#i await your unwise but well-meant command

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

*tiredly trudges towards your throne while dragging a sword like a wet blanket and splats face down in front of you* my liege

alright babes, uquiz time.

find out who you would be in fantasy society. i’m reblogging with a link so tumblr doesn’t hide this. 

[darkestwolfx]

Afternoon Tea

Wolfie intended to post this last night and she fell asleep. Really sorry, Tsari! This week might be a more successful writing week though as I don’t have as many calls scheduled in, meaning I can stay in my own time zone a bit more. Hooray!

Anyhow, I won’t babble too much, I’ll just jump into the long-awaited and deserved fic (and yes, Tsari, there are still more after this so don’t panic)!

So, more wishes to grant, and here was the next on the list. This is something nice and friendshippy between Ned and John? Bonus points for including Gladys and EOS for @tsarinatorment as part of @gumnut-logic‘s #irrelief2020. And I suppose it kind of covers a bit of Parker babysitting for you as well.

For a reference, imagine this is set after 'A Seed Once Sown'. You don't have to read that to understand this, but basically, John gets Ned a new job as the Tracy Family's gardener, so you're all caught up now. Also, I've only given this the one, quick proof read due to time constraints, so any mistakes are my own, sorry!

Summary: A not so normal family couldn't be expected to have strictly normal friends. So what if they were pot plants and AI's? Scott swears it's all something of a dream, he's overtired as it. But did someone say cake?

Word count: Just under 6000, I think, maybe 5800-ish?

----------

Scott honestly couldn't remember what he was meant to be asking John anymore. Alan and Gordon were planning something, that much he could tell, and they'd needed to know something which Scott's brotherly knowledge didn't extend to. He might be the eldest, but that didn't mean he had a decent understanding of physics. That, was John's area, as he had remembered pointing out, to which Alan and Gordon promptly stated;

"We tried!"

"We can't get a hold of him to ask him."

"So we thought we'd ask you."

Scott remembered trying not to be offended.

"But you knew I wouldn't know that."

"We thought that was likely."

"But asking was worthwhile."

Scott had shaken his head, not really sure how to deal with the troublesome pair when their energy levels were at a full on sugar high, the day off running through their bloodstream like an additional stimulant, and honestly Scott just wanted to rest, have a moment of peace and quiet. As it was, they were heading towards Gordon and Alan finishing each other's sentences by the end of the day whilst they created chaos.

The chaos would be created anyway. There was a sparkle in brown and blue eyes, one that Scott knew all too well-meant trouble – maybe another minor explosion, great. John wouldn't be able to stop them. The plan was clearly laid, but if they wanted to ask John something, Scott figured it was probably worth trying to follow the query through. It might reduce the chances of something exploding, after all.

"What makes you think I'll be able to get hold of him?"

"He always answers you."

"Yeah."

Scott didn't think that was strictly true, but he couldn't be bothered to argue, so he went with it.

And that was how he ended up here. Here being sitting on the sofa in the lounge, listening to Gordon and Alan's master-planning floating in from the sunny poolside, wishing maybe he could be out there napping (or was that dangerous with the terrible two around?) whilst waiting for John to answer.

For the third time.

So, no John didn't always answer him.

Scott was prepared to go out and tell his youngest brothers that, no, he wasn't successful either, stuff it all and go back to bed, but… those same eldest brother instincts were niggling. They'd been given life after the blonde pair told him John hadn't answered, and they'd been nibbling freely at his youth ever since his first call went unanswered.

One more call. He told himself. He would try once more. Then he would tell the troublemakers there was no success, risk of explosion and all, and try to go back to bed. He was tired. He hated days off; that first day of quiet, of nothing, it made him feel far more tired than any stream of rescues did.

It was the stopping, he supposed.

He had time to 'suppose' on the subject whilst he waited for the call to connect.

And waited.

And realised he must be getting even more grey hairs at this rate.

The call didn't connect.

The nibbling turned to biting.

EOS wouldn't. Scott knew that now. He'd spent far too much time seeing her for who she really was, witnessing the lengths she would go to for John (and them), and many hours speaking with her. Prattling, as Virgil would probably say.

EOS wouldn't, but that didn't mean the vast world of Space would be as kind. He got up, giving in, and heading for the desk.

Thunderbird Five was still there. The scans weren't showing any alerts or damage and there wasn't any maintenance on the scheduling list and Brains was still here, wasn't he?

"Hey Scott."

"Nothing, blast."

"Uhh… ok?"

He pulled his head up. Virgil was standing on the opposite side of the lounge, looking very miffed. Probably debating whether he should admit his brother to an institution. Virgil hadn't thought quite that drastically, although he had been deliberating how badly Scott would shout at him if he called Grandma up to look over the eldest.

"I didn't see you there."

"You didn't hear me either, clearly."

"Sorry, what did you say?"

"Hey Scott."

"Right."

"What's taken your attention? Grey Hairs?"

"Hey!"

It was meant to sound more commanding than that, but it was bit half hearted really. The biting was rather violently taking chunks out of his bloodstream. Or it felt like it.

Virgil just nodded.

"Something serious then."

"Yeah. Brains is still here, isn't he?"

"Where else would he be?" Virgil seemed quite confused.

"I can't get hold of John. I thought maybe something had come up?"

"No, Brains is still building his to scale model of that thing from Atlantis."

"Right. So where's John?"

Virgil, laughed.

"Grey hairs indeed."

"What?"

"John's fine. EOS left me a virtual note. Some new answer machine type thing, she and John have tried to install. They're having afternoon tea with the Queen."

"He's what?"

"Yeah, I spoke to him earlier, well to EOS, briefly. John was greeting their guest apparently. But they are both fine, save yourself another grey hair."

With that, Virgil was heading out into the sunshine, risking whatever Gordon and Alan had up their sleeves. The chatter started up, but Scott was only half-listening. He was still mulling over what Virgil had said. John was ok, that was good enough for him to cease worrying – well, sort of, the biting was slowing back down to simple annoying nibbling; present, but not all encompassing anymore.

No, Scott was actually focusing on the part about afternoon tea with the Queen. He could hardly believe that Lady Penelope had managed to get John down to Earth again. The secrecy part, the not being told, that he could believe. Still- hold on.

The metaphor of holding horses went straight through Scott's mind as he pulled his head up like one might tug fiercely on the reins.

Virgil had spoken to EOS. EOS who never left the safe confines of Thunderbird Five unless strictly necessary. Furthermore, Virgil had said John was greeting their guest… oh. The Queen had gone to Thunderbird Five?

Carefully, Scott reached out to pinch the skin of his arm. He would have asked someone else to do it, but never again were his brother's going anywhere near him with pincers poised.

Still, he maybe didn't need to pinch himself quite as hard as he did.

"Ow!"

"You alright Scott?" Virgil called in.

"Yeah! Fine! Stubbed my… toe."

"Found grey hairs more like it." He heard Gordon mumble, and there was probably some agreement from Alan there as well, but he switched his hearing loop for the pair off. He'd had quite enough of that.

Point was though, he wasn't dreaming. Because this could have all been an elaborate dream out of tiredness.

Scott was trying to work out how to get his answers…. Maybe Grandma would know? When suddenly, a call came through.

It was Thunderbird Five. It was John.

"Scott?"

"There you are!"

He tried not to seem too relived. Although the niggling finally died a death.

"Sorry, um- Can you, thanks." There was a strange shuffling and passing of… was that a teacup? Scott momentarily wondered if he'd fallen through a rabbit whole like Alice and made his way into Wonderland. Wasn't that story all about drugs though? Or magic mushrooms or something? Maybe he hadn't then… Maybe he was going mad. "Did you need something?"

"Gordon and Alan wanted something. Nothing desperate. Uh… I can't even remember."

"They're not trying to make improvised explosives again, are they?"

"I honestly didn't ask."

Scott never asked anymore, not after all the trouble with shaken up and exploding bottles of Cola. Grandma had gone berserk, and it was easier to claim innocence if you knew nothing. Also, if it was all a prank, intended for him, he'd almost rather not know what was coming. He just kept an eye on the pair of them, and never let them do the supply run together ever again. Even if that meant owing Virgil a bloody ton for constantly going, dutifully with Grandma.

"Probably unwise."

Scott shrugged.

"I can talk to them, quickly, if they're around?"

"They by the pool. I wouldn't worry, not if you're busy. Virgil… Virgil said something about the Queen?"

"I haven't heard anything. I can check the news if you want? Hold on. No, EOS, Battenburg is the pink and yellow one. Well, Scott?"

"Well…?"

The eldest was still trying to put everything together. Was Virgil playing a practical joke on him? John didn't seem to know anything about the Queen. And had he heard cake mentioned? Maybe he really was losing it.

"There's no reports of anything to do with the Queen. I could ask Lady Penelope if she knows anything?"

"Right, um, are you-

"John-"

"EOS, jam tarts are red."

"What?"

"Sorry Scott, you were saying?"

Scott honestly didn't know what he was trying to say right about now.

And of course, that moment of his great confusion was when his brothers reappeared, Virgil shouting at Gordon that once his new tin of paint arrived, the fish would be doing naught but fixing Thunderbird Two.

Scott realised he'd obviously missed something there too.

"Oh look it's John."

"Is that tea?"

"John's having tea with the Queen." Virgil reminded.

"Oh, really?"

"And we weren't invited."

Scott didn't notice that John too had frowned here, about to say something before he was beaten to it.

"He's not having tea with the Queen!"

"Um… okay?" Virgil began, once again a little unsure. John was blinking in confusion, looking back to EOS as though she held the answers, and if the AI could have shrugged, she would have. "Are you doing okay, Scott?"

"I'm so confused!"

"Right," John began, clearing his throat, "Let me try and clear the problem here."

Scott was more than pleased to let him. That is, after all, what his brother did best.

"Go for it. Who the hell are you having tea with?"

---------

Ned was experienced in many things. He'd worked in space; under the sea; with one of the biggest defense organisations known to the world and with a selection of important vaults. He'd faced death at the tendrils of the sun; at the ends of the perilous deep ocean's grip; at the hands of an irate Colonel; some Mechanical guy; and a poisonous gas.

He was experienced in many things, and Gladys had been by his side for them all, but he was only truly experienced in one thing.

Gardening.

Well, maybe two: he was pretty good at making tea.

Oh, make it three: he was a very good baker, if he didn't say so himself.

Thanks to those Tracy boys, Ned had realised where he belonged. He always should have stuck with gardening. Gladys liked gardening too.

His business was flying by now. He had quite the clientele on his list and brilliant references from International Rescue to get his foot in any door. It was all rather surprising, how all of this had come out of one offer to become a gardener to a family in need.

It had been a while since he'd seen any of the Tracy boys, but today was different.

Space looked different when you weren't going up there to work, or with limited interest. He was keenly awaiting sight of the one Thunderbird he'd yet to properly see.

He'd spent a lot of time baking and he hoped he'd made enough. He had four hold-all's full, but he'd seen the appetite on that family.

Although, then again, he was only meeting one man and a machine.

Speaking of, the space station swung into his view, looking like it belonged in the vast floatiness.

"Here we are, Gladys! Thunderbird Five!"

And he'd been waiting a very long time for this.

---------

John had been a little more than surprised when Ned asked if he could come to Thunderbird Five. They'd had the date on the calendar for a while now. Ned may have his own business, but he still maintained the Tracy Island gardens, and John had been in contact with the man ever since he left the safe haven of the island. Ned had kept himself miraculously out of trouble since, actually.

So no, John wasn't surprised by their meeting, but definitely by the choice of location. He'd assumed Ned wouldn't want to step foot in space again after the asteroid mine and the iridium vault. But, Ned wanted to see Thunderbird Five, and (maybe most surprisingly of all) EOS, again. Apparently, Gladys missed having a friend.

John had thought that a little silly at first. Because a non-sentient pot plant couldn't possibly miss what it didn't have, but then EOS had made a gleeful point about having missed her potty pink companion and John honestly wondered if it was possible for plants to have sentience. They did have life, after all. Ned certainly seemed to believe there was more to them, what with this great love for all things garden.

He'd agreed. Because, after all, it did save him from ending up at some coffee shop of choice with gravity down on Earth. He much preferred staying here anyhow.

He'd had EOS leave a message for his brothers, so they knew he was there, but not readily available for any great scheme that was being concocted in the absence of work. They'd been working on a new program recently, so that people could leave International Rescue messages, in case of busy times, or if they ever needed to go 'out of office' again so to speak. John was sure it was fine, so he'd left the job of leaving the first ever message with EOS, in the hope that the holo-communication system would display it.

And if not, Virgil would know he was alive. They'd been chatting for a bit whilst Virgil had him place an order for some new paint for Thunderbird Two. Alan or Gordon – John didn't know who and he didn't want to know – had scratched Thunderbird Two on the last outing. Again.

And so the day had come, and Ned arrived. John had offered him to come via Tracy Island and the Space Elevator, but Ned had proclaimed he wanted to surprise his brothers, and besides, had already booked himself and Gladys onto a nice little connecting flight via the newly rebuilt Space Hub One. John had merely smiled and let the man go about his odd ways, although he had asked that Ned say hello to a Chief Controller Conrad for him. He'd been more than happy to pick Ned up from the Space Hub, but Conrad had sent someone to him instead.

So he and EOS hadn't moved a muscle in waiting for their guest until EOS registered that it was time to open the airlock.

John had expected Ned and Gladys. He hadn't expected the boxes.

"Hello!"

"Ned. Nice to see you again. And Gladys."

"It's very nice to be here. Gladys is very excited."

"Yes, well, what's all this?"

"We're having afternoon tea."

"Yes, but-"

"Well, I took to presuming you might not keep tea on a space station."

"Um, no I don't as it happens."

"Good! Because I've brought my best china. Here you go."

And before John really knew what was going on, he was carrying two boxes whilst Ned carried the last and Gladys, making his way into Thunderbird Five by following EOS along her track. He was commenting on everything, saving nothing for later, musing over why it was all so white, and whether he needed it painted because Ned could do painting (apparently), and complimenting the nice little colours on the windows.

John didn't even bother to remind him they weren't really windows or correct him on any amount of stuff. The man was harmless and simple. Everything someone from International Rescue, like himself, needed the odd dose of.

They'd chattered aimlessly whilst Ned brewed tea and set multiple sweet treats onto plates. EOS was eyeing them all, jealously, not really even knowing what they were or what they tasted like, but John did. And he could see multiple traditional favourites. And he liked what he saw. EOS was googling them. Again. Honestly, he'd told her google was rubbish. It would only be a matter of time before something came out of that.

But when the tea was brewed to Ned's satisfaction, they sat themselves – as best as you can in space – with their pristine china teacups, all white with pink edging. They were obviously kept for best, just as Ned had said.

EOS was hovering by his shoulder, and Ned has rested Gladys by his side, with multiple plates surrounding the pot. If John was anyone else, besides John Tracy son of Jeff Tracy and member of International Rescue, he honestly would have been baffled at the sight of two men, an AI and a plant pot, sharing tea with cake and biscuits. Oh, not forgetting the whole in space part.

The picture would have made quite the post card.

Lady Penelope would have loved it. As proof he was socialising.

"So how's business, Ned?"

"Oh no complaints here. I do a good trade in Petunias."

"Really?"

"Oh yes, fly off the imaginary shelves they do! Because I keep them in the ground, get it?"

"Yes, I got that."

"Course you did. You're the smart one. That's what Gladys and I think."

"That's very kind of you."

"John?" EOS butted in, well sort of. It was an open conversation, and Ned had come to see her just as much as he'd come to see him, John reminded himself. He'd even gone so far as to offer her a biscuit. John had resisted the urge to face palm. It wasn't polite afternoon tea manners, he remembered. Besides, EOS had laughed, clearly finding it quite entertaining before asking Ned for a description of what said biscuit tasted like – so she could learn. Which had then led them to a rather interesting commentary on the flavours of different biscuits, Ned describing to EOS precisely why Highland Shortbread was different to Shortbread Snaps. John munched thoughtfully on a piece of each, realising he'd never noticed the distinct sugary difference before. Or rather, if he ever had known it, he'd forgotten all about it.

That was exactly what he meant: about the grandeur of International Rescue overpowering the littlest of things. Ned was a reminder.

"Yes EOS?"

"Can we have a garden?"

"I don't know if it would last, EOS."

"Oh… but it would be lovely to have bright plants around us!"

John could actually kind of imagine it. And he wasn't sure if was a good idea or not.

"I suppose, but-"

"Oh, it wouldn't be any trouble to do!"

"I'm not a gardener though, Ned."

And even if he was, he didn't know if he could achieve the growing and successful life of plants in space.

"I can do it! Bring some hardy plants up, find a place for them. We could do that, couldn't we, Gladys?"

A moment of silence whilst they waited dutifully the amount of time it would take for the plant to give an imaginary 'yes'.

It was the only thing John still wasn't quite used to.

"Well, I suppose we could always try it."

It was more to placate his company than because he thought it was a good idea. Only time would tell. And at least he could say he'd tried.

"Hooray!" EOS was definitely like a child still. "I wonder if they'll grow as big as the ones I saw on Earth?"

"They were growth serum induced EOS."

And that he was definitely not heaving up here.

"And I seem to remember having a fever."

John was honesty trying to discount that entire plant mad day from his memory banks still.

"Oh, and I've been meaning to say- Jam tart?"

"Thank you."

"-Thanks for letting me do all the gardening. On the Island."

"Oh, no thank you, Ned! I think Grandma was about to drive us all stir crazy. Either that, or Gordon might have tried to use the lawn mower again."

"Oh?" Ned asked around a mouthful of jam and pastry. "Not the Squid's thing?"

"He nearly cut his fingers off the last time."

"How'd he nearly do that? Any decent lawn mower has a cut-off switch." Hmm, of course. Gardening was Ned's comfort zone, you could hear that, just as space and communications were his.

"And any decent person using a lawn mower doesn't usually try running with it to get it done sooner."

"Ah, rushes, I see. I thought that was more the Hot-Shot Kid?"

"No. Alan's actually tempered. Scott rushes."

"That's your big brother?" Ned had spent enough time around them all to know them, but it had been a while, and (as John had learnt) Ned tended to go by his nicknames for them, as opposed to their given names.

"The one and only."

"The one I threw Iridium at?"

"Yeah… maybe don't bring that up. Scott's still a little bitter."

"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean it."

"Oh, no. He knows that, Ned. It's not about the fact you threw it at him- well, sort of, more the fact the have better aim that him."

"Oh! It's nice to know I can do something."

"Speaking of, when could you next visit the Island? Grandma's been on about some kind of trellis? And Virgil is really interested in Topiary. He's trying to keep that a secret, but umm... he still forgets EOS can still read their search history."

'Forget' might be exaggeration of the truth. Gordon had found out after EOS had told John something she'd found without actually telling him how she knew. Alright, you could argue that John should have asked, but he hadn't. When he'd then mentioned it, Gordon had brightly put two and two together. John had promised to make EOS stop. But she didn't and John didn't actually mind. It had given him a great idea for what to get Alan for his 21st.

"I am very good at that now, John. Undetectable."

Ned chuckled. "Is there anything she isn't good at?"

"Probably not."

"I have multiple functions. I am a rescue assistant, a de-bugger, a computer hacker-"

"Ok, EOS, that's probably enough."

"Oi, you plotting to take over the world or something?"

"If I was Ned, I'd let you know. We'd need a few more flowers to brighten everything up out there."

"Oh, we could do that." Ned actually sounded quite excited at the prospect of being part of a world domination plan. "Couldn't we Gladys?"

Another imaginary 'yes' pause. Well, that time John actually thought he heard something. He briefly shook his head at EOS who gave a little flicker of mischievous purple. Great. She was working on a voice program for a pot plant. The world didn't need him gaining an army of talking plants. And he probably shouldn't think of that. EOS had a strange way now of working out what he was thinking.

"Biscuit?"

Ned offered another plate his way.

As if John would say no. For once, this was good homemade stuff, nothing like what Grandma conjured. It was a shame their Granddad's grand cooking abilities never rubbed off – and that the man was a little too shy to tell his wife she couldn't bloody cook.

This, was actually quite a good way to spend an afternoon. It was like having a butler. A little like Parker. Hmm. John loved his own space, but maybe that wasn't too bad an idea. And EOS would have Gladys for company. Gladys who she could give voice too. Yes, maybe that was an idea worth entertaining. He'd make sure to put it on their discussion list for later.

After a bit of looking at the calendar – which for them of course, could mean nothing in a second's notice – plans had been made, back-up plans had been made, and a final resort back-up was steadily waiting in the wings. Just in case the world decided to fall into utter chaos on all the prior days. John was nothing if not prepared for most – if not all – scenarios.

And with all this sorted, they moved on their discussion.

"So what's been happening with International Rescue whilst I've been away doing me worldwide gardening?"

"We've had a pretty run of the mill time of it. Minor volcano incident, hurricane, little rockfall - did more damage to property than people. Oh, we did go to The Mechanic's new Zero-X2 launch."

"Oh the scary bad-turned-good guy that took me into space in the vault?"

"Yes."

Ned nodded, like that whole trip had been washed through the crystal blue waters under the bridges of forgiveness.

"How was it?"

"Absolute success. Brains was ranting for days."

"Good that, isn't it, Gladys?"

It was at this point that Ned lifted Gladys from her comfy place of residence to take hold of her once more.

John couldn't comprehend how he hadn't noticed it; well of course he could, there had been EOS, and Ned, and Gladys, and cups of tea and Battenbergs, with biscuits and jam tarts – all homemade – and it had been a little like the days they'd spent at Lady Penelope's as children under Parker's supervision. Parker had claimed to not be very good with children and to have absolutely no experience whatsoever. John smiled wryly at that. Yeah right. Give children sweet treats and they will bend to your instructions. Not to mention that all the while they sat on the comfy sofas - munching and trying not to leave crumbs – Parker would be demonstrating his excellent array of 'magic' tricks. It was only when Gordon asked for a go that Scott had realised what Parker had actually been meaning to teach them.

Anyhow, Gladys had been resting on a communication switch. Ned noticed this too as he clutched the pot close to him. He stil expected to be shouted at, like his days back in the GDF, or admonished by his employers, like his days back in Hydrexler, or left stranded and alone, like his days back asteroid mining. He was human. John could recognise. If he was completely honest, that was more his reasoning for proposing to Colonel Casey an offer he knew Ned would never refuse; that, more than the fact getting a gardener would save them and appease Grandma.

Of all the people they'd rescued, Ned had grown on him. No puns intended.

"Oh… Sorry?"

"It's fine, Ned. If it was anything serious Thunderbird Three would be outside."

John may have turned his back, but he could tell Ned was looking desperately around outside for any sight of the Thunderbirds. Ned had had a rare opportunity to see them all now, and yet still gazed upon like he'd never seen sight of them.

John could understand that.

Scott appeared before him, looking like he was trying to hide his great relief.

John hid a smile.

And tried to appease his brother's worry at the same time as Ned offering him another cup of absolutely fantastic tea.

Obscuring a teacup on holo-communications wasn't easy.

But he was going to damn well try his best.

He knew what would happen if his brother's caught sight of edible food.

---------

"I did leave a message."

"And I got it." Explained Virgil, sitting down comfortably on the sofa. "It said you were having afternoon tea with the queen."

"Umm… no." John replied. "That's not what is should have said. EOS?"

"I sent what you told me too, John."

"I never the Queen, EOS."

"But Gladys likes to think of herself as a Queen of the Geranium's."

"Too right she is!" Ned exclaimed, merrily, still holding Gladys in his grasp.

For a moment, there was absolute silence from the island.

Scott no longer knew whether he was dreaming, in the middle of a nightmare, or maybe I he had been slipped the odd set of drugs.

There, sharing the holo-screen with John, was Ned Tedford and Gladys.

"You're having afternoon tea with Ned and Gladys?" Gordon exclaimed.

"Yeah." John answered, like it was a normality. "Ned wanted to see Thunderbird Five."

"I really like it. Especially the floaty floatiness."

"John, I still cannot find that word in the dictionary."

"It doesn't matter EOS."

Alan was just a mess of chuckles. In fact, Scott was surprised there was anything left of him save the sound.

And of course, it was – as things usually were for the Tracy's – at this moment that Ned raised a plate full of neatly sliced cake. John would have liked to have finished the explanations first, and kept the whole Ned being here thing a secret. Especially as they'd been planning a great surprise for Virgil's birthday. John still vowed to make up for the one which the middle child essentially 'missed' which he still felt a little at fault for. This would top that ruined surprise in seconds. As it was, John had learnt that Ned was good at keeping secrets, so there wouldn't be any worries there. The problem was how to deal with now.

Now being the very obvious sight of cake.

The harm was already done, so John reached out a took a piece.

"Thank you."

"Oh, you're welcome."

"What?" Alan bellowed, narrowly avoiding taking Scott's ears clean off, "You have cake?"

"Homemade and all." Ned added, somehow managing to balance a numerous amount of plates in his grasp, with one balancing on Gladys as well. EOS' little lights brightened, and John sighed at her forming even more grand ideas. Gladys was not proving the greatest of influences on his AI, and John felt an understanding for the struggles of their father when the boys went out into the world, forming their own friendships.

Eyes were glimmering back at them.

"You-"

"Have-"

"Cake!"

John wasn't sure what happened first really. In seconds, Virgil, Gordon and Alan were on their feet.

"Hello Ned!" Gordon waved.

"We're on our way up."

Alan was rushing around like a mad thing.

"To Thunderbird Three!"

"You mean to the cake!" Gordon insisted, following the youngest at a speed that rivalled a sports car.

"Scott, are you coming with?"

Virgil was waiting, looking at the brunette expectantly.

Scott wanted to say no. He wanted to go bad to bed and sleep, because clearly he needed it. His head still wasn't entirely wrapped around the fact that EOS could apparently talk to Gladys and that the pot plant liked to be thought of as a Queen, nor why Ned was waving at them from Thunderbird Five whilst pouring cups of tea and sharing biscuits with John like he'd lived up there for years now. He was entirely lost as to where the real Queen fitted in, he'd honestly forgotten his true reason for even trying to call John – which got him involved in all this madness in the first place, and everyone rushing around and shouting was doing nothing for his head.

But there was cake. Homemade cake, that – most importantly – didn't look like it would poison them.

John couldn't really eat it all. They were only looking out for his health by going up there to help finish it, Scott supposed.

Some second wind had him off his feet in seconds.

"See you in a bit, John."

Virgil gave a little cheer and some kind of funny-step-dance that wasn't really a dance, which John desperately hoped EOS had been recording. She recorded everything on the Island now. Even Gordon's singing the in the shower. John had questioned why, slightly unsure as to whether it was even a good idea to be doing so, only for EOS to play him a section – audio only, thank whatever God there was. Gordon was surprisingly good. No, not good actually. Pretty good. Now one could hold a tune quite like Virgil could, but John was surprised to find that Gordon had a talent he wasn't boasting about. He'd asked – slightly more wisely – why EOS was even keeping that. Her pointed answer was exactly what he should have expected. Blackmail material. John had wondered then if he should have let EOS get her claws on the World Wide Web. She edited Wikipedia enough as it was.

Still, as his brothers left his sights, heading to warm up Thunderbird Three, John waved a hand to EOS who closed the link. He rolled his eyes as he turned back to Ned. It wouldn't be long before his brothers joined them, shattering the peace and quiet of Thunderbird Five, stomping rudely over proper afternoon tea. John sometimes wondered how Lady Penelope put up with Gordon making all the mess he did when he stayed in London. Parker. That one was obvious. The man spent more time running around Gordon to keep everything in order than he did shadowing Lady Penelope for her own safety.

Their quiet afternoon was dead in the water. A very new one was about to begin.

"Sorry Ned. It will get noisy now, and busy, and… crazy."

He wasn't going to hold back. Ned knew them well enough after all.

"Oh that's alright. Gladys and I wondered if we might be seeing everyone, so I've bought plenty of everything. A gardener is always prepared!"

Far more prepared it seemed than the man had been in any other job.

John glanced over towards the two unopened boxes. If they contained anything like the feat that was currently placed before them, they would be absolutely fine. Ned was finally right where he was meant to be.

And John supposed he should have asked why Ned had bought a full set of teacups.

Always prepared, those gardening types.

[thepilgrimofwar]

Breaking the Line - Edited Roll20 Log

[Back dated from after Minutes to Midnight and before Warplanning 2]

[Event Start]

The counter-attack had caught the forces of House Illithia off-guard, and a conscripted army that had expected an easy advance against the scattered resistance from the Emberglades instead found themselves on the run. Retreating behind hastily dug and fortified earthworks, they manage to halt what meager soldiers that the Heartlands had to spare. Gathering their strength for the next push, they awaited Judereth’s militiamen. Numbering in the thousands from every household of the Glades, they had spent the last day mobilizing and marching to the front and were now prepared to join a new offensive.

Judereth marched at the head of the coalition. True to her words over the war table, they were to be the tip of the spear. A spear that would be driven straight into the heart of Westheath. “Spread the word, we’re approaching the front,” said the Baneret, and the men under her command did so without question.

Relriah rode beside her, sidesaddle. She looked the part of a noble lady save for the sheathed sword on her saddle and the look of fire in her eyes. “I am in your hands,” she said with a nod, looking at the men that she led into battle. The comment seemed to encourage them, activating some sort of primal instinct that did not wish to see a mother come to harm.

Mara Blazingdawn rallies the banner men of the Dawnspire to her side. Looking along the ramparts, she could see the muzzle flash of rilfemen opening up onto the approaching forces. Bodies littered the field of good men poorly spent. "Shields!" Mara shouted, as she channeled a personal protection spell. Swords and shields versus well fortified fusiliers. "It's a suicide charge! We need to clear them out!"

Thanidiel:"I am not fond of that entrenchment."

"Highdawn will hold but will not advance until there is breach."

Kebha was silent as always, her presence unknown even to those men she had been given to command. She had all but abandoned them, leaving them with the simple notion of kill or be killed- or be eaten, if they failed. Kebha cared little for the fates of 'her' troops- she was here at Lirelle's request, honoring perhaps the closest thing to a friendship she had formed outside of the cabal. She left them to their devices, cloaking herself in thick void and vanished from sight along with Xio'lhr and her trusted Ashtongue.

Ethalarian nudges his Charger forward to the crest of the small hill behind the artillery. He surveys the field with a grim expression painted over his scarred features and turns to the square-jawed man behind him. "Send word to Highdawn and the militia cavalry under my command- we wait for a breach in the lines."

Thanidiel:"Lady, if you would pull towards the farmland."

"It is unwise to be so close to the 'firing line.'"

Thanidiel 's iconic banner flicks after Ethalarian's runner reaches them. Some sign of her understanding without return or shout.

Relriah acquiesces to Thanidiel's demands. "Very well, I'll be observing"

Elara Blazingdawn surveys the troops under her command and fists her hands on her hips. "Alright lads and lasses. Now's the time to find that inner sense of strength that I hope to the Light you all have. Otherwise, uh, we're done." She pauses, realizing this is a bad motivational speech. "BUT!" She exclaims, "We represent the Dawnspire tonight! The Serdar has sent us strong and bolstered to the field. Tonight we fight for,er, Quel'thalas!"

Avenaiel is a construct of an elf, and her soldiers seem the same; the remains of Blood Knight armor mantles her but it is mostly replaced with leathers. She waves with her fingers to the artillery, and is greeted with nods.

[Combat Start]

[The Assault]

With a great war cry, the forces of Emberheart charge across the gap of no-man’s land, crossing over the corpses of the ones who had charged before them. But this time, the soldiers of the coalition were there to protect them with their flesh and steel. Esheyn covered their flanks, her soldiers protecting the ladder and siege bridge bearers with their shields as cavalry belonging to Thanidiel, Ethalarian, and Relriah ride at their backs, ready to cross the moment the staked trenches were bridged.

Beathyn orders the bombards that he had purchased off Obaniwix to shell the enemy rifle lines, trying his best to minimize the casualties from enemy fire.

Mara & Elara Blazingdawn, with their knights sent by Telchis and Ellasha from the Dawnspire, covered their rightmost advance, ensuring that the militia there were well protected from their assault.

Kheba, an Illidari of blood and shadow, infiltrated the enemy lines, drifting over with others of her kind until they were far behind the enemy defences and trenches. She moved towards the artillery that was raining death down upon friendly troops on the assault.

Oosaarn advanced with arbalests on either side and a handful of no longer bored Warsong at his back. While the orcs held their ground, crossbows soon fired away at the enemy's rifles.

[The Staked Trench Bridged]

Thanidiel rides straight through the enemy lines to the forefront of their cavalry reserves. The standard of Tyr’s Hand held high in the horizon by her troops as the ex-Knight cracks a whip of holy fire like a blazing lightning strike, meant to startle the horses.

Ethalarian lifts his lance high and bellows his orders over the din of cannon fire and the screaming wounded. "Punch through! Clear a path for the infantry!"

Thanidiel:"Soon would be the time to gain a real notch on your belt, Lady Illithia."

Relriah gives her a nod, unable to hide the mix of excitement and horror in her eyes.

Elara Blazingdawn signals her troops to advance, reinforcing Mara's troops near the ladder. Boots thunder on the ladder as the elven troops raid the fort, turning on the Westheath Militia where they can.

Oosaarn led that ragtag group of Warsong towards the siege ladders. Leaving the arbalests behind to continue their volleys upon the enemy forces.

Kebha continues to advance forward, an incidious shadow across the battlefield like choking smoke. She rushes forward, making her way towards the battery, biding her time until she can do real damage. Across the field, the militia struggled on, heeding the words of Thanidiel. They drew steel, diving forward into the riflemen before them.

[Battle for the Battery]

Esheyn rallies her troops to press on, to bring their weapons down upon the militia that surround them.

Mara Blazingdawn"Rally! Do not get stopped! All forces advance!"

Ethalarian wheels his cavalry about as the first formation of heavy infantry are broken apart. He signals to the militia cavalry with his lance and turns his own cavalry on the infantry striking at his flank.

Elara Blazingdawn hikes up the ladder with her troops in tow, eager to close the distance between her sister and herself. "Keep moving, keep moving! Get that militia!"

Oosaarn’s Arbalests again fired on the forces at the other side of the defenses. All while the group of orcs barreled into the enemy's frontlines in thunderous war cries.

Shrapnel catches Thanidiel as the battery fires indiscriminately into the advancing Emberheart forces. She is seen passing the Standard of Tyr's Hand to the Emberglades heavy cavalry and pulling off of the field with a scant retinue, letting them continue the battle in her stead.

[Morale Breaks Militiamen begin to flee]

Mara Blazingdawn:"Let these peasants run back to their homes. All forces reform and move onto the trebuchet!"

Ethalarian goes racing northward now, shouting orders for his flagging unit of militia to retreat. The Blood Knight lancers crest the hill, preceded by thundering hoofbeats and the deafening blast of a war horn. Lances at the ready, enveloped by the twisted sheen of stolen Light, they crash into the crews manning the artillery battery.

[The Trebuchet is destroyed. Combat Ends. Knowing they were defeated a significant number of Westheath forces have thrown down their arms.]

Ethalarian would like to keep War Crimes to a minimum.

Mara Blazingdawn:"The battle has finished. What will we do with all of these captured and wounded?"

Iriina:"Dungeon."

Relriah doesn't speak, but should the decision to slay the captured and wounded be decided upon she would see to it herself.

Oosaarn:"Give them a choice. Rot in a cell or a quick death."

Kebha sheathes her glaives, turning her attention back towards her allies. She says nothing, but does eye the frightened looking infantry like a snack.

Isilos:"The question is, will they become hostile combatants if released?"

Judereth clears her throat. "Prisoners will be a drain on resources we scarcely have at the moment. But I am usre Lord Emberheart would like them alive. The boy wants to be merciful."

Mara Blazingdawn:"I am liken to agree. Hold them in a cell until the war is over. Rebels are less likely to take up arms if their brothers and sisters have a chance of surviving. Killing them will only give them reason for revenge."

Elara Blazingdawn:"Offer them the choice."

Oosaarn:"Then do whatever it is your 'lord' wants. I do not care."

Iiloridan shrugs his shoulders; not his land, but if they were asking... "I agree with the orc. Cell or death."

Ethalarian tugs on the reins of his charger and, somewhat bloody and now covered in artillery shrapnel- thanks Isilos- exhales a long sigh. "I've seen enough of my kin slain in recent times." Lord does he sound thoroughly -tired-. "Treat their wounds and hold them until this business is finished."

Judereth:Sighs, shakes her head, but orders her militia coming up from the rear to collect the wounded and to clasp the others in chains.

[The Coalition votes to Imprison them.]

Kebha laments. But Dinner.

Ethalarian: There are enough freshly dead people to eat, you monster

[cutesuki--bakugou]

Ancient Soul

Time Travel, Quirkless, Feudal Japan AU

“Your soul does not belong here.” Those were words you never thought that you would hear. Now, thrown into the past in feudal Japan, you must find a way to survive, all while struggling to avoid the growing feelings for one hot-headed war general. War, romance, death and love drive you forward, to find the place where your soul truly belongs.

Bakugou Katsuki x Fem!Reader

Want to start from be beginning? Check the Ancient Soul tag. New chapters released every Wednesday as long as schedule permits.

Genre: Romance / Angst Story Rating: Explicit | Adult Themes, Sex, Death, Depictions of Violence, Alcohol

Chapter 7: A Cell

Chapter Rating: Teen | Cursing Words:  2986

The number of stairs that you had to climb to reach Lord Yagi’s chambers was more than you had ever climbed in your entire life. You lost count of how many flights you took, but your freshly cleaned body once again felt sticky with sweat and your legs felt like they would give out on you at any moment. You were so tired, but you barely had time to get dressed in clean clothing before Bakugou was trying to pull you away to meet the Lord of this castle. You hadn’t expected to get any rest first, but you so wished for it, especially by the time you reached the level of the castle that was your destination. 

“You do not speak unless you are spoken to,” Bakugou growled at you, looking you over as if to judge your appearance. “You will answer every question with truth. More than that, you will not gawk at the physical state of my Lord, or I will have you punished. Understand?” 

Although you were confused at what he meant, you nodded, nervously fiddling with the sleeve of your fresh kimono. With that, Bakugou gestured for the guard to open the door, which he did without another moment's hesitation. You followed Bakugou inside, and though you tried to keep your head down, you couldn’t help but look around at the exquisite decor and architecture. It was so beautiful that you barely heard the slightly weary and gentle voice speaking with Bakugou, though your attention was finally pulled to them with Bakugou’s harsh response. 

“I’m here to address our Lord, not you, Deku!” 

“Kacchan, please--” A man that was obviously level with Bakugou in status held up his hands in defense, though his expression was stern on his freckled face. With wild green hair, he hardly seemed like the warrior type, especially with how timidly he talked. “-- You know that you have to go through me first. No matter what you think, I am the Chief now--” 

“I don’t care. You hold no say in what I’ve come to talk about, so talking to you is pointless!” 

“I think talking to me about this prisoner isn’t pointless--” 

“I said let me through-!” 

“That’s enough!” 

A deep but weak voice boomed through the room, making you flinch and cower down into yourself a bit. Both men were silenced as well, quickly turning their heads to look further into the room. You hadn’t even noticed the frail-looking man that sat at a large throne-like seat, his clothing nearly swallowing him. Now that you gazed upon the sunken-in eyes and hollow cheeks, you understood what Bakugou had meant about Lord Yagi’s physical appearance. He was a mess of a man, seemingly on the verge of death at any moment. His yellow hair was unkempt, but you assumed that was just from lack of health and not from personal preference. Still, it was made clear to you that both younger men respected him greatly, as they followed his command for silence without even a huff of annoyance. 

“Young Bakugou, what is it that you wanted to discuss with me?” The harsh authority in Lord Yagi’s voice was no longer present, and he instead sounded like a kind and gentle man. Giving this ‘Deku’ one last glare, Bakugou approached the end of the stairs that led up to the throne, instantly getting down onto both knees to bow deeply to the floor. 

“My Lord, I have brought this woman to present to you. I believe she could be of great benefit to us.” 

“How so?” Lord Yagi’s gaze moved to you, instantly making your stomach bubble nervously. Quickly as to not make eye contact that could be considered disrespectful, you kept your head bowed and awaited instruction. “She seems like an ordinary woman to me. What is so special about her?” 

Bakugou rose to his feet, giving a sharp motion with his hand for you to approach. Timidly, you came up to stand beside him, keeping your eyes locked on the brilliant red cloth beneath your feet that covered the cold wooden floor. “We found her during our return, out by Shōshitsu Shrine.” You were surprised to hear Bakugou call it by the name you knew it in the modern world, and you assumed it had been known for its oddities for centuries. “I believe that she has special abilities that could help us.” 

“Abilities? Young Bakugou,” Lord Yagi’s voice seemed weary, as if he were unsure of what to do with this prospect. “Such things are dangerous.” 

“It’s nothing physical. She can accurately predict the future. I saw it happen, as did everyone in my party.” 

Silence fell over the room, and you couldn’t help but bite down on the inside of your cheek. It sounded absolutely ridiculous, but that must have been how he saw what you had done. Technically, it was true. You knew what was going to happen, for the most part, and could give your input to the best of your ability. The whole thing still just seemed like a mess, and the sigh that escaped Lord Yagi’s lips only confirmed to you that he thought the same.

The sickly man shifted a bit in his seat, though you still didn’t have the confidence to look up at him. “And how did she do this?” 

“She told us that there would be an ambush at Silver River, and there was. She also predicted our victory.” 

“Young Bakugou, for someone so intelligent, it seems odd to me that you would fall for such a farce.” 

“Huh?” Bakugou’s voice wavered a bit in confusion, and you could physically feel his confidence dwindling. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s obvious that she already knew it was going to happen because she knew about it. That’s the only logical explanation.” Lord Yagi stood, prompting you to glance up for just a moment to see him make his way down the stairs. You were surprised to see that he moved with a decent amount of ease, though that didn’t stop you from being anxious about his approach. “And she only guessed that you would win. It was just a way to keep herself inconspicuous.”  

Bakugou gave a small cough to clear his throat. “It didn’t seem like that to any of us on the road, My Lord. She is constantly talking about odd things, and she was dressed in these.. rags that I had never seen before. Myself and the others who were with me all believe she has powers of some sort.” 

“It’s impossible for me to believe that without seeing proof of it myself.” Coming to a stop in front of you, Lord Yagi finally addressed you directly. “What is your name, miss?” 

“U-Uhm… it’s [F/n] [L/n], Lord Yagi.” You bowed deeply at the waist, trying to control the trembling of your body. With a gesture of his hand, you stood back up straight, though you didn’t look up at him just yet. “It’s an honor to be in your presence.” 

“How polite. You don’t seem… dangerous or threatening in any way. It truly is a surprise that you have been able to trick my General.” 

“I assure you, I haven’t tricked anyone. I… I am no spy or enemy.” 

“I’ll have to beg your forgiveness on the fact that I cannot believe you. Many women these days know how to act innocent and foolish when they have ulterior motives.” Lord Yagi turned his attention back to Bakugou, who was waiting silently to be spoken to. “Young Bakugou, this isn’t safe. I cannot trust her without proof.” 

“But My Lord, I’ve seen it--” 

“And you, along with Young Midoriya, are someone I trust beyond all others. But this is dangerous. She could be in league with the enemy.” 

“I do not think so, I truly think we could use her!” 

“Fine.” Lord Yagi sighed, obviously too exhausted to spend too much energy on such an argument. “If you wish for her to be here, then she will be under your charge until she can be trusted. I will allow that. But… I find this whole situation to be in very poor taste, Young Bakugou. A very unwise decision…” With that, he began walking towards the green-haired man, whom you assumed to be the person he called Midoriya. “We have to look over some charts now. I expect a report of your battle within the week. For now, I leave you to deal with your prisoner.” 

As Lord Yagi and Midoriya vanished through a sliding door into a different room, you were left alone with Bakugou. His stiffness and silence worried you, so finding your strength, you turned your gaze up to look at him. A chill ran down your spine at the intensity of his glare that was locked onto you, the fire that normally adorned his gaze now turned to ice. You knew why. He had just humiliated himself, all because of you and your ‘powers’. He had wanted so badly to be looked upon by his Lord with respect and praise, but he got the opposite. 

“You made me look a fool.” 

“M-me?” You brought a hand up to your chest, glowering up at him. “How did I do that? I was barely even talked to, how is it my fault?” 

“Shut up, you Demon wench.” 

“I am not a demon! You don’t think that humiliated me, too? I don’t deserve to be treated like I’m some- some damn filthy prisoner! You trusted me enough to keep me unbound, even in front of your Lord, so what’s your deal?!” Your exhaustion had your patience dwindled to nothing, and the fact that he was blaming his failure on you had you at wit’s end. There was nothing you had done that warranted being treated like the enemy or with suspicion, and after all this time, you had expected more trust. “If you don’t want me, then give me a horse, and I’ll go try to find my way home!” 

“No! You’re staying here under my charge!” 

“To do what? Sit around until I wither away or until you think you can use me? I’m not an item, I’m a person!” 

“I don’t give a shit what you are,” Bakugou growled at you, making your confidence shrink down into nothing. You were intimidated by him, and although you knew you were in the right, his stature and power over your life made you quickly realize that it would be best to keep your mouth shut. “You are going to live in this palace, watched every moment and if you even think about stepping one foot out of the gates I will have you locked away.” He pointed a finger towards the entrance, to which you silently followed command and made your way in that direction. 

Frustrated, your eyes were burning with tears, yet you couldn’t find it within yourself to say or do anything about it. You had no means of escape or help, so you knew that all you could do was roll with it all and see what happens. Perhaps, there would be a chance for you to prove your ‘powers’ to Lord Yagi, which would probably increase your status or at least give you more leniency. The first chance I get, I’m going to do a prediction. I can’t let it slip past me, but I have a feeling that Bakugou won’t be coming to me for anything… I’ll have to catch them when they’re having a conversation. Just like before. 

Lost in your thoughts about what to do with yourself, you didn’t notice Tsuyu until you nearly rammed into her. Jerking yourself to a stop, you stuttered an apology, though it was quickly smothered by Bakugou’s voice as he addressed his subordinate. 

“As discussed, you will watch her. Let me know immediately of anything suspicious.” His voice almost sounded… strained, as if he were trying to hold back whatever emotion he was struggling with. You felt both angered by his attitude and sorry for him, as he had gone through a very rough couple of days. Though, the little voice in the back of your mind told you that, just maybe, he deserved it for how awful he had been to you. That little voice brought a strong sense of guilt to your stomach, however, knowing that it hadn’t been all bad. You knew that there must be a good man beneath the wall of shit he had built around himself. If there were others following him, with so much respect and obedience, then there must be more than ranking influencing them. You could see it on Tsuyu’s face, a slight furrow of her brow preceding a deep bow. 

“As you wish. I will keep you informed daily.” 

Without another word, Bakugou left you both, vanishing behind the building before you could even look back at him again. Finally out of his presence, you gave a heavy sigh, looking at Tsuyu as she stood up straight. “He’s really pissed at me…” 

Tsuyu nodded, beginning to lead you forward. “I assume it did not go as expected with Lord Yagi. He is a very… educated man, not to say Bakugou isn’t, but there is a difference there. It’s more of a… level-headedness, one which Bakugou lacks. It can cause him to be quite frustrated when he is corrected or when he realizes that he was wrong. He will calm down.” 

“So… you think he doesn’t believe I can predict the future anymore?” 

“Oh no, I don’t mean that at all. There is something odd about you for sure, Miss. And what you did at Silver River was astonishing. You have something uncanny about you, but only time will tell what it truly is.” 

“I think… Lord Yagi made him feel like it was a mistake to bring me. Like his ambitions about whatever he wanted to do were wrong.” 

“Perhaps.” Tsuyu stopped, carefully sliding open a wall panel. “I cannot say for sure since I wasn’t there. I will say this, though. You should keep all that happens to you and your thoughts to yourself. I may not be the only one listening.” 

Frown crossing your lips, you nodded, glancing into the dimly lit room. “I’m sorry, you’re just so easy to talk to.” 

Tsuyu nodded, a small smile of her own crossing her lips. “I suppose that’s what can make me so dangerous. I make you feel a little too comfortable.” Although it didn’t seem like her words were meant to be menacing, it still reminded you that she was some type of assassin, and probably had a blade that the ready beneath her kimono sleeve. “I had fresh clothing brought for you for in the morning and we will have a servant come to take your dirty clothes to wash them daily. This will be your quarters until it is seen fit to move you to a more spacious area.” 

“Ah, I like the small size…” You walked into the room after leaving your sandals at the entrance. The tatami flooring creaked a bit under your feet, and you felt relieved to be back in some sort of civilization. “I lived in a very small room before. I wouldn’t know what to do with more space. Though this is more…” Your voice trailed off a bit at the negative thoughts, your eyes moving to the traditional futon bed that rested near the middle of the room. 

“Don’t think of it as a cell, Miss.” Tsuyu finished your thought for you, surprising you a bit at how well she could assume your thoughts. “This is your home now, and you can travel the palace as you wish with me as your guide. It will take some time for you to be happy here and gain the trust of others, but I believe that you’ll find a way.” 

Feeling the burning tears return to your eyes, you sniffled a bit, reaching up to wipe your eyes with the back of our sleeve. “Thank you, Tsuyu…” 

“Please, call me Tsu.” With a gentle smile, Tsuyu took hold of the door again, preparing to shut it. “Goodnight, Miss. I will be here in the morning.” 

“You’re not gonna camp out all night?” 

“Oh, no. I have to sleep too!” Tsuyu gave a soft laugh, nodding towards her left. “No, there will be guards here. You’re safe. Now, get some sleep.” The doors slid closed with a soft tick, leaving you alone in silence and dim light. 

Taking a deep, trembling breath, you took a moment to remove all your clothing except for the white robe that was your final layer. Keeping it tied, you knelt beside the futon, pulling back the thick blanket that covered it and adjusting the tiny head pillow. Although it wasn’t what you were used to, it was heaven compared to the hard and bumpy ground outside, and you felt a huge sense of relaxation when you finally laid down. Though, now that you were finally alone for the first time since this horrible catastrophe, you began to feel a wave of emotion crash over you. 

At this rate, you would never see anyone you loved ever again. Your parents, family, friends or even your beloved cat. They were surely grieving heavily for you by now, searching everywhere in the woods around that horrible shrine. You could only hope that no one would come across the same fox that had cursed you, so that they wouldn’t suffer the same or even a worse fate. You were now just a memory to them, as they were to you, and that ripped at your already wounded heart. 

Turning over on your side, you hid your face into the pillow as you sobbed, pulling the blanket up to completely cover your head. 

And this night, too, would become nothing but a memory.

[caeliri]

Preparations

A sea of letters lay on her desk, wrist deep and in dire need of tending. 

Dawn came and went in a whisper of satin and silk, her nightgown surrendered to the floor of her suite and exchanged for slacks and a loose fitting shirt made without the same intention for enticement as her nightwear. At least she had nowhere to be today; of late, her days were spent in constant motion, bounding between Dalaran, the Dawnspire, and the quiet village of Summerglen - the province which the Archon bequeathed to her. The trips were expensive and exhausting, the effort spent in transcending space with magic and riding back and forth from one place to the other wearing her thin and leaving little time for all else save crashing into her sheets come midnight and curling against whatever warmth she’d invited for the night. All carnal desires in her had been stilled of late, though they still roved beneath the surface, waiting for the fire of her passions to ignite again - perhaps when there was less work to do.

Thus far, her efforts in Summerglen had been few - she’d ordered work to begin on the repairs to the manse of Hallowhearth, which would one day be her home, and presently she was grappling with where else to spend the funds allotted to her province. To her, the issues Summerglen faced seemed small compared to the problems of the Sunguard; the stakes were not so high, not perched precariously on the precipice between life and death. Simple province, simple problems; but to the people of Summerglen, those simple problems were their world. The wealth of the harvest or the lay of the street, every aspect of their village and the lands belonging to them affected the other an affected them in turn.

Summerglen was a lesson in practicality; something the young Dame lacked, for all her ideals and endless elysian dreams. It would have been easier to decide, she knew, were she more a part of their community, but she had no desire to rush the repairs to the great estate house, not when Shallowbrook was home. Midway through a response to a Request for Aid written to the Dawnmenders, Caeliri paused, her pen hovering just above the surface of her parchment. Hallowhearth had all the opulence of the Evergrove, it’s design inspired by the open, columned walls and sheer curtains of the Dreaming Gardens, it’s stained glass windows - now shattered - once bearing landmarks of the not-so-distant land. It was beautiful and grand in it’s own right, smaller than Shallowbrook, than Shael’thas Lair, than even Embertree Court, but it was neither its size nor it’s grandeur that failed to make it feel like home.

Home was where her heart was, and her heart was --

Wrists aching, she rubbed the bony bulge as she set the response aside in favor of something that did not require writing. Below the request sat her Last Will and Testament, already written, only in need of review. Sea-green eyes swept across the script penned on the paper before her, one of many; the Archon commanded the Sunguard to have their affairs in order, and while Caeliri had no fortune - that was in her hands, her inheritance remained with Cere’thien, untouchable save by request, until her first century - to her name, she had many personal effects, and each now had a home at the time of her demise. It needed notarizing still, and soon - come the end of the week she’d lead the Dawnmenders down into the Fal’dorei tunnels, and though they went with escort, there was always the fear that they would not return.

Night’s ago, the Ranger-Captain had shown the same apprehension - she remembered the tightness of his smile, all false and festering with fear in the arcane lights of Dalaran’s dark night. No matter how much she’d fiddled with his fingers and assured him she’d never be laid low again, they both knew the truth - neither of them could make that promise, not with any honesty.

Reaching forward, Caeliri seized the handle of the enchanted tea cup that sat beside the letter, a gift from the Greenseer months ago, filled with coffee - not tea. She hated tea. Nose crinkling against the waft of strong scent, she sipped, and sipped, and sipped again, hoping the cinnamon and hazelnut drink would drive off the hungry hold of sleep.

Drawing in a deep breath, she cast her eyes across the room, to where Grace sat perched on the gilded gift Lirelle had given her. Preening, the phoenix paid Caeliri little mind, ignorant to the fact she’d been promised away to a person she might have considered the wrong one - long before the Archon’s command, she’d promised Grace would return to Cere’thien at the time of her death. Caeliri was sure Grace would have protest, would think her light and warmth was better served with the Captain who occupied the suite beside hers, and in some regards Caeliri was sure it would have been better, but… she was bound to her promises; even if that promise was not to fall in combat.

Shuffling through the responses, an envelope, still sealed shut, slipped out from amongst the opened letters, and Caeliri’s throat vibrated with a plaintive groan. A letter from Summerglen, another problem, no doubt; she drew the letter opener to her, gripping it’s filigreed hilt in hand and slipped it beneath the the seal of her Captain of the Guard, popping the letter open for perusal;

Dame Dawnsworn,

I fear if I write you with more foul news you’ll soon see me fired; for that, I am eternally sorry. This letter comes to make you aware that all work on repairs to the manse of Hallowhearth has been paused, yet again. As before, the workers cite the spirits that dwell within as the cause of their discomfort and unwillingness to work, though I’m afraid the situation has escalated since last you came to Summerglen.

One of the workers was assaulted by the spectres that dwell within the halls of your future home, and remains, at present, on bedrest at The Hungry Hound, being tended by my wife, Haela Heartblossom. He is recovery well, his wounds overall minor in the end - by the account of the workers sent to repair the stonework within, they fell under siege from dinner ware. Whether their memories are sound or strained by terror, on truth remains; whatever struck the craftsman barely missed his temple, and had it been a few inches further forward, I would be penning a request for recompense for his family.

My update does not end here; with how small our province is, news travels fast, as I’m sure you can imagine, and after this last occurrence I can find no one else willing to work on the repairs to Hallowhearth, not until the haunting has been handled. It seems your stay abroad will continue until the halls can be purged of these poltergeists.

There is one other matter I wish to address. Though I’ve taken the steps to enact your plan and open the issue of where funds should be spent in your first act as Dame - either in arming the troops that Summerglen has to offer, or disrupting their dailies lives by repaving the many, many ruined roads in an out of the province - to vote amongst the residents, I implore you, once more, to reconsider. While your wish to glean the want of those who, at present, call Summerglen home is noble-hearted, I believe it unwise. Your first act as Dame will set the tone for the remainder of your governance, and though you may wish to err on the side of democracy, know that to carry forth along this avenue may cause your allies, enemies, and even those you seek to lead to view you as weak-willed and pliable.

Having met you, my Dame, you’ll excuse my impertinence as I assure you are not weak-willed, but there is no doubt you are pliant - but that is not the sort of woman you want to be, if you intend to step into the shadow-steeped dance of politics. As it stands, you may be in the good graces of all you know, but where you stand and whose favor you hold changes as rapidly and viciously as the tides, and for all your charms, there are some things that can not be compelled by a sweet smile and a gentle touch.

Neither choice comes without it’s own difficulties and without it’s own detractors, but I implore you; choose. Do not yield your power so swiftly.

I await your next visit to Summerglen, and am eager to hear your intentions for how to proceed with preparing Hallowhearth for your residency. I doubt I need remind you that a province is best governed from the ground it’s built upon. Make haste, my Dame - do not let desire pull you from your duties.

Your faithful servant, Liadove Winterthorn

The last made her lip curl in a way unbefitting her gentle face; what did he know of her desires, or her commitment to duty? You know what he knows, her thought proclaimed, and she found them true; she felt only relief that the repairs were stalled once more. It meant more days, more weeks, more months in Shallowbrook, with her best friend, who needed her as much as she needed him. Drawing the letter to her lips, she held it firm, an almost-kiss, an thankful act. The rest, she would not sway on - whether the roads would be ripped down to their roots and repaved with fresh stones, interrupting the daily lives of those beneath her charge until their completion, or their near hundred standing soldiers would be better armed and stood at the ready for the Archon’s - no, Lord Truefeather, in all non-Sunguard matters - eventual command would be up to the citizens of Summerglen. For this, their fate lay in their hands; as it should have been. Who was she, to know better than them, where their futures should lay?

A thought occurred to her, and Caeliri threw herself against the back of her chair so fiercely it rocked onto it’s hind legs; the room was filled with the sound of her long, loud, fluttering groan. There were supplies needed for the Dawnmenders who would follow her down into the tunnels of Falanaar - special gloves and bags made for collecting sticky webs, and enchanted to keep them safe from the wild, sparking energies that lay latent in their lengths. Special supplies required special requisition forms, which required both more paperwork and for her to waltz her perky ass through the city to actually purchase what was needed. Silence settled into her room, and for a moment, the ever energetic mender felt utterly spent, that effervescent glow that kept her going against all odds at last relenting to inertia. Head hung over the back of her chair, Caeliri stared at the ceiling, eyes set on the blue-white light of an arcane fixture above, until it’s light blurred into a perfect halo across the flat expanse and made her eyes ache.

Rising from her desk, Caeliri moved through the ever open double doors to her bedroom into her sitting room, to the door where her boots and bag lay at the ready. Shoving her feet into her boots, she bounced on one foot - then the other - then slung her bag up over her shoulder and out the door she went.

So much for having nowhere to be today; a Dame and Dawnward did not know the meaning of ‘a day off’.

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