#hair care service .don't consider skin care

[naturalssalonsblog]

Bridal Makeup Essentials: Choosing the Right Beauty Salon for Your Big Day

Your wedding day is one of the most important days of your life, and naturally, you want everything to be perfect. From the dress to the decor, every detail is carefully planned to create an unforgettable experience. Among these details, bridal makeup plays a crucial role in ensuring that you look your best as you walk down the aisle. Choosing the right beauty salon for your bridal makeup is essential to achieving the flawless look you desire. If you’re searching for the best bridal makeup services, particularly in Sahakara Nagar, Tumkur, or Madanapalle, Naturals Salon stands out as a premier choice.

The Importance of Bridal Makeup

Bridal makeup is not just about applying products; it’s about enhancing your natural beauty and ensuring that you feel confident on your big day. The right makeup can highlight your best features, complement your wedding outfit, and ensure that you look stunning in your wedding photos. Therefore, choosing a skilled makeup artist and a reputable salon is crucial.

Why Naturals Salon is the Best Choice for Bridal Makeup in Sahakara Nagar

When it comes to bridal makeup, the experience and expertise of the makeup artist are paramount. Naturals Salon in Sahakara Nagar is renowned for its professional and personalized bridal makeup services. Here’s why it stands out:

Experienced Makeup Artists: Naturals Salon boasts a team of highly skilled bridal makeup artists who have extensive experience in creating a wide range of bridal looks. Whether you’re looking for a traditional style or something more contemporary, the artists at Naturals Salon can tailor their services to meet your needs.

Customized Bridal Packages: Understanding that every bride is unique, Naturals Salon offers customized bridal makeup packages. These packages are designed to suit different preferences, skin types, and wedding themes, ensuring that each bride gets the look she desires.

Quality Products: The salon uses high-quality, professional-grade makeup products that are long-lasting and suitable for all skin types. This ensures that your makeup stays flawless throughout the wedding ceremony and reception.

Pre-Wedding Consultation: Naturals Salon offers pre-wedding consultations to discuss your preferences and trial sessions to finalize the perfect look. This allows you to have peace of mind, knowing exactly how you will look on your wedding day.

Convenient Location: Located in Sahakara Nagar, Naturals Salon is easily accessible for residents in and around the area, making it a convenient choice for brides-to-be.

Naturals Salon: The Best Bridal Makeup Service in Tumkur

If you’re planning a wedding in Tumkur and searching for the best bridal makeup service, look no further than Naturals Salon. The salon has earned a stellar reputation for delivering exceptional bridal makeup services that cater to the specific needs of brides in the region.

Personalized Attention: Naturals Salon in Tumkur ensures that every bride receives personalized attention. From the initial consultation to the final makeup application, the team is dedicated to making sure that you are completely satisfied with your look.

Expertise in Diverse Bridal Looks: The makeup artists at Naturals Salon are proficient in creating a variety of bridal looks, ranging from classic to modern. Whether you envision a traditional Indian bridal look or something more contemporary, they have the expertise to bring your vision to life.

Timely Service: On your wedding day, time is of the essence. The team at Naturals Salon in Tumkur is known for their punctuality and efficiency, ensuring that you are ready on time and stress-free.

Specialized Skin Care: Naturals Salon also offers specialized skin care treatments leading up to the wedding day. These treatments help to prep your skin, ensuring a smooth and radiant complexion that will enhance the overall makeup look.

Affordable Pricing: While providing top-notch bridal makeup services, Naturals Salon also offers competitive pricing, making it an excellent choice for brides who want quality without breaking the bank.

Bridal Makeup in Madanapalle: Why Naturals Salon is the Top Choice

Madanapalle, a town known for its cultural richness, is also home to one of the best bridal makeup services at Naturals Salon. Here’s why this salon is the go-to choice for brides in the area:

Cultural Sensitivity: Naturals Salon in Madanapalle is well-versed in the cultural nuances of the region. The makeup artists are adept at creating bridal looks that align with traditional customs while incorporating modern makeup techniques.

Bridal Hair Styling: In addition to makeup, Naturals Salon offers expert bridal hair styling services. Whether you prefer a classic updo or a more elaborate style, the salon’s hair stylists can create the perfect look to complement your makeup.

Bridal Party Packages: Naturals Salon in Madanapalle offers packages not just for the bride, but also for the bridal party. This ensures that everyone looks cohesive and camera-ready on the big day.

Professionalism and Dedication: The team at Naturals Salon in Madanapalle is known for their professionalism and dedication to their clients. They work closely with you to ensure that your bridal makeup is exactly what you envisioned.

Positive Reviews: The salon has garnered numerous positive reviews from satisfied brides who have praised the quality of service, the friendly staff, and the exceptional results.

How to Choose the Right Bridal Makeup Salon

Choosing the right bridal makeup salon can be a daunting task, but by keeping a few key factors in mind, you can make the process easier:

Research and Reviews: Start by researching salons in your area and reading reviews from past clients. Positive reviews are a good indicator of consistent service and satisfied customers.

Portfolio: Look at the salon’s portfolio to see examples of their work. This will give you an idea of the makeup artists’ skill level and their ability to create different bridal looks.

Consultation and Trials: Schedule a consultation with the salon to discuss your preferences and ask about trial sessions. A trial session allows you to see how the makeup will look on your wedding day and make any necessary adjustments.

Budget: Determine your budget and find a salon that offers quality services within your price range. While it’s important not to skimp on your bridal makeup, many salons, like Naturals, offer packages that provide excellent value for money.

Location and Convenience: Choose a salon that is conveniently located, either near your home or your wedding venue. This will make it easier to coordinate on the day of the wedding.

Comfort Level: Finally, choose a salon where you feel comfortable and confident in the makeup artist’s abilities. Your wedding day is stressful enough; working with a team that makes you feel at ease is essential.

Conclusion

Your wedding day is a once-in-a-lifetime event, and choosing the right bridal makeup salon is crucial to ensuring that you look and feel your best. Naturals Salon, with its branches in Sahakara Nagar, Tumkur, and Madanapalle, offers exceptional bridal makeup services that cater to a diverse range of preferences and styles. With their experienced makeup artists, personalized packages, and commitment to quality, Naturals Salon is undoubtedly the best choice for brides seeking the perfect bridal makeup look. Whether you’re in Sahakara Nagar, Tumkur, or Madanapalle, Naturals Salon is ready to make your big day truly special.

[zaynesmissus]

𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐒

tags : ❄️ fluff. reader is on her period and has cramps. est. relationship. 694 words. a/n : i am yearning for zayne sb esp bc im on my period ☹️ just a short one bc i miss my hubby. hope u guys like this!

"You've been sitting on the sofa for a while now. Are you okay?" Zayne calls out as he walks towards you from the table where papers were scattered. He was reading them while responding to emails on his laptop. It's been like this since yesterday since he suddenly decided to work from home, said it was for a change of pace and to rest since he's had a lot of surgeries lately, but here he was, taking care of you on your period.

"Could you rub my stomach for me?" You winced as even little movements makes the cramps more painful. Finding a comfortable position was easier said than done.

He offers an assuring smile before slowly sitting down beside you. Lifting his hand, he places it on your lower abdomen and starts moving his hand in a circular motion. "Does this pressure feel okay?"

Nodding, you close your eyes and lean back to give him more access. "Thank you, doc." To which he quietly chuckles at the nickname.

"Don't worry, I'll make sure to give your service a 5-star rating."

The comment makes him smile fondly as he nodded his head. "Much appreciated, Miss. However," his hand stops its movement as he gazes at you intently, moving closer as his other hand goes up to tuck stray strands of your hair before his face cupped your cheek, thumb gently stroking your skin as he whispered, words sprinkled with the sweetest of honey and the warmth of the afternoon sun, "My services are reserved for only one person."

His words were followed by a kiss that felt like clouds hugging you. It wasn't like a rush of adrenaline, but more like being wrapped up in a warm blanket on a cold morning, makes you want to stay and never leave. His lips lingered, and to be honest, you wished it stayed longer, like snoozing your alarm for 5 more minutes; you both could never get enough.

But he knew. The time apart wasn't long though because he came back quicker than he left. And once you were both satisfied, you thought it was done. He had other plans.

He was determined to warm you up with his lips which moved to your chin, then your cheeks, followed by the tip of your nose, and finally your forehead.

"I'm not complaining, but what's this for?"

"I know I was focused on work for quite a while. Consider it as my compensation." Smiling, he fixed your blanket and continued rubbing your abdomen.

This made you grin. "Any kind of compensation from you is always welcome. But, you didn't have to. You are working from home after all. Besides, you're already doing a lot for me." Looking down, you slightly pout.

He sighs with a small smile. "How many times must I remind you it's okay to depend on me? In fact, I encourage you to." Gently holding your chin, he makes you look up at him.

Seeing your eyes, he could see a mix of emotions, but what stood out was shame.

It's as if he was scared that a shift in the air could cause a spark and create an explosion, he whispered ever so gently as he held your gaze with so much gentleness and love that you almost cried from how safe it felt to be with him. "I want to do this. I'm happy to do this, so please let me take care of you. What kind of doctor would I be if I can't even take care of.. the most important person in my life?"

It's probably your hormones going haywire, but something deep down tells you that's not the case of why you shed a tear of two from his words, heart bursting with gratefulness, love, and affection for this man. Your man.

Laughing while you cry, you just nod frantically, but Zayne wasn't that convinced yet. "Or am I going to have to use my power and authority, and give you a 'Doctor's order'?"

Now shaking your head, you chuckle while sniffling. "No need, doctor. I tend to disobey those, and this order is something I very much want."

© zaynesmissus — do not steal, plagiarize, translate, and/or repost my posts anywhere

[seokminfilm]

bf seokmin headcanons for the soul

🤍 warnings, fluff, headcanons, established relationship, boyfriend seokmin, pet names, mentions of periods/cramps, shy/soft seokmin, mentions of nudity, overall just sickeningly fluffy boyfriend seokmin headcanons

🤍 author's note, wanted to write something but couldn't think of a good plot so we're going the headcanon route instead!! saw these pictures and instantly felt like writing fluffy boyfriend headcanons so here we are 🤍

🤍 now playing, everybody wants to rule the world (tears for fears)

🤍 word count, 614 | for @kstrucknet, @maestro-net

— boyfriend!seokmin who packs your lunch for work and leaves you handwritten notes telling you how much he loves & cares for you

— boyfriend!seokmin who finds pleasure in cooking for you and providing for you when you don't ask (will jump at the chance to text you and ask if you want something from the store)

— boyfriend!seokmin who loves spooning you at night if you have period cramps. he knows the exact spot where you like pressure and will spend his time massaging that spot until you're satisfied.

— boyfriend!seokmin who will send you song recommendations at the most random times of the day. no matter where you are (even if you're a few feet away from him), he will send you a song that reminds him of you or your relationship with him.

— boyfriend!seokmin who still gets shy when he takes off his clothes in front of you. no matter how much you've seen his body before, it still makes him nervous and gives him butterflies when you love on him.

— boyfriend!seokmin who sends you instagram reels he thinks you'll like, hoping that you'll laugh at them so he can hear your giggle.

— boyfriend!seokmin who dries you off after you get out of the shower. he thinks it's so intimate and loves hearing your pleased sighs; seokmin will kiss your skin as he does so.

— boyfriend!seokmin who waits for you to take the first bite of food. always wants to make sure you're happy with what you got before he starts to eat.

— boyfriend!seokmin who when jealous will cling to you 10x more than he normally does. will stay glued to your hip when suspicious of a guy, and doesn't hesitate with pda if he's bothered enough.

— boyfriend!seokmin who calls you all the sweetest pet names in the book and is constantly looking for new ones to try and get your opinion on.

—boyfriend!seokmin who loves it when you play with his hair. he will give anything to have his head in your lap while you play with his naturally curly hair, and loves it when you kiss his forehead while doing so.

— boyfriend!seokmin who has a secret pinterest board planning out his future wedding and house with you. it has all types of pictures, and he has so many dreams for your future house.

— boyfriend!seokmin who loves to have your hands on his body, whether you're holding his hand or running your fingers along his bare chest. adores when you trace his facial features with your fingers.

— boyfriend!seokmin who cannot resist the nose kisses you give him. will become a soft blushing mess when you peck the end of his nose.

— boyfriend!seokmin who will listen to your vent and spend all the time he needs to comfort you before giving you advice/reassuring you. will never rush you or force you to tell him what's bothering you; he wants you to do it on your own time!

— boyfriend!seokmin who will do your hair for you if you ask; he loves to braid your hair and brush it for you, and will not hesitate if you ask him to wash it.

— boyfriend!seokmin who considers it an honor and a privilege to be able to be your boyfriend. he never takes you for granted and always lets you know that he loves you in some way, whether it's verbally telling you, giving you silent hugs or kisses, or doing acts of service for you that will show you his adoration for you. seokmin's main goal in life is to please you and show you that he cares for you.

[livelaughloveluffy]

comfort - black leg sanji

a/n: happy halloween!!! here's a treat for you! 💗 this will be a new fic series, and who else would i write for first but my dearly beloved sanji 😭 (i cant remember if i used this picture before but i literally love it so much i cant be bothered 😭😭 his hair just looks so fluffy and soft 😭😭😭😭😭)

a/n: guys... i know i said i wasn't going to do the whole songs paired with fics thing.... but like..... in honor of a new ethel cain single being out tomorrow i feel like i absolutely must pair this fic with this song 😭😭😭

nothing but fluff here 💗

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when he comforts you:

-sanji's first instinct when it comes to comforting you, is to pull you tight into his arms, your face buried into his chest, one arm wrapped around your waist, rubbing soft circles into the smalls of your back, and the other hand placed on your head, gently stroking your hair. it's his secret to getting you to take deeper breaths because he knows you'll be utterly consumed in the scent of his cologne, now wrapped around you like a warm blanket

-he'll softly murmur in your ear phrases like ; "i'm right here, mon amour", "everything will be okay", "i'll stay here for as long as you like mon cheri. i'm not going anywhere."

-when the two of you can't be alone, he'll always have a reassuring hand on you, whether his hand is on your thigh with his thumb rubbing slow circles into your skin or placed on your back. or when he's trying to be more subtle he'll hold pinky's with you.... he'll always find some way to touch you, its nice to have a physical reminder that he's right there and not going anywhere

-when you don't really want to talk, he'll softly hum... the same way he does when he's concentrated on the meal he's preparing, or when he's just content and happy.... a song only the two of you know, since you're the only one ever close enough to him to hear it

-this man gives literally the best advice.. however, he only does so when you explicitly ask for it. his advice and perspective is really pragmatic and understanding, he always considers every possible point of view and takes lots of time to consider your dilemma before he offers an opinion

-if you're sick, injured, or on your period; he's catering to your every need. comfort foods and cravings are made without you even mentioning them (he totally tracks your whole cycle to stay ahead of the game, even if your irregular he somehow always knows) cuddles are frequent and necessary, he's on top of meds always giving them to you at the same time, making sure you take them, even when you say you don't need them or want them, his soft gentle voice is oozing with affection as the words "you'll feel better if you take them, mon amour". you're never alone, ever. when he can't be in your room or in bed with you, he'll carry you to the kitchen, make you wrap your legs around his waist and put arms around his neck, and he'll hold you while he cooks, taking extra care to make sure he's not bumping you against the counters. sanji's 100% an acts of service type man, so he'll do anything and everything, and no amount of protesting will change that.

when he needs comforting:

-he finds a great deal of comfort in cuddling, just the physical closeness of you; your warmth, your soft perfume, everything about you really eases his mind. sanji prefers cuddling while facing each other, he'll bury his face in the crook of your neck with your hand gently tangled into his soft blonde locks. his hair is his ultimate reminder of safety and comfort, so with your fingers softly playing and intertwined in it, he can breathe a bit easier.

-my baby absolutely melts with words of affirmation, this man thrives off of praise, so when he's feeling down gentle reminders of everything you love about him, how much you love him, how amazing he is, helps him remember exactly how lucky he is to have you

-quality time is an absolute must. the last thing sanji wants when he's upset is to be alone, so even if he doesn't really want to talk, just having you by his side is more than enough. the absolute farthest you could be away from him is 10 feet, anything more than that, and he'll just come and get you, wrapping his arms around one of yours and gently cling to you

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a/n: god, i love sanji more than life itself 😭😭😭

a/n: enjoyed this fic? here's my masterlist!!

[qwellterqustoinmark]

DPXDC

Duke & Danny, living corspe Danny :p

Death is a fundamental part of life. Infact it's what controls everything. You die, no matter what, theirs no way to stop the slow tick of time. One day the skeletal man in dark robes will stand before you.

It's something the bats knew. Despite looking death in the eye, no one wanted to think they'd die. That was normal, as much as they could assure themselves it was atleast.

Still it hurt to talk down jumpers. To come to the scean and an overdose before the police, to see a body with its head blow out by its own hand. Duke tries to believe that they wanted peace, and there's nothing more peaceful then death; however he also know that they just wanted it to stop, for the aches and pain to halt, for life to start looking better. They got in their heads it never could.

Duke was never commonly on the sceans of suicides. Most people took their life's late at night, when no one would blink at house lights blinking off one final time.

His inexprince didn't stop the man at the legde of the room. His hair blowing softly in the wind. It was nearing mid day, a less favorable hour for the people of Gotham. Still people watched dully on the street. A morbid fasactpin, and hope, keeping them drilled in spot.

But this man was already dead. Duke could tell it from the pale blue tipped fingers, the sunken cheeks, burned tipped hair, and slight burnt smell that spilled off him. A dead man, with a charred left hand. With a lopsided smile on his face, hands held to the sky.

Duke made sure his footsteps where loud, shoulders drawn up as he looped through every training simulation he had been put through. None of them talked about how to stop a dead man.

A dead man, that faces him when Duke gets close enough. His fave is young. Young twenties mabye, he dosnt want to consider the stranger a teenager. His face is harp, with white dusty speaks speckling his hair. Hafe of his face is parralziyed sitting perfectly still as the right expresses.

Duke rembers seedling his face before. It was softer cleaner. When he was standing atop his old home, stareing down at the empty concrete knowing nothing would truly get better. He was a lost case the moment his mother slid the only working gas mask on him. The service workers looked at him with pity, another kid to be sold into the system.

"Hey light-up." A Midwestern voice called, and behind him was a corspe. A dull aura that infact seemed to be shadows, but the man stood woth hafe a smile on his face. Another social worker, Duke mussed.

"Whowh really gunna let a man call you names twinkle?" Dukes jaw clenched, but he didn't feel like fighting. It was that vague uncertainty of annoyed at how care free people could be. When the world seemed to have ended. The dead man tsks at Duke, comeing to sit next to him. "You know, I don't really wanna deal with a lost ghost man. Could you?.." That lit a fire under Duke. He didn't know why but he surged at the corsep, it's skin cold as he swung.

The corspe just laughed, like his parents did, like the joker did, like everyone when he cried.

It worked. Duke dosnt know why the man was trying to stop him but that blinding rage worked. He beat the corse, the corspe pushed and pulled at him. Dragging him further from the egde till the man disappeared in a quick salute.

Only then did Duke realize that he wanted to live. To feel that adrenaline.

Duke could almost believe it was a dream, now however; feeling that urge to throw himself at the corspe infrot of him, he's sure it wasnt.

The ghost eyes light up, "Buddy!" It calls cackling like a mad man, Duke feels a smile pulls at his lips.

.

Constantine stumbling into the bat cave with batshit craze: Basty you mother fucker-

Danny loosely hanging of Duke. The most, alive, out of the entier batclan: :3

Jhon fuck you: D: oh fucckkk........ how do i.... how did I tell Bat his kids dead......

[with-my-murder-flute]

Hanu Olgarezh: Notes and headcanons

I just finished The Tomb of Dragons for the second time, and have kneaded my thoughts into a ball of dough

Origins and Job

From Ezho; is one of five children

His being Ezheise is notable enough for Thara and Zhodeän Parmorin to each note it with a bit of surprise

Has been with the Principate Guard for less than a year

Got hired partly because the Guard is "desperately short-handed" and "need officers so badly"

Volunteers to guard Thara when he returns from Cetho

Trusted enough he gets pulled from guarding Thara to arrest Coralis Clunethar

My thoughts:

I suspect that, like Thara, Prince Orchenis trusts him specifically because he is not Amaleise. Amalo sounds like a deeply corrupt city, where previous generations of aristocracy seemed to scorn actual governance as far beneath them, the religious authorities didn't find social causes profitable enough, and capitalist monopolies basically did whatever the hell they wanted. So Orchenis is bringing in these outsiders to take key roles in the city because they are less likely to have strong prevailing loyalties that get in the way of his plan of justice

This makes Hanu going to arrest Coralis make extra sense; Coralis is a child of the ruling house, has grown up with the expectation of inheriting the principate constantly dangled in front of him, and has had years to curry favour with anyone who's anyone. In that case, the person you can trust most would be the relative outsider, someone Coralis hasn't had an opportunity to sink hooks into.

Military History

Described as in his early forties, pale skin, light orange eyes, "with the crow’s feet of a man who spent a great deal of time squinting against sunlight."

Recently left the Army after a 20-year hitch, partly because being mixed-race interfered with his career progression, and partly because he felt that serving on the Anmur'theileian sucked and the war against the Nazhmorhathveras was unending and stupid

My Thoughts

I wonder whether/how much this man has interacted with:

Captain Verer Orthema

Who was the Anmur'theileian's commander for many years and married the daughter of the mayor of Vorenzhessar, a town in the western badlands

Has enough goblin ancestry to have a silver sheen to his skin and black hair, and says he has been called an "abomination" for it more than once

Unclear exactly when his service on the Evressai steppes ended, since he says that he considered Varinechebel a friend and cared for him deeply, but always disapproved of his treatment of Maia

Orthema is from eastern Thu-Tetar, which is on the opposite side of the elflands from the Evressai Steppes, and I really don't think they're related, although it's also hard to tell because Ezho was founded during the reign of Maia's grandfather thanks to a gold rush, so the Olgarezheise could theoretically have come from anywhere

But Hanu would have been several years into his army service by the time Chenelo died, so it's not at all impossible for him and Orthema to have overlapped for some years there

I guess I'm thinking about this so much because Thara seems headed right back to the Untheileneise Court with Hanu in tow, and I think about what that might be like for Hanu. He could be a complete outsider, but on the other hand, he might be comfortable with Captain Orthema, maybe even have been recommended to Prince Orchenis by him or another member of the Untheileneise Guard, and have his own niche to hang out in.

Also, Captain Orthema is described as a knight of Anmura, and talks about some other people serving in the Anmur'theileian as "our fellow knights" so now I'm all 👀 about Hanu's possible knightly status

Public... relations

So, there's this bit that haunts me:

“That cannot have been your first ghoul hunt,” he said. “No, I quieted several when I was the prelate of Aveio.” “Aveio?” “It is a small town in the prairies south of the Evressa. I can tell you nothing to recommend it,” I said, thinking of Evru—and of the coil of Evru’s hair in my room in the Amal’theileian. I had put that strand of his hair in Lenet Athmaza’s charm mostly as camouflage in case anyone asked, but now it was, ironically, quite genuine. “But it was good practice for ghoul hunting.” “Yes, should one wish to take that up as a hobby,” he said dryly. “It has proved useful,” I said. “Without that, the dragon would probably have shredded me.” “True enough. I…” He cocked his head. “I hear running water. Come on.”

And when thinking about geography, I think about Orthema saying, that the Nazhmorhathveras "will consider the towns of the badlands [like Vorenzhessar) as no more than prey, as they did before the Anmur’theileian was built"

And look, here's a detail from the map Christian Stiehl did of the Ethuveraz with Monette's/Addison's help as Witness for the Dead was being written:

So Vorenzhessar, which is on the other side of a mountain range from the steppes, was the frequent target of Evressai raids? And Aveio is a similar distance away, in a place where the Evresartha is slow and silty enough to produce dramatic meanders, but with flat prairie to ride across?

I'll say it. Weld a tin hat to my head, but I'll say it: Hanu would absolutely already know where Aveio is. Thara describes it as a ghost town with more graves than people, and says he was a rare commodity as someone who could quiet ghouls, which makes me think about what had to be done if the ghouls couldn't be quieted. Would burning them with fire be the kind of thing the army could be roped into helping with?

I'm left looking at that little trailing "I..." wondering if Hanu had known that there was a Witness vel ama in Aveio for a while.

If he heard about the scandal that befell him

If he was possibly about to put two and two together, or confess that he already had

Or had the tact to shut up about it just in time

Just, y'know. Things I wonder about.

[tikvin]

Eshra's greetings and some banter

-39—-20(negative)

"Out with it"

(sigh) "What?"

(tongue click) "And here I thought the day was going well"

-19—20(neutral)

(slight smile) "Yes?"

"You wish to chat?"

"You have my attention"

21—40(medium)

"I am listening"

"You have something to say, yes?"

"How can I help, my dear?"

41—100 (high, exceptional)

"What is it, my dear?"

"Your secrets are safe with me"

"You look like you have a secret to share with me"

"What bothers you, friend?"

Flirty:

"Well-well, haven't my day just got so much better"

"My attention is all yours, dear."

"Ah, I do like the sound of your voice, you know"

Romanced:

(leaning in slightly with a soft smile) "Hmmm?"

"My, oh my, remembered of little ol' me?"

"Got tired admiring me form afar, love?"

(raising an eyebrow with sly smile, she looks expectantly)

Romanced (rejected Bhaal) Will include all of regular romanced lines and additional:

"Since I stopped hearing the song of your blood, your voice got so much clearer, my love"

"To be free, to be loved, what more could one ask for? Well, to hear your lovely voice right about now, I suppose"

"My joy, my heart, what troubles you?"

"My darling, I am at your service" (bows jokingly)

Romanced (lost to Orin)

(looks a little lost) "Ah—? Oh. Yes. What is it?"

(in solemn tone) "Speak to me"

(agitated) "What!?" (snaps out of it) "No— not like that— I'm sorry, haven't got much sleep lately. Did you want something?"

Romanced (accepted Bhaal)

"My most beloved victim"

"Oh how I crave to crawl under your very skin"

"I hear the song your blood sings for me so clear. Beautiful."

Banters:

Considering Eshra is more observing than prying type, I don't think she would initiate them much herself. Except maybe environmental ones and a bit of flirting here and there. I have just a few so far.

(Shadowheart/Eshra)

— "Do you dye your hair, Eshra?"

— "Hm? What makes you think so?"

— "I mean, isn't drow hair usually white or blond?"

— "Why, thank you for calling me special, my dear"

— "That's not— Nevermind"

(Eshra/Wyll/Gale. Underdark, after Eshra's amnesia revealed. Requires fighting at least 2 drow enemies, Minthara included)

— "Say, is drow hierarchy really as ruthless and strict as it is described in tomes about Underdark??" (G)

— "Gale, dear, I have no idea. Although the drow we encountered so far left only a bad taste in my mouth"

— "Afraid that you too did something cruel in your past?" (W)

— "Concerned I was a snobbish insufferable brat"

(Eshra/Tav Temple of Jergal or any temple ruins)

— "This feels familiar... somehow"

— "Hm? Were you a church worker?"

— "Of sorts, I think..."

(Lae'Zel/Karlach/Eshra on the elevator thingy on the way to monastery)

— "What a sight. We should stop for a nice little lunch, take it all in." (K)

— "Is the worm gnawing at your grey matter? We must find a crèche and be purified." (L)

— "Lae'Zel is right... A lunch after being freed from our wrigglers would be much sweeter, don't you think?" (E)

— "Chk. You're both are way too frivolous." (L)

(Minthara/Eshra shadow cursed land. Requires Eshra being recruited before meeting Minthara in act1)

— "So, my suspicions were correct."

— (sigh) "What are you talking about?"

— "The moment we met. I thought something isn't right about you. You look like a drow, but you're most certainly not one. So what are you, iblith?"

— "Careful, Minthara, don't make me regret not slitting your throat in that goblin camp, the moment our dear leader looked away."

— "You would've died in attempt."

That it for now! Will post more banters some time later.

[evilmoldywizard]

After the events of Deadpool and Wolverine HCs where they just live together

- they do a lot of accidentally romantic and like considered “couple” things but just don't really pay it much mind or notice, they just sort of somehow fell into patterns of it

- they share a bed of course and Logan will complain about it and hate it, but he will literally lie down and steal the blankets even through there's like… a couch… like literally in the next room….

- Logan puts in two stupid little hair curlers for his kitty cat ears to go to bed

- they're pretty much the “elegant silk robe” and “who goes there” nightshirt duo

- Logan is fucking awful with anxiety around sleeping next to anyone because he frequently wakes up with his claws out from night terrors, and it's insane to him the first time it happens around wade when he wakes up and stabs him in the side, he immediately goes to is to panic but wade just sort of wakes up like, “peanut I'm too tired for this, maybe later” and will roll over with Logan’s claws still in his side, and just like scratch at it like it itches. Logan wont admit it but he felt a ping of odd security that he hadn't felt for a while. Like he had of course stabbed him and obviously knew he recovered easily, its just the first time he realized he wouldn't need to worry about this with Wade

- wade is godawful at cooking and Logan eats it every time but complains. He will still eat the entire somehow remarkably charred remains of the pasta wade microwaved though.

- Logan sort of just takes up being a stay at home house husband since wade goes back to contract killing to pay the bills. Also Logan doesn't have like any proof or documentation of him existing so jobs are a little difficult. But also just him in a customer service job would be insane. Yea he will like clean up and take care of marypuppins all day and he also can't cook for shit, but he can at least microwave some leftovers.

- he's really weirded out by living a sort of mundane life but he oddly likes it a lot, it's something he hasn't felt since before he got the adamantium Implanted, he even sort of starts to stop drinking. He should go straight to therapy still though, but he's still a bit of a closed book emotionally.

- he's also gotten closer to Laura, and the other Xmen, he doesn't quite feel in place with them since he still feels like they are expecting someone else when they look at him, but he likes being around Laura since they of course are so similar in abilities.

- I like the idea of him taking up silly little hobbies like knitting and woodworking or pottery just to do something, especially woodworking since he can sort of use his claws ag times, at first, but eventually doesn't since saws and tools don't require the pain of coming out of his skin to use.

[calehenituse-brainrot]

Disturbed Rest

Cale Henituse | Kim Rok Soo x Transported!Reader

Something sinister had happened within the island.

You have known John as deeply as you know yourself, and he knows you as deeply as he knows himself. Memories mixed together, his memories became yours and yours became his. Some bits are missing, either because you both can't remember yourself or because of some divine intervention.

You see John in the faces of nearly every kind, older men you see; be it strangers, professors, or even cleaning services back at your college, and John sees you in the faces of every innocent girl he had ever seen in his life, and often in the face of his right-hand woman, Kore. He feared one day he will forget Kore's face with how often yours were replacing hers. 

You don't know how long you and John had been stuck in this loop of memories. Has it been days, months, or years? You wondered what happened to your body with John's after the ship had sunken. You can't remember past anything the moment your body had hit the water. Are you declared dead or missing? If dead, did they enact a search for you and the others? Did they manage to bring you home and give you a place to rest?

"What kind of graves do you think we would have?"

John seemed a bit surprised at the question. He glanced at you for a moment, knowing full well that there were no graves for the two of you, and yet he spoke his answer casually, "Considering you're the Duke's proxy, you'd get those fancy granite slab headstones."

You scrunched your nose as you think about it and John gave you a thin smile, "What? Not fancy enough for you?"

"Try too fancy," you muttered, pulling your knees to your chest as you gaze out to the sight of you and the rest of the people you have called your own family the moment you got transported there.

You were walking beside who you knew as Cale. You could recognize him so easily despite how his face was horrifically switching to the faces of your old male friends. The way he carried himself, how he dressed. Your brain reminds you frequently of him and it made you realize you have accepted the fictional character to be another human being too many months ago. It is an odd moment for such an epiphany.

"I've been feeling weird these days," John suddenly says. You turn to the man, a teasing remark about to fall from your lips to question him how he could feel if he's dead when you noticed something.

John stood beside you, appearing like he was some sort of ghost. He was nearly transparent.

"John?"

Cale sat on a meadow of dianthus flowers, the purple flowers with white tips blowing on the wind and spreading across the field like someone had dumped a basket full of flowers there. He sees the sky, red and orange-like flames as the sun began to set. He sees you in the distance, wearing your modest sundress and walking along the meadow, stomping on the flowers without a care in the world. You don't seem to notice him, picking up your sundress a bit like a noblewoman so you wouldn't step on the lovely dress.

Your hair moves with the wind and with every step you take. Under the shine of the setting sun, your skin seemed to glow warmly. This is how he remembers you and it will always be like this forever. He has no memory of pale skin and bloated skin on you. He had never seen your breathing stop, and for once, Cale was glad he never could have found you. He was not sure he could stomach another death. 

Cale calls out for your name, his voice quiet. He began to stand up and watch your figure as it began to get smaller in his line of vision, watching you walk away from him and towards the sunset. Cale calls for your name again, louder this time as he began to follow you, his long legs slowly moving faster as his heart began to drum in his ribcage, begging to be freed from its confines to pursue it's object of affection itself. 

You're too slow, his heart seemed to plead. Please, I need her.

Cale calls out your name again, beginning to run despite how he knew he wasn't the best at sports in this body. But in this dream, his body is light and yet heavy at the same time. He desperately reached for you, arm extends and he almost jolted at the feeling of your blowing sundress brushing against the tips of his fingers.

His heart soared. More, it begs him.

You turn around and before Cale could see your face, the meadow seemed to grow larger. The flowers and tall grass seemed to move together, elongating and swirling in odd ways before they encased you as if you were a pupa. The last thing he could see was how your [e/c] eyes seemed to stare at him before a branch covered that small opening as well.

Cale woke up with a start, his face feeling wet and breathing slightly labored. He lets go of Raon who he had tucked close to his side as he slept, hand coming up to clutch at his chest as he tried to slow down his heartbeat. He feels the scar there and tries to remind himself that it was just a bad dream. It was an odd, bad dream. Cale turns to the window, seeing that the sun was shining bright, meaning he had overslept again.

'Huh,'  he thought, rubbing his face. 'Damn.'

He was supposed to be up earlier to look around the library for anything that could be of use regarding foreign primordial gods. 

He slowly got up from the bed, making sure to not wake the kids as he began to freshen up a bit before having Ron help him. He doesn't want the butler to know he had a bad dream, because Ron had been looking at Cale with a certain gaze lately ever since they had begun looking for any primordial foreign gods that could have been the ones to persuade you to leave them all. 

You are desperate, the older man's gaze seems to say. Cale doesn't feel like confirming or denying that assumption, so he never probed further.

"Young Master-nim," Ron began slowly as Cale and the kids were enjoying their dessert. 

Cale looks up at Ron, swallowing a bite of his blueberry cupcake. "What is it?"

The three kids peered at Ron curiously. They were curious about what Ron wanted to say and that he needed to speak of it during their lunch.

"I think it's about time this humble servant of yours handle the arrangement for Miss [Name]'s room and her remaining belongings," Ron proposed, his words uttered in a soft way that sounded unfamiliar to him. 

The keys to her room, his words implied. Give them to me.

Ron had observed the way Cale grieves. He sees what Cale does to cope with this loss, and he decides it's enough. It's time he locks your door and manages the room whenever it needs any cleaning or refurbishing if any of the furniture were to start falling apart. You already have an empty grave at the memorial. There was no need for another one here. 

Cale stared at the blueberry cupcake as if it were the most interesting thing in his life as he listened to Ron's words, immediately catching on to the implications. He acknowledge the odd way he was attached to your room and belongings were unhealthy, and he has no room to argue with Ron. "Okay."

Ron nodded, bowing his head a bit. "Thank you, Young Master-nim."

Cale leans back to the couch he was sitting on, finally looking up at Ron. "Any news from the others?"

"None so far, I'm afraid," Ron says as he began cleaning up the table, picking up the dirty dishes to the stainless steel food cart. 

"Oh, Human, Human!" Raon began to say, taking out the magic communication device from his spatial inventory. The device glowed and showed Withira's anxious face as Raon placed it on the table.

"Cale-nim," Withira greeted, her expression mixed with something like anxiety and hope. "I have news regarding Miss [Name]."

Cale's eyes widened for a moment before he frowned. Withira wasn't informed of your letter and how a foreign god seemed to be the trigger for you to leave them all. Cale concluded grimly that the reason why Withira could be calling for him now about you is possibly because she finally came across your corpse. "Did you find her... her body?"

Withira shakes her head and she leaned forward to her screen, causing her to appear bigger in Cale's. "Even better. I found her alive and breathing."

Cale's eyes widened and he stared at Withira. The future royal leader of the Whales has no reason to lie to him, and she would be foolish to use you to even make a joke like this. Cale knew Withira well, and she was no fool and loyal to a tee. "What do you mean?"

"She's alive?" Ohn asked while looking up at Withira with a glimmer of hope in her eyes, something Cale realized had been gone ever since you were officially declared dead.

"Are you sure?" Asked Cale with a frown, his heartbeat drumming against his ribcage like it had when he had woken up earlier.

"I held her," Withira says as calmly as she could. "She was warm and breathing. I checked her pulse and even pressed my ear to her chest to make sure, and her heart was beating. It was slow, but it was there."

Cale's brain was a mess, trying to grasp reality. He searched for every hypothesis his brain could come up with on how you could still be alive. The ship had sunk far from land and it was close to dangerous waters. You're human, so devastatingly human. You wouldn't be able to survive. You should have died from drowning, from dehydration, and perhaps you should have died from being feasted on by the predators of the sea.

You shouldn't be alive.

"Show me," Cale says, a tinge of hope beginning to be shown in his voice.

Withira pursed her lips. "I... I cannot."

Cale frowned and so did everyone in the room. Hong looked at Withira's image on Cale's screen and asked, "Why not?"

"She was on an island," Withira says. "There is a floating island that had been going in and out of our territory for hundreds of years, perhaps even thousands. I, along with Paseton and Archie, stumbled upon it during our swim. We inspected the island and found proof of an ancient civilization and no animals living there. When we ventured deeper, we found Miss [Name]. She was in a ruin, on top of a stone altar, and she wasn't conscious."

"Did you manage to get her out of there?" asked Cale, his suspicions and interest piqued at the situation Withira had faced. It was weird and unsettling how you were alive all this time, laying in a ruin within a floating island that he had never heard of.

"We were attacked before we could," Withira says. 

"Attacked?" Cale repeated. The gears in his brain worked. Who could attack them? A floating island in the middle of the ocean. Could you have been saved? Or stranded on that island? Perhaps this was the place that foreign god promised you, as you've mentioned in your letter. Perhaps this was proof that your so-called death was perhaps just a tiny scheme within a great one if you needed to be on that island to the point your "rescuers" would be attacked the moment they touched you.

"Cale-nim," Withira says grimly. "The island... could possibly be alive. Sentient."

Cale rubbed his face a bit as he let the information sink in. He's racking his brain, trying to connect your letter and the information Withira had given him. An island that was sentient, but your letter claimed to hear voices. Even if an island was alive and sentient, whatever that meant, it couldn't possibly use telepathic communication with a clear target of who would be the receiver.

"The island floats, you say?" Cale asked. 

Withira nodded. "Yes. Some of our whales are tailing the island as we speak. The island is able to grow long barks that attack, even underwater, so we must keep a safe distance away."

Cale looks at Withira's image on his screen, his hand covering his mouth as he thinks. His mind is jumbled and he's trying his best to think logically. Cage, Jack, and Hannah had been sure that whoever it is that had been communicating with you is a God. "Are there any signs of religion or worship that happened on that island before the civilization died out?"

Withira's eyes widened and by the looks of her expression, Cale only needed her to voice out the answer. Withira slowly nodded, "Y-yes... There were many sculptures of flowers propped on a pedestal all around the island. The ruin we have found Miss [Name] in resembled a great hall or even a place of worship."

"Flowers," Cale repeated, interested.

Withira nodded once more. "Yes, flowers. The barks around the island move like your power, Cale-nim. They are able to elongate and grew and shrink in size, and they have flowers all over the island that has the same shape as the flowers that were sculpted to represent their deity."

A deity within a floating island that controls trees and is represented by a flower, Cale made this mental note. "And the flowers. What do they look like?"

"They were..." Withira closed her eyes, recalling the flowers that grew in the island. It was a unique flower that she had never seen before. "They were purple, perhaps even a deep red, with white tips."

Withira's description made Cale straighten his posture. He recognized this flower. That was the flowers he dreamt of earlier when he woke up. Was this some kind of sign? A sign from you? Perhaps, even the world? Or was this to taunt him?

"Thank you, Miss Withira," Cale says, beginning to stand up. "We will come to your location within a few days time and request that your company lead us to this island."

Withira nodded, bowing her head slightly in respect. "We will be waiting for you."

The next few days were a frenzy for everyone.

Cale and his company were intensely researching a foreign god that was represented by a flower and associated with nature. There were plenty of minor gods that were associated with nature, so it was a large margin to work with. Cale had requested Alver to aid in their research as well, ordering a few scholars to work within the Duchy and the Palace library to find answers. They had enlisted several people in the neighboring Kingdoms and Eastern Continent as well to research, hoping for any sliver of solution.

When they eventually stumble upon a list of few possibilities, Cale and his company eventually went to one of the islands within the Whales' territory, seeing Withira already waiting for them along with Archie.

"You're here," Withira breathed out, the weight of anxiety on her shoulder lifting a bit upon seeing Cale and his company, their faces slightly anxious and hopeful. 

"Have you gotten back to the island? How is [Name]?" Rosalyn asked almost immediately, anxiety laced within her voice. Withira gave the red-haired mage a solemn shake of her head, blue hair that resembled clear ocean waters swaying lightly. "Our men haven't been able to go near the island within a few meters. I've instructed them to safely tail the floating island from a safe distance."

Cale took note of Withira's words, recalling the information Withira had given them regarding the floating island's capabilities to ward off intruders by growing barks from below the floating sediment that it seemed to grow on. It caused any large underwater creatures unable to go near the island, protecting the soft base of the island to not break apart. He could assume you weren't regarded as a danger according to the island's "instincts" as you were able to enter and stay within the island. Or maybe you were brought by something or someone.

"So we wouldn't be able to reach the island safely," Cale says to Withira, who nodded as she jumped back to the waters and transformed to be her whale form.

"Please be on your guard the whole time we approach the island," Withira says as Cale and the others began to get on top of a ship tied to Archie's whale form. "The island is able to attack within a distance so this boat will most likely be destroyed while out in the middle of the ocean. You will have to fight your way into the island."

"And the island is sentient," Ron seems to remind Cale. "It seems even if we did get onto the island, we wouldn't be safe within it."

"That's right," Withira confirmed. "The island flourished in its flora, which could move and change shapes and sizes to attack and defend. Thankfully, the island lacked any fauna. Not even birds, so we can be sure it doesn't have control over mammals and such. That could be why there were no animals. Too hard to control."

Cale caressed the kittens' fur. "That's a good thing to know."

"I've never heard of a floating sentient island before," Rosalyn chimed in with a thoughtful look. "We've conducted a heavy research for a few days with some of the royal scholars and several from other countries, but found nothing."

"It is a popular folklore within our kingdom," Withira informed. "We all have heard of the stories of a floating island ever since we were mere calves. We've always been told to avoid it if we ever see it, though this is the first time I have seen it in my two hundred years of life."

"What does the folklore entail?" asked Choi Han with interest. Folklore of certain communities has always been an interesting thing to learn about and some always seemed to be mystical and unsettling.

Withira seemed to think for a moment, perhaps thinking back to her childhood. "That within the floating island lived a very sad man. He could not leave the island and had no friends. To avoid the feeling, he decided to sleep. Every time he woke up, he is devastated to know he still felt sad, so he would always go back to sleep every time he woke up. He slept, slept, and slept until he eventually falls into a deep slumber where no one could wake him up."

"It has been a story to scare young calves for sleeping too much and not training themselves," says Paseton. "We've only been told to stay away from the island to not rouse the man from sleeping and also because even our previous kings had been adamant on not approaching the island if not needed."

'Quite the lazy story,' Cale thought to himself, but he did have to admit the story was quite realistic. Sleeping and depression go hand-in-hand. 

"Well, did you find a man there?" Cale asked. He wants to know whether or not the folklore had some truth in it.

"We found a corpse of one," Withira answered. "And we also found [Name], alive but not conscious."

"How long do you estimate the man has been dead?" asked Cale, a theory brewing in his mind.

"Long enough," Withira answered. "Maybe around two-three months."

The gears in Cale's brain seemed to click and agree upon a theory. That was around the time the ship you boarded sunk. 

'Could it be...?'

Following a floating island meant following an object that's constantly moving. Withira suspects that it was capable to avoid being so close to any shores was due to the bark that was capable of growing on the base of the island, navigating it to tour the ocean non-stop. 

It took them nearly five hours when they managed to get a glimpse of the island. A glimpse. The blue morning sky had turned into an orange canvas with splashes of red and purple when Cale and his companions saw the floating island. It was followed by a couple of Whales, the water splitting and rippling from the swish of their tails as they followed the island from a safe distance.

"How magnificent," Rosalyn breathed out in wonder as she lays her eyes upon the island. 

The island was quite small, floating quietly on the deep ocean waters. The edges of the island were stones and large boulders, curling up inwards and resembling a roughly made stone bowl. It was green and flourishing, tall trees and long, multiple branches with many leaves. But the one thing that was eye-catching about the island was the tall tree in the middle of the island, looming the other trees so magnificently, to the point it looked like the island was the root of this big tree.

"Look at the bark of the main tree," Withira says to them all. 

They all followed her words, inspecting the large tree and with its odd bark. The tree looked like it was made of multiple barks, twirled together and stretched until it was nearly as high as the skies. Multiple dianthus flowers, in color and sizes, grow on the tree along with its bark.

"The root of those twirling barks is where Miss [Name] is," Withira informed. "With the island being sentient, we cannot erase the possibility of the tree immediately closing in on her when your motives became clear."

"Your Highness," Archie suddenly says, pausing on splitting the waters. "It has noticed us."

"What?" Choi Han asked with wide eyes. "Their radar goes this far?"

"Everyone, please hang on!" Archie exclaimed, sounding alarmed, and Cale and the others immediately held onto the railings of the ship. 

Archie bends his whale form so impossibly sharp, his jaws open and he bit down into the oncoming bark underwater. The bark seemed to go frantic, trying to thrash out from Archie's jaws. Multiple barks immediately shot out from underneath the floating island, spreading and targeting every Whale on its tail while keeping themselves underwater. The ship swished along with his movements as he's attempting to rip the bark and it took only moments before the ship capsized, upside down in the ocean.

Another killer whale came, trying to protect the ship they were on as Withira joined the defense, trying to ward off the oncoming barks. Cale made the wind gather into his feet and pushed himself further to support the others so they wouldn't drop to the ocean, spurting blood from his mouth.

"Cale-nim!" Choi Han exclaimed in worry. His voice caught the attention of others and they turned to him, all of them equally concerned. 

"Human, don't push yourself!" Raon reminds him with glassy eyes while Cale set them all to the wet hull of the capsized ship, a temporary solution to their current problem. Cale was on his knees, coughing out some blood as his body worked to restore his energy. 

"Young Master-nim," Ron says, kneeling next to Cale and offering him a handkerchief. Concern crossed his face with the way his eyebrows are slightly creased, the corner of his lips pulled into a displeased frown.

"This is your chance!" Withira exclaimed, smacking an attacking bark with such force that it immediately broke off and became a deadhead in the middle of the ocean. "We will clear the pathways. Get on my back and hang on tight. We will try to avoid the attacking barks."

"We will try to help," Choi Han says with a determined look.

"I'm fine," Cale says to Ron before the butler could help him stand up and help him to Withira's back.

Cale sat in the middle of Withira's back, hand on top of the scar on her form as he prepared himself. Ohn and Hong was tucked close to his chest, Cale holding them with one arm while Ron was beside him. Choi Han and Rosalyn stood in front of them, Rosalyn with her mana ready and with Raon floating by her side. Choi Han withdrew his sword and planted his feet on Withira's back. "Excuse us, Your Highness."

"Are you ready?" Withira asked them, her voice sounding tense.

"Yes," Cale responds.

Withira split the water when she swam, evading the barks and while her men fought off any barks that dared to attack her. Some barks shot out from the water to knock down those standing on her back, but Choi Han immediately sliced them off with his sword and Rosalyn and Raon would protect them by conjuring a shield. Sometimes a killer whale would jump out from the water to stop the barks and lighten the work for them. 

'They're trying their hardest to protect the island,' Cale thought as he watched how the barks had begun to focus more on Withira as she's the only one approaching the island right now.

"Shit-!" Rosalyn conjured up a bigger shield when a killer whale was thrown their way, thrashing in the air and then letting out a wail when it hit Rosalyn's shield. Her shield shook and flickered at the impact but Raon's shield immediately covered it.

"Crazy!" Withira exclaimed, watching as the barks began to chase for her Whales, thick barks wrapped around them and then rising from under the water before throwing the killer whales like toys at them. With more protection, the island began to earn more things to throw at her. "Back down!"

The Whales immediately followed her roar, backing down and avoiding the barks. Withira swam further, mustering all her capabilities into this one swim and the water split as if a high-speed ship with a sharp keel had swam through them, approaching the island quickly. Raon and Rosalyn put more effort into their shields as the barks began to attack them straight on above the water and Choi Han took every chance to slice them off.

"Urgh-!" Withira was suddenly set back as two thick barks quickly shot out and pushed her. The inertia caused the group to nearly got thrown into the dangerous waters but Cale immediately gathered all of his powers and gathered wind into their feet, carrying them up into the air and quickly controlling the wind to bring them into the island.

"Thank you, Your Highness!" Cale exclaimed, trying to make them all land safely inside the island, behind the curling boulders. He ended up throwing them to the dirt a bit haphazardly, but the skilled people he was with managed to land on their feet.

Withira and the Whales swam back, watching from afar. The barks immediately backed down as well and gathered back underneath the floating island's foundation underwater. Withira could feel the two spots on her belly where the barks had pushed her, knowing she will have a hard time swimming for a while if not healed properly. She turned to her Whales, "Is everyone okay?"

As Withira checked on her Whales, Cale and the others looked around the island. Cale had known of floating islands, most were artificial for different purposes, and natural floating islands couldn't get too big. But this one? It was magnificent. The earth was solid and the trees that grew on the island stood tall and loomed over them like giants, dense and slightly unsettling. 

"To be able to grow this tall and big..." Cale began, his voice fascinated. These trees were able to grow and flourish for nearly more than a millennium, and as he inspected them closer, he saw no damage done to the trees that could be caused by the constant exposure to salt-laden ocean spray. Typically, when trees grow so close to the ocean, the salt in the air can accumulate on leaves and stems, causing salt burn on plant tissues. Salt burns can disrupt the normal functioning of leaves, leading to reduced photosynthesis and overall stress on the tree.

The leaves on the trees don't even have any hint of yellowing or browning. It grows healthily despite growing so close to the ocean. In areas with high salt exposure, the soil can become saline due to the accumulation of salts from the ocean and it should have stunted the trees' growth, but these trees stood tall and strong for so many years. 

Cale touched the curling boulders that seemed to be protecting the island from having any stranded people or ships. The way it curled inwards made the island look like a giant bowl, and it could have been the thing that had been protecting the trees from too much ocean spray, as the curling boulders stood taller than Toonka seemed to be.

"I'm surprised the trees on this island aren't attacking us," Rosalyn commented, looking warily around the area. 

"I thought the island is sentient?" Ohn questioned, pawing lightly at one of the roots of a tree with Hong beside her. In her mind (along with the rest of theirs), the island should have been more aggressive the moment they stepped into the island's dirt.

"Keep your guard up," Cale says with a frown. "Her Highness told us [Name] is at the center of the island, underneath the roots of the main tree."

They all turned their heads to look up at the looming tall tree that stood in the middle of the island, so tall that Cale was sure if he went up there, he would be cold and have a hard time breathing. Cale turned to look at the dense forest in front of them, seeing how there were cobblestone paths laid within the dirt as steps, mold growing on them and many were cracked. He turned to Raon, "Raon, do you think you can see the path to the main tree if you fly high enough?"

Raon offered Cale a smile. "Of course! I am the mighty Raon Miru!"

"Good," Cale says with a smile, gently patting the dragon's head before Raon flew up high enough until he could map out the area. He turned to them, calling out, "Human, follow me! I can see the root of that big tree!"

"Let us go," Cale says, walking forward and entering the dense forest, his companions following him from behind with their guards up.

As they walked deeper into the forest, more proof of a past civilization began appearing. The cobblestones were spread in the dirt like a path of a no-transport city, several cobblestones, clay, and wood lay on the ground on what they all assumed must be the homes of the people who used to live there, nature taking over the buildings and have broken them down back into their natural states. Some roots of trees were so big and thick that it was hard to not see and trip on one of them. There were several pedestals of boulders that had been carved into the shape of a dianthus flower, which oddly seemed to be the native flower within the island.

An ancient civilization couldn't be wiped out of existence so quickly like this. It would need some kind of draught or perhaps a drop in the humidity, but the trees flourish here and it would certainly provide enough food for them. Perhaps even a tsunami or an erupting volcano wiped them all out, but the ruins within the island showed that there was no eruption and no tsunamis. The floating island wasn't connected to any tectonic plates so it wouldn't be able to even experience an actual earthquake. The curling boulders by the shore would prevent anyone from leaving, so they couldn't have migrated.

"C-Cale-nim," Choi Han stammered, face averted from Cale and looking down at a lowland from where they were.

"What is it, Choi Han?" asked Rosalyn, following his gaze and her face also paled.

Cale approached them both and looked at where they were looking at. It was a graveyard site that stretched over fifty by fifty meters. Typically a graveyard site wouldn't make one freeze in place, but in front of them was a graveyard site that had all of its graves dug out, graveyard dirt tossed to the side and from their place on an elevated spot, Cale could see that there were no bodies within the graves.

"They all look freshly dug," Ron says quietly. If the graves were dug out a long time ago, the piled-up soil nearby wouldn't be looser and less compacted than the surrounding ground. 

'Are we going to fight the undead?' Cale thought to himself, bewildered. He then discarded his thoughts the moment he noticed the dug-out soil didn't look like it was removed from inside the grave. 

"Let's hurry," Cale says, anxiety crawling up his spine. He bends down a bit, gently pushing the kittens to face away from the graveyard site. "Follow Raon. We need to find [Name] first."

Choi Han forced himself to look away and continued walking. He couldn't imagine having his loved ones' graves disturbed in such a degrading way like that. Rosalyn pats his back, urging him to walk forward and follow Raon who was waving at them, blissfully ignorant of the reason for their sudden stop as he had flown a bit further.

"Human! I found the roots!" Raon announced with a slight grimace. "And it stinks!" 

[zenkor123]

Peeta Snaps Concept

Fires burn fires burn FIRES BURN the demons, THE DEMONS, they scrape me and rip me apart. I try to be a great mutt in the service of the rebellion, rhis is what I was preparing for right? To harness the fires and aim it at the capital! BUBBLES SHINEY BUBBLES!! all the windows in my mind break, trains derail, fires burn, wires crack. Hold it together Peeta Boggs is Dead, BOGGS IS DEAD Coin murdered a valient warrior, the best Panem had to offer. I attack and kill a demon but I fight it was no Demon that was Holmes! And I almost hurt Katniss! Who appeared like one of ths demons. I run towards the water it looks so peaceful I run towards it so I can know it's peace. Hallucinations of coin and Snow tell me "no, you have to kill Katniss " but I put my middle finger in the air and say "Fuck you Coin!!." I can't hear much but Annie screaming. I see my life play before me it's all hazy and I run towards the peaceful water, I will become one with the water. Everything then turns black am I dead yet? Is there an afterlife and am I there? BUBBLES SHINY BUBBLES!!! But I hear Johanna and Katniss talking and I cry. I am useless, it's bad enough that I have to be part of an execution by Coin but I have to witness myself kill the squad. There will be no salvation. The misery unbearable so I see if I can feed the rats using my handcuffs. But it does not work, then I try to leave the room and jump out the window. I run out of the closet door, Annie is in the other closet. And Katniss screams "Peeeta!" I am restrained by Jackson and Katniss but I try to break free to die. I am thrown to the floor and the Demons come back to hurt me. I shiver and my skin is filled with hives. I can't hear anything anyone is saying, but feel paralyzed Katniss grabs my hands, so hard that it is one of the few physical sensations I can feel until she presses her lips into mine. I remember countless things and feel safe, when the demons that guard the memories poke at me I focus on Katnisses lips and the pain goes away. When we have to grasp her air, I pull her back in so more memories can return to me. She pulls me in the next time. I feel warm all over my body. I pull her in again. She says stay with me, I associated "always" with rape prior but there was no rape, there was no rape. I promised to stay with her and without me she will wither. I renew this promise and feel like crying. She collapses on top of me I accidentally pulled her down and rests her head on my heart she is pressing her chin there very hard and holding my face to the point of pain. "Don't let him take you from me" she says fiercely, I say "He never will as long as I have fight in me" Eventually I begin sensing the world around me which stops being shiny and blurry. That is the worse episode I have ever had. Katniss has Boggs holo. I feel determined to ripp off the skin of the white imp, and keep his head as a trophy. There's no better death then that done in the attempt to melt the toxic snow. Feeding him to the mutts would simply lead to the death of the mutts from all the poisons that are in Snow’s veins. His blood itself could be used as a poison. I'm glad we are dead and see a clearer view of events from the capital, considering that I'm a mutation, I don't lose it over the death of Holmes besides the occasional tear. I suggest when Gale asks the next step I suggest either breaking down holes in walls in residential houses, or going into the sewers. I don't care who I kill as long as I get Snow’s head barbecued on a trident. So I don't mind being unhandcuffed. But then Octavia finds smart cuffs for me and Annie, should we lose it the elastic smart cuffs will tighten, Katniss has the key to it. When Katniss asks how I am and brushes my hair I tell that "only two things are holding me together, you and the image of Snow's unrecognizable mutilated corpse"

I go over the mutts that we will face In the capital give a layout of the mansion and whatever I know about the snowman unit defending the mansion known as the Presidential guard

(The change in Peeta's syntax is due to him finally snapping)

[star--nymph]

Hello there!

If you're still taking numbers from the OC Ship questionnaire…

Number 8, 11, 12 and 21 for Eurydice and Cullen, please? :3

(skip any you don't like and don't feel obliged to answer, of course!)

Arja!!!! You can't stop me from answering all of these! >:3

8. What is one sweet gesture that they've done for one another on a regular basis?

Let's see. Cullen gets Eurydice out of bed every morning, which doesn't sound sweet until you remember Eury is a nester so he has to dig her out of the blankets and pillows and kiss her awake. She always pops up in a mess of knotted hair that he untangles while snickering to himself. Eury doesn't like waking up when she's comfy, but she'll do it for him.

Eurydice makes Cullen tea every afternoon. She started it back when he first told her about his withdrawals and she was just doing it 'so he wouldn't die'. Now it's a routine where Cullen doesn't take his medicine until Eury comes along to brew it for him. It never tastes good, mind you, but it's the fact that she cares to do it in the first place. His day just isn't the same without her tea and her hand brushing his hair back while he drinks it.

11. Have they said 'I love you'? If so, when was the first time? 

Yes, they say it often. I'll be honest, I don't know when exactly the first time was. I feel like it was a gradual thing, that it came out one day when there was nothing special happening.Just a domestic thing like quietly reading reports together or Eurydice preparing her supplies for an experiment. I do think out of the two, Eurydice is the first to say it. She's usually the first to admit to feelings, if only to get it out of herself after weeks of feeling nothing but confusion over it. It slips out of her mouth in the same way she says a scientific fact; undeniable and concrete. 

And because Cullen is, well, Cullen, he'll just sit there stunned for all of two seconds--and in those two seconds the world will end and begin again and he'll have questioned whether he's even in the same reality as her and somehow this all a mistake--and then he'll settled down because if Eurydice said it, there is no mistake, it's what she feels. he'll smile and say 'I love you, too' and everything will be right in the world.

12. What are their love languages and how are they incorporated into their relationship?

They both have similar love languages--specifically quality time. Spending time with each other and talking is all these two freaks do, really. There's no incorporation when its pretty much the basis of their relationship; they got to know each other by talking long, loooong walks around the battlements and just talking. Something is very wrong if Eurydice doesn't come for Cullen for their daily walk as far as I'm concerned.

Otherwise, Eurydice's secondary love language is Words of Affirmation. I don't think she needs to be told sweet nothings all the time, but she does need clarity. She wants her feelings out in the world as plainly as possible and she wants to know Cullen's feelings plainly as well. It's hard because neither of them are good at words, but that just makes the words they do say all the more important.

Cullen's loe language is acts of service, which isn't surprising at all considering he entered the Templars for that exact reason. He wants to get things done for Eurydice and he feels what he does speaks volumes better than any long-winded speech about love. We are talking about a man who prides himself on being her Knight and happily gets on his knees to serve her will. It's kinda his thing to service and act.

21. Would they be able to functionally cook a meal together? What would they make?Would it turn out well?

Can they cook together? Yes. Do I think they would make something good? Debatable.

I think Cullen and Eurydice could hunt something, skin it, roast it over the fire, and eat it. I don't think they would care if it was particularly flavorful so much as 'will this food sustain me for the first of the day? yes? perfect.' I don't think either of them are very good cooks, at least not at first. Cullen rarely had to make his own food back in the templar days and Eurydice lives off of foraging. When they have children, it's Cullen who is the main cook in the house by necessity and he comes fairly adept at it. Eurydice's job is gathering and preparing the ingredients--so she chops and he cooks.

[purplesaline]

hello, i hope you're keeping well! if you don't mind dog questions, have you noticed many differences between smooth and rough collies in your experience e.g. their energy level, and temperaments? What is the shedding like between the two? There are a few collies around on tumblr and they seem like fantastic dogs!

I don't mind dog questions at all! Happy to answer.

In North America they're considered the same breed so there is less difference between the two here than there is in Europe and Australia, where they're separate breeds.

Even in North America though there does seem to be some difference. Smooths tend to be a little more energetic and a little more reactive on average. The difference is minimal enough that there will still be rough outliers that have more energy or are more reactive than an average smooth, and smooth outliers that have less energy or are less reactive than an average rough. My smooth boy, for example, is super chill. He's basically a less anxious greyhound with thicker skin 😂

As for shedding, smooths are SO much worse for shedding. With the roughs their coats are usually dense enough they'll hold onto any shed hair until you brush them out but smooths just drop it everywhere all the time. Think German shepherd level shedding. And their guard hairs weave themselves into everything too and they're like little wires poking at you.

Collies are amazing dogs! They're incredibly easy to train, will be couch potatoes when you want to chill but are equally happy going along on a hike with you. They need to have a job but so long as you make sure you give them one to do they're unlikely to go find one for themselves (which usually winds up being inconvenient for you lol). Some are stand-offish (usually the females) but lots of them are super friendly and goofy (usually the males), and they make incredible service dogs. They're also really empathetic and caring dogs.

[obsolete-stars-if]

I couldn't sleep soooo... More @drinkyourvillainjuice ff. The pairing, as always is simple

M!Wil x Tmasc MC

This one I call "going monkey mode". I would also like to know how everyone else reacts to monkey mode.

You're not sure when you let your guard down enough to do this. But your eyes fly over Wil's face and before you can consider otherwise, you're extending your hand to his, "May I?" Your voice quiet to match the atmosphere.

He gives you a look up and down, but gives you his hand anyway, waiting for whatever you have in store. And today's sale is nothing else but the most instinctual care someone can give and receive.

You take his hand into yours, gently go over the back of his hand, to his fingers and eventually his fingernails. You bring it up closer, feel over the nail bed underneath the chipped nail polish. His cuticles pushed back and cut, well taken care of. You then turn his hand, brushing over and checking each fold. Before you let your thumb glide towards Wil's wrist, feeling and listening to his heartbeat.

Warm and steady. Alive.

Eyes flying over his arms, stopping every now and then to feel over patches of skin, further up until you reach his neck. You reach for his chin, stopping just before, waiting for his approval. When Wil nods, you gently move him by the chin to look away from you. You turn to inspect his neck, his ears, the beginning of his hairline.

"You know..." You whisper, "Many consider a species to be civilized if they take care of their elderly and disabled." Your hands brush over his hair, you're looking for split ends. "Primates do this all the time. This is similar to what their grooming process looks like- It's a medical check up."

You brush over a small mole, not raised, small, symmetrical, and solid color. "And we do this all the time, verbally checking up on friends, parents looking after their children, and coddling when sick." His skin is smooth, no bumps or lumps to look at for more than a moment before moving on.

"It's why the touch of others feels so comforting at times." Your fingers find his lips, "It's a primal desire to be seen and taken care of." He uses chapstick, you note to yourself. "We haven't evolved past that point yet, and I don't think we ever should."

You finish your nonprofessional check up with a last look over his face. He blinks a few times, taking in what you said. Wil whispers back, "So you just went monkey on me?"

You groan and lean back, but you can't hide a small laugh. "Yes, I went monkey on you." Wil's eyes light up with amusement, "So what's your diagnosis, doctor?"

You close your eyes and hum audibly. "That depends on how you feel." You answer. "I could give you another check up if you want more personal attention."

"How could I ever say no to monkey mode?" Wil chuckles.

You nod, all wisely, before reaching out for his hand, "Then I must continue, as you, my patient, are very clearly not satisfied with my services yet."

[salvatoraes]

CHARACTER SHEET

FULL NAME. stefan antonio salvatore. NICKNAME. stef, steffy, stefano, hero hair, the ripper of monterey, rippah ( klaus only ). PRONOUNS. he + him. SIZE. 5'11. AGE. 520+ ( technically ) 18 ( physically ) ZODIAC. scorpio. SPOKEN LANGUAGES. italian, english, french & spanish.

𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒

HAIR. light brown, could be considered blonde to some people. wavy, curly when wet or damp. usually a bit fluffy or styled with gel. EYES. forest green, mesmerizing, soft. somewhat expressive when in thought or contemplating. SKIN TONE. tan. cheeks gets flushed when embarrassed, angry, or hot. BODY TYPE. tall, skinnier but fit. VOICE. calm or calming usually, deeper. he speaks slower sometimes to make things clear. however, speaks very quickly if in italian. DOMINANT HAND. both, but right more so. POSTURE. excellent, he slouches on occasion when exhausted but his posture is overall excellent. SCARS. one scar on the lower right side of his abdomen from a bullet wound. curtesy of his father when he shot him & damon & they were left to bleed to death. BIRTHMARKS. no birthmarks. MOST NOTABLE FEATURES. his green eyes, the one stray freckle under one of his eyes thats close to his cheek, his hair & his dimples.

𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃

PLACE OF BIRTH. florence, italy. HOMETOWN. florence, italy. SIBLINGS. older brother, damon salvatore. ( 8 years older ) PARENTS. giuseppe & lilian salvatore. ( both deceased )

𝐀𝐃𝐔𝐋𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄

OCCUPATION. fake high - school student, mechanic or writer. CURRENT RESIDENCE. mystic falls, virginia. CLOSE FRIENDS. lexi branson ( his best friend of five hundred years, until his brother kills her ) , caroline forbes, elena gilbert ( when not a couple ) , klaus mikaelson ( sometimes, depending on the day, the decade, the century, if you know, you know ) FINANCIAL STATUS. wealthy, though doesn't need money to survive. DRIVER'S LICENSE. yes, his car is his most prized possession. CRIMINAL RECORD. does this apply to vampires ? VICES. bloodlust, self - loathing, guilt, not carrying about his own safety when it comes to others.

𝐒𝐄𝐗 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

SEXUAL ORIENTATION. bi- sexual & bi - romantic. PREFERRED SEXUAL ROLE. he's a switch, top leaning unless with men. TURN OFFS. not much tbh, just don't fall for his brother after you fall for him lol. & don't pressure him into things or opening up if he's not comfortable. TURN ON'S. compassion, loving, caring, good sense of humor, understands him & will let him open up when he's ready, confidence, kind to others, etc. LOVE LANGUAGE. quality time, acts of service. RELATIONSHIP TENDENCIES. over protective but will let them make their own decisions, often cooks for them or wants to, can be really romantic & sweet, likes to go on dates, puts his all into his relationships but likes to go slow at points. he will definitely put their needs before his own.

𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐎𝐔𝐒

CHARACTER'S THEME TUNE. hold on by chord overstreet or wanted dead or alive by bon jovi. HOBBIES TO PASS THE TIME. writing, reading, exercising, hunting, driving. LEFT OR RIGHT BRAINED. left. SELF-CONFIDENCE LEVEL. little but doesn't show it, he's very good at hiding his emotions.

tagged ( stole from my pookie ) : @tellsjokes <3 tagging : consider yourself tagged if you see this ! tag me if you steal so i can be nosy hehe.

[omniblades-and-stars]

Under the Rays of an Autumn Sun

It pulses, bass beats thrumming so loud they become the shared heartbeat of the dancers under strobing azure lights. The lifeblood of Purgatory's night scene. Sweating bodies press and writhe together in sensual, decadent harmony. An asari undulates and her jewelry glitters like starlight with every pass of the light. There are many beautiful women here tonight, but none are the one I am looking for.

"Amonkira. Lord of Hunters. Grant that my hands be steady, my aim be true, and my feet swift," I whisper from my seat at the bar. No one hears my prayers over the driving music that courses through our veins. "And should the worst come to pass, grant me -"

"Whiskey, straight please," she says with a voice that has the strength of a rushing river. My prayers are answered before I am finished saying them. She smells of jasmine, a fragile and small, white blossom from Earth. I look up and I am greeted by eyes that look like the desert sands glimmering under the rays of an autumn sun, and she is looking at me.

I have always had a weakness for beautiful eyes. Humans have a saying, "The eyes are the windows into the soul." It's a sentiment I wholeheartedly share. Hers are a light brown that I am unused to seeing in humans, but they are heavy. I can see the weight she carries within them, evident in the red lines lightly spidering over the white space around her iris.

Blue tinged glass presses to soft, bare lips, and she coughs as the liquid burns down her throat. A warm chuckle bubbles up after it, and she sits next to me. "I don't know if I'll ever learn," she shakes her head, chestnut waves brush against the sun-kissed and freckled skin exposed on her back. "Eden Shepard," she says and offers me her hand to shake. She is named after the holy garden of one of Earth's many creation myths. It suits her, I think, but the thought passes before I can fully understand why I feel that way.

A warm, calloused hand wraps around mine, rougher than most human women, evidence of a life spent in service to her military. I can imagine how she holds her standard issue assault rifle based on the strength of her hands alone. "Niké Taon," I lie very kindly. The fine hairs on her muscular arms rise above goosebumps in response to my voice. I'm pleased by this.

"What are you drinking, Niké? I'm already regretting my choice. I barely like Earth's whiskey." She swirls the glass around, minute amber waves rise up around the edges, threatening to spill over onto her fingers. The liquor in the glass is pungent, sharp, I would not want to drink it either.

"Serrice Ice Brandy, it is far gentler on the tongue," I say as I raise my own glass to my lips. She watches me as I drink, I can see her eyes move as she considers my actions, my words are a subtle suggestion.

The music changes, it is very different from the usual synthetically generated house music that is always playing here. The beat is slower, and the drums roll out in a cascading pattern over what I believe humans call "funk guitar" that is the accent to the music not the driving force, the movement is all in the drums. Shepard moves quickly, her hand wraps around my wrist, and I fight the instinct to break hers to free myself from her grasp. She smiles at me, she looks like the sun. One of her front teeth is chipped. "I love this song! Dance with me, Niké!" She is pulling me after her, and I oblige.

I watch Eden Shepard every time she comes to the Citadel. In everything, she is meticulous, careful, and guarded. She travels with well-armed companions most of the time, usually a turian with a sniper rifle and the apparent skill required to use it, and a quarian woman armed with a high end omni-tool and a shotgun. Occasionally, she brings a krogan battlemaster with deep scars cut into his crimson head plates. I am skilled, but I am not foolish.

The only time she is not meticulous, careful, and guarded is when she goes to Purgatory. Here, she is not a commander or a marine. Of the three times I have seen her dancing in the club, she has gone to a hotel with a stranger twice.

I will be the third. It is the only way to avoid unnecessary violence.

Her cerulean dress clings to her skin as if it is a part of her, hard planes of muscle, broad shoulders all on display. Long legs disappear into the fabric stretched across muscular thighs. Now that she is standing, I can see her pistol strapped to her leg, below the short hem of her dress. It is a HMWP, the kind of handgun only a Spectre can get. Her status as the Council’s agent may be the reason why she is allowed to wear it so brazenly here. She does not wear synthetic leather or latex like most of the other dancers. I can feel the breathable, light, organic weave of her dress, soft under my fingers as she guides my hand to her waist.

The music moves through her with a shiver and she is overtaken by a spell. Eden presses her back against me, her eyes are closed and she is adrift in an ocean of harmonic waves. Then, almost as soon as she started, she stumbles, loses the rhythm and she can’t quite seem to get it back. I'm surprised by this, I have seen how she moves during a fight, the rhythm of gunfire guides her and she sows violence with the grace of a ballet dancer. It is why I have chosen to isolate her, she has the skills necessary to be a challenge.

This is clumsy. I know she is not inebriated, her glass is still sitting on the bartop, the honey colored liquid vibrates with the pulsating beat.

She throws her head back against my shoulder, and she laughs. The sound is jubilant, it rolls out of her with reckless abandon, and I am infected. I have not felt unadulterated joy in so long, it awakens a fire within me. The curve of her neck, a fragile thing, easily broken with the right twist of my hands, is exposed to me, and my mind is filled instead with thoughts of suckling on the tender skin there. I want to hear what other sounds I can draw from soft, rose-colored lips.

“I’ve never been good at dancing,” she shouts over the oscillations filling the air around us, she is still laughing, still moving off beat. I find myself enraptured, she throws herself so fully into an endeavor that she is mediocre at without embarrassment.

I have forgotten why I am here. No, I remember, I cannot forget. My goal has changed very suddenly, to end a life such as this would be as snuffing out a sun. The galaxy would grow unbearably bleak without the light of her gold-flecked eyes and the pure, sonorous mirth of her laughter.

I pull her flush against me, I feel the way her abdomen tightens under my palms, and a pleased sigh escapes from her, barely audible over the noise. But I am listening for every melodious note that she will bless me with. I lean down, my lips play across the ridge of her ear, “I will lead you, Eden. We will move as one tonight.”

A shiver rolls down her spine, and her cheeks blossom with color. “Yes,” her response flows out on a gentle breath. She wraps her hands over mine, and we are moving in tandem. Her eyes close again and she gives in, she surrenders control. The way she moves against me is full of power and promise, but she wants to be led. I feel a cord being pulled taut within me, I am full of wanting, and I need to feel her writhe like this beneath me.

As we dance, sweat gathers in beads like crystals along the swell of her breasts, and they roll suggestively into the valley between, disappearing where I cannot see them any longer. She guides one of my hands up her body, it ghosts teasingly over her chest, before she brings our hands to a rest against the side of her neck. I apply the faintest hint of pressure, I can feel the strain of tendons and ridges of her throat.

She moans, a sound of pure desire, and her fingers tighten over mine. “I have a room nearby, stay with me tonight?” A panting and plaintive request, it sounds almost like a prayer. It is I who should be praying to her.

I do not want to deny her, I do not believe that I could. “I said we would move as one tonight. Have you slept with a drell before?”

“I’ve never even seen anyone who looks like you before,” she pauses for a moment before continuing, “You’re beautiful.” She does not seem embarrassed by the admission, and I feel my heart swell with pride.

“I have venom, on my skin, on my tongue. You will be exposed to it.”

She is silent for precious heartbeats, I can feel her pulse quicken with my hand still pressed against her neck. “Will it kill me? Make me sick?”

I am at her ear again, and I can feel her squirm to try to move closer. “No. Eden, it will rob you of your senses until all that you know is the pleasure that I will give you. You will soar to the cosmos with my tongue in between your legs.” Her body shudders and I can feel how she is squeezing her thighs together. Her heart is racing, excitement thrums through her veins, just as it is through mine.

“Fuck,” she groans, and I can feel the warmth rising from her cheeks down to her breasts. She has already come undone for me.

Her grip around my hand increases, and suddenly she is pulling me away from the dance floor and quickly out of the club. The sudden silence is shocking, and I have to shake my head to clear the momentary confusion.

“I know a shortcut, I hope you’re not afraid of back alley thugs?”

It is my turn to laugh, it’s a sound I have not heard in too long. “Not at all.”

Eden’s head tilts a little, and she grins. Something cocksure and self-satisfied falls over her features. She enjoys the risk, and invites the danger to meet her. I have now seen the two faces of the same goddess. “Good. I would much rather see a gun in my face than another reporter’s camera.” I understand now why she comes all the way here to escape her duties and the pressure of being the first human Spectre.

I allow her to lead me through the alleys, though I already know where we're going. The last two were not brave enough to go this way, but I remember the twists and turns of this maze. I have been here before. I know it so well, I can easily spend the walk watching the subtle swing of her hips, the robust curve of her ass, and the sinewy muscles working in her legs as she walks ahead of me. She never looks behind at me, she is alert, her right hand lingers next to her hip, ready to draw her gun in a moment.

It is unnecessary. We arrive at the small hotel, well known for hosting Alliance marines on shore leave, without seeing a soul. She unlocks the door and she surprises me by turning to face me and pulling me into the room after her. The omni-tool on her wrist glows amber, and the door locks behind us. She has me by the collar of my synthetic weave armor, and her lips press into mine and they are even softer than they look. She giggles as I pull her flush against me.

“Do you always wear armor to go clubbing?” She asks her question to my mouth, she sounds deeply amused, not suspicious.

“Do you always wear a gun to go dancing?” I respond with a question that does not answer her query. I am so hot and it is taking all of my willpower not to rush. It is taking all of my willpower not to reveal my true name.

I can feel her smile, but I cannot see it, so close she is to me. “Fair enough … You’re going to have to give me some guidance, I don’t know where I should touch you,” she admits, her breath still warm against my lips.

I am an assassin, not a professor, but I will teach her tonight. I take her hand in mine and bring it to the frills at my neck, "Here, gently." I feel as she runs her thumb slowly across the folds there, she is watching her hand move as though she is trying to memorize the experience. Her touch sends electrical pulses through me, and warmth follows her fingers in a trail. Eden does not notice that I have unzipped her dress until the small straps holding it up fall loose on her arms.

She is not shy, however. Her answer is to step back and pull the garment up and over her head, and simultaneously kick off her shoes. She is suddenly a few inches shorter, but I barely notice. Eden Shepard stands before me wearing only underwear and a gun holster, and she is resplendent. The cheap lights illuminate freckled skin and soft breasts, the rise and fall of her chest is hypnotic. The small cloth barely covering the rest of her is soaked with her arousal, and I am overcome by this burning lust that has been building inside of me.

I want to taste her, all of her, starting with her mouth. I take her, my hand finds its way into the soft hair at the back of her head, and her heat is pulled against me, I can feel it even through my armor. Before I can take her mouth for mine, her hand gently falls to my lips. "Wait," she says. Her lids are heavy and she has not moved away, but still I worry that I've offended her. "I want to see all of you first. I want to be able to remember what you look like, clearly."

"Of course," I answer, and soon she is helping me remove the pieces of my armor. I am now as vulnerable as she is, more, in fact. She is still wearing her gun, and I know she's a powerful biotic in her own right. If her plan all along was to put me under a spell and bring me here so that she could end me, it would have worked.

But that is not what she does. Hazel eyes sweep over my form, and she is unabashed in her hunger. "Beautiful," she whispers, and this time she does not stop me from breathing in her praise as I claim her lips. She tastes faintly of the whiskey, but underneath it, something like citrus, she must have eaten before going to Purgatory. I brush my thumb over the roundness of her cheek, it is rougher than I imagined. Chapped by the winds of some barely hospitable planet, I think. As I am contemplating where she must have been last, I reach and undo the buckles holding her gun to her leg. It falls to the floor, and she doesn't care.

Her hands are all over me, her earlier hesitation forgotten as they roam every surface she can touch. She uses feathering touches along my waist and I cannot stop the rumbling chuckle that moves out of me in response, I am ticklish there. Eden hums in delight, and I catalog it as another of her sounds that I will cherish forever after this night. I know I will never see her again after this.

I memorize her on this night. Every sigh, every groan, every pleasured shout. The way she smells, jasmine mixed with the salt of her sweat and the musk of her desire. I know her taste and every place that makes her quiver and shake. The strength of her grasp as she pulls me against her and shouts a name she believes is mine. I will remember her eyes. First, as they were in Purgatory, bright and earthy. Then, as they were as we found release together, pupils so wide, only a thin halo of hazel around depths so dark, I am forever drowning in them.

I am saddened that she cannot remember as I can, but I hope she will think of me fondly. I will always remember how she sleeps on her stomach, an arm and a leg flung over the edge of the bed. I will remember the faintest sound of laughter at something only she can see, her dream bringing her some joke or oddity.

I must leave before she wakes. I am thrice damned and banished from the Garden of Eden of my own accord. I do not deserve to bask in her holy light.

I think I will go to Illium next.

I am crawling through an air ventilation shaft. It is a trite, stereotypical way to conduct an assassination, but effective nonetheless. I am not above convention if it leads me directly to my target. There is a group of soldiers fighting their way up the tower. They are the perfect distraction, this will be far simpler with their unknowing aid.

When I arrive at her office, my target is talking to someone, offering credits in exchange for the opportunity to keep her life. I can't hear the voice of the one she speaks to clearly. Nassana Dantius does not hear me drop from the ceiling.

I land behind a guard. Human male, rear approach, check shoulder to prevent turning, hands to chin and base of skull, neck-snap. Heavy pistol fire to dispatch the remaining guard. Nassana turns, I hold her in my arms as one might while comforting a lover and I shepherd her to the waters so lovingly tended by Kalahira.

There are three soldiers staring at me, but prayers for the wicked must not be forsaken. To my surprise, they wait for me to finish. As I turn to face them, their leader, a woman, puts her hands on her verdant helmet. She is a freelancer, perhaps.

"Well, I'll be damned, what a small galaxy," she says after a surprised chuckle. Even through the gentle warp of her breather helmet, it is a laugh that I treasure in my memories. A gentle hiss as the seal around her bright green helmet is released and chestnut hair falls in a wave, framing a smile like the sun, but her tooth is no longer chipped. Eyes the color of desert sands glimmering under the rays of an autumn sun look back at me. Her cheeks are covered in spidering, but healing scars. There can be no denying it, Eden Shepard stands before me. "It's safe to assume that your name never was Niké, was it?"

She is amused, I can hear her pure, sonorous, mirthful laughter hiding there, just beneath the surface of her question. "I apologize for the deception, Eden. It seemed necessary, at the time." She raises an eyebrow at me, I think perhaps she understands the context, but she is not upset. "I thought you were dead," I remark, everyone knows that she was killed two years ago. And not by me. It seems that fortune favors the bold, and there is no one bolder than her.

"I was dead - spaced with a suit rupture. But apparently it takes more than that to stop me!" She raises her armored fist in the air, a victorious gesture. She is laughing again, soulful eyes twinkle, and I feel the fire awaken in me once more. She is merry in spite of her own mortality. "I'm taking on the Collectors. I need someone with your skills on my team, Thane." I am blessed by my true name on her soft, rose-colored lips.

It is only now that I fully comprehend her two compatriots, a turian with a sniper rifle and the apparent skill required to use it, and a quarian woman armed with a high end omni-tool and a shotgun.

It is a small galaxy, indeed.

[worm-wood-dawning]

Sentinel Station: Chapters 1-5 (revised with a few changes but I SWEAR I'll keep things like this and not go back and make a million changes)

Content Advisories - Domestic violence, sexual assault, police violence, sex work (honestly consider that one a standing warning for a while), implied child abuse, mentioned stillbirth, minor self harm, a suicide attempt and a potentially cringe scene of two characters trying to talk through a language barrier.

10,000 words

Chapter 1: Farm Girl

Veniae-di

Colony Outpost 9

2276, 3rd Standard Cycle

Carina, Age 15

Carina adjusted her mask and scarf, turned off her left eye and slid up her dark glasses. They did little against the sunlight streaming down, bouncing fiery off the mix of human and avaki ships docked ahead. She pressed her hands over her ears. They were similarly ineffective against the noise - the murmur of human tongues from the few permitted to speak, the low buzz of waiting vessels, the screeches of takeoff and distant ripping of the sky. Hyperspace. That she’d been able to hear before, and even then she’d never gotten used to the sound of it, to the boom of the opening air and the static hum that emanated from behind it.

Sorry, Rina. A deep, soft voice echoed in her mind. Your implants will settle down soon.

Carina nodded, looking up at the woman beside her. She looked older than her seventeen years, narrow black eyes scanning the crowd and her bottom pair of arms crossed, hands on her hips. With the top pair she twisted stray hairs around her fingers and tapped her violet mouth, one claw clicking against a tooth poking out from her bottom lip. Long grey horns curled out under the veil tied over the dark braids trailing down her back, white with purple trim between her pointed ears. Fine, light blue fur covered her azure skin. A smart brown jacket hung on her wide shoulders and a brown skirt fanned out around her ankles, the tip of a long, striped tail peeking out of it.

No paint and ropes yet? Carina asked, also speaking internally. She kept the thought quick, though she doubted anyone could break into their conversation, or that they would care to.

I'm still a civilian. Tovie rolled her eyes. Wouldn't get much anyway.

Right, sorry. Carina replied. Tovie had tried to explain avaki military structures to her before but she had never quite understood, especially where women were concerned. Are… are you sure we-

Relax, Rina. We're blending in just fine.

Right . She swayed on her feet, trying to ignore the weight of her backpack, or the dull pain in her head. It was just the price of speaking this way. Now, you said I'm…. Nevermind, sorry. The line's moving.

They both fell silent, to the extent they could, and waited as the two groups ahead were scanned and cleared to board. Carina had seen whales in old lesson vids before. They were strange marine mammals that had only existed on Earth, with few analogues on other worlds and none on Veniae-di. The avaki ship reminded her of them, all seamless curves of undulating blue and grey, the metal they were made from like a liquid held in place, a miniature ocean shielding a miniature world.

Alright, we're up. Tovie squeezed her hand. Don't worry, Rina.

Carina nodded. Her hand fell at her side.

An avaki man stood by the ship’s door, his arms crossed. White ropes were strung around them, straining against his muscles, and white paint covered his face and torso, thin and flexible but hard and smooth, with a sharp and intricate pattern made by the bits of blue skin left bare. He looked them over.

“Identification?”he asked aloud. Whether it was because he couldn't attune himself to Tovie, or that he thought his harsh voice would keep Carina in line, no one could be sure.

"As you ask, ve'ek-sen." Tovie held out one hand for the man to scan.

“Let's see.”he said, not returning her formal greeting. “Of clan Kallis, Tovrek. Off to service. Com-sec, too. Rather good, for a woman. Then again, I doubt your clan would accept less. And this one…” He pointed at Carina. “...is your…?”

“My servant.”Tovie said. “She's fully registered. For comfort and general assistance, ve'ek-sen."

“I suppose that is your right. Still, a coms officer bringing a human along….” His lips pursed, two long teeth jutting from the top. 

“Oh don't worry.” Tovie scoffed. “She's a farm girl. Barely literate. I doubt she even understands what we're saying right now, and I won't be getting her a translator.”

The man nodded. “Your chip, girl.”

As they had practiced, Carina blinked and stared wide eyed just past the man. Tovie grabbed her hand and held it out. She forced her breathing to stay steady and hoped the man couldn't hear her heart race, that he couldn't break into her head. Tovie had rewritten her ID chip with a false identity, part outright falsehoods and part the truth of a girl who had recently died. The override would only last so long, if it worked at all. She bowed her head.

“Lisa.” The name sounded strange in the man's mouth, unused to any human language. “Of clan Hall.” He scrutinized his netpad. “Four year contract.”he said to Tovie. “Says she's old enough. Hardly looks it, though. A good find.”

“Appreciated, ve'ek-sen. May we-”

“Yes, yes, go on ahead through the decon scanner.”

“Thank you, ve'ek-sen. Now.” She switched to the human common tongue. “Come along, girl.” The words flowed naturally, stern and harsh.

Still silent, Carina followed her. A blue glow ran over them, concentrating on their bags. It felt suddenly heavier, the frayed copy of 116 like a boulder inside it. Once the machine was sure they carried no contraband, a second door slid up to let them enter the ship. A wave of cold air washed over her. The light changed from blazing sun to a sickly fluorescence on silver walls. A crowd of avaki, mostly men, milled about. Multiple faces turned to them both. She shivered.

“Come, girl.” Tovie took her hand and pulled her down a corridor. Her hooves clicked on the metal floor. “Yes, here we are.” She let go, unlocked the room and nudged her inside. “Quiet.”

Carina obeyed, shifting on her feet and tapping the straps of her backpack as Tovie inspected the thin room. It was all bare silver metal with two panels stuck out from one wall. She assumed they hid a sink and toilet. A small mattress was folded away opposite to her. She watched the door, her heartbeat quick again. None of the men in the entrance had been familiar. No one was coming. She repeated that in her head, running her thumbs over the canvas pressed against her chest.

“Alright.” Tovie stuck a small, translucent disk to the wall. She turned to Carina, her hands moving through the air before her, fingers spelling out words they had spent so many long nights learning together, the only language they had both grasped beyond each of their races’ common tongues. “That should help.”she signed.

“Are you sure they won’t see us?”Carina asked, the words small and close to her chest.

“Not clearly.”she answered. “And translators don’t pick up sign language. By the time they figured out what we’re saying, we’d already be gone.”

Carina nodded and tried to smile, biting her nails.

“And, sorry.”she continued. “For out there, Rina.” Her words were slow. “I had to be believable.”

“I… understand.”she replied. “I'm just glad we're here now.”

“What did I tell you?” She grinned down at her. “Nothing to worry about. I'm just that amazing.”

“You weren't nervous at all, Tovie?”she asked, her movements clipped, lightly chiding.

“Okay, maybe a little.” She shrugged. “But we're fine now. Takeoff soon. And look, we have a window!” She pulled down the bed, leaving them barely room to stand, and pressed a button on the wall. It parted and light streamed in. “Come here, let's watch.”

Carina dropped her bag and knelt on the mattress. It was as hard as it had looked. Tovie pulled her close, one arm around her shoulder. She didn't know if it was an actual window or even a real time display. It didn't matter. She'd been too anxious in the shipyard to even take a final look. Now, green and red and purple fields stretched before her, under the shadows of towering old black trees. There was corn and soy and wheat of course, and rice somewhere far away - all of it heavily modified, but far more of the fields were full of avaki crops, the trees heavy and bright with fruit that humans couldn't touch. Between the fields were chaotic columns of stack houses, tiny boxes of thin plastic that had been unfolded on the spots where they stood. They were little more than walls to guard against the elements, with the upper levels only accessible by outside ladders. Somewhere nearby, just out of view, was the Kallis tower, a citadel of metal and glass that loomed over the human community of Outpost 9.

“Is it… gentler out there?”she asked, trembling. “You… you've left a few times.”

Tovie rested a hand on her head, fingers in her hair, claws retracted, before she signed again. “It is.”she lied. She gripped Carina's shoulder. I… will petition the Spirits for you. And I'm… sorry, Rina, that I couldn't-

"It's… okay."she lied in return.

No, it's not, and-

It's not your fault.

It's not yours either.

Carina didn't answer, staring at the fields. She had said goodbye to her mother. The final word had been met with silence.

May I?

She nodded and Tovie took her hand, a warm and strong grip.

“Takeoff in forty five seconds.”a low voice announced over a speaker.

They each sat, holding one side of the bed. The ship lurched.

“The Station isn't so bad.”Tovie whispered. “It's crowded, but… but it's not the worst place. And I promise I'll-”

I know you won't be able to talk much. Military monitoring. Hard to get around even for you. I know I'll be on my own. She swallowed and rubbed her eyes. “It's okay.”she lied.

“I'm sorry.”

She said nothing. The ship lurched and she fell sideways. Barely glancing at her, Tovie lifted her hand, the air shimmering around it, a Vital field that held her up. Her heart raced, the only part of her that could move, and a cry lodged in her throat.

Sorry. Tovie looked down at her with mournful eyes. She laid her hands on Carina's shoulder again. It's still reflex.

"It's fine."she lied, and watched the fields shrink. They disappeared. The window closed.

Want to sing? No one else can hear.

She blinked. Her mouth was dry. Tovie was the first one who'd listened to her, the first one who hadn't tried to beat silence into her.

"The sand in the wind is... is...." Her throat closed and shoulders slumped.

I'm sorry.

Tovie squeezed her hand.

Are you sure you're okay, Rina?

She nodded. “We're…." We're.... Her voice cracked and mind fogged over. She buried her face in her hands. Tears that had built for days now burst forth. A sob tore through her heart. Her throat tightened. She screamed, shaking in Tovie's arms.

Chapter 2: Poison

Arrae

Svala, Northern Seas

2276 3rd Standard Cycle

Vren, Age 18

Vren coughed, curled up against a warm stone wall. Pale blue blood spurted between his teeth and into his shaking hands. It ran through his fingers and tarnished the water around him. He'd stopped shaking, stopped screaming, but his vision was still blurred, his left eye swollen shut. Kero hadn't broken anything. At least, he didn't think she had, though his whole body was heavy. His bleeding arms pulsed in pain, and multiple teeth hung loose in his mouth.

"Get up." Kero's voice stabbed into his aching head. Her inner eyes narrowed to red slits, the two outer pairs glowing with another. She crossed her arms, floating above him in the dimly lit water.

He hurried to right himself. "K-kero, I-"

"Quiet."

He hung his head. Blood dripped down his chin.

“Fix this up."she said. "Then come to my room.”

"But, Kero, it is-"

"Come to my room."she repeated. “I need to speak with you. And be quiet."

He nodded. Kero turned away, silence in her wake. He looked at the first aid kit tied to the nearest wall, shook his head and turned away. The cuts would heal well enough in time, though they would scar. He tied two old rags around his arms. That would do to stem the bleeding. He didn't bother to fix his face, but just gathered up the shattered pieces. Black polished coral scratched against itself as he tied it into the garbage bin.

He had broken the plate. He knew that, but couldn't remember it happening. His body had been useless before, but now it actively fought him, his limbs stiffening and eyes fogging over at least once a day. Kero had forgiven him, the night he had realized he was unworthy of her. She had accepted that he was used, a damaged thing, but even she could not forgive this new sickness. He swallowed back another scream and finished filtering away the blood. The hallway stretched endless and dark before him. Most of the rooms were empty, as he had borne no children for her, not even sons, and Kero did not yet have other men to occupy her.

He stopped outside her room. It had only been five days since the stillbirth, his third in two years with her. She knew he needed at least fourteen cycles to heal, and over twenty until they could try again.

"Verra."he whispered. Her dead, half formed body filled his mind. It was a strong name. They could not try again. He didn't understand.

"Are you going to stay there and stare at the walls all night?"

Kero looked down at him. She was so tall, imposing and stately in dark grey Tava silk woven with silver, a necklace of pointed teeth strung around her neck. Her deep red eyes bored into him. The tendrils above her mouth raised, and the four segments of her jaw pressed against each other, a smile like a knife, her teeth sharp with want.

He nodded. Eyes glued to the floor, he followed to her quarters.

She undressed, then undressed him. Thick tendrils of flesh unfurled from her back and waist, and her eyes shone bright in the darkness. A soft rhythmic chirping emanated from her throat, punctuated with low clicks - all a wordless desire, one that must be met. He did not respond. Tentacles pulled him close and her tail coiled around him, holding him in place. It hurt, and did not seem to end, even when she pushed him away. He floated there, eyes closed, the water cold on his skin and coarse stone warm behind his back.

“That was… good.”she said. “You'll do well at Sanae’s.”

“What… what do you-”

She sighed. “Your results aren't in yet, and your skin hasn't changed, but you're clearly a Feraath-krii.”she said. “I found a woman who can take you. She runs a… bar you can work at.”

His hearts sank, a chasm in his stomach, but he said nothing.

“You're pretty, if nothing else.”she continued. “At least, you are for now. You'll do alright.”

“Thank you.”he whispered.

She righted herself and lifted him into her arms, carrying him across the room.

Dark purple tendrils clung to the nearest wall, ever moving, ever searching. She pushed him into them and turned away.

He laid there, silent, wrapped in the mass. White heat burrowed into his veins, cutting through the numbness. The water turned blue with blood, a concentrated, vile azure from his arms and down his legs. It blossomed out into pale cyan. More coated his mouth again. He stared at the backs of his hands, eyes tracing the raised scars. It had taken weeks for them to heal correctly. He wondered how long the bleeding would last if he cut them off now, if it would ever stop.

Kero had hit him before. Of course she had. Few women were blessed with mates who never had to be kept in line, and he was worse than most men. She had needed to discipline him many times, but she had never made him bleed before.

He righted himself slowly, his limbs heavy, and tied a black sheet of dyed Tava silk around his chest. Sinewy kelp grew from the floor to the ceiling. Kero hung suspended in it, asleep and alone, much of the tower empty. Vren swallowed down a lump in his throat, watching her. She was broad chested, with bulging shoulders and strong arms. All was covered in black, shining scales, and two lines of flexible spines ran down the top and back of her head, connected by translucent blue skin. The long, thick tail that made up her lower half draped out of the undulating leaves, tendrils folded against her body once more. She was still a handsome woman. He knew that, knew that she was ideal in looks, in temperament and intelligence, that it was those like her who built and upheld erathi society, that he was lucky she had ever even looked at him. Yet somehow he felt nothing now.

He sighed. Love was not the goal of any union. Still, he tried to remember if she had ever been happy with him, if she had ever thought him a worthwhile gift.

He couldn't. It didn't matter. He turned away. The door slid closed behind him. He drifted back to the kitchen and stopped, staring at the largest wall. Bulbs of fungi congregated over the whole of it, black and thick and shining in the center, red and thin and dry at the edges. It pulsed, both with its own life and the worms and crabs crawling in it, forever alive and aglow. Grey, dessicated pieces floated before it, held by fine netting. Aren, Aren-tel and Aren-vae. He reached out with open hands. It still knew him even now, still grew out and spread itself over his skin. It held him, then receded, brightly lit anew. Blood coated his arms. He turned away and looked up.

Jars hung from the ceiling in cradles of black rope, radiating soft blue light throughout the room. He pulled one down, running his fingers over the carved, translucent grey surface. Sharp lines intersected without end along its surface. Tava fish swam inside, round and black. One nibbled at the solid layer of blue fungus inside. New spawn burrowed in and out of it. Lacy fins rubbed against the glass. He closed his eyes and let the sound of it flow through him, a low and quiet music that did not end even in death, for it created new life from its own remains. He opened the jar. The fish slowly flowed out. He let the jar go, and one by one opened the rest. Fish bobbed lazily in the water, gnawing at the clock behind him. Little time would pass before it was eaten away, and less before it was replaced.

Slowly, mechanically, he opened three larger jars full of rocks and coral, pouring them into each other. He shook the contents until they fused into a viscous black liquid. It smelled rotten, a sign he had done it right. He took a knife off the wall, dipped it in and closed the jar, letting it simply glide away.

“Vren?”

Her voice shot through him. He froze. The knife hovered over his wrist.

“Why are…? You should be in bed.”she said. “And - oh, by The Mother what is that smell?”

He did not hear her approach, did not know she was behind him until her rippling shadow overtook his own.

“What are you doing?” Her voice was even and toneless.

He opened his mouth but could not speak, his throat tight. She grasped his arm.

“No!”he yelled, pulled and twisted in her grip.

The knife turned.

Kero's eyes widened. She froze. The knife bobbed away from her open hand.

He would never be sure how long he stayed there, frozen and mute in her grip. One cycle. A hundred. Time distorted. Arms straining, he pulled himself from her and leaned against the wall, staring.

“Kero?”

She did not respond.

“K-kero?”

Again she did not speak or move.

“I… I am sorry.”he tried again. “I… I will put the Tava back and… and sleep. I will… will go to Sanae's. I am sorry.”

Silence stretched. The walls warped inward. She did not move or speak. Blood trailed dark blue from her arm, a haze in the water.

He stood. The knife was clean. The poison was gone. He stared at the jar. There was more left. Kero was dead. Kero was dead because of him. He held the knife.

Kero was dead. Kero was dead and he was alone. He was not meant to be alone. His head was full of static. He was alone.

He screamed. It echoed off the walls, ripping apart the water. The knife's jagged bone edge screeched against the wall, claws inside his skull. She still did not move. 

He drifted, first to his room and then to hers. Grey skirt, grey tunic and grey footwraps. A grey shawl, grey veil and grey mask. It was the garb of a proper man, with only his hands visible. Not even his eyes showed through. A slight haze hung over all, the world through gossamer webs.

He slid a panel aside on the wall. Kero stored most of her money digitally, but she also visited whores. That much was clear now. He keyed in the combination, as much as he could recall from having watched her leave before.

The safe swung open, a cavern of deep red. The coins were heavy, pure carved Sevaath stone rather than coated disks. He swept them into a bag until he could carry no more. Surely that would be enough to pay a ship to smuggle him to the nearest station. Her door slid shut. The sound seemed far away.

In the kitchen she still floated there. He stared, silent, at her stiff body, searching his heart. Where there should have been sorrow, regret or even a base fear, he only found a horrible, unfathomable lightness.

She was gone. She was gone and he was alone. He opened the door and drifted into the world beyond.

Chapter 3: Freed

Sentinel Station

Sector 9, Ward 31, Inorganic Processing Block 6, Threadhall 17

2276, 3rd Standard Age

Tohru, Age 13

A ten legged insect crawled over the fabric wall, dropping from a black thread onto the floor. Its feet clicked on metal. Then silent on the man sleeping at Tohru’s feet. Silent from his hand to his face and down his naked chest. The thing settled. Hairy legs across the man’s skin. It looked up at him. Fangs rubbed its front feet.

“Bite him.”Tohru whispered. The man twitched. He froze. Jaw clenched and throat closed. Tapped his thigh. Counted down from ten. The man lay still. Silent. His stomach untwisted. A deep breath. Safe still. He held out his hand, let the bug settle and snapped off its head. The legs and torso crunched between his teeth. Sweet, but scratched down his throat. Hunger, still. Always. Claws. But sweet. He wiped his forehead. Sweat. Always.

He checked his pockets. A half tube of nutrel. Worse than the bug. A hand length of plastic rope. Nothing else to take. 

He checked his shoes. Plastic soles cracked. Again, and fully in half this time, and they'd run out of tape and string. The damn things hurt anyway. 

He tried to reach out, pull back the curtain. Close. Feet locked in place. Close. Eyes held to the floor. Close. He was still asleep.

No one would know. Or no one would care, not if he did it right. The neighbors might not hear, even through the fabric walls, and it took at least a day for a corpse to start to smell, longer for the smell to matter. If he did it wrong, the neighbors would sigh and shake their heads and wonder if they should have done something.

But he’s so….

Think you’d be better, with a dad like that?

Bet he’ll kill someone ‘fore he’s grown.

Bet he’ll get killed, if he don’t die crawlin’ through a chute.

His foot over the man’s head. A long shadow. Outline to color in red.

He can't fit in the chutes no more. Grew too quick.

You think that's why-

Don't matter. Still fucked up.

But he’s like a damn animal.

But maybe, if we-

Nah. I got enough to deal with.

He shook his head. Workday soon. No extra time. His father would die like everyone else here. Shaky, half blind heap, coughing sludge out of its throat onto a dirty floor. He pulled back the curtain. 

Seventeen levels up. No railings. Scattered, half broken ladders to get down. They were all told to walk carefully. Or be recycled. He ran, barely staying on the thin, rusted walkway. The ladder cut his hands and bare feet. He paused. Five levels down. Low noise through the fabric. Flakes of strangers’ blood melted into his open skin. Metal scraped and clanged. His left. 

“Shut up, or-”

“Oh, shit.”

He glanced over. Two girls tumbled out of a waste chute. Smaller than him, but clearly older. Cuts down their arms and on their faces.

“You… you better fuck off.” One of them stood in front of the other. A jagged scrap of metal shook in her hand, pointed at him. “I mean it.”

He shrugged and continued down the ladder. He could report the girls for trespassing or shirking duty - or more if he was right about why they wanted to hide. A cura or an extra nutrel. Hardly worth it now.

Down. Three more levels. He leapt off, wiped the blood from his hands and searched for a gap in the curtains. A low buzz behind him. He ducked into the nearest room. 

“Hey!”a woman yelled, pulling a sheet over her body. He put a finger to his lips, frantically pointing outside. 

“Oh, sneakin’ around. Well I'll-”

He pushed her to the ground, a hand over her mouth. She grabbed his arm but couldn't move him. He waited, holding her still. The buzzing faded. 

Gone. He stood and ran back to the walkway. Two rooms ahead he finally saw it. Almost hidden. A spiral and five drops of blood. He squeezed between two fabric walls. A gap in the metal. Woven thread poking through. He grabbed it and pulled back, squeezed into the hole revealed. Cold. Dark. Empty. Nothing like the trash chutes. 

A spiral and five drops of blood. Follow to be free. It might be a lie. Jagged metal tied to his waist. It didn't matter. Follow to be free. He crawled. Inched forward on his stomach.

The path widened. Branched. A diamond cut in four. All rust. Almost erased. It could be a lie. Jagged metal in his arm. Blood on his finger. Not erased. He followed. The path widened.

Into a pit.

He stopped. The air burned his eyes. A square and a drop of blood. Along a cable onto a sleek black metal sphere far below. He grabbed on and slid down.

It didn't cut. He balanced on the sphere, heels dug in. It tumbled. Air in his hair. Like the overseer's fans but colder, faster. He shivered. Eyes closed, focused on the air. Sweet. He smiled. The sphere fell, then clattered to the ground. He looked up. Slick walls. Nowhere to hold on. He blinked. The dark was clearer, just enough to see the square, now with two lines from the top. He replaced it and pushed. 

Light.

Light beyond fire. Light beyond death in the overseer's room. He stared through his fingers. Metal. Smooth and white and pale red beyond in the largest room he'd ever seen. Avaki men in paint and boys in tunics and women and girls in dresses and veils. Silent but endless, a crowd weaving around wide pillars. Flashing blue and purple and blinding white with rows of symbols in red and black. 

He scanned the crowd. There should have been humans. Outside, humans could live on their own.

They kept to the walls. Trailed behind avaki men with their heads bowed. A step behind families hand in hand with their children. Like mothers but servants.

He shrank behind the old metal. There was no way back. 

“Ah!”

The first voice above a whisper. A human. Low but soft. 

The furthest wall. A girl. Small and swallowed by a black dress. Avaki men with covered eyes and black paint and guns and sticks and Vital hands. A drone. Blue sphere floating and committing it all to memory. 

The girl clung to the wall. A covered mouth full of words he didn't understand. Wide, dark eyes in a dark face and dark hair all around it like an explosion.

He ran. The crowd parted like curtains. Glares he ignored. The girl yelled again. A man hit her arm.

“Stop!”

The men turned. Faces and guns on him. 

“What, human?” Narrow eyes. More words he didn't understand.

He pointed to the girl and then himself. She shook her head, eyes wider.

A man laughed. A clawed hand around her wrist. A shimmer in another. 

“Coming with us.”

Aim fast. His fist balled up. Blood. Down purple lips and over long teeth as hard feet clattered back and a hand released. Words he didn't understand. A meaning he knew. He reached for the girl's hand.

A stick expanded. Came down. 

Another shimmer. Cold Vital energy from the girl's hand. The men fell. The drone bashed into a pillar. The girl fell. Another drone, and more men. Her eyes were empty. Blood from her nose.

She was weightless on his shoulder. She tried to push him away but her arms were too weak. Weightless through the crowd again and into the strange dark room.

The girl rubbed her eyes and looked up at him. Blood on the back of her hand. “Thank you.” More words he didn't understand. 

“Sorry.”he said. “You okay?”

She blinked, then took something from her pocket. A square of light big as both her hands. Like the overseer, tracking and committing it all to memory. She turned it to him. Strange symbols on the screen. He shook his head. She nodded. Dark fingers danced over the light. More strange symbols. But there was the sign to be free. He pointed to it.

“Understand do you?”she asked slowly, staring at the screen.

He nodded. Her words were out of order. No reason to tell her. His hand stung from the punch and paint.

“Help. Thank you much.”

“Are you hurt?”

She shook her head.

“Good.”he answered. Her eyes were even darker than he'd thought before. “Who are you?”

“Carina.”she answered. “Hall clan. You? Name?”

“Tohru.”

“Clan?”

He blinked, head tilted in a silent question. 

“Clan have no?”

He shrugged. 

She nodded. “Clan name need.” A finger slipped under her mask. Bloody when it came away. “Sato. Tohru Sato. Sato Tohru. Accept do you?”

He didn't know what a clan name was. He didn't know why it mattered. But it sounded good when she said it. 

“I accept.”

She nodded. “Live where you?”

He shrugged. “Nowhere now.”

“Work have you?”

“No.”

She tapped her covered mouth. Her brow creased. “Want? Easy.” She pointed to his bare feet. “Shoes can have. And….” She looked away. “Cover top.” 

He blinked, trying to figure out what cover top was supposed to mean. Shirt, maybe. 

“What type of work is it?”he asked slowly.

“Clean.”she answered. “Drinks make. Time many. Make you tired. Pay many.”

He bit his lip, thinking it over. He didn't know where to go here. The girl's eyes. Helpless.

“Agree do you?”she asked. “Tallov us take.”

“Tallov?”

She nodded. “Man. Avaki. Need human work. He let me no question. Today. Take my things. Not care I new. Not care I young. He let you.”

He ran a hand through his hair. He'd wanted to run. As far away as possible. It was hard to push through a crowd. The work didn't sound that hard. Easier than sorting waste. The girl's eyes. Helpless. Deep like the fall that got him here. Helpless.

He nodded. 

Fingers danced in the light again. The girl took his hand. Warm. So warm. His skin didn't sting as much.

“He us find.”she said. “Overseers stay away. Wait?”

He nodded. She was strange. But her hand was warm and her eyes were pretty. They waited, silent and alone in the dark.

Chapter 4: Morning at the Callisto

Sentinel Station

Sector 17, Ward 29, Club Callisto

2283, 3rd Standard Cycle

Carina, Age 22

Carina held a length of braided rope taut between her hands, wondering if it was strong enough to choke the man beside her. She pushed away the dream with a deep sigh, dropped the rope into the box at the foot of her bed and rubbed her wrists. There were some friction burns, bits of skin rubbed off and cuts scattered over her arms and chest. They were all shallow, nothing cura couldn't fix. Harken of Tallov was a creep, a thief and a conman, but he wasn't particularly brutal in bed. She pulled the blanket up to her neck.

“My payment?”she asked.

The old avaki man sat up, facing away from her. He yawned, stretched and stood.

She sighed. He always did this. She always hated it. He knew that. 

“Your pants are over there.” She pointed to the corner.

Harken dressed, humming under his breath. He stood over her and grinned, all four of his arms crossed. Graying, steel blue fur bristled above his mouth and around one long, chipped tooth.

“Ah, you're always such a treat, Rigel.”

She gritted her teeth and clenched her fists around the blanket, sweat drenched fabric between her fingers. “My payment, Master Tallov?”

Harken laughed, gravelly and low. “I guess you've earned it. Little extra from me, too, like always.” He reached into his pocket and tossed three cred sticks onto the bed. “You did well this week.”

“Thank you.”she said drily. “Master Tallov.”

He nodded. “Get some sleep, Rigel. You got a long night ahead.”

“I know.”she said, as if she'd had anything but long nights for the past seven years. 

He left at last. She released the blanket and inspected the sticks, flat blue things with patterns like ancient circuits engraved in them. It was as much as he'd said it would be, with a bit more tacked on since he'd made her fuck him to get it this time. It was less than she had earned. She stowed two of them away, yawned, and opened a door on the wall. A black jumpsuit lay bunched up beside a pile of tubes, three bottles of pills and a flat piece of black plastic. She opened a grey tube and smeared cura over her cuts. It was cold and smelled like vinegar, but it at least dried quickly, smooth and the exact same dark brown as her skin. There were four left. She could probably stretch them through the coming ten day week.

Her stomach twisted. She rolled her eyes, opened one of the clear tubes of nutrel and squeezed the paste into her mouth. The rations on Veniae-di had often been bland, but this was utterly tasteless, and coated her throat in a greasy film when she swallowed. Still, four tubes a day contained enough calories and almost enough nutrients to keep her healthy and active. She could usually afford three. She chewed a gritty vitamin pill, followed by an immune booster and hormone tablet, washing them down with the smallest sip of water. A panel above the sink flashed, indicating she'd used ten percent of what Harken gave each worker for the day. She sighed and turned on the light wand, running it slowly over her skin. It prickled and left a red tinge, but it was better than letting the old man's touch linger. She shivered and pressed her fingers to the side of her left eye. It came out easily. A green light indicated that six days of battery life remained. She rotated it under the light wand, pushed it back in and reached for the jumpsuit. A small grey jar and a pale yellow doll slid out from under it.

She caught them and let them rest in her palm for just a moment, before she focused and lifted them with a small Vital field. Once pain crept into her head she dropped them both, slid them back into the compartment and pulled on her jumpsuit. It was looser than before, and she wondered if the fabric had always been so thin, or when the left elbow had torn. She couldn't afford mending paste but could probably get some thread soon. She shrugged, tied on a mask and pulled her hair into a knitted hat.

Tucked behind the headboard, her netpad flashed. It rested in her hand, a thick grey square before she unfolded it once and pressed a holo button. A pixelated image of a yellow flower filled the screen and quickly faded, deleted. The encrypted channel was active again, the scramblers functional once more and a delivery time to come. She smiled softly and left the room, yawning.

The back hall was quiet as always, the walls and carpet thick to keep any sound from leaking out of the rooms branching off of it. She touched the cold door to the side entrance, thankful when it slid aside, as she wouldn't have to leave through the main rooms of the Callisto. Acid and smoke met her nose, cura and cigarettes.

“Oh, morning, Tohru.” She waved at the tall human man leaning against the opposite wall of the corridor. He hadn't bothered with shoes or a shirt, leaving his broad chest exposed. There was an old, human style waste chute in the yellowed white wall behind him. Refuse spilled from it. A speaker above his head crackled out a news report, something about a recent disappearance and an expedition to the ruins of Earth. He took another drag from the cigarette, snuffed it out on the back of his hand and pocketed it.

She sighed and shook her head. “At least put a little cura on that.”she said in the warm, nameless language of the threadhall he'd come from, able to properly speak it now, not needing a guide of scattered words. "Please."

“Later.”he said, his voice low and scratchy. He pushed away the tube she held out. “Don't want to waste yours.”

“Oh, stop it.” She grabbed his hand and rubbed paste on the burn. It filled the bloody pit and dried as if the skin had never been touched.

Tohru rolled his bloodshot eyes. “Gee, thanks, mom.”

“Oh, please, I'm only two years older than you. At least go for sister instead. Wait, that's… not very funny after last night. To think those guys went home to their stuffy families after that.”

He groaned and rubbed his eyes. “Don't remind me.” He shook his head, shoving away the tube of nutrel she held out.

She sighed, one hand over her face. She didn't know where exactly he got cigarettes, or how he used them without Harken knowing or caring, but she could guess just how much of his pay they ate up. “I think you’re getting thinner.”she lightly chided. “You've got a look to keep up.”

“Right.”he said, the word drawn out. “Cygnus Vex, the mountain every insecure sleaze wants to conquer.” He pushed his dark hair back from his face.

"Don't forget the sad military women."

He sighed. "They're not so bad. Wouldn't mind if there were more of them."

"Not sure we'd be here if there were more of them."she said. "And don't get full of yourself. You're a tree at best. Anyway, take it."

“Fine.” He rolled his eyes again but took the tube. She waited until he'd finished and dropped it into the trash heap behind him.

“Thanks.”she said. “Hey, I'm headed to The Tevell for a bit. Want some coffee?"

He yawned. “Maybe. I've got a morning client, and... my dad said he'd visit today.”

“Oh, I… I hope he does.”she lied. “Still, I'll be there for a while, if you want. Put some shoes on. Floor’s dirty. And, hey….”

“Yeah?”

“Take care of yourself, okay?”

He shrugged.

“And… I'm sorry.”

“Harken's fault.” Tohru looked away. “Really, Cari, I'm fine. Should get ready, though.” He drifted past her, returning to the Callisto's back rooms.

She turned and continued up the dark, warm corridor, past closed bars and clubs and walled off dead shops. There were few people about, and all were quiet, but the lights and noise of the nearest circle loomed in the distance. Closer by, an avaki woman approached, dull eyed in a faded brown dress, wearing no veil. She sped up, keeping her head clear and impenetrable, and just before they collided Carina clutched her netpad and cred stick.

“Varthek!”the woman spat. The word roughly translated to ‘brash weakling’. “Whore!”she added for good measure. The human word fell easily from her mouth.

“Sorry!”Carina yelled back in Aerkaath, the avaki common tongue. She took the last tube of nutrel from her pocket and tossed it toward her. The woman snatched it, glared and stormed away.

Carina sighed and slipped on her translator earpiece. Tovie had been right about her implants settling down, but she still appreciated the noise filter she'd added a few years ago. It had taken weeks to build, and the components had been outrageously marked up, but now as she entered the circle it helped to blunt the speech around her and fully muted the advertisements and warnings.

Still, the walls blazed, as did massive columns placed throughout the dark, open space, neon reds and blues and purples, flashing slogans for products and services she couldn't afford, warnings against loitering and reminders of curfew for each species and sex. Security officers stood around them. A hand in front of her face, she pulled out her artificial eye just long enough to turn it off, then slipped on translucent sunglasses to shield herself from the lights as well. A travel pod whizzed along a track near the ceiling, and a hover car eased to a stop by the nearest landing pad. She pushed through the crowd toward it, staring out the window, though window wasn't really an adequate word.

Sentinel Station had, in the second standard cycle, been a simple fuel depot with a rest stop attached, before trade routes changed and traffic around it increased. First more docking bays had been built, then more depots and stops. Even then, ships had gotten backed up, unable to leave. Slowly, they had connected, first to each other and then to the buildings around them, until they were stuck in place, inextricably tangled, and more came just to dock there.

This square had been a small rest stop, gutted and reformed. She didn't know if the screens had always been there, only that every square had them. The display buzzed and towered over her, a violet morning full of drifting granite clouds. It was a perfect reproduction of the Kiershaan sky, a bastardization of twilight on Veniae-di and the closest many avaki would ever see to a sunrise on their own homeworld.

She unfolded her netpad, twice now so it was just a little larger than her hand. With the press of a new holo button a picture filled the screen, a black and red drawing of a woman's face, sunken and wrinkled and half hidden behind thin, prematurely grey hair. She smiled with chipped, crooked teeth. It was far from perfect, far from a photograph, but it was not a complete lie, and it was all she had regardless.

She held it up to the false sky. A mechanical whirring sounded behind her. She lowered her head. Soon the security drone flew away, a pale blue ball propelling itself above the milling crowd. Nearby an officer shifted on his feet. As intricate as his painted armor was, it was indistinguishable from that of any other officer, like a carved toy soldier. The rifle in his upper hands was real though, a black metal thing that glowed crimson with plasma. A baton and blade were fastened to his thighs, his lower hands hovering over them. He watched the crowd, a thin but opaque red visor over his eyes.

She didn't know if he noticed her. This wasn't her destination. Shoulders slumped, she continued on.

Chapter 5: Afternoon at the Tevell

Sentinel Station 

Sector 17, Ward 14, Kalthan-k’tak Memorial Hospital

2283, 3rd Standard Cycle

Vren, Age 25

A static screech ripped through Vren's head and he gritted his teeth, fingers pressed against his burning eyes. He tore off his translator and powered it down, blinking rapidly as the pain faded and the pale light of the hospital room returned.

“Ketra!”Movrak yelled beside him. The avaki man narrowed his eyes. “Tell the woman her results. You're the specialist here.”

Vren ransacked his mind for words, the few fragments of human language he had managed to take in through the years. The old human woman stared up at them both from her bed, blinking slowly with eyebrows raised.

"You… your test...."he began, his voice thick and stilted with unfamiliar sounds.

"Yes?"the woman asked, then coughed.

He opened his mouth to try again. His throat went dry. A bitter smell surrounded him.

“Leave.”he whispered, the one word he truly knew. Without waiting for Movrak's approval, he rushed from the room and into the hall. His vision blurred. He grasped a railing by the wall just before it faded completely.

He woke on the floor, legs clustered beneath him, fingers still wrapped around the railing and his head heavy. It was horribly bright. A t'ka'et doctor in a blue envirosuit looked down at him, shook her head and continued walking, wheeling a bed in front of her. There was a body on it. He tried to remember who had died, or even why he was here. A series of clicks and harsh screeches sounded from his left. He looked over. Another t'ka’et came toward him, a white sheet folded and tied intricately over the black clinging to her body. She stopped, shifting on her feet, four thin legs radiating from under her torso. More clicks followed.

K'tet. It was just K'tet. Of course it was just her, and he was just at work. He held out the useless translator and coughed.

K'tet tilted her large, triangular head in response, her antennae bent low. 

“Are you alright?”she asked, slowly to be sure he understood. Through a translucent panel her massive inner eyes shone red, the outer pairs blue and white, all like cut gems.

He nodded and she held out her lower, thicker pair of arms. Her hands opened, two huge grasping claws parted.

Vren took them and slowly stood, unable to look at her. She raised her upper arms. With the thin spikes they ended in she pulled down one of his gloves, hiding a patch of pale blue skin. He hadn't noticed it falling. 

Silent and always a step behind, never fully used to moving outside of water, he followed her to her office and sat, eyes glued to the floor. She pulled up his sleeve.

“I should-”

“Nonsense.”she said. “Be still.” She drew a vial of blood. It was the same repulsive pale blue as ever. She hooked it up to a small white machine behind her, then gently pushed him forward. A shock ran through him when she tapped the plastic sticking out at the base of his neck. Rapid clicks sounded from her rigid mask. Of course that had amused her. Satisfied his implant was working, she slid his translator back on. It rested heavy on his head.

“A quarter charged.” She still spoke in her own tongue, but faster now. A static voice converted her words into Svani. “And I'll check the sample.”

“I… I can do that. You should-”

“I should let you calm down.”she said. “I’m quite aware of your capabilities, as you are of mine. Also, there's a hole in your glove. No fever this time at least.”

He sighed but relented. “Is… is Harris still here? That… that is, the woman-”

“It's Miss Harris.”she said. “Movrak finished talking with her. He explained her condition. She was… distressed.”

He coughed. “I… I am sorry.”

“She had more than you to worry her.” K'tet switched off the machine. “I forwarded the results to you. There have been no significant changes since your previous test, but…. Vren, you still haven't been taking your medications. I don't understand why… why you would hasten things.”

He hung his head. Neither of them spoke. She should have understood by now, that none of it really mattered.

“Thank you.”he eventually said. “And, K'tet….’

“Yes?”

He opened his mouth to ask, yet again, how she dealt with her own short life, how any of her race accepted it. He knew what she would say. Take hope and care as the winds would bring them, and return them most freely of all during storms, so you may go easily into the night. She would say the wind would destroy all things if it blew forever, that she'd had a good twenty years so far and only wished to give her best during the final five. He still didn't understand. He closed his eyes in silent prayer, that Veru would extend Her peace and protection, that Aren would still, in the end, let him come home.

“Little one? Are you alright?”

“Yes, sorry. It is….” He looked away from her. “Was Movrak angry?”

“He is often angry.”

“K'tet, I….”

“He is, yes, but-”

“Should… should I… stop? Should I leave before they dismiss me?”

There was a long, quiet scratch, mandibles rubbing against the hard plates on the side of her face in a sigh. “I… will do all I can to prevent that.”she said. “And you worked for five years to reach this point. Is this not what you wanted?”

He reached under his coat, feeling the string of sharp teeth around his neck. He still didn't remember taking it, all those years ago. It was an answer that only came in nightmares, stolen away on waking. “It… it was.”he said. “It was for the best.”

Her antennae lowered and raised in a nod. “You know you can stay with me again.”she said. “Your old room is still there. Really, I hate to think of anyone living out of those miniscule sleep pods. I know you earn enough for better accommodations.”

“They aren't that small.”he said. “I like them well enough. They are better than flop rooms.”

“And you really ought to buy a new translator.”she continued. “Logically, you should have the money for it, whatever channels you go through. Vren, you can tell me if you're in some sort of trouble or debt.”

“I don't need help.”he said. “And I ordered a replacement from a refurbisher. But, K'tet….”

“What is it?” Her antennae pointed outward in curiosity.

“It is good to have met you.”he said. “I… trust you.”

“Thank you, Vren.” She made another soft scratch. “I need to return to work. Come by for dinner sometime soon, if nothing else.”

“I will, K'tet.”

She hugged him, sharp limbs pressing into his ribs, and he was alone again. He checked the clock. 1020 Standard Time. At least the fit had come near the end of his shift. He paged Movrak on his netpad. There was no response. He sighed and left the room.

As always, the hospital was loud and crowded. The lights seemed brighter now. He kept his head down, staying close to the wall. He felt the occasional eye turn his way, but no one spoke to him. That was to be expected, but he was thankful all the same. 

Outside he surveyed the ward twelve circle, glad his episodes weren't triggered by light or noise. Two security officers stood rigid against a colossal pillar, an advertisement blaring behind them. He raised his hood, lowered his head and wound through the crowd to a waist high pole by a narrow door. He hovered one hand over the top and held it there until the pole flashed white. The door slid up to reveal a black sphere, the side open. He coughed and squeezed into it, knees pulled to his chest, and set a course for ward twenty.

The travel pod shut and shot upward, through a dark channel in the ceiling and out. He kept the walls dark, closed his eyes and tried to forget how far above the station floors he was, until at last the pod descended just across from The Tevell Lounge.

The room was lit in low, muted blue. Couches lined the windows before a projected vermillion sky, grey clouds drifting slowly through a projected night. It was quiet as well, and while there was a long line to order, some of the tables were still empty. He knew it was an underserved indulgence to come here, but it was at least inexpensive. He ordered and waited beside a human in dark glasses.

“Dren root tea with vehl!”a voice called from behind the counter. An avaki woman held out a cup.

“My thank-”

He stopped. The cup was hot, and the black substance inside stung his eyes.

“Is this yours?”a high, slightly muffled voice asked. He looked up to see that human, a woman with a fabric mask over her mouth and a gauzy scarf around her neck. “I don't think breakfast tea is supposed to be blue.”the woman continued. "Or gelatinous."

“Breakfast tea?”

She nodded. “That's what you have. They switched our orders by mistake. Here.”

He took his cup in one hand and held out hers. She grasped it but then yanked back her hand. He coughed and his own hand jerked in surprise. Tea splashed down the woman's jumpsuit and blood smeared over her palm.

He backed away. “I… I did not…. Th-that is, I-”

“It's alright.” She took the tea slowly in her other hand. “Just over half left. It'll do.”

“I… I am sorry.”

She shrugged. “It's alright.”she said again. “Enjoy your drink.”

“I should-”he tried, but she was already gone.

“We're waiting.”an avaki man drawled behind him.

“S-sorry.”he said, but turned back to the counter. “May… may I have another of her drink? And what… what food do humans order most?”

“Flatgrain melt with a double worm patty, I think.”the woman answered, her eyes narrow. “I'll warm one up, if you really want….”

“Please. My thanks.”he said, and again he waited, biting into the dren. It did little for his nerves, even with the usual added liquor, and it did nothing for his shame, but it was at least smooth and sweet. He should have been more careful. After what felt like a long wait the food was ready. It looked revolting and smelled worse, like someone had vomited up a poorly prepared fish. Trying to trust the avaki woman's judgment, he searched the room and spotted the human alone at a corner table. The walk there was longer than it had appeared. She looked down at a netpad, scrolling with one long thin finger. Static music crackled from her earpiece, a harsh and chaotic sound. He stood in front of her, unsure.

She paused the music and lowered her glasses, one eyebrow raised. Her large eyes were bloodshot, dull black sunken into a face dark as the deepest sea. She yawned. “Do you need something else?”

“Are you sick?”

She blinked, her eyebrows raised. “What?”

His face burned hot white under his own mask. He hadn't meant to say that. He knew full well that sleep deprivation and low weight were common among humans, especially women. Perhaps he hadn't fully recovered.

“Do you need something else?”she asked again.

“To… to….” He put the alien food down before her. “To apologize for - Ah!” He ripped out the translator. It died on its own and sat heavy in his palm. His shoulders slumped.

“Are’envetlan.”she said. Early greetings. “If you wished to apologize, there is really no need.”

His head jerked up and he stared, wide eyed, at the human woman.

“The cut was small.”she continued. While there was an odd, unmistakably human accent to them that lengthened every syllable, the Svani words flowed naturally from her mouth, with the tone of a woman talking to a stranger who was her equal. Even the short, low clicks some words required were intelligible. 

“It is already fixed.”she continued. “No harm was done, and I know none was meant.”

“That… that is true, however….” He lowered his eyes. “M-may I sit?”

She shrugged. “You… may. And there was really no need to buy me anything.”

He sat across from her. “It… it was an apology, and a replacement for what you lost because of my ineptitude.”he said, speaking as if she weren't a human, with all the defence due. “You were hurt because of-”

“I'm alright .” She sighed and held her hand out across the table. The blood had been wiped away, and while the scent of cura lingered on her, the skin had been fully mended, the wound gone.

“Regardless, I apologize.”

She shrugged again. “Accidents happen.”she said, now in the tone of one among friends. He fought the urge to leave. Maybe she didn't understand. Maybe she didn't care. “Could I take a look at that, though?”

He was silent, unsure of how to respond.

She leaned over the table and snatched the translator from his hand, turning it over. “This is so… old .”she said. “How is it functioning at all? Wait there. Finish your... drink.”

He obeyed, stifling another cough in the crook of his arm. He wished they wouldn't linger so long after a fit. She rummaged through her pockets and pulled out a pile of silver sticks, snapped the thick metal band into three pieces, then pushed each of them apart down the middle.

“These are…. Right, right, I've read about this type. You need to tell me where you bought it.”

“It was a gift.”he said, still speaking as one did to their betters. “My apologies, but I do not know who originally created it.”

“That's unfortunate.”

“My-”

“It's alright.” she said. “There's so much corrosion. You can't forget to clean this model, especially on the sides. No, no. Let me.” Metal scraped against metal. Black flakes fell beside her netpad. She ignored them. “Alright, that's somewhat better. And…. These bits are practically falling off. Frayed wires, too. Wires. What small scale tech has wires now?” She held one piece still. With the silver stick she prodded it, lifting and lowering bits of circuitry with surgical precision. “Even mine isn't as much of a mess. Anyway, here.” She swept the black flakes into her lap and rubbed her eyes. Her cheeks rose under her mask. “I fixed the battery contacts as well as I could. It has a little power now, and it should hold a charge for longer.”

“M-my thanks to you.”

“Is it working?”she asked in her own tongue. The words came through more clearly than usual, the underlying static quieter.

“Y-yes.”he said. “My… my thanks to you, truly. How… how is best to repay-”

“Repay?” Her eyebrows raised. “It was fun, fixing that absolute relic of yours. Wait, sorry, I probably shouldn't call it that. Besides, you already got me another tea. And this expensive sandwich, too. I think that's more than enough.”

“You are certain?”

She nodded. “Thanks for the concern, but I'm fine. And my friend's finally here anyway.”

He followed her gaze to the front, where a large human man stood waiting. The woman waved, though the man did not notice.

“You probably have things to do.”she said to him.

He nodded and stood. He meant to leave but stopped, his mouth half open.

“Are… you leaving?”

“May… may….” It was such a simple question. She probably wouldn't be angry, even if she said no, but still the words wouldn't come together.

“Are you alright?”

“May I see you again?”he asked. Once more his face paled. “M-my apologies. I… I did not mean…. That… that is, you are-”

“Oh.” She laughed and her cheeks rose again, an odd look in her eyes. “Certainly. You can visit me at work tonight.”

“Where-”

“The Club Callisto. It's in ward twenty-nine. Ask for Nova. You can't miss me. They say I'm a good performer, and I'm even better offstage.” Her tone was disconcerting, though he couldn't say why.

“You… perform? What-”

She laughed again, curt and dry. “Don't look like that.”she said. “It's technically illegal here. You know the rules in avaki space. But no one cares if it's just humans.” She rolled her eyes, a uniquely human expression.

“I… I am sorry.”

She shrugged. “By the way, you are…?”

“Ketra Senan.”he said. “W-wait, is Senan Ketra more accurate?”

“Either is fine.”she said. “Anyway, he's almost here. You should go, but…” She met his eyes and he shuddered. “...I really hope you come see me tonight.”

“R-right. I… I will.”he said. Clutching his now warm dren, he left the strange alien woman alone.