I got Marcus running this block. Lots of customers in those corporate plaza offices.” I don’t know why his statement makes this all suddenly more real but it does. We’re really doing this. This isn’t just investigating the paranormal. Now we’re investigating people. Lying bastard Tony people, but a real person none the less.

 “You’re not going to ask why?” I wasn’t planning on speaking at all but the question just came blurting right out of me. He gives me a look as he hands Lirae back her phone, his fingers lingering a little too long for my comfort.

 “Don’t need to. If Rae Rae is asking it’s for a good reason.” Okay. Well. That answers that. He definitely isn’t going on my Christmas list any time soon but at least he’s not into asking too many questions.

 Lirae smiles at him and punches him in the shoulder. “So what’s it gonna cost me?” Chuckie looks her up and down like he’s wondering how far he can push her with me sitting right here.

 “We can call it square if you go out with me again.” Oh. OOH. Oh shit. They were a thing. THIS is why she didn’t want me to freak out. My eyes cut to Lirae but she’s looking directly at him giving him a look I can’t quite see from my spot.

 “You know that’s not happening. How much?” Well at least I know he’s not really competition. I hope. It’s hard to compete with someone who’s a foot taller than you and wears your body weight in gold on his teeth. Chuckie waves at her like it’s her loss for not choosing the date. Though date may be putting it politely.

 “We’re cool, Rae Rae. I got this.” So that’s not so bad. We don’t have to pay him any money but I get the feeling that he’ll be asking her out again. His calculating dark eyes flick over to me then back to Lirae. He’s probably wondering if I’m here to keep him from asking again. I’m not so sure he’d be wrong if he thought that. “So what is it? Mr. Football? ‘Cause you know I don’t care about your little boyfriend. I know you ain’t in love with him.” Wow he’s still going for it. I thought he would at least wait until next time to bring it up.

 Lirae stands and tucks her hands into her back pockets and she starts for the door. She pauses to look over at him with a lazy smirk on her face. It’s…kinda of super hot. “That’s exactly why he’s not my boyfriend anymore.”

 “So then?”

 Her smirk gets wider and she shrugs as she swings the door open. I think Lirae is enjoying this as much for his reactions as mine. “Said he wasn’t my boyfriend, didn’t say I wasn’t taken.” She clucks her tongue at him and winks as she pulls me along behind her. I have just enough time to give a half wave and a squeaked out ‘thank you!’ before we’re too far down the hall for it to matter. Okay then. So she’s taken. I let that tumble along in my brain, my feet moving on autopilot through the shop. It isn’t a big place but all the shelves are stacked high with all kinds of cosmetic chemicals. The smells give me an instant headache and I groan.

 My hand goes to my messenger bag instinctively reaching for the bottle of Advil tucked in a pocket. I’m relieved when we exit the shop but my headache only intensifies as dusk deepens around us. I thought it was the smell of the place but even outside my head throbs evilly. This is not the kind of headache Advil can fix but I pop two in my mouth and dry swallow them quickly.

 “Hey… you okay?” I give her a nod and blink a few times to clear my focus. It’s still too bright out for the street lamps to go on despite the growing shadows as the sun sinks on the horizon. Unease settles in my stomach and I glance around at the dilapidated shops in the strip mall. A thrift store, a tattoo parlor that could give me hepatitis just from looking at it, and a pawn shop. Everything else looks empty and abandoned. This isn’t the greatest place for us to be right now. In the back of my mind I realize it must be my beacon radar going off.

 “We need to go. Like now.” Lirae glances around quickly but doesn’t see anything out there that would make me react like this. It doesn’t stop her from taking my hand and starting toward the truck a little faster though. The wind kicks up and drags a plastic bag across the pavement in front of us. It rises off the ground in an updraft and floats a few inches into a narrow walkway between two buildings directly in front of the truck. My feet stop suddenly and Lirae gets jerked back a little by it. “Wait.”

 There wasn’t movement exactly. I can’t really be sure what made me stop. I just know that there is something there. A few more tense breaths pass before the sun finally dips low enough for the lights to click on. A hum of electricity starts but the bulbs only flicker for a second before going dark again. Lirae looks up at them but I haven’t peeled my eyes from the darkness of the walkway. I need light.

 The second I think it the lamp splashes light into the walkway. That’s weird. The source seems to be lower than normal. I glance up but the street lamps aren’t lit. Then it dawns on me. It’s me. I’m the light. Oh crap. “Oh shit, Evie. Your eyes.”

 “I know.” And so does whatever is watching and waiting.

 “What is it?”

 “I don’t know but we need to get out of here before more come.” My free hand comes up and wraps tightly around my sigil trying to ground myself before I go full on spotlight again. We start forward together toward the truck and whatever is in that alley. It’s almost a relief when we get into the car unmolested and slap the locks down on the doors but that feeling vanishes when the wind slams into the truck with a hard gust. Lirae and I scream a little in surprise. Okay. I scream a little in surprise. Lirae just jumps and gives me a ‘don’t do that!’ look. “Just go!”

 She doesn’t argue, she just puts the car in reverse and backs out faster than she normally would. Something dark flashes in front of the headlights but it was too fast to make out. Lirae mutters a curse and peels out of the lot. I start feeling better the further we get from the strip mall. Gradually my light dims and my headache eases. I still haven’t stopped clutching my sigil but I don’t think I can let go even if I wanted to now. My hand has cramped around it from gripping so tightly. “I thought that thing was supposed to keep this from happening.”

 She looking at me from the corner of her eye as she drives and I sigh. “It’s a little touch and go sometimes.” She snorts at that and without looking at me, reaches over and squeezes my hand. That reminds me.

 “So you’re taken?” This is so not the time for this. I know it and she knows it. But here it is because I need to be distracted from what almost just happened. I need a distraction from the heavy weight that comes with the knowledge that my time of safety is running out quickly and I need answers now.

 “Maybe.” I raise my brows at that but she laces our fingers together in my lap. Okay. Maybe I don’t need to hear it again. We drive in silence for about 45 seconds more before I realize that yeah I kinda do need to hear it again.

 “So like…”

 “Oh my God! Yes Evie. I’m taken.” She didn’t say by me but I decide not to push it because her side eyed glare at me says I might not like her next response. I grin happily at her, content with just holding her hand as we ride.

 “Kay.” My easy surrender earns me a suspicious look but then she smiles a little nervously at me. Like this is new for her too. I guess maybe it is. We’ve never talked about it but I’ve never seen her with a girlfriend before. Well I’m pretty sure my brain is going to overheat now from obsessing over every single word between us today. I may think of nothing else ever again.

[amuelle]

A fruit from a tree...

I was at home to bury my aunt, a true legend. When I opened a chest of memories. My parents were younger than I am now when they got married. My father was 23 and my mother 20, just babies. Two babies who thought they knew what they were doing like most babies do when they think they are grown.

As Dr. Maya Angelou puts it, you come as one but you stand as ten thousand. I don’t have it in me to be dishonest, for as long as I have been alive I haven’t always been grateful. I have never truly understood the sacrifices made for me or the risks involved in supporting me. So, I decided to find out and understand the back story of my mother and father my mind was blown

I realized I am the amalgamation of the dreams of many. The grandchild never seen, only imagined who inspired love, lives and sacrifices. My God, I am a fulfilled destiny and as I live and breathe I must remember not to forget. I must never forget that when Ntsebo (my mother’s mother) left Qacha to marry Lira in Bela Bela she had no idea what she was doing or what life had installed for here. When Mankoe (my father’s mother) left Tsikoane and everything she had ever known she was just a teenager. When Mokhali (Dad) went to Bela Bela with his uncles to declare his live and intention to marry Nyeliso (Mom) that I would be a product of that love. These people lived their whole lives with me and my sometimes ungrateful self at the center and I wouldn’t even know how to start to thank them for the incredible life I have.

The legacy that birthed me is of love and risks. There were no mistakes just love in action. I am here because so many people took a chance on life and were true to their word. The bountiful blessings of my life are too numerous to mention but I appreciate them so! Not just what I know but also the things I don’t know. I’m not here by chance. The intricate tapestry of live has been woven and I am here to play my part. I must be a phenomenal human being. A daughter, a sister, an aunt and a friend. I must BE!

I finally understood my affinity for wine when my mother explained to me that both my grandmothers and great grandmothers loved a good glass of grapes. It finally made sense to me why they chose to name me “Acceptance” when I finally understood the circumstances under which I was conceived. I finally understood certain physical traits when I learned that I wasn’t the first nor the only one with them. My whole entire being made sense when I got to understand where I came from and who gave me the gifts of my nose, my chunky arms, the acne on my back and great head of hair and no eyebrows. I understood myself and I was forever changed. I am the fruit of a family tree. I cant even being to imagine how far the roots go but because of them I get to be Me!

We get caught up feeling sorry for ourselves because we get our hearts broken, taken for granted and hurt by the world. We aren’t as far as we would like to be in life, we lose, get things taken from us and we forget that we are a spec of sand as important as the stars in the space time continuum. You might not change the word, make the money you imagine or become famous but you are here. Not by chance, coincidence or happenstance. YOU ARE HERE! You are a dream fulfilled, a critical part in the future of humanity and the manifestation of love. YOU are here for a reason. You matter, you matter, YOU (you reading this right now, not by chance) MATTER!!! From balls to bones I now know someone I have never met loved enough to do things that made my world a reality. It’s INCREDIBLE!!!

Take some time out to get to know how you came into the world. I guarantee you, you won’t regret it and you will understand yourself better.

For Papali and Ntsebo

 Bisou…bisou

[chrysaliseuro2018]

In-Side

When my brother Dougal married Genevieve in 1982 who would have thought it would indirectly lead us to the Turkish beach city of Side (pronounced Sidday) on the Mediterranean 36 years later.

The link? Genevieve’s sister Barbara and her friend Penny when travelling in Turkey during the late ‘70’s met and went on to marry Turkish men. While Barbara and her husband Hasan spend time in both Tasmania and Side, Penny and Ali live permanently in Turkey.

As luck would have it Dougal and Gene’s house renovations, yes they are crazy enough to embark on two, are currently affected by the usual permit delays. So being opportunistic travellers they decided to squeeze in a month’s worth of travel while the local council bureaucrats twiddle their thumbs. As luck would have it their dates in Turkey coincided with ours so a rendezvous in Side was planned.

Doug and Gene stayed in Side a few years ago but for Chris and me it was a wonderful opportunity to share the experience. Side, while not exactly your quiet beach getaway, is a tale of two cities.

Firstly there is the new section cluttered with over development of the worst kind. Not unlike our charmless Surfers Paradise, it’s dominated by huge monolithic hotels. In a laughable attempt at authenticity some have been topped with faux Mosque-like domes. They are the palaces of package tours. Apparently Russians in particular subscribe to all-in resort packages which apparently suffered during recent years of unrest and the odd terrorist incident in Turkey. Now the tourists are returning and in our mind’s eye we could only imagine the morning bun fight for pool lounges.

Secondly there is the quaintly named ‘Antique Side’ which is where Penny and Ali run their little beach front hotel The Beach House. In contrast to the vast new developmental expansion of modern Side, Antique Side is perhaps realising what an unrealised gem it has right under its nose. It occupies an entire small peninsula which was clearly Roman given all the artefacts, pillars, foundations and mosaics to be found there. In recent years developments which were built on the ruins have either been compulsory removed and replaced with glass flooring over the ruins, or glass flooring has been installed in shop floors to expose the ruins. Further excavation is still underway and with some cooperation and planning the entire peninsula could be a major Roman site for visitors.

Apart from the hotel Penny and Ali also have traditional stone house and an apartment on the other side of the peninsular to the hotel. This is only a 5 minute walk through streets dense with shops selling t-shirts, soccer shirts of every variety, jewellery, bags, Turkish delight, nuts and all kinds of souvenir dross. First two nights were spent at the hotel followed by another 2 at the apartment. Originally we all planned to stay at the house but with a disco not 100 metres away pumping out door doof until the wee hours we all, even our resident disco king Chris, thought better of it.

The hotel offers a certain quaintness with a location right on the little beach. It has particular appeal to Poms of a certain age demographic - Chris had no trouble striking up conversation. Many have been returning for a number of years enjoying a relaxed and familiar environment. Penny and Ali were congenial and generous hosts who let Chris and me ride on the familial coattails of Doug and Gene offering us free accommodation. We were very fortunate indeed.

So how did we spend our 4 days at Side......

# The weather was hot so many an hour was spent on the hotel sun lounges or bobbing in the warm Mediterranean. We took to the beach umbrellas unlike the Poms who thought nothing of laying out all day in the blazing sun (judging by the brown leathery skin this has been their habit through the decades).

Generally in the morning the sea was flat but as the day went on the choppier it got. Making the most of the calm sea were several party boats in the guise of faux pirate ships complete with artificial rigging, a sliver of cloth purporting to be sails, a statue of a captain with eye glass at the bow and a plank to walk off at the stern. Amusingly on closer inspection one was a catamaran - a very modern take on a pirate ship indeed. Dougal thought they looked so unsturdy that it would only take one decent wave to capsize the whole contraption sending 100% pirates overboard. I confess to spending 4 days secretly wishing for that rogue wave.

# Gene, Barbara and I went to Manavgat the neighbouring town to do some shopping at the warehouses with Hasan as our driver. Unfortunately it was a Sunday meaning many were closed. Still we found a few open and got a few odds and ends. Highlight was a visit to a shop selling spices, grains, dried fruit, nuts, pastries and Turkish Delight of all colours and flavours. Generously they encouraged us to sample whatever we wanted and even some things we didn’t even know we wanted. If only weight and customs restrictions didn’t limit overseas purchases. But when a whole box of Turkish Delight (well over a kilo) costs 8.30 Turkish Lira, about A$2.50 which is less than the cost of one piece in Melbourne, it became a must-have even if i can’t get through it all.

Finally we paid a brief visit to Hasan’s 80+ year old mother. Mum sat quietly in the corner chatting to her sister and niece until Barb put her son Michael on FaceTime to speak to his grandmother. The transformation from quiet little old lady to excited and animated little old lady had to be seen to be believed.

# Penny’s husband Ali has a farm at Akseki just over one hour’s drive north east of Side. Fortunately Ali frequents the farm regularly so we all joined him for a day. Took 2 cars as Ali was staying overnight (we considered it but decided to make it a one day trip) so we had Dougal at the wheel. Turkish drivers have scant regard for road rules....step out on to a pedestrian crossings if you dare, stopping at red lights is optional and double white lines on the road are treated as decorations. Needless to say the drive was a little hairy at times.

First stop, the local market at Akseki. If one were looking to buy fresh market veggies, fruit, grains, nuts and pulses of all varieties, undies, clothes circa 1970, pots and pans, oversized wooden spoons, little sewing kits or even nail clippers this was the place to visit. A few nuts were purchase along with some strawberries which while tasty were a little over the hill and disappointing.

Next stop lunch. Nothing like a local to take you to a restaurant. Feasted on meat pides and like their Italian cousin the pizza, the serves looked enormous. But what you think at the outset you’ll never finish, somehow seems to go down a treat. Add to this a simple but delicious salad and a view over the valley....perfection.

Then onto Ali’s house in the town to admire his menagerie. A summary: 2 English setters, a cat, dozens of laying chooks, a couple of roosters, pheasants, bantams, hatching eggs, chicks, budgies, two quails and a partridge in a pear tree! Then the mini orchard of apricots, cherries and sour cherries. Not done with yet we then drove to their farm. Largely it has been planted out with walnut trees as a crop. Along with those was Ali’s veggie garden of onions, melons, beans, garlic and more fruit trees. It has to be said he is a man in touch and in love with nature.

Headed back towards Side but stopped at Sarihacilar a sleepy one horse town. The old if-you-blink-you-miss-it sort of place. It’s unlikely many tourists make their way to this town but Doug and Gene had recommended the museum. Totally overpriced in the scheme of things but actually worth every penny in a weird and wonderful way. Exhibits were largely routine; lots of butter churns, cooking pots, rusty old tins and a random collection of firearms, musical instruments, clocks and of all things, radios ranging through the decades. The two highlights were (1) the ‘curator/guide’, himself a rusty old relic, who escorted us around trying embellish the tour by bringing his artefacts to life with his several words of English. (2) the wooden baby’s cot complete with inbuilt potty. This worked by strapping on one of two funnels to baby, ingeniously designed to accommodate genitalia differences of males and females, so the pee was funnelled into the potty. Only design fault was baby had to always be asleep on its back. Otherwise genius and a big saving on sleep time Huggies.

Museum done, complementary chi enjoyed we were then given a tour by the proud owner of the renovated hotel. There are some walking trails around here one of which Doug and Gene had previously walked. (Mid 30 degree temperatures discouraged us.) In the heat and dryness the Nordic feel of the pine lined lodge-like hotel seemed totally incongruous. But apparently it gets bitterly cold in winter which would make this an ideal bolthole to bunker down in with a pack of cards and a few bottles of wine.

Having seen the ‘major’ sites and heading back to the car, the Mosque caught our eye. Well more accurately we caught the imam’s eye. With the help of his young son’s schoolboy English, of which the imam was glowingly proud, we did a little tour of the Mosque. It was unremarkable yet lovely. As always a beautiful chandelier, modest decorations but some lovely framed versus of the Q’uran. Chris formed the strongest connection with the imam who gifted him a copy of the Q’uran Abridged. (Conversation rate 0 to date). Just as we were leaving the call to prayer started so Chris and I whipped off out shoes, I re fitted the supplied headgear and we ducked back inside....was it the imam calling live or a recording? Happy to report it was the former.

All in all a wonderful day out.

# Hasan generously invited us all to the Turkish night at his cousin’s multi storeyed hotel (everyone seems to be everyone else’s cousin in Side). It was a glorious night on the open air rooftop and Hasan secured a table in the corner to take advantage of the view. Dinner was a buffet and advice was to get into it before the locals arrived at 8.10 starving after a day of Ramadan fasting. So we all ate well and lots, a particular highlight of the savoury spread was the smoked trout, while those with a sweet tooth, rated the Baklava highly.

After dark the belly dancer appeared shimmying and shaking her way though a routine to more contemporary music than we were used to hearing nightly when we lived at York Place. When it became time for audience participation I was grateful to be so blocked in as to be unavailable. Chris was the most likely candidate but Miss Nubile had enough willing participants before getting to our table. We all enjoyed watching the various efforts of tight shoulder and tight hipped conscripts however I suspect Chris was just an incy wincy bit disappointed he wasn’t up there strutting his stuff.

So after 4 days of hanging with the locals it was time to move on making sure not to overstay our welcome. We had been thoroughly spoilt and indulged. As we left for for our next adventure we couldn’t help but think sometimes you just get lucky!

[frostmarris]

The Fine Print - Pocket Change

[ Part One ]

a continuation of my Demon!Hidan/Sakura Inheritance prompt drabble for halloween!

now with 100% more Kakuzu

i dont particularly plan on writing another part after this, but if enough people really want one...... we’ll see

enjoy!

“That’s a pretty annoying curse you’ve got there.”

Sakura’s head snapped up in surprise, quickly looking over her left shoulder to the figure standing behind her. He was tall, to say the least. Tanned skin, dark hair long and loose, most of his facial features obscured by clothing...

She eyed the black scarf covering the lower half of his face for a moment before glancing at the reflective aviators hiding his eyes, quickly realizing that she was staring at him in confusion. She brushed his attire – dark jacket over a smoky-green shirt and black pants – off without a second thought, deeming it fairly appropriate for the cold weather they were experiencing.

There was an odd fluttering glimmer that she noticed out of the corner of her eye, but that was something she’d come to grow used to when she was out with Hidan.

His words finally sunk in after a moment and Sakura turned in her seat, facing the stranger as she frowned up at him. She was outside, enjoying lunch on the patio seating of what had become Hidan’s favorite Italian restaurant in town and sipping coffee while she waited. The demon had left only a minute ago for the restroom, leaving her alone with a few other patrons sitting outside and their basket of warm breadsticks. The umbrella canopy provided a nice shade and the white fence behind her that separated the restaurant seating from the street only reached about navel-high for the mystery man.

“Pardon me?”

He rolled his shoulders, head inclining towards her slightly.

“Binding spell, but some pretty loose terms of service from what I can see. No thread for repercussions if the deal isn’t fulfilled, but it has no expiry date.”

Sakura was really staring now.

“I don’t see a signature or a real contract, but it’s got a pretty tight grip. Let me guess, you got tricked into touching the source or offering up a piece of you? Blood contracts are hard to break, but there’s a pretty easy fix if it’s bound through something like hair.”

“I opened a book.” Sakura found herself saying, eyebrows quickly furrowing as she caught herself. “How did you know all of that?”

He shifted, tilting his head down a little more as one hand raised to nudge down his sunglasses, peering down at her over the rim. Sakura was met with the oddest pair of eyes she’d ever seen and she stared all the harder, taking in the dark red sclera and glassy, pupil-less, green irises. He met her gaze for a moment longer before his eyes flickered down pointedly, leading her to follow his attention to her left hand.

She clenched it into a fist on reflex, imagining she could feel the burn of the rune marking her palm.

When she looked up again, he was pushing the sunglasses back up his nose, hand dropping into the pocket of his jacket. Sakura eyed him curiously, offering a slow, begrudging nod as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Cool eyes. Do you make it a habit of going around and peaking at other people’s curses?”

“If I spot a potential profit, yes.” His deep voice was slightly muffled by the scarf, but Sakura couldn’t say she didn’t find it pleasant. She had a very distinct feeling that he was smirking at her, behind the cloth.

“Profit?”

He shrugged nonchalantly, but Sakura could spot an incoming sales pitch when she saw one.

“I’m fairly adept at breaking curses. I can read the terms, pick apart contracts, find loopholes, shatter the restraints... Yours looks annoying, but it shouldn’t be too difficult to unbind you from that book.”

Sakura blinked – the thought of being done with repaying these dumb debts was pretty enticing.

“You sound pretty confident.”

She could hear the smirk in his voice with his reply this time.

“I’ve never taken on a curse and failed to provide results that satisfied a customer.”

Her skeptical expression morphed in a rather curious frown, watching him carefully before she finally replied, making sure her voice didn’t sound too hopeful.

“You’re serious? Can you really break this dumb curse?”

“For a price.”

Sakura’s eyes narrowed and the skeptical look was back.

“What kind of price?”

He gave another nonchalant shrug.

“One that would be determined at a later date.”

Instantly, that bubble of hope popped and her expression fell into an unamused deadpan, regarding him for another moment before turning back to face her table.

“Not a chance. I’m not getting into anything unless I know all the details up front. Have a nice day, buddy.”

She could hear shifting fabric and assumed he was shrugging again, resisting the urge to glance over her shoulder at his grumble of, “Suit yourself.” before she heard retreating footsteps. She was left alone to her thoughts for a couple minutes, ignoring that lingering shimmer that she caught out of the corner of her eye with practiced ease, until Hidan finally returned.

He ran a hand through his silver hair as he approached, dropping down into his chair as he eyed her thoughtful expression with a raised eyebrow. Sakura cut off his inevitable comment with a shake of her head, picking up her mug for another sip of coffee before they simply chatted and waited for their food. A nice change from worrying and planning and trying to repay those dumb debts Uncle Maseo had saddled her with.

She was in too deep at this point – she’d put too much effort into this ‘project’ to just up and quit before she saw it through to the end. It had been over four months already and that’s just too much dedicated time to simply walk away from.

Besides, she’d grown pretty used to her demonic houseguest.

About halfway through their meal, Sakura found herself watching him with a fond smile, her chin in her hand and pasta still twirled around her fork. A thought eventually occurred to her and Hidan glanced up just in time to catch her smile slip into a small frown, her eyebrows furrowed and a breadstick half shoved into his mouth.

“What’s up, princess.”

She shook her head, gaze dropping back down her to her pasta and missing the way he pursed his lips at her.

“I know that look. What’s on your mind?”

Sakura sighed, leaning back in her seat as she regarded him thoughtfully.

“What’s gonna happen when we finally get done with these IOUs?”

“I’ll be free to leave and you get your couch back.” Hidan shrugged, swiping the end of a breadstick through his pasta sauce and missing the look – disappointed, apprehensive, saddened - in her eye.

“And it’s all over and done? Just like that?”

Silver eyebrow furrowed and he scrutinized her for a moment, taking in her pouting lips, pulled down in a frown, and her downcast gaze pinned to a fallen brown leaf to her right. Hidan stared long and hard for a bit before it seemed to click and he snickered, sending her a smug, teasing look.

“You’re gonna fuckin’ miss me, aren’t you?”

Sakura’s attention snapped back to him, her cheeks quickly flushing red as her eyes narrowed.

He simply laughed, grinning widely at her and waggling his eyebrows.

“Aaww, you actually fucking like me, don’t you?”

“Sh-shut up!”

“Love you too, princess!”

::

It was almost three weeks later and Sakura had gone through absolute hell gathering the next set of items for what was ranked in the Top Five Weirdest IOUs in the List.

·         August 15, 1965 – Kakuzu Akumataki: Three incisor teeth (human or canine), any form of currency that’s no longer in circulation, and an offering of Ankimo, homecooked. (Note: Don’t go into his house this time. Tricksy bastard.)

She’d scoured seven different antique shops before finally finding an Italian Lira and the teeth (two canine, one human, and all entirely disgusting), picking up groceries for the ‘offering’ on the way home after she had all of the items.

The entire entry in the journal set off so many alarms and she couldn’t wait to get this over and done with.

Fortunately, this ‘Kakuzu’ was one of the names she’d managed to find in one of Uncle Maseo’s three address books. The phone number listed had been out of service but a quick GPS search proved that there was still a house standing at the address.

Another one of the few names that lived nearby, luckily.

With the Tupperware container in hand and the box containing the teeth and money under her arm, Sakura followed the path up to the unassuming-looking house, eyeing the well-maintained (if slightly brown) hedges as she heard the door to her car close behind her. She glanced over her shoulder to see Hidan pausing at the curb, frowning at the house before slowly following after her. She waited in the middle of the yard and waited for him to join her, eyebrow quirked at his unusually stiff posture and the furrow of his brows.

“Something’s off about this place.” He said before she could ask him what was wrong, narrowed, magenta eyes darting from side to side suspiciously. “Don’t fuckin’ like it.”

She inwardly agreed, resisting the urge to pull her coat tighter around her. It felt like there was a deeper chill to the air here and she swore the sky hadn’t looked that grey during the drive over. But, the sooner she got this over with, the sooner they could return home.

“We’ll make it quick and I’ll make hot chocolate when we get back to my apartment. Deal?”

Hidan’s lips pursed and he gave a short nod, crossing his arms as he followed her up to the porch of the house. She caught him reaching over to snag a stray shirt thread out of her hair and she put on her friendliest smile before reaching to ring the doorbell. It was quiet for a few moments, the air still and those glimmers dancing on the edge of her awareness, until, finally, the door opened and she smiled up the man in front of her, her head bobbing in greeting.

“Hello, I’m Sakura Haruno. I’m looking f- Wait.” She paused, not noticing how Hidan had stiffened next to her when the door had opened and, instead, squinting up at the dark-haired man standing in the doorway. “Don’t I know you?”

“Surprised you recognized me.” An surprisingly familiar voice answered from behind a surgical mask before the man lowered his sunglasses, peering at her with oddly colored eyes over the rim, just like before. “I doubt you’ve changed your mind about my offer, so, how can I help you?”

The same man from the restaurant, weeks ago.

“Don’t fucking answer that.” Came Hidan’s voice, practically a growl, as he quickly stepped forward, moving in front of her and his posture practically screaming impending confrontation.

“We’re here to make a delivery. That’s fucking it.”

Really damn confused, Sakura peered around Hidan and nudged him aside, sending him a questioning look before returning her attention to the dark-haired man.

“Are you Kakuzu Akumataki?”

He gave a curt nod, but, from the way his head was raised and with the sunglasses hiding his gaze, she had the distinct feeling that he was watching Hidan behind her. Crossing his arms, he replied.

“What do you want.”

That odd camaraderie from weeks ago that had reminded Sakura of a well-seasoned salesman was gone now and she wanted nothing more than to get back into her car and drive off with Hidan. Nonetheless, she quickly held out the Tupperware holding the Ankimo and the box of teeth and money, her friendly smile gone as well.

“Courtesy of Maseo Haruno.”

This man certainly didn’t look over 50 years old, but she couldn’t necessarily see his entire face, now could she? Still, his head dropped slightly and he looked down at the offered items, a hum of recognition sounding from the back of his throat.

“Homemade Ankimo, three incisors – one human and two canine, and an Italian Lira.” She said, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

He fully removed the sunglasses now and slipped them into his pocket before taking the container and box, tucking the latter under his arm before popping the lid on the former. He reached up to pull down the surgical mask and Sakura nearly took a step backwards in surprise, eyes wide at the sight of years-old scaring that traveled from the corners of his mouth and across his cheeks, disappearing under the dark hair framing his face, and tattooed stitches following the path of the scars.

At least, she hoped they were tattoos.

(Still, despite the scars and stiches, he had a pretty nice face.

Too bad he was setting off a whole bunch of really unsettling vibes and made her want to run away and never look back.)

He sniffed the Ankimo and sent her a rather amused look at her reaction, making no move to pull the mask back up into place as he resealed the lid on the container.

“I was beginning to think I’d never get my payment from old Maseo.” Kakuzu paused, his weight shifting from one foot to the other before he quirked an eyebrow at Sakura, ignoring Hidan entirely now. His smile was frightening and Sakura wasn’t sure if it was an attempt at friendliness or to try and scare her.

“Would you like to come in?”

Sakura instantly thought back to that little note Uncle Maseo had left on Kakuzu’s entry in the journal and a dry look instantly fell into place on her face, arms dropping to her side as she resisted the urge to peer past him and into the dark interior of his home.

“No thanks, have a nice day. Keep the container.”

His frown was just as unnerving and Sakura quickly took Hidan’s arm, turning away from Kakuzu and his creepy house and heading back towards her car. Glancing over her shoulder, she could see the silver-haired demon still sending glares back at the other man and he didn’t tear his gaze away until they turned a corner down the block and headed home.

“That fucking guy wasn’t human.” He eventually muttered, his expression still sour and his shoulders stiff.

“Yeah,” Sakura murmured in reply, lips pressed in a tight frown. “I gathered that.”

Hidan gave a snort before sitting back in his seat and, sighing tiredly, Sakura rubbed her forehead and tried to keep her eyes on the road.

"Demon or something?"

Hidan's nod was curt and hard, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared out the windshield.

"Pretty damn sure. And what the fuck did he mean by "changed your mind about my offer," Sak?" His voice took on a mocking higher pitch when he quoted the other man, very much in contrast to Kakuzu's deeper voice and Sakura allowed herself a quick smile. "How did you know him?"

She glanced over to catch him peering at her with a frustrated squint and, chewing her lip for a moment, she replied.

"He popped up a few weeks ago, saying he could see my curse or something and offered to unbind me from the book." A pause. "For a price."

Hidan bristled, lip raised in a snarl, and, misinterpreting his response, Sakura quickly continued.

"I told him to fuck off. I never thought I'd run into him again."

"Fucking vague ass. I know that type, he would have tricked you into owing him a debt to claim at his fucking leisure. Indefinite indentured servitude or your soul in his gullet if you weren't careful."

She glanced over in shock, eyes wide and quickly remembering Hidan's reaction from earlier. 

"- so, how may I help you?"

"Don't fucking answer that."

Sakura sent him a small smile and they eventually arrived back at her apartment, the air outside still cold and crisp. Hidan slung an arm over her shoulder as they made their way to the door and his glamour instantly dissipated once they were inside, his shoulders rolling as he gave a satisfied groan. She barely even batted an eye as his skin took on that familiar pitch-black hue and the skeletal marking appeared, the grey ram horns materializing from his head, starting at his skull and curling out with wisps of smoke. Peeling off her coat, she raised up on her tiptoes and planted a quick kiss to his cheek, smiling at the surprised look he sent her.

"Thanks for looking out for me."

With a wicked grin, Hidan scooped her up into his arms and carried her towards the couch, snickering at her squeal and chorus of giggles.

::

Two months later found the pair curled up on Sakura's sofa, the journal in her hands, Hidan's arm casually wrapped around her, and some cooking show on the TV. She was browsing a fresh page of IOUs, trying to decide on which to tackle next while he simply relaxed.

Turning the page, Sakura paused, staring down in confusion at the next batch of debts. In succession were three entries that left her mind reeling, pulling away from her comfortable spot pressed against Hidan's side to sit up straight.

Eyebrow quirked, he sent her a look and lowered the volume on the TV.

"Problem? Another grave robbery? That was pretty fucking fun, all things considered."

Sakura was hunched over the journal, staring down at names she couldn't understand, much less pronounce, before finally replying.

"These can't be real. Where the hell am I supposed to get a manticore claw, a vial of gnome tears, and a scarf made from spider silk. Is this a joke?!"

Hidan leaned forward to peer over her shoulder before sending her a bemused look.

"You've had a demon fuckin' crashing on your couch for over half a year. And you're questioning the existence of damn gnomes?"

"I thought this was an isolated incident." She replied, frowning down at the accursed journal. "Where on Earth am I supposed to get this shit?"

He looked thoughtful for a moment before taking the book from her hands, reading over the otherworldly lettering of the names, complete with simple - laughable - human nicknames, as he trailed a clawed finger down the page. Reaching over, he gave her shoulder a pat and she groaned in frustration, her face buried in her hands.

"I think I know a place."

::

“You ready?”

“Is this seriously happening?” Sakura mumbled, buttoning up her dark red coat and nudging her bag with a foot. “A goblin market?”

Hidan snorted, finishing up his indecipherable scribbles – she was sure they meant something, but she sure as hell couldn’t understand them – on her bathroom door before tossing the piece of chalk over his shoulder, the white chunk disappearing in a puff of smoke.

“It’s your best bet for getting that shit. Hand me your ribbon.”

Sighing, Sakura passed the red strip of silk over, eyebrow quirked when he tied it around his wrist, before leaning against the hallway wall.

“Can’t you just go yourself? I could give you some money – you know what you’re doing and what to expect...”

Sending her a bemused chuckle, he pressed his palm against the center of the door, nodding in satisfaction as the chalk symbols glowed red for a moment. Hidan was only disguised with partial glamour at the moment, his skin the more human – if still a little grey – tone and the tattoos faint, but his horns very present and noticeable, dressed in a black shirt, dark grey trench coat, and jeans.

“I’m not allowed back on the premises unless I’m in the company of a master.”

Eyebrows furrowed, Sakura sent him a questioning look and slowly picked up her messenger bag.

“What? A master? What do you mean?”

His lips pursed and he shrugged nonchalantly, running his hand through his hair.

“I’m a tasking demon. I get summoned when someone needs something done – usually offing some poor sap – and I hang around until the ‘master’ is satisfied.” A thoughtful frown as he paused. “I usually get paid with the souls of my targets and, let me tell you, I was fucking pissed when I realized that old coot Maseo found a fucking loophole and left me with just room and board as compensation this time.”

Sakura was staring at him. Staring hard.

“You... kill peo-?!” she cut herself off, furiously rubbing her temples. “Why am I only just hearing about this now?”

Another shrug and he very pointedly didn’t look at her.

“Y’never fuckin’ asked.”

With a long-suffering sigh, Sakura ran her hand down her face before pulling her hair back into a ponytail, frowning at his following response.

“My last job was, like, a decade ago.”

“Whatever. Whatever. I’m not going to think about this right now. Let’s just get it over with.” She caught how his shoulders relaxed and he sent her a vaguely relieved look, offering his arm when she moved to stand on one leg to adjust her boot.

“Is this- are you going to get in trouble since Uncle Maseo is dead and not actually around to chaperone?”

Hidan looked thoughtful before sending her a smug look.

“Technically, you’re my master. Mistress?” At her confused look, he continued, grinning down at her. “You summoned me to ‘motivate’ you to repay those IOUs. I’m your demon, princess.”

She blinked, watching him unsuredly, and he sent her a suggestive look, gaze rather smoldering.

“Kinda kinky, huh?”

Cheeks turning red in a matter of seconds, Sakura shoved her bag into his face with an indignant sound, huffing at his amused laughs and glaring up at him. Giving a light kick to his shin, she quickly tried to change the subject and fight down her blush.

“What’s the ribbon for? I thought you were going to stick it to the door or something.”

Her blush was quick to return at his reply, his smug look never faltering.

“Master’s mark. We can always use a dog collar or something if you’d pref-”

“Shut up! Nevermind!”

Still, she sent her flustered gaze at the hair ribbon wrapped around his wrist, ignoring the look he was sending her. Sighing, she prodded his chest with a finger, eyes narrowed as she faced the smirking demon.

“Is there anything else I should know about before we leave?”

His amused expression fell into a surprisingly serious look and Sakura’s lips thinned, oddly concerned.

“Stay close and leave the bartering to me.” At her hesitant nod, he continued, reaching down to adjust the collar of her coat. “If we do get separated and some asshole tries to start shit with you, show them my mark.”

He took her left wrist in hand and held it up in example, magenta eyes meeting her green gaze.

“Shove your fucking palm in their face until they get the hint if you have to. And don’t take any damn deals if they involve payment with anything other than cold hard cash. Someone asks for even just a single hair and you turn and walk away, got it?”

Another nod in reply and he turned her around, snapping his fingers to summon a black ribbon before styling her ponytail into a bun and, with a start, Sakura realized that he was fussing over her.

“And you sure as hell don’t give anyone even a drop of blood. In fact, don’t even tell anyone your name – especially not your full name.”

“Just cash.” She finally answered when she turned back to face him, earning a nod in approval before she paused unsurely. “Are human, American dollars really okay? Don’t I need, like, gold and silver and gems and shit?”

“Nah, you’ll be cool with the human cash. The market vendors accept pretty much any form of currency, but you gotta fuckin’ specify how you want your change.”

At Sakura’s frown, Hidan simply grinned, looped his arm through hers, and turned her towards the bathroom door. “Like I said, just leave the bartering to me.”

As he reached for the doorknob, the demon suddenly paused, his expression thoughtful when she glanced up at him.

“Shit, right. One last thing.”

With a snap of his fingers and a large puff of smoke, Hidan summoned a vicious looking scythe, the trio of blades an unsettling crimson red with white accents, and he held the weapon with a practiced ease that Sakura found really unnerving. There was the briefest smell of sulfur in the air and her nose wrinkled at the scent before it thankfully disappeared. Catching her staring unsurely at the scythe, the demon offered her a lopsided grin and pulled her closer, giving it an easy spin in his other hand.

“Just so any potential shitheads know I’m not fuckin’ around. You ready, princess?”

Sakura let out a sigh and gave him a reluctant nod, adjusting her grip on her messenger bag.

“As I’ll ever be.”

::

They, of course, did end up getting separated.

They’d only managed to find the manticore claw and were heading down the main street of the goblin market after the merchant suggested checking out a stall further down that sold a pretty wide assortment of clothing – their best bet for the spider silk scarf – when Sakura had been forced to let go of Hidan’s arm. A large group had passed down the busy street, forging their own path, and ultimately made her slip her arm out of the demon’s hold to keep out of their way.

And, just like that, Hidan disappeared.

It must have been some sort of weird magic or something, because, no matter where she looked, Sakura couldn’t see that familiar silver hair or the awful red blades of his weapon. She considered calling for him but the fact that she didn’t hear his voice amongst the crowd of creatures – she was doing a fairly good job of not staring at any of the more monstrous shoppers – implied that he wasn’t nearby. Wringing her hands, fingers tracing the rune on her palm, she looked around as best as she could before continuing down the way she was originally headed, hoping that she’d find the shop they were making their way towards.

It was midday here, the sun high even though it had been early morning when they’d left and they couldn’t have been browsing the market for more than forty-five minutes, and Sakura was thankful for her coat, eyeing the snow around her with pursed lips. The moment Hidan had opened the door to the bathroom, a cold wind had swept over them, blowing snowflakes into her apartment and showing her a view that was most definitely not her restroom. The market was bustling and lively, full of strange looking people and creatures and Sakura was a little overwhelmed by her senses. Scents she couldn’t identify, inhuman sounds that she’d never heard before, beasts and monsters mingling with normal looking humans...

And now she was alone and lost.

Running her hands down her face, Sakura continued walking and, after a minute or so, her tight, worried frown turned into one of confusion. While she had been on a wide, long street that stretched on into the distance for nearly a mile, she was now faced with a dead-end, a few small stalls and a tall building in front of her.

Biting her lip, she turned around and froze in shock, finding a smaller alley behind her where there should have been the main street of the market.

‘What the hell is going on?’

She turned again, reluctantly, and found the dead-end missing. Instead, she realized that she was now facing another street, standing in the entryway of a branching alley. Deciding that she preferred the busy street over the alley behind her – she was almost afraid to look back, sure that she’d find something else and the street in front of her would disappear – Sakura stepped onto the snow-covered road.

It was definitely not the main area of the market, this street lined with fewer shops and vendors and even less pedestrians. Letting out a shaky sigh, she gripped the strap of her bag and tried to search for Hidan – or at least something familiar.

“Out of the way!”

She’d only been walking for a few moments and she quickly glanced over her shoulder at the shout behind her, jumping to her right when she saw an oncoming cart rolling down the street. Sakura couldn’t identify the... beast that was pulling the cart and she moved further out of it’s way as it passed, ducking into a shop behind her.

“Welcome!”

Turning slightly, Sakura found herself facing a pretty, young woman, obviously the one that had greeted her. She managed a hesitant hello in reply and glanced around the shop, figuring that the brown-hair woman was the owner – or at least the shop keep – as she bustled around the small shop with a bundle of cloth in her arms.

“Anything I can help you with, miss? Looking for something in particular?”

Sakura eyed the piles and racks of fabric and clothing with growing excitement – finally, some luck! – before turning back to the brunette. Her green gaze brushed over the deer antlers sprouting from her head and she was now aware of the sound of hooves on wooden flooring, but she resisted the urge to glance down to confirm her suspicions.

“Yes, actually. You wouldn’t happen to have any scarves made from spider silk, would you?”

The woman looked thoughtful for a moment, reaching up to tuck a stray hair back into one of her twin buns before turning away, mumbling under her breath before finally replying.

“I think I might have some left in the back, actually. Just a moment while I go check! Feel free to keep browsing, miss.”

‘Jackpot!’

Smiling to herself, Sakura walked around the small shop, ducking under cloth that was hung from the ceiling and trailing her fingers over the fabrics. Some of the clothes and coils of cloth seemed fairly normal, but she remained wary, eyeing robes that changed colors every time she blinked, inspecting strips of fabric that smelled like fresh flowers, and hesitantly touching a jacket that was emblazoned with an image of a desert, the sun and sand and cacti meticulously embroidered onto the silk. The cloth was warm to the touch and she marveled silently to herself, warming her fingers for a few moments before pulling away.

“I found some!” Came a call from the back of the shop after a couple minutes and, inwardly cheering in victory, Sakura quickly made her way towards the back counter, attention quickly dropping to the small bundle of scarves in the proud brunette’s hands.

“Genuine spider silk. Take your pick, miss!”

Sakura adjusted her messenger bag and looked over the three scarves, eyebrows furrowing after a moment before she looked up at the woman.

“How much are they apiece?”

The shop keep looked her over with calculating brown eyes, expression thoughtful before she smiled.

“Depends on what currency you’re using.”

“Human dollars? American.”

The thoughtful look returned and she rubbed her chin as she looked up at the ceiling, humming under her breath. Sakura waited patiently, trying to figure out what would be a reasonable price in comparison, and now noticed that the woman’s ears were long and pointed. After a few moments, she finally replied, reaching down to spread the scarves out a little more.

“I’ll sell you one for $15.” She shrugged, before eyeing her hair. “$5 if you trade me that ribbon as well.”

Sakura resisted the urge to reach up and touch the black ribbon Hidan had tied her hair back with and, had he not given her that warning before they left, she might have considered the offer. With a friendly smile, she reached into her messenger bag and pulled out her wallet.

“$15 sounds good, thanks.”

The woman didn’t seem bothered and simply nodded, returning the smile before turning away for a moment as Sakura looked over the scarves again. She eventually settled on the one marbled with blue, black, and grey, stars dotting the fabric and a crescent moon embroidered onto one end. When she picked it up and moved the other two aside, her attention was caught by a shimmer below the glass top of the counter.

She blinked, eyebrow quirked as she peered down at the shelf of odd knickknacks and jewelry, and noticed what had caught her eye.

It was a lump of coral, she realized as she stared down at it, covered in iridescent barnacles and just small enough to fit in the palm of her hand. The rough exterior was aged and sun bleached to a light grey and she crouched in front of the counter to get a closer look, watching as the rainbow sheen of the barnacles glimmered under the light.

“Find something you like?”

Sakura quickly glanced up at the woman’s question, cheeks flushing slightly in surprise at being caught, before she looked back at the coral. Biting her lip, she thought to herself – she could vaguely remember spotting coral on the list of IOUs but, even if she was just imagining that, there was no reason she couldn’t buy something for herself. It was... oddly pretty. And it’d caught her eye, so, maybe, that meant something.

“How much for the coral?”

The brunette moved to open the back of the counter and took the lump in hand, turning it and looking it over as she straightened before glancing up at Sakura with a shrug.

“Ugly little thing – I think I found it when I went snorkeling a few years back. Do you have any new pennies? I’ll give it to you for something shiny.”

Blinking in surprise – that seemed like an odd trade – Sakura searched through her messenger bag for her coinpurse, setting the scarf back on the countertop. She managed to dig out about five brand new pennies and a quarter, all of the coins shiny and clean. Handing over the cash and loose change, Sakura waited for the brunette to pack up her purchases, humming under her breath.

Some pretty decent luck, despite losing Hidan.

“Thank you for your business and be sure to stop by again! The shop’s a weaponry on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays!”

Sakura offered a farewell in return as she headed towards the front of the shop, the lump of coral wrapped in tissue paper and resting on top of the scarf as both items sat in the plain brown gift bag in her hand. She was relieved to find that the street outside hadn’t changed and, watching as snow began to fall, she continued down the road to search for either the remaining item or Hidan.

She’d only made it past about two more shops when she suddenly felt an arm wrap around her waist from behind and she was pulled into the air, her gasp of surprise quickly turning into an alarmed squeal as she was thrown over a broad shoulder.

“Finally fuckin’ found you!”

Her shriek was cut off as she glanced over her shoulder, heart still racing, and found herself looking at the back of Hidan’s familiar head, one of his horns pressed against the side of her hip and his arm holding down the back of her thighs.

“H-Hidan! Put me down!”

“Hell no.” He turned his head slightly and shot her a frown, his lips pursed. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been looking for you? Not taking any damn chances and risking losing you again, Sakura.”

“This is ridiculous – I can walk, thank you – and it’s only been-” Sakura cut herself off as she glanced up, alarmed to find that the sun was suspiciously low in the sky.

He noticed that her wide eyes had turned to the darkening sky and he gave a frustrated sigh, shifting her slightly when she suddenly shivered. It had grown much colder than when they had left that morning. Removing her from his shoulder and, instead, pressing her against his chest and carrying her in a bridal hold, Hidan traveled down the fairly empty street. Sakura shot a glance down at the white covered ground and her eyebrows furrowed as the snow deepened to shin height, deciding not to argue.

“...this place is weird.” She hooked an arm around the back of his neck and huddled close, tugging up the collar of her coat to fight back the chill as she sighed.

Snorting, Hidan rolled his eyes and adjusted his grip on her before he replied, the annoyed tone slowly melting away.

“That’s why I told you to stick close. Why’d you have to fuckin wander off like that?”

“I didn’t wander off!” She shot him a frown, poking him in the chest as her eyes narrowed. “We got separated and you disappeared.”

“You disappeared.” Still, he let out a huff and glanced down at the bag in her lap, a silver eyebrow quirked and his gaze suspicious. “Find something?”

Nodding to herself, Sakura pulled the scarf partially out of the bag to show him before slipping it back in, relaxing in his arms.

“Got the scarf and a little something for myself – all of it paid for in cash, don’t worry. Any luck with the gnome tears?”

Hidan grinned and shifted her body, holding her with one arm while he dropped his free hand to his coat pocket and pulled out a small, corked bottle, half-filled with clear liquid. Sakura smiled and let out a sigh of relief, resting her cheek on his shoulder and wrapping her other arm around his neck as well.

“Perfect. This went pretty well, all things considered.”

With a hum and a satisfied smirk, the demon picked up his pace through the snow and glanced down at her.

“Looks like we’re all set. Ready to get the fuck outta here?”

Sakura leaned up to press a quick, pleased kiss to his cheek, only fueling the smug look on his face, before replying.

“Hell yes.”

::

It’s two days later and Sakura is alone in her apartment, laying across the couch and waiting for Hidan to return with takeout. She held the coral from the goblin market carefully in her fingers, turning it this way and that and watching the light glint off the barnacles as she inspected the chunk. Absentmindedly prodding one of the lumps with a finger, she froze when she felt something shift under her hold, quickly sitting up and squinting down at the coral.

With a frown, Sakura nudged the barnacle again and let out a sigh when it popped free, shoulders slumping. It had looked like the barnacle had been fused to the coral, nearly petrified and all one solid piece, but she’d assumed wrong. Moving closer to the coffee table, she inspected the rest of the coral and began to meticulously test the grip of the other barnacles, eventually managing to pop them all off.

Her frown only deepened when she noticed the crack running down one side of the coral.

Overcome with curiosity now and urged into action, she picked at the crack for a few moments, digging her fingernails between it and her eyebrows raising when she managed to pry the coral apart. It was hollow inside, she realized, and most definitely not coral. Pealing the husk away, Sakura finally found herself holding a white needle, curiosity quickly melting into confusion as she stared down at the odd object resting on the crumbled casing.

It wasn’t a particularly thin needle – about twice the width of a normal sewing needle - but still small enough to fit in her palm and wickedly sharp. It looked hand carved, sleek and shiny like polished ivory, with a small hole drilled into the thicker end and, with a start, Sakura realized it was a bone needle.

Plucking the larger chunks of the husk out of her palm, she cleared away the excess debris and finally brushed her fingers over the needle itself, just as the door to the apartment opened. Hidan entered, takeout in his grip, and eyed her hands with furrowed brows.

“What the hell is tha-?”

He didn’t get to finish his question however, as the door slammed shut behind him and the temperature in the room dropped several degrees, their breaths visible with small clouds of frosted air, and Sakura jumped to her feet in surprise. Hidan dropped the food, his glamour instantly melting away, and hurried over to her side, quickly reaching for her as the lights began to flicker.

His hands were just a hairbreadth away from her own when she shrieked, the bone needle glowing as it burned white hot and suddenly lifted free from her fingers.

They both stared in shock at the floating needle before Sakura scrambled backwards as it turned to point at her, falling back onto the couch and shouting a curse when it dived at her. She felt something unseen grab her, holding her forearm in a tight grip, and found herself unable to move as her left hand was pulled out away from her, her wrist facing upwards.

A shimmering black thread suddenly materialized from the end of the needle, looping through the hole and trailing outwards, and Hidan realized what was happening moments before she did.

He let out a snarl, desperately trying to snatch the needle or the thread while Sakura let out a strained whimper, frozen to her spot on the couch by some force that she couldn’t see. The bone needle easily dodged Hidan’s hands and more black threads materialized in the air, shooting towards him and looping around his body. He quickly raised a hand to his face when a thread wrapped around his neck, his teeth bared as he was forced to stand still. Struggling only made the threads tighten, each slight movement followed by hiss as they bit deeper into his skin, but, with his arm caught between his throat and the threads, he wasn’t in danger of being strangled.

Turning his gaze back to Sakura, his angry expression fell to one of horror as he watched the needle move closer to her exposed wrist, her terrified eyes wide and pinned to the sharp point of the bone. It happened quickly, but was far from painless, a scream caught in her throat as she managed to let out a high whimper.

Threads be damned, Hidan struggled violently and ignored the sharp bite of the unyielding black strings as they easily cut into his exposed skin, but he couldn’t free himself fast enough.

It burned more than it stung, Sakura realized through her tears, as the glowing needle pierced her skin in quick succession, threading a row of vertical, black stitches onto her wrist along some unseen horizontal line, inches down from Hidan’s rune on her palm. There was only a small trickle of blood where the bone punctured her wrist, but Sakura’s hand was shaking by the time it was finally finished, her breath escaping in short rasps. The ends of the black thread severed themselves and she had a moment to watch as the excess thread between the stitches disappeared and the black lines seem to absorb into her skin, melting down with a sharp burn before she realized that they looked more like tattoos now, etched onto her skin, rather than through it.

The needle dropped into her outstretched palm and she felt something close her hand around it.

With nothing holding her back anymore and finally able to move, Sakura practically threw the needle onto the coffee table, scrambling away from it and jumping to her feet as she reached for Hidan. She tore at the threads still wrapped around his limbs before they too began to melt away, his skin lined with thin cuts from where they had bit too deep. She clung to him, tears in her eyes despite there being no lingering pain in her wrist.

But it was far from over.

The pair didn’t get a chance to speak, the lights suddenly cutting out completely, but he held her close, teeth bared and magenta eyes furious as he scanned the room. Something shifted near the floor and the room suddenly filled with shin-high black smoke, seeping up from between the floorboards. A red glow began to build mere feet away from them, spreading outwards into a large circle while the smoke swirled around the edges, clearing an open space.

They watched silently as the glowing red marks became clearer, forming a pair of perfect circles, one inside the other, and symbols sprung to life, one by one, around the inner ring. Sakura half expected a pentagram to appear but, instead, the glowing streaks drew an odd arrow-like rune onto her floorboards in the center of inner circle.

She could suddenly smell the tell-tale scent of scorched wood and she quickly realized that the strange markings were being burned into her floor.

The black smoke continued to roll around them and the living room was illuminated only by the red glow of the circle and its symbols. Sakura shot a quick glance up at Hidan, his expression enraged as his eyes jumped from marking to marking, and she quickly figured out that he could understand the runes. He wrapped an arm around her waist and moved her behind him as the red markings began to glow brighter and brighter, shimmering black threads rising and writhing from the circle, growing larger and thicker with every passing moment. The smoke around their legs converged inwards, collecting in the center of the circle and smothering the threads and Sakura swore she smelled blood.

There was a flash of blindingly bright white light and they turned away, letting out sounds of surprise as they shielded their eyes, before quickly looking back at the circle when the light faded away, staring at the plume of smoke that was quickly beginning to dissipate.

The lights of her apartment came back on and there was Kakuzu, standing in the center of the scorch marks.

Wearing nothing but a towel around his waist and his hair still dripping wet.

Sakura could very easily see the multitude of scars and stitch-marks littering his body now – she resisted the urge to glance down at the new, matching markings on her wrist - but she was surprised to note the large pair of twisting, ebony black horns jutting out from his forehead and the pair of thick black bands tattooed onto both of his forearms, those odd eyes of his confused as he looked around the room in shock. She moved out from behind Hidan slightly and his attention was instantly on the pair, staring hard at them for a moment before his gaze flickered to the coffee table.

Kakuzu’s eyes landed on the bone needle laying innocently on the tabletop and his eyes widened, staring at it in disbelief. He suddenly looked back at Sakura and she nearly took a step back when she realized how unbelievably pissed he looked.

He raised a hand and pointed at the needle, glare vicious and fanged teeth bared.

“Where the hell did you find that?!”

[roboemma]

The Gift of Hope

A Star Wars Rebels Fic

By RoboEmma

Summary: Zeb informs Kallus of a failure of the former imperial agent’s, one that gives the newly-minted Rebel hope he doesn’t deserve (AKA, Kallus finds out about Lira San). (Oneshot. No, it’s not shippy. But it’s heavy.)

Yavin IV was very different from Atollon. Dense jungle yielded only enough for ancient temples to rise through the trees, and unforgiving vines still insisted on growing over the stone. But the vast stone courtyards worked well as landing pads, and the permanent structures provided cover for the rebels and their supplies, so it was not at all a bad set-up for the recovering Rebellion forces to move into.

Zeb hefted the heavy supply crate to the top of the stack he was building and broke to rest and gaze around the landing pad. It did not look so different from Atollon, he decided. Enough familiar ships speckled his view, and the ramshackled way they sorted supplies, set up generators, laid out their quarters, it was all things he recognized. The topography of a rebel base never changed much.

Something new caught his eye as he scanned the pad, something that didn’t fit, and his eyes moved back to the unfamiliar person. Agent Kallus. Just Kallus, now. It was still difficult to get used to. For so long, Zeb’s instincts had been trained to think threat when he saw the man. But circumstances had changed. Agent Kallus had become Fulcrum, and Fulcrum now became…

Kallus’s once proud, ramrod posture had morphed to something akin to slinking; he moved around the base as though trying to make himself as small as possible, his shoulders wrapped forward and down, hiding his eyes behind his hair, now worn in curtains on the sides of his face. Despite the assurances of other rebels that his presence and assistance was welcome there, despite meeting the many other former imperials like him on Yavin IV, his demeanor, his general sense of not belonging, remained.

Kallus had been more imperial than most, Zeb realized. It was one thing to be a TIE pilot or an engineer on an imperial facility, and it was another thing entirely to be a high ranking officer who had lead forces and advised the likes of Tarkin and Thrawn as Kallus had. Kallus had been a perfect double agent, operating under the rules of the Empire while allying himself with the rebels. He didn’t have to think like a rebel, act like a rebel, work with rebels… and now that he did, he was struggling to adjust to a structure he didn’t understand and would have frustrated someone as strictly trained as the agent.

He may have been a rebel now, but Kallus was still imperial to the core.

Zeb grumbled to himself as he started walking reluctantly but purposefully on an intercept path with the humbled man.

Kallus glanced up when he picked up on Zeb heading in his direction.

“Garazeb,” Kallus greeted with an incline of his head and some pomp.

They had spoken a few times since Thrawn’s attack on Atollon. Some conversations of consequence, others not. There was nothing comfortable about their exchanges. Zeb preferred the backdrop of hungry monsters the moon of Geonosis had provided.

“You keep sneaking around this base, people are going to think you’re guilty of something,” Zeb ribbed him.

Kallus looked immediately rattled; he blanched and visibly flinched.

“I’m not -… I didn’t mean -…” Kallus stumbled.

Ugh, this was worse than before; Zeb only wanted to get him to stop the annoying pouting.

“You’re wound rather tightly, aren’t you?” Zeb rolled his eyes.

Kallus clued in to the fact that Garazeb was joking, but the heat around his collar from the initial hot wash of discomfort remained.

“I-… Sorry,” Kallus apologized for his fidgety behavior.

“I sorry?” Garazeb repeated, looking confused and impatient all at once with his fists perched on his hips.

“No-,” Kallus stopped himself there, refusing to continue his babbling. He started over, composing himself and straightening up; the Lasat had commented on his posture. As politely and earnestly as he could, he offered, “I did not mean to appear suspicious. Can I help you with something?”

Garazeb just had a dissatisfied expression on his face, and judged him quietly for a moment.

“You know,” Garazeb growled, dropping his arms at his sides and ceasing his looming, “if you’re going to be a rebel, you should probably start acting like you’re supposed to be here.”

The Lasat turned and started walking for a group of crates at the edge of the platform. Kallus felt as though he was supposed to follow. He fell into stride.

“Could… I ask what you mean?” Kallus inquired gently, testing.

Garazeb scoffed; Kallus felt as though he was very close to mocking his speech next.

“Well,” Garazeb grumbled. “You’ve proven your loyalties. Everyone saw it. What more do you want?”

“I don’t really understand,” Kallus appealed patiently. “I don’t… want anything. I’ve been debriefed on every subject I could be so far, and I continue to advise and work wherever I’m needed. If I seem ungrateful, it’s far from the truth.”

This time, the distaste did reach Garazeb’s tone. “You imperial-types are so aggravating…”

“If I’m doing something wrong, if I’m messing up some Rebellion protocol, then just correct me!” Kallus implored.

“That’s not how it works here, Agent,” Garazeb grunted as he hefted a crate from the pile and started back the other way. “There isn’t going to be a bunch of rules for you to follow. You have to jump in, get your hands dirty, make some connections.”

“Get my hands dirty?” Kallus exclaimed indignantly, his voice cracking with disbelief. He gave his head a sharp shake where he still sported the ghost of a black eye. He wasn’t angry with the Lasat - he’d never be angry with him again - but to say he was unperturbed would be false.

“Yeah!” Garazeb needled. “You’re a rebel now! You’ve got to start acting like it!” Garazeb dropped the crate on the ground where he was and stopped walking. “Why’re you even here, Kallus? It doesn’t seem to suit you. You tuck your head and try not interact with anyone outside of your duties; if you’ve got nothing to lose here, then what’s to trust?”

Kallus scowled. “You just said I’ve proven my loyalty…”

“I just don’t get it!” Garazeb blurted, as close to exasperated as he could sound. “I’m no recruiter! I’m not good with words! I’m not supposed to -… we have a couple of arguments in an ice cave and a creature tries to eat us, and a lifetime of imperial belief just… vanishes?”

“Because I was wrong!” Kallus burst. He’d had no time, no safety, to reflect upon his choices, why his change of heart, when he had still been in the clutches of the imperials. Now he felt the guards crumbling. “On Lasan.” His voice rang with rawness at the mention of the planet. “I have no excuses. I saw, but I was blind, and what I did was evil. I don’t deserve to be forgiven or accepted. All I want, all I deserve, is to spend the rest of my life, however much there is, doing what I can to make up for it… knowing that I never will.”

A half-ring of stacked crates around them created an illusion of privacy, but rebel workers still walked past, and Kallus hoped their exchange was unheard or unnoticed.

Instead of being riled, Garazeb was quiet, like he was somewhere else. Kallus could see something like resignation on Garazeb’s face. Finally, he spoke.

“I’m not the only one,” Garazeb stated plainly and without inflection.

Kallus didn’t understand. He’d caught the change in Garazeb’s tone, but not the meaning of the words.

“What?” he asked.

“You failed,” Garazeb said gruffly. “I’m not the last Lasat. Not even close. There are millions of us.”

For a moment, Kallus felt nothing, interpreted nothing, and then he felt the sounds of the world drain from his ears to an uncomfortable ringing silence.

“What?” he repeated, barely a noise.

Garazeb did not drop his unforgiving matter-of-factness. “There’s another planet. Another home. I saw it. There were millions of us. Not where anyone could ever find it on accident, of course, but… we survived. They are safe. Safe from you. Safe from the Empire, for now.”

Unbidden, and without any warning, Kallus collapsed to his knees sobbing; it hit him out of nowhere and took him to the ground. The tension in his heart, the guilt that threatened to choke him, released its hold for just a moment, and everything he hadn’t allowed himself to feel he felt now like real, physical pain. He had put the vice there before he had ever had the chance to face an ounce of guilt, letting his heart guide him for months when he started feeding the rebels information as Fulcrum. Now it burst in this moment, and he sobbed for the relief that his greatest military achievement was actually his greatest military failure. He was a fraud. In every sense, he was a fraud. And he’d never felt such relief for it.

Garazeb didn’t allow him long.

“This will never make it right,” he gruffed.

“I know!” Kallus sobbed, his voice pitched. He rocked once on his knees, and swiped his arm over his nose, staining his sleeve with snot and ugly tears, collecting himself only enough to repeat, “I know,” his voice still breaking as he swallowed the words.

There would be no absolving him of his war crimes; Kallus didn’t want that anyways. There was no redemption waiting for him. It didn’t matter. He would work toward a redemption he would never reach, and be so, so grateful in the knowledge that his arrogance, his evil, his failure, could not wipe out the Lasat.

Zeb watched Kallus’s raw emotion and palpable relief at the news of Zeb’s people, and felt buried pangs of jealousy that the news had given Kallus more visible solace than himself. Zeb had his own demons to face on his own path back to his culture; the Lasat may have lived on, but everyone Zeb had personally known still laid dead at the hands of the man on the ground before him. The trauma of having felt what it was like to lose one’s entire race was not erased by the fact that it turned out to be untrue. Zeb was a practical man. He’d abandoned spiritualism long ago. He had grieved and moved on; now he had to find a way to undo the process.

Any guilt Kallus felt would never match the pain of Zeb’s actual loss; to even compare the two would be grossly inappropriate. He did not even deserve the comfort Zeb gave him in informing him that not all had been lost. But Zeb was a good man, an honorable man, and plain truths and honest mercies were something still ingrained in him; he wouldn’t deny anyone those, not even a monster, if there was a scrap of hope in them. He had spared Kallus’s life in the ice caves. Now he would spare him his humanity.

No one seemed to take much notice of the crying man and the imposing Lasat as they busied along with their duties around them. In a war like this, it was not so strange of a sight or occurrence. The rebellion was used to working through their pain, of putting themselves between the path of the Empire and the innocents of the galaxy, and proudly standing as equals with their fellow rebel soldiers.

And it was time for Kallus to join them.

“You’re an embarrassment,” Zeb growled, trying to comfort him, and patted him awkwardly on the back. “Pull yourself together, mate. There’s work to be undone.”

Kallus nodded and stood. When he straightened, his shoulders were all the way back, and there was a resolve in his clear, albeit watery eyes.

(Author’s Note: There, I made everyone’s favorite shitlord cry. Thanks for reading! I had no idea in Season 1 that I’d ever be interested enough in Zeb and Kallus as characters to make my first ever Rebels fic about them, but this idea hit me on the way to work and I had to write it down. I blame David Oyelowo for being such a talented voice actor that I could easily picture his range accomplishing this. In all seriousness, it’s definitely a challenge to write a fic like this without seeming apologist, given the worldly parallels; I hope I did it justice. I think fans mostly agree that Kallus is a well-written character and like him, but at the same time understand that his actions are unforgivable. Zeb, on the other hand, is a great man, plain and simple, and Kallus is only “redeemed” through the goodness that is Zeb, and I hope the complexity of their relationship came across.)