#and then there's this mysterious shopkeeper we saw in a mysterious shared dream

[blujayonthewing]

nobody:

me: [suddenly remembers that one of the only things I know about the new character joining nyssa's party is that he has a book titled 'Wit's End' that's actually hollowed out and has a knife inside] oouuughhghhh my FRIENDS are SO COOL,

[noviceaoiryusei]

Pia Movie Special 2020 Winter Close Up Feature : Suezawa Seiya

Entertainment interview

SUEZAWA SEIYA

"I want myself to grow as Franz"

From Kansai Johnny's Jr. unit Ae! group, Suezawa Seiya challenged roudugeki (reading theater) in his first solo starring.

While spreading an active place, even he, himself is most likely to be one of the audiences.

Leader of the group cut the challenge to his first solo stage

Formed in February 2019 which already has their own solo tour is a 6-man popular unit of Kansai Johnny's Jr. called Ae! group; it's Ae! group's member Suezawa Seiya. The stage performance "Bokura no Ae! group tte imasunen" which had a stage debut in Tokyo.

First of all, he was starring in the stage alone. The stage to be commemorated is the leading theather entitled "Kiosk". At first, "I was surprised, I thought it's a prank" it's surprisingly what I said. I heard about the work on stage from the manager but from there, I haven't heard anymore after that. I had no choice but to wonder what is it about. I was surprised because it was a starring (role).

First, I talked with my parents then, I talked about work with (Hamanaka) Bunichi-kun. When I called him and reported it, he said "really? that's great! do your best!". When I told it with the members, they said "congratulations!". Masakado (Yoshinori) jokingly said "lead role?" I've heard about it. Since it's really a lead role he said, "isn't it the opposite?". (laughs) (Fukumoto) Taisei said "I felt like crying", because of you, I have a reason to cry. (laughs) Richa (Kusama Richard Keita) was also pleased after a long time. Me and everyone was in high spirits, I'm really happy.

In the reading theater stage format which became the foothold to a full-pledged stage, since I've been working on a number of straight plays and musicals.

In the current stage performance, I haven't talked with Ishimaru-san yet. I don't know what kind of type it is so, I haven't clearly understood it. I think roudugeki (reader's theater) is the first challenge, I thought that there are many things that I need to know after I started practicing. Even if it says roudugeki (reader's theater), it is how much you use it while using your body. It's anxious and also fun, that's what I think.

The original work is by Robert Seethaler, an Austrian writer. It's a youth novel that's adapted into a film in Germany, I saw it as a reading theater (roudugeki). Suezawa plays the role of Franz who became an apprentice in a koisk when he was 17, the setting is drawn back in Vienna at 1937. He grew up surrounded by nature and came to visit Vienna. His mother's old friend is the kiosk's shopkeeper, the psychoanalysis founder, Sigmund Freud. He (Franz) fell in love with a mysterious girl.

It is a work depicting the youth during the time of Hitler's administration so, there was some feelings that comes in the end. There are lots of things that resonates the feeling, including the growth of Franz that will surely make you cry. Franz went through a lot of encounters during the time of the turmoil, learn various things from other people and becoming an adult. Franz's mother felt his growth thru their exchange of letters. I thought it's a story that is easy to get in touch with the nature while reading (it). Reading the script, I honestly felt that roudugeki (reader's theater) will be a challenge that I need to express firmly in narrating it to the audience. Vienna isn't particularly known in the image of music, from now on, I would like to know everything.

(He is) Currently 25 years old. The previous stage experience and the group's oldest (member), it's like his taste is like the youngest. It seems that the fluctuation of the 17 year old youth is delicately expressed.

Even now, there are a few roles from the actual age. (In a performance) Starring Bunichi-kun, I played a role of a 10 year old (boy). I'll try to challenge (myself) and play much younger roles as possible, I thought I need to do it well. For Franz's character, I had an impression of a simple, pure young man who came from the countryside. If you think about your own character, you need to remember that it's necessary to play it a lot purely is what I've thought. (laughs) It's not that I'm not pure but, I want to remember the feeling when I was still young. I want to improve myself with Franz.

Starring from behind his seniors

Co-starring with seniors and juniors from Johnny's office, it's the first challenge to be in a stage play without his fellow. In that sense, is there a sense of pressure and nervousness?

That's right. Because until now there's Bunichi-kun and Yara (Tomoyuki)-kun....... Of course there is pressure but, I don't think to much of it. "It's okay if you do not have to be aware that you're starring", I have received these words from my co-actor Ichiro Maki-san. It's the lead role but, of course I want to have a feeling that I can share with everyone. Ichiro-san said "I thought that I'm (your) real mother" since I've also said it (to her), I hope that I can consult with her again. From the previous experience, I wonder if each person's position as the lead character is different. Yara-kun liven up everyone with a friendly atmosphere. Bunichi-kun is a shy person so, he isn't the type who's lively but he creates the mood of the place and someone who you can be relied on. What they have in common is that they don't make others feel uneasy, I want to emulate it. Anyway, both of us don't show everyone that a lot.

I have gained a career not only in musicals but also in straight play. It says that in which you feel the charm of the stage while gaining experience is when you can say "it's a living place".

It's fun because there's no exact same performance. In every curtain call you'll feel a sense of achievement when you hear the audiences clapping. You'll absolutely don't get tired performing for each and every person. I'm still lacking in my ability. Yara-kun and Bunichi-kun have trained me and I feel that I'm changing little by little. When I went out on an external stage, I was rather negative but, both of them changed me conciousness. After I've changed my way of thinking into positive, the stress got reduced and the way I went to practice had changed.

He talks about stress "I thought it's because I can't do things". Someone said "winning is better when you're having fun".

Of course there are lots of things we can't do yet but now, having fun is much better. It became decisive. Before the first day of "Skellig", Bunichi-kun left me a phrase "it's better to throw away (that) pride". He said with a serious face "because of that, this stage play will not succeed". I might probably ashamed of myself, I think I didn't tell everything. Even from the practice you can feel Bunichi-kun's compassion. In front of everyone, he let me do something that when I'll be able to pull it out, I'll be able to go out.

This time it's the reading theater, it's supposed to be a performance using a loud voice and shows the attractiveness of one's individuality at the end.

Because of a loud voice, I want to make a song with the high tone portion but I'm anxious whether this voice will be on the reading performances. (laughs) Should I drop the key (pitch) or is it good to change the setting into Franz's? I thought it'll be different in the way of how you'll express it such as irregularity and the way you'll say it. Also, everyone start after the beginning of the practice. Now it's exciting and feeling nervous, it evenly matches the (current) status in the case of musical, straight play and this time roudugeki (reading theather). I want to try different genres so this time, I want to learn a lot!

I'm touched everytime I watch my favorite musical movie

(We'll) Transfer to the topic of his favorite movie when the title "Les Miserables" (2012) was mentioned.

I really love it! I have watched it at the cinema. I even bought the DVD and watch it repeatedly and still get touched everytime (I watched it). Everyone in the cast is singing on the spot, isn't it great!? In that sense, I've watch the stage play and even the pictures emits impact, I feel overwhelmed. Hugh Jackman is also starring in "The Greatest Showman" (2017) wherein I'm also moved (in the performance) so, I think I like musicals. If there would be a chance, I want to try starring in a musical movie someday.

The leading work of Fujiwara Tatsuya is being pulled in Japanese Movies

A splendid actor can be everyone but I think it's great to be a completely different person for each work. I felt attracted that only Fujiwara-san has that kind of voice and acting. About Ninagawa Yukio-san's stage play, I read in an interview that you should learn how to speak even if your voice is muted. I still thought that it's a difficult experience. It's hard to choose what's my favorite among his works, I've read the original (work) so I couldn't forget Death Note (2006). About the image, I've read the manga and Fujiwara-san has a great impact.

As I have been active in stage plays, I'm still inexperienced when it comes to drama, movie and video but I'm interested so if I'll be offered a work I'll immediately reply "I'm eager to do it!". One of my big dreams was to work together with my admired senior, Kimura Takuya-san.

My mother has been a fan for a long time and so it became my admiration. I think I'll be greatfully devoted.

Next spring they'll broadcast "Kyojo" (CX/20) starring Kimura Takuya. Is there a jealousy with Naniwa Danshi's Nishihata Daigo......?

I immediately contacted Daigo! I said "congratulations" and he also talked about me. (laughs) Even though (he) saw Kimura-san during Johnny (Kitagawa)-san's farewell party, Daigo's sly. (laughs) He had also co-starred with his admired (senior), Ninomiya (Kazunari)-kun. I'm thinking that I'll do my best so that someday I can be his co-star. If I can be his co-star, any role would be fine! I'll be glad to be in the same work but if possible, it would be great if we'll be on the same scene together even just for a moment. He's so cool in "Grand Mason Tokyo" (TBS/2019).

For the group, I want to be active as an actor

From now on, my dream is to expand the role that I want to play.

I'm watching various works with roles that are crazy and psychopath. I want to do it for quite some time now, it looks difficult but it's interesting. It's a dark role because there isn't much dark role on myself so, I think I'm just attracted to such characters.

Nishihata Daigo is the first, from the same (group) Naniwa Danshi, Michieda Shunsuke and Nagao Kento had appeared in drama and movies. Also from Ae! group, Masakado had appeared in the drama "Koi no Yamai to Yarougumi" (BS Fuji terebi/2019) expanding the places were they're active, it seems to be a good motivation.

Takahashi Kyohei (Naniwa Danshi) had appeared in "24 Jikan Terebi" drama entitled "Kizuna no Pedal" (NTV/2019). He's good, I thought that "I won't loose". Ae! group still hasn't explored the field of drama and movies so, I want to continue further. Also, all active activities as an actor will be an opportunity (for people) to get interested in the group, I think it's important. (In) My group, Richard is strong when it comes to variety and also because every member is individualy strong. I want to increase the number of entrances for people to know about (our) group in different genres. That's for the group, I believe it will also be for our own.

[ardentmuse]

Perchance a Parchment (George Weasley x Reader) - Part 4

Harry Potter - George Weasley x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 3.7k

Summary: George agrees to meet his dream girl... but she may not be dreaming of him, at least not anymore.  

Series Masterlist // Masterlist

A/N: Sorry for the delay. Life happens sometimes. :) Love you all! 

“So let me get this straight,” Fred said, tossing back the rest of his beer and slamming the bottle down on the table. He rested his elbows on his knees and eyed his brother with intensity. “You’ve been sending love letters--”

“I wouldn’t call them love letters.”

“Love letters,” Fred emphasized. “Love letters multiple times a day for weeks to a woman you’ve never met but who sounds perfect for you, after years of never being interested in a single woman who’s come your way, and now she wants to meet you and you are just now thinking it is a good time to tell me?”

George was looking at the palm of his hands, still holding your latest letter, Want to meet?, the simplest note in that adorable pen that had his heart completely constricted.The hand that moved so fluidly to create those letters was attached to the body of a woman whose mind had already captured his imagination. A dreamer, a lover, a thinker, a hopeful soul, a soul so much fit for his own. Each word you had shared was easy and each idea novel and intriguing. He spent his nights this past week fantasizing about the face smiling upon reading his words; a bright smile that pulled at one side, soft, warm skin, and eyes that twinkled in mischief much like his own. When he’d try to place details within, he’d occasionally recall the specifics of that cute shopkeeper down the road, but honestly that was all he had to work with as far as pretty young woman who’d captured his eye in recent years.

But thinking of the book store owner was of no use. She hated him now. And if she didn’t yet, she sure was about to.

Bill chimed up, interrupting George from his all-consuming thoughts.

“Of course he didn’t tell you. He needs someone to be thoughtful about this.”

Bill offered George a smile before taking a seat.

“You have to go, George. You have to see what this is, even if just to remind yourself that it is worth putting yourself out there. Even if there isn’t a single spark in person, you’ll have tried.”

George crumpled the note a little in his hands, “But what if she’s nothing like I imagine her? What if this is all just some big joke and I’m going to find Lee sitting at some nice steakhouse laughing his ass off about me bearing my heart to some stranger via owlpost.”

Bill sighed and locked eyes with Fred. Fred only shrugged, confirming that indeed George had been like this since the letter arrived.

Bill rotated his chair to face George fully.

“Can I confess something to you?”

George looked up from his hands to meet his older brother’s gaze. He was earnest, almost apologetic in his expression.

“Sure, shoot.”

“When I first met Fleur,” Bill began, “I felt that connection, the kind you’ve been describing, immediately. But she was so young still and culturally we were from completely different worlds. It just seemed so unbelievable that whatever was between us could become something real. But one day she simply walked into my office and said,” he coughed as he prepared to mimic his wife’s accent, “‘William Weasley, ‘ou are taking me on a date zis Saturday and I won’t hear another word against it.’ And she didn’t even wait for me to respond. She just turned on her heels and left. Once that door shut behind her, I knew that moment I had found the woman I’d marry someday.”

Bill paused, swirling his beer a little before taking another swig. He smiled at his brother as he played with his wedding band and finished, “She put herself out there. She was braver than I was ever willing to be about us. I know you, George. You are brave and bold and brash, just like me. And you need a woman who will be, too. She’s putting herself out there. She’s being brave. All you have to do is say yes.”

George looked down at the crinkled note in his palm, those three words that had caused him so much anxiety since your bird had landed on his window sill late in the night. What he had seen before as a ton of pressure he now saw for what it was, an act of pure courage. And his response to your boldness, to you risking your pride and self-esteem to see what might be, was cowardice.

George unfolded the paper, smoothing out the corners as he stood.

“I think I need to go pen a letter now,” he said with a swallow. “And Bill, thanks.”

And he immediately fled for his study.

“Hey,” Fred called, standing from the couch, “Do you not want to hear my advice.”

George chuckled, “Think I’m good, mate,” as he doubled his stride.

Fred slumped back down against the couch before looking at Bill with real fire.

“Think he’s going to make a fool of himself?”

Bill took a moment to think as he finished his beer.

“Big time.” And then he paused and added, “She’s gonna love it.”

You name the time and place. I’ll be there.

Rhubarb

You had just finished up afternoon story time when the latest letter arrived. It was simple and to the point, something new from your mystery man. But you did respect that he was giving you control, allowing you to find an option that made you feel safe and comfortable.

The smile was still plastered on your face when you heard the door chime and in walk a greasy looking man in a well-cut suit accompanied by two men in overalls carrying clipboards. You only heard the tale end of what he was saying.

“... And Mr. Weasley was very specific. These shelves need to be divided with thick wood and glass. Ingredients cannot contaminate each other. In the front, he’s requested…”

You were seeing red as the man moved through your shop like he owned the place, pointing at your fixtures and shaking his head. You marched over before you could even process.

“May I help you?” you said, your voice turning sickly sweet, all venom to anyone who took the time to read your expression. He was not one of those men.

“Ah, Ms. L/N, I was told you would not be on the premises today.”

“As this is my store, and we are open today, I am uncertain as to where else you expected me to be,” you spat as you crossed your arms.

He at least had the good sense to see a little embarrassed.

“Well, um, then let me introduce myself, I’m Thaddeus Hayes. I work real estate for these parts. I was told today would be a good day to bring my contractors around to plan the renovations for the space once you have vacated but I see now I was misinformed.”

You were fuming now, rage tightening all the muscles of your neck.

You began, trying to keep your voice cool but failing miserably, “It seems, sir, that you have been misinformed about a number of things, the first of which is the certainty that I am vacating this space at all.”

He laughed, “Given the empty state of this place at the moment, I think your landlord was right in informing myself and my clients that you would be gone by the end of the month.”

You bit your lip, not wanting to confirm or deny anything. But you didn’t need to. He knew he was right.

You felt a calming hand on your shoulder. Patty, who had been working in the back office, must have heard the commotion and come to investigate.

“Do you intend to make a purchase, sir?” she said, her hand tightening on your shoulder to avoid raising her tone as well.

“No, no,” Thaddeus said with a mock smile, “I see I’ve come at a bad time.” He turned with a swish of his coat tails and made for the door. As he reached for the handle, he said to you with a smile, “If you need to find a new place, a smaller, more price-appropriate place, I do have a few connections with storefronts in Knockturn, my dear. Don’t hesitate to give me a call.”

You scoffed and were about to shout out an explicative when Patty stops you. Her grip was white-knuckled upon your arm.

As the door was closing, you heard Hayes say to his companions, “At least that little preview should give you enough to talk to the Weasley’s and begin....”

Patty’s voice was like air, “Did he just say Weasleys?”

You slammed for fist into the counter, turning out of your friend’s hold. Your knuckles throbbed with the impact, but it didn’t stop you from doing it again.

“I knew it! Those-- I knew.”

You lifted your arm to hit the counter one more time but Patty restrained you. She cooed softly in your ear, pulling you down into the comfy chair in which you took your morning coffee. Patty kneeled at your feet and led you to breath more steadily.

“This doesn’t change anything,” she finally said after a moment.

And she was right. What did it matter if it was George Weasley or George Harrison who was buying your store out from under you. You still didn’t have the money to keep it open either way.

And then your heart filled the void. You were attracted to the man, hoped maybe a spark might be… you shut the thoughts down before they could continue. You were already angry with yourself. No need for more punishment.

“Rhubarb wants to meet,” you said, trying to redirect yourself to something more pleasant. Patty lit up with a smile.

“See? Silver linings.”

You laughed. A simple dinner was not a silver lining to losing your livelihood. But it did give you a lift of your spirits.

“Yeah,” you said, “Yeah.”

You had picked the place. Ophelia’s, the cute little Greek cafe on the other side of London, among the muggles where anonymity was guaranteed. The last thing you needed was one of Tom’s co-workers at Gringott’s seeing you on a date with another man… Not that this was a date. It was just a casual meeting. A nice evening with a potential friend.

That’s the lie you told yourself over and over on the journey down here.

You held a book in your hands, your favorite collection of King Arthur’s tales. The same one George Weasley had purchased, though you tried to keep that thought away, and you wore a white blouse, each to help Rhubarb find you at your table among the rest of the patrons. You watched the clock, just five more minutes until he would arrive.

Five more minutes until you would see the face behind those beautiful words. Five more minutes until you could tell someone about what was going on in your life and hear a supportive, “Oh, darling, I’m so sorry.” Five minutes until you’d laugh for the first time today. Just five minutes.

George stood outside pacing. He didn’t want to be early but he was just so nervous. He had called in reinforcements in the form of Bill and Fred.

“Calm down, you’re even making me nervous!” Fred said, grabbing his brother by the arms.

George was wearing his favorite jacket, a woolen knit with elbow patches that pulled out the caramel of his eyes. Some may find it stuffy but to George, it was classic and cozy and very him.

He took a steadying breath and met his twin’s gaze.

“You’re on the pitch. You’re pumped. You’re club arm is strong. You are ready for anything to be thrown at you. You are a fighter, a champion, and you have nothing to fear from anyone ever, got it?”

George laughed, “That’s the same speech I gave you before that match against that Ravenclaw girl you’d been snogging sixth year, right?”

“Pretty much.”

George laughed again but it quickly morphed into a shaky breath. This time Bill piped up in support.

“How about I pop a head in and take a look? At least let you know what you’re getting into?”

George only nodded, but when Bill was almost at the entrance he said, “Large book, white blouse.” Bill nodded in confirmation before entering.

George leaned himself back against the brick facade, so confused as to why he was feeling this tightness. He wasn’t a man who lacked confidence. He was the life of the party, a laugh and a half in his hay-day. But the war and the realities of life had made him a bit more reserved, especially with matters of the heart. Was he really ready for this, to open himself up to another person the way Ginny, Ron, and Bill had? Was he cut out for that kind of love?

After a moment, the door opened and George turned to see a giant smile on Bill’s face.

“That bad?” George asked. Bill just laughed.

“She’s gorgeous, George. Exactly your type. Definitely has that sexy librarian thing going on that you love and she smiled at me and I got to say, you won’t be disappointed.”

“Let me see,” Fred said, making for the window of the door himself.

“Though I feel like I’ve seen her before…” Bill mumbled before shaking his head. He picked up his tone, “Seriously, go get your girl, brother.”

“Um, guys,” Fred said from the door with a grimace on his face.

“You can’t tell me you think she’s ugly,” Bill teased before seeing how serious Fred’s face was.

“Oh, Merlin no. She’s stunning. But I also thought she was stunning when we saw her last week. I distinctly remember Georgie here swooning.”

Last week? Swooning? George’s brain was racing and then all at once his heart sank.

“Oh no,” he whispered.

“Yeah,” was all Fred could say in return.

As George ran to press his face to the window, Bill called out to his brothers, “Care to fill me in?”

But George saw here, the rich inviting eyes and pleasantly happy cheeks, that nose that he just wanted to pinch and those damned kissable lips being pulled between those two front teeth. You were his Cherry. The woman who captured his heart on paper and captured his eyes in person were one in the same. His dream woman before him, waiting for him, but hating him all the same.

He was muttering “no” to himself over and over, pulling his hair through his hands like a crazed man. He couldn’t stop pacing. How could so much go right and wrong all at once? Everything he ever wanted, right there and his if he weren’t such a fool.

“She’s that shopkeeper, the one whose lease we’re taking over,” Fred informed Bill.

George took a breath. Maybe she didn’t hate him as much as he thought. Maybe she understood that business was business. Maybe she wouldn’t be so shocked to see his face. Maybe, just maybe, she had felt what he had when their hands touched over the book the other day.

George took two great big strides before pushing past Fred and into the restaurant. He saw you more clearly now, your nose a little too close to the pages as you read, the fingers of one hand drumming slowly against the wood of the table as you reached forward to take a sip of your water. Your legs were buried under the table cloth and he couldn’t stop his mind from wondering if they were crossed or uncrossed, how they were clothed, and if your shoe was hanging lazily off the tips of your toes.

As if you felt his staring, your eyes snapped from your book to meet his. He thought he saw a softness in your eyes, something akin to affection, but when he smiled at you, you lips turned into a scowl quick like lightning. He felt a vice grip in his stomach.

Still he took his steps forward as you closed the book in front of you and crossed your arms in a full-on defensive.

“Great book you’ve got there.”

You didn’t take the bait. Instead you just tapped the cover and waiting for him to continue.

“Thanks again for my copy. I finished it yesterday and I feel like I have a whole new appreciation for British history and culture now.”

“Good for you,” you said, your voice ice. You took a big gulp of your wine, never breaking eye contact.

George grabbed the back of the chair across from you, hoping you might let him sit, might let him explain, but you raised an eyebrow in challenge and so he thought better of it.

Godric, did you have to be so sexy when you were mad at him? He gripped the chair back hard in an effort to prevent himself from kissing that scowl right off your face, from sliding his tongue across your lips until he turned that huff of yours into a glorious moan.

“Waiting for a date?” he asked, though he knew it was a stupid question.

“As a matter of fact, yes. Or is it that hard to believe I might have one, Weasley? Or are you just that determined to destroy all the good things in my life?”

“Who’s the lucky man?” he asked, unable to stop himself.

He watched the smile pull at your lips as you tried to maintain your anger, “Just a guy I’ve been talking to. But he’s kind and funny and incredibly engaging. And he has a soul, a real deep compassionate heart, unlike you.”

That cut deeper than he expected, hearing you love on him and hate on him simultaneously. He wasn’t sure he would be able to recover.

“Listen, Y/N, we never meant to…”

“Save the speech, Weasley,” you said, dropping your wine glass back down unceremoniously before meeting his eyes again. “I know your type, the kind of guy who gets a little bit of success and lets it all go to his head. The kind of guy who completely forgets what it is like to have something small but meaningful because you’ve been swimming in money for years and years, who values efficiency and production over human interaction. I know you. He’ll, I’m practically married to one of you,” that last sentence had you laughing with glee, though George couldn’t understand why.

“You’re all the same. So don’t try to tell me that if you’d have known it was my shop or if you had seen x, y, or z beforehand, things would be different, because let’s be honest, they wouldn’t. Your business comes first and if us little people drown, so be it. Don’t pretend you have a conscious just because you can now put a face to your destruction, okay? Just let me read in peace.”

George didn’t know what to say. There really was nothing to say. You had him pegged.

The last five years of his life had been just what you said, about expanding his business and counting his money and building an empire that might sustain him in his old age. When they initially started looking into storefronts, offering up absurd sums of money to kick out other tenants, he hadn’t thought about the human effect of all of it. He should have, but he didn’t.

But wasn’t that all the more proof that he needed you? An equalizing factor in his life to help him focus on what really matters? Someone with whom to enjoy the small stuff so the big stuff wouldn’t consume him? He needed love. He needed you. Feisty, honest, thoughtful you to put him in his place. 

And in an effort to try and fix things, he decided to walk away.

With a simple nod to you, he turned and walked out the door, past his brothers and into the alley before aparating to the only place he could think to go, to the Burrow and the mother who raised him to be a better man, the kind who you might look upon with fondness.

Three hours you sat there waiting for Rhubarb but no one ever came, no one but that god-awful Weasley with his deliciously masculine scent and beautiful freckles that cover an insanely punchable nose.

Your face was a mess of tears now. You felt completely stupid. You couldn’t manage a business. You couldn’t manage your love life. And now here you were stood up for a date with a complete stranger, one you had your heart fully invested in like a fool.

You hit the buzzer one more time, hoping that maybe your persistence would be enough to get a response.

Just as you were turning to leave, the apartment door opened. Patricia stood before you in her bathrobe and her curls secured in a silk head wrap.

When she saw your face, she opened her arms for a hug.

Once enveloped in your best friend’s hold, you felt a wave of confidence pour through you, the hopeless feeling morphing into a newfound determination.

You were going to see that smirk smacked right off Weasley’s face if it was the last thing you ever did.

“We’re raising that money, Patty. We aren’t going down without a fight.”

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[ikesenhell]

In Check

ALL SHADES OF BLUE, Chapter 4. You can find all other IkeSen works of mine here or become a Patron of mine! NOTES: Thank you so, so, so much to @nyktoon-ikemenlove and @daeva-agas for sharing SO MUCH USEFUL INFORMATION ON KENNYO AND HIS HISTORICAL CONTEXT.

The samurai bowed low before Kennyo, hands and forehead pressed to the dirt. At last he murmured for the man to stand. Despite the formality, the samurai was a stranger to him. He was one of the Ikko-ikki, his followers that he knew would both live and die at his command. That power never sat well with him. He’d left it alone for years.

But now things were different.

“Holy Kennyo,” the samurai began. “I come on behalf of my Lord with an offer of aid.”

“Oh?” Quietly he ladled out rice and offered their visitor a bowl. The fire crackled warm near his toes, the full moon overhead all the other light they needed. The world had a way of making everything seem spectral and eerie in the nighttime--

At least, it did without her.

“My Lord wishes to let you know that, at your command, he and I, among other loyal followers of yours, are willing to rise up in Oshu.” The flame in the man’s eyes was chilling. Kennyo half-wondered if that was what he looked like when thinking of Nobunaga. “We could upset Date Masamune’s lordship and force him to retreat back home. There are far too many of us for him to quell the insurrection effectively. Nobunaga would be left without a powerful ally.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d considered the plan. It would work, and that was the frightening thing. Without the Date forces at his back, Azuchi was far less defended. Even the Takeda-Uesugi alliance (which even now chomped at the bit, ready and willing at a moment’s notice to tear from Kasugayama and descend on the Devil King) posed a danger with Date Masamune. Without him? That was another thing entirely.

Still.

They’d tried simply poisoning Nobunaga in the past. All their tricks had failed. Poisoned needles, arsenic slipped in sake, tainted water--nothing ever seemed to penetrate the unholy man’s barriers. The lines of defense were too strong. But if it had, if it had worked, then oh. Kennyo knew that was the day all his dreams were realized.

But they hadn’t worked. And the Takeda-Uesugi alliance hadn’t yet moved in to allow him advantage and opportunity to manipulate the situation (and Shingen was proving frustratingly difficult to outmaneuver, as always). His options grew few.

But the faces of those farmers blossomed unbidden in his mind. He knew the cost of war. No civilians were left out of that equation. When the fields burned, people starved. When the lords demanded soldiers, husbands and uncles and sons were ripped away to die. When the balance of a region upset, like the spinning of a top in the last rattle of its rotation, bandits and thieves always swarmed to fill the void.

And then there was another factor, one he’d not even considered before, and all at once he cursed the name of Date Masamune. There was her. The Dragon of Oshu was not so blind as to ignore Kennyo’s attachment to their precious chatelaine. As much as he’d ever tried to hide it, no doubt her very survival hung on his actions. Who was to say what the Devil King might order? Date Masamune seemed reasonable enough toward her, but Oda Nobunaga deserved no such grace. If the Ikko-ikki rioted in Oshu, there was the very real possibility she might die for it.

He struggled to tell himself that it was worth it. What was one woman to destroying a devil? What was a single life balanced against the scale Nobunaga himself weighted so heavy with the lives of fallen monks and villagers? She didn’t outnumber that tragedy.

And yet--and yet--his heart kept attributing to her the weight of another thing entirely, something more than human, something more than a calculus in a game, and he couldn’t yet give it up.

“I’ll consider it.” Kennyo realized he’d sat silent far too long. “If the time comes, then I’ll write you and your lord--if you would forgive me enough to do this thing. For now I cannot yet justify risking the innocents of Oshu.”

“Holy Kennyo.” The samurai bowed low once more. “It is only ever an honor to do as you ask.”

For a fleeting moment, the question the Princess asked him rang in his ears: Do you really believe you are Amida Buddha?

He knew the answer and was too afraid to admit it. That night, well after their guest went to sleep and nothing but the night patrols disturbed the silence, he took out a bit of paper and an ink brush and wrote a letter.

---

Masamune tried not to hover. That kind of thing was Hideyoshi’s domain. Even so he kept a watchful eye on their chatelaine--not because he thought she might betray them, but because he cared.

That was strange for him. He cared about plenty of people--Ieyasu, his soldiers, his scouts on the outskirts of Azuchi, Oshu, his late father, the monks who’d educated him in his youth--but no one worried him as much as her. She was as loud and vivacious as he was sometimes, then soft and quiet and solemn in turns. Deep in her was a loneliness he couldn’t quite get a handle on.

That, too, was familiar.

Despite her friendliness with Kennyo, she didn’t display as much attachment in Azuchi. She hovered on the fringes, never a part of any particular room, always a fixture and never a person. Oh, she had her moments. Nobunaga’s nickname for her was appropriate: Fireball. But even at her most sincere, she was contained.

That really, really bothered him.

“Hey. Kitten.” He rapped on her screen one morning. At last she opened it, a row of pins in her mouth and a questioning stare in her eyes. “Wanna come and help me out with something?”

Her sly grin betrayed the joke before she made it. “No.”

“Well, hell.”

“Fine. What is it?”

“Got some shopping to do, and I kind of wanted to commission a new haori from you. I was thinking I’d just escort you down to the market and we’d make an afternoon of it. You’re cooped up in here too much.”

It was so hard to pin down her expression, but eventually her face softened and she nodded. “Alright. Give me a minute.”

Together they descended into the town proper. Most of the women tied their hair up to go out, but she let hers down. He assumed it was to hide the odd shaved part of her head and those thousand sparkling bits of metal in her ears. It didn’t do to stand out in some regards, especially when you were an attractive woman these days. Besides--those things had to be valuable. There was always the chance a bandit might get the wrong idea. Either way he didn’t ask.

They stopped by the vegetable stand first, and he argued with the shopkeeper (an old friend of his) over the price of ginger until he saw she was laughing at him. It warmed him through and through. Afterward they headed to the fabric stall, the merchant smiling and nodding at her as if they’d known each other a thousand years.

“You sure do come here a lot, don’t you, Kitten?”

“Someone has a nasty habit of tearing his kimono,” she snickered, chiding him in a single sentence. “I have to keep stocked on every bolt of blue fabric the surrounding area can find me.”

“I’m not that bad.”

“Are you certain? How many have you dropped off this week?”

He opened his mouth and realized the number exceeded five, and she giggled at the moment of realization in his eyes.

“Alright,” he allowed with a grin. “I keep your hands busy. At least I pay well.”

“Well, there is that.”

He didn’t know all that much about fabric, so he just rested in the cool awning of the stall and watched her. It was as if everything in her softened. Those bright eyes turned to a haze, her hands dancing over the options, her lips pursed as she considered each of them in turn. She didn’t conduct herself like most women. That wasn’t to say that other women were somehow lacking. But her--there was something he couldn’t quite trace about the way she moved, the way she talked, the way her face flashed with every screaming emotion that so many others kept locked away.

Buddha help him. He liked all of that. He liked the little details that made her different. He liked the click of her too-long, too-square black nails and the mystery behind the metal in her ears. He liked how she always had a smart remark. Her glow was contagious even though she tried to hold it back.

“Ready?” She asked, tucking a bolt under her arm. He slid it away and set it on his shoulder.

“Yep. Wanna go to a tea shop? I know one with pretty good dumplings.”

The waiter knew him well enough that they served his usual immediately: two shares of dumplings, some rice balls, and a steaming pot of tea. She took a tentative bite and he’d barely blinked before her half was gone.

“Hell, Kitten. Hungry? Shogetsu doesn’t eat that fast.”

She glowered at him under her eyebrows and he laughed. “It was good. Don’t compare me to your pet.”

“You’re not a pet. That sounds like something Mitsuhide would say.”

“He did say that. He threatened to take me ‘on a walk’.”

“Then I was right.” He spun a rice ball between his chopsticks. “Lemme ask you something.”

“Alright.”

“You’re pretty damn reserved around us. You don’t have to be best friends with us if you don’t want to, but I kind of wanted to check in and see what was going on.”

She didn’t answer him. Instead she refilled his cup, and just by the way she wrestled with the teapot, he knew she’d never used one before--at least not in recent years.

“It’s complicated,” she answered, softer than he’d ever heard her.

“I’m all ears.”

“It’s really complicated,” she clarified. “I don’t know, Masamune. I just don’t feel like I can… open up or something. Not right now. I don’t know.”

What could he even do with this little mystery? He laced his fingers together and just watched her sip her tea. Unbidden, the thought that eventually she might just leave, up and disappear from Azuchi and the region and his life charged into his consciousness, and he wondered if that was why she resisted growing closer. What would that day be like? What would the last thing he’d ever said to her be?

“You know, Kitten,” he started. “Life is there for you to enjoy it.”

“Mmm?”

Their gaze connected and he wondered how many times he’d looked at her without looking at her. Now there was no barrier there. He continued. “Things happen. Stuff is complicated. Tragedy and death and war and famine are almost inevitable. Amida Buddha’s infinite karma might help us in the afterlife, but now? Now is hard. I get it. But the sun shines differently if you’ve resolved that you’re going to let yourself enjoy it. Damn the consequences of later.”

That reached her. He watched her long lashes flutter in surprise, then drop as she inhaled.

“I’ll think about it,” she murmured.

Together they walked back to Azuchi. They’d barely reached the gates before someone hailed them.

“A missive, my lord!”

“Thank you.” Masamune reached out for it. “Who is it for?”

“The lady chatelaine.”

Her? That was strange. Masamune quirked a brow and stepped aside, letting her collect the correspondence herself. “You expecting someone to write you, Kitten?”

“No.” She sounded just as confused as he. “I guess I’ll read it and find out who it’s from later.”

“Right.”

She tucked it into her obi, clearly not giving it a second thought. For his part he had ideas about who it was from and said nothing, telling himself that the pang of irritation was just concern, not jealousy.

[wowawesome117]

How I Make NPCs

I've gotten some questions about my NPC system.

I figured I'd explain and expand on it. Maybe it'll help you make and understand your NPCs with easier to digest chunks of information.

So, if you've read my posts, you've seen this idea. An NPC is:

What they say

What they don't say

What they actively hide

What they say

This is what is on the surface. It can be somethin they literally say, but it's more about what their personality says.

What they don't say

This is what they are just beneath their mask. This is what they think to themselves and seldom share. It's something they might not even be aware.

What they actively hide

This is a secret, sometimes even to the NPC. This is something that they keep hidden on purpose. Whether it's a guilty pleasure, an evil deed, something opposite their character and thus proves some underlying truth about them, whatever.

What do these three things do?

They create depth, even if it's just an artificial depth. The appearance of depth is all you need as a DM to act these characters out. To me, giving me a Quirk is nice and can make for a fun character to act, but the quirks don't mean anything. Looking at these three things lets me imagine what kind of person this is. Are they nervous? Are they hiding a secret? Are they naive?

It also creates Story. Each character now has a Beginning, Middle, and End. When you meet them, you will know the surface. Through any amount of care, you will learn what they don't say. And with closeness and drama you will find what they hide. This lets players get close to characters in a tangible way.

More than both of those, it's very easy to read. I'm working on a town right now and I've done this with all 24 of the inhabitants/shopkeepers. Doing it has breathed life into the town and has created relationships, future plot hooks. But now I can just glance at a list of the NPCs and I'm ready to run them. No blocks of text, no paragraphs, just a clean series of bullet points.

Your NPCs Tell a Greater Story

I'm a firm believer in World Building with purpose. We're not writing novels (at least not for our players). The things we create for the game need to be gameable. It's always bugged me when people make things for their games that have no mechanical use for a game. Fluff is great, but fluff is only called fluff because it's nothing beyond word art.

When you make something you're saying something about your world. Random encounter tables, plot hooks, towns, classes, backgrounds. Each thing is like a note in the story of your world. NPCs are no different. The NPCs of a region/town/village tell the story of that area. They are products of that area. If you want to portray a savage land, your NPCs will tell that story through who they are.

So instead of just having a block of text, you can use this list to tell your story. You can use it to generate story that is natural to this region of the world. A region of politics and backstabbing will have characters with secrets and a phony surface level. While a region of warriors will have blunt surface levels and might actively hide scars from previous battles, both mental and physical ones.

These will generate story in your world because anything your players interacts with, anything they are interested in, will create story. If they notice this politician they might want to take him down, and the more they learn about him the more desperate their plans grow. If they run into one of these warriors, maybe they grow really fond of them and will take up any quest to ease their pain.

NPC + NPC interactions

Most characters will talk to each other on just the surface level. But if characters know each other, there will be subtext to the conversation. It will sound like the surface level, but they'll actually be talking about the second tier. And if they bring up what the other is actively hiding, or are going after it like it's treasure, that creates tension, conflict.

To make these conflicts/relationships stronger, put secrets that relate to other NPCs. These can be good secrets, secret lovers, a shared history, something dark, a traumatic experience, or whatever. I believe this will naturally come when building a village or an organization, or even just a rival adventuring party. It will bring a depth to the group and these secrets can be used as plot hooks in adventures.

Further Expansion

This idea can be used to describe more than NPCs. Organizations, locales, or even cities themselves will follow those three ideals. What the city outwardly presents (what it says), what it doesn't say (what the city is really about), and what it actively hides (either its history, secret government, a tragedy, etc.). Even if it doesn't flesh it out to a point where you feel comfortable running this location, it is a good starting point for further ideas.

How do you do it?

There's no singular formula to follow. Each NPC will have something different. But you can use the Ideals and Bonds from the 5e Player's Handbook, in the Background's sections, to create the first tier, what the NPC's say. These ideals can be something they outwardly represent, and phrasing them as an actual sentence that can be said can give you ideas as to how this person talks.

For the "what they don't say" bit, you can look at the Flaws from the Backgrounds, or you can pick a quirk and work backwords. Someone's second tier could simpley be "doesn't say they have a stutter". The act alone of hiding a tick or a quirk creates some mystery. It creates character. They have this thing about them, and they try not to draw attention to it OR they don't even know they have it. Either option is interesting and can be explored with a character.

Then when it comes to creating what they actively hide, I think you should look towards the Theme of the region they're from. Look to that and think about what's been mentioned above (secrets, history, trauma, madness, love, dreams, hopes, fears).

Using this an Example NPC could be

Jacob

Says he's always going to fight for his friends

Doesn't say that he can't read common

Actively hides that he dreams of writing a novel

This is a character I could see the party being really fond of. He fights on the battlefield, squints blankly at signs and other forms of writing, getting himself tangeled into comedic situations at times, and at night he takes last watch so he can sit by the fire and try to write the alphabet.

You probably saw something similar but entirely your own, rooted in your world instead of mine.

Tumblr

You know what also helps me? And I think so far I'm alone in this, but I browse image boards constantly. I'm always saving images of people and places and things. I keep them on my computer so I can look at them when I'm stumped. This is how I make most of my NPCs. I see an image of a person that intrigues me and I make a story about them.

There's nothing wrong with taking images and making NPCs from them. A picture is worth a thousand words, right? With one image and the three tiers filled out, you should be able to run that NPC without any questions.

Okay, I've talked too much. My head hurts and I need to actually pay attention to my work before my boss realizes I'm just on reddit.

MAKE NPCS! Each and every one of you can contribute. Right now. Takes a minute. Write it, link a picture if you want, and that way other people can steal them and use them in their game.

Go on then.

[fanfic-collection]

In a Name: Ch 3

The formatting is weird so I’ll put the read more here.

There was no note. You looked around uncertainly before making your way back to the front door. It was quite clear that no one was around. You pursed your lips uncertainly. At long last, you sighed and returned inside. There was no way Loki would have spent such an exuberant amount on you today. And surely he couldn’t have returned to the shop, purchased it, and managed to arrive back at your home without you noticing. Perhaps it was one of the men at the tavern who you had recently turned down their advances. Even so, you couldn’t bring yourself to look a gift horse in the mouth and quickly set about reading it. - - Loki sighed heavily as he reentered the palace. He had already left his horse to be tended to. Walking along the relatively deserted halls, he stumbled slightly and leaned against the wall for support. Sending a double, managing to unlace your boots, and then riding back at full speed so his absence would not be so quickly noticed by Thor had exhausted him. He wanted nothing more than to curl up with a good book and read beside his fireplace. Loki sighed inwardly as he heard Thor’s familiar boot steps approaching from down the hall. Straightening up, Loki turned around and forced a smile. “Hello Thor.” He called, trying to add some enthusiasm to his voice. “Brother,” Thor replied evenly, but with only a slight smile. The smile soon vanished. Loki eyed him warily, pulling away from the wall to mask his clear fatigue. “What’s wrong?” Loki asked, noticing Thor’s disquieted demeanor. “I just spoke with Mother.” Thor began slowly. Loki cringed inwardly, remembering his lie. “She said she knew nothing of your supposed lesson with her today.” “Ah yes, I suppose I must have forgotten that.” Thor glared at him, “So you left our sparring session early, why?” Thor’s expression slowly shifted to hurt and mildly dejected, almost like a neglected puppy. Loki sighed, closing his eyed, and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to think. “Apologies brother, I ordered a book recently and I was hoping it had arrived at the shop.” The lie came to him easily. Thor pulled a face, books never interested him. “Oh. Well why didn’t you say so?” “Because I wasn’t sure if it had actually arrived and I was quite excited for it. I didn’t want to deal with the usual mockery of it if I were to return empty handed and so disappointed.” Loki looked down sadly. Even if part of that was a lie, he was still used to the constant bemused looks people gave him whenever he showed excitement for his seidr or books. Those were generally looked down upon by the warrior society and he knew the pleasure he gleaned from them only brought more disapproval from Odin. Thor laughed, “If it were half as disappointed as I would be for ordering a piece of armour and it not arriving, I understand completely! Perhaps if you attempted to get something of more value, the shopkeeper would not be so lazy.” Loki grit his teeth and smiled thinly. Obviously Thor noticed the absence of a book in his hand. “Of course.” Loki forced a laugh. It briefly occurred to him that you would have not laughed, you would have understood his disappointment. He had clearly seen it in your eyes when you were forced to choose between what you needed and what you wanted. “Come now brother.” Thor clapped Loki on the back. “Let’s go get dinner.” “Fantastic.” Loki muttered. Another hour spent beside Odin, listening to his father lavish praise upon Thor’s abilities in battle. It had started immediately when they returned from Vanaheim. Thor was able to speak of the mighty blows he had struck on the spiders, leaving out the genius and effectiveness of Loki’s strategy. Between the dramatic discussion, Thor did mention Loki’s involvement with the fleeing spiders. That had earned something of an approved nod from Odin. Approval wasn’t quite the word, more of ‘about damn time you were useful.’ Loki’s thoughts returned to your mantra, ‘I must not be weak.’ He thought silently. It occurred to him that you must have learned that from somewhere, perhaps he could ask you at some point. The two arrived at the dining hall. Thor’s seat was on Odin’s left, Frigga was already seated beside Odin, and Loki’s seat was on the other side of Frigga. Frigga raised an eyebrow when she saw her sons enter, wondering what reason Loki had for lying. Just as quickly, she wondered what reason he would give. “Hello, my sons.” She greeted them with a smile. Odin looked over. “Thor, my son!” He beamed at the golden haired prince. Then he glanced at Loki trailing close behind his brother. “Loki.” He nodded. “Loki was off retrieving a book!” Thor announced to their parents with a laugh. Odin scowled but remained silent. Loki clenched his jaw and nodded, flushing at the clear embarrassment that Odin showed of him. “Oh?” Frigga asked. “What book is that?” “Nothing.” Loki muttered, “Just idle nonsense.” Thor and Loki both took their respective seats and prepared for the meal. “Idle nonsense?” Frigga asked once Loki had sat down, she raised her eyebrow. She seemed amused of Loki, but not in a mocking way. Never in a mocking way. She simply enjoyed the words he chose for it. “What nonsense has my youngest son been up to?” Frigga asked with a knowing smile. Loki glanced at her, the corner of his mouth quirking up slightly. “I went to one of the towns, there was a book that I wanted to read. I had heard of the author before and I recently found that they wrote another, I thought I might check there today.” Frigga nodded, “Of course! What book?” “’The Dragon’s Throne’.” “I’m unfamiliar with that one, you’ll have to let me borrow it when you’re finished.” Loki sighed, “It wasn’t at the shop I looked at. The last one had been sold already.” Frigga raised an eyebrow, then offered, “Perhaps you should track down this mysterious reader and find out why they took it.” Loki looked up confused. Frigga chuckled and rolled her eyes good-naturedly, “Perhaps you should see if you can make a friend of a shared interest?” Loki found himself nodding, a genuine smile spreading over his features. “Really? Do you think so?” “Absolutely. Now get eating, I’ll bet you’ve had a long day. And we do have lessons tomorrow, I found another trick that I think you might appreciate.” Loki started the rest of his meal, looking much happier than when he started. - - You stayed reading late into the night, long past Nox had given up trying to get your attention. Eventually you found yourself nodding off as you read. With a heavy sigh, you closed the book and promised yourself that you would finish it tomorrow. Just as the thought crossed your mind, you sighed again, remembering that you should be reading your new potion book. Perhaps during any downtime at the shop tomorrow you would be able to scan through the potion book for important tidbits. You got ready for bed and drifted off to sleep as soon as your head hit the pillow. That night you dreamt of the mysterious dark haired prince, your subconscious wondering just what motive he had for his kindness. You woke up uneasy, the doubt filled dreams still fresh in your mind. - Arriving at the shop later, you managed to help several customers before Nox showed up. “Well?” He demanded as he entered the shop, the door slamming shut behind him. You looked up from the potion book, “Well what?” You replied innocently. “Well what happened with Sif? And more importantly, what happened with the prince? Why didn’t you answer your door last night?” You scowled and set the book down. “Sif tried to apologize.” Nox waited in silence for you to elaborate. When you didn’t, he prompted you with an angry look. “She said she intends to make it up to me somehow, I’ve no idea. I told her to leave…” You mumbled the last bit, looking down. “Apparently I haven’t moved on as much as I’d hoped.” Nox’s face softened, “Don’t beat yourself up too hard.” You glanced up at him and smiled weakly, “I just feel like I should move on somehow.” “Is that why you won’t look into joining the guard?” Your eyes flashed angrily but you didn’t respond. “Sorry, that was uncalled for.” The two of you looked away silently for a time. Finally Nox broke the silence, “I see you got a new book.” You glanced over at the counter where your potion book lay. “Yea, it’s all the latest tricks from the outer realms.” “Any good?” He asked, doing his best to feign interest. “It’s not bad.” Nox chuckled, “I take it that’s a no then.” “It’s useful, but I’d rather be reading for pleasure.” Nox flopped down onto the stool, “I don’t know how you can be so much of a warrior yet like to read. All those tiny symbols clumped together, they hurt my head.” “Yes, that is because your skull is too thick for words to penetrate. I actually have to use my wits.” Nox rolled his eyes and laughed sarcastically, “Very funny.” You walked over and lightly punched his shoulder, “I’m just teasing.” “Alright, well what of the prince, you never answered that question.” You frowned, “He simply wanted to thank me for the anti-venom. It saved his companion’s life.” “That’s it?” You nodded then changed the subject, “Where were you yesterday?” Nox blushed and looked away, “Just the tavern.” You raised an eyebrow, “Were you chasing after that barmaid, Ava, again? She seems nice.” “No, she’s heartless and cruel, merely seeing men for their money.” “She turned you down.” You smirked at Nox. “For that dog, Firsan!” Nox stood up angrily and pressed his hands to his face. “He’s a cur, only wants her for her beauty! He doesn’t see how sweet she is.” “As I recall, just five seconds ago, you were saying the exact same thing as that.” Nox glared at you. After a moment he looked away sheepishly. “Firsan said that if I could best him in a duel, I could have her.” You crossed your arms angrily, “Have her? What of her opinion? A woman is not something you simply own.” Nox gulped, “Well no, of course not, it just,” he trailed off. “Just what?” “That’s how things are.” You threw your hands up angrily, “Only if you let it. That sort of nonsense is why I hate associating with warriors.” “No, I didn’t mean it that way.” You raised an eyebrow again. “I don’t know how I meant it. I’m jealous, I really like her.” “Have you told her?” “Yes, but she said I’m too weak. She wants a real man.” “Is that why you want to join the Einharjar then?” “Somewhat. It would prove that I’m capable, but also, I could leave Pithe. I could see and do things, think of the people we’d meet.” You thought of the princes and their warrior friends. What wonderful things had they seen and done? Although you’d be only at the palace, unless called to battle, there would still be a number of people that you could meet and know there. Finally you sighed, “I’ll think about it.” “Really?” Nox looked up hopefully. “Really. I still don’t know if I’m ready to give up this trade, but to be one of the Einharjar, that could be quite an adventure in itself.” Then you added ruefully, “and I can’t have you going off and getting yourself hurt. Nox threw his arms around you and hugged you tightly. “Oh thank you so much! Thank you.” You nodded then grumbled, “Alright, let go of me.” “Oh, I do have one favor of you though.” - The next afternoon, you found yourself standing outside the tavern with Nox. “What again am I doing for you?” “Just punch him, once, knock him out, or maybe some sense into him. He’s an ass and needs to be put in his place.” Nox replied, looking at you expectantly. “I’d much rather be reading my book, not fighting your battles for you.” You muttered, quite annoyed. Though apparently not too annoyed to refuse showing up at the tavern. “Fiiine. Then just have a drink with me. You can see Firsan in all his glory, being the scoundrel that he is.” “Very well, but you’re buying. C’mon.” - Nox led the way into the tavern, near the back corner so you would have a better view of the whole room. You sat down in the corner, back to the wall, to see without being seen. Nox waved his hand to get the attention of the barmaid, who slowly wound her way to your table, pausing once or twice to check on other customers. “Hey Ava.” Nox greeted her when she finally stopped at your table. Ava was a shorter woman, a little plump, with a brilliantly friendly smile. She had golden hair pulled back in a braid and deep chocolate eyes. All around, a quite attractive girl. You could see the appeal Nox viewed in her. “Hello there Nox.” She replied warmly, then glanced over at you, “And hello to you! You’re the apothecary right?” You inclined your head, “Yep.” “You brewed something excellent recently, helped my mother out of a tight spot, I can’t thank you enough.” You grinned at her, “My pleasure.” “So are you two here together?” She trailed off slowly. “No! No.” Nox answered hastily, suddenly looking terrified. Ava laughed lightly, “My mistake. So what can I get for you?” “Two of your finest ales, please.” “Sure thing!” Ava walked off, stopping again at a few more tables before disappearing into the back room. “She seems sweet.” You remarked lightly. “She sure is.” Nox suddenly straightened up, his whole body going stiff as the tavern door opened. A tall burly man entered. He had deep chestnut hair and fierce blue eyes. His jaw was square and clean shaven. Overall, the man was built like a mule. Flanking him, were a pair of short stocky men with dirty ginger hair and large beards. “Firsan.” Nox muttered under his breath. You frowned, “I didn’t realize he had cronies.” “They join him from time to time. Usually when he seems ready to pick a fight or partake in some wayward activity.” Firsan eyed Ava hungrily as she moved around the room. Your frown deepened. Glancing at the cronies’ belts, you noticed they were both well-armed. Their stature immediately made you think that it would be best to avoid a confrontation with them, not that you would necessarily follow that mental warning. “They look like mercenaries, almost.” You muttered. “They don’t talk much, if at all. I don’t think I’ve heard more than a grunt of so between the pair of them.” Nox looked uneasy, gaze flitting between Ava and Firsan. The leer Firsan gave her had you on edge. Ava finally made her way back to your table, a tankard in each hand. “Here you go!” She beamed. Nox pulled a few coins out and handed them to her, thanking her as he did. You noticed a faint sheen of sweat on her brow, she was clearly uneasy. Just as she turned to leave, you reached out and caught her wrist. It startled her and she almost yelped, noticeably flinching. “Sorry.” You murmured after she calmed down, registering it as you. “Do those three bother you?” You jerked your head to Firsan and the cronies. Ava followed your gaze warily. “Sorry apothecary, but they’re perfectly fine.” You studied her intently, noting the careful stitches on her dress, signs of repeated repair. You felt your stomach churn in disgust. “Why is your dress…?” You began slowly, not wanting to finish the question and risk her embarrassment. Nox glanced at you cautiously, noticing the growing rage in your voice. “I’m awfully clumsy sometimes.” Ava whispered, eyes wide. You noticed her vaguely shaking. After a moment she pulled away, this time you didn’t stop her. “Don’t worry, it’s fine.” “What’s wrong with her dress?” Nox whispered as she walked away. “It’s been torn, repeatedly, and in the same way.” You growled murderously. Your gaze trailed after her as she stopped at Firsan’s table. The unease in her posture as she talked to him could be sensed a mile away. “You’re right. He is a cur. Calling him a dog would be an insult to dogs everywhere.” You growled, still watching as Firsan tried to flirt with Ava. He took every possible opportunity to touch her arm or hand when she was within his reach. Nox swallowed hard, “If you think he’s a criminal, I’m off duty, I can’t exactly do anything.” Pulling your gaze from Ava, you raised your eyebrow at Nox, “Well if I find reason to act, guess I’ll be-” you didn’t have time to finish your sentence when a loud swat sounded across the room. You looked over just in time to see Firsan pulling his hand away from Ava’s rear. She jumped away, cringing as she hurried back to the kitchen. Firsan glared at the men on either side of him until they began to howl with laughter. After a moment, he nodded in satisfaction, a grin spreading across his face as he joined in. In a flash, you were on your feet, ignoring Nox’s protest, and running to Firsan’s side. You grasped him by the collar of his shirt and dragged him to his feet. “Don’t you ever lay a finger on her!” You snarled into his face. The whole room fell silent, watching the altercation. You were vaguely aware of the cronies gripping their weapons under the table. “What if I already did?” Firsan shot back, sneering at you. You pulled your fist back, putting the full force of your body into it and struck him in the face. Years of archery practice, drawing and releasing your bow, left your back and arm muscles wickedly strong. You pulled away just as quickly, prepared for retaliation. Already Firsan’s eye began to swell, puffing up until it closed. He screamed in fury, swinging wildly at the place you had just stood. “This has nothing to do with you, you little quim!” He roared. Firsan lunged forward, angrily throwing punches at the air. Your position amongst the tables made a kick impossible. Settling instead for another punch, you moved to the side and aimed for his kidney. The blow struck home and Firsan stumbled sideways into another table. You glanced over your shoulder as you heard Ava scream behind you. Simultaneously, Nox called your name, turning your attention back to Firsan. He was mid swing, and you were too slow to dodge completely. You moved to the side, preventing the full force from hitting your chest. His fist collided with your shoulder and there was an audible pop as it dislocated. You clenched your jaw shut to stifle your yelp. Stumbling back into the table behind you, you watched the two cronies rise to their feet. “Put her in her place.” Firsan snarled. The two men reached for their weapons as they started to advance at you. “ENOUGH!” A cold voice roared through the room. Everyone froze before looking around. A man with blonde curly hair and sky blue eyes, who had been sitting beside the fire, slowly stood up. He had a regal air about him as he approached you and the other fighters. “Who the hel are you?” Firsan snarled. Even as he spoke, a green glow shimmered over the blonde-haired man. As the last of the glow faded away, a man with shoulder length black hair and piercing emerald eyes stood before you. His green, black, and gold, leather and metal armour, instantly identified him. “I am Loki. Prince of Asgard.” The young prince responded, still glaring at the three men furiously. “Kneel and show the fealty that is expected of you before I have you executed for treason on the spot.” The whole room was instantly silenced, then slowly replaced by the sound of scraping chairs as everyone moved to kneel around him. There was a faint look of pleasure in the prince’s eyes as he took in the respect, if not fear, of the room. He glanced over at you, eyes roving to your shoulder and the pleasure was replaced by concern. Then Loki returned his attention to the three men. “You four,” Loki nodded at you and the three men in turn, “on your feet.” The four of you slowly stood back up, not certain of what the prince was thinking. “You’re coming with me.” He barked. Suddenly Firsan growled, “She was the one who started it! I was just defending myself!” You nodded, pleased that his eye was completely swollen shut. The movement, however, sent a twinge of pain through your shoulder and you instinctively gripped it. Loki raised an eyebrow, “Are you defying me?” He asked Firsan. Firsan opened his mouth to respond but Loki cut him off, “I would gut you like the pig that you are, but the mess would be bothersome to this establishment. Perhaps my seidr will put you in your place.” There was a new stillness that overtook the room, fear creeping amongst everyone. Few people understood the nature of magic – of seidr – so it was widely accepted as something to be feared. Firsan’s confidence seemed to collapse within him. “Now I gave you an order.” Loki turned and began walking towards the door, not looking over his shoulder to see if you were following. Hesitantly, you began walking first, followed by Firsan, and then his two cronies. As the four of you cleared the building, Loki finally turned around. He looked like he was about to speak when the door burst open and Ava appeared, Nox close behind. “My prince, wait!” Ava yelled. Loki eyed her coldly, “What?” “The apothecary, (Y/n), she was just defending me. Please.” Loki nodded curtly, “Leave us.” Ava hesitated, glancing at you apologetically. Finally Nox wrapped his arm around her shoulder and led her back inside. He glanced back at you, trying to apologize with only a look. “Come.” Loki barked again, slowly leading the line down to the town’s jail, and home of the town’s guards. Once inside the building, Loki stopped and spoke quietly to the head guard. You couldn’t hear what they were saying but the guard’s expression led you to believe it wasn’t good. Firsan shifted nervously beside you as his two cronies were disarmed and detained. “Vorn and Gorn Gorthsons, you are wanted for a variety of crimes against the crown.” One of the jailers declared, before listing off a series of crimes. The list was impressively long. The two men were led away and locked in cells, leaving you and Firsan waiting. Loki stood a distance away, watching in silence. “Firsan Fairhair, you are under arrest for disturbance of the peace, assault,” the jailer read off a list of several more, lesser offenses, and then motioned for Firsan to be led away. “Wait!” Firsan yelled as they pushed him towards the cells, “What about her? She fractured me rib!” You smirked at him, then your expression darkened as you thought of Ava. “Nothing compared to what you did to Ava.” “My prince! At least allow my wounds to heal over the knowledge she’s being punished.” Loki’s eyes flashed, his exact expression was hard to read, but his eyes were dark. “Don’t worry your wretched hide,” he hissed, “I’ll see to her myself.” Firsan’s face split into a grin and he nodded, “Thank you, my lord.” “Now get this lout out of my sight.” Loki snarled once more. You felt a cold trickle of fear down your back. There was no sign left of the friendly prince who had purchased you a book or happened upon you in the forest. This man was solely the dark prince whose temper and power was only spoken of in whispers, and he now turned his gaze to you. “You’ll come with me.”

[mantrabay]

Ballroom In The Sky

Short Story

Gazing with his mouth wide open towards a sullen evening sky dotted with jet black clouds

Geoff Wild shakes, weeps and sighs.

He was on his knees on this grass-strewn, unkempt graveyard on the outskirts of his native town.

Two years later and her memory still intrudes in unexpected moments.

“Still so vivid. Is this a nightmare…..some trick of the light or just another passing dream?

The Passing Of A Velvet Heart.”

Geoff's thoughts almost choking him. Streams of emotion flowed down his face like someone who had just seen a tragic film.

Violet or Velvet heart, his pet name for his wife, had died and was still having difficulty coming to terms with it.

The sudden passing of his loved one had left this middle-aged man gaunt, ashen faced and skeletal. Wild’s troubled expression had become a haunted house of uncanny notions and strange secrets waiting to flow from his water-logged eyes. Those circumstances surrounding Violet’s death were never clear.

Was it a death wish or an accidental fall from the edge of the flat roof on their elegant townhouse?

Why would this lady of such excellent balance lose her footing in such a manner?

Death through misadventure was a colourful term used to describe what happens when there is no clear cause or explanation.

“Cherish all those wonderful experiences we had. Whichever one of us dies first.”

Violet once said. Almost as if she had some premonition.

This was six months before she passed away.

A creepy dawning sneaks its way into Geoff’s thoughts.

An endless see-saw of conflicting doubts convulsed him as he dwelt in the cemetery.

Yet Wild fondly recalled that night they first met at the Skyline Ballroom.

The Skyline was a battered tumbledown barn cum venue whose allure was based firmly on its availability.

The interior of this ballroom was hardly more enticing.

The chipped hardwood floor and the dusty pale cream walls with paint flakes that peeled off only confirmed its tenement status. It was known locally as the “Creaking Beam”” due to its ghostly acoustics and flickering lights. Here in this spooky venue Geoff and Violet had their earliest encounter. Wild remembered her radiant smiles and looping glances which he hoped were being cast at him. The ripples of long dark hair, those apple blossom cheeks and of course her angelic aura stood out.

On that night she wore a polka dot ruche dress, amethyst ear pendants and satin moccasins.

An opal choker completes the picture. “Have I the gumption? The courage.

A faint heart etc.” Geoff could hear his heart flutter as he did his tightrope walk toward her. Within seconds he was standing in front of Violet unable to control the tremble in his knees.

“May I dance with you?” Geoff asked.

Velvet heart’s hands formed a lazy arch and her dainty fingers curled inwards while she thought of a response.

“Of course. I would be delighted.” Violet spoke in that pear drop tone which beguiled everybody who met her.

Geoff, the local journalist and writer was in seventh heaven.

They never forgot that enchanting song they first danced to, “Ballroom In The Sky.”

The song was performed by Valerie And The Blue Skies, a rock and jazz band whose name was partially influenced by the venue that gave them their initial break.

They weren’t very big but had a cult following.

Something magical and unearthly happened every time they played that song on stage.

Geoff could see how similar Violet and Valerie were in appearance.

They were mirror images of each other.

It was frightening how easy it was to confuse the two of them in speech, mannerisms and appearance.

The drole, quaint, humour.

Age even.

Valerie was based in a remote enigmatic area outside town when not on tour.

She used to refer to songs as role plays in that banter between numbers.

“You feel as though you are a different person.

Maybe a member of the audience betimes.”

Valerie remarked.

Other than that they, Violet and Valerie, were virtually indistinguishable.

Violet did admit to meeting Valerie casually and for autograph purposes but other than that they had very few interactions with each other or so it appeared on the surface at any rate.

It seemed amazing how “ Ballroom In The Sky” with its airy ascending rock chords and jaunty jazz lines could draw Violet, Valerie and Geoff into a peculiar triangle.

The sudden moody breaks and abrupt silences built a momentary cocoon around the three of them which the rest of the patrons were unaware of.

For the most part or at least superficially.

They, the three characters, weren’t always aware that they were being sucked into a surreal threesome.

As for Valerie’s top sideman....well, he was known as Silent Sam.

He was the only member of this group that had any kind of track record or reputation.

Sam’s blue attire was in keeping with the band’s name. He wore a large trilby hat tipped over his forehead sheltering his pointed face and pencil slim physique.

Basking in the background one saw very little of him.

He, Sam, was short-sighted when it suited and though taciturn was also eccentric.

Practical jokes were his forte and the trademark impish grin was always an afterthought.

Then the usual quiet man mystery.

“Yep ..Yup....or Sure.“

These were the only asides from this oddball sidemen by and large.

He was prone to stumble and fall. Valerie had to indicate where things were to Sam in case he injured himself.

They would have words with each other which no one could quite figure out. Theirs was a sign language of its own complete with slanted squirms and facial signposts.

One often wondered if there was a deeper relationship between Valerie and Sam that others had yet to pick up on.

Leaving that aside, those Blue Skies airs would have been mere fillers without Sam. This lonely freak seemed aloof but by the same token these songs were peculiarly his.

“LOVERS TAKE THE FLOOR

FANCY DANCING WITH THE ONE THAT YOU ADORE

WARM EMBRACES AS YOU HEAR EACH OTHER SIGH

LOVERS TIL WE DIE

WE’LL BE DANCING IN THAT BALLROOM IN THE SKY.”

Every time that song was played Valerie, Violet and Geoff were sharing unwittingly a secret that would baffle even the most senior detective.

The startled looks, embarrassed smiles, were all part of this outlandish ritual.

Wild did try to piece all these recollections together.

“Valerie sure could croon those songs. In a real hypnotic fashion. Everyone in the dancehall was enthralled. People would sway like ice skaters one moment, waltz in a swan-like manner the next and just as often rave in the isles like end of term teenagers. The classics then came thick and fast.”

Geoff whispers to himself in this solitary graveyard.

“JUST A PASSING DREAM...........STILL SO VIVID.......DANCING IN HEAVEN...... KISSES ALL AROUND....MAGIC HAND........A LITTLE BIT BLIND, and of course “BALLROOM IN THE SKY”. Other favourites included “ LET YOUR LOVED ONE KNOW “ ( BEFORE SHE PASSES AWAY ) AND “ IN TWO MINDS.” Geoff and Violet would date and swing religiously to those fantasy songs every Sunday as their courtship blossomed.

“Ballroom In The Sky “ was always the highpoint of the dance with its mesmerising rhythms and choral mantras.

Like magic it weaved its way through every aspect of their relationship. Its spell was like an invisible hand shadowing their each and every move.

This constellation of events occurred in a scenic nineteen seventies spot.

Despite its haunting vistas and backdrop of panoramic hills it resembled a ghost town. Openings were few against an infinite spiral of closing factories, bookstores with half-empty shelves and shopkeepers peering out of doors.

A crushing gloom weighed heavily on this once vibrant resort.

Ten years earlier it was a beacon. “I shudder to think…...A jigsaw puzzle of past events.”

Geoff surveying the cemetery as if he were a stargazing prophet.

He didn’t want to be heard talking to himself.

Such memories could have been taken directly from some movie script. “Yes .. it was a hub that Skyline. Like homeless drifters, the folk who attended lapping up and revelling in the bonhomie of gemstone tunes and spritely pulse rate beats.”

The man Geoff communing with himself.

They were fugitives all of them. Be they fantasists, love seekers or escapees from that heavy-handed void called the dole queue. Suddenly an unusual presence descended without warning.

“What the heavens is? Snap…..ah it's a branch.” Momentary jitters engulfing Wild.

He shook in concert with the overarching colonnade of brown edge green leaf trees astride this burial ground.

An eerie rustling dewdrop tiptoe now caressing Geoff’s ears.

”Up there somewhere Velvet Heart?

Dancing in the heavens? You know that “Ballroom In The Sky.”

Nervous laughter now relief road to that traffic jam of sentiment just about to speed off.

Glued to the spot that macabre sixth sense of Violet hovering above evaporates due to an illusory shaft of late evening sun.

Warm misty comas presently forming a shroud over Wild but he was immune to them.

Geoff’s mental state shifts from doze to daze. Clouds of recall floated past his eyes with the odd fact jolting him out of his stupor.

Wild could no longer hide from the rather bizarre identities Valerie and Velvet Heart possessed. “Oh those comic jibes and piercing glances that they cast at any distance. Some ethereal intrigues were passing through the air in a game of bow and arrows that never missed their target.”

Geoff recalls with forensic clarity.

Poor Silent Sam who was also at a loss would do his usual u-turn into the shadow. He then shook his head in dismay.

Two months before Geoff's and Violet’s parting, an unforgettable incident occurred.

Quite often memory is a lodger which steadfastly refuses to surrender its keys. It was one of those Sunday’s that typified the area Geoff lived in.

Valerie and the Blue Skies were in flying form as the tunes morphed and segued into each other. Valerie and Velvet Heart who were magnets for men knew the music would amplify their appeal.

This tuneful genre helped both aforementioned ladies ooze black magic.

Violet's knowing stare caught Geoff off guard. “Guilty conscience, there Geoff?”

Having fantasies about Valerie.

Focus all those erotic thoughts on me.

As for that eternity ring remember?” Violet’s eyes twinkled as she seized Geoff up and down. Those penetrating peepers knew how to vet a body in a flash.

“Oh no .....not at all.” Geoff with a loop of a smirk.

“Just those mystical melodies working their spell.” He said.

“You came into my life like the early morning sun.... a new dawn.” Wild in poetic mode.

“You honey tongue you. Wait, Geoff our song. Yes, Ballroom.” Violet mutters gingerly.

Valerie nodded towards Sam.

Her expression was a hard to decipher veil and deep code command.

“Get those fingers flying, Sam.”

In a tone identical to Velvet Heart leaving no room for misunderstanding.

Sam didn’t always act immediately on Valerie’s cues.

“Yep.. Yup ...Sure.” Sam’s usual retort.

Eventually.

“Ballroom In The Sky” now strong as ever as it cast its bewitching spell to all sections of this venue.

A medley was now included tonight for the first time.

“SOMEONE FOR EVERYONE” ( Sam looked at Valerie), “A LITTLE BIT BLIND” ( Sam staring vacantly at both Valerie and Violet), “MIND YOUR STEP( Sam winking at Geoff while scrunching the mouth at Violet).

Violet edged toward the stage whilst tenderly clasping Geof. There was a dim-lit silence.

Ballroom started again. Valerie and Violet now singing this tune. An eerie vacuum filled the hall as they sang unaccompanied with Geoff simply awestruck.

A triangular crush of people occurred near the stage.

Valerie handed Violet a letter which Geoff could only peer at. What was in it?

Sam was now talking to Valerie with the usual economy.

In the confusion of memory images are both mist and blur.

“Pst...Pst. It's me. Your Velvet Heart is back to haunt you so I am.“ Violet’s lofty twang.

“What in the name….I can't phantom…..fathom.” Geoff nearly froze. Violet’s voice sounded like a wet whisper stretching over twigs that simultaneously tap against windows.

She pulled back an orchard pattern duvet which was covering Geoff.

“Fell asleep at your favourite film, The Passing Of A Velvet Heart. All those graveyard scenes shot in our small town remember?

Actually Silent Sam wrote the soundtrack for the film and Ballroom. He sings on that one.” Said Violet objectively.

“Incredibly you chose Velvet Heart as your courtship name for me based on the film.

The film was never a huge success at all but did get our area some limited publicity for a while.

Sam earned some extra royalties, though not a king’s ransom from the soundtrack sales.

Valerie and Sam tying the knot next Sunday of all days.

As for that love letter you mumbled about in your sleep.

It’s an invite to their secret wedding.

Very private. As Sam is.

What a time and place he chose for the invitation.

During that ethereal love song which brought us together.” Once more Violet observes.

“Poor Sam’s a little bit blind and confused on occasions.

You know next Sunday and all. Or is he?

I was upstairs on the flat roof today.

Six months ago I fell off it.

You’ve never liked me being up there since.”

Violet continuing.

“Guilty secret must confess. I used to be onstage instead of Valerie.

Well, sometimes.

She was dating you pretending to be me.

We never knew each other that well but it was a dare worked out between us.“

Geoff shouted. “Hoodwinked.”

An incredulous look ripples over Wild’s pale face.

Violet’s eyes now ablaze.

“You never noticed did you? Deep down.”

This dry playful tease surfacing from Violet again.

Geoff was thunderstruck. Violet strolled towards their CD player on the mahogany table near the drawing room corner.

“Think you’ll like this one. Our song with Sam on vocals.” A tranquil Violet stated.

“This is one tune you’ll definitely know.

May I dance with you?”

Geoff smiled. “Of course. I would be delighted.

And relieved!”

Silent Sam’s voice wafts and weaves in his own inimitable shy way a song usually sung by Valerie, his wife to be.

And sometimes Violet, or Velvet Heart.

A number that united three people in the most curious and otherworldly manner!

“Yep….Yup ….Sure.”

As Sam was in the habit of saying!

mantrabay Copyright Protected

All My Own Work

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