#hand is well spoken and pristine but is doing experiments on children and sees nothing wrong with this.

[aberration-abbey]

Character design project: Skydancers.

Brightness is a stock hero in Sornieth folktales, alongside her mate Breeze. Crow is the Rubellite Delta’s resident witch; rumors say she can turn you into a completely different dragon, for a price. Abraxas has been nominated for Starfall Isles’ Most Unethical Scientist six years in a row (not a real award); he's responsible for the creation of Lissy.

[blueisquitetired]

Consider: Emmet falls into Hisui and loses his memory (since that seems to be a common theme) but he knows he's looking for someone. Like in your other AU, Ingo and Emmet met after only a couple of days but they don't actually recognise eachother. Both are face blind and would recognise eachother from their coats but currently they don't have their coats, Emmet left his at his hideout to dry while Ingo finally caved and took it to be repaired after a particularly bad run in with an alpha. Both hit it off and feel the need to be with eachother (brotherly instincts and all), Ingo still teachs Emmet to survive in Hisui while Emmet teaches him to unlearn to mask and all that fluff but neither truly know who the other is until months later they finally see eachother in their coats when Emmet finally agrees to move in with Ingo. Even when neither remembers the other, they are still brothers.

(For the Warden Ingo and his Brother AU)

Oh! Fun idea Anon! Let’s run with that concept shall we?

Consider this:

Winter had just fallen over the land of Hisui and Ingo had begun bunkering down for the season.

Melli had long left to spend the season with his clan, and Ingo was supposed to do the same- but he couldn’t bring himself too. He loved and appreciated his clan, he really did, but he couldn’t handle the displeasure and judgment from his clan mates for an entire winter. He had already spent his first winter in Hisui with them and he had no plans to repeat that experience. (Winter was so much worse then the other seasons too, as his clansmen had nothing better to do then gossip at his behavior and way of speaking- to judge him for the skills he could not master despite them being easy for children to do. There was nowhere to run, nothing to do but hunch his back and quite his voice, smile wildly despite the pain it caused)

Unfortunately, Ingo’s third winter was already off to a terrible start- as an encounter with an particularly grumpy alpha had left his coat nearly torn in two. While he was normally content to handle simple repairs on his own, something of this magnitude required a much more… skilled hand. And while he would normally turn to Melli for something like this… well, he doubted Melli would appreciate him making the long and perilous winter journey for such an non essential reason.

So, with heavy heart, Ingo stored his coat away somewhere safe, where it would stay until the snow melted and Melli returned to the highlands.

Meanwhile, Emmet had no muking idea where he was.

Actually, he had a lot more questions then that, but his location was a lot more pressing then existential questions of “Who am I?” “Where did I come from?” and “Something is missing, what is it?”

It didn’t help that the Pokémon were weirdly aggressive there- something that just felt wrong honestly. So aggressive in fact, that his previously pristine white coat had gotten ripped, dirtied, and stained in the short time he had been there. And it he doubted it would get better. So, with a heavy heart, Emmet found a safe nook to keep his coat and hat in- before promptly running into an enraged Pokémon that drove him off a cliff.

Thankfully, he was mostly alright, but his leg was almost certainly broken, and he doubted he would be able to move it anytime soon. Which, in a place like this, meant that a painful death was all but guaranteed.

Of course, this isn’t a tragic tale- and Lady Sneasler managed to find him before something horrific happened, bringing the poor injured man to her warden.

And well-

They both can’t deny how familiar the other feels, how they must have known each other before. Ingo’s mannerisms feel like home to Emmet, and Ingo could swear that Emmet’s voice is the one he hears in his dreams. Yet both of them are far too uncertain to mention it to the other, so it remains something unspoken between them. But what is spoken?

Oh Sinnoh, Ingo has never met someone as wonderful as Emmet- someone as easy to talk to and fun to be with, who understands him with ease and desires his company as much as Ingo desires his. And Emmet? Well Emmet still has no idea what he was missing before he came here, but with Ingo he isn’t sure it even really matters. Ingo is home, and that’s all that really matters to Emmet.

When Emmet’s leg heals enough for him to walk around alright, he directs the group to where he hid his coat. Ingo is surprised when he sees it of course, and excitedly shows him his own. Neither of them really think too hard about it though, figuring that it’s just the uniform of their shared passion- whatever the heck a train is.

It was only when winter finally ended and Melli moved back into the highlands that they finally figure it out- and only because Melli was freaking out about their eerily identical faces.

(Of course, by that point such things mattered little to them. As far as they were concerned they were already family- becoming twins was just a bonus)

[the-wlw-cafe]

[E]nnui - a 2BA2 fanfic

Warnings: Self-harm, self-destructive behaviour, heavily implied suicidal ideation - there’s comfort in there too I swear!

Read it on ao3 here!

Another piece of her skin had come loose near her hips. It had to have happened a while ago, judging by the dust and dirt clinging to the adhesive on its underside. She hadn’t noticed it back then, being occupied with fighting for her life, the misery, the toil and pain and the war . But now, after the end of it all? Nothing would take her mind off it. She’d catch herself absent-mindedly tugging at the loose piece every now and then, or rather, Pod would catch her and admonish her in his usual robotic manner.

Alert: Continuing to irritate the area will cause further damage to unit A2. Proposal: Stop.

And he was right, of course, but that just made her want to throw a brick at him all the more.

(She also hadn’t noticed when she’d switched to referring to Pod as he instead of it, but he didn’t call attention to the change and she’d rather die than admit she th ought of him as anything but an annoyance.)

Well, Pod wasn’t here now. Being assigned to two units, he usually split his time between monitoring 2B and herself, or sometimes the pods just headed out by themselves to do God knows what. Maybe there was a part of A2 that wondered what they were up to, a part of her that might have been curious enough to ask about it lifetimes ago, but now? The task of having to ask and listen to a reply seemed insurmountable.

Shit, she really needed to trash something. Before, whenever such thoughts threatened to overtake her, she’d simply pick a fight with the first machine she saw, rinse and repeat until she was too exhausted to continue on or move or even think. But of course even that was taken from her as the machines were gone now. Not physically gone, of course, they were still dotted throughout the landscape, but they were empty. Just vacant shells, unmoving, staring off into space.

“They’re among the stars now”, 9S had said, as if that would explain anything. A2 hadn’t had the energy to ask for clarification. They kept their distance from each other anyway, since being in the other android’s presence dredged up emotions and red hot flashes of pain pain pain she no longer had a release for.

The sound of tools scraping and metal being torn and bent drifted to her from way down below. She came up here often now, to the window where she’d first awoken again. It was a long way down, and not for the first time she wondered whether the pods had placed her there intentionally. A second chance, and an easy way to refuse the gift. Again and again she found herself drawn to this spot, looking down until the instincts she was programmed with to keep her body safe flooded her system with dizziness that forced her to back away from the window. She used to feel so far away from everything here, but apparently, the real world had forced itself even into this space. The resistance had begun scrapping the empty machines down for parts, and even though she’d tried to help them initially just to have something to do, once she was actually faced with one of the shells, still faintly whirring with the machinery still ticking away in the rusty chassis but at the same time nothing going on inside, she felt like vomiting. An echo of the time she’d shared a mind with 2B, she supposed, she’d looked into the machine’s unseeing eyes and seen Pascal, seen the children, and she just couldn’t…

With an abrupt sting of pain she realized she’d been doing it again, finding that loose piece of skin and mindlessly tugging, only this time, Pod wasn’t here to tell her off. She gritted her teeth against the sting and began pulling, watching with an almost morbid fascination as the skin peeled to reveal more of the black exoskeleton underneath –

“Stop that.”

The sudden interruption startled A2 enough to actually obey, letting go of the abused patch of skin as if it had burned her. She turned towards the newcomer, one hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of her sword she no longer had a use for. She relaxed incrementally when she found that it was 2B who’d snuck up on her, her hand uselessly coming to rest at her side. She wasn’t at ease, she figured she hadn’t been at ease since the day she was fabricated, but something about the combat model seemed to calm her – a sentiment she would have laughed at weeks ago, given the many times 2B had been sent to execute her only for A2 to destroy her again and again, each time coming closer and closer to defeat as 2B profited from combat experience while her own body degraded. But there was no way of sharing a mind, memories and decades of pain with another person without retaining some familiarity after the fact.

It was difficult to see the unfiltered version of 2B she’d experienced through her memories in the carefully schooled expression of the android in front of her. The version A2 had experienced loved fiercely, cared deeply, and was hurt beyond measure, but the 2B she saw now let almost none of that show. Calm, collected. The very model of a YoRHa executioner. A2 didn’t have to ask why 2B still saw the need to guard her expression so thoroughly. After all, it was the same reason why A2 cleaned and sharpened her weapons every day with more care than she’d ever afforded her own body, or why 9S had taken to painstakingly record ing all of his memory, each minute detail of e very day he experienced with pen and paper and was keeping this treasury of memories hidden under his pillow.

“You need maintenance”, 2B stated, taking tentative steps closer and, when A2 didn’t object, sat down beside her. She didn’t look at her, instead fixating on some point in the distance, beyond the grey husks of concrete buildings leaning heavily against each other, as if they might collapse at any moment. Her voice betrayed no emotion, but the faint golden glow of the lunar tear tucked neatly above her ear said otherwise, said it’d suit your stylish looks, said thank you for the flowers, said desert roses are beautiful, aren’t they. The grief A2 felt upon these echoes flashing through her mind might as well have been her own. They’d both lost so, so many people, and yet they were still here, alive even after having literally died. It was almost funny. Almost.

“Nah, I’ll be fine”, A2 said, “I’ve survived this long even with machines looking to destroy me at every turn, I won’t fall apart now.”

2B made a non-committal sound, and a long stretch of silence followed. A2 had to stifle an irrational urge to laugh, because for two people who literally had their minds melded at some point, they sure were bad at communicating. But the silence continued, gaping, deafening, and a strange anxiety rose in A2, a compulsion to fill it with something, anything, even though she knew that no words could ever do justice to the things she longed to express, the things that bubbled and churned inside her like a vile acid she needed to expel.

“I miss it.”

A2 was almost surprised that she had spoken. She might have been inclined to believe it was a hallucination caused by one of the many glitches she’d contracted over decades of neglect of maintenance, if 2B hadn’t turned to look at her, head slightly inclined to the side, encouraging her to go on.

Well, shit. The rat was out of the bag now, or whatever the humans used to say, so there was no point in backing down. A2 leaned against the wall with a heavy sigh, craning her neck to stare at the webbing of cracks along the ceiling, because making herself vulnerable was hard enough without looking into 2B’s face and seeing whatever pity or disdain she might be too slow to hide.

“I mean, the fighting. Always being on the move. Never having a moment of quiet, never having a moment alone with your own thoughts. I was so busy surviving that I didn’t have the time to ask myself why I was surviving in the first place. I think it was spite, mainly”, she added with a mirthless chuckle that sounded hollow in the empty room. “But now, with YoRHa gone and the war over, there’s nobody left to spite, and that leaves me with…”

She didn’t voice the nothing that was on the tip of her tongue, but it hung over them like a heavy, suffocating blanket nonetheless. Truly, how selfish was she, to prefer the never-ending suffering of the war over this peace, this chance for Anemone and her people to build something new, something substantial. She didn’t dare to open her eyes and face whatever 2B must be thinking of her, and this was new too: She cared now, cared what others thought of her, because now she ha d people with opinions to care about.

And yet, the silence continued, the tension reaching a fever pitch until A2 could be ar it no longer. She braced herself and turned to face the combat model once more, no matter what she –

Oh.

2B’s gaze was trained on the horizon once more, but she’d placed a gloved hand over A2’s own, her thumb rubbing comforting circles over the exposed exoskeleton.

A2’s core temperature spiked with embarrassment as she cleared her throat. “Yeah, I…I can’t actually feel that, sorry”, she huffed. “I don’t know how it is with you newer models, but my more delicate sensors were located directly under my outer skin and I lost that ages ago. So, yeah, it’s gonna take nothing short of shoving my hand between two moving gears to actually generate some feedback.”

“Oh. I’m…sorry”, 2B murmured, removing her hand to clench it in her lap in a demure gesture that was so unlike her it made A2 feel even worse. She’d never felt self-conscious about the state of her body before. She’d been frustrated, sure, when she found her capabilities steadily decreasing the more time she spent on the run, but she’d never felt so outright ashamed that she could hear her black box whirring in her ears, but now that her deficiencies had been brought into such stark contrast against 2B, perfect, pristine 2B -

“A2.”

2B’s firm voice pulled the attacker model out of her spiralling thoughts. 2B’s eyes were focused on the spot on her hip where she’d been subconsciously scratching at the loose patch of skin again. A2 clenched her blackened fingers into a fist, fighting against the overpowering compulsion to just rip it.

“You need maintenance”, 2B repeated, with more insistence than the first time.

“Are you still on about that?” A2 groaned, running a hand through her hair.

“You’re literally coming apart at the seams!” 2B hissed, and there was fervour there, a real concern.

“Don’t I know it”, A2 said, throwing her head back and barking out a laugh that was devoid of any happiness. She just wanted this conversation to be over, she wanted 2B to stop wasting her concern on her, she just…wanted everything to stop.

Another pause, and then…a sensation, a touch, ever so lightly, ever so softly, a pair of lips against her cheek. The contact lasted a second at the most, before 2B pulled back an inch, her face still so close that A2 could feel her breath ghosting over her skin as she spoke her next words.

“Can you feel this?”

A2 didn’t answer, but she didn’t have to, not when the staccato beat of her pulse and the stuttering of her breath spoke volumes. 2B slid closer to her now, sitting directly next to her so close close close that their thighs were touching and A2 could feel it and shit, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been touched with care, like she mattered, like she deserved any of it. Pressure was building in her throat and she clenched her fist tighter until she could hear the joints of her fingers cracking. And still, she leaned into the contact, closed her eyes and held onto that moment while it lasted.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing”, 2B said quietly. A2 couldn’t guess how much time had passed, how long they’d simply been leaning against each other.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about”, A2 lied without any conviction. She had no doubt 2B would be looking right through her.

“Refusing maintenance. Coming up here every day.”

A2 opened her eyes as an errant breeze blew in through the window. She squinted against it. It was a long way down.

“Anemone is worried about you. I – we all are.”

“Well, you’re wasting your time”, A2 bit out, her voice tight against that god-damn lump in her throat. Too much, it was all too much. She had to go, go…somewhere, anywhere. Away. Away from people who looked at her, saw right through her, right down to the very core of her as if she was made of glass. She made a motion to get up, but 2B grabbed her wrist and tugged her down harshly.

“A2, you deserve to be cared for.” 2B’s voice was still so quiet, but as unyielding as the concrete beneath them. “You deserve this”, she said, one hand coming to rest against A2’s cheek. The touch was nothing but gentle, and yet it felt scalding. She batted it away.

“You of all people should know how it feels. We’ve killed, more times than we could count, more times than can ever be forgiven, it’s the only thing we were made for and the only thing we’re actually good at, and you’re telling me I deserve anything?”

2B shrunk back as if she’d struck her, and immediately a cold wave of guilt washed over A2 and settled deep and heavy in her core. She knew 2B, she could still feel the disgust and self-hatred emanating off of her whenever A2 had addressed her as 2E, they’d shared the pain of killing her closest friend over and over and over again. A2 reached out, to touch 2B, to hold her perhaps, but she thought better of it. She wasn’t made for gentleness. Everything she touched fell apart.

“I’m sorry”, she mumbled, her words falling pathetically short.

“Appreciated”, 2B said through gritted teeth, her fingers clenched into the hem of her dress so tightly her knuckles were turning white. She was close enough to touch, and yet they were miles apart. A2 had broken them miles apart. She had broken them apart, and she had no idea how to fix this divide. She wasn’t made for fixing.

“Shit, 2B, that was a fucked up thing to say to you, I’m-”

2B silenced her laughable attempts with a single, stiff wave or her hand.

“You’re right.”

A2 immediately opened her mouth to protest, to silence whatever nonsense she’d put in the combat model’s head, but then she met her eyes, cold steel blue more fiery than ever, and any words she might have said wither ed on her tongue. She was fixed to the spot, unmoving.

“And if we really are one and the same, A2, then you’ll understand why I can’t bear another death.”

It was too much, it was far too intimate. A2’s first instinct was to deflect, this was her they were talking about, she’d hardly be missed by anyone, having outlived almost all who might at some point have cared about her. And 2B, especially 2B, whom she’d killed dozens of times…

Unbidden, the ugliest memories reared their head, flashes of deep, oozing slashes in 2B’s body as her teammates stumble over themselves in retreat, flashes of loosing herself in B-Mode when she couldn’t keep up with her opponent anymore, only coming to again when her form was beaten, bloodied and almost unrecognizable. The same nausea she’d felt when asked to dismantle the machine husks rose in her again, that feeling of wrong wrong wrong and she couldn’t stomach it, not even the thought of it…

This time, she caught herself. Her hand halfway to her hip, she froze, biting her lip to distract from the urge to just tear at pieces of herself. 2B noticed, of course she noticed, placing a hand over the damaged area. It was tender, and though every fibre of her being cried out that she didn’t deserve it she didn’t deserve it she didn’t deserve it she swallowed them down. Laid her hand atop 2B’s. Threaded their fingers together.

She watched 2B fail to hide a soft gasp, and it made something within her lurch in delight. She gave 2B’s hand a gentle squeeze, wishing now more than ever to be able to feel the warmth of her hand radiating through the smooth satin glove.

It was a stupid reason. It was as good as any other.

She allowed herself to rest in this moment for a few seconds longer, then she slowly rose to her feet, groaning under the aching of her stiff joints. How long had she been up here?

“Come on, let’s head back before Anemone sends out a search party”, she said, pulling 2B upright, and when she was standing, A2 was struck to the core when she saw her smile. It was a subtle, understated thing, barely even visible, but shit, if she could make 2B smile like that one more time she knew she’d be worth something more than the scrap metal she was made of.

She took one last look out of the window over her shoulder. She could barely stomach it – it was such a long, long way down.

Feeling 2B’s hand in hers.

Making her smile.

They were better reasons than spite, she decided.

[psychosistr]

A Playful Spark- Chapter 4, Adulthood Pt.2

Summary: Following his previous conversation with Elmo, Jack receives some unsettling news regarding his best friend. It’s all downhill from there...

Notes: Much shorter chapter this time around, with some violence and swearing involved.

-First Chapter-

<-Previous Chapter Next Chapter->

~Age 25- A few days later~

Jack was sitting in his living room, boredly flicking through channels to confirm, once again, that nothing was on. With nothing else to do, he briefly debated on calling Elmo to see if his friend was free to talk for a bit or if he was still working on his science experiment. Maybe he could ask him how his prom went-

A sudden and urgent knock on his door stole his attention from the TV and made him cock an eyebrow in confusion. He rarely received visitors after seven on a weekday. Well, aside from Elmo- but the rat usually just let himself in using his spare key.

Heaving himself up from the couch and looking through the peep-hole in his door, Jack was surprised to see a couple of familiar rats, though without the most familiar one, standing at his door. “Mr. & Mrs.S?” Jack questioned when he opened the door for them. “What’s up?”

Elmo’s mother looked around frantically once she was inside, her usually pristine make-up smudged. “Is-Is Elmo here, Jack?”

Jack frowned at the distressed woman. “Elmo? No, I haven’t seen him since Monday. Why?”

Elmo’s father let out a frustrated sigh as he watched his wife’s expression worsen. “He didn’t come home from school yesterday OR today. We called and they said he didn’t even come in today and that no one even saw him at the dance. We know he comes to see you a lot, so we thought he was just hiding out here for some stupid reason.” He side-eyed Jack with a suspicious glare. “You sure he ain’t here?”

Jack scowled at the unwarranted look he was receiving. “Oh, gee, I’m PRETTY sure I’d notice another person hiding out in my apartment for two days- then again, maybe I’m just so blind and stupid that I confused my friend with a coat rack or something.” His voice was sarcastic and dripping with venom as he glared daggers at the surly rat. The two hadn’t exactly spoken since Jack found out about what the man did to his best friend.

“Don’t get smart with me, kid.” The rat countered with a harder glare. “We’re not stupid, we know the little faggot comes here to lick his wounds when he’s feelin’ ‘put-out’. If I find out you did anything with him-”

“If I did anything?!” Jack snapped at the older man while staring him down. “I’m not the one that makes him cry! I never grabbed him by the throat and made him run away from home in the middle of the night after beating the shit out of him! I’ve never HURT him!” He stared the rat down with two years-worth of malice and contempt weighing down his words, the righteous fury that had built up over time finally getting the chance to explode like it wanted to for so long. “If he’s missing, it’s probably because he YOU finally drove him away! And, you know what?! I’d be glad to hear it if he did run away because I’m sick of seein’ the look on his face every time you decide to be an intolerant ass who’d rather have a son that hates himself than one that’s happy! Even if he did come here, I’d call the fuckin’ police WAY before I called YOU!”

Elmo’s father snarled and curled his hand into a fist. “Don’t talk to me like you know shit about my family, boy!” He slammed his fist into Jack’s face, but was surprised when the duck grabbed his arm and wrenched it back painfully. “!!”

Jack glared dangerously at the man he was currently bringing to his knees. “What’s wrong, old man? Not used to hitting someone that fights back?!” He brought his foot back and kicked the rat in his ribs.

He felt a sense of elation and vindication at finally striking back at his best friend’s abuser and kicked him again. And again. And again.

He didn’t care where he hit him- the face, the gut, his chest- Jack was seeing red and didn’t feel like stopping his assault anytime soon.

“Stop!” Elmo’s mother cried out desperately. “Please, stop!”

Jack spared her a milder glare over his shoulder (he didn’t hate her as much as he did her husband, but she still didn’t do anything to help or protect her son so he didn’t like her much, either). “Tch..” He gave the rat one last kick in the ribs before shoving him towards the door. “Come here again and I’ll tell the police you attacked me in my own home- I can afford better lawyers than you can now.”

That was all he said to the couple as they retreated from his apartment.

“Told you he was a bad influence on the kid..” He heard the old rat say to his wife once they were outside.

Jack slammed and locked the door behind them, adrenaline still burning through his veins. He turned his back to the door, clenched his fists at his sides, then looked down.

The anger and adrenaline slowly drained from his body as he now took the time to fully process the news that his best friend was actually missing.

He slowly slumped against the hard wood behind him and sunk down to a seated position. “Darn it..” He said while bringing a hand up to cover his face. “Where’d ya go, Mo…?”

~Age 25-40~

The search lasted for months, police coming by occasionally to ask him if he’d seen any trace of the missing teenager, to which he always replied negatively.

Every day when he came home from work, he silently hoped that he’d open the door and see his best friend sitting on the couch working on some new invention or his homework as if everything were normal. And every day he came home to the same disappointment.

On nights when he couldn’t sleep, he’d roam the streets to search for any signs at all of his best friend. Then, on days when he couldn’t concentrate on his work, he’d stop by Elmo’s school on the way home to see if anyone had heard or seen anything, but most of them barely even knew the kid existed so he stopped going there after the first few weeks (plus that one duck kid, Drakie something, kept trying to interrogate him for having a “suspicious appearance” and that was annoying as hell).

Eventually, the police stopped coming altogether and the rat was officially filed as a cold-case missing person’s report.

Jack played over their last few conversations in his mind over and over again. The last time he saw him had been emotionally turbulent, but he’d left on a good note. The few conversations they’d had over the phone before his disappearance didn’t seem out of place or anything.

Still, in the back of his mind, Jack couldn’t help but wonder if he’d missed some sort of sign..or, worse, that HE was the reason the teenager had gone missing…

Years went by and Jack focused on his toy business. The company grew and expanded over time and became one of the best known toy companies in the country, a feat he was quite proud of. Quackerjack Toys was frequently listed in several magazines and newspapers as one of the greatest toy manufacturers in the world. Jack had all of the fame and success he’d ever dreamed of!

Still, he never gave up hope that Elmo would turn up one day, so he stubbornly refused to move out of his apartment, even when his toy company’s main office moved to the other side of town and resulted in a longer commute. After all, he promised that he’d have the toy company up and running by the time Elmo finished school so they could go into business together- he had to make sure there was something waiting for the rat when he eventually came back.

Unfortunately, as time went on, things took a turn for the worst.

Jack began to suffer from stress and anxiety as his company’s stock-price plummeted. As video games began to gain popularity, less and less people were buying his toys. Frustrated and cracking under the stress, his toy designs began to take a much darker turn- he included real blades and knives, made dolls that were scary to children, stuffed animals that hunted kids like wild beasts, and many other horrifying contraptions.

Lawsuits piled up and, in one particularly bad court case, he finally snapped and attacked everyone in the room by unleashing an army of chattering teeth that moved on their own to bite the victims around him.

Realizing too late what he’d done, Jack ran from the police that tried to arrest him. He managed to get to his apartment before they did and packed the things that mattered most to him:

His toy design notebooks.

His favorite toys.

His favorite red and blue jacket.

And, at the last minute before the police kicked in his door, the framed picture of himself and Elmo from that Halloween decades ago.

He laughed madly as he took a running leap out the window, startling the officers. He landed safely thanks to his natural talent for acrobatics and went into hiding.

Jack spent the next few years living under society’s radar, hiding out in sewers and abandoned buildings as he plotted his revenge against those who wronged him.

His quest for vengeance drove him completely mad, leading the once proud businessman to reinvent himself as Quackerjack- the toy themed super villain of St. Canard!

<-Previous Chapter Next Chapter->

End Notes: Like I said, short and not-so-sweet chapter. Don’t worry, happy ending comes with the final chapter soon x3

[beautifulramblingbrains]

Bound By Honour

Pairing: Eric/OC *Sarah* Fandom: Divergent/Insurgent Rating: M

Eric has the best hand in all the factions, but can’t seem to get to grips with his life as a parent to two grown Dauntless members. The honour is passed to Sarah as she battles with the woes of an unruly daughter and a wayward son. Balanced with a intricate web of personal struggles and outsiders, can they stop their family from falling apart?  

A/N: I mean, who didn’t see this coming? You can blame my holiday for giving me ideas and putting my updates on hold. :) Enjoy this third installment!

Mirrors, exposing your reflection, were a pathway to the soul.

Delicate fingers run down a thin chain, hesitating on the drop of a pearl, positioning it back to the middle of her chest. The soft fabric of her black and gray checkered dress jacket is flattened by her palm as she takes a minute to collect herself.

On the outside is a counterfeit act of pure composure, while on the inside the golden haired woman is not.

The years had taken only a small toll, gracing her with thin lines at the corners of her eyes, but beyond that, when she stared at herself, she was still the same familiar girl; only lacking naivety and absurd expectations. She wondered whether this was that the difference now between girls and women - experience of reality.

There is a row of three basic sinks below the mirror, her folder of bereft work balanced precariously on the edge of the tiled surface. Luckily, it is a quiet time, no one else being around to disturb this moment of peace - which she is thankful for.

With one swift movement, she snaps up the folder, throwing the public bathroom door open and taking the expertly decorated corridor to the Leader’s suite all the way to the engraved golden letters - E. Coulter.

“Mrs Coulter!” Her name is called by a young woman almost half her age, the newest secretary that could stand Eric for more than a month as she passes the desk. “Mrs Coulter! Eric is extremely busy!” she insists.

But she pays no mind to the cluttering way the assistant tries to stop her, opening the door with the minimalist taps on the door. She catches her husband, the father of her two grown children, half way through a sentence while on the phone. And his look is one of complete and utter exasperation, he knew exactly why she was there already.

He mumbles, “I’ll call you back,” and hooks the phone to its stand, gazing up from his desk expectantly as if he had no other care in the world.

Mrs Coulter couldn’t deny that her husband had kept his favored looks effortlessly. There was no mere change to his body, his hair still cropped short and manageable, the only guess of grueling hours and a stressful life were dusting hairs on his temple if anyone bothered to look close enough. And if anything, his frown was now a small etching of ghostly lines that persisted even if he smiled.

“Sarah,” he states her name with fake cheer.

“Please do not tell me that this had anything to do with you,” she says, fighting the quivering anger of her lips.

“He wanted to go,” he says flippantly, waving her off with a hand as he leans back in his chair.

“Jack did not. You have forced him to go.”

“That boy of ours is too fucking soft, Sarah. He needs to get away from here, he needs to take a leaf out of his sister’s book and grow a pair.”

For years their son Jack had not reached Eric’s expectations. Unlike his father, he was a thoughtful young man and has always been a more hesitant boy to his father’s conditioning. He didn’t always agree with him, and more so over the years. Eric didn’t like it, and there was a rift in their relationship.

“I’m going to cancel it.”

“You will not. It’s all arranged. He knows he’s going. This will be good for him. You can’t coddle him forever.”

His words sting; to her, they would always be her children, her babies, and nothing would change that. If she wanted to protect them even in their fifties, she would. Eric’s mind frame is that of some overruling commander and had been for a while. The more he found fault in the personality of their son, the more he fought back with ways to toughen him. And that fighting stance now was to send Jack to the factionless camp outside of Amity for a month to put him on guard.

“He’s a grown man and can make his own decisions. He won’t want to go.”

“I’ve spoken to him and we both agreed he needs to do this-”

“You mean, you told him to go and he said yes to please you.”

“I am his father, but I am also his Leader. I will do what’s best for my son.” He was not budging and merely scowls at her, pressing one of the many buttons of his phone.

“And April?” she asks, feeling the ebbings of defeat

“What about her?” he looks at her with an arched eyebrow.

“I told you, I caught her smoking, again. I tried to speak with her about it and she told me to shut up.”

“She’s a grown woman,” is all he replies, reusing her words against her. Eric picks up some work from his desk, appearing done with this conversation.

“One rule for one, one rule for the other. You can’t pick and choose between the both of them.” She grips her folder tightly to her chest as he angrily glances at her.

“He’s going. I’ll speak to April. Are we done here?” he asks, his tone nothing short of annoyed.

Sarah can’t help but shake her head at him, at the ignorant sight of him as he tries his best to ignore her with idle work on his desk. At that moment, his secretary brings him a coffee in a polystyrene cup, placing it on his desk while he thanks her in the most kindest way.

“I hope you choke on it.” His eyes dart to hers and she smiles sickly sweet before leaving the room.

Her feet patter the floor in heels she began to wear in her late twenties, past the secretary who was now as quiet as a mouse, and towards the elevator. Eric will not chase her, in some ways he had grown accustomed to their bickering and this subject obviously wasn’t important enough. Years ago that would have been a different story.

The elevator dings and opens to the bright interior lights with a sharp hiss, exposing a young man she almost blindly walks into. “I’m sorry. Excuse me.” With the folders drawn to her chest, she tries to step past but is put-off when his young gracing smile grows wider.

“I hope I’m on the right floor,” he wonders out aloud.

Sarah was always skeptical of newcomers, glancing down at the long hang of his jacket, the navy material almost glittering with a pristine shine and fitted snug to his physique. “Depends on what floor you are looking for...” She scares a little as his hand juts out to stop the doors shutting, the metal clinking back loudly.

“I’m looking for a person actually, Mr Coulter.”

She squints at him in thought, before she asks slowly, “You are the new provised Leader of Erudite?”

“Blake Hammond,” he introduces himself, bowing his head. “I wasn’t expecting such a warm welcome.” Sarah doesn’t miss the slick way he talks - self-assured, flirtatious at the very least.

“What an unusual name,” she comments in the politest way she could gather. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr Hammond.” She steps past him into the elevator with a dance of awkwardness as he steps out.

“I didn’t catch your name?” he calls after her.

Sarah pushes the ground floor button quickly, in hopes of finding her longest friend at her place of work before the midday mayhem of lunch started. “Mrs Coulter.”

As the door closes, his smile finally disappears, and she felt like she had finally won at least one battle of the day.

Sarah’s love never had limits and never stopped at just her immediate family. There was one woman above all who she favored the most, and at the very least she would consider her more of a sister than a friend. This same woman had done exactly what she had planned from the very beginning. She had never let idealities of motherhood encroach her career-driven and particular life, never had a man for more than six months. And thankfully for Sarah, she was always the next emergency contact after herself and Eric within Dauntless not long after the children were born.

Stacey.

The red luminous hair was changed to a dark brown and it flows over her shoulders as Sarah watches her from outside the double doors of the infirmary, eyebrows puckered and a furious pen-hand.

Sarah tries subtlety at first, pushing one of the double doors that creak on entry. The troubled look instantly dissolves as she catches her eyes. “Is it that time already?”

“I don’t mean to drag you away from your work kicking and screaming.”

Stacey scoffs at that, instantly twirling for her jacket hooked behind her chair and covers her black scrubs and shiny badge which highlighted that she was the Head Nurse. But a good a friend as any, she had a knack for knowing instantly when something was wrong. “What has he done now?”

“Who?”

“You know evasive doesn’t work well with me.” Stacey bumps her shoulder while they walk side by side, taking the dank maze of Dauntless they called home. They both instinctively head towards the Mess hall, unbothered by the scurrying of people around them and the youths of their boisterous society forming in groups. Sarah had long left her fears and Abnegation way of life behind.

“Let’s just say, Eric wasn’t joking when he said he was going to put Jack on guard duty.”

“You checked the schedule again, didn’t you?”

“Even if he is twenty years old, he is still my boy, of course I did.” They reach the Mess hall, filtering inside and joining the queue to grab the mundane food served on rota each week. When filling their trays, Sarah decides to continue. “What’s worse, is Eric knew I’d check. He didn’t tell me himself.” She chooses the minimal of food, suddenly not so hungry. “And then there is April. It’s the first time I can truly say, as a mother, I’m lost. I’m not used to this feeling. Since her initiation, I just… I just don’t know her anymore.”

“Wish I could help you there, but I can’t. I can lend an ear, though.” Stacey shrugs, filling her own tray.

“Good,” Sarah sighs, choosing a red apple over the green. “Because God knows I need it.”

Stacey is a little more hard-wearing than Sarah, her posture and stride fit to rival a man's, but her body is just as dainty as it had ever been. She throws her leg over one of the farthest benches, situated to one side of the room. While the tables begin to fill up, they sit down next to each other.

“Right, so I’m just going to say it,” Stacey mumbles, taking a forkful of some limp looking pasta. “You’re not dealing with kids here anymore, they are full-grown initiated members of Dauntless and can pick and choose their own way of lives now.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t worry.”

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t, I’m just saying perhaps you worry too much. Besides,” Stacey shrugs, “they still live with you, they obviously do recognize a good thing.”

Sighing, Sarah puckers her lips in thought, rolling the apple to and fro. “I had dreams of being close to my daughter. I’ve grown up with a brother and sisters and done my best to keep the family together… even through all the…” Sarah picks up the apple and bites it viciously.

“Shit?”

“April is so like Eric, so ignorant, self-indulgent, careless, short-tempered. So much so that I’m afraid. She smokes, she drinks, and… who knows what else.”

“Again,” her longest friend points her fork at her, “she is eighteen years old. What were you doing at eighteen?”

“Whatever I was told to do. I am Abnegation-”

“In a Dauntless world. At her age now, you were already pregnant with Jack.”

Aghast, Sarah clamps her palms to her cheeks. “Is it me?” she asks wide-eyed. “Is it because of me?”

The pointing fork is back to work, but moves from Sarah’s increasingly whitening face to into the crowd, homing in on Eric and April walking in together. April has her arms crossed, her face perfectly immaculate and hair straightened from the family’s obvious trait of waves and curls - another thing she blamed her mother for. When they stop by a table, Eric seems to be hissing something quickly at her with the most raging of scowls. The pair of them matched in their jet black uniforms and similar noses, though Eric seems sick to death at the sight of her and his daughter only seems to linger around him.

“It’s nobody’s fault, Sarah, some people are just born difficult.” The meaning of her words are not lost on her and she understood that Eric was a divine character in his own right, let alone handing that gene down. “And…” Stacey squints as Eric spots them and begins striding his way over, daughter in tow. “He looks extremely pissed.”

“I may have told him to choke on his coffee.” Sarah meets Eric’s steadfast eyes, tilting her chin up, remembering that she was still annoyed with him.

Stacey chortles but regains her composure quickly, scrambling to her feet. “I’m out of here.” Her longest friend also appears to be a coward.

“Sarah,” Eric tries, just acknowledging Stacey with a turn of his body as she walks off without looking back.

“Mom,” April interjects with the advantage at the same time. “I’m sorry I told you to shut up. But you can’t tell me what to do with my body.”

Sarah only shakes her head. There was nothing sincere in her apology.

“Did you check the inventory for the warehouses like I asked? Have you seen Jack?” Eric asks, a deep scowl edging on his forehead.

“I put my favorite top in the wash last night and I tried to find it because I want to wear it tonight, and it is still in the wash basket,” April whines next to him.

Eric ignores their daughter and rambles on, “I wonder if Glenn has seen Jack. Where is that fucking boy when you need him? Are we having dinner at eight?”

It all becomes too much and Sarah slams her sweating palms down onto the table.

“Uh oh, we broke mom,” their daughter mumbles.

“April, leave us.” The young girl is about to protest, but a quick lift of hand in dismissal from her father is enough to send her on her way. He takes Stacey’s seat, facing towards her, his knees either side as he breathes out slowly. She doesn’t look at him. “My little wife is unhappy. Is it because I didn’t choke?”

She says nothing.

“You know, that wasn’t a nice thing to say.” He pulls at her sleeve. “Though, you do look provocative with an edge and sharp mouth.”

“Stop it.” She bats at him, but he’s too quick, grabbing both her hands to make her face him. “Eric, stop.” He only pulls her closer, manipulating her hands to caress his thighs. “I’m really, really angry and you are provoking me. I don’t like it when you do that.”

“Oh yes? Not that I’m provoking at all just so that I can see your pathetic little frown and coy attempt to hide your smile.”

She tilts her head to the side to look up at him, unable to help the betrayal of her small grin. “Flirting with me is pointless.”

“Flirting? I thought we got off on threatening suggestions? You can choke on a piece of me if that’s what you are into.”

Sarah’s cheeks flame up and she turns back to the table. “Enough,” she hisses.

Eric barks a laugh and stops invading her personal space. “If you want to talk, now is the time. But what is pointless is trying to persuade me otherwise on Jack’s situation.”

“He’s our son, Eric.”

“And I have made it perfectly clear about what I expect and I’m not going to change my mind,” he insists with no give in his voice. The message was clear.

“Well then,” she hesitates and she knows Eric doesn’t like it as he can never tell what runs through her mind - so he says. “Mark is to go with him.” Mark was her sister's husband. He had years of experience, running his own teams around the city and knew it like the back of his hand.

“He’s twenty fucking years old, he doesn’t need a babysitter.”

“Mark goes with him,” she repeats, snapping her head over her shoulder. “Mark goes or April. Your decision?” Now, this was not to hint that she wanted either of them to go, she just knew Eric wouldn’t agree to have his little girl, their reckless but precious little girl, handed to the wolves on duty.

He leans back away from her, his eyes flashing with something dark. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Am I?” Sarah asks coyly.

“I’m not listening to this any longer, if you want me I’ll be in my office.” Eric stands, straightening the crease of his pants with an angry tap but still lingering next to her.

“I’ll call Mark myself.”

“You do that.” He turns, heading towards the double doors as Sarah looks around to half of the Dauntless in the room watching him.

“And I don’t know what time dinner will be,” she calls after him - she was being petty, she knew, but she couldn’t resist.

“Whatever.”

Sarah doesn’t manage to get home until after nine. She had sat in one of the board rooms of the suite to finish some council work from Abnegation, having taken longer than necessary as her mind had wandered.

She kicks off her heels by the door, spreading her toes wide and sighing at the ache of a long day. There’s life inside the apartment - a shower running, music drifting from one of the rooms. Dumping her work on the counter, she heads down the hallway that leads to the bedrooms.

Finding Jack’s door open, she peers inside cautiously. He’s sat on the bed with his cropped brown hair under chunky headphones, the bright light of a pad illuminating his face. He doesn’t see her at first and she takes a long moment to study his features. He was a broad and tall boy, muscular to an extent with the ebbings of still being a teen. He was handsome, of course he was, he was her handsome young man and April was their beautiful daughter who she had spent so much love and time bringing them up and into themselves. She smiles softly at the way they were just so different.

She cannot stand to wait and heads into his room, taking a seat next to him on the bed while he pulls off his headphones. “Mom? What’s wrong?”

“I just…” She swallows thickly, showing her best smile. “I just wanted to see you. I missed you today.”

“I was in the courtyard, keeping myself busy.”

“Yes. Of course you were. Did dad find you?”

“He did.” The grim look on his face is obviously in memory of where he’s going in a few days. “But I’m cool with it.”

“You don’t have to lie to me.”

He shrugs, putting his hands behind his head and stretches. “Dad made sandwiches with a fucking murderous look on his face. Said he didn’t want to cook after the gym. Now he’s in the shower.”

“Don’t swear.”

Jack scoffs. “Sorry.” Sarah stands, leaning down and kisses his cheek. “Have you eaten? I can make you a sandwich?” he asks.

“Don’t ever worry about me, that’s my job. I think I’ll go to bed, today has been... well, today has been and gone, let’s leave it at that.”

“Goodnight.” Jack slips the headphones back on, picking up where he had left off.

Sarah makes a quick detour to April’s room. Empty, she thought as much. Clothes were strewn across the room, her vanity mirror still on, and upon it, hundreds of different lotions and makeup, more than any one girl could need. She shuts the door on the mess.

The bedroom she shares with Eric smells like him, the soap he uses drifting from the ensuite bathroom. While the water is still running, she strips out of the confines of her clothes down to her underwear and releases her long hair. But no matter how much she tried to occupy herself, there was still a menacing air that suffocated her. For years she and Eric smoothly sailed, agreeing to disagree at points, but this time it felt stronger. Something had cracked or shifted and she felt stricken by it. She couldn’t seem to let it go and Eric wasn’t seeing her point.

It was a sensitive subject. This was their children and this is all she had known for so long that suddenly one of them being taken away for an extended period of time pained her. Perhaps she was trying to hold onto the both of them as they reached adulthood, no mother wanted to let their kids into the big wide world, but she also didn’t care. They were her resolve, her first thought. What was she going to do without them?

“Sarah.” She jumps at Eric’s touch, only now realizing she had been standing idle in the room by the concerned look on his face. “Where have you been?”

“I had some stuff from Abnegation to catch up on.” Her voice is lost into the awkward atmosphere of the room. Eric stands with a loose towel hanging precariously around his waist, water droplets still sat glittering on his shoulders. “I’m going to take a shower.”

“You could’ve joined me.” He stops her and, as per usual, unclips her bra as she pushes her hair to the side. His touch is gentle and familiar, lingering longer than necessary on her arms, pulling at the straps. Without thinking, she shrugs him off and shies away. “What?” Eric’s face contorts, confusion beginning to settle in.

“I’m not in the mood.”

“Not in the mood?” Eric asks himself incredulously, watching her pass. “Not in the fucking mood? When have you ever said that?” Of course, Eric being Eric doesn’t stop there or let her have a second by herself. He follows her to the shower where she closes the sliding door on him, his silhouette ghostly behind the glazed glass. “Sarah...”

“What, Eric?” She tries her best to ignore him, faking the enjoyment of the warm water, rushing her usual cleaning routine. As she steps out he hands her a towel. “I’m very tired. That is all.”

He scours her face for a moment, darting furiously between her features. “I thought we got over this bridge earlier? Mark is going with Jack-”

“I don’t want him going at all!”

He throws up his arms in exasperation. “You are the only person to have a problem with this! Jack isn’t bothered!”

“How long?”

Eric shrugs. “A month max.”

“A month!” she gasps into her hand. She can’t bring herself to look at him when she moves past him and reaches into one of the many drawers and pulls out her night dress. She slips it on quickly, heading back to the bathroom to brush her teeth and comb her hair. Standing side by side with Eric while he brushes his teeth as well, he silently glares at her from time to time. Even when she plaits her hair over her shoulder, she can still feel his eyes on her.

But she doesn’t utter a word, even when she heads to bed, pulling back the covers to slip inside.

The lights flick off, but she can still make out the picture through the darkness, of her and the two children on the bedstand of a time when they were very young.

Sarah lifts her head, the room is still dark, her arm trapped under Eric’s, his bare back like her own personal radiator she gravitated to regardless of how much of an ass he could be.

The hallway light is on, beaming under the breach of the door, along with the minimalist noise.

She knew her duty now, and with a few year’s practice she slips away from Eric, tucks the covers over him and leaves the room. The shared main bathroom is at the end of the hall opposite April’s room, and Sarah isn’t surprised to find April with her head down the pan.

Gracefully, Sarah tiptoes down beside her, pulling back the tangled blond locks of her daughter, checking her face covered in smudged makeup. She smells terrible, some concoction of cigarettes, booze, and faded perfume.

April begins gagging again, vomiting into the toilet, her voice muffled as she slurs, “Mom?”

“I’m here,” she soothes and caresses her daughter’s back.

April never remembers the previous night or refuses to acknowledge it. They all have breakfast, usually Eric and the two kids rambling on and laughing at bad jokes or insults over the table. Sarah couldn’t fault April in her facade of being flawless. She was flawless, and nobody would ever be able to guess.

Envious that nothing seemed to trouble them, Sarah stands back and watches them with a coffee in her hand - another thing Eric had got her into over the years.

“...No, I don’t agree. The law should be with Candor, a mix of truth serums and some type of containment center. We police, we guard, we have a say over…” April can’t find the words, roll-calling from Eric who seems to have a sloppy smirk on his face as he listens intently.

“Productivity,” he chimes in, picking up his coffee to sip.

“Yeah, like all that crap with Amity and the factionless quarter - But anyway that’s not what I’m getting at. I don’t agree that Dauntless should be responsible for overseeing criminals.”

“But what you are suggesting is going to make Dauntless work harder.” Jack taps the table, leaning closer into hunched shoulders. “Say we do move a shitty, whatever you called it-”

“Containment center,” Eric corrects him.

“We are commuting to and from Candor - because we all know Candor won’t hull ass, with the probability of permanently having staff situated on their ground when it’s easier to have it here.”

April leans back in her chair. “Sometimes the easy option isn’t the best option.”

“The best option is sometimes the easy option when it’s staring you in the face. Sometimes you have to let things be.”

“Whatever. I believe my ideas are better than yours and, quite frankly, they always will be.”

Jack scoffs, getting comfortable in his chair and picking up his toast. “You can’t bear to be proven wrong.”

“I’m not wrong. I never will be.” April smiles. She stands up, clapping her dad’s shoulder as she passes towards her bedroom and Jack looks towards his mom, shaking his head.

Sarah finishes her coffee, cleaning the cup quickly. “I’m going to work.”

“Where?” Eric’s tone is as sharp as a knife, and he takes the little distance between them. “I have arranged some things for you this morning, so I hope it’s not far.”

“Abnegation. I have some files for the council and I was hoping to visit my mother.”

“Why couldn’t she be the first to go?”

His quip digs deep along with her recent feelings. “Eric!” she exclaims.

“What, little wifey?” He pulls her close and she fights him, her dark gray dress being lifted along with her leg up to his waist.

“Stop it.” Her eyes flicker to Jack who is too involved with his phone. “You’re being repulsive,” she hisses.

“Let’s wait for the kids to go and I can show you how repulsive I really am?” His voice is slick, a pure picture of glee with her struggling in his hands. She grabs a hold of him to balance herself and he lifts her entirely from the floor. “I like it when you have a little vicious streak. You’ve been hostile lately and I find it fucking hot.”

“Get a room!” April swings her bag over her shoulder. “You seriously going to sit there and watch this?” she asks Jack on her way out.

He lifts his head and grimaces. “Ugh.” And chases after her just as quickly out the door, toast in hand.

The minute they leave, Eric drops Sarah to her feet. “Works every time.” He nods in self-glory, incredibly happy with himself, not noticing Sarah straightening herself out and grabbing her work from the side to leave. “I was half-serious. If you wanted-”

“No.” She hears him take a breath and swivels on her heel, telling him, “No,” again.

“Fine. Prance off but don’t go too far, sweetheart,” he drawls and Sarah stops with her hand on the door handle, the door slightly ajar. She turns around to him already smirking, arms folded and resting a hip against the counter nonchalantly. Pursing her lips, she is completely livid at how predictable she was. And it doesn’t help when he asks huskily, “Where do you want it?”

She closes the door, damning herself - it works every time.

They rush together to the Leader’s suite, Eric with a terribly annoying spring in his step. Any chance of escaping to do her work was lost. Eric was a smart man, too smart at times, and had perfectly delayed them so that she could see to a new assignment he was giving her, only briefly mentioned earlier at breakfast and filling in the blank lines along the way.

Sarah would be working with Erudite. She was to liaison with the new leader, cater to their needs while Eric concentrated on the offer from Candor to shift the containment center - ultimately trying to bring themselves into higher favor.

In the past, there had been a slip in the runnings of Amity’s corrupt nature of not being able to fail any of their initiates. Since their program had been redefined, Dauntless were in higher standing order with most initiates, seven years running. At least ten of those years enrolling half of the entire number of initiates while the others were left quartered between themselves. In Sarah’s eyes, it was a stupid game of popularity, a popularity that would ensure Eric as the most authoritative Leader. Candor wanted a piece of that. It gave Eric a very good dealing hand, and he knew it.

Eric lifts Sarah’s skirt in the elevator just as the doors open. “Do you mind?” She smacks his hand away, fumbling with a folder and still trying to flatten kinks out of her hair. Though they had fallen into an old habit, it doesn’t mean that she couldn't still hold a grudge against him and his decisions.

“Not in the slightest.” He leans further down as they walk to the many bodies lingering in the corridor. “I’ll be thinking of you today.” Instantly she ignites in pure embarrassment while Eric claps his hands together to alert everyone of his presence. He may as well have openly announced that he had just screwed his wife before arriving here.

The group of people consists of Glen, a second-hand man of Eric’s, the seven-year running leader of Candor, Brian Page, and the new leader of Erudite, Blake Hammond. Eric’s secretary also pigeoned herself to and fro between them, along with a few idle members from Dauntless ready to take any order. They seem to be getting along nicely, drinking coffee, casually regarding Eric and Sarah like they had all been friends for years.

“I take it that your arrival went smoothly,” Eric starts, shaking hands with Brian and Blake first.

“We have our own bays, how thoughtful.” Blake’s eyes flick to Sarah just off of Eric’s shoulder, and she smiles to a degree of uncertainty. Other faction members who arrived by vehicle were singled out and kept under guard. Eric was fail-safe when it came to security.

“My wife, Sarah. Don’t be fooled by the Abnegation ghost, she’s well versed in all factions.”

“A true idol of her faction,” Blake nods in acknowledgment.

Eric only has to look at his secretary and she insists Brian of Candor to wait in Eric’s office, along with the Dauntless.

“I hear your interest is on expansion?” Sarah arches an eyebrow. She had reason to be wary of Erudite after Jeanine’s collapse, and not many that took her place faired any better. “But I have looked at your reports and your intake is no different then a was a few years ago. It’s interesting that this, as a new provised leader, is something you’re concentrating on.”

Blake wasn’t expecting that, and tilts his head, grinning to himself. “Exactly why I am here today. It’s a proposal.” Briefly, he looks to Eric who is smugly taking in every little bit of his wife standing next to him. “Shall we take this matter to the board room though, Candor gossip is exhausting.”

Sarah peers from the open door where she can see Brian eavesdropping in the spare bucket chair up to Eric, slightly unsure of this situation and the responsibility that comes with it. It takes her a moment to also realize that Blake thinks Eric will be gracing him with his presence, and he couldn’t be more wrong. But if she wanted a firmer say on their son's situation; to prove that no matter how someone appeared, they were still just as capable, she would take on all of the five factions. “You may put your proposal to me. I will be overseeing your concern.”

“Yeah, I failed to mention my schedule is pretty hectic,” Eric fakes sincerity, rubbing his neck. It was obvious he thought the Erudite matter was bullshit. He slaps Blake’s shoulder roughly, and props to him that he takes it with a pinch of salt. “We’re already behind so shall we get started?”

“The room on the left,” Sarah points. Blake moves off and she turns to Eric, whispering, “He didn’t know did he?”

He shows his teeth with his smile. “If he’s smart enough to be in this position, he should know I’m not in the slightest interested.”

“I can’t believe you!”

“Believe it.” He kisses her hard on the lips to cover his laugh and slaps her ass when she turns away, causing her to stumble ungracefully.

A few seconds before opening the spare board room doors, she breathes out, picking up her head and moving swiftly inside as if business was her only concern. It’s a stark contrast from Eric’s lively office, just the lone man already waiting with one of his ankles resting on his knee as he leans back in a chair.

“I’m sorry for any confusion,” she apologizes, taking the end seat and opening up her notes.

“Don’t apologize, everybody knows the limits of Mr Coulter’s hospitality.”

Sarah tightly smiles to herself. “It can be rather limited.” She spreads the notes on the table for easy viewing.

“We all say his wife deserves a medal,” Blake strangely continues.

“I didn’t realize I would be the center of gossip. I recall you saying gossip was exhausting.”

“Candor gossip is exhausting.” He laughs deeply. “They strive for the truth but their loud mouths speak anything other.”

“But you obviously don’t do any better talking about me?” She looks sharply at him, and a silence falls.

After a while, his voice is so low she almost doesn’t hear him. “Only good things.”

Sarah can’t figure out whether he’s lying or not, and the room seems awfully quiet. She’s stunted from speaking further, blinking at him and unknowing of how to react. Mr Hammond then sits up with a long breath, moving seats to get closer, and leans on his forearms.

“What I’m trying to prove, is that change is a good thing…” Mr Hammond begins, and Sarah forces herself to keep her eyes on the notes, swallowing down the confusion and the possibility that a man half her age is trying to flirt. But not only flirting, he’s vying on her subject of change that is happening between her two children, though he is referring to work and couldn’t possibly know anything about her situation. Maybe she was just being oversensitive and imagining it all… “For years, since Jeanine’s downfall, Erudite has sat in the same position, living in the past. We need a refresh. I have already started on the initiation program, offering long-standing courses for continuous education even after members have fallen into their preferred roles.”

The realization of why Eric couldn’t be bothered with this meeting is apparent. There is no way her husband would sit through an Erudite bragging of his work or telling him of future prospects or higher education.

“Expansion and the smallest and beneficial changes to our structure is what Erudite needs. And let's be honest, the world cannot be bought up on the back of soldiers, we need variety. Exactly the reason why the faction system is there.” He pauses for only a moment. “I suppose that it is the basis of my proposal. And I find it profusely evident that I must pursue this issue.”

“I understand.”

“You do?” he’s quick to utter, never looking away from her.

“I work with the council. I have my own views. And I find myself agreeing, to an extent.”

“All we need is the go ahead with Mr Coulter’s permission. I’ve already broached the subject with Erudite’s architects and plans are being drawn to present to him.”

“To me,” Sarah corrects him. “I am in charge of this operation.”

“Mr Coulter wasn’t awfully clear, how idiotic of me. You, of course.”

Sarah slides the papers back into the folder, pauses to smile tightly and takes a breath. “Forgive me if I speak out of line, but I warn you not to take me for a fool, Mr Hammond.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. I was honestly hoping I had somebody reasonable to take my case.”

“We shall discuss this further when you have the plans drawn out. I would preferably like to see them before we go into details. If I had been aware earlier of this situation, I would have asked for them before this initial meeting and wasting your time,” she speaks, making her words terminal. Blake’s eyes rest on her face, a dark blue - which initially she thought were brown, are so unlike Eric’s. They were deceiving in the fact she couldn’t, at once, see his pupils or calculate his thoughts. Sarah had spent a lot of her younger life living off of the tell-tale signs of body language, and his were confusing.

“Just give me a time and date and I would be happy to show you the layout personally, if you so wish it.”  

Sarah stands up, holding the folder to her chest. “Perhaps,” she says coldly. “Thank you for your time, Mr Hammond.” She heads to the door, but he’s quick to counter, holding it open for her.

“It’s a pleasure doing business with you, Sarah.”

“Mrs Coulter,” she corrects him again. She leads him to the secretary, her dress billowing behind as she walked quickly, nervous of him behind her. “We’ll call down to have your car ready and cleared through security.”

“Thank you.” He nods his head to the both her and the secretary, his long jacket twirling with him as he moved off towards the elevator. When it dings and he steps inside, he winks handsomely at the secretary, and Sarah taps the desk once the doors close.

“Make the call, Betty.” Betty fumbles as she always did, her hand knocking against multiple things for the phone. “And tell Eric that I’m heading to Abnegation this afternoon.”

With the phone to her ear, Betty holds a hand out. “When will you be back?”

“I don't know. But let’s face it, I’ll be back home before he even asks.” Sarah smiles, heading home to find her long jacket and boots, and to pin her hair back in its usual bun. She liked to keep to traditions when on her original factions ground.

A small dose of family therapy is probably all she needs.

[dailyaudiobible]

09/24/2019 DAB Transcript

Isaiah 43:14-45:10, Ephesians 3:1-21, Psalms 68:1-18, Proverbs 24:1-2

Today is the 24th day of September. Welcome to the Daily Audio Bible. I am Brian. It is a joy to be here with you today to take the next step as we move deeper into this week and as we approach the end of this month and continue to take steps forward each day through the Scriptures. So, we’re continuing our journey through the book of Isaiah and we are continuing our adventure through the letter to the Ephesians as well as Psalms and Proverbs of course. And we’re reading from the Voice Translation this week. Today, Isaiah chapter 43 verse 14 through 45 verse 10.

Commentary:

Alright. Since we started this letter to the Ephesians we’ve been talking about, you know, wide open vistas, we talked about that a lot yesterday, these beautiful places in the world here you can encounter beauty so pure, so pristine, so vast that it's almost like you're not looking at something real. It’s like it's too good to be true and like at least for me that’s just like how the book of Ephesians reads. We just keep going up and up and we come to these vistas and it’s like we can drive right by the vista or we can park and go like, “this is gonna take a long while for me to sit here and soak in the implications of what's being said.” So, in the letter today, Paul says, “specifically, the mystery is this: by trusting in the good news the Gentile outsiders are becoming fully enfranchised members of the same body, heirs alongside Israel and beneficiaries of the promise that has been fulfilled through Jesus the anointed.” Alright. So, that's a verse in the Bible but it was a sentence in a letter and that sentence applies to every believer in the world Jew and Gentile alike. And the promise that's given here is the riches of God's blessings. So, we can sit here at this vista and go, “that is a beautiful thing and I need to think about that” but why would Go…I mean like…seriously…like I know myself and hardly ever can figure out why God would be so gracious to me, right? I mean, don't feel that way? Like, why would He? I don't deserve that. I'm thankful. I'm grateful. I receive it as a gift…I’m humbled by it. I don’t deserve it but according to the letter to the Ephesians there's a reason and you better buckle up. Here’s what Paul says, “here's His objective”, meaning God's, “here’s God's objective. Through the church, He intends now to make known His infinite and boundless wisdom to all rulers and authorities in heavenly realms. This has been his plan from the beginning, one that He has now accomplished through the Anointed one, Jesus our Lord.” So, have you ever thought about God's goodness and His offering this goodness, an eternal life to you, in part because it makes His wisdom known and displays its unseen realms.? Okay, you see, we are at a big picture vista of our faith that is vastly beyond us. And because of His goodness, according to Paul, “Jesus faithfulness to God has made it possible for us to have the courage we need and the ability to approach the Father confidently.” Like, I know that we read scriptures like that and hear that kinda stuff to the point that it does not impact us anymore. But since we’re going through and pulling off at all these beautiful vistas, we should understand we are talking about the only, the one true, the Almighty Creator, God of all things, everything that we think we know and everything that we for sure don't know, the God of all things. What Paul’s saying is, God has a master plan that is far bigger than we even are aware of, but He has come for us and freely welcomed us because we took Him at His word, we believed, we be put our faith in Him. He has brought us into His family, and we can approach Him confidently. Again, we’re talking about God, the God, I am that I am God. Think about the implications of knowing and being able to approach God, the only God, the Creator God. Like we can enter the presence of the Almighty God boldly and confidently as a son, as a daughter would with any loving parent. I…I don’t…I mean…what is better than that. Even Paul seems to not…like…he's…like…where do you go from there? And, so, Paul prays a prayer today just embracing all of that. And let's go back over…let’s go back…let's pray. Let's pray the prayer of Paul today and allow that to begin to shape what our day looks like.

Prayer:

Father, out of Your honorable and glorious riches, strengthen we Your people. Fill our souls with the power of Your spirit so that through faith Jesus the Anointed One will reside in our hearts. And may love be the rich soil where our lives take root. May be the bedrock where our lives are founded so that together with all of Your people, we have the power to understand that the love of Jesus the Anointed One is infinitely long and wide and high and deep, surpassing everything anyone previously experienced. God may Your fullness flood through our entire beings. And we pray this from the Scriptures in the name of Jesus, the Anointed One. Amen.

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And, as always, if you have a prayer request or comment there are a number of ways to reach out. A great one would be the Hotline button in the app, the little red button. You just press it and start talking. Or there are numbers, phone numbers that you can use depending on where you are in the world. In the Americas 877-942-4253 is the number to dial. If you are in the UK or Europe 44-20-3608-8078 or if you are in Australia or the lands down under 61-3-8820-5459 is the number to dial.

And that's it for today. I'm Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Hi, DABbers this is Sherry Running Desperately to Jesus. I’d like to pray for the young man that called in. God, it is amazing to me and it touched my spirit and brought me to tears God that this Young man Father has taken the step, Father to not only call in Father but to also pray for his enemies Father. God we are so quick to pray for our friends and our family Father, but hardly do we pray for our enemies Father. And its even more difficult Father for us to even pray a prayer for them that their heart be touched Father and that the turn toward You Father. Father, if he knows, if he remembers that no weapon formed against him shall prosper God and if he can also remember that if You are for him that nobody can be against him. God cover him with Your blood Father. Protect him when he comes in the presence of those other children Father. Let them see something about him Father that they don’t even know how to explain Father. You have something over his life Father, a calling for him. God, I thank You Father for this Young man taking the time Father to call in and speak good things towards his enemies and not wish bad things Father. God, I praise You, I bless You, I magnify You, I lift You up because You are the all and all. Father, and when You’re there nothing Father can harm him. God I would love to be present when You bring him to the walking that You’re planning for him Father, whatever the life his Father that You have planned for him Father we know that he’s going to include You in it. Your holy __ name. Amen.

Hello this is Ava I would like you to pray for my grandma because she’s super super sick.

Hello this is Luanne calling from New York City. I’m calling to pray for Wade the retired veteran who lives in Japan. I just listened to your testimony Wade and I pray that God lays upon you the sustainability that you need, the finances, the love in your heart to know that you are a wonderful person. You have devoted your life to this country and I’m so happy to be saying a prayer for you this morning Wade. Wade please hang in there. Know that God loves you. Know that the best is yet to come. Know that you will have the finances to make it back to America to see your mother. I pray blessings on your relationship with your son. Your father…your fathering is wonderful. You’re going to reunite with your son. You’re going to be the best father ever. He’s going to appreciate you. Lord, I pray that God just envelops you and gives you the love that you need in your heart to know that your wonderful and your worth all that he’s put you on this earth to be. Please don’t be discouraged Wade. In Jesus’ name I pray blessings upon you. Amen.

Hello Daily Audio Bible family this is Heidi calling from Minnesota. Today’s September 21st and as I listened this morning my heart just broke for two of our family members, Keira from Denver and Wade from Japan. And I just want to pray for them. Father God You are good. I thank You so much for this day that You’ve giving us, the blessing of a new day and that Your mercies are new each morning. Your grace is like a flood. You are so good. Lord when we go through hard times You are always there with us. You walk with us through the valley of the shadow of death. So, Lord I just pray that You would wrap Your arms around both Wade in…Wade in Japan and Keira in Denver. God, they are feeling alone, they are suffering, they are…they have challenges with their children and Lord You are with them. Would Your Holy Spirit please just make Your presence known to them? God, may they remember that they are loved, and they are loved by all of us out here listening and praying. They’ll love so much but You. God, I pray for people that would come into the life that would be encouraging to them and Lord that You would just fill their heart with hope and joy, and I ask these things in Jesus’ name. Thank You so much. Jill, Brian, this ministry is amazing, and I pray that you will continue…you will endure for many years to come. Have a great day everyone.

Hello Daily Audio Bible this is Lisa calling from Sweden and this is the first time that I’m calling, and I’ve been listening to Daily Audio Bible for over five or six years now. And this changed…this has changed my way of reading the Bible and I’m so so so happy and I’m part of this community and it’s so touching to hear all of you guys calling in to say your prayer requests. It’s really touching my heart. And I do have one prayer request myself now and it’s in my relationship with my boyfriend. And I know this sounds silly, but we really don’t know which way to go. Should we continue and get married or not? And it’s actually extremely confusing and we have a lot of doubt and a lot of fights going on. And I know this may sound silly, but I really need God pointing the way right now because I don’t know at all and he doesn’t know and we’re so busy but I would just like you to pray that I will hear the voice of God now because I really need it. And thank you so much guys for praying. I love you so much. And have a wonderful day. Bye.

Hi, this is Carmen from Germany again. I just listened to Brian’s reading September 21st and I heard the call and the prayer request from Wade in Japan. Wade I just want you to know I was just so touched by your openness, your request for prayer and the trust you have that we are all praying for you in a community that is…we don't even know what we all look like, at least the ones that haven't gotten together, but I just thank you so much for calling in. Not only am I moved to pray for you and lift you up and I have already immediately , but it makes me realize all the little things that I feel so bad and so hurt about just seem so diminished by the pain that other people are having. So, I just wanted to thank you for calling in. I want to encourage you to know that there are so many people out here praying for you now in this community, people…I don't know how many…hundreds…maybe thousands. And Wade we lift you up. And don't let the enemy tell you that you’re a bad father, that you're terrible. Don't let him take you down. Continue to look to the Lord daily, daily for your strength, for direction. And Wade I'll keep you in prayers and I know what people will too. And I just want to, yeah, send you a virtual hug and tell you that we love you brother and we're all praying for you and we’re knowing that God is taking care of you and that you're in his hands. Thank you so much for calling in and letting us know how you are doing and that you need prayer. And have a great day Wade. We love you.

[hyperesthesias]

Loki x Sigyn

Love Never Dies | Part II

Rating: E

Words: 2.915

Summary: Jane’s stay on Asgard is not entirely what she had hoped -- Thor gone, Odin less than welcoming, and a cantankerous Loki as her chaperone. But is there a reason for his more-than-usual grouchiness?

Notes: damn this one’s long. sorrynotsorry. anyway i hope you like it. im really loving writing this one. hopefully more will be revealed in the next chapter. even im excited.

The morning on Asgard was rather different -- Jane awoke not with the ebbing light of daybreak through the balcony doors as she might have if she had been on her own homeworld, but it seemed as though the light were insufferable and inescapable. It swallowed everything around her, dampened only by the briefly open curtains around the bed; she reckoned they were placed out of forethought rather than decoration. It took her many moments of lying on her back with her eyes forcefully closed in an attempt to will herself back to sleep before she realised it was futile, and she might as well have been wide awake. It took her even longer to appreciate the fact that though the light from Asgard’s main star was permeating, it was not utterly warm -- like that of the desert Sun in New Mexico, or any number of places she’d visited on Earth. If there was one thing she had learned -- and learnt quickly in her field -- it was that the Sun was a harsh and unforgiving master of the dying earth beneath it. Thus, she lay there for some while, struggling between half awakeness and coherentness, likening that the reasoning was because Asgard took care of its world, of its atmosphere, rather than humans who had quite literally punched a hole through theirs. Hers. Was she so ready to think of herself as separate? Was it arrogance? Or was it something else?

This thought awakened her more than any familiar feeling of astronomy or physics. For it was the branch of a thought seeded deep within her subconscious -- a seed she was neither ready nor willing to exhume. 

Instead, she buried it deeper in the soil of her thoughts and pushed herself out of the bed she’d been given graciously by the Queen Frigga, Thor’s mother. She smiled at the relation -- they were so similar in appearance, and yet they seemed so opposite in personal likeness. She considered it sweet, endearing, that he was capable of such faithful love despite differences. Even grave differences.

She found a frown on her face when her thoughts turned to his dark haired brother, Loki, who resided in the suite beside hers. She had been given the suite in between the brothers. Jane had asked the Queen if the space had already existed between them, or if something had been rearranged -- for she would have felt horribly guilty had been the latter. But much to her relief, and somewhat expectancy, the gap had remained. She explained the brothers’ fighting was insufferable, nearly audible through the whole royal wing of palace if they were not separated, thus, their suites had been adjusted. Frigga had to decide who moved and who stayed, for they fought over that too, she revealed. 

Jane felt a pitiful grin emerge over her as she dressed herself and readied herself for the day -- pausing in uncertainty of what to do with herself whilst Thor was away on Odin’s convenient ‘peace-keeping’ mission. Nonetheless, she would attend breakfast as she did the day prior and hope for the best. 

She remembered the way to the breakfast room with ease, quickly strolling down the long hallways as she came to it, where she was dismally surprised to see Loki already seated and eating. 

“Ah, look who decided to partake,” his insults began. 

“Good morning,” she grumbled back, deciding not to hide the equal amount of bitterness -- bitterness if only to hide the confusion of how or what to feel or do around him. “You’re up early.”

“I’m an early riser,” he mused as he sipped something warm from a mug.

“More like an insomniac -- I heard you tossing last night,” she sighed and sat down, at the place she’d taken the day before, tossing a glance at him all the way at the other end of the table.

He only pursed his lips. “Perhaps you should be more selective in your hearing.” 

“And maybe you should try some tea or warm milk,” it was half sarcasm, half actual suggestion, as she was surprised by a servant who brought her plate.

“I doubt such trivial things will be of help,” he muttered, cursing himself after he spoke that he had revealed her to be correct in her assumption.

She watched his expression draw and grow dark as he ceased his meal and placed a thumb to his lips, his eyes unmoving and pensive. “Nightmares?” she assumed -- only because she recalled her own demeanour to be similar after her own experience with Malekith and the Aether; the fear it begot stirring in her nightmarish and strange dreams that had yet to cease.

“Careful, girl -- you know not of what you speak,” he snapped, his eyes the only things about him to move as they landed on her with prejudice. 

She quickly bit her tongue, trying to hide the fear of what he might do -- frightened that she had irreparably offended him in someway and she would yet face retribution. 

But she did not hide it well enough, and he saw the fear on her -- he smelt it on her, untamed and wild, he could recognise it anywhere, if only by empathy. He drew a sharp breath, feeling the grit of guilt on his teeth for having being short with her -- she was young, innocent, unknowing of the burden he bore, unknowing of her hand in worsening it. And altogether he could hear Sigyn’s quiet, soothing voice brush against his ear:

‘She cannot help her limitations, be kind, my love. Be kind.’

A heavy respire brought round bother her attention and his words back to him: “I have been deemed by Odin to accompany you throughout the palace,” he began, refusing to look at her, instead at the half eaten plate beneath him. “You are not to attend anywhere I am not, you are not to speak to any one I do not deem necessary, you are not to wander from, pester, or otherwise interfere with me or those around you.”

She tried -- for Thor’s sake -- not to take too personally his tone or his words, but at least they hadn’t come with as much spite. “So you’re...my babysitter?” she concluded, unsure if that had been an insult to Loki or her by Odin.

“Think of me as more of a...cultural liaison,” he motioned, and made the mistake of looking up at her -- briefly taken aback at the way the morning’s light struck her, they way her eyes seemed to be...on fire. He saw in that moment, not Jane, the Midgardian, but Sigyn, the Queen and Guardian of Nashtar, the Forest Realm. His wife, his love, his everything. 

But the image was abruptly taken from him as reality merged with the fictitious image in all but a second and he was along again. He tore his sights from her once more and placed them at the plate before him, having yet to take a bite.

“‘Cultural liaison’,” she repeated with a note of scepticism. “You realise there has to be some form of culture involved in order for that to work, right?”

He huffed at her persistence, but agreed nonetheless. “I assure you, I will not bore you senseless. I am certain there is something in these walls which will pique your interest,” he waved a hand vaguely. “That’s not to say I can think of anything at the moment, but...” 

She rolled her eyes. “Well, why don’t you show me what you like to do, or where you like to go?”

He paused, recalling his usual visiting places, and eliminated both those of illegality and danger, and came to a few conclusions off hand. “Very well.” 

She hadn’t been entirely sure whether she’d sealed a fate of doom or pleasure in her suggestion, but the one thought she had come to was: for being such a notorious silver-tongue he had hardly spoken a word to her the rest of the day -- or even looked at her for that matter. They’d been to the library, where she confessed an illiteracy to Asgardian, but a familiarity with Norse -- where Loki then supplied her with several children’s books, but she had whether to figure it a jab or a usefulness. They went to the music room where she witnessed instruments she had never imagined, and some rather familiar, studying frequencies, jotting notes when she could to compare to other notes when she returned. And he had yet to take her to a garden, though he had not specified what kind. 

Though, with every step alongside his, she was wary of perhaps setting him off into a frenzy in which he would snap at her again -- or worse. For she held two conflicting images of the man in her head: a vicious monster, who wrought naught but destruction, and self-sacrificing protector. Yet, with every word, she felt it necessary to decipher which was speaking.

“Come here,” he said, beckoning her with a finger as he stood outside his suite. 

She stood away from him, nearer her own door, where she furrowed her brow, suspicious of his motives in his invitation. 

“Oh for the sake of Valhalla -- I will not hurt you, now come here,” he said more sternly, unable to hide his frustration. 

She looked around, seeing the guards posted nearby -- they did nothing to make her suspect of his meaning, they did not stop him or even look at them. And she reassured herself that Darcy had lent her a TASER for the trip which she carried everywhere -- that if need be, she would use it. Thus, she obeyed, and approached him.

He opened the door to his suite, never relaying his regret that she should fear him so at all, and ushered her inside. Following behind her, he was quick to admonish preemptively: “Do not touch anything.” 

She had no intention, her hands where in the folds of her clothes, one hand on the TASER, the other on her stomach. But her fear did not allay her curiosity, and she found her eyes wandering to the state of his suite:

An organised mess. She could tell it had once been organised, it once was home to order, but had been recently thrust into chaos. The outer room was home to a lounge, hardly used for leisure, nearly pristine, save for the papers and clothes that piled atop it; a chest of drawers with a few drawers lightly open here and there as though he frequently rushed through them, and a desk with a hutch, the most organised space of all: as though he used it all the time. On it sat a mechanical device of some sort, at which she squinted -- she had never seen anything like it. Parts and pieces lay in columns all along the desk, with blueprints, hand drawn, beneath it all. But before she could make out what, precisely, it was he had been building, she was scolded from farther along the room: 

“It is impolite to spy on another’s belongings,” Loki droned, and stood beside a pair of open balcony doors.

She hurried along, grabbing one last glance at the desk’s contents before she hurried to him. “I’m sorry I -- just...” she looked up at him, where she caught his direct eye, under which she felt so very, very small. Thor towered over her, and yet she never felt small beneath his gaze, yet Loki seemed to loom uneasily: she felt very much akin to prey beneath the death stare of a hunter. Yet, he did not strike, he did not chastise, he did not scold, he did nothing, but turn away. 

In truth, had he held her gaze any longer, he felt he would not be able to keep up his facade, thus it had been easier to walk away with his stern and unforgiving exterior intact than risk it altogether. But he spoke nothing of this, and instead introduced her to the garden, his garden:

“I planted all of these,” he stated, unable to obscure the sound of pride from his voice as he stepped among the flowers and plants and trees. “I planted this one when I was a boy,” he smiled, craning his neck to see far above them where a tree lofted above the rest of the garden. 

Jane’s mouth gaped open. “It’s enormous! It must be so old -- I mean -- not that I mean...what I meant was...”

He only eyed her with his neck still lifted. “You are correct, it is two and a half millenia old -- far older than you will ever be.” 

Her mouth closed and her shoulders sank. “Right.”

“Which begs the question, why Thor would bother with a woman whose life is so fleeting -- and even more than that,” he turned, his hands clasped behind him, “why you would allow him to.”

Now that he spoke to her directly, she found she much preferred when he did not. Berated and belittled, she fumbled for her words, to justify herself to him -- a potential brother in law, if all were honest. “We...We are in love,” she took a step back out of offence. “Love is much more than...how many years one has together -- it’s about...being with that person completely when you have them,” she respired when she found the truth expelled itself from her.

Her words stung him -- far more than he had anticipated. He felt a small gasp in his lungs when she spoke and it was his turn to find his footing. “Foolish girl,” was all he could muster. “You know not the pain you will cause him. You will age, and he will not, and whilst he is cursed to the land of the living, you will be withering away until there is naught left of you but the deathbed that becomes his arms and last words are stolen by breaths full of regret!” he found he nearly lost his composure as he closed his words, and he knew it was not Thor and Jane he spoke of, but of Sigyn. The woman whose name was forbidden.

At first his harsh and unending words brought a stinging to her eyes, where she had half the mind to leave him and barricade herself in her room for the rest of the time Thor was gone. But then he turned away, a sharp exhale escaping him -- one she was not meant to hear -- and a pursing of his lips and a furrowing of his brow full of pain and not foresight but experience. And she realised all at once he spoke not of her, but of someone else. Someone he had once loved.

There was a lingering silence between them as he turned his back on her, yet unseeing to the plants before him, and she stared at him, suddenly understanding the bitterness, the coldness, the anger --

“How did she die?” she finally asked.

He briefly lifted his head, and his shoulder raised as he drew a breath. “She was murdered,” he answered, honestly for once, before he turned and looked her in the eye: “By one of your kind.”

Sense upon sense seemed to be poured over all his prior actions and his words, and she swallowed as she nodded. “That’s why you hate Midgard.”

He became quiet again, licking his lips. “Mostly.”

“I’m sorry...” she whispered, speaking from sincerity, extending her heart to him.

This surprised him and he drew back somewhat, straightening himself, before he turned from her again. “There’s nothing to be done about it.”

That, however, was a lie.

She had the mind to ask another question, but started when there came a rustling from deeper within the garden. “Is someone here?” she felt her hand go once more to her TASER.

“There should not be,” he replied, cocking his head curiously to the sound, when a gentle smile washed over him when its origin revealed itself. His shoulders relaxed, his face untensed, his entire being seemed to be at peace when there emerged from the foliage a deer-like creature from the hiding place. 

“A deer?” Jane let go of the weapon as she found herself smiling as well. 

“Indeed -- I rescued her,” he boasted, proud of such an innocent accomplishment. “Thor and his hunting party had her in their sights some while ago, I stopped them.”

While she appreciated the sentiment, she didn’t understand. “Why? Are you...vegan or...the Asgardian vegan-equivalent?” she felt embarrassed asking, uncertain the customs, neither the rituals. 

He only gave her a puzzling look, before he returned his sights to the doe and the rustling bush behind her. “I do not know what that is, but...” he motioned a hand to the bush. “That is why.”

Out followed the doe a young fawn, surely just a week old.

“She was with fawn, thus, I rescued her. Gave her a place f safety in which to rest and nurse her young,” he continued.

There spoke the self-sacrificer, the protector. 

She quietly approached, coming beside him as they watched the creatures investigate the greenery. “She’s beautiful.” 

His smile widened as he gazed at the doe. “Yes, she is.”

“What’s her name?” she asked, glancing from the deer to Loki.

A breath. And a pause. But he did not break his sights. “Sigyn. Her name was Sigyn.”