#but i got to chat to some vendors who were brave enough to stay out along the seine in such cold!!

[la-cocotte-de-paris]

I.XII.MMXXIII

Paris, France

Some pictures I took wandering around today

[thinkingimmensely]

Like An Open Book X

Part 1 | Part 9 | Part 11

A/N: Hello everyone! We’re halfway through the first month of 2021 and here’s a new chapter for y’all! Comments are very much appreciated <3 I want to know what you guys think of the story so far, it also gives me motivation to write more really :D  

This chapter is quite long, I didn’t want to cut it halfway through since it breaks the momentum thingy haha, I hope you guys don’t mind and enjoy it! <3

MASTERLIST

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything from the Potterverse!

___________________

Remus and James had jumped into the water creating a wave that hit you, Sirius, and Peter. The boys soon started a wrestling match, with James up on Remus’ shoulders while Sirius was up on Peter’s.

You laughed as you watched Sirius successfully topple James down, winning the first round of their little wrestling match.  

It was the first time you were actually laughing out loud with people you considered as friends, you realized, and if you dwelled on the thought, you felt like crying out of the happiness that filled you right now.  

Because you were someone to them, you finally found a place where you belonged… but, will they still have you even though you had the ability to know their every nook and cranny? You knowingly frowned, then wiped it off your features.  

“I’m feeling a bit knackered, I’m going to rest for a while!” You called out to the boys and they replied with a chorus of okay’s and aright’s. You swam back to shore and got off the water with ease. You sat on the blanket Remus had spread out earlier and wrapped a towel around yourself; you were already beginning to dry, what with the sun harshly beating down on you.  

You would’ve used a drying spell but then you already used that whip earlier and you wouldn’t want to try and press the Ministry’s buttons with using so much underage magic. Thank Merlin Legilimency couldn’t be detected then, since you’d no doubt be behind bars with the number of times you’ve used it outside of Hogwarts.

You sighed, you wondered what Lily was doing right now; you hoped she was having as much fun as you were. She had written to you a few days ago saying that although she still finds James and company (excluding Remus) quite irritating, she was really glad you were having a grand time. She had also attached a picture of herself with the Eiffel Tower behind her. Your thoughts soon drifted off to a certain Slytherin student; you considered him a friend who knew you as well as you knew him. You’ve been inside Severus Snape’s mind too many times that you could read him as easy as an open book, and you’ve seen his fascination with the dark arts and his inner struggle to try and change his views about this whole mess.  

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about him anymore; despite his gloomy and snarky attitude, he was good company, and a good student. You just wished your memories about the time Mulciber and the others attacked you came back, maybe then you’d understand why Severus was hellbent on ignoring you; and if only Severus stood still for a moment, you could just peek and get the answers yourself.

Your train of thought was soon cut short as the boys got out of water and were heading your way, big smiles on their faces as they chatted. You cast a smile their way as they came near enough, your thoughts about Severus and your lost memories tucked into the back of your mind for now.

-

“Hey Y/N, how do I look?” Sirius asked as he came into view by your doorway. You turned to look at him and chuckled as he twirled around for good measure. He adorned an all-Black attire, with his black shirt, skinny black jeans, combat boots and a leather jacket.

“Like you’re ready for a rock concert.” You commented. He flashed his white pearls at you and came inside the room as you were just finishing up your preparations, pocketing your wand in your hoodie, you turned back to Sirius just in time to catch his pushing his long hair back his shoulders, “Do you want me to tie your hair up? I figured it might be annoying if you leave it down later.”

“Good idea!” He chirped and sat down on a stool by the vanity dresser. You came up behind him and scooped his curls in your hands, taking time to do it as neatly at possible, and tied it up with an extra elastic band. Sirius admired himself in the mirror, “My, don’t I look dashing?” He said then stood up as you snorted. 

“Like a masterpiece.” 

“Darling, may I commend you on your keen eye on beauty?” The both of you broke out laughing and Sirius wrapped an arm around your shoulders and smiled down at you fondly, “Anyway, I’m here to pick you up, the others are already waiting downstairs, and may I add, are itching to go. So, shall we?” He dropped his hand off your shoulder and offered his arm instead.

You shook your head and found this all so silly, but you hooked your arm with his nonetheless. “We shall.” The both of you teetering on your way down, arms linked together. James gave you two a confused look when you came into view, but decided not to say anything. You moved away from Sirius when Remus came out of the kitchen, cookie in hand. “Quick snack before we go?”  

Remus smiled at you, “There’s more in the kitchen, I see you eyeing my cookie. Get your own.”

You placed a hand on your chest at mock-hurt, “Ouch Rem, what ever happened to sharing?”

“This is Sirius’ fault no doubt,” Remus said, then turned to the gray-eyed boy, “look what your influence has done to her; she’s as sassy as you.”  

“Oi, it’s time to go!” James called out from the doorway.

“Now you kids be careful!” Euphemia doted, “Always carry your wands with you.”

James nodded as the rest of you piled outside, “Don’t worry mum, we’ll be back at dawn!”  

When your group arrived at the area where the concert was held, there was already a swarm of people out and about.  Remus placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder as you guys braved the crowd.  The five of you soon found a spot beside a trailer, Sirius already had a few girls chatting him up while Peter hung on to their every word. Remus and James kept you grounded with all the muggles around and their hearts on their sleeves. They distracted you with conversations and jokes that you didn’t even notice the time that passed until the concert was starting in a couple of minutes.

The swarm of people started gathering and despite Remus’ best efforts to at least provide you with some space to personal space, you found yourself struggling to breathe as strangers pressed upon you as they headed near the stage to get a better view.  

“I’m gonna go buy something to drink!” Sirius informed you guys over the cheers of the crowd as the band took to the stage. 

Your ears were ringing and you grabbed Sirius by the sleeves of his jacket, “I’ll come with!” You shouted back. Sirius gave you a look of surprise but nodded nonetheless and the two of you dispersed from the rest. 

You breathed a sigh of relief as the two of you approached a stall where they sold a variety of drinks. It wasn’t as crowded in this area compared to earlier since the concert just started.  

“All right?” Sirius asked as you fanned yourself with your hands.  

“Of course.” You replied as Sirius took the can of root beer and fished out a couple of muggle currency out of his pocket. He eyed it then flashed you a sheepish look. You rolled your eyes, chuckling lightly as you helped him pay, getting the right amount and handing it to the vendor.

He popped the lid of the can open releasing some fizz, and took a gulp. “Ack, I didn’t think beer would taste like this. Do muggles really get drunk with this?”  

You raised a brow. “Are you serious?”

He furrowed his brows at you, “Yes???”

You shook your head, “I mean, that’s root beer, it isn’t alcoholic. I think it’s more soda actually.”

Sirius frowned and looked at the drink in his hand and took another gulp. He shrugged, “Kind of reminds me of butterbeer.” You laughed at that. He offered you the drink and you gladly took a a few gulps before giving it back to him, your thirst quenched for the time being.

You two were about to head back to the others when another group of girls crowded Sirius saying they just wanted to chat a bit. He had cast you a hesitant look before you waved him off, telling him that you’d wait for him. And wait you did, quite awkwardly at the side until someone suddenly grabbed your hand and pulled you away in haste. “What the bloody hell!” You exclaimed and snatched your hand away but the person turned to look at you. It was a he, and his eyes stormed with panic.   “What are you doing here?!” He snapped as he pulled you further away from the crowd, you willingly followed this time, your mind still not believing the fact the he was actually here.  

“I should be asking you that. I thought you didn’t hang out with muggles, Sev?” You tried to stay calm, but now that he was talking to you, you felt your nerves tangling up inside of you. For weeks he hadn’t said a word to you and now he’s snapping at you? 

Severus ran a frustrated hand through his hair, “We don’t have time for this. You need to leave. Now.” He warned, “Something is about to happen and-” he was about to say but you cut him off, “What do you mean? You- you've been ignoring me for weeks and now... now you show up from who knows where and tell me to leave?”

He placed his hands on your shoulders, “If you think of me as your friend like you always say I am, then trust me when I say that it’s not safe here. They’re coming!”  

“They’re?” You asked but before Severus could reply, people with masks and hoods over their heads apparated to the crowd from thin air, cackling noises vibrating throughout the area; people soon began shouting in shock and confusion. “No...” You whispered horridly. Death Eaters. You were about to run back to the crowd on instinct but Severus grabbed your hand. You whipped towards him, “Let me go! The others are still there!” You cried out.  Green blasts lit at random places in the crowd while another batch of wizards and witches arrived, the cackling caused by apparation being overlapped by screams and spells. The new group battled the Death Eaters immediately, so they must be Aurors sent by the Ministry.

Muggles ran past the both of you, and someone slammed right into you and Severus, releasing the boy’s hold on you. You took this opportunity to get up and sprint back to search for your friends. You could feel your eyes prickle with unshed tears, of course Severus knew, he was one step away from joining them. “Sirius! Remus!” You shouted through the swarm of people. “Peter! James!” Shouts echoed the area as the people escaped, they’d never hear you at this rate. Hopelessness started to engulf you as dread filled your body. Everyone was scared you could hear everyone’s screams and you could slowly feel yourself lose your strength; you could feel yourself lose your own thoughts.

E c h o e s

Your mind was like a cave that had voices bouncing off its walls; echoing deeper in its crevice.

You’ve lost yourself in that cave countless of times before, each one was not a moment you looked back on fondly. Now you’re back and it seemed like the rocky walls of thoughts were closing in on you.

C    l   o   s  i  n g   r i g h t   in

Covering your ears didn’t help, but you did it anyway. People were running amok; children were being separated from their parents, friends were losing each other in the crowd and you couldn’t focus even if you had to- the voices in reality was being mixed with the ones in your head.

Everyone was screaming.

You felt someone pull you away just as a flash of green hit the spot where you just stood.

You didn’t even know who he was.

“Y/N, are you all right?!” The person shook you, and you looked into hazel eyes that were wide with worry and fright. His hands held you by your shoulders in a vice-like grip and you were pretty sure he wasn’t even aware of it himself. “Stay with me. Focus on me.” His voice left no room for argument and you found yourself keenly aware of how close your bodies were. If the both of you weren’t stuck in this life-or-death situation, you would’ve turned into a million shades of red right now.

The both of you were hunched back behind some bushes, shielding you from the sight of any Death Eater around the area. He pried your hands away from your ears, his eyes never leaving yours, “I won’t let anything happen to you.”  

You didn’t realize you were crying until now, but everything in your head seemed quieter as James Potter’s thoughts drowned everyone else’s away. I’ll keep you safe, we’ll get out of here, we’ll get out. You breathed in a shaky breath and got your wand out of the pocket of your hoodie. “I won’t let anything happen to you too.”

You wiped your tears away and steeled your resolve. James pulled you up and held your hand tightly as you went around, trying to find your three friends. “Protego Duo!” You cast just as one of the Death Eaters was about to blast an Auror from behind.  

“Stupefy!” James shouted and it hit the Death Eater square in the chest, making him fall backwards with a thud.  

DIE  

Merchant stalls caught on fire from Incendio, smoke erupting from the flames. You wiped your tears on the sleeve of your hoodie as James screamed for the names of your friends. He had long let go of your hand as the two of you cast spell after spell in defense and retaliation. 

IMPURE

Someone had slammed into you again, sending you to the ground in a hard thud, your head hurt from the impact and the person paid no heed to you as he scrambled up and continued to run away.  

MUDBLOOD

Muggles cry out as green hits them. How many has fallen? James had rushed to your side to pull you back up, and you groaned in pain as you did.  

DIE

You whipped your attention behind you and saw the Death Eaters duel against Aurors. Someone seemed to float past the turmoil, unperturbed by the events and your blood ran cold. The man had snake-like features, his eyes were scarlet and his face, masklike. And throughout everyone, his eyes locked on to you and a sinister smile slowly spread on his face, time seemed to slow down, but not in a good way. His cruel entity radiated out of him and his thoughts made you want to hurl.

“Ah, a Legilimens!” He shouted, and despite all the noise around, his voice still boomed and everyone paying attention still heard him. A mistake. You made a mistake and now he knows. “And also well-versed in Occlumency I see.” He grinned, and you knew he tried to go into your subconscious as well.  

“James,” You croaked out as the boy stepped in front of you, wand drawn, you didn’t want him to find out this way. You wanted to be able to tell them yourself when you were ready.

The Auror you saved shielded the both of you, shouting that you needed to escape.  

“There is no need!” The snake-like man announced, “There is no escape from the Dark Lord!” He howled, “Avada Kedavra!” He yelled and the Auror dropped dead as the spell hit him square in the chest. You couldn’t even scream.

Shivers ran down your spine. This was him; this was Lord Voldemort in the flesh. Why was he here? Didn’t he usually leave little events to his followers? “You girl,” He called out to you and stretched out his hand, “Your talents will not be wasted if you join me! This is the first time I met a child blessed with such prowess of Legilimency! You may be only second to me! The boy beside you shows great potential as well, the both of you will rise up in my ranks with your skills!” Even though it seemed like he was complimenting you, his cold and steely tone held no such impression.

You gripped your wand tightly, ready for any sudden movements as sweat trickled down your forehead at the suspense. You glanced at James; the boy never took his eyes off of the Dark Lord and anger burned behind those hazel eyes.

“We will never join you!” James snapped and flicked his wand towards a fallen log and propelled it towards Voldemort and his other death eaters. The both of you took this opportunity to escape, never bothering to look back.  

Voldemort bellowed at the petty trick, instantly blasting the log into pieces. “Leave them!” He commanded his followers when they were about to pursuit. “There will be many chances in the future.”  

-

“Remus! Peter!” James exclaimed in relief as he saw the two. The four of you reunited and Peter was bawling his eyes out in fright, his hand that held his wand tightly was trembling vigorously as he held it up in defense.

The three boys looked haggard and you figured you were as well. All of you stayed on your guard as the battle still raged on. “We need to find Sirius and get away from here.” James said and the rest of you nodded in agreement.

“Petrificus Totalus!” Remus casted, hitting a Death Eater, disabling him from making any movements. You didn’t have to look for long when Peter spotted Sirius dueling with someone a few meters from where you stood.  

“Peter, look out!” You shout and tackled the blonde boy to the ground as a spell flew by the both of you and hit another person instead. “Immobulus!” James shot at the perpetrator while Remus shot him with a Flipendo, sending him backwards. You helped Peter up, the boy looking absolutely distraught about that near-death experience but still continued on with the rest of you.

“Wouldn’t it be great if you joined us, cousin?!” A woman with wild, curly, black hair exclaimed as she shot spell after spell at your gray-eyed friend. You could feel the bloodlust radiating off of her as she had no qualms on dueling against her family member. Bellatrix Lestrange, or as you knew her back then, Bellatrix Black.  

“In your wildest dreams, Bella!” Sirius retaliated with a smirk as he countered her every spell, hex, and dodge every curse. Unlike the other Death Eaters, Bellatrix didn’t wear a robe nor a mask to cover who she was. She was quite proud to be a follower of Voldemort and was sure to flaunt it.  

A flash of green light burst in the sky all of a sudden, which made all of you look up and halting all duels. A colossal skull decorated the sky in a flurry of green smoke until it etched itself on the black sky like a new constellation. A snake protruded from its mouth like a tongue. The Dark Mark. 

Now, just as sudden as the Death Eaters arrived, they vanished, leaving the aftermath of destruction in their wake. An eerie silence enveloped the area as the Aurors made quick work on damage control. The muggles that escaped were soon tracked and obliviated of any memory of magic that transpired.  

You stared into the distance. Your throbbing head soon healed as a healer made quick work of any injuries the five of you may have sustained. “Your use of underage magic today will be overlooked as an act of self-defense.” An Auror informed you and your companions.  

You sighed, “Can we go home now?” You were exhausted, all of you were, and James’ parents were probably pacing themselves in worry. The Auror looked at you, thinking. He was as tired as you guys were, and he surely didn’t want to deal with students right now.  

“Of course. We will contact you if we have additional questions. Now, you shall be escorted-” He was about to say but James cut him off, “No it’s fine. My place isn’t far from here...”

You zoned out of the conversation when the Auror started explaining the need for an escort and James insisting that the lot of you could look after yourselves, your focus shifted to the people being obliviated. The flash of the wand as the spell was cast seemed so familiar, yet so foreign. You placed a hand on your head as flashes of darkness appeared in your mind. You suddenly stood up, much to the surprise of your friends, and you approached one of the Obliviators.  

“Excuse me,” You said. The Obliviator finished her task and turned to look at you and raised a brow in question. You bit your lower lip in nervousness, “Um, would it be alright if I asked some questions about Obliviate?”

The woman faced you fully, letting out a kind smile. “Of course. What would you want to know?”

You ran a hand through your hair, “I- is it possible for the people who were obliviated to regain their memories?” You asked, “How would you know that you’ve been obliviated before?”

The Obliviator placed a hand on her chin in thought, “Well,” she started, “For one, you wouldn’t know if it was casted on you as long as it was properly cast.” She informed you and thought some more, “As for regaining memories, there are various ways of breaking the Memory Charm. Torture, for one. I heard the Death Eaters are especially fond of that; also, if the charm that was cast isn’t as strong, a simple memory potion should do the trick. There are different levels of the charm, so it’s very important to have full focus when casting it. If it’s too strong it could cause brain damage, or even worse, death. But if it’s too weak, there would be a high chance of the person regaining their memories.”  

You nodded, engraving her words into your head, maybe this was the answer. “Thank you.” The woman nodded in reply and walked away to obliviate yet another unconscious muggle. Remus stood up as you headed back to them.  

“All right?” He questioned as he placed his hands on your arms. You looked up at him, his brown eyes glinting off worry. You gulped.  

“As I’ll ever be.” You replied. Remus’ mouth formed a thin line on his face; he didn’t believe you. But he chose not to pry any further, which you were glad for. They informed you that the Auror was going to Apparate you guys to James’ house and explain the situation to his parents.  

When you arrived, the door slammed open and Euphemia and Fleamont rushed out, the former in tears as she pulled all five of you in a bone-crushing hug. Fleamont and the Auror moved a few meters away to discuss everything that happened as Euphemia hounded the lot of you inside.  

After warm baths and a change of clothes, all of you retreated to bed. You were by yourself in the guest room while the boys shared James’ room. You wished you could go to them right now; you didn’t want to be alone.  

You stared at the ceiling of the room as you laid in bed that night. Sleep eluded you and your thoughts plagued you. Someone may have obliviated yours and the Slytherins’ memories about the fight at Hogwarts, you didn’t know who it was and why they did what they did, but you were bent on figuring it out. 

Also now, Voldemort knew your ability and wanted you to join his army. You doubt this would be the last time you come face to face with the Dark Lord, war was brewing and even with the safety Hogwarts provided you as students, you would ultimately have to graduate and leave. You had to tell Dumbledore about all this, you decided and immediately stood up to write him a letter. 

Quill in hand, you realized your hand still shook from the shock of earlier’ s attack. You took in a deep breath in hopes to help still your mind. Your penmanship wasn’t the best right now but it would have to do with your current state. It was cold and you missed the familiar warmth of the bespectacled boy’s hand in yours and the protection it provided. James was like a pillar that kept you grounded that time...

James... you set down your quill midway the letter, the color draining from your face as realization dawned. James knew. He knew you were a Legilimens now.

___________________ 

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[greywindys]

A little side-story from “The Answer” for @sashkash. The idea of Murdoc meeting some alpacas was too much to resist!

I’m not sure this will work as a standalone fic if you haven’t read the entire story, but you’re still welcome to read it if you’re interested! For some context, this takes place in two parts: the first is during the time Murdoc spent in Peru in chapter 21 after dispeling a family curse, and the second is when he returns with Noodle and Russel. At the start of this particular story, he’s just gone through 20 chapters of stress and anguish while on a long search for his mother, which went on with 2D. TA is a 2Doc fic, so there’s some reference to their relationship. 2D is physically absent but psychologically present. HOWEVER, the main point of all of this is that Murdoc meets and bonds with some alpacas 😭 8000 words of alpacas because I have issues! This fic also contains an OC, Victor, who is Murdoc’s mother’s friend from childhood. At this point in the story, Murdoc’s staying with him.

Fic under the cut!

It had been a few days since Murdoc said goodbye to his mother for the last time, and he was beginning to look at his life as two separate stages. There was the life he had when he didn't know her ("before Mum"), and the life that began after he woke up confused and directionless on the bank of the river ("after Mum"). 48 hours later, he still feels the frigid temperature of the water and the aches in his body. Every morning he questions who he is and how he still exists. His mind races and scrambles from one subject to another, trying to make sense of what he had just survived, until the rest of him shuts down, and he resigns himself to the old man's couch for the entire day. 

"How are you feeling today?" 

Victor. Right. That was his name. 

Murdoc is sitting in a chair at his table today, staring at a plate of scrambled egg and sausage he assumes is meant for him to eat. 

Your name is Murdoc. You're sitting in the kitchen with Victor, you're mum's friend from childhood. You feel the sun on your face through the window. You smell the eggs and sausage in front of you. 

"I..." Every part of him seems to weighed down in the chair heavy with words and emotions that would tell his story to the man sitting across from him if only he could find the strength to do so. What happened to me? He wants to ask. When am I going to feel better? It had left bits and pieces of itself all over him. His skin still burned from its touch. His heart raced when he imagined it behind him, waiting. The fork in his hand quivers with the rest of him, making small clangs as it hits the plate. He stares at it. The bones in his hand and wrist are sharply defined from the months he spent too anxious to eat. There was so little of him left, and he wonders if he isn't just a hollow frame of a person. He had defeated it, and that gave him some relief, but he doesn't know what he's supposed to do inside a body that remembered so much. 

Shadows dance across the table as people in the street pass by. They seem to reach out toward him with their curved outlines, like talons. His eyes follow them in a brief panic until he repeats his mantra to himself internally. 

His mother's friend regards him with an understanding smile. "Don't rush yourself. But please try to eat something." He then returns to reading the paper, and a comfortable silence falls over the room. 

Murdoc pokes the food around on his plate with his fork for another minute before he attempts a bite. He chews and swallows. He repeats the process again, and then again. Gradually, he begins to notice his stomach growling and the flavor of the food on his tongue and how satisfying it is to swallow it down. Baby steps, he thinks to himself, baby steps.

___________________________________________________________

The first body parts that start working again are his feet.

At least once a day, he finds himself leaving the house, choosing a street in the neighborhood and walking until his feet are sore, or his injured left leg weakens. His walks aren't scheduled. Sometimes he goes out in the afternoon, and other days, when he can't sleep, he leaves before the sun is up. Through these spontaneous and purposeless excursions, he begins to learn about the city. 

One street takes him through a large, outdoor market. Immediately, he's taken in by the smells, sounds, and colors. His feet take him past the food vendors, with all kinds of meats and produce decorating their tables. 

Mamacos, he reads on a sign above one bin. He quickly recognizes its contents as large ants and stares at them, wide-eyed, for at least a full minute.

It isn't the only unfamiliar or surprising cuisine he finds. He learns about Paiche, an Amazonian fish that can grow over two meters long, and llama jerky, and sliced cow heart. Then there are the fruits: the bright yellow pitahaya, the sour maracuya, and the smelly noni being among the most memorable. His interest piqued and his adventurous side reawakened, he impulsively buys a selection of the fruits and meats that day and eats them on a bench just outside the market. 

Before he can stop himself, he thinks about Stu, and how comically disgusted he would be.

And he thought the guinea pig was bad. 

His cheeks burn, and his heart thumps in his chest. He gulps the aching feeling of yearning down with his mouthful of Paiche.

Next, he wanders into the clothing section. The colors in this aisle are overwhelmingly vivid, like the inside of a kaleidoscope. He finds himself drawn to the intricate patterns of the blankets and ponchos at one table. 

He had a poncho in Detroit that he wore to one of their video shoots promoting solar energy. It was the first time he had sported such a garment and hadn't thought much of it after that. Now, however, he stares at them with a new curiosity. Tentatively, he reaches out a hand and takes the fabric of one of the ponchos in his hand. It's heavy and warm and comforting. As a smile emerges on his face, he thinks of her. 

The vendor greets him and asks him something in Spanish. He can only make out a couple of words. 

"Oh, er, just doing some window shopping," he says. "But, Gracias." Thank you was the only phrase he could say on the spot. 

The vendor looks at him, seemingly surprised by his accent and the way he fumbles his words. He replies in more words that Murdoc can't make out. He's friendly and accommodating, but the damage had been done. It was in these moments that it was impossible to ignore the internal voice of his that called him an outsider. He was in his fifties now, his memory was damaged by age and alcohol use, his trust in others was shaky at best. Cultivating any sort of connection outside of the tiny thread provided by Victor seemed to be an impossibility. 

He drops the fabric and waves the vendor off. "Never mind, mate. I've got other places to be." 

But he walks the same way the next day, only this time to the neighborhood beyond. The next day, he tries another direction and then another. Soon the sounds of the city become familiar from the chatter to the street music ranging from Andean folk music to top 40 hits from the 90s. He comes to know the smell of picarones and anticuchos. He cherishes the strength of the sun and the way the dust from the street clings to his skin after hours of walking.

Still, the words wouldn't come, not in conversation and not on paper. There was small talk, and between himself and Victor there was plenty of it. Murdoc would tell him about the food he tried that day, about the sloth he saw crawling through the town square. He would show him the bottle of pisco he picked up at the liquor store down the street. In return, Victor would talk to him about his shop, the neighborhood gossip, and Murdoc's mother. 

Murdoc adored those stories but they didn't make it any easier to talk about what had happened in the jungle. Yet the experience still stirred inside him. He would ignore it if he could, but its presence leaves him tense and discontent.

Eventually, he braves their public transportation with a few Peruvian soles, a bottle of rum, and the journal Stu bought him at the gas station in Texas. He has no direction in mind, only a goal to find somewhere quiet enough to sort out his thoughts.

Alone.

He shudders but acknowledges the thought. He was more alone than he ever had been, and it was likely that his life would stay this way after what he said to Stu. 

Stu.

He sinks deeper into his seat and tries to distract himself by staring out the window. He was alone, and he was changing. But he still loved to write songs and chat about himself and his interest in music. Those parts of himself were still there, and he needed to find them. He had to accomplish that before he could confront what he had done to his relationship with the singer.

The final stop at the bus leaves him in a clearing surrounded by a selection of dirt paths. He chooses one at random, and it takes him deeper into the woods. Around him, hears the drone of insects and the chatter of birds and other unidentifiable creatures hidden in the leaves. 

"It's not much quieter here than in town," he mutters to himself. 

After another five minutes of walking, the trees begin to thin, and the path on which he's walking becomes more defined. Next, a fence with heavy wood lap rails catches his eye. The sight seems to awaken the pain in his leg and brings his attention to his sore feet. The heeled boots he elected to wear weren't the best for spontaneous hiking. Spurred forward by the need for relief, he climbs onto the top rail of the fence and sits. 

The field in front of him is a deep green, rich from the water from the heavy rain from earlier in the week. And as he had hoped, there were no other people in sight. Perfect. He admires the view for a moment and takes out his journal. 

However, it doesn't take long for the forest to provide its own interruptions. 

He only manages to write a few words and a poorly done sketch of a tree before he hears it. It's a high-pitched screech, a sound he assumes would come from a monkey. However, when he turns his gaze in the sound's direction, he sees a group of deer-like animals. From a distance, they appear to be fluffy clouds, ranging in color from white to brown. The noises continue.

Murdoc stares them down with an annoyed glare and returns to his work. 

I waited until Stu was out of sight, he writes. 

The animals seem to screech louder. 

Murdoc lets out a frustrated growl and scrapes the pen across the paper with a heightened sense of resolve. He listened to me when I told him to leave, that's the kicker. And I...

He hears another screech. 

"Oh, shut up!" He snaps, only to find them just a few feet away from him. Now, he can get a better look at them. 

Llamas? 

They stare at him, and he stares back. There are more pairs of eyes on him than there have been in a long time. Though it's somewhat unsettling, he's grateful that they're quiet. And with a grunt of approval, he tries to write. 

He doesn't notice them walk towards him until he feels the soft bump of a nose against his knee. It nearly shocks him backward off the fence. In a precipitous attempt to avoid falling, he drops his journal and digs his nails into the wood. The book falls inside the fence and is immediately trampled, but he holds steady. 

Their screeching has settled into a low hum, like a small orchestra of kazoos, or the theremin noises Stu would sometimes use to soothe him when he was anxious. Murdoc decides he likes the llamas' noises better. Unlike the theremin noises, the llama noises didn't incapacitate him, or "tranquilize him with sound," as Stu used to say. 

The llama nuzzling him is white and has a considerably distinct tuft of fleece growing on its head. It looks so soft Murdoc can't resist patting it. In response, it jumps away. The others follow. 

Sighing, Murdoc returns to his work. 

Soon enough, they return to him. The white llama slowly approaches him again. This time he waits to see what it wants to do. Again, it nudges at his knee. Then it nibbles at the fabric of his pants. The sensation of its teeth tickles, and it causes him to laugh. He wants to pet its head again but stops himself. Instead, he listens to their humming until he loses track of time. 

"So there I was, in the middle of the jungle..." He tells Victor later that night. "And out in the open, no more than a couple meters away from me was an entire pack of llamas!" 

"In the wild? That would be surprising. This isn't their natural habitat. If you see them, they usually belong to one of the farmers in the area." 

"Well, yeah. They were inside the fence," he concedes. "But they came right up to me."

"They probably thought you were there to feed them," Victor says. 

"I only wrote a couple sentences, but I'd bet you money that I pet each and every one of them. They couldn't get enough of me." He leans back in his chair. "Did my mum have a llama? Did she like them?" 

Victor laughs. "I wouldn't have trusted your mother with a house plant. She was a lot like you." 

Murdoc gives him a look of suspicion. "Go on..." 

"You're not always...interested in animals." 

His answer was diplomatic enough. "That's true. But these llamas weren't so bad...never expected them to make so much noise, but after they settled down, they just stood by me and ate grass." Besides their theremin-like noises, something was calming about another living thing simply be present, and not expect anything of him. 

He spends the next few days wandering down the different paths, all of which lead him through more forest and nowhere to sit. And nothing lives up to the fluffy wool of the llamas and their soothing sounds. 

After enough trial and error, he returns to the field and finds them in the same place as the beginning of the week. This time, they approach him without screeching at him. The white one leads them over and goes back to nudging and sniffing him as if to pick up from where it left off. He spends most of the afternoon from there running his hand along their necks and listening to their odd, yet comforting, sounds. His journal still bent and stained with mud, sits on the grass outside the fence. 

He returns the next day and then the next. The words begin to make successful journeys from his brain to his notebook by the fifth visit. He's crouched inside the fence with them that day, studying the page in front of him. He hardly notices the squelch of the moist ground under their hooves or the way they trot around him and mouth at the grass. It isn't until a flash of white obscures his vision, and he feels the warm wool against his cheek, that his concentration breaks. The white llama's head rests against his chest as it seems to embrace him with its neck. 

Murdoc isn't sure how to react, thinking that it's going to try to eat the paper of his notebook. But he soon notices other llamas in similar poses. Some are resting against each other, others curl their neck around the other as if they're hugging. He relaxes, inhaling the air around him. The llama's wool carries the smell of the earth; rain, dirt, grass. He strokes its neck and rests his head on its shoulder. 

That day, he writes down his first account of meeting his mother.

"Do you lot ever get bored out here?" He pets the white llama with his left hand and writes with the other. It's his eighth visit, and he's started having one-sided conversations with them. "All I ever see you do is eat." 

Another llama tries to nudge his hand in an appeal for his attention, but the white one stops it. Murdoc is surprised to see it turn and spit at the other llama. It gives it a warning squawk as it retreats. 

"Oi, be nice," he chides it, though he doesn't stop his petting. "You're a fine old chap but I'm here to visit all of you." The white one was always the first one to greet him, though, and he would be lying to himself to say he didn't notice it. 

Suddenly, he hears other voices. They're faint at first, but it isn't long before he makes out two figures standing across the field. One is pointing in his direction. They start walking towards him.

Murdoc gulps and hastily tries to dismount the fence. He isn't so graceful this time and hits the grass with a soft thud. Unsure of what they want but certain that he isn't wanted there, he runs off before they get too close. 

"You look upset," Victor observes at dinner. 

"I need to ask you a favor," he says. 

"Yes?"

"You know the llama farm I've been frequenting? I, er, met the owners today...sort of. They didn't look too excited to see me." He picks at the food on his plate with his fork. 

"They were probably surprised to see a stranger on their property." 

"Maybe to them I am, but I've become quite chummy with their livestock." He turns his gaze to him. "So, I was wondering if you would go back with me tomorrow and tell them that. In case you've forgotten, I'm not exactly the bilingual prodigy that I used to be...I'd like to continue my visits." 

"I see..." The older man hides it well, but Murdoc picks up on his perplexion. 

"I've been writing a lot," he offers. "Pages upon pages. It's like I'm bloody battery-powered out there." 

"Uh-huh."

"You know," he continues. "It's not every day that I meet an animal that likes me, let alone an entire pack of them. And it's not as if I have any..." He stops himself before he can say "friends." But outside of Victor, he hadn't bonded with anyone else in town. The language barrier was a significant part of it, but it was also due to his own wariness of the world as of late. 

"...Alright," Victor says after a long pause. 

They make the trip to the farm the following day. 

"You've been hiking this far?" The older man sounds surprised. "And staying out here...all day?"

"What? I don't look outdoors-y enough for you?" Murdoc swats an insect away from his face. "Bugger off," he snaps at it. 

"You're feet wouldn't hurt as much in the evening if you wore different shoes." 

Murdoc glances down at his boots. "Not a chance."  

After a few more minutes, the fence is within his line of sight. 

"There it is!" Then he points to the herd of llamas in the distance. "And there they are." He has a bag of llama and alpaca pellets with him that he purchased from the store that morning, and he takes it out of his jacket pocket. 

He hears Victor chuckle behind him.

"What?" He says. 

"Murdoc, those aren't llamas. Those are alpacas." 

"Alpacas?" Murdoc stares at them. They look like llamas. 

"Alpacas are smaller than llamas and are very special in our country. They were said to be a gift from the goddess, Pachamama, to the people of Andean Highlands thousands of years ago. We hold them in great respect to this day." 

"Alpacas," he repeats. This was the first time he had heard the word, alpaca.

Victor leans over the fence and watches them. "Yo soy vicuñita y vengo de la Puna," he sings. "Vengo escapando de los cazadores." He repeats the lines before moving into the second verse. "Ay guei vicuñita rishpi japi sonka. Ay guei vicuñita rishpi japi sonka."  

Murdoc leans against the fence next to him, shifting his weight awkwardly as he listens. 

"It's a lullaby," Victor informs him. "My niece always sang it to her son when he was little. One verse is in Spanish, the other is in Quechua. 'In English, it would be..." he thinks. "'I am a vicuña and I come from the Puna, I come, having escaped from the hunters. Oh my, the little vicuna goes everywhere with all its heart. Oh my, the little vicuna goes everywhere with all its heart.' Vicuña' means alpaca."

They're all gathered at the fence, humming. Murdoc holds out his hand to them. "Vicuña," he says, trying to get a grasp of the pronunciation. "I, er, hadn't heard of you before today. But, uh, I've respecting them." He glances back at Victor nervously. 

"So, uh, anyway. You see this one?" He motions towards the white alpaca as it eats. "He's my best mate of the pack. I've decided to call him, Beleth, after the demon. He's not as well know as Beezlebub or Belphegor, but he commands five armies and he likes music. This Beleth commands an army of llam- I mean, alpacas, so I thought it fit." 

"If they're letting you get that close, you must be," Victor says. "It can take some time to earn their trust. They're curious, but timid animals. But Murdoc, you know that all of these alpacas already have an owner..."

Murdoc beams. "And you know what? I respect that story you told. In Britain, they're always going on about our football team being lions as if lions are native to the United Kingdom. It's all bollocks. At least in Peru, you revere animals that got their start on the same continent." 

He holds out both of his hands, and more alpacas gather around him. Their bottom teeth scrape his palms, cleaning off every last bit of food. Then they nudge him eagerly for more. There was a layer of guilelessness to their impatience. They were never angry at him, and they never held a grudge when he ran out of food before they all got a turn. They never made him feel like he had to stay longer than he wanted to. They didn't know about his past, and even if they did, he doesn't believe they would judge him for it. He felt happy when they were happy, and he could always expect them to be there. 

He laughs at the sensation. 

"How about I go find their owner?" He hears Victor say behind him. 

"Yeah, yeah...shit!" He jumps in surprise when he gets caught in the crossfire of one alpaca spitting at another. 

Victor returns about an hour later. An old woman accompanies him. Her gray hair is tied neatly in a bun, and she's hunched over with age. Still, she matches his stride without the use of a cane or walker. 

As they approach, Murdoc feels self-conscious. He considers how ridiculous he must look, standing around in mud-stained clothes, surrounded by animals that didn't belong to him. It wasn't like him. No one from home would recognize him if they saw him as he was now. 

"Murdoc," Victor says. "This is señora Murillo. The alpacas have been in her family for over five generations. She wants to know what you are doing here." 

"Oh, uh..." Murdoc flit from the alpacas to the ground to the forest in the distance. "I'm just writing and, er...feeding them?" He grins sheepishly. 

The woman turns to Victor and whispers something to him.

"She can speak up," Murdoc says. "I can't understand anything she says anyway." 

The woman stops speaking and stares him down. 

"...But only if that's easier for her," he speaks rapidly. "Whatever volume suits her..." 

"She is asking if you have ever raised alpacas." 

"Uhhh, no."

"She wants to know what you intend to do from here." 

"I'd like to keep visiting," he says. "In case you couldn't tell, they love me." 

The woman whispers more harshly. She and Victor converse.

"...Please?" Murdoc adds. 

"She thinks your request is odd, but she will agree to it." 

Murdoc sighs in relief. 

"But you must notify her when you're coming. Someone from her family will be there to watch you while you visit." 

"What? Why?" Part of what made him feel so comfortable with them was the absence of other people.

"She doesn't know you, and she thinks your reasons for coming are strange. She also tells me that you should be prepared to help with their care if they find you capable of doing so." 

Murdoc can feel his excitement dulling as the list of conditions grows. "Do...do I have to? I just want to pet them." He frowns. "She's has kids. Hasn't she ever watch any of those movies where the lonely person meets the horse, or the dog, or the...I don't know...sheep, forges a lifelong friendship and saves the town?!" He tries to recall as many famous works about animals as he can. "She knows she could have the next War Horse here in her pasture, right? I could find her the next horse from War Horse or the next Lassie!... Except you know, with alpacas." 

Victor smiles sympathetically at him and passes along his final plea. "She hasn't heard of either of those animals and says that her offer is final. She would also like me to tell you that your friend's name is Ofelia, and that he is a she." 

Murdoc turns to the white alpaca, formerly and fleetingly known to him as Beleth, and silently nods in understanding. "Alright then..." 

"So, what do you think?" 

 He runs his hand through Ofelia's wool, recalling the way Stu used to word his fingers through his hair. He tries to match his tenderness in return for the trust the animals have so willingly given him. "I'll give it a go, I guess." What else did he have? 

Having another person there is an adjustment. Murdoc realizes soon that it isn't so much the person that bothers him as it is their judgments about him. He can't help but assume the family members spending time with him are bored with him. And as a self-identified entertainer, he can't help but feel a sense of failure.

But even when he doesn't get any writing complete there, he notices changes outside of his visits. He aches less in the morning when he wakes up. It becomes easier to leave Victor's house without any alcohol in his bag. He eats lunch regularly out in the field with the animals. Soon, he begins to speak. 

He tells Victor what happened in the jungle a few days later, sitting in the grass surrounded by them as they eat hay from his hand, nibble at other parts of his clothes, and nuzzle him. The words tumble out of him in irregular bursts between his sniffs and pauses. They create an uneven rhythm anchored by the steady hums.

"I feel like shit," he says. "Because she could have survived this. She could have stayed with you. I would have found my way out of my dad's hell hole one way or another. She shouldn't have had to..." 

The older man listens to him in silence, his eyes downcast. 

"I think that's what I can't let go," Murdoc continues. "Why did it have to be either her or myself?" 

"She wasn't going to leave you, Murdoc, not with him. And she would never have escaped what he did, even if she stayed in Peru." 

"If you don't fuck the world over, it fucks you over. I hate it. I hate what it did to me. There's so much that I'll never have." 

"I never wanted to say goodbye to your mother," Victor says gently. "You're having to let her go as her son must have been harder than I could ever imagine. But, Murdoc, you did everything she knew you could. You finished what she couldn't, and you found her. Neither of you will have to worry about the curse ever again. She's happy, and that's all I ever wanted for her. Now, that's what I want for you." 

Murdoc mulls over his words. He can't accept them. It's not fair, he wants to say. He wants to destroy something. Perhaps he would drive his fist into the fence or tear his journal apart. Anything to get rid of the anger stirring inside him. 

He clenches his jaw. You're in your fifties, Murdoc, he tells himself. You're too old for temper tantrums. He leans against the soft fleece of the alpaca behind him and breathes. 

As the days pass, the words become easier. Señora Murillo's family proves to be less of a distraction than he anticipated. Often, it's her son who stays with him. He spends most of his time playing games on his phone than watching Murdoc. However, he eventually shows him around the farm so that he can learn where they keep their hay, and where their shelter is with their water basin. 

Murdoc does his own research in the evenings, learning about what plants are poisonous to them and what their different noises mean. He becomes comfortable sitting with them, and following them around the field as he thinks. 

"I forget if I ever told you this, but thank you," he tells Victor one day. He's balancing a mound of woven yarn in his lap as he sits on the fence. Some of the pieces have been cut into strands about a foot long, and rest across his left thigh. The uncut yarn is positioned on his other leg.

"Oh?" He seems surprised. "You're welcome." 

"For, uh, letting me stay with you," he says. He measures a strand of yarn against the one he had previously cut and slices it with his knife. "And for booking me this gig. I probably would have been plastered on your couch without it." 

"That was also your doing," Victor says. "You wouldn't have found this place if you had stayed inside the house." 

"And here I am, practically knitting for an elderly woman and her herd of alpacas." He measures another strand of yarn. Señora Murillo needed more tassels new halters for her animals. The first strand was cut for him, and he was instructed to cut the rest. She would weave them all together later that week. "The strolls I went on in the states didn't use to end like this," he says. 

"What do you mean?"

"Do you know how many liquor stores they have in Detroit?" That was always where he started. "America and its bloody liquor stores. Then, of course, there were always the pubs. They're not quite as cozy and warm as the pubs in England, but I'm not a picky man. But now, I'm distracted." 

He shoos an alpaca away after it reaches for the yarn. "I'm doing this for you, you know. Since when is hay orange?" 

"They're doing a good job keeping you busy. I bet you could work here if you wanted to," Victor says. "Have you thought about what you will do?"

"Mate, I've been trying not to think about anything." Measure and cut. That's all he wants on his mind right now. "Except when I'm writing."  

"Well, if you plan to stay longer than six months, I'd like you to find a source of income. You don't have to make any decisions now, but it's something to think about. Señora Murillo has been very appreciative of your work here. And you seem to enjoy it."

Murdoc watches the herd trot around the field. They move as a unit with Ofelia at the front. He's come to learn that she's the dominant alpaca of the group. She was always the first to greet him or eat from his hand. It made sense in retrospect.

"This was something Stu always went on about," he says. It's the first time he's uttered the singer's name since he told him to go home. "Farming. Living out in the middle of a field or in the woods, just the two of us." 

Measure and cut, he tries to redirect his brain. 

But Stu is everywhere. He sees his hair in the sky, his frame in the tall trees. And when they hum, he hears those stupid theremin noises he used to make. Guilt and longing weigh down on his chest. "As it turns out, I don't mind it so much." He doesn't want to think about Stu, but at the same time, he misses him.

Victor listens in silence. 

"I shouldn't have yelled at him," Murdoc says. "He had a lot more figured out than I ever did...I just couldn't see it."

"You had a lot clouding your mind at the time." 

"I'm a bloody idiot." 

"No, you're not, Murdoc. You're figuring yourself out." 

"When I'm out here, I don't have to think about him. I don't have to think about where I'll be next year or next week." He suddenly has the urge to throw the yarn on the ground. "Fuck it! I'm avoiding everything." 

"Do you want to call him?" 

"No," he answers quickly. "I mean...not now. I...I don't want to, not at the moment."

They stay in the presence of each other in silence until Murdoc falls back into the rhythm of measuring and cutting the yarn. 

"Anyhow," he says. "About the table you have in the market...How are you lot advertising?" 

"Advertising?" 

Murdoc closes his eyes and imagines a page in his notebook. "Yeah. You know, enticing the public to purchase your wares is an art form of its own. Do you use the TV or radio?"

Victor shrugs. "We set up our table every weekend. We're always in the same spot. People have come to know us." 

"Oh come on, don't tell me you've never had an elevator pitch." 

He shakes his head. 

"What if I helped you out with that?" Suddenly, his hands are quivering in excitement at what he anticipates might turn into a new, albeit temporary purpose. "I've got some chords written down. They aren't much, but I could turn them into something, send it to the radio. You'll have new customers fighting over your ayahuasca vials faster than you can blink." 

"You mean like a song?"

"A little jingle. You know, as you hear in commercials." He had never thought highly of the task. People who wrote songs for commercials had always been unfortunate sods who never made it big in his eyes. Who would have predicted that years later, he would be practically begging to write one himself? "I'd like to do that for you...as a thank you...and perhaps to buy myself some time before getting that job you speak of." 

Victor laughs. "I still haven't heard much of your music, but to be successful, you must be talented. And you are your mother's son. I'll accept your offer." He pats Murdoc gently on the back. "And the job is only a requirement if you intend to stay." 

Murdoc's eyes take in the field in front of him. The alpacas have lost interest in him for the time being, and have gathered under one of the trees. "This is the most at home I've felt since I woke up in the river," he says. The alienation he had struggled with in the beginning was beginning to fade as images of himself on the farm grew clearer. For once, he could see himself as part of the country rather than a stranger in it. Surely he could adjust to staying. "So I guess I'm here. I don't know what else I've got at the moment." 

Victor joins him at the fence. "Does this feel right to you?"

He would always feel the absence of his mother and of Stu. However, his mother was dead, and Stu probably hated him. There was nothing left for him anywhere else. Perhaps he could make up the time his mother lost by living in her country. He had a chance to be anything: a waiter, a fisherman, an alpaca farmer. He could even go back to school once he got a better grasp of the language. It was possible to get used to life in Peru if he tried. "Yeah," he says. "As right as it's going to get." 

But he doesn't know. He wants to believe he could belong, but Gorillaz would always be there. Stu would always be there. Why couldn't he stop thinking about him? Was it the natural progression of a break-up, or did it mean something more? His mind drifts to the singer's journal, still stored at the bottom of his backpack.

"You might be surprised at how much you still have."

___________________________________________

One year later...

"We're almost there." The trail to the farm hasn't changed since he left on the final flight back to Detroit. 

"Jeez, Muds. You hiked all the way out here? More than once?" Russel trails behind him, gawking at their surroundings. 

"Nearly every day for an entire month," Murdoc says. "Hurry it up, Russ. I'm not about to let any of you slow me down. You're lucky I'm showing you any of this." 

The seasons in South America are the opposite of seasons in the states. Electing to escape the Michigan heat, Murdoc decides to return to the country during their summer and Peru's winter. He hadn't planned to invite along the rest of his band. In fact, even after two days in the country, he was still warming up to the idea.

"Calm down, Murdoc." Noodle walks next to him, occasionally snapping pictures of their surroundings with her phone. "I never thought I'd say 'Murdoc' and 'hiking' in the same sentence either." 

Murdoc isn't in the mood to be teased. Holding back his emotions when he saw Victor again was enough. Even more difficult; his arrival in the country. He remembers how his eyes watered as the plane descended and how he struggled to blink back his tears. This trip was emotional for him in ways they could never understand. 

"Well," he says, pushing away his irritation just as he had done to his other feelings. He's starting to wish it was only him and Victor. "What can I say, I'm a man of many surprises." 

"And there are still a few surprises left," Victor says. "There seems to be some tension between you. I think this visit will provide some relief."

"It's so beautiful," Noodle remarks. "Would you mind if I share the pictures I'm taking? So many people have lost their connection to the natural world, and while they may not be here in person, maybe if they see these pictures they will be reminded." 

"Yeah," Russel says. "The world's rainforests are under a constant threat of being destroyed by the wealthy. The indigenous activists doing the work to protect them need all the publicity they can get." 

"We'll talk about that later," Murdoc says. "The last thing I want is for Senora Murillo to be swarmed by obsessive fans looking for internet points or their next photo-op." Finally, he sees the familiar wooden fence. 

"She does prefer to live a quiet life," Victor says as Murdoc starts to walk more quickly towards the fence. 

Once he sees the alpacas, he doesn't wait for the rest of them. They look the same way they did when he left them. Pulling some food out of his pocket, he climbs over the fence and into the field with them. "Remember me?" He asks. 

Ofelia is the first one to greet him, her neck adorned with the colorful tassels he remembers measuring out days before he left for Detroit. She hums into his hand as she eats. The others follow. "You're all here." A smile cracks on his face. "Ofelia, Beatriz, Pilar, Luna, Sofia, Rosa...uh..." He looks over at Victor. "Did she get more?" 

"Yes, a few from her niece. Take a closer look."

"Okay, now this is getting freaky," Russel says. 

Noodle reaches her hand through the fence, waiting for one of them to come over. "They're adorable!"

"Murdoc would come here every day when he was staying with me." 

"Yeah, and I found it all by myself." Murdoc crouches down lower so that he's more level with them. "This here is Ofelia. She was my best mate here." He scratches her neck, and she spits at another alpaca who gets too close. "She knows what it's like to be a leader." 

Victor laughs. "You aren't looking."

"What?" Murdoc asks, confused.

"Hey there, buddy." Russel follows Noodle and reaches his hand in as well. "Were you Murdoc's only friend?" 

"Alpacas?" Noodle holds her camera close enough to take a picture. "How sweet! And they like you back, Muds?" 

"Alpacas have long memories," Victor says. "Even when Murdoc had to leave on such short notice, they'll always remember how he kept them company." 

"Awww." Noodle pets Pilar on the head. "Did Muds ghost you, too?" 

"They don't like to be petted on the head." Murdoc shoots a glare at both of them. As if on queue, Pilar moves away from Noodle as well. "And I came back, didn't I? Just like I came back to you lot, though I'm questioning that decision."

"We're all familiar with Murdoc's impulsive decisions," Victor says. "And we also know that he maintains the bonds that matter to him. You're both important to him, just as much as Stuart. I understood when he told me he had to go back to America, as did Señora Murillo. I'm sure his alpaca friends did as well." 

"Exactly," Murdoc snaps. "I almost stayed here...I hope you know that. Maybe you think it's funny, but these bloody animals gave me a sense of stability. And yes, they helped me remember how to form an actual connection with another living thing."

His words, though somewhat harsh, seems to get through to them. 

Noodle regards him with a sense of sympathy. "I see that. I'm sorry if I didn't seem to be taking all of this seriously."

"Yeah, man," Russel says. "This is a beautiful place, and I can see why you would want to keep coming back. It sounds like we owe a lot to it too." He turns to Victor. "In case we don't get to meet her, can you give Senora Murillo a thank you from us?" 

"Of course," he says. "Señora Murillo also left a message for you, Murdoc." 

Murdoc looks up. "Oh?"

"She first says that she hopes you like the halters she made. And..." Victor points into the fence. 

Murdoc follows his finger. "What?" 

A wide grin breaks out on Noodle's face. "Oh, I didn't see that one hidden there!"

Then he sees it, beside Ofelia. "Is that...?"

"Yes, Ofelia gave birth to a baby boy this spring. He's called Paolo, after the football player." 

"You're a mum now?" Murdoc scratches her neck, a sudden feeling of excitement spiking through him. "Well, I guess that makes me an uncle, right? Hello! Your mum and I go way back."

"By the way, do they bite?" Russel asks. 

"No." Murdoc sits down in the grass. "If you look closely, you'll see they don't have any top teeth. But that doesn't mean you can make any sudden movements towards them if they don't know you. Wait for them to come to you, or you'll scare them off." 

The baby alpaca watches him from his mother's side. Murdoc smiles at him as he continues to feed the rest of the herd. He was getting used to waiting. A year had passed and he was still waiting to see the vibrant blue of his hair and to hear the rich emotion in his voice when he sang. He was waiting to feel the calloused yet delicate touch of his fingers on his skin. But he was learning that distance could also be a source of healing. He was prepared to provide the baby alpaca with all the time he needed to feel comfortable enough to approach him. 

"Hey, Muds," Russel says. "I'm gonna start out by saying that I don't mean this as an insult, okay? You seem...very chill in there. I feel like I'm in the Twilight Zone watching you. But it's cool. I like it." 

"He isn't the biggest fan of animals, and he isn't the best pet owner." Noodle is talking to Victor. "So this is, uh, new for us."

"It was a surprise for me as well," Victor says. "Murdoc wasn't any more fond of the animals here than back home, not at first. However, señora Murillo is grateful for the help he provided. He was very reliable, and he treated the animals well." 

As they talk, the baby alpaca begins walking toward him. Murdoc tries to remain focused on the other alpacas as he gets closer. "Thanks, mate," he says to Victor. "There you have it. I don't cock up everything."

"Hey, if we get to know them well enough, can we hang in the alpaca field with you?" Russel asks.

"No! Not if you're going to try to stuff them like you do every other animal you meet." 

"I only do that to animals after they're already dead." Russel turns to Victor. "Taxidermy." 

"They look so fuzzy." Noodle takes another picture. "I read that they use their wool for clothing." 

"We weave a lot of clothing from alpaca wool. I'll take you to the market tomorrow, and you can take a look at some of the garments. I have a few gifts for Murdoc that you can see as well if he chooses to open them tonight." 

The baby alpaca is right beside him now, watching him with curiosity. 

"Hey there," he says, brightening. Tentatively, he starts to pet his neck, his fingers curling around the tassels in his fleece. "Is this alright? How about mum?" He turns to the Ofelia, but she and the rest of the alpacas seem far more interested in the food in his pockets. "Hey, Victor," he says.

"Yes?" 

"Do you think I can...uh...pick him up?" He had seen señora Murillo and her family do it more times than he could count. Yet he had never held a baby alpaca on his own. 

"Of course you can, Murdoc."

"Ooooh, do it!" Noodle cheers excitedly. It had been a while since he has seen her that animated.

"Okay, here it goes." He scoops him up gingerly. "You alright there?" he asks again, still uncertain of himself in a care-giving role. 

Paolo looks at him, and then at the field from his new, elevated position. He remains unphased.

"Is this okay?" Murdoc asks him, even though he knows he can't respond. "You're in good hands here. Did you know that? Don't worry. I won't let Russ stuff you." 

"Really, Muds?" Russel rolls his eyes.

"How sweet!" Noodle exclaims. "He really seems to like you, Murdoc!" 

"He does?" Murdoc asks hopefully. "I mean, of course, he does. He's my little...uh...what's the word? Vica...vicu...?" 

"Vicuña," Victor says. 

"Vicuña." Murdoc sounds it out the best that he can. "How did that song you sang go again? Something about a vicuña from the mountains?" 

"Yo soy vicuñita y vengo de la Puna," Victor says. "Or, 'I am a vicuña and I come from the Puna.'"

"I am a vicuña and I come from the Puna," Murdoc sings, as softly as he can, to the alpaca. "I am a vicuña and I come from the Puna." 

"Vengo escapando de los cazadores. 'I come, having escaped from the hunters." 

"I come, having escaped from the hunters." His voice sounded rough and shaky as it always did, but right now, he doesn't care.

"Ay guei vicuñita rishpi japi sonka," Victor continues to lead him along. "Oh my, the little vicuna goes everywhere with all its heart." 

"Oh my, the little vicuna goes everywhere with all its heart." He hugs the alpaca closer, feeling the fuzz fleece against his cheek. The hesitancy and frustration of the trip begin to fall off of him the way the alpaca's fleece did when they were sheared. He allows the joy he's feeling to find its way to his face. "Welcome to the world," he tells him. 

The baby alpaca was at the beginning of his life. There would be so much for him to see and learn, everything would be new. Murdoc remembers a time when 'new' used to scare him. But holding Paolo close, he tries to embrace the excitement he feels. They had both taken their first steps in the country on trembling legs, they were both finding their way, and they weren't doing it on their own.

"You're going to live a spectacular life," he says. "It's a big world, but you're ready." He cradles him there, and sings again, "Oh my, the little vicuna goes everywhere with all its heart."

end.

Hope you enjoyed! I only started researching alpacas over the past couple of weeks, so if you’re reading this and by any chance have experience working with alpacas and spot some errors in the information I have, please feel free to correct me!

[marshmallow-phd]

My Soul to Keep

Genre: Demon AU

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Kris Wu

Summary: Kris never had a problem with what he was. He’d bargain and make deals with mortals in exchange for their souls. It was just the job. But when an assignment puts you in his path, he’s suddenly questioning his existence. As the consequences of his choices catch up with him, how much in harms way will you be?

Warning: none

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I Final

Kris stood outside the portal with Yixing and Tao at his flanks.

To any ordinary human, this place would like an old abandoned shack in the middle of nowhere and that’s what it was ninety-nine percent of the day. But to spiritual beings like the three of them, it gave off a pure, colorless light, the rotting door actually made of a thick marble with ancient script carved into its surface. This version of the portal was only available once a day, when the sun was beginning to set and its beams hit the cracks of the stone just right.

“We’re right here with you, Kris,” Yixing encouraged.

Taking a deep, unneeded breath, Kris stepped forward. This was just the first test in the trial. The portal – the stupid, inanimate door – had to decide that he was worthy to even try. That this trip had nothing malicious tied to it and that he was doing it for honorable reasons. Kris was sure that he would get through the barrier. What was more honorable than going after love?

Then why was he so nervous that the door wouldn’t open?

As far as he knew, there was never a time where one of his kind ventured into the other realm. They were all well versed in how it operated and what existed on the other side, but they never stepped foot over there. This was dangerous, unknown territory. He was going in blind. But he had to get to you.

Taking that final step, Kris held up his hand, placing his palm against the cold surface and keeping his mind trained on you.

At first, nothing happened. No movement, no sound, no sign of any kind.

Just as Kris was about to give up, the earth shook with a rumble and he watched in amazement as the marble door slipped away from view, revealing a black opening. What was beyond that, none of them had any idea.

“This is it,” Tao said, mostly likely to hype himself up. “First demons to travel into heaven. No big deal, right?”

Kris shook his head. “Just come on.”

Slowly, the three of them made their way towards the blinding white light and through the portal.

Out on the other side was just darkness. There was nothing. No trees, no people, no dirt. Just… nothing.

Turning around, Kris could still make out Yixing and Tao, but he couldn’t figure out what they were standing on or what was around them.

“Um,” Tao swallowed, “if this heaven, I want to go back to earth.”

“This isn’t the other side,” Yixing clarified. “This is just another test.”

“Orpheus had it easy,” Kris mumbled under his breath. Play a pretty song and don’t look back. That’s all he had to do. Then again, he couldn’t even manage the last part of the instructions.

Out of the darkness, a small dot of light, like a star in the night sky, appeared in the distance.

“There!” Tao pointed towards the light. “Maybe we should head for it?”

Yixing and Kris exchanged looks and shrugged. What else could they do?

They walked towards the light, but it never got any closer, never grew in size. Kris was getting frustrated, but he didn’t know what else to do. He stopped, a strange sound hitting his ears.

“What’s that?” Yixing asked, hearing it to.

The sound grew until Kris could identify it as a rumbling growl. The space beneath him was shaking violently.

“Please tell me it’s not what I think it is,” Tao whined.

Kris cursed under his breath. Sure enough, heading straight for them was the Protector of the Realms of the Dead: Cerberus. The building-sized, three-headed dog was running at them full speed, teeth bared and saliva flying everywhere as he snapped his multiple jaws.

“Run!” Tao screamed, taking off the opposite direction. Yixing and Kris were right on his heels.

As he tried to get away, a memory of you flashed in his mind.

The two of you were trying to coax one of the dogs back inside of the shelter but every time Kris took one step towards the thing, he’d snap at Kris, barely missing his chance to bite.

“You can’t be scared of him,” you teased, scratching the mongrel under his chin. “That makes them think you’re up to something, maybe even plotting something against them. Running away doesn’t do any good. You’ve got to show them some love. And let them know exactly what you want.”

Kris had brushed it off back then, resigning himself to be on cat duty instead. But now….

Skidding to a stop, Kris turned around, standing up straight and facing the dog head on. Besides, as a demon, he shouldn’t be terrified of the animal. Cerberus wasn’t exactly friendly towards anyone, but he was mutual, simply making sure that balance prevailed.  

“What the hell are you doing?” Tao yelled. Kris was started to regret bringing him along. He’d forgotten that Tao was easily frightened.

Maybe this whole thing will brave him up a bit.

Cerberus stopped just a few feet away, growling down at Kris. Feeling like an idiot, Kris reached for the middle head, palm out, and waited. The other two heads were staring at Yixing and Tao. Kris motioned for them to do the same.

Once all three of them had their hands out stretched, the over grown dog actually laid down on his stomach, pushing the edges of his noses into their hands.

“I just need to find her,” Kris told the dog softly. “That’s all I want. And then I’ll leave.”

The light that was now behind them grew, shining brightly and illuminating the space around them to reveal a field of wildflowers. With one last yelp, Cerberus melted away, leaving the three of them just standing there out in the open.

“What the hell kind of test was that?” Tao scoffed, kicking at the nearest dandelion and sending the small seeds drifting through the air. If he was trying to be intimidating, it wasn’t working.

“Fear,” Yixing answered simply. “And, of course, he had to make sure we weren’t trying to do anything malicious by coming through here.”

“A cakewalk compared to what’s next,” Kris murmured. Shortly before the horizon was a small community. It couldn’t really be called a town or a city as there weren’t shops or vendors, only living quarters, but there were people milling about, laughing and chatting with each other. That’s where you would be. “Be careful,” Kris warned. “We can’t be discovered that we’re not one of them.”

“What will happen?” Tao asked cautiously.

“You don’t want to know,” Yixing replied.

They walked to the community, forced smiles plastered on their faces, nodding to everyone they made eye contact. Blending in.

This was the “Good Place”, heaven, the other side, whatever you wanted to call it. Everything here was beautiful and harmonious. The houses were made of organic materials and everything was in shades of browns, greens, and blues. Everyone was accommodating and kind.

“I don’t see her,” Yixing whispered.

“Just keep looking,” Kris ordered. “She has to be here somewhere.”

The three of them continued to maneuver around the large groups of people, keeping a sharp eye for anyone who might resemble you. There were a few close calls, Kris spotting someone with your hair color, or Yixing pointing out a similar profile. They all turned out to be false leads.

But he wouldn’t give up. He made it this far, there was no way–

Kris stopped in his tracks, Yixing and Tao running into his back.

There you were, sitting on a bench in the park by yourself and away from everyone else, just taking in the breeze. Kris couldn’t see your face entirely, but there was no mistake that it was you. Over his shoulder, he said, “Stay here. I don’t want to scare her.”

“Why would he scare?” Tao whispered.

Yixing cleared his throat. “Since she died traumatically, she won’t remember anything. It wouldn’t exactly keep the peace if she remembered how she died. This is also Kris’ last trial. To convince her to go back.”

Tao raised an eyebrow. “That’s supposed to be the last trial?”

“Yes. He has to convince her to come back with us. Not an easy feat. No one actually wants to leave here.”

Kris took a second to collect himself before approaching you. At noticing his shadow, you whirled in his direction, startled.

Seeing you again was like being injected with morphine after being on fire. Or perhaps more like a blind man seeing the sun once again. Everything was right again. Even in a simple white dress, you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid eyes on in his thousand plus years.

“Hi,” he greeted you softly, the smile on his face now small but genuine.

“Hi.” Your voice came out mouse-like, so shyly. Almost as if you were afraid of him. Was fear even allowed in this place?

Kris knelt down in front of you so he was now looking up into your eyes. “My name is Kris. It’s (y/n), right?”

You nodded. Kris hated having to pretend that he didn’t know you inside and out, but he thought it was best. Coming up, grabbing your wrist, and pulling you back to the portal sounded like a wonderful idea at first, but one that would ultimately fail.

He held out his hand, which you hesitantly took, giving it a short shake. He never wanted to let go, but he forced himself to let your fingers slip from his grasp. “I need your help with something.”

“With what?” you questioned, your eyebrows furrowing together. It was such a cute expression Kris could help but chuckle, just a little.

“I have a friend who needs your help.” Kris decided to go with a sort of twisted version of the truth. “She’s… sick and you’re the only one that can make her better.”

“Why me?” you asked.

“I can explain that when we see her.” Standing up, Kris held out his hand. “Will you come with me? We have to go to where she is. You can trust me.”

You stared at him for a good minute, not moving. Kris was already trying to come up with more excuses to get you to come with him but then you took his hand and stood to your feet.

Looking him with a titled head, you surprised him with your next question. “Do I already know you?”

“We’ve met before,” he answered honestly.

You nodded. “I thought so. You just seem so familiar.”

Unable to help it, Kris laced his fingers through yours to which you sent him a shocked expression, but didn’t yank your hand away. Damn, all he wanted was to pull you in close to him and kiss your lips. His self-control was wavering. They needed to get out here. Now.

When Yixing and Tao walked up to the two of you, you hid behind Kris, burying your face in the space between his side and arm.

“It’s alright, (y/n),” Kris soothed. “They’re friends.” If you remembered him subconsciously, then it wasn’t surprising that you would remember them as well, however in a more painful way.

Reluctantly, you came out from hiding and gave the two a small wave. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Yixing smiled down at you. For a ferocious demon, he had a softening smile, relaxing you almost instantly. That interaction irritated Kris, but he let it go. They needed to leave.

“Come on.”

Kris kept a tight hold on your hand, leading you through the square and back towards the fields. This was almost too easy. Just before they could reach the very edge of the town, someone called out.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“Just keep walking,” Kris whispered, not slowly down.

“Stop!”

Sneaking a glance over his shoulder, Kris spotted several unwanted guests. “Shit. Protectors! Run!”

Kris scooped you up into his arms, running at full speed with Yixing and Tao barely keeping up.

Protectors were the vicious versions of angels, nearly identical in looks. While the winged peace lovers had no aggression and only tried to spread love throughout the world in order to have more people reach this side of death, Protectors were the soldiers. Kris had been in a few scuffles with them in the past. They fought dirty and kept on going for their mission. At first, they were beautiful, perfect in every way. But as their fight grew, their faces contorted into ugly snarls with rows of sharp teeth ready to tear its enemies apart.

By a miracle, they made it the field, but there was no portal to be found. How the hell were they supposed to get back?

At least seven Protectors surrounded you all, giving you no way out. The wind had picked up to hurricane speeds, sucking the four of you into a vortex. Yixing put his hands on your shoulders, yelling over the chanting of the Protectors and the whipping air.

“(y/n), I need you to say ‘Vita est responsum’, but you have meant it, okay?”

You shook your head. “Go back where?”

“Baby, look at me,” Kris took your face in his hands, scolding himself for calling you the affectionate term rather than by your name. “We have to get out of here! I promise, I’ll explain everything once we’re safe!”

Nodding, you closed your eyes and screamed, “Vita est responsum!”

The wind stopped. The Protectors were chanting had ceased. Looking around, Kris was relieved. They were back outside the portal, the marble door now just a dull white in the low moonlight.

Tao turned to you, an exhausted pout on his lips. “Please, don’t ever die again. I don’t want to do that as long as I exist.”

You frowned. “Die again?”

“Tao!” Kris hissed through clenched teeth. What an idiot.

“Come on,” Yixing urged, shoving Tao in the direction of the car.

“Kris,” you called out in a strained voice. “What’s going on?” You were scared, nearly shaking in your astral form. Here, you were see-through, a ghost. Anyone passing by would see you and go off running, telling everyone who would listen that the shack was haunted by a beautiful ghost girl in white.

“Please, just come with us,” Kris begged. Yixing was right. They only had a limited amount of time. Spirits couldn’t walk the earth for long and he refused to lose you again. “I’ll tell you everything. I promise.”

Nodding, you let him lead you to the car, where he sat in the back, thankful that he was able to physically hold this version of you.

Yixing made it back to the mansion in record time and all of you tore through the house, not caring this time around if someone saw you.

Your body was still lying there peacefully on Kris’ bed, Midnight watching over you diligently. He meowed at the sight of everyone. Kris patted him lightly on the head.

“Good boy.”

At seeing your body there on the bed, you scrambled back.

Kris took your hands in his. “(y/n). Listen to me. You did die, but you weren’t meant to. We’ve brought you back so you could finish out your life.”

“This isn’t what you told me,” you said quietly, eyes constantly flickering over to the bed. “I want to go back.”

“You’ll go back again someday,” Kris reminded you. Of course you would. You were too pure and good to deserve the alternative. “But first you have to finish out your life here. Can I put you back? Please?”

To his amazement, you nodded without pausing. Scooping you up, Kris carried you over to your body and gently laid you down. Your spirit disappeared into your body and they all waited. For what felt like an eternity, nothing happened. Why couldn’t anything just happen right away?

Kris nearly doubled over when your eyes fluttered open. You took a big gasp of air, flinging up off the bed and into a sitting position.

“Kris!”

He was right by your side, wrapping his arms around you. “I’m right here, baby. I’m right here.”

“You came for me,” you cried, soaking his shirt. “You really came for me.”

“Of course I did,” he scoffed as he rubbed your back.

A slow clap interrupted the beautiful reunion. Everyone whirled to find Minseok leaning against the door frame.

Between his claps, he smirked, “What. An. Idiot.”

[iamthechocobabe]

We All Have Battle Scars

The nerd is strong in me-was working on my ghost Gladio schtick and realized I did not like any of it. Long story short, I scrapped it and am starting over. But to tide the nerd in me over, I’m going to go ahead and post a few more chapters of my soulmate AU, inspired by We Intertwined. 18 chapters are done, but ain’t nobody got time to post every single one. MEEEMES. 

If I got time, I may also post a little surprise I’ve been cooking up...we shall see *evil face* 

We All Have Battle Scars

~Chapter 2~

Word Count: 2,350

SFW

The sun was just beginning to set as Ignis pulled into the Chocobo Outpost. The smell of grass and must hung in the air as the people who worked on the ranch were beginning to close everything up, their exhausted laughs lingering.  

There were only a few Chocobos out for some reason and the ones who were out were being led to an enclosed shed in the back while the tables and chairs that surrounded the ranch were being pulled towards the porch to protect from the coming rain later that night. There were still a few birds that hadn't been led into the shed yet and Prompto wanted to go straight to them. 

"We're taking a break to look at a bunch of giant birds," Gladiolus continued to grumble at the waste of time as they all piled out of the car. 

"You know you love them," Noctis said, smugly. 

Prompto wasted no time-he went straight to the bright yellow chocobos and began cooing at them nonstop, with Noctis following while Ignis went to see how much it was to rent the caravan that was nearby. Gladiolus began chatting up the vendor that sold weapons and such, wondering about the latest upgrades. 

The Chocobo that Prompto chose to gush over was about medium sized, with some of his feathers being white in the midst of yellow. It was no wonder that Prompto felt drawn to the bird and he was more than happy to pay the ten gil to get an opportunity to feed the bird. 

He pet the giant bird after feeding it and the bird shook his head for a second before sneezing in Prompto's face. 

"AGH," Prompto took off his black leather vest and used it to wipe his face while looking at his favorite animal with a heartbroken stare. "My perfectly groomed hair..." he whispered softly, as if saying goodbye to an old friend. 

"That’s Bongo-that means he likes you," An older gentleman with a grey wool cap who looked to be in his late fifties came up to Prompto and Noctis. "Name's Wiz-you from the Crownsguard?" 

"Is it that obvious?" Prompto asked after wiping his face with a sanitizing wipe one of the workers had given to him. 

"Crownsguard are always easy to spot, mostly from how much they stink from sweating in all that leather," 

Self-concious, Prompto smelled his underarm while Noctis smelled his coat to see if they really did stink. 

"I'm kiddin'," Wiz smiled kindly at the strangers. "Sorry to disappoint, but only a few Chocobos are coming out of their pens now. There's this daemon, they call it a Behemoth, has been terrorizing the area around here and it scares the birds for some reason. I think it's the smell but only a few of my most courageous ones are able to come out everyday-forget about Chocobo racing," 

Prompto looked like he was about to faint. "Ch-ch-Chocobo RACING???" 

Wiz nodded; he was used to seeing Chocobo enthusiasts at the ranch nearly everday, so the young boy's attitude didn't surprise him much. "Yeah, one of our best activities here-too bad our birds are too scared to run the track though," 

They were all distracted by hearing loud bickering from nearby-towards the front of the ranch near the driveway were three young boys and a woman looking to be in her late teens to early twenties. The boys seemed to be giving the woman a hard time and judging from the tenseness in the woman's voice, she was about to lose her temper. 

"Oh, that's Ali," Wiz said and began to run to the rescue. "'Scuse me," 

"I told you, we're closed," Prompto heard the girl said to the boys, her patience clearly about to reach it's end. 

From what he could see, the girl had messy golden brown hair that was pulled into a loose bun at the back of her head that made her look kind of cutely disheveled. Her black and red checkered work shirt was covered in dirt, her skinny jeans had holes in the knees and her sneakers were caked in dried mud. He couldn't really see her face, but he felt drawn to her somehow, like he'd seen her or known of her before this. 

Out of curiousity, he walked a little closer to hear more, circling the group so that he was to the right of them. 

"You can stay in the caravan over there for the night or come back in the morning, but the chocobos aren't coming out because of the Behemoth and the resturant is closed because of issues with the grill. I apologize for any inconvenience, but-" 

One of the boys gave the girl a smug smile. "Is it possible we can talk to someone who doesn't look like they had acid thrown on their face?" 

Prompto was confused by this statement-she looked fine to him, what was the kid talking about? But Prompto realized what he meant when she turned to face the boy, showing Prompto her whole face. 

The girl had a very nasty looking scar that looked like a burn scar-it was on the lower left half of her cheek and spread to her neck and chest. Even from the distance, Prompto could tell the scar was brutal, with the redness standing out in comparison to her pale skin. Ridges of pale skin that webbed throughout the scar made it very gruesome looking and it made Prompto think of a memory he had forgotten about. 

When he had been around two, Prompto was at this woman's house (though he didn't remember who she was) and suddenly felt this weird burning sensation on the left half of his face, neck and chest. It hadn't been too bad, but it still hurt a bit-it was like someone had poured hot water on him and he swore something had broken and was burning him, but when the woman looked, there was nothing wrong with him. The woman had scolded Prompto for making a scene but the memory stuck with Prompto because of how bizarre it was. 

The woman with the scar looked like she was about to kill these boys when Wiz stepped forward. "No," he said, referring to their previous question. "But you can never set foot on my property again-get out and don't come back," 

The three teenage boys clearly wanted to say some other things but a few of the workers came by and quickly escorted them off the property. Prompto smiled out of relief, feeling happy that the father of that girl was so willing to defend her and relieved that she clearly had a great support system. 

"Don't let them bother you, Chocobee," Wiz put his arm around the girl and hugged her to his side. "They're just a bunch of pissants who were mad they weren't getting their own way," 

"I know, dad," Prompto heard the girl talking softly, like she was trying to be brave, and he felt her pain. 

Prompto knew what it was like to have people insult you to your face and how you had to force yourself to not let the words bother you. People had always taunted him when he used to be overweight and made rude comments about it. He always had to force himself to be happy, despite the comments bothering him immensely, so he empathized with this girl. 

"I'm gonna go fill the feeders," the girl said and walked towards the right of the ranch. When she passed Prompto, their eyes met for a few seconds before she averted her gaze and walked on. 

"Well, we've secured the caravan for ourselves," Ignis came up next to Prompto and followed his gaze to the girl that was pouring Chocobo feed into some type of silo that Prompto guessed was a way that fed the birds. "Please don't try to jump in that, it's filled with very sharp knives that is used to cut the bird feed finely-"

Prompto looked at Ignis, confused by what he was talking about. "What? No, I wasn't thinking of jumping in the silo thing-is that what it does?" 

"It's something used to chop the bird feed so it's fine enough for baby Chocobos to eat," Noctis didn't even look up as he came up next to the two with a brochure in his hand. When he looked at Prompto, he followed his gaze, quickly figured out what he was staring at and smirked. "It's rude to stare, Prompt," 

Prompto averted his gaze and started blushing. "I'm not staring!" 

"Don't they have magic treatments and surgery for those kinds of burns?" Noctis asked Ignis, turning back to the brochure. "You don't see people with those kinds of scars in the Crown City who aren't part of the Crownsguard," 

"That kind of treatment can be very expensive, I imagine," Ignis explained. "Even with treatment, I imagine that the scar wouldn't be eradicated completely-depending on how the scar was managed after the burn and how long it took for medical treatment to be given, it's quite possible that by the time they got to the hospital, it was too late to do much else without it costing a fortune," 

Prompto looked around the outpost and couldn't help notice that while it was very small and quaint, it was beginning to look rundown and was starting to fall apart. "This place doesn't look like it's flowing in moolah," 

"Because normal people don't like to look at chickens," Gladiolus joined the three and continued his grumbling. 

"The demand for Chocobos aren't as high as they used to be," Ignis said. 

"We're doing fine, thank you," Wiz had approached while the boys were talking and pulled a tarp over a bunch of lawn ornaments. "I hear you guys were staying in the caravan-the resturant's closed because the grill's busted, but we have some frozen meals we can still heat up, if you want," 

Prompto stared at the girl, who was now disposing of the empty bags of bird feed in a dumpster at the edge of the fence around the property; another ranch hand with pigtails was asking her something and the girl with the scar started to giggle, her smile being soft, but still genuine. 

He felt his heart stop when he saw her smile, noticing even from the distance how her two front teeth were pushed forward but that they weren't large enough for her to be considered buck-toothed. It was oddly cute and...something was weird. 

The strangest feeling was washing over Prompto, but he couldn't seem to understand it; he knew this girl. He didn't know how or why, but he knew this girl. He knew of her or had met her before, but he knew who she was and Prompto was trying his hardest to place her. Had he seen her in the Crown City before? He couldn't remember seeing someone with that kind of scar in the city but maybe he had seen her in passing and had forgotten? 

Wiz noticed Prompto staring and couldn't help feeling a little agressive about his daughter; it wasn't the first time people stared at his daughter, fascinated by the type of burn scar that not a lot of people had these days. It didn't make Wiz any less pissed off, though. 

"That's my daughter, Alaea," Wiz said to Prompto. "If you're gonna stare, you might as well go say 'hi'," 

Prompto finally broke his gaze to look at Wiz, wanting desperately to know where he's seen this girl before. "I'm sorry, it's just...I feel like I've seen her before..." 

Wiz raised his eyebrow and glanced at his daughter, then looked back at Prompto. "Don't know how that's possible, kid-she's never been to the Crown City and I haven't been there since I was a kid," 

"You used to live in the city?" Noctis asked. 

Wiz nodded and began to tell the boys how he had come to own the outpost near Lastallum while Prompto found his eyes drawn to the girl-Alaea-once again. She was standing next to a mirror near the Chocobo pen and was staring into it while covering the scar on her face with her left hand,. 

She looked...sad. Like she wanted to be normal more than anything and knowing that she couldn't be normal was eating her up inside. Prompto had the urge to go give this girl a hug and tell her that she was beautiful no matter what and to not listen to assholes with nothing better to do than make others feel bad. 

Prompto was distracted when he felt a raindrop plop on his head-looking up, he noticed it was beginning to rain, like the weather had predicted this afternoon. Normally, Prompto would have been obsessed with his hair, but he was too busy observing and staring at Alaea...

Where had he seen this girl before? It was driving him crazy...

"Well, I'll chew your ear off some other time," Wiz said, noticing the rain as well. "Why don't you boys go on into the caravan and we'll bring you guys some dinner? On the house," 

The boys started heading off to the caravan after thanking Wiz for being so generous with what food they had. Wiz followed, intending to pull the side awning for the caravan out so that the boys could eat outside if they wanted to. 

While following, Prompto scratched the back of his head, moving the tuft of hair that hung on his neck in the process so Wiz could see the back of the boy's neck and Wiz suddely lost the urge to move when he saw the familiar mark. 

Wiz didn't need to be right behind the boy to be able to see the mark that was on the back of his neck, just below his hairline and how it was shaped like an Ulwaat berry with its stem curving to the right. 

An exact mirror of Alaea's mark. 

This blonde Crownsguard was his daughter's soulmate.

[untitledcreativeproject]

Day 24. [1460]

[Wrote some expanded backstory stuff for my D&D character. Changed name, also.]

The stereotype of dwarves being an overall surly and belligerent race had never sat well with me as a child. I was never one to start or to finish fights, opting instead to explore all the hidden nooks and secret spaces that my hometown had to offer. My mother was a respected member of some rank within the city guard, and she kept a careful eye on my curious wanderings. I like to think that she appreciated me staying out of trouble, but I know she often worried about my ability to take care of myself. "Any dwarf worth their salt should be ready and able to fight when they're called to,"  she said. "You don't have to like it, Kyrus, but it's a dangerous world out there." Once I grew older, I longed to see beyond the outskirts of the city I knew so well. My mother could never be fully convinced of my safety as it was, so you can imagine how difficult it was for her to let me leave home. After she tried and failed to talk me out of it, she gifted me with two impressive-looking handaxes for my journey. "You're a dwarf, after all. Look the part and enough people might think twice before they try anything." She instructed me to keep my jaw set, keep my shoulders squared, and to basically do my best not to look like a target as I made my way to the nearest town outside the mountain. Life moves so much faster here in Irma compared to back home. Stumbling into my apprenticeship with the Cartographer's Guild took no time at all after my arrival. It... it doesn't even feel like it's been that long since Reeve died. It's been close to six years, but that memory never fades. Reeve was my master, and probably the closest thing I had to a stable father figure. He made maps and told stories of the places he'd been when he was a soldier. I was the errand boy in much of my first year with him, though I suspect he encouraged my travelling around town in order to help me find my bearings. It was upon my return from one such task that I found our map stall vacant one afternoon. I looked around to see if he'd fallen into a chat with a neighboring vendor, but I didn't see him anywhere. I checked the next row over, where Reeve would sometimes try to talk his way into a free meal from one of the food hawkers, but he wasn't there. After a few minutes I thought it would be better to go back to our stall and wait for him to come back. When I returned, I saw him standing out in front of our little booth, talking to another man. When the authorities questioned me about the other man, I couldn't remember a damn thing. He was wearing dark clothes, and from my perspective the two didn't seem to have been arguing. I'm getting ahead of myself though. I saw them chatting and thought nothing of it. Then the stranger moved forward, pressing almost flush against my mentor in one smooth motion. I was still approaching the stall at this point, but I was close enough to hear the sound Reeve made, right before he fell. It was unsettling, the way the bazaar sounds I'd come to love seemed to suddenly come muted and muffled, like my head had been dunked underwater. Reeve collapsed to his knees and time slowed to a crawl. The man--my master's murderer--took a step back and glanced in my direction before retreating into an alley nearby. I could see Reeve's fingers grasping at the cobblestones on the ground, as if he could somehow brace himself and get back up to his feet as blood began to soak through his jacket. My own blood was roaring in my ears. I'm told that I screamed for someone to help him, though I heard nothing of my own voice at the time. Belatedly, I tried to follow where I thought the other man had gone, but there was no sign of him. The look he had given me as he turned to leave... My next thought was that he would be back to kill me as well. Wasn't I a witness to his crime? I found myself lost in the chaos that followed, as more people began to notice the innocent man who'd been left to bleed out in the street. Unable to stomach the reality of the situation, I ran. What if I could have stopped it somehow? I thought of my mother, and of the handaxes she'd given me that were collecting dust back at Reeve's workshop. Shame coiled in my gut, mingling with the fear that pushed me to put more distance between myself and the bazaar. When the grief hit, it brought a wave of nausea with it. I slowed to a walk, stopping briefly as my stomach emptied itself messily in a part of town I hadn't previously visited. I made it a few more steps away before my legs gave out. I sat in the street for a moment, absently wiping the vomit from my mouth. Then a voice called out from behind me. "Hey! It's a little early in the day to be a sloppy drunk, isn't it?" I bristled at that. "What," I snarled, "you see a dwarf lose their lunch in the street and they just have to be drunk, is that it?" I shakily got to my feet, my adrenaline surging again as I turned to face whoever had addressed me. My fists were clenched; whether I liked it or not, that dwarven temper had finally erupted in me. "Oi, oi," the man who'd spoken said as he put his hands up defensively. "Not that I'm a stranger to picking a fight for fighting's sake, but I didn't mean to strike a chord there." He chuckled. "Not that the big man would probably mind." "What?" "Don't you know where you are?" the man asked. He gestured to the statue I'd failed to notice until just then. It was of a flexing, bearded human with a greatsword in hand. I didn't respond, so he laughed again. "Ah, well. This is the Temple of Kord. Welcome." "Thanks, I guess." My fight reflex had passed, and I felt overwhelmed with the weight of the day. My shoulders slumped. "You look like you could use some water. Why don't you come inside?" As I passed through the entrance to the temple, the man introduced himself as Zanos. He explained that Kord was the patron god of the temple, although most of his followers would consider his most important title to be Warrior rather than God. The main tenets of his house were simple: "Be strong, but do not use your strength for wanton destruction. Be brave and scorn cowardice in any form. Prove your might in battle to win glory and renown." A sort of calm settled over me as I heard Zannos recite his faith, the first semblance of serenity I'd felt since fleeing the bazaar. I felt that this was my answer, the missing link that would bring closure to all the loose ends of my life thus far. Here was where I could become strong, to defend myself as my mother wanted. Here I could find the courage I lacked earlier in the day, when I thought I might be the killer's next victim and fled. "How do I join this temple?" I blurted out as Zannos was explaining the other areas of the building. "You want to become an initiate?" he asked, eyebrows raised. "Yes," I said. I shot him a determined look, then my face fell and I looked away. "Today... today a man killed my master in cold blood. It happened so fast. He never even got a chance to defend himself." "That's a coward's way of handling a fight," Zannos frowned. "I'm sorry, friend." "Coward...?" It seemed strange to me, calling someone ballsy enough to commit murder in public a coward. "You said your master didn't have a chance to defend himself. Disputes should be settled fairly, whether or not it has to come to blows. Kord would see that man disgraced by being beaten in a fair fight. In the pit, your strength and conviction are the only weapons you need." I thought on Zannos's words and I realized he was right. That man was a coward, someone deserving of scorn. I would become an initiate here, learn how to be strong, and smite the villain who had spilled an innocent man's blood unprovoked.

I would walk the path of a paladin.

[Running Total: 21,886 words]