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bluepenguinstories · 3 years ago

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Remoras Full Chapter XXXVIII: Four Pomegranate Seeds

Back in elementary school, I had a crush on this girl named Pomme. Being as young as I was, I didn’t know how to act on my feelings. All I knew was that I wanted to be friends with her. But those feelings were uneasy, as well, and it would present itself as a silly mixture of wanting to be near her at all times and also wanting to steer clear of her at all times.

What resulted was us spending time together on the playground, playing and having fun, but also a strong desire to hide and find somewhere else to be whenever the opportunity presented itself. Another thing that would happen was that I would act in ways that I should have known better than to have acted.

One defining instance was in third grade when our class took a field trip to the local beach. Everyone had plenty of fun and splashed others with water, made sandcastles, and little sand angel imprints. Pomme and I, however, sat off away from the others. She too was building something out of sand, but it wasn’t a castle. It didn’t look like anything in particular. Maybe she just wanted to make a pile. I recall trying to help her, adding little sticks to the top.

At one point, she leaned close to me said, “I wanna tell you a secret.” I felt little things in my arms and legs do a funny dance and my heart performed circus tricks.

“Wh...what is it?” I asked, a little bit on the nervous side.

She then pressed her face up to my ear and whispered, “I want to eat sand.”

It wasn’t what I expected to hear, but some part of me still saw it as an opportunity. Opportunity for what, I didn’t know, but I stood up anyway.

“You should go for it! I think if you want to eat sand, and if it makes you happy, then you gotta eat sand!” I felt so proud and I was sure I imagined myself as some kind of superhero.

Next thing I recall, however, was that the teacher dragged a crying Pomme toward me while I played out on the beach.

“Did you tell Pomme to eat sand?” The teacher asked. I looked over to Pomme and she was bawling her eyes out and saying how it tasted gross. I knew I was in trouble. I just nodded my head real slow.

“That’s not right. Proserpina, I have no choice but to write you a referral,�� the teacher’s grim expression sealed my fate, and my perfect record was about to be tainted. “Now, apologize to Pomme.”

I looked over. It was a horrid sight.

“Sorry…” My voice trailed off as I only managed that one word.

“For?” The teacher pressed.

“For telling you to eat sand,” I added on, my words weak and flimsy.

“It’s so grody!” Pomme whined, and she spat out bits of sand from her mouth while at the same time I noticed snot run down her nose.

After that fateful field trip, Pomme and I stopped talking to each other. We avoided each other and word spread that I was some kind of bully that made other kids eat sand. Not a great time to be alive. In the next grade, I didn’t see her at all, and I heard she changed schools. From time to time I would think about what became of her. How I wondered if she ever came around to the taste of sand, or if she ever came up with a different wish. But whatever the case may be, I never knew. Once she was gone, I never saw nor heard from her for the rest of my days.

So what was the point of that recollection? Was it to say that I’m bisexual? No, because that would’ve only taken two words: “I’m bisexual.”

There, I said it. OK. So was it to say that I knew what it was like to act weird over a crush, so I could relate to my former roommate/friend? Well, sure, but the difference back then was that I was a little kid and my former roommate was in her 20s. In other words, I was justified.

Nor was that recollection meant to foreshadow that I would see that childhood friend again. There was no, “or so I thought.” Nothing like that. As much as part of me wishes it were so, I didn’t mind if it never happened. Some friends came and went through our lives and as great of a time as we may have had, they end up not leaving much of an impact. Maybe it was that when we parted with friends as kids, it was during more fun or carefree moments, so it didn’t seem to matter as much. Or it could have been that there were so many other friends to make due to being surrounded by people your own age.

That could have just been me. I wouldn’t say my experiences were universal, but it may have been easier to move on when there were others to flock to when one person left. I wasn’t really sure what the differences were. Things were the same at university, weren’t they? Maybe growing up took from me that carefree innocence or maybe I just found myself a stranger in what was once so familiar to me.

It was hard to say.

Those memories resurfaced, as if washing ashore after being lost at sea. There wasn’t any particular feeling attached other than the feeling of nostalgia. But it wormed its way in, found itself a home and dwelt in my mind rent-free.

“I think we should be apart for a while,” I told my boyfriend, Hades. I loved that cute, redheaded boy with his puffy hair, but it was just the environment.

It wasn’t the memory which spurned such a decision, but there was a general sense of longing.

“You mean like a break up?” He asked.

“No, nothing like that. I just think I need to go back to university. Like, physically. I still want to finish my education and it’s just been hard to do while living here. Please understand.”

“I do,” was what he told me.

Still, I was hesitant as I re-enrolled and opened the door to the dorm room.

“Looks like I’m back,” I muttered to myself and gulped.

In a strange sort of luck, I had been assigned the same room I had before I left – when I thought I had left for good. School had become too much for me as more and more of my time was spent living with Hades at his mom’s house. He exhumed corpses for a living and his mother was a mortician – I helped her out with that, made myself some money in the process. It was a nice, humble sort of living. But maybe hanging around stiff, dead folks wasn’t my cup of tea. Maybe it never was, and I just thought I could do it because I was doing something that my boyfriend loved doing.

Oh, how foolish that was.

The dorm’s setup was just the same as I had left it, as well: rather than multiple rooms, it was all one room and it had a bunk bed at the corner of the wall.

Yet the room was empty, save for the backs that I set upon the floor. Not just an empty in that there wasn’t much there, but that there was an absence present, one I couldn’t quite articulate.

Or maybe I can articulate all too well, I thought as the image of my former roommate came up. How her absence was felt, yet the absences of all those friends who came and went throughout childhood seemed to mean so little. That was another reason I dropped out: after she left, abrupt and without explanation, I was so focused on trying to find her, hoping that she was alive and well and save, that I just couldn’t focus on my studies. Whether it be the environment or the distress, it just wasn’t the right time.

I plopped down, headfirst on the bottom bunk of the bed. Fresh floral scent of clean sheets filled my nostrils and a serene smile forced its way out of me.

“It’s the right time now,” I sighed, a hint of ecstasy, “I’m back home.”

There were still things in my mind which wouldn’t go away. My registration said that I had a roommate already chosen, but didn’t provide a name, and I also didn’t see anyone upon entering.

Heh. Wasn’t it like this when I first met Demetria as well? I was already situated and made comfortable and I thought she must have been my roommate’s younger sister. Man, I feel bad about that. It feels like I was making fun of her height, which I did not mean to do at all. But I’m guessing I felt bad at the time too. Maybe nothing changes after all.

Somehow I had passed out. What brought me out of my sleep was a ticklish sensation as I felt something nudge against me. In a jolting panic, I bolted up and almost hit my head on the ceiling of the top bunk in the process.

“You. You’re in my bed,” groaned a hoarse, yet high-pitched voice. While that may have sounded like a contradiction, it wasn’t: I heard both a bird-like chirp as well as the tone of someone who had just woken up on the wrong side of the bed or went all day during the height of a heatwave without a drop of water.

I turned to see a cloaked girl, on the hinges of five feet tall and with messy blonde hair.

“Demetria?” I asked, surprised, and my voice just a little groggy as well.

“No. Hecate,” my new roommate corrected, “I don’t know who this ‘Demetria’ is, but that’s not me. Now get out of my bed.”

How specific of a denial. Hmm…

“What makes you think this is your bed?” I argued and scowled for good measure.

“I need to sleep closest to the floor so I can have easiest access to my rituals!” She explained, which explained nothing, but for emphasis, she slammed her stick down. “Especially because I have not yet mastered broom riding, so sleeping closer to the ceiling is not recommended at my current level as I could accidentally end up floating out the window in my sleep and falling to my death upon waking up.”

I...had no words. So instead, I tilted my head, let my jaw hang, and one word escaped from me:

“What?”

She sighed and shook her head.

“I can’t believe I have to explain this to you. No, of course I do. Mortals don’t know any better. Very well: I am a witch. Get it now?”

“Like Wicca?” I asked in earnest. Far be it for me to make fun of someone, especially if it was a religious thing.

“No, I’m a creature of dark arts and forbidden sorcery, bound to this earth to curse any who dare cross my path. Animals cower before me, save for this frog I found the other day,” she reached into her cloak and pulled out a small box, opened it up, then a frog hopped out. I freaked out and stood on end away from the bed.

“You released a frog in our dorm!” I was outraged.

“Yes, that frog is my familiar,” she stated all proud with her hands on her hips, “also, my bed now.”

She curled up all snug on the bottom bunk. Somehow I felt as if I had been tricked. Bamboozled, even.

“Come on, really? I was here first!” I whined.

She glared at me. Somewhere around the bed, the frog was still nearby, hopping and croaking about.

“I’ll relent and give you the bottom bunk if you decide to become my apprentice. Deal?”

It really wasn’t worth it, I could have just taken the top. I used to love the top. But there was a nostalgia attached, something which told me it was only right, it was just, to take the bottom bunk.

“Sure. Deal,” I agreed, though it all seemed ridiculous, if I was being honest.

“The contract has been sealed. You are now bound to me,” she stated in what seemed like the lowest voice she could muster.

“I’m what now?”

Rather than answer, she got up and took to the ladder. Once she was on the top bunk, she poked her head down and glared at me.

“Just so you know, if I fall to my death in my sleep, I will curse you and your bloodline for all eternity.”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” I shrugged off the vague (possible) threat. For what it was worth, I didn’t think there was much of a bloodline to curse in the first place. I had no intention of raising any children. Besides, Hades couldn’t have gotten me pregnant even if he wanted to, though he did express some desire to undergo bottom surgery, just not any time soon.

While every cell in my body begged for me to stay in bed, I had other business to attend to and the day was far from over.

“I’m going to the campus bookstore. Gotta pick up stuff for my classes,” I told my roommate.

“Don’t know why you feel the need to tell me that, but okay,” Hecate replied, and it rubbed me the wrong way. If it had been my past roommate, she would have said something much different. Things like:

“I’m proud of you.”

(Okay, that one was a stretch)

“That’s what you’re supposed to do.”

“Good for you.”

Or even, “make sure you keep focused on your studies and actually use your textbooks.”

Even if she could be rude at times, and it always seemed like she was in her own world where nobody else mattered, I really appreciated that she tried to keep me focused and stressed the importance of study.

Once, I recall ranting about relationships and romance, two things which occupied about 75% of my mind at any given time.

“What am I going to do now that Myron dumped me? Man, I thought we were perfect,” I complained just the day after she saw me break down and confide in her.

As usual, her nose was stuck in a book. Knowing her, it was one about fish or other marine creatures.

“Uh...I wasn’t paying attention,” she commented, “I don’t care, but give me the rundown again?”

I sucked in a large amount of air, even coughed up a bit of dust particles (our dorm really needed an air purifier or a better ventilation system), then explained in the most concise way fathomable: “So I was dating this guy named Myron, right? Boring name, but seemed like a cool dude. Then I was walking out from one of my classes and he stops me in the middle of the hall and goes: ‘Sorry, Proserpina, but Athena is just hotter than you, so I’m gonna pursue her instead’ like a total asshole and it seemed so out of left field. I was pretty attached and it left me devastated and now it’s still on my mind and it’s hard to focus on my schoolwork as a result.”

“Mm...that sounds dumb,” Demetria replied in the blunt manner that she could at times, “but did you know that jellyfish are mostly water?”

“Yeah, I think I heard about that one before. Maybe from you,” I answered her question without much thought, then realized that I had distracted myself from the topic at hand, “but anyway! What do you think?”

“Uh...do you really want my advice? Because I don’t have any advice.”

“Yes! Something, please.”

“Okay...uh...so he’s dating Athena now? Also, what are up with these names? Like, do we go to some goddess school or something?”

I waved my hand away.

“No, he’s not, he just wants to.”

“Okay. Maybe try dating Athena, then? That’ll show your ex...guy...thing.”

“No, that sounds too petty. My heart wouldn’t be in it, anyway. I’ve never even spoken to Athena.”

I’m amazed that she didn’t even think to question whether or not I’d be into girls. Maybe I haven’t given her enough credit.

“If you’re so keen on dating, why not that Apollo guy? Is there an Apollo guy? I think there is. I heard he’s into justice and whatnot, so he seems like an upstanding guy. Better than whoever Byron is.”

“Myron,” I corrected, “and I don’t think there’s any Apollo.”

“There isn’t? Then where did I hear the name Apollo Justice before? Oh, never mind. It doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t even be thinking about that stuff. We’re here to learn, not find the love of our lives. Focus on your studies and you’ll be fine,” she advised.

Despite her insistence that school was more important, it was just hard for me to concentrate on what was important. It was always that way, which made it a miracle that I even managed to graduate high school, let alone make it to university.

Besides that, she didn’t know my history, what it was like to live in my head. How could she when she was always in her own? Not to disparage her, but it did appear to be the case, no matter how much she nagged at me to get a good sleep and eat well and study. Yes, it probably seemed like I was the popular girl in high school, or that I dated around, couldn’t ever make up my mind, but that wasn’t quite true.

Friends were hard to come by. Like actual, good, honest friends. Yes, I had a few and we liked to laugh together and stay up late chatting over Facetime. But there wasn’t really much in the way of parties or big get togethers. Maybe I seemed like the type who would take part in those things, yet I just didn’t for whatever reason. It was actually somewhat of a shame when I thought about it, since I was sure I’d enjoy big hangouts or parties. It wasn’t a shyness or a pretentious feeling that I was too good for such things. It was just...I didn’t know what it was.

But it is true that I might have put more of an emphasis on relationships than I needed to. Dating, romance, they were things I longed for, enjoyed, but...well, I was in a happy, loving one now, and so I just didn’t need to think about such things. Friends, too, were a thing of the past, as first there was Demetria, and soon after, I lost contact with the few other friends I had. Hades counted, but…

I wasn’t sure. He didn’t come to mind very often anymore, even while I lived with him. When he did, it was usually made as an excuse to something rather than anything else.

There was little of note at the bookstore, few people were there and the whole thing looked like a ghost town. Even had there been more people, I wouldn’t have paid them much mind. I saw no reason to do so.

When I returned to my dorm room carrying several books in both hands up several flights of stairs, I noticed how quiet everything was.

It was quiet back then, too.

After I set the books down on the floor next to my bags (I’d put them in the closet later) I looked up and saw Hecate fast asleep with her frog on her lap.

“I guess she’s allowed to. She probably had a long day,” I remarked. From that angle, she actually looked peaceful and not an immature child fresh out of high school. Even her frog was still, aside from the little croaks.

Maybe there’s some validity to that frog being a familiar, I thought, but soon dismissed that same thought just as soon as it appeared.

I tried to pull out some of the textbooks and read in bed so as to get a head start on my classes. But it wasn’t long before all the words started to flow together and made less sense the more I went on. My eyelids fluttered, then turned heavy, and soon I passed out with my head in the middle of a textbook. When I awoke, sticky drool had flowed from out of my mouth and ran off until it found a home in the crevice between the two pages of the book.

I jolted up in a panic.

“What? How can this be?! I’ve never drooled before!” I shouted, enough that I woke my witchy roommate by accident.

“Ugh...can you keep it down? Witches require twice the amount of sleep that a normal person does,” she groaned above me.

I’ve got a feeling that’s not true, but I’m not gonna call her out on it.

“Yeah, sorry,” I mumbled, then pulled out a handkerchief and wiped up the drool. Just by that, it was clear that I was off to a terrible restart.

How did Demetria do it? How did she keep her nose in a book at all times and do nothing but study, study, study? It’s driving me mad just thinking about it.

As days passed, I attended classes and did my best to concentrate on what was taught. Without fail, however, something else always seemed to pop into my head and I would end up missing everything that the professor said.

There are so many students here staring with intent. It’s admirable, but how do they manage to do that? Are they all robots programmed to look at whoever’s in the front of the room? Lecture hall? Whatever it be? What if I were to stand up and walk to the front and just start pacing around, would they all look at me as well? That sounds narcissistic. I wouldn’t want them to. It’s just a little thought. For some reason I get the eerie feeling that they would. I wouldn’t even have to say anything.

By the time that whole string of thoughts ceased, I focused back in on what the professor was lecturing about.

“– And that’s how no-till farming works,” he explained. Our professor, Prof. Breeder, was a burly man with a long beard and tight fitting overalls. He spoke in a Southern drawl and it was like he lived everything he taught. At least that was my impression of him. I forgot everything he said about himself during the first day, so I could have been totally wrong and just making assumptions.

Class was soon dismissed without me having learned anything. I headed back off to my dorm room to give myself a break before the next class. I had two classes on Wednesdays, one ended right at noon, and the other started at 2 PM. Which gave me a two hour break to wind down and prepare.

As soon as I opened the door to my dorm, I was paralyzed in fear.

“What. Is. Going. On?” I stammered out the words.

There, seated in the middle of the floor, was Hecate, with a large black ceramic pot. She had a large ladle in her hand and seemed to be stirring something. I looked below the pot to see a portable hot plate.

“Hi. I’m brewing potions,” she stated without looking up, too focused on her concoction. I peered over to see a brownish tinged liquid and little potato and carrot pieces. Steam billowed from it, a faint scent of chicken permeated through the air.

Great. And I just got this place air freshened, too.

“Why are you making soup in our dorm?” I balked.

“I’m not making soup. They’re potions. I already told you that,” she groaned, then held up a wooden spoon that I failed to notice had been sitting beside her, “would you like a sample?”

I leaned in and wrapped my mouth around the spoon, then swallowed its contents in one fell swoop. Despite its searing heat, I didn’t mind, and the taste seemed to seep into every one of my taste buds and overtake my tongue. There was no denying it: there wasn’t just a faint chicken scent, but the exact taste of chicken stock broth. More than that, the potatoes seemed to have melted into the broth to create an equal measure smooth and creamy taste, something I didn’t even think possible.

“Oh. Oh wow,” I was near-speechless.

“It’s a love potion,” she explained, “I will not hold myself liable for any adverse side-effects.”

A...what potion?

“Uh, just so you know,” I spoke with an uncomfortable amount of hesitance, “I’ve got a boyfriend already.”

“That’s nice, though I never asked.”

How...how bold, I thought, before I realized that my thoughts were wrong, so changed course, no, what I should say is, “how rude.”

“It’s...it’s just that people don’t usually feed other people soup, don’t you think?” I tried to justify myself, something which I didn’t really need to do.

“It’s not soup, it’s a potion, and I wasn’t feeding you, I was just letting you have a taste. The rest of it’s mine. If you want a vial of it later, I will sell it to you.”

Is she seriously going to sell soup as if it’s a love potion?

“Anyway, if you don’t mind, I’m going to take a short nap before my next class,” I announced. To my surprise, she had something to say which didn’t involve being a witch.

“I don’t mind. I have chronic fatigue, so I get it.”

It really did feel like I was beginning to learn more about her.

Demetria also used to feed me. It wasn’t a lovers thing, though. Heaven’s no. In fact, I found it kind of annoying sometimes.

I’d wake up past my alarm, running late for class, and she’d berate me for not getting to sleep at a better time. When I was ready to head out the door, she’d always stop me and go.

“Make sure you’re eating well! Here, take this apple! And I made you a PB&J!”

Reluctant, I would take the sandwich bag and apple, and scoff.

“Thanks, mom,” I rolled my eyes, then ran off to class.

Now, I would’ve given anything to have that again. Someone like that there to remind me to eat well, sleep well, keep me focused. Even if it could get annoying, or if there was some possibility of her doing those things for some selfish sense of superiority (maybe she found me pathetic), I still think I took all of those things for granted back then.

In some ways, I admired her desire to focus on studies and lack of interest in relationships. I remember once I stayed up late chatting with a friend over the phone.

“So I think everyone knows the History Professor is banging the English Professor but nobody wants to say anything because it’s none of our business, but it’s just so annoying how obvious it is,” my friend, Clytie, relayed to me.

“Yeah, it’s really not my business, either, and they’re both adults and as long as they’re being professional, why should I care?” I tried to be engaged with her topic, but it was of little interest to me, I’ll admit.

I felt a painful thud as my mattress jumped about an inch or two in the air. I knew what it was right away: Demetria kicked her leg up against the top bunk.

“Keep it down,” she rasped, “I’m trying to read about electric eels. You need your sleep, anyway.”

“Who was that?” Clytie asked.

I waved my hand away.

“That was just my roommate. I’m sure I told you about her before.”

Clytie gave off her little dolphin laugh.

“Maybe, but I don’t remember much unless it has to do with me, tee-hee.”

“To be honest, she can be kinda annoying,” I admitted to Clytie.

“If that’s what you think of me, then I guess I’ll stop making you breakfast and packing you lunches,” Demetria threatened.

“No! Don’t!” I pleaded. As embarrassing as it was, I really didn’t want her to stop.

“Ha ha, well, I’ll let you two have your little spat. Goodnight,” Clytie teased, then hung up.

I scowled, but I really should have been trying to sleep.

What? Did Clytie think it was a lovers’ quarrel? Because it’s nothing like that. I’m not even sure Demetria’s ever thought about romance. Well, now I’m a little bit curious.

“Hey Demetria. Romance?” I inquired.

“Not tonight, busy,” she replied.

“No, not with me!”

“Wait, what were you asking?” She was clueless. Lost in her studies once again.

“Never mind. I’m going to try to sleep,” I dismissed.

“Good, doing the right thing for once,” she commented, all smug, too.

There were times when I thought she had an interest in me, what with how attached she was and she acted all disapproving with any relationship I was in and how she was always telling me to eat more, eat better, sleep better, study. But a quick thought made me realize that it was just her acting like a mom. Sure, I scoffed and rolled my eyes, but that must have been what it was the whole time. I wasn’t even sure if she was aware of it, herself.

As it so happened, the longer I went at things, trying to finish up my education, the more I thought about Demetria. It felt odd, and I wish I didn’t have to. It would have been much better to have moved on and accepted that I probably wouldn’t ever see her again. But there had to be some reason why she lingered on in my mind, right? It couldn’t have been coincidence.

I might have grown desperate for any sort of sign, I’ll admit, but I started to wonder if maybe Hecate was Demetria, but in disguise? It made no sense, yes, but like a conspiracy theorist, I started to hold onto the slightest of connections:

Short

Blonde hair

Weird

I’ll admit, that wasn’t much to go off of and could have applied to a great number of people and there were certain things that should have tipped me off that it wasn’t her. For example, I once tried to get her to open up about herself just a little more. Aside from the witch comments, she seemed really reserved and guarded.

“Hey Hecate, what do you study, anyway?” I asked.

“Chemistry,” she replied, buried under the covers of her bed.

“Really? I would’ve thought culinary arts, since your sou...potions.”

“Witches are already born with the knowledge to make potions, silly. But chemistry is a magic I’ve yet to master.”

“I see. So you have no interest in fish? Marine biology?”

“No. I don’t like water. Ever seen Wizard of Oz?”

Okay, that just seemed silly, but as long as she still drank water, I wouldn’t argue.

“So no interest in fish, then?” I tried to press further.

“I’ve already got a frog, isn’t that enough?” She asked in a pleading voice.

It was possible that she didn’t have interest in marine biology. I remember before she left, she had express losing interest in her studies, something which surprised me, and should’ve been a sign that she had changed. So maybe it wasn’t a stretch to think that she had changed her name, or found a new field of study. But just to be sure…

“How old are you, Hecate?”

“In this current life, I’m 19, but I’ve been older in past lives. Are there any more questions, because I’m having brain trouble and need to recover.”

“Oh. Sorry, sorry. I just thought maybe…” No, I shouldn’t say anything more. It’s not right. If Hecate was telling the truth, then she couldn’t have been Demetria, as if Demetria was still alive and out there somewhere, she would have been 24.

“What?” She asked. I should have known better than to say those four words. I should have stopped at ‘sorry, sorry.’

“I just thought...uh…maybe we met before?” I tried to keep things vague.

“Hm. I don’t know. Memory’s not good right now. How old are you?”

“23,” I answered.

“Okay. Then probably not.”

Hecate scrunched up her face and turned away, and I couldn’t tell whether I had bothered her, or if it was part of her condition. That really made me wonder, too: how did she get to and from class? For the life of me, I’ve never seen her leave the dorm. At least I knew with Demetria that she’d attend all her classes, even if her mind was preoccupied with whatever book she held in her hand.

There were other things I wondered, too, like why she wore that cloak around all the time. Was she hiding something? If I were to see her without the cloak, would it reveal something about her? It didn’t seem like she’d take it off if I asked her, and that would have been an odd request anyway, but I couldn’t help but wonder.

Despite my best efforts to put my suspicion to rest, it all culminated in one night, midway through the first semester: I had come home late, as I had further questions for my professor after the afternoon class ended, then I was hungry, so I got something to eat out at the town. By the time I got back, it was already close to dusk. All that to say, I was wiped.

Of course, I should have expected some sort of wacky activity to take place, seeing as it often happened, and that night was no exception. When I opened the door, I saw her with a large sheet of construction paper and letters and numbers written all over. She sat, head down, slumped, and I wondered if she was in some sort of trance.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“Oh. Hey. I had to draw my own spirit board because my mom doesn’t want me having an ouija board. She’s very superstitious even though she already knows that I’m a witch, so any demons I end up in contact with I can just make them my familiar, or kill them, as I’m more powerful than them. Anyway, I can communicate with the dead.”

“Really now?” I raised an eyebrow, skeptical of the prospect.

“Yeah. Do you know anyone who died? I can talk to them,” she sounded elated at the idea, so much that I couldn’t help but indulge her.

“Well, I had a cat when I was little who died.”

“What was their name?”

“Zagreus,” I answered, though I had to think hard about that one. I wasn’t the one who named him and my parents never really explained their reasoning as to why or how they came up with that name.

“Humu, humu…” Hecate hummed, then started to lower her voice to a chant, “I call upon the spirit of Zagreus to use my body as a vessel as to communicate with Proserpina.”

A few seconds passed and she moved her hand around the paper, though rather than spelling out any words, she just went, “mew mew.”

Then she opened her eyes wide and looked up.

“That was all I was able to get out of him,” she explained, “I’ll be honest, most of the time I don’t know what cats are saying.”

Really, I didn’t know what else to expect.

“Zagreus is the son of Persephone, right?” Hecate asked.

I stood, stunned and unsure how to react.

“Probably. I don’t really know,” I replied. That was more something Demetria would have known. “How do you know that?”

She shrugged.

“Your cat told me.”

I wanted to call her out on how ridiculous that was, but before I could, I heard a knock at the door. I opened and in came three girls, all cheerful and laughing.

“Hey, nice to meet you! We’re Hecate’s friends,” one of them greeted, a girl in a striped T-shirt and beret and about my height. She looked like one of those people who would be hard to spot in a crowd.

“Yeah, nice to meet you,” I mumbled and was rather surprised to meet any friends of Hecate’s, let alone some who would come to see her.

“I hope she hasn’t given you too much trouble. I know she can be a handful sometimes,” another one of the girls mentioned, that one with short, blue hair, and braces.

“No, not really. We get along okay,” I replied, and I was still just a little speechless and, dare I say, a little nervous to boot. I really wasn’t expecting guests.

The third girl, one with red hair and two pigtails went up to Hecate. She wore glasses and looked rather thin and frail and seemed about as tall as Hecate. Much of her resembled Demetria, but her face seemed just a little too round and was just a little too pale to have been her.

“Here’s the notes I took for your class today,” she handed Hecate a sheet of paper and I watched as Hecate took it.

“What’s that for?” I couldn’t help but ask.

“I have trouble getting to my classes sometimes, so I often ask one of my friends to take notes for me. I always make sure to take classes that don’t grade based on attendance so it’s easier for me,” Hecate explained.

Oh. Because of the fatigue...jeez, I never realized.

“Here’s this, too,” the blue haired one handed Hecate a book. It could have been a textbook and innocent enough, but when I saw the title, my eyes lit up and my mind went into overdrive.

‘Bluefin Tuna and Other Creatures of the Deep’.

“No...no way…” I muttered.

“What? What’s wrong?” One of the other girls asked, but I didn’t take note of which one, because I was caught up in such a frenzy. In that moment, I was so sure that I was right.

“I knew it! You are Demetria! How long were you going to keep it from me? Huh?” I shouted. Everyone around me looked confused, but I was so sure.

“What are you talking about?” Hecate asked, but I didn’t want to play anymore games. I reached down and grabbed for her cloak.

“Hey! Leave me alone!” Hecate cried out as she squired. I pulled the hood down and sure enough, I saw: blonde twintails.

“Ha! You even have the same hairstyle as her! There’s no way it’s not you!”

Hecate grabbed for her hood and looked around in panic. She looked ready to break into tears.

“I’M NOT YOUR STUPID FRIEND!” She yelled, then pulled the hood back over her head.

She may not have always acted in a smart manner, but I refuse to let her be called stupid, I thought, and I balled my hand into a fist, ready to throw down.

“What’s wrong with you?” The striped shirt girl asked. “Are you a bully?”

I paused. I noticed my arm was pulled back and without even thinking I must have prepared myself.

“Yeah, what gives?” The blue haired girl joined in. “Those are her comfort clothes. Even if you wanted to see her with her hood down, you shouldn’t invade her personal space,” her arms crossed and she too looked cross.

“N-No...you guys don’t understand...I’m not…” I stammered. I really was awful, wasn’t I?

“C’mon, Maize, let’s go,” the blue and the striped girl left for the door, with the redhead in glasses left to follow after her.

After Maize left and slammed our door shut, I turned to Hecate, who had dived into the bottom bunk of the bed and buried herself there. I heard her sniffles and sobs.

Never mind that that’s my bunk for now, there was more important matters.

“Hey...I’m sorry,” I croaked out. Funny enough, her frog was nowhere to be found.

Not knowing what else to do, I sat on the edge of the bed and looked to my side.

“I know, that really wasn’t called for on my part. I jumped to conclusions, and to be honest, I’ve not been in a good headspace for a while. I shouldn’t have dragged you into that,” I sucked in my pride and admitted.

Hecate poked her head out from the covers and looked up at me.

“I’m sorry...too...for calling her stupid,” she muttered, her voice a weepy high.

“It’s okay,” I didn’t really find it okay, but I didn’t think she meant it out of malice, and it was just her retaliating against my actions.

“She must have meant a lot to you.”

“Yeah,” I sighed, “more than I thought she did. I miss her. A lot.”

“Did she die? Because if she did, you should have asked me to contact her instead of a cat. I have a much easier time talking to people than cats.”

I shook my head.

“No. Well, maybe. I don’t know. But I’d rather not think so.”

“What happened, then?”

“Well...it’s kind of funny,” I started laughing and noticed I had shed a couple of tears as well. I wiped my face before continuing, “I used to share this dorm with her, and before she left, she had been acting kinda strange.”

“Strange how?”

“I had spent the spring living with my boyfriend,” I explained, “and when I got back to university, it was like she made a radical change. She had a bunch of lesbian romance comics, and she talked about Sailor Moon a lot, and she’d get obsessed with a ‘Remora’. She was always obsessed with fish, but the fact that it was that one in particular was strange.”

“Why was that?”

“Because it was, like, all she talked about. Hell, it reminded me of a conversation we had once when she was reading an encyclopedia of fish and started laughing at one entry, which happened to be about the remora fish. She’d go ‘look at that thing! It’s ridiculous! It looks someone stepped on it and the bottom of the shoe left an imprint! Definitely wouldn’t be in my top 10 of favorite fish.’ Just for fun, I indulged her and asked what her favorites were, and she’d go, ‘Hmm...swordfish, definitely, then sharks. Probably angler fish, too. Piranhas have to be pretty high up there, too.’ So when she started talking about them all the time...yeah, it seemed off to me.”

“So that’s why you asked if I was into marine biology?” Hecate asked, and yeah, she figured it out.

“Yeah. Then when I saw you take that book…”

“I gave Grape some cash and asked her to buy it for me because I thought you were into that, so I wanted to know what made it interesting,” she explained.

Oh. To think someone would think of me.

“No, I’m studying agriculture. But thanks for the thought.”

“So she left?” Hecate continued where we left off.

“Yeah, and I didn’t hear anything from her for a few months, and her mom was really worried too. I admit, I jumped to worst case scenario and assumed she had been kidnapped. When her mom and I received a text from her saying that she got a job studying fish in the arctic, her mom was relieved, but I still had my doubts. So I texted her and told her that if she was in danger, I’d come get her. I was surprised when she answered, and it was definitely in her style, too. She denied such claims of kidnapping, but I couldn’t help myself, I was worried. She then said, ‘at least I didn’t leave my education to go live with some guy’, and I was pretty pissed at that remark...then, nothing.”

“So you had a fight? That’s it? Then she’s probably still alive, she probably just doesn’t want to talk to you anymore.”

“Yeah...I guess that’s a possibility…” Not one I wanted to entertain, but sure, “to be fair, I didn’t try to follow up and check in on her, and I don’t really know if she ever blocked me or not because I never tried to contact her after that.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I was hoping she’d say something first and then when she never did, I just forgot about it?”

“Well, in any case, I’m sorry.”

“Thanks. I think talking about it will help me move on easier. It’s hard because I used to have more friends, and now there’s no one. Sure, there’s my boyfr...actually, never mind, point is, I’d like to have a friend again.”

“Well...I can be your friend?” She perked up.

“Thanks. I’d like that,” I smiled.

So while it may have started as a bad evening, my night ended up being okay in the end. Since she already looked exhausted, I let Hecate sleep where she was at, and I climbed up to the top bunk. Somewhere in the room, her frog familiar croaked. Despite that, I imagined myself getting a restful sleep, and was hopeful that I could soon begin to concentrate more on my studies.

Things didn’t quite work out like that, though. Come graduation time and I was still short a few credits. All those months of trying to study, trying to focus, and most of my classes consisted of Cs and Ds.

No, it was pretty frustrating, actually. Like I sacrificed a good home, away from that shitty university, so I could focus and even then it was hard. But I persisted, I persisted and worked my butt off, and in spite of all that, I still couldn’t graduate on time. It was enough for me to throw in the towel, quit right then and there. I don’t really know why I didn’t.

So yes: come graduation day and there I was, not graduating. Nor would Hecate, but she was still fresh to the university life, so it made sense for her. Just hearing all those happy people cheering in the background pissed me off and I walked away from the campus and almost left the grounds, but chose instead to sit at a bench near the front of the campus. There, I stewed in my frustration.

To think I would get this far and still fall short. What’s even the point? How do I know that this is even what I still want to do? Such thoughts ran through my head and I did nothing to prevent them from running. Hell, they weren’t wrong, anyway, why should I stop when it’s the truth?

Behind me was a tall oak tree. Not very notable, I know. There was a bit of rustling in one of the limbs above me. Again, not at all notable.

“Those squirrels are probably fucking again,” I grumbled. Let’s ignore the fact that I said that out loud, yeah?

“No way. Could it be…?” I heard above me, a sort of incredulous, but quiet squeaky and high pitched voice. That was when I thought the same words.

No way. Could it be…?

I got up from the bench and took a few steps back, then looked up into the tree. While I couldn’t make out much, I could see, and quite distinct, too, someone laying on their back against the tree’s limb.

“Well, well,” they began, “hey Proserpina.”

“Demetria?” I asked, and gulped, afraid of being wrong.

She dragged her back along the limb, then sat up against the base of the tree. Indeed, it was her, and her hair wasn’t green like it had been the last time I saw her, but blonde again.

It really was her. My Demetria.

“Are you really here? I mean, is it really you? Are you alive?” Please don’t tell me I’m imagining this whole thing.

“Damn, don’t give me an existential crisis,” she replied, then turned her head and smiled. With one hand, she waved, but with the other, she tossed what looked to be a knife up into the air and caught it. Even though it was no doubt her, a part of me questioned who this ‘Demetria’ was, “but yeah. It’s me. Never thought I’d see you again, either.”

“But...why? Why are you here?” I demanded this time.

She continued tossing and catching the knife. In both hands were a pair of fingerless gloves. Her outfit was much different than the type of garb she wore when used to know her: her shirt was a black long sleeve, and it looked rather thin and form fitting. As if to match, she also had a black pair of short shorts, and they seemed to be nylon or spandex. In any case, it showed off her muscular legs, something which I never thought I’d see, considering she always looked kinda scrawny.

“I decided to finish what I started, so I took online classes. I just stopped by because to get my degree and didn’t expect to run into you. I thought you would have graduated by now.”

That really got to me, though I tried not to let it show.

“I took a bit of a break,” I told her. It wasn’t really a lie, “but yeah, I finished up too. I just took classes in person because online classes weren’t really working for me.”

What a fool I was for letting that slip. But to my credit, she didn’t notice.

“Yeah, I know what you mean. I really had to force myself to finish, and the worst part is, I stopped being interested in marine biology ages ago.”

How? How were you able to do it? How could you just force yourself, for something you weren’t interested in, no less, and you still came out on top? How? How does that work?

“I guess I get what she meant now,” it seemed like she was talking to herself rather than telling me anything, “having something be important without really caring about it.”

I really can’t say I understand.

“What happened with you, anyway?” That must have been the most pressing question. Hell, it should have been the FIRST question I asked.

“Aah,” she let out a sigh, “yeah, I guess I should come clean with that, huh? It sucks, but you deserve the truth, don’t you?”

“Well...I don’t know about deserve! But I’d like to know!” I cupped my hands and yelled to her.

“Yeah. Well, I’m sure you could guess, but: I lied to you.”

My heart skipped a beat, but pride took over.

“I knew it! You WERE kid –” She stopped me before I could finish.

“No. Maybe it would have been better if I was, because at least then it would have been far more understandable why I left. But no, the truth is, I developed a crush on a girl one day while you were away. So there, you were right: I’m gay. But I acted all wrong and my head was a mess. I was obsessed and you could have called me a stalker, if you wanted, because even though I had no idea where to find her, I wanted nothing more than to see her again and be with her.”

All that over a crush? Somehow I think the ‘got a job in the arctic’ angle was more believable...now that I think about it, she probably said that because of how more believable it was.

“Anyway,” she went on, “I saw her again one day, and decided to follow, you know, like a creep, and before I knew it, I was in the arctic. In order to stay there, I took a job at a local diner and lived there. Yes, not as dignified as a researcher.”

“Wait, so you weren’t lying about working in the arctic?” I stood, incredulous about what she told me.

“Yeah? Why’s that the thing you’re hung up about? What about the part where I stalked a poor woman? Isn’t that terrible?”

“Now that you mention it...that does seem out of character for you…” I gave it a good thought. Well, even the way I saw her now seemed out of character for her. It was hard to believe she’d change at all.

“Yeah, it surprised me too. It still does. I don’t really think I can justify that, to be honest.”

“So what happened then?”

“Well, I worked as a waitress to a near-empty diner. I got to know the diner owner and his wife, and this kid who lived there even started to grow on me a bit, despite not getting along with her at first.”

“What about the crush? What drew you to her?”

“I was getting to that. She seemed strong, confident, like she had things figured out and knew what she was doing. And she was blunt, like she just said whatever seemed to be on her mind. I admired her, or who I thought she was, but then, I think I admired those things because I wanted to be like that. Once I came to such a realization, I figured those silly feelings would fade and I’d move on and that thought scared me because I had already come so far, and it would have felt like a waste just to stop then. It was just like with marine biology. That shit was my life, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it anymore, and the thing was, it was like all I knew: I never allowed myself the chance to live.”

“That’s not how you seemed to me,” I was almost choked up to say, “yeah, you were dedicated to your studies, but to me it just seemed like you knew what you wanted. I kind of admired that.”

She laughed.

“Ha. I didn’t know what I wanted, it was just what I thought I wanted because I studied it for so long. I’m still not sure if I’m on the right track, or if I’ll ever be.”

“So did your feelings fade as you feared?” Part of me hoped so, as hurtful as it may have been.

“Sorta. The crush, yeah. Even before it did, I tried to do my best to ease up. I mean, I may not have known how to act, but I knew I should have done better, so I tried to make an effort. But you know what’s funny?”

“What?”

“As those feelings faded, as I seemed to have gotten better, well, her and I got closer. Or it seemed like we did. Turns out I was still just a little bit misguided. The last thing she told me was that she could never bring herself to care about me, and that’s when I realized how stupid I had been. I mean, I worried my mom, I worried you, I threw my life away, and for what? Because I wanted someone to care about me?”

Another hurtful thing she probably didn’t think she said.

“I cared about you,” I rushed to my own defense.

“Yeah, and so did my mom. Well, I guess it was bad, because I didn’t really think either of you did. I thought I had to lie so as not to disappoint my mom, and on the inside, I felt like a disappointment to both her and myself. With you, well, I guess I just never noticed, because I never really thought I mattered that much to you.”

“That’s not true,” I shook my head, “maybe I should have been more clear. To be honest, I thought you had a crush on me because of how attached you were. That’s why I suspected you were gay.”

“No, I never had a crush on you,” she stated, “I was so attached because I never really had a friend before you and I didn’t want to lose you. When you got with that Hades guy and started to spend so much time with him, I figured I was starting to lose you, and the worst part is, you seemed so happy to be in a relationship. Maybe part of that’s why I wanted to be in one myself, so I could see what all the fuss was about. I’m not sure.”

“Aw, Demetria. Romance was my thing, sure, but that doesn’t mean it had to be yours.”

“Eh. I guess. I’m not saying that’s what it was, but it could be what it was, y’know? Say, what about you? To be honest, I never liked that Hades guy, but are you still with him?” She probed. I wasn’t expecting her to ask anything about me.

I can’t tell her the truth. She expects me to be doing well. I mean, technically I am still with him, so would it even be a lie to say that I am?

“You know you can be a real asshole sometimes, right?” I deflected.

“Yeah, but I make it look cool,” she stopped tossing her knife to give me finger guns.

“No. You’re just a dork,” I denied, “but yes. We’re still together. In fact, I give him the strap.”

“The strap? What is that? Like, an accessory?”

“Uh...yeah, kinda,” I just about blushed. I really didn’t mean to say something like that.

“Would you like another one? I’ve got some money, I could probably get you one for your birthday. Hold on,” she pulled out her phone and I saw her type and mouth out the words, “give...her...the...strap.”

“What? What the hell is wrong with you?!” I shouted, but it was too late. She must have already seen something, as she fumbled and tossed her phone in shock, then she fell down from the tree, along with her knife.

“Demetria!” I cried out, but she raised a thumb up in the air, and with her other hand, she caught the falling knife.

“I’m okay…” She groaned, then added, “I see I still have more to learn.”

She stood up and brushed herself off.

“Well, good for you. I may not like the guy, but...I don’t really know him, and if you’re happy, then I’m happy for you,” she concluded.

“Thanks,” I replied, though I felt a tinge of melancholy.

She shrugged it off.

“So yeah. That’s me: I’m gay and something of a disaster. I’m also single so I guess you can say I’m ‘on the market’ and I can always find someone else, and if the opportunity arises, I’ll know to act better.”

Her smile persisted, but I noticed tears forming her eyes.

“But also, I don’t want anyone else. Try as I might to deny it, but I still have feelings for her, and I still think of her, but the thing is, I don’t even think I’d want to see her again. She’s fine, and maybe I’m fine, but I just don’t want to devote my time to someone who won’t care about me. It hurts too much for me to do that,” she shook her head and the tears came harder and she wiped her face.

“Sorry, it’s not so dignified of me...but I’ve never been one to do things with dignity,” she laughed, though was choked up with tears. “But you know what’s the worst part? I also care about that family in the arctic. I want to see them again, I want to tell them how much I’ve grown, if I’ve even grown at all. So I’ve resolved to do just that: I’m going to go back there, for them, and for myself, and I may not look the same way that they remember me, but I hope they still accept me.”

“I don’t know what to say,” I wanted to give her a hug, but I wasn’t even sure if she’d want that, “I hope things work out. Just know that now that I’ve seen you once, I’m going to want to see you again.”

She nodded.

“It may be a while before I can do that, but I’d like that as well. Is it fair to assume that we’re friends?”

That time, I started to cry and I reached out to hug her.

“Of course!” I wailed. She reached out and wrapped her arms around me and it was so tight that I was worried she’d squeeze the lights out of me.

“Jeez, when did you get so strong?” I wheezed.

“I’m not as strong as I look, trust me,” she replied.

“It doesn’t seem that way,” I rebutted. “It’s like you’ve changed so much, in so many ways.”

“Maybe you’re right, but it’s just like you said, I’m still a dork,” she chuckled, then let go, “anyway, I think I should take off. Got big plans and all. I hope we can talk again, though!” She began to run off and I called after her.

“Stay safe out there!”

“No promises, but I’ll do my best!” She called back. Before long, she had disappeared out of sight.

After she left, despite what an emotional wreck I was, at the same time I felt just a little more hopeful about the future. That no matter how difficult, I may figure something out as well. Or at least, I could hope. In any case, I knew I had a story to tell Hecate once I got back up to my dorm.

#remoras full #writing #chapter #story #melancholy #drama #comedy #witches #nostalgia #friendship #college #hecate #persephone

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blackaquokat · 5 years ago

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I SAW THE LIGHTNING THIEF MUSICAL ON SUNDAY

Okay, so first off, the stuff that stood out to me, and then after the highlights, THE STORY OF A LIFETIME INVOLVING A CAST MEMBER THAT HAPPENED BEFORE THE SHOW EVEN STARTED

This is going to be very long, strap in.

***Spoilers Under the Cut***

--Chris McCarrell, indeed, slides out to the edge of the stage and sits like, “Paint me like one of your French Girls, audience” for a full moment before singing.

--For a cast of SEVEN people, all of their voices fill that stage SO WELL.

--I’d only ever heard the soundtrack, but in the show (this time, anyway) Percy says he stopped Nancy Bobofit from “setting the first graders on fire” instead of preventing wedgies and it was just as if not more hilarious because his delivery was just totally stiff terror in the face of Mrs. Dodds.

--HE ACTED SO DEVASTATED WHEN HE THOUGHT MR BRUNNER THOUGHT HE WAS TROUBLE AFTER HE GOT EXPELLED, LIKE, HE LOOKED LIKE HE WAS ABOUT TO CRY, HIS VOICE SHOOK, MY BOOOOOII

--When Smelly Gabe appears, Percy not only covers his face with his shirt but also SPRAYS ACTUAL AIR FRESHENER behind the bastard’s back, I was on the FLOOR

--Chris mimics the body language of an awkward twelve year old so well. Fiddling with his jacket, looking down, awkward motions with his hands, he nailed it.

--SALLY IS STILL THE BEST MOM EVER AND THE MUSICAL CAPTURES HER STRENGTH AND LOVE AND AGENCY SO WELL, SHE TOTALLY GETS GABE TO BACK OFF OF PERCY AND IT’S GLORIOUS

--”Percy was attacked by a fury!” “What? Grover, YOU’RE THE FURRY!”

--Just before his mom is “crushed” by the Minotaur, Percy said, “Mom?” shakily and I was freaking SHOOK, MY FEELINGS

--During the first Dream Sequence, Poseidon comes down with the GOOFIEST grin and hands off the seashell. There’s this long, hilarious silence before he says. “It’s a seashell.” The audience couldn’t stop laughing up until Percy said, several beats later, “Like I said. Weird.”

--MR. D SHARPENING A PENCIL IN KATIE GARDNER’S FACE AFTER HER RANT ABOUT TREE RIGHTS

--During the entirety of Another Terrible Day, Percy is just standing in the back, slack-jawed, in a “What the Hell have I walked into” look

--Chiron does this hilarious dancy step with his feet to mimic the clip-clopping of horse steps and every time it got a laugh.

--In the books, Luke is described as the Hot Boy of the Camp, that half the demigods are in love with him, and honestly, it’s one of the reasons I think James Hayden Rodriguez is perfect because you take one look at him and you’re like, “Yeah, I can see everyone falling in love with this guy in no time flat,” because aside from being REALLY attractive (like, damn boi, you’ve got amazing arms and face and just a LOT going for you) he’s so damn sweet and you want to trust and I DON’T THINK I EVER WANTED CANON TO CHANGE SO BADLY FOR HIM UNTIL THE MUSICAL CAME OUT

--Okay, so seeing Luke portrayed in this show made me care SO MUCH MORE about him than I did reading the books, which is a very strange feeling for me, ngl. His adorable interactions with Percy and Annabeth made me SO EMOTIONAL I MEAN

--Like, when Annabeth acts all suspicious about Percy, Luke is there to validate her skills and tease her and she teases him right back, like, you can definitely see she “likes” him and it could be interpreted that he feels something for her too, and he had such chemistry with Percy too, was endlessly supportive up until, you know, the end (I...may or may not be on board with this Tragic OT3, FRICK)

--OH ON THAT NOTE, when Grover finds Percy after the Minotaur, he’s all, “I’m sorry, Percy, I’m the worst Satyr Guardian ever” and Percy just HUGS HIM, “GROVER, I’m SO GLAD YOU’RE HERE” LIKE MY TWO BOIS I MISSED THEM

--”Grover, are you ever going to wear pants again?” followed by a gleeful “NOPE!!”

--Clarisse’s first two entrances involved this loud fighting yell before her song started

--Percy’s first time with his sword in Camp and he freaking made lightsaber noises when he swung, I read about it but I was NOT PREPARED, it was the cutest damn thing

--I was equally unprepared when Annabeth walked up behind him and when he turned and saw her and yelled out, “MY DREAM GIRL!!” Long beat of silence while the audience laughs their asses off, and he follows it up with, “I mean...you were the girl...in my dream...earlier...”

--When Percy says, “I love girls,” when Annabeth calls him out on assuming her dad was where she got her Godly heritage, Luke gives him the BIGGEST side-eye, it was adorable and Percy did his best to recover, but alas, he is but an awkward noodle.

--”Luke, Hermes kids are fast--” “Actually, that’s a stereotype--” I MEAN

--Percy sitting on the toilet and rolling it across the stage with his feet after the fight sequence, my God, what a visual.

--CHAPTER TITLE DROP, LUKE CALLS PERCY THE SUPREME LORD OF THE BATHROOM

--The Campfire Song was just amazing, everyone’s familiar body language with each other, Luke and Annabeth, Luke and Percy, Grover’s adorable little dance during his bit, everyone comforting him when he starts crying, everyone agreeing that “Chiron wins” in the shitty dad department, everyone’s sympathetic horror with every bad story they all tell,

--after Silena’s bit about how her mom “steals her mascara and all of her dates” she says to Katie, “She’s why I cry,” my sister and I can’t stop talking about how much we related to that moment (not about our mom, but more about our other relatives)

--When Percy is claimed, you can see the horror on everyone’s faces, but he doesn’t, and he’s like, “I’m...the son of the Sea God. That is so COOOOOL!!!” Then he realizes he just squealed like an anime girl and tries to recover by posing and saying to Luke next to him, “Hey,” in a very Miles Morales-from-Spiderverse kind of voice.

--The dread on Luke’s face whenever he interacts with Percy from here on out, by the way, hurts me so much. You can tell every time he talks with Percy that he really doesn’t want to manipulate him, doesn’t want to do this, but he does, and even before the reveal, you can see how unsure and guilty he feels, even if Percy is totally clueless, like even when Percy agrees to go to the Underworld you see he’s THIS CLOSE to maybe trying to talk Percy out of it again and when Grover hops in to join the quest, there’s another layer of Luke going, “Oh no, not Grover too, shit, no!” and I SWEAR, JAMES HAYDEN RODRIGUEZ, IF THIS TURNS INTO A SHOW, YOU’RE THE ONLY LUKE I WANT

-- Mr. D: “WE’RE NOT TALKING ABOUT SOME TIN FOIL PROP THAT YOU’D FIND IN A BROADWAY MUSICAL”

--Percy yells for Mr. D to eat his pants in Latin. It’s amazing.

--Chiron: ”You must talk to” *everyone looks at the ceiling* “Our mummy.” Percy: “...when you say ‘mummy,’ you mean old-person slang for Mom, right?”

--Percy, in the most ‘I am so done’ voice ever: ”You’re expelling me? Again?!”

--This is turning into an appreciation post for Rodriguez, but for real, after Good Kid (which gave me ALL THE FEELS just like when I first heard it on the soundtrack), Luke goes to him with this nervous but genuine grin and laugh, like, “Hey, so when you’re the son of the Sea God, and you want to be left alone, maybe don’t go to the lake? It’s the first place anyone will look.” And they have this real sweet moment where Percy confides in Luke, and Luke validates his anger with the gods and says, “I’m not saying you owe them anything BUT” and if you’ve read the books or already listened to the show, you KNOW how this turns out but you see how SINCERE Luke is about Percy’s pain and his own pain and how much he obviously is already regretting that he has to manipulate Percy into going to the Underworld and DAMN IT CANON

-- Clarisse: ”Don’t get eaten by monsters!” Chiron: *claps hand over Clarisse’s mouth* “Have a great quest!”

--The immediate Squad Energy that Percy, Annabeth, and Grover embody right before the act break, what LEGENDS

--Act II opens up in the middle of Mrs. Dodds attacking the bus. Percy: “I LIKED YOU BETTER AS A MATH TEACHTER!!”

--Mrs. Dodds: ”PREPARE FOR ETERNAL SUFFERING!!” Percy: “I’M SUFFERING NOW!!”

--Cheerful Stoner Stranger from the bus just before the bus explodes into confetti: “Not my weirdest experience on a Greyhound!”

--I knew the show was low-budget going in, but I at least thought the squirrel would be a puppet not a freaking figurine that Sarah Beth Pfeifer sat next to in plain sight to voice, I was dying

--On that note, Annabeth visibly holds back laughter at Percy’s “that’s kinda nuts” joke, these idiot CUTIES

--Grover is the only one who catches onto Medusa, who is played by Chiron’s actor in DRAG, but not even in a funny way, it’s played straight (not that Medusa wasn’t hilarious, but that fact that it was a drag role wasn’t mocked at all)

--Annabeth starting to explain why Medusa hates her and muffling her words by drinking her bottle while Percy and Grover are NOT impressed

--Annabeth teaching Percy how to hold a sword better because this adorable dumbass just twirled the damn thing into his shoulder because he forgot it was sharp

--MY GRAND PLAN, MY GOD and intersecting it with Annabeth saying, “When boys screw up, Percy, they get a second chance” Like, this show pulled no punches, and then afterwards when he’s sending Medusa’s head to Olympus and signs Annabeth’s name next to his and she’s like, “WAIT NO STOP” and the “Impertinent” interaction that not only is in the books but also comes back at the end of the show HELL YEAH

--DRIVE. WAS AMAZING. It was my mom’s favorite on the soundtrack and it still is (although now Bring on the Monsters competes as her favorite)

--YOU CAN HEAR LUKE AGAIN WITH HIS HESITATION ABOUT SACRIFICING PERCY DURING THE STRANGEST DREAM REPRISE

--Grover: “Percy, you almost woke everyone up. Well, not Annabeth.” Annabeth, in her sleep: “Mom...you remembered my birthday...” WILL THESE DEADBEAT GODS VISIT THEIR KIDS, I SWEAR---

--OKAY SO TREE ON THE HILL, LEMME TELL YOU

--On the second level, you see Annabeth, Luke, and Thalia re-enacting the scene while Grover narrates at the bottom and not only does Jorrel Javier look SERIOUSLY emotional and on the verge of tears for the whole thing, but at the top when Thalia is re-enacting her death, LUKE GOES TO REACH FOR THALIA TO SAVE HER AND ANNABETH PULLS HIM BACK AND THEN THEY JUST HUG EACH OTHER SO TIGHTLY BECAUSE THEY DON’T WANT TO WATCH THALIA DIE AND THEN THEY STAND BEHIND THALIA AND REACH OUT THEIR ARMS TO SYMBOLIZE HER TURNING INTO THE TREE AND YA’LL I SHIT YOU NOT I ALMOST BURST INTO REALLY LOUD SOBBING I WAS NOT OKAY

--They did the Bathtub Story from the book. Every second that passed I was more in love with the show.

--Charon: ”Ya’ll wanna hear my song?” *choruses of refusals* “SORRY I CAN’T HEAR YOU OVER THIS SWEET ASS RIFF!!”

--DOA is just as much of a bop in person as it is on the soundtrack.

--OKAY SO, Percy is almost yanked into Tartarus with his winged shoes and the mood is like, SUPER SERIOUS, as they all realize he almost fell into the pit and when Annabeth says, “I think that’s Tartarus,” Percy says, in this confused but still scared and serious soft voice, “You mean like the fish sauce?” and just. Annabeth and Grover both. Annabeth looks at him like, “THIS is the idiot I’m going to fall in love with over the next four books,” while Grover just Facepalms so much he shoves his glasses up his forehead and shakes his head, another RELATABLE MOMENT that my sister and I won’t shut up about

--Hades. I just...there’s nothing else I can say, but Ryan Knowles, Sarah Beth Pfeifer, Jorrel Javier, Jalynn Steele, and James Hayden Rodriguez deserve about fifty Tonys for all the roles they do in this show, for real

--SON OF POSEIDON, WHAT A HYPE SONG, AND ALL THE TOILET PAPER DURING THE LAST NOTE IT WAS GLORIOUS IT COVERED HALF THE FLOOR AUDIENCE

--My Poseidon and Sally feels have returned with a vengeance. That Miles Morales moment with Percy that I mentioned earlier? Poseidon does the same thing when he sees Sally, and the two of them are just Vibing it up while Percy is between them like, “THIS IS SO WEIRD”

--As Poseidon leaves, he turns away from Sally and makes this fist bump gesture like, “Hell yeah, best time of my life was this woman right here”

--Percy, after Poseidon exits: “So that’s my dad?” Sally, in a very horny tone: “THAT’S your dad.” Like, GET IT, Sally

--Sally: “Oh, what is this package, Percy?” Percy, with a shit-eating grin: “Oh, it’s a...DIY Statue Kit” *Sally goes to open it* “WAIT NO DON’T IT’S MEDUSA’S HEAD!!” and the Grossed Out Look on her face as she exits the stage. Priceless.

--Luke is Very Obviously avoiding Percy when they return to camp. More on this later because My. Feels.

--Annabeth: “Hey Clarisse! We met your dad! He’s not as tough as you are!” Clarisse: “Hey, get back here! You saw my dad!” *slightly vulnerable voice* “Did he ask about me?” YOU DUMBASS GODS, TALK TO YOUR DAMN KIDS WILL YOU???

--Annabeth and Percy grinning like idiots over Sally’s Medusified statue of Gabe, what cuties, I love that their romance wasn’t forced in the show, it was handled so gracefully because they are Twelve and in the Very Early Stages of their Undying Love for each other (and Luke, I promise you guys, all three of these idiots are in love with each other and it hurts me so much)

--OKAY SO PERCY RUNS UP TO LUKE CLEARLY EXPECTING TO BE COMFORTED AND TO SLIP INTO THEIR SWEET AND SUPPORTIVE DYNAMIC BUT THEN PLOT AND PAIN AND LAST DAY OF SUMMER HIT ME THE HARDEST ON THE SOUNDTRACK BESIDES TREE ON THE HILL AND IT DIDN’T DISAPPOINT

--And the hardest part? The way Rodriguez plays Luke, you really CAN’T be angry with him. I mean, there’s no justifying his actions because it’s freaking KRONOS, but given that we’ve been given the time to see what a great guy he was, how much he cared about the campers, how many he must have seen never come back from quests the Gods gave them, who feel abandoned by their parents, Luke’s own quest, how he watched Thalia die with little to no intervention from the Gods, how he must hate to see Annabeth killing herself to prove her worth to the Gods for a quest that could get her killed, and then Percy coming in after losing his mom and sympathizing with his justifiable bitterness towards the Gods, the show doesn’t shy away from the fact that the Gods are effed up and you just can’t blame Luke at ALL for how he feels about the Gods, but it makes everything hurt all the more.

--The Most Millenial/Gen Z ending ever, “We didn’t ask for this, we shouldn’t be the ones fighting this war, but if we don’t, we all die, so fine, we don’t want to do this, but no one else will, so here we are, ready to fight” and then Bring on the Monsters which is one of the best closing numbers to a show ever, I swear.

--All in all, the critics can suck it, this show has more heart and love and hilarity and depth than half the stuff on Broadway and the fact that it’s going to have such a short run is a Crime.

--I sincerely hope they can do another one, if at all possible. I would go watch it too if it’s made by the same creative team and the same actors (maybe even more actors).

OKAY NOW FOR MY STORY!!!!!!

So I had paid leave to use up, hence our trip to NYC last weekend, and we stayed in a hotel really close to the theatre. My sister and I, having been fans of the books for half our lives, were wearing Camp Half-Blood t-shirts. Anyway, we were so excited that we got there an hour and ten minutes early, and they weren’t letting anyone in for another half hour, so we decided to take a few pictures and go get a snack.

While we’re taking pictures, suddenly behind us my sister and I hear “TAKE ANOTHER ONE!!” so I turn around thinking What the hell and then have the biggest Brain Glitch of my life because it’s CHRIS FREAKING MCCARRELL WITH A COFFEE/SMOOTHIE THING AND A MUFFIN STANDING BEHIND US AS IF HE WAS JUST LA-DEE-DA-ING ALONG TO THE THEATRE AND DECIDED HE WANTED TO GIVE AN INNOCENT FAN A HEART ATTACK, because he could have just gone in and we wouldn’t have even noticed but NOPE HE CAME RIGHT UP TO US, AND I’M STILL IN SHOCK, NGL.

My gut reaction was to hug him and then I apologized because I hadn’t asked his permission and didn’t want to be That Person who didn’t respect boundaries (I am a very tactile, hugging kind of person and have to remind myself that not everyone is the same way, especially with performers) and he said I was fine and not to worry. My sister and I got a few pictures together with him and he asked if we were seeing the show that night, and we were, and he looked so pumped, and I got to tell him that I read Percy Jackson before Harry Potter and that it was my favorite book series and when he asked if I had listened to the soundtrack, My mom said yes, multiple times, but fondly, and he looked so excited that we were so excited to go that night.

So yeah. That happened.

And then after the show, we managed to catch Kristen Stokes on her way out, but we waited until she got to talk with and sign playbills for kids (there were so many kids in the theatre, it was adorable, even if the ones behind us kept crinkling their snack wrappers consistently during THE WHOLE SHOW which got annoying, ngl). My sister and I took a few with her and I got to tell her, also, that this was my favorite book series growing up and that she played Annabeth, a big role model for me, absolutely perfectly and she looked so touched.

(Also, she was much shorter than me. I forget that even if I’m one of the shorter members of my family, I’m still pretty tall by usual standards.)

Anyway, WHAT A TIME TO BE ALIVE, PJO FANS, AM I RIGHT????

...I wanna see the show again, but idk what the chances of that happening are. If you haven’t seen it and have the ability to, I must encourage you to GO. PLEASE. GO SEE IT.

#the lightning thief musical #tlt musical #percy jackson and the olympians #rick riordan #kat rants #chris mccarrell #kristen stokes

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countessofbiscuit · 6 years ago

Text

Dollface

For @celebrate-the-clone-wars’ Writing Wednesday Prompt “Your Reputation Precedes You” Rating: M Words: 2414 Inspired by The Adventures of Doll Rex.

(If there isn’t a 69′s in a universe with a 79′s, I’m calling bs)

Having spent themselves silly, the boys in blue who’d brought the house down were long gone, and 69’s grew dull again. The exhibitionism continued, sure, the dancing was always pleasing in a kind of mindless way, and when things got really boring, the massage droid in the break room had a lekku setting that induced comas—it was almost enough to make a showgirl consider marriage.

But the circus this wasn’t. There used to be wardrobe brawls and stampeding reeks and everything. The only adrenaline high to be had here was shaking up assholes who tried to stiff her colleagues until their credits and their shame fell out. A civilian crime, and a dwindling one. The soldiers never did that. Ursula fleeced them for admittance—the bigot—then got mad when the staff stretched the poor sods’ pocket change by giving them free drinks because they were polite and very, very pretty. Oh they made noise. Lots of it. But they viciously policed their own and didn’t put their hands where they shouldn’t. And not just because they thought they might get charged.

They were … “shiny.” And two meters of broad, blood-red Twi might scare the shit out of anybody whose first experience with boobs was two hours ago and three levels up, when they got squished against someone on the dance floor or got flashed by a waitress.

Hence the boredom of a somewhat self-conscious girl who doesn’t like working a room for tips.

“Lala, that’s for you,” chirps Diohn when Laa’let returns from the freshers.

She stops fidgeting with her bra and rebuilding circuses in the sky and glances at the Zabrak bartender. Diohn points at the counter, then returns to digging through the mixer chiller.

A doll is sitting on the end of the bar.

It’s propped up around a bright red cocktail, looking stupidly drunk, resting its chin on the rim of a glass about as wide as its comical face. Laa’let narrows her eyes at the arrangement. A clone. She recognizes the little flared skirt and shoulder decoration—and the golden top of one of those boys in blue. She scans the club for any that fit the description, but it’s just a throbbing sea of maroon sweats and crumpled greys, with a shrinking handful of businessmen pressed against the edges of the room; the only troopers in plates are the wrong color, and most of them are sitting along the rack, where they’ve figured out that two shoulder wings promise some seriously advanced recon—a much more exciting and personal show than anything happening at the bar.

“Who?” asks Laa’let.

“Didn’t see,” Diohn shrugs from inside the chiller, “they just left credits. And a note.”

Laa’let slides up towards the drink, ignoring the vulgar garnish—a cherry shoved in between a split taffy stem. The script is very regular, but the napkin is torn on the angles, like they couldn’t get the pressure right:

For the Ruby Rancor ♥

She grates the sharp tips of her teeth together. “You said you wouldn’t make it a drink.”

“I didn’t! I swear!” Diohn takes her own dulled molars to the cap of a bottle and spits it in the trash. “But you should stop fighting it. It’s definitely caught on.”

“Then what’s with this,” Laa’let says. It’s not just the garnish that’s offensive. Diohn’s clearly chosen her most bulbous glass, and she must have some campari, premixed to the perfect shade, chilling in a jug somewhere.

“That’s just me doing my fucking job. Now you should do yours.”

Diohn won’t share her tips forever, but Laa’let has her limits. Maybe too many of them for this career. “It’s not my job to talk to dolls.”

“Talking to cute faces with nothing but stuffing between their ears? I’d say that’s definitely in your contract. Roll out some carnival tricks.”

Laa’let’s lekku stiffen. “Circus. And I was a fucking acrobat.”

“Whatever. There’s still an audience—and maybe they’ll tip.”

It’s not an audience if you didn’t invite it, she refrains from saying, it’s an embarrassment. Too much like real life. With a frown, Laa’let swipes the drink, and the doll flops face down onto the chromium counter. Pathetic.

“Hand me that,” she says, snapping her fingers at an open bubblezap bottle.

Diohn giggles and swiggs the dregs. “Awww, someone’s had one too many!”

Laa’let maneuvers the doll into a seated position against the bottle, mindful of the oversized head. Its eyes are fixed off to the side, as if deliberately avoiding her boobs. “I need to get on his level. Is this a double?” she asks, stirring the drink once with the garnish.

One of Diohn’s liberal shots cascades over her peach fingers as she preps a line of Fuzzy Yodas—frothy, green, and strong enough to make you talk backwards. “You’ll have a nice time. I promise.”

Laa’let pulls out one of the lethris barstools and drops onto it. She hates sitting on these chairs. They’re sticky and undersized, like everything else here—even the ceiling is too low to accommodate her best tricks on stage. It’s maddening to be reduced to pantomime, the feeling of holding herself by halves, but Diohn’s right. She’s still a consummate performer, she’s still on the clock, and she’s still fucking broke.

“So,” Laa’let begins, taking a long sip that melts her sinuses and makes her damn nipples hard, “I’m new to this job and don’t have a lot of conversation up my sleeve, so do you want tragic backstory or tragic backstory?”

The little soldier makes big eyes at the turquoise Togruta on stage, but doesn’t indicate a preference.

“Tragic backstory it is. You might think it all started when my parents sold me to some charlatan in a travelling circus. Or when my growth spurt went on two years too long and I couldn’t get health insurance—did you know organs over a meter long are considered a pre-existing condition?”

She’s got her lekku draped over her shoulders and she shakes the tip of one in the little soldier’s face.

“Speciesist, I know. Free Porn Taa is laughably small in every department, so it’s not a priority for him. And the Togs aren’t represented in the Senate—not that healthcare is a priority there either.”

“Ugh, Lala,” groans Diohn, loudly dumping an armful of bottles into the bin as she passes by. “Politics? At my bar? No wonder he’s bored.”

Laa’let makes a rude gesture at Diohn’s back. “Anyway,” she says to the disinterested doll, “things really didn’t go downhill for me until the fucking Zillo Beast.”

The rack around Tosha’s stage erupts in applause when she finishes her routine. Another charming clone thing. It’d never occurred to them not to clap.

“Did I see it? You bet your plastic ass I did. Three of its gnarly legs came crashing through the roof during my act.”

Just for something to do, Laa’let takes the garnish from her drink and starts to trace a wet rendering of the monster that ruined her life on the counter.

“Squashed half the audience. I fell into the netting, along with all the buttresses, and was buried with broken ribs for three damn days. And this is where having no health insurance, no transferable skills, and no tolerance for animal abuse lands you,” she says, gesturing at the room, humid and a hazy red in the house lights, like an oversized womb.

Laa’let follows the little soldier’s gaze again. Tosha’s now working the rack for tolls. She’s got her knees on either side of one trooper’s ears, gripping him by his red shoulder wings as he gently tucks some funny money into her panties, ruffled and pink like cotton candy.

“Look, I know she’s topless and I’m not, but you could at least pretend to pay attention.”

A trooper in purple plates, very much paying attention, suddenly materalizes next to the doll. Laa’let takes in his double wings and his skirt—has she been performing for a fancy ARC?—and then moves onto his hair. It’s shaved into a landing strip across his skull and down his chin, and she can’t help wonder if the landscaping extends below the belt, too.

“There you are, Rex!” he declares, smiling broadly like he’d be very happy to enlighten her. “Who’s your pretty friend?” He gives a wave with one of the doll’s stubby arms.

This part always makes Laa’let nervous. What seemed like a good idea when she was eighteen and angry now made her job—wooing credits out of beings already much smaller than herself—very difficult.

“Doesn’t your friend know it’s rude not to stare?” she says, as softly as she can over the synth-glimmik pumping from the speakers, shielding her fangs with full lips—the only gift her mother gave her.

“My apologies, ma’am,” answers the trooper while ogling her tits for both of them. “He said he knew you, but he was probably talking out of his shebs.”

“Nah, he’s just shy. He doesn’t know how to ask,” comes a rumble in her cone. Another trooper pokes his head over her shoulder and starts taking mental soundings down her cleavage.

Mindful of the bulk of her lek, she turns to glance at his plates—also purple, also winged. “Ask what?”

The second one tilts his pretty face up. His hair curls in a way Laa’let recognizes as attractive to humans, and thick black stripes on his cheeks somehow brighten his green eyes, which sparkle at her with all the optimism of someone about two drinks in. “How much to blow bubbles?”

Laa’let takes a moment to parse this phrasing. The soldiers have a funny way of talking, but blowing bubbles is a far cry from their usual slang, crude and derived from military words she doesn’t understand. But eyes speak a pretty universal language, and theirs are glued to her red rack. If anyone’s going to introduce face fapping to the clone lexicon, it won’t be her.

But Green is far too cute to be allowed to bury those sweet cheeks so soon. The cheroot smoking on his breath is making her heart flutter, and she downs the rest of her drink.

“What’s your name, soldier?”

“Jock, ma’am. And that fastidious fucker’s Muse.”

She struts her long fingers atop the bar towards the doll and starts to toy suggestively with his little skirt. “Well, Jock, boys in blue get things on the house,” Laa’let teases with a smile, not bothering about the fangs. If these two are going to spook, better get the disappointment over with.

Muse sits his ass straight down for the long haul, and Jock hovers even closer.

“And boys in other colors?” he mumbles, brushing the back of a finger down her shoulder, evidently still full of hope. That he doesn’t go straight for her plushy lek says he’s got manners, and Laa’let feels her bum go warm on the barstool.

“What makes purple boys special?” she asks, genuinely curious. She’s not encountered any troopers in this soft shade before, and 69’s does a good trade in color—every dancer’s got their favorites, but it’s considered good luck to get crisp tips off a new one. They think it means you’re a trooper’s first; Laa’let just suspects a counterfeit operation somewhere.

“We’ve got walkers and big, fuck-off tanks with psycho warfare tech” and “we’re an elite, hypermobile, armored reconnaissance unit” are the simultaneous answers.

Muse makes a disapproving face at his comrade and straightens up a little when he clarifies. “We’re the 113th Armored Infantry Battalion, ma’am.”

“And the color?” she asks, fingering the lining of Jock’s skirt. Maybe she could get him down to nothing but this, then bribe it off him? The lethris on these things is pretty lush, given it’s army issue.

“Commander’s orders,” says Jock, beaming. “Matches our Jedi’s sabers.”

“Who’s your Jedi?” Laa’let prods, wondering how much two elite soldiers will leak over big tits.

Jock squints at Muse. “I think that’s classified?”

“Definitely classified.”

“He’s sealed tight but … I’m working on it,” Jock assures her with a wink, mischievous and loaded. She can’t tell if he means his Jedi, Muse, or both, but his playfulness is certainly working on her. Even if Diohn hasn’t just made herself conspicuous, inquiring with gestures about the status of flimsi in fingers.

Laa’let smiles, plucks the doll from the counter, and dumps him headfirst into her cleavage.

“Steady on, Rex,” gasps Muse, wide-eyed, grinning stupidly between the doll and slack-jawed Jock.

“For you two,” she begins, giving the little head a very illustrative shake, “this is ten…”

Using the nubbed arms, Laa’let pushes the golden top of her dress down, popping out one ivory nipple, then the other, conscious that she’s already given away about fifteen credits. “Handsies is twenty...”

Flipping the little doll over by the arms, she lets him come to rest where creamy fabric melts into the divot between her hips. Her senses are alight with human! now that Jock’s knees have failed him and his head’s propped up on her shoulder. Her right lek tingles against his balmy cheek. She returns Muse’s puppet wave. “And anything more is subject to performance review.”

“We…” Muse begins, opening and closing his mouth like a blurrg on spice, “we’ve only got twenty between us.”

Laa’let bites her lip and bounces the doll in her broad lap, like she isn’t preparing to inflate more than just their manual scores. She’s flipped her glass and her tits are out. Diohn better be getting her a fucking room.

“Tell you what. Twenty plus this little trooper and you might find I’m big enough to share.”

. . . . .

[CT-61-6898] Are you seated

[CT-27-5555] in briefing w some top squares knock me down my ombre hombre

[CT-61-6898] … RIP Cpt Rex

[CT-27-5555] ! what did those dumbfucks do

[CT-27-5555] its only been 12 hrs we r still in the system ffs

[CT-27-5555] facts tho he was ltd edition not even rex actual has one

[CT-61-6898] unnamed.holo

[CT-27-5555] ! u perv what did u fucking do to him

[CT-61-6898] Shit That wasn’t for you Wrong holo

[CT-27-5555] too late ...rip smokecheck

[CT-27-5555] commdr tano likes ur paintjob

[CT-61-6898] You fucking wish (...but I’ll pass on the compliment)

[CT-27-5555] so he didn’t get creampied good 2 know what happened

[CT-61-6898] rexnruby.holo

[CT-27-5555] !

[CT-61-6898] Is he scuba qualified

[CT-27-5555] !

[CT-61-6898] Muse is sorry not sorry Rex was sacrificed for the mission He did give me a datachip instead

[CT-27-5555] WORTH IT

Smokecheck belongs to tiend. The 113th bros and Miss Laa’let are mine.

#writing wednesday #clone troopers #the clone wars #captain rex #fives #laa'let #biscuit fic #the little alor'ad #don't share toys kids #age appropriate clone shenanigans #clones

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ghelikblack · 8 years ago

Text

Failed attempts at courting.

Still the same week as yesterday. And here’s another little treat for you all lovely people, including the random porn-blogs that follow me for some reason.

This is somewhat longer than the previous, so if you prefer reading on AO3....

“A marriage to Wanheda would be ideal” says Chris, sitting to his left, Reynard nodding eagerly, Alex is polishing her nails feigning disinterest, which means she thinks too it’s a good idea.

Roan fights the urge to roll his eyes at his apparently completely blind advisors. Not for the first time he thinks he’s not cut out for this. His brother was the one groomed to be a king, to follow his advisor’s advices and stuff.

He shakes his head, but Rainard cuts in, speaking with the wide vocals and expressiveness of a puppy on joby nuts typical for his region “Chris is right. We cannot trust a simple treaty. A marriage is important.” He’s looking over Roan’s shoulder when he adds waggling his eyebrows. “Also, imagine her riding towards your heir.”

Chris smirks and even Alex looks interested over at the blond skaikru heda. Roan does not pinch the bridge of his nose, but is a close call. Because, yes, he’s not blind, and Clarke is a very attractive woman, but there is a list as long as his forearm of reasons why even thinking about proposing an arranged marriage to her is not a good idea.

When he looks over his shoulder to look at her, there is the main one, standing a foot away from her, scowl in place and mouth set in a severe line. “She’s already married.” He tells his advisors, because the mess that is Wanheda and her Knife’s relationship is something he doesn’t want to approach with a ten foot long pole.

“That is not what she said”, says Alex to her fingernails. “She explicitly stated that she isn’t.” the advisor’s sharp blue eyes rise to Roan’s, a soft smile on her lips. “Also Echo seems interested in the Wanheda’s Knife.”

Chris snorts and promptly looks around to make sure Echo isn’t anywhere near him. Chris, Roan and Echo grew up together, being all around the same age, which means the king’s advisor learned from a very tender age not to mess with the king’s spy.

He shouldn’t have bothered, Echo is currently hunting some treat for Bellamy. Roan would make fun of Echo’s awkward attempts at courting if he were doing any better at his own.

And it’s not nearly as ridiculous for Echo to be tongue-tied and nervous around Bellamy, since, as far as Roan knows, the warrior has never before been infatuated with anybody.

Roan, on the other hand has courted many times; he even was engaged for a brief amount of time, before Haiplana Nia discovered his brother’s coup and decided to kill everyone involved. Including sweet Minnie.

“Even if she isn’t” he adds tiredly, “Skaikru leaders won’t allow their heiress and biggest assets to move to the Winter Palace. And it wouldn’t just be Clarke, Bellamy would tag along, too.”

“No arranged marriage is perfect” says Alex, shrugging. From the three advisors he brought with him to the skaikru settlement in order to negotiate a full – official – peace treaty, Alex is the oldest. She was advisor to Roan’s mother before him and ‘has seen some shit’ as skaikru would put it. She herself was forced into an arranged marriage at the tender age of twelve and has born her husband five children all but the youngest, who is still a young teen, in high-ranking positions in the Azgeda army.

“I am sure of it. But the point still stands. If the Chancellors don’t approve the union…”

“A compelling argument can be made.”

“They will not accept it.” Roan sighs tiredly, the pounding behind his eyes starting to get annoying.

“Someone else, then” Reynard’s eyes twinkle with mischief when he leans forward, forearms resting against his knees. “What about the dark mee-jaa-nik?”

Roan narrows his eyes at him while Chris tries and fails to be discrete as he elbows Reynard in the side. “That is, surprisingly, not a bad idea.” Alex concedes. “She is not spoken for, from the Skaikru Inner Circle and you” she looks sharply at Roan “have made your interest in her clear already.”

Roan splutters. He cannot think of a single reason why that is not a good idea, which feels wrong. He has been trying to turn Raven’s head for over a month, but the mechanic has a tendency to ignore his attention or brush him off. He has sat through hours of her distracted ramblings, only for Raven to blink at him as if she hadn’t noticed him sitting by her worktable. He has brought her food and ancient mechanical contraptions for her to tinker and has even attempted speaking to her. But he – much to everyone’s amusement – turns into his stuttering thirteen-year-old self around her.

“If this is settled, I’ll draft the final conditions for the skaikru to consider” says Alex standing and marching away and into one of the two huts they’ve been given for their stay.

“I really think you should reconsider asking Wanheda” says Chris. “Even if you have to take her Knife with you. It is the better choice.”

Reynard barks out a laugh. “Can you really imagine Wanheda and the Knife cooped inside the Winter Palace for three months? The sexual tension there would have everyone fucking like rabbits.”

Chris makes a face at his friend. “Come on, Roan. It’s not like you haven’t had your share of pretty boys.”

The king rolls his eyes. “Yeah, but I’d like not to be the odd one out in my own bed.”

“Also, there is the problem of children looking a little too much like the Knife and too little like the King.” By now Reynard is nearly in tears, even though neither Roan nor Chris find this particularly funny.

Roan huffs “Anyway, it has been settled. We will ask for Raven’s hand.”

“And no one has thought about the fact that she’s a cripple and how that will look to our people.” At once Roan snaps to attention, his eyes boring holes into Chris’ skull until the other man wilts and mumbles a quiet “I didn’t mean any disrespect, Haihefa.”

“Oh! Echo’s back” Reynard shakes their shoulders excitedly for them to turn and look at Echo, who’s striding with long purposeful steps to where Clarke and Bellamy are seated at one of the tables strewn around the large gathering hall.

In times of peace, the warrior’s face is clean of any war-paint, but she’s even refrained to paint her eyes with coal, like some girls like to do – as far as Roan knows, that is the only ‘girly’ treat she allows herself. Her hair has been pulled back into a long braid that swishes sharply behind her, and she’s dressed in a light linen short tunic that leaves her throat bare, and leather pants. She’s carrying a small writhing animal by the scruff of its neck and Roan has to fight the urge to smile at her.

During Azgedan courtships, it is customary to show off one’s hunting abilities, bringing back small animals one has been able to shoot with one single arrow; or larger ones, as proof of being able to sustain a future family.

Three days ago Echo had found Roan and told him how she had brought back a tiny hummingbird she had been able to shoot through the eye. “I even made a special arrow as to not break the skull!” Apparently Bellamy’s expression had been ‘utterly horrified’.

Apparently Echo has decided Bellamy is of a ‘kind disposition’ and has brought him something alive.

The three men hold their breath as Echo clears her throat to get Bellamy’s attention and promptly plops the small furry beast on his lap. The cub gives a tiny high pitched roar and Bellamy instinctively rubs his head, calming the beast that has left scratches all over Echo’s forearms and legs into a purring ball of soft fur.

The two skaikru warlords exchange a look before carefully turning towards Echo. The warrior is blotchy with a not very becoming blush, her shoulders tense and hands clawing at her own pants like she has to physically restrain herself. If it’s from running way or launching herself on the object of her devotion, Roan isn’t sure.

She’s stiff as a board when Bellamy smiles at her. She turns and stalks off with her trademark quick purposeful strides.

***

“I hate these sky people” says Echo by way of greeting.

A few days have passed since she gifted Bellamy the baby panther – which has been adopted and has received the name Sekhemed, because skaikru are ridiculous and Bellamy doubly so – and Echo has been all over the place, being at the same time too shy to properly talk to him and too bold to leave him alone.

“What have they done this time?” Roan asks as he stretches. In theory they’re meeting to spar. In theory they’re meeting at the break of dawn, because they’re from up north and this summer is too hot and humid to do much of anything during most of the day.

They do actually spar – and bicker and complain about how these ridiculous sky people don’t understand subtlety and how they’re this close to just go and spell it out to them – but… They try to time their best moves with the highest chances they might have for the objects of their affection to see them.

Since the sparring ring is strategically situated on the path between the sleeping area and the mess hall where everyone goes to eat - do these people not know there exists the possibility of having a private kitchen? - their sessions start pretty early and end rather late – because Raven is an owl and doesn’t emerge from her small hut until well past ten.

The good thing about it is that the mechanic always sits near the sparring ring with a cup of coffee, after grabbing her food from the mess hall, so Roan is feeling pretty confident that at least this is working – somehow.

“Harper somehow found out about my infatuation” she grumbles, taking off her light tunic and shoes and slipping into the ring clad only in a skin-tight shirt and pants.

“I wonder how that happened.”

Echo punches him and he remorselessly swipes her legs from beneath her. “Shut up.” Growls the assassin, kicking him on the side of the knee and destabilizing him enough to send him to one knee with another whip-like kick. “You’ve only been too obvious for a year now.”

“Ass.” She blocks both his blows and evades the sweep of his legs completely. “Anyway. Harper has given me advice. On how skaikru courts.”

Echo jumps at him, making him take a step back, and promptly uses his leg as a step to aim a blow at his face with her shin. Roan manages to duck, but Echo’s other leg drapes around his shoulder, hooking and she’s suddenly sitting there, completely destabilizing him and sending him once again to the ground.

“So what do they do?” Roan asks once he’s managed to slip out of the warrior’s grasp.

“They go out on ‘dates’, which are pointless strolls around. They go to watch animated pictures. They tell stories.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“And there’s a tradition of gifting flowers.” She stumbles slightly back when he manages to land a blow. “Which is as pointless as the strolls. They don’t even need to be useful. Just pretty.”

For a few moments they stay silent, concentrating on trying to get the upper hand on the sparring. “How are you supposed to decide if your partner is a good fit by their ability to find pretty flowers and walk aimlessly?”

Roan shrugs. It seems pretty pointless.

Then again, he did have relationships in the past. Echo has never had that, she had learned from spymaster and queen Nia herself to use her body as she would a blade. If she ever needed to get something out of someone without using force she would just disrobe before them and fuck their brains out until they were like potty in her hands. She hasn’t had any sort of actual relationship and until she found Bellamy, Roan wasn’t even sure she even wanted one.

Echo didn’t do feelings. She used to complain when he went to her with his, arguing how Minnie wasn’t that great, or seamlessly tearing down his infatuations with unhealthy doses of brutal honesty.

Roan remembers asking her why she even bothered, what about the Knife was so different? Echo had been blotchy with embarrassment and maybe one too many cups of skaikru’s moonshine. “He’s kind.” She had said, refusing to look at him. “And funny and caring. He would be a good father.

“Do you want to have children?” Roan remembers that had left him openly gaping at her. Echo had just snorted in a very un-ladylike manner. “Oh, hell no!” she had shrugged “But he does.” And that’s all he ever got.

Roan shrugs “I don’t know.” But he does, because he’s spent hours listening to Raven’s incomprehensible ramblings, and even tolerated the company of the frikdreina Raven has as an assistant. Has to admit he enjoys spending time, just ‘hanging around’. Sometimes they even share a meal – Raven and him, not the frikdreina. The assistant eats with skaikur’s fox on the fringes of the gathering hall.

Yesternight Clarke dragged him to a pretty pointless card game with skaikru’s young inner circle – he got to sit across from Raven and together they wiped the rest of skaikru out, it was amazing.

“Yo! Roan!”

The king does not flinch, but it’s a very close call. He turns, a cocky smile on his lips and his heart does that little thing it always does when he sees Raven, arms crossed and legs separated in a clear no-nonsense stance. “I need you to do some heavy lifting for me.”

He has to squash the urge to grin like an idiot as he steps out of the sparring ring, falling easily in step with the mechanic. She’s so short, all hard lines of muscle among her well defined feminine curves. He has to admit he usually likes his women with a little more meat on their bones, but she’s still gorgeous.

They don’t talk much – mostly because he seems unable to string words into comprehensible sentences when he’s around her, how pathetic is that? – but the silence is agreeable, companionable and not strained in the least.

When he notices her watching him out of the corner of her eye he has to fight down the urge to preen. He winks at her and she blushes, which has him in a good mood for the rest of the day.

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