#dream valley glory

[turtlejen]

Aoife (ee-fah) is home ^^

[johnbrand]

On My Level

Antonio took a step out onto the balcony, hoping to get away from the commotion of the company retreat. Sometimes, working with such high-level execs was fun–Antonio often got to enjoy perks a younger Mexican-American boy could have never dreamed of. But now outside, Antonio was better able to take in view. Crisp morning air perfectly settled over the beautiful mountains and valleys below. After a few moments though, Antonio picked up on the stench of secondhand smoke.

“Tony! I didn’t know they just let anyone out here!” Jason chuckled, cupping up the end of his cigar. “Could’ve sworn this was the VIP section.”

Jason was one of the reasons Antonio hated his job. Stereotypical, privileged finance bros. They were the most arrogant people Antonio had ever met, to a point that he could not even believe they were real. It was like everything those men ever wanted came to them. Money, looks, love–it was disgusting and infuriating.

Annoyed, Antonio made for the exit.

“Stay, Tony,” Jason’s voice was more commanding than insistent. “Just perch against the bricks for a sec, I’ll be quick.”

For a split second, Antonio felt a tingle down his spine. He propped himself up against the wall, out of the window’s view. He just hoped this would be short, his turtleneck was getting warm and he already wanted another round at the breakfast buffet. A man of his fullness was hard to satiate.

“You know, Tony, I’ve been getting a real bad vibe from you,” Jason began, puffing away. “I think you’re a little too abrasive.”

“It’s Antonio,” Antonio corrected. “And is this what you really wanted to discuss?”

“Yes, Tony,” Jason let a crude grin slip. “Maybe if you simply listened to me, got on my level, your talent would be appreciated.”

Antonio wanted to go, asked his body to move, but instead it remained against the brick wall, almost as if it wished to hear Jason out.

After a strong exhale in Antonio’s direction, Jason initiated direct eye contact. “Let’s start by using your real name. You go by Tony, bro.”

With another slight shiver down his spine, Tony mumbled, “Okay.”

Jason cracked a small smile, “Let’s talk about respect too. Top of your list will be finance guys like me and you.”

Tony tried to process this, that strange sensation once again embracing him. “As in like, fraternizing with them?”

“Fraternizing, bonding, appreciating–all that good stuff, Antonio.”

“It's Tony.” Tony should have been peeved, but Jason was one of his kind, one of his bros. It was probably just an accident. Tony quipped, “That cigar isn't laced with anything besides tobacco, is it?”

A cocky smirk appeared underneath Jason’s douchey pornstache. “I think you’re the one using substances, dude. That outfit you’ve got is not our style.”

Before he could process the weird feeling, Tony felt a sense of disgust wash over him before he removed his clothes. With a subtle nod, Jason motioned to a folded outfit already beside Tony on the deck, who then proceeded to immediately strip down to his underwear.

“Before you put that on, Tony,” Jason reconnected their eye contact. “Just wanted to say those workouts are doing you wonders.”

“Uh, thanks I guess? I mean the gym is just a way to relieve stress, really,” Tony nervously replied.

Jason became more authoritative, “Don’t sound so timid, dude. If you’re gonna be a bro, then speak the language.”

Tony chuckled, shaking off the twitch. “You faggin’ out on me, bro? These muscles are for chicks only.” Covering up his perfectly athletic frame, Tony buttoned a crisp white shirt over his pecs and abs before tucking it into a suit trousers and covering those underneath a suit coat. The top was opened to showcase his tanned skin, giving just a glimpse of the glories that could be found below.

“Tony, with that combination of corporate and alpha, I’d think you are a changed man!” Jason commenting, locking eyes.

“Corporate…alpha…” Tony trailed off.

“Speaking of alpha, gotta do something about that jawline.” Jason’s voice was low enough that it was as if he was speaking to himself. “I’d say lantern jaw, small beard, and a pointed chin to match that tailored quiff I got you rocking.”

Tony absorbed the words, processing before responding, “I agree bro. There’s nothing hotter than when the ladies shove a hand through my hair while I shove this massive dick into their panties.

Jason snickered as Tony crudely cupped himself for emphasis, his facial structure stretching out into a more naturally arrogant shape. “Funny man, I thought you said smoking was the only thing hotter than a tight pussy.

After a moment, Tony produced a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it and taking that first magnificent inhale. Blowing his own cloud towards Jason, Tony lavished in the feeling of his smoke tickling his well-sculpted mirror.

“You’re so right, bro,” Tony remarked.

Jason grinned, “I always am.”

[k-hippie]

CHAMPIGNAC : A NEW SIMS 3 WORLD

Champignac is a fully living Frenchy suburbia World based on Champs-les-Sims and has nothing to do with a vacation place ... Well, nothing is not really the right word ;)

Back in 2016/2017, when we began to think how we could remade Champs-les-Sims, we didn't know really what kind of world we wanted to do. We named the project : Sims de Nimes. Then, because we were on other projects ( such as sims 4 k-mods ) we left Sims de Nimes somewhere in the pipes.

We made Oaksoak Hollow ( based on Mystic Falls ), we made Eureka Valley ( a world between tech and classic life ) and we left behind the Sims 4 because, well ... too long to explain. :D

So, it was time to get out of the box our old project of Sims de Nimes ... During this time, some talented creators re-made Champs-les-Sims with their own vision, more oldy or more city life like, or more like Sunset Valley ... All those versions are interesting, but we wanted something else. And so, is born Champignac !

If Champignac is a true living suburbia world, it is too a quite rural world, almost a village with :

37 Community Lots

36 Residential Lots

10 Medieval Towers all around the town :)

:)

In addition, it remains few Empty Lots, differently sized to suit whatever you wish ... So, let's say Champignac is a french-not-so-little-town where life is slowly flowing and dynamic at the same time, perfect for families and Sims looking for a different lifestyle :)

A typical downtown and outskirts, full of old buildings and southern architecture, a joyful mix between south-east and south-west housing, with a touch of something more northener ( but don't tell the citizens; it's a sure way to be frowned upon ) ... After all they worked hard to keep Champignac as it is!

People living in Champignac are quite glad of it. Sure, teenagers dream of foreign lands, but they are not too eager to leave.

Once, the townies of Champignac were grumpy because Champs-les-Sims was so more popular than their hometown ... After all, everybody went to Champs-les-Sims, stayed there, made nectar, drove a Kenspa, flirted with locals, or … anyway! Tourists had a full experience in Champs-Les-Sims and weren't interested in visiting any other city. Champignac, the official twin city, didn't benefit from any international exchanges, and was left anonymous, far from fame and glory. As unreachable as the Eiffel Tower seen from Champignac ... until ...

In February 29th of a certain year, a distant descendant of Marquis de Landgraab lost his way on the road to Champs-les-Sims and landed in Champignac. Instantly, he fell in love with the town.

He saw an always growing vegetation, a Monastery full of secrets, the familial beach ( yes, there is a beach in Champignac ), the forgotten obelisk, the shop keepers full of stories, the well preserved houses, the green fields and the paved streets, the true Café Catane and a remaining wild fauna running here and there ... He saw perfection !

For a time, the townies of Champignac experienced fame and glory. But how exhausting it was! Tourists not really caring about the legacy of the kiosk owner, the monks overwhelmed, the museum director who couldn't find enough teenagers to help ... Even the fishes were exhausted! Hard times indeed ... Happily, this descendant of Marquis de Landgraab met someone, somewhere, and moved out, far far away from Champignac. Celebrities said their last goodbyes and slowly, life, as it should be, was back :) The townies and City Council learned from that experience that they very much preferred not to be as famous as Champs-les-Sims ...

Life in Champignac was relatively calm again when suddenly, a global health crisis emerged and the Simvid-18 pandemic hit many many people ... Anxiety swept through the villages and the small towns, including Champignac of course ... With an aging population, residents became increasingly concerned about the well-being of their neighbors and the future of the city.

Shop owners and farmers who were already considering retirement were now faced with the daunting task of deciding whether to continue their businesses in such uncertain times. The entire world seemed to come to a halt, leaving everyone in Champignac wondering who would carry the torch and ensure the future.

Surprisingly, the youngsters that only came sporadically for holidays, moved back to Champignac. Fearful of living in a crowded city and eager to gather with family members, they came to the old town with friends. After all, there were spare bedrooms in most houses!

When the restrictions were lifted, many were reluctant to leave. Going back to a stressful life and fast-paced city wasn't enticing anymore. Most decided to turn their lives around. They took up the florist shop or asked for a job transfer ... So, life emerged again :) Champignac is now a thriving town where you have everything you wish for and nothing more.

Champignac is blessed with old churches turned into bars or wineries, old palazzi that are inspiring, and small boutiques as gathering places ...

Winters and autumns are short, while spring and summer are long. Come and live among thousands of old buildings, walk on streets Roman soldiers once trod upon, see treasures from foreign campaigns, and benefit from the perfect blend of country living and town living.

Remember ... With its unique blend of history, culture, and natural beauty, Champignac offers the Sims a captivating and enriching experience. From the stunning architecture to the delectable cuisine, every aspect of this town reflects the South of France’s intoxicating charm.

Are you ready to move in Champignac ?

blackgryffin \o/

IMPORTANT : We advice STRONGLY to begin with the half-populated SavaGame provided in addition to the World itself ...

DO NOT FORGET to download the CC of Champignac we provide on our website too ! for more information, see the 2 posts below ;)

Have fun !

DOWNLOAD HERE

[eyesxxyou]

Backstage show

★🎸 {} .. hobie brown x groupie!reader

rating. m

word count. 5k

synopsis. you finally get to meet your favorite band and the lead vocalist takes a liking to you. He decides he shouldn't keep such a beauty to himself.

or

hobie fucks you in front of his bandmates

🍒・．❕warnings. exhibitionalism (sex in front of bandmates), p in v sex, unprotected sex not advised, clothed sex, oral (m receiving) drinking, smoking, save a horse ride a cowboy, public sex, hobie has a bit of a god complex, y/n is a group who'd do anything for her idol, bit of a power dynamic fr, this is a bit toxic but gets sweet at the end y'all so hold on

Backstage Show pt.2

This was your dream. Ever since coming across a small underground punk rock band, The Mary Janes, you've dreamed of attending one of their concerts. Now you were here, your body pressed up against the side of the stage of the small venue, so close to your idols you thought you might faint. Your body was clad in leather, from your skin-tight skirt to the oversized jacket you had draped over your shoulders. Your shirt was torn, black, lacy bra exposed, a beg for attention really.

All of the members of the band were attractive and all had their individual groupies but by far the fan favorite was Hobie-fucking-Brown. Lead singer and bass guitarist. A tall, lean fellow with the most beautiful voice you've ever heard in your life. He was a charmer, a flirt, known for giving the occasion groupie a chance and the night of their life or dating one from time to time.

Your hands grabbed at the edge of the stage as the lights dimmed and everyone in the building began to scream including you. It grew even louder when the band came on stage, the girl next to you was screaming her head off, hoping to grab the attention of Hobie as the thick soles of his boots made the very stage vibrate under your hands.

You stopped screaming when you saw him. Your breath simply stolen away from you but you supposed that might just be the people behind you pressing as they tried to get as close to Hobie as possible. He was breathtaking. All his features were so sharp, from his cheekbones to his liner-framed eyes. You liked the lean muscle of his body, the way his spiked armband pressed into the muscle, how his torn up, sleeveless crop top revealed the valley of his abs and low-waisted pants revealed his happy trail.

You obsessed over the way he smirked at the crowd and sent them absolutely buck wild. He grabbed his microphone and adjusted it, raising it to his height so he could speak into it comfortably. "'Ow's er'ryone doin' t'night?" His accent is thick but not aggressive to the ears nor incoherent. The crowd goes absolutely wild including you, you scream until your voice is raw, hoping that maybe those pretty eyes of his will land on you.

"Er'ryone lookin' good t'night." His eyes scan over the crowd, making their way back to front, side to side. Then Hobie’s eyes landed on you, in all your fishnet, leather, and spiked collar glory. He paused for a moment, his tongue dragging across his pierced lips before the corner curled into a smirk. “Some lookin’ real good.”

And from then on, he had his attention on you. Sure, he certainly had everyone in the room on a leash and the few people in the front were able to hold hands with him for a few milliseconds and get a few acknowledging glances. But he made it clear that you were the one on his mind. He bent down and caressed your face with his silver decorated fingers while singing before moving on.

You grabbed your polaroid camera you had hanging off your side like a bag, using it to snap pictures of what you could only describe as the best day of your life. Everytime Hobie neared, another picture was taken and printed out on the spot. You barely let them develop before placing them in your bag.

Hobie noticed this and came back to you, sitting down with his legs hanging off the edge of the stage, pressed against your chest. “You havin’ a good time, luv?” He asked as his band began to play the intro to the next song. You were so mesmerized, so starstruck, that you couldn’t even formulate words. You didn’t trust yourself to speak because you knew if you tried, you’d say something stupid like you’re in love with him, you’d do anything for him. So you nod like you’re completely braindead, fawning over him. 

“Might I see ya camera?” He pointed to the device in your hand and immediately, you handed it to him without thought. You melt when he grabs you by the back of the head and pulls you in. Hobie kissed you, his tongue pressed against the seam of your lips. It was a moment you never thought would ever happen to you. His lips were on yours and you knew this was your chance.

You kissed him back and let him slip his tongue past your lips. His tongue pressed against yours, a little ball piercing meeting the soft flesh of your tongue. With a little bit more confidence, you grabbed his shirt, slid your hands up his collared neck, felt his skin because you might never get to have this chance again.

He took this chance to snap a picture of the two of you kissing, letting it print out as he placed it back between your hands.

“Hobie! Stop fuckin’ around an get up here, mate!” His drummer called from across the stage with a hint of impatience. Hobie broke away from you with an annoyed sigh as he glanced back over his shoulder for just a moment. When he looked back at you, he offered one of his pearly white smiles. “You min’ stickin’ around aft’a the show fa me, luv?”

You nod, still not trusting yourself to say the right words just yet. Hobie pecks your lips, a goodbye kiss with the promise to see you again soon, before he stands and grabs ahold of his guitar to finish the show. You swore, if you weren’t in love before, you definitely are now. You were in love with the way he drew all attention to himself without even trying, so confident because he had nothing to prove. Undeniably sexy in every single way,

So once the show came to a close and the crowd slowly dispersed across the venue, most finding themselves at the bar for a drink. At first, you had no idea where Hobie was. The place was absolutely packed and the thought of anyone being able to take a single step without bumping into someone else was laughable. But it soon became clear when people began flocking in one direction, girls screaming out his name as he came around, asking for autographs on any part of their body they had to offer and he was happy to oblige. He went around signing people’s chests just above their tits and the bottom of their backs like his name was their tramp stamp.

He saw you between the swaths of people and smiled, wading himself between people to get to you. “There ya are, luv. Been lookin’ fa you.” Hobie tossed an arm over your shoulders and pulled you into the side of his body. He smelled of sweat and the musk of his cologne and you thought you might just cum from the smell alone. You looked up at his towering stature as he greeted other fans. His jawline was sharp, adam’s apple prominent in his throat, his lips thick and kissable.

Hobie looked back down at you. “You wanna go backstage wit’ me and my mates?” A long, slender finger came and wrapped around a single one of your braids. He was so charming, so easily able to persuade those around him to listen to him. He made those around him feel like they’ve known him for years, like you’ve spent your whole life together. 

Finally, you were confident enough to stop acting like you didn’t have a lick of intelligence. You slid your arm around his waist to return the same kindness of intimate closeness. “Of course.”

Hobie raised his pierced brows in slight surprise. “So you speak.” He teased you lightly, placing his hand on top of yours as you held his waist and pulled you closer. He began to lead you towards a door that led to backstage.”Wha’s ya name, doll?” He leaned in to you so he could hear you better as you say, “Y/N.”

He hummed softly. “Suits you. Pretty name fo a pretty girl.” He kicked open the door so he didn’t have to let do of you. He kicked the door closed behind him, making sure it was closed al the way before bringing you around a few short, winding halls until you reached their little hangout spot. All three others of his band were already lounging about, feet kicked up, with some bottles of whiskey and a joint being passed between them. The room smelled heavily of weed and booze but the aggressiveness of it didn’t bother you. You’ve spent your entire life in environments like this.

“Yo er’ryone, this is Y/N.” Hobie introduced you, finally letting you go once you were in an environment he was more comfortable in. They all nodded and greeted you cooly, probably already high. They were all friendly, complimenting you on your outfit or telling you they thought you were pretty in a way that didn’t make you feel uncomfortable while Hobie went to sit down in a dingy recliner next to a messy coffee table.

“Com’ere, pretty girl.” Hobie motioned you over to him and without hesitation you came, placing your things down on the table. He grabbed a bottle of liquor from the table and took a large swing of it as he grabbed your hand gently and pulled you into his lap. His hand was on your thigh, fingers slipping beneath the webbing of your fishnets. God, he was so sexy looking up at you like that. The way he gripped your thigh already had you growing wet at the thought of his fingers sliding beneath your skirt.

“Gotta be ‘bout the prettiest girl I done ever seen. Right boys?” He doesn’t look over the side of his recliner at them, just takes another swing of his bottle while staring up at you with eyes telling you exactly what he’s imagining now. You’re imagining the exact same.

They all agree with various sounds of approval, knowing not to tread too much on Hobie's obviously marked territory.

You shift in his lap, the wetness between your thighs growing evermore uncomfortable. Hobie leans forward and begins kissing along the side of your neck, his hand still possessively gripping your thigh. His lips graze your supple skin so lightly it sends shivers through every nerve in your body. "Hobie."

"This can stop. You just say the word." He made sure to let you know that you had no obligation to do anything with him. You appreciated the gesture but you would do anything short of murder for him. This was a moment you've been dreaming of for so long, you were scared that this very moment right here was a figment of your delusional imagination and you'd be waking up in your bed any second now.

But his lips kissing you was very real, his hand stroking your hip now was the realest thing in your world right now.

“You wanna drink, luv?” Hobie asked you, shaking the bottle in front of you. You were never much of a drinker but you didn’t mind a few sips here and there and you were sure you’d need some liquid courage for a moment like this. You reached out for the bottle but Hobie quickly pulled it out of your range and clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Lemme do it. Get on ya knees fa me, doll.”

You don’t even think about refusing. Not an ounce of hesitation plagues you as you slide off of his lap and onto the floor in front of him. You get on your knees, leaning forward, back arched as you positioned yourself between Hobie’s legs. You thought you were probably flashing your panties to his bandmates but you didn’t care. How could you when Hobie drabbed your chin with those beautiful fingers of his, nails painted a solid black. “Open ya mouf.”

You do so. You part your lips and let your jaw hang open as he tips the bottle against your lips and lets the bitter liquid pour down your throat. He’s sure not to give you too much so you won’t choke. You close your mouth and swallow, looking up at Hobie through hooded eyes and long lashes.

“Go’ myself a good girl, didn’t I?” Hobie pet your head as you placed it on his thigh much like a pet who worships their owner. “You’d do anythin’ fo me, wouldn’t you?” He asks because he knows that you’ll undoubtedly say yes. You love the way he pushes your hair out of your face to get a better view of you as you look up at him like he’s more than just a man.

‘You’d do anything for your god too, wouldn’t you?” You ask him, making it very clear how you saw him and that there was very little you wouldn’t do for him. He was your god, your religion, your everything. You were a devout disciple, on your knees ready to worship.

Hobie smiled at your words. He liked you, knew from the moment he saw you that you’d be entirely worth his while. “Why don’t you show me how much you love ya god then.” He relaxed into his chair, slouching as he took another sip. His hand was in your hair, pulling you closer to the growing bulge in his pants. “Would you like to be the sta’ fo a bit, put on a lil’ show fo the rest of us?”

You glance behind you at his bandmates, all of them staring at you, waiting to see where this would all go. When you look back, Hobie’s staring at you with a raise brow. A question. Do you wanna? I won’t make you, luv. You drag your tongue over your lips, wiped clean of your lipgloss from his kiss earlier. You bit your lip and reached towards his belt to undo it. How could you turn down a moment like this? The thought of them all sitting there watching as you suck off their leader made your pussy tremble. You’ve always played with the idea of people watching. Tonight had to be a dream.

You undid the buckle of his belt and pulled it from its slot before moving into his pants. Hobie assured you to take your time as you reached into his pants and pulled him out of his restraints. He was already half hard in your hand, weighing heavy against your palm as blood rushed into the appendage.

You wet your lips again as you began to stroke him. Your delicate fingers wrapping around and pulling at the smooth, satin skin of his cock. He had to have the prettiest dick you’ve ever seen, nice, long, and veiny with a Prince Albert’s piercing sitting pretty and shiny at the tip of his cock. You salivated at the sight of it as it grew harder in your hand. You bite your lip and glance up at Hobie who’s already smiling at you. “Like what ya see?” You love what you see, wanted him to shove it down your throat.

Hobie takes over for you, grabs his cock and jerks it a little harder. Little beads of pearly precum dripped from his slit and rolled down the underside of his cock before meeting his hand. He takes his time, staring at you and that pretty face of yours that caught his attention in the beginning.

He tapped his length against your cheeks in a way that was almost degrading but you leaned into it, stared into his eyes as his bottom lip caught on his teeth. You let him smear his precum across your plush lips before parting them to let him drack his tip against your tongue.

“Got yourself a proper lil’ slut, didn’t you Hobes?” One of the other band members chuckle as you part your lips further and stick out your tongue. The others laugh with him including Hobie who takes up your hair in a makeshift ponytail and presses your head down, sliding his cock into your mouth as far as you could take him. “Gotta nice lil’ wet patch on ‘er panties.”

You found a guilty pleasure in the way they talked about you like you weren’t even there, an object of pleasure. Hobie used your mouth as his own personal toy, controlling the way your head moved up and down his cock, pressing to your limit, until you’re gagging and choking on him. He slapped your cheek lightly. “Eyes up here sweet’art.” You look up at him, eyes swelling with tears each time his length slid down your throat and triggered your gag reflex.

His head hell back against the cushion of his chair as he moaned lowly, “Relax tha’ throa’, doll.” His eyes never left yours no matter how good that pretty little mouth of yours made him feel. Hobie let his own mouth fall open as you took him in down to the hilt, your nose pressed to his pelvis. “Gooood fuckin’ girl.” He holds your right where you are, watching with a sadistic smile as you gagged. Your hands gripped his thighs to brace yourself, tears streaking your cheeks.

Hobie let you go after a few seconds and you fall back, panting for air with your lips slicked with saliva. The moment you caught your breath, you had your lips wrapped around him again, bobbing your head with an eagerness to please, to put on that show he was talking about. You are your back more, the outline of your pussy revealed behind your panties for his bandmates to gaze at.

“Keep goin’ jus’ like tha’.” Hobie was practically falling apart beneath you, his breathing hitching and his eyes barely open while he watched you take him down like a champ. “Fuck…ya killin’ me, doll.” His voice was breathy yet tireless and came out like a low rumble that only made you wetter. “Drivin’ me fuckin’ mad.”

But Hobie wasn’t ready to cum just yet as pretty as you’d look swallowing his cum. “Get on up fo me.” He pulled you back by your hair and you released him with a sticky pop of your lips. He made you to stand up between his knees and held you by the waist, his hands so large it made you seem small by comparison.

“Le’s put on a real performance.” He whispered to you with a smile that could only be described as devious. His hands were suddenly hiking up your tight little skirt to circle your waist, fingers between the netting of your stockings, tearing them open enough to create a whole right at your cunt. “Turn ‘round.” And you did, following every movement of his hands as they positioned your body. Until you were sitting on Hobie’s lap with your legs spread, feet on the armrests of his chair, panties pulled to the side so everything you held so dear was on display for his bandmates to oogle at.

Hobie wrapped an arm around your waist and used his free hand to slide his saliva-soaked cock between the equally soaked lips of your puffy little pussy that’s been screaming and begging to be fucked. You tremble as his piercing dragged across your sensitive little clit. “Already nice and wet. Din’t even needa touch ya.” He chuckled into the shell of your ear before kitten-licking it.

It was easy to slip in, hardly an resistance at all. You whimpered at the way he could so easily push that thick cock of his into you, at how he stretched your walls. You turned your face in some feeble attempt to hide yourself from the prying eyes of the men sitting on the couch across from you. They all watched intently, something predatory sparkling in their eyes at the sight of you.

“Uhn-uh, luv.” Hobie hissed out as he bucked his hips up into your little cunt that so eagerly accepted him. “Look at ‘em. Look at wha’ you’re doin’ to ‘em.” You turn your head to glance and find them all palming themselves through their pants. Shameful and embarrassed, you hide your face again and attempt to close your legs but before you can, Hobie’s are already pinning them apart, keeping you just how you are.

“Start bouncin’ then.” Hobie forces you to move your hips, rocking them against his cock as your greedy little pussy takes in more of him. He slaps your exposed pussy red and raw when you take too long to move, leaving you sensitive and teary-eyed. “I said start bouncin’, or are you stupid now?” His voice bites a little with a command but just between the two of you in a hushed whisper, “Jus’ tell me to stop if you don’ wanna go on, sweet’art.”

You shake his head at your offer, bracing yourself as you begin to flex your thighs and lift yourself up before dropping right back down on his cock. You let out a broken little moan as he plunges back in, the curve of his length pressing into your walls just right. That wonderful piercing of his only amplifies the pleasure. “Hobie~” You whine his name as he soothes his the rough pads of his fingers against your aching clit as a reward. “Keep goin’.”

You ride like your very life depends on it, crying out his name like he might be your only chance at salvation. You don’t care that your thighs are burning as you push them to their limits. You’re cock-hungry and everyone in the room knows it. The sound of your creamy, wet pussy being fucked and your whiny moans mingle with Hobie’s deep, guttaral ones. He hisses out his words like he’s barely holding on to sanity. “Bes’ fuckin cunt ‘ve had in a long time.”

And when you simply couldn’t keep going as you were, your legs exhausted from carrying up and down and back up again, Hobie grabbed you, held you up, and fucked you just like that. The way he fucked you was borderline cruel, abusive even. He bullied his cock into your pussy and played with your clit like the strings of his guitar, leaving you so wet that your thighs were slick with it. Skin clapped against skin, your faces’ shimmering with sweat.

“Pull up ya shirt… let’ em see your tits.” Hobie let out between breathless pants. You did just that, pulling up your shirt enough to let your breast free. They bounced with his harsh thrusts, the peaks of your nipples pebbling at the cold air coming in contact with them. You could tell they were all trying to restrain themselves, swallowing harshly at the sight of your near defiled body.

“H-Hobie…I’m– cumming!” You could feel it falling upon you much like a tsunami. It seized your body and held you, drowned you. Your pussy clamped down around him and trembled with it as Hobie played with your pussy and dragged you through it. It had no mercy on you, left you feeling dizzy and your mind foggy. Your back arched, muscles twitching against your will, and your pussy left white streaks of cream against his cock.

Hobie wasn’t done with you though. “Turn ‘round, doll.” You hardly even removed yourself from his cock as you turned around on his cock, now facing him. Instinctively, you began to ride him, your hands grasping his shirt for leverage as he leaned back and enjoyed the show for himself. 

“Lookin’ all pretty and fucked out, aren’t ya luv?” He reached across you towards the table for a joint. He placed it between his lips and grabbed a lighter to light it, still watching you as he took his first drag and tossed the lighter to the side. He loved the way your tits bounced in his face, the way there wasn’t a single thought in that pretty, empty head of yours. Like his mates said, a proper slut for him.

He blew the smoke into your face and slapped your ass before grabbing your waist. “Should keep ya ‘round. Nice way to relax after a show, yeah men?” Hobie looked at his mates already rubbing one out themselves, too sexually frustrated not to do anything. He took another drag and let out the smoke in a breathy moan. “Fuckin’ me up here, doll.” He gritted out while grinding his hips into you. “Migh’ haveta keep ya ‘round. Can’t get good pussy like this nowhere else.”

Hobie pulled you in to kiss you, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip. You could still taste the remainder of your cherry lipgloss mingling with the alcohol and weed in his breath. You wondered if it was possible to sew two people’s lips together because you never wanted to stop kissing him ever again.

He began to smile into your kiss, a wicked idea coming to mind. “Lemme give you a autograph, luv. Get up and get on ya knees again.” You didn’t understand at first until you felt his cock twitch with the telltale signs of an orgasm on the horizon. So you got up, a string of cum leaving you two connected before breaking. You got on your knees again.

“Gotta nice pair o’ tits there.” Hobie wrapped his ringed fingers around his length and began violently jerking himself. You look at him, slick lips parting to speak. “Can you sign them for me?” You ask like one of his fangirls only hoping to get a moment like this one.

He held his joint between his fingers and sat up a bit more as his stomach tightened, abs revealing themselves even more. “How can I refuse a fan?” His brows furrowed with concentration as you push your chest forward in front of him, pressing them together with your hands.

Then his face relaxed all at once, his lips falling open with a single moan as he came. His cum came out in ribbons of white, landing on your chest in intervals as he twitched. Hobie was the prettiest when he came, every muscle in his face relaxing except his brows that seem to tense. You like how he coated your chest, how his cum rolled between the valley of your breasts as down your naval.

You felt owned now, possessed, marked. And you swore you’d never be able to have sex with another man again after tonight. You watched Hobie in utter admiration as he placed his joint back between his lips and reached back to the table to grab your camera. He snapped a picture of you. Your defiled body, your owned body, immortalized in a picture.

Hobie grabbed the picture as it printed out and waved it about through the air until it developed then placed it down on the table. “Come on, less get you cleaned up, doll.” He made himself decent before helping you up onto your shaky feet. He glanced at his mates as you two passed them, them all still wanking off, and he scoffed. “Pervs.”

“Fuck you, Hobes!”

He took you to the bathroom, used some wet paper towels to clean his come from your body and fix up your outfit as best as he could. “Sorry ‘bout the stockin’s, luv. I’ll buy ya new ones.” You didn’t expect him to be so sweet, no one has ever cleaned you up afterwards. Your face was hot as you looked at him. “Can I… have a second?” You asked softly.

“Yeah, ‘course.” Hobie shrugged, leaned down and kissed your cheek right at the corner of your lips. He offered a sly smile before leaving you to yourself to go back and joins his friends. You could hear him behind the door, “Could you wankas put ya…well…wankas away?”

You turn on the faucet and splash your face with cold water. You tell yourself that this isn’t real. You tell yourself you didn’t just have the best sex of your life with your idol. The more you splash your face, trying to wake yourself from thai dream that can only end in disappointment, the more you realize this isn’t some pathetic figment of your imagination.

When you come out of the bathroom, everyone’s hanging around. Hobie’s back in his chair with his joint and the polaroid he took in between his fingers. Your things were in his lap meaning you’d have to go to him to grab them.

He stands for you, putting out his joint in the ashtray much to the dismay of the others. He takes your things and brings them to you. “There ya go, sweet’art.” Your fingers brush when you grab them from him and he gives you the picture too. His eyes sparkle as he looks at you. “Hope to see you at our next gig.”

You think he must say that to all the fangirls he hooks up with. You’re nothing special you tell yourself. You glance at the other members wearily. “It was nice meeting you all.”

“You too, darlin’.” They’re all sweet despite watching you get fucked by their friend and jerking off to it. Do they do that kind of stuff often? Was this not an uncommon occurrence for them?

You’re almost humiliated as you leave, stalking towards the nearest exit to take a cab home. You look at the polaroid of yourself, on your knees with cum on your chest. You rub your thumb over it and when you shift it into your other hand to put it in your bag, you see ink smeared on your fingers.

Your brows furrowed and you flipped the photo to find a number scribbled down on the back. Your fingers smeared the ink but not enough to make it incomprehensible. All the numbers were clearly readable, carefully placed like he wanted to ensure you’d be able to read it.

You almost had a heart attack right then and there. There was absolutely no way he was just giving out his number to anyone who came across his path. This meant you were special, something out of his ordinary. You squealed, jumping right there on the cracked sidewalk, gaining the attention of those around you.

Holy Shit.

[irafuwas]

Love that Lets Go Summary: Lilia Vanrouge has witnessed the rise and fall of great nations, has criscrossed the world, traversing distant realms strange and unknown, but never before in his life has he faced a challenge as grievous as this: parenting a teenager. Or: Silver stops calling Lilia "Papa", and Lilia loses his mind. Content Warnings: blood, explicit language, contains depictions of animals being hunted and butchered, canon divergent Pairings: There's like one reference to past Lilibaul, but otherwise, none. Length: 38k (Header artwork from here)

You can either read it after the cut or on AO3!

A/N: I began working on this fic last summer, right after I finished Electric Dreams, and was able to complete the general outline and write about a third of it before I promptly abandoned the project for over half a year. By the time I started working on it again this past January, Book 7 had progressed greatly on the JP server, and pretty much everything that I'd written regarding Lilia's background and his involvement in Mal's upbringing/their relationship had become uncanonical in the meantime ://// I decided to go ahead and keep those parts in the story unchanged from how I had them last summer, partly so I wouldn't have to rework the plot, and mostly because I am lazy. So the setting is more or less the same as the game, but with some major changes in Lilia and Mal's pasts, with no major Book 7 JP server spoilers for those wishing to avoid them.

I.

It was a speculative day, the kind that could not fix upon a proper humor or color, hesitating in turns between the brilliant bustle of spring and the sultry lull of summer. The morning air was thin and cool, not unusual even that late in May, but several months would pass by that afternoon, so that a sticky July heat would descend upon the valley once the sun reached its zenith. In the evening, there would be a light rain. All this the boy Silver calculated as he stepped outside.

The sky above him was a perfect meadow of morning glory and larkspur, bordered by a flourish of honeysuckle and cockscomb as golden-red as amber sap. He thrust his hand high above him, wishing for a moment he could pluck one of the dandelion clouds from its indigo plot and press it for his collection. It would be his secret treasure, and he would not reveal it until his friend Sebek next designed to inflame him. He carried within his mind a catalog of every expression and shade his friend could take, and this he now opened and paged through while he wandered towards the pig pen and lean-to that stood opposite his home, contemplating what combination of flush and scowl the other boy would respond with. He smiled at his private entertainment while he walked.

He was one of the few beings awake on that land. An industrious blackbird chirped quietly off in the distance, but the surrounding forest was otherwise silent, the pine trees and giant firs still dozing in the early morning shade. He was not, however, lonely; nor was he in want of more. His heart was light, and it gently thrummed with the same anticipation that had slipped into the hearts of all the valley’s creatures as of late, just as the sunlight slipped into their skin. May was an in-between month, an intermission, a time for Nature to enter her great chrysalis and prepare for the summer months to come. She would re-emerge sometime in late June, the earth’s prodigal daughter carrying in her arms the red-ripe wildberries she’d hang in the thicket all around him, the bright yellow coreopsis and vetch of the softest pink she’d set down in the meadow near his home, and the pearl white blossoms she’d drape across the canopies of the sweet bay beyond the fields. And she would beguile, too, the whip-poor-wills into beginning their annual summer serenades, allowing the robins and the orioles to retire from their heraldic duties at last, having spent several weeks announcing the season prior.

“There are two summers,” his father had once explained to him years ago, when he was very small. He held up two fingers while he spoke. “There’s the summer that starts on June 1st every year. That one’s based on dividing the calendar into four periods of three months each.”

“Three months each,” the little boy repeated with a nod.

“And then the other summer, the real one, starts on the solstice.”

“When’s the solstice, papa?”

“Easy,” the man grinned, “it’s when summer starts!”

The boy memorized this and all his father’s other teachings as his catechisms, and he knew, based on his observations, and based on all he'd ever learned from his masters - his father and the stars and the entire natural world around him - that the solstice was but a few short weeks away. This knowledge captivated him, and when he awoke at twilight each morning, he would spend a few minutes lying completely still in bed, nearly holding his breath, listening for those first few notes of the whip-poor-will’s call.

After releasing the animals from their detainment, he watched as the small procession of cows and pigs and chickens trod dutifully into the adjoining pasture. He would wait to fill their troughs later; each creature would automatically find for itself its morning fare amongst the acres of dew-wet grass – on this day the milk cow and her calf selected a patch of dark green clover for their breakfast, and the pigs beside them dined noisily on tall stalks of chicory, their pink brows misting over with sweat as they feverously chewed. The chickens, however, quickly stumbled upon a single, tender petunia they had overlooked all month. Gathered around the shining lilac jewel, they could not decide who amongst them would be permitted to destroy it. A forum was immediately convened, with each hen arguing her case in turn, and Silver gathered their eggs while they debated. Their hues were as soft and as delicate as a watercolor wash; some were tawny brown and speckled, others a faded green or blue. They reminded him of river stones, and they felt as smooth as clay in his work-worn hands. Each one he gingerly wiped against his pant leg before depositing into his wicker basket.

He had, for a time, believed – largely due to his father’s persuasions – that a bird’s diet determined the color of its eggs, and he’d spent one summer collecting armfuls of nasturtium, cone flowers, and bright red peonies every single day from the meadow by their home, attempting to invent an egg as ruby red as his father’s eyes. But while the chickens had delighted in their daily carmine feast, his efforts proved fruitless, the egg shells failing to develop even the slightest indication of a blush. When the truth of his father’s scheme was revealed later that fall, Silver had not rebuked him. He'd only blamed himself for being deceived, and for neglecting to include some beautyberries and rosehips into his mix, secretly believing that this was the true genesis of his failure.

The chickens resolved their quarrel by the time his basket was full. In celebration, he scattered a few handfuls of scratch over the ground for them. The bits and pieces of grain could not have delighted the small party more even if it had been the rice thrown for nuptials, and Silver turned and left them to their devices.

On slow days, when he had little else to do but drink in the air and watch the sun move across the sky, he liked to sit in the pasture and listen to them talk. The tall grass would form four walls all around him, and the hens would often come sit next to his verdant cabinet, offering to him their confessions through the screen of sorghum and fescue. They were perfect in their gesticulations, and he particularly enjoyed the mechanical way they moved their heads; it was as though invisible strings were jerking them this way and that, moving not unlike the marionettes his father had once brought home on one of his travels. There was, overall, a hilarity to their character that he missed in his other animal companions – the cows were too listless, he thought; the pigs, too cavalier.

The pigs he favored the least. He had helped his father erect a new fence along the south side of their property last summer, working sun up to sun down for over a week, and it had taken only a single afternoon for one of the boars - newly purchased with money his father didn’t have to spare - to rip a hole through the wire mesh and lead his brethren into the open forest, never to be seen again. He had been with his father the morning the vandalism was discovered. It was one of the few times in his life he’d seen the man angry, and he had been unsympathetic towards the species ever since.

He glanced at them occasionally while he backtracked to the vegetable garden beside the cottage, quickly looking away when they returned his stare. He walked around the fence that protected the garden, giving it a cursory inspection before stepping inside. There hadn’t been any break-ins yet, but he had noticed the shallow, hoof-like indentations that would sometimes manifest in the soil around the gate, and he could tell, too, that something heavy had been pressing itself against the fence posts lately, evinced by the unnatural angles a number of them were now inclined. However, the pigs defended their innocence with a brazen confidence that stupefied even his father, and the animals had so far been spared of any further interrogation.

He entered the gate and filled the watering can sitting by the pump. The alternating rows of green and orange and red and yellow buds dotting the area convened into a checker pattern, as though one of Ma Zigvolt’s gingham dresses had been spread out over the ground. He carefully stepped over and around and in between every sprout and seedling, dancing, almost, as he worked through each row, providing only just as much water to the young plants as they demanded, pausing only when he reached the tomatoes. His father was severely particular about them, fussing over the vines like a sculptor would his block of clay, and would, at the end of every season, declare that he had grown the "best tomatoes this side of the valley", but as he was one of few fae who grew them, and perhaps the only one who enjoyed their tart taste, his countrymen gladly indulged him in his boasting. Silver tilted his watering can and aimed the stream into the soil around the base of the plants, avoiding the foliage as he’d been instructed. He hummed to himself as he continued his ministrations, his thoughts drifting brightly towards the harvest to come.

Soon, there would be fresh corn pone and hoe cakes and yellow squash fritters fried in pools of marble white pork fat, heaping bowls of piping hot green beans sauteed in pats of golden yellow butter, and tender, fresh baked apple dumplings topped with a creamy homemade vanilla glaze, all washed down with the coldest, sweetest lemonade the valley had to offer. And he and his father would make preserves – of everything; jams and jellies from the wild raspberries and blueberries they’d gather from the forests, and from the bushels of strawberries now growing in their garden, and they’d pickle cucumbers and beets and radishes and fennel and bell peppers and cabbage; the tiny root cellar under their home would transform into a museum over the summer - its shelves filled to the brim with rows upon rows of glass jars containing their colorful fermented treasures, with giant slabs of dark red elk meat and pale pink sausage links hanging from the hooks lining the ceiling, and pounds of wild-caught bass and catfish curing in salt baths on the floor, nearly every specimen in that small space a self-contained microcosm of bacterial delight.

Silver was not one to favor any season over another; he found pleasure in the flora and fauna of his surroundings all year round. But so long as his father was strictly supervised in the kitchen, it was summer fare that delighted him more than anything else, and he wished every day for the watermelon and the strawberries to ripen faster, and for the honeybees to finish constructing their summer combs.

A pine warbler’s sharp trill snapped the boy out of his daydreams. The sun had at last emerged above the umber line of the horizon, and the golden edges of the sky were rapidly fading into a soft baby blue. The land was rapidly beginning to awaken. He could hear the low drone of the honeybees as they pushed past him on their way to the meadow, and the goldfinches warming up for their morning performances in the forest yonder. He hurried to complete the rest of his chores, invigorated by a mixture of excitement and hunger and still that same dull throb of anticipation in his heart.

When he was finished at last, Silver lay down on the grass, tucking himself under the blanket of fog that hung low over the ground. He could hear only the cows lowing and the chickens murmuring and the wind brushing up against the pine trees. And if he lay still enough, he could hear even the earth itself breathing. If he pressed his ear against the damp soil, he could hear the planet exhale, could hear the molecules of water vapor rising through the air, lifting themselves off the slick blades of grass, unifying and condensing into the wave of fog that rolled across his body. His world was now perfect. And it remained perfect for half an hour longer, until his father threw open the cottage door and called him inside for breakfast.

The air grew warmer and warmer as the morning languidly transitioned into afternoon. Pleased that his prediction had been correct, he suggested to his father, Lilia, that they begin making their way to the Zigvolt's before it grew too hot, and the man agreed. The mass of burnt scrambled eggs his father had prepared for breakfast still festered heavily in Silver's stomach, and he quickly wolfed down a plain butter sandwich and an apple for lunch. His gangly body could get by on very little, and the Zigvolts always had refreshments at the ready, anyways. He grabbed his knapsack from his room and accompanied his father out the door. Together, they followed the dirt path that led from the clearing into the forest.

Lilia had settled down there decades prior, appearing in the neighboring town one day with little more to his name than a few gold coins in his pocket and a raggedy shawl strewn across his back. He'd been a drifter for decades, having retired from the local military under circumstances he never cared to divulge, and while some of the townsfolk were glad to welcome him home, most others thought him a stranger. A pack of these skeptics descended upon him one evening, cornering him in the run-down hostel where he'd been temporarily residing. They poked and prodded him with their questions, asking him why he had left and where he'd been to and why he'd now suddenly returned, at times turning away to whisper amongst themselves, as though evaluating a head of cattle. To each of their scathing rebukes he simply replied, "Doesn't matter anymore." He repeated those three words like a mantra, like a prayer to exorcize the specters gathered around his bed. His defense was as solid as a leaden curtain, soundly deflecting each and every one of the inquisitors' attacks, and when they finally scattered that night, rendered stupefied by their defeat, Lilia gathered up his sparse few belongings and vanished amongst them.

He ultimately bought his property from a man who'd recognized the name "Lilia Vanrouge", but not the mysterious little creature attached to it. The landowner was however only glad to finally rid himself of the place; it had been sitting vacant for years, long overgrown with its own miniature forest of brambles and weeds, and he was easily dismissed with what little money Lilia had to offer. There was a dilapidated cottage the last tenants had left behind, as well as the rotting remnants of a barn that hadn't been touched in ages, and the water pump, rusted over from decades of unuse, snapped in half the first time Lilia tried to use it.

He began making renovations immediately. He patched up the roof on the cottage and spent a week removing all the cobwebs and rat nests he could find inside. He cleared out the overgrowth suffocating the area and tore down the old barn, erecting a lean-to for his cows and a coop for his hens in its place. He sectioned off a small plot of land next to his house for a vegetable garden, and sowed his new fields with the fervor of a devotee. Decades of working the land yielded a soil heartier and more robust than anything the locals ever seen, as though the very earth itself was repaying him in kind for liberating it from its long imprisonment. His tomato plants bore him perfect rubies bigger than his fists. His corn and his wheat stood like giants, towering high above his head. He found his heart lifting up and growing lighter and lighter together with the green stalks soaring up into the sky. All these things slowly grew in tandem with his household - he'd added another wing to the cottage when he took in Silver, and the garden, having more than tripled in size since it was first built, now produced a far greater variety of colorful fare than Lilia could have ever imagined. It was, in all, a meager living - a little home with little in it, the glass jar of rainy day funds sitting above the fireplace never to be full, always repairs around the property to be made, always hand-me-down clothes and toys to be mended - but it was enough for the man and his child, regardless.

When Silver grew older, Lilia began letting him operate the homestead on his own when he went traveling, a leisure he'd picked up in his older age. He would leave Silver a list of rules to follow and projects to work on while he was gone - in addition to his regular everyday chores - which he adjusted for each season, such as chopping firewood in the winter, and making preserves in the summer. But above all, no matter the time of year, and barring an emergency, he absolutely forbade Silver from leaving their land. Lilia had marked off a boundary for him years ago: the river to the west, a felled oak tree to the north, the meadow to the south, and the base of the nearby mountain range to the east. Lilia trusted his son, minimally, to the extent he had no doubt the boy could procure the food and water needed to keep himself alive when left alone. But the mountains and the deep forest and even the castle town he did not trust, didn’t believe in the sincerity of the light that flooded the silent earth bordering their home.

Five miles separated the Vanrouge’s homestead from the Zigvolt’s home. Five miles that cut through the forest that extended far beyond Lilia’s land. As such, Lilia would supervise his son's travels to and from his friend’s home. They only ever walked - teleportation magic gave Silver extreme vertigo, and Lilia found his powers could no longer cover the long distance as easily as in his youth. But it was a pleasant journey, and the pair quietly admired the same mass of towering pine and spruce trees they'd admired hundreds of times before as they continued down the winding road. The forest was handsome in its late spring attire, adorned in a thick flush of bright green foliage, and the charming white faces of the star flowers and wood anemones peeked at them from amongst the undergrowth as they passed by. Overhead, a symphony of chaffinch and dunnock calls accompanied the gentle stir of the treetops brushing against each other in the wind.

Silver often called on the Zigvolt’s. The youngest of the three children, a boy named Sebek, was the only non-animal companion he had his age. They had first met a number of years prior, when Sebek apprenticed under Silver's father, and while their rivalry had been immediate, their friendship had formed only slowly, over years of tense acquaintanceship. Sebek had held a grudge against Silver since the day they’d met, or possibly longer - that much Silver had been able to determine, but he could never puzzle out what he’d done to injure him so. He was frequently agitated - over Silver’s abilities, his actions, the clothing he wore, the way he walked and the way he talked. He was “wound up tighter than an eight-day clock”, as his father would often laugh. Had Silver grown up interacting with more children his age, had he an index against which to measure his friend’s volatile attitude, then he would have understood that Sebek was simply a very immature boy – he’d not yet outgrown his foot-stamping tantrums and his jealous remarks, but there was never any true venom behind his words, only that primal, juvenile desire to convince himself and the adults around them that he and Silver were equals. But Silver liked him, at any rate; there was only so much one could do to persuade a rabbit or a songbird to gambol with one, or to explore make-believe worlds that stretched far beyond their animal imaginations, and Sebek was as eager a daydreamer as he. Even a child’s heart can be a guarded thing, as Silver’s was, having matured in a world comprised of only a small handful of faces and an even smaller stretch of land, but he’d long placed Sebek in that corner of his heart only his father and Malleus and the blue birds and honeysuckle otherwise occupied, and he cherished his friend for his outbursts and rare affections, both.

It was an “off day” for the boys - neither had any training exercises scheduled, and Silver looked forward to their rendezvous. He figured they'd be spending most of the afternoon outside, in light of the pleasant weather. Later in the summer, when the heat would spoil their entertainment, they'd move indoors, reading comics and old almanacs together in the Zigvolt's parlor, sprawled out like a pair of lazy tomcats on the cool hardwood floor. And if he was lucky, Ma Zigvolt would invite him to stay for dinner (he was always too shy to ask). She was one of his strongest allies, and had rescued him from his father’s well-meaning meals on more than one occasion. He kept his fingers crossed as he walked, hoping she and Pa Zigvolt wouldn't be staying late at the dental clinic they operated.

Once they entered the deepest part of the forest, Lilia cleared his throat, signaling that he was about to speak. Silver braced himself. His father was a habitually cheerful and easygoing man, able to make merry with nearly anyone that crossed his path, but the man's good humor came at the cost of his interlocutor's, at times.

First, Lilia asked what plans he had with Sebek for that afternoon.

"Not much."

Lilia shrugged off the curt response. They'd crossed several miles already, and the afternoon heat was prickling at his fair skin. He chastised himself for neglecting to bring a hat. He next asked, smiling broadly this time, hoping both to coax his son and to take his mind off the heat, if Silver was excited for all the fresh vegetables they'd soon be harvesting from their garden.

"I guess."

Still not discouraged, Lilia dispatched his probes once more, asking if Silver had any requests for dinner, and whether he'd read or heard anything interesting lately, but the boy deflected each one with a “Yes”, or a “No”, or an “I don’t know”. Silver had recently discovered that the briefer he kept his answers, the quicker he could get his father to stop talking, and this observation proved itself true once more, the man quitting his examination a few moments later. A feeling of discomfort prickled at his skin as the heat did his father's; the perfection of that morning a few short hours ago now seemed to him like a distant memory. They walked the rest of the way in silence.

By and by, the dirt road transitioned into a gravel walkway, and the Zigvolt’s farmhouse at last came into view. It was a noble building - tall and spacious, constructed from dense heart pine lumber, the eggshell white finish still shining brightly after so many years, with a towering red brick chimney that rivaled the surrounding cottonwood trees in their noble height. An amber light glowed softly from one of the windows. Silver and Lilia stopped before the stairs leading up to the front of the wraparound porch, where a clothesline heavy with freshly washed bed sheets rocked gently in the breeze. Ma Zigvolt was known to perfume her wash, and sunny notes of bergamot drifted down to them in waves.

The pair said their goodbyes, but when Lilia leaned forward to kiss the boy’s cheek, Silver moved away, ducking and turning around so quickly that Lilia stumbled as he fell through the empty air. He steadied himself hastily, his arms whirling for a moment before plummeting to his sides, his puckered lips collapsing into a frown. The rejection stunned him. His mind hastily reassembled and played back the insult it had just witnessed, finally ascertaining after the third repetition that he had not just been struck.

Wide-eyed, he croaked, “Silver?”

The boy took a step towards the house, his back turned to Lilia. “I’ll see you later,” he grunted, as though struggling under the weight of his father’s heavy gaze. And then he stormed up the porch, threw open the front door, and disappeared inside without a second glance.

Lilia stared imploringly at the silent house, but it offered him no answers. He shook his head and sighed. “The hell’s been going on with him lately?”

Sebek’s older sister Iris emerged onto the back porch carrying a tray of milk and pound cake. She set the tray on a small table by the door and began arranging the glasses and plates. She’d been away from home the past year, busy with her university studies, but had returned for the summer. Her absence had been difficult for the family – for Sebek most of all. 

Though he was now the apple of her eye, Iris had been opposed to the idea of a younger brother at first. She’d spent the first few months of her mother’s pregnancy curled up against the low swell of her belly, regaling the child - her new little sister - with all the fantastic plans she had in store for the two of them. But when her parents returned from a doctor’s appointment one day, a set of grainy monochrome photographs in hand, and they announced the baby was, in fact, a boy, she felt the faceless black thing staring up at her from the pictures had betrayed her. She staunchly refused to address her mother’s stomach for the rest of the pregnancy.

Ultimately, Sebek entered the world as an absolute bear of a baby, all rolls and dimples and folds and milk white skin that smelled as sweet as honey. The first time Iris saw him, he was dozing open-mouthed, lying curled up on the pillow of his mother’s breast. He looked like a dollop of pure butter, and with that single glance the girl was thoroughly convinced of his perfection.

As the baby matured, growing conscious of himself and of the world around him, his burgeoning mind, incredibly receptive to every new stimulus that entered his environment, quickly took note of his sister’s eager affections, and it wasn’t long until he ascertained that his incapability was the trick to his own allure. A halfhearted grumble would earn him a kiss, for example; a miserable wail, liberation from his crib. It was almost cunning, the way he’d play the fool for her, wrapping her tighter and tighter around his plump little finger with every feigned ineptitude he devised. “Oh, Sebby!” Iris would laugh, scooping his doughy mass into the cradle of her arms when he'd whine to be held. “You’re just a helpless little thing, aren’t you?” And the baby would bat his cub paws at her and smile his gummy smile, as if to say, “Just you wait and see!"

When their brother Horace, the eldest of the three siblings, moved into his own apartment in the castle town a few years ago, Sebek had been secretly pleased, for their mother now looked to him for help with splitting firewood and mending the fences and tilling the garden. He knew his father could not be entrusted with such things - Linus Zigvolt was a kind and good man, but he was also foolish. And boring. And unforgivably human. Sebek’s mother and his sister - and his grandfather, when the man was in an affable mood - were the center of his juvenile universe. His father and brother merely orbited them. And whereas Horace’s departure had been no more noteworthy to him than the changing of the seasons, his sister had taken with her a sense of stability he still hadn’t grown accustomed to living without.

She was a tall, muscular girl, with a broad, handsome face that was rimmed by the family’s trademark scales. A star member of her school's track and field team, she had recently broken the district's shot put record, a fact which her parents and grandfather had been proudly mentioning at least once every day since. Although soft-spoken, like her father, she was also in possession of a tongue as caustic as her mother’s, and more than one naïve suitor had abandoned his endeavors a much meeker man than when he’d met her. Her long, green hair was bundled in two intricate fishtail braids that trailed down her back – a style popular amongst valley girls her age – and she brushed away a loose strand from her face as she straightened out the napkins. Her mind dimly registered that she'd need to schedule a trim before returning to school.

Content with her work, Iris turned to the garden and cupped her hands around her mouth, shouting, “Sebby! Silver! I brought you guys some snacks!”

The boys rose from behind the jumble of cardboard boxes they’d been working on taping together. They raced each other to the porch, politely offering Iris their thanks as they sat down at the table. Silver gingerly cut into his cake, careful not to scatter any crumbs. Iris had always thought of him as bird-like, with his wiry frame, and his too big head that hung so awkwardly from the end of his long crane neck, and she was struck once again at his meagerness as he pecked at his meal.

After observing them for a few moments, she asked, “Why’d you drag all those boxes into the yard for, anyways?”

“That’s – I mean – ‘Tis our fortress!” Sebek explained between mouthfuls of cake. “We’re defending our home from those wretched ne’er-do-wells yonder!” He pointed towards the garden with one hand and shoveled another piece of cake into his mouth with the other.

Iris followed the line of Sebek’s outstretched finger. Beyond its glaze-covered point lay a pair of rabbits, lazily nibbling on a patch of grass by the boxes.

“Ooh, so you guys are playing pretend again?” She smiled as she put her hands on her hips. “Are you knights this time? Do you want me to be, like, your damsel in distress again or whatever?”

Sebek’s face reddened. “Sissy, stop it!”

Iris laughed and pinched his cheek. He resigned limply.

“Don’t worry, I won’t interrupt your little fun.” She turned away, and then added, “I’ll be in my room, so just shout if you need anything.”

Sebek huffed as his sister closed the door behind her. He scrunched up his round little face and balled his fists. His cheeks were permanently ruddy, flushing darker or lighter depending on his level of agitation, and it was clear by their scarlet hue that Iris's words had hurt him. Silver pushed his empty plate away and stood up.

“Come on, Sebek,” he sighed, rubbing the other boy’s back placatively. “You can be the General of the Right this time. I’ll ask some birds and rabbits to be the townspeople, and you can come save us.”

Often, Silver’s ability to brush off any injury with the placidity of a rock would only inflame Sebek’s rage further, but he permitted his friend to coax him back into the garden. As he watched Silver recruit a regiment of forest creatures for their schemes, he decided there was fairness in the world yet.

Baul Zigvolt was dozing in his rocking chair when Lilia returned that evening. He was perhaps the progenitor of his family members' incredible statures. His wife had been a modest woman, of average height and unremarkable in her build, but he in turn was a veritable mountain of muscle and hardened flesh, so massive that the top of Lilia’s head just barely reached the enormous blocks of his shoulders. He was squeezed into his chair rather than sat upon it, and the wood groaned threateningly as he rocked. The family’s only pet, an equally massive black tomcat with a lone white spot on the tip of its tail, was sprawled comfortably by his feet. The creature was as lazy as it was amiable, having not once dispatched any of the vermin that made merry of its owners’ grain stores, but the children were so enamored with its corpulence that their parents could not bear to rehome it. It shared with Baul a passion for evening naps, and neither of them stirred as Lilia approached.

The two men had served in the Imperial Guard together for centuries, and though they’d stepped down from their posts and re-entered civilian life ages ago, having both established households and produced children, and were now enjoying all the slow pleasures of retirement, Baul still offered advisory services to the Guard on a voluntary basis. The truth of Lilia’s retirement, however, had never been fully absorbed into the folds of Baul’s brain, and he continued to address his erstwhile superior as “General” at their every meeting. “It’s just a bad habit!” he’d defend himself sheepishly when rebuked. But he would soon disremember his error, and would, in the next breath, refer to Lilia by his long-vacated position once again.

“Hello, Baul.” Lilia dipped his head in greeting.

“Evening, General,” Baul murmured, slowly blinking his eyes open with a yawn. “You come to get your boy?”

“Yes, do you know where he is?”

Baul leaned forward and jabbed his thumb behind him. “Yeah, he and Seb are playing out back.” He settled back into his chair and closed his eyes again, opening them once more a second later. “Oh, and while you’re at it, could you tell Seb he needs to get home before nightfall?”

“Oh?” Lilia raised an eyebrow. “That’s quite unlike you to worry about him,” he replied with a smirk.

“Hell if I care!” Baul huffed, crossing his arms. “We’ve been seeing bear tracks around here lately, and I don’t want him to come crying to me if he runs into one of the dumb bastards. That’s all.”

“I see, I see,” Lilia laughed. He reached out and stroked the cat’s head, cocking his own head as he did so. "Well, I don't hear them close by. Can I wait here until they come back? They're probably off playing in the woods somewhere."

Baul huffed again. "I certainly wouldn't mind any if you'd like to take a seat."

Lilia stepped onto the porch and lowered himself into the chair across from Baul with a groan. He was occasionally stricken with bouts of rheumatism, and the frequent trips to and from the Zigvolt’s that year had been taking their toll. Baul raised an eyebrow as Lilia pawed at his back, but made no comment on the subject, electing instead to remark on how nice the weather had been lately, and how excited his grandkids were to go swimming in the river that weekend. Lilia offered in turn the latest updates on his own son. The men exchanged these little stories about their children and grandchildren as passing travelers exchanged their wares. They would file away each anecdote into their hearts for safekeeping, and take them out later to smile at when left alone.

Their habitual pleasantries concluded, Lilia asked Baul if he'd noticed anything unusual about Silver that afternoon.

"Unusual?" Baul frowned. "In what way?"

"Ahh, was he..." Lilia searched for the right word. "Quiet at all?"

Baul scoffed. "He's always quiet. Never met a child made so little noise in my life. I always wondered how he turned out like that, being raised by a loudmouth like you."

"Hey!" Lilia frowned.

"Hah! Sorry, sorry," Baul replied with a laugh, throwing up his hands in defense. "But I mean, other than that, only thing I noticed is the kid's been growing like a weed lately. Guess that's one more thing where you don't have to worry he'll take after you. Heh."

Lilia paid no heed to his baseless fibbing, and instead concentrated his thoughts towards one of his oldest pleasures: finding ways to agitate Baul. He never wished to start any real fights, but was simply possessed by the natural urge to tease him, as a child might like to prod a sleeping bear. Baul found the topic of his son-in-law particularly sensitive, and Lilia grinned as he formulated his attack.

"And how's dear Linus? I heard from Silver the clinic's been pretty busy lately."

Lilia's ploy worked immediately. A vein throbbed on Baul's forehead. "That human is fine, far as I know."

"As far as you know?" Lilia looked at him quizzically. "Aren't you here almost everyday? When's the last time you spoke with him?"

"Hell if I know. I don't give a damn what he has to say."

Lilia rolled his eyes. "Will you ever get over yourself?"

"No!" Baul grunted automatically, flushing hot red once he understood Lilia's insult. "The hell's that even supposed to mean! General!"

Lilia laughed. "Oh, come on! Why can't you just cut him some slack already? I still can't believe he agreed to take your last name like you wanted, with the way you treat him."

"Hmph! One of the few things he's done right by me."

Like so many of his fae brethren, Baul did not favor humans. He and Lilia had witnessed their evils firsthand during their time in the service, and they had watched, powerless, as so many of their friends and comrades, so many of their hopes and dreams and aspirations were crushed and destroyed under the iron heels of their enemy. Over time, after peace treaties had been signed and all the war flags had been taken down and neatly folded and put away, Lilia's heart had softened enough to accept humans with a frivolous neutrality, going so far as to adopt one to raise as his son, but Baul's had not. He was immediately suspicious of the handful of humans that came to live in the valley after the war, turning up his nose at their strange wares and customs and ways. When even more of them began to pour into the castle town, he and his wife sold their house and fled to a small homestead in the forest.

But fate continued to torment him, and he ended up a widower shortly after their first and only child, Thalia, was born. Even through all of his pain, he found his daughter was perfect - more perfect than anything he had ever seen. He was at first cautious in his parenting, aware at all times that he might one day lose her, too, as he had lost so many others before, but the child embraced all the challenges of her life with a ferocity that stunned him, and his concerns quickly proved themselves unwarranted as the years went by. She grew to be a tall and proud woman - she was heavyset, soft and plump in all the places her father was lean and hard, and more beautiful than a dahlia in full bloom.

They remained close after she moved out, meeting together for dinner most nights, and he thought nothing of it when she mentioned she'd started working at a local dental clinic. She would now and then talk about her boss, a human who'd immigrated to the valley some years ago, and to Baul's dismay, her innocent admiration quickly burgeoned into something more serious. Her infatuation with the human felt to Baul like a betrayal. He and Thalia fought when she announced she was courting him, they fought when she announced her engagement, and they fought when she announced she was pregnant. It was Horace's birth that finally allowed for their armistice, and his arms trembled the first time he held his newborn grandson. A child's eyes are the truest mirror one can face, and when Baul gazed into the wet emerald panes peering up at him, he realized for the first time in his life how ugly he had become. He locked himself in his room when he returned home that night. All alone, he reached as far and as deep as he could into his heart and ripped out the black seed of his hatred, casting it far away - farther than Zeus could launch his bolts of lightning or Thor his hammer.

But even though he'd finally been able to make peace with his daughter, nothing could be done to mend his relationship with his son-in-law. Linus had been intensely curious of the world around him from a young age, and the interest he'd developed in fae dentition during his studies had drawn him across the ocean and into Briar Valley upon his graduation, where he established a successful dental practice that treated both human and fae patients, alike. He was a pinched and narrow man, from the bottom of his feet to the top of his head, and his heavy-lidded eyes had never lost the childlike spark that so often betrays us as we grow older. It was this spark that had first piqued Thalia's interest, and he was just as obsessed with his wife as she was with him. There was very little of him to see in their children - they had inherited neither his shaggy black hair nor his brown eyes, neither his wiry frame nor olive complexion; their mother's genetics had overpowered his so completely it was as though Thalia had simply sculpted each child from the white clay of the earth by herself. But he fiercely adored them, regardless, showering them with praise and affection, and with an abundance of sugary treats that would make other members of his profession light headed. Over the years, Baul had grown to appreciate Linus for his kindness and for his intellect, and for his devotion to his family, but still could not stand how weak he was, and how small. He was a foot shorter than his wife and several hundred pounds lighter - a miserable twig next to a glorious oak tree, and Baul often complained that he would "snap in half if he sneezed too hard." Worst of all, he was magicless - a transgression Baul knew he would never be able to forgive. He could only tolerate the man, and offered him no more mercy than that.

Lilia shook his head, exasperated. "My god, I'll never understand how Tally puts up with you. Woman has the patience of a saint."

"Yeah," Baul murmured. "Yeah, she does." He folded his hands in his lap and contemplated.

They rocked in comfortable silence. The sun drifted leisurely towards the horizon, and the golden-orange sky looked as soft as an oriole feather. A nightingale, determined to outwit its rival suitors, began his serenade an hour early. Lilia had come to that place with the sole intention of retrieving his son, but the evening breeze dislodged that singular thought from his mind, and it floated away to join the cloud of fireflies gathering in the front lawn. The cat observed all of this with great interest. It was suddenly wide awake where the two men beside it were growing slowly unconscious, its body twitching with the primordial knowledge that night would soon fall.

Silver and Sebek found the pair fast asleep when they returned an hour later.

II.

Sometimes, when the sun seems to hang frozen above him, stubbornly refusing to give up its domination to the pleasant respite of night, when there are no chores to distract him with and his boy isn’t around to tease, Lilia will wander - usually carelessly, at times with a pointed determination - into the dim labyrinth of his mind. It would always astound him how, despite nearly seven hundred years of escapades and follies, despite almost a millennium of joy and heartbreak and unrest and sorrow, there were so few memories for him to parse through. Some of them had simply faded away as he grew older, others had burst into his consciousness and then vanished like spring lightning, dragged down by his heart into an unknown place where they could no longer hurt him. When he’d at last reach the center of that great maze, he would cling onto the earliest memory he could salvage from its shadowy depths, and always he would find himself next blinking his eyes open into the dull light of the castle barracks. He was no longer certain if the memory was from the day he’d enlisted, or if it was from a time much later in the service. He only knew that he must’ve already been an adult then, that he must’ve already accepted all the solitude and responsibility that had been thrust onto his small shoulders by the forces that determined his life.

He'd been told by the queen, along with all the lords and ladies and every other manner of noble and aristocrat he had ever served, on numerous occasions and under no pretense of kindness, that the royal family had taken him in as a young orphan, but he could not remember if that was true. He was certain, at least, that they had given him his name. "Lilia" was derived from the fae word for lily flowers, a plant whose legends and symbolism encompassed grand ideals of hope and purity, and something about it - the sound of it, its grandiose meanings, the way it would catch itself on his teeth, as though his body could not recognize what it was he was trying to say - had always felt wrong to him - foreign, even, so that he always felt like the people addressing him were talking to someone else. Out of discomfort, he often went by his last name, instead. "Vanrouge" had a sharpness to it that he found suited himself much more - both the sharpness of his temperament, and of his body. He was bony and stunted in height, his back no broader than the sticks used for kindling, and he stood shoulder height or lower to most adults his age. The nobility was not beyond recoginizing his strength and his talent in magic, however, and for all that his self-proclaimed benefactors gave him - a place to call home, people he could call family, military prestige beyond his wildest dreams - they took away just as much. Their orders came down like axe heads, and for centuries he dutifully served under their beck and call, acting as a guard dog for them one day, a scapegoat another, an undertaker the next, folding for them like a blade of grass forced flat by the wind.

He stumbled through the years as haphazardly as a tightrope walker, going only where he was told to go and doing only what he was told to do. He worked to the point that he could work no more, and when his incapability was discovered, he was immediately ordered to resign. It was one of the few times in his life he had ever felt afraid. Each and every one of the sovereignty's commands had been a link in a long fetter that bound him to their sides, but it had also been his lifeline, and without it, he feared he would be lost. The day of his resignation, he received one final order to remove his things from the barracks before leaving. The truth of it all pierced his mind like an arrow just then. He realized all at once that the tiny room with its cot and its chest and its wardrobe would be his prison cell no more, that the four walls that had been closing in on him for centuries had finally halted in their paths. He realized the thing that had been beating in his chest all his life had not been stamped out, had not been taken away from him - he had lost his dignity, his strength, even some of the people he had permitted himself to love, but not this. He smiled as he left the castle, made giddy by the greatest secret he knew he would never be able to tell. The discharge papers in his hands suddenly seemed to him like a pardon.

However, he had spent so many years bowing down to others he found he did not recognize the world when he finally stood up and looked at it again. With nothing more left in his life to guide him, he left his homeland shortly after his expulsion. He traveled from country to country with no real destination in mind - if a locale displeased him, he simply packed his things and departed for the next. As the years went by, he gradually began to operate with less and less reason, doing everything and anything he could "just because". Time had molded the clay of his person into a confusing and crude shape, and after decades of slow disentanglement and reformation, of reclaiming all the good things he had been forced to cast out of his heart, he discovered that his truest pleasure was to simply live by his whims. When he at last exhausted his traveling funds, he returned to the valley, settling down only because he'd never done so before, and was curious how well it would go. The people around him pitied him, as one often does those whom Life seems to have forgotten in its haste, but he was far too absorbed in his newfound self-indulgences to pay them any mind.

Even the acquisition of his son had been unplanned. He'd periodically scavenge from the ghost towns that dotted the countryside, in search of tools and good lumber he could use for his repairs back home, and on one such excursion, while searching through the rooms of a crumbling little cottage located deep within the valley's eastern forests, he found a human baby, fast asleep in its cradle. It was gaunt, with an evident pallor to its face, and Lilia quickly concluded it had been abandoned; the stagnant air in that place told him no other living being had been there for days. When he turned to leave, not wishing to disrupt Nature's process, an idea struck his mind so suddenly and so violently he had to steady himself against the doorway before he fell. What if he were to keep the child? What if he, a fae, were to raise the very flesh and blood of his nation's most ancient enemy? The notion intoxicated him. His head spun as he slowly returned to the crib.

"Now wouldn't that be a lark," he murmured as he raised the child. It blinked up at him weakly with eyes the color of the aurora, and Lilia was immediately convinced of his own genius.

"Let's get you something to eat, you poor thing! I'm quite famished myself, you know. You have excellent timing," he said with a wink. The baby watched him silently as he carried it back home.

He thought it would be simple. He knew from his time watching over the infant Malleus that babies needed little more than food, play, clean diapers, and naps. His first charge had flourished splendidly in his care, and he had no doubt his second would do the same.

But Silver was difficult. After its initial, desperate feeding, the baby, seeming to finally remember it was in possession of lungs and a vocal instrument, began to cry incessantly. If it wasn't in Lilia's arms, it cried. If it went a moment too long between feedings, it cried. Even when it slept Lilia was not safe. If he set it down for a nap and attempted to leave the room, it would awaken immediately, understand it had been abandoned once more, and would cry. There were times - random, and frustratingly rare - where it would suddenly stop in the midst of one of its fits, and smile at Lilia so sweetly he'd wonder if someone had snuck in and swapped the child for another when he wasn't looking. Once he realized his legendary frivolity had met its match, he began consulting with the Zigvolts on a regular basis, as Pa Zigvolt was the only human in the valley he trusted. It was the height of summer then, a time he'd usually spend taking refuge in the cool shadows indoors, but he did not mind walking the five long miles back and forth between their homes, preferring even the heat over the child's endless screaming. Pa Zigvolt assisted him to the best of his abilities, imparting to Lilia all the knowledge he had acquired over the years as a then-father of two, and Silver's fits ended a few months later as abruptly as they'd started.

The second hurdle arose when the little boy began to talk. His first, crude word was "Ba pa", and it took several days for Lilia's mind to finally register that he was the intended recipient of this title. He'd planned to have Silver call him by his first name, just as he'd been forced to do when Malleus was little, and hearing the child acknowledge him as its parent made him uncomfortable, as though both of them were breaking a rule he didn't know the name of. The baby, however, refused his every plea for reconsideration, and gradually figured out all the tricks of human speech as he grew older, learning to perfectly pucker his lips, and mastering the rhythm of the two syllables he so desperately wished to string together. He would repeat "Papa" throughout the day, singing out "Papa, Papa, Papa!" with the joy of a hymn. But for Lilia, each utterance was like a stone launched against the walls he had built up around his heart, and when they collapsed and faded away into nothing, he realized his discomfort had vanished with them.

He would later realize, too, that where he'd long forgotten much of his early life, he found he could now remember, to an almost startling degree, much of what he'd seen and experienced ever since he took in the boy. He could still remember a freezing day in January over a decade ago, when Silver had chanced upon a lone snowdrop shivering off the cold in the meadow near their home. The flower had fascinated the boy severely; he sat before it, stone still, tilting his heavy head this way and that, trying to understand the small creature’s drooping frame. Eventually, Lilia came over and accompanied him in his study. He had seen snowdrops countless times before, while marching through the countryside, while working on the clearing, but only then, as he knelt in the snow with the young boy at his side, both of them shivering quietly in the late winter light, only then did he finally realize its perfection. He could still remember, too, the snow slowly melting later that year, and Silver pointing out to him the magnolias blooming in the copse behind their shed, and the daffodils and tulips breaking through the frost that blanketed their small garden, and the linden trees releasing their sweet perfume. He could remember Silver revealing to him with a boyish surety the strangeness of rain showers on sunny days, and the comfort of the mist that lingers on cool autumn mornings. So many sights and sounds and sensations had passed by him all his life in a blur - colorless and dull, abstract and undefined, and when his son entered his life, it was as though a bolt of lightning the color of the aurora had struck the earth and finally given all these things their color and meaning.

But Silver had begun to change recently. Not physically - no, he still had the same rosy, cherubic little cheeks; the same bright blue-grey eyes; and the same sweet, half-crooked smile that Lilia would proudly boast about to all who would listen, and even to those who would not. It was his attitude, his tone of voice, his humor that had changed, and Lilia had not noticed it willingly, at first. Where he'd always been so agreeable and forthcoming, so that Lilia was unsure if the boy had ever kept a secret from him in his entire life, he was now secretive and temperamental. At times, Silver would whirl on him like a wildcat, his eyes narrowed, his thin lips pulled back into a snarl, upset at something Lilia could not understand. There was always a strange look to his eyes during these flares, not quite panicked, yet not angered, either. He looked, if anything, confused - as though he could not believe the truth of the thing he'd just done. When he was amicable, he was as loquacious as a monk. He'd also been showing a newfound apathy towards Lilia's jokes and teasing, and to his presence overall, expressing more and more his desire to be left alone. Most alarming of all, Silver had recently stopped addressing him as "Papa", and now called him "Father", instead. It felt as unnatural as if a songbird had stopped singing. He found it vulgar. "Father" was harsh, adult, stern - formal and distant where his previous moniker had been so intimate and sweet. He'd pleaded with Silver more than once the past month, asking if anything was wrong, demanding to know why he was acting like this, but the boy was unwavering in his defiance, curtly assuring him each time that everything was fine, before excusing himself to go be alone his room once more.

Lilia ultimately decided not to push the matter further, presuming Silver would recover his good attitude in due time, and had instead been focusing his attention on preparing the homestead for summer. The garden work and other miscellaneous chores had all been welcome distractions, but an incident the past week had revived his concerns.

He and Silver had gone to the Zigvolt's for dinner. Ma Zigvolt prepared a feast of grilled corn cobs, roast venison slow-cooked with creamy golden potatoes and carrots, and a whole pile of her buttery homemade biscuits. The pair ate heartily, having both worked up a respectable appetite from hoeing weeds together all that morning, and as usual, they stayed with their hosts late into the evening, if only so Lilia and Baul could talk, and so Silver and Sebek could listen. It was the boys' greatest pleasure in the world to gather in the parlor and listen to them talk. Sometimes, they would simply muse on the recent weather, or discuss local politics. Other times, they'd tell stories - the boys always begged for a story. The former war heroes would weave tales about all the faraway lands they had journeyed to and the greatest enemies they had ever faced, and about fearsome beasts the children had never heard of and stars they'd never seen - “Men’s talk”, as Ma Zigvolt would scoffingly call it. But there was always softness in her voice whenever she rebuked their late-night gatherings. Horace and Iris used to join the small audience, too, but gradually stopped as they grew older, claiming the men's yarns had lost their appeal. It was one of the few things Sebek disagreed with his sister on - he worshiped her, but understood at his young age that even an idol's opinions could be wrong, at times.

The boys' habit was such:

Sebek would sprawl on the bearskin rug before the fireplace, and Silver would curl up against his father’s chair, his head resting on the man’s lap. Lilia would play with his son's hair absentmindedly while he spoke. It could’ve been the shining hands of the angel Gabriel himself carding those gentle fingers through his hair and the boy scarcely would’ve noticed a difference. This was his great reprieve, the most delicious reward after a long and tiring day of chores and training and schoolwork and hard labor; a time for him to sigh out all the aches and pains that gripped his thin body and a time for him to rest.

Lilia knew all this. He had always known this. His son’s heart was a rose; he needed only to whisper the boy's name and its petals would unfurl for him.

The meeting last week had proceeded as usual, at first. Dinner was enjoyed by all, the fireplace was lit, Baul and Lilia took their seats in the parlor, and Sebek planted himself on the bearskin rug. But when Lilia smiled at Silver and set his hands on his lap, his palms upturned, the boy turned away, sitting down in front of the fireplace next to Sebek, instead.

In that moment, Lilia realized Silver's strange behavior the past month was a symptom of an issue far graver than he could have anticipated. When they returned home that night, he consulted his trove of parenting books after Silver went to bed. He'd bought a number of them when the infant Silver had begun his fits, turning to them for advice whenever the boy fell ill or reached a new developmental milestone. He hadn't read any of them in ages, and he sneezed as a cloud of dust billowed when he pulled them down from the shelf.

He flipped through the yellowing tomes one by one, smiling whenever he came across a dogeared page. Each bookmark and scribbled note he could trace back to a specific period in Silver's life, and the memories of those first few stressful years he now counted amongst his greatest treasures. He worked through the tall stack throughout the night, giving up at dawn with a sigh. Were he a more sensible man, perhaps he would've taken note of the fact that his entire collection was made up of books concerning a human's first few years of life, and that his son was now thirteen.

III.

A massive thunderstorm exploded into the valley in early June. It seemed to have materialized from nothing, catching the residents off guard like a cottonmouth's strike. On the first day of the storm, Lilia presumed it was nothing more than a typical summer shower, and felt confident it would quickly pass. On the third day, he remarked he had never seen anything like it before in his life. By the fifth, he was too stunned to speak again. The rain fell down in sheets as thick as pure marble. The sun and moon and stars all vanished beneath a sky as dark as bruised flesh, and only the candles melting above the fireplace gave any indication that time had not stopped. Some days, the rain would harden into hail, and it would pelt the earth like white meteors for hours on end. The deluge pounded on for over a week. The first morning after the storm, the valley denizens stepped cautiously into what seemed like a brand new world. Entire villages had been washed away in some areas, and miles of farmland now stood underwater in others. The river, engorged with rainwater, had flooded over, transforming large swaths of the surrounding forest into a veritable swamp. Carcasses of the animals that hadn't escaped the disaster - deer, boars, turkey, elk, wolves, snakes, predator and prey, young and old - drifted in a black line down the muddy waters. Buzzards whirling their death dance filled the skies.

The Vanrouge's clearing, located uphill, had been mostly spared - a drowned chicken the lone fatality. But the corn fields had been left flattened, and the thatching on the cottage roof lay in shambles. Silver and Lilia worked quickly to dig a maze of deep trenches to help drain the excess water from the garden and pasture. They ripped out the molding stalks of corn and salvaged as many of the clean cobs as possible, hanging them to sun-dry from a wooden rack they'd erected in the yard. "The animals will be glad to have them, at least," Lilia had sighed.

Realizing they were quickly running out of nails and boards to finish making the repairs, Lilia decided one morning to head into the nearest town and replenish their dwindling supplies. Before leaving, he found Silver lying on his stomach in the living room, peering intently into a bird identification book he'd received for his birthday. He called out to the boy while he finished getting dressed.

“Silver, darling?”

Silver’s face, framed on one side by an illustration of a juvenile blackbird peeking out from its nest, and on the other by an adult in flight, emerged from between the pages of his book. Without looking up, he replied, "Yes, father?"

He still on that “father” thing? Lilia swallowed the annoyed groan building in his throat. “While I’m gone, could you butcher one of the shoats, please? I just noticed we’re about to run out of pork belly.”

“Yeah, I’ll take care of it today.”

“Perfect, thank you.”

Lilia grabbed his leather coin purse from the table by the door and secured it to the hook on his belt. He threw a light cloak over his shoulders, anticipating more rain, and glanced at Silver across the room while he fussed with the clasps.

The boy had retreated into his book.

Lilia sighed. The past week had been quiet. Even with the hail exploding all around them and the wind howling and the rain pounding like sledgehammers against their home, it had been quiet, because Silver had hardly spoken a word the entire time. The child's voice seldom rose above a pleasant murmur as a habit, and yet its absence had made the little cottage seem so much vaster and emptier than it really was; there were times during the storm Lilia had felt like the only living thing in the world trapped within its black fury. He hovered at the door for a moment, debating if he should try to kiss the boy goodbye, but his every attempt at parental affection the past month had been met with hostility, scorn, and disgust, and he feared any further attempts would only end the same. Electing for the path of least resistance, he opened the door and departed without another word.

Silver waited for the door to click shut before he pushed his book aside, sitting up with a grunt. He grabbed his pig sticker from his room and slipped on his work boots and gloves. Butchering was laborious work, more so than even his father's rigorous training regimes, and he gripped his knife expectantly while gathering his things.

The clearing glittered with rainwater as he stepped outside. The air was heavy, weighed down by a thick layer of petrichor, smelling somehow both earthy and sweet at once, and it felt like he had to push through it as he walked, as though he were swimming upstream. While struggling towards the pig pen, he contemplated his soggy surroundings. The wet ground was as dark as umber. The chickens, equally as wet and as dark, were scratching dejectedly at the mud, and the cows looked on wisely from underneath their dripping lean-to. He was thankful the garden hadn't been harmed. The brightly colored heads of the newborn squash peeking out from their leafy cradles lifted his heart where the rest of the world drooped and dripped so miserably around him. On the second day of the storm, when it was evident the rain and the wind would not soon abate, he and his father had rushed to cover all the plants with heavy sheets of plastic in a last-ditch attempt to save them. The covers had served them well, having prevented the incurrence of any vegetative losses, and though they now sported deep abrasions where the hail had struck them, Silver found the markings as noble and as handsome as any other battle scar.

Upon reaching the pen, he selected the smallest of the shoats, doubtful he could handle one of the larger animals on his own. The blade of his pig sticker shone dully in the dappled light. The mahogany handle felt cool in his sweat-slicked hand. With a practiced surety, Silver plunged the knife up into the pig’s rib cage, and the animal collapsed to the ground. He cleaned the blade in the grass while he waited for the body to stop moving. After the shoat finally stilled, he hoisted its heavy body onto the metal gambrel hanging from the tree by the shed, and then he began the long work - extracting the tender leaf fat hidden deep within it.

He grabbed the set of butcher knives from the shed and used the longest one to cut into the hide. The skin was rough against his hands, coated with a thick layer of wiry hair, and he grunted as he ripped it off. The head and wet mass of guts and other organs he removed from the torso as quickly as possible, discarding them in a pile far behind them, where he did not have to look at them and remember what he had just done. He slowed down to a comfortable pace as he began removing the leaf fat. The pigs had been enjoying a hearty diet of sweet potatoes, mulberries, and corn for most of the year, and the shoat he'd selected was richly packed with thick sheets of candle white fat. He plunged his knife into the carcass and began separating the fat from the muscle, working in a rhythm, stopping at times to put down his knife and use his hands to tear back the white slab, then picking it up again to continue cutting. He dislodged the mass with one final flick of his knife and deposited it into a bucket by his feet. Once rendered, it would be used not just for cooking, but also to make soap and candles, as a poultice for minor burns and wounds, and as lotion for chapped skin.

After swapping his knife for a bone saw, he split the carcass in half, and then hung both pieces inside the smokehouse. In a few days, once the meat had tenderized, he and his father would finish quartering them and divvying up the meat, grinding some of the portions to make sausage, and putting aside others for bacon and jerky.

He could feel beads of sweat crawling down his back like a line of ants as he plodded over to the water shelf to wash his hands. He figured by the sun's position there were still a few hours of morning left. Might as well see if I can't hunt something he thought, having already exhausted all the distractions the clearing and the cottage could offer.

He washed himself hastily, glancing in the mirror as he dried his hands against his pant legs. He was a demonstrably plain boy – not outstanding in height or wit or strength or speed. His body was lean and wiry, his hands prematurely calloused from years of grueling work, and only the few meager lumps of baby fat that clung to his face protested weakly that he was, indeed, just a child. The only remarkable thing about him was his eyes – they were a brilliant blend of amethyst and steel blue, almost prismatic in nature, seeming to change color with the rise and fall of the sun. The few adults in his life often remarked on their beauty, but Silver never paid their compliments any mind - in truth, he rejected them. He'd always thought his eyes plain, just as he thought the rest of himself plain, especially in comparison to the fae, and if there was any one thing he begrudged Sebek for, it was the serpentine pupils he'd inherited from his forefathers. He frowned at the mirror, then averted his gaze from his dissatisfied reflection.

Before leaving, Silver printed on the back of a used envelope a short note for his father, letting him know he was going hunting, and that he would return home before supper, and this he left on the counter, held in place with a coffee tin. He then retrieved his crossbow from his room, and left the clearing, cutting a path straight North, far away from the bloated river and its poisons. Huge puddles of muddy water dotted the trail before him, and the damp ground squelched noisily under his boots. The trail was bordered by a lavender frame of honeysuckle in full bloom, but the trumpets sagged poorly, still heavy with water. His father had said it would likely take another week or two for the land to dry completely.

Silver had observed the storm with great interest. Pa Zigvolt had once told him how people in other countries conceived of the beginning of the world, and in one version, he spoke of when the planet was all water, and a god had sculpted the land and the sky and all living creatures, and Silver had wondered during the storm if this was how the world had looked during those primordial seven days, or if perhaps that wrathful god had come back to restart its creation. Never before in his life had he seen so much rain, so much wind and lightning and hail all at once before. The sky was one ocean and the land was another. The rain seemed to move back and forth between them, falling and rising, the drops of water shining like the million wings of a dragonfly swarm. He processed novelties such as these almost programmatically. If he understood something, then he determined he would not fear it. His comprehension was a beam of light he could shine upon his abhorrations, it would cut through the shadow of his uncertainty and allow him to see the face of the thing, to touch it, and to understand it. He was afraid of very little: the forest at night, adders (he'd been bitten once as a small child), all the various tinctures and teas prescribed for his occasional afflictions, and his father's Halloween performances. Darkness was one thing he'd studied and studied since he was very young, but had never been able to puzzle out, perhaps because it did not end. It was too broad, too immeasurable; he could lift up one corner of it and step underneath it and walk a thousand miles and still never glimpse its face. Even when it receded during the day, he felt it prowling beyond the safety of the clearing, like a panther in waiting. The storm, too, had seemed infinite in its wrath, but it had ended, and now it was gone. Now there was only a liquid world, shimmering, iridescent, like one great droplet of water sitting on an endless spiderweb.

The frenzied drumming of a male grouse sounded off in the distance, beyond a thick wall of fir and aspen. Following the clamor, Silver slipped into the underbrush. He moved over the wet leaf litter as quiet as a shadow. The performer soon came into view, perched atop a fallen cedar tree. It was in the midst of a thunderous crescendo, beating its spectacled wings so feverously the air around it seemed a solid tawny blur. Silver dropped to a crouch, stalking slowly forward until he reached a mass of undergrowth tall enough to conceal him. Kneeling in the grass, he loaded an arrow into his crossbow, disengaging the safety as he raised it to his shoulder.

A noise above drew his attention. A red squirrel, high up in the tree beside him, was glaring at him, its eyes blazing as fiercely as its bright copper fur. Silver held his breath. If the squirrel let out a warning bark, the grouse would surely hear it and scatter. His gaze flew between his observer and his target - the bird had paused in its performance, its small black eyes scanning the tree line where he was hiding.

After a few tense moments, the squirrel disappeared into the privacy of the canopy with a huff. The grouse cocked its head, alert, but not alarmed, and then resumed its drumming. Silver quietly let out the breath he'd been holding and moved his finger over the trigger. The arrow soared through the air and struck the grouse with a heavy thud. It fell to the ground, disappearing behind it's earthen stage.

Silver stood up and thrust his crossbow behind him. He rushed in long strides to the log and hoisted the grouse's limp body with one hand, his own body still thrumming with adrenaline. A scarlet blot bloomed in the animal's chest where his arrow had pierced it. The sight of the blood immediately muted all his excitement. He whispered an earnest "Thank you" to the creature before slipping its thin neck up under his belt and turning around. As he stood there, awash in the late morning light, contemplating the still-warm body resting against his thigh, his mind finally acknowledged that he knew this place.

One day, a few months ago, on his way home from collecting armfuls of wild sorrel and burdock in the forest, Silver had discovered a great horned owl sitting atop a towering oak tree while passing through there. The creatures were rarely seen during the day, typically active only during crepuscular hours, and Silver carefully set down his leafy bundle upon spotting it, taking the opportunity to quietly study the bird for as long as it allowed him to. He concluded that its long, brown ear-tufts reminded him of the projections in his father’s hair, and he smiled, pleased by the genius of his observation. When he walked up to the tree and craned his head back, the owl slowly blinked its yellow eyes down at him in perplexment.

“Could you please help me?” Silver asked.

“Whooo?”

“You, silly bird!” he laughed. He explained that he'd learned a new word recently, and desired an audience before which to practice his pronunciation.

The owl obliged his request and swooped down to a branch directly before him. He unfastened his cloak and draped it around its neck, carefully hooking up the fastener so as to not pinch its feathers.

He stepped back to admire his work. “Looks good to me,” he murmured to himself, nodding. “Now, I want you to please pretend to be my papa- I mean, my father.”

The owl stared at a toad loitering by Silver’s feet. It looked up and blinked its spotlight eyes at him slowly.

Flustered, Silver continued. “Oh, if you just sit there, that should be okay! I’ll go ahead and start now. I don’t want to take up too much of your time.”

He cleared his throat and straightened his back, crossing his arms. “Hello, Pa-, erm, Father. Today, I’m going to go play- I mean!! I’m going to go train with Sebek. I’ll be back for dinner. Farewell!”

He spun around and marched off, swinging his arms importantly, just like he’d seen the imperial guards do on his rare trips into town. After a few heavy steps, he stopped and turned around again, nervously searching his spectator's face for any sign of reproach.

“...How was that?” he asked after a moment.

The owl bobbed its head excitedly, but Silver could not determine if the gesture was meant for him, or for the toad that was now clinging plaintively to his feet. He reset his stance and repeated the exercise from the beginning. Again and again he stuttered through his short speech and pumped his arms and stomped across the ground, and then turned around to be greeted by a feathery face as unintelligible as some ancient cipher. This cycle continued for so long his pile of greens had begun to wilt by the time he was at last satisfied.

His request had been sincere, if not misguided. The new moniker he'd chosen for Lilia sat as heavy and awkwardly as a foreign word on his tongue, and he'd often lapse into calling the man "Papa" as a course of habit, which he'd aimed to rectify through this practice. But there was another, graver reason why he'd felt so anxious that day - a secret dilemma had been plaguing him for weeks.

He had discovered, unwillingly, and to his great alarm, that the adults in his life had suddenly developed an irritating air about them. He wished, for example, to push away Ma Zigvolt’s pinching hands when they reached for the roundness of his face and to flee from Pa Zigvolt’s awkward attempts at conversation. Baul and his father’s stories had lost their wonder, too, no longer coloring the quiet expanse of his dreams. And his father, by far, presented the most extreme case of this mysterious ailment.

It was as though, after thirteen long years of worshiping the very ground he walked on, Silver had woken up one day with his mind rewired to find everything the man did purely annoying. When he'd suddenly start to sing in that strange, deep voice he could conjure on a whim, or when he’d pester him with questions, asking him how his day was, and what he and Sebek had gotten up to, or when he'd declare to the world what a splendid, hardworking boy he was, instead of laughing or smiling or nodding along, as per his customary response, Silver instead found himself praying for the earth to open up and swallow him whole.

Even Malleus had changed. All his life, Silver had approached the young prince unabashed and forthcoming, as he was never taught the fear that lurked in the hearts of many of the valley’s citizens. Indeed, for Silver, Malleus was one of the precious few cornerstones of his meager world – he was a comforting shadow in the dim haze of Silver's infantile memories, and the green glow of his magic was as reassuring to him as the North Star’s guiding light. More than anything, he was someone - the only one - who’d come visit Silver when his father was away.

Lilia had resumed traveling for leisure after Silver was old enough to look after the homestead on his own. He was never gone long, in his own opinion, only a week or two at most. He'd pack the fridge full of questionable food for the boy, leave him a list of chores and rules to follow that was, at times, as questionable as the food, kiss his cheek goodbye, and then promptly disappear to whatever locale he'd selected for his itinerary that month. He'd always send Silver postcards of the places he'd visit. They often arrived faded and torn, or sopping wet from the rain, but Silver kept each and every one of them, regardless if damaged or illegible, or otherwise totally destroyed, in a little box underneath his bed. When he lay down to sleep at night, in his mind he would reach his hand underneath his bed, open his box, and quietly step into the distant worlds contained within the postcards.

Some nights, he and his father would stroll through the glass-topped bazaars of the Shaftlands, their arms heavy with paper shopping bags filled to the brim with newly purchased clothing and trinkets and toys, slowly moving through the crystalline cloud of cologne and parfum drifting out from the stores and boutiques, each establishment a gem of its own, the arcade an endless line of diamonds, amethysts, pearls, topaz, and rubies; then this vision would vanish, and he and his father would be pulled another thousand miles away to the golden plains of the Sunset Savanna, where sky touched the earth, where a boiling sun raged like an angry god above a scorched plateau of rock and grit and sand and red clay dust, and they would journey across this shimmering land marveling at all the beasts and vegetation Silver had only ever read about in his books, and would likely never see for as long as he lived.

He'd spend the entire night thus traipsing from one postcard to the next, so that by the time he awoke in the morning, he'd crossed nearly half the planet in his sleep.

This habit he continued for over half a year, at which point Malleus at last learned of Lilia's departures. Often kept detained at the castle by mountains of paperwork and other bureaucratic trivialities that left him too exasperated and too occupied for leisure, he did not regularly call on the Vanrouges, and when he'd taken a rare opportunity to drop by their cottage one day, many years ago, he was surprised when Silver opened the door and informed him that his father was gone. Silver did not notice anything strange about Malleus's reaction, at first. He'd gotten another postcard recently. On the front, an image of massive, stone towers rising high into a cloudless turquoise sky, their spires terminating into crowns shaped like pyramids; on the back, in his fathers prim script, a short note explaining the structures were called "obelisks'', and that they were monuments dedicated to the local gods of that region. All of Silver's dreams lately had been of endless deserts and great golden towers and the ancient kings and queens that once ruled over them, and when he saw the pair of black obelisks that were concealed in Malleus's slit pupils, his fantasies materialized temptingly in his mind once again.

But Malleus's low voice, inquiring on Lilia's return, pulled him back to the clearing and the small cottage and its plainness for a moment. Trying to focus, he stated bluntly that his father would not be back for another week.

"A week?" Malleus said, his tone halfway between a scoff and a cry.

"A week," Silver repeated absentmindedly, busy trying to determine how a pharaoh's headdress might sit between Malleus's horns.

When his gaze drifted lazily back to Malleus's eyes, he finally realized the man was angry. The black obelisks had vanished, and all the kings and queens in his mind bowed their heavy ornate heads, crumbling away to nothing in the face of the prince's quiet rage.

From that day on, Malleus dedicated himself to visiting Silver as much as possible when Lilia was away. He would bring with him cakes and pies he'd stolen from the castle's kitchen, and books he'd snuck out of the royal library, and they would sit together and enjoy these treasures in the living room, or stroll through the forest when the weather was fair. These visits made Silver feel very important, a sensation he seldom had the privilege to enjoy, and he'd imagine he was a duke welcoming a fellow aristocrat to his palace whenever Malleus stopped by. The lonely late-night journeys through his postcards melted away into this new pleasure.

As Silver matured, he slowly began to comprehend the gravity of Malleus’s periodic decampments. It first felt like nothing more than a small discomfort, as though he were wearing a garment a size too small. As time went on, the discomfort only grew, transforming from a minor inconvenience into an ever-present malaise. But Silver was attentive as he was reticent, and he’d noticed how, when he’d caper with Malleus through the forests, the pixies living in the oak trees and the river would whisper and whisper all around them, their high voices a chorus of reproachful chimes. And he’d noticed, too, the confusion that had flashed across his father’s eyes the day he’d confessed to these secret visits. Silver collected these observations as his evidence, examined them, and concluded that Malleus was doing something wrong. But to accuse their crown prince of misconduct required a level of brazenness that far exceeded his capabilities, and he'd waited several months until he finally voiced his suspicions.

He broached the topic the spring prior, when his father had departed for a week-long sojourn in the Shaftlands. That first night, Malleus appeared at the cottage door with a pan of freshly baked apple strudel in hand. After they were sat at the table and Malleus began cutting their portions, Silver at last revealed all his concerns.

When he finished speaking, he watched Malleus’s hand slow down as it moved the knife through the steaming pastry.

“I…” Malleus pursed his lips in thought, lifting them into a soft smile a moment later.

“I remember how I felt whenever Lilia would vanish on one of his excursions when I was little, and I suppose I simply wish not for you to feel the same.”

“But that’s-”

“You needn’t worry, Silver.” Malleus laughed gently, pushing a plate heavy with warm strudel towards him. “I shan’t get into any trouble - so long as my grandmother remains none the wiser about all this, that is,” he finished with a wink.

Silver was at once overcome by a rush of joy and shame and guilt and relief all combined together. His body, unable to process this strange emotional amalgamation, resigned to color itself with a vicious crimson flush. The chameleonic display was so severe it shocked even Malleus, and he spent the rest of that evening marveling at the different shades of red human skin could take.

Something shifted in Silver's relationship with Malleus that day. He felt it before he understood what it was. When his father returned from his trip, he revealed to Silver the truth that had been looming over him all of his life, and explained to him all the different rules that Malleus had been egregiously breaking for him for years on end. When the lecture was finished, Silver asked his father to leave his room so he could ruminate. He concluded that if it was wrong for Malleus to show him this kindness, if it had to be locked away and kept a secret, then he would keep his own secret - he would take his love for Malleus, for his brother, and he would bury it. He would construct a pedestal in his heart, as all the other valley citizens had long been taught to do, and place upon it the man he'd been too ignorant to realize had never truly been his equal and his friend.

He was bothered greatly – by his father’s antics, by the dullness of the adults around him, by the solitude of his strange and sudden affliction – and yet he never could find a remedy for his discomfort. It was like an insect had stung him in a spot his hands couldn’t quite reach, and the words to describe how he felt evaded him just the same.

All of this he considered once more as he left the forest, stumbling back home in a haze of speculation. By the time he reached the clearing, the darkened sky looked like a giant raven's wing stretched out over the land, and the treefrogs had already begun their evening serenade. Even in the low light he could feel their beady eyes staring at him as he approached the door.

Inside, the cottage was warm, and his father's humming radiated quietly from the kitchen. After slipping off his muddy boots by the door, he set the limp grouse on the counter and went to wash his hands at the basin.

His father stood before the cookstove, stirring a pot bubbling with a substance as black as tar. He looked up, and the smile he’d been planning to offer Silver rapidly faded away. Knitting his brow in concern, he asked, “Is everything okay?”

Silver swallowed thickly and nodded. “I’m fine.”

IV.

Summer crept forward like an inchworm. The land dried out completely within a matter of weeks, as Lilia had predicted, and one could now comfortably move around outside without fear of the humidity's oppression. The linden trees, made anxious by the pounding wind and rain, had been steadfastly clutching their bright yellow flowers against their leafy breasts since the start of the month, and had only recently just begun allowing the satiny petals to unfurl, as though acknowledging the valley's languid recuperation. Their delicious perfume billowed out across the entire nation, eventually overshadowing even the contaminated river's foul odor.

The Zigvolts had fared well through the disaster, their tall, white house still standing proud and pristine amongst a mess of downed trees and waterlogged foliage, not a single red brick from the chimney missing or otherwise harmed. Their neighbors, however, had not been nearly as fortunate, and the elder Zigvolts had agreed to close the dental clinic while they helped their friends repair their homes. The children eagerly assisted wherever possible, and they spent the better part of June lugging armfuls of wood and shingles, readjusting crooked fences, and clearing out dripping debris from the trails that weaved around their home. The entire family would work from morning until late at night, reserving one day a week to either relax or to see to any high-priority dental cases.

It was on one of these holidays, in late June, when Lilia and Silver dropped by in the morning for a scheduled call. The two families gathered in the parlor, the adults chatting amicably, while the children competed to see who'd had the most interesting experiences during the storm, but as noon rolled around and the boys lost interest in conversation, Baul suggested they go outside for an impromptu sword fighting lesson. The group thus disbanded, Lilia remaining with Pa and Ma Zigvolt in the parlor, while Iris joined her grandfather and the family cat in supervising the boys, taking turns cheering for her brother or for Silver as she saw fit.

After they left, Ma Zigvolt went to the kitchen and refilled the pitcher of ice tea she'd prepared that morning, topping up Lilia's glass for him before retaking her seat. Looking at him expectantly, she asked, "Now what were you saying before? About Silver."

“Ah, about Silver acting strangely during the storm?” Lilia waited for her confirmation before continuing. “Well, there was this one day I was able to get the fireplace going and I gathered up some blankets on the couch. And when I asked Silver if he wanted to come cuddle with me for a bit, he… he…”

Ma Zigvolt balled up her apron in her hands and leaned forward, wide-eyed. “He what?”

“He said no!” Lilia cried, throwing his arm over his face with a flourish.

“No?!” she gasped. “Not Silver!”

“Yes! I could hear my poor heart breaking in two on the spot.” Lilia slumped back in his chair. It was the first time he'd spoken to anyone about the problems he'd been having with his son, and he felt somehow encumbered by the weight of his confession.

Ma Zigvolt gently asked if he'd had any luck talking to Silver about his behavior, and he begrudgingly shook his head.

"He always says he's fine, and that's about as much as I can get out of him." He sipped his tea, setting his glass down on the table beside him with a frown. "It almost feels like he doesn't even like me anymore..."

Pa and Ma Zigvolt exchanged a pointed look. It was not unlike the one they'd share with each other at the clinic, when a patient, complaining of mysterious symptoms that had "simply popped up out of nowhere!" would throw themselves into the examination chair with a huff, only to confess after much prodding that they had been consuming a poor diet, and had been practicing even poorer dental habits.

Pa Zigvolt spoke first. “It’s normal for kids Silver’s age to go through a phase like this. It just means he’s growing up.”

Lilia blinked. “Growing up…?”

“Mm-hmm,” Ma Zigvolt continued. “We went through the exact same thing with Horace and Iris. Horace especially had it rough, the poor thing. You remember, honey?”

“Yeah, I remember it clear as day." He nodded solemnly. "He’d stay holed up in his room all the time, and trying to get him to talk to us was harder than pulling a tooth. It’s like he thought we were the most embarrassing people in the world.”

“Oh, but he still thinks that way about you, dear.”

“Tally!”

Laughing, Ma Zigvolt reached over and patted his knee soothingly.

Lilia considered their words. “If that’s the case, then I suppose I just don’t understand why he’s trying to grow up so quickly. For most of his life, I pushed him much too hard, had him undergo training better suited for soldiers thrice his age. The day I finally realized what an awful mistake I’d been making, I don’t think I’d ever felt so ashamed of myself in my life.”

“From that moment on, I swore to ease up on him and just let him be a kid, and to make sure he could enjoy his childhood as much as possible. Especially since I… Ahh…”

Lilia thought of the castle barracks. There had only been one window in his room, a pitiful little square cut high into the stone wall adjacent to his cot. It faced East, and for a few, meager hours in the afternoon, when the sun was positioned directly before the castle, a singular column of light would enter the window and illuminate that small, dark space. He thought of how he would lay transfixed in bed, watching the light glide across his body like a golden serpent, how he would thrust out his hands, trying to capture it, trying desperately to stop this one thing from exiting his life as everything else had, and how each time it would slip through his groping fingers like water and evaporate into nothing. He thought of marching for days, of the sharp iron stench of the battlefield, of the bone-deep ache that would weigh heavy like a stone over every fiber of his being. He thought of all the things he experienced growing up that he never wished for his son or any other child to go through.

Lilia swallowed the lump forming in his throat. Looking past Ma Zigvolt, focusing on the wall clock behind her, he finally continued, “When I was a child, I didn’t have the… the kinds of opportunities that he has, so I just want to make sure he makes the most of them while he can.”

"I see..." Ma Zigvolt sighed, folding her hands in her lap. She had grown up knowing Lilia to be an evasive - if not frustrating - man, and her father had warned her repeatedly over the years to be cautious in her prodding. He was like an uncle to her, and she dutifully acknowledged his seniority, if only in regards to his age, but he was also a fellow parent, and her neighbor, and where the wellbeing of children was concerned, she was known to reveal the full extent of her caustic rhetoric, so that more than once she'd had to quit all civility and rebuke Lilia for his parental failures. Still, she considered each of her questions carefully, as though treading across a sheet of ice, knowing full well that if she chose her next step incorrectly, it would shatter the man's trust and terminate the conversation.

After a moment, she asked, “And you two haven't had any fights recently? You don't think you've said anything that might've upset him?"

Lilia paused for a moment, and then shook his head again. “No, not at all.”

Ma Zigvolt pressed further, sensing his hesitation. “Well, regardless, you don’t think there’s anything you’re doing that might be making him act this way?”

She'd stepped too far. Lilia frowned. “I think I know my own child, Thalia. If he had a problem with me, he’d say so.”

"I wasn't trying to insinuate anything, Lilia."

“Alright.”

Pa Zigvolt glanced rapidly between his wife and Lilia. Confrontation historically made him nervous, and it was clear from their stony faces they'd reached an impasse. He rubbed his clammy palms against his pant leg and rose from his seat, asked politely if anyone would like another round of refreshments, and fled to the kitchen before receiving a response. Lilia's gaze followed him as he walked off, his thoughts drifting away together with the man's receding figure.

He could hear the children's laughter floating in through the open windows, Sebek's loud and exuberant, Silver's quiet and breathless. Other sounds poured in, blending together like a symphony. There was the harsh percussion of their wooden swords clashing together, ringing out at times as viciously as gunfire; there was Baul's voice, low and clear, gruffly barking out his commands in tune with each thunderous strike; and there was the shining thread of Iris's singsong voice, interweaving amongst the clamor as she called out her gentle encouragement.

But still through it all his son's voice came to him, as direct as a beam of light, sounding sweeter and brighter than the goldfinches chittering away in the cottonwood trees.

It'd been so long since he last heard his son's laugh he'd almost forgotten what it sounded like. For over a month, he'd failed to elicit from the boy anything beyond the faintest imitation of a grin, yet here he was, just out of arm's reach, laughing and smiling so freely it was like his body demanded it more than breathing. He looked away from the window and glanced at Ma Zigvolt. She sat with her back erect, her hands folded primly in her lap, her eyes closed, awash in her children's joy, her round face as radiant and golden as the sun. Lilia fought back the urge to call out to Silver, knowing he would only destroy this moment.

He thought again of the past few weeks, scrutinizing everything he'd said and done to his child. He sifted through his memories, upturning each one and twisting it around and inspecting it from every angle, but still he could not find any evidence of his error. And he couldn't make comprehensible, either, the notion that his son was "growing up", as the Zigvolts had claimed. How could he, when Silver only had taken his first, wobbling steps just the other day, when it was only just yesterday that he'd learned to string his words together and share his quaint little thoughts, when he was still so small - his body, his voice, his hands, all no greater now than they had ever been before in his entire life? Lilia bit back an incredulous scoff, humored greatly by the absolute absurdity of the notion. And yet - his son's laughter drifted into his consciousness like a spring breeze. Why this drastic change in his demeanor, then?

Maybe there is something I'm doing wrong. But I just...

Lilia cleared his throat. "I'll certainly need to mull this over some more, but if you have any advice, I'm all ears."

“Well…” Ma Zigvolt smiled, smoothing out her apron before folding her hands in her lap again. “I know I’m no expert, but I’ve found that sometimes, being a good parent means you gather your babies in your arms and you hold onto them as tight as you can. And other times, it means you let them go. And he's at a point in his life where you might just have to start letting him go.”

"Hm."

The Vanrouges departed for home that afternoon. Before they left, Pa Zigvolt pulled Lilia aside, and let him know he was more than welcome to come speak with them again about Silver's behavior at any time. Lilia thanked him, reassuring him that his wife had already given him more than enough to think about for a while yet, and politely declined the couple's offer to meet for dinner later that week. As he stepped through the door, he winked at Ma Zigvolt, and she grinned at him audaciously.

Silver retreated into his shell as soon as they stepped off their neighbor's property, but Lilia was for once too occupied to take offense, busy ruminating on his conversation with the Zigvolts. Their dinner that evening was silent, and he later fell asleep dreaming of the boy's twinkling laughter.

Lilia would come to regret rejecting the Zigvolts' offer. Over the next several weeks, Silver seemed to burrow deeper and deeper into himself with each passing day. The boy's emotional carapace was thicker than any suit of armor or garrison Lilia had encountered during his time in the service, and some days he receded so deeply Lilia would have to call his name multiple times and rap his hand against the table just to wrest the child's attention away from himself. It was all Lilia could do to maintain the fraying strand of his composure from completely snapping. He'd been hotheaded as a youth, and positively vicious to his troops as a general, but had sworn off his every inclination towards corporal punishment once Malleus was born. During this period he often found himself questioning the rationality of his vow, and would sometimes envision giving the boy a lashing, only to immediately chide himself for his own weakness.

Something sinister seemed to be building up inside their little home. It was as though there was a great coil lurking underneath the floorboards, one that wound itself tighter and tighter with each of their disastrous interactions. The palpable tension only further stymied Lilia's every attempt at repairing their relationship, and the blowout he'd been fearing finally materialized one afternoon in early July.

Silver had spent the better part of that day in a state of quiet agitation. He would approach Lilia, open his mouth, close it, open it again, and then spin around and march off to his room, proclaiming hastily he needed to close his window, or make his bed, or any other excuse he could find to justify his escape. Lilia would only laugh in response. The previous day, while cleaning the kitchen, he'd glanced out the window and noticed the boy speaking animatedly with the chickens. He watched for hours as Silver paced back and forth before them, waving his arms and moving his mouth rapidly as the birds pecked indifferently at the ground.

Since then, Lilia had been eager to learn the truth of Silver's recital, but he did not press the boy, choosing instead to bide his time sprawled out on the couch, flipping through a stack of traveling magazines he'd been meaning to read.

After an hour of consternation, Silver planted himself before Lilia, his spine erect, his shoulders drawn back, and stated with perfect confidence, "Father, there's something I'd like to ask you!"

"Hm?" Lilia lowered his magazine, his eyes peeking over an editorial on deep-sea diving in the Coral Sea. "What is it?"

Silver's shoulders slumped. He'd not gotten this far in his rehearsals.

"Erm." He nibbled on his lower lip. "Is it okay if I go to the Zigvolt's by myself today?"

Lilia blinked. He'd been hoping - expecting, even - to hear from the boy a teary-eyed apology for how poorly he'd been acting recently, or perhaps a plea for his forgiveness, but not this. After a moment, he muttered, "What?"

"Is it okay if-"

"Sorry, I heard you." Lilia sat up and placed the magazine on the coffee table. "Why are you asking that?"

"I dunno. I just thought I-" Silver licked his lips. "I guess I just thought I could go by myself now. And I know it hurts your back to walk all that way, so."

"Oh, you don't need to worry about me, darling." Lilia said, inwardly cursing at himself for allowing the boy to notice his infirmity. He made a note to check the bathroom after they were finished talking, wondering if he'd neglected to put away his pain relief balm and bottles of medication where he typically hid them, at the back of the medicine cabinet.

Sitting up as straight as his bruised back allowed, he offered Silver a smile so brilliant it was as though he wished to expunge the shadow of the boy's doubt with its radiance. "I'm fit as a fiddle!" he proclaimed through gritted teeth.

Silver returned the smile, unaffected. "I'm glad. But I still wanna start going by myself."

Lilia's lips dropped into a frown. He shook his head and sighed. "I'm sorry, Silver. But the answer is 'no'."

Had Silver heard those words at any other point in his life prior to that moment, he would have conceded, and bowed out of the conversation in recognition of his father's perfect judgment. But this time, rather than his usual disappointment, he felt a strange anger welling up inside of him, instead. He clenched his fists and set his jaw, ignoring the hiss of his instincts warning him that he was about to step into a fight.

"No? Why not?" he asked, interrupting Lilia as he reached for his magazine.

Lilia leaned back into the couch and bit back another sigh. "Simple, because it's not safe for you to go all that way by yourself." He spoke slowly and carefully, hoping an air of manufactured calmness would mask his irritation.

Silver's voice, in contrast, blatantly swelled with indignation. "But I stay home by myself when you're gone."

"Staying home by yourself is different. My magic is all over this land. Magical beasts and fae know not to come here, and you know that, too."

Here, Silver paused again. The hiss of his instincts had at that point deformed into a mangled screech, which he knew would soon summon the animal panic that had struck him before a handful of times in his young life - once when he'd gotten lost in the woods as a small child, and another when his father had fallen gravely ill after returning from one of his trips, and Silver had been powerless to help him. There was one, final question that he now wished to ask the man, though he knew the answer to it might hurt him. As his mind frantically tried to draw back the words already forming on his tongue, he hastily wrenched them out and spat:

"Well, what about when you drop me and Sebek out in the middle of nowhere for our training? We always get along just fine without you."

Lilia crossed his arms and looked away. "That's... different, too."

Silver's heart skipped a beat. "...How?"

"It just is-"

"How!" the boy cried, his voice bursting into a screech.

"Because I watch you guys the whole time! I've always been watching you when you train. I would never leave you alone like that, you're just a child."

Lilia realized too late the poison of his words. It spread immediately into Silver's heart. His eyes were two perfect shining wet opals; his tears fell silently - gliding, almost, lifting off as they fell from his face, as though afraid to mar his skin. He turned and ran to his room, hesitating as he took the door into his hand before, for perhaps the first time in his life, he slammed it shut. Lilia leapt from the couch and raced after him, hissing out a choked "Damnit!" under his breath as he tried the knob and found it locked. He pressed his ear against the door and called out Silver's name. At first, he heard nothing, and feared for a moment the boy had slipped out his window and fled into the forest, in repeat of that awful, wretched night from so long ago, but then he heard it - it was like a whisper at first, nearly as imperceptible as the clap of a butterfly's wings, but still he heard it, heard the stifled, quiet sobs drifting through the heavy panel of hardwood separating him from his son. Lilia stood there, petrified, listening, feeling as each of the boy's sobs pierced his flesh and bore down into the deepest folds of his heart, as if seeking him; as if they were his own.

V.

Once a month, when the moon casts aside her shadowy veil to grace the valley with all her beauty, the Zigvolts and the Vanrouges and their neighbors gather together in a log cabin at the edge of the forest, and they dance.

Regular merriment was a necessity for the fae - mirth coursed through their bodies like the blood in their veins, and any opportunity for celebration, any chance they had to raise their voices together and join hands under the soft light of the stars, they would take it. Baul would scoff and say they were all plagued by a sickness, Ma Zigvolt would click her tongue at him and say it was rather an inclination.

The monthly dance was a rare opportunity for Silver to socialize freely with the townspeople. His father had always been honest with him about his species' general attitude towards humans, and the boy understood very well that the glint in their gemstone eyes - some of them deep ruby red like his father’s, others mesmerizingly green like polished emeralds, or as molten as bright blue sapphires - was not always a kind one. Only on those full moon nights, when the whine of the band’s violins accompanies the forest symphony of nightingales and tree frogs calling out their lonely verses, when the humans and the fae breathe each other in and twist and turn and dip and whirl and spin each other out, only then was it safe for Silver to take their clawed hands into his own and look unabashed into the fire of their eyes. They could and they would return to their quiet judgment and whispered denouncements later, but not on those nights, not when their bodies burned hot with jubilation and the music bewitched them so.

It was for this reason, and for his love of the communal mirth he habitually longed for, as isolated as he was at home, that Silver looked forward to the dance each month with great excitement. The night before the July dance, however, a war had raged inside the Vanrouge household.

Partway through their silent dinner, just as Lilia had gotten up to refill his glass of water at the sink, Silver had announced, plainly, and without a moment's hesitation, that he would not be participating in tomorrow's festivities, and offered neither an explanation nor any willingness to compromise when prompted. But Lilia was equally insurmountable in his parental concerns, and he questioned the boy until his blood boiled. The conversation rapidly crumbled into an argument, before further disintegrating into an all-out screaming match.

They volleyed their rebukes at each other from across the dining table, both unbending in their determination, Silver deflecting each of Lilia's pleas and demands with an iron-clad defense that bordered on hostility.

"You're going to that dance whether you want to or not!" Lilia had nigh snarled at one point as he launched his next attack.

But his words had ricocheted off Silver as harmlessly as though they were filled with air, and he ultimately fired back a retort so scathing it made even Lilia's marble white skin flush in mortification.

Their clamor poured out the open windows and flooded the clearing, where the sows and the heifer in the pasture looked at each other in concern. A songbird that had perched on the windowsill for a moment’s respite burst into the sky a second later, alarmed by the ruckus within. After an hour of tense contestation, they finally reached an agreement: they would go to the dance, but would not stay the entire time. But the foul atmosphere from the great storm of their quarrel lingered in the small cottage, and the pair kept to themselves the next day, Silver sulking in his bedroom, and Lilia fussing in the kitchen, busy preparing a dish for the dance's customary potluck.

They convened in the evening. The partygoers traditionally wore their Sunday best, and Silver and Lilia both donned their black slacks, white button up shirts, and leather-soled shoes. Their jackets and vests they left hanging in their closets, the threat of the summer heat overpowering any inclination for gaiety. When Silver emerged into the living room, he was finishing buttoning up his shirt, and did not look up as he called out a quiet greeting to his father. It was the first time Lilia had seen him all day, and once the boy had completed his toilette and finally met his gaze, Lilia offered him a reconciliatory smile, which Silver at first returned, reflexively, then retracted a moment later, substituting it with a scowl in its place.

Shortly before dusk, underneath a blue-gray sky streaked with clouds of pure amber, they departed for the cabin, joining up with the Zigvolts as they neared the edge of the forest. Baul was not with his family, having excused himself to instead partake in an evening nap, and the small troupe reached its destination just as the last golden wisps of the sun had withdrawn into their equatorial den.

While Ma and Pa Zigvolt and Iris set off for the dancefloor, Lilia headed towards the tables at the back of the one-room cabin, Silver and Sebek in tow. He gingerly set down his tray of charred cookies amongst the other desserts while the boys took a seat. As Sebek gazed at the rows of meat pies and pound cakes spread out before them, Silver fidgeted in his chair.

The last of the partygoers having finally assembled, the band picked up their instruments and began to play. There was no electricity in the valley, and aside from the small handful of families that could afford imported record players, music was traditionally played live, both for private enjoyment, and for public celebrations. Most fae children, as a result, learned to master at least one instrument as part of their general education, and while Lilia and Malleus both were highly skilled in a wide variety of stringed instruments, Silver could play only a few, clumsy chords on the guitar - and nothing else - having suffered greatly under his father's abstract instruction.

The theme that night was "Rhythm and Blues", and the band played a selection of human songs that had lately entered the valley's cultural zeitgeist, a record-short 50 years after first debuting overseas. The partygoers danced uproariously, all of them eager to show off the new steps they'd been practicing the past month - twisting and turning and stomping their feet so thunderously the entire cabin shook from their gesticulations.

After the first song ended and a transitory lull settled over the party, Silver took the opportunity to finally voice his discomfort. Sitting up straight in his seat, he said, “I’m gonna go sit outside, it’s hot in here. You wanna come, Sebek?”

Sebek tugged absentmindedly at his suspenders while he thought. “I should like to partake in some of the fare, so I shall remain here with Sir Lilia for now.”

“Okay,” Silver replied with a shrug. He walked into the swarm of dancers just as the next song began, vanishing amongst the undulating crowd a moment later.

Lilia wished desperately to follow after him. He'd apologized repeatedly for snapping at Silver the other day, and for their fight the evening prior, both times attempting reparation through the offer of a new sword or other training implement, or ordering dinner from Silver's favorite restaurant in town - methods that had always proven successful in the past - but the boy had shot down any notion of making peace. Deciding to allow Silver his space, Lilia rose from his seat and cut a large piece of cake for Sebek, grabbing for himself a glass of berry juice before sitting back down again. He drank deeply; a familiar warmth began to pool in his stomach and radiated pleasantly into his skin, gathering up and pushing out the restlessness that had been plaguing him since the night prior, so that it lifted away from his body like the mist after a rainstorm. He downed the rest of his glass lethargically, only getting up to move whenever Sebek politely asked for another slice of cake.

The pair observed the dancers in silence together, Lilia apathetically, Sebek with great interest, his bright eyes jumping excitedly between his parents and his sister, narrowing in contempt each time the latter's current dance partner whispered something in her ear that made her smile. He resolved not to dance with the perpetrator, a young woman he recognized as one of his sister's classmates, if offered, and the prospect of this future rejection delighted him even more than his final bite of cake.

Half an hour later, Pa Zigvolt came staggering over to their table, his pinched face dripping with sweat. He stood before them for a moment, swaying slightly, trying to catch his breath, then cleared his throat and announced, meekly, “Seb, your ma said she wants to dance with you next.”

Sebek's heart plunged into his stomach. He nodded and slowly stood up, wobbling a little as he marched stiffly towards the dance floor.

After watching his son leave, Pa Zigvolt sank down into one of the empty seats with a groan. He took out his handkerchief, and as he began dabbing at his wet face, a pained smile formed on his lips. “What a woman!” he panted, amazed. “I’m telling you, she’d go all night if you let her.”

Lilia smirked. “Sounds like she’s just like her father.”

“Yeah,” Pa Zigvolt sighed. And then he frowned. “Wait, what…? What do you mean by that?”

“What did you mean by that?” Lilia countered with a gentle smile.

The color drained from Pa Zigvolt’s face. The layer of sweat he’d only just managed to wipe off suddenly rematerialized across his skin, and he nervously balled his soaked handkerchief in his hands. “I- I was just talking about dancing!!” he stammered in defense.

Lilia laughed. “Then we’ll say that I was, too.”

Exasperated, Pa Zigvolt clicked his tongue. He timidly glanced around the room, and, upon confirming none of the other partygoers appeared to have heard them, deflated in his seat once again, kicking out his still quivering legs in front of him to let them rest. He set his used handkerchief on the table and extracted a fresh one from his crumpled breast pocket while scanning the dance floor, and quickly spotted the shock of his son's bright green hair weaving through the crowd, heading towards Ma Zigvolt at the front of the cabin, where she stood towering above the other partygoers. Smiling, he resumed mopping his face, and quietly breathed a prayer of good luck for the boy.

“There you are, honey! I was waiting for you.” Ma Zigvolt smiled brightly as her son approached, and Sebek nodded in greeting. In stark contrast to his father, whose haggard breathing still rang out far behind them, his mother was the very definition of radiant; the cabin walls were lined with rows of glass lamps, each one burning a magic flame of an amber hue, and where their dim incandescence reached out and cupped her rosy face, her skin seemed to effuse its own milk white glow in return. She grabbed his arm and drew him flush against her, causing him to yelp in surprise, but he quickly regained his composure, and placed his trembling hands on her broad waist as she instructed.

They stood directly before the band, so close that Sebek could see his warped reflection in the gleaming brass of the saxophones; next to his doppelganger, within the piano's raised lid, was an umber copy of his mother, smiling gently at him. Turning his gaze, he watched as the singer stepped forth and clapped his hands, casting a simple spell to amplify his voice. The band members, thus signaled, each became animated in turn; one after another the horns swung in golden arcs up to their players' lips; the drummer and the pianist sat rigid in their seats; the guitarist and the bassist hovered their fingers over strings that seemed to vibrate in anticipation; finally, the singer, glancing around him, issued with a nod of his head a silent affirmation of their readiness, took a deep breath, and began to sing.

“Here they have a lot of fun

Puttin' trouble on the run

Man, you find the old and young

Twistin' the night away”

The dancers convened before the band immediately, some forming pairs, others choosing to shuffle on their own. The song called for a basic step, if danced solo: one need only to dig one's foot into the floor and twist it, as though "squashin' a damn bug", as Baul had once commented - with the elbows and hips swung in a similar, rhythmic fashion. Those who'd coupled up alternated this movement with a variety of turns, spins, and other footwork predominant in the swing style of dance. As they moved, the sound of their shoes scuffing and squeaking against the hardwood floor became a backing beat to the music.

The cabin was formed from stacked logs of hewn pine, affixed together with a mixture of mud and clay; the night's heat slipped through any miniscule gaps it could find in this rudimentary sealant - through the walls, the flooring, the roof - combining with the warmth that radiated from the mass of bodies packed together in that small space, so that the air within the building was as heavy and hot as the air without. Sebek's face quickly bloomed bright pink from the heat, and then dark red and splotchy; the impudent strands of hair he’d spent over half an hour in the bathroom slicking down fell limp over his eyes, heavy with perspiration. He understood at once his father's fatigued condition, and discarded the disgust he'd felt when he saw the man staggering to their table earlier, a newfound compassion taking its place.

“They're twistin', twistin'

Everybody's feelin' great

They're twistin', twistin'

They're twistin' the night away”

It was all Sebek could do to brace himself against his mother's thunderous exuberance. She swept him across the dancefloor as though he were a leaf caught up in a storm. His gaze shifted rapidly between her smiling face and his own shuffling feet, worried he might stumble and fall. Noticing this, Ma Zigvolt’s heavy body shook with laughter, her voice deep and rich like a dove’s call, and Sebek decided that he would never hear a more wonderful sound in his life. He soon forgot all his apprehensions; his shining white smile accompanied his reddened cheeks, and he nuzzled his face below the swell of his mother’s breast, as content as a nursing kitten.

A moment later, several of the dancers detached themselves from their partners and floated away. One of the Zigvolts' neighbors caught Sebek's mother, and his sister drifted over to take her place. He steadied himself against the thick trunk of her arm. She was wearing a pleated, pearl white dress, with a floral pattern sewn in golden thread along the neckline, the bottom falling down to just below her knees. The dress billowed out as she twirled, so that the hem unfurled around her like the petals of her namesake. Her pretty face was just as flushed as his, and her bright green eyes shone like pure jade; it was as though she had grown several years younger that night, no longer appearing to him as the young woman who had departed for college a year ago, but like the little girl of his infantile memories. They whirled and whirled, giggling until their stomachs hurt, as if sharing together in some great secret.

The floor groaned under a storm of stomping feet, the windows shook precipitously in their crudely cut frames. The crowd roared, voices low and high emerged from the swaying mass to accompany the singer at the end of each verse. Though there was not a drop of alcohol to be found in that cabin, many of them moved belligerently. They were intoxicated purely by the clang of the drums, the blare of the trumpets, the rumble of the singer's low voice - each of these more potent a drug to the fae than any other known substance on the planet.

At the back of the cabin, Lilia and Pa Zigvolt laughed and clapped along from their seats. Lilia's eyes darted around the room as he clapped, trying to locate his son, but the wall of dancers surging back and forth blocked his view.

“Lean up, lean back

Lean up, lean back

Watusi, now fly, now twist

They're twistin' the night away”

Outside, Silver sat alone on the doorstep. The sounds pouring out of the cabin washed over him in tumultuous waves. He'd heard many of the songs before, at prior dances, or on Pa Zigvolt's record player, and the familiarity of the music felt like a reassuring hand on his thin shoulders that night. He swayed gently to the beat, noticing at times how the slurred voices of the partygoers would rise above the band’s thunderous performance, and at one point he looked up and wondered if they had all grown drunk on the wine-dark sky.

He yawned loudly. The hot anger from his father’s recent injury still burned dimly in his stomach, and he wavered between his desire to snuff out the last few dying embers, or to let them fester still. He wasn’t used to this feeling, this irritation that clung to his tired flesh like a tick. His father had upset him before, over trivial matters that had seemed substantial to his child’s heart at the time – and once over something he understood was sincerely very grave – but he could not recall ever feeling truly angry towards the man.

All his life he'd thought himself plain and unmemorable, a pale, living blemish upon the fair folk and their preternatural beauty. But that day, when his father had revealed the truth to him, that was the first time in his life he'd ever felt ugly. The lone attestation to his maturation - all those miserable nights he'd spent in the wilderness as part of his training, often alone, other times accompanied by Sebek, cast hundreds of miles away from the clearing and all its conveniences, relying solely on his magical prowess, his wit, and a small set of tools to make it through the night - had all this time been a lie. Had any of his accomplishments been real? Had a single jot of his father's pride for him ever been genuine? What good was the torture of his training! What good was the endless exhaustion, the cold fear wrought by those awful, lonely nights, all the callouses and scars he'd been led to attain as a child and would now forever mar the alabaster of his flesh! To have ascended the black crags of the Forbidden Mountain, to have crossed endless deserts and forded raging rivers with trembling arms and legs, and yet to have failed to notice his father had been there with him the entire time! Or, perhaps he had noticed, perhaps he had noticed and merely pretended not to, to assuage the frightened little boy he now realized he truly was. Or, perhaps the man had secluded himself somewhere far beyond Silver's reach, perhaps he'd been observing him from behind the stars or the moon. But this last thought only wounded him further, as though even the heavenly bodies had betrayed him, too. He turned away from them now, not wishing for them to see him cry.

Humiliation is one of life's cruelest teachers, and that day it had taught Silver that nowhere in his house, nowhere in that land was he safe. Nowhere could he escape from the prison that was his father's gaze.

The dance proceeded languidly, drawing on as the stars drifted quietly through the night sky. Pa Zigvolt, having at last recovered from his wife's fervor, had left Lilia to go dance with his daughter. Alone, Lilia remained in his seat at the back of the cabin, tapping his feet on occasion, or humming along to the songs he recognized, but did not otherwise participate any further in the festivities. He tiredly declined each of his neighbors' offers to try their cakes and their pies, raising an eyebrow when he noticed, an hour into the party, that his own plate of cookies was still untouched. He angrily crunched one of the charcoal black disks - frowning not at its flavor, which he found as decadent as anything else his impotent taste buds could detect, but at his neighbors' general ignorance towards good food.

Upon exhausting their repertoire of fast-paced numbers, the band called for a short interlude, at which conclusion the singer cleared his throat and announced, “Alright, ladies and gents. We’ll be slowing things down a bit for these last few songs.” The band behind him reassembled itself; the guitarist and the bassist returned their instruments to their cases, trading them for a pair of violins, and a portion of the brass section retired entirely. The violins, perched proudly on their players shoulders, let out a long, plaintive note, and then the singer parted his lips once more.

His voice hitherto had been brash and booming, a perfect accompaniment to the vibrant music, but now it melted into something as smooth as velvet, flowing like a summer breeze over and around the audience, dripping into their hearts with the sweetness of honey. The thunder of shuffling feet was no more. There was only the slow swaying of couples - lovers with their partners, mothers and fathers with their children, and neighbors with their friends.

“I wish you bluebirds in the spring

To give your heart a song to sing

And then a kiss

But more than this

I wish you love”

Lilia perked up as the first verse concluded, his gaze darting immediately to the front of the cabin. He recognized the song; he'd first heard it decades ago, while on a weekend trip he'd taken to the Queendom of Roses. It was during a period of his life where he'd been "going through the motions", as he'd regularly complain to Baul, plagued incessantly by an ennui that so often strikes those transitioning into their twilight years. In desperate need of a distraction, he spontaneously booked a flight to the nearest country - he didn't care which one, only that the ticket was cheap enough to justify paying for a farmhand during his absence. On the evening of the first day of his trip, while having dinner in his hotel, he learned from the waiter that there was to be a jazz orchestra - or "big band", as the humans called it - hosted in the ballroom located on the establishment's ground floor, and that patrons could attend the performance for free. His interest piqued, he rented a suit from a local tailor, freshly pressed, and perfumed with a crisp eau de toilette he'd brought along with him, and ordered a bouquet of fresh roses sent to his room, the brightest of which he trimmed and placed in his lapel.

Fae and human relations had long cooled down to a congenial level by then, and he danced comfortably with a number of human partners that night, free from the vicious admonishments that had disturbed him on his prior travels. They danced the same dances the fae before him had been dancing all night, and the performance concluded with the same song the band at the front of the cabin was playing now. It was the only number he'd sat out for, not wishing to engage in the cumbersome intimacy that slow dances demanded, and he'd observed the other couples with great interest; they all swayed in a gentle unison, moving like the fields of tall grass that grew near the meadow before his home, so that he felt like he'd been cast under a trance while watching them. When he returned to Briar Valley later that week, he promptly disremembered everything about the song - its lyrics, its rhythm, its melody - his attention wrested first by his responsibilities on the homestead, and then by his young son.

It was a few months after his acquisition of Silver, when he and the child both were still suffering from the boy's interminable fits, for which Lilia had long exhausted all his patience and energy into locating a cure, that he finally recalled the song he'd once heard all those years ago. One morning, with the wailing infant in his arms, its little face bright red and puckered, he was despaired to find his usual consolation tactics - rocking the baby, swaddling it, offering it a moistened rag to suckle on - had all lost their effects, and he paced back and forth across the living room, debating if he should call on the Zigvolts again, or attempt to find an alternative solution on his own.

He was tired, both mentally and physically; the weeks lately had been passing him by in an endless, uniform blur, each day demarcated by whatever twilight hour the baby would surrender to its circadian needs and drift off to sleep. In the midst of his fatigued panic, something that had for decades been slumbering in the recesses of his mind finally awoke then; the lyrics and melody he'd long forgotten burst forth from the cerebral pit they’d been cast into, reassembling themselves as brilliantly as the molten birth of a newborn star. Parting his lips, his voice nigh higher than a shaky whisper, he began to sing, “I wish you bluebirds in the spring…”; by the end of the first verse, the child's loud cries had hushed into a quiet whimper; before the conclusion of the song, it had fallen fast asleep. It was like he'd discovered a panacea; from then on, any time Silver was upset or fearful, or on stormy nights when the thunder was too loud and the lightning too bright for him to be able to fall asleep, Lilia would gather the boy into his arms and sing to him, dispelling the child's every perturbation with the low hum of his voice.

Lilia's heart sank, realizing in that moment just how long it'd been since he'd last sung it for Silver, likely not for months, or for a year, even, and yet - he smiled; this was their song, and now here was the perfect chance to finally reconnect with his withdrawn and sullen child once more!

Trembling with excitement, he shot up from his seat. He fought his way through the throng of dancers until he found Silver, still sitting alone on the stoop outside. He grabbed the boy’s hand and pulled him back into the cabin, but Silver dug his heels into the ground as they reentered the crowd.

“Stop it, I don’t want to dance,” Silver said with a glower.

Lilia sighed. “Oh, come now. Can’t you entertain your old man just for one song?”

“I don’t want to dance!” Silver repeated louder, putting as much stress on each word as he could muster. Some of the partygoers turned to look at them, and their curious stares made him flush.

Lilia tugged on the boy’s arm and offered him a reassuring smile. “Just this one song, and then we'll go home and you can sulk all you want.”

Silver ripped Lilia’s hand away, his face contorting into an angry grimace. “I said stop it! You’re embarrassing me!”

“But Silver! This is-!”

He pushed past Lilia and stormed out the door. Outside, the sky and the ground below it had merged into a single, black swath, so that his white head contrasted like a point of light against it, appearing like a star floating through the darkness. Lilia watched him walk away from where he stood frozen in shock, his rejected hand still hanging in the air. He did not move as the dancers silently drifted all around him; most of them did not turn to look at him, as though he were nothing more than a small obstruction in a stream.

“I wish you shelter from the storm

A cozy fire to, to keep you warm

But most of all when snowflakes fall

I wish you love”

Later, long after the last notes of the music had faded away, Lilia whispered, “But this is our song.”

VI.

Silver awoke the next morning long after the songbirds had concluded their matinal performance. The world outside was grey and silent, and he stepped through it as quietly as the pine boughs brushing together in the wind. He moved with confidence, his eyes habitually adjusted to low light, and followed a patch of wild coreopsis and daylilies that spread lace-like on the ground before him. They appeared to have claimed for themselves all the meager drops of sunlight that percolated through the clouds, shining like gemstones in the dim darkness.

He'd slept poorly last night, plagued by dreams of the dance, and his thoughts once more drifted away from him while he plodded through his chores, traveling far beyond the clearing, down to the cabin just past the forest's edge, where they pooled within it alongside the stagnant summer heat. Last night at the dance, a warmth had flowed from his father and into him where his fingers had touched his arm, and again and again, as he lay in bed upon returning home, he'd felt it anew, felt it erupt into the hot rage that had coursed through his veins when he'd stormed out the door. A part of him was sorry to have upset the man, having now belatedly realized his harmless intentions, but a greater part of him was struck by a deep frustration - his body ached with it; it prickled at his skin as though he'd bathed in poison oak, so that more than once he felt his face twist into a scowl while he worked.

The animals, too, noticed his contortions. The chickens coalesced at his feet as he gathered their eggs; the pigs butted him gently as he refilled their trough; and the young calf, renown for its stubborn shyness, detached itself from its mother for once and loitered by his side, unsure of what to say. Silver sighed at all of this. His whole life he'd had a peculiar connection with animals. They would sense his vexations and his fears, and would come to him, unbidden, offering him their crude affections in a variety of forms - sometimes pinecones or hickory nuts covered with specks of leaflitter, other times poorly picked wildflowers still dangling with heavy roots, each of these gifts held with utmost tender in their mouths or little hands. But he had not the patience for their ministrations that day, and he dismissed the chickens and the pigs and the calf each with a scoff and a wave of his hand. The heifer, however, he failed to evade.

She was the eldest of the Vanrouge's livestock - a wise, if not shrewd, creature; only a year younger than Silver, they had tumbled across the clearing together in their infancy, and most of what he knew of animal husbandry he'd learned from her. That morning, she had refused to vacate the lean-to in protest of the dismal weather, and she was waiting for him there when he approached her with his milking pail and wooden stool in hand. Once seated, his hands and his attention preoccupied with stripping the foremilk from her teats, her broad body blocking the exit, she turned her heavy head towards him, and issued from her liquid eyes the same question that had been tormenting him all that morning: Are you alright? Her plaintive gaze struck him like an ambush. Ensnared, he fumblingly released her udder and stroked her sides, ensuring her through gritted teeth that he was perfectly fine. Satisfied by his response, she turned away, and leisurely resumed her meditations.

After finishing his chores, he returned to the cottage and forced down a tasteless bowl of oatmeal and some scraps of white bacon. His thoughts raced while he ate. Within his mind flew bits and pieces of anger, trepidation, worry, and sorrow, and these he took into his calloused hands and pressed together, trying to mold them into something he could understand, but they ultimately formed into an idea, instead. This discovery satiated him where his meager meal had not, and he smiled as he brought his dishes to the sink.

When Lilia stumbled out of his bedroom an hour later, half-asleep, and still clad in his dress shirt and pants from the night prior, he found Silver waiting for him by the front door, his canvas knapsack slung across his shoulders. As he began to yawn a greeting, Silver stiffened and cut him off, rapidly spitting out a gruff request to go to the Zigvolt's before turning to face him. His tone was so severe that his words struck Lilia's skin like a splash of ice water, causing him to sober immediately, and he numbly gave his permission with a slow nod of his head. They left together after Lilia got changed, Silver leading the way, Lilia trailing far behind him.

The grey curtain of the sky had pulled back to reveal an angry red sun behind it. Summer had reached its height then, and the entire valley was plainly sullen. The trees, seeming to sag in the heat, stood with their great branches drooping weakly; the songbirds concealed amongst them cycled between a restless dozing and a fitful agitation, too uncomfortable to sing. Silver, however, cut unphased through the stifling air. His hair blazed like white fire, and the shimmering light around him made him appear at times like a mirage to his lagging father. Upon reaching their destination, and after an exchange of curt farewells, Silver glanced behind him as he opened the front door, but all he saw was the thin line of the man's back receding into the haze of the forest.

Silver found Sebek upstairs in his bedroom, pouring over sheets of magical formulae spread out across the floor. He stepped gingerly into the room, being careful not to disturb any of Sebek's materials, announced himself with a throaty, "Hey", and then promptly launched into a recount of last night. He spoke so rapidly it felt like his words were slipping blindly off his tongue. He blinked away hot tears as he talked, his anger and his hurt boiling up each time he mentioned his father. When he finished, he sighed, and then began nibbling on his lips, unsure of what he next wished to say. Sebek waited patiently for him to continue.

Finally, after a tense pause, Silver grumbled, “He keeps treating me like I’m a dumb kid and It’s driving me nuts. I just dunno know what to do anymore.”

Sebek frowned. “And you’re certain you’ve cast aside all your childish whims?”

“Yeah,” Silver nodded solemnly.

“Hmm…” Sebek thought for a moment, and then his lips pulled up into a smirk. “Then I should think the solution is obvious, you twit!”

“And what’s that?”

Sebek crossed his arms. “Recall Sir Lilia’s and my grandfather’s old war stories. Whenever they carried out some grand feat or other, they’d be lavished with adoration upon their return home. Clearly, you simply need to accomplish some sort of heroic act, and then your father shall finally recognize the man that you’ve become.”

“Yeah…” Silver murmured, nodding his head again. “Yeah, I think you’re right, Sebek. That’s a great idea, thank you.”

The praise made Sebek swell like an adder. He puffed out his chest and jutted his chin. “Truly, you are fortuitous, Silver! To have a friend as clever as I!”

Silver smiled. “I sure am.”

Sebek was taller than Silver by a single, coveted inch. And he was stronger, too, heavy and thick everywhere his companion was gangly and thin. But still Silver was more skilled at magic and combat than him, and he could count on one hand the number of times he’d bested his fellow apprentice in battle. Silver held over Sebek's head something he would never be able to reach no matter how much taller he grew: namely, the fact that Silver was older.

Sebek was only twelve, still just a child. Adolescence fascinated him severely, having watched it radically transform his older brother and sister before his eyes, and he was jealous that Silver got to enjoy all its mysteries before he could. Every morning, gripped with excitement, he’d snatch the desk calendar from his bedside table with trembling hands, eager to see if it was finally the day when he, too, would be permitted to enter that strange and curious world of young adulthood. And every morning his little shoulders would sag in disappointment as he read the date. He’d begun wondering lately if it would ever be March 17th again, thinking that perhaps the planet sought to deny him his wish, and was intentionally dawdling in its flight around the sun. The idea of a great conspiracy pleased him, which helped to placate his usual disappointment.

Now presented with the chance to prove his capabilities before all the adults around them, he trembled with excitement. They fell immediately to their plotting. First, Sebek suggested they apprehend a robber or other trivial criminal, but Silver quickly dismissed the idea, doubting its feasibility. He additionally dismissed Sebek's propositions that they search for long lost treasure and other such artifacts for similar reasons. When Sebek mentioned they could contact Malleus for assistance, Silver balked. He hadn't seen the man all summer, and hadn't heard his name in weeks - the young prince had been preoccupied with helping their country recover from the aftermath of last month's monstrous storm, traveling from waterlogged village to waterlogged village, magically repairing homes and rejuvenating flooded farmlands wherever he went. Silver rejected this proposal, too, explaining that Malleus likely wouldn't have the time available to help them, and noting internally that he'd only betray their schemes to his father, anyways, and they quickly moved onto their next point of contestation. After much debate, and much grumbling and whining, and following a short intermission to enjoy some of Ma Zigvolt's lemon pie, Sebek finally proposed an idea that the both of them agreed on.

A rogue grizzly bear had been making a feast of the local livestock over the summer, a missing sow of the Zigvolts and a milk calf of their neighbors amongst its victims. Any attempt the past month to detain or eliminate it had ended in failure, and it'd been outwitting the small community unlike anything the elders had ever seen. Recently, for example, a family living down the road had attempted to capture it after it had devoured several of their chickens during one of its nightly jaunts. They placed a series of foothold traps around the coop, buried under leaf litter, and totally de-scented using a complex spell, and awoke the next morning to find their yard blanketed with bloody white feathers, not a single trap containing within its undisturbed jaws even one strand of the creature's hair. Silver and Sebek decided they would bring an end to the terror themselves.

Its massive tracks had last been spotted heading into the Obsidian Forest - a congested strip of towering firs, spruce, and pine trees located to the north of the Zigvolt's. The trees there grew so closely together that hardly any sunlight was able to pierce through the thick canopy, casting the land inside of it into an endless shadow. One had the feeling Nature had forgotten that place in her designs; it was quiet as something alive should not be. There was no birdsong during the day, and neither the soft gurgle of the river nor the wind brushing against the trees. Tawny owl cries could sometimes be heard emanating from it at night - lonely, sharp trills that rang out almost like a warning. The fae were not known for being a judicious people, but they were perceptive, able to detect on their skin the slightest gradations in magic and other immaterial energies that even the finest tuned devices could not, and they stayed far away from the forest in confidence of its dangers.

Silver, however, was a human, and Sebek, a half-fae, and they had long viewed the forest with a simple, innocent curiosity, both unable to sense the unseen forces that made their countrymen so cautious of that unknown realm. As such, and with Silver consumed with thoughts of his redemption, and Sebek thinking of little more than all the praise their great adventure would earn him, they boldly made plans to meet together early the next morning before their parents awoke. Lilia regularly went to bed shortly after 11 o'clock, and Silver would make his escape several hours later. He would cut a path straight to the Zigvolt's, avoiding the long, winding trail his father had erected for him through his land, and would rendezvous with Sebek behind their home. They talked until the sun set and shadows flooded the room, but neither moved to turn on the light, for the excitement in their hearts brightened that dark space better than any candle or lamp ever could. Silver returned home that evening feeling lighter than he had in weeks.

Silver dipped his hands into the kitchen basin and splashed some of the cold water onto his face. The windows above him were a pair of jet black panes, dotted with a smattering of stars that twinkled distantly like lightning bugs. He couldn't remember ever having seen a sky so desolate before, and he marveled at the miniscule pinpricks of light as he slowly dried his hands with a terry washcloth, anxiously aware of each and every sound he made.

He completed one final circuit throughout the house before leaving. Moving on his tiptoes, he double-checked that the covers were drawn over his bed and the pillows beneath them were positioned correctly, and that his father was still asleep, the last of which he ascertained with a furtive glance thrown inside the man's room. When he reached the front door, he sank back down on his heels and bent over to re-lace his boots.

He'd packed his knapsack before going to bed, filling it with a handheld lantern, his canteen and compass, an emergency kit, a small bag of cornmeal and a cast iron pan, and some pemmican and soda biscuits he'd wrapped in napkins. His crossbow hung snug over his shoulders; his favorite hunting knife was nestled deep into the leather sheath hanging from his belt. He and Sebek had agreed not to come back until their mission was fulfilled, and if they ran out of provisions before felling their quarry, they'd be well prepared to secure more.

The house breathed him out like a sigh. The moon unfurled overhead like an orchid in full bloom, vastly outshining the indolent stars hovering around it, and it bathed his surroundings in a pale film of argent light. The broad, black blocks of the cows and the pigs asleep in their enclosures jutted out from the darkness, and the black pyramid of the chicken coop rose silently above them. He crept past the dozing creatures and slipped into the woods. His legs instinctively followed the same trail he'd taken countless times before. His feet he lifted and placed methodically, stalking as he did when he hunted, fearing that the soft crackle of the twigs and leaves underneath him might awaken his sleeping father from hundreds of yards away.

Presently, the felled oak tree that marked the northernmost boundary of his father’s land appeared. Its withered roots splayed out like the gnarled fingers of an outstretched hand, their grasp extending far above his head. He reached out and rested his palm against the trunk. Its bark was soft and brittle from decay, blanketed with a thick layer of moss and algae. He knew not if his father had struck down this once mighty giant himself, or if it had merely collapsed in its old age, only that he was forbidden from passing by its sentinel gaze on his own. He grabbed onto the slippery bark and scrambled atop the trunk, letting out a shaky breath as he stood up.

All of the land before him stretched beyond the confines of his father's territory. Each and every bush and tree and creature, every shadow, every undefined mass lurking in the darkness there was to him an alien, a stranger. Somewhere further beyond lay the Zigvolt’s homestead, and further past that, the Obsidian Forest. The mountains erupted in the distance like a row of black fangs piercing the sky. Behind him waited the clearing and the cottage, the toolshed and the garden, the wheatfield and the pasture and the meadow – each of these forming another slat of his boyhood cradle, another barrier around the only world he'd ever truly known.

He lifted a trembling hand and groped at the air. He'd been expecting some sort of rebound from broaching his father's magical perimeter, but it did not come. He leapt off the trunk and landed on the ground with a loud crash. The sound echoed viciously all around him and yet - there was nothing. No harsh cry of his name. No thudding of feet racing up behind him. Nothing. Had he successfully escaped? Gasping, he rapidly swung his head this way and that, scanning his surroundings. Here was the copper blur of a fox slipping through the forest undergrowth, there was the heavy grey body of a raccoon lumbering slowly behind it. And here, again, the silver outline of a barn owl peering at him from the thicket yonder.

He could see now that these were no specters, no apparitions - they were living things, with eyes like his and beating hearts like his, things that drank in the same sweet night air as him. All his fears vanished - it was as though he'd finally let out a breath he never realized he'd been holding in all his life. Re-shouldering his bag, he set off once more, his heart pounding with excitement, his body coursing with the ecstasy of this newfound freedom. He swept through the forest like a beam of moonlight. The five miles to the Zigvolt's he crossed in what felt like five steps.

Why was I ever afraid of this place? he wondered. Why was I ever afraid of anything in my life?

At three o'clock in the morning, less than an hour after he'd left the clearing, Silver stepped onto the dirt road that led to the Zigvolt's farmhouse. Breathless from his record flight, he took in long, quiet gulps of air as he neared the agreed-upon rendezvous location - the left-side porch, for there were no windows there - his eyes flicking occasionally to his sides, and to his rear, and to the spider web of starlight draped across the cottonwoods towering around him, his steps falling lighter than even the cloven feet of a vigilant deer. He immediately noticed the small, darkened figure hovering by the porch, and watched as it detached itself from the greater mass of shadows, revealing itself to be Sebek. His friend flashed him a triumphant smile, his little fangs shining bright white in the darkness.

"You made it!"

"Hush!"

Sebek's hands flew over his mouth. "Sorry!" he yelped as he turned to look at the house, his heart racing, but the stalwart building gave no reaction, remaining stone still, silent. Through his fingers, he sheepishly repeated, this time quietly, "Sorry." He quickly readjusted his knapsack from where it'd slipped down his shoulder, then hurried to join Silver in the road.

Silver rolled his eyes, grinning.

They padded cautiously through the darkness, their feet kicking up small clouds of dust from the earth beneath them, each one rising like an ochre breath before dissolving a moment later into the blue-black of the night. After walking for a length, Sebek pointed out from a row of identical log cabins his neighbor's home - namely, the one who'd recently tried to apprehend the beast after it'd feasted on their flock. They circled around back, ducking as they passed the lower story windows, and found, by a pair of crooked fence posts surrounding a small vegetable garden, a set of lumbering bear tracks that trailed away due North. Sebek crouched down and placed his hand in one of the prints. The massive groove was as broad as a dinner plate, so that even when he splayed and stretched out his hand as wide as he could, his fingertips stopped several inches short from the rim. The indentations from the claw marks looked like a set of daggers had been dragged through the ground. Silver swallowed thickly as he observed this. Tugging at Sebek's sleeve, he whispered hoarsely, "Come on, let's go."

The tracks led them further and deeper into the bowels of the adjacent woodland. Neither spoke, both of them gripped with a nervous excitement that bordered at times on trepidation. Occasionally, Silver's hands reached behind him for his crossbow, finding reassurance in the solidity of its metal stock. Sebek, too, had taken with him the children's rifle he'd received for his birthday last year. Purchased by his father while traveling overseas for a dental conference, he'd gloated joyfully to Silver upon receiving it, and had been treating it with the utmost care the past year, polishing it daily, and keeping it secured in a case he kept hidden underneath his bed. The fall prior, Silver had accompanied Sebek and his father when they'd gone duck hunting at the river and had received a turn using the weapon, with both boys dispatching several birds, each. Though Silver was amazed at its great strength, and though he found it a very lovely piece of craftsmanship, indeed, the sound of it firing hurt his ears, and he secretly hoped they wouldn't have to use it.

The trees gradually thinned out and fell away, receding into a tall, grassy meadow that, in turn, soon bowed down and terminated before another stretch of forest. But the shadowy structure looming before them was somehow different than all the other natural places they'd ever come across in their lives. It was darker than the night, silent; foreboding in a way that left them wondering if it was about to reach out a gnarled, earthen hand and strike them. This was the Obsidian Forest, and the bear's tracks disappeared within it.

The boys, having simultaneously come to a standstill at the edge of the forest, their hearts pounding, exchanged a tense look, then turned back to face the verdant bulwark. The moonlight fell like a curtain before them; Silver took Sebek's larger hand into his own and they stepped through it together. The air within the forest was several degrees cooler than without, and the shock of the cold was like jumping into the river on a warm Summer day. Sebek shook off Silver's hand with a grunt, and once freed, zipped his jacket and pulled up his collar. Silver, ignoring his friend's indignation, extracted his lantern from his bag, and lit it with a simple spell. He held up the device and slowly swung it back and forth it as he turned around.

All the light in the world was now contained within Silver's hands; everything around them was only an abstraction of what they understood to be total darkness. The copper glow from his lantern struck the surrounding fir trees, dimly illuminating the bone white bark covering their emaciated trunks. Their scraggly canopies converged together and formed a single, continuous, vegetative wall that strangled the moonlight within its matted foliage. The air was heavy with the clean smell of pine, underlaid with the rich musk of a humus that had been forming undisturbed for centuries. It was quiet, as the adults had described, but not completely devoid of sound - they could hear, emanating like an invisible vapor from the leaf litter, the silver song of crickets drawing their bows across their instruments; the wind had dropped its voice to a whisper, but they could hear this, too, threading through any microscopic gaps it could find in the leafy barrier overhead; and as they walked, there was the soft crunch of their boots sinking into the plush carpet of pine needles underfoot.

After a moment's consideration, Silver declared, "It's no big deal," and Sebek nodded mutely in agreement.

They'd been misled countless times before by the adults in their lives, having been warned of dangers they'd later discovered were, in truth, harmless in nature, such as cracking one's knuckles, or staying up until the early hours of the morning, and the Obsidian Forest they now added to this ever-growing list. But they remained cautious - Sebek walked with his hand looped around his rifle's strap, and Silver's eyes followed wherever the roaming light of his lantern touched the earth.

Their abscondment from home and their entry into the forest having now been completed, the final phase of their plan would be simple: they needed only to track the bear to its den, and kill it. This would not be unlike their usual training exercises, during which Lilia would deposit them in a remote location - often high atop some distant mountain range, or in the middle of a barren ravine - and they would be forced to survive on their own for days or weeks at a time, typically with an additional command to secure a target of Lilia's choosing, such as a wild animal, or an object he'd hidden deep in the wilderness. They had felled various species of direbeast before, both together, and on their own, and a bear would be no different. Knowing the creature's massive body would be too heavy for them to drag out of the forest on their own, they planned to cut off one of its paws to bring back as proof of their accomplishment, and would come back later to retrieve the rest, with assistance from the adults. Bear meat was a popular delicacy in the valley, and after the carcass was carved and distributed amongst the local community, Silver was determined to request a bottle of its golden oil - renowned for its anti-inflammatory properties - as a gift for his father.

Silver swept his lantern low over the ground, and with its pale glow as their beacon, they followed the tracks deep into the forest. They would occasionally notice movement in the darkness, fleeting figures and shapes that their nervous minds would automatically warp into the hulking mass of the bear, and each time, as they would begin to reach for their weapons, they would realize a moment later they'd stumbled upon nothing more than a small raccoon or an opossum on the prowl for food. They jumped at every such encounter, and at every unexpected noise that entered their peripheral - a heavy branch Sebek mistakenly stepped on rang out like a gunshot; a tawny owl's sudden cry boomed like a crack of thunder. For hours they proceeded tremulously; fear had been stalking them all that time like a shadow, and as the veil of darkness surrounding them lifted and gave way to daybreak, it vanished together with the night. They could not see the sun's yellow face above them, but they could feel its dappled light falling down on them like a warm and gentle rain. The canopy, which had hitherto been a solid, dark green streak, was now dotted with flashes of a vibrant cerulean blue.

With the night's vanquishment, they steadily grew more and more confident, feeling now important - older, even. They walked with their heads held high and their backs erect, pumping their arms and swinging their legs as though on the march. They kicked up cedar chips and pine needles as they walked, scattering them onto the ground like birdshot. The blood coursed through their veins hot as liquor; the temptation of glory drove them on like a whip. Each child began to envision himself seated like a king in the Zigvolt's parlor, regaling this tale to their neighbors and family, and joining a long line of men who had come before them - heroes and explorers, great and mighty conquerors of the strange and unknown.

They would stop - intermittently, and only for brief sprints - to rest, to drink water, or to re-lace their boots, and would then immediately resume their march as zealously as before. They hurried as fast as their legs could carry them, knowing that the creature would likely have returned to its den by that point, and that it would be fast asleep in preparation of its nightly activities - tracking it down before it awoke that evening would be vital to their success.

When they came across a noticeable gap in the canopy - a hole ripped open where a pine tree had collapsed, through which they caught their first, true glimpse of the sky since that morning - they agreed to take another short break. Amongst the various survival skills that Lilia had taught them was the ability to derive the time, and working together, they erected a rudimentary sundial using some branches they gathered from the ground. They calculated that it was presently midmorning, and that they must have covered several miles since entering the forest. They remained there for a few minutes longer, Silver sipping quietly from his canteen, Sebek dismantling their earthen clock. Languid clouds passed through the gap overhead. Silver recalled how, every winter, the pond near his home would freeze over, and yet he could still see fish swimming undisturbed beneath the thick panel of ice. He wondered if this was how they felt, watching the world pass by them silently up above. As he wiped his dripping mouth with his sleeve, he glanced over, and noticed that Sebek was frowning.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm getting hungry, that's all."

Silver put his canteen away. "You brought some food with you, right?"

"Of course I did!" Sebek bristled. He slid off his knapsack and rummaged inside it, cataloging each of his belongings out loud, more so to himself, than to the half-listening Silver.

"I've got biscuits and cornbread, some jerky, some apples..."

"Uh-huh," Silver said, stifling a yawn.

"My water bottle, of course. Aaannnd..." He reached deep inside, smiling when he felt his fingers touch what he'd been looking for.

"Some of my mother's snickerdoodles, freshly baked." He pulled out a brown paper bag, shaking it with a grin. "Sissy has been hogging them, but I was able to pilfer a few without her noticing." He poured several of the cookies onto his hand before returning the bag to his knapsack.

"Would you like one?"

"Sure, thanks."

Silver gingerly took one of the cookies from Sebek's outstretched hand and bit into it with a sigh. The soft dough crumbled in his mouth deliciously, each piece dissolving like a sugar cube on his tongue. The almost overwhelming smell of cinnamon, the faint hint of vanilla, the rich, buttery aftertaste, all made him think of Ma Zigvolt. He'd overheard her lamenting the loss of the family's sow a few weeks ago - she loved each of their livestock like her children, and the bear's cunning attacks had wounded her pride and her heart, both. He imagined, upon their return home, how her face would break into a smile when they told her what they'd done, presenting the news to her as though it were a freshly picked bouquet. The image was somehow sweeter than the cookie itself, and he licked the sugary crumbs off his fingers, tasting little more than a delicious contentment.

They resumed walking. For over an hour the forest stretched on unchanging and uninterrupted, before it began to angle sharply downhill, transforming eventually into a semi-exposed slope. The incline was so severe they had to descend on their hands and knees, slowly zigzagging from one tree to the next, at times using the exposed roots and fallen branches to rappel downwards. The plateau they arrived at was bisected by a meager creek, appearing as blue and as thin as the veins running down their arms. They lay on their stomachs and drank deeply from it, bringing the crystalline water to their mouths with their hands. Silver shook his head like a dog when he was finished, spraying ice cold drops everywhere, and Sebek pushed him away with a laugh. A school of minnows, each one a silver grain of rice, darted away at the commotion, but the water striders on the surface above continued their skating, unaffected. They washed their hands and refilled their canteens before moving on.

The sunlight filtering down through the forest canopy gradually became more intense as the morning rolled into afternoon. Silver and Sebek had been talking with one another at length ever since daybreak - discussing their plans and their upcoming glory, and pointing out all the flora and fauna around them - and their conversations slowed to a comfortable lull as the air grew increasingly warmer. Unable to tell the time without a further break in the canopy, one hour blended seamlessly into the other, so that occasionally, when they blinked, they would open their eyes to a world remarkably brighter and warmer than the one they'd been in just a moment before.

Late in the afternoon, as they picked their way through a pleasantly mild Summer haze, Sebek suddenly stopped walking and threw out his arm, blocking Silver. His bright green eyes bore laser-like into the distance; his whole body stiffened like a bird-dog alerting to game.

Unmoving, he stated plainly, "I do believe we've been here before."

Silver blinked. "Huh?"

"That spruce tree yonder, with all the moss on it," Sebek said, now pointing, "I've seen it before."

Silver studied the tree indicated for several moments, but could not determine how it differed from any of the other dozen trees surrounding it. Shrugging, he said, "It probably just looks like one we passed earlier. Tons of trees have moss on them."

"I know they do!" Sebek huffed, gritting his teeth. "But that patch there's shaped like a star. That's how I recognized it."

Silver looked again. The patch of moss did indeed resemble a child's simple depiction of a five-pointed star, but his mind refused to accept what it had just heard.

"That's impossible," he murmured, shaking his head. "We've just been following the bear's tracks this whole time. How could we..."

Silver frowned. His incredulity obscured his mind like an eclipse. As he stared at the bear's tracks - crisscrossing the ground in some areas, and issued in a straight line in others - they began to swirl before his eyes, forming a nameless thing that Silver knew he'd seen before, and after a terse moment of contemplation, he finally recalled where.

He thought of a time, years ago, when he and his father had spent the whole Summer attempting to snare a devious buck. The animal had pillaged their vegetable garden every night for weeks, tearing up their sweet potatoes and corn, and even daring to defile Lilia's prized tomato plants, and had avoided all their various traps and attempts to trail it. One day, after sitting together for several hours in a cramped tree stand, they were able to witness its genius. After passing directly before them, it disappeared for approximately fifteen minutes, then doubled back, retraced its steps to just before the stand, and cut into the forest in the opposite direction, at a sharp angle, so that its path formed a "V" when viewed from above. Even the most experienced hunter - whether human or animal or fae - would likely follow the original set of tracks, which would appear - and smell - fresher, having been laid down twice, and by the time the error was realized, the quarry would have long escaped. The buck, as if having calculated all of this, strode off that day waving the chestnut flag of its tail in victory.

And now here again was that same whirlpool of footprints, now here again was that same irrefutable display of animal cunning. The eclipse passed his mind; the light of his revelation nearly blinded him - they must have been going in circles for hours.

His eyes flew wide open; his heart thundered so viciously he wondered for a moment if it was about to burst. His eyes darted wildly about him, as though hoping to find some form of consolation hidden amongst the leaf litter. And then, in a moment of clarity, he recalled a new trick he'd recently learned, the very same one he now knew adults had been using on him and other children all his life: he lied.

"It's fine, Sebek. I know exactly where we're going." He turned away, so that his friend would not see him nervously biting his lip. He pulled out his compass and held it out this way and that, making a show of orienting himself.

"The bear just circled around here to try and shake us off its trail. We'll find it if we keep going..." His eyes scanned the ground, trying to deduce which set of tracks looked the freshest. "That way."

Sebek, frowning sternly, opened his mouth, and then closed it again. After a moment, his face relaxed, and he slowly replied, "If you insist..."

Silver let out a shaky breath. Sebek's immediate acquiescence, which he at other times would only earn after much coaxing and arguing and persuasion, excited him. He experienced once more the feeling of being much older and more important than he really was, and wondered for a moment if this was the true pleasure of being an adult. He made a note to emphasize this part of the story when he'd later recount it to his father - how he'd outwitted the terrible beast where all others before him had failed, and how he'd led himself and Sebek through what was sure to be their darkest hour. They would return home heroes, indeed!

"Come on, this way."

Thus continuing their journey, they picked a new trail in the direction Silver had indicated. Portions of the sky peeking through the canopy slowly turned a golden orange, others light pink or red, forming a mosaic of the sunset. The bear would now likely be active again, and out roaming the forest with them, and when Sebek mentioned this, Silver hurriedly explained that they could still locate its den in the meantime, and lay in wait for it to return, to which Sebek, still in an unusually agreeable mood, only nodded. Their enthusiasm from that morning waned together with the fading sunlight. They plodded on halfheartedly for hours; identical trees and shrubs and rocks extended all around them for miles. They nibbled on their sticks of jerky and pemmican as they walked, breaking off and exchanging pieces of dried meat with each other in lieu of conversation. Sebek's apples and corn bread and most of their biscuits they soon finished off, too.

Finally, evening gave way to night, and the world around them was plunged once more into darkness. As Silver fished in his bag for his lantern, Sebek suggested they quit for the day and set up camp, but Silver adamantly disagreed.

"Just a little bit further and then we'll stop," he said, struggling to relight the lantern as he spoke. "The den's gotta be close by."

"Hmph!"

And again, an hour later:

"We're almost there, I promise."

"Hmph!"

They slogged on wearily. Periodically, Silver would command they stop, and, taking out his compass from his pocket, would double-check the accuracy of their orientation, then indicate with a satisfactory grunt that they could continue moving. They did not rest, otherwise. Low hills and mounds they climbed felt to their leaden legs like mountains; meager creeks and streams they crossed seemed to stretch on for miles. The trees, crowding down on them, reached out and scratched at their arms and legs and faces with wooden claws as sharp as needles. Foxes and barn owls screamed out from deep within the forest, and their fatigued minds, instinctually recalling legends of all the various monsters that lurk within such darkness, heard amongst their mangled cries the laughter of evil witches, and the terrible roars of bogeymen and other foul beasts. The stars shone coldly above them, ignorant of their torment.

Eventually, the line of the bear's tracks duplicated, and then further split into a third and a fourth set, all at various points overlapping and crisscrossing the first one. Silver felt his heart sink further and further at the discovery of each new set, and when they all converged and disappeared into a tangled copse of towering spruce and fir trees, he felt it stop moving entirely. Stopping, he drew the lantern in a wide arc before him; his steady gaze swept across the rows of identical giants like the roaming beam of a lighthouse, moving slowly, searching them, daring them to offer him what he was looking for, as though conducting a silent interrogation. His pale watercolor eyes, always so soft, hardened into steel. Sebek became at once afraid of him.

"Silver, what are you-"

"Quiet!" Silver hissed, waving him off with his free hand, his other hand tightening its grip on the lantern until his knuckles bloomed white.

And then - he saw it.

There, deep within the copse, standing just off to the left, partly obscured by the long shadows cast by its brothers, was the same spruce tree from earlier that day, wearing the same star-shaped patch of moss upon its wooden breast. They'd simply gone in another, massive circle around the forest.

"Damnit!" Silver spat. "Damnit, damnit, damnit!"

"Silver!" Sebek whined, but Silver ignored him.

He ripped his compass from his pocket and held it before him with trembling hands. Its needle pointed North. He spun around 180 degrees, yet still it pointed North; he spun a quarter further - again, North. His jaw dropped. No matter which way he faced or how he held the compass, its needle only spun and spun, racing in time with his pounding heart. He threw it to the ground in disgust.

His adam's apple bobbed precipitously. "I swear I..."

"You see! I told you so!" Sebek huffed, stamping his foot. "We're lost!"

"Shut up!" Silver growled. "I need to think."

For several, long hours leading up to that point, Sebek had been languishing under a terrible secret, the truth of which was that he had known, ever since he'd first glimpsed that verdant star, that they were utterly, and completely, lost. However, he did not wish to embarrass his friend, for although he found pleasure in showing off his strength and his intellect, and in being able to do things that other children his age could not, he was not a cruel boy, and had no interest in causing others pain, for which reason he'd decided against questioning Silver's judgment. He had trusted that Silver would architect for them some miraculous solution, just as he always had done any time they'd encounter an issue when training, but Silver had failed, and now Sebek was scared. The volcanic plug that was his faith in his friend having been destroyed, he finally erupted. "I don't like this! I want to go home!" he cried, his voice quivering. "This isn't fun anymore!"

"Fun?" Silver spat. "We didn't come all the way out here to have fun, Sebek!"

He stormed towards the other boy; the pine needles snapped and popped like firecrackers under his feet. His voice rose to a crackling scream. "We came out here so I could get my dad to trust me! And now it's all ruined!"

Sebek sniffled, cowering. His eyes shone with the threat of crystal tears. Silver's anger shot out of him as rapidly as it had come.

"Everything's ruined..."

Their venture was over, and what had they to show for it but their knobby little elbows and knees, scraped and bruised and smeared with blood; their filthy clothing, torn and stained with their tears; their ruddy, dirt-smeared faces; and their eyes, red and swollen from crying? What were they, but two scared little children, who would now sit down and fold their hands, prim and proper, and wait for their parents to come wipe their faces and clean up their mess? There would be no glory, no praise; no retribution against Silver's father. He half-expected the man to suddenly emerge from the shadows and begin chastising him.

Silver picked up his compass, wiped it against his shirt, and shoved it back into his pocket. He quickly glanced at Sebek, then ducked his head again, ashamed. Staring at his shoes, he grunted, "Sorry."

Drawing his sleeve across his soiled face, Sebek grumbled through the fabric an acceptance of his apology. He then turned and stepped behind the wall of foliage to collect himself in private.

Silver waited for him. He rolled a pinecone back and forth under his boot for a few moments before gently kicking it away. The air buzzed with the sounds of nature's nocturnal choir; its leading members, a cloister of tree frogs hidden amongst the copse before him - each one a piece of peridot, emerald, or jade - sang quietly, joining their crystal voices with the crickets and katydids plucking their chitinous strings. He could hear Sebek's hushed sobs filtering through to him, carried upon the silver chorus like a pine needle pulled down a stream. He wished to go join him in his anguish, to throw his arms around his friend and to weep with him, but the shock of his failure had drained his body of all its frustrations, leaving him numb. He knew there would be time to mourn later; for now, his only focus would be on getting through the night.

Once Sebek returned, his eyes and his face cleaned and dry, if not still inflamed, Silver cleared his throat and said, "Remember what my father would always tell us: Best thing to do if you get lost..."

"...is to sit your ass down, and stay put." Sebek finished with a shaky sigh.

Silver set down his lantern and knapsack, and after taking out his emergency kit and placing it to the side, began clearing out a broad perimeter in the leaf litter, attempting to erect a small fire pit. Sebek, as if suddenly roused from a stupor, dropped all of his gear and moved automatically to help him. They labored slowly, dragging their long, weary arms apelike by their sides, fighting weakly against a sea of pine needles that seemed to never end. Their calf muscles, having been deflated of all their adrenaline and fear, burned with each of their languid movements. Ten minutes later, with the ground now barren, and their skin freshly pricked and bleeding, Silver used his magic to ignite the pile of tinder they'd gathered, then turned to rummage through his belongings once again. Beside him, Sebek flung himself against his knapsack and kicked out his legs with a groan. He pillowed his heavy head under his arms and observed the fire silently. The flames dyed his face in a wash of vermilion, elongating the shadows under his eyes.

Silver glanced at him as he removed the emergency blanket from his kit, still disturbed by his outburst.

"I brought some corn meal with me. We can make some hoe cakes or something later, if you want," he offered gently.

Sebek sniffled again. "Ok."

Silver circled their meager camp, searching for a place to hang the blanket, ultimately deciding upon the outstretched branch of a sagging pine tree. One side of the blanket was coated with a bright orange material, which he positioned facing away from them.

"That's to help people find us, right?" Sebek asked, pulling out the remaining biscuits from his bag.

"Right," Silver replied without looking back. He straightened out the blanket and frowned.

If anyone's even looking for us.

VII.

Had you stayed behind at the Vanrouge's cottage after Silver embarked on his misadventures, electing to observe Lilia as he went about his day, up to - and including - his ultimate reconciliation with his son, then you would have witnessed the following:

Lilia awoke, as usual, shortly past 7 a.m. He did not own an alarm clock, preferring instead to let his body awaken naturally, gently roused by the golden sunlight filtering through his curtains. He lay in bed for a few moments, wrapped in the warm pleasantries of his blankets and his lingering dreams and the ebbing darkness, yawning leisurely, listening to the song thrushes chittering softly outside his window. Then, with a snap of his fingers, the curtains drew back and fixed themselves into place. That morning was a fine one. Where the sky had been grey and congested the day prior, it had since been painted over in the brightest blue, reminiscent of a stalk of larkspur, with not a single cloud in sight.

For five minutes Lilia indulged in this his usual morning pleasure, before, like clockwork, his reality struck him - he suddenly remembered every vexing instance of his son's tumultuous behavior from the past few months; felt anew all the dull aches and pains tugging at his limbs, felt the impending exasperation of the long list of chores that awaited him that day; each recollection pricked at his mind and his heart as though they were bee stings. He threw off his blankets and sat up with a scowl.

After grabbing a cup of tea, he settled himself at the dining table together with a gardening catalog that had arrived in the mail recently. He flipped through it halfheartedly, circling with a pen any seeds and supplies he planned to purchase for fall, his gaze occasionally drifting away from the pages of colorful produce, wandering over to and slipping out of the kitchen and living room windows. He thus swept through a third of the catalog before noticing the animals' absence in the yard, realizing a moment later that he had yet to see Silver that morning, too. Presuming the boy had slept in again, he waited half an hour further before checking his room, at which point a dull uneasiness had begun to form in his stomach.

The darkness in the little room yawned cavernously as Lilia pushed open the door. The heavy linen curtains were drawn tightly shut; the comforter was pulled up flush against the headboard of Silver's bed, a long lump protruding motionlessly underneath it. His uneasiness exploding all at once in a poisonous concern, Lilia flew across the room in rapid, broad strides, alighting to his son's bedside in an instant. He whispered, his voice slightly trembling, "Are you feeling alright, sweetheart?", and, after receiving no response, reached out to stroke the head of the lump, his lips pulling into a frown as the mass gave buoyantly under his hand. He wrenched back the blankets, stifling a cry as a mound of pillows tumbled out before him. He gingerly picked up one of the pillows and dropped it to the floor again, as though expecting to find his child concealed beneath it.

"Silver!" he shouted, glancing wildly around him, but the only response was his own disgruntled echo.

Frowning again, he put his hands on his hips. Where the hell is he?

Upon completing a thorough search of Silver's room - including his closet, his chest, his hamper, and underneath his bed - Lilia swept through the rest of the house and the root cellar, opening every door, and upturning every piece of furniture he could find, and when this, too, proved fruitless, he continued his efforts outside. He looked in the pig pen and in the chicken coop, checked behind the cow's lean-to and inside the shed, and, for good measure, even stopped to peer inside the empty flower pots in the garden. But each of these places and their inhabitants, whether living or inanimate, offered him no leads, and rejected all his inquiries.

Standing in the middle of the garden, he crossed his arms and considered all the oddities he'd noted that morning. Several items from the house were missing, including Silver's knapsack and crossbow, as well as some candles and other supplies from the kitchen, and the trick with the pillows was one he'd used himself in his youth for late-night abscondments from the castle. All of these observations he could trace back to only one conclusion: This was all just some sort of childish prank.

"That little...!" Lilia grunted, balling his fists. He turned and stepped towards the gate, intending to continue his search in the surrounding woodland, but the sound of the cow's mournful lowing stopped him in his tracks. None of the animals had been fed or watered yet, and the garden was in desperate need of another weeding. After a brief deliberation, he decided he would tend to Silver's chores in his absence, and then, he would return to the cottage, and he would wait - he would not indulge the boy in his games.

Any fatigue he'd felt that morning was immediately flushed out of his body and replaced with a venomous rage. He swept across the clearing like a tempest; the animals scattered before him in terror. He tore open their bags of scratch and grain and threw them to the ground, careless of the waste. He stormed back to the garden and began ripping up the tangled mass of weeds suffocating the ground, tossing muck-covered fistfuls of crabgrass and dandelions over the fence; the pigs, having recovered quickly from their fright, dove noisily for the mess.

His mind raced, his thoughts jumping rapidly between all the different ways Silver's return could occur. Likely, he would try to sneak into the house later that night, coming in either through one of the windows, up through the cellar. Or maybe, made shameless by his caper, he would stroll through the front door, kick off his shoes, and throw his bag to the ground, moving with the bold swagger of a yearling buck. Lilia would be ready for him either way. He would wait for him in the living room, on the couch, facing the door, his arms crossed, his eyes narrowed and blazing. If the boy tried to sneak in, Lilia would hear him. If he came in through the front door, Lilia would see him. If he cried, so be it. If he whined and begged for forgiveness, Lilia would not give it to him. He'd had enough of the child's attitude, his insolence, his unwillingness to talk, his newfound proclivity to brush off each and every act of kindness Lilia tried to offer to him. Perhaps his own parental failures truly were to blame for their ongoing disputes, but he would not allow this blatant defiance to continue a moment longer. He would ground Silver - for a week, at a minimum - double his training exercises, forbid him from seeing Sebek- He crushed a dandelion in his fist. And have him do all the weeding that month! An impish grin flashed across his face as he plotted. The sun beat down on him reproachfully.

Hours later, frustrated and in pain, his clothes caked with dried mud and bits and pieces of crabgrass, he marched back to the cottage and threw himself face-first onto the sofa. He lay there for a few moments, unmoving, before a sharp spasm in his calf forced him to slowly, wearily, sit up. Palpating the now throbbing muscle, he realized in that moment just how much his anger had blinded him. Why didn't I just fucking use magic to do all that? Another stream of profanity poured from his lips.

He sat watching the hour hand of the wall clock slowly inch forward. He rose periodically, to glance out the windows, to refill his tea, to pace back and forth across the living room, his gaze fixed on the front door, his thoughts slowly congealing into the perfect, incendiary speech with which he'd lash the boy upon his return. But Silver did not return, not as noon rolled around, nor as Lilia prepared their dinner. By that evening, the molten rage in his body had cooled, hardening into a tense knot of worry.

Shortly before sunset, just as he'd risen to check the kitchen windows once more, a commotion sounded outside - something heavy was pounding across the clearing, heading rapidly for the cottage. Lilia leapt from the sofa and raced to the door, throwing it open with a scowl, the first in the long list of scathing remarks he'd been preparing for Silver all that afternoon poised on his lips, but both his anger and his relief evaporated when he saw that it was only Baul, rushing in long strides down the dirt path leading to the cottage. As the other man approached him and opened his mouth to speak, Lilia put up a hand to silence him. "Uh-uh, I don't have time for this today. If you're here for-"

"I'm not!" Baul huffed, tiredly swatting Lilia's hand away. "Please just listen to me, General."

Lilia crossed his arms and jut his chin, indicating for Baul to continue.

"You seen Seb today?"

"Sebek? No, I haven't. Why-..." His words trailed off, the answer to his question instantly forming in his mind.

"He's not... Don't tell me you can't find him?"

"We can't," Baul sighed. "We tore up the whole damn house, looked down by the river, all through the woods. Got some of the neighbors out helping us look. We figured he mighta snuck out to go play with your boy, so I came by to check."

"Sorry, but no, I haven't seen any sign of him today." Looking away, Lilia muttered, "...And Silver's gone, too, actually."

"Huh?" Baul's eyes widened in surprise. "Have you looked for him?"

"Of course I have!" Lilia scoffed. "I checked the whole clearing twice over. I'm thinking he just ran off somewhere because I..."

Baul raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, mirroring Lilia.

Lilia rolled his eyes. "He blew up at me the other night and probably just ran off for a while to get back at me. You know how kids are."

His apparent apathy inflamed Baul. He stalked over to Lilia, the dense column of his body twitching as he loomed over his former superior.

"That's it," he snarled, his nostrils flaring like an enraged bull's. "You're coming with me."

"Wha-"

Moving at a speed that belied his great size, Baul threw his arms around Lilia, caging the smaller man in his vice grip. One moment, they were standing in the clearing; the next, the ground disappeared beneath their feet, and the world exploded into kaleidoscopic streaks of color rushing all around them. Caught off guard, Lilia hardly had time to close his eyes before they landed on solid ground again a few seconds later.

Baul released him carelessly and walked away. Lilia slowly staggered after him, clutching his head, his vision swimming.

His quivering eyes concentrated first on the red beam towering before them, then moved to the smaller white block standing beside it. A sudden shift in the breeze carried with it the clean smell of cottonwood. He knew this place - they'd hurtled five miles away to the Zigvolt's home.

"Fucking warn me before you do that!" he hissed. Over the ringing of his ears, his mind vaguely registered several voices - some talking softly, and at least one other crying, but he could not discern amidst his blurry surroundings whom they belonged to.

Baul asked if there'd been any sign of Sebek while he was gone.

A broad green shape came forward and congealed rapidly into Ma Zigovlt. She was dressed in her dental scrubs, her dark green hair pulled back in a fraying ponytail. "No! Nothing!" she cried while pacing back and forth.

The two shapes behind her then revealed themselves to be Pa Zigvolt, also in his work attire, and Iris, sitting together on the steps of the front porch. Iris was weeping quietly, her head buried in her father's neck.

Turning to Lilia, Pa Zigvolt explained that Iris had been left alone to watch her brother that day, and it wasn't until late in the afternoon that she'd discovered him missing, having gone to check his room after he'd failed to appear for both breakfast and lunch. When a frantic search of the house and the backyard proved fruitless, she rushed into town and alerted the elder Zigvolts, who promptly canceled all their appointments for that afternoon to help her look. They rallied the neighbors, forming several search parties to sweep through the surrounding forests and the river, and after several hours of unsuccessful canvassing, it was ultimately Baul who suggested they inquire by the Vanrouge's.

Pa Zigvolt turned again to his daughter, gently squeezed her arm, and whispered something in her ear. She nodded and raised her head from his shoulder, allowing him to descend down the stairs. The family cat, which had been dozing elsewhere on the porch, promptly stood up, stretched, and padded over to Iris, taking her father's place. She scooped the animal into her arms and held it against her chest. She blamed herself bitterly for not noticing sooner her little brother was gone, and had been inconsolable for hours.

"Thank you so much for coming to help, Lilia." Pa Zigvolt said, shaking Lilia's limp hand. He glanced behind Lilia, then behind Baul, before asking, confused, "Where's Silver?"

"He's, erm..." Lilia hesitated, fearing another unpleasant reaction. "He's actually missing, too."

But the Zigvolt parents simply exchanged a silent look with one another, and Ma Zigvolt's voice was only gentle as she asked him to explain.

Lilia proceeded to recount his own experiences that morning, and by the time he finished speaking, the small group was in agreement that the boys had likely snuck away together. As they loitered in the front yard, heatedly discussing their next plan of action, a group of neighbors approached. One of them, an elderly fae known for his avid hunting, stepped forward, waving his hand.

"We found their tracks!"

"You did!? Where!?" Pa Zigvolt asked, his eyes shining in excitement - this was their first lead all day.

"Yessir, two little sets of feet headin' due North," the neighbor explained leisurely, scratching his arm. "We followed 'em a long ways and think we know where they're at. That's the good news."

Their hearts plummeted at his next words.

"Bad news is it looks like they went right into the Obsidian Forest."

The forest was still, the night air punctuated at times by the sound of Baul softly cursing at the branches and bushes impeding their way.

“I swear, when I find that boy,” he growled as he smacked away another insolent branch, “Ooh, I swear! When I find him, I’m gonna…!”

Lilia rolled his eyes. Baul had never so much as laid an unkind finger on any of his children or grandchildren, and his grumbled threats never resulted in anything more than a glare or a scowl or a frown.

They'd split up, Baul and Lilia forming one search party, Ma and Pa Zigvolt another, each covering their own half of the forest. The Zigvolt's neighbors remained at the house with Iris, ready to send out an alert should the boys return on their own, partly to keep the still despondent girl company, and partly out of a reluctance to come with them.

And so Lilia and Baul, and Ma and Pa Zigvolt, elsewhere, had been canvassing the forest for several hours, intermittently calling out Silver and Sebek's names, with no response other than cricket song or the occasional owl's cry. The bear's tracks - several sets of them, as it were, overlapping one another and forever winding like a loamy, coiled serpent - provided their only guideline, as the plush leaf litter hadn't absorbed the children's much lighter prints.

However, to their great luck - and to Silver and Sebek's misfortune - the boys had misoriented themselves as soon as they'd stepped foot into the forest, for as they'd trudged through the early morning darkness, their senses and their judgment obscured both by the endless shadows and the heavy fear in their hearts, they had failed to notice the numerous times they'd looped around and mistakenly followed a different set of tracks, some which had been laid earlier that week, others at the beginning of the month. The combination of the forest's perfect uniformity, its paucity of light, and its impregnable secrecy had been leading its diminutive invaders astray from the very beginning. As such, the children had only wandered a few miserable miles during their entire journey, and Baul and Lilia did not have to walk very long to find them.

Presently, the direction of the wind shifted, bringing with it the heavy smell of smoke; Lilia and Baul automatically moved to follow it. The spectral grey tendrils, unable to fully penetrate the canopy, congealed, hanging in a bloated cloud above them, through which murky haze the red light of a fire glowed softly in the distance. The men picked up their pace as the light grew stronger; Lilia soon rushed ahead of Baul, breaking into a run. But it was not the fire's glow that urged him on, that guided him, that drew him through that endless darkness - it was the moonlight of Silver's white hair, brighter and dearer to him than any star, that was his beacon.

"Silver!" Lilia shouted.

"Who's there!?" Silver shouted back, whipping his head around. Spotting the two men, his jaw dropped, and he turned to shake Sebek, who'd been dozing on his shoulder. The boys rose, Silver quickly, Sebek groggily, rubbing his eyes in confusion. Before Silver could take more than a few stumbling steps, Lilia ran to him and pulled him into his arms, and for the first time that summer, Silver allowed his father to embrace him. He ducked his head into Lilia’s neck, felt the man's pulse thundering against his skin, felt in turn as his own tempestuous heartbeat finally calmed after so many long hours of strange terror. Overwhelmed, Silver opened his mouth, and he cried.

Watching the pair, Sebek, the poor creature, threw a nervous glance at his grandfather - the man’s stony face was anger itself. The child felt wretched, and he wished for nothing more than to be held. He drifted towards Silver and Lilia, his wet eyes downcast, feeling as guilty as a whipped hound approaching its master. Before he could begin his pleas, Lilia opened his arms and pulled the trembling boy into a hug. He was at once unburdened, and his relieved sobs soon joined Silver’s.

For Silver and Sebek, the men were their heroes in that moment, their guardian angels - two mighty pillars of light within the black maw of that abominable forest. Go ahead, weary children, dry the pearls of your tears against their shining wings. But do not forget – the Lord’s angels must deliver judgment and salvation in turn. Look now as the one takes up his golden scale, and the other his blade.

The interrogation proceeded as follows:

Although the boys had, while waiting for their rescue, vowed not to reveal the true purpose of their mission, fearing the truth would only worsen Silver's predicament, they had failed to devise an appropriate excuse for their disappearance. Caught off guard, they first claimed that they'd merely wandered into the forest on accident, after having lost their bearings in the woodland behind the Zigvolt's property, but Lilia dismissed the claim at once, knowing his apprentices would never dare be so careless.

The boys retracted this statement, drew a few paces away to convene privately, and then offered a new story, one of a monster that had chased them all the way out into the forest.

“What kind of monster?” Baul pressed.

“A scary one?” Sebek shrugged.

A jury of nosy tawny owls convened spontaneously in the trees around them. They balked wordlessly at the children's flimsy defense.

Just then, and by chance, while shaking his head in frustration, Baul noticed that Sebek's hands were trembling. The movement was so subtle, so minor, that it was only perceptible when the breeze shifted towards them, so that the light from the campfire hit the child's hands just so. Baul nudged Lilia with his elbow and jut his chin towards the boy, indicating his tremors. With both men now focusing their gazes fully on Sebek, Lilia asked once more why the boys had gone into the forest; Sebek crumbled immediately under their wrath.

“W-We just… We wanted to go hunt the bear that’s been killing off the livestock so we…”

“…So you snuck off without telling anyone?” Lilia asked.

“Yeah…”

“It’s my fault, sir,” Silver said, stepping in front of Sebek.

“What?” Lilia and Baul replied in unison.

“I was the one who wanted to go. Sebek didn’t wanna come but I made him. Please don’t get mad at him.”

“Silver!” Sebek squeaked. He opened his mouth to object, but Silver silenced him with a pointed glare.

Baul crossed his arms and looked over Silver, directing his gaze at his grandson. “Is that true, Seb?”

“…Y-Yes, sir.”

“God damnit,” Baul hissed. “You damn kids had us tearing up this whole fucking forest just for-”

“Baul, please,” Lilia sighed. “It’s been a long day. Let’s just get the kids back home.”

“Fine!” Baul threw his hands up and stomped off, muttering under his breath.

Lilia clicked his tongue and turned to the children. “You two, put out your campfire and follow us - and be quick. I’ll light the way with my magic.” Sebek and Silver’s pale faces shone faintly in the cold darkness, as white as the moon. They nodded dully, stunned from Baul’s outburst.

Lilia sprinted down the path Baul had taken, calling after the green and white hurricane crashing through the trees ahead.

“Baul, wait!”

“What!” Baul shouted without looking back.

“If you’d just stop for one second so I can apologize to you-”

“Apologize for what!?”

“For Silver!”

Baul finally stopped.

“I’m sorry, General, but what in the actual hell are you talking about?”

Lilia shook his head in exasperation. “Are you kidding me? I’m trying to apologize for what my child did. He caused you and your family a lot of trouble, so I-”

“Oh, for crying out loud. I was standing right next to you when he said sorry. He doesn’t need his damn pappy covering for his ass.”

“I understand that. But regardless, I need to take responsibility as his parent.”

The thick pillar of Baul’s neck tensed as he worked his jaw. “…You really do still think he’s just a little kid, don’t you?”

“What?”

“I said,” he growled, taking a heavy step forward, “you really still think he’s just a little kid. Don’t you?”

“Yes? He’s only thirteen, Baul.”

Baul blinked at him slowly. “You know, I’ll be honest with you. The day you brought that kid home and said you were going to raise him, I thought that was the dumbest thing I’d ever heard in my entire life. But that right there takes the cake.”

Lilia pinched the bridge of his nose. Clinging onto his last, frayed strand of patience, he hissed out through gritted teeth, “Would you please enlighten me to what it is you’re trying to get at?”

Baul spat at Lilia’s feet. His yellow-green eyes blazed like canary diamonds. “Your boy’s growing up, General. He’s becoming a man. The sooner you accept that, the better.”

Lilia scoffed. “You think I don’t know that? I just-”

“Bullshit! You know what I bet?" Baul licked his lips. "I bet you haven't even noticed he's already taller than you now, huh. All that fucking yapping you do, bragging about each and every little fucking thing he does, and not once have I ever heard you mention it.”

Lilia stared at him incredulously. He recognized the taunt - it was the same one Baul had attempted to provoke him with earlier that Summer, but as Lilia opened his mouth to rebuke him, he quickly closed it again, suddenly overcome by an almost paralyzing sense of apprehension. He's not taller than me... right? He tried to recall the last time he'd looked at Silver - truly looked at him, not in anger or in contempt; not as an object of his frustration nor the progenitor of his grievances; not begging him to please tell him what was wrong and to just talk to him already. He realized with a start it must've been months ago, before the sudden change in Silver's demeanor, perhaps around his birthday, or earlier, for he saw nothing more than abstract glimpses flash before his mind's eye, of Silver's back turned to him, of Silver storming away from him, enraged; of Silver snapping at him with heavy tears welling up in his opaline eyes. But still- No, it wasn't possible, he would've noticed. For what were the past thirteen years of him centering his entire life around the child if he had not? What right had he to call himself the boy's father, to claim the child as his son, if he had failed to notice something so monumental? His son was just a young boy with cherubic little cheeks and bright blue-grey eyes, who would beam at him with the most precious little smile - half-crooked, his thin lips pressed into a rosy crescent moon, and that was the truth. 

“That's not...”

Baul roared over him, drowning out the rest of his halfhearted response. “And now he’s sneaking off and lying to you and taking the blame for shit he didn’t do, and you honestly still think he’s just some dumb little brat who needs his pappy to wipe his ass for him!”

Lilia winced at each of his words, as though they were daggers striking his skin. Noticing the other man's sudden trepidation, Baul paused.

"Honestly, you just..." Slowly, he began summoning the patience one required when attempting to convince Lilia Vanrouge of his own failings, and as his anger dissipated, he thought suddenly of his daughter. His expression softened, settling halfway between a scowl and a lopsided smile; his voice softened, too. “I know how much you're hurting here, but my god, you seriously need to get your head out of your ass.”

Baul continued speaking, but Lilia could no longer hear him, could not wrest his attention away from the uneasiness still gnawing painfully at his heart.

Just then, Silver and Sebek emerged from the surrounding thicket, as if beckoned by Lilia's anguish. His gaze flew instantly towards his son.

The boy's face was filthy, covered in a greasy film of sweat and grime and dirt, with pine needles stuck to his forehead and leaf litter entangled in his hair, and a thin line of blood on his cheek where a branch had scratched him. The steely blue-grey eyes peering at him from above the sharpened cheeks evoked an almost hawkish appearance. He was angular, scrawny, gaunt - nigh spectral in the pale glow of the lantern in his hands. Who was this gangly youth? This stranger? Had his mental image of his son been all this time nothing more than an exaggerated caricature, a farce cobbled together months ago, or years, even?

“We got the campfire put out," Silver said, panting, trying to catch his breath. As he raised his arm and drew his sleeve across his wet brow, the pale circle of lamplight suddenly fell upon his father's face. His skin blazed bone white, and his bloodless lips, parted slightly, were frozen in a silent gasp, as though he were dazed; he looked cadaverous. Silver gulped and took a step back. "...Is everything okay?”

"Silver, stand up straight." Lilia's voice curled out into the chill night air like a fine mist, softer than a whisper, yet the pure animosity with which he spoke betrayed the threat underlying his words, so that the boy immediately drew himself to his full height without a second thought.

Lilia stumbled mechanically towards Silver and cupped his face in his hands, swept his eyes down from his chin up to his lips, to his nose, tilted his head back to meet the boy's gaze- Ah! There it was, Lilia felt it, felt the microscopic contractions in the taught fibers of his neck as he yawned his head back, hardly more than a few degrees, scarcely lifting it above his eye level, could almost hear them as they cried out in pain, and yet - he was looking up at his son! Lilia's palms suddenly grew cold despite the warm flesh they cradled; his hands moved on their own, weakly pressing into the face, as if making one final, feeble, desperate attempt to mold it into the infantile visage beginning to rapidly crumble inside his mind. He choked back a quiet sob and dropped his arms to his sides, receding a few steps away, visibly distraught. The whole torturous act had lasted but a mere moment, during which time Silver had stood petrified, as though caught in a trance. He now sluggishly raised his own hand and traced his cheek where his father had touched him. He shivered; his skin felt like ice.

Baul went to Lilia and spoke at him rapidly in fae language – talking too quickly for Sebek’s mind to translate, and wholly incomprehensible to Silver’s – before turning around and walking off.

Lilia stared at Silver again, opened his mouth after a moment, then closed it, deciding he would talk to the boy later, in private. Taking a deep breath, he began telling the children to follow him, but was interrupted by a thunderous crash off in the distance. The three of them pointed their gazes simultaneously to where the sound had erupted - a freshly felled pine tree, behind which stood a black shadow so towering the boys feared for a moment that it was the bear come to ambush them.

However, to their great relief, it was only Ma Zigvolt who stepped out into their lamplight, casually shaking off the pine dust from her hands. Upon spotting her son, her face broke immediately into a wide smile, while Sebek's, in turn, scrunched up as he began to cry.

“Mama!” Sebek wailed.

Ma Zigvolt rushed over and engulfed his small body between her arms. He nearly disappeared underneath her frame. “Oh, thank goodness!” she heaved, swaying gently as the tight coil of her nerves slowly unwound.

“Is everything… Okay…?” Pa Zigvolt panted as he emerged from the darkness of the forest a moment later. He coughed into his sleeve, and then gasped once he heard Sebek’s quiet sniffles floating out from the cage of his wife’s arms. The long search had exhausted him, had strangled his lungs and poisoned his mind with fear, but the boy’s hushed sobs invigorated something within him, rousing a force in his heart greater than even the weariness hanging heavy from his limbs like iron chains. He lurched forward, breathing heavily, taking one shaky step after another, stumbling as he covered a short distance that to him felt like miles. At last, he lifted his leaden arms and wrapped them as far as he could around his wife’s quivering back, collapsing into her with a sigh.

“Oh, thank goodness! Oh, thank goodness!” Ma Zigvolt whispered again and again.

Lilia and Silver watched them from afar. Silver soon looked away, awkwardness prickling at his skin.

Presently, Lilia cleared his throat, announced loudly that he and Silver would be leaving, and, after waiting a moment for Pa Zigvolt to wave them off, he turned to his son, and motioned with his head that it was time to go home.

Lilia threw himself on the living room sofa with a mangled groan. He and Silver had reached the clearing shortly after midnight, their long trip culminating in several grueling miles of Lilia carrying his exhausted son on his back, trudging almost bent in half for over an hour. He'd set aside Silver's portion of dinner that evening, a plate of sausage links and biscuits that had since grown cold, and this Silver bolted gratefully before excusing himself to take a much needed bath. Consumed with a sudden restlessness, Lilia busied himself while he waited, returning the animals to their enclosures, washing the pile of dishes festering in the kitchen sink, and straightening out the piles of books and toys and other various knick-knacks strewn across the living room. He went to rap his hand on the bathroom door after fifteen minutes had passed, concerned Silver might have fallen asleep in the tub, and, after receiving a quiet response, had staggered back to the living room, where his own fatigue finally struck him.

He clenched and unclenched his hands nervously, occasionally wincing as hot tendrils of pain shot up through his spine and flared out into hips. His thoughts flit rapidly between each of his aching limbs, between the anger, the fear, the sorrow that clouded his mind. While they were walking back home, he could hear Baul's words repeating over and over again, overlapping with Ma Zigvolt's remarks from a few weeks prior, and mixing together with his own, anguished thoughts that had paralyzed him as he'd finally realized how much his son had changed. A part of him, a part that he'd for so long fought to viciously stamp out and silence, knew that Baul was right, and that Ma Zigvolt was right, too. He realized now he just hadn't wanted to admit it.

When Silver at last emerged from the bathroom and came to sit beside Lilia, he did not react at first. The boy - the youth, his child, his son, the stranger - stared at him silently. His eyes, though sharper and slightly narrower than how Lilia remembered them, still bore that same, auroral hue that had first captivated him so many years ago, and he found himself being slowly drawn out of his frantic ruminations as he met Silver's gaze.

Folding his hands in his laps, he took a deep breath, and asked, "Alright, so what's the real reason you did all this? Because you were mad at me?

Silver fidgeted in his seat and nibbled at his lip. His eyes darted to a corner of the living room. "No. I mean, yeah, I was mad at you."

"Over what happened at the dance?"

Silver's gaze jumped to the other corner. "The dance and... other stuff."

Lilia recalled immediately all their quarreling from the past few months, the long days that would pass without Silver uttering even a single word to him, and the even longer nights where he could hear him quietly crying in his room next door. His heart ached for the boy. He reached out to drape his hand over Silver's. “Baby, you know I-“

Silver swatted his hand away and retreated further into his side of the sofa. “You’re doing it again!” he whined, his voice cracking.

"Doing what?"

"You keep treating me like a little kid!"

"You-!" Lilia swallowed his retort with a grimace. Exhaling slowly, he admitted grudgingly, "You're right, I am. And I'm sorry. I'll try to stop doing that."

Silver's jaw dropped open. He couldn't recall his father ever having conceded to him so easily before, if at all. Quickly recovering from his shock, he sat up straight and said, "Umm- I mean, yeah! Please do that." He crossed his arms and nodded sagely, with the air of one who has successfully negotiated for terms that are completely in one's favor.

"Now, I can understand you ran off because of what's been going on recently, but what about your behavior from the past few months?"

Silver uncrossed his arms and tilted his head quizzically. Noticing his confusion, Lilia explained he meant the very same quarrels that Silver had previously mentioned, as well as his sudden adoption of the moniker "Father".

"I dunno." Silver shrugged his shoulders. "I mean, the "Father" thing's 'cause Sebek told me about it a while ago."

Lilia blinked. "Told you about what?"

“He told me… Ah, wait.” Silver straightened his back and puffed out his chest, pointing his eyebrows sharply together like an arrowhead. “He said, “Silver! Why do you continue to refer to your father as “Papa”!? Are you not turning thirteen years old soon? It’s positively childish!”” Deflating into his usual stoic expression, he continued, “And then he told me if I wanted to be a real knight, then I need to hurry and grow up already.”

Biting back an incredulous snort, Lilia summoned as much tenderness his weary body could muster, and said, smiling, "Listen, you don't have to do everything Sebek tells you to, you know. You can call me 'Papa' all you want. If somebody doesn't like that, that's their problem."

"But I don't..." Silver looked away again. His voice dropped to a whisper, as though hoping that if he spoke his next words quietly, they would hurt his father less. "I don't want to."

Lilia's smile vanished. "You don't?"

"Uh-uh."

"...But why?"

"I just..." Silver frowned. "I don't know. You keep asking why I do this and that, but I don't know how to explain it. It's like every time I try to catch my thoughts, they up and fly away from me. And then you just keep on badgering me more and I just get so mad."

Silver had expressed similar sentiments numerous times before over the past few months, but although there were no stunning revelations to be found in his words, no breakthroughs to be made in understanding the transformation in his demeanor, Lilia, for the first time, listened to him. Lilia had stumbled blindly through that whole Summer, feeling as though he were trying to walk across quicksand, ever fearful that the next blowout with his son, that the next new symptom of his strange ailment would lead to some sort of irrevocable, irreparable damage to their relationship, but as he listened, he felt the ground beneath his feet finally, slowly begin to solidify at last.

They quietly conversed for half an hour longer, at which point Silver began to yawn and rub at his eyes, nodding off a few minutes later. Lilia stood up, intending to carry the boy to his room, only to immediately drop down onto the sofa again with a pained cry. Rubbing deep circles into his lower back with one hand, he leaned over and gently shook Silver awake with the other.

"Go on and get to bed. We can iron out your punishment some other time."

"Okay." Silver rose slowly, dragging his feet as he plodded down the hall. Standing before his door, he turned around and stammered, "I love you," before disappearing into his room.

"I love you, too." Lilia replied hoarsely, fighting to speak past the lump in his throat.

With a grunt, he lifted his leaden legs onto the sofa and lay down flat on his back, sighing pleasantly as the worst of his pain began to subside. For over an hour he drifted in and out of a restless slumber, after which he stiffly sat up, and, this time rising without issue, limped quietly across the floor and down the hallway to Silver's room, steadying himself with a quivering hand against the wall.

Silver lay fast asleep, sprawled out face down atop his barren mattress, his blankets and several of his pillows still scattered across the floor from Lilia's frantic search that morning. A soft smile tugged at Lilia's lips. He must've passed out as soon as he lay down, the poor thing. Not trusting he'd be able to stand up straight again should he bend over in his present state, he instead cast a cleaning spell, and watched as the blankets and discarded pillows silently rose from the floor and arranged themselves neatly into place on Silver's bed. His eyes flicked back to Silver as the emerald sparks of his magic began to fade away, but the boy did not stir.

He cupped Silver's cheek, swept his thumb across the warm skin, moved his hand up to his hair, and began picking out the bits and pieces of pine needles and leaf litter Silver had been too exhausted to comb out while in the bath. His thoughts began to wander again while he fussed with a difficult knot.

Loss had accompanied him all his life; it was as regular to him as the changing of the seasons, as inevitable as the mighty storm that had swept across their nation and all the other natural disasters that would someday follow. But when he found Silver, he'd believed, selfishly, foolishly, stubbornly, that here was something, the only other thing besides his own heart, that he would be able to keep for himself, that life could not take away from him. Perhaps therein lay the reason why he had tried for so long to remain ignorant of his son's maturation, why he had fought so desperately to prevent the boy from growing up, from growing away from him. But he knew now that he'd been wrong, for he had split his heart in half long ago - long before he had ever left the castle. One half he had given to Malleus; the other lay before him now, curled up against the palm of his hand, breathing quietly, the moon's silver glow shining faintly in his hair.

And though he did not have a name for it, he could feel as something new was beginning to slip away from him once again, just as the soft strands of moonlight slipped through his fingers.

“And that's okay,” Lilia breathed out with a shudder. “It'll be okay. And I’ll try. I’ll let go.”

Lilia brought his folding stool into the garden and set it down amidst a semi-circle of empty buckets and baskets he'd arranged between two rows of low bushes, and, after sitting down gingerly, careful not to agitate his back, began picking off handfuls of snap beans from the bush before him. It was the second week of August - time for the Summer harvest at last, and when finished here, he would move onto the squash and eggplants next, then the bell peppers and tomatoes, then the watermelon and strawberries; the sweet potatoes he would leave for Silver to dig up on his own. Having recently satisfied the terms of his punishment, during which period he'd spent several weeks completing additional training exercises and chores every day, Lilia had granted him a short holiday, and he presently lay fast asleep in bed. Though working on his own, he moved quickly, and filled two of his buckets by the time Silver awoke later that morning and approached him in the garden.

He'd already combed his hair and gotten changed, with his knapsack slung comfortably across his shoulder. He'd grown another inch in the past month, and his face seemed miles away as Lilia looked up at him.

“Father, may I visit the Zigvolts?" he said plainly, studying his father's face. "The robins told me Sebek got a new astronomy book he’s been wanting to show me.”

Lilia dragged his sleeve across his wet forehead and nodded. "That's fine. Will you be having dinner there?”

“No, I don’t plan to.”

"Alright."

While Lilia returned to his picking, Silver shifted uncertainly from one foot to the other, his gaze jumping between his father and the forest path beyond their home. After a moment, he licked his lips and asked, “Did you, uh, want me to wait for you?”

Lilia shook his head. He looked up at his son again and smiled.

“No, you go on without me.”

Song credits

“Twistin’ the Night Away” written and recorded by Sam Cooke

“I Wish You Love” recorded by Sam Cooke, written by Albert Beach

Title is taken from the Hannah Montana song by the same name.

Just for the sake of transparency, some parts of this fic took very heavy inspiration from Marjorie Kinnan Rawling's book "The Yearling", particularly the first two chapters.

[chargoeson]

Hello! Writeblr re-Introduction

hiiiii pals! I made my writeblr introduction last year and it was such a good intro to the community! but as time goes on and organizations fall i want to re-introduce myself and my writing without any associations.

my name is Charlotte, but you can call me Char as well. She/Her, I'm 25, queer, and live in the Pacific Northwest of the United States.

I write literary fiction with a special affection for surrealism and dream-like vibes. I do have a couple soft fantasy and short story projects that I've made posts for, but I'll stick to my litfic on this pinned post as they are my passion projects!

themes I often explore in these books are: isolation, anxiety, complex relationships between mothers and daughters, bisexuality, winter, dissociation, and overall rural misery!

I have a bachelor's degree in English Language and Literature and paid special attention to Gothic and Romantic movements.

on top of writing, I also love quilting/sewing, collage making, playing Stardew Valley and Baldur's Gate 3, and doing DIY home renovations.

Reading is my passion, even more so than writing! My favorite authors are Murakami, Mieko Kawakami, the Bronte sisters, Iain Reid, Han Kang, and Ottessa Moshfegh.

my three main WIPS can stand alone but are technically a trilogy. read about them after the cut!

The Ballad of a Blue Whale-- This novella was written in November, 2023. It follows Maren Hara, a recent college graduate who has to move back in with her father, a rigid and unfeeling doctor. To cope with the emotional distance of her father and the slow dissolution of her relationships she begins walking through the night. Both to be away from home and removed from her current life. It’s during these walks she finds a jazz bar in an adjoining city. The patrons, and especially the owner of this bar, captivate her. At the core of the narrative is her inability to open herself to others, and how attempts to do so are physically and mentally cataclysmic, although necessary. As she finds herself, she loses both her old life and this interim space. 

I Want to Build a Home with You-- This novel is in the first draft/development stage. I began in December, 2023. Its events follow Leonie Richards as she walks her grandmother, famed novelist Hellen Barnaby, through the final weeks of her life then inherits her home. Leonie, once an infamous performance artist, decides to settle into a life of portrait painting for a small but wealthy pool of clients left to her by her grandmother. Her old peers. After Hellen’s death, Leonie’s final connections to the outside world are her strange clients, the art store clerk, and her uncle Ox who is embittered by his lack of inheritance. The longer she stays in the home, the stranger things seem to be. She wakes up ragged, dirt under her fingernails with memories of a rock formation in the forest she has never seen. Forest spirits or generational curse, there is a limerence threatening her life. 

No Glory-- Special Agent Seth Barnaby has been tasked with investigating the mysterious, possibly cult-associated murders of young women across the state, but this one could be the key. To decode the newest set of clues he teams up with Director of Anthropology Dr. Miel Noh and they get into the field. The small town misleads them at every turn, from an odd boy named Calf to the corpse of a girl who was staying in his family’s motel. With Seth’s checkered past he recognizes the patterns, but time is of the essence and if they don’t find answers another woman could die. With no way out, they return to the only lead Seth knows: an institutionalized man who confessed to the first murder that brought Seth to the FBI years ago.

and that's a wrap! thank you for reading, would love to reconnect with writers from last year as well as new friends. feel free to slide into my asks, follow, or join the tag list.

tags: @annlillyjose @coffeeandcalligraphy @subtlefires @belovedviolence @onomatopiya @thelaughingstag

[defrosted69]

Is it alright to fall in love with you?

(New Jeans Hanni fanfic)

****Since you guys liked Hanni so much, I made another one so here you go Yohohoho****

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They say that a beautiful flower will emerge from it's beautiful stem once it fulfilled its cycle. The sun will welcome the blossom and let it shine where everyone can see the beauty of the flower. Bees and butterfly will come by to say hello to greet the flower. Everything will slow down as their eyes will land to its beautiful structure. Even the rain will pay homage to its Beauty by helping it add aesthetic to the petals that shows eternal beauty. Photographers would be at awe and would make the surroundings a photoshoot.

All glory would be given to the flower but there are those who got stuck in the middle of the process and froze on what to do next. Some wither away unable to withstand the harsh punishment of mother nature as they fall to the ground slowly getting buried and forgotten as they are not there to witness the blooming of their fellow peers who transcended to become a beautiful flower.

Just like in life, many people doesn't bloom to their full potential and they stagnate on their own state not knowing what to do to take that next step. And sadly, you ended up like them.

You have to wonder, how did life turn out like this for you. Everything was so optimistic and bright for you growing up as you have the vision and passion to reach your dreams but slowly, they began to crumble down. All that sunshine was Just your delusion thinking you can take care of it when in reality, life hit you hard like a bullet train. It didn't stop and it continued to torment your life every hour, every minute, every second and every breath you take. Everything had fallen apart from you.

That smile you once had held and showed off to was gone. Infront of your mirror was a tired and empty face that showed no enthusiasm about anything. That fire you once had that you hoped to keep burning was washed in an instant. Rekindling that fire felt so pitiful for you but nothing, nothing ever made that fire back on.

Recalling it now, you couldn't even remember the last time that you genuinely felt happy. Your days felt like a repetitive cycle that just doesn't end and it felt exhausting. But weirdly enough, you feel like keeping that cycle on repeat is your comfort area, like there was no point for you to add something in that cycle because it will just ruin everything that was schedule for you. Society and your personality made it hard for you to make friends entering college.

Gone where the days when you were making cool and enjoyable memories down town wit your bikes. There was no more time for you to mess around and have fun as the sunsets peak through the valley's. The word fun didn't exist anymore on your vocabulary and was replaced with work and money.

Your friends from high school was slowly becoming the person they dreamed off enjoying the labor of their hardship while for you? What's there to enjoy? You were working on a 7 to 8 hour work hour and sometime even have to go to overtime with less pay than what they promised. It was tiring.

So tiring.

You opened your apartment room and you were greeted by the familiar small space that you have been accustomed to. Today was the worst day for you. Job really felt like shit and your girlfriend just dumped you like it was nothing. The 4 years of loving each other, giving everything to her was all drained down the pipe for nothing. You gave all her what you can but it seems it wasn't enough.

You gave her chocolates, yet someone gave her 5 different boxes of imported sweets.

You gave her flowers, yet someone rented a whole flower shop for her on her birthday.

You skipped your days just to attend her needs, yet someone gave her what every person wanted.

You gave her a teddy bear, yet someone gifted her a whole toy store.

You spend a lot for her than yourself, yet someone offered the same but didn't even lost any penny.

You gave her your world, yet someone gifted her the universe.

You laid on your bed thinking of what you did to have this kind of life. Everything was just turning into shit day by day and nothing postive was coming out of your efforts to be better. It has come to the point that you found yourself thinking about going back to where you were truly happy.

"I just want to he happy!! What do I have to do to get my happiness back! What more can I do?!"

You thought to yourself as the alcohol has finally started to kick in your system. Your vision was turning blurry as the ceiling began dancing in perspective. The world was suddenly spinning around you yet you didn't have the energy to move up. You endure the dizziness and eventually the alcohol calmed down and so was your body.

.

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KNOCK

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KNOCK

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KNOCK

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"Anybody home?"

You woke up upon an unfamiliar voice. The sun was already peaking out of your room as your curtains danced slowly with the soft passing breeze that passed by. You yawned a little and stretched your arms out waking your whole body up. Your legs felt weak at the moment yet you were able to reel yourself to open the door as the sun's light blinded you for a few seconds.

"Who is it? Hmm?"

You blinked a couple times after your vision was finally back. You couldn't see anyone infront of you but your brain clarified you that there was indeed someone who called out to you-

"I'm down here Mister."

An irritated voice called out to you as you lowered your view and there you saw a highschool kid glaring at you. She looked at you as if you made the biggest crime known to mankind but you blinked a couple of times making sure you're awake.

"You're not a ghoul are you? Am I dead?"

This wasn't kindly received as the girl glared at you even more and harshly handed you a pot. You were caught off guard by her harsh action but you manage to catch the pot on your chest with your hands. The girl then began stomping her small feet away from you and mumbling the words

"Rude Ahjussi....."

You were left stunned not knowing what to do or say as you looked at the pot and there was a note attached to its cover.

"We're your new neighbors. And we made some Kinchi stew for you as our gift for you. Please treat us well"

You were honestly confused by their action because there was no way that people still do stuff like this especially in this new era of society. But if someone with a kind heart was offering you a gift then who are you to decline right?

Your day started off rather well with a free breakfast and you can even call it a hangover dish which helped you a lot since you were so DRUNK last night. You somehow ended up finishing the pot of food unconsciously because you were just taking and taking that you realized that the food was delicious. It somehow reminded you off home in sense but nonetheless, you had to return the favor for giving you such delicious food for breakfast.

You washed their pot and checked your wallet if you were still financially okay or on the brink of loaning. Luckily for you, you have enough money to pay the neighbors kindness but your mood suddenly took a dip seeing the picture of you and your girlfriend, or well, in this case, your Ex-girlfriend. You sighed and closed your wallet as you prepared yourself to buy some ingredients.

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"Yow Pham Hanni, why do you look like your pissed or something?"

"Don't start with me Minji."

Hanni snarled at her best friend who raised her hands up in surrender. Kim Minji has been best friends with Hanni since elementary and up until now. The two shared a lot of things together, spend time together and even sleep at each other's home sometimes.

"Chill, you're the one who needs to apologize to me remember? You almost broke my heart thinking your going far away."

Hanni's stoic expression suddenly cracked as she began to smile slowly and show an amused expression.

"Heh, Did I broke your poor heart Minji?"

"Of course Dummy. I was Almost about to cry my heart out the day you moved but here you are. Still in this city."

Hanni finally let her happiness get to her as she laughed whole heartedly making Minji chuckle at her. Hanni's Father was a contract engineer and sometimes, he has to move from one place to another making it for her family to stay at an original place sometimes. But this time, Her father finally was able to land a permanent spot in this city but unfortunately, they could only afford an apartment for now as their finance was still a little shambles after moving from places to places.

Though it was kinda sad for Hanni, it was more sadder for Minji because her heart would litterally crack open everytime Hanni would move away. This has been the 4th time since the Pham's move to a new home and Minji still can't take losing her best friend again.

"Haha, My bad Minji. But I promise you, this time I'm staying here."

"Promise me?"

Minji hugged her which made Hanni sigh but she found it disgusting how Minji gave her the puppy eyes. This was one of the 3 things Hanni didn't like about Minji. First is that she's quite lazy, second is that she's so soft and pure that sometimes, her kindness would lead to misunderstandings, and lastly is her puppy eyes. She just find it so disgusting and annoying.

"Yah, your an 18 year old girl yet your doing this puppy eyes? Ewww. Stop it Minji."

"Promise me? ~~~"

Minji didn't listen and just blinked more showing off her puppy eyes. At this point, Hanni wanted to puke her breakfast out but she just groaned and nodded her head. Minji smiled happily and hugged her even more tightly.

"Can't... Breath... You... Monster strength...."

"Opps, My bad hehehe~"

Minji chuckled as she let Hanni go making the small girl breath heavily.

"Why the fuck are you so strong?"

"I don't know?"

"Whatever"

"Anyway, Why did you looked annoyed earlier?"

Hanni sighed as she recalled the events from earlier. They just successfully moved last night and Hanni really wanted to skip classes today because not only she can rest, but she can finally see her childhood crush next to their house.

Yes, that's right. Hanni's childhood crush is you, your pathetic ass.

She was so excited seeing you last night enter your room but she also felt worried seeing you all wobbly and tired walking to your room. This kinda made her sad because time wasn't really that gentle with you. But then again, that was kinda true. So that night, she formulated a plan to finally see you face to face and it just so happen that her mother made the kimchi soup for you. Hearing about it, she immediately volunteered to give you the pot. Honestly, she was very nervous as every step she took towards your room made her heart race so fast.

She was afraid that she might slip up seeing you face to face but when she finally was infront of your door. She knocked 3 times and waited for you patiently. When the door opened, she finally saw you. She was a bit surprised seeing you so tall than what she last remembered but the thing that pissed her off was that, You were busy looking for her when she was standing infront of you. Hanni has a little ego when it comes to her height and this made her glare at you.

Without even thinking, she harshly gave you the pot and stared to walk away stomping her way out as her face show a bright red color. She was fuming with both embarrassment and anger not towards you but herself.

"FUXKK!! Why did I get pissed when he didn't look down on me!! Gosh, me and my temper! Arghh!"

She mumbled some words out of her frustration but she immediately covered her mouth hoping you didn't hear her and that's how her morning ended with you.

"So that's it huh? How old is he anyway?"

Minji asked Hanni as she wasn't really sure of what your age really was.

"Uhhhh, I first met her when I was 8 so it's been 10 years. He used to have a middle schooler uniform back then so maybe around 23 of 22? I'm not sure."

"Uhuh, So you like older guys huh?"

Minji smirked at her as she tried to make embarrassed but this only made Hanni giggle in delight and sway her body to the side. Minji was caught off guard by this as she didn't expect her best friend to be so deeply in love with someone older than their age.

"Woah Hanni, hide your blush girl. You're litterally telling me that you like older guys."

"I don't like older guys geez. I just like him Hehehehe~"

Hanni once again giggled like a madman in love and Minji could only chuckle. She was already aware of Hanni's first love but she didn't expect that her first love still stayed with her till now. She has to commend her best friend for her loyalty and perseverance to not let that love die.

"Is this why you rejected a lot of guys like even the popular ones like Sunoo, Sunghoon Oppa, and even Jay Oppa?"

"Yup, there nothing compared to Y/N Oppa. Heheheh~"

"Eh? What if he has a girlfriend?"

Hanni's smile dropped after realizing what her best friend said. She completely forgot about that possibility. 10 years of waiting and something like that wasn't out of the picture at all. Hanni sighed and pouted her lips indicating that she was now sad.

"Well if so, then I'll just be fine being friends with him then. I'm okay with just that."

Minji felt sad for her. She finally realized how much Hanni likes you to the point that she would throw away her happiness for yours. This somehow made her feel pity for her friend as a idea popped into her head.

"Hey, Listen to me Hanni."

"Hmm?"

"From here on out, I'll support you with your love journey with him."

Hanni smiled softly at her. It was nice for her to hear that Minji would support her whatever her decision maybe.

"Thank Minji. That means a lot."

"Heheh of course. That's what are best friends are for. Just don't turn into a Yandere though...."

"You bitch. We both know someone fits that category than us."

Minji chuckled and nodded her head.

"True, true. Well anyway, lunch is ending soon. Shall we walk Honey~"

"Shut up Minji. And yes, let's go back to class."

.

.

.

School finally ended and Hanni was glad that the teachers didn't give them any homework to do cause she was tired asf. She didn't want to study anymore and her first aim to do was to go to her room and sleep. The sun was setting already when she arrived at their apartment building and the memories of earlier made her cringe. She had hoped that the events earlier was nothing but a nightmare.

"Stupid Hanni, what were you even thinking doing that."

She sighed as she opened the door to her house.

"I'm home~"

Hanni said as she removed her shoes and placed them on the shoerack near their door. She heard laughter coming from the kitchen as this made her curious.

"Did Mom brought over her friends?"

It wasn't unusual for her Mother to bring over some of her friends at their place as Hanni has grown accustomed to it. Sometimes she would think of it as a norm especially when her mother introduces her to some of her Mother friends son who's the same age as her. Honestly speaking, she didn't care about any of the guys that was being introduced to her as she was set on you and nobody else.

She got closer and there her breath hitched. Her hearth began to beat faster and her whole body froze. She gripped the hem of her skirt as a warm and hot temperature arose through her cheeks. You stood there smiling and laughing along with her mother as you converse about her.

You wanted to repay the delicious favor they did for you earlier so you went out and brought out ingredients needed for the dishes you prepared. It wasn't grande kind of dishes as you didn't have much on you but like the saying goes "Kindness isn't paid but rather showed".

A simple tteokboki dish that goes with some kimbap that your mother used to make for you when you were in Highschool. Her ways of making the food still lingered on your memory and it has become a comfort food for you whenever you feel down. It's just your laziness kicking in everytime you thought making the dish. But this time, that laziness was gone as you tried your best to make the best Gimbap there is inorder to repay the kindness they gave you.

You were quiet anxious in all honestly because this was your first time entering a place which isn't your home or your work place. But that was immediately washed away when the woman happily helped you carry the food as you thanked her for the dish earlier. The woman just shrugged it off as she introduced herself as Mrs. Pham. She wasn't korean but she was very fluent in speaking the language. You also began to help her out in the kitchen as she told you stories about her daughter.

Just by hearing the stories that she was saying, it sounded like her daughter was very smart and outgoing person. Then a sudden realization hit you in the face. The girl from earlier must have been her daughter but remembering what happened earlier, you began to question yourself why she was mad at you in the first place.

"Ah, Hanni sweety, you're home. Meet Mr. Y/N Lee. He's the neighbor you gave the soup to earlier."

You looked behind you and you saw the girl from earlier but this time, instead of glaring at you, she seems to be in a state of shock and suprise. Both of you locked at each other's eyes as Hanni's thoughts were in shambles.

"Oh my gosh oh my goshohmygoshohmygosh!"

She didn't know what to do as You gave her a small smile and a simple wave as you felt embarrassed after the incident from earlier. You were in dire need to apologize to her because of some misunderstandings. Her parents seems really cool to be with and they also seem to be very wise as well.

"Hanni, Prepare the plates already and stop standing here."

Her mother's voice snapped her back to reality as she looked down embarrassed walking past you in a hurry. You were slightly suprised by her speed but you just thought that she must still have hated for earlier. You just let it bypass your thought and decides to leave the household because you already did what you originally want to do. But then, her father saw you slowly walking away and said

"Where you going young man?"

Even though you weren't looking at them, you felt pairs of eyes staring at your back with intensity which somehow made you nervous. You gulped silently and turned your back smiling at them awkwardly.

"Oh I uhh.. I'm going home now Sir. I just want to give back the food from earlier. Thank you by the way-"

"Hiyaaah, come and eat with us. Come on."

Mrs. Pham said as she brightly smiled at you. Her hand signalled you to come and eat with them but you just bowed and shook your head. The atmosphere around the household was something that you missed dearly on your own. The sense of family that you longed ago forgotten was slowly coming back at you because of them. It was quite joyful but at the same time sad for you.

"Come and eat with us Oppa, you deserve a little break"

Hearing the words of Hanni made you stiffen as you looked at her. The glare she gave you earlier was now gone and was replaced with a soft expression that you couldn't believe she was able to do. For some odd reason, her expression and words struck a chord in your heart as you held your emotion in tact. You didn't want to embarras yourself against them after all because you know they were good people.

"If Hanni says it’s okay then you should stay Y/N."

Her father said finally making you concede to their decision for you to stay. You walked back towards the kitchen and offered a seat for Hanni, you were after all a guest and it's the owners rights to sit first and you be the last. But for Hanni, her heart was ready to explode by your gesture. Sure, some may say that it's just an etiquette to show but for Hanni, this was something she will forever embed in her memory.

"Take a seat Hanni"

"T-Thank you O-Oppa..."

"No problem."

Dinner proceeded like normal as if you were part of their Family. It was weird because that old feeling of belonging came crashing down on you and you felt your emotion slowly cracking open. You held to your chopstick tightly and gripped it tight holding yourself in. But Mrs. Pham noticed this as she felt pity towards you. What she was seeing in you was not an adult man but rather, a tired and worn out soldier who's been keeping himself strong for a long time now.

"Y/N-ssi.."

"Y-Yes?"

"It's okay. It's okay."

Her warm and comforting words was the final nail to your coffin as you bit your lips as they quivered slowly. Tears began to slowly fall out of your eyes and Hanni felt so devastated seeing you crying.

"Oppa..."

"N-No, It's okay.. I-I'm fine... I'm fine really.."

Your words didn't match your action as tears was falling from your eyes as you try your best to hide them but to no vail. Everything about the household just broke you because seeing how they were all connected made you remember the past you used to have. The happiest moment you used to have before was gone and it was painful because you didn't ask anyone to remove that happiness from you. It was taken from you and seeing the Pham family act like how you used to, made you miss the old times. You covered your eyes preventing you to lose more tears but then suddenly, Mr. Pham stood up and patted your back.

"It's all right Kiddo, let it all out."

Their kindness towards you, a complete stranger was really getting you to break down your walls that you built so much. The protection towards not showing weakness was taken down immediately. Ironically, kindness was the reason it was taken down.

Hanni clenched her fist in sadness and worry because she didn't expect you to cry your heart out. The silent sniffles was all she needed to know that you went through a lot of hardship, alone.

"Oppa...I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you."

Hanni blames herself for being not there whenever you needed help. This was preety obvious that you were fighting your own problems alone and as great as it sounds, it wasn't a healthy way of dealing a problem. This only gave Hanni more reason to be by your side. At this point, she wasn't even thinking to be your wife, just a friend is enough for her as for the moment.

You have expected that Dinner would be awkward after your embarrassing breakdown but no, it didn't. It become more livelier than earlier as her parents told you amazing stories about their life, their struggles, and many more. Her father has told you many inspiring words that you surely will live out. You were slowly admiring Hanni's father because of her wisdom and his wife for her comforting words. You felt like you were home again with them and that brought a small smile upon your face. You offered your services to wash the dishes but Mrs. Pham decline the offer and told you to rest up. You tried to push for your agenda but in the end, Mrs. Pham won.

You thanked them and apologized for the nuisance you cause but they just brushed it off and even told you that you were welcome in their home anytime. You weren't gonna lie, you actually had a great time there and it was one of the few positive moments you have so far since being an adult. Hanni was the one who had to walk you towards your room even though it was less than a minute walk but you didn't complain.

"Listen Hanni. About earlier, I'm sorr-"

"I should be the one apologizing Oppa. I was too insensitive towards you. Please forgive me"

Hanni bowed to you with her entire back bend forward as you were surprised by her action. You actually didn't mind her actions earlier because you felt like you were the one who caused it anyway.

"N-No, it's okay Hanni. I should be the one apologizing to you because I was the one who's insensitive towards you. I didn't know you were small.."

Hanni bit her lip controlling her rage because she hates it being called small.

"But you're cute. I-I mean you being small adds to your cute factor. Gosh what am I saying to a teenager? I'm so out of touch from reality."

You groaned and gave yourself a self palm to the head as the words that came out of your mouth was something inappropriate especially since Hanni was still a teenager and your a grown ass man. Saying stuff like that in the open would immediately send you to jail and your life will forever be fucked. But Hanni was the opposite, she loved every word that you said and her face right now was Red as a tomato. She took in deep breaths in order to calm herself down before fixing her posture and looking at you.

"Well I don't mind you calling me Cute Oppa cause that's true anyway."

That sentence made you chuckle at her and shook your head.

"Yah, you shouldn't be too proud of yourself. That can bite you in the ass."

"Hmph. Nope."

Hanni smiled brightly as you just chuckled at her. Even though you two were now talking comfortably, you still somehow feel bad for her with the incident earlier.

"Listen Hanni, is there anything you want? I kinda still feel bad for earlier. Let me make up for it."

"Please be my boyfriend...”

She wanted to say those words out loud but she still has a lot of things to do and this was a great baby steps for her in order to achieve that goal.

"Hmmm well, there's a movie I really want to watch so.... Maybe we can go watch it together in the weekends Oppa?"

This was her shot, well probably her best shot of her life and she just laid it out. In her defense, this was the best opportunity to have and she might not even get another chance like this again.

"Weekends huh? Sure, I can make time in Saturday."

Hanni wanted to die from happiness. One of her dreams on going on a date with you was finally happening as she she flashed you the best smile she ever has. You on the other hand found it adorable how Hanni smiled sweetly at you.

"Alright, here's my number Oppa. Contact me when your free. Hehehe~"

"Ah right, here's mine too."

Hanni gave you her number which you saved in your contacts as Hanni did the same.

"Well, see you around Oppa. Goodnight and also, Thanks for the food, they were delicious."

Hanni gave you a thumbs up as you just chuckled and shrugged your shoulders. The moonlight was quite bright tonight as the full moon showed itself in the black sky. You waved her goodbye as she walked away smiling and happily waving at you. You entered your room and you immediately noticed the atmosphere between Hanni's house and yours.

"They are such a sweet family. I wished my family stayed together like them..."

You could only sigh at that false wish as you did your nightly routine and headed to bed.

Hanni meanwhile was smiling ear to ear and dancing in her room listening to New Jeans as her day was complete. She finally got her ultimate crush number, converse with him, and finally set a date between the two of you. Hanni's luck was truly kind towards her today and she couldn't be more thankful towards the man above.

"Thank you God for today. Please, please let me be his Woman. If not then at least let me be his shoulder to cry on."

Although everything was going great for her, she still couldn't help but feel sad for you after all.

"Y/N went through a lot in the span of 10 years huh. He really deserves a happy life ahead of him. Hmm... What should I do to make that possible..."

Through out the night, Hanni thought off many possible ways to make your smile appear once again, and this time, a smile that wasn't sad or broken but rather, a smile that showed true happiness.

.

.

.

.

The days for Hanni was slow and she hated how time was moving so slow as if it was preventing her to get what she wanted. She has been restless lately thinking on what she would wear, how she would act, and how she should attract you. But even though she was quiet anxious and annoyed of the slow days, she was quiet glad of taking your number because the two of you have been in touch lately.

You find it very surprising that talking with Hanni on the phone was actually quite enjoyable and fun to be. You enjoyed listening to her afternoon rant and late night conspiracies because you found it amusing that someone like her is already running wild in imagination. It was something you lost before and it's probably the reason why your life has been dull. The lack of imagination and inspiration to create such imagination was long gone. There was no way for you to recreate those crazy and creative imagination of yours but hearing Hanni's crazy imagination, well you couldn't help but smile at that.

Hanni was what you were before, an energetic, creative, and adrenaline pump person. People like that are very rare to find nowadays and growing up, you lost your old self in order to adapt to society and act like the adult because you are now THE adult. Finding time to be foolish was already off your calendar as there was no time for that, everything needs to be serious in order to accomplish something.

Even though Hanni didn't like hearing advices, There was an exception towards you. Hanni would sometimes spill some days where she hated it and you would come up and tell her some advices and things she would work out on. Of course, she didn't like it at first but realizing that you went through tough times, this was the best way for her to at least Change some of her bad habits that she has grown out off. Although it was good for you that you were advising Hanni, she didn't like it completely because she felt like she was being treated like a kid by you.

She wishes that this kind of advices wouldn't just let you see her as a kid but she hoped that it would get past that. This is one of her fears especially when it comes to liking you now. You were the adult between each other so it was only natural for you to act like one but can you look past Hanni as a kid? That question was one thing that made Hanni anxious of what she will do next.

Nonetheless her questions would be answered on their Movie date.

Hanni woke up earlier than usual as her heart was pumping so fast. This was the day she finally can get on a date with you which she could only dream off. She had already prepared the clothes she was gonna wear for this day last night as she made sure that her outfit would literally captivate you. She had asked Minji about her opinion on what she would wear and the chaotic pair would end up emptying the closet of Hanni leaving her room a total mess. As if a tornado was able to enter her room, Minji was able to find the best outfit for her despite the carnage around her room.

Minji might be the best stylist Hanni has ever met in her life because Minji is that type of girl who can lead a new trend. The powers she holds if she was casted on a photoshoot, Hanni would bet that Minji would change the game in the fashion industry.

Hanni took a double shower and made sure the shampoo she was using would create a beautiful scent if passed by. She usually stay at the shower room for half an hour but today, she made sure nothing would be flaw in her body as she took longer than usual. Her father could raise his eyebrows because he would be in for a suprise seeing the water bill slightly increase.

You on the other hand was eating your ramen as you forgot to buy ingredients once again because of the tiring workload you did this week. As if last week wasn't hellish enough, this week was doubled than the last. Everyone was working overtime because they couldn't afford leaving their work in overdue. Everyone wanted a break so they all decided to do overtime which in turn causes them to lack sleep and proper rest. You were part of the suffering as you didn't even had a proper meal the entire week.

Instant food was your go to lunch, dinner and breakfast which wasn't very healthy to begin with. Even though the days were tiring, seeing the messages of Hanni every night was enough to leave a small smile on his face. Hanni was slowly becoming your happy pill because her energy is just so contagious that you couldn't help but feel a smile forming on your face every time you would see her in the apartment hallways or in her messages.

Today was the day to somehow thank her for being a reason that brings a smile on your face. You took a quick shower and checked some clothes for you in your closet. You wanted to slap yourself from embarrassment as all of your clothes were all too formal and a quick realization hit you.

"I guess I didn't even have time to buy clothes for myself huh.."

You sighed as you decided to wear your white polo and your usual formal pants. You decided to remove the suit jacket in order to look less formal because today was your off day. You hoped that Hanni wouldn't mind your attire at all considering you look like your usual uniform. Nonetheless, you got out of your apartment earlier than the supposed meet up because you didn't want to show up late.

You messaged Hanni saying your outside her apartment when a few seconds later, Hanni came out looking very preety. Your eyes landed front upon her beauty as you were star struck by her visuals. This was your first time seeing Hanni without her uniform and you immediately saw the difference between her Uniform attire and casual clothes. She wore a simple white shirt and light brown jacket that goes along well with her brown baggy pants.

You chuckled seeing how adorable she looked with her pants while Hanni blushed and pouted seeing and hearing you chuckle.

"Yah, What's so funny Oppa?"

"Ah no it's nothing."

"Nothing? You liar. You're laughing at my outfit huh?"

"No, no of course not. You actually look adorable with your attire."

Well that was enough to make Hanni flustered. She froze in place for a couple of seconds as the words that came out of your mouth replayed over and over her thoughts.

"So, what movie do you wanna watch Hanni?"

"H-Huh? Oh umm.. Let's just go to the cinema and see if it's still there."

"Sure. Let's go."

The two of you walked away from the apartment building as Hanni began to converse about you about her school life. It took you by suprise when you heard her say that she's actually quite smart. You decided to tease her making her whine at you and pout cutely which you didn't mind at all. But unknown to you, Hanni actually loved it and was blushing slowly. Through out the walk, Hanni couldn't help but glance at you whenever she has the chance too. Your simple formal attire just makes her heart weak and makes her heart flutter.

Upon arriving at the Cinema, you were suprised by how many people were there and your attention immediately landed on Hanni. Your instinct kicked in as you held her hand which made Hanni blush furiously. The way your hand made contact with hers made her loose her common sense as she stares at her hand holding yours.

"Hold on me tight Hanni, you might get lost."

Hanni didn't hear you as you pushed through the wave of people gently shielding Hanni from the tight crowd. It was quite a Challange but you managed to arrive at the ticket booth with no problem as Hanni was still ecstatic with her hand holding yours.

"What Movie are we watching Hanni?"

"I luv yu..."

"Hmm? I don't think there's a movie called like that though."

You looked over at the category of the words that Hanni said but for the girl, she was blushing madly because of embarrassment. Her mind just suddenly process her initial thought and it came out of her mouth. She was glad that you were slow to realize it or even better, you didn't realize it at all. Which in turn, saddened Hanni partially but she brushed that thought off anf held your hand even tighter as she pointed at the movie she wanted.

"I want to watch that Oppa."

"Hmm? John Wick?"

"Yup."

"It's rated SPG and I don't think your height is.."

"Do you wanna die Oppa?"

Hanni looked at you with a deadpan expression which you couldn't help but laugh a little and press her cheeks. Both of you widen your eyes after the action that you just did. Hanni blushed as she eyed you while you slowly pulled away your hand from her cheeks.

"Why... Why is my heart racing? God no.."

A slight blush appeared on your face as you eyed Hanni who was staring at you with a shock yet calm expression. You didn't even think of doing the act as you just instinctively touched her cheeks like it was the most natural thing to do. You gulped hard and looked away.

"Sorry Hanni..."

You were now completely ashamed of yourself. Once again, you fucked up a great friendship because of your usual self. For sure right now that Hanni hated you-

"I... Kinda like it Oppa.."

You quickly look back and saw Hanni smiling at you with the most brightest smile you have ever seen in your life. Hearing the assurance out of her voice and that sweet smile somewhat calmed your nerves down. Something about this girl was making you intrigue of your own self.

You bought two tickets for the movie and when you thought Hanni wouldn't supriseyou anymore, she surprised you again when she was so emerced on the movie even cursing out the bad guys. You couldn't help but laugh at her. This kind of behavior was once you had but had dissappeared so seeing Hanni act like you used to was a sight to see. But the thing that suprised you the most is that, this kind of behavior was what you hate the most especially when watching movies but for some odd reason. Seeing Hanni act like that somehow made you appriciate people like that.

"The movie was great! Isn't it Oppa? John wick is really badass! He went Woosh and then he picked up his gun and went Bang Bang to those losers."

Hanni was hyped up after seeing the movie as she mimicked the character on the movie and even did some impressions of him. You simply smiled at her cute antics as the two of you were walking at the mall hoping to find a restaurant to eat and luckily for you, your favorite restaurant was opened as you and Hanni took a seat and ordered your food.

"Say Oppa, what kind work do you do? A teacher?"

You chuckled and shook your head. Hanni had been so far the only person that has put a smile on your face. Your life has been boring yet in just a span of a week, Hanni has turned that frown into a smile that can't seem to be erased. Her presence alone made you smile unconsciously.

"No, I work at an office Hanni. You know the typical guy who works on his computer all day. Boring isn't?"

"Nope, that's sounds fun actually. Did you try folding a paper and making it into a paper plane? It's fun seeing them fly in the office. Or better yet, did you shoot a crumple paper on the trash bin and shot it saying Kobeee like that?"

Her eyes was sparkling upon saying her ideas and you couldn't even talk. It sounded like basic ideas yet when Hanni says it, it sounded like it was legit fun.

"Well, I didn't do any of that..."

"Well now you can try.. Hold on, I think I have an idea."

Hanni grabbed the tissues on the table and began to fold them in a particular manner as you sighed and saw the paper plane or tissue plane if you would call it.

"Alright Oppa, See the trash bin there?"

"Yeah."

"If I shoot this and it landed on that thing. You need to double my order. Deal?"

"What? Why would I-"

"Hmm? Is Y/N-Oppa scared? Hmm??"

Hanni taunted you giving you a smug look which you just playfully scoffed and shook your head.

"Go ahead. Try it."

"Heh, Don't underestimate me. For my name is Pham Hanni, Watch."

Hanni closed her left eye as she focus her sight on the trash bin. Her face looked so focused and her hands felt relaxed. She was confident on herself and it was preety obvious for you that Hanni was a skilled person. You gulped silently as your wallet couldn't afford another order of the foods here. With a deep breath, her hand moved forwards as the tissue plane went floating in the air twirling in some degree. The plane was getting closer to the target and this made you nervous. Sweat began to form on your forehead as your heart began to beat louder.

But at the last minute, the plane instead entered the Restaurant kitchen making Hanni bit her lips in embarrassment and you slowly looking at her. When Hanni met your eyes, both erupted in laughter making everyone in the rest a look at you weirdly. You apologized for the sudden outburst but Hanni didn't, she didn't care about there stares unless it was a woman staring at you lovingly then it's a different story.

"See? It's fun isn't it Oppa?"

"Yeah, I guess your right."

Hanni, a highschooler was able to make a simple thing fun without doing anything extra at all. Her creative imagination gave life to such simple thing and you were already captivated by it.

Lunch was fun once again with the help of Hanni and this was one of the few times where you enjoyed lunch with a companion. You were used to having lunch alone at the company building that it has grown accustomed to you that eating alone was normal but Hanni, showed you that having someone to eat with is more fun. The sun was already setting and Hanni decided to head into the park to relax her feet.

"Ahh, Did you know Oppa that this place is my comfort zone?"

"Well I just know now."

"Whenever I feel down or really tired, I go here and unwind my mind because it just relaxes me."

"I see..."

A place where you can fully unwind and remove all the thoughts away and just relax. That was one place you hoped to find soon but as of the moment there was no place close to something like that.

"Do you have a comfort zone Oppa?"

You shook your head at her question but at the same time this question struck you. You have never thought this question before because your comfort zone has always been your home but that disappeared. Home wasn't longer a comfort zone but rather a toxic environment now. It was suffocating you whenever you thought of how much it changed for the worst.

"Honesty speaking Hanni, my comfort zone before turned to a toxic one."

"Oh, I'm sorry..."

Hanni felt ashamed for saying such question as she scolded herself but you could only shook your head.

"It's alright. The reason I teared up on your home was because I was reminded of how my life before was before all shit went down.."

You sighed as Hanni saw the distress on your face. Today has been a blast lately and seeing how you looked sadden by the past made her feel sad a little too. Today isn't just for her to have fun as well, this was also your day to relax so she immediately came up with an Idea. A simple yet effective way to get that heavy feeling off your chest. She was hesitant to grab your hand again but she slapped herself on her thoughts because you needed her right now.

"Man up... Err I mean Go grab her hand Hanni! This is your chance!"

She told herself as she took a deep breath and gently grabbed your hand surprising you in the process. There was a visble blush on her face as she drags you to a nearby bench. You just let her be as you noticed how small her hands are compared to yours.

"Cute... Wait. What am I saying? She's literally a kid! I need to touch grass..."

Both sat down and infront of them was the park fountain and they stayed quiet for a few seconds observing their sorroundings. Hanni didn't let her hand go as she only made it tighter.

"You know Oppa, sometimes you just need to let those go of your chest and talk to someone about it. I'm all ears and I won't judge you at all. Like what Mom said to me, she saw you being so strong for so long that she pitied you when you broke down crying."

You softly chuckled as this was an embarrassment for you.

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, I kinda feel bad though when I saw you crying. It...kinda made me sad seeing you cry."

You saw the sincerity on her eyes and you can tell that Hanni really cared for you. Even though it was just a few days ago that you two met, it felt like Hanni knew you for a long time now.

"Heh, well my family life was like yours. All smiles and laughter. I though that it would last like that until I grow old but it didn't. Dad was caught having an affair with another woman and they filed for divorce. Dad moved out along with his stuff and you thought it wouldn't get worse but it did...."

Hanni noticed how your hands began to quiver and your eyes began to look broken and empty. Hanni couldn't bear seeing you in such state but she has to keep herself under control or she might do something she could regret.

"Mom was diagnosed with brain tumor that she kept from us, from me ever since I was young and I had to take part time Jobs for moms recovery but guess what? She died on the day of my graduation and instead of me celebrating my degree, I cried alone and mourned my mother's death. Ever since then, the word comfort zone became nothing for me as shit just keeps getting worse for me since then. Heh, I'm pathetic aren't I? I live the worst life of them all but it is what it is. "

Hanni hated how you smiled after saying those words. She hated how you were saying to yourself that everything was okay when it's not. She hates that you have been lying to yourself to show how strong you are but in reality, your weak. She hates that you have been so much and nobody was there for you.

"Hanni, listen we should-"

She shut you up when she pulled you closer to her and hugged you tightly. She could hear your heartbeat which seems to relax her but the thing that surprised you, was how much you felt at ease with Hanni being this close to you. That warm and comforting embrace that you longed to have was now presented to you. You couldn't help but feel a little emotional with how Hanni hugs you.

"Oppa, everything will be okay from now on. You don't have to carry everything on your own. I'm here with you now."

You bit your lips not wanting to cry but Hanni's embrace was just too much for you. You ended up sobbing quietly with Hanni comforting you by your side.

Your date was finally over as both of you were now walking the hallways of your apartment. You stopped at her front door as Hanni smiled happily at you.

"I had fun with you today Oppa, I hope you did too."

"Honestly speaking Hanni, I did. It's been so long since I last had fun like this."

This sentence made Hanni giggle in delight as she achieved what she needed to achieve this day.

"So shall we go on a date again Oppa?"

You chuckled at her wording but nodded your head nonetheless.

"I wouldn't call it date Hanni, but sure. I don't mind going out with you again."

Hanni jumped in delight as she hugged you tightly again. You were surprised at first but patted her head in response. You didn't know that Hanni was such a clingy person after all but that only adds to her charms. Hanni was about to pull away when a wild idea came to her mind. A small smile appeared on her face when she looked up to you. You weren't gonna lie, seeing her look up to you was adorable and it slightly made you blush.

"Oppa, do you pack your lunch?"

"Ummm no, I usually eat at the cafeteria."

"Eww the cafeteria. No, that's disgusting."

"What do you mea-"

Hanni placed a finger on your mouth shutting you up as she smiled at you.

"From here on out, I'll make you lunch boxes so that you don't have to eat in that filthy piece of shit cafeteria. Bleh!"

You wanted to refuse but Hanni was quicker than you as she pulled away and said goodnight before entering her house. You were just stunned by how Hanni dictate her decisions towards you as you just chuckled and shook your head in amusement. Hanni was the first girl you met that was actually fun to be with.

"I'm sure she would eventually forget about the lunch box thing."

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Like the famous quote "Teenagers scare the living shit out of me" says, Hanni did in fact kept her word and gave you lunch boxes everyday to work. Initially you wanted to refuse her offer but seeing the band-aids around her hand on that day, it made you realize that Hanni was very genuine in making you a lunch box. Of course this would worry you and checking her hand if it was okay and all that but Hanni would just blush and nod her head. She was quite the stubborn yet smart girl because she would ask you out for another hangout.

Even though Hanni insist it was a date, you keep the word Hang out to not mistaken their relationship. After all, You were a 22 year old adult and Hanni is an 18 year old high schooler. Society would immediately hound you to death knowing your dating a minor. Your so called Hang out ranges from Cinema dates, Dinner date, amusement park date, or sometimes, staying at your place blasting music and dancing together. But the more Hanni do this kind of stuff to you, the more you see Hanni in a different light.

The way she worries about you when you go to overtime, the way she messages you everytime you arrive home, the way she would invite herself to your apartment room when there's nothing to do, the way she took care of you when you got sick, and more importantly, the way she argued back with your boss when you were clearly unable to work. That memory will forever be stuck with you because instead of getting fired, you were instead given more time of rest as your effort at your job boar fruit. Hanni was extremely ashamed for herself that day but you instead hugged her and twirled her around thanking her.

That was the day Hanni finally saw the old handsome smile she fell in love with in the first place.

Everything she does towards you was bringing you that joy and fun that you solely lack in life. She was bringing back that light that you lost back then.

Hanni was slowly becoming your Miss Sunshine and it's quite concerning for you. Hanni was a good person both as a person and at heart. So for you to have such feelings for her was surely not appropriate. In fact, you are clearly seen as a big brother towards her more than anything. But this also seems to have cause a stir at your work place and that's the lunch boxes.

You see, everyone in your workplace have been seeing you eat alone and getting your food at the counter but ever since you brought Hanni's lunchbox, everyone has been curious on who's been giving you such food.

"Hey Y/N, nice lunch box."

"Ah, T-Thank you."

"So did you made it?"

"Ah no, Someone else did."

That immediately cause them to gasp in a surprising manner which confused the hell out of you.

"Y-You have a girlfriend?"

"Ah, No she's a friend of mine."

"But she makes you lunch boxes everyday?"

"Yeah"

"Bro, You're so lucky because if a girl made lunch for you everyday then they are wife material. Marry her and don't let her go!"

Those words have been sitting on your thoughts for some time now and everytime you would see Hanni smiling and getting close to you, it made you realize that the girl that once glared at you and harshly gave you food, was making you fall for her.

It sounded so wrong for you to be having feelings on a girl who's so much younger than you and that's the confusing part. You suddenly began to act differently towards Hanni to which she noticed immediately. Everytime she would get close to you, you would move away. When she messages you, you just simply say a one liner and tell her good night. You were pushing her away from your life because deep down you know, you know that you don't deserve her.

Of course your actions pains Hanni because she felt like she might have pushed herself towards you too much. Her worst fear was slowly creeping up on her and she didn't like that one bit. She decided to take a step back on her plans and go back to her roots. Her first steps. Surely that would help her right?

Your alarm clock rang once again indicating your normal boring day to start. You got out of your bed and checked your phone but to your surprise, Hanni hasn't even read your message last night. You sighed and messaged her a simple Good morning and did you normal morning routine. You turned on the morning news hoping to hear something good happening at the economy as you wear your usual work outfit.

"Huh? So today's afternoon forecast is rain huh?"

You looked out your window and saw that the sun was already hiding and dark clouds were ruling over the sky.

"More like morning will rain."

You turned your TV off and wore your shoes before getting out of your apartment. Hanni hasn't still read your messages which slowly made you worried. This was the longest Hanni has left you on read and surprisingly, outside of your apartment was her Mother.

"Oh, Mrs. Pham good morning."

You bowed at her but you notice the sad and empty look she gave you. You sense something bad had happened and your heart was starting to beat faster as this could mean something related to Hanni.

"Y/N. Have you seen Hanni?"

There goes your bad feeling. Cold sweats began to form on your forehead as you tried to keep yourself calm.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Pham but I thought she went home last night"

"She didn't.. I tried calling her multiple times but she's not answering and... I feel like this is our fault as parents for her running away."

You wide your eyes. Your ears was not deceiving you at all because you heard it loud and clear. Hanni ran away from home and hasn't contacted anyone since. You were slowly on the verge of panicking but you remained calm as there could be a place for her to be in.

"Did you try to contact anyone from her friends Mrs. Pham?"

"I did. I called Minji and she has no idea that Hanni ran away. I... I don't know where my baby could be..."

Mrs. Pham suddenly began to sob her eyes out as you pulled out your handkerchief and gave it to her. You rubbed her back hoping to calm her down because you know how much a mother loves her children to their deaths. But there was something that still lingered on your mind.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Pham for asking but you said earlier about something about your fault as a parent for letting Hanni ran away? Hanni never once told me any problem she was facing but this is the first time I heard of this."

You might be nosy right now but you couldn't let anything happen to Hanni right now. Your sunshine was missing and it was your turn to return the favor she has done for you turning your life upside down for the better.

"Well you  see me and my husband-"

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"Why is everything falling on me so hard? What did I do to deserve this?"

Hanni thought to herself as she hugged her knees close to her. For the past few days, everything has been shity for her. School hasn't been to kind with her as her marks was slowly falling behind because of her family issues. Her parents have been constantly getting into fights lately due to her father wanting to prioritize their financial status by moving away once again. But her mother didn't want any of that money if it means making Hanni sad.

Both didn't end up in a good deal and in their fight ended up in hot claims of divorce. Hanni couldn't take such possibility as she didn't want to lose any of her parents. She had loved them so much and for her to be the reason why they would be divorcing, it was stabbing her heart.

Add in the slow fall of her relationship with you as you were clearly trying to push her away. Her once sanctuary in you was slowly disappearing right infront of her eyes. Add all this and Hanni couldn't handle it anymore as she decided that it was better off to run away from her problems, to run away from all worries and just be free.

"Mom.. Dad, I'll miss you surely.."

A tear escaped her eyes as she was set to a new goal for herself and for the better of everyone. Surely she wasn't gonna be missed by anyone if she just dissappeared from everyone.

"Oppa, I'll miss you..."

This time, her emotions was slowly getting the best of her and it didn't help that rain was slowly falling down on her. Her walls began to show crack as she recalls the moments she felt so love whenever she was with you. The memories both of you shared flashed on her mind making her realize that she had so much fun being with you. The way her heart relaxes even now just by thinking of you shows how much you impacted her life positively.

The rain suddenly got harsher yet she stayed there, on the bench getting soaked not minding the rain at all. Her body began to shiver from the cold harsh rain and she could feel her feet and hands getting stiff from the rain.

"Maybe this is better.... Dying from the cold..."

She closed her eyes and accepted her faith. There was no hope for her to fix the problem because she is the problem after all.

"Goodbye Minji, I really appriciate you being my friend because I'm such a loser. Thank you so much for giving me such fun and memorable memories."

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"Goodbye Mom, Dad. I know that Dad was just thinking about all of us but guess what? I'm a stubborn child after all and weak one too. I couldn't handle seeing you fight because of me and I hope the two of you will be happy after all this."

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"Oppa, I'm sorry for being too clingy towards you. I must have been a creep towards you huh? I'm sorry for acting like a spoiled annoying bitch towards you. I'm sorry for bothering you all this time. I'm sorry for all the mistake I did for you, all the pain and confusion I did towards you. I'm sorry.…I truly am sorry because I.... Love you Oppa and…goodbye... "

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"HANNI!!!"

You finally spotted her as you sprinted towards her faster than anyone as your adrenaline pumped to the max. You immediately covered Hanni from the rain and saw her shivering from the cold rain. She slowly opened her eyes and even though they were quite Blurry she will never forget the face of the person she loved.

"O.... Oppa..."

"Don't say anything. We're going to the hospital okay?"

You immediately removed your large jacket and coated Hanni with it. Her eyes was now slowly getting a good vision of you as notice how she looked so tired and broken. This made your heart crack as you held her cheeks warmly making Hanni love your touch. It was comforting and warm.

"Now hold on Hanni. I'm gonna carry you."

"W-What?"

Her weak voice made you more inspired as you carried her in a princess like manner as you held the umbrella on one hand while carrying her as well. By some godly strength, you carried Hanni so fast to the hospital in less than 5 minutes as upon arriving there, you called out doctors and nurses immediately. You didn't care if everyone was looking at you. A doctor and some nurses then came to your aid as you gently placed Hanni on a hospital bed.

They proceeded to do their medical stuff as you anxiously wait for the result on the waiting room. Obviously, you were the only soaked person in there as you would attract some eyes but you didn't care. All your mind could process is that Hanni will be alright and nothing bad will happen. Upon hearing that Hanni ran away, a place immediately landed on your though as you hurriedly made your way to the park where Hanni told you was her comfort zone.

Not long afterwards, the doctor would come out as you stand up hoping for the best.

"How's she doc?"

"She's fine. She's in a stable condition now but if she was 5 minutes late, she could be in critical condition because of hypothermia."

You sighed out a breath of relief as you wanted to thank the man from above.

"We're moving the patient to a private room. We just need a signature from her parents or her legal Guardian."

"I'm that person Doc. I'm......"

"You're?"

You gulped as you were afraid to say this word but at a time like this, there was no other way.

"I'm her boyfriend Doc."

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"Ugh where.... Where am I? Why is the ceiling so... White?"

Hanni spoke as she was looking around her new surroundings. This was very new to her as she tried to sit up but immediately noticed the tube injected to her left hand.

"I'm at a hospital? What happened? Hmm?"

Hanni noticed a hand holding her right hand tightly as the person was slowly waking up. Hanni widen her eyes seeing you look up at her. You immediately widen your eyes as you hugged her tightly surprising her. Her heart immediately began to face faster and her cheeks getting warmer.

"O-Oppa? Why.. Why are you here?"

"Thank God you're already awake Hanni. I was so worried sick you know."

This sentence only made Hanni blush even more as she could feel herself melting at your embrace. You finally pulled away from her as you checked her temperature on her neck and forehead. Your small gesture of checking up on her reminded her of when she took care of you when you were sick.

"O-Oppa I though.. I thought you hated me. But you saved me... Again. Just like last time.."

You softly gave her a warm smile and patted her head. You finally realize what those words meant as her mother finally told you the first time you met Hanni.

"Yeah, I finally remembered the 8 year old kid I saved from the pedestrian lane before. I didn't know she grew up so beautiful."

Hanni widen her eyes and gave you a look of shock. There was no way that you finally remembered her after all as her facial expression made you laugh whole heartedly.

"Yah, if you know then why did you kept quiet all this time?"

She pouted her cheeks at you cutely as you couldn't help but cup her cheeks on your hand making her blush furiously.

"I only figured out after your mother told me. Speaking off your mother, Your parents are kinda dissapointed at you."

Hanni lowered her head in shame as she knows that what she did was something she can't apologize for. It was an impulsive decision for her and she has nobody to blame but herself.

"But, I talked to your parents about their issues and told me that the whole divorce thing was just said because of the heat of the argument. There was really no reason for the two of them to separate."

This made the small girl smile happily as she was glad that the issue of her parents was solved. But there was still one problem that lingered on her mind.

"Oppa, I have to apologize to you."

This made you confused as you removed your hand on her cheeks. She played with her fingers as a blush was evident on her cheeks and she couldn't properly look at you in the eye.

"I.. I'm sorry for being too clingy towards you. It must have felt a little awkward with me, a high schooler getting all comfortable with an adult and-"

"Okay Hanni, Stop and listen to what I'm about to say."

You looked at Hanni in a serious expression as Hanni's heart beat was so loud and warm sweats began to form on her forehead. Your intense stare was making Hanni weak.

"I need to apologize for trying to push you away cause you see, I may have put myself in a pickled situation."

This time, Hanni notice a red stain appearing on your cheeks as her heart began to beat faster. Is her dream fantasy finally becoming a reality?

"Ever since you arrived to my life, everything has been so bright and positive with me. Like I feel like the traces of my old self dissappeared because of you. You ,Pham Hanni changed my life for the better in just a couple of months. Nobody has given me this much joy and fun in my life since I was a high schooler and because of that, I'm so forever thankful of you. "

Hanni could only nod at your words as you know the following words that will come out of your mouth is not from the brain but from the heart. With one deep breath you continued.

"Hanni, during those months of fun and enjoyment with you is something that will never be replaced and because of that I...might have caught something like.. Ummm you see I eventually-Argh! fuck it."

You couldn't properly say it but with one strong motivation, you said the words you wanted to say with your heart.

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"I love you Hanni."

Now Hanni's mind blew out as she couldn't believe what she just heard. Eight letters and 3 words, it was finally said by her first love towards her as this took a while to process but when she finally realized what she heard. She couldn't hide the happiness that her heart was beating.

"So you see, I plan to tell your parents that I love you-"

You were silenced when Hanni pulled your collar closer to her face as your lips touches hers. Her small peach flavored lips gave you an euphoric sensation that elevated your body to the top. Her lips locking with yours felt like you finally found the missing piece to your puzzle. She pulled away giggling and smiling sweetly at you.

"Oppa-No, Y/N, I love you too. Your my first love hehehe~"

Now that was a surprise but nonetheless you smiled back and cupped her cheeks and kissing her forehead.

"So you have been in love with me for 10 years?"

"Yeah, I do. I sounded desperate huh?"

"No, no you're not. That just adds to your charm."

"Hehehe, Anything to make you love me~"

The two of you shared another kiss but this time, the two were now fully aware that they loved each other and their hearts belonged to each other.

Even though that failed flower fell to the ground, it can become a foundation to bloom a better, stronger tree for flowers to bloom themselves. There is no failure in life, there is only bumps that we need to overcome in order to proceed to the next step. And sometimes, we need our own miss sunshine to guide us.

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

1950 Oldsmobile Polynesian Coupe

It’s the early 1950s, and the world of custom cars is booming with excitement. In the midst of this automotive frenzy, one car stands out—the Polynesian. Crafted in 1952 by the talented folks at Valley Customs in Burbank, California.

1950 Oldsmobile Polynesian Coupe

This special car was ordered by Jack Stewart, a car lover from Canton, Ohio. Fresh from military service, Stewart fell in love with custom cars when he saw Dunn’s Ford at the Motorama show in Los Angeles.

The Exciting Transformation

1950 Oldsmobile Polynesian Coupe

Completely captivated, Stewart got in touch with Neil Emory and Clayton Jensen of Valley Custom. He had a dream to transform his ’50 Oldsmobile 88, and over nine months, the car underwent an incredible makeover.

The changes included a 4-inch body section, a redesigned front, unique fender skirts, and a cool front bumper/grille made from a ’47 Olds bumper. The headlights got a special touch, and ’52 Studebaker taillights were treated the same way.

Emory and Jensen, who were true experts, used hammer-welding and metal-finishing to make the car look fantastic, ending with a beautiful orchid metallic finish.

In the Limelight

1950 Oldsmobile Polynesian Coupe

Debuting in Hot Rod magazine in September 1953, the Polynesian became a star. It even won ‘best of show’ at the first Michigan Auto Rama in 1953, proving it was a showstopper. The car appeared in many magazines and books, becoming famous in the world of custom cars.

A Mysterious Disappearance and a Glorious Comeback

1950 Oldsmobile Polynesian Coupe

But like many classic cars, the Polynesian disappeared mysteriously, hiding away in storage for a long time where it faced the effects of time. It wasn’t until 2005 that a dedicated owner decided to restore it to its former glory carefully.

Under the Hood

1950 Oldsmobile Polynesian Coupe

Beneath the shiny exterior is the powerful heart of the Polynesian—a strong 324 cubic-inch Oldsmobile V8 engine. With a .030 overbore, egge cast aluminum pistons, and a 9:1 compression ratio, this engine brings the iconic custom coupe to life.

In essence, the Polynesian tells a story of a time when people put their hearts and skills into making timeless cars.

With its triumphant return, this Oldsmobile 88 Holiday 2-door coupe keeps capturing the imaginations of car lovers, showing that classic custom cars will always be fascinating.

1950 Oldsmobile Polynesian Coupe

[vinciwolf]

Loyalty Pt 4

(Recom)Na’vi!Miles Quaritch x (fem)Na’vi!Reader

Warnings: SLOW BURN, THIS IS AN EVENTUAL NSFT SERIES, ENEMIES TO LOVERS, capture, romance, reader is female

Warnings for this chapter: LONG ASS CHAPTER, so much happens, adult themes, morning glory, reader and Miles flirting???, mentions of withdrawals, violence, fluff if you squint hard enough

Notes: Na’vi spoken is in italics, but inner thoughts are also in italics.

Tags:  @perseny @mechformers @ragingloser @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @avatar-lover @dakotali @elegantkidfansoul​ @esposadomd​ 

The Colonel scrunched his eyes as he woke up, groggy, with a long grunt. Massaging his eyes, he wiped his face with his large hand before letting it drape lazily across his bare chest. It was funny. This new body was still odd to him, making lucid dreams that would sink him deep into his subconscious. The tip of his tail moved contently as Miles realized how good he felt. He hadn’t slept this good in a long ass time. Then he felt something tugging below.

He was hard.

Miles brushed his fingers over his briefs and felt… a wet spot. He blew through his nose, shaking his chin, for how stupid this was. The last thing he needed was waking up with a giant boner getting his underwear all gross.

The Recom pinched his nose, ears tipping back, at the embarrassing memories flooding his mind from the dream he had. Now he understood his dilemma. He saw you in the shower. Your skin was glistening from the steam, breasts puckered. His mind relived every detail of you. Your soggy hair falling down the valley of your chest with the plum hue of your tight nipples peaking forward made his heartrate skip.

No wonder he was leaking.

Miles chewed his bottom lip, clearly frustrated by how a pair of tits could rile him up. So, thumbs hooked along his waistband and slowly pulled them down until his member was free, the air kissing the shining tip of his purple erection.

A hand gently seized the base and gave an experimental stroke upwards, causing Miles to tense, lungs caught briefly, from how sensitive the head was.

Oh, he needed this bad.

~

Your hand shielded your vision. The sunlight made your eyes hurt momentarily as your pupils adjusted to the bright environment around you, unused to nature's blinding rays after being tucked away inside florescent rooms for a week.

The deck was subtle yet dangerous with armed military men who gave pointed looks at you and the Recombinants trailing behind the Colonel in front. Ardmore was nowhere to be seen, yet, as she said she had something small to take care of before seeing you out.

Spider skipped beside you trying to keep up with the heavy footfall from the rest of the group. You tried to stay behind with him but it was hard when you’re told to be joined at the hip with the Colonel, for he was the one who would soon hold the key to your life once the General showed up to give him the remote.

“You’re in a good mood,” Lyle teased.

The Colonel’s cheeks puffed giving his friend a cocky smirk.

You were walking right behind him and he couldn’t shake the image of your perky tits out of his head. But soon that moment of weakness would pass when the banana Ikran came into view, the whole point of gathering his men out here in this damn heat.

Sylway flung her wings hard back and forth, taking mid-flight then landing, repeating this futile action. The lock and chain around her neck kept her attached to the Bridgehead concrete.

Wide eyes almost watered from the sickening screams your Ikran made. You didn't know how long she had been like this, but she appeared to have lost weight and her neck was pink from the chain's tight hold on her. Spider mimicked your emotions. He was angry and in pain from seeing the creature squirm in its confines.

You wanted to run to her and flee away from here with Spider as fast as the winds could carry you, but you knew Ardmore still held the remote to your own chain. Fingernails indented the inside of your palm from how the anger boiled inside you, blood growing hot, lips pursed.

Stepping forward, you asked to nobody in particular but loud enough to disturb anyone in earshot range, “Why is she like this!?”

One solider answered, “She flew down and began attacking our men.”

“Could she have been landing to rest her wings!? No tamed Ikran would attack unless provoked by your machine guns!” It took everything in you not to pick up the human soldiers and toss them overboard.

“Watch your talk!” Lyle growled, his black shades reflecting your face when you sneered at his comment.

“Fuck you!” you snapped.

Your legs carried you past the group in hard struts. The Colonel didn’t stop you. He felt a tinge of regret that he hadn’t told you sooner that your banshee had to be bolted down.

You approached Sylway and she purred weakly when you slid your hand along her brow bone and looked into her red eyes. She blinked a few times and swayed her tail. It was her way of saying 'I see you, sister. I am alright.'

Reaching a hand over your shoulder, you took your braid.

“Boss, you really gonna let her do this?” Lyle leaned in and asked quietly to Miles.

With massive arms crossed, “I’m gathering intel,” was all he replied. Lyle pouted with a nod, satisfied with that answer. Truthfully, Miles was captivated and wanted to see how this bond between rider and banshee was made.

Your queue tendrils exposed themselves while you gently guided Sylway’s queue with your hand until both wrapped together and connected tightly. You could feel her anguish. She was in fact starving and in pain from how the chain rubbed her skin dry over the long days in the sun. But she was happy to be with you again.

"That's freaky."

"She really gonna ride that thing?"

“I can give her something better to ride~”

“You’re so fucking gross. Bet it’s still only four inches.”

“Hey!”

Your eyes rolled around hard in their sockets while some of the Recoms whispered to themselves.

Turning your body, you glanced at Miles. “She needs to eat. She’s starving.” Then, bending a knee, you placed your foot on Sylway’s harness, and with an expert motion, you mounted your Ikran.

The edge of Miles’ lip tugged upward. This was incredible.

You were incredible.

Then your neck ignited with a brutal sting, causing your torso to buckle inward as you fell to the ground on your back, muscles tensing up as shock waves flooded your limbs. Sylway screeched and bounced against her chain again.

Brow furrowed deeply, the Colonel was taken aback by the power of the collar and the sight of you shuddering in agony of the ground.

Spider ran to your side, but couldn’t touch you in fear of being shocked too, then he screamed “Stop it! Please, don’t hurt her!” several times at only who you could assumed was that Bitch.

"No one authorized you to ride your banshee!" Ardmore yelled as she furiously stormed between the tall bodies of the Recoms until she stood upfront.

Panting heavily, your body relaxed on the ground when the electrical pulses stopped.

“Ah… fuck me…”

You twisted onto your stomach and slowly gathered yourself to your hands and knees, limbs feeling like heavy rocks and still trying to catch your breath.

"Why didn't y'all just shoot the damn thing when it landed!?” the General asked sternly.

“Sir, I thought I could master the banshee, but it’s been bonded with (Y/N) already so I kept it alive for her use later,” Miles replied hastily. “She and the kid can show us where to get our own. Banshee could give us a tactical advantage in the field against the insurgency.”

Ardmore whipped her head to you on the ground and then to the Recoms.

“You are dismissed,” the General barked. “I would like to speak with the Colonel alone for now.”

Miles and Ardmore debated from afar, but you could care less to keep up with the conversation as your ears rung, hobbling away with an arm around Lyle’s shoulder, of all people, but not before giving the Colonel a passing glance. You narrowed your eyes as you thought about how he was the only one who kept Sylway alive when all others wanted to put her down.

It was some time before the General and the Colonel reappeared. But soon you felt a sense of dread fall over you when you saw the thing that caused you so much pain earlier. Ardmore turned to Miles and held out her hand. He opened his palm and she gave him the remote.

“Here you go, Colonel. Hope she’s not too much to handle from here on out,” the general said upbeat. "If you fly anywhere the Colonel doesn't authorize, your throat gets cut. Understood?"

“You would like that, huh, bitch?”

"I don't understand a word of that mud language nor do I give a fuck."

"I said I won't fly away,” you responded too sweetly, head slanting lazily as your mock doe eyes traveled the length of the General face.

“Good,” then she brought her attention to the Recoms. “These two,” she gestured to you and Spider, “will give you guidance, for now. Learn well, and maybe we’ll see an end to this Na’vi revolt once and for all.”

Around you, the Recoms nodded their heads, fist pumping each other, riling themselves up like the one-dimensional jarheads they were. Things were going to get messy from here on out. Closing your eyes, you sighed and prayed to Eywa, hoping that she might hear you this time.

“Alright, let’s go,” Miles ordered, clapping his hands a few times, getting the Recoms to start filing towards the aircraft docks.

When you got closer to the designated airship that would take you away from here, all started to bend carefully beneath the heavy gunship blades and tuck their way inside the humming vessel. You and Spider were closer together naturally.

The kid looked in your direction and smiled, “That's not what you said.”

“Shut up,” you smirked while draping your large fingers over his head and shook them through his hair, wobbling the kid a little making him giggle, then you departed from his side, leaving for Sylway.

Miles watched from behind and wondered if he could ever do the same.

~

You yanked firm on Sylway’s harness for good measure. There was relief in your chest and airy lightness to your step. It wasn’t hard to debate which was better: stay here with the Bitch, or go with Miles and be in nature again. You’d be much happier to get away from Ardmore than remain here at Bridgehead. And at least you’d feel some resemblance of freedom.

While you were putting your boots on, much to your displeasure but at the behest of the Colonel to show the General you were ‘conforming,’ your body swayed and felt funny.

A flow of rapid beating formed around your cranium, causing your world to tip slightly. Your stomach churned with a little too much heat in your throat as you bent over the side of the dock and lurched forward this morning’s menu into the ocean. You took the back of your hand and wiped your mouth. Gross.

Fucking pills. Fucking collar. Fucking withdrawals! Fuck!

The Colonel stopped his trek in surprise, eyes adverting elsewhere, from the sight of you hunched over, round ass a little too far in the air, but soon your spine straightens and you picked yourself up.

“You good?” Miles inquired passively, ears rolled back with caution.

“Yes, I’m good,” you said slowly, out of breath.

Brow dewy, head a little faint, your hand found Sylway’s harness and leaned on her for support.

You pointed at the Colonel. “That’s twice I owe you.”

“I wasn’t keeping count,” he shrugged. “Besides, I needed to get that remote from Ardmore to gain mobility. Can’t keep needing her to approve your every step.”

It wasn’t a total lie. But he wouldn’t admit that he wanted to get away too. He wanted to hunt.

You blew out deeply with a shake of your chin, grinning. “Just take a ‘thank you’ already, Jesus…”

The Colonel grunted then headed to his ship.

~

The flight was peaceful. You loved being in the air, aside from the loud drum of gunship rutters flying closely near your Ikran. You weren’t being followed but it wasn’t a pleasant ride either, having the Recoms poking their heads out to watch you soar beside them, causing you to feel like some sort of celebrity, even if it was just briefly.

However, the Colonel was a constant in your peripheral vision. He held himself by the doorway at the belly of the gunship, watching you and everything that passed by. His eyes made you nervous, made you squirm inside, like his gaze would bore into your mind and see how his presence warmed your sheets at night, so you stayed focused on flying, eyes never faltering on the view in front, even though your mind was allowed to wander in secret.

It wasn’t long before the gunship arrived at your destination and landed. The Recoms exited the ship then regrouped beyond the tree line as they waited for you. Where the gunship took off, blowing the greenery flat and curving some of the smaller trees, you landed and dismounted from Sylway. Through your queue connection, you told her to find some food and take her time, much to her excitement.

The Ikran batted her wings and flew away.

Lyle groaned and asked why they didn’t take turns with you flying up the mountain on your banshee.

“Y’all wanted to go full tilt the Na’vi way,” you stated while getting on a knee and untying your laces. “This is how we do it.”

Tugging off the tight and uncomfortable leather from your feet, you tossed the boots at the Colonel with a wink to which he smugly grinned. He hated how you were taking advantage of this. Being in control only for a brief moment even though he had the device that could end you.

Here, you were in your element as you took hold of the rocks and vines and began climbing, hips and tail swaying from your expert movements. Spider soon followed, hopping up onto the giant rocks. You grabbed his elbow and threw him upwards as he clutched a vine before continuing to ascend the mountain like he did so many times in the past.

Miles felt a tightness in his groin while studying your climbing patterns, so he hurriedly chunked off his boots and began hoisting himself up the mountain to cover his mild erection. He loved a woman who could carry her own and test his limits.

Soon his men followed, up the long trek into the Hallelujah Mountains.

~

“Come on! Keep up losers!” Spider chimed from above.

You smiled through the pain bubbling inside your head from his upbeat spirit. He was so fast. You loved him, but you didn’t love the aches in your joints from your body protesting for you to get a fix. But you didn’t have them and everyday was growing slower, harder as you fought through what felt like wet cement.

You took a vine and tried to pull yourself up, but you became nauseated and needed a second to breathe. Spider patted your hand.

“You ok?” his brown eyes softened, staring at the droplets of sweat crowing your forehead, something that was rare for Na’vi since they had great stamina to withstand the harshness of Pandora’s frontier.

You cupped his small hand in your large one and grinned weakly. “I’ll catch up.”

Finally, you and the Recoms climbed into a hallow tunnel system of one of the giant, floating rocks. It was cool and damp, some of the water pattering onto your face and you sighed from how cold it felt on your radiating head. The Recoms also took a breath of relief for the tunnel looked like an easy ascension, able to be scaled without climbing, just basic walking.

Then you noticed the young frontrunner was missing.

“Spider?” Miles gruff voice echoed off the stone walls.

“Boo!” the kid jumped from between the cracks and startled some of the Recoms, making a few snicker at the ones who got scared.

You smiled timidly, hand over mouth, and away from everyone’s eyes.

This spot would do for a small pause before continuing to the peak.

After having a moment for you brain to stop buzzing, scanning around the boulders and stalagmites, you caught a hint of Miles’ backside disappearing around a shadowed corner.

Looking over your shoulder, like you were inspecting anyone else for confirmation that you weren’t crazy, you saw that all the Recoms were busy wiping their sweat off and drinking water, chatting lightly, some sitting down to rest their legs. Spider was perched on a rock and joking with Lyle about something that was muted by the waterfalls because you had creeped out of earshot distance while following the Colonel.

You turned your head back to the shadowed corner and allowed curiosity to guide your steps, carefully placing each foot on the rocks in slow strides. As you made your way into the cave, the air became cooler, much to your burning skin’s delight. Fingers wiped across your forehead and got some of the loose strands sticking to your hairline behind your ears. You began to miss your braids.

The caves echoed with the roaring life of water as you ventured further into the shadow of the tunnels. There were many and if someone wasn't careful could probably find themselves on the other side of a floating rock leading to nowhere. Your ears flattened when you heard the cracking sound of a pebble falling from the walls.

“Miles?” you hiss softly, heart skipping fast.

Then a large hand gripped your arm, one covering your mouth, making you welp and inhale violently through your nose as you were pushed back first into the harsh cave wall. You were pinned under Miles' weight, the hand bruising your arm moving fast to seize your side, just below the line of your breast. Your hands frantically pushed the Colonel's massive shoulders, nails raking his round biceps, only for him to suddenly release your mouth, to which you huffed.

"What the fuck, Miles!?" You hissed quietly.

“You’ve been acting strange since the beginning—” he now held your upper arm, thumb stroking your muscle slowly “—and I need to know if you’re compromised.”

“This is ridiculous!” you said as you squirmed, but his large fingers dug into your ribcage and held firm, keeping you trapped.

He leaned forward, face intruding too close making your skin tingle. Then you felt it. A leg, more specifically a knee, breaching the space between of your legs and settling idly against the stone that was painfully digging into your shoulder blades.

“I need to know—” your eyes held firm with his, faltering only slightly to sweep his features, while his thick voice filled your senses “—if I can trust you.”

You felt caged under his weight, his hands, his piercing eyes. Your cheeks flared from how close his breath and voice bated into your personal space, assaulting your eardrums from the throaty rumble of his voice. That same tone drumming into your legs and beating between your thighs. It was painful for you to stand straight when you wanted desperately to fall onto his large thigh and ride that fucking knee that wouldn't budge any damn higher.

The Colonel’s face remained stoic, lips twitching, as he kept his amusement hidden the best he could. He would kill himself first before allowing you to see his want for you. How he yearned for you to melt already so he could fuck you against this cave wall.

But he wanted to indulge… wanted to see how far you’d allow him to tip the edge.

No matter how hard you tried to hide it, he saw you twitch with need in the slight tilt of your ears, the wetness dewing atop your lip, and the way your tail swatted only to curl tightly when he did finally lift his knee higher and rub deep into your heat.

“Fine—!” your breath hitched “—I use.”

You felt a thumb wander the expansion of the underside of your soft mound. It glided smoothly over your shirt back and forth in long, slow sweeps. The air was too thick around as your mind became heavy.

“Use?” Miles raised his brow.

He was close, but you were still unsure, unwilling to spill your guts.

So, his hand at your side inched upwards. Now his thumb ran lazily over your shirt with eager, feather-like pressure to find your tight, puckered nipple tenting the fabric. Your toes curled when it grazed the hard pebble, gently bobbing the peak side to side with every short pass.

“I use meds to get high, OK?” you growl, jerking around in the Colonel’s grasp until he finally lessened his grip and pulled back.

“Withdrawals…?” he concluded, more to himself then at you.

“Yeah, ain’t that a bitch,” you puffed, once uptight posture now slacking along the tunnel.

“Does anybody else know?”

“No,” you assert, “and I’d like to keep it that way…please…”

The hands that held you disappeared quickly, leaving you feeling hollowed out, as Miles stepped back, expression firm with ears slanted back.

“You…” he started, “…should go before anyone thinks you’ve run off.”

With a small shake of your head, your tongue swirled around a canine as your eyes glanced around and rolled in annoyance. Your heartbeat was rapid from your mind reliving how you just confessed for the first time to your sins, in front of the last person you wanted to know, but somehow your body felt…lighter.

You plucked yourself from the wall and headed into the tunnels to return to the other Recoms, leaving the Colonel to mentally toss over your words, but also think about how you felt so good under his weight. Your nipples were indeed everything he had imagined.

~

The rest of the climb to the top of the mountains was quiet between you and the Colonel. Spider and the rest of the Recoms were the only ones who broke the silence with friendly banter amongst themselves. You had to focus on keeping up a tough front because you didn’t want Miles to see that you were flushed, legs still shaky, by what happened in the caves. The phantom sensation of his finger prodding your nipple lingered at your breast causing your cheeks to burn hotter every time the memory of Miles pushed against you crossed your vision.

Eventually the team made it to the Ikran’s territory. The large creatures screamed in protest and flew away from your approach. Holding their guns close, some of the Recoms flinched as the flying lizards flapped away overhead. Spider found a fallen log that he crouched and balanced himself on, unafraid, before the rest of the group huddled together, using this log as a barrier between them and the dangers screeching from afar.

The kid sat between you and the Colonel, you eventually seating yourself closer to him as you were about to educated Miles on the proper way to tame an Ikran, only for you to notice that Lyle was loading a rifle with a vile of strange liquid.

Your ears irked back until Spider laughed, causing you and Miles to turn heads at the boy.

“Na’vi kids younger than me can do this with their bare hands.”

“Jake Sully did it the hard way?”

“What do you think?”

The Colonel was taken aback, ears flicking, then the small edge of his mouth tugged faintly as you observed him mentally accepting the challenge of getting his Banshee the ‘hard way.’

You stayed behind as the Colonel slowly took guarded steps into the heart of the Ikran nest, effortlessly laying his queue over his shoulder, a recall to what he had seen you do. He breathed a few deep inhales to calm his heart before one of the creatures noticed him and screeched in his direction, prompting Miles to hiss back to proclaim his contest.

“This is gonna be good,” Spider joked to Lyle.

The leader smiled, “Alright, just you and me Cupcake~”

Then the fight ensued, with the Colonel punching the Banshee before jumping and seizing the lizard’s neck with his limbs.

Of course he would punch an Ikran.

You studied the fight and gripped a ghost knife at your side that wasn’t there anymore. Ardmore instructed that you wouldn’t have any weapons on your person, making your lips purse in frustration. Then your chest fell when Miles tumbled over the cliff with the Ikran.

“SHIT!” you ran over to the edge. Spider appeared beside you with the same concern while examining the clouds below for the Colonel.

Putting your thumb and index finger between your lips, you blew hard and whistled for Sylway, but Lyle clasped a hand on your shoulder.

“The fuck you think you’re doing!?”

“Do you want Quaritch to fall to his death!?” you snapped, forearm swatting away the Corporal’s grip. Then a loud, winded swoosh propelled itself onto the cliffside.

“Yeah, that’s right!” Miles hollered victoriously from atop his Ikran.

Spider beamed while the rest of the Recoms rejoiced and fisted their hands in the air. You exhaled through your nostrils in relief and allowed your mouth to pull into a wide smile.

“Yeah, Boss! Get some!” Lyle shouted happily beside you.

Your feet were light when you hopped over and down the mountainous rocks away from the Recoms when Sylway batted her wings to a halt as she landed on the side of the mountain. Toes gripped tightly to the harness around your Ikran’s neck as you tossed yourself over her back and took off into the air.

Finding Miles enjoying himself, you flew your mount level with his and viewed him over your shoulder, the wind carrying your loose tresses across the breeze.

“Hell yeah!” he shouted at you from afar.

Miles couldn’t believe he was actually flying – a pipedream for any man back on Earth. Watching you fly in front of him, he studied your form, the way your hair flew behind your backside, the way your teeth beamed, and how the sunlight highlighted the amber of your crinkled eyes when you glanced at him.

After years of emptiness controlling your life, your chest suddenly burst with happiness. Taming an Ikran was a rite of passage and a time of excitement for any warrior, so you didn’t hide that you were somewhat proud of Miles for making tsaheylu.

Then the edges of his mouth neutralized into a tight line when his eyes traveled to your neck, the lights of the deadly collar flickering, mocking, that it was still on and alive, like a parasite.

It was a noose, and he had the lever to activate it.

He quickly adverted his eyes forward and fixated on learning to navigate with you. His heart pulled low when your smile fell as you noticed he was serious again.

Back to business, you guessed.

.

.

.

.

.

[Deleted scene]

Your eyes traveled along the details of the trees above while tuning out the Colonel's speech he was handing his men. Then he started listing away the skills they'd need to get inside the mind of Jake Sully— something about that 'full-tilt' he had mentioned to you in the shower bay.

"We eat Na'vi, ride Na'vi, think Na'vi—"

Boredom getting the best of you sloped against a log near Spider, mouth moving to your invasive thoughts as you muttered behind the Colonel's last item with "Fuck Na'vi…"

Miles’ eyes rounded, ears twitched back, then the whole group turned to your position in collective shock.

Your face burned tightly.

Oops…

Then the Colonel broke the silence, “Wanna bet?”

[cultofdionysusnet]

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓛𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓾𝓪𝓰𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓕𝓵𝓸𝔀𝓮𝓻𝓼

It's spring and the flowers are blooming! Take a walk through a cultivated garden or a wild meadow to inhale the wonderful medley of aromas provided by mother nature. But with each blossom and bundle of pollen is always an underlying meaning. Whether you're broken hearted, attempting to explain your feelings, or simply looking for subtly-worded revenge, flowers can be your language.

°˖✧✿✧˖°MUST INCLUDE! mentions of flowers, gardens and spring

°˖✧✿✧˖°You must also pick a flower from the prompts provided and utilize the meaning somewhere within your fic

°˖✧✿✧˖°Minimum word count is 500

°˖✧✿✧˖°deadline: June.19th

°˖✧✿✧˖°must be a member of our net to participate

°˖✧✿✧˖°all network rules in regards to posting applies

°˖✧✿✧˖°please use the hashtag #codn: spring24 for all posts submitted for the event

The Prompts:

Amaryllis- Shy

Anemone (white)- Sincere

Ambroisa- Pious

Aster Tataricus- remembrance

Black Lily - love, curse

Bluebell - grateful

Cactus (flower) - lust, sex

Camellia (red)- in love, perishing with grace

Camellia (yellow) - longing

Camellia (white)- waiting

Carnation - fascination, distinction, love

Cherry Blossom - kind, gentle, transience of life

Chrysanthemum (yellow) - imperial

Chrysanthemum (white) - truth

Four-leaf Clover - lucky

Daffodil - respect

Dahlia - good taste

Daisy - faith

Edelweiss - courage, power

Erica - solitude

Forget-me-not - true love

Freesia - childish, immature

Gardenia - secret love

Hibiscus - gentle

Honeysuckle - generous

Iris - good news, glad tidings, loyalty

Jasmine (Arabian/Spanish) - friendly, graceful

Lavender - faithful

Lily (white) - purity, chastity

Lily of Incas - such strong connection that language is limited when trying to explain it

Lily (orange) - hatred, revenge

Lily of the Valley/ Spider Lily - sweet

Lotus - far from the one he loves, purity, chastity

Magnolia - Natural

Mistletoe/holly - looking for love

Morning Glory- willful promises

Narcissus- self esteem

Pansy- thoughtful, caring

Peony- bravery

Poppy (red)- fun loving

Poppy (white)- rejoice

Poppy (yellow)- success

Rose (red)- love, in love

Rose (white)- innocence, silence, devotion

Rose (yellow)- jealousy

Rose (pink)- trust, happiness, confidence

Spider Lily (red) - never meet again, lost memory, abandonment

Sunflower - respect, passionate love, radiance

Sweet Pea- goodbye

Tiger Lily - wealth

Tulip (red)- fame, charity, trust

Tulip (Yellow)- one sided love

Verbena- cooperative

Violet- honesty

White Egret Orchid - purity, delicateness, "I'll be thinking of you even in my dreams"

Zinnia- loyalty

Like always, have fun with our first seasonal event of the year, may you be blessed with the muse, and The Fates look forward to your submissions~!

[the-nysh]

Webigaza isn't a character that stands out for me at least, but I'm very curious about her manga debut. We know she's supossed to be pretty (and that she won't escape "Murata's female treatment" lol) but I hope her face screams "uncanny valley", more like a doll than a human being

I’ve been holding onto this ask til she finally showed up and….

…let’s just say from the raws she almost passed me by - if it weren’t for Suiryu’s reaction and the telltale panels of her guzzling down a gallon of water for her overheating symptoms, I might’ve otherwise missed her without doubling back to check. Like oh wait a sec, is that her??? Almost mistaking her for just another quirky news reporter or a newbie streaming attention-grabby v-tuber. Where at this (early?) stage, it’s not obvious at all (from her looks) that she’s someone who went through extensive bodily modifications to obtain cyborg + superhuman psychic powers (we do see her fly away like Tatsumaki though), but otherwise these few pages feel like just a tease without actually seeing her in action yet.

I think, if there’s anything I might have expected, it would be her overall *~radiant~* pixie magical girl vibe. Cause what was most striking and standout to me about ONE’s design for her, was her 1000yrd stare eyes, full of resolute determination without regrets, framed in all the gratuitous frills and fanciest fluffiest lashes imaginable. Uncannily doll-like (with an underlying crazed desperation) would be apt. Yet she had a mysterious—and quite literal spark, or aura to her that I just don’t feel from Murata’s. (Speculation: perhaps her manga demeanor might change once Sweet Mask’s identity gets outed and she resigns herself to her life’s choices.)

For reference, here’s how she looked in the webcomic (of which her line about ‘being on hiatus’ is ironically the same, but she rushes off to fight giving us a demonstration of her powers all at once, whereas in the manga it’s offscreened till we see her again):

Comparatively in Murata’s style, perhaps she comes off rather same-facey much like how he draws most of his other typical youthful women. If I look reeeally close I can see some of the same iris sparkle-dots in her eyes like ONE’s, but…the lashes. I wish were much more flamboyant. (Like think about invisible girl’s face reveal in bn/ha - biggest flashy fluffy lashes in all their sparkly rainbow light-refraction magic glory~ So mayhaps I expected some of that pretty eye-stopping glamor for her from Murata.)

And yet thinking about it more….I realized that since Webigaza’s character is one who follows trends to compete, her manga debut reminds me of Tatsumaki’s ai-doctored hero commercial, where she looks like an (ooc) uwu-waifu’d up poster girl (much to Tatsu’s rage) for the HA, and here we see Webigaza promo shooting for the Neo Heroes in much the same way. Essentially, she’s dolled up and cutesy gesturing like how others expect her to look like (aka like an ai-mishmash of generic idol trends), rather than going ham individualizing herself as a manic pixie dream girl psychic cyborg….YET. Meaning perhaps we’ll see more of her human appearance chafe away as her cyborgification desperation (as another extreme foil to Genos) intensifies.

[hopefulromances]

#30 View Between Villages by Noah Kahan

"Feel the rush of my blood I'm seventeen again I am not scared of death I've got dreams again It's just me and the curve of the valley And there is meaning on Earth, I am happy"

There wasn't a lot that rendered Roy Kent truly speechless. Sure, Roy didn't speak much but he wasn't speechless, most of the time it was a choice to be quiet. But right now, Roy felt speechless.

He'd grown up in council housing in the south of London. It wasn't full of nature and beauty, it was concrete and graffiti and piss smelling glory. And it was home. A home he had left to go to Sunderland at the age of 9. But now he was nearing forty, and the pitch outside his apartment was still standing.

He could stand here and close his eyes and remember what it was like to be that 9-year-old and still have hopes and dreams of what his future would be. The incredible highs he would reach and the devastating lows only to return to some pretty amazing highs even still.

He felt someone take his hand and he opened his eyes to look over at you. You squeezed his hand three times as the final sign was placed on the gate outside.

KENT FIELD

They were threatening to shut it down. Bulldoze the damn place for a stupid parking lot. No way in hell Roy was going to let them do that. But it was all you, really. You and your sexy brains and corporate business lady speak to get them to sell the land. Though you'd say it wasn't hard to do it once you mentioned the name Roy Kent.

"Thank you." His voice was thick, he hated it. He hated how emotional he was over a football pitch.

You leaned against him, resting your head on his shoulder. "This is all you, Roy."

He shook his head and kissed your forehead, taking a deep inhale of your scent.

"No, its all you," he argued, shoving you fondly.

"It's both of us, how about that," you responded, shoving him back. He grunted in response shoving you one more time. You chuckled and wrapped your arm around his.

Whoever it was, Kent Field wasn't going anywhere, not for a long time.

[misguidedasgardian]

Gods of the Arena

(and outside of it)

Is this really hapening? yes it is

A Gladiators AU, heavily inspired in Spartacus (but without all the blood, guts, death and angst), and in ancient Rome and its customs...

Warnings: slavery, technically skin trade, orgies, smut, adultery (they didn't care at this times), threesomes, and more

Gladiator!Cregan x Heiress!Reader

Cregan is a man that got enslaved when the Andals conquered the wild tribes of the North, he ends up being trained as a gladiator in the villa of a prominent family; a respectable marriage, and their daughter. 

She is impressionable, and young, and as a young woman, she starts hearing tales of her friends about men, about their own gladiators and stories of orgies and sex… and she gets curious when she sees this beautiful man, a slave no less, training in his father’s villa.

Gladiator!Aegon x Domina!Reader

It was not uncommon for patrician families to… copulate… with their slaves and gladiators specially, you become... accustomed to this practice, your best friend Alys help you reunite with a man you had liked since you saw him fighting in the arena

Aegon takes a liking to this, rather than fights, specially with you who only wants to escape yout old husband

Gladiator Champion!Harwin Strong x Domina!Reader  

Reader is married to Robyn Arryn, a young man from a Patrician family, Robyn prefers the company of men, he and reader have some sort of agreement.

Robyn “purchases” Harwin, an “old” champion of the Arena, in time, reader wants to have a child, he needs an heir, so they convince Harwin to “do the deed” with Reader, and father a child to her.

Reader is soft and sweet, she wants to go back to the valley to their family villa, but Robyn finds it more interesting the big city, men everywhere, orgies, parties, fights, money… 

Gladiator!Aemond x Domina!Reader

Aemond is a gladiator in the same villa as his brother Aegon. He dreams about victories in the arena, and it's focused on his training and bringing honor to his Ludus.

His determination and skill makes him the favorite of his domina, Alys, who had inherited the Ludus from her father, the only problem they are both going to face is you, a young sweet slave, purchase to tend and serve your domina, who does not take kindly that you are “stealing” away her favorite gladiator, who is bessoted by your innocence and kindness in this rough ugly world

Trainer!Daemon x Empress!reader

Daemon is a legendary gladiator, but his days of glory are past him, now he trains a Ludus in the outskirts of King’s Landing, finally he has recovered some of the power he once had, now a free man. 

His only problem at the moment is you, the daughter of the emperor, constant reminder that he is not as powerful as he liked to be, but he and you will have no problem lowering you to his level.

When? who knows I just came up with the idea MUAHAH

[jcjenson-official]

Welcome to space, what were you expecting? It's a dangerous place, thank you for investing Go there for your rota, there for your orders Fill up these quotas, we'll bill for your quarters Report to your foreman but watch for marauders 'Cause if you get eaten, there's fees for your mourners Prosperity's there in the care of magnates In Halcyon, heaven awaits

Did you think it was supposed to look like the poster? It mostly does, oh, if you'd only read closer Just ten short years to a new frontier Snooze as you cruise and you'll wake up here You've been trapped in that ship for an awful long time So perhaps you have simply forgot what you signed Oh, honestly, did you not read the colony policy That defines you as company property?

That waivers your say in autonomy? The conglomerate's got you in lock and key We put the "dollar" back into "idolatry" If you're upset, you can rent an apology We are a family forged in bureaucracy No "I" in "team" but there's "con" in "economy" Were you expecting adventure? Were you hoping for fun? My friend, you're indentured

And pleasure's exempt from your tenure So venture back down to your slum That's provided at generous prices Your worth is determined by your sacrifices A small term of service when down on the surface Internment's a freebie that comes with the purchase

We work to earn the right to work To earn the right to work To earn the right to work To earn the right to work To earn the right to give Ourselves the right to buy Ourselves the right to live To earn the right to die

Welcome to our little town, why don't you settle down? Here, just fill out the paperwork and you can look around We're happy as can be inside the valley cannery We live to pack the cans of meat And not to question where it's found Until we end up in the ground, around the corner in the yard You know, we thought we liked the sound of finding glory in the stars The board has taught us to be proud of never reaching very far So we earn what we're allowed and give it right back at the bar

The ale to cure what ails ya Zero Gee Brew, your favourite flavour So work 'til you bleed, ennobled by labour Then purchase relief from your local retailer If you'd rather drop dead, that's fine But you know that dropping down dead bears a fine So you do your job and I'll do mine I gotta meet a six-foot deep bottom line

We make a fortune for the board by selling boredom door to door Because it's all that we deserve, and it is all we can afford The secrets of the universe and all the worlds to be explored But our dreams are back on Earth and now the work is our reward And you'll be grateful for seats at the table Though it dips at one end and the bench is unstable You may waste your days, but at least you were able To pay off your grave since we leased you your cradle

Be faithful and pray, we'll repay what you invest Behave as you slave for humanity's interest On account that you're all on account And we're quickly amounting humanity's interest You'd think that we'd sink to the brink of rebellion With markets dependent on peddling weapons The architect tells them the secret to heaven Is simply consuming whatever we sell them

We work to earn the right to work To earn the right to work To earn the right to work To earn the right to work To earn the right to give ourselves the right to buy Ourselves the right to live to earn the right to die

You should have read the fine print, my friend Should have read the fine print You should have read the fine print, my friend Should have read the fine print Welcome to our little town, why don't you settle down? Here, just fill out the paperwork and you can look around We work and then we work And then we work and then we work And then we work and then we work And then we end up in the ground

Work, work, hurry, hurry Work, work, worry, worry Work, work, hurry, hurry Worry, hurry, work, work You should have read the fine print, my friend Should have read the fine print

Here and here, and initial here Welcome to the family

what

[rainybyday]

I realized as I was rewriting the title name for the first chapter of "Hedera Helix" that I may have or may not have used the main flower for one of the chapters in "Lycoris Radiata". So I went back and wrote every flower I used.

Spider Lilies 

Chrysanthemums

Crimson Roses

Hyacinths x2

Carnations

Gladiolus

Sweet Alyssums

Blue Morning Glories

Marigolds

Roses

Forget-me-nots x2

Daffodils x2

Common Daisies x2

Lotus

Lewisia

Primroses

Crocuses

Buttercups

Violet

Rose Hip (Tea)

Blue Iris

Strelitzia

White Heather

Poppy

Lilies of the Valley

Stock flowers

Rose Buds

Sunflower

It's a lot. I think I have to rewrite Chapter 1 again and start searching for another flower to be the main focus.

Oh boy...

Also, the flower was supposed to be Buttercups with the title being "A Buttercup Dream We Had" which isn't a major spoiler but it will be kinda fun to see what people think this might mean.

[elbiotipo]

some stuff that inspires me when I write the Biopunks, in no particular order:

Argentine and Latin American memory: the weight of everything that came before us, all our victories and struggles, dictatorships, crises, revolutions and democracies. The characters are young, and yet they are defined by things that happened decades before they were born.

60s-70s counterculture: revolutionary students and hippies, the connection between ecology (bioengineering in this case) and spirituality, self expression in a repressive culture, the hope for a better world, for the world revolution... and how it all faded away and the legacy it left behind (papá cuentáme otra vez...)

Argentine Rock: A bit too wide since it covers everything from Te Hace Falta Vitaminas to Inconsciente Colectivo, but every chapter is titled after an Argentine rock song, it's intended to be the soundtrack.

Pirates of Silicon Valley: the movie yes, but more accurately the whole PC revolution, the dichotomy of open vs. closed source (in genomes this time), hacker (biohacker) culture, the rise of megacorporations vs academia vs subcultures... but this time it's genetics...

Neon Genesis Evangelion: for real, don't laugh. Exploring what they didn't talk about much: what is a world with billions dead? Ruined flooded cities contrasted with bright futuristic buildings, the UN taking over after a worldwide catastrophe with helicopters patrolling the skies, the contrast between high technological infrastructure and a mostly normal life.

Argentine fútbol: the canchita de barrio, even if it's a biotech club this time! Competition among institutes and among countries, the bioclub as a nexus for young people, pride on the camiseta, old glories, the joy of winning for your team... even if it's a bunch of nerds, it's really a story about a team on the C Nacional who wants to revive its old glories...

Art Nouveau: Not exactly the one from the early XX century, but the main art style everywhere. There were never real Art Nouveau skyscrapers and major buildings, now they are everywhere, and they are complemented and even made of biotechnology too, and how it contrasts with the sharper, more practical style of the post-Ecocide world.

Transhumanism: trascending the human form yes, but also all that's associated with it: the deep view of humanity's future, the potential of technology to change the nature of Homo sapiens and the biosphere itself, space colonization, inmortality, AIs and new sentient species, things that looked like fantastic dreams now are practical problems as technology advances...

Enviromental restoration: The world is not over, not if we have anything to say about it! A healing Earth and the scientific, technological, but also social, political and even spiritual debate on what shape should it take. Whole armies of people dedicated to regrowing forests, cleaning oceans and recovering wastelands, and what does it mean for a society which adopts an almost warlike approach to enviromental conservation and restoration.

Argentine Academia: of course, since I'm on it. The eternal stress of writing grant plans and struggling with your director, trying to make the best of your little funding, making your obsolete equipment to last as long as possible, and managing great things with it.