#i am typically quite well received and i meet many people who express clearly to me their desire to know me and have me in their life

[chinacatmoonflower]

i love everyone so much but i do not know how to be a friend :(

[lucky-katebishop]

What I Read in September 2021

It's been a stagnant month, but I did find a couple favorites :) as usual, composed of mainly Harry Potter fics but there's a spare Modern Family fic in there and a couple crossovers. I think I read about 27-28 fics :)

Harry Potter

Family Relations by OxfordOctopus

Plot: In which Harry realizes that not even he's exempt from how interconnected magical families are.

Characters: Harry, Pavarti, Hermione, Ron

Relationships: Hermione & Harry & Ron

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse

Tags: Desi Potter Family; Desi Harry; Hogwarts third year; red-haired Harry Potter

*complete*

Talking to Thestrals by OxfordOctopus

Plot: In a world where Voldemort well and truly died in ‘81, where there are no Horcruxes, where Harry is sequestered off by a man in a flying motorcycle when he's six, and where the only legacy the most feared Dark Lord left behind was his politics and a heavily scarred child, nobody quite realizes that Harry isn’t okay. Nobody but the leathery creatures at the lake, and the girl who looks at them.

Characters: Harry, Luna

Relationships: Harry & Luna

Warnings: anxiety, dissociation, suicidal thoughts, bullying, implied/referenced child abuse, child neglect

Tags: Sirius Black Criticism; Hogwarts second year; Sirius Black Never Went to Azkaban; AU - No Voldemort;

My Notes: Now, I love Sirius just as much as the next girl, but this is such an interesting look at a man raising a kid when he wasn’t ready and the consequences of that (I relate a tad too strongly)

*complete*

Slytherin Politics by OxfordOctopus

Plot: Abused children don't respond well to power plays.

Characters: Harry, Draco, Theodore Nott, Daphne Greengrass

Warnings: graphic depictions of violence

Tags: violence, broken bones, Slytherin Harry, bullying

My Notes: Harry is so truly terrifying in this fic, it’s wonderful

*complete*

rotten on the inside by cassiopeia721

Plot: Harry's boggart isn't Voldemort, or even a dementor. It's something much worse.

Characters: Harry, Snape, Hermione, Ron

Relationships: Hermione & Harry

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse

Tags: Hogwarts third year; boggarts; angst; protective Hermione; Hermione is a Good Friend

*complete*

Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell by IamShadow21

Plot: Questions asked, questions unasked, secrets told and secrets kept, trust, devotion, empathy and love. Ron and Harry's friendship, from that first day on the Hogwarts Express, right through until after the Battle. Can be read as a friendship fic, or a ship fic. It's open to interpretation.

Characters: Harry, Ron, Fred, George, Hermione, Arthur

Relationships: Harry/Ron

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse

Tags: canon compliant; canon-typical violence; friendship, hurt/comfort; protective Ron; Protective Fred; Protective George; gen or pre-slash; platonic cuddling; POV Ron

My Notes: now this could be read as pre-slash, as a relationship, or just good friends, but I am so completely head over heels in love with the idea of Harry and Ron! Best friends to lovers!

*complete*

Best Served Cold by enchantedsleeper

Plot: “C’mon, Freddie,” George says suddenly, sotto voce. “Sooner the four of us get out of here, the better.” It hadn’t been the right moment, as they were exploring the Dursleys’ comfortable house in the dead of night, to plant a well-timed trick or a trap and risk blowing the whole operation – and getting Harry into even more trouble with his sadistic relatives. Better just to get Harry out and away from that place. But two years later, Fred and George got their chance for revenge.

Characters: Harry, Fred, George, Ron, Arthur

Relationships: Harry & Ron; Harry & George & Fred

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse

Tags: Book 4; Harry is an honorary Weasley

*complete*

east, west, home’s best by taizi

Plot: You can never have too many brothers, Ron decides, for the very first time in his life. And there's always room in the Burrow for another Weasley, even if only an honorary one.

Characters: Harry, George, Ron, Fred

Relationships: Harry & Ron

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse

Tags: Chamber of Secrets; families of choice

*complete*

live for today, hope for tomorrow by Vennat

Plot: Professors are Hogwarts are a little more observant and a little less likely to allow their students to be in harms way. OR A canon rewrite starting from book two, featuring friendship, angst, and a severe lack of oblivious characters.

Characters: Hermione, Harry, Ginny, Ron, Luna, Fred, George, Snape, Draco

Relationships: Hermione & Harry & Ron; Harry & George & Fred; Harry & Ginny; Luna & The Golden Trio; Harry & Snape; Draco & Harry

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse; PTSD; panic attacks; blood; vomit; injury; food issues; depression

Tags: friendship; Harry has a saving people thing; mentor Snape; BAMF Harry; Smart Harry; canon rewrite; angst; Dumbledore bashing; Book 2; Harry is a Good Friend; Harry is Bad at Feelings

*complete* [part of a series; hasn’t been updated since 2020]

The Closest Distance Between Two People by StartledStarfish

Plot: In Harry's third year, no dementors boarded the Hogwarts Express in search of Sirius Black. Remus Lupin, the new defense professor, slept the whole way there. He did not wake to cast a patronus. Harry never passed out. Never heard his mother scream. Never saw the flash of green light. Never felt the unspeakable cold drain all the happiness out of him. So when Harry’s turn came to face the boggart, his greatest fear could not be a dementor. Harry blinked and looked up into the smiling face of Albus Dumbledore.

Characters: Harry, Ron, Remus, Dumbledore, Vernon, McGonagall

Relationships: Harry & Ron; Harry & Remus

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse; childhood trauma, child neglect

Tags: boggarts, dementors, Dursley Family Bashing; Dumbledore Bashing; healing; angst with a happy ending; Ron makes sure nobody’s sad for long; friendship; laughter

*complete*

Grey Space by noaacat *favorite*

Plot: In 1991, Harry Potter begins his time at Stonewall High, unaware that he is anything more than a boy prone to freakish accidents. When he turns fourteen, he will receive a letter that will change his life. He will learn he is Harry Potter, and be invited into a world where belonging is his birthright. Until then, he stumbles on, two steps forward and one step back, out of the cupboard and into the life he was never meant to have.

Characters: Harry, The Dursleys, Dumbledore, lots of muggle OCs

Relationships: none

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse; implied/referenced homophobia; child abuse; child neglect

Tags: AU: Hogwarts Starts Late

My Notes: This one! Is so good! The worldbuilding alone is amazing and the author really did make me immersed in the small sleepy town of Little Whinging. Please, if you read any fic on this list, read this one! It’s so good! Instant favorite!

*complete*

Iron by belleslettres

Plot: Draco also has a penchant for shirts with fiddly collars and cuffs and will not even entertain the notion of going anywhere looking like anything less than perfection. But Harry, who will do almost anything for Draco, refuses to iron them. “My aunt used to make me do all the ironing,” Harry says. “I hated it.”

Characters: Harry, Draco

Relationships: Draco/Harry

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse

Tags: fluff and angst; post-war; Epilogue what Epilogue; fluff; domestic fluff

*complete*

All That Stands in its Path by thebiwholived

Plot: "An old soul, people might say, and Molly has never quite been sure what such a person would look like, until the day her family meets the Boy Who Lived in a dingy train station on the way to school." Molly Weasley's perspective on the summer Harry Potter comes to stay.

Characters: Harry, Molly, Weasley Family

Relationships: Harry & Molly Weasley

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse

Tags: canon compliant; book 2

*complete*

To See More Clearly by JellyShark

Plot: Harry didn't make it out of Privet Drive after blowing up Aunt Marge. He is alone, locked away, forgotten. To make things worse, his magic is changing, morphing into something unknown and terrifying. Harry returns to Hogwarts a changed boy, unable to hide the effects of his time with the Dursleys. His Third Year dawns, bringing with it a man who feels like home, a Hufflepuff Prefect, and a dog who reminds Harry of a time when he was loved.

Characters: Harry, Remus, Ron, Snape, Sirius, Hermione, Luna, Cedric, Neville, McGonagall

Relationships: Sirius/Remus; pre Cedric/Harry; Remus & Harry; Hermione & Ron & Harry; Cedric & Harry; Sirius & Harry

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse

Tags: Harry Needs a Hug; Harry is an Empath; Smart Harry; Magically Powerful Harry; Mentor Remus; flawed but well-meaning Dumbledore; book 3; book 4; Snape gets worse before he gets better; angst; hurt/comfort

*incomplete* [last updated August 2021]

Holidays by diogxnes

Plot: While his housemates discuss the upcoming holidays, Harry cannot help but think of how he never experienced a real Christmas with the Dursleys. Ron notices.

Characters: Harry, Ron, Lavender Brown, Seamus Finnigan

Relationships: Harry & Ron

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse

Tags: book 1; missing scene; canon compliant; emotional hurt/comfort; hurt/comfort; Ron Weasley is a Good Friend

*complete*

Closing In by silver_fish

Plot: Harry supposes he’ll never know how they learned about the cupboard under the stairs. He also supposes he’ll never know how they managed to make him so afraid of it, all these years later.

Characters: Harry, Hermione, Ron

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse, claustrophobia, implied/referenced torture, codependency, trauma, panic attacks, PTSD, therapy

Tags: post-war; hurt/comfort; touch-starved; guilt; Harry centric; false memories

My Notes: This one made me emotionally exhausted but it’s written super well

*complete*

Adjustments by Velvet_Riptide

Plot: With the Second Wizarding War over, Sirius is more than excited to put everything behind him and raise Harry as his own. However, he and Remus begin to notice odd and troubling behaviors from Harry. Without answers from the source, Sirius turns to Harry's previous guardians--Molly and Arthur Weasley--and learns Harry is still making adjustments from his time with the Dursley's.

Characters: Harry, Sirius, Remus, Molly, Arthur, Hermione, Ron

Relationships: Sirius/Remus; Hermione/Ron; Remus & Harry; Sirius & Harry

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse; childhood trauma; PTSD

Tags: hurt/comfort; coparenting; Harry lived in the Burrow for several years with the Weasleys before moving to 12 Grimmauld Place;

*complete*

Two Things by TheDivineComedian

Plot: Harry is only four years old and the Dursleys are already mean.

Characters: Harry, Petunia, Vernon, Dudley, imaginary Lily, imaginary James

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse

*complete*

How to be happy by TheDivineComedian

Plot: The Patronus charm requires a happy memory. Harry Potter doesn't have many, and the Dementors get Sirius, after all. But the story is far from over.

Characters: Harry, Remus, Sirius, Ron, Hermione

Relationships: Harry & Sirius; Harry & Remus; Remus & Sirius

Warnings: major character death; implied/referenced child abuse

Tags: creepy; heartwarming; dementors; Hogwarts third year

My Notes: this one is a fucking doozy good lord (the tags say heartwarming but w h e r e)

*complete*

Knowledge is a Rose by Magi_Silverwolf

Plot: When Harry discovered that he had a name, he clung to that information and all that it entailed. After learning more information about his past, nothing and everything changed.

Characters: Harry

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse; physical abuse; verbal abuse; mental abuse

Tags: emotional hurt; identity issues

*complete*

No Love for the Wicked by VigilanteVampire4311

Plot: Harry Potter was the Boy-Who-Lived. The Golden Boy. The Chosen One. But it turns out when you run head first into an unknown magical artifact and end up in a void, none of that matters. Now he's in a different time with familiar strangers who just can't seem to understand the new transfer student, Harrison Miller. With a Defense teacher he can't let his guard down for a second around, the Marauders hounding the 'mysterious' new Slytherin, and his housemates who cannot fathom a muggleborn being among them, Harry has to wonder whether fate hates him or if he is really a trouble-making freak like the Dursleys always said.

Characters: Harry, James, Lily, Sirius, Remus, Regulus, Snape, Tom Riddle, Pomfrey

Relationships: Harry & James; Harry & Lily; Sirius & Harry; Remus & Harry; Regulus & Harry; Harry & Tom Riddle; Pomfrey & Harry

Warnings: graphic depictions of violence; implied/referenced child abuse; possessive behavior; depression; non-consensual touching

Tags: The Veil; Slytherin Harry; Marauders are kinda assholes; Tom Riddle is not Voldemort yet; Severus is so done; alternate universe; angst; hurt/comfort; bullying; time travel; Marauders Era

My Notes: so far with 7 chapters in, we haven’t yet gotten to Harry interacting with anyone from the past but it’s still written really well

*incomplete* [last updated September 2021]

The snake in the daffodils by SpicyReyes *favorite*

Plot: Harry follows Sirius through the Veil of Death, and stumbles out on the other side of the Mirror of Erised, under a strange spell and stranded in an unfamiliar Hogwarts.

Characters: Harry, Remus, Regulus, Harry, Ron, James, Lily, Sirius

Relationships: Regulus/James; Sirius/Remus; Draco/Harry

Warnings: graphic depictions of violence; discussions of suicide; discussions of self-harm; suicidal ideation; implied/referenced child abuse

Tags: universe jumping; Hogwarts fifth year; misunderstandings; miscommunication; basically everyone thinks harry wants to die but he is actually just hella confused

My Notes: so, so good! And if you like this one I recommend The Devil’s White Knight which is really similar in concept

*incomplete* [last updated 2020]

been waiting a lifetime (to be with you) by justprompts

Plot: The next time he woke, Potter was shaking him awake. Just, just not the right one. He had hazel eyes for one, and class. This was not Harry Potter. This was - Well, he had just woken up and who accepts the delightfully altering time-related facts of life right as they wake up?

Characters: Harry, Dumbledore; Peter Pettigrew; Prewett Twins; Marlene McKinnon; Sirius; Remus; Lily; James; Draco; Alice & Frank Longbottom; Regulus; Draco

Relationships: Draco/Harry; James/Lily; Sirius/Remus; Marlene McKinnon/Dorcas Meadows; Alice/Frank Longbottom; Regulus & Sirius; Regulus & Draco

Tags: time travel fix-it; Marauders Era; Horcrux hunting; everyone lives/nobody dies; master of death Harry; light-hearted; POV multiple; Harry doesn’t need to be dark/evil to be master of death; irregular and slow updates; mutual pining

*incomplete* [last updated May 2021]

The Gospel Truth by twentysevensummers

Plot: When Harry arrives at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place with a black eye, he has more trouble than expected keeping the truth from Sirius.

Characters: Harry, Sirius, Remus

Relationships: Sirius & Harry

Warnings: referenced/implied child abuse; child neglect

Tags: book 5; hurt/comfort; angst; Harry needs a hug; good godparent Sirius Black; number 12 grimmauld place

*complete*

o children, lift up your voice by orphan_account

Plot: "i don't know if they could've put a flap in the door of the cupboard, now that i think about it," harry laughs nervously. "dunno if it would've fit onto it. since it's smaller than the bedroom door." hermione and ron's heads both shoot up. "what?" ron asks. "excuse me?" hermione says.

Characters: Harry, Ron, Hermione

Relationships: Hermione & Harry & Ron

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse

Tags: friendship; slight canon divergence; character study; second war with Voldemort; physical affection; lots of hugs

My Notes: this one is so good and if you can get past the fact that the author doesn’t capitalize anything, you’re good to go (although it was difficult to get past that at first for myself)

*complete*

Muggle Management by LadyWinterlight, NerdyKat

Plot: What happens if Hermione notices signs of abuse in Harry during first year? The Wizarding World may not have laws against it, but the Muggle World certainly does...

Characters: Harry, Hermione, Mrs Granger, Mr. Granger

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse

Tags: family

*complete*

Harry Potter & Other Fandoms

Masked Men and Where to Find Them by tinyrose65

Fandoms: Harry Potter & Daredevil & MCU

Plot: Harry Potter moved to Hell's Kitchen because she wanted a fresh start: time away from the spotlight, where she could focus on being the best Healer she could be. Trust the unconscious man in her dumpster to go and complicate things.

Characters: Harry, Matt Murdock

Relationships: Harry/Matt; past Harry/Draco

Warnings: past domestic abuse; implied/referenced child abuse

Tags: female!Harry

My Notes: this is the first in a series and the second one is also incomplete but they’re both very good and the second one has Jessica Jones!

*incomplete* [last updated 2016]

Magic and Masks by Akoia

Fandoms: Harry Potter & DC Comics

Plot: Harry Potter is anything but normal, thank you very much, he just didn't hold such nonsense as that. Follow him on his adventures through the Wizarding world and muggle world as he struggles to understand who he is, and fight the destiny that's been chosen for him.

Characters: Harry; Dick Grayson; Jason Todd; Bruce Wayne; Alfred Pennyworth; the Dursleys

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse; canon typical violence

Tags: fluff and angst

My Notes: this is a series with six parts!

*incomplete* [last updated 2020]

Modern Family

Breaking & Entering: (The Start Of) A Love Story by dollsome

Plot: "Oh my God," Mitchell says, "this is insane." It is, for the record. It is actually ... insane.

Characters: Mitchell, Cameron

Relationships: Mitchell Pritchett/Cameron Tucker

Warnings: none

Tags: none

*completed*

[girlobsessed21]

My thoughts on The 100 7x05

Hey, guys,

Sorry for not doing any comments on the last two episodes. I’ve been a little busy and I struggled to connect to the show, so it hindered my enjoyment, but it’s all better now. Liked episode 4 and 5 was even better, jampacked with info and it answered a lot of questions.

Welcome to Bardo

Badass Octavia is da bomb (people don’t say that anymore, right?). When she was captured in episode two, I thought she had lost her fighting spirit, but it’s back, bitches. Well, until she runs into an invisible wall trying to escape. She’s captured and transported to M-cap (whatever that means). Then we get a welcome little flashback to Lincoln but it’s obvious that Bellamy would be the hand reaching out. He’s her rock, like she’s expressed many times.

Unlike John Murphy who is not quite a friend, or family and definitely not a lover. Introducing so many new characters in the final season of a show is never a good idea, because this is the time to wrap up all the stories of the existing ones, but come on, who cannot love Levitt. Even when he first meets Octavia, he doesn’t want to hurt her. Jason, you better not harm one hair on this precious little puppy’s head!

As he binges The 100 through Octavia’s eyes, he starts rooting for her, and he actually gives a damn, unlike most people on this show. He understands her strengths and weaknesses and he makes her see it too. “You’re a warrior to be sure, but your heart is pure.” Wow, what an honest and beautiful line. (Scroll down for my shipping comments.)

So is O and Hope’s fleeting little reunion. It’s amazing to experience this deep loving side of Octavia after her darkness. She’s truly one of the most diverse and developed characters on the series. Now Hope and her resilience is quickly making it to the top as well.

While Hope is trying to send her back home, we learn that memory loss is due to the time dilation. One quick note on this, it’s not linear, there’s no easy equation to calculate it unless you’re Stephen Hawking or Einstein. I don’t think it’s constant either. 10 years on Skyring = 11 days on Bardo = a few minutes on Sanctum. In the current time, 5 years on Skyring = 1 day on Sanctum = 7 days on Bardo. So, it’s clear that the planets are moving, and other factors are playing into the phenomenon. It’s more important to understand the time relative to each planet.

Levitt was the one who tattooed Hope’s code onto O’s back, also the one who planted the note into Hope’s arm. Indeed the kind of man you want on the inside, he even accepts a blow to the face as thank you.

Sheep-ish?

Thirty minutes on the clock and the trio gets led to a congregation to praise the shepherd. I never thought it was Anders, I do, however think it might be Cadogan. The Bordoan’s built the underground forest because they destroyed their planet. Ugh, what’s new? The shepherd herded his sheep from earth to Bardo via the stone. Cadogan and his second dawn cult?

Back to Clarke. So, after last episode I thought ‘the key to winning the last war’ line was an artifice for luring Clarke to disciples, but now it’s clearly true. They’ve located the key and they will win the last war. Levitt was interested in Clarke surviving the City of Light with the flame in her head, they probably assume she still has it. Cadogan burned Becca alive. Could it be because of the flame? Is this all because of that damn little chip that can’t seem to die?

Bellamy is not dead, I repeat, Bellamy is not dead! I believe that memory could be staged or implanted for a reason. Also, there’s no body, he jumped through the bridge. In the promo photos, he wears a ring but his actions towards Octavia seem a little cold and generic. On first watch, I thought it was bad acting but if he was programmed to do this, it makes sense.

Note the sequence of events. Octavia returned 7 days ago and was asked to talk her brother down, but we don’t see the actual scene. Instead we’re shown a memory. They could have implanted it to make her vulnerable and perhaps more susceptible to the procedure. I don’t know, but this theory could lead to Robot-sheep!Bellamy on Nakara, where he’ll encounter Clarke and the gang.

I have to be honest, I really don’t like this character arc for Bellamy. It’s unoriginal and a mime of Peeta’s storyline in Mockingjay. Sorry, but so far it feels like the writers were so over the show, they just wanted to get it done. And that attitude really bleeds into one’s creative concepts. I could be completely wrong, in fact, I hope I am.

Echo spins a Finn

My word, I lost the love of my life once, but I sure didn’t kill anyone. When Echo received that vision of Roan, I was hoping for some progression on her individual arc, they’ve made me care about her, and now we get the opposite. Why? One thing I have to admit, a killer performance from Tasya Teles! No pun intended.

Look, this show hasn’t explored Bellamy and Echo’s relationship enough to make her murder believable. It was the exact same thing with Finn. I wasn’t invested in Finn and Clarke’s connection, so his actions of killing a grounder tribe was more repulsive than understandable. Sure, Echo loves Bellamy and her sole purpose is to save him, but I’ve never truly witnessed their love for each other. They had one or two intimate scenes which cannot compel a deed like this. And in the process, she screwed Hope and Diyoza.

Anyway, I don’t think there’s any coming back from it. She murdered an innocent person in cold blood. That’s sure to open a door to the dark side.  Just look at Octavia after killing Pike and her actions were justified by jus drein jus daun.

Say Sanctum three times slowly and it sounds like… Sanctum

Blind faith

Look, I’m just gonna come out and say this song is getting old. Every episode featuring Sanctum is the exact same thing with different lines. Can we please move on from it, already? Yes, we know the COG want Russel dead, and the adjusters will go to extreme lengths to free Russel and the prisoners are background noise.

I did appreciate Nelson stepping in to try and save the girl, though. Still doesn’t save the fact that it’s repetitive. The Sanctum plotline is really struggling to take shape and I hope it happens soon. Dramatic eyeroll.

At least in the drought of a desert, you can always count on Murphy. “…I say we live and let die.” Typical cockroach line, right, but it’s ironic when he’s the one to step up, even if it is for Emori. Under the magnifying glass it’s the exact same plot as episode 1 and 3. He hesitates to take action, and eventually becomes the hero.

I mean, he saved that poor kid from being burned alive. Can you imagine sacrificing your own child in such a horrific away? Cults are beyond whacked, and, unfortunately, it’s reality that cult members are so blinded by their faith that they do not see rhyme or reason.

How did Murphy fail that test? I didn’t. When Trey named the four pillars, I thought, isn’t rejoice one of them? Surely, a cockroach would have smelled that trap a mile away.

Indra the great

Can we just give a massive round of applause to Adina Porter!!! That powerhouse walk vibrates strength and majesty, damn, she should be a false god, I wouldn’t dare threaten her with or without an army.

Three little words was all it took for her to recognize evil. “There’s a spider on your shoulder.” Smooth. Too bad she can’t kill him. Why not, how many of the faithful are left to cause an uproar? Wonkru doesn’t know it’s Sheidheda, they won’t care, the COG will fall in line and the prisoners will be happy as long as they get their compound. Sorry, I don’t get it and I don’t understand why she doesn’t tell anyone.  Someone please explain?

Granted, JR Bourne as Russel is way better, but I still don’t understand his actions. I hope they explore and explain him more, because he still feels flat unless he knows something of this final war. I’m hoping these two storylines align soon since it’s really driving a wedge between me and my love for the show.

Shipwreck

I’ll start with the easy stuff, Murphy, Emori and the perfect dress gets a heart eye emoji from me. They are so damn cute this season, can they please live happily ever after in the palace?

Octabriel vs Levittavia

Now, I enjoy Levitt fangirling over Octavia. I feel like he has a deep sense of her through her memories. If I have to root for an underdeveloped relationship, it will have to be one where the characters share thoughts and experiences even if it is through a sick, sci-fi procedure.

On the other hand, Gabriel and Octavia have immense chemistry, two seconds of them together bends my mouth into an “Aah, cute” pout. This will also add some approval and representation for mixed racial relationships.

I really don’t mind either way as long as they make me care through showing and not telling.

Bellarke

So, if my theory is correct, and Bellamy does end up on Nakara, Bellarke will encounter each other quite soon. Bellamy won’t be himself though, but he might pretend to be Bellamy to win Clarke’s co-operation. Is there hope for Bellarke yet?

Echo is now trotting a dangerous path and Bellamy might be pledged to a cause, so I doubt there will be a happy ending for Becho. Since 7x01 I’ve been thinking that the writers might want to develop something between Clarke and Gaia but if they are separated, is there enough time? Guess we’ll see.

This monster of a review is finally done… If you read through everything, you deserve a gold star! Let me know what you think, till we meet again…

[missjosie27]

Year 3 Part 7- Keeper of the Keys

Hey, guys. I'm sorry this update took so long. Shit has been well...weird. Hard to explain. However, rest assured I am not abandoning this pic, not by a long shot. Updates just won't be consistently regular as a warning to all my readers. To make up for some lost time, this is a longer chapter and I hope you all enjoy!

To say that Tulip Karasu was eccentric was an understatement. Nevertheless, David had no choice but to play ball for now if he wanted any of the information he sought. He was a bit apprehensive sitting at the Ravenclaw table during dinner, but luckily Andre’s assertion proved to be correct. No one desired to sit near her and therefore they could spend the meal alone and in peace.

Stuffing Dennis into her shirt pocket, the Ravenclaw began to serve herself and cut up her chicken into several tiny pieces before eating. The young Gryffindor was hungry, but he preferred to focus on the matter at hand. Something about this girl was oddly fascinating. He also had many questions to ask.

“So how exactly did you stumble across my brother’s room and how was I not aware of that? Furthermore, since when are multiple people looking for the vaults?”

“One question at a time,” Tulip countered with a smile. “I still need to know why I should work with you, David Grant.”

The use of his full name was another idiosyncratic habit she seemed to demonstrate. That being said, it couldn’t hurt to give her a pitch. Especially since it sounded like she had been working with another person, possibly more than one in searching for the vault. From the looks of it, their progress was better than his in finding the latest one.

“I don’t usually play this card but...I’m the best chance you have at getting inside of a vault. I’m one of the strongest duelists in our year and I’ve broken one curse already.”

“You’re a very determined and talented person, there’s no denying that,” Tulip replied thoughtfully. “But it seems like I’m closer to finding the next vault than you are. Why shouldn’t I just go off on my own?”

“Because if we assist each other, it’ll help us solve the mystery faster,” David explained. “You found my brother’s room, but I doubt you’re any closer to knowing the vault’s location.”

“True. You make logical points. But Dumbledore forbade any student from searching for them this year. What if something goes wrong and you try to pin the blame on me?”

Tulip was testing him, he knew that. She followed rules no more than he did. But clearly this was a person who didn’t trust people easily.

“I don’t rat on my friends,” David said simply. “When I thought Bill might not make prefect, I tried to take the blame from McGonagall. I’d do the same for you.

“Perish the thought of me ever becoming prefect,” Tulip laughed. “However, I am glad that you value the people around you.”

“I’ll put this simply: I don’t care about whatever so-called power the vaults have. I’m only in this for one reason and that’s to find my brother.”

The Ravenclaw girl scanned him up and down, as though he were a mildly intriguing piece of modern art. David felt a bit uncomfortable but said nothing. Finally she spoke again.

“I don’t know that I like you yet, David Grant, but I do trust you.”

Okay that’s a start...I guess

“Then will you tell me who your accomplice was?” he asked her.

“Merula Snyde.”

David immediately spit out the pumpkin juice he’d been consuming causing a few Ravenclaws to look over with mild disgust.

“WHAT?! But why would you team up with her of all people? You seem way too smart to trust Merula.”

Tulip gave him her most serious look yet.

“Merula is a lot smarter than you give her credit for. You may not like her personality, but there’s no denying her skill.”

David scoffed. “Yeah I’ll get back to you on that one. I’ve beaten her so many times in duels I’ve lost count. She’s always trying to one up me but never succeeds.”

“Her greatest weakness is that she believes she’s invincible. But more on that later. The point is we were working together at one point but then we had a falling out. Unfortunately she still has the other key to your brother’s room.”

“Then we have to get it back.”

“Agreed,” Tulip said. “But the question is ‘how’? She’s not going to hand it over willingly.”

“I’ve found over the years that the only way to get Merula Snyde to do anything is by forcing her. Typically after one beats her in a duel.”

“That may work, but this situation is also quite delicate and we don’t want to draw unnecessary attention to ourselves from the teachers. Especially if they caught us fighting.”

David agreed with that conclusion. They would need to try another method.

“Then what do you suggest?

Tulip gave another sly smile.

“Leave that to me. I’ll come up with something that will turn Merula on her head.”

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Tulip told him she would need some time to plan and would message him when ready. In the meantime, David kept busy with homework which was significantly heavier this year with two added electives. He also enjoyed the start of Quidditch season given it was the first week of November. Unfortunately, unlike the previous year, things didn't go as swimmingly for Gryffindor this time around. Slytherin edged them 300-260 in the opening match. None was as ecstatic as Merula and she constantly reminded him about it during the week.

“I really hope Tulip comes up with a plan soon,” David muttered one day while sitting in the common room with Rowan and Bill. The two third years were finishing Transfiguration homework while the prefect looked over potions he might expect to find on his OWLs. “If I have to listen to Merula brag about Slytherin’s victory any longer I might just have to learn the silencing charm in order to shut her big mouth.”

Rowan chuckled as he turned the page on Intermediate Transfiguration by Emeric Switch.

“You’ll get your chance at payback soon enough, especially if you intend to get that key.”

“I know...I just wish she’d hurry up. Losing to Merula in anything is unbearable.”

“Be thankful you weren’t directly responsible for the loss,” Bill said to him, indicating the somber figure of his brother slumping in one of the chairs. Charlie had been noticeably quiet since the match, avoiding crowds and shutting himself up in the dormitory most of the time outside of class.

“Is he going to be alright?”

“He’ll get over it,” Bill assured them. “But despite what you may think, Charlie is super competitive when it comes to Quidditch. He hates losing and this was the first time in his career he’s never caught the snitch.”

“Can’t win them all I suppose,” David sighed. “We should have won, though. Skye was flying circles around them again. And that Slytherin beater totally committed a foul before Charlie could seal the deal.”

“It happens. I hate losing to Slytherin too, but a little perspective never hurts. There’s another cursed vault out there we need to find.”

David and Rowan nodded. You could always count on Bill to be level headed when it came to these situations.

“Speaking of, any luck with deciphering the rest of that book?”

“It’s slow going,” Rowan said shaking his head. “I swear I’m going barmy from trying to make out all the symbols. It gets more complicated the deeper you get into the book.”

“Don’t overwork yourself,” Bill said kindly. “The best thing we can do now is getting into that room.”

As it happened, there was more progress on that front. Jae Kim suddenly appeared in front of their group.

“I was told by a certain Tulip Karasu to tell David that she wants you to meet her in the courtyard straight away.”

The three Gryffindors looked at each other with anticipation.

“Did she say anything else?”

Jae shrugged.

“Nope. I’m just passing along the message. If you’ll excuse me, I have orders to fill.”

Bill gave an uneasy expression as the Korean boy walked off.

“I sometimes wonder if I shouldn’t be doing more to prevent him from running that little black market of contraband he has.”

“Jae does plenty to get himself in trouble without your involvement,” David chuckled. “I swear we don’t even need Zonko’s. He supplies half the school with Fanged Frisbees by himself.”

He stood up and brushed off some of the couch lint on his jeans.

“Guess I better see what Tulip wants.”

“Hopefully she’s got a plan,” Rowan said eagerly.

“Yeah...hopefully.”

Despite barely knowing her, David had a feeling that whatever Tulip Karasu wanted, it was bound to be interesting to say the least.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He made his way down to the specified area where Tulip was waiting just outside the entrance. Unlike her uniform, she wore a blue coat over a thick sweater with a matching beanie hat with a puffball on top combined with a flowy skirt, black tights, and flats. It was a brisk day despite the sunny weather and winter was well on the way.

“Good. You made it,” she greeted him. “Are you ready for my plan?”

“Don’t need Trelawney’s ‘Inner Eye’ to predict you’ve got something cooked up.”

“You’re becoming more perceptive,” Tulip said with a mischievous smirk. “Merula is over there, holding court with her lackeys.”

David gave a small peek, and sure enough the Slytherin girl was there alongside Barnaby and Ismelda. What they were talking about, he couldn’t hear but Merula was clearly animated about something.

“I’d recognize that orange tuft of hair anywhere. So what’s the big plan?”

“Even though they aren’t that bright, Barnaby and Ismelda are still tough and ruthless,” Tulip explained. “We need a diversion to lure them away from her. And luckily, I have the perfect item for the job.”

Out of her coat came a dungbomb, except twice as large and covered with some kind of outer shell.

“I call it the ultimate dungbomb,” she grinned. “Mixed in with some stinksap. I used the hardening charm ‘Duro’ to give it some heft. We toss this into their little circle and they won’t know what hit them.”

“Wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of that thing,” David said, eyeing the putried projectile. “So now what? Do we levitate it or something?”

“Follow my lead. We hide behind the fountain until the perfect moment to strike.”

And so they entered the courtyard, tiptoeing along the way, careful not to make too much noise. The wind aided them in this goal and as they drew closer David could make out the conversation the three Slytherins were having.

“...can’t believe this! We’ve searched everywhere! We’re never going to find a cursed vault!”

“We should cast the Cruciatus Curse on Grant on his friends. Torture makes everyone talk,” Ismelda suggested with dark glee.

“Talking to you is torture. You have some serious issues, Ismelda,” Merula responded.

“We should ask Dumbledore. He’s really smart,” Barnaby said thickly.

By now Tulip and David were crouched low behind the fountain, peering over slightly to get a sense of distance from their opponents.

“Dumbledore spent half his welcome speech telling us to stay away from the vaults. Or did you forget that, you nitwit,” Merula chastised.

“We could give him Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans. I heard he likes those.”

“Sometimes I wonder if your brain was replaced by a Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Bean.”

“I still say we should use an unforgivable,” Ismelda cut in. “I’d like to cast the killing curse on the next Gryffindor I see.”

That earned a look of derision and disgust from her leader.

“You don’t even know the killing curse.”

“I sat on a bowtruckle once!” Barnaby pipped up.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Ismelda asked, looking at Barnaby as though he had a second head.

“I thought we were talking about killing things.”

“Ugh, I hate you both,” Merula commented, rolling her eyes.

David shook his head behind the fountain.

“Merlin, this is literally too stupid to listen to. Now?”

Tulip nodded.

“Now!”

Using her wand, the Ravenclaw sent the ultimate dungbomb flying into the air towards the Slytherin trio. It exploded upon impact causing a toxic mist of green and yellow to fill the air and all three began to tear up, covering their noses with their arms.

“Dear, Merlin that is awful!” Ismelda cried, coughing into her arm.

“I can’t breathe!” Barnaby said coughing as well. “Let’s get out of here!”

Merula was hacking and wheezing too, but she still had enough oxygen to call after them as they ran.

“Get back here you cowards! It’s just a dungbomb!”

David wasted no time in stepping out of the shadows, Tulip in tow. They both confronted the angry Slytherin, who became irate upon laying her eyes on them.

“I should have known it was you!” Merula shouted, trembling with rage.

“Your powers of perception are truly dizzying,” he said to her in a bored tone.

“Hand the key over to us, Merula. I don’t know how long I can stand your stink,” Tulip demanded.

The look on the Slytherin’s face went from rage to incredulous.

“Us? You betrayed me, started working with Grant and have the audacity to ask me to give you the second key?”

“Actually...yeah.”

Merula’s expression returned to its usual nasty leer.

“Well too bad. I’m not giving you anything. How does it feel knowing I found your brother’s room before you did, Grant?”

“I don’t have time for this, Merula,” David said sternly. “Give us the key, now.”

Tulip then did something unexpected, stepping forward, a note of sympathy in her voice.

“We could use your help. This doesn’t have to turn ugly. Work with us.”

David was surprised at the offer of assistance and wondered where it stemmed from but predictably, Merula turned it down.

“I don’t want to work with you, I want to duel. Specifically you, Grant. Beat me again and the key is yours…” she withdrew her wand from her sleeve. “But I don’t plan on losing to you. Not this time.”

David withdrew his own wand and prepared for battle. In truth, he was looking forward to pop her ego once more.

“You never learn, do you Merula?”

He quickly fired a disarming spell, but she ducked while sending one of her own which missed over his shoulder, causing Tulip to dodge.

“Petrificus Totalus!”

Despite it heading straight for her chest, the Slytherin demonstrated remarkable athleticism by rolling to her side and firing back a retort.

“Flipendo!”

David was forced to copy the same maneuver, scraping his elbow on the stone but managed to avoid the knockback jinx. Wheeling back around he aimed a jelly legs jinx but again it missed due to Merula’s agility.

She’s clearly learned a thing or two since last year

The Slytherin began pressing forward, drawing closer with each curse she fired off, putting David on the defensive retreating from his original spot back towards the wall. Some of the spells he recognized, some he didn’t and he was fairly certain a few were the kind a thirteen year old girl wasn’t supposed to know. All the same, he had to think of something before one of them landed on his person. Then, he remembered her weak spot, the same one as always.

Too aggressive. Too wild with her spells

Indeed while she was driving forward, he could see a manic look in her eye, the kind that someone had when they were determined but unhealthily obsessed. David then came up with an idea. Dropping his stance and his wand into a wide, lazy position, he allowed his opponent to think she was catching him off guard. Sure enough, Merula took the bait.

“Remollio!”

A jet of sickly, yellow light headed straight towards his head. Smiling slightly, he ducked forward into an almost ninety degree angle and sent back a spell of his own.

“Fumo!”

A mass of black smoke issued in front of Merula, blocking her vision and senses. It was all the time he needed to strike the winning blow.

“Depulso!”

The banishing charm smashed into the Slytherin girl sending her flying back and hard onto the ground into a groaning heap, wand dislodged.

Dissipating the smoke, David walked forward, wand aimed and ready in case she tried to cheat or lash back out.

“I win again, Merula. I won’t ask a third time. Give me the key.”

Clutching her shoulder painfully, she rose from the ground, grabbed her wand, and proceeded to chuck a golden key at his feet.

“Fine! Take the stupid key! I already got what I needed from that loser’s room anyway.”

Tulip came up behind him now that the duel was over, picking up the key, sympathy still lurking in her dark brown eyes.

“Merula, please we could still use…”

“My help? Save your breath. I don’t work with traitors!”

Lavender eyes switched over to David and for the first time, he saw that they were on the verge of tears.

“Watch out for this one, Grant. It's only a matter of time before she stabs you in the back.”

Without another word, Merula brushed past them, the sound of combat boots hitting against stone echoing across the courtyard as she ran back towards the dungeons.

David wondered what Tulip’s reaction would be to these thinly veiled accusations but to his slight surprise her sympathetic expression was gone, replaced by her usual mischievous delight.

“Mission accomplished, David Grant. Let’s go to your brother’s room.”

Though satisfied with receiving the key, Merula’s reaction unnerved the teenage Gryffindor. He didn’t bring it up further but there was no doubt Tulip hadn’t told him everything about her history with his chief rival.

At least not yet.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The two teens wasted no time in heading towards Jacob’s room and soon they were standing in front of the dark brown, wooden, door. However, there was one question still burning in the back of David’s mind.

“Tulip?”

“Hm?”

“What did Merula mean when she said she already took what she needed from my brother’s room?”

Tulip shook her head.

“She was lying. We used this room because it was full of valuable information and research but there was nothing worth taking or pointing to the location of the vaults themselves...at least nothing that I saw.”

“Jacob was always pretty savvy at hiding things,” David informed her. “It’s perfectly possible you missed something. Hell, I just found a quill that turned out to be his transfigured notebook. I know this will sound strange, but I haven’t felt this close to him since he disappeared. There are a lot of things I’m still finding out.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” the Ravenclaw teen asked him seriously. “You may not like what you find.”

David didn’t hesitate with his response. Any potential negative revelation about his brother could not outweigh the possible benefits of discovering more about his whereabouts.

“That’s a risk I’ll have to take. I have to see where he did his research.”

Tulip nodded, taking out her key and inserting it into the first part of the lock. She handed him the one they received from Merula.

“Do the honors.”

He did so, unclicking the lock, the golden seal falling to the floor with a metal clank. The door creaked open and the two teens entered the mysterious space. However, it was dark and impossible to see anything.

“I can’t see two feet in front of me,” David said aloud. “Tulip, you there?”

“Yeah. Lumos.”

The sight that greeted them was both unexpected and horrifying. Out of the shadows stepped a tall, bald, sickly pale man cloaked in black robes. His features were gaunt and waxy as though they had been warped or burnt, especially his nose, which was disproportionately smaller. But that was not the most disturbing aspect of this person. Within the skull like head were a pair of deadly, luminous blood red eyes that reeked of menace and murder. There was no mistaking who it was.

“Y-Y-You Know Who! It can’t be!” David cried.

“Run, Grant! RUN!”

Tulip immediately pulled him back before the figure could pull out his wand and slammed the door shut behind them.

Catching their breath from the near heart attack they both suffered, it took a few moments before either one could say anything.

“How is that possible? You Know Who is dead,” he panted.

“Use your common sense, David Grant. That was clearly a boggart. Hogwarts is crawling with them these days.”

Regaining his wits, the Gryffindor realized Tulip was right and mentally smacked himself for being so gullible.

“Merlin, that was embarrassing.”

“Don’t be hard on yourself,” Tulip reasoned. “A lot of grown witches and wizards would have reacted the same way, if not worse.”

She paused before adding. “I am curious, though. Why is your boggart, You Know Who?”

The truth was, David didn’t know the full reason why but before he could explain that to Tulip they were interrupted by another very unpleasant presence.

“Well, well...David Grant and Tulip Karasu...why am I not surprised to find you two here together?” Severus Snape spoke in his usual dangerous, silky tone.

Oh, shit

“Professor I-”

“Silence,” the potions master cut across him. “Your brother was the most disobedient student Hogwarts had seen since James Potter. You may have overtaken him.”

“But we’re allowed to be here, sir. It’s not after hours yet.”

“Do you really believe me to be a naive simpleton, Grant? Stay away from this corridor and give up your search for the vaults, or I will ensure you will share your brother’s fate. Now back to your common rooms, both of you.”

The two teens did not dare argue but before they parted company under Snape’s watchful eye he saw Tulip mouth to him, ‘We’ll talk later.’

They would need to. With Hogwarts' nastiest professor onto them and a boggart taking the form of Voldemort blocking the way, another method of gaining access to the room was needed.

David sighed as his brother’s room went out of view. He really hated roadblocks.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Thankfully, Snape couldn’t be everywhere at once and that included meal times as well as meetings after Transfiguration which the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws shared together. Though both David and Tulip were eager to try and go back to the room they mutually agreed to stay away for the time being lest the head of Slytherin catch them again. The main priority was getting rid of the boggart.

“Professor Sprout used some kind of spell to defeat the boggart that scared Penny earlier in the year,” David mused while he and the Ravenclaw walked together after class one day.

“Well technically we’re supposed to cover boggarts in Defense Against the Dark Arts this year. But we can’t wait for that incompetent buffoon to actually bring it up or teach us for that matter.”

“I swear these gormless prats are more and more useless with each passing year,” David agreed. “Guess it’s time to hit the library.”

“Let’s agree to research there after lessons are done every Friday,” Tulip suggested. “I’m sure there’s a lot we can learn before the holidays come around.”

“Sounds like a plan. I can bring Rowan along too. He’s one of the smartest people I know. Super brainy.”

Tulip suddenly hesitated.

“Actually, I’d prefer it to just be the two of us...for the time being. I can’t really explain it right now. Just trust me.”

As it was with Merula, David didn’t press the issue but he was steadily growing evermore curious about his new partner’s past. Whatever happened between her and the Slytherin teen must have been severe but he sensed there was more to it than that.

Adding to the surrounding mystery was another anonymous message he received one night. He had just come back from dinner with Penny, Tonks, and Diego when Rowan rushed to greet him quite frantically.

“David!”

“Whoa, steady on. What’s up?”

His best friend proceeded to pull out a letter from his robe pocket and hand it to him. The envelope was not addressed and carried no visible distinction.

“I found this on your bed,” he explained. “It just...appeared there. I didn’t open it in case it was private or cursed.”

David stared at the mail for a split second debating his chances. If it was a message from ‘R’ once again he was mostly certain it wasn’t cursed. Such a group would have tried to kill him by now. Then again he also had no idea what they were capable of given the general mystery surrounding them.

Taking his chances, he slit open the envelope, removed the parchment inside and read the contents aloud.

“You are in grave danger. Your investigation into the Cursed Vaults has drawn the attention of a group who is not to be trifled with. Be careful, but remain courageous. I’m depending on you to reach the final vault before the others. I will assist you when I can. I hope the next time I deliver you a message, the circumstances are far less mysterious.

Sincerely,

A Friend’” 

Taking a moment to reread the letter and analyze its contents David looked towards his brainiac friend for a possible explanation. Rowan appeared to be as lost as he was.

“For the record, I have no idea who wrote you that letter. Do you?”

David certainly had no more inkling than the hippogriff by Hagrid’s hut. There were a number of possibilities, which included his brother, an enemy playing tricks, or even the Headmaster himself.

“I’m as lost as you are. I’d say it was a ruse except for the fact none of the Slytherins know how to get into our common room. If anything, it sounds like an ally of some sort.”

“I sure hope so,” Rowan responded with a bit of anxiety. “These anonymous messages are starting to creep me out a bit.”

He paused before asking another question.

“By the way, what’s with this Tulip girl? Why does she insist on working with you alone?”

David genuinely shrugged.

“I wish I knew. Your guess is as good as mine.”

In truth, David had little time to reflect on it at the current moment. Tulip was a vital piece in all of this and he could scarcely afford to scare her off. Whoever the mystery man was that claimed to be on his side, there was no use in dwelling on that either. Aside from his schoolwork, which he was careful to pay close attention to, the only thing that mattered was learning how to get rid of that pesky boggart in his brother’s room in order to properly access it.

Thankfully, that wasn’t too difficult in principle. Within their first round of research the Ravenclaw girl discovered the spell ‘Ridikkilus’ which was the same one Professor Sprout used to disperse the boggart in the Herbology classroom. However, given the risks of using the spell without prior experience and with Snape still looming over their heads, Tulip advised against going back to the room before they were ready. David wanted to head back as soon as possible but he eventually relented as his new partner in crime told him to practice over the holidays while she thought of a plan.

Honestly, she’s always scheming that one

However, with Christmas around the corner, the dreaded return back to West Country loomed over his head and he was not looking forward to the strained, emotionally stunted holiday as was per custom in the Grant household. But on the eve of his departure, he received a distraction of sorts, something quite unexpected.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was the last Hogsmeade trip of the season before the holidays and David used that time to share a glass of butterbeer with his friends namely Rowan, Ben, Tonks, Penny, and Charlie. The Three Broomsticks was even cozier and warm this time of year and full of festive cheer and decorations, many of which he helped Madam Rosmerta put up before the big customer rush as a ‘thank you’ for giving him the quill. In return, he and his companions received a round of free drinks.

“I tell you what. Life doesn’t get much better than this,” Rowan said, taking a satisfying swig.

“I can’t wait to go home and see my family for Christmas,” Penny beamed. She was snuggled up in a blue coat with a matching beret, leggings, and snow boots. David couldn’t help but notice the rosy glow on her cheeks and how pretty she looked. “My sister is dying to know more about Hogwarts even though I’ve told her so much already.”

“What about you, Dave?” Ben asked genuinely.

David tried to hide the fact that he was secretly conflicted and tried to play it off with his usual sarcasm.

“Well my mom will stress herself needlessly from making the dinner, my dad will read his newspaper and do paperwork, we open some presents followed by an awkward crying session from said mother who tops it off with a bottle of wine….so yeah. Merry Christmas to me.”

The blond boy was unsure how to respond to that as flushed with embarrassment.

“I...uh…”

“Relax, Ben,” Tonks cut in. “Dave knows you didn’t mean anything by it. Besides, I know exactly how to cheer him up.”

She transformed her face into that of a toucan’s beak, something usually never failed to elicit a laugh. But this time the Gryffindor teen didn’t budge.

“Oh come on, David that always works. Show a little festive cheer!”

Before she could stick another butterbeer under his nose the second Weasley brother came back over with another round and a message.

“Drink up you lot. Also David, my brother wants a word with you.”

He raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“For what? Did he mention a reason?”

“Just said it was urgent. He’s over there sitting by himself. Pretty moody by his standards.”

Shrugging, he took the spare butterbeer weaved and ducked his way through the Christmas crowd and found Bill seated at one of the tables meant for two people. Indeed, he had a curious expression on his face.

“Charlie told me you wanted to talk?” he said, taking his chair. “Is everything okay?”

“How are you in the ways of romance, Dave?”

It was a loaded question, one he was not prepared to answer at all. Because the answer was not at all.

“Uh, Bill...I think you may want the tea shop down the street,” he joked referring to Madam Puddifoots. “What’s this about, anyway?”

“I’m obsessed with this girl named Emily Tyler,” the prefect explained and there was a swooning glint in his eyes. “She’s not only beautiful but in Defense Against the Dark Arts she single handedly stupefied an entire swarm of vampire bats.”

“That’s not saying much given the current state of that class,” David joked again, taking a sip from his glass. He did, however, see Bill’s point. He knew of Emily Tyler and many older Gryffindors had the hots for her. She always hung out with the same group of friends chatting away about gossip, makeup, Witch Weekly, and whatever they found interesting that day. She was also quite wealthy on both sides of her family. “So what’s the next step then? Are you going to tell her?”

“You make it sound so simple. But I was actually hoping you could talk to her for me.”

David had never seen Bill this...timid before and it was a bit unsettling. The tall, lanky, long haired Weasley was usually the cool one of their group- collected, confident, the voice of reason and was a favorite among the student body in the way he conducted his prefect duties. To witness him as being so unsure meant this girl meant a lot to him.

“Bill, no offense but you’re asking the wrong bloke. I know less about this stuff than you do. I’ve never even had a girlfriend.”

“Well neither have I. I’ve also never been in love before.”

“And what makes you think...wait you’re in love?” he asked, completely floored.

“Am I? I don’t even know anymore. What’s happening to me?”

It was then the adolescent Gryffindor knew just how important this was to Bill and the least he could do was try and spread some cheer before Christmas. Just as Tonks pointed out. If he could play matchmaker for one of his best friends, what was the harm?

“Don’t worry about a thing mate. I’ll go talk to her. No problem.”

Bill smiled in response, his worried brows relaxing slightly.

“Good. She’s actually right over there.”

He pointed behind him ever so subtly to indicate her presence, and sure enough, there she was hanging out with her usual assortment of friends, holding court at one of the wall booths.

“You sure you want me to do this?”

“I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t serious.”

“Then I will,” David replied simply. “I’ll be right back.”

He drained the latter portion of his butterbeer and made his way over through the vast crowd. Upon finally reaching the booth it didn’t take long for the group of girls to look up at him with curious looks as though he were some kind of exotic alien. That certainly didn’t help his nerves but he pressed forward anyway.

“Emily Tyler?”

David didn’t need to ask as he recognized her right away. He could see what the elder Weasley meant. Like Bill, Emily was a fifth year but physically quite mature, and could have passed for two or three years beyond her age. True to word, she was very pretty, piercing brown eyes to go with high cheekbones and a slim, feminine jawline to go along with extensive makeup. Dark brown hair formed a widow’s peak along her forehead and was pulled back into a high ponytail. She also appeared to be quite fond of the color pink as she wore a long sleeved magenta dress complete with thick, pink tights, a cardigan and boots. It was indicative of someone who grew up quite upper class.

Though she did not look annoyed, there was a haughtiness to her expression that was a tad unsettling to the third year cursebreaker.

“That’s my name,” she responded evenly, ignoring the whispers of her posse. “And you’re that cursed vault kid, David Grant. What can I do you for?”

“Well I’m a friend of Bill Weasley’s…”

This didn’t seem to impress her.

“Okay?”

Out with it. She’s not going to wait for the grass to grow

“He fancies you and wants to know how you feel.”

On cue the rest of Emily’s friends began to giggle though she gave no indication as to how she personally felt.

“If I can speak in his favor, he’s a solid bloke. You couldn’t ask for a better friend.”

“He fancies me? I have to say I’m surprised,” Emily finally responded.

“It’s true. Haven’t seen him this frazzled...well ever really.”

“Is this some sort of joke? Because I don’t want to look like an idiot. What did he tell you?”

“Fair warning: I know as much about romance as I do about advanced Arithmancy, don’t hex the messenger,” David told her bluntly.

“Perish the thought. I want to hear this,” Emily said as much to her friends as she did to him to stop them from giggling.

“What else can I say? He thinks you’re amazing, powerful, beautiful, strong. Bill is as cool as any person in this school but he’s a mess over you. And you couldn’t ask to date a finer person.”

There it was. A glowing recommendation and an honest account of his friend’s intentions and feelings. Surely that was enough to win over a girl right?

He thought wrong. A very unpleasant, arrogant smirk crossed Emily Tyler’s face as she began playing with her pink, manicured nails.

“What a prat.”

David did a double take.

“I’m sorry?”

“Don’t get me wrong he’s reasonably handsome but why would anyone date a Weasley?”

Anger surged through David as his right hand turned into a fist around his glass mug. Was she really turning him down for the reasons he thought she was? The resumed giggling from her cronies made it worse.

“May I ask why?” he asked through clenched teeth.

“Everyone knows the Weasleys are one the poorest wizarding families in Britain. They have no means, no manners, and no prospects. Why would I lower myself to such a standard?”

“I think you should take that back,” David said with quiet fury.

“And so what if I don’t?” Emily sneered. “Tell your friend thank you for sharing his feelings, it was a good for a laugh but he’s delusional if he ever thought he had a chance with me.”

By now, pure hatred surged through his veins, temper getting the best of him. More from the shock of someone actually insulting Bill, Emily Tyler was now the queen bitch in his eyes. Slamming his mug on the table with tremendous force, causing the four girls to jump with fright.

“I’ll tell you what I think,” he growled. “Bill must be attracted to your looks because your personality is pure rubbish.”

Emily recovered from the shock and shot him a venomous, threatening stare.

“You don’t know the first thing about me.”

“I know enough. You sit over here prattling on like my mother at a book club thinking you’re the greatest thing since Merlin’s first bowel movement. But you’re nothing but a stuck up piece of shite. I’m just glad I can tell Bill before he wastes any more time on you.”

He flipped the glass over, spilling the small amount of butterbeer left inside.

“Get bent...snobbish twit.”

Without wasting another second, he turned and left, still fuming over the audacity of Emily Tyler to call his mate ill mannered and inferior. It was also a highlight into the flaws of his own house. Just because you were bold and confident didn’t make you a good person. So pissed he was, he barely noticed Bill’s reaction when he sat back down at the table.

“Dave?”

“Huh?”

“You look like you’re about to explode. What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.”

Of course, Bill didn’t believe that.

“What happened and what did Emily say?”

On the one hand, David really didn’t want to reveal the full extent of Emily’s denigrating insults. It might shatter his heart given how much he liked her. Then again, it wouldn’t do to have someone he looked up to pining after someone who would sooner rip his heart out and stomp on it than date him. The truth was more important than protecting him from it.

“Bill...I won’t lie to you. It wasn’t good.”

“What do you mean?”

He hated seeing Bill’s confused face and he suspected that what was to follow would be equally as painful.

“Mate, she’s not interested. And she didn’t mince words.”

The eldest Weasley’s expression fell dramatically.

“Oh.”

“You can do better than her,” David tried to reassure him

“But-but she’s the most beautiful girl in our year...this whole school.”

“She’s also mean, arrogant, and generally awful. Bill, she insulted you and your family.”

He didn’t want to go there but there was little other choice than to prevent his friend from continuing his obsession. And he wasn’t fibbing. Bill did deserve better.

“She did?”

“Heard it with my own two ears.”

“But what did I do wrong?”

“Nothing,” David emphasized. “And that’s the point. You’re too good for her. And not the other way around.”

“It doesn’t feel that way,” Bill said with the slightest of tremors in his voice.

The third year leaned forward, speaking with the utmost sincerity he could muster.

“Listen to me...you’re one of my best friends. You’ve taught me a lot about dueling, magic, and Hogwarts itself. Everyone I know looks up to you as a person, prefect, and role model….and so do I. Don’t let someone like Emily Tyler change that. Be good to yourself.”

His impassioned speech seemed to finally break through and the Bill Weasley of old shone through.

“Thanks, David...I’m sorry for acting like an idiot. She’s the first girl I really fell for...it’s hard you know?”

He didn’t, not truly since he’d never had a crush on a girl before. But David felt a great deal of sympathy for his friend. Anything that could rattle the cool Bill Weasley could rattle anyone else.

“Of course.”

“Now let’s grab another butterbeer. Next one’s on me.”

“Cheers, mate. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.”

He and Bill made their way back towards their friend group where Charlie, Rowan, and company were waiting, greeting them warmly. Though the drinks were sweet and the atmosphere quite merry for the upcoming Christmas season, David own’s spirits were far from being satiated. A part of him knew his angry reaction to Emily’s rejection of the eldest Weasley was due to his own misapprehension and unhappiness that plagued him this time of year.

Images of his brother flashed before his mind as though it were a dream sequence.

For all the faith people placed in him, he wished he could take his own advice.

[nekoabiwrites]

Of Princes and Potions 2 - Chapter 6

It’s finally back! This and likely the next chapter will be some cute filler-y chapters, showing Roman and Logan having cute relationship time - and maybe a few more hints towards another relationship ;) ;) ;)

AU: Royal/Fantasy Pairing: Logince Words: 2608 Warnings: Mention of Deceit, mention of injury. Anything else, please let me know!

Summary: Logan is confined to the infirmary as his wounds heal, but Patton approaches him with an offer at the very end of his stay. Then Roman appears and steals Logan’s attention easily.

--

Logan found himself confined to the castle’s infirmary for close to an entire month after the attack, mostly due to the severity of his injury. He was alone in the infirmary for most of the time – bar the nurses that periodically checked in on him and the visitors that did the same. He was, however, far from lonely

The mage found himself missing the company of Demitri once the other had been released after only a few days. In the time they did spend together, the two forged a bond tighter than before. Demitri seemed to find comfort in Logan, admitting many things whilst in the company of the mage that he otherwise would have kept to himself. Logan attempted to do the same, but Demitri shot him down once it was clear he was uncomfortable with sharing such personal details. He was, however, far from lonely once the animal handler had been allowed to go.

Almost daily, Logan would receive a visitor. Usually it would be Roman, who would drop by between his duties to ensure that his love was, in fact, healing alright. Each visit would end with Roman reiterating his promise to take Logan somewhere special as soon as he was able to leave; an earnest statement that had Logan’s cheeks show a light dusting of pink each time. Demitri returned often and was back to his normal, sarcastic self. The two argued playfully in between moments of sincerity and trust. It was comfortable and Logan found himself looking forward to his visits. Both Patton and Virgil were far less frequent at dropping by the infirmary, but no less welcome. They tended to appear together, as they were extremely busy with their obligations and duties. Logan did once attempt to convince them that they need not worry about him, but Patton simply waved it off with a smile. On the opposing side, Virgil responded by reminding Logan that he was worried about most things, so of course Logan would be on that list somewhere, no matter what state he was in. Logan had made no attempt since.

Logan was nearing the end of his time in the infirmary when Patton come by one evening, this time alone.

“Hello Logan. How are you feeling today?” Patton asked casually as he seated himself in one of the chairs that had been left around Logan’s bed as he received visitors so often.

“Good evening, your ma- Um, I mean, Patton. I finally feel as though the wounds have fully healed. The nurses informed me that I should be allowed to leave any day now.” Logan said plainly, shifting his back slightly as he spoke about it.

“That’s fantastic news!” The king beamed, “I actually wanted to speak to you about what we plan to do once you are released.”

That piqued Logan’s interest. Only Roman had mentioned taking him to do something once he was allowed out of the infirmary, but he couldn’t help thinking that Patton’s idea was going to be far more responsible than Roman’s.

“If you would like to, we are planning on taking a trip down to the not-a-dungeon dungeon with yourself and Demitri. We would like to show you what we’ve done for those who live there.” Patton’s usual easy-going demeanour had shifted, and he was instead serious and calm. Logan, for the first time in a while, could see the strength and commitment the king had without having to search for it underneath the bubbly exterior.

“Who would be joining us? If you wouldn’t mind giving specifics.” Logan questioned.

“As mentioned, we have planned to have both yourself and Demitri come along. I decided to ask you first, as I feel your answer will foreshadow Demitri’s own. I am also planning on asking Roman. It would do him well to see what I was talking about, as well as show him what some compromises look like.” The king’s shoulders sagged ever-so-slightly at the mention of compromises. The lines around his face almost seemed to deepen and his age was showing. Patton had been doing so much, whilst holding onto a sunny smile that allowed no one to truly know what was going on in his turmoiled mind. Logan almost reached out for him but thought better of it once Patton regained his composure.

“Virgil will be alongside us as the only guard. I would prefer to keep the secret between only a few select people, for safety purposes. I’m sure you understand that.”

Logan nodded, “Of course. I would be happy to join you. It will be… interesting, I’m sure.”

Patton’s arms twitched, as if he wanted to pull the mage into an embrace but was thinking better of it. “That’s fantastic! Do you know exactly when you will be discharged?”

“They said it will be either this evening or tomorrow morning.”

“Ah…” Patton’s face fell, and he put his weight against the back of the wooden chair as he seemed to get lost in thought. He muttered to himself quietly, his fingers tracing invisible lines. “We may have to postpone for a few days. My schedule, and subsequently Virgil’s, is extremely busy with meetings with visiting diplomats and the like. Sorry Logan.”

“It is quite alright. You have important tasks to handle. That is reasonable and should be accounted for. Relations are essential after all.” Logan said with a casual shrug,

“What is this talk of relations?”

Both men turned to the infirmary doors to see Roman heading towards Logan’s bed, a large bouquet of colourful flowers in hand. Upon reaching them, the prince leant forward and placed a kiss upon Logan’s forehead before busying himself with swapping out the flowers that sat in the vase beside the bed.

“We were just discussing taking a trip down to the not-a-dungeon dungeon.” Patton explained, loving smile growing as he took in the sweet gestures of his son and the reactions they were gaining from the typically stoic mage.

Roman made a questioning noise of acknowledgement, “So, you and Logan are going down there?”

Patton stood to address his son, “Yes, and I woul-”

“Let me come along.”

Roman had turned suddenly, hands still wrapped around the flower vase. His expression was determined, features hard, posture straight. He was clearly attempting to look as though he had power, or something akin to intimidation. The effect was broken once his father grinned wide and clapped a hand on the prince’s shoulder, causing the expression to falter.

“I was just going to ask you to come with us. Though, it will also be with Demitri and Virgil as well.”

“Oh… um, I-I didn’t know that, uh…”

“Anyway, I’m glad you both agreed to come along! It’ll be a wonderful opportunity for you both. I must be getting back to my duties.” Patton began to sweep out of the room with something that could have been described as gleeful grace, “I’ll send someone to find you both once I have the time to take the trip down with you. Goodbye!” Without so much as a pause, the door was shut behind the monarch and the couple were alone.

Roman turned and placed the vase back down onto the side table, “You’re feeling better?” He carefully sat on the edge of the bed, resting a hand atop one of Logan’s lightly, as if he were made of such brittle glass that Roman could break with too hard a touch.

The mage forced his eyes not to roll as he heard the same question that had come from the prince’s lips every single time he had come by for a visit. As each day passed, Logan had gotten steadily more and more frustrated with the question. Was it not obvious he was feeling better? He had agreed to join the king and others in a trip down into the depths of the castle, so of course he was feeling better! Logan realised he had to do something to finally get Roman to understand that he was, most definitely, feeling better.

As he was trying to think of an idea, Logan’s gaze caught on the prince’s lips. It was all downhill from there. Very little thought went into his actions as Logan, without a word, pulled his hand from Roman’s grasp. He gripped Roman’s shoulders in order to stabilize himself as he threw his body forward, crushing his lips against the royal’s own. Roman was far too surprised to stop the momentum of Logan’s body, which led to his back falling upon the mattress and Logan falling on top of him. Thankfully, both of them mentally caught up with what was happening before they landed  and neither seemed as though they were unhappy with the situation they’d found themselves in, instead favouring to continue the passionate embrace.

Eventually, Logan reluctantly pushed himself up and off of Roman. He was slightly breathless as he spoke. “Did it finally get through to you that I am, indeed, feeling better?” Logan attempted to look put together, but his clothing and hair were ruffled from Roman’s wandering touch. Speaking of, said touch was wandering back along Logan’s side as the prince closed in on the mage.

“I believe it may have, but perhaps you should really make sure I’m truly convinced..” Roman muttered, his lips hovering mere inches from Logan’s, tempting the mage even more to return to their previous activities.

Logan was a man who prided himself on being able to avoid the temptation of all manner of vices. He could only list one thing that was able to tempt him before and that was one specific sweet treat. But then he’d gotten involved with this stupid, gorgeous, romantic, sweet brat of a royal. His list of vices promptly doubled immediately after that first kiss, and Logan was officially an addict with Roman being his chosen substance – a decision that the crown prince was more than happy with.

In order to get his next fix, Logan initiated another kiss, almost letting out an embarrassing noise as Roman returned it with enthusiasm. Both lost themselves in each other, forgetting that a world existed outside of themselves. They forgot so much that Logan put up no resistance as Roman slowly began revealing more of the mage’s pale skin.

“Your Highness. Please refrain from such acts with patients in my care.”

The stern voice had the couple splitting apart with sharp movements. Logan’s face quickly bloomed red and he turned his head away from the head nurse, leaving Roman to explain to her that his initial intention was far from inappropriate and that Logan had started it. It seemed as though the head nurse had no patience for the royal’s excuse as she quickly ushered him out of the room under the pretence of needing to evaluate Logan’s healed wounds.

“Honestly, you would think that his father would have raised him better. And you.” She turned her attention to Logan once the heavy doors of the infirmary had shut, “You should know better than to let such a harlot tempt you into such acts.”

Logan mumbled a few apologies, seeing as he had no excuses to rattle off. He followed the old woman’s instructions to the letter, allowing her to examine all she needed without prompting another rant from her. Despite her current nature, Logan knew she was overall a caring woman and had been working for the royals for years - Patton had let slip that she’d been the one to assist in both the princes’ births and so had seen them grow up. The idea that this familiarity was the only thing that allowed her to use such harsh language to talk about the crown prince crossed Logan’s mind before her voice addressed him again.

“Your back seems to have healed wonderfully. The scars are still there, but that is to be expected. I expect you to be careful in the coming days. Do not do anything strenuous for your back, just as a precaution.” She gave him a hard look that implied all sorts of things that Logan really did not want to hear from the old woman. Then a tiny smile grew, and she looked almost motherly, “You are free to go, Sir Pendry. I would like to see you in a week’s time, just to ensure everything is alright.”

The mage nodded and stood, finding his legs to be stiff from such little use. He thanked the head nurse and began gathering up his belongings. It wasn’t long before Logan realised he would have to make multiple trips to take everything back up to his tower. He sighed and stood up to full height, intending on turning to the old woman and informing her of his plan, but he wasn’t able to say a word.

“I heard what you called me! How dare you use such foul language to describe me?! I should have you thrown out for that!” Roman had been let back in by the head nurse, who was simply standing before the seemingly irate prince with an unreadable expression.

“By all means, your highness, do your best to get rid of me. See how long you last without my assistance.” She retorted.

Roman gaped at her before dramatically tossing his head with a sniff, “Fine. I suppose I’ll allow you to stay.” He stalked over to Logan and gathered up the things Logan was unable to fit into his arms, “Come, dear. I’ll escort you away from such a heathen of a woman.”

As the two exited, the head nurse called out, “It was lovely to see you, your highness. Do drop by to visit more often and tell your brother to do the same.”

The prince stopped dead. A beat passed before he turned on his heel and smiled at the old woman, “Of course. I’ll try my best. Goodbye, Felicity.” He then continued on his way, seemingly unaware of the odd nature of the interaction.

Logan had long since given up attempting to make sense of his significant other’s ability to act in any which way he desired. Instead, he focused on making it back to the safety of his tower.

Once there, Logan placed the books in arms upon one of the desks and stretched out his shoulders, “I haven’t had to carry so many at once in a long while. I had forgotten how heavy they are…” A pair of hands resting on his shoulders startled the mage slightly, before he remembered that Roman had accompanied him. Logan quickly relaxed as the prince’s hands massaged at his shoulders, tension he didn’t know he had disappearing in an instant.

“Feel free to reject my idea, but I would like to show you that sight I’ve been promising tonight. If you are willing, meet me at the stables at dusk.” Roman spoke low, still kneading Logan’s shoulders. “I hope to see you there, my love.” A light brush of the royal’s lips against the back of his neck had shivers running down Logan’s spine. Roman’s hands then left him and he left the tower.

For a moment, Logan mourned the loss of the prince’s secretly talented hands, but he soon managed to pull himself back together. He considered Roman’s proposition about meeting at dusk while he picked up the vase that had been brought back with him, the flowers still wonderfully fragrant and fresh. Logan wandered up the spiral stairs and placed the object on his sparse bedside table, his mind already finding his decision made. Of course Logan was going to go to the stables at dusk. What reason did he have not to?

---

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[chasseurdeloup-retired]

Don’t Carry It All || Regan and Kaden

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Kaden’s Apartment PARTIES: @kadavernagh and @chasseurdeloup SUMMARY: Regan shows up to Kaden’s apartment with a suitcase after hearing the news about Celeste

Kaden had sat there on the couch for longer than he knew, fingers running over the leather bracelet. They’d run over the smooth side and the fuzzy suede side plenty of times over in the past few minutes. He couldn’t stop staring at it. Putting it on, somehow it felt like a memorium, too real. Final. But it was final. Two friends in one week. It was all unreal. He’d been surrounded by deaths of friends throughout his life. He was a hunter, it happened. People fell in the line of duty. His parents, too. But these friendships, the deaths, they were different. And sure, there were talks and plans to bring Bea back but he hadn’t quite sorted exactly how he felt about that. For now, she was gone. And Celeste was never coming back. The full moon was coming up and he couldn’t sort through what that meant for him. He’d fucking offered to keep a werewolf safe. Who the fuck was he? The thought made his stomach churn. So did the thought of injuring or killing Celeste’s sister. So many thoughts had been colliding and clashing in his mind lately. He tried not to think of everything that was plaguing him, instead focusing on the two sides of the leather; one piece, two sides, and they felt so different.

Abel shoved his nose into Kaden’s knee, knocking him out of his temporary trance. Before he could ruffle the dog’s head, there was a knock at the door followed by barking. Must be Regan.  “Hey,” he said when he swung open the door. He was shocked to actually see a suitcase behind her. Sure, she’d said it but most of him really hoped she was joking, as unlike her as that would have been. He’d ask about that in a moment. The emotions he’d thought had subsided a moment flooded back up when he saw her, like it was all real again, and he pulled her into a hug. “Thanks. You didn’t have to--”

Regan wasn’t sure she’d ever packed a bag so quickly. Cookies. Dinner. First aid, just in case. Two sets of shirts -- one with holes and one without. Some gin she’d bought for the occasion, as if Kaden didn’t already own several handles of the stuff. Yogurt. That would have to go in the fridge soon. All the while, she couldn’t make sense of what Adam had told her. Why would Kaden not have mentioned that someone was gunning for him? Trying to murder him, even? Was he trying to keep her safe, keep her out of it? They were both safer together, and they needed to tell Hills. She’d scold him for that later, though; right now, he’d be hurting and raw, and Regan’s primary objective was to ease some of that hurt. While making sure he didn’t get murdered in cold blood. That was fine. Fuck. She practically tore out of her apartment and hurled herself into his, suitcase stuffed and dragged behind her. Abel barked from inside, and Regan knew he’d been taking good care of Kaden in her absence. And -- she forgot his peanut butter treat, hadn’t she? Payment would come later. As she reached for the door, something bit into her skin, pins and needles running across her back. The knob must have just been cold. She shook it off and darted inside.

And once again, Kaden looked like someone had dragged him through the mud. His cheeks were wet and puffy, and his hair was a sad mop, absent of its dead rabbit pelt sheen. He needed a break from all of this; he really did. How much was this town going to throw at him? At both of them? Regan jumped into his hug and squeezed tightly, the wings flittering underneath the necklace. “I’m so sorry, Kaden. I -- I don’t know what happened, exactly, and I’m not sure you do either, but if you want to talk about any of it…” Last time she’d offered a conversation versus a distraction, he’d picked the latter at first, and it all just felt hollow. Would he want the same thing? She wasn’t sure, but there was certainly more complaining she could do about beard hairs. She stayed clinging to him; she intended to until he’d realize he was slowly suffocating. A flash of black by his hand. Regan tilted her head at it -- a bracelet? -- and tapped it with a finger. “What’s this?”

Kaden nodded even though she likely couldn’t see it while his arms were wrapped around her. “Yeah, I-- In a minute. I’ll-- we can…” First he just planned to stand there in the hug until his breathing came back down, when he felt like some of the pressure in his chest had lightened. Plus, he wasn’t sure how much he wanted to tell right now. Most of it he couldn't. Anything involving a werewolf was out of the question. Saying Celeste died saving her sister was out of the question, too. At the thought of saving a sister, Bea flashed in his mind, another twist of the knife. He clung to Regan a little tighter. He almost worried about pinching the wings when he realized they weren’t out tonight. Not yet, at least. That’s right, he hadn’t seen the little flit when opening the door, should have known. And while the wings didn’t bother him so much anymore, it was easier not to have to worry about them for the moment.

Kaden almost didn’t hear her, too lost in his thoughts, too busy trying to figure out what on earth was in that whole suitcase. “What?” His brow creased together before she pointed at the bracelet and he realized what she was referring to. “Oh, uh, it was a--” He didn’t realize the words would be so hard to say out loud. When they had talked about it, he figured the hard part about it would be how silly it was. Now, it was different. “It’s a dumb joke but, uh, friendship bracelet. From-- I got it-- it came today. From Celeste.” He gulped back the lump in his throat. It was getting easier not to cry simply out of the sheer exhaustion of all of it. “Are you going to explain the suitcase, though?”

Regan found herself staring down at the bracelet -- very clearly hand-made with time invested into it. The thought of Kaden receiving this, today, after learning of Celeste’s death, was like a jab to her own heart. And of course Kaden was trying to make light of it. That was about all that was left for him. She reached for his hand and enclosed it in her own. “Do you want to talk about it? I know I didn’t know her, but I -- at least I think I do -- um, understand, just a little, what she was to you.” Though part of her knew she was just barely scratching the surface. Every time she thought Kaden had opened up, had told her about his parents, his family, there was always more to uncover. If he and Celeste shared the same twisted upbringing, and she got away from all of it more successfully, she probably shined as some kind of beacon of hope to Kaden. And now she was dead. She hated seeing Kaden like this. Regan gave his hand another squeeze and -- the suitcase. Her eyes drifted behind her to the old clamshell case. “Uh, it’s -- well, typically, people pack their belongings up into a suitcase to easily transport them when they expect to be away for some time. Don’t worry, the cookies are in there; I didn’t forget them. And there’s gin.”

Another small nod. “Her dad, he--” Kaden couldn’t look at her when he said it but he gripped her hand a little more, bracelet in between their palms. “I don’t know the details. But he killed her. He--” He squeezed his eyes shut tight, pushing away the few tears that wanted through. It all felt like an anchor pulling him down. There was no escaping what he was, Celeste’s death made it so clear to him. Not that he knew that he even wanted a full escape. Still, knowing there might be an option was-- But there wasn’t, not really. The past was always going to haunt him. It might not get him the same way it got Celeste but he had a feeling that was the only difference. Fucking hurt. He inhaled deep and hoped it’d wash it all away. It didn’t. “I know what a suitcase is and what it’s used for. I meant why do you have a fully packed one? Here. Now.” He tilted his head and looked at her hoping to find something in her expression that might clue him in. “Not that I don’t want you here it’s just, uh…” Sort of sudden. Unexplained. And very much the opposite of how she’d been a day or two ago when talking about the screaming situation.

More tears. Regan should have expected that. She moved her hand for just a second to brush one aside with the pad of her thumb, and leaned back into him. Kaden’s breathing was still in tatters. She suspected he was crying more fiercely before she arrived, probably working Abel up in the process. Kaden liked to say he was a lousy hunting dog, but he certainly was clued into his owner. But her stomach dropped, feeling like a dark pit, when Kaden mentioned Celeste’s father. This was a homicide. Sure, she had wondered, but it sounded like it was the truth. “Kaden, I’m sorry to ask this, I am, but are you sure you don’t know where -- I want to make sure her family receives justice. And answers.” She didn’t need to be more specific about what she was asking. If Celeste’s body was in White Crest, it needed to go through her office. And her father, if he’d murdered her, needed to be behind bars. But Regan’s thoughts were pulled toward Kaden’s mother, who had also opted for attempted murder over simply talking to her son. People really were the worst. She saw the ugliest side of humanity pretty much every day, but at least she rarely needed to deal with them while they were alive.

Cautiously, just in case Kaden wasn’t ready, Regan pulled away from him slightly. When his arms weren’t going taut, she turned around for her suitcase, laid it flat, and unzipped it. Handed Kaden the plate of wrapped cookies and handle of gin, then turned back to him. “Unexpected? I know. I wasn’t planning on -- I mean, not until meeting with Deirdre. But then you messaged me earlier, and Walker told me that someone is trying to kill you, so here I am.” She paused, frowning at him. “I repeat, Walker told me someone is trying to kill you. Something about not liking your parents.” Regan ran a frenzied hand through her hair, her chest tightening at the thought of anyone targeting Kaden for his parents’ actions. Or at all. He couldn’t have another close call; there had been so many already. Were the mimes somehow involved in all of this? Probably. “We need to tell Hills and get you, um, actual protection. But right now, you’re stuck with me.”

Kaden had anticipated a reaction like this. Still, it hurt too much to keep from her, the fact that Celeste’s death was what it was. “That’s all I know. I pr--” The first syllable barely made it off his lips before his stomach churned. He couldn’t even be that mad about it. As far as promise bounds went, it wasn’t bad. Comforting even, to know his words couldn’t betray him. “It’s all I know. I guess I-- I mean I assumed they had reported it or…” He knew damn well they weren't reporting shit and there was more that Ariana wasn’t telling him. Shit he knew he didn’t want to fucking know. He sure hadn’t asked where Celeste’s parents were, but he knew Ariana wasn’t running. So the less he knew, the better. “I’ll make sure someone’s on it. That they talk to her sister. I thought I heard something about an investigation involving them maybe. From Wu maybe? I don’t know.”

The suitcase didn’t get less confusing the more she pulled out of it, but Kaden took the cookies and the gin without question. His face scrunched in a few different ways while he tried to process what it was he just heard. “Walker told you what? What the fuck is he talking about?” He nearly dropped the fucking cookies. Not that it would matter too much, but Abel didn’t deserve that kind of stomach ache if he got to them first. Kaden put the plate and bottle on the counter and then pinched the bridge of his nose. The headache that had been threatening him earlier was full blown now. He couldn’t fucking fathom what Adam had said that had scared her so badly. “Someone not liking my parents is a pretty long list, you encountered my mother. Doesn’t really narrow it down. And last I checked, no one had a hit on me unless Walker knows something I fucking don’t.” He hoped none of this was supernaturally related, that the kid had some fucking common sense not to spill that kind of shit to her. Hell, he thought Kaden was trying to off her last they talked. He knew Alain had no fucking sense of discretion, why he thought any other hunter would either was beyond him. “I don’t need protection. It’s fine. There's nothing to protect me from.”

Wu. Regan would talk to Wu. If there was a body, she needed to know about it, and if one hadn’t been recovered yet, then the police would be the best bet at doing so. She couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt for raising the question, but there hadn’t been an alternative. Kaden really had lost someone important to him -- two someones, if his mother could be counted -- and it was clear by looking at him that everything was still so raw. Regan hugged him again, trying to ignore the sting of nicotine in her nostrils. He’d probably been smoking up a storm because of this. His poor lungs. “Thank you… and I’m sorry for… well, for everything. But for asking.”

As confusion took shape on Kaden’s face, Regan wondered if she’d even made the right decision, packing a bag. He had to know what Adam was talking about, right? “He… uh, didn’t have a lot of information. In fact, he described this person as simply “a dude”, but yes, he told me someone is after you, that you mentioned it to him while he was helping you in the woods and that this person has assaulted you before. And that the goal is likely your death.” The last word felt heavy in her mouth as she said it. It probably felt just as heavy to Kaden’s ears, given the circumstances. Almost every single person she’d had a relationship with had ended up dying due to various manners and causes, and she wasn’t about to let Kaden be next, not if she could help it. But she also knew that protecting anyone from a determined and seasoned killer wasn’t exactly in her wheelhouse of expertise. And, great, now he had some kind of wolf tracking him down along with a man. They needed more help. Information and mourning first, then help. Regan couldn’t tell if Kaden was being willfully stubborn and still trying to keep her out of it, or if he really had no idea what Walker was talking about. “He said that two people he knows died recently. Both of us are worried that you might be next, Kaden, and I don’t --” She paused, caught her breath. Halted the twisting in her lungs. “Would you please just tell me? I can help.”

“A dude is trying to kill me and assaulted me before?” That really narrowed down absolutely nothing. For all Kaden knew, a hunter found out about him and Regan and had a hit on him. Didn’t seem likely, he had walked into the Bullet just fine. Maybe a grudge against his family. Could be any number of monsters done “wrong.” The pieces of the puzzle were not getting any clearer the more she said. “I mentioned him in the woods? I didn’t mention any ‘dude’ trying to kill me in the woods. Did he think a person did that? It was a wer-- an animal attack. The wolf. How out of it was I if he thought I was talking about a hu--” It was then that it fucking hit him. Kaden had called the werewolf an animal. Walker focused on the human side to Regan. Putain. Both were going to sound crazy. A wolf stalking him was insane. So was a human who transformed into a wolf. Fuck. Kaden didn’t even know what the wolf looked like as a human, explaining that was going to sound far crazier. Especially given that it was the wolf who had killed his parents, attacked him before, not the human form. He sighed and rubbed his face with his palms before running his hands through his hair. “I think Walker is very fucking confused. That or I am.”

Through all the confusion, he’d missed the look of sheer panic that had washed over Regan. Whatever Walker said had sent her into a spiral. Hell, the suitcase alone tipped him off to that. Kaden leaned over and the suitcase and placed her hand on top of hers. “One of those people was probably Celeste. And her father isn’t coming after me. I’m sure of it.” He was sure of it because her father was probably very dead. Then again, he wondered now if Walker had been referring to Celeste's parents in this whole thing. They were likely both dead, too, if Ariana felt safe enough to stay in town. He couldn’t say where Walker’s hunter connections lay. Not really. Maybe he heard of two hunter deaths and assumed Kaden was in danger. “I don’t know who else he’s referring to, Regan, but you know better than most what the death rate is in town. I don’t think this is related to me at all. Okay?”

Was Walker really the one who was confused here? Although, if this was mentioned in the woods after Kaden was attacked… it was a vicious bite, and Regan knew a lot of blood had to have been lost. He was probably lightheaded, on the very edge of consciousness. Maybe he hadn’t known what he said, or maybe it wasn’t grounded in any truth to begin with. Delirium could have easily set in. The wolf -- that was what came to Kaden’s mind, but that didn’t fit the description of “a dude” that Walker had offered. Could this have been confusion over whether Kaden’s assailant had been human or wolf?

Regan’s brow tensed in thought, and she accepted his hand. “I think he’s often very confused.” She admitted. “He thought I was a deer and nearly shot me. Maybe he thought your wolf was a human.” But there was something not right with all of this. Adam didn’t seem like the type of person to create a problem out of nothing; sure, he was young and a frat boy, but he had a hardened seriousness to him beyond his flirtatious comments and drinking. And he cared immensely about Kaden. That, Regan trusted. “He knew Celeste, too? But I don’t think -- they might not be connected. He even said as much, and I don’t want to jump to that conclusion until I can examine --” She cut herself off. “This might really be about the wolf. Maybe the blood loss... or maybe he just didn’t understand what you were saying.” Regan exhaled a sharp sigh, her hand pressed to her forehead. “You still have that wolf after you. And Adam -- Walker -- he seemed so sure, Kaden. And yes, the death rate is high, and I’d like to not count you among it. I can’t lose --” Her voice tightened for a moment, and she looked at the suitcase, weighing her options. “I’m staying here. Not for -- I just want to make sure, until we can learn more about what happened to Celeste and I can talk to Wu, and we decide whether we should involve Hills.” Regan shook her head. “I should probably put the yogurt in the fridge.”

“He nearly shot you?!” Kaden’s blood boiled just thinking about it. What the fuck had happened in the woods after she ran out? Had he seen the wings? Of course he’d seen the wings, there was no way he hadn’t given how long she’d been out there. Still, he bristled and his hands clenched into fists at the thought. Sure, Walker was just doing his job as much as Kaden did. And he said he wasn’t going to interfere and hadn’t made a move since. Didn’t make him hate the situation any fucking less. He grit his teeth one last time before he breathed and tried to unclench his jaw. Not the point of the conversation, was not her point of the whole conversation. He’d talk to Walker about it later. Maybe deck him once for good fucking measure.

“I saw him talk to her, yeah. I don’t know if they were close, but…” There was a high chance they’d both figured out they were hunters. It didn’t take long most times. Especially if Celeste was trying to keep Ariana safe. Kaden wasn't about to say Adam’s family was similar to his, not yet. Not if he didn’t have to. Saying that Adam was like him and Celeste would only bring up more questions that he didn’t want to answer. He tried not to sigh. Moments where she was so close to the truth hurt more than most. It almost felt like he could just tell her that the wolf and person in question were the same thing and get it over with, but he knew full well that wasn’t going to go over smoothly. If at all. “I don’t know where he got that idea but I don’t think anyone’s hunting me down.” Not tonight at least. “Really. I’m safe. But you can stay here as long as you want.” Fuck. Tomorrow night was the first night of the full moon. He was supposed to hunt. But if she was here-- Putain. His eyes grew wide at the mention of the fridge. “Oh. Uh, yeah. You-- You should. But don’t worry. I’ve got them,” he stammered as he snatched the yogurts from her suitcase and ran them over to the fridge. He only cracked open the door long enough to shove them inside, mouthing the word “sorry” to the pixie shoved inside of there. He didn’t come up with anywhere better when she said she was coming over and he hadn’t counted on her staying. Plus, Rumpleskuffs had a whole pie all to himself in there. He was fine. “It’s, uh, not running great. Have to keep the cold in. You know. Open and close quick. All that.”

Maybe saying that Walker had almost shot her had been too honest. But there was no taking it back now, and as freaking always these days, it’d just kind of come out. Sometimes holding in the truth seemed as futile as holding in a scream. Regan ran a hand through her hair again and frowned. “He -- I think he thought I was a deer. It’s, well, it isn’t fine. But he did apologize to me. And most importantly, he said he would be more careful in the future.” But she wasn’t here to talk about Walker. She was here to talk about what Walker told her. “You don’t think that wolf is still after you?” She remembered the panic drifting off him that night in her apartment, and it wasn’t all because it was they were deciding how to forge ahead. That animal attack had shaken up in a way she’d scarcely seen before. Apparently the reminder brought another wave of panic, because Kaden was quick to dart out of the room with an armful of vanilla yogurt. Regan looked toward Abel while Kaden was in the kitchen. “I know. Your peanut butter treat. Later.”

Kaden ran back into the room and didn’t look any more relaxed than he had when he ran out. Regan saw his chest rising and falling quickly -- even not accounting for her own slow breathing -- and she circled him in another hug. He’d never say it, would never admit it, but the last thing he wanted was to be alone right now. Regan knew it. “I’ll stay for a few days,” she said, “just to be sure. I don’t want anything to -- we don’t really know what happened. And after everything with the mime, and the wolf, and your mother, I just… I’ll stay for a few days. Okay?” She’d help him through his own loss while the two of them could hopefully avoid another. “Besides, you should see how many cookies Bo gave me. Far too many for us to throw all in one night.”

Kaden sighed into the hug, feeling his heart rate slow as he wrapped his arms around her. A few days. The full moon was the next few days. Putain. He should be out hunting and doing his duty to protect the town, as best he could. Not hiding inside and playing at being normal. He pressed his chin into her shoulder a moment and breathed in. Maybe it was for the best he stayed in. Everything still felt raw and he couldn’t hold back his emotions. A poorly timed outburst could cost him, as much as he didn’t want to admit that his mother was right just yet. But Regan might be right, too. That this, her staying over, was protecting him. Not that she knew it. Not in the way she thought or could even have imagined, at least. “Okay,” he said, giving her one last squeeze before pulling back to look at her. “You’re right. There’s a lot. You know, I’m hoping to find one with the perfect unnatural bounce this time.” Abel gave a small huff and then a bark, clearly distraught by the lack of attention. “Uh, maybe we should make sure Abel doesn't eat any. They’re barely edible for humans, I don’t want to know what they do to dogs.”

[sureivy]

is that HALSEY? no, that’s just IVY CALDER. SHE is TWENTY-FOUR years old and is an EMPLOYEE AT DON’T FRET & PAWS 4 LOVE. rumor has it they’ve been in town for FOUR MONTHS / TEN YEARS. on a good day, they’re CREATIVE & VERSATILE. but watch out! they can also be IRRESPONSIBLE & VOLATILE. TRIGGER BANG BY LILY ALLEN (FT. GIGGS) plays in my head whenever i think of them. can’t wait to see them around springhill!

hello my pals ! i’m amy ( 20 // est // she/her ) and i am super excited to be here! we also over here bringing back a fairly old muse (i,, apparently,, play her during election years,,) with a couple of tweaks, so we love that for me! also! pls forgive me if this is lowkey disorganized, we’ve been in and out of airports all day! can’t wait to contract that sexy corona!

QUICK FACTS:

full name: ivy rose calder

date of birth: may 2, 1995

*does not perfectly reflect the below big three zodiac chart because that’s too much math

zodiac big three: taurus sun, pisces moon, aquarius rising

gender & pronouns: cis woman & she/her

sexual orientation: bisexual ( preference for women bc we luv that for her but we also luv leaving things open to chemistry )

education: high school diploma

enneagram: 7w8?

mbti: enfp

moral alignment: chaotic neutral

positive traits: creative, versatile, passionate, compassionate

negative traits: irresponsible, volatile, impressionable, hedonistic

BACKGROUND INFO:

triggers: brief implied sexual abuse, suicide, a lot of death talk?, drug abuse ( desoxyn ), overdose

ivy lived the first eight years of her life in newark, nj. she had a mere family of three – her mother, a model-turned-stay-at-home-mom, her father, a politician, and herself. she was much closer to her mother, but she and her father were close at night.

when her mother finally found out about this, she wasted no time in taking ivy’s father’s side. what a good mom! instead, ya girl was already getting in touch with cps herself... but wow... it was gonna ruin his career in politics :\

“Now, one thing I lerned from Storys is, when something big is about to okur, a riter will go: Then it hapened! This tells the reeder: Get Reddy. Here I go: Then it hapened!” - fox 8

then it happened!

humiliated, clearly never getting a platform back, and absolutely bitter, ivy’s father killed himself before being sent to prison. 

Very Tragique™

ok. so. to distance themselves from the poor memories, but to save money, ivy and her mother moved to springhill, temporarily sharing ivy’s aunt’s apartment while her mother began collecting enough money to buy an apartment of their own and keep it.

during this time, ivy was seeing a lot of people and she didn’t know why! they asked questions about her mental health, but she didn’t know why! i mean, totally not traumatic, right?

yes. instead of managing communication well, she became very fascinated by the concept of death. she had many questions about it, she, a youth, had some extended conversations with clergymen about it –– she never killed any animals, god forbid, but she was absolutely fascinated when she ran across them.

SO CLEARLY THAT WAS ALSO TRYING TO BE DEALT WITH.

ok, i’m gonna skip ahead a little. now in teen years and still fascinated by death, but in a healthier way!, and no longer in therapy because... like... that costs a lot of money!

she dealt with it the best she could. became enamored with music... because why wouldn’t she? some covers here and there, some originals here and there, living that youtube lyf, but not expecting anything to come of it. just liked validation! mood!

she also dealt with it the worst she could! became enamored with drugs! naturally, it started out small. some weed, some lsd, some molly –– you know, just drugs that you don’t typically think of as addictive. although her grades suffered, it was harmless enough...

upon graduating high school, she figured... no college. instead, with barely any money to her name, she was like “i... will go to new york... and i will become famous.”

and she did! she did go to new york! she found a few sketchy places that didn’t charge much for a few nights as she began networking - both socially and “i would like to be known for music” (i literally just forgot the word for networking like..... employment wise.... y’all i’m so dumb). when she’d made some friends, she began crashing on couches that were not quite as sketchy! 

but :\ she did meet these friends in sketchy places :\ and they were like “ok here r some new and more addictive drugs for u to try!”

what she wound up abusing using the most was desoxyn. it kept her awake, it kept her focused, it even shed a few pounds to create an excellent figure! what wasn’t to love! 

i mean it’s literally a prescription methamphetamine,,, when abused,,, literally almost exact same effects as meth,,, but when meth mouth, skin lesions, acne, etc aren’t occurring as a side effect? who was she to care!

20, she released an actual ep with the help of a super cool friend who made everyone call him puppy mills! wow! things were excellent! it wasn’t necessarily seeing mainstream traction, but there was a decent enough following! enough to release an album at 22!

perfect timing, btw! desoxyn was starting to become too expensive for puppy to afford and trying to fake having such a severe form of adhd that desoxyn would be prescribed as opposed to something like ritalin or adderal when it’s literally illegal to prescribe in some countries now?? too hard :\ but the money from the album helped her and puppy!

*olaf vc* puppy died. *end vc*

she was there for it too. she thought it was just a freak-out, took a LITTLE too much, but not OVERDOSE worthy... then he l i t e r a l l y died. and it was a painful death!

“oh wow! maybe prescription meth isn’t super cool after all! shucks!” but that was also an opening?? to visit death herself?? like... she didn’t necessarily want to die (sort of), but she wanted... an answer to the question that had plagued her her entire life... so she was like “ok hope i die then someone revives me but if i die then :\ i guess i die!”

did not die. but also did not get a satisfying answer to her question. the only way it would’ve been truly satisfying? if she had been dead for longer than a minute - then it would’ve given a definite answer! because the answer she received was just nothingness which, while peaceful... is it true?

she tried to detox alone, what because rehab is a business, and it... only... sort of worked. she would be clean for a few weeks, then fall back in, then clean for a few weeks, then fall back in. whenever she wasn’t just naturally focused and awake, or whenever what she was focused on was the past, she would fall back in.

i mean, a side effect is memory loss, so win/win!

she made the semi-wise decision to move back to springhill. wisest would’ve been to just move to a town/city she had absolutely no memories in, but better than moving back to newark!

so... without much to show, and with an unreliable streak, she knew she wouldn’t be able to start looking for much of an occupation – but she still needed money! so she began working at don’t fret out of a love for music, then began working at the animal shelter after completing training.

the main training was, of course, for putting animals to sleep.

FULL CIRCLE.

ah yes. how she pretends it’s healthy... even tho there are studies and statistics relating suicide to veterinarians and shelter workers who euthanize animals... ah yes.

has been back for four months now. love that. do not know how to finish this.

TL ; DR:

born in newark. moved to springhill at 8. childhood trauma that she is still carrying causes fascination with death. “i love music.” moved to ny at 18 because realistic. childhood trauma also causes dependency on desoxyn. releases an ep and an album. does not become famous, but they both have decent traction. moves back after an overdose. relapses... often. now sells records and puts animals to sleep. miss american dream since she was 17, amirite?

PERSONALITY / MISCELLANEOUS INFO:

one person one week, a totally different person the next.

wants to please people, but also wants to be her own person? it’s a whole deal!

in spite of her slight icarian incident, she still hopes to maybe one day become a real musician and performer. until then, we selling records and saying ‘goodbye’ to sweet animals!

can truly flip like a switch in interactions! does love ruining things for herself! almost always feels bad after bc :\ damn :\ alright :\

i’m very bad at these sections i really hate that i always include them!

is still avoiding healthy coping mechanisms. love that for her.

favorite movie is, unironically, the bee movie. favorite horror movie is cats.

SO GOOD at memorizing random lines or trivia. could probably recite literally all of who’s afraid of virginia woolf? other than that?? her memory is so bad. hate drugs for that :\

she uses her hair to express herself! (that sounds really boring.) ...she uses her hair to express herself!

but no. seriously. wears the black shag weave the most, followed by the blue/yellow combo ( we stan the badlands aesthetic ). occasionally forays into other colors and styles when money permits, but it’s usually gonna be one of those two!!

was an envy on the coast stan in high school which makes an inappropriate amount of sense.

will go out and steal the dumbest shit when she’s drunk. has a history of stealing chickens.

once again: hate that i always include these!! feel free 2 j consult the personality parts in the quick facts!!

CONNECTION IDEAS:

ok we gonna list some general ones for right now! all are open to multiple people unless there’s an asterisk by it!

close friends –– moonie, teagan,

ride or die

childhood friends –– moonie,

bad influence ( mutual or her on them ) –– veronica ( mutual ),

good influence ( them on her ) –– presley, hayden, gabrielle,

exes ( can be from high school or something like that if based in springhill, can be from 20s in new york if based in new york )

fwb –– trent,

will they, won’t they –– presley,

someone who knew her music ( can be neutral, a fan of it, or hate it afhkjsl ) –– presley, moonie, teagan, indiana, 

will also possibly be sending in some wanted connections for things that are! more specific!

truly anything!! also up to brainstorm and/or look at yours if you have them!!

UPDATE: i have created a wc page so we luv that for me.

OK. like this or hmu if you’d like to plot!

[michelemoore]

Takhuk

February 6, 2020

Michele Moore Veldhoen 

TWO BISHOPS AND A RABBI MEET IN A PUB....

Rain was coming down in sheets, sluicing between the ancient stone buildings of old Rome. It was a warm May evening, about 6 p.m., we had just left our hotel in search of that evening’s meal, but the rain was soaking my sandals so we decided to wait it out and ducked into the nearest public house, an Irish pub.

I never thought I would spend time in an Irish pub or drink beer while visiting a land drenched in choice cheap wine but there I was, what could I do? When the server asked us what we would like, I looked over at the glasses of beer in front of the two men just one table away, pointed at the lighter of the two potions and said, “I’ll have a glass of that.”

The two men, both as sizable as the Throne of Saint Peter, caught my attention because they were clearly in deep conversation, bent over a small wooden table, head to head.

The server returned with our beer and at the same time, both men leaned back, stretching and adjusting their backs. “You made a good choice”, the blonde one said. The other had darker hair.

“Oh good,” I said. “This will be the first beer I’ve had in Rome.”

“You must be tourists,” he replied. “Where are you from?”

“Canada,” I said. “And you?”

“The States,” he replied.

“Have you been to Rome before?” I asked.

“Yes, many times.”

“Oh, what brings you here?”

“The Vatican. We’re members of the church.”

My first thought was, then what are you doing wearing jeans and hanging out in a bar, but what I actually said was, “Oh, how interesting, what do you do?”

“We’re both Bishops,” he said.

I laughed. I mean I really laughed. Out loud and with gusto. And then I took a drink of my beer, which was, by the way, really good beer.

“Let me show you,” the darker one said.  He leaned over and splayed his hand out before me. On one of his beefy fingers glared a boxy gold ring set with a cherry tomato sized gem. “Here is my ring, you see?”

I was wearing a long silver chain and medallion that oddly looked something like a Star of David. I leaned over and dangled it back and forth in front of him and said, “Sure, you’re a Bishop and I’m a Rabbi.”

It turns out I said that to an actual Bishop of the Roman Catholic Church, in an Irish pub just a short walk over the Tiber River along the Ponte Sant’Angelo to the palace where the Pope lives.

The black haired Bishop withdrew his hand and chuckled while the blonde Bishop displayed a similarly massive, gem studded ring on his finger and said something about how all Bishops wear such rings. I smiled and took another sip of beer.

“Michele,” my husband exclaimed. I looked at him, saw his eyes popping, “I don’t think they’re kidding.”

I took a closer look at the blonde Bishop. He looked back at me with an expression that suggested I should take him a little more seriously. His eyes were saying something like, you really don’t know much about ecclesiastical symbols do you, nor are you very good at sorting truth from fiction, and for the record the way you dangled your medallion is an affront to our Jewish brethren.

So I said, “You really are Bishops?”

“Yes,” the blonde one sighed, “we are.”

“May I ask why you’re dressed in secular clothing?”

“To avoid detection, of course.”

“He means harassment,” the other said.

“I mean at times we prefer to be anonymous, I’m sure you can understand. Especially in times like these.”

(I remember these aspects of the conversation well because I was rather astounded to find myself chatting with a couple of Bishops in an Irish pub in Rome.)

It was 2003, less than two years since 9/11 and the world was in the throes of the U.S./Iraq war. All around old Rome were signs of the heightened security the world had been living with since that awful day. There seemed to be guards everywhere. The Great Synagogue of Rome was off limits, surrounded by steel fencing and armed sentries. The banks too, were like fortresses, patrolled by guards and dozens of men in black suits and dark glasses. On some streets I felt I was on the movie set for Men in Black.

Despite the beer I was drinking, I settled into a more serious demeanor, silently marveling not at my audacity, but at my luck in stumbling into such an unusual and fascinating situation.

The Bishops explained that they were in Rome for an ad limina visit, which broadly speaking is a mandated (individual Bishops are supposed to make this pilgrimage every five years) annual gathering of Bishops at the Vatican during which, among other things, world events such as wars are discussed and Bishops can talk and receive feedback about the matters and challenges they are dealing with in their dioceses.

This was also the era of Pope John Paul II. Typically, I do not pay a lot of attention to religious organizations or their leaders, but I was aware of Pope John Paul II simply because of his long tenure and wild popularity. Who wasn’t captivated by his world travels in his Popemobile? Who was not thankful for his constant message of peace and diplomacy?  

The Pope’s message of peace, I learned, was adding fuel to the debate between the two beer swigging Bishops, because they were diametrically in opposition of one another. The black haired Bishop was from California and righteously opposed to the war. I don’t remember from which state the blonde Bishop sprang, but he believed the Americans’ aggression was justified and necessary.

And for some reason which perhaps someone more familiar with the ways of the Catholic clergy could explain, these two Bishops decided it would be useful to ask us our opinion. Since my husband was not a talker, I was left to answer their question:

“What do you think? Was the U.S. right to invade Iraq?”

Holy! I thought - was this my chance? Could I produce a brilliant comment so insightful, so wise, so persuasive, that these Vatican VIP’s would be transformed and then take my words back to the Pope who would also be transformed and who would then transport my words (in his Popemobile even!) far and wide and bring eternal peace to the world?

Unfortunately, nothing of the kind happened. I don’t remember the details, but I’m sure the words that issued from my mouth were about as wobbly and hard to fathom as an egg yolk.  Instead, we wrestled over root causes and how countries should respond to modern and grave security threats. I realized early in the discussion that the Bishops were making a genuine effort to understand each other’s point of view. I was impressed with the depth of their feelings, with how much they cared about the role of their country in the world’s problems.

They seemed to be using us as a sounding board for their arguments, but I felt quite inadequate for the task. I don’t think I had a clear idea of my own as to what the Americans should have or should not have done after 9/11. I do remember being utterly shocked that a Bishop would be in favour of war. I had naively assumed that no such senior member of a church (in this day and age) would ever promote war as a solution.  

Since then, I have learned a great deal more about the ways of the world. While the Bishops certainly gained my respect for the honest and earnest way in which they listened to each other and tried to come to terms with their country’s war, I am no longer dumbfounded when I hear people of any faith defending war, or behaving in a war like way, demonstrating  intolerance, hatred, and violence. People of faith are just people, after all, who collectively represent the entire spectrum of humanity, and are, sadly, being led more and more by politicians who condone and demonstrate their own brand of violence using language that is inflammatory, offensive, and mindless. And in this world, more than ever, language definitely matters.

Someone needs to come up with an internet virus that would attach to all that horrid, joy destroying language and convert it to words of peace and goodwill. A few examples I would pitch:  ‘Go down to the pub tonight and buy everyone a round’. And, ‘I’m sorry if I hurt you, peace, man, come on over and gimme a hug’. And, as the Bishops themselves might quote from their book, ‘Let all that you do be done in love’.

And maybe in the background the virus could run some nice soothing sounds and phrases like, ‘ooooommmm’, or ‘yummmm, these noodles are gooooddd’, or ‘let’s go for a walk in the woods and feed the birds’.  

Wishing you an equally enlightening opportunity in a pub that serves really good beer - just watch out for those rings. 

www.thetreeswallow.com

[lambroseforlife]

writing prompt: one shot of Lilly and Ambrose solving a murder where she figures out who the murderer is before he does

Wow, my apologies for how late this is. This prompt took some planning and research. Not to mention, I also had exams and applications to finish while being sick all at the same time. Anyway, here you go! This is a detective AU that takes place sometime around the mid-20th century (~1940s-50s). This is a pretty LONG read compared to my previous works so I decided to split this prompt into two parts.

Many people seem to be pissed with the ending of HfS so feel free to read this as a pick-me-up for your mood. This oneshot isn’t too terrible, I promise.

— — —

Riiiiiiiing. Riiiiiiiing.

“Hello, this is Empire Investigations. How may we be of service? ….Yes …Yes ….Of course. Why definitely, right away.” Click.

Knock. Knock. 

“Mr Ambrose?”

“What is it, Miss Linton?”

“It’s a call from the police station. They said a new civilian case came in. One that they want our help for.”

“We are currently busy. Did you complete the report for the last case?”

“Yes I did, sir. They said that this new case involved a murder.”

Silence.

“They also said that the client would be willing to pay double for any third-party investigators involved. Provided that the culprit is found.”

The sound of footsteps echoed throughout the cramped office and a moment later, a door opened.

“Well, what are you waiting for, Miss Linton? Let’s go! We have no time to waste.”

— — —

New Scotland Yard was in a state that could best be described as utter clamour. Once the two detectives were granted access inside the North building, they were met with an all too familiar sight for a typical evening at the compound. Phones rang persistently, multiple conversations overlapped over one another and uniformed officers bustled throughout the vicinity.

“Mr Ambrose, Miss Linton.” The front desk receptionist greeted, her auburn curls bouncing as she nodded to them both. “Inspector Dalgliesh has been expecting you both. He’s waiting in his office.”

They proceeded several floors above to the directed location and stood outside the glass-panelled door. Miss Linton paused, about to knock before entering when her boss opened the door and marched in without preamble. She blinked before following.

“Ah, welcome. I trust that my message was delivered then?” The blond, uniformed officer looked up from the pile of papers on his desk at them both, steel-blue eyes twinkling in amusement.

“Effectively.” Mr Ambrose glanced pointedly at the young woman standing next to him.

The Inspector’s eyes followed his and a radiant smile appeared. “Miss Linton! How lovely it is to see you again.”

“Cut the pleasantries, Dalgliesh.” Mr Ambrose all but growled. “What case is so difficult that you had to resort to hiring outside detectives with persuasion of monetary incentives?”

“Incentives that seemed to work nonetheless. And that’s Inspector Dalgliesh to you, my old friend.” All amusement vanished and his tone instantly took on a serious edge.

“No less than a few hours ago, close to seven o’clock, a Mrs Caroline Fitzgerald was found dead in room forty-five on the third floor of a hotel called The Sleeping Siren. Her husband had received a note to meet her there and when he did, he discovered her bloody corpse sprawled across the bed.”

Reaching into a file laid out in front of him, he pulled out some papers and set it down on the edge of the table for them. Upon closer inspection, Miss Linton realised that they were photographs. They were of grainy and somewhat faded quality but surprisingly they were in colour, unlike typical black-and-white ones. Taken from various angles, they clearly showed a young woman lying on a patterned bedspread. Her doe-shaped eyes were bugged out and delicate mouth ajar, a telltale sign that her last moments were spent in horrified shock. Her pointed chin and angular jaw were marred with angry red blisters, the same shade as her rouge-painted lips— but it was her slender neck that was grotesquely disfigured. The remaining skin at her throat was mottled purple, bloodied and torn, ripped apart as if it were frantically clawed at. As a result, bone and tissue underneath was also exposed, revealed for all to see.

In response, Miss Linton’s gaze automatically trailed down to the corpse’s hands which, sure enough, were clad in leather gloves that appeared to be coated with blood at the fingertips. Speckles of blood were on the victim’s tailored white princess-cut coat that looked rather expensive. Black tweed pants peeked out from under the hem and trailed down to meet a pair of shiny, suede flats.

Miss Linton snuck a sidewards glance at her employer who was still studying the pictures, his blank expression betraying no emotion. She looked up to the see the Inspector staring at them both, his hawk-like gaze intense.

“Naturally, he reacted as any other devoted husband would. Or so from what the hotel staff informed us. He bolted from the room, yelling for help. A staff member heard and upon seeing Mrs Fitzgerald’s body, immediately had someone call us. It caused quite the ruckus and in addition, Mr Fitzgerald’s gardener, Edgar Stone, was also discovered to be present near the scene. From what we have been able to find out so far, he was also inside the hotel for an unknown reason. He is currently being detained there for questioning.”

He paused and Miss Linton jumped in. “If the police is already involved, then why were we also called here too?”

He met her gaze levelly. “I was getting to that, Miss Linton. Mr Fitzgerald is convinced that his gardener was involved some way in all of this. Adamantly insists that he is the culprit, actually. But that doesn’t eliminate him as a suspect either. Nonetheless, Mr Fitzgerald is quite the wealthy man and demanded for additional investigators to be assigned to the case. Promised that he would compensate warmly for the effort given that the true culprit is proven guilty.”

He looked down as he began to rearrange his papers. Folding his hands together, he returned his attention to the two individuals in front of him.  “And that’s where you both come in. Your agency has a singular reputation with its track record and experience in solving cases.” His gaze lingered on the tall man, steel blue eyes drilling into sea-coloured ones. “Your presence here confirms that you have chosen to accept the case, but I need verbal agreement as well. Are you two up for this?”

“Yes.” Mr Ambrose and Miss Linton firmly stated at the same time.

“Good. Then let’s go to the crime scene.”

— — —

Despite Miss Linton’s prior experiences on dealing with a few murder cases, the goosebumps that settled in her skin upon registering the smell of death was an instinctual reaction that somehow still refused to diminish with time.

Room forty-five of The Sleeping Siren was left in a state of shambles. It appeared that the place had been torn asunder, as if a miniature storm had paid a visit. A few framed paintings were thrown about on the dusty hotel carpet, joined by clusters of glass shards from what formerly appeared to be a vase— evidenced by the paraffin-coated wax comprising the scattered bouquet of fake flowers.

A plastic sheet covered the former Mrs Caroline Fitzgerald while uniformed members of the forensic investigative team flitted about the room, each dedicated to their own assigned tasks. Miss Linton stepped forward, about to lift the covering over the corpse when one of the officers spoke up.

“Miss, we request that you refrain from touching anything at the moment. We are still gathering evidence and need minimal contact as possible.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” She looked around to see that the other members were all wearing rubber gloves. She noticed that some appeared to be collecting samples while others were dusting a powdered substance over different surfaces.

“That’s for finding fingerprints, right?” Miss Linton asked Mr Ambrose, indicating with her chin.

“Yes.” He answered. He turned to Inspector Dalgliesh, who was next to him. “There’s no point in standing around here waiting for them to finish.Take us to the key witnesses.”

“Valid point.” He led them out of the room. “With whom do you wish to speak to first?”

Ten minutes later, Miss Linton and Mr Ambrose were seated in the staff break room located on the ground floor— used as a makeshift interrogation room for the time being. In front of them sat a small, balding man with a round face. Miss Linton suspected that he was the type to usually maintain a cheerful disposition save for the current occasion. He was quivering as he blew his nose loudly into a crumpled handkerchief.

“W-What may I do for you?” His big eyes shone with tears.

“I am Mr Ambrose and this is Miss Linton. A ‘Morton Fitzgerald ’ requested for additional investigators to be assigned to the case regarding the death of Caroline Fitzgerald. I’m guessing that is you?” Mr Ambrose’s eyes bored into the smaller man sitting across the wobbly wooden table.

“Y-Yes?” Mr Fitzgerald’s eyes began to shine with fear as they darted back and forth between the two people facing him.

Miss Linton decided to interject, clearing her throat. “Mr Fitzgerald, we are the extra investigators that you asked for. We just wanted to ask you a few questions. I know that a lot has happened here tonight and we are as intent as you seem to be on finding your wife’s killer. Why don’t you tell us about what happened here tonight from your perspective?”

He seemed to relax slightly at Miss Linton’s gentle tone. Sighing, he clasped his hands together. “Well, this afternoon when I was on my lunch break, I was surprised to see that Caroline had left a note for me in my lunchbox asking me to meet her here after work.”

“Do you still have the note?” Mr Ambrose interrupted him.

The short man looked at him warily. “I did but the officers took it with them when they questioned me earlier.”

“Very well then. Continue.”

“To be more specific, the note had told me to meet her in this hotel in room forty-five at seven pm with no other explanation given. I was surprised that she wanted to meet outside in some random, cheap hotel given her recent state.”

“Her recent state? What do you mean by that?” Miss Linton asked him.

“Since last week, she had caught a cold. Her health has always been rather delicate and from the winter air, she’s had a recurring fever.”

“Was she behaving strangely prior to today? Any odd behaviours?” She pressed.

“None that I could think of.” His lips turned downwards.

Miss Linton was busy writing down her notes when she thought of another question. “This is more of a personal question but what was your marriage with your wife like?”

“An amazing one. We met two years ago and I was immediately smitten from the first time I saw her. I proposed marriage to her a few weeks later on a whim expecting rejection. Imagine my surprise when she accepted it. I’ve been a lucky man to marry the woman of my dreams only to see her taken away from me today.” Tears slid out of his closed eyes.

“We’ve sidetracked from the main question.” Mr Ambrose deadpanned, side-eyeing Miss Linton. “What happened after you saw the note?”

“I put it in my trouser pocket and went back to work as usual. When work finished at six, I went home to drop off my things and sure enough, Caroline was not there. I found a cabbie that knew where this hotel was since I had never heard of it. The driver dropped me off in front of the entrance and I headed inside. I asked the receptionist for directions and then took the lift to the third level. I found room forty-five immediately and knocked on the door. There was no response so I knocked again and called out Caroline’s name. Still no response. I checked my watch to make sure I was on time and it was seven o’clock on the dot. So then I decided to open the door only to witness the worst sight of my life. My beloved wife lying dead on the hotel bed.”

He blew his nose again as he sobbed. After a minute he calmed down enough to speak again.

“Naturally after I had registered what happened, I ran from the room yelling for help. A cleaning maid nearby heard me and when she entered the room, she ran out immediately and called the receptionist. He came up shortly, saw Caroline, and called the manager to dial the police.”

The two detectives listened with apt diligence, multitasking as they continued to jot down notes. Miss Linton decided to press for more details.

“Apparently your gardener, Mr Edgar Stone, was found here too? What can you tell me about that?”

Mr Fitzgerald’s face instantly morphed into one of anger when he heard the name.

“That—! That no-good, lowdown scum! I’m telling you, he’s behind it all! He must have murdered my Caroline! Who else could it have been?”

“Did you see it happen?” Mr Ambrose asked him.

“What?”

“Your claim that your gardener murdered your wife. Did you see it happen?”

“Well no, but—”

“Then how can you say that without definite proof?”

Bold red splotches appeared on Mr Fitzgerald’s already ruddy cheeks. “Now see here, Mr Ambrose. It’s under my demand that you’re even here in the first place. Without my say, you won’t even get the money that I’m offering if you can’t find the murderer.”

Mr Ambrose opened his mouth to retort when his employee jumped in.

“We are grateful for your graciousness, Mr Fitzgerald. We really are.” Miss Linton threw a warning glare at the man sitting next to her. “That reminds me of another question I had. Considering your eager willingness to give a generous reward, I’m assuming that you have a well-paying job. Where do you work?”

“Not as well-paying as I would like, Miss Linton.” He sighed dismissively. “I merely work as a salesman for an insurance company. However, I’m lucky that I’m an only child. My father was a wealthy man and when he passed away, most of his assets went directly to me, including his estate.”

“I see.” Miss Linton scribbled more notes. “That will be all the questions from my end. Do you have any more for Mr Fitzgerald, Mr Ambrose?”

Silence.

“Alright, then that concludes our time together. Thank you for your cooperation, Mr Fitzgerald. I assure you we will do our best to find the culprit.”

— — —

“Let’s go back to the crime scene. The forensics team should be almost done about now.”

True enough to Mr Ambrose’s words, they were. They appeared to be gathering bags to collect items.

“Wait,” he told them. “Miss Linton and I wish to investigate the room.”

“But we’re almost done,” a man Miss Linton assumed as the leader of the team protested. “We can’t afford any delays in analysis.”

Mr Ambrose gave him a look.

“Well on second thought, I suppose that it would help to have more pairs of investigative eyes.”

Mr Ambrose ignored him. “We need gloves.”

Someone from the team complied and handed a pair to both Mr Ambrose and Miss Linton.

Mr Ambrose marched over to the body and promptly lifted the covering. “Now Miss Linton, what can you tell me when you look at Mrs Caroline Fitzgerald?”

She stepped closer and stood next to him. “Hmmm…compared to the pictures that the Inspector showed us, the number of blisters on her jawline have increased and some of the skin tissue has undergone degradation. In addition, the region on her neck seems to be more decayed. More of her windpipe appears to be visible with some of the bone corroded.”

“What else can you tell me?”

“Her posture appears to be slightly more stiff so I would guess that rigor mortis has begun to set in. Mr Fitzgerald told us that he was here at seven pm so I’m estimating she died shortly before his arrival.”

“And what more?”

“Hmmm…wait! What’s this?” Something peeked out of one of the alabaster coat’s pockets. Miss Linton reached forward and slowly pulled out a patterned scarf. As she did so, something else tumbled out onto the bed.

“A silk scarf and a pair of sunglasses. Interesting.”

“Maybe for the cold weather?”

“Perhaps. Does anything else stand out to you?”

She shook her head and frowned. “Am I missing something?”

“Look at her hands.”

“But they’re covered by bloodied leather glov— oh!”

She looked at him and he nodded while glancing pointedly at his own rubber glove-clad hands. Why had Mrs Fitzgerald not taken off her gloves when she was inside the room? At first glance, it would have seemed she left them on since she was sick but Miss Linton thought it was still strange. She suspected there was something more. Something that probably had to do with why Mrs Fitzgerald had come to the hotel in the first place….

“We’ve looked at the body for long enough.” Mr Ambrose’s voice snapped Miss Linton out of her thoughts. “Time to inspect the rest of the room.”

He carefully placed the covering over the body and stepped back. As he did, a small table next to the bed came into view and Miss Linton saw something that caught her eye.

“Why is there a glass here? Is this supposed to be wine?” She picked up the clear flute filled with golden liquid, inspecting it.

Mr Ambrose bent over and picked up something on the ground by the table. “I believe so. Sauvignon Blanc, going by what this bottle says.”

Miss Linton leaned closer, sniffing the flute and immediately recoiled.

“What the—? Is white wine supposed to smell this strong? It’s overpowering like perfume!”

He also leaned over and cautiously took a whiff. “How unusual. This bottle is empty so there’s nothing to compare the glass to. The rest of the wine must have spilt on the ground when the bottle fell. But to answer your question, Miss Linton, wine doesn’t typically smell this…overbearing. This wine also appears to be a few shades darker than your usual glass of Sauvignon Blanc.”

“I see. I didn’t realise you’re a wine connoisseur.” She set the glass back on the table.

“I am not. Watch your step, there’s broken glass.” Mr Ambrose instructed as they stepped around the mess next to the bed.

“Hmm, I wonder why these paintings were knocked over from the wall. Wait, what are these markings?”

They both bent down to take a closer look at the faint dark-tinted smears on the backside from one of the frames.

“That appears to be some kind of dried-up liquid. One might even assume that it bears an uncanny resemblance to dried blood.”

They exchanged a long, significant look.

Standing up, Miss Linton also noticed more smears on the other paintings as well as on a few shards of the broken vase. The pair headed into the bathroom and spotted various items lined on the sink’s edge along with a black purse resting on the closed toilet lid.

“Are these supposed to be the victim’s belongings?” Miss Linton called back to the forensics team.

“We believe so, Miss. All of the items currently lined along the sink were found in the purse which originally was set on the sink’s side. One of the items is an identification card that matches the victim’s name and most likely her current address.”

Miss Linton picked up the small blue booklet labelled “Identity Card” and flipped it open. Sure enough, the name written was “Caroline Elaine Sambridge Fitzgerald”. She set the booklet back down and glanced at the other items. Wallet, coin purse, makeup, various keys including the one for the hotel room and…

Two identical bottles of perfume?

Miss Linton’s gaze automatically focused on the bottles laying side by side. The amber colour of each was the same shade but one bottle was half empty while the other appeared to be nearly full. She began to unscrew the pump sprayer of the half-filled bottle.

“What are you doing, Miss Linton?”

“Inspecting the perfume bottles.” She brought the bottle to her nose and warily sniffed it, then held it out towards her employer so that he could do the same. “Oddly, this scent reminds me of the wine.”

She twisted the sprayer back on and recapped the bottle. She carefully unscrewed the other bottle that was nearly filled. As she began to bring it to her nose, she paused abruptly.

“Bloody hell!” She held the bottle out towards Mr Ambrose and he slightly stiffened. She began to quickly screw the sprayer back on. “This bottle reeks! Nothing like perfume whatsoever. Smells more like cleaning product.”

She took out her notebook and ripped out a blank sheet of paper. She then ripped the sheet into two halves and wrote “almost full” on one and “half full” on the other. She set them down on the edge of the sink and then carefully sprayed each perfume bottle once onto its respectively labelled scrap of paper.

“I want to test if they’re different substances,” she explained to the man observing silently next to her. “There’s a chance that they might look different on papers once they dry. We do have to wait though so we should double-check the rest of the room in the meantime.”

They left the bathroom and searched the hotel room one more time, making sure that they did not miss anything. Upon finding that they had not, they returned back to the bathroom and Miss Linton gasped.

“I knew it!” She stared down at the two pieces of paper. “I knew they were different substances.”

The evidence lay in front of her, as clear as a crystal. One piece of paper had not changed colour while the other was covered with black splotches.

— — —

“Let’s split up.”

“Split up?”

“As my apprentice, you need more practice on your own. So for the remaining witnesses, we’re going to take turns speaking to them. Afterwards, we will compare information. Consider this a test for your skills.”

“Alright, sir. So how do we proceed?”

“I will question Edgar Stone, the gardener. You’ll speak to the hotel receptionist and the maid. Then afterwards, we will switch.”

Ten minutes later, Miss Linton was seated back in the staff break room. In front of her sat a man, a pair of spectacles resting on his sallow-face. His displeased gaze and crossed arms gave her the feeling that their conversation would not be as smooth as she desired.

“Mr Hieronymus Pearson, my name is Miss Linton and—”

“Save the introductions and pleasantries, Miss Linton. You know who I am and I certainly know who you are.” The corner of his mouth curled into a sneer. “You’re here to ask me questions about what happened here tonight, aren’t you? You should speak to the manager instead. I’m innocent and you’ll get no useful answers to help your case from me.”

“I will determine that.” Her expression remained unchanged but her tone lost some of its lightness. “Let’s begin now. What were you doing when—”

“When the murder took place? I was attending to the other guests as a receptionist should.”

“Where were you—”

“At the front desk. Where else would I be? Ask more sensible—”

“Mister Pearson.” Miss Linton’s voice cut through his, her tone sharp. “I’m the one asking questions here so I would appreciate it if you allow me to finish them.”

“Why should I?” He shot back. “For the past few hours, I’ve been asked these repetitive, inconsequential questions, over and over again by others. And I’ve already answered them countless times. This is pointless.”

“Fine.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Let me ask you this, Mr Pearson. What duties does the job of a receptionist entail?”

“Pardon me?”

“You are pardoned. Now answer the question.”

“As a receptionist, my job is to make sure that the guests are checked in and out. Along with that, I am tasked with making sure that their stay here is the best it can be. For the past five years, I have been doing exactly that until the mess that has happened tonight.”

“That’s all?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Frankly, I’m disappointed in you, Mr Pearson. As a receptionist, you are much more than the two sentences you used to describe your job. For the past half decade as you put it, you are essentially the face of this establishment. You are the first and last person people see when they are here. Now tell me, in refusing to cooperate with the authorities and law enforcement for something that your higher ups would view as part of your responsibility, how would it look like to them?”

“I…”

“Would they reward you with that raise you’ve been hoping for? Probably not, huh? More like with a permanent vacation, most likely.” She raised an eyebrow

He remained silent, looking at her as one would at a ghost: pallid and bug-eyed.

She sighed. “Look, I know it hasn’t been an easy night for you. But trust me, the same applies for me as well. I don’t want to waste your time so if you give me your cooperation, I will give you mine. Why don’t you tell me what happened from your perspective? If anything is unclear, then I will ask some questions afterwards. Does that work?”

Mr Pearson stared at her for several moments. Finally, he spoke softly. “That arrangement sounds much better, Miss Linton.”

He uncrossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap. “Around six thirty this evening, I did see Mrs Caroline Fitzgerald enter our hotel. But at the time, I didn’t know it was her. It wasn’t until after her body was discovered later that I found out who she was. Anyway when she walked in, most of her face was covered with a scarf and a pair of sunglasses. I found it odd to see that she kept walking past the lobby and into the elevator without removing them. However at the same time, another guest was talking to me about a problem with their room so I could not call out to her without seeming rude.”

Mr Pearson took a breath as he continued. “Five minutes later, I received a phone call from room forty-five to have a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc along with one glass delivered and left outside the room’s door. The guest’s voice was definitely female. Nonetheless, I placed the order to room service and from what the staff informed me right after the police arrived here, the wine bottle and glass seemed to be brought into the room shortly after they were delivered.”

He paused when he noticed Miss Linton scribbling furiously into her notepad. 

“Continue,” she urged. “I can listen while I write.”

“Close to seven pm, I saw who I’m guessing was her husband, Mr Fitzgerald. A short, balding young man? He walked up to the front desk and asked me where room forty-five was. I gave him directions and pointed him to the elevator. Shortly after, I receive a phone call from the third floor from Daphne, one of our maids, that there was a dead body in room forty-five. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing so I went to go see for myself. The husband was sobbing in the hallway as I entered the room. When I spotted the body on the bed, I recognised her as the lady I saw entering earlier because of her long white coat. I informed our manager right after and he immediately called the police.”

He exhaled. “Before the police arrived, I saw someone else enter the hotel. He was the man who had actually booked room forty-five a few days ago for today. The reservation was made under the name Edgar Stone but I’m not sure if that’s his real name. I also don’t exactly know what his connection was to the couple but when I informed him that there was a dead body in his room and that the police was arriving, he stared at me in shock. When he asked who it was and I told him it was a young lady, he tried to run towards the elevator but had to be held back by some of the staff. When the police arrived and Mr Fitzgerald was told to go wait in the lobby, he saw Mr Stone and a fight ensued. They were both yelling at each other, trying to land physical blows, and had to be restrained by the officers. It was only when they were told that they would be arrested if they didn’t stop that they finally calmed down. Afterwards, I was taken into the spare rooms for questioning by the officers multiple times along with the rest of the staff and have been here for hours. That’s all from my perspective, Miss Linton.”

She nodded slowly. “I do have one question, Mr Pearson. When Mr Stone made the reservation, you gave him the key to the room, right? How many copies did you give him?”

He looked surprised. “I only gave him one, of course. He said the reservation was just for one person which I assumed to be him.”

“Alright, thank you for your time and cooperation, Mr Pearson. That will be all from me.”

“Very well. Thank you for making the process easier, Miss Linton.” He stood up and walked out.

After a minute of reviewing her notes, she called to the officer waiting outside the break room. “You can let the next person in, I’m ready.”

Soft footsteps shuffled into the room and Miss Linton looked up to see a young woman sit down across from her timidly. She appeared to be no older than eighteen, nervously looking at the brunette detective in anticipation.

“Miss Daphne Belleville, correct?” The young lady nodded apprehensively and she continued. “I’m Miss Lillian Linton and I have been assigned to investigate the murder of Mrs Caroline Fitzgerald. I have a couple of questions for you since you were present shortly after her body was discovered. Shall we proceed?”

Miss Belleville nodded again.

“From my understanding, you work as part of the cleaning staff for this hotel?”

“Yes,” she spoke shyly. “I’m a maid here. I was hired in January.”

“Close to a year then. Why don’t you inform me of what happened to you earlier tonight?”

“I was cleaning some of the rooms on the third floor. When I was changing the bedsheets in one of the empty rooms, I heard a shout for help. I followed the voice to see a man sobbing in the hallway. He told me that he opened a room door and saw his wife lying dead on the bed. I tried to calm him down as best as I could to no avail. He told me the room number when I asked him. I went to the room myself and nearly fainted when I saw the dead lady. I ran out into the hallway to the staff phone and called our hotel receptionist, Mr Pearson. He came up immediately and phoned our manager to call the police. In the meantime, I stayed with the husband to make sure he didn’t do anything reckless. When the police arrived, they gathered the entire staff and questioned us individually. We’ve been here for hours and I’ve had to phone my mum to let her know what happened.” Her shoulders slumped and Miss Linton could see the young lady’s exhaustion from the dark circles under her eyes.

“I see. Is that all?”

“I believe so, I don’t think there’s anythi— Oh! I just remembered something!” Her expression livened as she stared at Miss Linton.

“Yes?”

“Around ten to fifteen minutes before the man called for help, I could have sworn that I heard a scream. It was so quick though so I’m not sure if I imagined it.”

“Did the scream sound like it came from a male or female?”

“Female…I think? I don’t exactly know.”

“Alright. Is that everything you can recall then?”

“Yes. If I remember anything else, I will let you know, Miss Linton.”

“Alright, Miss Belleville. Those are all the questions I have. We’ll do our best to solve this as quickly as possible so you and the rest of the staff can return to your homes sooner.”

“Thank you, Miss Linton.” She gave the detective a small smile as she stood up and made her way out.

Once Miss Linton was alone in the break room, she sighed deeply as she rubbed her temples.

One more person to go, she thought while staring at her notes. Edgar Stone. He’s the final key to all of this. I’m sure I’ll know who the killer is once I speak to him.

— — —

END PART 1

How is it so far? I hope you’re enjoying reading this prompt. Any possible ideas on who the culprit could be?

[greekstreetart-talks]

For the first time since we started interviews we talk to another blogger and not even a Greek one. A different kind of interview with the super-communicative Ivana who comes from Italy to explore among other European cities the urban culture of Athens. This month we discuss with her about her trips.

When did you come to Athens for the first time to explore the local culture and what led you to this decision? Is there a reputation of Athens abroad in relation to graffiti? My first small “urban art” trip in Athens had been in September 2017 and I chose this destination mainly because I received an invitation by a gallerist. I’d visited the city some years before, during an archeological tour of Greece, so I already had the chance to walk around as a tourist and to appreciate the beauty and the architecture of Athens, as well as a bit of street art. This second trip was mainly an overlook of the local street art and graffiti scene. It was interesting but very confusing at the same time. In Italy we know just a few names of Greek artists and crews so I couldn’t expect such a huge amount of writers and artists and so many different styles in the street, as well as I didn’t know that is a city full of contrasts and so much chaos. As a graffiti and urban art blogger and as a traveller, I immediately felt in love with Athens and people, so friendly and nice that right after I felt the need to go back to investigate and explore more and more, as much as possible. Nine months later I finally took the decision to move there.

Which were the first impressions from Athens and the people here? Since I’m from Rome I wasn’t surprised at all by traffic jams, noises and big distances, but I clearly remember that I was shocked by the amount of tags and graffiti in the streets, literally everywhere. I don’t think that you can find something like this, anywhere else in Europe. I felt like I was addicted by urban art and I used to walk for hours and hours taking photos, especially in Exarchia, Psirri and Metaxourgio, as I also used to spend some time watching graffiti on passing trains in Thissio. This crazy mix of street life, underground culture, decadence, chaos, creativity, freedom of expression and amazing graffiti styles was very exciting for me, and that was exactly what I was looking for in my previous trips. During that holiday, amongst one million graffiti pieces around the city, I was mainly impressed by the crews 420, NR4T, 381, Nda, Ofk and by some big old pieces by Amigos and Lifo. 

Urban landscape, lives in the city. For some people living in the city is very stressful, while for some others it is liberating as the choices are quite many indeed. However, people seem to feel more and more lonely and get more and more isolated. What is your point of view on the way of living in major urban centers? When I moved to Athens I had the chance to fully enjoy the city for some months, I used to feel part of a big and well-connected community and a big cultural scene. I was enjoying hanging around and having fun with friends in parties, free events, underground life, graffiti actions, abandoned places’ explorations. Moreover I love how easy was to get in contact, meet and know artists and people in streets and cafè, especially in summertime. From the very first time this reminded me the typical lifestyle of an Italian city that I love, Palermo (Sicily). Unfortunately, living somewhere for a long time could be also a bit disappointing at some point. It took me months, or better, years to discover that beneath this artistic and social outward appearance there was a hidden reality full of all kind of problems, from isolation and loneliness to stress, unreliability and a general unstable mood and disorganisation. I could never say that the main reason is crisis, as the media would probably assert, but that’s for sure a dark side of the city that you can’t ignore or avoid. 

What effects do you think the Arts have in our everyday life? Is Art in public space a natural aftermath? After two years living as a local in Athens I have to admit that I am used to the endless bombing of art (legal or illegal), vandalism in the street, and I like it. Apart from graffiti writing, I have the feeling that the “street art bubble”, or better, this current public art trend, which includes street art festivals and the business of “open-air street art museums” and street art tours, is about to explode. Honestly, I can’t wait for it. 

What I mean is that both in Athens and in other European countries, there are good quality and well-organized events, but the majority are public initiatives of decoration as a form of urban “revitalization”, as if a mural could substitute for a retraining of an area. Most of these events “are just lark-mirrors and cunning and cheap solutions to limit underground scene and to hide or make inhabitants forget lack of interest and projects that could improve quality of life, in any possible way.

Moreover, nowadays a big street artist’s name or a big colourful mural are considered more important than quality and contents, and every day, everywhere, we have new improvised experts, curators, artists and even “Instagram posers”. Needless to say that this trend is not only used for political purposes but is also often connected with ignorance (just think of tourists and locals taking selfies in front of street art painted by artists who are not even known or mentioned), gentrifications and anti-graffiti campaigns. 

As in every field, we should never forget where the whole street art movement comes from; if it weren’t for “vandalic” graffiti writing we’d never have the so called “urban art”, and would hypocrisy to deny it.

Creator and author of the blog “Urban Lives”. In which order did this happen? Did the book come first and then the blog followed or was it the other way round? What need meant to be covered by a project like that? My blog Urban Lives is online since 2016, while my book “Urban Lives - Discovering street art in Italy” had been published 2 years ago. The book can be considered as an in-depth essay, in fact only half of it includes articles from the blog. Because of this book and for many other reasons, as you also mentioned, I prefer to define Urban Lives an independent project (no sponsorships or business involved), because the term “blog” is quite reductive. Articles on street art and graffiti (Italian/English), travel reports, opinions, interviews with artists, photos of actions on Instagram are just a part of my activities. In these intense 4 years, I’ve also organized art residencies (such as the one in Rome with my friend and Greek artist Iakovos Volkov), travels and independent projects with artists, curator of walls/murals, graffiti jams and I’ve attended talks and conferences on street art in museums, universities and events all over Italy. 

In short, Urban Lives is a big part of my life, it’s a diary, a passion, a lot of job of sacrifices, many trips, meetings with people, articles and stories, networking, new international friends, incredible situations and, here and there, even some dreams that came true. I even started to paint graffiti one year ago… but that’s another story!

You are actually writing stories about different cities, (Athens is one of them too) in which you have travelled and that are all somehow related to graffiti. Tell us a few things about the graffiti culture and the way you are perceiving it and experiencing it. Although I’ve been reading and travelling a lot, I can’t say that I have a good or even decent knowledge about graffiti in Europe and believe me, I am not modest, just objective. My school is mainly the street, that’s why I know a lot of things about Greek graffiti writing and I personally met many graffiti writers, including some old school train bombers and some very active ones. But it takes a lot of time to go deep and to understand a world that is so big, underground and complicated. What I’ve learned is that graffiti culture is another reality, with other rules, attitudes, needs and feelings. I needed a full immersion in this life and to personally experience actions, adrenaline, dangers and even tagging and painting to feel it. To be a writer can totally affects your life, either in a good or in a very bad way, and your perception of space and time. 

Don’t you think that Art in the public space can become very intrusive, even annoying for some people? In my opinion, public art should be somehow connected with the environment, the urban landscape or the social community. But, to be honest, in the last years I am not that interested in public art, I am mainly focused on illegal street art (or street art for social causes) and, most of all, on graffiti writing. As we know, graffiti have to be intrusive, sometimes annoying, either in the street or on trains and metro. That’s part of the graffiti philosophy; it’s a challenge to be visible, it’s a challenge to be everywhere.

I guess we all have heard at some point that Athens is the new Berlin or that Athens is the European metropolis of Graffiti. Is this true ,in your opinion? Since you are travelling a lot and to different destinations each time.. In the last 3 years I’ve been several times in Berlin, spending a lot of time with local artists and graffiti writers, included 1up crew and Berlin Kidz. Both cities have a great graffiti scene and an important graffiti history, as well as a great subculture. Although some similarities are undeniable I wonder why everybody say that Athens is the new Berlin, as it could be its possible future evolution. At first, 3 years ago, I was also fallin in this “trap”. The paradox is that Athens is way behind Berlin and many other European cities, so I think it would be more correct to say that it’s just similar to the old Berlin, but probably with a stronger patriotic attitude and much more vandalism. No surprise that we have so many German writers coming to Athens nowadays, bombing everywhere. Of course, that doesn’t mean that Athens is not picking up, actually I think that the current effort of the city is impressive. But still, the cultural rebirth of the city is important but it’s not the main priority. 

You are now living quite a long time here in Athens. Do you feel strongly connected to this city and its people and why? Definitely yes, here I feel home. I can’t imagine my life without Athens and its aesthetic, good vibes, good people. I’ve been living a lot of adventures, happy moments and amazing discoveries and I feel lucky and grateful for this big change in my life and for the whole experience, something that I’ll never forget. I am quite happy for the moment but I think that, as a thrilling chapter in the book of my life, this Greek experience might come to an end, maybe soon, maybe for a while. 

In 10 years time? I hope that in 10 years I still will be a traveller and a reporter and a positive and energetic person full of curiosity, passion and interests. Of course I also hope that, somehow, I’ll be connected with the underground culture. Who knows, maybe one day I will quit writing on graffiti and I will be a proper graffiti writer ihihih... Life is unpredictable (especially mine), we will see!

Thank you very much for this interview, it’s been a great pleasure for me!

Artworks by: Aner, Chius, Barba Dee, Perk Up, Friend, c0in, Conjoined movement, RTMone, Chus, Kasp (OFK), Mota, MrFijodor, Sora, Pyc, Skirl, Wild Drawing, Weed, 1UP

Follow Urban Lives Blog \ Instagram \ Fb Page \ Twitter

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Για πρώτη φορά, από την στιγμή που ξεκινήσαμε τις συνεντεύξεις μιλάμε με μία άλλη blogger και μάλιστα όχι Eλληνίδα. Μία διαφορετική συνέντευξη με την σούπερ επικοινωνιακή Ivana η οποία έρχεται από την Ιταλία για να εξερευνήσει μεταξύ άλλων ευρωπαϊκών πόλεων και την αστική κουλτούρα της Αθήνας. Αυτό τον μήνα μιλάμε μαζί της για τις διαδρομές της.

Πότε ήρθες πρώτη φορά στην Αθήνα για να εξερευνήσεις την αστική κουλτούρα και τι σε οδήγησε σε αυτή την απόφαση; Υπάρχει κάποια φήμη για την Αθήνα στο εξωτερικό σε σχέση με το γκράφιτι; Το πρώτο μου μικρό ταξίδι «αστικής τέχνης» στην Αθήνα ήταν τον Σεπτέμβριο 2017 και διάλεξα αυτόν τον προορισμό κυρίως επειδή έλαβα πρόσκληση από έναν γκαλερίστα. Είχα επισκεφτεί την πόλη πριν κάτι χρόνια, κατά τη διάρκεια μιας αρχαιολογικής εκδρομής στην Ελλάδα, οπότε μου είχε δοθεί ήδη η ευκαιρία να τριγυρίσω σαν τουρίστας και να εκτιμήσω την ομορφιά και την αρχιτεκτονική της Αθήνας, όπως επίσης και μέρος της τέχνης του δρόμου. Αυτό το δεύτερο ταξίδι ήταν κυρίως μια παρατήρηση της τοπικής τέχνης του δρόμου και της γκράφιτι σκηνής. Ήταν ενδιαφέρον αλλά συνάμα δημιουργούσε σύγχυση. Στην Ιταλία ξέρουμε μόνο μερικά ονόματα ελλήνων καλλιτεχνών και ομάδων, οπότε δε περίμενα τόσο μεγάλο ποσό από writers και καλλιτέχνες και τόσα διαφορετικά στυλ στους δρόμος, όπως επίσης δεν ήξερα ότι ήταν μία πόλη γεμάτη αντιθέσεις και τόσο πολύ χάος. Ως μία blogger αστικής τέχνης και γκράφιτι όπως επίσης και ταξιδιώτισσα, αμέσως ένιωσα ερωτευμένη με την Αθήνα και τους ανθρώπους, τόσο φιλικοί, τόσο καλοί που κατευθείαν ένιωσα την ανάγκη να γυρίσω πίσω να διερευνήσω και να εξετάσω όλο και περισσότερο, όσα περισσότερα μπορούσα. Εννιά μήνες αργότερα πήρα επιτέλους την απόφαση να μετακινηθώ εκεί.

Ποιες ήταν οι πρώτες σου εντυπώσεις για την Αθήνα και για τους ανθρώπους εκεί; Καθώς είμαι από τη Ρώμη δεν εξεπλάγην από την κυκλοφοριακή κίνηση, τους θορύβους και τις μεγάλες αποστάσεις, αλλά θυμάμαι ξεκάθαρα ότι είχα σοκαριστεί από το ποσοστό των ταγκς και των γκραφιτι στους δρόμους, κυριολεκτικά παντού. Δε νομίζω ότι μπορείς αν βρεις κάτι τέτοιο πουθενά αλλού στην Ευρώπη. Ένιωσα σα να ήμουν εθισμένη στην αστική τέχνη και συνήθιζα να περπατάω για ώρες και ώρες βγάζοντας φωτογραφίες , ειδικά στα Εξάρχεια, Ψυρρή, Μεταξουργείο, ¨όπως επίσης συνήθιζα να περνάω χρόνο βλέποντας τα γκράφιτι στα τραίνα που περνούσαν στο Θησείο. Αυτή η τρελή μείξη της ζωής στον δρόμο, της υπόγειας κουλτούρας, της παρακμής, τους χάους, της δημιουργικότητας, της ελευθερίας της έκφρασης και των τρομερών γκράφιτι στυλ ήταν πολύ συναρπαστική για εμένα και αυτό ακριβώς που αναζητούσα στα προηγούμενα ταξίδια μου. Κατά τη διάρκεια εκείνων των διακοπών μεταξύ εκατομμυρίων γκράφιτι γύρω στην πόλη, ήμουν κυρίως ενθουσιασμένη με τις ομάδες 420, NR4T, 381,Nda, Ofk Και μερικά παλαιότερα μεγάλα κομμάτια από Amigos και Lifo.

Το αστικό τοπίο ζει μέσα στην πόλη. Για κάποιους ανθρώπους που ζουν στην πόλη είναι πολύ αγχωτικό, ενώ για κάποιους άλλους είναι απελευθερωτικό καθώς οι επιλογές είναι πράγματι πάρα πολλές. Παρολαυτά, οι άνθρωποι φαίνεται να νιώθουν πιο μόνοι και να απομονώνονται περισσότερο. Ποιά είναι η γνώμη σου για τον τρόπο ζωής στα μεγάλα αστικά κέντρα; Όταν μετακινήθηκα στην Αθήνα είχα την ευκαιρία να ευχαριστηθώ πλήρως την πόλη για κάποιους μήνες, ένιωθα μέλος μιας μεγάλης και ωραία συνδεδεμένης κοινότητας και μιας μεγάλης πολιτιστικής σκηνής. Διασκέδαζα να κάνω βόλτες και να περνάω όμορφα με ανθρώπους σε πάρτυ, ανοιχτές εκδηλώσεις, υπόγεια ζωή, γκράφιτι δράσεις, εξερευνήσεις εγκαταλελειμμένων χώρων. Επιπλέον πρέπει να προσθέσω πόσο εύκολο ήταν να έρθω σε επαφή, να συναντήσω και να γνωρίσω καλλιτέχνες και ανθρώπους στους δρόμους και στα καφέ, ειδικά την περίοδο του καλοκαιριού. Από την πρώτη στιγμή αυτό μου θύμισε τον τυπικό τρόπο ζωής μιας ιταλικής πόλης που αγαπάω το Παλέρμο (Σικελία). Δυστυχώς το να μένεις κάπου για μεγάλο χρονικό διάστημα μπορεί να γίνει και λίγο απογοητευτικό σε ένα σημείο.

Μου πήρε μήνες ή καλύτερα χρόνια να ανακαλύψω ότι πίσω από την καλλιτεχνική και κοινωνική εξωστρεφή εμφάνιση ήταν κρυμμένη μια πραγματικότητα γεμάτη όλων των ειδών τα προβλήματα, από απομόνωση και μοναξιά, μέχρι άγχος, αναξιοπιστία και μια γενική διάθεση αστάθειας και ανοργανωσιάς. Δε θα μπορούσα να πω ποτέ ότι ο βασικός λόγος είναι η κρίση, όπως θα υποστήριζαν πιθανότατα τα μέσα ενημέρωσης, αλλά είναι σίγουρα μια σκοτεινή πλευρά της πόλης που δε μπορείς να αγνοήσεις ή να αποφύγεις.

Τι συνέπειες πιστεύεις ότι έχουν οι τέχνες στην καθημερινή μας ζωή; Είναι η τέχνη στο δημόσιο χώρο ένα φυσικό επακόλουθο; Μετά από δύο χρόνια που ζω ως ντόπια στην Αθήνα πρέπει να παραδεχτώ ότι είμαι συνηθισμένη σε ατελείωτο bombing τέχνης (νόμιμο ή παράνομο), βανδαλισμό στο δρόμο και μου αρέσει. Εκτός από το γκράφιτι writing, έχω την εντύπωση ότι η «φούσκα της τέχνης του δρόμου» ή καλύτερα η τρέχουσα τάση της δημόσιας τέχνης η οποία περιλαμβάνει φεστιβαλ τέχνης του δρόμου και την υπόθεση των υπαίθριων μουσείων τέχνης του δρόμου και περιηγήσεις της τέχνης του δρόμου είναι έτοιμη να εκραγεί. Ειλικρινά δε μπορώ να περιμένω. Αυτό που εννοώ είναι ότι και στην Αθήνα και σε άλλες ευρωπαϊκές χώρες υπάρχουν καλής ποιότητας και καλά οργανωμένες εκδηλώσεις, αλλά στην πλειοψηφία είναι δημόσιες πρωτοβουλίες διακόσμησης σαν μια μορφή αστικής «αναζωογόνησης», λες μία τοιχογραφία θα μπορούσε να αντικαταστήσει την επανεκπαίδευση μιας περιοχής. Οι περισσότερες από αυτές τις εκδηλώσεις «είναι απλά πονηρές και φθηνές λύσεις για να περιορίσουν την υπόγεια σκηνή και να κρύψουν ή να κάνουν τους  κατοίκους και να ξεχάσουν την έλλειψη ενδιαφέροντός τους  και εκδηλώσεις που θα μπορούσαν να βελτιώσουν την ποιότητα ζωής με κάθε δυνατό τρόπο»

Επιπλέον, αυτές τις μέρες ένα μεγάλο όνομα καλλιτέχνη του δρόμου  ή μια μεγάλη τοιχογραφία θεωρούνται πιο σημαντικά  απ’ ο, τι η ποιότητα και το περιεχόμενο και κάθε μέρα, παντού, έχουμε νέους εξελιγμένους ειδικούς, επιμελητές, καλλιτέχνες, ακόμα και “instagram posers”. Αχρείαστο να πω ότι αυτή η τάση δε χρησιμοποιείται μόνο για πολιτικούς σκοπούς, αλλά επίσης είναι συχνά συνδεδεμένη με την άγνοια ( απλά σκεφτείτε τους τουρίστες και τους ντόπιους που βγάζουν selfies μπροστά από τέχνη του δρόμου ζωγραφισμένη από καλλιτέχνες που δεν γνωρίζουν καν, ούτε αναφέρουν), γενικεύσεις και αντι-γκράφιτι καμπάνιες.

Όπως σε κάθε τομέα, δε πρέπει ποτέ να ξεχνάμε από που προέρχεται όλο το κίνημα της τέχνης του δρόμου, αν δεν ήταν το βανδαλιστικό γκράφιτι writing δε θα είχαμε ποτέ αυτό που ονομάζουμε «αστική τέχνη» και θα ήταν υποκρισία να το αρνηθούμε.

Δημιουργός και συγγραφέας του μπλογκ “Urban Lives”. Με ποια σειρά έγινε αυτό; Ήρθε πρώτα το βιβλίο και μετά ακολούθησε το μπλογκ ή το αντίθετο; Τι ανάγκη χρειαζόταν κάλυψη από ένα πρότζεκτ σαν αυτό; Το blog μου Urban Lives είναι online από το 2016, ενώ το βιβλίο μου "UrbanLives - Ανακαλύπτοντας την τέχνη του δρόμου στην Ιταλία" είχε δημοσιευθεί πριν από 2 χρόνια. Το βιβλίο μπορεί να θεωρηθεί ως ένα σε βάθος δοκίμιο, στην πραγματικότητα μόνο το ήμισυ περιλαμβάνει άρθρα από το blog. Λόγω αυτού του βιβλίου και για πολλούς άλλους λόγους, όπως ανέφερες, προτιμώ να ορίζω το Urban Lives ως ένα ανεξάρτητο project (χωρίς να περιλαμβάνονται χορηγίες ή επιχειρήσεις), επειδή ο όρος "blog" είναι αρκετά απλός. Άρθρα σχετικά με την τέχνη του δρόμου και τα γκράφιτι (ιταλικά / αγγλικά), αναφορές ταξιδιών, απόψεις, συνεντεύξεις με καλλιτέχνες, φωτογραφίες από δράσεις στο Instagram είναι μόνο μέρος των δραστηριοτήτων μου. Σε αυτά τα έντονα 4 χρόνια, διοργάνωσα επίσης χώρους τέχνης (όπως στη Ρώμη με τον φίλο μου και τον Iakovos Volkov), ταξίδια και ανεξάρτητα έργα με καλλιτέχνες, επιμέλειες τοίχων / τοιχογραφιών, γκράφιτι και έχω παρακολουθήσει συζητήσεις και συνέδρια για την τέχνη του δρόμου σε μουσεία, πανεπιστήμια και εκδηλώσεις σε όλη την Ιταλία.Με λίγα λόγια, το Urban Lives είναι ένα μεγάλο μέρος της ζωής μου, είναι ένα ημερολόγιο, πάθος, πολλή δουλειά θυσιών, πολλά ταξίδια, συναντήσεις με ανθρώπους, άρθρα και ιστορίες, δικτύωση, νέοι διεθνείς φίλοι, απίστευτες καταστάσεις εδώ και εκεί , ακόμα και μερικά όνειρα που έγιναν πραγματικότητα. Άρχισα να ζωγραφίζω γκράφιτι πριν από ένα χρόνο ... αλλά αυτή είναι μια άλλη ιστορία! Γράφεις ιστορίες για διαφορετικές πόλεις ( η Αθήνα είναι μία από αυτές επίσης) στις οποίες έχεις ταξιδέψει και που με κάποιο τρόπο σχετίζονται με το γκράφιτι. Πες μας μερικά πράγματα για την γκράφιτι κουλτούρα και τον τρόπο που την προσλαμβάνεις και την βιώνεις. Παρόλο που διαβάζω και ταξιδεύω πολύ, δεν μπορώ να πω ότι έχω καλή ή ακόμη και αξιοπρεπή γνώση σχετικά με το γκράφιτι στην Ευρώπη και πιστέψτε με, δεν το λέω με μετριοφροσύνη, είμαι απλώς αντικειμενική. Το σχολείο μου είναι κυρίως ο δρόμος, γι 'αυτό και γνωρίζω πολλά πράγματα για το γκράφιτι writing στην Ελλάδα και προσωπικά συναντήθηκα με πολλούς γκράφιτι writers, συμπεριλαμβανομένων μερικών old school bombers τρένων και μερικούς πολύ δραστήριους. Χρειάζεται όμως πολύς χρόνος για να πας βαθιά και να κατανοήσεις έναν κόσμο που είναι τόσο μεγάλος, υπόγειος και περίπλοκος. Αυτό που έχω μάθει είναι ότι η γκράφιτι κουλτούρα είναι μια άλλη πραγματικότητα, με άλλους κανόνες, συμπεριφορές, ανάγκες και συναισθήματα. Χρειαζόμουν μια πλήρη βύθιση σε αυτή τη ζωή και προσωπικά να βιώσω δράσεις, αδρεναλίνη, κινδύνους και ακόμη και να κάνω tagging και να ζωγραφίσω για να την νιώσω. Το να είσαι writer μπορεί να επηρεάσει εντελώς τη ζωή σου, είτε με καλό είτε με πολύ κακό τρόπο, και την αντίληψή σου για το χώρο και το χρόνο.

Δεν πιστεύεις ότι η τέχνη στον δημόσιο χώρο μπορεί να γίνει πολύ επεμβατική, ακόμα και ενοχλητική για πολλούς ανθρώπους; Κατά τη γνώμη μου, η δημόσια τέχνη πρέπει να συνδέεται κατά κάποιο τρόπο με το περιβάλλον, το αστικό τοπίο ή την κοινωνία. Αλλά, για να είμαι ειλικρινής, τα τελευταία χρόνια δεν ενδιαφέρομαι τόσο για τη δημόσια τέχνη, εστιάζω κυρίως στην παράνομη τέχνη του δρόμου (ή την τέχνη του δρόμου για κοινωνικούς σκοπούς) και πάνω απ 'όλα, στο graffiti writing. Όπως γνωρίζουμε, τα γκράφιτι πρέπει να είναι επεμβατικά , μερικές φορές ενοχλητικά, είτε στο δρόμο είτε σε τρένα και μετρό. Αυτό είναι μέρος της φιλοσοφίας του γκράφιτι: είναι μια πρόκληση να είναι ορατό, είναι μια πρόκληση να είναι παντού.

Φαντάζομαι όλη έχουμε ακούσει σε κάποια στιγμή ότι η Αθληνα είναι η ευρωπαϊκή μητρόπολη του γκράφιτι. Είναι αυτό αλήθεια κατά τη γνώμη σου; Αφού ταξιδεύεις πολύ και σε διαφορετικούς προορισμούς κάθε φορά… Τα τελευταία 3 χρόνια βρέθηκα αρκετές φορές στο Βερολίνο, περνόντας πολύ χρόνο με τοπικούς καλλιτέχνες και γκράφιτι writers, συμπεριλαμβανομένης της ομάδας 1up και τους Berlin Kidz. Και οι δύο πόλεις έχουν μια μεγάλη σκηνή γκράφιτι και μια σημαντική ιστορία γκράφιτι, καθώς και μια μεγάλη υποκουλτούρα. Αν και κάποιες ομοιότητες είναι αναμφισβήτητες, αναρωτιέμαι γιατί όλοι λένε ότι η Αθήνα είναι το νέο Βερολίνο, σαν να μπορούσε να είναι η πιθανή μελλοντική εξέλιξή του. Στην αρχή, πριν από 3 χρόνια, έπεφτα και σε αυτήν τη "παγίδα". Το παράδοξο είναι ότι η Αθήνα είναι πολύ πιο πίσω από το Βερολίνο και από πολλές άλλες ευρωπαϊκές πόλεις, επομένως νομίζω ότι θα ήταν πιο σωστό να πούμε ότι μοιάζει ακριβώς με το παλιό Βερολίνο, αλλά μάλλον με μια ισχυρότερη πατριωτική στάση και πολύ περισσότερο βανδαλισμό. Δεν προκαλεί έκπληξη ότι έχουμε τόσους πολλούς Γερμανούς writers που έρχονται στην Αθήνα σήμερα, κάνοντας bombing παντού.Φυσικά, αυτό δεν σημαίνει ότι η Αθήνα δεν είναι ενεργή, για την ακρίβεια πιστεύω ότι η σημερινή προσπάθεια της πόλης είναι εντυπωσιακή. Όμως, η πολιτιστική αναγέννηση της πόλης είναι σημαντική αλλά δεν αποτελεί την κύρια προτεραιότητα.

Ζεις τώρα αρκετό καιρό εδώ στην Αθήνα. Νιώθεις στενά συνδεδεμένη με αυτή την πόλη και τους κατοίκους της και γιατί; Σίγουρα ναι, εδώ αισθάνομαι σπίτι μου. Δεν μπορώ να φανταστώ τη ζωή μου χωρίς την Αθήνα και την αισθητική της, ωραία ενέργεια, καλοί άνθρωποι. Έχω ζήσει πολλές περιπέτειες, ευτυχισμένες στιγμές και εκπληκτικές ανακαλύψεις και αισθάνομαι τυχερή και ευγνώμων γι 'αυτή τη μεγάλη αλλαγή στη ζωή μου και για όλη την εμπειρία, κάτι που δεν θα ξεχάσω ποτέ. Είμαι πολύ χαρούμενη αυτή τη στιγμή, αλλά νομίζω ότι, σαν ένα συναρπαστικό κεφάλαιο στο βιβλίο της ζωής μου, αυτή η ελληνική εμπειρία θα μπορούσε να τελειώσει, ίσως σύντομα, ίσως για λίγο.

Σε 10 χρόνια από τώρα; Ελπίζω ότι σε 10 χρόνια θα συνεχίσω να είμαι ταξιδιώτισσα και δημοσιογράφος και θετικός και δραστήριος άνθρωπος γεμάτη περιέργεια, πάθος και ενδιαφέροντα. Φυσικά και ελπίζω ότι με κάποιο τρόπο θα είμαι συνδεδεμένη με την υπόγεια κουλτούρα. Ποιος ξέρει, ίσως μια μέρα να σταματήσω να γράφω για το γκράφιτι writing και να γίνω μία σωστή γκράφιτ writer χιχιχιχι ... Η ζωή είναι απρόβλεπτη (ειδικά η δική μου), θα δούμε!

Σας ευχαριστώ πολύ για αυτή τη συνέντευξη, ήταν μεγάλη χαρά για μένα!

[rightfulcaptxin]

Five times + restaurant (from OMC Li)

Send me ‘five times + a word’ and I’ll write a drabble about our muses based on it. | Not Accepting | @anhonourablecaptain

He saw the man’s reflection in the glass doors before he registered the presence at his back. Keys still in hand, Edward turned as his new companion politely cleared his throat, and took a moment to study the handsome face, and the head of beautiful dark curls. 

“Hi, sorry…” At once he heard the familiar musical lilt of Ireland in the man’s voice, something which brought a quick and easy smile to his face. “Are you the owner of this establishment?” He glanced up at the sign above the doors, and smiled. Anchorage. 

“I am, yes.” Ed held out a hand to him. “Edward Teach.” He waited for some glimmer of recognition to cross the other man’s face, but none came. 

“Nice to meet you, Mr Teach.” He took the offered hand, and smiled. “I’m Liam Jones. I just have a few questions for you, if that’s okay? There was an incident across the street a couple of days ago, and there’s a chance that you or another member of staff might have noticed something that could help us. If not…” Another glance up, at the cameras positioned on the outside of the building. “Perhaps you would allow me to inspect your security footage?” He fished into a pocket, drawing out an ID badge. “I won’t take up too much of your time.”

Ed inspected the badge, and gave a nod. “Sure, I’ll do what I can to help.” He lingered a moment longer, watching him curiously. “Why don’t you come on in? I was just about to open up ready for the lunch crowd, so…”

“Oh, excellent.” Liam smiled warmly, gesturing for him to lead the way. As Ed unlocked the restaurant doors and guided him inside, Liam glanced around at the nautical themed decor. “So, are you a chef, Mr Teach? Or do you manage front of house?”

Ed could only stare at him, before he smiled again. That confirmed it. This man had no idea who he was. 

—

“Thank you for doing this, Ed. I can’t stress how grateful I am.” Liam hovered by the pass, watching his partner move around the kitchen beyond the ‘window’. He already knew better than to venture into the actual kitchen area - at least, not when the restaurant was open and in business. Or, preparing to open. Generally he’d only ever been allowed back there after closing. Once.

“Aye, you’ve said. About four times in the last hour, actually.” Ed muttered, hands busy with preparations. He didn’t look up when he spoke - anyone else might have considered him distracted, not really paying attention to the conversation, but Liam knew better. He’d watched Ed work in his kitchen at home enough times to know he was more than capable of doing about thirty things at once. Probably.

“Sorry, I just… I know it’s last minute, and I hate to disrupt-,”

“Liam.” Ed did turn to him then, fixing him with a look that suggested he needed to stop before their conversation inched closer to an argument. “I said it’s no trouble.” When his words were met with a tense silence, he sighed, and crossed to the other side of the pass. Wordlessly, he leant through the gap and tugged Liam into a quick kiss. “Relax. You’re not disrupting anything.”

“Good.” Liam visibly relaxed, a smile creeping onto his face. He studied Ed’s expression for a moment, and his smile lifted into a grin. “But let me guess - get out of my kitchen?”

“You’re only going to hover and get in my way if you stand there.” Ed waved him off. “Head on back to my office, read a book or something until the place opens. I’ll take care of everything else.” When Liam opened his mouth to speak, he held up a hand. “If the words ‘thank you’ are about to come out of your mouth again, I swear to god…”

“Okay, okay. Understood.” Since Ed was still there, within reach, he leant over to steal another kiss. “If you can whip up a rum cake for Killian, I’ll be your dessert tonight.” He murmured, keeping his voice low - aware that Ed’s kitchen staff could easily be listening in. He ducked his head quickly and hurried off to Ed’s office, leaving his partner standing at the pass, watching him go.

Ed shook his head with a daft grin on his face. Throwing a last-minute dinner party for his boyfriend’s younger brother was definitely going to earn him some favours, it seemed. 

—

Ed had long ago picked up on the handful of small tells Liam had that told him the other man was frustrated. Currently, sat across from him in a fine restaurant, he was exhibiting several of them at once. Ed felt the faintest stab of guilt - for he knew he was responsible for it. 

Liam was quite easy to embarrass in certain situations, and the man hated being embarrassed in public. He hadn’t missed how Liam had sunk lower in his chair, shielding his face with one hand as he picked at his meal with his fork - no doubt hoping the ground would open up and swallow him - as he had argued with the waiter regarding his own plate. 

People had definitely turned to watch as he’d demanded to speak with the chef who, quite clearly, didn’t know how to cook a steak properly at all - and for the price they were charging, he expected a certain quality that he wasn’t receiving. Since the matter had been resolved - though he would definitely be making complaints afterwards - Liam had said nothing more to him, simply eating in silence and avoiding his gaze. Except to decline an offer of dessert, he hadn’t said a word.

Knowing it would boil over eventually, Ed waited until they were leaving the restaurant and heading for the car before he turned to Liam, catching his hand to stop him walking away. “I’m sorry.” Liam still didn’t look at him, and Ed sighed. “You know I can’t turn it off, Li. And honestly, I don’t know what that idiot did to that piece of meat but he certainly didn’t cook it-,”

“This was supposed to be a nice evening, Ed.” Liam cut in, finally meeting his eyes. “We hardly ever get chance to go out to dinner together, and I wanted to enjoy it. Instead, you made a scene, and then everyone was looking at us, and the evening was ruined.” He sighed, wearily. “Can we just go home now?”

“Hey.” Ed lifted his other hand, and cupped Liam’s cheek gently. “I’m sorry, Li. Really. I admit, I could have handled it better…” When Liam scoffed, Ed felt the faintest spark of irritation - but he held it back. He wasn’t going to ruin their date even further if he could help it. “I know I have high standards. Look… how about we swing by the restaurant on the way home, and I’ll grab us some dessert?” He laced his fingers with Liam’s, and gave his hand a squeeze. “The night’s not over yet, love. Let me make it up to you.” Liam said nothing for a moment, and then he sighed again.

“Fine. But you’ve a lot to make up for.” Despite the firm delivery of the words, Ed felt his partner give his hand a squeeze in return.

—

If there was one thing Ed had never imagined he’d do in his kitchen… well, it was definitely this. 

Leaning back against one of the storage cupboards, he dragged fingers through the damp tangles of his hair, a satisfied smile on his face. With his breath still returning to a more natural rhythm, he cast a glance about him at the disarray they’d caused. 

Liam stirred beside him, pushing himself upright to lean against him. Ed’s arm automatically curled around his shoulders, feeling the warmth of his skin against his own. There was still a delicious flush creeping down Liam’s neck to his chest, and Ed had the sudden urge to chase it with his lips - but given where that was likely to lead, he figured they should at least take five first.

“I’m going to have to clean up in here before we go.” He murmured after a moment, glancing down at where Liam had pillowed his head onto his shoulder. He felt Liam laugh before he heard it. “I think that’s a record for us, y’know.” With his other hand he tipped Liam’s face up towards his. “Didn’t even make it home.”

“Yes, well…” Liam shifted, holding up his own hand, upon which a new adornment glinted in the light. Seeing that ring - plain and simple, the way he knew Liam would like it - only ignited further desire in Ed. “We had good reason.” Ed grinned, leaning in to steal a long, lingering kiss.

“We did indeed. Now, handsome… get yourself presentable, and I’ll start on clean-up. If he can’t see his face in the worktops, Eric will know for definite that something’s happened back here.” He made to stand up, but Liam caught his arm and pulled him back.

“Five more minutes? I’m not sure my legs are working again just yet.” Ed laughed, and settled himself back into position against the cupboard door. 

“Alright. Five more minutes.”

—

Many events had taken place at Anchorage over the years - from wedding receptions to charity dinners, both its main dining room and the smaller private den rented out and reserved time and time again. One thing Edward could safely say had never taken place in his restaurant was a child’s birthday party.

Until today.

His artfully designed nautical interior decor was overshadowed by appropriately colourful and cheap decorations - which he and Liam, with the aid of Killian and David and a few of the restaurant staff, had spent hours putting up the night before - and the smart navy tableclothes had been replaced with flags bearing the skull and crossbones of every typical pirate. 

The tables themselves had been entirely rearranged to better suit a horde of tiny humans - and their long-suffering parents - and the beautifully crafted menus had been completely rewritten at the request of the VIP currently standing on her chair with a sword in her hand and a tricorn on her head. Beside her, bandana tied around his head and fake parrot fixed to his shoulder, her brother was in the process of stacking a pile of presents onto the table in the vague shape of a ship.

Standing at the pass, Ed surveyed the chaos of his sophisticated restaurant, and smiled. When Liam joined him a moment later, he took his husband’s hand in an automatic gesture, gently lacing their fingers together. 

“How long do you think we should wait before we roll out the cake?” Liam asked, leaning comfortably against Ed’s shoulder. “They’re already wired with sugar. If we make them wait too long they might stage a mutiny and turn on us.” Ed grinned.

“Wouldn’t that be a sight?” He shifted, glancing through the window to the kitchen, where the cake awaited. “I can bring it out now, if you like?” Liam turned too, smiling as he set eyes upon the cake. He had already seen in that morning after Ed had finished the final touches, but he was still amazed at his husband’s creativity and skill. He’d never seen anyone make a cake to look like a tall ship before, especially one so realistic. It even had edible sails that Ed had hand-dyed with colouring and a brush. 

“Have I told you how incredible you are, darling?” He murmured, leaning in to steal a quick kiss from him. “She’s going to love it. Her very own pirate ship.” He felt his heart swell with love for this man who continued, every day, to surprise him. “You’ve really done a good job with this, y’know. I know there’s a part of you that’s internally screaming over what we’ve done to your restaurant.”

“Everything can be returned to how it should be.” Ed waved him off. “And besides… it’s all worth it. You know I’d do anything for our family, Li.” He kissed him again, lingering a little this time. “Now go distract our little captain whilst I light the candles and sail this thing out.”

[sainthockey]

Evgeni Malkin + Anna Kasterova: SNC Russia (May 2018)

Evgeni Malkin is the most titled Russian hockey player in the NHL; he has superb stats and three Stanley Cups. Right now, while you read this issue, he is fighting for his fourth Cup: the playoffs begin in May and the final round ends in June. If the powerful Pittsburgh loses quickly -- though there's almost no chance of that -- we may see Zhenya participate in the IIHF World Championship, which is also running in May.  SNC couldn't ignore the month of hockey -- or the fact that Malkin is married to one of the biggest sex symbols in sports journalism, TV presenter Anna Kasterova.  For both of them, this is their first cover photoshoot and interview, taken by Ruben Zarbabyan in Miami.

August 7th 2006, Magnitogorsk. Evgeni Malkin wakes up after a night that would later be called “the worst of my life.”  Discussions with Metallurg Magnitogorsk regarding Zhenya’s new contract were delayed late into the night.  What was the argument? It was obvious to everyone that Zhenya was ripe with hope that he would soon transfer to the NHL -- Pittsburgh, his draft team, was already waiting for him.  But the leaders of Metallurg insisted that it was necessary that he stay with them for one more year.  Once they reached the eleventh hour of negotiations, they finally found Malkin to be persuadable -- and he signed the year’s contract and went to sleep.

But when he awoke in the morning, he realized that he made a mistake, and made a crucial decision -- he would call his North American agency, find a way to refuse the contract, and make it to the United States.  “You can’t do that to people -- force them to sign these contracts at three in the morning,” Zhenya would later say in an interview.    

Despite accusations about his lack of patriotism and the skepticism of “well-wishers” about his future in hockey overseas, he soon made his debut -- in September 2006 with the Penguins.  

Around the same time -- in Moscow -- a Psychology student from Zelenograd -- Anna Kasterova -- was on the cusp of making a major decision. Her head throbbed -- the program she was in felt too managed and didn’t get into the heart of the work she wanted to do.  It was time to instead turn to her childhood dream -- becoming a TV presenter.  She quickly began to send her resume out to many companies, and heard back finally from “Russia 24.”  However, without any experience or education in this field, they only offered her an internship where she would go to shoots with the channel’s star correspondents, hold their microphones, perform menial tasks, watch how they worked, and twiddle her thumbs.  In this role, she would have to stay for two years -- all of this after a quiet office position for a financial company.

“Yes, before television, I tried out a number of different spheres.  But everything seemed to be taken, as it turned out, and I’m an intelligent woman.” Slim, tall, and tanned, Kasterova has both the laughter of a contralto and some healthy self irony.  But thanks to this, she still got her chance to get some time in front of the camera -- and took full advantage.

There was TNT, VGTRK, “Headbutt,”, “Central Television,” NTV and a bunch more.  Twelve years later, the two of them are together in Pittsburgh.  He is a three-time Stanley Cup winner.  She is the the face of Russia 2, and now mother and wife.  It seems that maybe the time of heavy career decisions is behind them, but even if not, they won’t have to endure them alone.

“We met in 2011,” recalls Kasterova.  “More precisely, Evgeni saw me on TV.  He found my number through some friends and sent me a message.  I’m trying to remember what kind of friends they were…”

“Well, FSB, maybe…” Malkin loves to communicate with short, ironic punchlines -- which when paired with the unique timbre of his voice and his expressive accent (if spoken in English) usually brings forth the laughter of others. (translator’s note: here is an article about FSB, Russian state security/spy group since 1995)

“So, FSB, right?” Anna fixes her husband with a faux-angry look -- the style of communication of all happy couples -- and a moment later the both of them erupt with laughter.  Through the laughing, Kasterova recounts the original text message that he sent.  “It was something like this: Hello, Anya – This is Zhenya Malkin here. Here, I wanted to say, I liked you. If you'd like, can we be friends?  And here, I’ll write to you sometimes.” Whether the insidious use of the word “here” worked on her -- or simply that she was that day in a good mood -- she agreed.  Although, it isn’t possible to imagine how many of these types of messages she must have received -- a girl who, at the time, had the status of a sex symbol.

The storyline of their communications was revealed almost immediately: Evgeni’s feelings were revealed on the other side of the screen -- he did not hide them and constantly tried to initiate a full-fledged date. But Anya was not in a hurry to let this ardent center forward cross the blue line.  And it didn’t help that Malkin lived and worked an entire hemisphere away.

Therefore, for three long years, Malkin and Kasterova were stuck in the stage of semi-friendly correspondence and the rare phone call.  There were occasional “hellos” said on Fight Nights and in various Moscow restaurants, but nothing more.  

“Of course, I understood that there is little chance for friendship between a man and a woman,” recalls Anna, “that once you write there is some interest there, but for some reason I was determined to to continue drawing it out.”

“There was interest,” recognizes Malkin, “but in the conversation I was being quite forward, as is typical of men.  First of all, I wanted to get to know each other and that would show.  It was extremely annoying that it took so long.”  That fateful meeting, after which -- in the words of Malkin -- everything became quite serious, took place where hockey players and TV journalists collide as if they were all quantum particles in the Big Bang -- during the Winter Olympics in Sochi, or more precisely, immediately following. Malkin’s first date, in fact, he begged and persuaded Kasterova to have lunch with him as a small comfort after his unfortunate defeat against the Finns in the quarterfinals.

“Without a second thought, I agreed,” says Anya, “and we met.  It immediately became clear that this brutal hockey player -- with a romantic and vulnerable nature -- has a hard time getting over defeat.”

It’s funny that the Big Bang that brought Kasterova and Malkin together could not have happened if the current ban on NHL participation in the Olympics had been in place back then.  Malkin is certainly upset about the situation -- that he could not play for Russia during their first Olympic victory in many decades -- but he is happy for his colleagues and hopes to be able to attend the Winter Games in 2022.

“We are just pawns in this situation,” he says, from his heart, “the decisions are made by billionaires.  The league considered their options and decided not to let us go -- it’s a shame, but that’s it.  But of course I am very happy for our team.”

“Of course I understand how it important it would be to Zhenya to win this medal,” says Kasterova. “And I would love to go along with him and cheer -- especially since I have not been to Korea.”

“Nevermind that -- you would go to the North!” says Malkin -- a little family trolling.  

“To what North, Zhenya?” Again, Anya fixes him an imaginary stern look and then they both burst out in more than one peal of laughter.  Evgeni’s sense of humor was forged in difficult conditions: numerous press conferences and scrums with such questions as ‘when did you know you needed to add to the offense?’ (indeed, being shut out 2-0, clearly he would realize it was time for some offense? Did he feel they were getting shots off in attempt to get a goal?).  Malkin crafted the perfect recipe for combatting such questions: blurt something out -- some simple, paradoxical thought from his head.  In combination with his heavy accent, that certainly is enough to make the Americans roll with laughter.  

From this, you might perceive Malkin as some kind of bumpkin -- one shirt, simple as five cents, with a strange, slightly clumsy demeanor. But you’ll only believe this until you see how he spins himself full round two defenders, all while sliding the puck past the opposition’s goalie.  Then it becomes clear that Malkin is far from that simple guy.  

His whole family, both mother’s and father’s, worked at the Magnitogorsk Metallurgical Plant.  The family of Kasterova, too, comes from the field of science and industry.  Anya’s first TV program on Russia-2 network dealt with topics of science, technology, and the internet -- but it was not by chance!  Her grandfather was one of the lead engineers at the Zelenograd factory of Angstrem.  Remember those vintage Soviet handheld games where the wolf catches eggs in a basket? As well as Mysteries of the Ocean and Autoslalom? These games were developed from the efforts of our heroine’s grandfather -- and Anya was one of the first informal beta-testers!

“I was even given models that did not end up in mass production!” she states proudly.  

Today, their family life is clearly divided between days on which Zhenya has a game and days on which he does not.  On game days, they wake up, Anya sees Zhenya off to the rink, and then after she begins to cook him his game day meal according to the rules of hockey nutrition -- though fortunately they are not so complex. When Malkin returns, he eats, sleeps about an hour, and then leaves once more to prepare for the game.  If Anya is attending, she will head to the rink a little later on.  

On days with no game, Zhenya will return from practice in the afternoon and they spend the rest of the day with their son Nikita.  Off days are mostly spent driving to meet friends for lunch or dinner -- either one of their friends from the large Russian-speaking community in Pittsburgh, team captain Sidney Crosby, Malkin’s linemate Phil Kessel, or Swedish teammates Patric Hornqvist and Carl Hagelin.  

“Kris Letang is also a good friend -- sometimes you can hang out with him,” adds Evgeni.  

But in general, Pittsburgh is a small town with a population of only three hundred thousand.  It used to be the center of the American steel industry, but those jobs have mostly moved to other countries and the city is trying to move more into technology and environmental fields.  The time spent here is fairly calm, nothing like the nearest metropolis -- New York -- which is seven hours away by car, too much for Zhenya’s schedule to handle during the season when he has a maximum of one and half days off at any one time.

What about Las Vegas? “Well, I wasn’t there, but Evgeni?” Kasterova looks at her husband, questioning.  

“Evgeni loves Vegas!” Malkin says, referring to himself in the third person, though the statement is clearly made with false bravado.  He was only in Vegas a couple of times, and only for work -- to play against the local hockey team.  “It’s probably cool to go there on vacation -- go to concerts, play in the casino, but in the offseason we spend much of our time by the ocean, and this year Nikita’s great-grandmother is eager to spend time with him, so we will try somehow later.”

Homesickness, of course, arises in their situation.  They fight it as they can: sometimes by watching Russian channels (his favorite film is “Operation Y” and hers is “A Cruel Romance”).  More often, they drive to Russian shops in the area to get baraniki.  At the peak of his nostalgia, Malkin bought a Russian billiards table -- he loved to play in Magnitogorsk and has now seriously improved his skills!  These kinds of sports, focused on scoring, are definitely his thing.  (translator’s note: baranki is a russian bagel eaten with tea-- the smaller form is called sushki.  thanks to emalkin71 for the help with this-- i had always used the term sushki instead!)

And they don’t lack for friends in Pittsburgh -- close and loved -- as well as some urban infrastructure.  “I knew what I was going for,” Anya said that she consciously made a choice -- in favor of her future husband, their family, and his career. “But this decision was not easy for me, nor without tears.  Entertainment is not the main thing in life, and for an athlete, of course, Pittsburgh is quite ideal -- there is nothing to distract you from your sport.”

Indeed, Malkin does not seem to be distracted.  For the Penguins, Geno (his American nickname, a derivative of his name) is a leader in the broadest sense of the word: he has the most goals and points on the team, and the best “ratio of usefulness.”

A Siberian Hulk, moving across the ice at supersonic speed, the archetypal Russian, a hero who will come and say just two simple words in a distinctive accent and solve all of your problems -- that’s how people in the States think of Malkin.  And the fans of the Penguins also see in him the reincarnation of Mario Lemieux, the legendary #66, who brought their then second-rate team to two Stanley Cups in the early nineties.  In one way, Malkin has even bypassed Lemieux: he has three cups (in 2009, 2016, and 2017).  And even this year, they have a serious chance to nab a fourth!

But in the regular season, Pittsburgh played just ‘okay’ -- why? “After winning two cups in a row, most opponents play against us very hard,” says Malkin. “On one hand, they are afraid of us, but they also would like to beat us at any cost.”  For Zhenya, this means the increased attentions of the defense -- and not always within the rules.  

Hockey offers a lot of space for aggression: 26 specific penalties exist for which you would receive a two-minute removal, and another 15 that warrant a full five minutes.  Games in which Malkin doesn’t draw a single penalty due to the aggressive attention of the opposition just don’t happen.

This, of course, is not the story of Pavel Bure -- the main Russian star of the previous generation.  He was nicknamed “Russian Rocket,” and in his case, his bodyguards Brasher and Odjick would stop anyone from even coming after him by smearing opponents to the ice.  

For the 6’3” and nearly 198 lb Zhenya, this method won’t fly. Opponents know he isn’t all talk -- he does take penalties and even fights sometimes! But the straightforward and benevolent Malkin doesn’t know how to beat them with their own tricks and hates the dirty game they play.  When he is provoked to fight, he doesn’t hesitate to punch first -- Magnitogorsk-style!  If he were a character in a combat video game, maybe this would be beneficial, but it’s a disastrous strategy on the ice.  Geno could easily be taken out of the rest of the game and then Pittsburgh would be without its main sniper.  

The team traded for Ryan Reaves in the offseason to help solve this problem, and Reaves racked up six fights in half a season’s time -- a more than satisfactory result! Reaves’ presence allowed Malkin to cut the number of penalties he took in half.  But in February, the team traded Reaves in favor of strengthening their third line.  It seem that in the playoffs, points will be more valuable than fists.

However, it seems that Evgeni has his own personal Ryan Reaves at home.  When she once again directs us all to move on with more of the interview questions, I notice that Anna is not at all relaxed.  “This is my usual state,” Kasterova states quietly.  But Malkin is quite relaxed -- joking and laughing.  Thanks to his wife’s tireless efforts, all of his worries begin and end on the ice.  And all this at a time when their son, Nikita, is nearly two years old (very soon they will have to tend to his cries and end the interview) -- a difficult time in the life of any young family!

It is not surprising that under such conditions, Geno recently passed the 900 point mark in the NHL.  Fans expect that he might reasonably finish with one and a half or even two thousand points before he’s done.  The question before them now is whether they are going to return to Russia after he retires.  Malkin pipes up immediately in favor of this, but Kasterova speaks over him with a more considered opinion: the two are still in constant communication about this topic.  Much of this will of course depend on their children.  

At this point, it becomes clear that with Anya by his side, Zhenya would never be forced to agree to anything, no matter how much pressure was put on him.  Not at three, or even five o’clock in the morning -- he’s a happy man.  

(translation by: saintroux)

[arianakristine]

Title: Between the Shadow and the Soul, Chapter 14 Note: With picspam here.

                The garrison is loud, clanking and boisterous on this mild morning.

                He sighs, surveying the group and carefully adjusting the thick velvet coat on his shoulders. He still isn’t quite used to the heavy, expensive fabrics. Even the leather is different than the raw pieces he used to make, shiny and richly decorated. Golden threads mark the edges of the coat, a signet ring to match around his index finger. He doesn’t wear these items on a typical day, when the added weight impedes him and causes discomfort.

                Days like today, though, when there is no set mission and the group only needs to train, he feels the need for the authority the bit of flair gives off.

                One of the older men emerges from the shadows, impeccably dressed and chin tilted up. He sneers at the two boys grappling in the corner. “Everts, drop your damned shoulder!” the blond shouts.

                The newer recruit falters at the reprimand, giving the other boy the chance to catch his sword heavily on his side, making the boy tumble to the ground. The gathered crowd chortle at the two as the dust clouds up from the fall.

                He doesn’t look at the man next to him, though he sees that he slides up to flank him. “I don’t think bellowing across the way gets the technique across,” he murmurs to the soldier.

                Jonas scoffs. “Neither does watching idly,” he counters, sharp blue eyes squinting to the distance. His voice is a touch nasal, affected, and matches the uneasiness of the rest of him. “You would do well to speak up more during these days.”

                He gives a sideways glance to his lieutenant, before focusing back to the angry recruit struggling to his feet. “I prefer to take this time to observe their weaknesses, to see if they can overcome them on their own. His shoulder was up, yes, but did you notice that he was compensating by being on his toes and tilting his waist? Your instruction made him lose balance. He cannot do it the proper way yet, but he has potential,” he comments, keeping his voice soft.

                Sir Jonas blinks and turns to him.  His surprise at the extent of his explanation is clear, as he does not often speak so plainly. Jonas’ pointed features and dark countenance can’t be shaken by even the amused smile shaping over his face. “You are, as they say, unconventional, Huntsman,” he says, a hint of laughter in his tone.

                He smirks. He knows that is not all they say. Jonas is not using his proper title but there is no trace of disdain in the man’s tone; he lets the informality slide. He nods to him and then paces over to the limping boy. “Next time,” he says with leveled sternness, “never let something like that distract you.”

                Everts scowls at him and pushes up his sleeves. His face is beet red in embarrassment and rage, blotchy in his emotion. He knocks the dirt off his arms and knees, muttering under his breath all the while.

                He knows the boy does not respect his command nor his person, but he does not push for either. He jerks his head towards the barracks instead. “Wash up. You can assist with the meal and try again tomorrow.”

                The boy stalks away, knocking shoulders with the one who beat him and ignoring his outstretched hand.

                He catches Sir Elon’s dark brown eyes from across the way. His second lieutenant gives a short nod, and then he begins to holler at the recruits, getting them back in line. Elon uses the distraction to grab the retreating boy’s shoulder, whispering harshly into his ear. Everts relaxes and then slinks into the back of the barracks.

                He folds his arms and grimaces, wondering again why the King granted him this position. Both monarchs are well aware that the men do not take listening to his authority well. In fact, he doesn’t blame these soldiers for that; he has a reputation that many of them grew up fearing.

                He was a once a story to haunt their nightmares, not a hero to step in line to.

                Perhaps if he hadn’t stayed away so long, they would see what he was trying to be. Or maybe coming in sooner, before the stories died down a bit, would have made him a bigger target for their anger. As it stands, he can’t be more than an outcast.

                He puffs out a breath of frustration, and then is hit with a sudden shot of warmth, soothing his thoughts immediately.

                “Can I try my luck?”

                The soft femininity of the voice has struck several of the men shocked, eyes darting up before many of them immediately bow in an awkwardly hasty fashion.

                He turns, having already felt her approach, a smile barely tweaking the edges of his lips. He manages to remember his genuflection, but cannot bear to move his eyes from hers the while. “Your Highness, good morning.”

                She is draped in a pink cape, the folds opening to peek at the shimmering iridescence of the gown beneath. Her eyes sparkle, a broad smile across her face. “Good morning, Sir Knight. I was hoping to see you, actually. My tutors are convinced I need some exercise and fresh air on this lovely morning, and I am of the same mind.”

                He nods, unable to keep from smiling at her. “I am certain we can accommodate you,” he says, then lets his eyes trace her closely. Her hair is loose but for the jeweled pendant to one side, and he wonders if she chose the style deliberately. He remembers her delight when he told her he loves it unbound. “You wish to have someone accompany you to the woods, perhaps?” he asks, trying to keep the hopeful tone out of his voice. He misses the press of her body already, wants to take one of those errant strands and tangle them in his fingers, capture her lips and embrace her fully.

                Her eyes dim somewhat and a frown purses her lips. “Unfortunately, not today. They have not relinquished me of my studies, just postponed them. Perhaps in a day or so they will allow it, but they say I lost too much time in the storm of last week.”

                He wants to frown, too, as the disappointment permeates him. “Well, how may we assist, then, Highness?”

                She tucks a hand into her shawl and a long blade emerges, bejeweled and gleaming. “I wish to fence.”

                “Your Highness,” he starts, and cocks his head to the side.

                “You have received permission, Your Highness?” Elon cuts in, turning from the recruits.

                She raises a single brow, and he can practically feel her indignation from his place yards away. Her eyes shade as she grits her teeth, before letting a placating smile fit across instead. “As I always must, Sir Elon.”

                Elon gives a sharp nod, no trace of acknowledgment for her expression. Jonas looks perplexed beside him. “It is only because Their Majesties have only just reinforced that you should be learning the bow and pistol.”

                She rests the point of the blade in the dirt, challenge flashing in her eye. “As I just have been these last few weeks. The Captain can attest to my skill,” she replies, chancing a look to him again.

                He bites down the smile that threatens and can only nod. “Your expertise is climbing, Highness,” he agrees.

                Her eyes are dancing, so much said in a look towards their last encounter. His body hums slightly under her gaze, and he ducks his head before it is visible to anyone else. She turns back to Elon and Jonas with a beam. “You see? So it is time to work toward another proficiency.”

                Jonas removes his coat and saunters to the center of the training yard, and then unsheathes his sword showily. He readies into a stance. “You should observe her form then, Captain,” he says, a touch of mocking in his tone.

                He hesitates. His own skill is overshadowed by both of these people; he was never much for the blade. It was not necessary for hunting, and the Usurper never cared how he dispatched the ones she ordered him to. He is capable, certainly, but it is not his strength. Emma can outmatch him far too easily, and so he cannot be the one to challenge her. Jonas is better suited, one of the best of their soldiers.

                But there’s something he doesn’t like in the lieutenant’s eye, a certain harshness.

                Emma, however, doesn’t seem to notice or at least doesn’t seem to care. She unbuttons her cloak and rests it over the post. She takes a pin from the pockets and spirals her hair atop her head before meeting the blond at the center. “I trust you will be on your game, Sir?”

                Jonas can never quite manage more than a sneer of a smile, his sharp eyes meeting hers unflinchingly. “As ever.”

                She meets her challenger’s eye placidly but then chances a glance to his own. There is something glowing and anticipatory in her expression, he notes, before she settles into the first position.

                Jonas swings forward almost before Emma raises her sword. Her eyes flash with surprise, but she quickly recovers, spiraling forward with her blade. They make their way through the traditional positions first. Jonas’ seems almost bored, finding these rote moves with sluggishness. Emma meets him with more power each time, clearly frustrated in his lack of attack.

                She is a vision, though, as she moves through the patterns, her dress a whirl of pink and green flashing in the early sunlight. He notices the others pausing in their tasks, all eyes on the lovely princess battling the knight deemed to be their greatest swordsman.

                Jonas is true to his word, not taking any sidesteps or letting any ground be taken by the princess. She is determined, though, jabbing forward and taking the aggressive stance just as much as the defensive. She dashes through the air, improvising now to throw Jonas off his routine.

                He can only stand in wonder of her skill, her grace in it. He recalls her words, how natural this comes to her. It is rather shortsighted of the King and Queen to reduce her hours in this study, he decides. He feels pride light in his belly, possessiveness curling from the instinctive place in him.  

                She swipes abruptly, cutting through the sleeve of Jonas’ shirt. Jonas startles somewhat, and his face hardens. He swings forward, aggression wholly in his stance. He bolts through the forms, his strength in full display as he dashes forward. She suddenly seems a little less sure. Worry begins in her features, so subtle that he is sure he would miss it had he not been so in tune with her.

                Graham bolts forward, alarm beginning to trace through him.  

                Jonas continues, the blade striking hard against hers, his face transforming.

                He feels a growl begin in the depths of his throat, and he grips the hilt of his blade. Protectiveness bleeds through, and he readies himself to come between them.

                Emma has noticed the change, though, and before he can think to move, she slides back, pivoting hard and sweeping the sword through both hands to catch him off his feet. Just like the Everts boy, he lands ungracefully in the dirt, a storm of red-brown billowing up from his place on the ground. Triumphantly, Emma places the point at his chin, smiling boldly. “I believe I win, Sir Jonas.”

                There is dead silence for a few unsteady beats. The air around them tenses.

                Finally, a smile crosses Jonas’ face. “I concede to the better man,” he wheezes.

                The crowd laughs boisterously, the atmosphere lightening after the heavy moment.

                He reaches the two so he can better look her over, concern blooming within him. She appears fine, but her breaths are still heavy. He places a hand at her elbow for her attention before dropping it.

                She grins pleasantly, and whiplashes to face him. Her hair is messier now, a sheen of sweat and pride over her. He knows he should be hiding his face, certain his awe is in plain view. He watches as she licks her lips before demurely ducking her head. She raises only her eyes, heat clear in her gaze.

                He wants so much to cup her face and take her in a claiming kiss, as if there is only the two of them present. He swallows and steps forward, hands shaking as he slides them into his pockets instead of across her jaw. “The lesson, here, is not to underestimate your opponent,” he says, keeping his eyes on hers even as his statement is directed to the soldiers.

                 The soldiers chuckle politely, more so for the princess than he. The crowd disperses after, back to their own practice.

                Her eyes are sparkling, and he knows he needs to say or do something to keep up pretense. Anything other than keeping the gaze that says he wants to devour her.

                “Her Highness doesn’t need the practice, I’d say,” Sir Elon cuts in.

                They turn to the knight as one, and Emma flushes even as she smiles. Elon is a man of the King’s age. His own age, quite technically. His entire being is wrapped in solemnity, proprietary a second nature. He cares only for duty, and that is perhaps why he is best suited as one of his lieutenants. He will follow the chain of command more than the person. But his strict persona cast a judging eye toward the princess at present, and he can see the calculation in his onyx eyes.

                “That is kind of you to say, Sir Elon,” Emma says graciously.

                “Kind? No, he is under-exaggerating,” Jonas says as he leans on the post, a smile cracking his features. His typically pristine uniform is dirty now, but he doesn’t seem disturbed by it. A decade older than the princess, he still is nowhere near her equal in composure.

                Sir Elon nods, but continues. “You are skilled, Highness. But Their Royal Majesties would prefer you focus on something more practical.”

                She frowns slightly and nods. “I am. And I should not be idle with something such as this, either.”

                “That is fair to say, wouldn’t you agree?” he adds, and moves slightly so that his hand brushes the back of hers in comfort.

                His Second appears grave, but concedes with a nod. “Yes. But it is Their Majesties wishes we must abide, and not your own, princess.”

                He can practically feel her seethe at that, but she only nods once, firmly. “As I am aware, Lieutenant. And as I have already said, I gained their permissions before coming to the yard.”

                “The Princess’ command has the backing of her parents,” he says, voice rumbling with irritation. “It is best she practice in all areas, especially for one she excels at. Her ability in defense only helps to protect her. And she shall be the one ruling one day, so we must get used to her wishes.”

                Elon’s dark eyes flick over him, and he bows. “Certainly, Captain.”

                He feels her hover closer to him, can feel her appreciation for his defense. He wants to wrap an arm around her waist and pull her close, to nuzzle into her and reassure her. He can only do so much with words.

                “Could you imagine if she had more instruction,” Jonas muses. Despite his clear amusement, his features are still pinched and severe. “She’d conquer us all.”

                He hides a smile, and chances a glance to Emma at that. She is already looking at him, her eyes bright. She glances down, sweeping over his body and a flush barely graces her cheeks.  He says nothing aloud, too afraid for his tone in giving himself away.

                “Now, what else may I do while I await my lessons in needlework?” she asks, her nose wrinkling slightly at the idea.

                He nods towards the far stables, hidden mostly from view. It is empty at present, secluded. “We can work on your pistol aim again, Highness?”

                She glances towards the isolated area, and her eyes flash. “Yes, that sounds fine,” she murmurs.

                He turns to Sir Elon. “If you might keep watch over the men in their training, I should help the princess,” he says smoothly, keeping his excitement pushed down.

                Elon begins to hesitate, but as always heeds his command. “I shall. Sir Jonas, you will assist?”

                The blond nods and immediately turns to a small group, shouting commands as he approaches.

                Emma is already walking to the stables, her steps quick and light. He follows without another word, grabbing a pair of matching guns from the rack as he passes.

                When they reach the enclave, though, he drops them to the ground unceremoniously. Her eyes dance, and she surreptitiously checks their surroundings. His face is yanked forward by her grip on his collar, and their lips collide. His laugh is muffled into her mouth, and he kisses her deeply, wrapping his arms around her waist as he wanted.

                Her hands slide down his chest before finding purchase on the waist of his pants and he groans, wanting nothing more than to press her to the wall and take her.

                “It is too close,” he murmurs as they break apart, touching his forehead to hers. He presses her to the wall anyway, unable to stop himself. He finds the pin in her hair and removes it, letting her curls tumble down again. He plunges his fingers into her hair and brings her mouth to his in a kiss that is every bit claiming.

                She tilts her head back with a gasp to catch her breath, then licks her lips. “And we only have mere moments. So I cannot strip you down and conquer you yet,” she says slyly.

                He grins and cups her face between his palms. “I will find the time for you to do just that soon, my princess, I promise,” he swears and kisses her again.

                 “Graham,” she sighs, and tightens herself around him. His blood rushes in his ears to hear the name she has given him. “I want—“

                “I do, too,” he acknowledges. The heat makes him want to forget their precarious position, wants to forget treason and danger. He considers how easy it would be to slide his hands under her skirt, to hitch the fabric up and watch the pleasure form over her face. He takes her lips and coaxes her mouth open, trying to soothe with this alone.

                “Your pride,” she moans, trying to find the words in her breathlessness. “It was so intoxicating. I want you always so proud of me.”

                “Always,” he says at the edge of her jaw, and he feels the urge to mark her flutter inside him. He barely keeps from scraping his teeth against her soft neck and instead moves to caress her ear with his lips. “You are glorious out there.”

                She blushes, though he is uncertain if it’s from the words or the heat. “You, my love, at command … I enjoy seeing you in control.”

                He smiles, and holds her waist tighter. “You do?”

                “Mm,” she hums, seeking his mouth again. “I would let you conquer me just as well.”

                He feels dizzy, drunk on her taste. His hands slide up and find skin, and he barely wonders when he reached the hem of her skirt. He wants to see her face again, like it was just a week ago, and his fingers glide upwards, closing to her undergarments.

                “Your Highness!”

                They both stop, chests heaving with quickened breath as the distant voice startles them. They break out of the fog, eyes catching. He licks his lips and swears under his breath before releasing her, letting her feet find the ground again. He rolls away from her and leans against the wall, eyes closing as he tries to calm himself.

                She laughs a little, even though he can feel her disappointment. “Of course. Of course,” she says, bitterly.

                “You need to answer,” he bites out, counting to himself.

                She nods. “Sir, I am here!” she calls, and then blinks, startled. She clears her throat to rid the hoarseness. “At the stable!”

                She picks up one of the discarded guns and aims at the target across the way. She is in such a state that the bullet does nothing but strike the post almost a foot away, and she cards a hand to smooth through her hair, the curls bouncing back into place.

                He just manages to blink the rest of the fog away when Sir Elon ducks into the enclave. “Highness, you forgot your shawl.”

                She takes the deep pink cape and tucks it over the railing. Her hands are still shaking. “I thank you.”

                Elon nods, his stance stiff. “I apologize for earlier, Your Highness. I just am looking towards Their Majesties’ wishes.”

                She raises her chin and aims the empty pistol to the target once more. She is obviously irate, for several reasons, but it appears more so at the half apology. “I understand that. You are dismissed, Sir Elon,” she says, somehow both delicate and resolute all at once.

                Sir Elon bows deeply, and steps back a pace. “I will let you know when your tutors call for you, Your Highness.”

                He leaves, and Graham steps to her once again, his brow furrowed. “I forgot myself,” he murmurs, and helps raise her arm to aim. “I shouldn’t have put us in that position.”

                She relaxes into his adjustments and slumps back against him. “We shouldn’t be so careless, yes, I know.”

                He ducks his head into the crook of her neck, melding into her and breathing her in. “But we needed it, didn’t we?” he asks.

                She nods, and tilts her chin to press a kiss at his jaw. “We did. I needed to feel you again. How is it that two days seem an eternity now?”

                He swallows, wondering at how one could be so addicted to another person. Even now, her lips are tempting and he captures them again, slow and sure. “We need to learn to separate ourselves in public like this,” he warns.

                She closes her eyes and presses her forehead into his as she stands on tip toes. “I will. I promise I will. I won’t let us be caught.”

                “My first priority is keeping you safe, and that will be part of it,” he swears.

                She smiles and brings delicate fingers to touch his cheek. “You are best suited to keeping me safe, my love. And you keep me happy, as well,” she whispers.

                He lets his lashes brush his cheeks as he smiles, a pleasant feeling sweeping within him. That is all he wants for her: safety and happiness. He is glad to be able to provide her both, even if his very love threatens the first.

                “He almost frightened me today. Such a strange character,” she murmurs.

                A bolt of anger strikes him. “If he frightened you, it is safe to say I was ready to annihilate him.” He softens, and cups her cheek delicately. She closes her eyes and leans into his touch, then peers up at him. He shakes his head. “He is Jonas, though, and that is just his way.”

                She nods and smiles. She takes her fingers through the short strands of hair at his temple, piecing slowly through them and he nearly sinks into her. “I know. I have known him all my life, and I am aware he wouldn’t hurt me or anyone else in our kingdom. I am more concerned that I feel he was still pulling his talent back. I am skilled, I know, but not by that much. His arrogance was what helped me win today.”

                “You are amazing, my princess,” he breathes, the possessive word escaping before he can overthink it. “Do not sell yourself short on this.”

                She smiles gently at him. “You believe so?”

                He nods, grinning down at her. “It is hard to keep my hands off you when you are as such.”

                She smirks and touches her nose to his. “You understand my problem in watching you, then.”

                Heat sparks in his gut again, not to be tempered after their near-miss. “I love you.”

                She beams at him, her eyes like the seas in summer, and steps up on tiptoes to kiss him. “I love you, my Graham,” she whispers. “Now let’s get back to practice before we nearly get caught again.”

                “Tomorrow?” he asks, and his hopeful tone surprises even him.

                She leans back against him, and closes her eyes with a peaceful expression. “Any time I can.”

[nyxwordsmith]

Logince where Roman breaks his arm and Logan is a nurse who just got a paper saying his first appointment fell out of a tree? Must be a little kid? Fluff. Or ill fite.

Okay, this is sickeningly sweet, considering the prompt, but I will DIE for Logince. FLUFF AND NOTHING BUT (free background Moxiety because why not?)

Warnings: Hospitals, Broken Bones, Blood Mention, Surgery Mention, Drugged Character,

Word Count: 2656 (Because of length, and the warnings, it’s under the cut.)

Taglist: @red-the-ruler (if you’d like to be added, feel free to hmu in my ask box)

 When Logan Smith walked into work thatmorning, he had expected another fourteen-hour shift involving more blood andscreaming than any normal human should ever have to deal with. Didn’t help thathe seemed perfect for the Emergency Room. He was almost perpetually calm, even afterthat one tram crash…

 Logan pushed the unpleasant memories away ashe stepped through the sliding doors, suddenly awash with the scent ofantiseptic and the chaotic sounds of the emergency room. But to Logan, it wasorder. Heart monitors, doctors barking orders, nurses hurriedly rushing hereand there. He could see beyond the chaos, to the order that was a hospital.

 It never took him long to change, donning apair of scrubs and carefully pinning some of his hair back with a clip his friendPatton insisted he use. Logan did his best not to think about it too hard. Hewas going to buy a different one. He just hadn’t had the time. Obviously.

 Pausing at the nurse’s station, he gave thereceptionist a small smirk. Virgil glanced up at him from behind his lashes,eyes already shining with a conspiracy and a tiny smirk curled onto his lips.

 “Salutations, Virgil.”

 The scrawnier man was already shuffling throughfolders on his desk, “Mornin’.” That tiny smirk just wouldn’t leave. Logan actuallyswore he saw it twitch, “How’s Patton?”

 For a moment, Logan literally forgot about theChristmas party. The memory flashed through his mind and he barely hid his grinbehind his hand as Virgil blushed bright red.

 “Fine, I believe.” Logan snickered, glancingdown a hallway and sweeping out of the way as a gurney and four nurses racedpast.

 He took the moment to sober before turning backto Virgil, who had found the folder and was holding it out expectantly atLogan. That look in his eye was brighter now, his lip twitching evilly, “Fellout of a tree.” Virgil managed to keep his voice even, “Potential broken arm.”

 Logan would never admit that he did actuallyhesitate when he reached for the folder. There was just something in Virgil’s eyes that made Logan uneasy. The only time herecalled this expression, it ended poorly for everyone.

 Desperate to hide his unease, Logan flickedthe folder open, pretending to scan the information inside, “When are you goingto text Patton back?”

 Virgil’s back shot straight, his eyes wide andmouth pressed into a thin line as his cheeks started to burn brighter. Revengesure was sweet.

 He slumped again, eyes narrowed, “I’m gonna…soon…”He pouted slightly, taking a folder from another nurse and typing a few thingsinto his computer quickly.

 Logan couldn’t help but snicker at Virgil, whoonly raised his eyes to the taller nurse, “Mm-hm.” He mused, still pretendingto read the information and flicking through it idly, “If you don’t hurry, he’sgoing to start spamming you.” Virgil shrank a little, “You left quite the positiveimpression.”

 Okay, so maybe Logan didn’t want to grindVirgil into the dust entirely. He was one of the few people Logan could standin the entire hospital.

 He actually perked up, eyes bright now withhope before he very quickly hid it, “Oh, yeah?”

 “Mm-hm. Apparently you have lips like silk?”Virgil spluttered, hand flying over his mouth and eyes wide as his blush spreadover his entire face, “I have left my patient waiting long enough. See yousoon, Virgil.” Logan spun on his heel, gliding through the halls as he absentlylooked over the patient’s chart, deftly dodging rushing nurses and doctors.

 He’d been able to read and walk since he was akid, and it was something he usually prided himself on. But Logan had developed a bad habit of forgettingto look over the patient’s actual identity.

 And today he was gonna regret that.

 “Hmm, potential fracture…” he mused aloud, “Fellout of a tree? Must be a kid.” He glanced up for only a second to locate theroom number, “No painkillers? Strange.”

 He paused in front of the door, adjusting hisglasses as his pale blue eyes fell on the room number just above him. Quicklysnapping the folder closed, he reached for the handle and pushed the door open.

 “Finally!”

 That was nota child’s voice.

 Logan had seen some strange things in his manyyears as a nurse. And yet he was nearly flooredthat a man like that had fallen outof a tree and broken his arm.

 Laid out on a gurney, one arm dramaticallyflung over his forehead and the other carefully braced over his chest, was oneof the most fit looking men Logan had ever seen. And for once, Logan cursed howgay he was.

 It didn’t help when his patient let the handon his face fall away.

 Bright, piercing green eyes met Logan’s,glittering with a mixture of amusement and embarrassment. Logan had to clearhis throat and tear his eyes down to the manila folder in his hands. There itwas, clear as day:

 Patient:Roman Prince

 Age:28

 Gender: Male

 The rest kind of fell away, “Roman Prince?”Logan cursed the slight waver in his voice as he forced his suddenly heavy feetto move to the side of the room.

 “That is I.” With his free hand, he gesturedto his chest and flinched slightly when he brushed his arm. He gave Logan aslightly watery smile that was meant to be confident.

 The nurse’s eyes flicked from the slightlypained expression on Roman’s face to his arm and back, “Do you need somepainkillers?” he tried to put the manila folder down on muscle memory.

 And he missed, stumbling a little beforecorrecting himself. Stop staring, and doyour job. Your patient is clearly in pa-

 “Not really.” Roman answered with a nonchalantshrug of his other shoulder, “Broke a leg last year. Kind of adjusted.”

 At that admission, Logan’s eyebrows rose, “Youbreak bones often, Mr. Prince?”

 Roman scoffed, still moving too much for hisarm. He only winced slightly, “Roman, please.”He gave Logan a half-smile that nearly melted the nurse into his shoes, “And,um, maybe?” he chuckled.

 Logan couldn’t help but sigh, “And why wereyou in a tree, M- Roman?”

 A brighter smile spread on his patient’s facewhen Logan used his first name, “Well,” he tore his eyes away to look at thedoor, “I must admit,” he ran his hand through his hair, “I may end up in treesmore often than the average man.”

 Logan snickered, barely catching it with hishand and trying to hide it by clearing his throat. Roman glanced sidelong at Logan,his green eyes sweeping the nurse up and down as Logan tried to composehimself. He managed to look away before the nurse got himself together, “Haveyou received an x-ray yet?”

 Roman sank back into the pillows, “Nope. You’rethe first person I’ve seen since I was taken out of the ambulance.” He sighedwith an eye roll, “I really didn’t needan ambulance.”

 Logan’s eyes widened, eyebrows rising as hemoved to the manila folder, “Are you implying that you would have driven to the hospital?”

 A coy smile spread over Roman’s face, greeneyes sliding to meet Logan’s sidelong. Logan’s gay brain betrayed him again,his cheeks flushing, “Maybe.” His voice was just low enough, just teasingenough for Logan’s breath to catch in his throat.

 Once more, Logan had to hide it with a hardcough, “For one, I am grateful that someone called an ambulance for you.” One of Roman’s dark eyebrowsarched, “At least we aren’t treating you for vehicular accident trauma.”

 The nurse immediately regretted the words. He hadlearned over the years that words like that were-

 A hearty, strong laugh interrupted Logan’s thoughtsas he remembered to write in a request for an x-ray in the folder. It didn’tactually do much to hide his blush, but hopefully it would hide the fact hewasn’t breathing right.

 Virgil’sgoing to notice how shaking my handwriting is….crap.

 “Ah, but that would give me more time withyou.”

 If Logan had been a computer, the error soundwould have resounded. As it was, as a human, he froze. He could hear his bloodpounding in his ears, face flushing red, but he was too busy attempting toprocess what had just been said.

 After what felt like an eternity, Logan straightenedand nervously adjusted his glasses, “R-roman, I need to req-request an x-rayfor your arm.” He took a deep breath to steady his breathing, but his patientwas giving him a look that made it nigh impossible, “I will be right back totreat your scrapes.”

 Roman held Logan’s gaze, eye’s half-lidded,that sly smirk still spread over his face. There was something like triumphglittering in his eyes, and he slowly licked his lips before he answered, “Dohurry back.” He teased, “It gets awful lonely in here.”

 Logan hugged the folder, squeaked his responseand practically sprinted out of the room. When Virgil caught of him back at thestation, he started cackling.

 Okay, maybe Virgil won this round.

 Considerably more composed, Logan returned tohis patient’s room. Roman had his head tilted back, eyes closed, looking surprisinglyrelaxed for someone with a broken arm over his chest. With no painkillers.

 Logan swallowed nervously as he moved aroundto a small first-aid station, sifting through the various drawers for wipes,dressings and scissors. He couldn’t get the images of Roman’s smirk and now hisrelaxed expression out of his mind.

 “You’ve returned.” Roman’s voice was deep fromfatigue but still teasing and warm, “Have you come to treat my wounds?”

 Logan nodded, trying desperately to return histypically professional demeanour, “You will be going for an x-ray before I’mfinished, but you’ll be returned so I can continue.”

 When Logan turned, a pair of scissors in onehand and dressing in the other, Roman was smirking up at him again, “Hmm, youmake it sound like a date.”

 Logan barely managed to keep himself fromgetting flustered again, sweeping to Roman’s side and focussing on the cuts. Hewas not thinking about how darkly tanned his skin was. Or the multiple littlescars that dotted this side of his face. Or the way Roman was trying to smothera grin.

 “I would recommend some painkillers before thex-ray.” Logan once more attempted to pull his professional mask back on, “Theywill be moving your arm about quite a bit.”

 His patient was quiet for longer than Loganhad expected, and he realised Roman had paled slightly, looking grimly to thedoor.

 “Roman?”

 “Hm? Oh, my apologies. I, uh,” he cleared histhroat, “I’ll take you up on that actually.”

 Logan gave him a practiced smile, movingaround the bed to collect what he’d need to administer it to Roman. As he waspreparing the painkiller, an almost evil thought occurred to Logan, and he wasglad he had his back to his patient.

 The grin that broke out onto his face wasalmost sinister.

 But when he turned to Roman, he was the epitomeof professional calm. Roman eyed him carefully, looking a little lesscomfortable as Logan sat himself on a stool by his side, “Nervous?”

 Roman chuckled nervously, “Mm-hm.”

 “Don’t be.” He felt the corner of his mouthtwitch as he offered Roman a small green whistle, “I’m sure a healthy, strongman like you can handle a little analgesic.”

 Roman’s eyes blew wide, he spluttered and itwas Logan’s turn to take in Roman’s flustered expression. Seeing him stunnedinto blushing silence was more satisfying than he’d expected.

 Logan grinned, turning his head to hide itquickly, and started patching up a graze on his thigh. Obviously moreaccustomed to flirting, than being flirted with, Roman was silent as he drew inmore from the whistle.

 Turned out, Roman needed a little surgery toreset his arm. And he’d broken a few ribs. So, Roman was going to spend more time in the hospital than originallythought. All the same, Virgil made sure Logan was assigned to his room.

 On his rounds, Logan dropped into Roman’s roomand was surprised to find him awake, if not a little groggy from the anaesthetic.“Roman?” he called softly as he entered the room, giving Roman a small smile ashe slowly turned his head.

 Another man stepped out of the nearbybathroom, his eyes bloodshot and expression full of worry. Logan thought hisheart dropped into his stomach.

 “See!” Roman cried suddenly, his free armpointing excitedly at Logan, “I told you, Thomas!” he slurred, “I have a prettynurse!”

 Logan’s back went straight, Thomas’ eyes blewwide, and Roman giggled to himself. Before Logan had a chance to apologise orexplain the effects of the drugs Roman was under, Thomas threw his head backand started roaring with laughter.

 “Yes, Roman, you do.”

 Roman wriggled happily, making a tiny squeakingnoise of pleasure, grinning to himself.

 “I’m sorry,” Thomas once more beat Logan tothe punch, “This moron is my brother.” He hitched a thumb as Roman let his headfall back onto the pillow, “He hasn’t upset you, has he?”

 Relief flooded Logan, “Not at all.” The knowinglook Thomas gave Logan made him smile a little wider, “Has he complained ofpain-“

 “Thomas…” Roman whined, head lolling slightly,“I wanna talk to my pretty nurse.” He pouted at him and Thomas snickered, “Give‘im back.”

 Logan sighed, giving Thomas an apologetic lookand receiving one in return, with a smirk and shake of his head. Logan steppedover to Roman’s bedside, “I hope you know that flirting with nurses can get youin trouble?”

 Roman’s grin grew, “But you flirted back.” He whispered loudly, grinning brighteras Logan’s blush crept up his neck.

 Logan cleared his throat, trying to ignore thatThomas was still in the room, “Shh.Secrets, Roman.” Roman giggled, nodding, “How are you feeling now, though? Nopain?”

 It took Roman a few moments to formulate ananswer, “Not really.” He shrugged with his good shoulder, “But…I am sad.”

 Logan tilted his head slightly, eyebrowsfurrowing, “And why is that?” the nurse decided to humour him as he checked theIV bags by Roman’s side.

 “Because I wanna ask you on a date.” Thomasspluttered as Logan froze, “But my mouth won’t listen to my brain.”

 “Alright, big guy,” Thomas swept to Logan’srescue and giving the nurse an apologetic smirk, “You should get some sleep,huh?”

 “But-“ Roman whined and Thomas shook his head.

 Logan finished up as Roman huffed and pouted,but started dozing off all the same. Thomas followed Logan out of the room.

 “I’m so sorry.” He shoved his hands into thepockets of his jeans, “He’s such a moron.”

 Logan smiled, “He is also drugged to highheaven. I can’t hold it against him.”

 Thomas eyes twinkled with an unspoken joke,something Logan recognised from Patton, “I hope he wasn’t too much before.”

 Again, Logan shook his head, “Some patientsare known to flirt under stress.” Logan shrugged, “Makes them more comfortable.”

 Thomas snickered, “I can assure you, that is not Roman.” He quickly glanced aroundthe hall, “Last time he wailed out Agonyfrom the musical.”

 “Oh.” Logan’s traitorous heart started toflutter, “Thomas, would you be kind enough to do me a favour?”

 When Roman woke up later, groggy and confused,he was saddened to hear that he’d had to go into surgery. And that his ‘prettynurse’ had been put onto a different room.

 In an attempt to cheer up his brother, Thomas pointedout something on Roman’s cast.

 There, in pristine dark blue print, was thename Logan and a phone number. Thomashad never heard his brother squeal so loudly.

[writersindigestion]

tipped | edward nygma x reader

“what goes up, must come down.”

reader gender: female

words: 2536

warnings: SUICIDAL IDEATION, mention of gore, violence, abuse, paranoia, trauma, ed didn’t stopped being evil while i was gone. he’s not dark!ed, he’s just ed, and edward is a villain.

notes: hey there, kiddos. sorry it took me so long. i’ve had this part done for a while, but i’ve got another bajillion words to add. i cut it in half once again for your ease of reading. please leave a comment or shoot me a message! gonna try my best to get back into writing!

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR | PART SIX

also available on: AO3

The next morning, she put on a plain dress that extended just past her knees, made her hair appear presentable, and made way to the church. [Y/N] had used the phone just for a few minutes yesterday, attempting to find the cathedral’s number from the directory. When she got the information she needed, she made contact and asked when confession was.

Lucky for her, it was sooner than she’d hoped.

The confession booth was small and claustrophobia-inducing, and her paranoia rang vicious bells all around her psyche. She swallowed her fear, however, and crossed herself. “Forgive me, father, for I have sinned,” Her tone was low, quivering, “It’s been… Probably close to a decade since my last confession.” Was it doubly wrong to lie to a priest?

She interrupted herself, “Pardon me, father… That wasn’t honest.”

“Take your time, daughter. I am listening,” The priest calmly replied, his age-wizened voice spreading over her like a warm breeze.

“I’m not Catholic. I have never been,” [Y/N] breathed, trying vainly to soothe her nerves, “I’ve never been to confession, nor would I know how to give confession…”

He did not speak, and so she continued.

“I’m am guilty of a great many things, father, and I don’t know that I’d ever personally been able to atone for them, but I need help,” She said, fighting through the strangle of tears, “I wrote down what I have to say… It might not be safe to say such things out loud. Forgive me.” Her fingers pressed a well-folded piece of paper through the decorative gaps in the confession booth, hoping beyond hope that he would accept it.

The priest took the note from the woman, taking just a few short minutes to read it in its entirety. He made a small sound of grief, of pity, and received a small sob in return for his acknowledgment. “Is this what you need me to do, my daughter?

[Y/N]’s cries became ugly, sloppy, but she couldn’t help it. Her heart was so shattered, so suffocated beyond repair. It seemed like a century had passed since a stranger had so easily offered their assistance. “Please, please - it’s all I could ever ask for. I’m so scared, I’m so-”

“You need not plead any longer. It shall be done as you have asked,” He interjected softly, and she heard him rise from his place, and step quietly from the booth.

She did not follow. She didn’t want to leave the sudden comfort of the tiny room that protected her from unwanted stimuli. She didn’t want to leave the little box of forgiveness for a world that was tinged with green.

When the priest returned, he extended his hand towards her and guided the woman from her hiding place. His expression was grave, and he could barely stand to look at her.

Her blood went cold. She’d been so close. She could’ve tasted freedom only seconds ago, just to have it snatched from her needy grip.

The father undid his collar, frustration in hands that had been so peaceful for so long. He gripped the cross that rested around his neck, and gracefully removed it, before turning to place it around the head of [Y/N]. It pained him to see the look of confusion, of loss in her eyes.

“God has forgiven you, daughter, and I must ask that you forgive me in return,” The priest lamented, before turning away from her, “It seems it is no longer my place to offer advice - but may you also forgive yourself.”

He would not make a return to his place in the Catholic church.

An old, feeble nun gripped her by the elbow, gently leading her into a side room, away from all the stained glass and overused pews. She sat her down at a table; a simple, landline phone lies in its round center. The nun’s hands grasped [Y/N]’s shoulders just moments before she left her alone.

With bated breath, the isolated woman awaited his call. When the phone finally rang, she still hadn’t fully prepared herself, listening to the ring for several seconds more, her teeth gnawing at the skin of her knuckles until her lips were painted with blood. There would be no ignoring him. She picked up the phone and did not speak.

“Once again, you color me surprised, Miss [L/N]. Using a priest to do your dirty work? Terrible. I hope you don’t mind that I took a page out of your book, then,” Edward began, sounding quite like a man who had just won the jackpot, “Don’t bother responding. Just follow my instructions, and no one will be hurt. You have God as my witness.”

She couldn’t breathe. She wished that she wouldn’t.

His voice was crisp, commanding, “Turn around. There is a set of stairs - take them to the top. When you get to the balcony, wait for further direction.”

[Y/N] didn’t move - she didn’t want to, certainly, but her legs felt like gelatin just sitting down, how would they ever carry her all that way?

Edward didn’t relent, barking into the receiver, “Move - now!”

She scrambled to her feet, dropping the phone on the table and beginning her ascent. Flights passed her by, and she peered out of the windows as she marched towards whatever fate was sure to meet her. The people below were busy - probably content, and absolutely oblivious to her peril. In one of her frequent moments of morbidity, she saw her intestines decorating the cathedral spires, painting the church’s outside walls with the blood of a sinner.

This isn’t your fault, you didn’t deserve this. This isn’t your fault, you didn’t deserve this. This isn’t your fault, you didn’t deserve this.

In the middle of the balcony sat another telephone, its winding cord disappearing off towards a distant wall. When it rang this time, she didn’t hesitate to pick it up.

“Nicely done - you’ve proved you can follow instructions, imbecile,” Ed vibrated, the sick sound of joy clearly evident in his words, “What I will ask you to do next is very simple. When I hang up, you will climb onto the balcony ledge. I hope your balance is good, [Y/N], but you won’t be there for long.”

She spoke lowly into the phone, “Do you want me to jump? Is that what you’re looking for? Cause... I’m not exactly afraid of heights…”

“Did I tell you to jump? Clearly, I’ve overestimated your ability to listen. I would say that insubordination deserves punishment, but we’ll have plenty of time for that later,” He chattered, hardly able to contain his excitement.

“Just looking out for you, Eggma. I know you want this to be as painful as possible.”

“It’s adorable to see you pretend to know anything about me,” Ed teased, completely ignoring her jab before his tone grew serious again, forceful, “Get on the ledge, or people will die.”

He hung up before [Y/N] had the chance to ask who he planned to hurt. She placed the phone lightly back in its place and smoothed out the wrinkles in her dress. In her overwhelmed state, she nearly forgot to be afraid, but the knocking of her knees together reminded her that she was still wasn’t as strong as she needed to be. Could she not be like Jim Gordon? Or Chryssie? Or Kristen? Or the priest? Why did she crumble when it mattered most? Why couldn’t she stand her ground? Tears rampaged down her face for the zillionth time in the past months, and she pressed her hands to the stone ledge, pushing herself up onto it.

Her eyes were immediately trained downwards, the safety of the confessional booth was now light years away. She calculated that the balcony was roughly over one-hundred feet in the air and that a nice tumble onto the thin rug below would effectively kill her. The prospect of death was tempting, tantalizing, and the urge rested against the small of her back. [Y/N] stared at the pews, all aligned in perfect little rows for the masses to gather in during sermons. She imagined, like she always did, that none of this had happened to her. Kristen hadn’t died, Jim Gordon never went to prison, her sanity was never stolen, and Edward Nygma was never born.

The fantasy had yet to fail at comforting her.

An acronym was what broke through her daydream, an acronym that she’d heard for a generally happy several months of her life. In any other situation, perhaps it would have been a blessing to hear those four letters.

“G-C-P-D!” A strong, booming voice cracked the foundations of her reverie, bringing the woman back down to Earth with a figurative splat.

Jim Gordon gazed up from the ground floor of the church, seeing the teetering form of [Y/N] [L/N], a former coworker that he’d known so little of during her time at the precinct. Cursing to himself, he started for the stairs, his partner taking the lead in coaxing her down.

“Miss [L/N], we are here to help you!” Harvey Bullock called upwards, raising his voice despite the silence of the cathedral, “Suicide is not the answer - please step down from the ledge, and we will get you the assistance you need!”

Typical Harvey. He was well-meaning, but not completely helpful. She couldn’t help but roll her eyes at his words, fighting the urge to laugh out loud. No one appeared to notice, however, thanks to the distance between them. She put her hands up in surrender, turning just slightly to step back onto the level ground, when she spotted the slithering form of Edward Nygma, winding his way between the officers behind Bullock.

Suddenly, she remembered why the implications of suicide had been so tempting. He stared up at her, his expression unreadable regardless of her vantage point. What alarmed her most was the curling of his right arm through the crook of her girlfriend’s elbow.

She let out a cry of frustration, of exasperation - would [Y/N] never be free of this man? Would her friends ever be safe? Would she ever have control of her life again?

While she would have loved to continue her turmoil over taking a leap, the strong arms of James Gordon wrapped around her middle, tugging her, unwilling, from the balcony ledge. Having just breached the boundaries of hysteria, she let out a deafening shriek, catching the marble rim with the tips of her fingers, stopping Jim from tearing her away from what felt like the only escape she had left.

The detective’s brow furrowed at her resistance, but he knew he shouldn’t be surprised. She was a woman in distress - distress that reached the point of wanting to die. Inwardly, he tried not to think about how close he’d been to the same position in the recent past.

Granted, he’d been hypnotized by a psychotic madman, but it didn’t mean the impulse wasn’t there. A part of him considered her reasons, to which he’d collected just a few, and wondered if she was being coerced as he was.

He pushed the thought into the back of his head for later, pulling firmly on the woman’s waist until she lost her grip on the ledge. What really surprised him, however, was how rapidly her hands went from the stone to his eyes. Jim let out a grunt of pain, his face pinching together in an attempt to avoid the assault, his arms still wrapped around her to keep the woman from jumping. What hurt more than her fingernails against his face, was how goddamn loud she was screeching.

“You can’t do this to me. I have nowhere else to go!” [Y/N] screamed, battering around the man’s head, frantic in her attempt to get him off of her. This would likely be the last chance she got in a long, long time - if she had any idea where she was headed.

The struggle didn’t last much longer. A few more officers joined Gordon’s side, one of them making an executive decision to tase the suicidal woman. She immediately dropped, stiff like a board, but the cop held it for almost fifteen of the thirty recommended seconds before Jim reprimanded him.

“Officer, stand down,” He bellowed, lying [Y/N] on the ground before she could get hurt during the fall. When he was sure his colleague had stopped, he leaned down to check on the female who’d been so keen on dying just moments before. With help, James pulled her back to her feet, letting her use him as a crutch.

As they started to lead her downstairs, she grappled with her feelings, with her body, with her tongue - mostly unable to form words. This was the only time she’d be separate enough from Edward to tell them what was going on. But was he listening? How would she know? Was his plan still to hurt innocents if she didn’t cooperate, as she’d done thus far (she assumed)? Had she even cooperated at all? What was for dinner?

[Y/N]’s teeth were clicking and chattering far too much for her to even attempt to speak in the first place. She didn’t quite feel herself getting tased - or at least didn’t feel the electricity coursing through her - but she definitely felt the effects. Her muscles locked up all over her body - head to toe, and back again. Screams of pain, of terror, of confusion - they tore up her throat and sat, paralyzed, underneath her tongue. She had said so many things, asked so many questions, pleaded for them to stop hurting her, but she was dumbstruck, and in reality, said nothing at all. Now that the tasing had ceased, she felt around her cottonmouth for the syllables that had been so deeply swallowed.

This wasn’t the first time she’d been tased. Curious fifteen-year-olds tend to do stupid things around unsupervised stun guns. One that was used for public defense, however - it was a little more effective. Consciously, she knew that it didn’t particularly hurt, but the sensation was so very, very uncomfortable. And while she would never go out of her way to get electrocuted again, if the opportunity arose in a social situation, [Y/N] probably would. Stupid? Yes, but she enjoyed playing devil’s advocate for the sake of experience.

Maybe that made her a little like Edward, she thought, but there was an incredibly fine line between playing devil’s advocate, and just being the devil.

Was it appropriate to think about the devil in God’s house?

In her mental limbo, she’d missed her chance entirely to tell the cops what was going on. If the walk had taken any longer, the battered woman probably would’ve forgotten what was happening in the first place. They rounded the corner, coming back into the central chamber of the church, and [Y/N] was greeted with a new perspective on the place that she’d nearly jumped from. Suddenly, ghostly images of her fallen corpse spread across her cerebrum, painting the wooden benches with her blood. She promptly bent in half, her vomit narrowly missing Jim’s shiny combat boots.

[druzanrp]

Man of Shadows

Description: Kajetan meets an assassin, Loreris, in the Row. Perfect person to ask on a first date right? Well at least there is a free bath in the fountain.

Kajetan let his pace slow down his boots making little to no sound as the soft leather kissed the stone below. Eyes rising from the bloom in his fingers, they looked up.... and up.... before they fell upon the eyes of the man on horseback. Well unicorn back and one eye? He had not seen an animal like that before. "Good evening." He replied realizing if he didn't say something it was going to come across as impolite gawking.

Loreris glanced down at the person who spoke to him, gripping the few locks of his mount's mane a little tighter while he gave a polite smile. "Good evening, can I help you?" Leaning slightly closer so he could get a better look at the man starring at him. Kajetan shifted, sidestepping till he was near the wall in an attempt to avoid getting trampled by those who seemed to be to focused on a destination to care about anyone else. It only took a moment before what seemed to appear as shy left completely. The bewildered look was replaced with a huge grin. There was something between those ears and evidently he knew how to use it. "Welcome back to the city." He offered canting his head to the side. "May I ask what happened?" The words were warm as he gestured towards the bandaged area of the man's face using the flower as a pointer. Meanwhile, his other hand moved to unfasten the tie on his satchel and his right hand began to fish into the depths of soft suede. Loreris eyed the curious person before him sceptically, his gaze drifting up and down along the slender figure before meeting his eyes. "I got into a fight with Kaldorei, he got a lucky shot." Stealing a quick glance at the man's hands. "My name is Loreris Darkfire, and you might be?" Arching a brow curiously. His horse grunted and idly clopped one foot against the stone walk way.

Kajetan hummed softly moving to tuck the long stem of the flower he held behind his right ear to free up the hand. His eyes left the larger man to accompany his hands in shuffling though the contents of the bag. When the man offered his name though, he did look up at him. "Kajetan." He said offering a first name only. "I would give you a family name if I had one to give." He offered thoughtfully with a warm amused sound that was almost like a chuckle. "Pleased to meet you acquaintance." He added giving a half bow towards the man. At that point he murmured something to himself under his breath that sounded like 'swear it was here'. Eyes shinning, he looked up a moment later as his hand withdrew a small little jar that fit in his palm.

Loreris watched with mild interest, deciding to dismount he'd swing one leg over the Unicorn-like creature's rear to hit the ground with barely a sound. The soft leather of his boots uttering not once while he walked around his mount to lean against it's side. "What's in the jar?" Eying the jar curiously while he crossed his arms across his lean frame. His curiosity perked with every passing moment, giving the elf a more friendly and gentle smile.

Kajetan paused, his eyes moving up watching the man dismount. It wasn't as though he had never seen someone ride before or dismount but he couldn't help but enjoy the graceful movements of the man coming down. Skill could make it as beautiful as a dance. When the question was posed about the item, his hand reached out as if to give it to the man and answer the question. He caught himself a few moments before and his face changed as though a light had went on upstairs. "Is it a cut or burn?" He inquired with a chuckle. "This won't do much for a burn...." Voice trailing off he seemed to talk to himself trying to think if he had anything for a burn on him.

Loreris gave an amused sound that could've been taken for a chuckle, finding the newcomer to be quite interesting to him. Watching the small male's frame move with gentle fluid movement as he kept mumbling. "It's a cut, caused by a dagger." He'd respond all too casually, almost as if this was common form him. Kajetan stepped forward, clearly not even slightly intimidated by the man's size. Feet rolled him up to the tips of his toes. Pointer and middle finger extended and he lightly swatted the man across the nose offering a lecture in a scolding almost parental tone. "Well you should be more careful. You only have two eyes. Take better care of them." As the words finished, he went back to a flat footed state slipping the ornate little jar into the man's hand.

Loreris tensed as soon as the shorter man invaded his personal space and swatted him across the nose, crinkling his nose at the gesture. He'd chuckle once more, gladly accepting the ornate jar, wrapping his fingers around it tenderly. "I'll keep that noted." He was about to walk away until he stopped, looking back at man with a gentle expression. "Perhaps I could hang around a bit more? I wouldn't mind giving you some company in these dark streets if it's all fine by you." Offering the man an upturned hand out of habit for women. Kajetan smiled taking just a small step backwards after. There wasn't really time to do much more before the man had turned to continue on his way. A hand was raised to offer a wave only to fall back to his side, the lantern dangling near his elbow swaying, as the man spoke. Fel hues narrowed on the man as he pressed his lips together making the softest little smack like pop of a sound as he thought the words over. Habit nearly had him respond in the negative. He couldn't count the times he had turned down people over the years. You didn't give away for free your means of food and shelter. After a few moments his perplexed look turned back into that of a warm smile. "That... would be lovely." Hand moving forward, fingers brushed the man's hand before taking it. The words that followed were his way of trying to explain the hesitation with humor. "I can't say I have done this before... under these circumstances." Though he seemed happy for whatever the change in circumstances were.... almost giddy.

Loreris gave a respect half bow, his polite smile still remaining as he offered his arm for the smaller man to loop his arm through. "You seem tense, I hope it'll be a pleasantry to have my company." He'd look in all directions, his eye scanning for the slightest of signs of distress in the street, subtly acting off of habit and training to act as his companion's guard. "Lead the way then."

Kajetan offered a warm grin shaking his head slightly as he walked by the man's side. It did appear as though he had confused the man and he decided to remedy that. "I am simply happy. I didn't usually get the privilege of choosing who my company was based on personal interest." He offered, trying to keep the topic of conversation polite for the man as he slowly began to walk again realizing that if he wanted to look at the man this close he really had to crane his neck.

A woman approached both Loreris and Kajetan gave her a smile before she offered Loreris a piece of paper along with a sly wink. Loreris listen to the man's words carefully and thoughtfully, taking their possible meanings into consideration as he walked alongside him. "Ah, I see how it works. My current line work doesn't allow much....Company in general." Noticing one of the man's flowers were slightly off, he'd slowly ready over with his elongated fingers to adjust it back into place. Taking a few double looks. "There....Apologies for that, it's just when something is off slightly it demands my attention practically." Giving an amused grin that could also cross for cheeky before looking as he discarded the paper without even looking at it. Kajetan's smile turned into a devious little grin as he tilted his head back so he was looking into the good eye. "I think it allows for plenty. Or at least one who thinks you should only have 'eyes' for them." He offered the words with a tease. It was not a very clever joke but it didn't appear he was worried over such things. He did pause when the man moved to reorganize the flowers in his hair. Awkwardly, he moved his left hand to grasp the flower behind his right ear and did a half twist like twirl to land his feet directly in front of the man. "Now it is your turn." He added pointing towards the ground. "Though since you are competing with the giants I do declare you will have kneel."

Loreris quirked a brow, looking down at the ground then back at the smaller man's face with a vexed expression. "I typically don't kneel...For anyone." His voice held no signs of irritation nor did his body language. Giving off a more carefree feel about himself as he shrugged lightly. "Fine..." He'd sweep his cloak back, lowering himself to one knee while still looking up at the man's eyes. "Such a funny joke, I'm sure."

Kajetan chuckled softly just smiling at the man as he lowered himself. Kaj took a step to the side of the man, his movements were slow and methodical. Someone accustom to war was not someone who he wanted to trigger a reflexive response in. Slender fingers snapped the stem shorter to the flower in his hands before he slowly worked it into the high tail the man wore. It took a little work though not much and he was soon smoothing the hair around it till it looked like it belonged... well if you ignored what the man was wearing. With that he stooped just a hair, so he was at eye level with the man. One eye looked back into two before he kissed his nose letting out a warm giggle causing his breath to trail lightly over the man's skin. "Perfect," the word was followed by squinted eyes and a wrinkled nose expressing joy before a small peck to the man's nose. He was clearly enjoying himself.

Loreris eyes the smaller man carefully with his mind racing of how many ways to either kill or dispatch this man. Feeling him play with his hair was odd but a welcome feeling. "Thank you very much." He was about to stand till he received a few light pecks to the tip of his nose. Looking a bit shocked. "Um...Please explain those." Slowly standing to his full height.

Kajetan took a small step back as the other rose to his feet. That way he didn't have to crook his neck quite as far back. Standing about two feet away, he answered the question or rather posed one of his own. "What is it you would like me to explain?" He inquired holding his hand back out to the man letting him choose whether or not to take it again.

Loreris shook his head lightly, deciding it best to shrug the small gestures off. "Never mind, meaningless is all." He'd give a respectful nod, taking the man's hand in his. Not truly realizing how small this man was before him, he'd take the size comparisons of their hands into his mind. "So...Fragile..."

Lips curved up into a lovely full smile. The man had tried to shrug it off but Kaj decided to take his best guess and give it a little bit of an answer. If the man hadn't wanted to know he wouldn't have asked at all. "We come from opposite sides," He started as he held Loreris' hand as he continued to walk. "Your way of life appears to have made physical contact an oddity. Mine up till recently has made it the means of not dying."

Pondering over the meaning of the smaller man's words, he'd take the offered hand. "I see, though I'm not from the battlefronts. I work in a more...Perminent problem solving enviroment." Loreris looked away for a brief moment, his lips curling into an awkward smile as he'd no idea how to deal with this man next to him. "You seem nice, Kajetan. I appreciate the gift." He'd give a sweeping gesture to the flower held up in his hair, trying ot be civil as best he could. Lacking an understanding of typical emotions due to the emotional strain his life's work has caused him.

Realizing the man was having a hard time processing small social ques and formalities common among most well off citizens and nobility, he decided to cut to the chase and simplify things. "I grew up selling my body to eat till I learned I could sell company itself to the rich if I learned the right behaviors. Last week a Lord and Lady decided to take me on for my skills with plants. And you sell your ability to kill to the highest bidder?" He spoke plainly and he didn't seem bothered. When the man gestured towards the flower Kaj flashed him a wide grin. "You are most welcome."

Loreris stopped in his tracks, gripping the smaller man's hand slightly tighter but not painfully so, looking down with his emerald eyes in horror. He'd speak with a shaky voice. "I-I'm sorry to hear that...I personally despise the fact you had to do such things in order to survive." Looking to the ground, thousands of thoughts ran through his mind, pondering everything he'd heard so far. "To sell your body...That's just..." Loreris couldn't form words, white anger laced his thoughts but he remained calm and reserved due to the presence of the man next to him. "I'm sorry...." Was all he'd mutter, his voice filled with pain as he was very empathetic. He hadn't experienced such pains but he could understand them deeply.

Kaj noticed the man's demeanor change a bit as the grip on his hands tightened. The smile didn't leave his features as he brought the hand to his lips kissing the back of it. "It is okay. Truly. Kids starve in the street without home or shelter. I had both. I have no complaints." It was true. Given the choice he would have picked something else but he had done well for himself and he was proud of himself. "Some of the people were really good people." He offered noticing the man had not answered his question which meant either it had gotten lost when the elf heard the prior statement or he had chosen not to answer. "So your life?" He proposed gently as they walked.

Loreris shook his head to break his thoughts, giving a sheeepish smile back at the smaller male. "Forgive me...I wish you hadn't gone through such things." He'd tilt his head slgihtly, looking a bit vexed before looking back with a gentle gaze. "My life? Well...Not much to it, I was born in Sunsail Anchorage and trained as a Farstrider for years before the Scourge wars. Then I became an assassin." He'd state, keeping much of himself hidden from Kaj but giving a basic run down.

Working his hand free he spun around in a circle giving his company a view of him from all angles, head to toe before adding with a wink. "Well being this pretty means I could make a lot." His words were laced with a playful tease. "Besides making out is a lot more fun than skulking and getting stuck with a man's prick is more enjoyable than work steel." In reality his hide was not that tough but is was think enough to hike about it while comparing it to the man's work. The goal had been to get a smile to replace the man's outage. "Though I am glad to have a new way to earn a living. Alcemical and herbal concoctions means I get to pick my company now."

Loreris eyed the display up and down with admiration, liking what he saw but not in a lustful way. "Indeed you are quite lovely on the eyes." The traces of a smile ghosted over his lips, giving a faint upward tilt to his lips. "I hope it stays that way for you." He'd give a respectful nod, still tense and alert from habit. His eyes kept glancing from side to side as if on watch, he showed no signs of worry but he was ever vigilant in keeping himself aware.

Warm laughter left those full lips. He didn't need someone say so for him to know his value. Obviously, his past work had not diminished his self-esteem. He had more if it than most. While his senses to The rest of the world most be lack luster, reading people was something he did well. "Every bush isn't looking to kill you." The words were spoken with a doing warmth to them. "So you ever just allow yourself to simply be?"

Loreris liked the sound of the man's laughter, dragging his attention back to him before giving a gentle smile. "Well...I don't really know, ever since I became an assassin I've never been able to....relax?" His tone overflowed with the awkwardness he felt at such question, never having the time to relax and the lack of emotion made it hard for him to focus on anything but his work. "Sorry, I've just never really been used to just letting myself be. I'm just so used to being this." He'd gesture to himself, his expression turning neutral.

"And you worry about my job? Sounds like you received the short stick." Kaj teased offering his hand to the man again. Such an odd feeling it was spending time with someone able to speak his mind. "And I thought fighters had it bad."

"I guess I have, in a sense." He'd respond with a less joking tone, his social ques were a bit lacking when it came to jokes. His neutral expression still remaining. "Aren't I a fighter?" Tilting his head in a way that despite his eye wounds and intimidating size, he still looked some odd way cute.

He held out his hand again wiggling his fingers as he grinned up at the man. Clearly he wanted the man's hand back and was going about it the playful way. "No. You have to be fighting someone do be a fighter. If you were fighting many people I would say you were bad at your job. Isn't that the point of hiring an assassin instead of a mercenary?" He didn't seem to be judging and he didn't appear to think less of the man as he clearly still wished to hold his hand. And perhaps it was stupid of him but he didn't seem intimidated by the man who in all rights should terrify him. "I do have a proposition for you." His whole face lit with that smile.

Looking at the hand for a long moment, Loreris looked confused. Lost even. He'd not really gotten any time for any displays of intimacy with anyone, friend or lover displays, it didn't matter. Almost timidly he took the smaller man's hand, his thumb brushing along the back with a smooth stroke. "...Very...smooth..." He'd comment, more to himself than his company. Looking up, his expression finally changed, arching a brow at 'proposition'. "Really? What is it then? Noble, Guard Captain, perhaps someone more important?" His mind was instantly set to work, for it was all he's ever known since the Scourge Wars ended.

Kajetan took the hand seemingly happy to have it back. "Fragile and smooth. You are sweet but I promise I am not a porcelain doll." That warm tease was there. His own brain has already calculate how much this time was worth but the realization that he had a way to support himself now that didn't require him to only give time to paying people was joyous. He would have reached up to playfully boop the man's nose but with the height difference he realized such a thing would require letting go of the reclaimed hand. That was something he didn't want to do so he stuck good tongue out at the man instead. "No. I don't have that kind of clout. I was going to challenge you to try having fun for once. I was going to give you a week to rip my life apart till you are convinced I am not a threat." He added with a smile.

The challenge was indeed different and unexpected, leaving the assassin dumbfounded in a sense. "Excuse me? I...fail to comprehend." He'd simply respond, his brow furrowed while he looked at Kaj curiously. His thumb unknowingly to him began to rub gentle circles along the back of the smaller man's hand, shreds of proof that there was still a little bit of the man he once was inside him. Just buried deep below what he is now.

"I think you do," he said letting out a warm laugh as they left the row. Moonlight streamed down illuminating things. "I think your mind just needs a moment to process. I am willing to go out on a limb and say you don't get many requests like it. This is me asking you out on a date where you try leaving the paranoid killing machine at home. I am ordering you time to go digging into my ladder till you are convinced I am not part of an evil Forsaken group trying to stab you in the back." Perhaps his imagination had run wild or read too many books though it was pretty clear he had no idea how being an assassin worked.

Finally understood what Kaj was asking, eyes widening slightly as the bulb flicked on upstairs, a very faint rosy tint coming to his lightly tanned skin. "Oh...Well I guess I could try? I've never been asked too much, as you are correct. My life situation doesn't allow much quality time with anyone really." He'd give a small shrug, the faintest of smiles crossing his lips.

Kajetan's eyes narrowed as he became a little more serious. In spite of or perhaps because of his past the boy did value himself very highly. Unlike many he could actually put a price tag on time for nothing more than his company. "This would be the first real date I have ever been on. If you can't do better then 'guess' at your ability to even try I will save it for someone who can emphatically say they want to give it their best. I deserve that much. If I was interested in less I would let a nobel pay my fee for the privilege starting at 350 gold pieces." He wasn't the type to brag but he wanted to convey the point that a noncommittal guess was not worth giving up more coin then it took to feed a man decently for a year.

Remained expressionless, looking a bit lost at how to respond. "Forgive me if I'm not quite used to dealing with social events. I spend most of my time away from society you know." He'd try to give a genuine smile, finding the fact that he must show true emotion towards something highly unatural for himself. "I meant no offense it's just...I don't really know how to sound genuine about something. I've always had to shut down my emotions for each kill, it's been like this so much that I've just never let them go." Tilting his head a little, feeling sheepish towards the man. He liked the smaller man's spirit and attitude but felt awkward on how to approach him in any other way than buisiness.

A warm smile touched his lips once more. He might not be able to do anything like Loreris did for a living, not that he wanted to, but he knew people and he felt rather confident in his words that followed. "You could mean that but I am willing to bet half of that on the fact that you froze. You know how to sound genuine. I am sure you don't tell a client when they ask if you can complete a job 'I guess I could try.' You either give them a yes or a no. There are tons of complications that might happen that would prevent you from completing any job even the ones you say yes to. When you say yes you are believe you can and will give it your all to to make it happen though are you not?" He paused waiting for the man to answer before continuing.

Loreris thought for a long moment before slowly nodding, giving the smaller man's hand a gentle squeeze. "Yes. I will try." He'd give another nod, his smile turning more full and genuine. He wasn't sure what he was going to do or how to deal with this but he would try, confused of why he felt the urge to accept so boldly.

The look the man had, the squeeze that was given to his hand, and the nod did more than the words. He wasn't looking for some sappy declaration or the smile even though the smile was nice. Stopping mid stride, he moved in front of the man. "I know what you are and I might not know what that all entails; however, I am sure I can figure out what genuine is for you. I don't need you to dress it up. The only thing I want you to try to change is to turn off job mode and let whoever exists under it find their way out." He gave some of the guards a smile as they passed before he continued. "Is saying yes what you want?" That was his final question. "My ego is not fragile and isn't going to get bruised if you say no."

Loreris only nodded a "yes", following in graceful strides as he wore a more neutral expression once more. Learning and figuring everything out, he'd step a bit closer. Keeping a respectful distance but a little more on the intimate side.

Kajetan offered a smile as he looked up at the man. There was no real fear as he squeezed the hand that held his before he leaned in so his head rested against his arm as they walked. Jaded perhaps or it could have been he simply figured he was going to die anyway one day so he might as well live without regret. For better or worse he had chosen his first date. The smile worked it's way into a grin as the realization struck him that he had asked someone out for his first not someone asking him. It wasn't notable because it was out of the norm for him to simply take the lead but the fact that he had been asked so many times before that he had turned down due to work. Silvermoon at night had always been something he loved but this was nicer.

Loreris followed silently, acting at a shoulder to apparently literally lean on and as a guard, trying his best to socialize in any way he knew best. When the smaller man leaned against his shoulder, he looked down, arching a brow as he emitted a sound that was along the lines of a small chuckle.

The smaller elf seemed content. After making a living at being whatever someone needed it didn't take much to realize the man seemed to be more comfortable with silence than being prodded with questions. As such he let the silence linger but every so often when he felt the man's eyes on him he would look up giving him a warm smile. A gesture he hoped would put the man a little more at ease if he realized Kaj was okay with the silence and not looking for an out to alleviate boredom. Occasionally, he would return a smile or a greeting if one was given but he had ceased to give them to every passer by. The night air felt good against his face as it caused strands of his blonde hair to wisp around his face. They moved downstairs around in a spiral and pass the few that chose to train for whatever reason in the middle of the night. The sounds from their scuffles just background noise.

Loreris finally began to relax, feeling more at ease with his company as he spoke, breaking the silence. "Tell me more..." he'd ask, looking very curious.

Eyelashes fluttered just a little as he tilted his head back to look up at the man when he heard him speak. "More about what?" He asked wishing to answer correctly rather than guess.

Watched the smaller man intently, his gaze curious and learning and yet it held a hint of care towards him. He'd keep in step, squeezing the hand he held lightly. "I wish to know more about you...anything really." Loreris tilted his head, eye glowing a soft emerald glow in the moonlight.

Kajetan smiled as his gaze lowered and lids closed most of the way. "Well my parents passed half a century ago though that isn't really a unique story." The young elf was willing to wager almost everyone lost someone near and dear to fighting and war. "I ended up in Outlands with Kael'thas on Illidan's invitation. Also, hardly something remarkable. When the Prince lost his mind... I didn't really fancy living in the bloodbath so I followed a group back here that joined the Horde. Which I suppose worked for the best or probably would have died before hitting adulthood... under whatever protection was given from Lord Illidan." He thought for long moments. "I like dancing. There is few fruits I dislike. I can hold my liquor well enough I suppose but would probably be drunk under the table by most still. Plants are a passion of mine that I have found applications for beyond being pretty. I am studying magic." A smile was offered again as he tried to think of anything else relevant.

Listened calmly, his expression not changing but yet some care showed in his eye. "We all have had similar fates...I never lost my parents but they weren't the nicest of people. They broke me in." He'd look off distantly, trying to piece his thoughts together. "When I was old enough I left to become a Farstrider, was one of them for a few fifty years before my squad and I were captured by Scarlet Crusaders to be tortured and experimented on for their mages in training." His words were indeed heavy but he'd never frown nor smile, only a single tear fell as a sign he was still metaphorically 'human'.

Kaj stopped, moved in front of the man still holding his hand. Rolling to the tips of his toes fingers feathered over the man's cheek. The tear was swept up but he says nothing about it before moving to walk with him once more.

Loreris paused as she felt the soft touch, raising a hand to hold the smaller male's that touched his cheek, leaning into it's touch with a soft hum. "I...I wish I lived a better life...But my current one must be made for the better instead." He'd whisper, his voice barely a breath on the winds that only Kaj could hear, he'd open his eye to gaze at the elf.

Blinking, he gazed at the other hand that caught his second one. He didn't pull it away which left them standing instead of walking since he couldn't move to his side. That didn't seem to bother him though. A smile was given. "Live in the present and never let the past keep life from you."

Lip's turned upward into a small, caring smile, nodding softly. He'd let go of the hand pressed to his cheek so the two could keep walking. "Indeed, I'll keep that in mind." Loreris listened to the shuffling of their steps against the cobblestone streets, loosing himself in his thoughts.

A deep warm chuckle let his lips as he gave a grin towards the man next to him. "Tag!" He yelled letting the man's hand to suddenly and turned running back up the stairs laughing as he moved. Neither of them seemed to have a childhood and there was no time like the present.

Blinked a few times, a bit stunned at the childish gesture and cry as he watched the smaller male start to dash away, the hint of a smirk spreading across his full lips. Starting to walk slowly he'd build up to a full on sprint, his feet kissing the ground in soundless steps as each one thrust him forward, shadows materialized around his body before he disappeared. Reappearing just a few feet in front of the running mage with arms ready to catch him.

The young man let out a laugh as he looked over his shoulder in time to see the man appear to vanish. Turning his head back, he nearly ran into Loreris and his arms. He spoke as his form began to shimmer and fade. "I think that is cheating but....." He appeared behind the man balancing an the edged for the fountain. ".... but two can play that game."

Arched a brow before materializing again, reappearing once more sitting next to Kaj with his now ungloved hands lazily sitting in the water. "Perhaps..." He'd glance at the man's legs before sweeping an arm up to throw his legs out from under him so he fell into the water. "...You let your guard down."

Kajetan saw the glance to his legs and the arm move. At the same time having realized he has no one to impress, he made a split second choice. Rather than blink away or let the man topple him, he jumped like skipping a rope jumping backwards into the water soaking his boots and his robe to his knees. Hands gripping his robe to free his leg he kicked spraying the man with water only to slip on the slick fountain floor. Robes caught around his legs caused him to tumble, falling on his rump.

Shielded himself, actaully making a sound which sounded much like a chuckle, watching as Kaj fell on his rear into the waters. Throwing his legs over the side, he too would slide in to join the man in the fountain, not caring if his leathers became soaked. "I think I'm having fun, it's been a while but...I'm having fun." Giving a half smile towards Kaj. He was starting to come around.

While he managed to keep his head from hiting anything that was about it. He was drenched. Every bit of him from mid chest down didn't have a dry speck. Above that it was hit and miss. He have his company a half hearted splash as his hand tried to remove water from his eyes along with wet locks that were plastered to his face. "Good!" A pang of guilt hit him over getting such an expensive robe dirty but it was too late to change it so he might as well have fun.

Reached over with his bare hand slowly, brushing away a few locks of hair with the up most gentle and tender of touches one could make. Loreris then gave a halfhearted splash back, starting to chuckle a bit at how their events played out. "To think all I needed to relax and have a little fun was a bold little elf come strolling up to me." A smirk forming across his lips.

The place was nearly deserted but it didn't matter the few that were around gawking in disbelief were ignored like they didn't exist by the small elf. The moonlight caused his skin to almost glow as he tilted his head planting a kiss to those fingers as he laughed. "Mmm didn't anyone ever tell you the best things come in small packages?" The wet cloth clung to his skin and he was glad that is wasn't a cold night.

People around though few did gawk at the sight, though Loreris never cared, he was fixated on the smaller man before him, brushing the wet locks from his face. "Not really, no. Guess that means you're the first." He'd give a playful wink, every moment he spent relaxed allowed him to grow closer and closer towards his company, starting to trust him more. "You're going to be cold once we get out of here you know..." A small hint of worry laced his words.

Kaj worked at gently wringing out his hair a he let out a laugh. " Didn't think about that before you tried to knock me in here now did you?" He returned the playful wink. His actions had made it home fault but that had been the man's intention before. "I will be okay though. It isn't that cool and i am only a half hour walk out of the city."

Only smirked, standing up to stretch backwards, display his strength and lean body as the leather armor he wore grew tight on his form, glistening in the moon light. "Well then let's go dry up, I'd hate for you to get sick." His smirk growing with more playful intent.

Kajetan canted his head to the side looking the man over. As he did such one of the orchids in his hair came loose falling with a gentle plop into the water. The tumble into the water drenching his hair had loosened it allowing it to fall out. Scooped up the flower as he smiled. Gazing up at the man once more that soft chuckle left his lips. "Oh inviting yourself over are you?" he said a curious and tease to his voice. On the other hand he didn't outright say no.

Loreris smirked before stepping out of the water, offering his hand to help Kaj out. "No, more like acting as an escort home. Seems proper, no?" His smirk turning into a genuine smile, his one eye filled with a reawakening light that was long buried beneath his work.

A hand reached up taking the offered one. Water dripped from the sleeve of the robe like a faucet for several seconds. Once on his feet, he stepped over the edge, with some work practically falling into the man. The robe was heavy soaked and the cloth clung to him like an poorly fitted skin. Hands quickly set about trying to wring out the largest portion of the water adding to the pool that was gathering at his feet. Taking a step he made a little growling sound as the squishing from his boot could be heard. "Remind me not to go swimming dressed." The words seemed in good humor then and as he answered the man. He was going to make a joke about the man not being allowed to return to dispatch of him in the middle of the night but decided it wasn't very funny and might be taken the wrong way. "Mmm... I do know how to protect myself." He said instead not refusing the man yet though he was making it known he didn't want to be treated like a damsel in distress.

Loreris cantered his head back and forth, pondering the situation as he got ready to catch Kaj just in case, though disappointed when I didn't need to. "I know you, though it would be rude of me not to escort the person who asked me out back home." A softer smile spread across his lips, giving a small bow before noticing his struggle. "If you're willing...I could carry you, I wouldn't mind it at all." His expression turning back to neutral.

Kaj gave him a little glare without an ounce of heart behind it before sticking his tongue out at him. "You may carry....," the sentence trailed off as he sat down on the stone lip to the fountain taking his boots off freeing his feet from the confines that continued to make squishing noises before finishing, ".... my boots!" The devious look on his face was the same when he had taken off running for this game of tag. He truly did try to keep from letting loose a giggle but as he held the sopping wet boots towards the man he couldn't help it.

Smirked, taking the boots without a care, he'd glance around, hoping to find a mud puddle soon. "Oh well, not a loss either way." Loreris soon was left to his own mind, thinking deeply about a lot that's happen so far. The joking, smiling, chasing, and whatever else had made him realize he has missed so much in life, but he must keep his guard up.

Offering the man a smile, he let the teasing drop as he slid his hand into Loreris' free one leaning into him. He might not be willing to let the man carry him but it appeared he was willing to let the man walk him home side by side.

Loreris looked down, seeing Kaj leaning into him so casually. He hadn't a clue of what to do but he liked it, so he left it be, deciding it best not to screw it up by being too curious. He returned to his thoughts, allowing his to be lead by the smaller male out of the city hand in hand, not caring of the awkward glances.

Kajetan walked barefoot his feet lightly touching the cool stones with a trail of water following in his wake. Some icecap and one orchid is all that remained of the flowers that had been woven into his hair but he didn't seem to mind. Once upon a time he would have. The stares would have bothered him even if he hid it well. He didn't have a perfect reputation of poise and elegance that needed protected anymore. "Mmm... I must remember thank the Lord and Lady properly." He said with the smallest hint of a yawn. The guards they passed looked twice and Kaj gave them a smile and a slight bow before leaning back into Loreris.

Loreris chuckled softly, the sound deep and smooth in his chest which Kaj was so closed too, his elongated eleven canines glistening in the soft moonlight. When they passed the guard, he didn't care to look at them, only fixated on the elf leaning into him. "Are you cold?" Taking notice that the night was starting to become a little chilled. He ignored all the small whispers of them he heard as well as the glances, none of that bothered him. Not when he was busy.

Smiling he shook his head a little. "I am okay." He figured he would probably be cold by the time he got home but for now he just felt heavy as though he were carrying an additional him around in water weight. Yes an exaggeration he knew but still. As they moved out of the Exchange, he stopped and held a hand up to the brazier smiling softly at the warmth it gave off.

Loreris grumbled something incoherent to himself, pulling out a spare cloak which he wrapped tightly around the smaller man's shoulders gently; making sure everything was in place. When finished he'd giving a knowing smirk. "Shouldn't be so stubborn sometimes." He'd only laugh lightly, his smile true and now genuine. Not a hint of trying involved as it looked all pure.

Kaj gave a roll of his eyes looking up at him. "You are all wet too." For the moment he wished he had brought his satchel with him so he could brush his hair out but he figured that would wait just fine till they arrived home. He touched the cloak surprised it was not as soaked as everything else. He looked up at him. "I get the feeling you are just dying to play hero." He teased.

Loreris rolled his eyes, slightly amused as he looked at the cloak with an expressionless look. "It's part of how my parents broke me in. I'm to act respectful and much like a servant. Nothing more, nothing less." Loreris adjusted his gaze to look into Kaj' eyes, becoming lost in them for a brief moment before his clouded over with memories once more.

Closing his eyes, he tried to remember his own parents. There were memories there. It isn't as if he had been young enough to forget but life had a way of making you forget things and his parents had been something that his mind had chosen to let erase. "I don't need a servant." He said softly as he continued to walk now that he didn't feel too cold.

Loreris blinked a few times, deciding to follow though now it was a little bit behind Kaj, not understanding what to do as everything that had just happen translated to him as disappointment in him from a master. Only following in silence as he tried to wrap his mind around it.

Kajetan slowed down holding his hand out to the man offering him a smile. "You look like... I punched you." He said softly his fingers gently moving like they had earlier trying to urge him to take his hand. "That wasn't my intention."

Loreris looked to the offered hand, thinking of how fragile it looked, how he could snap this man's neck like a branch and yet he was still so bold to approach him. Loreris felt an odd warmth flow through his body, something he remembered distantly but hadn't felt in ages, he liked the feeling. With that he stretched out his hand to clasp the other, giving it a perhaps timid squeeze but still gentle and strong. "I'm...sorry..." he'd reply in a soft tone laced with confusion.

Kajetan wasn't sure what the man was confused about. He could see the look in his face but this time he simply enjoyed having the man's hand back. Rather than try to remedy the look, he decided to simply let the man come to his own conclusion over time. The squeeze war returned and he leaned his wet frame into the man. If it had been someone else he would have felt bad getting them wet; however, the man was sopping wet himself so there went any guilt.

Loreris soon gave up on trying to think it over, his expression turning back to neutral as the two walked together. He rather enjoyed feeling the elf lean against him, it felt soothing to him, to feel someone leaning on him. "I hope you won't come down with cold, that would be terrible in this lovely summer." Gesturing to the blooming flowers, budding trees, and grass. Granted Eversong never came down with snow or ice but her colors did fade a bit when the fall or winter winds came around. "I love to go for a ride in these woods when I get what little quality time I can. It's peaceful to me."

As they left the city, he gave a wave to the final guards who offered a smile towards him even if they were surprised by his disheveled appearance. The smaller elf addressed one of them by name wishing him well and a good night in an attempt to insure him that he was okay. Over the years he had gotten to know man of the city guards and none of them had ever seen him looking like a drown rat. Once out of the city he gazed at the flowers that were gestured to and seeing getting sick was not on his list of things to do he skipped to riding. "I haven't been riding in a long time."

Loreris soon gave up on trying to think it over, his expression turning back to neutral as the two walked together. He rather enjoyed feeling the elf lean against him, it felt soothing to him, to feel someone leaning on him. "I hope you won't come down with cold, that would be terrible in this lovely summer." Gesturing to the blooming flowers, budding trees, and grass. Granted Eversong never came down with snow or ice but her colors did fade a bit when the fall or winter winds came around. "I love to go for a ride in these woods when I get what little quality time I can. It's peaceful to me."

As they left the city, he gave a wave to the final guards who offered a smile towards him even if they were surprised by his disheveled appearance. The smaller elf addressed one of them by name wishing him well and a good night in an attempt to insure him that he was okay. Over the years he had gotten to know man of the city guards and none of them had ever seen him looking like a drown rat. Once out of the city he gazed at the flowers that were gestured to and seeing getting sick was not on his list of things to do he skipped to riding. "I haven't been riding in a long time."

Loreris walked in sync with each step Kaj made, acting at the moment as a pillow of some sorts and a guard. He remained relaxed but the instinctual training he received taught him to always be alert, even if he was relaxing. "You haven't? Then perhaps we could go for a ride sometime, I'd like to have some company every once in a while." His best attempt of being civil and polite, giving the smaller male a soft smile filled with a relaxed joy.

His own stride was much shorter than Loreris' would be normally but the man matched his and that made him smile. Gingerly, his fingers laced together with those belonging to the other man as he closed his eyes. The grass under his feet tickled just a little and he dug his toes into it as they walked. "That could be fun. I will need to get an appropriate outfit." He said realizing he owned nothing that really worked for riding. About half way home, he shivered as the breeze picked up running though his wet clothing.

Loreris picked up the chilling winds, not affecting him but he did notice the shivering from the smaller male. "Are you still going to be stubborn or will you let me carry you?" His tone carried a light amusement with some concern, his smile was gentle and soft, something most Sin'dorei only have if they're looking for sex but with Loreris it was genuine. "And you will need something new to wear." He'd comment on the earlier statement, giving a playful wink.

Kajetan looked him over him slowly before asking. "How would letting you carry me help?" He didn't seem worried about repercussions, which in all rights he should have been. Letting someone walk him home that he had just met, he realized it was probably a stupid choice but his ego wouldn't let him take it back so he hoped for the best instead. "I know a tailor."

Loreris arched a brow, chuckling lightly as he gestured to the light shiver. "I'm warmer than the wind and it would be harder to help you keep warm if we kept walking like this." Nodding a head to how much of Kaj's wet clothed body was exposed to the cold chill. He was nervous of making such a statement but he honestly wasn't trying to play hero or act like a knight in shinning armor. All he wanted was to make sure the elf wasn't going to get sick and stay warm.

Kaj looked over the wet man. "You are wet too." He offered pulling the man's cloak tightly around him leaning into him as they walked in all honest his feet were cold from the earth more than the rest of him due to the cloak and he was tempted to ask for his boots back but he knew that wouldn't remedy the situation much.

Loreris rolled his eyes, finding it better for Kaj to be left alone on the topic, letting go of his to wrap his arm around the smaller male gently. "Alright, though I'm not shivering and cold doesn't really effect me." He'd look ahead, his gentle smile ever prevalent.

Kajetan smiled. He walked for a bit still on his own as if to prove his point. He was being stubborn and he knew it. Most of his life people had tried treating him like a hapless doll due to appearance and he hated the judgment. Pausing, he slid the cloak off his shoulders letting to of the man's hand for a moment. WIth his freed hands he removed the wet robes from his body revealing the matching pants he wore underneath and his bare chest. Holding he wet robes out fo the man, he worked on pulling the cloak back around him offering a warm smile. "There, all better." He said with a wink.

Loreris held no lustful gaze at the sight, only chuckling as he gave the cloak back. "Trying to be seductive with me isn't going to work, granted you are quite the splendor to look at, but you're not alluring me in that way." His smile turning into a playful grin, his eye looking over the barred chest. "Very much a splendor to look at."

Kajetan blinked. That hadn't been anywhere near his mind simply getting out of the thing that was slowing his movement and making him cold. Though those words almost made him take that as a challenge. Most of his life had required he be able to win people over mind and body and someone telling him he couldn't almost... just almost made him want to try. He wasn't sure if the man was trying to bait him or not but he couldn't help the it irked him. Perhaps it was being told he couldn't or perhaps it was because the man thought he was trying. Letting out a little growl he gave the man's arm a little head butt. "How would you know? I haven't even tried."

Loreris chuckled playfully, ruffling the shorter man's hair lightly before shaping it back into proper placement. "I was jesting, you are very pleasant to look at. I like your fiery spirit. It's a little fun to jest with you." Winking with a sly smirk, keeping himself a bit allusive for the man's entertainment. "If you need help with anything, I'll try to be there to help. I rather like your company more than others, most people I've had the 'joy' of conversing with only chatted about their so called 'good' deeds and who they wanted to bed next. You are a welcome change of pace."

Kajetan blinked once more he had taken it seriously and he had been about ready to stalk off since he could now see his place in the distance. Childish perhaps but he had taken those words seriously and even if he hadn't loved everything he had done in his past he was well aware he was good at it. Turning on his foot he gave the man a half hearted shove though he was smiling again. "Ass." He replied. "Remind me to get even by finding a time to tell you that your bad at killing people." That tongue was stuck out at the man as he chose to lean into him again.

Loreris watched as he was shoved, barely moving at all but still moved a little, a small laugh escaped his lip. When Kaj leaned back into him, he'd wrap an arm around his small body gently; keeping him in an embrace while sharing his unnaturally warm body. "Oh I bet you will, though I plan on laughing the whole time." He felt content, finding the constant teasing and laughing beautiful, he'd never laughed this much in a long time.

Rolling his eyes, once more, his face finally settled into an expression of contentment. The man was warmth and that in and of itself was appealing. The laughter was an added bonus. "Over there." He said pointing to an area where a bunch of makeshift houses had been constructed. None of them where fancy and none of them looked like a place the meticulous... well less so at the moment... doll would live.

Loreris spied the area the smaller man pointed to, arching a brow before shrugging. Loreris followed without a care, seeing the content expression on Kaj' face only made him beam with delight, wanting the expression to remain. "You look good with that smile, very fitting." He'd comment in a deep voice, his tone laced with genuine joy.

Kaj smiled as they approached the area. He led him to one in the distance that appeared to have once been a gazebo that has been altered into a makeshift house. Outside is fenced. A single tree is in the fenced area with a wooden rope swing. The entire outside area is full of flower beds full of plants. The actual 'house' was a gazebo where wire had been woven between the pillars and climbing plants grew up the sides to make walls. One side had a simple gate like door on it instead of being covered with a plant wall. "We are here." He said looking up at the man and now they were here he wasn't really sure what to do.

Loreris looked around with a curious gleam in his eye, normally other Sin'dorei would hold disapproving thoughts to such establishments but for him he found it tranquil. Looking toward Kaj Loreris would just shrug. "Indeed we are, you might as well go dry off." Nodding to the makeshift door, a calm and delighted smile crossing his lips.

Kajetan thought for a few moments as his toes curled in the grass below them plucking strands. "You are wet too." he said thinking it over for a moment before rounding to the side of the hosue where a firepit was. "I can start a fire." He said as he paused before he disappeared into the little dark house for a moment. Walking out, he was carrying an ornate comb that he worked though his hair as he attempted to pull it into a high tail to get it out of the way.

Loreris watched contently, eyeing the ornate comb as he stood. "I don't mind it, some of my jobs have left me in worse conditions." He'd visibly shudder, remember a couple jobs from years back. "And what a lovely comb, reminds me of the one I gave to my sister for her adoption day." His smile turning soft and gentle. Idly he'd drop Kaj's boots near the fire to help dry them off.

Kajetan looked to the ivory comb with a vine pattern carved into it before being inlaid with gold. "That is nice you still keep in contact with her." He offered as he finished fastening his hair out of the way. He set the comb on a small wooden table along with his wet robe before he turned to look at the stack of wood near the house. After a moment of concentrating logs of wood lept up from the stack flying over to the fireplace where they fell with a thud. There was a bin of twigs nearby and Kaj moved to pick up some for kindling.

Loreris chuckled at a few memories, his smile ever growing. "Indeed...My family adopted her after she fell victim to loosing her parents in the Scourge Wars, since she couldn't remember her birth day we celebrate her adoption day." He'd chuckle a little bit more, crossing his arms across his chest, not minding the feeling of wet leather. "It's sad really, on multiple occasions I can catch her looking out the window longingly, just hoping she will see her parents and siblings again..."

Kajetan gave a small nod unsure of what to think about the man's parents now. The twigs were dropped into the pit and he crouched down and closed his eyes trying to use magic to start the fire. It was something he was still learning but he only needed a small flame to start a fire after it caught the wood. "There are a lot of orphans." Loreris nodded as he grew lost within his own thoughts, sitting down and drawing a dagger and a sharpening stone from pouch strapped to his thigh; in no time all he was sharpening the blade idly as a way to help work through his thoughts.

The process took a minute or two before sparks appeared in his palm and began to gather into a flame... a flame that he threw into the kindling watching it take to the flame. The logs were slower to start burning but as soon as the flames licked them, he rose to his feet. "You should get dry and let me fix your hair before you leave." He commented.

Loreris slowly looked up at the smaller man, blinking a few times as his eye was clouded over by his thoughts, once clear he'd nod. "I guess so." With that he'd stand up with a small groan, shedding off layers of patted leather to reveal a scar marred torso and arms, scars even reaching up to his neck. Too many for someone to count. "I've enjoyed your company, it's been a very welcome change of pace to my entire week of pompous nobles, arrogant Blood Knights, and clueless prostitutes who don't know what 'no' means." He'd respond, his voice slightly labored as he went over the few details of his week.

Kajetan blinked turning to the man actually letting out a laugh. "Suppose it is good I gave up that profession a long time ago." He teased though he went silent as his eyes fell on the man's torso that looked to be more scar than unblemished skin. Clearly he didn't know what to say. At least they had all healed. "Maybe I can look at your eye... before you go." He said softly. There was little he could do for old wounds but perhaps he could keep a fresher one from scaring quite so badly.

Loreris arched a brow, shrugging lightly he'd sit down so the smaller man wouldn't have so much trouble reaching him. "Alright...if that's your wish." He didn't mind it too much, granted he didn't like how he cheap shotted but now nothing could be done to change the fact he has the wound. Upon sitting down Loreris would lean forward, stretching out his back as his broad shoulders rolled backwards a couple times; earning a few deep resounding pops. "Oh...Just what I needed..." He'd smirk lightly, feeling much more relaxed now.

Kajetan let out a warm chuckle. "Well I am going to get cleaned up first." He offered with a warm smile. Moving away from the heat, he grabbed a bucket from a peg and moved to fill it from a large barrel next to the house. The wooden cover was removed and the bucket was filled with magic. "I will be right back. I need to get a bowl." He disappeared into the house for but a moment before returning with a large metal bowl. Loreris sat back up, falling back into his thoughts which now wandered over to Kaj and how he's been able to relax so well with the shorter man; it's rather unlike Loreris. He pondered the idea over and over, trying to figure it out but instead went back to sharpening his daggers. The sound of the sharpening stone against metal always brought him a cold sense of thrill, like that of a hunter and prey.

Kajetan set the bowl on the table offering the man a smile as he filled it with water from the bucket. Sitting down, he placed his hands on either side of it and sat there till the water started to steam. "Sit." He said pointing towards a stump that made due as a chair. With that he disappeared into the house again. When he returned he was carrying a small pile of clean washcloths, towels, and on top of them all was a basket containing jars of things that clinked and a few bars of what appeared to be soap.

Loreris was pulled from his thoughts at the sound of Kaj's voice, blinking a few times he'd then do as instructed and take his place on the stump; adjusting himself to be a bit more comfortable. Once situated he'd being looking over all the supplies, thinking it to be a bit excessive but then again he wasn't much of a medic.

Kajetan sat down on one opposite him as he set down the pile removing the basket from the top. It was settled aside and Kaj tossed a washcloth at him before picking one up himself. Tipping it into the warm water, he rung it out and picked up a bar of soap that was scented like sandalwood and cherry blossoms. He ran the damp cloth over the bar before he began to wash his face. Clearly, he was cleaning up before playing medic.

Loreris grumbled softly but caught the wash cloth with ease, he waited patiently as he really didn't mind this; he rather enjoyed it to an extent. "Thanks..." Was all he'd mumble, trying to keep his tough exterior, falling back into his own thoughts hard as he fell silent.

Kajetan smiled at him beckoning to the bowl as he cleaned himself off. "You are welcome to share." he offered before he washed more than his face. "What are you thinking about?" He asked when the other man fell silent.

Loreris blinked a few times, looking at the washcloth in his hand then the bowl; dipping the cloth into the warm water to begin clean off his face. While doing so he was extremely careful around his eye, making sure the cloth didn't touch it too much; every time it would however, he'd hiss in pain. "Nothing..." Kajetan let out a soft chuckle. "How about I do that and you tell me what you are thinking." He replied shaking his head. "Are you sure you are good at your job?" The tease was one he couldn't resist. "You are a bit clumbsy." The warm laugh was there as he rose from his spot moving around to take the wash cloth from the man's hands and he began to gently wash his face avoiding the bandages all together. "I would offer to wash your top but leather really isn't something I have tried washing."

Loreris let Kaj take the washcloth from his hands, rather grateful he did to. Hearing the teasing words made him fume, grumbling a few words before looking away. "That Kaldorei bastard got a lucky shot is all..." He'd playful extend a hand and flick the shorter man's nose. "You can't really wash leather the standard way anyways. To further explain I was just thinking about some random thought tangents."

Kajetan heard the fuming and the simple thought entered his brain. There was no analyzing as he leanded down and kissed the man and it wasn't a peck either. His head tilted to the side as he let his lips cover the ones that were protesting about his ability to do his job. A moment later he leaned back so he was a few inches from the man. The evil devilish gleam was in his face as he winked. "Got you. Now we are even." The man had chosen to tease him before about what had come down to his work and now he had returned it.

Loreris was about to say something else till silenced, hands clenching into fists as he'd restrain his more basic reactions of snapping the shorter man's neck for such a move. Though his wanted reaction was violent, he rather liked it; raising a couple fingers to gingerly touch his lips from curiosity. "Very daring..." A sly smirk spreading across his lips, a faint shade of red dusting his cheeks.

Kajetan grins letting his nose touch Loreis' before he rose back up. Using the cloth he finished washing the man's face before he sat down on the makeshift table to pick up his own cloth to wash his upper body not that he had gotten that dirty. Once finished he poured the bowl of water out into the grass repeating the process of filling and warming it. At that point he sat back down and took his hair out of the ponytail. The locks fell down around his shoulders and he began slowly combing out any tangles that had found their way into the locks due to the fall in the fountain earlier. "You any good with washing hair?" He inquired raising a brow.

Loreris busted out laughing in a fullhearted laugh, shaking his head. "No I am not, I only know how to do the basics." Still chuckling a bit, he'd be stuck on the feel of the kiss; trying to interpret what it might or might not of meant.

Kajetan dipped a couple fingers into the water splashing the man with a couple droplets. Lips curving upwards he smiled. "Well you can try to redeem your reputation." He was back to teasing. It was too much fun. "I can walk you though it. If you are decent with your hands I think you will do fine. Well and it is either that or you can sit here and wait while I spend the next half filling and taking a bath." There was no invitation to join in said bath though.

Loreris groaned at the constant teasing, flinching with a tightly shut eye as the few droplets hit him. "Oh you really like teasing me don't you?" He'd shoot back. Grumbling he'd rise up and circle over to stand with Kaj, waiting for the proper walk through. "And I'm -very- skilled with my hands, thank you very much." Flicking the smaller man's nose with equal teasing.

Kajetan gave a warm laugh smiling up at the man who towered over him. The flick made him wriggle his nose like a rabbit before he smiled reaching over to grab one of the containers in the basket. Opening it, the floral scent wafted out. Kaj liked sandalwood and the scent was mixed in with that of jasmine. "You start at the ends and work up being really careful to not tangle or pull any of the strands. He turned so his back was to the table leaning backwards till the golden tressed fell in the water. He held his head up, above the bowl, which clearly was not going to be comfortable for more than a few minutes.

Loreris listened carefully, taking in each detailed step and visualizing it inside his mind. "Alright..." He'd take notice at the uncomfortable position, placing one of his hands along the back of Kaj's neck to let him have support comfortably. "Just relax then...I'll try my best." His lips curled up into a slightly nervous smile. He'd begin with washing the ends as told, giving the small man's head a quick rinse by soaking his hair then combing it lightly with his fingers through the water.

Kajetan smiled and closed his eyes leaning on the hand offered. It was a sweet gesture even if it meant it would take longer. "I think you are the one that needs to relax cutie. You are a bundle of nerves. It is just hair."

Loreris frowned at the name for a brief moment, the name striking a nerve but it'd be replaced by a smile as quickly as it appeared. "I've always washed my own hair and rarely my sister's, but no one else's." He'd then look over to find the bottle of scented soap, sliding the hand supporting Kaj's neck a bit further so his head rested on his toned forearm. Pouring a small amount of the soap into his free hand, he'd set the bottle down to then adjust back to supporting the smaller man's neck with his hand. He remained silent, drifting back into his thoughts as usual; applying the soap at the ends and nursing it to the roots.

Kajetan didn't notice the frown with his eyes closed. "Are you okay?" He inquired lids fluttering slowly open as the man fell silent again. One of his hands moved up giving the man's shoulder a gentle squeeze.

Loreris rubbed the scented soap gently into the smaller man's scalp, aware he was stronger than the other so he was much more gentle. "Yes...I'm fine..." He'd attempt to pass, his tone telling otherwise. He'd continue massaging the soap into Kaj's hair, trying to get over something that still nagged at the corner of his mind.

Kajetan turned his head slightly looking up at the man. He said nothing just waited. The expression he wore was one that spoke volumes. He wasn't buying it and he was going to wait till the man said what was on his mind.

Loreris noticed the expression, starring the other in the eyes for a long moment before giving a long sigh; his free hand falling lax in the warm water. "It's nothing...Just a few bad memories with someone I thought I could love. He doesn't matter anymore." It was clear he was still deeply hurt about it all, deciding to rinse out the soap from the smaller man's hair. In a few minutes Kaj's hair would be completely washed and silky soft. "There...all done..."

Kajetan leaned forward grabbing a towel and he was careful pat the strands between the towel till they where mostly dry. With that taken care of, he set the soaking towel aside and looked up at the man. He was trying to decide what to say. "I am not sure what to say. I just met you and this is the first time I have ever... done anything like this. I was not trying to bring up memories from the past like that. I can tone it down."

Loreris gave a light shrug, trying to play it off as if he wasn't effect; though his eye gave it all away. "You're fine...He doesn't matter anymore." He kept repeating that through his mind, hoping after enough times it'd come true.

Kajetan looked at the man in front of him before scooting the bowl to the side. With one hand on either side of the wooden table, he lifted himself up onto it. "Sit." The word was an instruction. "Do you want to talk about it?" he inquired not pushing but giving the man a chance if he wished to take it.

Loreris looked at the offered spot for a moment before taking it, sitting with his back turned from the smaller man. "Might as well." He'd let out a long sigh, his shoulders slumping a bit. "Where to even begin..."

Kajetan let the teasing drop as he picked up the comb and began to let the man's hair down. Nimble fingers worked though the locks straightening it before taking the comb to it working from the bottom up untangling the locks. He smiled looking at the flower he had put in the man's hair earlier as he worked.

Loreris pondered over every detail, remembering it all so vividly. "Well...Him and I met at the pond outside the city gate, he was shy and timid but flirtatious. We were getting along pretty well and on that same day he kissed me, I had no intentions going further but after a week he tried to bed me twice. I refused both times. The day after the second attempt he wanted a 'relationship break'." He'd scoff, humming softly at his hair being combed as it helped relieve some of the stress. "It happen all too quickly, he proposed a 'relationship break' and I told him to screw off and turned my back...earlier that same day I earned this.” He'd point to his damaged eye.

Kajetan was very gentle as he worked though the man's hair never once tugging it. "I am sorry that you went though that and I am sorry if I reminded you of him. I can say I am not timid though and my bed is currently off limits." He was about to continue but thought perhaps that would be selfish turning the conversation into one about him. "You will find someone if you give people the chance. I think under all that gruff you can be sweet guy."

Loreris glanced back, his respect grew a bit more for Kaj. "The thought never crossed my mind...it's he used to call me 'cutie' all the time." He'd look back at the ground, burying the pain deep down. "And I doubt that...I'm too scarred for anyone to care for and I've given multiple people the chance. All have left."

Kajetan paused pressing his lips together. "I won't leave. We can always be friends though I won't promise we will be more." He wasn't sure if that made it better or worse so he decided to go with the truth. "If my behavior... is inappropriate in your eyes, with that in mind, let me know. For instance I can avoid using that word if it bothers you. That is simple enough."

Loreris nodded, he wasn't ready for a relationship anyways. "I'd like that..." The faint trace of a smile crossed his lips, reaching up he'd grip Kaj's hand gently; finding it to be reassuring and secure feeling before he'd let go.

Kajetan smiled leaning down to kiss the man's forehead. "Don’t' give up though. The right person is worth all the pain getting there." The words were spoke as he finished combing out the raven hair. He settled the bowl in his lap sitting with his legs folded Indian style. "Lean back." He eased the man's head backwards so it was resting comfortably on his legs with his hair in the water.

Loreris only nodded, drifting into his thoughts as he softly closed his eye. He'd lean back as told, not realizing that a bit of the bandages covering his eye came loose to reveal a little bit more of the wound...and what is was lacking.

Kajetan left the bandages for the moment as he gently washed the man's hair. He worked from the ends up spending time massaging Loreris' scalp. When he finished a hand was placed along the man's hair line to keep water from getting into his face as he use the other hand to cup water from the bowl to rinse out the strands.

Loreris kept silent, buried deep within his own mind to the point of blocking everything else out. Only making small signs of paying attention when he'd idly notice his hair being washed.

Kajetan was careful to squeeze out extra water without twisting or pulling strands before he moved to bowl to grab a towel. Slowly he patted the locks dry like he had his own. "There." He said offering a smile as he tucked the flower behind the man's ear once more.

Loreris came to, his good eye fluttering open as he gazed up at the sky. "Thank you..." He'd return the smile, leaning forward once more as he felt the familiar delicate weight of the flower behind his ear.

Kajetan shifted and stood up. "I lied. I am taking you to bed." He said with a warm laugh in his voice as he stood up and headed towards the house. "Though in my defense it simply is because there is better light inside and I don't have anywhere else to sit in there and I don't want to mess up your eye." He said with a grin as he stuck out his tongue.

Loreris arched a brow, chuckling softly as he stood to follow. "And they said I was the teasing one..."

Kajetan smirked as he opened the gate to the house. Inside the place was lit up by magical lights hanging from the ceiling. The entire place was filled with tables containing all sorts of interesting concoctions. It looked like a lab belonging to a mad scientist only... less creepy. Flowers and plants were all over the place along with books about them. In a corner of the room there was a bed, vanity, and a wardrobe. All three of them looked to have been shoved aside to make room for more tables for work. He gestured towards the bed. "Sit." he ordered with a smile.

Loreris looked around curiously, his gaze wandering up and all over the room. "Huh...Reminds me of the poison labs at the Uncrowned Lounge..." He'd mutter before sitting down on the bed as instructed, offering his best smile. "Now you get to play medic?" His tone nothing but teasing.

Kajetan looked at all his work and chuckled. "Well I don't make poisons though some of the stuff I have I suppose could be used to make them." He replied to that looking around. He moved to a bookcase against the wall and grabbed a satchel from the hook on the side of it before he came to sit down across from the man. "So tell me what happened and what I am going to see when I take those off? I would like to fix it not make it worse."

Loreris nodded slowly. "Well...I was wandering around Eversong for an early morning ride only to get ambushed by an arrogant Kaldorei bastard. We fought for a few hours till I got my killing blow for the cost of my eye." He'd gesture to the wound, giving a small smile. "It isn't going to look repairable to be honest."

Kajetan looked him over. "He actually damaged your eye?" He inquired pressing his lips together in a tight line as he thought it over.

Loreris only nodded, remaining perfectly still for Kaj to remove the bandages.

Kajetan hesitated. "Maybe... we should find a real healer.... I have enough coin." His words were spoke softly. From where he lived and how he lived he probably did have coin if he had been truthful about how much he got paid for what he had done for work.

Loreris shrugged, chuckling softly. "I already have, they've done the best they could. If you still wish to see then I have no problem with that." He'd offer a reassuring, soft smile.

Kajetan slowly leaned forward and began to very tenderly remove the bandages unsure of what else he would be able to do but he was willing to give it a shot.

Loreris sat still, taking a deep breath as he'd clear his mind; placing his trust in Kaj. Behind the bandages the smaller man would find that his entire eye was missing, leaving to look what was like a mix between a burn and cut wound. It didn't look the slightest repairable.

Kajetan looked at the empty socket and pressed his lips together firmly before blinking back what appeared to be tears.

Loreris only stared with a soft expression, offering a gentle smile as he extended his hand forward to gingerly wipe away the tears. "Now, now...tears don't look good on that lovely face." He'd say softly, trying to comfort Kaj in what little way he knew.

Kajetan let his fingers skitter lightly along the side of the man's face near the wound. He didn't say anything though as he offered a weak smile. He opened the satchel pulling items out from it. The first one looked like an ointment of sorts. It had an earthy smell as he opened the container. Reaching up he began to apply it to the damaged skin. "I... can't bring back an eye." He said softly.

Loreris smiling, flinching ever so slightly every once in a while from a light twinge of pain. "Don't fret over it, I didn't expect anyone to be able to." He'd reply. His hand brushing along the smaller man's cheekbone lightly.

The salve had a numbing sensation causing the area it touched to tingle before it slowly began to numb dulling any pain. The sadness never left his face; however, he didn't seem to be squeamish about it.

Loreris sighed in relief as the small amounts of pain dulled away, his smile turning ever softer. He'd look to Kaj with his good eye, brilliant emerald meeting sea green. "I'm fine, don't worry about it alright? I can take it." He'd give a soft chuckle, trying to bring up Kaj's mood.

Kajetan continued to place the salve on the wounded area till most of the jar was gone. With that he pulled out some bandages from the same bag before working on dressing it with the new bandages. "When it heals properly perhaps I can find you a magical replacement. I mean it wont be the same but it will give you something and will help keep debris out." It wouldn't come for free but he would talk about that another time.

Loreris chuckled before rolling his eye, giving a small sigh he'd look back at the shorter man. "I'm sure Fey will be thrilled with the knowledge of this..." With that he'd just let Kaj do his thing, knowing it was futile to argue with him.

Kajetan raised a brow. "Who is Fey?" he said hearing the new name not realizing it was a nickname.

Loreris eye widened as he mental face palmed. "Oh how stupid of me, Fey or Feyrah, is my adopted sister."

Kajetan canted his side to the side and smiled a little feeling a tad silly he had not made the simple name connection. "I am glad she will be happy." He finished the bandaging and stood up. He proceeded to strip right there without a care in the word for modesty as he draped the pants over the bed as he opened the wardrobe pulling out a beautiful white night robe that he slid on over his head turning back to the man. "Do you ever go to Outlands?" He inquired turning to look at the man.

Loreris was slightly tempted but had respect for his now friend, closing his good eye to block out and possible view. "I served a few contracts out there, yes." He'd reply, giving a nod as he kept his eye shut.

Kajetan turned around looking at the man with his closed eye and he laughed. "You meditating?" The reason behind his eye being closed.

Loreris huffed a laugh. "Are you decent?" He'd respond in a friendly manner.

Kajetan rolled his eyes letting out a laugh. "No. I am drop dead gorgeous not 'decent'." He said with a smirk trying not to laugh.

Loreris sighed, taking the risk of opening his eye once more. "Such the teasing little gardener." He'd shoot back, playfulness overflowing in his tone as he stood up to walk closer. Barely standing a foot away from the shorter man.

Kajetan gave the man a wicked grin at those words. "Nope wasn't teasing there. I am. Teasing would be if I decided to strip and not let you touch." He stuck his tongue out playfully at the man. "Though I need to get the dirt off my feet and wash my clothing." His index finger poked the man's bare chest as he smiled. At least he was back to smiling again.

Loreris pressed his hand a top Kaj's which was currently poking his chest; pressing his entire hand flat against his chest which was abnormally warm. "There's that smile." He'd give a playful wink, wanting to keep his friend happy.

Kajetan chuckled letting the man hold his hand there. rising to the tips of his toes he planted a kiss to the man's brow above the missing eye. "While you are warm and nice to touch it isn't getting the dirt and grass of my feet." He said pointing downward before grinning at the man.

Loreris let go of of the shorter man's hand, rolling his eye with a playful gleam. "Then you'd best get washed up." He'd chuckle softly, placing both hands on his hips while he watched Kaj contently.

Kajetan gave him a grin as he turned moving outside again. He fetched he used the soapy water and the damp towels that had been used for their hair to clean his feet off, realizing he had left his sandals inside. Grumbling, he opted to use the towels. Placing one under either foot of his, he grabbed the ends to hold them to his feet so he could walk back inside.

Loreris watched as the shorter man came walking in using towels as makeshift shoes, snickering a little bit. "Isn't that an entertaining sight..." He'd chime in a teasing fashion.

Kajetan simply grinned leaving them on the floor as he stepped over to the vanity slipping on the sandles that were next to it. "Mmm... well you know it is a new trend." A sly wink followed the words.

Loreris arched a brow, his playful aura still not fading. "Uh-huh...So is kissing up Garrosh's long dead ass..." He could help but snicker a bit, knowing a few orcs still do so.

Kajetan shook his head. "Is that an Orc thing?" he asked raising a brow almost pulling off deadpan. "And... since when is kissing anything a fashion statement?" he rolled his eyes and let out a laugh.

Loreris cantered his head from side to side. Pondering. "Eeeehhh I mean...I've overheard groups of orcs praising their long dead leader for his 'honorable' treatment towards the other horde races. Complete trash talk but oh well...I think I heard scream from a near by ally not too long after they left too." He'd tap a finger along his lip, eye darting back and forth as he pretended to be seriously thinking about it.

Kajetan was lost on the man's train of thoughts. His brow rose. "This has to do with towel shoes... how?" He said with a cuckle as he moved back outside to fetch the items he had left out there.

Loreris shrugged, giving a smile as he laughed full heartedly. "I don't know, my mind wanders sometimes." Clearly understating how often he gets lost within his own thoughts.

Kajetan smiled and shook his head as he gathered all the items in his arms. "You know it isn't nice to kill people because they are idiots." He teased as he walked back in and began to put things away.

Loreris held up his hands in defense, showing an 'innocent' expression. "Never said I killed them, I do contracts only....Most of the time..." His innocent expression faded away to reveal a sly grin, he knew he did wrong but just didn't care.

Kajetan turned rolling his eyes. There wasn't really any judgment there about the killing only in his next words. "You know you do stupid stuff one day you are going to wind up dead." He turned on his heal rising to the tips of his toes and swatted the man upside the head. "Then who is going to be there for your sister?"

Loreris accepted the smack upside the head with little care, giving the shorter man a neutral expression. "Her husband." He'd bluntly state, as if he didn't see a problem with him losing his life.

Kajetan narrowed his gaze at the man. His look was cold for the first time ever. "If you don't value your own life then I wouldn't trust you with mine." With that he turned his back and returned to putting items away. His breathing was a little off if the man was paying really close attention.

Loreris let out a barely audible sigh, taking soft steps which Kaj couldn't hear; he'd make a hesitant to wrap his arms around the shorter man in a warm embrace. "At times I wouldn't mind it, but most of the time I know it's not mine to give up." He'd utter softly, trying his best to comfort the other.

The arms felt nice, they really did but the pain and anger outweighed the comfort. Kajetan attempted to turn and get free of those arms.

Loreris pondered for a moment, then deciding it best not to let go; for the first time in a long while he didn't want to. "Kaj, please listen...At times I've thought it best to end myself, knowing it to be foolish and selfish. Now days the thought only crosses my mind for a split second, I've too many people I must care for to let my life go now." He'd say before finally letting the shorter man go, taking a few steps back to give him some space.

Kajetan let out a soft growl when he wasn't let go as he blinked back tears. When he was let go he turned around. "Life is precious. I don't recall anyone ever giving me a reason to live growing up. No one gave me an ounce of reason to value myself. I figured it out on my own and I did it on my own. If anything I had people degrade and devalue me for most of my life." His eyes narrowed. "I worked my whole life to find my own self worth and now that for the first time I am free to pick my own friends and perhaps even lovers. I have no time for you if find yourself expendable,” he finished the words poking the man in the chest with his pointer finger three times for emphasis.

Loreris sighed, lowering his head as he chose his words carefully. "Kaj...I'm just now learning that...When my parents broke me in, they drilled it into my head since birth that I was expendable. I never even knew what life until Feyrah came around, her magic brought a small joy to my dark shadowy corner called a heart." He'd give a weak smile, finally looking up. "Many of these scars aren't from combat...but from punishment, I carry those burdens and now accept contracts that allow me to eliminate people like my parents."

Kajetan didn't turn away again or take steps back. He stood there a foot away from the man his head tilted back to look up at the man. "Now it is your choice. Other people don't get to decide your value. You do."

Loreris looked straight into the shorter man's eyes, gazing for what seemed like hours to himself before he nodded. "Then...I choose life." His voice was still soft and gentle but burned with a newly kindled determination.

Kajetan didn't look away. When the man answered his expression softened a little as a hand moved up to touch the man's cheek.

Loreris leaned into the touch to his cheek, closing his eye briefly as his expression too softened up a bit. "I'm just now starting to set myself free..."

Kajetan gave a small nod before letting his head rest against the man's chest as his hand fell. Everything today had taken a lot of energy and his body was done. He let out a little yawn. "You... have somewhere to go?"

Loreris gently lifted a hand to run his fingers through Kaj's hair gently, letting him lean against him. "Indeed." He'd respond, knowing how tired the shorter man was just by how he was acting. "You must rest now."

Kajetan smiled softly reaching up once more to kiss him on his cheek. "I should finish cleaning things up." He said as he moved back to pick up the comb and return it to the vanity.

Loreris nodded slowly, letting the shorter man finish his sorting and putting back of things. "I'm not leaving till you're curled up in that bed and asleep." He'd chuckle softly, crossing his arms across his chest as he left no room for argument.

Kajetan rolled his eyes as he put everything away, leaving his clothing hung up to be washed later. With that he moved back to in front of the mirror and he began to comb though his long hair separating it into three parts which he braided over his left shoulder. "It is late. You don't need to stay till I am in bed."

Loreris walked up behind the shorter man, covering his eyes with a playful grin. He'd lower down a little bit before giving Kaj's cheek a light peck. "Consider that pay back for all the other times you've kissed me on the cheeks." He'd whisper in his ear softly, that same playful chuckle ringing out again. Only when vision returned, Loreris was gone; a blue rose left where he stood behind Kaj.

Chuckling, his hand rose to cover the one over his eyes a warm smile touching his lips. He didn't mind the kiss but when he went to turn to offer the man a smile he was gone. Kaj shook his head slightly picking the rose up from the floor. He twisted it around in his fingers and smiled. He finished with his hair before putting the flower to put it in a vase of water. Returning to the vanity, he used oils and lotions working them into his skin. When he finished, he moved to the bed, slid under the covers and curled up to go to sleep looking across at the rose one last time.