#and the way everything is in shades of Green much prettier than you’ve seen anywhere else

[my-chemical-rot]

Florida!!! by Florence + the Machine and Taylor Swift, Daytona Sand by Orville Peck, Spanish Moss by Against Me!, White Crosses by Against Me! //Pictures: map, surfers, post card, fountain of youth; plus my own photography // The Truman Show (1998) // Sunny Side Up by Jennifer L. Holm and Matthew Holm // Wikipedia

[polynymph]

What Once Was Chapter 7

At least it didn’t take two weeks this time! We get a little closer to finding out a bit more about Armyah’s past and her connection with Asra.

TW: Swearing, could be seen as NSFW because Julian is a subby, touch-starved boi and I love him

The wagon bounced on the uneven road of the town square. The sun was just rising as Portia, Armyah, and a few other members of the palace staff arrived at the market. It was hot, but the dress the Countess had chosen for the magician that day was a sleeveless, off-the-shoulder type. She had never worn anything like it, but at least the length was much more modest than that of the sea green ensemble she had the day before. Portia was across from her, chatting away with another servant about matters in which Armyah didn’t understand. However, she did recognize the word “courtiers” and the mere mention of them made her stomach drop and fingers twist around the mint fabric of her garment. She would be meeting them today. Turning to look out the window and clutching her bag to her chest, she tried to focus her mind on the bustling crowd. Suddenly, the coach lurches to a stop and the group file out onto the busy street. Armyah is careful not to trip down the stair in her borrowed, nude heels. A handful of servants and the magician huddle around Portia, awaiting orders. The stout woman clapped her hands and rubbed them together confidently.

“Alright everybody, listen up,” she said loud enough for them all to hear, “noon o’clock we’ll be making the announcement here in the city square. ‘Til then, you all know your errands. Talk to me if you don’t. Any questions?” She looked to each member of staff in case there was any need for clarification, but they all nodded in understanding. She nodded, signaling for the servants to disperse. They spread out into the marketplace as she waited for them all to leave before turning her attention to her friend. “I thought you’d might like to check on your shop,” she smiled. Armyah breathed a sigh of relief, Portia knew she was homesick. “I’ll try to find you, but if I don’t, try to be back here by noon.” They waved goodbye to each other and the servant disappeared into the throng. The magician turned on her heel and walked briskly, excited to see her home. She knew the way like the back of her hand; right, straight on, then down the ally. There it was…her own little oasis. Even in the misty overcast in the sky the shop seemed to glow. Practically skipping up the steps, she rested her palm on the heavy wood door to release the sealing spell. Her hands shaking from glee, she unlocked the first two locks, but fumbled and dropped the keys before she could get to the third. The fortune-teller dipped down to retrieve them, but paused when she spotted a small, leather pouch resting on the stoop. Taking the rough material in her hand, she could feel the energy resonating from it. She picked at the knot and pulled the string open; herbs, bark, resin, and incense…a magic mixture. She poured a small amount into her palm and inhaled deeply. There were hints of sage and marrow root, but the strongest scent was myrrh; a protection aura. She had a strange sense of déjà vu as she smelled the strong aroma, but she couldn’t place it. She casted a sidelong glance to either side of the street, but there wasn’t a soul in sight. Pocketing the pouch, she reached back down for her keys and turned the final lock. However, just as she leaned on the door it swung open and she nearly collided with a person standing in the doorway. Doctor Devorak was looking right at her, eye just as wide as hers. She freezes in her tracks, struggling to speak. For a moment, they both just stare at the other.

“Armyah! Fancy seeing you here,” Julian smiled awkwardly, guilt written all over his face. “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d check to see if you’d gotten home all right.” He fidgeted under her incredulous glare, “and here you are, getting home all right! Marvelous!” He laughed weakly, and she put a hand on her hip disapprovingly, “I’ll, ah…stop wringing my hands now.” For a second, she thought about calling for the guards, but she hesitated. This was the second time he had been in her shop; the guards might think she was harboring him. At least, that’s what she told herself. Regardless, she fixed him with a narrow gaze.

“How am I supposed to believe you?” she was a little indignant, how was he even getting in with the protection spell? “You’ve broken in not once, but twice now! What are you after?” He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed and trying to look innocent. Trying and failing.

“What? What am I after?” he stammered, “Why, I’m not after anything. What would I be…” He trailed off, eye going wide, “Oh, you don’t think I’m a thief, do you?” He smiled that roguish grin of his, “I’m a lot of things, but not that.” She wasn’t budging.

“And I’m supposed to just take you at your word?” she asked suspiciously. That mischievous smirk never left his face as he shucks off his overcoat and starts to unbutton his black waistcoat. She flushes deep crimson, but she can’t seem to look away from the doctor. He’s in the same billowing undershirt as the night before, his arms are outstretched and palm up in submission.

“Search me,” he challenges, “if you find something of yours, I’ll show myself to the stocks.” He grins wickedly at the magician, daring her. “Go ahead, search me until your satisfied.” Julian lowers his eye, presenting himself for inspection. Her ears grow hot at the insinuation, but the urge to wipe the smugness off his face outweighs her embarrassment. She drops her bag unceremoniously to the ground at her heels.

“I think I will,” she said as she took a languid step toward him. From the stunned look on his face, he obviously didn’t expect her to take him up on his offer. It was just as satisfying as she’d thought it would be.

“What, ah…what are you doing?” he shifted as she got closer, but his arms never lowered.

“Calling your bluff,” she teased. He looked almost impressed, but his smirk returned once again.

“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” He puffed up his partially exposed chest, “Well then, don’t be shy. I promise I’ll be good.” Armyah was within arm’s length of him as her chocolate eyes roamed over his body. Tentatively, she ran her hands down one of his arms. She could feel how cool his skin was through the gauzy material of his shirt. Becoming a bit braver, she moved closer until there was a sliver of space between them; she doesn’t dare look up at his face. The leather of his gloves creaked as he flexed the lean muscles of his arm under her hand. Julian looked down, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration of her assessment. It was clear she was avoiding looking at him, but he couldn’t help but tease her. He loved how her cute, button nose crinkled in annoyance. “Ohh, you have such lovely hands,” he practically moaned, “you can squeeze a little harder, you know…I won’t mind.” There it was. The nose crinkle and a satisfying shade of crimson flooded her cheeks. She presses more firmly as she follows her evaluation down his other arm. Did he dare test the limits? Yes…yes he would, “come to think of it, I haven’t seen you up close in broad daylight before,” he purred, “you’re much prettier than I realized, I’d like to get a little closer.” He reached for her, clever fingers wrapping themselves around her slender wrists and tugging, trying to close that last inch of space between their bodies.

“Stop moving,” she demanded harshly. His eye went wide, and the tips of his ears burned. He didn’t know she had it in her. Her commanding tone stirred something within him that he hadn’t felt in a long time, causing him to bite his lip. He had the overwhelming urge to drop to his knees in front of her and beg forgiveness; swear to her up and down that he’ll be good for her. Instead, he obediently dropped his arm back to his side. Armyah looked questioningly at Julian’s reaction. Feeling bold, she circled behind him as if she were a predator and he, her prey. He twisted around to watch her, not willing to let her out of his sight while in such a vulnerable position. His eye is bright with interest making her face warm under his shameless stare.

“I had no idea you were so…hands-on,” he chuckled, “how daring of you. Aren’t you afraid someone will see?” She knew he was baiting her, but she almost backed off. The only thing stopping her was sheer curiosity; she wondered what other reactions she could get out of him.

“Did I say you could move?” she took a less harsh, but no less authoritative tone. She got the same response: blushing hard and chewing his bottom lip.

“I, ah…no,” he stuttered, flustered, “you didn’t.” Did he have a thing for being bossed around? ‘Interesting…’ she filed that information away in the back of her mind.

“Then turn back around.” He complied without hesitation. She slid her hands down his back and fine tremor rips through him, “besides…shouldn’t you be the one afraid of being seen?” He struggles to speak as her fingers continue to trace the length of his spine.

“Er, well, I suppose that’s true.” She places her hand on his hip and moved around to face him again, trailing over his hipbone to check his pocket. An unexpected hard edge is ridged under her palm. ‘Is that…?’ She pulls her hand away swiftly in panic, losing her nerve. She actively looked anywhere but his red face.

“It’s not what you think!” he explained quickly, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a small pocket knife and held it up to show her. She breathed a sigh of relief, but she was quite finished with searching him.

“What are looking for?” she asked evenly, “maybe I can help you find it?” He looks almost terrified at the very idea.

“Oh no no no no…” he shook his head vigorously, “you don’t want to be caught up in…this.” He gestured broadly to himself. She looked at him curiously.

“I just meant that I know where to find everything in the shop,” she explained, “are you looking for something specific?” Julian’s throat bobbed when he swallowed, and he let out a slow, shaky sigh.

“I…I was looking for answers.” He was frustratingly vague, almost like Arsa. “But I didn’t find any. Not the ones I wanted, anyways.”

“Alright,” she shrugged.

“Wait…what?” he looked at her as if she had two heads.

“I believe you.”

“Really?” She smiled sincerely.

“Really.” He rolled his eye at the magician.

“Terrible idea,” he stared off in the distance, over her shoulder, “you shouldn’t trust anyone, Armyah, least of all me.” He retrieves his overcoat with a showy flourish and slipped it back on. “I do hope your satisfied, though.” He fastened the silver buttons of his waistcoat back in place before returning his attention to her once more. “Well, I’m sure you have things to do, so I’ll just be getting out of your way.” He takes a wide step, contorting his long, lanky form to allow her to pass.” Armyah’s eyes follow around to him.

“Doctor Devorak-” she started but was interrupted by his hand raising for her to stop.

“Take care, Armyah,” he says softly, “If the powers that be should ever entangle us again…” He smiles, but not that mischievous grin of his, it’s genuine. “Call me Julian.” His eyes flicker to something behind her. His broad grin takes only a second to fade before shock takes over his features. The hairs at the nape of her neck stand on end. Slowly, she looks over her shoulder. Portia had come to find her, but she wasn’t looking at the magician. All of her focus, the suspended disbelief in her wide eyes, was focused on the man behind her. Armyah looks back at Julian who pays her no mind. Tears well up in his stormy eye.

“Ilya?” Portia squeaked. She couldn’t believe he was in front of her. After all these years she thought he was dead. He looked different, more stern; no longer that gangly teenager with the voice that cracked with every other word. Oh, how she made fun of him. She stumbled forward, throwing herself at the doctor. The magician had to back into the wall to get out of her way. “Ilya is it really you?” Fat tears were rolling down her face. Her shaking hands fall to either side of Julian’s face. He smiled at the small woman.

“It’s me…” It came out as barely a whisper. Armyah looked between the two: the same auburn hair, stormy eyes, and strong jawline. There was almost a family resemblance between them. You could even say…the magician’s breath caught in her throat as she remembered the letter she had gotten from his desk in the library. Dear sister…

“You bastard!” Portia cried, banging a fist weakly against his chest, “What are you doing here out in the open? Are you trying to get yourself killed?” Her fingers curl, tugging at his ears and drawing a shameful wince from the teary-eyed man.

“You’ve grown so strong, Pasha…” he choked, “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to see it.” Her face flushed with anger as she let go of Julian’s ears.

“Ohh, I’ll show you sorry, you son of a bitch!” she rasped. Then, she remembered the woman beside them. “Armyah!” The magician went ridged at the shorter woman. “I-I…I’ll catch up with you later.” Portia pulls the floundering doctor into a nearby alley as the fortune-teller grabs her bag and ducks into her shop, shutting the door behind her. She looks around the deserted store, nothing looked to be out of place. Stooping under the curtain to the back room, the familiar smoky scent of incense fills her senses. Running a hand forlornly along the reading table, Armyah’s gaze falls on a pile of Arsa’s belongings in the corner; clothing and magical relics. The Countess’s theory resonates in her mind: maybe one of his possessions could give her an inkling of wear he might be. She picks up a carved totem of some sort, but nothing. She tries an ivory statue, even a shirt he wore before he left, but none of his things carry even a trace of his magic. Sighing in defeat, Armyah pads across the shop to the door. Once last mournful glance at her home before she stepped out into the street and locks the door. She considered skipping the cross-me-not spell since the doctor was getting in anyway, but she decided it was better safe than sorry. The magician places a cool palm on the wood grain and summoned an aura of protection over the door. The temple bell chimes loudly twelve times, signaling noon.

She rushes to the town square, following the dull roar of the crowd. Portia is already there, her eyes still raw from crying. She on the edge of the fountain so she can be better heard. The statue of Count Lucio on his rearing horse looms over her.

“Hear ye, hear ye!” she calls out to the crowd, “This is an announcement from the palace of your Countess Nadia!” The square was densely packed with people, smaller folk and latecomers circling the perimeter for a better view. Armyah slid carefully amongst the buzzing crowd. “On the eve of the passing of your most glorified Count Lucio, the Countess will open the palace gates once more!” People around her start chatting excitedly, “that’s right, folks! All are invited not to mourn, but to celebrate the spirit of our dearly departed Count!” A ripple of loud enthusiasm passes through the crowd, but Armyah was distracted by the familiar scent of myrrh. She turns her head and finds a hulking figure in the shadows underneath the pillars that surround the square. Their eyes are shrouded under a hood and heavy brow. Though the excitement in the square is growing, the figure looks more like a harbinger of despair. “It’ll be a Masquerade like no other before!” Portia continued over the bustling mob, “Spread the word, tell your friends! You won’t want to miss this!” As the crowd erupts in chatter, the massive stranger moves down a side street, the magician dashing after them. The stranger’s lumbering pace that’s easy to follow and she catches up to him halfway down the street.

“Have…have we met before?” she calls out to him; surely, she would remember seeing a person of his stature, but her mind draws a blank. He turned slowly as if he dreaded the very sight of the young magician.

“Yes,” he said monotonously, his voice like rumbling thunder. He shuffles away with a suffering look as the chain around his neck rattles with each heaving step. Did he leave the pouch at the shop? Did he know Arsa? However, before she could ask he had already disappeared into the shadows. Armyah headed back to the town square where Portia was tossing flower petals and rice onto dancing cityfolk. Noticing the fortune-teller, she climbs down from the fountain and jogs over to her.

“Armyah, there you are!” she exclaimed with excitement, “You missed the beg reveal! Would you look at this crowd?” She gestured behind her to the celebration. Motioning for the magician to follow, they both climbed up the steps to the servant’s coach. Portia plopped down on the plush seat and patted next to her for her friend to sit. “No incidents back at the shop I hope?” her smile had a shade of desperation, “nothing out of the ordinary?” Portia’s eyelid batted at a hummingbird’s pace, pleading.

“Umm…no,” Armyah faltered, “everything is just as I left it.” Portia looked torn, like she wanted to explain what happened back in front of the store, but she couldn’t muster the courage. The wagon lurched to life, chased by wild laughter down the street with ringing news of the upcoming Masquerade. The magician wrung her fingers with the strap of her bag. She had so many questions for Portia, but there were too many people around. Maybe if she asked something simpler… “Do you have any family?” It seemed vague enough, but the look on her friend’s face was pained.

“A brother…” she said carefully, “I haven’t seen him since we were kids, though.” Armyah could see the resemblance back when they were next to each other. She should have seen it before, they both have that mischievous glint in their eye. “You?” The fortune-teller didn’t know how to answer besides “I don’t know”. She didn’t really want to get in to her past, or lack thereof, with so many other staff around.

“No,” she lied…or maybe she wasn’t lying. The air between the two grew awkward and neither of them looked the other in the eye so they made the rest of the trek to the palace in silence. When the palace came into view, Armyah saw the bridge lined with carriages.

“Oh!” Portia squeaks, “the courtiers must have arrived!” A shiver ran from the magician’s head to the base of her spine. Portia must have notice, because she gives Armyah’s arm a comforting squeeze. “Don’t worry, remember these people can’t wait to meet you!” It doesn’t help calm her nerves. “I’ll be right there the whole time.” Armyah gave her friend a strained smile. When the coach comes to a halt, all the servants file out and dissolve into the corridors of the palace. Portia links her arm with the magician and escorts her through a wing of the palace that smells strongly of incense a half dozen different perfumes. Armyah could tell they have reached the parlor door by the music and cackling laughter from within. ‘They’re just people…’ she told herself over and over. The room was hazy, swimming with elegant plumes of smoke and it took all of her effort not to cough. Figures sprawled lazily on pillowed couches. The Countess noticed her first, glancing up from behind a gleaming pipe organ as she played a victorious chord. “Announcing Armyah,” Portia declared after clearing her throat, “friend of the palace and skilled magician!” Every head turned to face her, the apprentice’s face grew hot at the attention. “Armyah, this is Pontifex Vulgora, Procurator Volta, Praetor Vlastomil, Quaestor Valdemar, and Consul Valerius.” She gestured at the corresponding person as she introduced them.

“Welcome, Armyah,” the Countess greeted coolly. The sight of her lifted a bit of tension from the magician’s shoulders.

“Ooooh! This is Armyah?” the stout woman Portia had introduced as Procurator Volta asked as she picked off the refreshment tray, “She’s cuter than I imagined!” She wore a robe like a nun’s, but no holy symbol. However, there was a broach of a red beetle clasped to her chest. Armyah noticed that her right eye was completely white.

“What a delightful surprise,” Praetor Vlastomil was bony, deathly pale man clad in black from head to toe. Something in his eyes was unsettling to the magician. Perhaps it was because his pupils were vertical slits like a cat. Her eyes narrowed at the red beetle broach that he, too, had fastened to his shirt.

“Sit, Sit!” Pontifex Vulgora piped up, patting the seat beside them with a clawed gauntlet. “Sit here beside me, Armyah! Don’t be shy!” Their red tinged face and wide lizard-like eyes make the fortune-teller shift with uncertainty. She hadn’t expected such enthusiasm with their welcome. They all seemed very delighted to see her, making her feel more at ease. A cold, metal hand took hold of her wrist and pulled her down onto the couches and into the fold of conversation. The Countess watches carefully from her seat where she plays the organ, drawing contemplative tones.

“Tell me, Armyah,” she asked evenly, “how was the announcement received?” The magician was about to answer, but she was interrupted by a thin, almost green complexioned person in a doctor’s uniform.

“One can only imagine!” the previously announced Quaestor Valdemar had smirked, “Even we, the favorites of the Countess, closest to her heart, had no idea!” They seem almost indignant that they weren’t told beforehand.

“That or dear Countess, who shares everything with us, could orchestrate such a surprise!” Volta grated as she stuffed a handful of finger sandwiches into her mouth. Vulgora eyes the Countess in vexation from their seat next to Armyah.

“A surprise Masquerade!” they inflated, “How lucky we are, not having to worry about planning for it!” The Countess struck a low, irritated sounding chord.

“How lucky Armyah would have to be to get a word in with all of you,” she rolled her brilliant, ruby eyes. “My goodness.” All eyes were on the magician again, causing her to squirm under their hungry eyes.

“Oh, but how lucky she already is!” Vlastomil acclaims, “to be taken in by the Countess, an unproven, unknown apprentice!”

“And to take such a, dare I say, chance?” Volta agreed, “so very unlike our most thoughtful and meticulous Countess.” The Countess scoffed.

“It was not chance that led me to Armyah’s door,” she sneered.

“Then perhaps the Countess could inform her adoring court…” a deep, smooth voice rumbled from the chaise on the far wall. A man with a long braid that faded flawlessly from black to blonde was swirling his glass of wine in his elegant hand. “…how exactly it was the she arrived at the witch’s door that night.” Valerius looked much too young to be a Consul. His sophisticated grey robe embellished with gold trim revealed much about his status. He was very severe with golden, piercing eyes. Handsome, if not unsettling. He stood from his seat, not bothering to set down his glass and paced over to the magician, eyes evaluating her. “Or perhaps the witch might tell us herself?” The tone of his voice was condescending, he sneered as he called her a “witch”. It wasn’t specifically a derogatory name for people like her, but that didn’t mean she had to like it.

“Perhaps don’t call me that…” Armyah spat venomously. The rest of the courtiers round on Valerius, gasping with bright, hungry eyes. Almost as if there were waiting with baited breath on how he would respond.

“Witch?” he asked in mock ignorance, boots clicking as he walked over to the opposite side of the room. “Is that not your occupation?” He smiled and glanced over his shoulder at the young woman, “ah, forgive my mistake. You are but an apprentice.” They all turned to back to the magician with hands fluttering over their mouths as if he had just paid her the greatest insult. The Consul held his narrow gaze even as the Countess’s sonorous voice rises over the whispers.

“You know,” she said, tired of the courtiers’ antics, “if you all wanted to know so badly how that night transpired, you might have simply asked.” She rolls her eyes, “as it happens, I was having some trouble sleeping-”

“As you have been for some time, Countess!” Volta piped up.

“Yes, Procurator…” she ground through gritted teeth, “as I have been for some time, I was having trouble sleeping.” The Countess took a deep, calming breath before she continued, “on that night, I woke haunted by the spectre of a dream with no escape for my mind: no comfort from my terrors nor anyone to whom I could turn, who might understand them.” Mournful, she places a graceful hand over her heart to extenuate her grief. “Indeed, I was in a desperate state…desperately seeking someone, anyone who may be of help to me.” Her version was a bit more dramatic than the story Armyah would have told. ‘She knocked on my door, asked me to stay at the palace for a bit, and then I gave her a reading and she left’ was a more apt description. “It was I who was lucky, to come across the one I needed so soon. A benevolent universe brought us together, did it not, Armyah?” The Countess’s glimmering eyes fell fondly on the fortune-teller. The courtiers shift, studying her with a new intensity, causing her to squirm in her seat uncomfortably. The moment was seized by an airy sigh as Valerius peers at her through his wine glass.

“A benevolent universe brought you together?” he ridicules incredulously, “with all due respect, Countess, your mind may have been too occupied of late…” His thin, tapered hand swayed in the magician’s direction, swinging his wine glass with it. “To see the full capacity of our wide and welcoming arms!” The Consul threw his arms wide, sending a sparkling arc of wine sailing from his glass and splashing across the front of a dumbstruck Armyah, soaking her borrowed dress. A collective gasp swept the room as the heady liquid seeped through to her olive skin. The Countess’s expression as she strikes a sour chord and rises from the organ was practically murderous. “Oh, my apologies,” he shrugged nonchalantly, a satisfied smile stretched across his face, “how clumsy of me! Surely, a witch as skilled as you knows some hocus or pocus to remedy this dilemma?”

“Enough, Valerius!” the Countess boomed, “You have exhausted my patience for tonight.” She marched over to the young magician and wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders. “All out you, out! To your chambers!” The courtiers skittered out of the room like scolded children. Valerius, with a smirk, bowed dramatically as he exited the parlor. “I would appreciate if you could make it there without spilling, but I won’t count on it,” she called after him. She looked to the wine-soaked fortune-teller and shook her head, sighing, “I am sorry, Armyah,” she tutted, “I had imagined many outcomes to this evening’s affair and I must admit…this was one of them.” The Countess lowered her eyes, gazing mournfully at the ruined dress. “We must rid you of these garments, but I have taken enough liberties with your wardrobe,” she beamed at the magician, “so please, do not hesitate. Tell me what you would like, spare no expense.” Portia stood ready as the Countess laced her jeweled fingers together, both eagerly awaiting Armyah’s request. It seemed as if the Countess wanted her to ask for fine silks and riches. Perhaps she enjoyed showing people with gifts? Or was this an apology for the “test” a day before? Whatever it was, Armyah didn’t have to consider long…she knew exactly what she wanted.

“My old clothes, please,” she squeaked. Portia’s warm smile stretched from one ear to the other, the Countess, however, did not look amused.

“Ah, I thought you might say that,” the servant chuckled. The Countess regained her composer and gave the magician an even look.

“I suppose you would…” she said nonchalantly, “you shall have your old clothes then, Armyah.” She looked away, thoughtful, as if she were debating whether or not to say something. “I regret if this comes as a surprise, Armyah…” her brilliant garnet eyes met the magician’s somberly, “but your comfort here is of great importance to me.” The air was filled with a brief moment of awkward tension, “Portia will escort you to your chambers where you will be bathed, and your garments returned.” Armyah shifted her weight from one leg to the other, uncomfortable, afraid that she had offended the Countess. “I believe you will find them much as you left them.” She turned away from her servant and guest, Portia seizing the moment to lead her friend out of the parlor and down the hall; the melodious sound of the pipe organ chasing after them. Armyah couldn’t help but feel as though she were a child being sent to bed after disappointing their guardian. Portia and the magician were silent as they walked the brightly lit halls of the palace to the bath chamber. She sunk into the steaming water and breathed a sigh of relief, the tranquil bathroom did much for her mind as it did her body. The same oils were lined along the tub, though the rose scented one she had used the precious night had been refilled. She was going to reach for it, but then her eye caught a familiar word marked on a glass vile: chamomile. Chamomile was her favorite flower; it was unassuming but had so much purpose. She uncorked the oil and sniffed deeply, the beautiful floral scent filled her. Though, she didn’t expect a twinge of pain behind her eyes. Maybe the concentrated aroma was overwhelming to her senses. Whatever the case, she poured a generous amount into her palm and washed thoroughly. After Armyah had bathed and changed into her comfortable handmade clothes, Portia returned her to her chambers. She bid her friend goodnight and shut the door behind the servant, turning and resting her back on the heavy door. A glint at the window caught her eye, a parcel was waiting for her by the window next to the incense burner; a tightly spiraled note perched on top, addressed to Armyah. ‘A gift for my dearest guest, this emerald which seemed to have called your name. Wear it in good health. -Nadia was written in flawless calligraphy. Even in writing, the magician could feel her imperious gaze, penetrating and full of contemplation. Unwrapping the paper, the gold chain slipped through her fingers as she held the jewel. In a gradual wave, she sensed the familiar energy wash over her. There was no mistaking it: this was Asra’s magic radiating from the gem in gentle, soothing ripples. She had remembered her unsuccessful search in the back room for a connection to her teacher. Now, with this brilliant trinket alive with his energy, she had a chance.

Armyah waited until the halls were quiet and the only sound was the metallic clanging of temple bells echoing through the city; midnight. She stole out of her room with the emerald hanging around her neck and dashed through the empty halls, the thought of hearing her old friend’s voice again causing her to shiver excitedly. She knew the way to the veranda well by now. Humid wind pulled and swelled against her, moving languidly down the stairs and through the garden. When she had reached the fountain under the weeping willow tree, she spotted someone familiar hanging from its branches.

“Faust!” Armyah exclaimed happily, the lavender serpent hissed gleefully. Did she know the magician was coming? Or was this where she spent her time? She coiled her way down the wide trunk of the tree. Armyah padded over to her, resting a gentle hand on her smooth head and trailed it down the snake’s slithering body as she glided across the bark and onto the soft grass. It was only then, when Armyah noticed the carving on the back side of the tree; Armyah. Her name etched into the mossy willow in her teacher’s recognizable handwriting. However, it was old…much older than the three years in which she remembered knowing him. Faust interrupted the magician’s thoughts by sliding up her leg and up to her shoulders. The serpent took immediate interest in the emerald, tongue flicking after it as Armyah unclasped the pendant from her neck. Returning to the gazing pool, she sat on the marble edge of the fountain. Closing her eyes and breathing deeply as she dangled the green gem over the water and dropped it in. Light caught every glimmering angle as it sunk to the bottom of the pool causing the water to change colors and shapes to bloom over it.

“You’re back,” a familiar voice breathed. Tall palms swept behind Arsa against a glittering sea of stars. His curly white hair catches starlight in every whorl. “I saw the water changing this time,” he smiled, happy to see his apprentice and familiar, “Faust, you’re looking lively. Being around Armyah does that to you, doesn’t it?” His bright, violet eyes twinkled as he laid his chin on his palm. He looked weary, which wasn’t too surprising. His sleeping habits were, as Armyah calls them, predictably unpredictable.

“You look tired,” she smiled, grateful to be able to see him and talk to him. He looked content, as if his secret escapades must had been fulfilling.

“Do I?” his silvery eyebrow raised, “I don’t feel tired. I was just about to get in the water, but you beat me to it.” His apprentice rolled her eyes at his joke. Faust slithered across Armyah’s lap, taking sniffing flicks at the water. “You two have definitely gotten closer,” Arsa beamed, “she’d opening up to you.” His eye shifted away from hers, guiltily. “It may be time for me to do the same.” Armyah’s breath caught in her throat. She must’ve made a face because Arsa laughed, high and unrestrained. “No really, it’s true! I want to start being more honest with you.” His time in…wherever he is must’ve given him a lot of time to think. “What’s on your mind? Ask me whatever you like, all that I ask is that you start being more honest with me, too.” He must have been talking about when she finally told him how she felt about being left behind in that dream.

“Who is Julian to you?” she asked, the burning question brought her relief as it left her lips. She had seen the depth of emotion that crosses the doctor’s face whenever he speaks of Asra. Her teacher, however, looked confused.

“Julian?” his eyes narrow in thought, then soften in realization, “Ah...he goes by that name too.” Armyah's eyebrows knit together.

“Is that not his name?” she wondered. Had he used a fake name all this time?

“I knew him by another name.” Another vague answer, “he was a...friend, once.” A blush rises to his tan face, “then more, then...something else.”

“Something else?” He wanted to be more honest with her, but he was still frustratingly unclear.

“Something that I had to get away from,” Asra is somber for a moment before laughing bitterly. “Who is Julian to me...who is he to anyone?” He looks past his apprentice's shoulder to the start behind her. “Julian is whoever he needs to be to get what he wants.” Armyah's heart drops. She should have known that he was lying to her all along, but it doesn't make it hurt any less. “Why do you ask?”

“We’ve crossed paths a few time,” she answered carefully, “he’s asked about you.” Asra sneered and rolled his eyes.

“To think he would come for me after all that…” he shook his head, “I’m done talking about him. He’s a hack physician with a lot to learn and, until he does, nothing good will come of him.” With a deep sigh, he clears the heavy mood with a smile. Armyah knew there was some animosity between her teacher and the doctor, but she hadn’t expected it to be this bad. “So that’s what you wanted to know? That wasn’t so bad.” She looked away, “or…is there, perhaps, something else on your mind?” He knew her too well. His twinkling eyes searched hers with wordless depth. She remembered the carving of her name on the willow tree.

“Who am I to you?” Arsa’s soft violet eyes go wide and lips part. For a moment, he looked confused, almost hurt. Sighing, he folded his hands in his lap and leaned forward to look his apprentice square in the face.

“You’ve helped me grow,” he breathed, “I’ve learned so much from you.” She didn’t think that was the whole truth, “I wish I could tell you so much.” He looked pained, desperate for her to remember something, anything.

“Is it something to do with before?” she whispered, “When I lost my memory?” He doesn’t answer. “Did you carve my name into the tree?” Asra’s eyes widen in fear, he hadn’t expected her to find it. He almost forgot about it himself.

“You should get some rest…” his voice cracks as he looks down at his feet. Before Armyah could respond, the water ripples around his image until it disappears. ‘So much for being more open…’ she sighed and looked to the lavender serpent who is watching from her shoulder.

“Come one, Faust,” it’s hard not to smile at the ruby-eyed snake, “We’ll see him again soon.” With a shake of her head, the magician gathered the snake into her arms and headed back inside the palace. What was he keeping from her? Why couldn’t he tell her? Frustrated, she tried to shake the thoughts from her head, but she stops dead in her tracks. No, it couldn’t be…she had known Asra for three years. Still, she was missing over 20 years of memories. Maybe he isn’t who he says he is. Perhaps he used her amnesia to manipulate her into thinking he was a completely different person than who he was before. Armyah’s blood runs cold as she remembered Julian’s words that first night in the shop.

“That creature is far more dangerous than you know…”

Thanks for reading! Tell me how I’m doing!

Tag List: @julians-chest-hair

[victorluvsalice]

Forgotten Vows Friday: Fixing You Cut Scene! Extended Dr. Fixxler’s Shop

Hi all! I’m making good progress on Chapter 8 of “Fixing You” -- it’s a LOT shorter than Chapter 7, so you’ll definitely be seeing it next week. However, I thought I’d share something else with you today -- some cut content! Most of the editing I’ve been doing while working on “Fixing You” has been cutting out bits of unnecessary fluff, or chopping short scenes and conversations that go on waaaay too long. (Chapter 7 actually had a TON cut out of it to avoid the characters telling each other everything you guys have already seen in the fics. Yes, that damn chapter was originally even longer.) And while this is all for the good, it does mean that occasionally I lose moments I like.

Such as today’s scene, which was part of an earlier draft of Chapter 3 with Victor and Alice in Fixxler’s shop. Originally, Alice’s question to Fixxler about him having the ability to move between the Lands of the Living and the Dead led to a much longer scene where Fixxler provided a lot more explanation on how the spell worked, and how magic works in this world in general. There was also what I thought was a fun bit of business with the group searching the shop for special glasses that let you see magical auras. When it came time for the next round of editing, though, I realized the scene really slowed the pacing down, and that Fixxler would know why Alice would be so interested in Slip Through The Veil without her needing to spell it out so explicitly. So I cut out this scene and provided pared-down versions of some of the exposition he gives here in a different spot in the chapter. I still like the bit though, soo -- here, to tide you over until next week. Hope you enjoy! For context, the starting line in italics is from the actual Chapter 3 and shows where the scene would have landed.

Alice froze. "Wait – let's rewind the conversation back a few minutes, if you don't mind. You can get to the Land of the Dead?"

"One of the lucky ones," Fixxler told her, locating an old fountain pen. "Like I said, it takes a lot of power – barring special circumstances, like your boyfriend accidentally proposing to a very hopeful corpse."

"When Elder Gutknecht sent us up that first time, it didn't seem very complicated," Victor said, frowning. "He just squeezed an egg out of a raven and broke it over our heads."

"Oh, it's not a matter of complicated – it's a matter of simply what you're trying to do," Fixxler told him, waving the pen. "The barrier between life and afterlife is usually pretty strong – living people aren't supposed to go Downstairs, and vice-versa. It takes a lot of energy to allow the 'wrong' person through the veil. Again, you're a special case, but. . . ." His eyes flashed gold again. "No, you don't have enough personal power to cast it on your own."

"What is that?" Alice had to ask. "It makes you look as if you've gas lamps behind your face."

"Signature Sense – it's my special talent," Fixxler explained. "I can tell you how to do it, but – well, it involves lighting a match, then waving it back out after ten seconds and swallowing it."

Victor touched his Adam's apple. "Oh – I don't think I'll try that one, then," he admitted. "Knowing me, I'd choke." He pouted. "I really wanted to see what an aura looked like, though. . . ."

"That is what enchantments are for," Fixxler told him. "I've got a pair of glasses I made once that I managed to permanently enchant with the same spell. . .somewhere. . . ." He grumbled as he looked around the store, twirling his pen. "The problem is, people seem to think a messy shop is more 'magical,' and then you just get used to throwing things anywhere."

"I can help you look for them," Victor instantly offered, getting to his feet. "I'm used to having to rummage for things."

"Yes, the Houndsditch toy pile can be a terrifying ordeal indeed," Alice agreed, standing up as well. "And I'd like a look too, honestly. . .so neither of us have a chance at casting the spell on our own?"

"I'll check behind the counter – Victor, you try the bookshelves up there," he said, gesturing to the little raised stage where lived his Chinese herbs and mystical tomes. "Alice, you check the front window – and no, sorry. You're both fairly magically gifted, but not that much."

Victor frowned as he mounted the tiny flight of steps to the shelves. "What if we combined our power?" he asked. "Is there a way to do that?"

"Sort of – there's spells that let you 'borrow' extra power from a person or a place for a little while," Fixxler confirmed, climbing over the counter. "But even with that, I think you'd still be short. And even if you weren't, there's a good chance you still couldn't use the spell anyway."

"Whyever not?" Alice demanded, feeling through the ribs of the skeleton just in case something had slipped inside. The bones jangled at the intrusion.

"Because, for whatever reason, magic doesn't like it when you drain your lake all in one go." Fixxler leaned on the countertop. "Granted, I don't blame it, it's not a pleasant feeling. . .but yeah, one of the barriers to learning magic is that the upper limit of the power of the spells you can learn is slightly below the upper limit of your own personal power. Draw Upon The Earth's Currents and Draw Upon Another's Currents can both get you around that limitation for a bit, but it only goes so far."

Victor paused in his search. "Ah – is – it isn't p-possible to completely use up your magic permanently, is it?" he asked, rocking to and fro on his heels in a rather Alice-like way.

Fixxler gave him a reassuring smile. "No, don't worry about that. You have to be casting a lot of magic in a very short amount of time to burn out, and even then, it only takes a couple of hours to recover. Nasty couple of hours, though – you feel like some vital part of you is missing."

"I've had enough of that feeling," Alice muttered, glowering at the thorny vine as the wail of a long-dead train echoed in her ears. "Doesn't sound like it's much of a risk, though." She felt around the pot, then moved on to the display of colored bottles. "You said that was one of the barriers. What are the others?"

"Mainly that you can only learn so many spells," Fixxler said, ducking down to hunt through some hidden cabinets. "Oh, so that's where I put that decanter. . . ." He placed it on the counter. "Again, relates to you having only so much magical energy. Once you learn enough that, if you cast them all in rapid succession, you'd burn out, that's it. Any new spells you try, even simple ones, will automatically fail."

"Hmph. I guess we'll have to be very careful what spells we learn," Alice said to Victor.

"And not learn too many of the same ones," Victor nodded. "How many do you think we'll get?"

"Hard to say for sure, but rough estimate – twenty to twenty-five?" Fixxler said, waggling a hand over his head. "Well, twenty to twenty-five for you – nineteen to twenty-four for Alice. Sorry, but a natural talent automatically takes up a slot. The price you pay for a spell you can use anytime without reagents."

"I can live with that. False Flesh is one of the fun ones, at least." Alice examined a bottle. "Are these real potions?"

"Some are – if they're glowing a little, they're real," Fixxler said, eyes peeping above the counter. "Otherwise it's just colored water. Good for effect, and I'm not constantly in the lab making new ones."

"How – oh!" Victor reached back behind a book and extracted a pair of small round glasses with dark lenses. "Are these them?" he asked, slipping them on.

"Let me see," Fixxler asked, standing up straight.

Victor turned to face him. "I don't – OW!"

He snapped his head away, ripping off the glasses and rubbing his eyes. "Victor?" Alice asked, dropping the bottle and hurrying to his side. "What happened?"

"It was like looking at the sun!" Victor hissed, pressing hard on his lids. "I'm still seeing a bit of a glow now."

"Sorry," Fixxler said with a sheepish look. "Should have warned you that the more power you have, the brighter your aura. There's a reason I made those out of dark glass."

"It didn't help much." Victor cautiously blinked open his eyes. "Ow. . . ."

"Try again with Alice," Fixxler encouraged. "She should be just fine to look at."

"That's what people tell me," Alice quipped, making both men blush. She held out her hand. "Here – want me to try first and confirm it's okay to look at most people?"

Victor handed over the glasses. "Just, really, don't look at him," he warned. "It is horribly bright."

Alice heeded his advice, keeping her back firmly to Fixxler as she slipped on the curious spectacles. Most of the world grew dark and smoky. . .but oh yes, out of the corner of her eye she could see a brilliant light emanating from somewhere behind her. Seems he wasn't exaggerating – turning to face our new friend probably would be exactly like looking directly at the sun.

Fortunately, she had a much softer, prettier light to focus her attention on. Victor himself seemed to be in shadow, but his aura was a vivid gold around him, edged with a layer of equally-bright blue-green. Shades of pink and orange and green and purple swirled over his body, tangling with each other before disappearing into the gold. "Oh. . . ." She held out her hand right above his chest, fingers dipping into the play of colors. "That's lovely. And this is what you see, Dr. Fixxler?"

"When I use Signature Sense," Fixxler confirmed. "Nice, isn't it?"

"Very." Alice drew her hand back and examined her own arm. No blue-green perimeter for her, but the bits of dripping rainbow still chased themselves over and through her own golden glow. She admired them for a bit –

Then frowned curiously. While most of the colors were floating about, blending with each other, there was a stripe of green about level with her elbow that was staying stock-still, resisting all invitations from red and yellow and blue to join the fun. She checked Victor's aura – no, all of his were moving. "What do the colors mean?" she asked, starting to turn her head – Fixxler's aura burned at her eyes, and she quickly yanked it back.

"Well, the main one is the 'alive or dead" signifier," Fixxler rattled off. "Gold's for living, blue-green is dead. The ones floating on top are a general sign of health. The brighter those colors and the faster they move, the better you feel. Any stationary stripes show what special talents you have – each spell has a unique color, or so they tell me. If you could look at me, you'd see I've got sort of greenish-gold stripes in my aura."

"Interesting," Alice said, looking at her legs and picking out a few more green stripes around her knees and feet. "So the green ones on me must be for False Flesh."

"Do I have any?" Victor asked hopefully.

Alice shook her head. "I don't see any, anyway."

"Nope – don't take it too hard, though," Fixxler told Victor as his shoulders slumped. "Most people don't have any talents. And most spells don't require anything too hard to obtain for reagents."

"Think of it this way," Alice said, taking off the glasses and handing them back over. "You get to choose all of your spells. I'm stuck with False Flesh whether I like it or not."

Victor smiled. "Given you're still in your Steamdress, I think you do like it." He put the glasses back on, making very sure not to look in Fixxler's direction. His eyes widened as he caught sight of her aura. "Oh wow. . . ." He too reached out a hand, running his fingers through the invisible colors. "Goodness, Alice, it's gorgeous. . . ." He looked down at himself, marveling at his unique glow. "I wish I could see these all the time."

Alice glanced at Fixxler, now again a perfectly ordinary black man. "You're sure?"

Victor took one peek his way, then grimaced and shut his eyes before pulling the glasses back off. "Good point. How could you even see our auras over your own?"

"I'm used to mine," Fixxler said. "If it makes you feel better, I nearly blinded myself the first time I looked at me too." He hopped back over the counter and accepted the glasses from Victor. "Now – I assume there's a reason for all the questions about Slip Through The Veil beyond you wondering how you could get a free ride into the afterlife but not one out of it?"

Victor glanced at Alice, awaiting her confirmation to share. "It's my family, Dr. Fixxler," Alice said, sparing him the trouble. "I – ever since I learned that the afterlife is real, the chance to see them again has been weighing pretty heavily on my mind. Dr. Wilson thinks it's the final loose end I have to tie up before I can be called anything resembling mentally healthy." She fiddled with her skirts. "Victor and I have been wondering for over a month now how you get Downstairs without dying or proposing to a corpse. And then you come along and. . . ." She huffed. "It's just a bit annoying to know there is a spell for it, but to have it be out of our reach."

"Ah. Well then – the way I see it, you have two options," Fixxler said, leaning on the railing. "The first is to wait until the end of October. You see, Slip Through The Veil has a little quirk – on Halloween night, sunset to sunrise, anybody can cast the spell. From what I've read, it's thanks to all of us thinking that spirits roam the Land of the Living in that general time period anyway. The barrier naturally thins thanks to all that belief."

"Really." Alice exchanged an intrigued look with Victor. "It would be a bit of a pain to wait, granted. . .but it would also be something to look forward to. What's option two?"

Fixxler grinned. "You let me take you."

Alice blinked. "You can – do that?"

"Elder Gutknecht did it to me and Emily," Victor told her, eyes bright. "And then to the whole village when we decided to get married properly! You'd really be willing, Dr. Fixxler?"

[hanafarook]

Koi No Yokan

Chapter: 16.

"Tango Of The Present"

I tossed my phone to the side and hit the bed, and just as sleep came to me, so did those strange Oikawa dreams.

Nearly half of the next day I spent in anticipation of meeting Oikawa again. I didn't think it would be that bad but then again, I wasn't sure what to expect either and the not expecting part was getting on my nerves. What kind of a person could he have become? I knew from yesterday's match, his style and gameplay was on another level, to have become a naturalized citizen of the country he did not belong to….that must've been something, to give his blood, sweat and tears for all these years for a dream that seemed so elusive. I felt overwhelmed again because I considered myself a spectator, a passerby in his life but even then, in a very strange way, he mattered to me. 

I fussed about what to wear for a good 15 minutes before realizing that I only came with a limited amount of clothing and that I would have to make do with one of them. 

Yeah, All that fussing is so pointless.Jeans and a shirt, that'll have to do. 

I left my hotel room, grabbed a taxi and headed straight for Café Del Mar. Thankfully, the taxi driver knew where it was and I didn't have to struggle with the directions. 

Nice character development, Thanks Oikawa!

It was a beachside café and he was sitting outside under the shade of an emerald green umbrella, wearing a casual white t-shirt and jeans. I knew because of the game last night and the nature of my work, everything about him including his face was a buzz in my head. So today I took my own moment to study his features before meeting him. 

Oikawa…. Had still retained a lot of his boyish charm, like a flower boy of a drama series but his features like his voice had grown to have more depth and maturity. The soft brown hair that sideswept outwards still remained as well, catching the light of the late afternoon sun as his eyes looked to be trailing along the beach. If Oikawa still had fangirls, I wouldn't be surprised. He looked to be as charming as he was in high school, if it were possible maybe even more. 

"Kirei-chan… you came" Oikawa had a big smile on his face when he saw. 

"I came…I told you, I would" I said taking my seat, smiling back at him. 

Goodness, this is still awkward .

"What a relief! Thought I would have to miss seeing your pretty face again"

I almost choked, 

Oh…that was smooth, so… Oikawa's back? Eh? 

"I know right? it would have been a shame to miss yours as well, it's always prettier in person".

Well, if we're gonna go that way then let's go that way… whichever way we're heading. 

Oikawa smirked slightly, "How was yesterday's game? what did you think about the serves …?

"Yesterday's game was amazing, I loved every bit of it and your serves were  cool too"

"Just cool? what's that one word you used to use?"

"Oika-wow..?"

"Yeahhhhh that one, aren't you gonna say it was Oika-wow? "

"Yeah……. that….Oika-wow sounded nice when you were in your youth"

"What do you mean... if I was in my youth?  I have more fangirls now then I did"

"Oh is that so….Oika-san? It feels like you have lesser of them then you did in high school"

"Breaking my heart now kirei-chan"

"Nothing a good glass of ice cold Cola can't fix" I said, shaking a tall glass full of ice cold coke with a smile. 

"I don't know…... if it's broken by someone as pretty as you Kirei-chan than I rather have it remain broken or have you fix it up"

Ay, so we really are going that way 

Now it was my turn to smirk, "looks like Argentina didn't just teach you volleyball Oikawa-san"

Oikawa shrugged, "you can learn a lot but it's pointless if there's no one to practice with",  although I knew he said the words in response to my earlier statement, there was an air of seriousness behind it. 

"how have you been…? How have you really been? 

Oikawa turned his head, looking over the waters across the road towards the beach.

"....alone...? I came to Buenos Aires, straight after Seijoh and it was a stark contrast to everything back at home, warm and welcoming as it was but felt lonely all at the same time"

I followed his gaze to the shoreline where the sunlight seemed to have been dancing on the surface of the water making it glitter and shimmer.

"it must've been really hard"

"It was hard because there wasn't just one thing to consider but several other things as well"

"I know what you mean…"

"I left a big piece of my heart back in Miyagi and I think it'll always be there"

"It will....Maybe like a buried treasure somewhere, someone might find and return it back to you"

"has someone ever told you, you play very very well with words"

"yeah….you- just now".

"-but also you with volleyball as it is already established"

"Since that is established I'd say with hearts!" oikawa announced 

"ah really?"

"Toruuu" I heard a man call him out from the other side, waving enthusiastically.

Oikawa waved back, "Tell me, have you seen any of the city yet?"

"I haven't"

"luckily, you got yourself a tour guide right here" 

"That guy?"

"What? No, he's my teammate. I was talking about ME"

"You? Are you volunteering to be my tour guide?"

"Yes I am"

 "Aren't you busy… you know playing with hearts? As you mentioned…maybe I should ask your Teammate there, what a handsome tour guide he would be"

Oikawa pouted, "Are pretty setters not your thing?"

"depends on how good pretty setters are also at being the best tour guides"

"Kirei-chan…...You're in for a ride with Oikawa Tooru and I'll make sure every moment from now is a moment you will remember"

"okay…" I said getting up from my chair. 

"w-w-where are you going?" Oikawa asked, shocked. 

"Wasting no time in making sure that every moment is worth remembering and I'd like to do it with you, since you've so graciously offered," I said challengingly, raising an eyebrow and smirking at him. 

"You need to stop hitting on me, you know?"

"Can't guarantee that " I said smiling over my shoulder with an air of nonchalance, walking away 

"Kirei-chaaaaan, my heart is too fragile f….stop making it go doki-doki" Oikawa  yelled, jogging to join me as the skies were only beginning to change to a more pink and orange-ish hue. 

The next four days with Oikawa were a chaotic blur but luckily for me and (maybe him) we had lots of photographic memories of it, from a very random karaoke night to a day at Museo Nacional de Bellas Artesa where Oikawa proceeded to make as many puns as possible and I was trying my best not to slap my rolled up Buenos Aires tour book at the back of his head) 

We also ended up accidentally at the cemetery (for the rich and famous) most of which resulted in me making terrible dead people jokes) and Oikawa dying out of ….I couldn't say if it was embarrassment or fear of ghosts but whatever it was, I had fun. We went to the San Telmo market brought quite a few random knick knacks after Oikawa's decent Spanish haggling tricks, I watched him play volleyball on the beach (again) and surprisingly also got to play with him much to my embarrassment and his amusement, Oikawa probably knew I hadn't a cell of athletics anywhere in my body and now he'd seen it too and then we learned how to tango and ended up random dancing at a street party which was.....an experience in itself.

[poorlywrote]

“Where am I,” I think to myself. I’m lying on the ground, so I get up and dust myself off. “Jacob Carter. Ready for your first day,” I hear a demonic voice say. I remember where I am. Hell. I somehow died, leaving my friends, family, and most importantly, my girlfriend Kelsey. I nod my head to answer the voice. My “first day” refers to my first day of punishment. Since this is hell, they give everyone here a personal punishment to make sure it hurts. Mine is to watch my girlfriend as a spirit. I can see her and watch over her, but she can’t see or hear me. Everything disintegrates around me and turns into a small, plain bedroom. I would recognize my girl anywhere. Kelsey is sitting on a teal and white chevron twin sized bed. I smile to myself, “Damn I love her,” I say out loud because she can’t hear me. Although, even if she could, I would still say that. She’s on her phone, but soon throws it down on the bed. I walk over to see she’s trying to text me. She has been for for the past week it seems like. I immediately start to feel horrible. I look to her and see she’s silently crying. She picks up the phone again and texts some more. I sit next to her so I can see her phone. She’s texting her two best friends. “Guys, he’s not texting back. I’m getting worried,” she sends to a group chat named “besties” After a minute of her just staring at the text she just sent, her friend Emily replies. “Good, he’s not good enough for you anyway” Kelsey rolls her eyes then replies, “whatever I love him.” I smile at her, then I remember she can’t see me. After some time, an older boy walks into her room; I assume he’s her older brother. “Hey loser, it’s time for supper,” the boy says in a deep voice. “Fine,” she just replies as she turns off her phone and walks out. Part 2 After a couple minutes, Kelsey comes back into her room with a plate. I sit on her bed and notices what she has; a little bit of macaroni, some carrots, and a pork chop. She looks to her doorway and quickly shoves the plate under her bed. She stands up and sits down on her bed. I don’t understand why she put it under her bed, so I get off her bed and look under it incase there was a person or an animal or something under there. All I see is her plate. She stands up and walks out and I lay down on her bed. When she comes back, I see she has a bottle of water with her. She sits back down on her bed, sitting on my hand. I instinctively yelp and pull my hand up, but then I realize that I’m a ghost and that didn’t even hurt me. I laugh at myself for a minute because of how stupid I am. I look to her, she’s just staring at her phone screen. It’s not even turned on. At first I’m confused, until her phone lights up. I see a twinkle of excitement in her eyes as she sits up straight and smiles a huge smile. The smile quickly fades as she slouches back down. Her eyes become misty. “It’s just Will,” she mumbles to herself. She turns on her phone and goes to her texts with me. “Hey… please answer me,” she sends without thinking. She sends text after text. The more texts she sends, the more guilt fills me. Until, I break down sobbing. “Kelsey, please, I’m right here. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to die.” She starts to cry. “No! Baby don’t cry! Don’t cry… I made you cry. I’m a monster. Kelsey, I’m so sorry…” I watch the tears fall from her face onto her phone. “I did this didn’t I… I chased him away. I’m such an idiot,” Kelsey yells as nothing. She continues to cry until she gets out of bed and runs into the bathroom. Chapter 3 I wait almost fifteen minutes outside her bathroom because it would be weird if I walked in with her peeing or something. After a while, I poke my head in to make sure she’s okay. I look to find her crying on the edge of her bathtub. I walk through the wall and sit next to her. She grabs her phone and dials my number. It goes to voicemail. “It’s Kelsey. Where she hell have you been? Call me back as soon as possible, you’re worrying me. I love you so much. Bye.” She hangs up and continues to cry. After a couple of minutes, she stands up and looks at herself in the mirror. “He probably hates me. He probably sees me calling and laughs at me. I’m such a dumbass. Why would someone like him love someone like me. I’m ugly and fat and pathetic. I was probably just some charity case. He must’ve found a prettier and smarter girl to replace me, although it isn’t hard to find someone like that.” She glares at herself until she breaks down. “But he promised! He promised we’d get married, he promised he loved me, he promised he would always be there for me,” she falls to the ground sobbing. “He promised!” I just stand there. I did this to her. I stand there wishing I could hold her and tell her everything was alright. I stand there hoping she will finally see me. I stand there counting the seconds as they go by because if I don’t distract myself with anything, I will start crying and will never be able to stop. I did promise her. I promised her everything and anything. I lived to see her happy. I loved her smile and her dimples. I love everything about her, and it hurts me to see her cry. It was my fault I died. It was suicide. I remember standing on the ledge of the roof of an abandoned parking garage. I was going to jump, until I felt my phone buzz and I saw it was from Kelsey. “Hey, I know this is random. But I just wanted to remind you that I’m in love with you and I hope you’re having a good day. Bye babe.” It made time stop and I remembered my promises to her. I was about to step down and go straight to her house to hug her, but a huge gust of wind came out of nowhere. I lost my balance and fell to my death. Now I’m here. If I hadn’t been so dumb as to climb up there, I wouldn’t be dead. She wouldn’t be crying. I hate myself. What kind of boyfriend lets his girlfriend cry like this? I’m going to fulfill my promises to her. I have to. I will find a way. No matter what I have to do. Chapter 4 After almost an hour of listening to Kelsey sob, she stands up and looks at herself in the mirror again. She carefully wipes the tears from her cheeks then takes toilet paper and dabs it around her eyes. She pinches her eyelashes to get rid of the tears from them then attempts to spread them because they were stuck together from so much crying. She then pinches her cheeks until they’re pink then tries to fake a smile. You can still tell that she is sad if you look at her just a little too long. While her smile may look happy, her green eyes show too much emotion and you can clearly see the heartbeat in them if you look close enough. Her eyes also turn a brighter shade of green when she cries. Odd, but beautiful. She quickly walks out of the bathroom and goes to her kitchen to get a water. I guess crying that much would make you dehydrated. “Kelsey,” I hear a deep voice yell from the back of her small apartment. Kelsey sighs, “what do you want, Chris,” she yells back. Chris is her older brother. He’s four years older than Kelsey, making him twenty-two. “Get me a brownie,” he shouts. “Lazy ass brother,” Kelsey mumbles to herself as she gets the brownie and brings it to her brother. “Where’s mom and dad,” he asks instead of thanking her. “Dad’s at work and mom when to bring Shane to his friends house.” Shane is her younger brother. He’s thirteen, five years younger than Kelsey. “Cool,” is all her brother responds with as he nods to the door, hinting her to leave. “When are you going back to University,” She asks, ignoring his request for her to leave. “Two weeks.” “Cool,” and with that, she walks back into her room. She sits on her bed and just stares up at the ceiling for a few hours. I wonder what she’s thinking. Eventually, her parents and younger brother get home. She ignores them and just lays in bed. After almost three hours of her just laying there, she snaps out of it and checks her phone. It’s 11:36 p.m. “Shit! I have school tomorrow!” She grabs some shorts and an oversized shirt out of her closet and goes to the bathroom. I don’t go in this time because she’s probably changing. After a couple of minutes, she walks out in the clothes she brought in and her hair is in a messy bun. She turns off the light in her room and gets under her covers. She puts her phone on “do not disturb” and sets it down on a table next to her bed then turns on her side. I hear her quiet sobs. I turn away because it’s all I can do. I sit in the corner of her room listening to her crying. After five minutes or so, she stops so I assume she’s asleep. All of a sudden her room dissolves around me and I’m back in hell. “Here’s what’s about to happen, you get to be in her dreams. In those, she can see you. However, we can easily take this privilege away from you if you mention anything about her dreaming, anything about hell, anything about your death, and/or anything about what you’ve seen her go through, understand,” a demonic voice says to me. “Fine.” At least she can see me. A contract appears in front of me. I read it and it just says the same thing the voice had just told me. A black pen appeared in my hand so I sign the contact. Everything dissolves around me again and I’m at a zoo.