#i was also given a healing stone bracelet but that has not helped

[mechanica1-hands]

thanksgiving fit, post workout, then more recent photos with my mullet, albeit unstyled

[witchthewriter]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐦𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

I thought I’d do something a lil different, since the Nav’i are so connected to nature, it would be a cool concept if they were given a gemstone that represents them when they were born

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ      

𝐀𝐔: Just like the Songchord that is created when a Na’vi first comes into the world, they are also given a gemstone that represents them as a being. Throughout life, whenever this gemstone appears - it means something. Na’vi use it to represent themselves on their own Songchords and their clan’s Songchords. Their gemstone is also worn as an adornment; jewellery, sewn into clothing, and/or worn in their braids. 

𝐌𝐨'𝐚𝐭

・Her stone is Apatite 

・Known as ‘The Stone of Wisdom’

・Aids in the mind’s connection to the spiritual world

・Apatite is also known as the stone of the future and brings knowledge to those who are attuned to it 

・It also helps in psychic abilities; feeling, knowing more than the average Na’vi.

・Her stone was a part of the reason why she knew to make Neytiri teach Jake

・Those attuned to it/are chosen by it has enhanced brain power, originality and critical thinking skills

・Apatite is a dual-action stone, known for its positive use of personal power to achieve goals. It clears away confusion, apathy or negativity, then, stimulates the intellect to expand knowledge and truth

・She wears it as a necklace as well as bracelets 

𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞

・His stone is Labradorite 

・Known as ‘The Stone of Mysticism’

・He was chosen by Eywa; we have seen reasons so far, but there has been hints of an even greater purpose for Jakesully. 

・This stone’s elements are Air and Water. Just like Neytiri, Jake has a love for flying - and he leads his family to find a safehaven with the water people. 

・He received his stone when his soul was completely transferred into his Na’vi body

・Legend says a warrior speared the coast to create labradorite 

・Is known for uniting opposing ideas, forces and people

・Cuts through illusions to reveal the heart of the truth

・Offers protection through ritual work

・Jake has labradorite beads tied to his arm band

𝐑𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥

・Her stone is Moonstone

・A very spiritual stone, which fits as she is the clans Tsahik

・It evokes the goddess, and in this universe, that would be Eywa. This rings true as Ronal is the Tsahik for the Metkayina clan; the one closest to Eywa

・It’s element is Water, showcasing her clan and its importance to her

・Moonstone is a stone of sudden inspiration and intuitive knowing. Some clans believe a Moonstone talisman can help the wearer make the right decisions.

・Moonstone makes you super-focused and receptive

・It also purifies your aura and protects you from psychic harm

・Ronal incoporates the gemstone as apart of her headpiece 

𝐍𝐞𝐲𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐢

・Her stone is Amethyst

・It is a well-known stone that works in many areas of a Na’vi’s life. It heals, protects, enhances psychic abilities, strengthens the connection to Eywa and promote peace. 

・It’s elements are both Air and Water; signifying Neytiri’s love for flying and her later connection with the Metkayina clan. 

・Awakens a heightened state of spiritual awareness

・It continually reveals that the most “sensible” solution is also the one that serves the Highest Good for all

・It has strong healing and cleansing powers

・Amethyst helps us to identify the root causes behind behaviors and emotional patterns

・Neytiri wears beads of amethyst in her front braids 

𝐓𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐢

・His stone is Blue Calcite

・Known as ‘The Stone of the Mind & Communication.’ 

・It’s elements are Air, Water and Earth - meaning it’s one of the more stable stones

・The meaning of Blue Calcite is deep unconditional peace

・Blue Calcite is a wonderful stone for communication, especially for tense situations that need careful management. It gives the confidence and hope that everything will work out for the best.

・Reminds us that while we can’t control other people, we do get to control our response to the world around us.  

・Tonowari wears his gemstone on his iknimaya; a garmet that is given to Metkayina once they complete their coming of age tests

𝐓𝐬𝐮'𝐭𝐞𝐲

・His stone is Moss Agate

・It’s meaning is ‘Universal Connection.’ 

・It’s element is Earth, relating the fact Tsu’tey comes from the forest Na’vi

・The stone is beautiful and blends well in the jungle

・In some clans, Moss Agate talismans were worn by soldiers before going into battle for physical harm, longevity, and evil vibrations

・When one is going through painful events or changes, Moss Agate can help spiritual growth

・Bonding with it reveals the secrets of nature and cosmic reality

・Aids to stay in integrity and to make good decisions that will serve one well in the future

・Tsu’tey wore his gemstone in his intricate necklace

𝐍𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐲𝐚𝐦

・His stone is Blue Lace Agate

・It is known as ‘The Stone of the Diplomat’ 

・It’s element is Air and Water; Neteyam is a great warrior, he has success in all Omaticaya traditions. However, Lo’ak superseeds him in the Metkayina ways. 

・That’s not to say that Neteyam doesn’t mesh well with his new home - rather, he is used to being the one who excels at whatever he puts his mind to. 

・Blue Lace Agate lets you speak your authentic truth 

・This gemstone makes it easy to find the root of and dissolve the negative emotions that cause anger and resentment

・Blue Lace Agate teaches us that words create reality and so we should strive to use words that are kind and wise

・Neteyam wears his gemstone on every piece of his garmets; including his loin cloth design, and neck-wear

𝐊𝐢𝐫𝐢

・Her stone is Citrine 

・Known as ‘The Light Maker,’ it carries the power of the sun and with it, brings happiness wherever the wearer goes

・Citrine is a joyful stone and has one of the most powerful energies of all crystals

・It purifies the energy of everything around it, and is one of the few “self-cleansing crystals” capable of maintaining its own brilliant energy field

・It’s element is Fire, which made Kiri upset when she first learnt of that. She wanted to be like her family - it was another reason why she was different 

・But this serves as a greater foretelling of her future 

・When one is truly looking for a change or a spark of imagination, Citrine’s energy has no bounds

・Kiri wears her gemstone in little pieces braided into her hair and on her necklace

𝐀𝐨𝐧𝐮𝐧𝐠

・His stone is Aquamarine

・Known as ‘The Crystal of the Sea’. It is a direct representation of water and the life beneath the waves

・Therefore, it’s pretty obvious that it’s connected to the element of Water

・Aquamarine encourages spiritual growth and greater awareness. 

・The ocean is believed to symbolize a real-life astral plane, and Aquamarine’s connection to the sea and water element is a spiritual representation of how it links you to the spiritual realm.

・Aquamarine is one of the most calming stones out there and works wonders for those who suffer from anxiety and stress.

・Aonung wears his gemstone on his armband

𝐋𝐨'𝐚𝐤

・His stone is Chalcedony 

・Chalcedony connects your physical body to the higher realm. It’s a spiritual awakening crystal that is also responsible for wisdom, awareness, and universal connection.

・Chalcedony is one of the oldest crystals for making weapons and tools.

・It enhances our self-awareness and encourages us to be more responsible, without becoming overly serious

・It is associated with the element of water, which explains why he was never as good as the Omaticaya traditions as Neteyam was

・It also explains why he integrated so well into the Metkayina way of life

・He wears parts of the gemstone braided in his hair. 

𝐓𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐲𝐚

・Her stone is Larimar

・It is known as ‘The Stone of Truth’

・A feminine stone, it’s elements are Fire and Water

・It is not yet known how the Fire element will come into play. 

・Larimar is a stone of truth; specifically knowing who you are and what you stand for. 

・ Larimar gives those attuned a deeper connection to nature

・Enhancing truth and personal understanding, you can use Larimar to tap into and harness your intuition.

・This is a direct depiction of Tsireya’s open-mindedness and welcoming attitude she shows the Sullys’.     

・Tsireya wears her gemstone as a necklace; tied in a rope 

𝐓𝐮𝐤

・Her stone is Rose Quartz

・Known as ‘Unconditional & Universal Love’ 

・Even though Tuk is young, she still shows an open-mind and open-heart to all things

・It’s elements are Water and Earth - which correspond perfectly. Tuk wasn’t of age to have her own Ikran, so she’s not used to being in the air 

・She doesn’t judge the Metkayina’s way of life, instead she embraces it. Making friends wherever she goes.

・Rose Quartz restores trust and harmony in relationships

・The Earth element rules Rose Quartz crystals; hence, you’ll easily calm down when holding this crystal, especially during stress, grief, trauma, loss, or heartbreak. 

・However, she does come from the Forest Na’vi - the Omaticaya. This represents the Earth element. And since moving, she has become one of the Reef people - the Metkayina. This represents the Water. 

・Their stones can foretell their future, but not every Na’vi wants to know their next chapters. So it isn’t a tradition to go searching for your future in the stone. 

・Only Eywa knows a Na’vi’s future 

[lunar-lair]

lays on the ground h. hi its 2 am welcome to the post abt how the mcs fit into the soul eater au girl (note: timeline is a bit fucky!! i am. Working On It)

Hilda and Hilbert

Our first duo still grow up with Bianca and Cheren! They're twins, a weapon duo, but ones who have no meister, and instead choose to wield themselves!

Cheren and Bianca are a meister weapon duo respectively, having decided early on they'd be working together since their best friends refused a meister (which they honestly think is really cool, Bianca especially. She'd never be able to do the stuff they do on their own)

Cheren is the only meister Hilda and Hilbert would let wield them (besides themselves). Bianca also has an open invitation, but she's not really a fighter

Also ive just decided a lot of the stuff im abt to write a QUICK warning OSJDDO

Bianca is a shield, and though she has some sharp edges, in truth she's made for support

Her, Cheren, Hilda, and Hilbert actually form a four-man team, Bianca and Cheren often acting as support

They barely entertained the thought of working alone, realizing very quickly Bianca was meant for support

Around the time of 16, Bianca actually learns how to heal through soul perception

This is gonna sound weird. But Listen,

Think of it as a heal pulse move. She can only do it to nearby people, but it's through manipulating the soul into calming, and wounds into healing through fixing the form of a weapon. She can only calm meisters, but weapons find her a big help.

It's sort of like. Reverse madness? Except. It's more like, with meisters, simply calming the soul, and with weapons, using madness to mold an almalgamate form into a form it was previously before harm

I honestly have no clue what Hilda and Hilbert (or Nate and Rosa) would be. Maybe swords for the first two and then guns for the second two? Smth smth old then modern. Genuinely, I have no clue, and will absolutely be taking suggestions.

These four are a couple years younger than Elesa, Emmet, and Ingo, showing up to the DWMA when the three are 15.

Around the same time, team Plasma show up.

The main characters still do a lot of the work, but Elesa, Emmet, and Ingo are important goals for all four of them to look up to.

see.....this is why i said the timeline was fucky. i wanted emmet n ingo to know the kids when they were also kids ok :(

After team Plasma has been Thrashed, by the time everyone has aged a year, all 7 of them are given madness stones.

We've said where the trio keeps there's, but as for these four

Bianca and Cheren keep theirs on a bracelet (Cheren didn't really care where it went and Bianca wanted to match) and Hilda and Hilbert also wear theirs as earrings! Though they don't keep anything else on their other ear, it's only one.

(yes there are special smiths who make the stones into jewelry. yes i just decided this)

Rosa and Nate

These two still show up about 10 years after Hilda and Hilbert do their thing, appearing when Ingo and Emmet are 25, Elesa is 26, and the other four are more like 23

Bianca still becomes an apprentice, but to the nurse of the DWMA, this time

Cheren becomes a teacher, well known for his stern but kind teaching

Hilda and Hilbert travel a LOT and Bianca and Cheren are the only ones who ever know where they are. They go around doing random jobs that weapons are made for, cleaning up random madmen and helping other meister/weapon duos and DWMAs across other regions

Rosa and Nate,,,like I said no CLUE what they are but they just chill at the DWMA, also have no meister, but don't have support in Cheren and Bianca, they're solo

They take Emmet and Ingo's class for Obvious Reasons and Instantly become some of the two's favorites

OHHH MY FOD I FORGOT ABT. THE RIVLA

i know nothing abt him..

um. he. uh. goes to the dwma,,hes a weapon who can wield himself but. iS LOOKING FOR HIS MEISTER. Who became part of team Plasma!!!! WOO ok I FIXED IT

he looks for a purloin right. whos forgotten abt him. ok YES lets go

N e ways UHH. Rosa and Nate beat the shit out of team Plasma (w/ the help of N this time, along w Emmet, Ingo, Elesa, and the quartet described above (so many names..)) in a similar fashion to 10 yrs prior and get some madness stones. Which they wear as earrings too (weapon twins who wear madness gems as earrings 🤝)

(Once it's all over, Emmet and Ingo, Hilda and Hilbert, and Rosa and Nate happen upon each other, the former two having been called by the president and the latter just leaving.

They all notice the placement of their stones, and even Emmet begins to laugh.

They stand in a perfect triangle, the three duos all making a side.

Their stones of madness glint in the light, all two halves of one whole, all made to be worn near each other, all made within the same breath.

The president laughs, Arceus looking over his shoulder.

"All is as it should be," the president hummed.

Arceus made a booming sound.

One that meant, 'finally...indeed.')

UHHH ANYWAYS. thats one more post done!!! team plasma next which is. kind of a doozy. a lil. im still mentally ironing out their details like i said this au has existed for like a couple of days PSJDODDKFJF

[weirdfanaus]

Where’s My Love? (Part 2)

part 1

Summary: Cordelia tells James she loves him.

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: mentions of blood and death.

Words: 1603

Pairing: Cordelia Herondale (Carstairs) and James Herondale

Author’s Note: Here is part two because someone on ao3 asked for it and I felt like doing it :).

The only spoiler for Chain of Iron is that they are married.

Also on Ao3

The lights were dimmed through the whole Institute that night. The rain had started falling and its drops were knocking on the slim and tall windows of the church. 

James Herondale was playing with his fingers anxiously, his golden eyes followed the red curls sprayed on the white sheets. 

There had been so much blood. He had no idea how she was still there with him. He had no idea how and why the Angel had given him this miracle. 

His bracelet was no longer around his wrist; he hadn’t even realised when he lost it and how he did, but he didn’t care about it. When he saw his naked wrist, his mind had already been filled with thoughts about his injured wife. 

She was slowly dying before his eyes and nothing that was supposed to save her seemed to work.

How she was still there… it was a miracle.

She was still fighting.

He remembered how her deep eyes looked at him like he was the sun of her world. 

He also remembered how they closed, peace filling her face then.

He was still covered in blood, but he had managed to clean his hands at some point during the time the Silent Brothers tended Cordelia. He still wore most of his gear. His father told him to take it off so he could clean it because spending excruciating moments in the blood of loved ones would not help, but he refused. Even if it would most likely make it worse. His pants still had splotches here and there, the collar of his shirt was stained with red and he had a blanket around his shoulders. 

The weather had gotten colder and colder while he had been staying in that chair, by her bedside.

People came and went. He knew that his sister was walking anxiously through the church, hoping to find something to do instead of thinking of the situation that her soon-to-be parabatai was in. He knew that Lucie was scared, he was too. That's why he hadn’t dared to leave Cordelia's side, the only exception when he needed to relieve himself. 

It had been hours, maybe even a day since the demon attack in Queen Mary's Rose Gardens, where Cordelia had injured herself and had told him that she loved him, while she was bleeding out in his arms.

That had been a moment of clarity for James. 

He could see everything clear after that, the world was suddenly brighter and then realisation hit him and it changed to grey. 

His love was dying. His wife. Cordelia. Daisy. 

He would not get to hold her again, tell her he loved her, admire her in the soft light of the fire. He would not be able to get to kiss her the way he had always known he wanted.

He was losing her.

James moved his hands through the dark locks on his head. His hair had at some point been wet from the water he had splashed on his face and thereupon soft curls hugged his ears. 

He was drifting on and off slumber with his right fist under his cheek and elbow on the armrest. Lights moved around his eyes, breaths turned ragged and ragged. He felt a chill suddenly and the screak of old hinges. He softly turned his head in the direction the sound came from. Moved the blanket from his lap and shoulders and raised to walk to close the window that had opened. 

The rain had become louder then; the sound no longer muffed by glass, wood and drawn curtains. The stone was cold under his socketed feet, the slippers had been forgotten at the leg of her bed. He softly closed the window, in some way scared to break the calm he was in, but the hinges had another thought and the sound cut the quiet loudly. 

He heard the deep breaths. He heard the ruffle of the sheets. 

He turned his head to the occupied bed. 

Gold met deep brown eyes shyly opened.

And he ran to the bed, where he met a confused young woman with skin paler than usual.

He cupped her face lovingly and she looked at him long. They stared at each other for a short while, when he broke the connection to look at her body and ask her about how she felt, whether she was in pain. 

Cordelia was silent, but she shook her head. She seemed fine, but he still needed to announce the Silent Brothers that she had woken up, to check on her. 

But he needed a few more moments to admire her. Even in the bad state, she was, her bright hair, her deep eyes, the curve of her lips, of her nose were simply divine. It all caught his breath away,

She was the Sun. 

His Sun.

He combed through her hair, caressed her cheek. He was not sure though if he should kiss her, but he knew that he has to tell her how he had felt.

“I love you too, Daisy.” their eyes met, she looked at him, taken aback, mouth slightly open, big eyes, but he was still touching her skin. 

He could see that she didn’t know what to say.

“Can I kiss you?” he watched her take his words in and slowly nod. 

And with one hand still on her cheek and the other at the base of her neck, feeling her pulse as a strong song, one he found out he adored, he locked lips with his wife. 

Her lips felt like silk, soft, perfect under his. He poured in their connection all he felt about her, about their marriage. All the love he had thought of and also didn’t know he had was there. The warmth of her was celestial, her mouth, a place he could spend his whole life in, could worship. 

He could feel her love, her regret, her want. She wanted him. And he didn’t even know how to name how his whole body felt like it was flying, floating. 

When they finally broke apart, James touched his forehead to hers. One of his hands had more from her neck to hold one of hers. His warmth enveloped her cold body. He moved his head to her shoulder and he surrounded her in his arms. Cordelia was now with her nose in his shoulder, her free hand fisted in his shirt. 

They stayed like that for moments that felt like days. James softly broke the embrace, kissed her forehead and picked one of the blankets on the bed, putting it on her cold shoulders. He rose and went to announce Brother Zachariah, who stayed for longer than the others, that the patient was awake.

The two came back in the room, the younger man seated himself on the wooden armchair, while the Silent Brother assisted Cordelia. The man formerly known as Jem Carstairs talked to his cousin, asked her different questions, for which he got short answers or the movement of her head. When he deemed everything all right, he turned to James and spoke into his mind.

She has not fully healed yet. I don’t recommend having her moved tonight. I will tell Will to bring you both something to eat, he is still awake.

James only nodded. Brother Zachariah looked at Cordelia once more, now sitting against a mountain of pillows with the blanket still on her shoulders and he moved towards the door, the ruffle of his robes following him out the softly lighted room. 

The married couple were left alone at once. James was playing with his fingers, but he had eventually got the courage to lift his eyes from his hands and was met with the eyes he loved. Cordelia was startled by his sudden movement when he caught her looking, but she didn’t move her gaze. She didn’t have to. 

“Come here, please.” she rasped out, hardly trying to scoot over, to make him space. James sat where she indicated and they were then shoulder to shoulder. Cordelia put her head in the crook of his neck, he moved so he could put an arm around her and his other hand was clasped in her still cold ones. They stayed like that until someone brought them food and more blankets. They ate and fell asleep in the same bed. 

The next day, when the sun rays slithered in the room, James was the first one to wake up. He admired how the light danced on his wife’s skin, her red hair, making it look like fire.

 Her warm breath was hitting his chest and he was so happy to feel it, as well as the warmth of her skin. A strand of her hair had fallen on her face at some point during the night and he went to move it, the movement continued on her pink cheek and he stopped at her lips, slightly open. He wanted to kiss them, but she needed to sleep, he knew it. So he kept on admiring her, her eyelashes, her brows. He hadn’t even realized when he had fallen back to sleep, but the next time he woke up, he was met with the eyes he loved and cherished. 

Cordelia looked like she had just woken up too. Her eyes were big, trying to keep her awake. James caressed her face and kissed her forehead in salute. 

“I love you,” she mumbled in his cheek.

He only smiled and replied, “I love you too, Daisy.” 

He had never been more sure of something in his life.

[four-loose-screws]

FE8 Novelization Translation: Book 1 - Front Cover & Other Introductory Pages

Happy 2021, ya’ll! We made it! Who knows what this year will bring? At the very least, we can get excited about another FE novel translation!

The title this time around is.... the Sacred Stones! This was the most requested title outside of Jugdral.

This novel, unsurprisingly, follow’s Eirika’s journey, as her route has more details essential to understanding the overall plot, and is in the third person, but primarily told from her perspective.

Also, for the names of the writer and illustrator, note that I usually tend to write Japanese names in “given name -> family name” order, as I personally find that that’s the most simple for Westerners to understand. Plus, that’s what the previous novels have done as well. But this book takes the “retain the ‘original’ order and write the family name in capital letters” approach, so I decided to stick with that and stay consistent with what’s printed on the book.

Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones

Book 1

Written by TAKASE Mie

Illustrated by SUZUKI Rika

Published by Square Enix

(inside flap)

Author

TAKASE Mie

TAKASE Mie was born on July 31st in Tokyo. She graduated from Waseda University. Her recent hobby is the cello, which she was inspired to start learning after watching a certain sailing movie. Though she has dreams of one day being able to play Bach’s cello suites, she still has a hard time with even basic scales.

Cover and Obi Design: atelier THiRD

Long ago, the Demon King was sealed away within the five Sacred Stones, and the continent of Magvell has since enjoyed a long period of peace. However, that peace was shattered in an instant. The Grado Empire, honored as the most powerful of all the nations guarding the Sacred Stones, began to invade the other lands of the continent. Grado had always maintained friendly relations with the surrounding countries, so why invade? The kingdom of Renais falls without the answer to this question. Because those still in Renais have lost contact with Prince Ephraim and the front line, Princess Eirika is entrusted with reviving her country, and flees on a journey to their ally, the Kingdom of Frelia...

(inside flap)

Illustrator

SUZUKI Rika

SUZUKI Rika currently lives in Yokohama. She is a freelance illustrator who has contributed to titles such as the Monster Collection TCG (published by Fujimi Shobo) and Angels of Dawn (written by KAYATA Sunako and published by Chuokoron-Shinsha, Inc.). She also created the manga Tableau Gate - Volumes 1 & 2 (published by Kadokawa Shoten).

Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones

Book 1

Written by TAKASE Mie

Illustrated by SUZUKI Rika

Table of Contents

Chapter 1: The Day That Decided Her Fate

Chapter 2: The Blood of a Warrior

Chapter 3: The Stolen Bracelet

Chapter 4: The Pursued Cleric

Chapter 5: Fog of War

Chapter 6: The Castle on the Lake

Chapter 7: The Girl with Wings

Chapter 8: At Port Kiris

Chapter 9: The Heroes at the Fort

Chapter 10 The Secluded Sage

Character Introductions 

Eirika

The Princess of Renais. She is kind, and does not like war itself, but still dedicated herself to the current war without hesitation to retake her country, a goal entrusted to her by her father, the king.

Fado

The king of the Kingdom of Renais. In his youth, he was renowned for his military prowess, and he is adored by his people as an honest statesman.

Seth

Though he is the youngest of all Renais’ generals, his loyalty and superb skills in both combat and discernment make him the ideal image of a knight.

Franz

He may have just only become a full-fledged knight, but he has a very serious and earnest personality, and is skilled in combat as well, ensuring him a promising future.

Valter

A general of the Grado Empire also known as the Moonstone. He was discharged from the army for the crime of massacring ordinary citizens for fun. However...

Gilliam

A devoted knight of Frelia with a long history as a fearless soldier. He is a man of few words, but his power is known throughout the entire Frelian Army.

Tana

The princess of the Kingdom of Frelia. In contrast to her friendly personality that is beloved by all of her retainers and servants, she also has military experience, and is an active member of the pegasus knight unit.

Hayden

The king of the Kingdom of Frelia. His resourcefulness is unparalleled, and has earned him the title “The Wise King.” He is a long time friend of Fado’s and spares no effort in aiding Eirika and her allies.

Vanessa

An outstanding knight, even among the prided Frelian pegasus knights. She is very serious, but kind.

Moulder

A priest. Within his calm appearance lies a very intelligent mind. He can not only heal with staves, but is also knowledgeable in medicine.

Selena

A mage general of Grado, also known as the Fluorspar. One of the empire’s three generals. She has vowed her undying loyalty to Emperor Vigarde.

Ross

A boy living in Ide Village in Renais. He is saved by Eirika and her allies when his home is attacked by bandits.

Garcia

Ross’ father. A former troop commander in the Renais’ army known for his dauntless courage. When his wife passed away, he retired from the army to raise his son.

Neimi

A girl born in Lark Village in Renais. Her home was burned down by bandits. She cries easily, but undoubtedly inherited her grandfather’s famous skills with a bow.

Colm

Neimi’s childhood friend. They were the only two to survive the bandit attack on their hometown. He has sticky fingers, but is kind to Neimi.

Artur

He meets Eirika and the others while carrying out the orders given to him by his church to purge the lands of monsters. He has a deep love of learning and is a devoted monk.

Lute

Artur’s childhood friend. Though it is true that she is an exceptionally skilled mage, the words and actions she chooses as a result of her confidence in that fact are a bit detached from reality.

L’Arachel

A young woman with a strong sense of justice on a continuing journey to take out the monsters roaming the lands. She actually appears to be of noble standing based upon the way her companions talk to and act around her.

Dozla

A warrior traveling with L’Arachel. He cannot hide the fact that he is her loyal retainer, though perhaps it is more accurate to say that he is not really trying. He’s not one to sweat the small stuff.

Rennac

He is actually a master thief, and just under contract with L’Arachel, but all she does is drag him around everywhere.

Natasha

A cleric being pursued by the Grado Army because she was deemed a traitor. She asks to travel with Eirika so she can spread the word to other nations about the strange things occurring within the empire. 

Joshua

A skilled mercenary who loves to gamble above all else. He becomes Eirika’s ally after losing a bet with Natasha.

Ephraim

The prince of Renais and Eirika’s older twin brother. He is blessed with a strong sense of justice and decisiveness. He also excels in spearmanship, and his skills are highly respected by the cavalier unit.

Kyle

A loyal retainer who has served Ephraim ever since he joined the cavalier unit. An exceptional knight who’s skilled in serving as a guard.

Forde

Like Kyle, he serves Ephraim as both a guard and close confidant. He and Kyle have been rivals since they were young. He is also Franz’s older brother.

Orson

The commanding officer of the Renais cavalier unit. He is a devoted cavalier who has served the royal family for years, and that King Fado trusts deeply, however...

Innes

The prince of The Kingdom of Frelia. He always has a strong sense of duty towards his role as a member of the royal family. He is extremely confident in himself, and has the strength and abilities to back it up.

Myrrh

A girl who is neither human nor monster, but a member of the dragon tribe. She leaves The Darkling Woods to tell the humans about the abnormalities occurring across the continent.

Amelia

A girl who became a soldier because of her respect for General Duessel. However, she feels lost when she learns that he opposes the war.

Gerik

The brave leader of a band of mercenaries. He joins Eirika’s army because Prince Innes hired him as his guard.

Tethys

A dancer whose bewitching dances attract the soldiers around her and heighten their morale. Once she joined Gerik’s Mercenaries, she became an indispensable member of the group.

Marisa

A female mercenary is rare enough, but her beauty and skills make her even more of a diamond in the rough. She is registered in the guild as a member of the same mercenary group as Gerik.

Ewan

Tethys’ little brother. He aspires to become a mage, and convinced a renowned sage to become his teacher. He is at the age where he cannot help but want to be treated as his own person.

Saleh

The sage of Caer Pelyn, and the only person of this age to associate with those of the dragon tribe. His abilities are very widely known. He is also Ewan’s teacher.

Glen

A general of the Grado Empire who is also known as the Sunstone. One of the empire’s three generals. He also questions the current war…

[dancing-withthedoctor]

Okey so Hi, me again! :)

I am actually wondering if the main characters are humans or/and other creatures?

Also, if you want to share it of course, I am wondering what relation are between them? Like how did they met and why? Maybe there's bigger purpose behind it?

*all their names have meanings and direct connects to who they are i just forget some of them 

here are their character sheets and a little worldbuilding mixed in

Name: Uriel

Gender: Male (he/him)

Race/Ethnicity: Angel, Caucasian

Age: Unknown (roughly 20 in human years if I had to give a number)

Family/Ancestry: An angel created by God, hierarchy system of angels (Archangels -> angels -> humans, this hierarchy system is only specific to their Realm), no "blood relatives", angels intended purpose is to protect and serve humans while providing knowledge, wisdom, and guidance

Realm: Realm of Angels (this name is a wip)

Appearance: light skin, blue eyes, silky long white hair, 6’ 1”, slender body, wears a pure cotton full body robe

Personality: quiet, observant, reserved, has a fascination with knowledge and learning about other cultures, is learning to have empathy for the other races however it’s not tolerated towards the Fallen

Hobbies: playing his harp, reading history books, (with his exploration in the book he develops the hobbies of talking walks in the woods/enjoying nature, collects plants and herbs for fun) 

Abilities: has the ability to heal, though healing only goes so far, wings can help him fly, trained at a young age to use a sword in combat if necessary 

Sexuality: Asexual 

~~~~

Name: Azazel (Nickname: Zaz)

Gender: Male (He/Him)

Race/Ethnicity: Angel (Fallen), Mixed (Caucasian/African)

Age: Unknown (roughly 21 or so in human years if i had to give a number)

Family/Ancestry: was created by God, no longer associated with the Angels, no “blood relatives”, considered to be a Fallen due to past transgressions, has a younger sister (not by blood) that he has protected ever since he lost his right to be an Angel

Realm: Realm of Obscurum (obscurum means darkness in latin)

Appearance: Brown skin, red (maroon) eyes , medium length dark hair with streaks of white, 5’ 10”, slightly muscular build, wears a thin black turtleneck sweater, black cargo pants, combat boots, and a hooded cape

Personality: withdrawn due to his outcasting, empathetic but doesn’t express emotions well, aggressive, doesn’t trust people well, protector

Hobbies: hunting, collecting herbs (natural healing remedies), sharpening knives, playing with his sister 

Abilities: was trained in sword wielding, but he prefers smaller dual wielding knives like daggers, hand-to-hand combat, used to have the ability to heal, knows a lot about the body

Sexuality: Gay (no this is not the reason he got cast out of the Realm of Angels)

~~~~

Name: Mitis (Nickname: Tess) (mitis means gentle in latin)

Gender: Non-binary (she/they), they use their pronouns interchangeably, however in her human form she prefers (she/her) and in their fae form they prefer (they/them)

Race/Ethnicity: Faerie, Scottish or Irish i can't decide lol

Age: 300 (roughly 19 years human age)

Family/Ancestry: Faeries have been around longer than the comprehension of the human mind. Mitis comes from a large family, filled with more brothers and sisters than she can count. Fae culture is deep rooted in survival, family, and trust. In their nature states, the fae are easily controlled due to their small size, so over the years with their magic, they can now present as human if they so choose

Realm: Realm of Faes

Appearance: in her “human form” she’s 5’ 1”, red curly hair (wears a crown made of twigs, leaves, and flowers), freckles across their cheeks, green eyes, wears a short dress made of lilies, in her fae form, they look exactly the same but she’s an inch tall 

Personality: peacekeeper, kind and loyal, headstrong, pacifist, wants to be a hero, wants to be considered an individual, but since she has so many siblings, she gets referred to as “they” and the pronoun stuck but it's comforting for them, extrovert

Hobbies: reading, drawing maps, playing and talking with her siblings

Abilities: human form: bow and arrow (since being human is new and recent ability for the fae, she taught herself how to use a bow and arrow to defend herself), fae form: plant type magic (since they have developed their powers from birth, it's the strongest magic they possess)

Sexuality: Pansexual

~~~~

Name: Sibyl (nickname: Sib) (another word for seer)

Gender: Female (She/Her)

Race/Ethnicity: Human, Mixed (Filipino/Caucasian)

Age: 19

Family/Ancestry: Humans have been kept in check by the other Realms, but with that being said, they are the lowest Realm in terms of wealth and power. The Archangels in the Realm of Angels are in charge of looking after and governing the Realm of Humans as it is their duty to. She grew up without knowing her father, living with a single mother. She was blind at birth, but was also given the ability to see into the future. Maybe her father had magical abilities? But as far as anyone is concerned he was human too.

Realm: Realm of Humans (might change this name later)

Appearance: tan skin, short wavy black hair (neck length), grey eyes, 5’, wears a dark blue dress with see through sleeves (a slit down the middle of the sleeve), with a dark blue hooded cape, wears a belt with her essentials (weapons, food, water, etc)

Personality: Due to being exploited at a young age for her Seer Powers (as a way for her and her mother to make money), she has grown a distaste for people and beings in general, stubborn, manipulative, cold

Hobbies: Unknown

Abilities: can see into the future, can use her ability willingly when physically connected to the person in question, has some fighting abilities due to other heightened senses,, overexertion causes headaches and nosebleeds

Sexuality: Unknown (questioning) 

~~~~

Name: Indra (means warrior god of sky and rain in indian)

Gender: Female (She/Her)

Race/Ethnicity: Water Nymph, Indian

Age: 18 (water nymph years)

Family/Ancestry: Water Nymphs come from the ancestry of all women. Water nymphs are “born” during heavy rainstorms or thunderstorms. Heavy rainstorms/thunderstorms only happen roughly every few centuries due to water nymphs having a shorter lifespan (mother nature type of situation, in order to not flood the world). Water Nymphs tend to stay in one area, but the ocean is expanding drastically. Indra was born during one of the most destructive rainstorms of the century, she was the only one born that century and that’s how she received her name. She was raised by a community of Water Nymphs, she considers them all her sisters.

Realm: Realm of Nexus (Realm of Nexus is the largest of the physical present Realms on the planet)

Appearance: blue skin, plump cheeks, dark long wavy hair, purple/violet eyes, 5’ 3”, wears a tube top and high/low flared shirt, wear a bracelet made of grass and it has a little water lily attached to it 

Personality: positive, free-spirited, emotionally oriented, headstrong, mischievous

Hobbies: swimming, taking care of animals, sunbathing, having conversations with people close to her, training

Abilities: emotional based powers, powers are heightened when her emotions are heightened (both positive and negative emotions), negative emotions are more destructive while positive emotions are more creative, uses water around her as a weapon

Sexuality: Straight

~~~~

Name: Lunar

Gender: Male (He/Him)

Race/Ethnicity: idk he's from the moon :), African

Age: 19

Family/Ancestry: Not much is known about space and anything beyond Earth (aside from the Realm of Angels), but what is being recently discovered is that there is a civilization on the Moon, a new peace treaty was introduced and now they are considered a Realm. No one really knows how they got there, but they are similar to humans except they use telepathic communication to reach each other. Talking vocally is not uncommon, Lunar has selective mutism which means at a younger something traumatic happened and he chooses not to speak.  Lunar was picked  to explore Earth and everything it has to offer. Lunar comes from a family of four; a mother, father, and a younger sister. Lunar uses telepathic communication, written communication, and USL (universal sign language) to communicate with others.

Realm: currently travelling between realms *an excuse to not call it Realm of the Moon 🤡

Appearance: long braided white hair, blue-grey skin tone, dark blue eyes, 5’ 5”, lanky build (but also stronger than he looks), wears white dress shirt with a dark blue vest, belt, and black pants, wears dress shoes, wears a satchel that holds his notebook and pen (his communication devices)

Personality: calm, quiet, reasonable, strategic, sweet, great listener

Hobbies: charting stars, playing with his younger sister, traveling

Abilities: telepathic, can communicate with others through his mind (with their permission), if there is a full moon, he can manipulate people’s thoughts though he's never done so, when communicating out-of-mind; he signs or writes it in his notebook

Sexuality: Straight

~~~~

As for the next part of your ask, im completely fine talking about their relationships with each other and how they met (though as of rn, some stuff is set in stone and other aren't)

let's start with ships! so there are 2 ships out of the six and only one of them is romantic. lunar and indra will eventually be in a romantic relationship, they were the easiest to pair together. I first created what kind of being they were going to be. indra and lunar are inspired by the fact that the moon pulls the tides on the earth, so you could say its fate :') the second relationship is uriel and azazel, they are platonic soulmates. i had to give a lot of thought about uriel and azazel's relationship and what I wanted it to be or mean. all I can say is, is that uriel is asexual and comes to that revelation through self growth with zaz! I also thought about having mitis and sibyl have some kind of romantic relationship, but I didn't feel right so they are simply friends and who will eventually trust each other a great deal.

i like to think of them as a family: uriel and zaz are like the parents of the group (zaz will never admit it though), mitis and indra and the mischievous kids, they mess around and do dumb stuff because it looks fun, sibyl is like the brooding teenager (if this world had headphones, she'd never listen to anybody), and lunar is just the good kid parents always want lol

next is how they all met! this is actually what I'm trying to figure out in my writing right now, so its great that you asked this because I can think on it and solidify it more. the rough idea i have, is that uriel finds an old book hidden behind a wall or a bookshelf in one of the historical archives that tells a story of the future (Uriel's present) of the event of a catastrophe that hasn't happened yet, but six individuals from all 6 Relams needing to save the world. uriel is essentially the catalyst that gets the group together because curiosity got the best of him. in terms of the order they met: Uriel meets Sibyl because he was assigned to monitor her and guided her cause she was causing ruckus in the Realm of Human. Sibyl gets a glimpse of the future and decides to trust him enough to see this through, they then meet Azazel, Mitis, and Indra (though I don't know what specific order yet) and Lunar is last, and they literally just run into him as their traveling in the woods like "who are you 😳" 

also yes, them coming together definitely has more than its letting on, but I'll keep it to myself for now ;)

~~~~

im still working out the kinks of the whole "saving the world" bit and whether or not I should introduce a villain to the story! but each of the main six do have problems of their own they have to solve and most importantly they have to learn to coexist because the fate of the world depends on it

im sorry this post was so long, it was probably a lot of reading, but I meant it when I said I'd talk your ear off lol feel free to ask more questions:) 

[certain-death-awaits]

The Fragments of Raglamar

The Ethergem was the gift from the Source. When it was broken it became the Ethershard, part of the 3 lesser crowns, and the Wizenstone.

Raglamar was a gift from the Void. When it was broken (which happened in the process of breaking the Ethergem) it became the Unforgiving Blade, and... we don’t know what else. I have a theory that the nail that gave Seth his power is a fragment of Raglamar. 

☽ It was remarkably difficult to destroy. It could only be destroyed by something of equal power. The pebble was created, I believe, from Source power.¹

☽ Graulas calls the nail a talisman of “tremendous dark power”, and later a “reservoir of dark power”. If Seth had touched it, it would have “taken possession” of him. Like the Unforgiving Blade, touching it with one’s flesh would be a mistake. The nail, like the Wizenstone, seems to have a will of its own. Anyways, Navarog was capable of retrieving it and brought it to the demon Kurisock. Graulas expresses his confusion as to why Navarog didn’t bring the nail to him, and says he doesn’t know what Navarog did with the nail while in Kurisock’s domain. What I think happened is that Kurisock became a servant of the nail in the same way that Humbuggle became servant of the Wizenstone.

☽ As a fragment of Raglamar, it’s location on the preserve would make sense. Raglamar was shattered when Nagi Luna used it to cut the Ethergem. We don’t know where this took place. [Living Mirage would make sense, though it’s possible she only ever lived there in the Quiet Box. ] But we do know that the action brought about the curse on the Nipsies. Where are the Nipsies? At Fablehaven. Where is Graulas’ cave, despite considering India and China more his home? Fablehaven. Where is Humbuggle most likely from? Also Fablehaven. When I asked Brandon Mull whether Humbuggle was the dwarf mentioned in the Caretaker’s Guide, he was vague, answering “I think so”. Fablehaven would make sense as a location for Graulas to retire to after he was injured by his attempt to wield the Wizenstone. 

Something else I wonder about is if shadow charmers typically have to get their power from a specific source, or if a demon simply bestows it. Is Seth a typical shadow charmer?

¹ The Fairy Queen tells Kendra and Bracken that what power she could draw from the Source remains limited. Limited, I’d assumed, from the actions of Graulas. The stone given to Kendra by the Fairy Queen in GotSP was created out of Source power. But she had to destroy her shrines to obtain said power- she can’t draw on it endlessly as Kendra seems to be able to. This would suggest that either Kendra is particularly powerful, or that the Fairy Queen has a major flaw. My intuition tells me it’s that it’s because the Fairy Queen is a unicorn, not a fairy. Risenmay says past Fairy Queens have been fairies, and insinuates that it should be that way for whatever reason. 

Why The Fairy King Let Ronodin Into The Fairy Realm

The Void and the Source self-balance. Damage to one automatically equals damage to the other. I don’t believe this extends to the Under and Fairy realms. Demons desecrate the Fairy Realm. Bracken had to be in the Fairy Realm to help her oust demons in order to secure their realm, or else there could be “an Age of Darkness that could consume leaf and stream”; the presence of impurity in the Fairy Realm doesn’t mean there is similar impurity in the Under Realm. The Fairy Realm and Under Realm must be kept in balance manually, they don’t self-regulate. It really is of utmost importance that nothing desecrates either Realm- Kendra’s presence in the Under Realm was seen by the Underking as so detrimental that she had to be gone at any cost, even uniting the crowns. This is because impurity in either realm would be an obstacle to the Source or the Void respectively. The Fairy King explains that his being in the Fairy Realm desecrates it and is thus an obstacle to the Source. He seems very concerned about the security threat that poses. 

A quote from the Fairy King. “I have tried to leave against her (the Fairy Queen’s) wishes, but she is too powerful here. Even without her crown. You must convince her to let me go.” Bracken only agreed to help convince his mother to let the King go if he failed against the demons and the situation with lack of connection with the Source became grim enough. So did the Fairy Queen have a change of heart? I doubt it. I believe it is possible that the Fairy King let Ronodin and the dragons in because- for what ever reason- he thought it would lead to him being allowed to leave. The other option is that he didn’t let Ronodin in, but that his presence simply created a weakness that Ronodin exploited. But I can’t conceive of that being the case- after all, he was able to create a bracelet that enabled Gwendolyn to act independently of Ronodin. If the Fairy King wasn’t plotting alongside Ronodin, why would he have the power to offer Gwendolyn immunity from allegiance to Ronodin? Another reason I don’t think this is possible is that if Ronodin and the Fairy King weren’t colluding, why would Ronodin let the Fairy King leave? The Fairy King must have still believed that leaving the Fairy Realm would strengthen their connection with the Source, or he would have remained there and helped the unicorns fight against Ronodin.

Remember, it was the Fairy King’s idea to risk the crown to send Kendra into the Under Realm to retrieve Bracken, Seth, and the Sunset Pearl. What I don’t understand, is why the Fairy King would prioritise his love for Bracken & his faith in Kendra over the safety of the Fairy Realm. The Fairy King was willing to risk the safety of the Fairy Realm by colluding with Ronodin all so that he could gain a chance at freedom. Wouldn’t the entry of Ronodin (and his comrades the dragons, few demons, and few wizards) create a larger security risk than the simple presence of the Fairy King? Did he simply suffer a massive lapse in judgement? Or did he think that his absence would not only purify the Fairy Realm, but also heal the connection with the Source? Is it possible that he hoped that having the Fairy Queen’s crown out of the realm would enable him to escape? He acted like he’d attempted to leave. 

The Goals of the Singing Sisters

The more I think about it, the more confused I get. I am convinced that the Singing Sisters mean to re-make the Ethergem. What I don’t know is why- do they simply wish to bring balance between light and darkness? Or do they mean to undo the curses on those involved with the creation of the three lesser crowns? If Nagi Luna were still alive, I would understand that the Sisters meant to restore power to their sponsor. Maybe, for whatever reason, they believe they can effectively wield it.

Seth’s task seems all the more difficult when one considers that though the Wizenstone was destroyed, its power probably wasn’t banished from existence, just fractured again. I believe this is so because the Unforgiving Blade remains whole- were it banished from existence, the action would likewise unmake the Unforgiving Blade. And of course the pieces are still important.

[notapaladin]

a king he was on carven throne (2/3)

The Emperor Ahuitzotl takes the throne. And Acatl.

...yeah this is pure smut.

Also on AO3!

-

The Revered Speaker’s chambers are very bright and very warm. It’s still the rainy season, after all, and the moonlight sparkles off the remains of the earlier downpour. In daylight the windows open onto a beautiful garden, blooming in a riot of color, but now the only evidence of their existence is a change in the texture of shadows and the reflection of glittering droplets of water like stars fallen to earth. (Stars that will never fall again.) The flickering torches—and there are many—spill their golden light through the windows, but they’re intended solely to illuminate the room.

And they do that admirably. The walls and columns have all been repainted since Tizoc’s death; the scenes of bloodstained captives and equally bloodstained gods he favored have given way to the rich blues and greens of the lake. Flowers march up the columns, bright flashes of orange and red, but everything else has turned...cool. Soothing. A perfect place for the Revered Speaker to rest his head. Chalchiuhtlicue holds pride of place in the middle of a wall-trimming frieze of ahuitzotls playing among the reeds. Acatl can’t see it, but he knows that somewhere there is a very small depiction of Lord Death tucked safely in a corner, and it makes his heart warm.

Tizoc’s bedding has been burned. There was a risk of contagion, Teomitl said, but Acatl thinks he just doesn’t want to sleep where his predecessor slept (where Acatl killed him). He can’t blame him. Instead there are freshly-tanned jaguar and ocelot pelts spread across intricately woven mats, with a few fine blankets folded neatly to the side in case the night turns chill; that’s impossible in the depths of summer, but then, the Revered Speaker shall want for no material comfort.

Acatl’s gaze sweeps his surroundings and dismisses them as unimportant. All his focus is on the man sitting on the bed. The Revered Speaker Ahuitzotl—his Teomitl, gods—is still dressed in all the finery of his coronation and the grand feast that followed it, and if possible he’s even more breathtaking than he was in daylight. His turquoise cape pools in rich folds on the mat, firelight making the feathers and thread of its intricate pattern shine like jewels. There are actual jewels sewn into the hem, coral alternating with mirrorlike squares of gold. More gold gleams on his fingers, his wrists, his ankles, and his usual small lip plug has been swapped for a much longer one of jade. The slender emerald rod piercing his septum is new; he’d flatly refused to wear the one Tizoc had died with.

And almost all of it is being stripped, slow and unconcerned. Or almost unconcerned; every so often he shoots a sly little glance Acatl’s way, checking to see if he’s still watching. As if Acatl could possibly tear his eyes away. Off come the rings, the arm bands, the cape. Out comes the lip plug, with a muttered curse. The emerald rod stays; the High Priest of Patecatl said healing spells over it, but it’s still only two days old. With a private, wicked smirk, the embroidered crimson loincloth falls as well.

He’s still wearing the Turquoise-and-Gold Crown. Acatl loves him so much it hurts.

But Teomitl hasn’t said he can approach yet; he’s still testing the limits of his new power, and he’d ordered Acatl to stay. He’s obeyed patiently, standing barefoot on stone tiles, and he’s shed only his cloak and rings. All the rest—the jade and silver beads in his hair, the silver bracelets and anklets—are staying on. Teomitl had said he looks beautiful in them. Acatl thinks he doesn’t spend enough time looking in a mirror. “My lord,” he breathes, when he can’t take it anymore.

Teomitl looks up, and his smile is like a rising sun. “Acatl. You’re too far away. Come here.”

He inhales. Licks his lips. Finally. “As you wish.”

He lowers himself to the dais slowly. Teomitl doesn’t help; he’s gazing at Acatl as though he’s some rare and precious treasure. Acatl doesn’t know how he can, not when he himself is a jaguar in human shape, all lazy languorous power. Even his presence is intoxicating. Acatl kneels over him, drunk on his proximity, but keeps his hands on the mat underneath them. For now.

Teomitl reaches for him first, a hand skimming Acatl’s jaw to pull him in. “Kiss me,” he murmurs.

His gaze drops to that lovely full mouth, but the emerald in Teomitl’s nose gives him pause. If nothing else, it’s a minor logistical problem. “...Are you sure?”

Teomitl wrinkles his nose automatically, and then winces. “It doesn’t hurt.” At Acatl’s unimpressed stare, he adds, “That much.”

He exhales. You never will accept your own limits, will you? But it makes him feel impossibly fond, even so. “Well, then.”

Their mouths meet. Slow at first; Teomitl may be eager, but he’s still sore, and Acatl is being as careful as he can. But then Teomitl’s hand slides up into Acatl’s loose hair and he moans out loud, and that breaks the spell. The hand in his hair tightens, all but yanking him in, and he goes willingly. The slide of their bodies together as he presses Teomitl—his Emperor!—down onto the mat is the sweetest torture he’s ever felt, hot and solid and perfect, and he spares a thought to regret that he’s still wearing a loincloth.

When Teomitl breaks the kiss, his clever, callused fingers immediately begin rectifying that dreadful oversight. He doesn’t even look at what he’s doing; his gaze is entirely fixed on Acatl’s face, as though he can’t get enough of looking at him. It’s nearly too much to bear, and Acatl feels himself blush. He can’t meet his eyes. Don’t look at me like that. Don’t. I’m just a man. But Teomitl keeps staring, and so finally he asks, “What?”

He doesn’t need to look at Teomitl to know he’s beaming. “Gods, Acatl, you...” There’s so much fondness in that voice—so much love—that his heart skips a beat. But then he’s properly naked, and he has more important things to think about; he rocks his hips, shuddering in pleasure at the friction of their half-hard cocks against each other, and Teomitl closes his eyes as he breathes, “You gave me a crown.”

Acatl shivers, and not just at the stimulation. “No. You earned your crown. I only made sure you could claim it.”

Teomitl kisses him again. This time it’s hard and rough and messy, and either Acatl rolls or he lunges but somehow they wind up with their positions reversed, Acatl flat on his back with jaguar fur tickling his ear and a carelessly discarded fortune in gold getting lightly caught in his hair. It barely registers next to the way Teomitl is touching him, hands skimming down over his hips and in to wrap around his cock. He’s achingly hard in an instant, shuddering at each teasing stroke.

“Mmm.” Teomitl’s grin shows sharp teeth as he settles between Acatl’s spread legs; his crown is askew, and it’s somehow the most erotic thing Acatl’s ever seen. “What say we celebrate my ascension properly?”

He sucks in a hard breath. Gods, yes. “Yes,” he whispers, and then Teomitl is reaching for the oil and he takes the moment of clarity due to those glorious hands not actually being on his body to ask, “How do you want me?”

Oil gleams on Teomitl’s fingers, golden as his crown. His smile is positively feral. “Like this.”

Acatl doesn’t try to bite back the noises that escape him when Teomitl’s fingers slide into him. They’ve been discreet since the beginning. Indeed, he’s spent so long being quiet that letting his voice out now sends his heart tripping a stuttery little cascade of embarrassment. But Teomitl is the Revered Speaker, and if he wants what he’s always saying he does—to hear Acatl scream—then Acatl has to obey. He can’t do anything else, not with the way Teomitl is working him open so damn slowly. “Ahh—nnh, please...” He rocks his hips, trying to urge him on, and finally gasps—pleads—“Faster.”

“No,” Teomitl whispers. “For once we have all night long, and I’m going to take advantage of it.”

“Teomitl!” he snaps, but then Teomitl’s fingers curl and lightning flashes through his veins and he bucks hard, grabbing up fistfuls of jaguar fur underneath him to have something to hang onto. “Oh—oh, my lord, please.”

But Teomitl doesn’t vary the movement of his hand at all. No, he just keeps working him, slow and careful and so deliciously slick, letting the heat and the hunger build in Acatl’s core until he’s letting out breathless little cries with each slide inwards. He’s past begging by now—you need words for that—but he doesn’t have to. Teomitl’s not that cruel, or that patient. He looks downright smug at the sight of Acatl’s legs falling open a little wider, and gives his hip an encouraging squeeze with his free hand. “Mmm. That’s it.”

Then Teomitl’s replacing his fingers with his cock and oh, maybe he hadn’t gone slow enough, but that’s alright. That’s more than alright. At a time like this, Acatl welcomes the stretch and the burn of being filled. Of being claimed. His eyelids flutter as he takes Teomitl deeper, arching his back—yes, there it is, the angle that sends sparks down his spine. “Gods,” he pants, and then, “My Emperor.”

“Yes,” Teomitl growls. Then he draws back—but before Acatl can do more than open his mouth, he thrusts back in, rough and hard enough to punch a cry out of him. “Yours.”

He sets a fast pace after that, and it’s all Acatl can do to hang on. His legs wrap around Teomitl’s waist, hiking his hips up at an angle that he knows his back won’t like in the morning, but right now he absolutely doesn’t care. It’s more important to cling to him, his nails marking half-moons in Teomitl’s back and his face buried in his shoulder. He mouths hard at Teomitl’s skin, not quite bites but certainly hard enough to bruise. He hopes that they do bruise, that his Emperor can carry the marks for a week.

He doesn’t have the focus for anything else. He doesn’t have the mind for anything else. Teomitl is driving that right out of him, and the only word he can find is a heartfelt, “Fuck.” Another thrust. Another. “Fuck.” And then, half choked out of him because Teomitl’s not so much as slowing down, pounding into him like he means to leave a permanent imprint of their bodies in the mats, “Gods—more.”

Teomitl grins, wild and bright. “More? Like this?” His hips snap forward, jarring a cry out of Acatl’s throat, and then he reaches down between their bodies and wraps a firm hand around Acatl’s cock. Acatl writhes, thrusting into his pumping fist, and Teomitl squeezes.

It’s too much. He comes with a near-scream, clawing down Teomitl’s back, and his lover snarls in his ear as he follows him over the edge.

Finally Teomitl pulls out with a shudder, eyes squeezing shut. He has to take a few deep breaths before he wrenches them open again. When he shakes his head, his crown finally falls off. “Duality preserve me. That was...”

“A wonderful beginning to your reign,” Acatl murmurs as Teomitl draws away. He’s not sure his legs will obey him yet, but luckily he doesn’t have to test that idea; Teomitl is cleaning them up gently, and all he has to do is shift positions as he’s directed. His eyes slide shut. There’s sweat drying on his skin, leaving him chilled—that’s why there are blankets laid out, he suspects—but Teomitl’s hands are so warm.

His lover will be a wonderful Revered Speaker. Huitzilopochtli’s magic flowed down over him like a cloak as soon as the Turquoise-and-Gold crown was placed on his head; Acatl, standing in the crowd below, had had to shield his eyes. He’d actually felt the boundaries settle into place, shivering as they solidified into something as solid as the walls of the Sacred Precinct or the painted ceiling above his head. For the first time in years, he’d drawn a deep breath. Yes, he’d thought, and now he thinks Yes again. He knows deep in his bones that not even the scandal of half a dozen foreign rulers failing to attend (gods, another sin to lay at Tizoc’s feet) will dent Teomitl’s might for long; already, there are plans to rededicate the Great Temple as it should be, with a river of blood flowing down the steps. He will erase Tizoc’s name as the sun burns away morning mist, and spread the Empire from one end of the world to the other. His army will march under the shade of the Southern Hummingbird’s wings, and He will laugh to see the carnage they bring.

And yet, for all that—oh, Acatl knows the shape of the soft caresses petting over the insides of his thighs, and it makes him smile. His Emperor will be magnificent, but underneath all the gold and turquoise will be the heart of a man who loves him. A man he’ll be proud to serve.

They’re both clean now; Teomitl has snuffed the torches, and it’s cooler still when the room’s lit only by moonlight, but he doesn’t have the time to feel cold. Not when Teomitl (his Emperor, his Emperor) stretches out on the mat by his side, the heat of his body like a furnace, and starts running his fingers through his hair. As he gently picks out some of the heavier jewels braided into it, Acatl yawns. He’s tired after their exertions, and the feeling is intensely soothing. Maybe there’s something to displaying his lover’s presents after all. “Mmm...”

He’s half asleep when Teomitl whispers, “Stay?”

It strikes him to the core—that Teomitl would ask, that Teomitl would think he has to ask. Oh, my love, he thinks, and out loud he says again, “Yes.”

When the sun rises, they greet it together.

[prismarts]

A Bond That Lasts Centuries... (Chapter 2)

Plot: Hisirdoux Casperan, apprentice to Merlin, had been sent to the mortal realm to protect the mortals and finish the tasks given to him…. unknown to him and his familiar, an old student of Morgana Le Fay had been sent there by his master as well…

Notes: Mentions of blood and torture, i tried not to be too graphic cause I am no good at that stuff...., witch trials....yayyyy....., angst, Douxilly of course, inspired by AATY by @alovesongshewrote

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Late 1500s

The 1580s was when it went south for the two apprentices still roaming around Europe, the people's worries and fear of witches grew to an all time high. Making it rather difficult to travel and finish magical tasks.

Illy had been a small local doctor in England at the time, but when the witch trials began, she grew paranoid of practicing medicine. 

Her reasoning being her focus was always going to be on magical healing and as such, she might get caught for witchcraft. Luckily, she had found a relatively abandoned small house to live away from any of the mobs that would happen during this time. She tried to blend in and hide for the most part.

Douxie may have been smart to hide during this time too, but in late 1599, he wasn't as lucky...

Due to his eagerness to finish the tasks given to him by Merlin, wanting so badly to prove himself, he had elected to try and finish two of them at once to save him some time. Freeing a creature from it’s magical prison and securing another one of Merlin's artifacts.

It should have been easy....

But everything went wrong when the creature decided to attack him, and more importantly, the people around him. Douxie got captured once the mortals saw him using magic against the creature even though he was trying to protect them.... Even though, he used that magic to save their lives from said creature.

They saw him as a threat.

Archie wasn't able to stop Douxie from being taken away, he may be a dragon but he was also still a familiar who needed to be in his less conspicuous form of a cat, surrounded by an angry mob. Instead, he spent the next few days searching for Illy, hoping she could help him save his wizard.

The familiar eventually found the apprentice on the outskirts of town as he ran over to her, Illy, upon recognizing him, immediately lifted the familiar up into her arms. Carrying him to an empty alleyway where they could talk, knowingthere was too much at risk if anyone were to see them conversing.

"Archie? Wh...what are you doing her- w...wait...w..where's Douxie?!"

"H..he...they caught him. He's in the dungeons..." The familiar seemed to be shaking in fear and worry. Looking up at the apprentice quietly as his voice trailed off.

"N...no...h..how long.."

"A few days now, I...I wasn't able to stop them and I...can't get him out on my own...h..how did you manage to-"

"I...i lived outside of town....I was able to hide before anyone noticed anything magical about me...." Illy shook her head worriedly, "B..but that doesn't matter....w..we need to get Douxie out..."

The two ran towards the castle dungeons as they wondered how they were going to do this. Having been too panicked over Douxie's safety to form an actual plan, they hid out somewhere nearby dungeon entrance to plan things out.

"I'll distract the guards, you sneak in and look for Douxie." Archie suggested as he looked up at the apprentice who was understandably afraid. Illy had never been in a situation like this, she was barely strong enough in magic. How was she going to pull this off?

"A..are you sure?...wh..what if I can't get him out?.."

"You can, Illyria... don't worry about me, just stay low and get Douxie out as quickly as you can"

Illy nodded shakily, watching the familiar shapeshift into a black raven. Archie flew off and proceeded to peck at the guards, bothering and distracting them. The apprentice watched quietly and found the perfect moment, running into the dungeon.

She focused, making a glowing light appear on her hands and looked around the dim dungeon cells. She could feel hear her breathing quicken out of worry as she almost ran through the hall, turning her head around, only stopping every second to check every single dungeon cell to see if her friend was inside.

'Please...please please be here....' She thought to herself, her fears grew worse as she felt her anxieties heightened when she couldn’t find him. Were they too late? Was Douxie gone? Did they-...... Did they kill him?...

The apprentice stopped in her tracks, her entire body felt cold and her face looked pale as she stared at the dungeon cell in front of her, the turquoise hue of her magic glowed as it revealed the wizard she had been searching for...

Except she could barely recognize him, Douxie was chained to the wall. His blood dripping down his head and soaking his hair in a dark crimson. He was limp, dangling from the chains. His clothes were stained red almost completely and was ripped in tatters, his arms and legs visibly bleeding out with large slashes and wounds..... 

The dark red, a stark contrast to his now pale skin....

"D..Douxie....no..no no.."

Illy panicked, she looked around in fear, trying to find something she could use to break him out but instead deciding to blast the cell gates open out of complete adrenaline. The metal bars of the gates flew around the spacious cell, landing with a loud clang as it hit the stone floors. She ran over to the bloodied and tortured apprentice, she could have sworn....he flinched at the sound of the metal.

She blasted the chains until they broke as she grabbed Douxie's arm and slung it over her shoulders as she hoisted him up. It proved difficult, seeing as how he was much taller than her but she was able to while levitating his legs up.

Illy ran back out of the dungeon cells as quickly as she could, knowing that Archie was still distracting the guards. She was able to get out and rush past  them, but felt herself suddenly stop in fear as she was soon surrounded by other guards and townsfolk.

The guards were starting to surround her and Douxie, she was still levitating his legs up and showing obvious signs of magic. But her fear was only powering her aura even more...

She put her arms up defensively but shakily, she didn't want this. 

She never wanted to hurt anyone, "S..stay away! P..Please...just let us go!"

The crowds started to get aggressive, they kept walking closer towards the two immortals. A clear motivation to kill and burn them as they carried torches and weaponry with them. The almost paranoid bloodlust in their expressions as they inched closer.

The apprentice was shaking in fear, not just for herself but also for Douxie, he had suffered so much and was obviously, fatally wounded. She didn't want him to die...she couldn't. She knew she had to find a way for them to escape but she didn't want to kill any innocent mortals who were just....afraid.

They were just afraid of beings that they didn’t understand, afraid that magic could hurt them....

She tried to think quickly, continuing to back away while carrying her wounded friend. Her mind started to race from all the panic as her turquoise eyes glanced around until she caught a glimpse of his rune bracelet, the same one he uses to channel his magic.

An idea struck inside Illy’s head as she backed up with Douxie still draped over her. She wasn't sure if it was a good plan, she wasn't as powerful as the wizard who was limp in her arms. Her magic wasn’t as stable... as...reliable.

But it was the only option she had left, carefully she hoisted the apprentice in her arms up a little more, closing her eyes worriedly for a second before saying the incantation.

"Interminus nocti sluumberso!!!"

She would have kept her eyes closed but she didn't as the magic aura seemed....brighter with hints of..... a familiar sky blue dancing around the turquoise glows of her aura.

Illy's eyes widened as she looked around, everyone surrounding were effected by the spell and were now in a deep sleep but...how? 

Her magic was weak especially when it came to spells like that....

She was surprised and confused before remembering the blue glow that seemed to have collided with her magical aura, her heart started to swell in the realization.

The apprentice quickly tuned her head down towards the limp wizard as she saw it...his bright sky blue magic fading from his hands and bracelet. 

He...helped her..

She soon shook her head, starting to levitate Douxie's legs again and running towards her home. Shee met back up with Archie, who had taken the form of a bear, helping the smaller apprentice carry their wounded wizard. Illy was shaky as they did so, she was still visibly traumatized by the sight of how bloody her friend was...but she didn't let it get to her...not now..

She couldn’t....

As soon as they got the apprentice to her small house, Illy levitated him to the bed and immediately asked Archie to get her a bucket of water and some rags as she worked to get the bandages, needle and threads, levitating them over towards the bed.

Living through the plague, she helped a few plague doctors treating the patients of the disease and picked up quite a bit of medical knowledge.

It took about an hour, from the sheer state of it all but she was able to clean, stitch and bandage the wounds all over Douxie's body as well as heal the ones that were still bleeding...

Her healing has gotten particularly better over the past couple of hundred years.

The tortured apprentice was still unconscious which was understandable from the amount of injuries he sustained.

Illy practically collapsed on her knees, staring down at her hands and clothes both stained in Douxie's blood, making her shake violently. She hugged herself and started to sob shakily. 

Tears didn't stop falling down her face as her breath hitched, she could barely breathe...she could barely think....

She wasn't taking this well at all...

Archie saw the complete devastation and fear in the girl's shaking. His ears flatten at the way she was sobbing and struggling to calm down.

He walked up to her in his cat form, purring and nuzzling her to calm her down. She shakily looked down at the familiar and petted his ears, her breathing was erratic, uneven from the traumatized state that she seemed to be trapped in.

Worried about her friend’s condition....

She could barely say a word...but was grateful for his concern....

Illy sat there quietly with Archie as they stared at Douxie, she could only hope they were quick enough to make sure he'd be alive but only time could tell...

[slumberinglabyrinth]

A fun game to play is asking “How many main/secondary characters from a given fire emblem game can you remove (redistributing their role(s)/action(s) to other characters if needed) before the game’s plot either diverges too heavily from what it was, becomes needlessly contrived, or can’t happen at all” because it gives insight into the roles they play and into the overall narrative design process (since adding characters is a deliberate change on a order of magnitude greater than just assigning those roles to existing characters)

There are some obvious choices like Echoes’ original characters, but let’s look at Seth as an example.

Seth is a secondary/supporting character. He’s present during the entire game, is Eirika’s babysitter, but most of the things he does are minor.

Probably the most notable Seth Action that could be cut out without changing the plot would be helping Eirika escape Renais. Him taking a blow from Valter, it just being the two of them for the prologue and the start of Chapter 1, and them barely escaping on time adds to the tension of earlygame, but is there anything stopping Eirika from escaping on her own? If she grabbed a random horse to flee, narrowly dodged Valter’s attack, and lost her horse during the prologue map because it’s not one she’s used to (and one that’s not used to her), would the sequence of events be any different aside from it lacking Seth and some narrative tension (which is made up for by her being Completely Alone)? Valter could (and would!) decide to mess with Eirika and not pursue because he’s absolutely the kind of villain who would want to toy with his prey, the horse would explain how Eirika covers enough distance in enough time to actually escape, and her losing the unfamiliar horse because it freaked out isn’t outside of the realm of possibility and would also serve to explain why she’s unmounted and increase the tension of that sequence.

The only thing that’s even remotely contrived about that alternative sequence is Valter not landing a hit, but even that could be chalked up to Valter wanting to ‘have fun’. If we choose to have him land a hit instead and she takes damage during that cutscene, in-game it could say he’s wielding like. an iron lance or some other weaksauce weapon, which he’s, again, using to toy with her (incidentally, this could which in turn could be used for Eirika to springboard into telling the player about the weapon triangle (”I had trouble with that Lance user, but I should fare better against these Axe users!”) should and having her be the Heal Your Units before they die tutorial instead of Seth).

Similar minor changes can be used to explain away the other things he had done.

Eirika wasn’t willing to hunt down Colm after he stole her bracelet thing because saving her brother came first. You could have her choose to pursue upon learning from the locals that there’s a whole group of bandits in the area (which was the tipping point for her in the original game; Seth had simply been the one to ask the locals, not Eirika or Franz or whoever) or from Neimi’s appeal to save her childhood “friend” who went to the bandits’ hideout to fight them or steal stuff or whatever (and happens to be the person who stole her bracelet).

Seth provides tactical advice to Eirika at several points. Gilliam (among others) could easily fill this role instead.

When Orson tries to trick Eirika into handing over The Bracelet, she already begins to express doubt (’Your reasoning is sound, and yet-’) before Seth goes full detective mode on Orson. It’s already within the realm of possibility that Eirika would back Orson into a corner and force him to reveal himself (which isn’t even needed: all she needs to do is ask enough questions like “okay but why didn’t you let Ephraim escape?” until Tirado comes over and destroys the bridge, shattering Orson’s ruse), but while I don’t think that she would have in Seth’s absence, for the sake of argument, what if she had surrendered it to Orson?

Orson wouldn’t hold onto it because he genuinely doesn’t care about it, so he’d hand it off to Tirado and they’d they could recover it from him once he’s defeated.

If Lyon teleports in, grabs it, and teleports out (creating the plot hole of “why didn’t he deal with the twins?”, but let’s ignore that for the moment), the fate of the world wouldn’t be at risk because both bracelets are needed to do anything, and it would just necessitate them recovering at some point in the future (Lyon’s visit to Orson before the twins retake Renais would be a prime opportunity for him to hand it off to him so they both have it, and would want to uncover the stone so Lyon will then have access to it; alternately, Vigarde could be holding onto it and regardless of the outcome of that battle, both bracelets will be together (an ideal situation for Lyon, and one that doesn’t potentially reveal his hand like leaving it with Orson would)).

But! Seth also does one thing that nobody else could do: inform The Twins of how to access Renais’ Sacred Stone. Orson mentions The Bracelets being needed, but it’s not until Renais is retaken that Seth reveals the words Fado entrusted him with, and until then nobody else knows how to access Renais’ Stone.

So why does it have to be Seth that he tells?

It can’t be anyone outside of Renais because that defeats the point of having such a convoluted security system in place: the moment that information leaves Renais it’s out of his control who knows it, and people who are loyal to other countries are ultimately not loyal to the interests of Renais.

There are a dozen potential reasons why Grado finds out the bracelets are important anyway (mostly involving anybody using any amount of deductive reasoning, probably either Orson through “oh hey he gave The Twins these bracelets out of the blue, they’re probably important” or Lyon through The Twins mentioning whatever little their dad had told them about the bracelets being important pre-posession (not realizing that it was an Important Secret because their dad didn’t tell them)), but the game makes a point out of Seth being the only person who knows how to use them, and Grado making basically no attempt to take them back (or stop the Twins from retaking Renais beyond the token resistance put up by Grado’s soldiers during because Lyon wanted/needed to keep up the ruse of “My Dad Isn’t Dead”) during act two all but spells out that they intended for the twins to uncover the stone on their own because they didn’t know how to do it themselves, just that the bracelets were involved.

Anywho

Grado strikes quick and Renais had no real time to prepare. Fado was probably expecting to share the truth of the bracelets with Eirika and Ephraim on his deathbed, since he had no real reason to expect to need them to know any sooner than that. Ephraim, Kyle, Forde, and Orson are off on a field trip, so even if Fado would have told them, has no means doing so.

If she was the only person available, Fado probably would have told Eirika, but! If Eirika knew the danger Ephraim was in, she’d probably choose to forgo heading to Freila to regroup once she met up with Franz, Gilliam, and Tana in order to warn Ephraim of the danger.

By doing this, we (among other things):

skip the establishing scenes for Riev (and by extension ‘new’ Grado) and Selena (and by extension ‘old’ Grado)

skip several scenes that establish that Renais has gone to hell (which includes the introduction of Neimi, Colm, Ross, and Garcia)

skip the scenes that establish that monsters walk the land (and that they shouldn’t)

skip the scenes that establish Freila as an entity that is willing to/going to aid Renais

Have Eirika rush straight back into the jaws of a beast that is chasing her, a beast that only stopped its pursuit when she entered Freila and it couldn’t continue to keep track of her

Most of those are relatively inconsequential in terms of altering the plot (she’s taking a different route through Renais, but there’s nothing that says you can’t move those events from the old route onto the new one), but that last one could and would conceivably result in her directly running into one of Grado’s Imperial Generals, which would alter the plot. Eirika isn’t equipped to beat any of them at this stage in the game, but regarding specific encounters:

Eirika encounters Valter again. Amused by her apparent death wish, he fights her seriously this time and wins. She is either captured or dies, which results in a different sequence of events.

Eirika encounters Caellach. He fights her seriously because his sole goal is to rise in the ranks and gain power. She is either captured or dies (probably the latter).

Eirika directly encounters Riev. Riev, knowing the importance of The Bracelets, would aim to capture her and use her as a lure for Ephraim, who is also sorely unequipped to beat Grado’s main army if they actually tried. He succeeds because Eirika wouldn’t be able to beat him.

Eirika encounters Duessel. Duessel hasn’t started to have major misgivings yet, but an encounter with Eirika could (and would) ignite those feelings due to her ways of appealing to emotion. Duessel would either defect immediately or return to Grado to consult with Vigarde about the validity of this war, where he will likely be executed for treason (or at least thrown in a dungeon) by Lyon using Vigarde as a proxy because he 1) let Eirika escape and 2) questioned the judgement of The King. Oops.

Eirika encounters Glen. Like in the main game, Glen is persuaded by Eirika to stop this nonsense. He’d pursue the same options as Duessel, and if he joins Eirika he’d survive (a departure from the original plot). If he returns to Grado, he’d be executed/thrown in dungeon, and since Vigarde(/Lyon) don’t care for subterfuge in the same ways that Valter does, they’d make no attempt to conceal what happened to him. Cormag finds out, rejects the rule of Vigarde, is captured by Grado and suffers the same fate. Since they either both survive (and are recused by Ephraim after he fights Vigarde, perhaps) or both die in this scenerio, it departs from the established events of the game.

Eirika encounters Selena. While her circumstances are different this time around (Duessel and Glen are still alive and part of Grado, placing less pressure on her), she’d be likely to fight Eirika and (of course) beat her. However, in the event that she is swayed by Eirika’s chivalry, she’d be more liable than not to join Eirika than Glen/Duessel due to her steadfast loyalty to the king making her more liable to question if Vigarde is really the same man he used to be.

So it can’t be Eirika. Franz remains a possibility, but given the choice between him -a relatively recent recruit- and Eirika -his own flesh and blood-, why wouldn’t Fado go with Eirika?

So it has to be Seth, and from this we learn what Seth contributes to the narrative: acting as a voice of reason that prevents Eirika from (probably) getting herself killed, and he tells her and Ephraim what The Bracelets do.

Okay.

Maybe we already knew that.

I’ve neglected to address one thing, which is that I’ve made up most of the “facts” that I’ve used to support my “argument”. But that’s okay. It’s a big, ultimately inconsequential game of ‘what if’ since the game already came out and its not going to change. The end goal is less of having a clear-cut, unshakable thesis or proving some point to the world and more of the actual reasoning that goes into reaching whatever your conclusion is, and that’s what makes it fun.

[cannotgiveafuck]

Shazam / Paranatural AU

Billy Batson is new to Fawcett City, and is a new spectral who has recently found a tool, a stuffed tiger (or maybe a hand held fan? Or maybe he finds a way to sew the old toy into his wardrobe so he's not carrying it around), that is possessed by a spirit. Hes still learning how to control his new abilities, which thus far are windy powers (but as the spirit gets stronger, will include lightning). Billy's spectral energy is phenomenal, but wildly unexperienced.

His spirit takes the form of a tiger that is shrouded by storm clouds, and can only communicate via lightning storm rumbles and cracks. Billy ironically names it Tawky Tawny. BUT it's actually a very powerful spirit named Marvel, who was defeated awhile ago by his spirit brother, Teth, and hid himself in a tool. Hes building up strength to eventually possess Billy, which would grant him more flexibility and energy than a tool. And then when fully healed, wants to defeat Teth and Theo. Despite having been Shazams spirit and heavily involved with Consortium, he doesnt know if he wants to go back.

The Activity Club consists of Freddy, Mary, and Pedro. Their supervising teacher is Mr. Adam.

Freddy's tool is his walking crutch, which can transform around Freddy's leg and assists with his walking. It has magnetism, which is capable of hovering Freddy around like flight, if in or around metal structures. Freddy carries around fake ninja stars he crafted in workshop class. He is very good at spectral energy range shooting and manipulation. His spirit takes the form of a very talkative and flirtatious and ambitious silver rabbit named Mercury who never has time or the capacity to help Freddy with serious or emotional problems.

Mary's tool is a book, and canonically its Eightfold, it devours other books for knowledge and it shares it with Mary. The power of paper and information! It can take the form of anything bc its paper, but it frequently is a spider named Solomon that is all jokes and silliness and trying to get Mary to lighten up, but also kinda cares for her and listens to her. Mary good at spectral energy control and manipulation, giving it shape and using it as an extension, but not for long.

Pedro is actually a medium, possessed by a spirit instead of having a tool. His spirit is that of statues, like hes at a museum (kinda like Agent Day). Named Hercules, the spirit is very cocky and athletic and constantly pushes Pedro to be better but isn't very considerate of him, it gives Pedro stone skin/armor, which gives him durability and strength, and also like, rock throwing and controlling abilities. He's good at spectral energy force, using it as an extension of himself, like boxing gloves or a baseball bat.

Eugene and Darla are Pedro's younger foster siblings, who are not YET spectrals, but I think later on would be when things turn to a head.

Mr. Theo Adam is a history teacher at Fawcett Middle School. He is also a medium with a very powerful spirit named Teth, that gives him lightning powers. He claims that he used to work for a parent organization full of spectrals, but they were going toward a political direction of total control of all spirits, turn all spectrals into Agents with no choice of refusal, to follow their creed of superiority over normal humans, etc. He warns the students of this group, and has given them each a bracelet that disallows Agents from contacting them in their sleep and dreams. He claims to want to teach the students to be individuals, to protect people and keep the balance, etc.

In ACTUALITY, Adam left the Consortium bc they were beginning to put the pieces together that he was the one to kill their previous Boss Leader, Shazam, and his possessed spirit Marvel (who is Teth's spirit brother in a way, which is why they have similar powers). Adam wanted to possess Marvel too, and take over as Boss Leader, and implement all the things he ironically warned the children about. But when he was close to being caught, he severed connection to the dream headquarters and attacked the Spirit Train, which was the only way for spectrals and spirits to get in and out of Fawcett. Before he left, he stole some tools and spirits and strategically placed them so the kids could find them and he could become their teacher. He has no idea who Billy's spirit is and while curious, is currently not suspicious bc it seems like Billy just has windy powers.

Mr Adam is essentially the "pretends to be helpful mentor but is actually the villain" that the kids eventually find out about and must keep secret that they know bc they have to try to bring him down.

I think the Doorman is still a character, and is Freddy's friend that noone knows about. The Doorman is a neutral spirit that can open doorways to anywhere. But there either needs to be a key to the other door that leads there, or a person has a Master Key and Lock that they place on a door which leads to the Doorman. Adam is currently secretly seeking out the Doorman to recruit him, or destroy him if refused.

Idk if any Paranatural characters are a part of this, maybe the original Boss Leader is now in control? Dr Zarei is in hiding since spirit train was attacked but later is found by the children or she finds them?

Maybe Dr Sivana is a tech teacher that is highly suspicious of Mr Adam and is sort of a spectral? Or a paranatural hunter trying to out them? Or take power? Idk

[captainamerivel]

infinity war

read part one : civil war here.

word count : 2.9k (she’s a beefy sister)

tags : @batfam16

-----

“Y/L/N?”

“Rhodey, this better be important. I’m working right now.” You popped another donut hole in your mouth, pulling your glasses down to get a better view of the Midtown High bus. “Peter had a field trip today and I’m supposed to make sure he makes it back to the school.”

“There’s been a string of vigilante attacks in the United Kingdom. Specifically, near Glasgow.”

“What exactly do you want me to do about that?” You started your bike and pulled out into traffic, quickly weaving your way through cars until you were behind the bus.

“Tony’s got a plane waiting for you upstate, wants you to go check it out.”

“And Tony couldn’t tell me this himself?”

“He’s got a cake tasting with Pepper this morning. Also, thinks you’ll have better luck if you get up there and it’s them.”

You let out an exasperated sigh. “He’s been looking for them for two years. Every lead we’ve had has led to a dead end. There’s really no point in wasting resources on this anymore.”

“If you want to try to explain that to him, please be my guest.”

“I’ll be on the plane, Rhodey.” You hung up, pulling the communicator out of your ear and speeding up until you were right next to the bus. Peter spotted you out of the corner of his eye and gave you a small wave before you sped past with a smile.

--

“Can I get you anything to drink Ms. Y/L/N?”

“Oh no thank you, Marissa.” You smiled up at the flight attendant. “Do you know when we’ll be landing?”

“Our flight is just a touch under seven hours ma’am.”

You waited until she disappeared behind the curtain to stand and open the suitcase you’d been given at the helipad.

Hope you like the new design. -TS

“What is this obsession you have with putting everyone in gold, Stark?” You smirked as the suit sprang up out of the case. It was sleek and soft, despite the design notes stating it was made entirely of nanotechnology. The dark blue material was absolutely gorgeous, with its red and gold accents and the bracelet it all fit into was a perfectly covert piece of jewelry.

You had just finished changing when the news on the plane’s television caught your eye.

ATTACK IN NEW YORK CITY: IRON MAN AND SPIDERMAN SPOTTED DEFENDING CITY AGAINST UNKNOWN ALIENS.

You were on the phone immediately. “Rhodey, what the hell is going on?”

“No clue.” You could hear the panic in his voice. “That huge donut looking thing just dropped out of the sky and the Iron Spider suit just flew out of the compound. Turn the plane around, I’m sending a car for you.”

“No need.” Your mask materialized over your face with just a thought. “I can get there faster on foot.”

You opened the loading dock and sent up a silent prayer before jumping out.

--

“What do you mean they’re in space!”

Rhodey kept his eyes on you as you paced the conference room. “One job! I had one job and that was to make sure that the kid got back to Midtown safely and now you’re telling me that he’s in space? How am I supposed to explain this to his aunt? ‘Sorry May, Peter’s in space because I was on my way to chase down my ex and his band of rogue superheroes in Europe.’”

Your hand slammed down on the table, glass shattering under you.

“You done?”

You nodded, picking shards out of your skin. “Yeah.”

“Good.” He unmuted his phone, the hologram of Secretary Ross popping back up. “Secretary, Agent Y/L/N has expressed some concern with how to explain the disappearance of both Mr. Stark and Mr. Parker.”

“That’s nowhere near our main concern right now. Still no word from Vision?”

“Satellites lost him somewhere over Edinburgh.”

“On a stolen quinjet with four of the world’s most wanted criminals.”

“You know they’re only criminals because you’ve chosen to call them that right?” Rhodey sounded exhausted.

You tuned out their conversation, instead focusing on getting the rest of the glass out of your hand. It’s never ceased to amaze you, what your body could do now as opposed to before you’d taken Tony’s version of the super soldier serum. The enhanced ability to heal yourself was a step up from the original, and oh boy were you grateful it was. Watching your hand practically stitch itself back up was calming, to say the least, borderlining on cathartic

“Mr. Secretary.”

You looked up at the sound of his voice. There, with a full beard, a filthy suit and the same righteous tick in his stance that he always had, was Steve Rogers. His eyes met yours and you saw something, confusion maybe, flash in them.

Ross walked toward the groups of rogues. “You got some nerve. I’ll give you that.”

“You could use some of that right now.” The sound of Natasha’s voice made your lips twitch into a small smile. The pain of losing her was the only thing that rivaled that of losing Steve.

“The world’s on fire. And you think all is forgiven?”

Steve’s eyes finally tore from yours. “I’m not looking for forgiveness. And I’m way past asking for permission. Earth just lost her best defender. So we’re here to fight. And if you want to stand in our way, we’ll fight you too.”

“Arrest them.”

“All over it.” Rhodey hung up and as Bruce stepped into the room, you took that as your cue to quietly slip out. You didn’t make it too far before Steve caught up with you.

“What happened to you?”

“What does it matter to you, Rogers? You left, remember?”

“I left to protect you, Y/N. You didn’t deserve to be dragged down the path that I was going.” His voice was rougher than you remembered as he took in your harder appearance and suit. “I wanted you to move on with your life. Hopefully, return to something even close to normal.”

“You made your choices. I made mine.”

“What did you do to yourself?” He reached for you, but you stepped out of his reach.

“My life is none of your business anymore Steve. You decided that when you left without so much as a goodbye. So, whatever I do, whatever decisions made, are none of your concern.”

You stepped past him, holding back the tears that were threatening to spill down your cheeks.

“Hey, beautiful.” Natasha wrapped her around you, and you let out a shaky breath as you returned her embrace. “These last few years haven’t been the nicest to you, I see.”

“Love the haircut.” You redirected the conversation. “What are you guys doing here?”

“Bruce called. Said some guy named Thanos was coming, then Vision was attacked by this creepy looking thing and we knew we couldn’t fight this one alone.”

“So, what exactly do we do?” Everyone turned to Bruce as he began to explain everything he knew.

You tried to focus on what Bruce was saying, tried not to notice Steve staring at you from across the table. But you couldn’t deny the slight increase in your heart rate every time your eyes met his or the noticeable change in his expression when Vision suggested that Wanda destroy the Mind Stone.

“I'm saying that if we take out the stone, there's still a whole lot of Vision left. Perhaps the best parts.”

Steve’s eyes met yours once more and for the first time since you’d known him, you saw something other than just fight in them. You saw fear.

“So, can we take out the stone?”

“Not me,” Bruce’s voice was unsure, confidence gone. “Not here.”

Rhodey cocked an eyebrow. “Well, you better find someone and somewhere. Fast. Ross isn’t exactly just gonna let you guys have your old rooms back.”

“I know a place.”

--

You hung to the back as everyone piled off the quinjet. Despite meeting the King years ago, you were still incredibly shy. It didn’t help that his guards intimidated you to no end.

“You must be Y/N.” James Barnes stood in front of you with a soft smile. “Steve’s told me a lot about you.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Steve’s cheeks heating up in embarrassment. You shook Bucky’s hand. “Likewise. Some days, it almost felt like he was more in love with you than me.”

His laugh was warm. “No way. The way Steve talks about you is unparalleled. I’ve never heard anyone more in love than his. Except maybe me when I’m talking about New York pizza.”

You laughed to try and ignore the ache that had settled in your heart. If only…

“We should get inside.” You swallowed thickly, nodding at Natasha’s words. “Vision’s not going to save himself. Sam, Buck, Rhodey. Stay out here and keep watch.”

She kept a comforting hand on your back as you made your way into the palace where Shuri was waiting. You tried your hardest to keep up with all the scientific mumbo jumbo, but not even your prolonged exposure to Tony Stark could have helped you. You did understand when the ground started shaking and there was an explosion outside.

“Something’s just entered the atmosphere.”

A quick look out the window confirmed that Wakanda had come under attack. There was a series of glances among everyone.

“Wanda. As soon as that stone’s out of Vision’s head, you blow it to hell.”

You smirked, Steve’s voice taking on that authoritative tone you’d fallen in love with. There was a commotion, everyone moving into position, with most heading out to the battlefield. Your masked quickly materialized over your face as you moved to join them.

Steve grabbed your arm. “Y/N, stay up here.”

“Absolutely not!” You yanked away from him.

“I can’t protect you down there!”

“I’ve never asked you to protect me, Steve!” You made sure you could see all of your face as the emotions of the past couple of years came tumbling out of you. “I didn’t ask for you to let me go, you chose that on your own! Now, I’m just as strong as you and I sure as hell don’t need your protection! Let me go!”

You stared at each other, chests heaving. “If you die down there, I won’t be able to forgive myself.”

“Then let’s hope I don’t die.”

He nodded and followed as you ran down to the battlefield. He helped you up onto the vehicle that held the rest of the soldiers and you rode to the edge of the country, comforted that he was close behind you.

“Just keep an eye on your six, okay?” He whispered in your ear when you’d climbed out.

“Yes, Captain.”

You watched as Nat, Steve and T’Challa walked to the edge of the barrier, where a couple of evil looking aliens stood. The shorter of the two, a woman, tests it by drawing her sword across it.

“What the hell is going on?” The three ran back as giant pillars rose from the ground and feral mutants poured out.

“Yibambe! Yibambe! Yibambe! Yibambe! Yibambe!”

“This way above my pay grade.” You muttered to yourself as the mutants charged the barrier, most killing themselves in the process. You didn’t have a gun, so you there wasn’t really much you could do to those that managed to breach.

Bruce was the first to voice what you were sure everyone was thinking. “Cap, if those things circle the perimeter and get in behind us, there’s nothing between them and Vision.”

Steve took a deep breath. “Then we better keep them in front of us.”

The next thing you knew, the shimmering blue of the barrier was separating and you were charging along next to Steve and T’Challa, slicing through every demon you came in contact with. Thank the heavens for super speed.

There was no strategy to the way you fought, no reason to how you killed. You quickly learned that the mutants had a heart near the same place yours was and that was the quickest way to kill them. Your nanotech knife expanded, making it quicker and easier for you to take the things down.

There was a sharp bite in the side of your stomach and you screamed. Steve was quick to shove a vibranium arm guard into your attacker and pull it off of you.

“Thought I told you not to die.” He helped you off the ground, quickly returning to the fight. You rolled your eyes with a smirk, returning to your task. Leaping off the ground, a bunch of tiny nanotech knives flew off your suit and took out the mob of aliens that would have otherwise overpowered you. Steve saw from the corner of his eye and smirked. “Show off.”

“I’ve got a lot of tricks that you don’t know about, Captain.”

“There’s too many of them!” You turned to where the aliens were piling on top of the Hulkbuster, but before you could help, a rain of light came down in the middle of the battlefield, briefly blinding you. Something came flying out of the light, killing a mass of aliens. When the light disappeared, there stood Thor with a gun-wielding raccoon on his shoulder and tree with arms.

“BRING ME THANOS!” He screamed, leaping and crashing his giant axe into the monsters.

“Is it just me or does he look really good?” You teased.

“Eyes on the mission, Y/N!” You couldn’t help but laugh at the obvious jealousy in Steve’s tone.

You chuckled and returned to fighting. It was almost too easy. You were in nirvana, almost mindlessly killing every single alien that got close to you. Of course, you acquired a few bites and bruises along the way, but they healed almost as soon as they’d appeared.

You didn’t see when the giant wheels came up out of the ground, but you saw when Wanda descended and stepped them.

“Why was she up there all that time?” You chuckled at Okoye.

“Guy’s, we’ve got a Vision situation.”

“I’m on it!” You and Bruce yelled at the same time.

You ran as fast as you could, knife hooking onto the alien that had Vision and dragging you along. It shook you off and you hit the ground, knocking the wind from your lungs.

“Now, I’m pissed.” You growled, slowly picking yourself up.

Getting to Vision was no easy task, and when you got there, the alien was waiting for you.

“You’re a formidable opponent,” he growled, shoving his spear into your stomach. You gasped for breath.

He dropped you when Vision appeared behind him. You laid there as they fought, desperately willing your body to heal itself.

“Steve,” you called. “I’m down.”

“Then get up!”

“Vision needs help.” There were holes in your line of sight. You could barely breathe, barely stay conscious as all of your energy was focused into repairing your wound. You didn’t see when Steve ran over to you.

“Get up.” He was quick to pull you to your feet, gentle arm wrapped around your waist. “I told you, you can’t die out here.”

Suddenly, the entire mood changed. The wind was different. You were still trying to repair the hole in your stomach, but your adrenaline spiked.

“Everyone, on my position. We have incoming.” Steve made sure you were steady before letting go of you.

Turning, you watched as a cloud of blue and black opened up. Out stepped a giant purple thing that you immediately recognized, courtesy of Bruce’s description.

“I’m guessing that’s Thanos?” You grumbled.

“Cap. That’s him.”

“Eye’s up.” Steve cocked his arm guards. “Stay sharp.”

Everything happened as though it were slow motion. One by one, you charged at Thanos and one by one, he flung you away like an annoying bug. You didn’t even have time to register it as he trapped you beneath a pile of rocks.

You watched as Wanda used her powers to try to destroy the Mind Stone while Steve grabbed onto Thanos. The purple giant didn’t hesitate to slam a fist into his head, knocking him unconscious.

“Steve!”

You cried, struggling under your restraints. You couldn’t do anything but watch as Thanos used the time stone to revive Vision, then just rip it out of his head. Before he could snap though, Thor’s axe flew straight into his chest.

“I told you. You die for that.”

Thanos just smirked. “You… should have gone for the head.”

His fingers snapped, a wave of energy washing over everything before he just sunk back into a blue cloud. The rocks on top of you melted away.

“Steve, what’s happening?” There was a strange sensation in the pit of your stomach. It felt like you were being both torn apart and stitched together at the same time.

“Y/N?” Steve started walking towards you, but you were gone before he got there.

To Be Concluded…

[witchqueenofthemoon]

BODY AND SOUL Part 24 (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)

BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST

Author’s Note: I suspected the Gala would be at least two parts, and I was right--this is ostensibly the first half of it, 25 will be the second half. I don’t think it’ll go longer than that, but who knows, I never know until I sit down and write the chapter. Here are some higher quality pics of Kenzie’s dress. Her hair looks like this, but with tiny dark red rose buds rather than those little white flowers in it. Her makeup is similar to this look for Billie’s Bello magazine shoot, but her lipstick is like mine here. Here are her shoes. Kenzie is beginning to be able to see herself the way other people do--as something truly divine, her “Supremeness”, as it were--but she has no ego in those moments. The perception is an accurate one. The album Duncan puts on is Prince’s self-titled, the first track is I WANNA BE YOUR LOVER. Duncan’s hair in this part is similar to Cody’s hair here, which is more or less always how Duncan’s hair looks, just particularly well-coiffed on this night, I guess. His makeup is like Cody’s here. With Hannah and Georgio, I wanted to juxtapose the different reactions Duckenzie invoke in people--for some they are divinely inspiring, and for others with darker auras, they invoke carnal lust. Hannah’s jumpsuit looks like this, her hair like this. I based her vaguely on my friend Aly, who has a very dusty sunset aura to me and a beautiful soul. Here’s Annette’s Gala dress. Her hair looks like this. The necklace she gives Kenzie is vintage Cartier, and it looks like this. A special shout out to Luna (@misslunarayne/@officialcodysfallenangels) who inspired Anchaly reading Hawthorne’s THE NEW ADAM AND EVE; she’s the one who told me about the Millory parallels in that book. Momby’s dress, her rose pin, her scarf. Here’s Jimi Hendrix’s PURPLE HAZE (he and I have the same birthday, November 27th). STOP AND BE FRIENDLY is a reference to CLOSE ENCOUNTERS OF THE THIRD KIND, one of my favorite films (so I made it one of Kenzie’s favorites, too). I couldn’t find a logo for Shepherd Unlimited, and have no idea if the HOUSE OF CARDS showrunners ever created one, so I made one up. Here’s Gretchen Friedrichs’ absolute monstrosity of a dress. Sissy Conners’ dress looks like this. The “very famous actor” can be whoever you want it to be--I dunno, Colin Firth or Ryan Gosling or somebody. Here are the Pre-Raphaelite works I reference in this part: VENUS VERTICORDIA, VANITY, THE FIELD OF THE SLAIN, THE GOLDEN STAIRS, OPHELIA. Here are the angels from Waterhouse’s ST. CECELIA who remind Kenzie of Lindy and Gabby. To me, Lindy and Gabby represent the Millory fans; the lovely people I’ve met online who ship Michael x Mallory, without whom I would not have been inspired to write this story. The Millory fans are by and large extremely beautiful souls who have touched my heart immensely--in most cases, young women (many of you bi/pan, like me) who want to believe in love and redemption and beauty, and my fic, in many ways, is for young (and young at heart) women and nonbinary people who want these things in their lives. I still believe in the healing, transcendent power of love, despite all the terrible things in this world, and I ALWAYS will, and this is and will continue to be an unabashed love story. Here’s Marissa Montague’s dress. Her hair is like Emma’s here. She was fun to write. My Marissa is a very superficial, sad person, and Kenzie sees through her right away. The Ducatis are a wealthy family I made up who Duncan used to hang out with when he was younger, partying all the time with superficial socialites like Marissa. I wanted to note that Duncan did go through a phase where he was doing coke all the time and sleeping around, because he is indeed a spoiled rich boy in some ways, and he wasn’t always a great person. Kenzie has given him purpose and an active desire to be better, because love always inspires one to be better. Kenzie is waking to powers she didn’t know she had as she and Duncan get closer to learning about their true natures. If anyone would like to make a Gala moodboard/edit for this part of the story, I’d be OVERJOYED. And as ever, if you’re reading along, your comments, likes, reblogs, asks and edits mean everything to me. Please take a second to like the fic if you’re reading, thank you!

Kenzie broke their kiss reluctantly, her head cloudy with the scent of him (the woods of you, your ache for me, I feel the wildness of your high desire for me, baby, impatient for later), aware of Claire and Morgan’s eyes on them in the bright studio. Duncan made a soft sound as she pulled away from him, one of regret at her absence--his lips came up to her temple, his hands pulling her into him; those hands on the silky gold of her dress made her heart drop down to float in her stomach, spread warm tendrils to her sex. She could feel his thoughts still, aching against her.

Kenzie. My beloved. Everyone will bow to you tonight. But I swear I am your most devoted. And I swear I will worship you best.

“Wow, it got really hot in here,” Claire murmured, fluttering her hand against her cheek, breathing out in a long stream. “Fuck, you two look amazing. Wait until they do her hair and makeup, Duncan. They’ll want to hang pictures of her in the MOMA.”

“Clairebear, stoppit.”

“I am not fucking joking around, Kenzie Lou. You two look like a drawing in a mythology book. Like a fairy tale.” Kenzie could see the tears glittering around the edges of Claire’s eyes; her friend looked away, clearly overwhelmed in her emotions.

“My darlings,” Morgan said, coming up to them, reaching for their hands. Kenzie took one, Duncan the other, his arm still dipped around her waist, trailing up and down the softness of the gold there, against the waves of her hair. “Likes Hades and his bright queen Persephone.”

“They really are like that,” Kenzie heard Claire say as Morgan moved toward her assistant, agreeing delightedly, grasping Claire’s hand now. She felt her cheeks flush.

“That’s how I always think of her,” Kenzie heard Duncan say to Morgan. “Surrounded by flowers, bringing spring. Healing me.” Kenzie’s heart twinged. Everyone can see it. How he’s been healed. And I supposed it has been because of me in some ways. But I know he had it in him, in his dear heart, all along. And despite what he knows about Annette now, he’ll defy that too. He’ll transcend whatever was holding him back. Duncan had turned his head back down to her, and his hands tightened on her, the gold bracelet brushing along her bare shoulder blade.

I will, baby. With you here, I can do anything. As long as you’re here I know nothing can really hurt me. My constant moon. My flower of the universe. She was nodding, overwhelmed in the weight of his touch, his hand drifting to cradle her head at the nape of her neck.

“Erik’s going to be bringing the stylists to the penthouse soon,” he said down to her, his eyes intensely bright on her (so blue so blue blue like the blessed daylight, blue like sapphire), his thoughts bursts of brilliant desire, like tiny electric shocks cascading over her. “He’s going to lose his mind when he sees you--”

“I’m losing my mind over you--” Kenzie gripped at the velvet lapels of his gold-kissed jacket, lifting her hand up to the soft waves of his hair, the diamond and gold at her wrist reminding her again of her daydreams of the circlet of a crown around his head. Duncan. You worship me but my love, I worship you also. I am moved, body and soul, by you. Prince of stars.

The gold is your hands on me, he whispered into the corners of her mind. How it feels to be touched by you. How it feels to be looked at by you. How it feels to be loved by you. The gold is you and tonight everything is for you, and everyone will see you and know.

“Duncan, look at her shoes,” Claire was coming over to them, having found some semblance of composure, carefully holding Kenzie’s elbow as she leaned to the hem of the cascading gold dress, lifting it so Kenzie’s feet were exposed--her shoes were shimmering gold platform sandals with ribbons that wrapped around her ankles, tying at the back.

“They remind me of the shoes she was wearing the night we met,” Duncan was saying to Claire, his hand trailing down Kenzie’s arm, sending a shiver down her back. “I remember I looked at her feet and I thought oh, she ties her shoes in double knots, like I do. And in that moment, I was a goner.”

“Everything you ever wanted,” Kenzie grinned at him. “A girl who ties her shoes like you.”

“She looked like a fucking angel, Claire. You look like a fucking goddess right now, Kenzie. Like a queen. I love you.” Duncan was pressing against her again, his mouth on her cheek, his hands falling down the dress, and Kenzie’s heart was in her mouth, the shape and scent of him the only thing, the greatest of all things, the center of her soul intoxicated in him.

“He ain’t kidding, Kenz. I can’t wait to see BPF tomorrow, honestly. That website is becoming one of my favorite pastimes nowadays, they’re as obsessed with my best friend as I am.” Claire’s eyes had tears in them again, and Kenzie felt her own eyes go misty.

“I fucking love you, Clairebear. Thank you for everything. I can’t tell you how fucking happy I am about you and Harris.”

When Claire had been helping Kenzie dress in the side-room, her friend had told her how shyly and sweetly Harris had called her after Kenzie had passed along her phone number; how he’d asked her if she’d be open to “stepping out” with him, and had told her that he’d been immediately moved by how lovely she was. “I know he’s like ten years older than me, but I feel like--” Claire had blushed deeply, and Kenzie had clutched her hands (oh Claire, I love you and your sweet spirit so much)--”I just--Kenzie Lou, I just feel like he has a lovely soul. I feel like he’s been mostly happy--like me--for a long time, but also lonely, like me, for a long time--” Tears had welled up in Claire’s eyes, and half-dressed, Kenzie had clutched her, burying her face in Claire’s flowery shoulder (she always smells like sunlight on grass and fresh lavender to me), knowing what Claire had meant, knowing Claire didn’t need to say anything else. To have someone to understand you, someone who can truly hold you in the hollow of their heart. I know, Clairebear. More than a friend. A lover. She had pushed a wave of gold into Claire--Claire had quieted and gone back to helping with her dress, wrapping the train carefully over Kenzie’s shoulder, straightening its cascade over her shoulder blade, pulling her hair free from where it’d tucked under the bodice and pulling her fingers through the waves. “Princess Kenzie,” she had whispered, and it had struck a long chord through Kenzie’s heart, reminded her of Duncan--Princess, moon princess, my little moonbeam--and the worship of his words and his lips and his hands in the darkness in their bed, and Kenzie had shivered to behold the way she seemed to transform in the gown, the way the woman who had stared at her in the slender mirror of the dressing room truly began to seem like a princess--like some golden queen, some other Kenzie who fears nothing. And so I will resolve to be her tonight. I will be fearless, regal, that Kenzie who is a queen, Persephone on her throne in the Underworld. I will pretend I’m her tonight, and hold my head high. Duncan told me I belong in this world--and I think I do, because I belong where he is. So I’ll pretend I’m not afraid. I’ll be the one who protects him tonight, because his heart has been wounded and his spirit needs me.

Even looking at him in the splendor of the gold-dipped blazer and the regal gold collar, she could still see the pain behind his gaze, the melancholy ache of yesterday still lingering around his mouth. My Hades, trapped in the Underworld. You felt lost; you still do. Even in the certainty of our love, you are questioning who you are. But together we’re going to find out. We’re going to find the secrets of ourselves together. Duncan was thanking Morgan, kissing her gloved hand, making Morgan laugh with delight--Kenzie’s heart pounded fiercely as she watched him, the fall of his hair, his height, the brightness of his eyes, the curve of his mouth, his angelic beauty, compounded by the elegant clothes. Beloved. Tonight we’ll show everyone how bright we shine together--tomorrow, we’ll retreat into the woods, to whisper our love into each other without needing to speak, to hide and heal in each other’s embrace, and gaze at the stars, and find each other’s secret places. To find the secrets that are so close to us, that we cannot see but have begun to feel, to sense in each other. They are so near. They are the shadow that stands beside us, and soon we’ll be able to see them, Duncan, baby.

He was looking over at her, and she saw in his eyes the recognition of her thoughts. I feel them too. Like they are waiting just around the corner for us. Like we’re seeing them in the mirror today, not ourselves. The echo of them.

They left Morgan’s studio with their hands grasped tightly together, Kenzie’s train carefully draped over Duncan’s arm as he led her down the stairs, easily supporting her petite frame as she blushed down at her feet, trying not to fall in the golden heels, trying not to fall into him the way she was longing to, dying to, remembering the way she’d pushed him into the wall in the stairwell that first night, impossibly hungry for him, the most beautiful boy I have ever fucking seen, and now, somehow, ever more beautiful, almost impossibly so. She could feel the tiny tremors under her skin, the dancing bursts of nervousness, the nerves borne of how lovely he was right now, how staggeringly beautiful to look at. We’ve fucked like crazy, we live together, and god, I still feel so fucking shy of you right now.

“Baby, are you kidding,” he whispered against her as she hovered on the stair above him, leaning his mouth up into her chin, hands falling back and forth over the golden cascade that covered her body. “You’re shy of me? I’m so fucking nervous right now--you’re so fucking beautiful and I can’t even think straight. You can’t possibly be mine. I can’t possibly deserve you. You’re a fucking angel.”

And he was pressing her against the wall of the stairwell now, ever so gently, the chilly cement of it against the bareness of her shoulders above the lame of the dress, her train still tucked into the crook of his elbow, and his mouth down at her collarbone, keeping her tethered to him, his lips drifting to her neck and below her ear, his breath whispering there, his eyelashes brushing the tiny space at the corner of her eye, tasting at her, murmuring further and further into her mind with taut insistence as his hands trembled and shivered down her arms, I can’t wait to get home so you can push that ring onto my cock, can’t wait to push that plug inside you while we stare into each other in the eyes of the Mirror that’s drifting into our dreams now, can’t wait to keep you close to me all night, anticipating the moment where we’re truly alone, can’t wait for everyone to behold you and the thrill of the secret knowledge that despite their longing you are mine alone, and that you chose me among all, that you blessed me, beloved, most fair among all, as your lover, I can’t wait to be so close to you again that we don’t know where part from each other, so close the sweat on our skin mingles on our skin flushed against each other, so close I can feel the clutch of your cunt gripping onto me, claiming me, fucking me, devouring me, can’t wait for you to fuck me, angel--and the insistence of his mouth under her hair was pushing her eyes to the metal underside of the staircase above, her mouth falling open in a gasp of absolute need that drive sharp knives of longing through her whole body.

Fuck, Duncan, I want you so much, I want you all to myself, Prince Duncan, I want your need to be the only thing you can think of, your need for me, I’m the golden gift just for you, the Pandora’s box full not of darkness, but exquisite loveliness, all for you, but you have to be patient today, Erik and the stylists are waiting for us, everyone is waiting for us tonight, waiting to see you, beautiful exalted Prince--

No, they’re waiting for YOU, my golden Persephone, it’s your golden beauty they are waiting for--his mouth was hovering over hers, not touching it, not quite, but begging to, sweetly open, aching to take hers, tilting his head, impossibly blue eyes rising and falling down the curve of her face, the gold waterfall of her dress--

“Let’s go, baby,” she gasped, gently pushing his arms away from her, gently turning from his mouth despite the soft, imploring sounds he made, his curls and the bridge of his nose brushing against her cheek. I can’t hold out when you’re touching me that way, I can’t stand it, Dunny, you have to stop, I can’t, I want you so much--

She grasped his hand as he stepped back on shaking feet, the gold of their bracelets clinking together softly, and he carefully gripped the train as she stepped ahead of him, down the last flight of stairs to the palm-lined foyer of Morgan’s studio building, and they were out in the oppressive, flushed heat of the day, but it felt good on Kenzie’s skin, it was a relief to be enveloped in the heat that was coursing through her body already. The world has been set on fire with our love, she thought, looking up at Duncan as he came through the door beside her, towards where Samuel was parked on the corner. He dipped his head to her, his mouth set to stave off his longing, and he was pushing his Yves sunglasses over his (ethereal blue like the heavens) eyes, but before he did she could see the patterned geometry of his soul there, which saw hers utterly, and wanted her, utterly, loved her, entirely. The world has turned, changed for us, become ours, and now it sees us, and it bows and encircles us in its desire, its heat is its kisses of worship on our skin, and it knows who we are. Soulmates.

---------

Samuel was looking at them with moon-bright eyes as Duncan helped Kenzie into the deeply cool interior of the car, and Kenzie smiled back at him shyly as he turned the stereo dial up--with a thrill she realized it was Jimi Hendrix, and his wild guitar crashed against her. Summer music. 

Purple haze all in my brain, lately things don’t seem the same, actin’ funny but I don’t know why, ‘scuse me while I kiss the sky...

“My dear Duncan and Mackenzie,” he said, foot on the gas, “you look like you stepped down from heaven a moment ago, off a falling star.”

“I feel like I’m in heaven, Samuel,” Kenzie replied, as Duncan’s hand slipped into hers. “I can’t come down, and I don’t want to.”

“You know it’s the full moon tonight,” Duncan’s chauffeur said, slipping dark sunglasses on to shield his eyes from the sunlight that streamed through the window. “The juju that comes on nights such as these is quite special. It’s fortuitous that the Gala is on such a night--tonight will be the night the world will see the true brightness of your love.”

Kenzie puzzled for a moment over Samuel’s words--what does that mean? She looked up at Duncan, who seemed to be openly staring at her behind his dark sunglasses, his lips parted, his hand dry and warm, his thumb drifting over her palm. She lifted a finger to pull them down at the rim, exposing his eyes to her--yep, staring. Blue like the clear shore of a bright ocean.

“What does that mean?” She mouthed to him, smiling at him, her cheeks flushed. Oddly, Samuel lifted the partition after that, somehow content not to explain himself further.

Duncan shrugged, and his fingers tightened in hers. He shook his head. Baby, I don’t know. But I have a strange feeling about tonight. I had a strange feeling about yesterday, too--I know you felt that. But today doesn’t have that mean feeling like yesterday, does it? It has some other kind of feeling. It’s heavy, but it’s not a bad feeling. It’s like--a giant wheel turning. Like a huge clock tower chiming the hour. Like lifting your face to the sun after you’ve been indoors for a long time.

Yeah. Like that, she thought, nodding, her other hand drifting against his thigh, and then she spoke, in the cocoon of their privacy. “Duncan...I feel like I swallowed the sun and every bit of light is shooting from my eyes and my mouth and the tips of my hair and everyone it touches, they feel it too, they feel bright and healed. I feel like it’s my destiny to do that--touch people with the sunlight I can feel inside me.”

“You always make me feel that way. Like nothing bad can happen to me when you’re here. Like you’re the sun in the day and the moon at night, and you bring light where there would be darkness without you. Kenzie,” and he pressed his hand into her waist, his eyes fluttering at the softness of the gown, his breath gasping. “God, I want to just run away with you.”

“Away from everyone and everything to a secret place where no one can find us,” she whispered against him. Kenzie’s body felt flushed with overwhelming heat despite the coolness of the car. “Soon, baby, soon, we’ll eat fruit under the trees and swim in the lake and fuck so fucking much--” and she drifted her hand against his throat, thumb on the fullness of his lips, pulling him down against her, Duncan pulling his glasses off and dropping them unceremoniously on the car’s floor, gathering her in his arms, his mouth flushing into hers with her fingers still pressed under his jaw, tightening to hold him steady against her, and he whispered into her mouth, “baby, fuck, Kenzie--” and she could feel the rapid, frenzied drifting of his mind, the Bacchanalian chaotic need that was building in the center of him. To love you is holy madness, Mackenzie Stone. I fucking worship you. His mouth was in her hair, his fingers pulling it to his nose to breathe in the scent of her, and his expression was one of angelic beauty, an aching supplication to her, his finely chiseled features, his long straight nose, his full lips, his sharp jaw utterly divine in the purity of his love. It took her breath away to see him this way--it took her senses and rattled them apart, leaving her feeling spread like the particles of stardust in the night sky.

“Tonight,” she whispered against him, and she made herself look into his eyes, despite the shaking in her own soul, despite her fear of his beauty, because despite our closeness, my love, I still fear how lovely you are, I still fear your devotion because it shakes my fucking soul, and I fear you because your beauty seems impossible, and I see the inhuman in you, I fear the loss of you, for I’d die without you now-- “you’re gonna be aching for me all night, aren’t you, baby, you’re not gonna touch yourself at all, either, are you, baby, even though you’re gonna want to, I know,” and his tongue was pressing out onto her bottom lip, his tiny moans like sweet music in her ears, “you’re gonna want to but you aren’t going to, because only I get to touch you, only I get to take that ring off your poor aching cock, my poor baby--”

Duncan’s hands tightened at the back of her hair, twisting and forcefully pressing so her mouth crashed against his, and the need in it crushing against her heart with a possessive hand. I won’t baby, I won’t, but fuck, I want you now, how can I wait so long. His mouth was like the musky juice of some unearthly fruit. He must be what ambrosia tastes like. Like fucking sex. Like the pinnacle of all my desires. Like the highest part of my hope and the wildest release of the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had. There’s nothing like it I’ve ever felt anywhere. Him.

Kenzie’s hands were clutched to the gold-kissed lapels of his velvety jacket as they arrived at the penthouse all too soon, her fingers drifting against the intricate cages of the collar tips.

“I feel like you should be wearing a crown,” she whispered to him. Duncan’s hands were coming around to clutch hers at his throat, his mouth kissing at her fingertips.

“I keep imagining flowers in your hair,” he replied. “Flowers would be your crown, my beautiful Kenzie. So many flowers.”

Samuel was lowering the partition and Kenzie moaned against him, her heart crushed that they had so much longer to go before they’d be alone together again. It’s never enough, she thought to him. Whatever time we have alone, it’s never enough, it’s not even close to being enough.

I know baby, I know angel, I know, it’s never enough, kiss me, kiss me-- and they crushed their mouths together again, not caring that Samuel could see them now, his bright-moon gaze skirting over them then politely away, though Kenzie knew that it was difficult for him, knew he thought they were bright as stars, beautiful beyond words, though she couldn’t have said how she knew, only that Samuel’s emotion towards them in this moment was starkly bright, as if he were speaking it out loud, and then Duncan was pulling her out of the car and she felt dazed, dazed as Jerry opened the door for them, his expression one of utter amazement, until Anchaly let out a barking laugh of complete joy towards them that startled her so she clutched at Duncan’s hand, suddenly shy and apprehensive of the small man.

“And the spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters,” Anchaly said, and Kenzie saw Duncan’s puzzled look as they walked past. His eyes were glittering.

“I feel like you speak in riddles sometimes, Anchaly,” Duncan was saying as he pressed the button of the elevator. He had gathered her train up in his hand again, holding it gently over his arm, and Kenzie blushed, suddenly feeling deeply self-conscious, as if she were being led up to an opulent throne where she’d be crowned a queen of some unknown kingdom. She kept looking down to examine the dress, unconvinced it was real, its golden sheen seeping into the corners of her vision.

“Some glories require the words of someone more skilled than I,” Anchaly replied. “You two seem to render me speechless to express my astonishment without some help.”

“Is that from Proverbs, Anchaly? From the Bible?” Kenzie remembered a Moby song that had a similar name to the words Anchaly had spoken.

“Indeed. God creating the waters when he made the world.”

The elevator dinged open.

“You two seem to be creating something, too. The beauty of your love seems to be growing.”

Duncan didn’t reply--he seemed unsure of what to say. Kenzie could see the blush around his eyes.

“Anchaly, Annette’s going to be dropping something off for me soon,” Kenzie called out to him as Duncan pulled her inside. “Please call up to the penthouse when she’s here, will you?”

She saw Anchaly’s nod, the glittering quality of his eyes flashing at her again, and then Duncan was clutching her against him again in the gold interior of the elevator, his fingers achingly delicate on the gold of her dress, and she was lost inside his attentions, lost, and it was everything she could do not to grind against his thigh pressing her into the elevator’s mirror, not to stare in wonder at the loveliness of the picture they cast there, she blushed to be so struck with wonder at her own beauty, blushed to be overcome so often by the rightness of how they looked together. We really do look like royalty, like Pilar said. The moment was gone too soon as the elevator seemed to climb 30 stories in no time at all, and Duncan gently pulled away from her, grasping the train and urging her out as she giggled at him, dragging her softly to the penthouse door, through with they could already hear the voices of Erik and the stylists inside. Rather than using his keycard Duncan knocked twice, lazily, on the door, then in a moment of abandon, grabbed hold of her waist and lifted her up into his mouth again, the taste of him dizzying her wildly, the half-hardness of his crotch pressing into her stomach. Then he was hurriedly bringing her back to earth, grinning at her as the door swung open and they broke apart to Erik’s judging gaze, his mouth pursed at them in their breathless state, his expression one of hidden delight masked by facetious scandal.

“Heeeeeeaven, I’m in heaven,” he sang, fluttering his eyelashes--they were very long with pink rhinestones today. “Just look at you two. As soon as you mentioned Morgan I knew she’d do both of you justice, Mackenzie. I can already see the headlines tomorrow: ‘DUCKENZIE STUNS IN GOLD, WE ALL HAVE TO WIPE OURSELVES OFF THE FLOOR’. Duncan, I brought Hannah and Georgio today. You remember them--they did you for the App release party. They’re going to lose their shit over her.” He extended his hand, beckoning to them languidly, moving back inside the penthouse, the long black cashmere poncho he wore drifting behind him. Duncan’s warm, large hand was on the skin just above the back of the dress, and Kenzie stepped away from his touch, feeling too overwhelmed by it to let it continue for now--I want you terribly, my love. I want you alone.

In the kitchen there was an array of picturesque snacks from the always well-stocked silver fridge and cupboards spread out; round rice crackers and two bricks of artisan swiss and gouda, salami rolled around tiny toothpicks, cubed mango, sliced green apple, bunches of grapes, organic hummus and pesto, bite-sized chopped purple cauliflower and celery sticks, and multiple open bottles of wine.

“We had to get the party started the right way, of course,” Erik simpered to Duncan, and Duncan smiled at him (that smile, kiss me, baby), unbothered, then at the two people seated at the obsidian island with recognition. Kenzie suddenly felt wildly shy again, fighting the urge to hide behind him, but he was pushing bright, warm blue feelings against her, circling her heart. “Hey, Hannah.” Hannah had very long, vaguely wavy hair that was a sort of lavender-grey, the kind of color that could only be achieved by a master hairstylist, one that usually only existed in superhero comics, and chopped bangs. She was ambiguously aged, perhaps in her early 30’s, with bright pink eyeshadow and an expertly contoured, round face. She wore a very long boho bronze-red jumpsuit with curling indigo detailing, and an array of long necklaces with varying crystals. Her skin was the color of milky coffee. The man beside her had long chocolatey hair streaked with natural gray, tied back into a bun at the back of his head, sharp, dark eyes, and an beard that was so well-cropped it seemed almost fake. He had silver rings on his fingers in the shapes of animal skulls, and wore a black denim jacket and black skinny jeans on his very thin frame. He had been talking to the woman in a very quiet, even voice, but she had begun to laugh loudly at something he said. “Hi Georgio, lovely to see you both again. This is Mackenzie Stone.”

“Oh my fucking god, I can’t believe Duckenzie are finally here!” The woman called Hannah immediately stopped laughing, dropping the morsel of gouda she’d been clutching in long coral-colored fingernails. Kenzie gawked at her. God, the Duckenzie thing is a trip. The woman got up from Duncan’s island and came around to her, her hands flitting down to Kenzie’s shoulders--she was at least six inches taller, and in bare feet. She smells really nice, like patchouli incense.

“God, you’re a little jewel,” and Hannah was pulling her into a hug, much to Kenzie’s surprise. “You smell like a rose bush. It’s obscene.”

“Hannah, I fucking told you,” Erik said. “Imagine the possibilities. An absolute babydoll.”

“Georgio,” the other man came up to her, grasping her fingers, leaning over them. “A pleasure to finally meet you in person, dear.” His voice remained very quiet and very even, removed from Hannah’s immediate enthusiasm.

“I do hair, Georgio does makeup,” Hannah was saying down to her. “This dress, Jesus fucking Christ, you’re like a Klimt painting, and Duncan, god, you always look incredible but this is next-level, nobody will be able to talk about anything else tomorrow, fuck, Georgio, we have to really outdo ourselves with this one.”

“I fucking agree.” Georgio was looking between Duncan and Kenzie with a hungry glint in his eye, as though he were a vulture about to swoop down onto a carcass. Kenzie shivered a little--I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the way some people look at us when we’re together, she thought. It’s as though some people want to leave us candles and fruit and gold coins on an altar, and other people want to somehow consume us--rip out our hearts and gnaw on them with their teeth. Hannah is one of the former. This man Georgio is one of the latter. She watched his hungry, dark eyes float up and down on Duncan, and she was made conscious again, removed from her lover’s touch for the moment, of how incredibly beautiful Duncan was, how singularly, objectively handsome.

Back off honey, he’s mine. Kenzie couldn’t help it, she snorted into her hand suddenly at the force of her thought, the certainty of it, and Hannah looked down at her, puzzled.

“I was just thinking about how crazy all of this has been,” Kenzie murmured.

“I bet, honey. Your Instagrams are like the only thing anyone talks about anymore. You must have gotten like, a hundred endorsement offers by now.”

Duncan shrugged at her. “I don’t think we’ll be doing stuff like that, Hannah. Kenzie’s a writer.”

“I forgot, you’re a fucking billionaire,” Hannah rolled her eyes at him. “No pressing need to make more money.” I like this woman, Kenzie thought. We can be friends. “Little golden peach, come sit with me, I’m wild to start on you.” Hannah led Kenzie to the living room, where they’d set up two styling chairs with portable standing mirrors.  

“Dunny, bring me some of those grapes, please? I’m fucking starving.” Kenzie called across to him. Duncan was watching her with a dazed expression, as if he’d forgotten where he was. Georgio continued watching him with the same hungry eyes. Duncan went to the island as Erik said something to him that Kenzie couldn’t hear--she was turning back to Hannah, who already had two flat pastel-colored styling clips in her fingers. Kenzie sat, looking up at the woman, angling her chin up.

“What do you think your hair should look like tonight, baby doll?”

Kenzie smiled at her. I really like her.

“Sometimes he calls me Persephone,” she said to Hannah in a low voice, as if she were telling the gray-haired woman a secret. Hannah was leaning down to her, listening eagerly. The woman seemed to have an almost rosy aura around her, like the pink blush of a desert sunrise.

“Goddess of spring,” Hannah nodded. “Which would make him Hades, God of the Underworld. That seems right to me. And you brought your flowers down to him in the darkness, didn’t you, sweetness.” Hannah’s hand brushed through the wave of hair that fell over Kenzie’s shoulder. “I think we should put flowers in your hair. And then everyone will see who you really are. Not just your gold, but the way love is blooming all around you.”

Duncan was coming over to them with a bunch of grapes and some of the cheese and round crackers on a little plate and one of his Waterford glasses full of a dry rose, leaning the plate down to Kenzie’s lap, dipping his face to kiss her (thanks baby, she whispered into his mind) as he handed her the wine, then he straightened and said “I’m putting on some music for us, any requests?”

“Something sexy,” Erik said, holding up his wine glass, full of dark red. “I need some mood music to look at you two.”

Duncan smirked at him and turned away, into his study.

“Hannah, have you seen The Youth of Bacchus?” Kenzie spoke to the woman from a mouth of grapes. “It’s in Duncan��s study there, it’s so amazing, it’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. I just wanted to die the first time I saw it.”

“I saw it the last time I was here, we styled Duncan for an event a few months ago,” Hannah had already busily begun to slide clips into Kenzie’s long tawny hair, clearly used to working around people eating. “It’s really extraordinary. I can’t imagine how crazy everything has been for you lately, honey.”

“It’s--” Hannah was dividing her hair into segments now with a thin comb, turning to a set of portable drawers near the standing mirror. “It’s been so surreal, honestly. It feels like I’ve been walking around in a dream for the past few weeks. But most people have been so lovely.”

“I bet Annette’s a fucking handful.” Kenzie heard a funky electronic beat come over the hidden speakers as Hannah’s quick hands worked at her hair, spraying primer through it, brushing it out. I ain’t got no money, I’m not like those other guys you hang around, it’s kinda funny, but they always seem to let you down…

“Yes.” Kenzie didn’t even try to hide her frustration. “Yes, she fucking is.”

Hannah snorted, grinning at her as Duncan reemerged from the study.

“Yes, honey, yes indeed,” Erik was saying to him as Duncan sat in the other styling chair beside Kenzie, Georgio immediately attacking his stubbled cheeks with moisturizer, then primer. “Prince’s self-titled is his most underrated creation, I do believe. Pure sex from beginning to end.”

“Erik, I hope this isn’t too great for a favor for someone as important as you, but could you bring me the wine glass I left over there?” Duncan glanced up at Erik with a long, languid gaze, and Kenzie giggled. Laying it on thick, baby. I like to watch you do that, she realized. Because I know you’re always mine now, and all they can do is pine after you.

Erik gave him a pleased look and brought the wine to him. “Anything for Prince Duncan,” he cooed. I feel the same way, and Kenzie’s thought flashed to his eyes staring at her in the MIrror as he fucked her, her arms tied in velvet ribbon, flashed to his mouth between her legs with her arms tied to the headboard with his belt, to her back against the cherrywood table as he kneeled to her, her body arching into his elegant, strong fingers in the dark, the white-blue glow of his eyes. Anything for you, beloved. Anything.

“I’m gonna need fresh rosebuds for Kenzie’s hair, Duncan,” Hannah said, glancing at him.

Duncan made a little sound of longing in the back of his throat that made Kenzie’s stomach flip. Oh my fucking god, baby, I’ll get you roses to wear in your hair every day. And your peonies are starting to wilt, too. Kenzie glanced at the coffee table, noticing with a twinge of sadness that he was right. Prince wailed over their heads as Duncan pulled his phone out of his back pocket and sent a few quick text messages to Anchaly for the concierge. “Hannah, what do you need?” I wanna be your lover, I wanna be the only one that makes you come, running...Georgio’s hand was on his cheek as though it were made of delicate glass, holding Duncan’s head steady as he worked around his blue eyes with a tiny eyeshadow brush.

Hannah reached for his phone with an insistent hand and typed out a text, handing it back to him. “As young as they have would be best. And the darkest red. Fit for a queen.”

“Roses for Kenzie’s hair, roses for Kenzie, check.” Duncan glanced over at her, his eyes (the sky of you, the storm of you building for me) falling from hers down her gown, then back up. His tongue slowly came out to lick against his top lip, and the gesture seemed to be involuntary, so open to her, so desirous of her, as he sometimes was in the sanctity of their bed. Our bed, our room, my favorite place on earth now when you’re there, she could hear him, knew his thoughts drifted into the same place hers did, needy with the weight of their nights.

“Georgio, did you hear what Mackenzie told me a minute ago? Duncan calls her Persephone sometimes. Hence the roses.”

“Way ahead of you, Hannah,” Georgio said, then, “Close your eyes, please, Duncan,” and Kenzie watched him swirl the brush in a palette behind him, then begin to darken Duncan’s eyelids to deep black. My Hades. Gold in the darkness. It’s not just me, baby. It’s us together. My gold kisses your darkness, your darkness holds my gold. One without the other is not enough. One without the other is not whole.

“God, I love it,” Hannah was murmuring as she began to whirl Kenzie’s hair around a ceramic curling iron, from its soft natural waves into more carefully constructed ones. She began to switch between curling strands of Kenzie’s chestnut-blonde hair and weaving a very loose french braid down Kenzie’s back, until her hair seemed to be a very intricate web of falling braids and artfully arranged loose waves, though Kenzie couldn’t see it from the back yet. Duncan’s already luminously handsome face was now darkly striking in the shadow around his eyes, the gold of the jacket juxtaposing with the black and the blue of his corneas to an effect that took Kenzie’s breath away. God of riches, shadows, and my heart.

“God, baby, you look so good. So fucking good.”

“I agree,” Hannah was grinning between them, still fussing over Kenzie’s hair. At the back she’d created a slight bump and long waves fell around Kenzie’s face. The doorbell chimed through the penthouse and Erik went to the door from where he’d been lazily eating apple slices and downing glass after glass of wine. A delivery man stood there with a long white box--Erik took it from him and brought it over to the low leather couch, lifting the lid. Within were a dozen sprigs of burgundy-dark rose buds, and a bouquet of a two-dozen full-stem roses in the same color.

“Oh sugar, I wish a billionaire who looks like an angel would buy me flowers every day,” Erik said longingly. 

“Gimme, please,” Kenzie begged, reaching her arms out. Erik brought them to her from where Hannah was holding her captive, and Kenzie lifted the bouquet to her face in their softness, feeling tears welling up. “Dunny, I love them so much.” Duncan was smiling at her with a dreamy expression around his darkly shadowed eyes. We’ll take them with us to the cabin. We’ll put them beside our bed. I love you, Kenzie.

I love you, too, Duncan. I’ll save so many wildflowers while we’re there to hang over our bed here. We’ll bring the roses with us, and bring the forest back with us, Kenzie’s eyes rested in his, her hand stretching out to him, almost involuntarily. Duncan stood and came to her, Georgio having finished his work, leaning against the standing mirror, observing with a sharp, dark gaze. Duncn crouched down beside her chair, bringing his face up to press his nose into the roses she held, then up to her cheek and against her lips, and Kenzie’s body tingled with the softness and sweetness of him, the darkly beautiful dramatic cast of his face in the eyeshadow. He drew back from her, eyes lifting up to the others behind her--neither of them had realized for the beat of the moments that Erik, Hannah and Georgio were all staring at the two of them with observant, rapt expressions, Hannah’s almost pious, Erik’s joyous, Georgio’s openly desirous. The first side of Prince had ended, and the quiet had settled around them.

“God, you two are lovely,” Hannah breathed, breaking the spell. “I could watch you all day. I’ve never seen a couple so beautiful. It’s like you’re communicating without words.”

At that moment the downstairs buzzer beside the penthouse door trilled, making Kenzie jump. We are, Hannah. But no one knows that but us. And we want to keep it that way. It belongs to us. Duncan stepped away from Kenzie, clutching her hand for a moment. I bet that’s Annette, Kenzie thought, biting into her lip. Annette’s text had been strange, a frantic tone underneath her overly-polite request to see Kenzie. Please accept this gift as a token of my blessing, she’d said, and Kenzie had known Annette distress was coming solely from Duncan’s silence to her, but nevertheless, the prospect of actually gaining Annette’s approval by any means was tempting, especially since she’d softened to Kenzie at the Rose Garden. Duncan went to the door, hitting a button below the panel and speaking into it.

“Yes?”

“Mr. Shepherd, Annette is here.”

Duncan looked over at Kenzie, a pained expression immediately falling over his face. Baby, it’s okay, Kenzie thought to him. I’ll go downstairs. I won’t take long. I’m not afraid of her.

“Anchaly, Kenzie’s coming down,” he said, turning back to the speaker. “Do not send up her up.”

“Very well, Mr. Shepherd.” Anchaly’s voice sounded strained.

Kenzie rose, carefully tucking the cascade of the gold train over her arm, setting the roses in her seat gently. “Hannah, Georgio, I won’t be long, this should only take a few minutes.” Be brave, for him, even if you don’t feel it, because Duncan needs you to be. She walked carefully past Erik, who was giving her a dark look, a don’t let her fuck with you look, to Duncan, whose eyes were clouded behind the dark eyeshadow, suddenly lost inside the turmoil of his emotions.

“Baby, look at me,” she whispered to him, reaching for his hands. As she grasped them Kenzie could feel that he was shaking; feel the immediate change in his mood, the dark shadow that had settled on him, the one that had made him cry in her arms yesterday, the one that had sent his sadness out to her over miles. “We’re going to get through tonight, then we’re going to go away together, just me and you. Okay? And you won’t have to see her, okay? Not until you’re ready. Forget about everyone else.” And Kenzie, in that moment, resolved to do the same herself. Forget about them. About the paps, about Annette’s judgement, about the eyes watching us now, and anyone else who will try to hurt us tonight. When I have you, I’m fearless, invincible, you are my armor of blue flames, I am your armor of weightless gold. And they can’t hurt us.

Duncan brought his mouth down to her, and his lips trembled too, though with the tumult of his emotions or his desire she couldn’t decipher, so jumbled were the two strains of feeling in him. Kenzie gently brought her hand up to his hair and his arms came around her back, lifting her into him, and Kenzie couldn’t help but hear the sighs that came from Erik and Hannah behind her, the sighs that sounded to her like the wings of angels rustling in some holy silent hall, and she soothed him with paper-thin gold, feeling his heart settling down to a steadier rhythm, feeling the trembling in him drift out, into the ether.

“I’ll be right back,” she whispered, and let go of him, staring at him for another moment, seeing the way her energy had calmed him, his eyes bright again amid the gold-and-dark sheen of his shape, and Kenzie snapped the door open and walked, determined, to the elevator.

-------

Annette was standing in the foyer when Kenzie arrived downstairs, her expression strained and softly troubled, the usual anger in her eyes towards Kenzie missing. She was nervously fidgeting with something in her hands--a squarish, flat velvet box. 

As Kenzie’s eyes drifted over Duncan’s mother, she was struck by the other woman yet again: Annette’s coppery-dark hair was pulled back in an elegantly distressed bun, a few strands arranged artfully around her slender cheekbones, her naturally beautiful face made more exquisite with soft makeup tones, a roseate sheen on her cheeks and mouth, a pale olive around her eyes, reminding Kenzie of the blossoms and vines of some pink flower in bloom, of a cheek pressed against a garden wall. Annette’s dress was flowing saffron-colored satin, falling to the ground and shrouding her feet, long sleeves to her wrists (she was wearing one ring, a gold band on her left index finger with a round, yellow-colored topaz stone), a deep V exposing the dip between her small breasts, a string of tiny, perfectly-shaped (and likely priceless) iridescent pearls around her slender throat. As Kenzie stepped closer she could see there were small golden flowers falling throughout the dress, like bursts of pollen reflected in a sunrise. Annette turned her head down for a moment, her eyes closing, and Kenzie noticed there were pearls stranded through her hair as well. She is so beautiful. This woman who adopted Duncan so many years ago. Where did she find him? Who did she claim him from? Who is this woman really, this woman who has kept the truth of him from him for his entire life? I can see her loveliness that has been hidden beneath her shadow, like I could see his right away. It took longer to see hers. But I’ve begun to see it. But her shadow is strong. It’s consumed her for many years.

Anchaly had, somehow, blessedly, vacated the front desk, and Jerry was standing outside the glass doors in the balmy summer night, smoking a cigarette, staring down at his phone. There was no one else in the foyer, and no sound except soft classical music pumping from the speakers, the gold-embossed chairs and couch, lush persian rugs and expensive potted plants their only company.

“Annette,” Kenzie said, reaching her, remaining a few steps away. Annette was looking at her with a pained expression now--an expression Kenzie had never seen. Now that she was closer, she could see there were lines under Annette’s eyes, of tiredness and distress. I don’t think she slept at all last night, Kenzie realized. Because of Duncan. Because she knows how devastated he is.

“Oh, Mackenzie.” Kenzie’s nerves shattered as she saw the tears in Annette’s eyes, saw the girl within Duncan’s mother again, and was moved by her. “You...you are so lovely. I--I’m--”

Annette trailed off, raising the box in her hands out to Kenzie. She seemed to steel something within herself for a moment, force her tears back, force them back into the secret place where Annette Shepherd had been storing pain for decades, and her eyes fluttered closed again, then opened to Kenzie’s--Kenzie felt for a moment that she could almost see her own eyes reflected there, see the green and russet and the gold of herself, see how Annette could see her in this moment. Like an effigy of the Holy Mother, Annette was thinking, and it shook Kenzie to the core of her body to know that. But before she was a mother--when she was young and wild, and free, and the most beloved of all in the eyes of God. There is no wonder that he loves her. My Duncan. My darling boy. I’m sorry.

“I found this a few days ago while I was going through some of the remainders of Adelaide’s--my mother’s--possessions,” and Annette now used the voice of her outward self again, even, carefully measured. “I knew when I saw it that it was meant to be yours. I’d be--I’d--if you would accept it, Mackenzie...I’d be grateful.” Annette closed her mouth, as if by the action she could close off the tide of her emotions rising again with it. Kenzie stepped closer, watching Annette’s eyes rove up and down the exquisite gold of her dress, into her eyes, skirting away. She reached her hands out and Duncan’s mother (for she is Duncan’s mother after all--she loves him with her life, and she didn’t tell him because she couldn’t bear the thought that he isn’t hers, because she loves him as strongly as if he is--her love is true and blinding for him) lowered the box carefully into them, and their hands touched, and Kenzie looked up at her again, then opened it.  

Within was a circlet band of braided gold, its strands leading down to a matte red ruby surrounded by an oval of almost two dozen tiny, perfect diamonds. On either side of the oval were three gold leaves, each set with two diamonds each. I can’t imagine how much this is worth, Kenzie thought, her breath trapped in her lungs. This must be priceless.

“I--I can’t--” Kenzie struggled to speak. How can I accept this?

“Please, Mackenzie. I’ve been--I know I’ve been--” Annette seemed to be losing the strands of her composure, her hands fidgeting in front of her, clutching at the pearls around her neck. “I know I’ve been terrible to you. I have no right to ask you for anything. But please, Duncan--Duncan won’t speak to me, and I--”

Be the golden goddess Duncan sees in you, Kenzie. Be fearless and kind.

“He needs time.”

Kenzie evened her gaze on Annette; lowered the necklace in its velvet box in her hands, but brought it closer to her body, accepting. She lifted her chin.

“He’s very hurt. Keeping the truth from him for so long--it’s wounded him deeply. And I don’t know how long he’s going to need. But I know he needs time.” Kenzie watched Annette’s face, the subtle shift of the pain there. “After tonight, we’re going away for awhile--maybe a few days, maybe a week. And when we get back, I think he’ll be ready to talk to you. But until then, I don’t think he wants to. I don’t think he can. Annette, I will accept this from you...if you can accept that.”

Annette’s lip trembled, almost imperceptibly, and she seemed on the edge of tears again. She dipped her head, eyes closing again, the lengthening afternoon light spilling across her face--despite everything, Kenzie thought, I love her still.

“Please tell him I’m--how sorry I am.  And that I love him. More than anything. More than my own life. And I--I love you also, Mackenzie. I do. I’m sorry to you, too.”

Annette reached out one shaking hand, pressing it gently to the side of Kenzie’s arm, her other hand coming up to hover near Kenzie’s cheek--but that hand continue to hover rather than touch, as if afraid. Then Annette turned without another word, and left the foyer. Jerry held the door out for her, and Kenzie could see a Mercedes parked on the curb, the tall, imposing form of Becket coming out to open the door of the car for her, and Annette slipped inside, and the car drove away.

I guess it’s a good thing Georgio didn’t do my makeup yet, Kenzie thought. Tears, hot and aching and bitter, coursed down her cheeks as she stepped toward the elevator, and they continued to fall all the way back up to the penthouse, the velvet box clutched in her trembling fingers.

------

She immediately saw the pall that fell over Duncan’s face as she came back into the penthouse--strains of Beethoven played quietly now, Duncan’s cheerful mood clearly affected by Annette’s arrival. He knew she’d been crying. He was sitting in the styling chair again, Hannah pressing product through his waves of dark-copper hair, and he launched himself from her fingers as Kenzie closed the door with one hand, the box clutched in the other, running up to her, clutching her against him. Kenzie closed her eyes, immediately soothed in the enveloping weight of his embrace--there’s nothing else on earth as wonderful as this, baby, as wonderful as being held by you. This is the only thing.

“Baby, what happened? What did she do?” Duncan pulled her away, turning her chin up to him, his hand drifting back to cradle around her ear, his eyes full of clouded anger at Annette’s perceived ills.

“She just--she’s sorry. She loves you. She wants to talk to you. I told her we’re going away for a few days. I told her you’re not ready to talk to her yet but--but maybe you will be when we get back. And she gave me this.” Kenzie felt more tears fall down her cheeks as she lifted the box up to him. Duncan took it with fingers that were shaking again--his eyes roved over the necklace with recognition as he opened the box.

“This was Adelaide’s, wasn’t it,” he whispered. “I remember it. I would touch it when she pulled me into her lap when I was little. I wanted to eat the ruby, you know--how you want to eat everything when you’re little--” and Kenzie knew the steady stream of words was to keep himself from crying, from becoming overwhelmed.

“Shhhh, baby,” she soothed. “Will you help me put it on?”

Duncan quieted and nodded to her, his eyes glittering (like sapphire). He lifted the necklace from the velvet box, setting the latter aside on the island, and Kenzie turned, lifting her chin so he could clasp it around her neck--his fingers were warm, almost hot, and her eyes fluttered open and closed at the feeling of them brushing against her (your touch is heaven to me, heaven) and then he gripped at her shoulders, his mouth coming down to kiss her ear, turning her easily, her weight nothing in his arms, and his gaze fell over her neck and his lips drifted open, his eyes opening and closing (nebulas), and Kenzie could see a kind of peace fall over him, as if she and Adelaide were somehow able to meet now, after all.

“It’s perfect,” he whispered, and she nodded, her chin turned up to him. “Adelaide would have loved for you to have it.”

Kenzie felt desperate to be close to him, desperate for him to hold her, suddenly, in a dark place where no eyes could reach them, where they could be naked and taste each other with abandon, with only the moon to see. My One. I want to comfort you in the privacy of our room so very much. She pulled his face down to hers carefully, pressing her forehead to his, and pushed golden waves down into him, pushed with all her strength, all her love, all her longing, and she felt his body relax against hers, like a sigh, though he was silent. She closed her eyes, knowing his were closed too, knowing they could see each other without needing to look--she could see the blue waves of him melting behind the darkness of her lids, could see the iridescent gold she had given him. All good things come in time. We just have to get through tonight. Then we’ll be able to comfort each other, my love. Comfort each other for days. He nodded against her skin, and Kenzie knew he heard.

They broke apart, and she looked over to Hannah, Erik and Georgio, watching her and Duncan with mouths agape again, not speaking to each other. She made eye contact with Erik, who drank off the rest of the wine in his glass, giving her a good-natured eyeroll.

“You two make me wanna get drunk,” he said, waving a hand toward them. “I’m raging with jealousy and arousal.” Kenzie noticed someone had put her roses in another of Duncan’s gold vases in the center of the kitchen island, and she looked at them gratefully.

“Mackenzie, come sit, we have a lot to do still,” Hannah said, tapping the styling chair, and Kenzie glanced back at Duncan (baby, come sit with me, please?) and he nodded to her, going back to the kitchen island and pouring himself another glass of wine as Kenzie sat before Hannah and Georgio, who both attacked her with new gusto--Hannah began to rapidly pin the rosebuds through the back of her hair, while Georgio began to rub different substances into her face with cool hands, his eyes intent on her, making her immediately shy.

“Where did you two meet, anyway?” Hannah asked, using a slender, long pair of blunt tweezers to pull the buds into the braids and strands she’d created at the back of Kenzie’s head.

Kenzie was quiet for a moment, glancing at Duncan who was bringing another glass of wine around to her, nestling it gently into her hand.

“It was a Republican party for PAC donors.”

He gave Kenzie a mischievous smirk, then settled into the chair beside her, but not before dragging it closer to her, veering around Georgio and Hannah with abandon, dipping his long legs under her gold platform heels and propping her feet up under him, his hand coming around to her knee. Kenzie knew he was craving her touch desperately--she could feel the need coming off him toward her, the ache in him for the comfort only her touch brought him (only you, his thoughts were whirling in circles, just you, your hands, your skin, you, I need you and they’ll have to deal with it) and she wanted to press her hand against his throat and taste him with her eager mouth, straddle him and tease him until he was begging for her, and she pressed her hand down onto his, sending the tendrils of these thoughts to him as he spoke again to Hannah, glancing at her with burning eyes.

“She was undercover, recording tidbits of juicy conversation for her article--of course, I didn’t know that until later. Not that I think it would have mattered to me. I was wishing I was literally anywhere else, out on the balcony, hiding from everyone, and she appeared. I thought I’d been knocked into a dream. She was wearing this tiny black velvet dress and these golden sandals that tied up her ankle, and had this necklace, and her hair--”

“Ugh, Duncan, stop--”

“Duncan, do not stop,” Hannah grinned at her, soothing her hands against Kenzie’s temples to hold her head still as Kenzie jerked it towards Duncan, then resumed rapidly dipping the tweezers through the back of her hair. Kenzie could see her face through the mirror, how Georgio was applying dark russet liner to her brows, and a heavy black eyeliner to her upper lids, giving her gaze a high drama.

“Hannah, I would have done literally anything to get her to go home with me. I mean--fucking anything.”

“And all you had to do was buy me a drink. I’m a cheap date,” Kenzie smiled up at Hannah, who laughed a little.

“I can imagine it didn’t take much convincing for either of you,” she said, stepping back from Kenzie’s hair to examine her handiwork. “You’re both--well. At the risk of embarrassing myself by using an antiquated standard, separately, you’re both 10s. Together? Fuck. The scale is fucking broken. Most people would claw each other’s eyes out if it meant they got to stand in your orbit, and I’m not one for flattery. Miss Mackenzie Stone, I do believe you’re ready for the Gala.”

Georgio had stepped back at well, in his silent, appraising way, a round brush still in his hand from applying light, rosy matte blush to Kenzie’s cheeks. He’d made her lips dark red, not quite as burgundy as the roses in her hair, but a deep claret that made her mouth look like a ripe fruit. Kenzie couldn’t stop herself; her breath caught as she gazed at herself, the dramatic angle the light threw on her face, the ruby and diamonds glittering right in the dip of her throat, the gold shimmer of her dress wrapped around her like a second skin.

“Turn around, baby, look,” Duncan urged her, his hand softly drifting against hers, Hannah bringing a little handheld mirror down into her hands to see the back of her hair, which was now a breathtaking array of dancing burgundy red buds, falling in a drifting, wild cascade from the artful arrangement Hannah had created.

“God, you really do look like a painting,” Hannah breathed and Erik was standing back in a pose of admiration, another glass of wine dangling at the end of one arm. He laughed in delight.

“Forget everyone else, darlings, I’ll be following you two around all night.”

Duncan groaned. “Please, no. I want her all to myself.” His hand was drifting up from her thigh to where she had turned towards the study to see her back in the mirror, his fingers falling against the buds, and his thoughts were dark red too, dark red with need for her, and Kenzie could feel the fall of them, almost see herself in his gaze for a moment, feel the pulse of his arousal, the memory in him of the feeling of her clit on his tongue, the ache in him to taste her again, his body shivering to remember the sensitive cavity between her legs, the tightness of her ass--Kenzie tried to swallow, tried to breathe, felt her heart pounding insanely at his touch and the intensity of his need against her in this moment, turning from the mirror to look into his burning gaze, and Hannah and Georgio seemed to somehow sense that their time together was ending; Georgio was gathering his makeup with clipped order, Hannah wrapping the curling iron up, tossing pins into the drawers. Erik was languidly pressing a finger to his phone, calling a private Uber.

“I want you so much,” Duncan had dipped his head to her, his mouth shivering against her ear, kissing down under it as he quieted, as if he deigned to think it rather than speak it aloud, as if he wanted to speak it, needed to, had to or he’d scream instead, and his hands were at her waist, feeling with insistent strength, damning the others, ignoring them. Kenzie’s skin tingled with flushed, radiant heat, her thoughts hazy, suddenly, the cool gold of the necklace pressing into her throat and making her cunt twinge, Duncan’s drifting hands making it twinge again, making her breath catch and burst out in a gasp. Make them go away, baby, she thought, and said aloud to Hannah and Georgio, turning away from him, “Thank you so much--both of you--I can’t say how wonderful--”

“Miss Mackenzie Stone, it was my honor,” Hannah said, her smile lit with warmth that shattered into Kenzie’s heart like an arrow. This woman has a beautiful soul. It gave her as much joy to do this for us as I have now to see the masterpiece she’s created for me. “Hoo boy. I think I’m a Duckenzie now too. Better sign up on that website. Did you two see that? Duckenzie Fans, or whatever it’s called?”

Duncan was laughing, nodding a little, dipping his chin down against the palm of his hand, crooked on his knee, his other hand still on Kenzie’s thigh. “Yeah. It’s something. We met the girls who run it, they can’t be out of high school yet. Kenzie was so lovely to them, it was all over the tabloids. She’s so lovely to people. Makes it easy for me to just stand there and say nothing.”

He was smiling at Kenzie again, his hand drifting, his fingers tightening on her, his thoughts clashing through her like the warm rain that had soaked them a few days ago--I wanna be alone with you now baby love, goddess from heaven, I wanna press that plug into you and whisper into your skin all the things I’m going to do to you later, I want you to force that ring onto me and fuck I’m already getting hard for you, my cock is already aching for you, angel--

Georgio was giving them a glittering look again, that wanton desire still blatant.

“If you two ever wanna think outside the box, I have this group I meet with sometimes in Prince William Forest,” he said evenly.

What the fuck does that mean, Kenzie balked. Like an orgy?

Yes, Kenz, that’s what he means. Duncan had half-rolled his eyes at Georgio’s statement, his thumb drifting soothingly over Kenzie’s knuckles.

“I don’t think so, Georgio, thank you.”

“Suit yourselves. You’d certainly be the center of attention.”

“No, thanks, Georgio.”

Erik was pressing a hand into Georgio’s black-clad back, smiling down at him serenely, batting his eyelashes, ushering the thin man towards the door. Hannah dipped down to Kenzie and hugged her around the neck, gently, careful not to muss the flowers in her hair.

“You look so fucking beautiful,” she whispered into Kenzie’s ear. “I hope to see you again sometime, Miss Stone.”

“Call me Kenzie, please?”

“Kenzie. It was an absolute delight. I can’t wait to see your photos literally everywhere tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Hannah,” Kenzie grasped the gray-haired woman’s hand and steadied her mind, whisking her psyche away from Duncan--and pressed gold tendrils down into Hannah, morsels of light, drifts of her good will. She watched a serene, doleful expression come into Hannah’s brown eyes, then she let go, and Hannah drifted away from her, still staring at her for a long moment. Erik was pushing Georgio out the door, and called out behind him, “I’ll see you in an hour or so, darlings, I can’t wait to meet the infamous Madeline Stone!” Hannah hesitated for the span of a few seconds, she and Kenzie still staring at each other across the room, pulling her portable drawers behind her on the little wheels attached to the bottom.

Hannah, bright blessings to you. Today, and for the days to come, for you.

Kenzie watched the other woman’s face, watched what seemed to be the glitter of a tear on her cheek--then Hannah waved a little to both of them, and pulled the big black door to the penthouse shut as she left.

Suddenly, the penthouse was quiet, and it was only the two of them. The light had begun to fade--it was almost 7 now, and night was beginning to fall. Kenzie glanced over at the Bouguereau prints on the wall, feeling Duncan’s eyes on her, feeling the blue of his thoughts kissing against her mind. The evening mood, she thought, and turned to him again.

Yes, my Kenzie. The evening mood is here. Come to the bedroom with me. He was standing, gently twining his fingers into hers, grasping onto her train and bringing it over his arm with supine grace, the melted gold of his jacket glowing in the twilight that had suddenly surrounded them. The energy inside her was humming now, building to a kind of frenzied rhythm, and Kenzie could see the full moon beginning to rise as they passed the picture window, see its corn-yellow face from last night had not faded, rather sharpened into a bewitching visage, like a sleeping maiden in a field of night-lit grasses.

“I feel like a princess,” she whispered to him as they entered the bedroom, and Duncan was closing the door behind them, closing it to the world--and then he was pressing against her, pressing her into their Mirror with an aching softness that made her mind leap into a static of feeling, thoughts bleeding out into nothing but his mouth on hers, nothing but his hands on the gold braid at her neck, then his fingers along her collarbones, then clutching at her shoulders, the smooth gold cups at her breasts.

“You are a princess,” he was whispering between their kisses, and Kenzie fought to breathe, “you’re my fucking Princess, you’re my fucking Goddess, you’re mine, aren’t you, my angel on earth, you’ll give yourself to me, baby, won’t you--”

“Fuck, yes, you know I will, baby,” she moaned into him, the tips of his hot fingers refusing to press more harshly into her, his blue gaze heavy-lidded, looking down on her from the dark shadow around them now, waiting teasingly for her answer. “Fuck, get my plug for me, please, baby--”

“Shhh, Kenzie, go get your coconut oil, okay?”

“Uh huh,” she murmured, and turned away from him, the tiny hairs on her arms standing up, flush with goosebumps. Kenzie pressed a hand between her breasts as she stepped carefully to the bathroom, serenely quiet and spotlessly clean, feeling her heart racing--she could see her jar of coconut oil on the edge of the sink, and took it with trembling hands. She tried to imagine telling Kenzie from a year ago about this night--you’ll be going to a Gala attended by the richest people in DC, and you’ll look like an angel, and your boyfriend is Duncan Shepherd, and he’s going to push your plug into your ass beforehand and you’re going to make him wear a cock ring and you’re going to edge each other to death all night and then, hopefully, you’re going to fuck each other into tomorrow morning, Kenzie, and you can hear each other’s thoughts, see the depth of his love for you like the swirling center of a fire--

Kenzie swallowed, stared at herself in the darkened mirror of the bathroom for a moment, almost not recognizing herself for a moment--I really do look like a goddess, she thought. I really fucking do. Be that fearless goddess tonight, Kenzie Lou. Just pretend she is you. For tonight, you are her. You’re a goddess.

Kenzie brought the oil out in hands she willed not to shake, and Duncan was standing by the Mirror, looking at himself curiously, appraisingly, the ring clutched in one hand, her plug in the other. He turned to her, and his smile melted her heart into sweet butter.

“Me first,” she whispered. “I want you to do me first, baby.”

Duncan’s eyes darkened (your storm, my sweet god of shadows) and beckoned to her with one elegantly crooked finger.

“Come here, angel.” Whatever Hannah had done to his hair, she’d made it so his beautiful curls were now even more striking than usual, the fall of them seeming impossible to her eyes in this light, their loveliness ethereal, and she saw him as inhuman again for a moment as she fell into his arms--saw him as as a god made of stars and ink-dark sky. You are the god to my goddess tonight, aren’t you, and their mouths came together in another aching kiss, his tongue brushing down into her, and then he was turning her to face the Mirror, turning her so his stomach pressed insistently into her back. He pressed the cock ring into her fingers, taking the oil away, and she gripped its smooth silicone surface, her heart bursting. Give me all your need, baby, make me feel it, remind me that I belong to you. He opened the oil, dipping his fingers into it, eyes focused on her--Kenzie could see her mouth hung open, her breath coming out in ragged bursts, her face glowing with the lovely makeup--I am going to be so gentle with you, baby, but you won’t get to come yet and no one will know your ache for me, no one will know your secret tonight but me, his eyes said, and then he was dipping the plug into it too, and Kenzie’s cunt and ass twinged sharply, and she sucked her breath in, unable to stop the whimper of the moan that fell out of her. But you’ll be thinking of it all night, as I’ll be thinking of my ache for you.

“Please,” she said, and pressed her hands against the Mirror, leaning just a little, ever so little, to give herself to him. Duncan leaned to set the oil on the dark wood--then, he carefully pressed the hem of Kenzie’s golden dress up with a twisting motion, so it fell up and over her hips, exposing the black lace of the panties she wore underneath the opulent gown. Kenzie could feel the damp, cool pressure of his finger tips at the line of her panties now, and with another quick motion Duncan pulled them down so they hovered around her thighs above her knees--he leaned down over her so his face came up beside her ear, and Kenzie cried out to him as she felt his fingers dip into her ass, first his index, then his middle finger beside it, stretching her.

“Kenzie, babydoll,” he whispered into her ear, and Kenzie leaned back, her mind needy, into his fingers, longing for him to press against her clit, knowing with anguished disappointment that he wouldn’t, not yet, not now. “My sweet baby, my angel of roses. Mine. You can’t take this out until I say you can. Promise me you won’t.”

Kenzie felt his fingers leave her and she was desperate for the loss--”Unng, baby, please, I won’t, I promise I won’t--” she whined, biting into her lip, unafraid in this moment with him, unafraid to show him the desperation of her want for him. “Please put it inside me.”

She sighed with relief as his hand came around her throat, gripping so his fingers pressed possessive divots into her skin, then a long, keening cry melted out of her and his fingers tightened at her neck as she felt the plug’s bulbous head, slick with oil, rest for a long, terrible second against the pucker of her ass, then slide with aching pressure and his strong insistence inside her, guided by his pliant fingers. His hand lingered, fingers pressing around the dip of her ass below where the plug was now snugly tethered, as if to ensure that it was tightly in place, and Kenzie was gasping, gasping at the terrible twinging need of her cunt, the throbbing of her clit, aching to be touched by him there, aching for him alone to give her release, her hands still pressed into the Mirror, his dark-shadowed eyes piercing her with their expectant lust. O Hades, my Hades, kiss me, then let me cage you, and in your cage, think only of me, your Queen of Roses, caged for you by your hand.

“My turn, baby,” he whispered, and crouched down to pull her panties back up snugly to her waist, his fingers drifting over her hips, cupping her ass cheeks, then carefully pulling her golden gown back over her legs, using the hand that hadn’t probed into her--he’s so careful, Kenzie thought, I know how much you want me in this moment, and yet still you’re so careful, so neat, afraid to ruin my gown, my Prince. As Kenzie shifted she could feel the twinge of the plug’s weight against the sensitive cavity of her ass, and she felt her knees buckle for a moment, her thighs tingling, her neck longing for the press of his hand again. Want it there always, my Prince, my sweet Hades, your scent like the wild wood of night. She pulled him down to her mouth, laving her tongue out into him, and Duncan moaned with piteous need, and Kenzie felt the long tendriled gold of her need reach out for him in turn, demanding.

“Put your hands at your sides, baby. You’re not allowed to move them.”

Duncan immediately did as she said, his eyes smoldering in the darkening bedroom, his mouth open to her, his thoughts afire with her. God, baby, I am fucking dying for you, you’re so fucking beautiful, not touching you is like torture, I’m yours, I beg you, please, touch me, baby.

You are truly the most beautiful boy I have ever seen, Kenzie thought. And you are fucking mine. You’re mine, baby. Your beautiful cock belongs to me.

“I know this is going to make you ache terribly tonight,” Kenzie said, evening her tone just above a whisper. “But you have to be good. You can’t touch yourself, you can’t take it off.” She knelt very slowly in the opulent gown, her back to the Mirror now, dipping her head so he could see the way she was prostrate for him, her head looking up at him, the cascade of her rosebud-brindled hair arrayed for him in its loveliness. Duncan closed his eyes, and she felt how overcome he was, how lost in the sight of her, and it thrilled her--that’s fucking right, Prince Duncan, your Persephone kneels before you now, and you will promise her you will allay your pleasure until she has need of it, and Kenzie could see the dip of his crotch had grown in the low light--she lifted her hands up and undid the button at his groin carefully, unzipping his pants, pulling down the waistband of his body-tight briefs to bring one of her slender hands against the bottom of the shaft of his growing cock, pulling it out decisively, and Duncan’s breath hitched, his head falling back, his adam’s apple bobbing in the light, making Kenzie want to pull him down to her so she could press her mouth against him there. She focused, instead, on his thick length, the veins of his sex suddenly beautiful to her, the head of his cock a roundness that she longed to dip into her mouth, a sliding droplet of precum glittering there. Instead, Kenzie lifted her hand away--Duncan moaned, dejected with the loss of her, and she could see his hands shaking at his sides--then she picked up the ring from where she’d carefully laid it by her knee, dipping her fingertips into the oil, slathering them along the circular interior of the toy.

Then, Kenzie dipped one of her hands into the oil again, and quickly brought it up, before Duncan could prepare himself, to the low hardness of his cock--she slathered the oil along him from head to base and Kenzie watched with satisfaction, feeling the plug pressing into her from her spread thighs where she knelt to him, as his mouth dipped open again and his shoulders shuddered minutely at her touch. Kenzie didn’t wait again--she gripped the ring and carefully, but with deep, concentrated insistence, pushed it onto his cock to the base, watching with a burst of intense heat into the bottom of her belly how it twinged with redness, immediately constricted.

“Ung, Kenzie, fuck me, holy fuck,” Duncan murmured, his hands drifting dangerously close to the ring, to his length, his eyes furiously bright, and Kenzie shook her head.

“No, baby. You can’t. Only I can take it off.”

“Fuck, baby, angel, I can’t--”

Kenzie stood, grasping his cock again, making him shudder and cry out, his throat convulsing, and she pushed him back down into the tight briefs he wore, zipping the closely tailored slacks and buttoning them, her fingers hooking over the waistline, my tall Prince, her face hovering at his heart, her dark red lips falling against the melting gold and velvet of his jacket to kiss it. The heat that fell away from him over her was blinding--he seemed to be burning, the blue flame of him almost visible to her naked eyes.

“You can, Dunny. It’s for me. My plug is so tight, baby, when I sit down it’s going to make me fucking writhe for you--” and Duncan went to grasp her but Kenzie said “wash your hands first, baby,” and he stepped back, nodding, turning as Kenzie followed him to the bathroom--she dipped her hands into the sink with his, the soap mingling between them, the Cartier bracelets falling down their wrists and clinking together, Duncan’s face leaning close to her hair, and Kenzie knew he was breathing her scent in. She reached for the hand towel and dipped her hands into it, then Duncan’s hands were pulling it insistently away, gripping her hips and pushing her into the wall, knowing it was okay, knowing he had her permission to hold her, now that both of them were carefully, insistently claimed by the other, both driven to the edge of their desire and now, with terrible need, held there for an undetermined amount of time, and knowing that to touch each other for a moment, a few moments, would be the only relief for hours. His lips fell against hers, her arms dipping up to reach for him, but he grasped her wrists and forced them against the wall, holding her there.

“I’m in fucking agony, baby,” he murmured, and Kenzie shivered, delighted by the strength coiled in his fingers, the strain in his voice. She struggled a little, facetiously, against his grip, and he tightened it as she giggled.

“Good,” she whispered, and she felt the burst of heat fall onto her from him at that. Duncan bit his lip, his eyes falling down her face to the tailored shape of the dress against her breasts, the dip of her throat with the gold braid, diamonds, and the ruby, the diamonds on her wrist she couldn’t take off unless he unlocked it.

“I wanna fucking fuck you, Kenzie.”

“You will, baby. Later. We have a Gala to go to.”

“I don’t fucking care about the Gala.”

“I know. But we have to.”

Duncan whined into her neck, and Kenzie turned her head, the better to feel his lips on her there, turning her head up, lifting her thigh up so it pressed into his crotch, and Duncan groaned, the sound bleeding into a strangled, tiny sob in the back of his throat. His grip loosened on her wrists, enough for her to release one of them, and Kenzie slipped out of his grasp, bringing her hand around to press into his darkly stubbled cheek, smooth with the dusting of concealer Georgio had put there. Not that he needs it. His skin is already so smooth and beautiful.

Kenzie tapped his cheek with an insistent little snap. “Bad boy is gonna fuck me so good later, aren’t you. My Prince is gonna fucking fuck my brains out.”

“Uh huh. I fucking am. I wanna do it right fucking now--”

She brought her hand up and let it come down again, this time with a more insistent little tap into his cheekbone. Duncan’s breath hitched.

“Kenzie, do it again. Harder. Tell me to calm the fuck down. I’m too hard and I can’t think straight. Fuck, baby, please. Slap me.”

Kenzie nodded and brought her hand up, Duncan still clutching her other wrist to the wall--she made sure her palm was very flat this time, and brought it down with a swift snap. This time Duncan’s face pitched to the side and his eyes fluttered closed with the low pain of it, and he stepped back from her, releasing her other wrist. Kenzie brought her hands around him, steadying him at the waist, and he blew out a low breath, eyes earthwards.

“Let’s go to this fucking party, baby,” Kenzie whispered. “I wanna show them how fucking beautiful we are.”

Duncan lifted his eyes, and the wildfire in them stopped her heart again.

“I’m ready, my Queen of Roses.” And Kenzie grinned, bouncing up against him in her platform heels, shaking out her rose-laden hair, leading her dark prince out of their rooms, his hand gripping her train possessively. Kenzie snatched up the little golden clutch Morgan had made for her, and pulled him, between insistent, coaxing kisses, out of the penthouse and into the elevator. Kenzie was absolutely struck by their reflection now, highlighted by brighter lights of the elevator’s interior--Duncan was pulling his phone out of his pocket. We have to, he thought, and Kenzie nodded. Time to show everyone.

Kenzie pressed against him, clutching her hand to his lapels under her chin, turning her head so the roses in her hair were visible in the mirror, her dress pressed to the side, partially enveloped and hidden by Duncan’s dark arm around her waist, but the back of the golden train shimmering in the light. Duncan’s darkly-shadowed eyes glanced into the reflection, his expression defiant and knowing, the dripping gold of his jacket striking, the golden, intricate tips at his collar scintillating under his sharp jawline, the fall of his hair just-so. He lifted his phone, capturing the reflection, bringing it down for her appraisal. Kenzie nodded, looking up at him. Yes, baby. Good. So fucking good.

She watched as he typed a caption. Hades and Persephone ascend to Earth for a party. #weheardyoulikeus #andifyoudontohwell #duckenziesayshiworld

Kenzie giggled and nodded. “Fuck yes, baby.” He continued to hold her against him as he posted the photo, his hand drifting against her shoulder as he bit his lip, squinting at his phone in concentration in the bright light. I love him. I love how earnest he is in our quiet moments together like this.

“Baby, send it to me okay? I want it.”

Duncan nodded into her cheek as the elevator door dinged open to the foyer, and Kenzie could feel the vague pressure of the silicone ring pressing into her hip from where he leaned his crotch against her. His hand drifted down, quickly brushing over her ass, down to the curve above her thighs, where he knew the plug was--Kenzie let out a little cry and slid away from him, hot lines of want coursing down through her belly at his touch, trying to straighten her expression when she saw Anchaly had returned to his desk. Duncan followed behind her, eyes burning on her, his hand still possessively grasping her train in his fist.

“I see you’ve come down to bless the mortals, Mr. Shepherd, Miss Stone,” Anchaly grinned. He had a new book, The New Adam and Eve, by Nathaniel Hawthorne. Whatever strain he’d felt over Annette’s visit was now gone from his face, and his eyes were glittering at them again, his posture immediately leaning towards them, as if drawn by a lure. “I’m stunned, Miss Mackenzie, your hair, like the garden of Eden.”

Kenzie twirled for him, smiling at him coyly. Anchaly laughed, delighted, gazing raptly. The way people look at us now, she thought to Duncan. It’s a little bit spooky.

I agree, but who wouldn’t look at you that way, angel.

“Have a wonderful evening. I have no doubt you will, how could you not? As blessed as you are.”

Kenzie watched Duncan’s eyes turn on Anchaly, his dawning expression of recognition.

“Anchaly, we truly are blessed. I’m blessed. I’m grateful. To whatever’s out there. The Fates or...destiny. God. The gods. I’m grateful.” Duncan’s hand went to his hair, slid down his chin, rubbing there, thumb drifting to his lip. Kenzie stepped to him and grasped his hand, felt the immediate cooling contentment of his mind at her touch. Anchaly said nothing, merely continued to look at them admiringly.

“I’m sure your gratitude has not gone unnoticed, Mr. Shepherd. It’s apparent in you now. The change in you is breathtaking. You will do great work together. I can see it like a clear path stretching out ahead. Enjoy yourselves and be happy.”

Kenzie smiled. The smile seemed to extend through all of her body, down to her toes, through the tips of her fingers, into the skin of her cheeks and coursing through the back of her mind and her neck to her spine, shaking through the ends of her hair. She pushed the gold tendrils through herself; I’m so happy I could fucking die, she thought, and she felt the tendrils extend out of her in that moment, stronger than they’d ever been before except in the dream where she’d made the fire grow, and she felt them touch Duncan with deep, abiding strength, and brush against Anchaly with affection, and they both looked at her with expressions that reminded her of effigies in a church, faces turned with fervent eyes--and Duncan’s filled her with conciliation, with the knowledge that with his eyes on her this way, she was truly seen, that he saw beyond the flowers in her hair, the blush on her cheeks, the darkness at her lips, to the secret soul she had long hidden, the one that belonged to him because he had promised to love it with abandon.

Duncan seemed to surface from the vision she had pressed around them; he turned to Anchaly and thanked him, and then he pulled Kenzie out the door (Jerry said nothing, merely beamed at them and stared, his eyes wide) to where Samuel waited, and a sweet summer wind was blowing, cool and soft, and it smelled like long grass and the sun-kissed residue of day, it smelled like the full moon that hovered above them, a scent like small flowers in shadows and the heady musk of damp earth and, wildly, the aching crash of the sea, Kenzie’s eyes glancing to its perfect roundness--it seemed impossibly huge tonight, the sun kissing Her, pressed into an ardent embrace; it’s for us, she thought wildly, stopping Duncan breathlessly, bringing him against her under it, his arms lifting her into his mouth achingly, his tall body so right as it enveloped hers utterly, Kenzie, I’ll love you until the end of time, he was thinking, I’ll love you until time means nothing, and it was as if she could feel the moonlight holding them, feel it pressing soft, cool hands into their hair, smiling on them with serene affection, hoping for their love to find its secret holding place later tonight, urging them to the time when they’d be alone again, tangled in the sheets of the black bed, irrevocably entwined, like Her, held by the Sun, now a part of Her, the source of her light, and Her his most beloved. Duncan, I love you so much the words in my heart have not yet been written in any language. The gold of me is all for you. And the moon saw them, and knew it to be true.

---------

It was five before 8 when Madeline slid carefully into the front seat beside Samuel, who was playing Billie Holiday (I’ll find you in the morning sun, and when the night is new, I’ll be looking at the moon, but I’ll be seeing you) quietly. Momby was wearing one of her gold scarves draped over her shoulders with a brocade Calvin Klein dress, as promised, and she had a lovely rose-gold pin clasping the scarf against her--it was in the shape of a rose, and Kenzie puzzled at it.

“Oh Kenzie Lou, you look beautiful,” her Momby breathed, and Kenzie was reaching her hand through the partition, her emotions bubbling up, threatening to overflow. Her mother’s hand was warm and comforting, deeply familiar. “You too, Duncan. I mean, really. Fucking beautiful.”

Duncan was smiling at her through the window. “Thank you, Madeline. So do you.”

“Momby, where did you get that pin? I’ve never seen it before.”

“I had other admirers besides your father when I was young, baby,” was all Madeline said, turning to glance at Samuel. “Why hello, most delightful specimen on God’s green earth.”

Samuel laughed at her, his very white teeth shining out of his mouth in the shadows and dim neon lights of the car’s interior. “Miss Madeline, to see you again is truly a blessing to me. And may I say, you look absolutely stunning tonight.”

“Go on, go on,” Madeline took her hand out of Kenzie’s and pressed it to Samuel’s arm. Kenzie balked. Momby. Kenzie pulled her phone out, sending Clairebear a quick text, remembering.

Good luck on your date with Harris tonight!!!! I love you so much. We couldn’t help it, we jumped the gun and posted a picture on Instagram, but here it is again. She attached the photo Duncan had taken of them in the elevator to the text, hit Send, then typed again.

Clairebear, thank you for always being there for me. I don’t know who I would be without you. I’m so emotional tonight, it’s like my body is on fire. Duncan and I are going away for a few days after this, his family has a cabin by Deep Creek Lake, it’s a few hours away. He found out he’s adopted and no one ever told him until now, so it’s been really difficult for him. I don’t know how the phone service is out there, and I’ll still have my phone, but I think we’re going to try to go off the grid a little bit.

She hit Send, then typed again, Duncan’s hand drifting to her leg. “I’m texting Claire,” she murmured to him, and he nodded, his eyes closed, his mouth in her hair, blue waves tenderly brushing against her body.

Duncan and I have been having some really strange experiences with each other lately. It’s hard to describe. Strange dreams and other things that should just be impossible. I’ll tell you more about it when we get back. I think we need to figure out what it means and I feel really strongly that if we go off to the woods we’ll find the thing we’re looking for. Not sure why, but that’s what it feels like. When we get back, I think we’ll know more about all of it.

Claire, I love you forever.

They were already pulling up to the Shepherd mansion’s gate, and the moment, the reality of the Gala, which had seemed so far away, had finally arrived. Kenzie slipped her phone back into her clutch, turning to gaze out the window--around the gate were at least two hundred people, some non-credentialed press, some clearly fans. Kenzie noticed with a jolt of recognition that Lindy and Gabby were among them--Gabby was holding a sign that said DUCKENZIE WE LOVE YOU STOP AND BE FRIENDLY, her curly red hair shimmering in the street lamps that lined the tall, impenetrable white fence that stretched around the property. Kenzie grinned--referencing one of my favorite movies is a good way to get my attention, she thought, and leaned to Samuel.

“Samuel, stop here for a minute,” and Duncan balked, trying to grab her hand.

“No, Kenzie, Harris isn’t here--”

“It’s okay, baby, I promise. It’s okay.” She looked steadily into his eyes. I can do this. Watch me.

Kenzie pressed the door open and stepped out onto the curb, and immediately a swarm of press gathered around her--Duncan was getting out of the car behind her, his expression deeply creased with concern. Kenzie took a deep breath and pushed outward--for a moment her body tingled wildly, her mind compressing and her head feeling impossibly heavy, pushing her chin down--and then the air around her seemed to calm, the summer wind that had been blowing seemed to stop, and the frantic shouting of the press around her lowered as if someone had turned a dial on stereo, their pressing dispersing, like leaves scattering, caught in a tiny tornado that spread them back. There, that’s better, she thought, and reached for Duncan’s hand. His expression was stunned now, gazing at her in bewildered wonder, and Kenzie smiled at him earnestly. I told you, Dunny, it’s okay. Come on.

She stepped up to Gabby and Lindy, who hadn’t seemed to notice anything unusual, somehow; they were hopping excitedly, squealing and reaching out to her.

“Kenzie, Kenzie, we made you something!” Lindy held out a large squarish object that turned out to be a handmade scrapbook full of fan messages--Kenzie held it gently and nodded. “You look like a goddess tonight,” Lindy said, then unceremoniously the small girl burst into tears.

“Oh, Lindy, it’s okay--don’t cry,” Kenzie was pulling the girl against her gently, and Gabby was biting her lip, clearly hovering near tears as well. “Thank you so much, Duncan and I looked at the website, it’s absolutely beautiful. You two definitely have a career in web design. Maybe we can hire you for Shepherd Unlimited someday.” Gabby rocked back on her heels (both girls were wearing long flowery dresses, and their earnest loveliness pressed on Kenzie’s heart), her eyes fluttering in disbelief. “Oh, Kenzie, really? Thank you so much for looking at it, we’ve been working so hard, so, so hard.” Kenzie let go of Lindy, opening her clutch and handing the girl a tissue from it.

“Girls, we have to go, but it was so nice to see you again,” Duncan murmured to them, taking the scrapbook from Kenzie’s hands, grasping her with tight fingers. Kenzie quickly leaned and kissed Lindy’s tear-stained cheek, then Gabby’s, blushing and hot, pushing gold tendrils into them, watching Lindy’s face calm and soften. There. No more tears, sweet. I see you. She gave them both a little wave as she stepped back, then turned to the other people gathered around them, gazing at Kenzie and her interactions with the two girls with awed expressions. Suddenly the night was strangely quiet; the moon looked down on the scene, and everyone stared at Kenzie, a hush falling over the hubbub of the crowd.

“Next time,” she said, nodding, turning to the press, and then Duncan pulled her insistently back into the car, Samuel whipping the BMW around to the open gate, where several security guards were keeping the fans and other press back, ushering cars through to the mansion entrance. Kenzie heard the sounds of the crowd resume as the car drove on; that was really strange.

“Kenzie, why in the world would you do that?” Madeline was scolding her, looking back at her with an exasperated expression. “Your bodyguard is off duty and Duncan went as white as a sheet. He still is, look.”

“It’s important to be to be kind to people, Momby,” was all Kenzie said. Duncan didn’t say anything, putting the scrapbook from the girls down at his feet, still holding her hand tightly. Kenzie could see that he was a little pale under the dark eyeshadow, but his thoughts were even now. I know why you did it, baby. I love how brave you are, even if I’m not. Even when you do--whatever it is you do. I’m still afraid for your safety, my sweet Kenzie.

I know, baby, it’s okay. I’m sorry if I scared you. I just feel like I--I really feel like I need to be kind to those girls. Like I WANT to be kind to them. They can see our love and they’re moved by it. I want them to know we see them, too, and how earnest they are. How lovely.

Samuel had made it to the entrance, which Kenzie could see was heralded tonight with huge banners running from the edge of the sidewalk to the entrance, the doors thrown wide tonight to expose the opulent foyer of Annette Shepherd’s mansion. Some of the banners had the Shepherd Unlimited logo (an SU in white Verdana script with cobalt blue fleur de lis on either side) and opulent, swirling gold text on a black background that read 4TH ANNUAL SHEPHERD FREEDOM FOUNDATION GALA: GOLD IN THE DARKNESS and in smaller script The Juxtaposition of Light and Shadow in the Pre-Raphaelite Movement. Between the script banners were picture banners printed stunningly with major Pre-Raphaelite works: Kenzie could make out Rossetti’s Venus Verticordia, Cowper’s Vanity, and Evelyn de Morgan’s The Field of the Slain, alongside others obscured from her seat. The glowing feeling she’d felt with Gabby and Lindy faded out into nervous excitement now, and she felt her throat clench, her hands going cold as blood rushed to her head. She shifted, feeling the press of the plug inside her, sending sharp pricks of intensity up her spine and through her thighs. Duncan clutched her hand more tightly, and she knew he was thinking about the clenching weight of the ring at his cock, could feel the intensity of his desire for her, like lightning bolts of needling sensation, infiltrating the corners of her mind. Hang in there, baby, and she turned to him, smiling nervously, his eyes intent on her as he bit his lip. We have a long way to go.

“Earth to Kenzie and Duncan,” Madeline called into the backseat, her voice impatient. “Your mother is fucking starving!”

Kenzie glanced out the window again--between the rows of banners on either side of the entranceway was a lush black carpet, stretching into the mansion and beyond her eyesight. There were at least a hundred people milling around on it now--the press was confined to the sidelines by gold ropes, photographers to a stretch around the middle of the walkway, a black backdrop visible with the Shepherd logo and various sponsor logos printed along it. Kenzie recognized several Senators and Congresspeople, as well as the Mayor and Vice President Usher, and also recognized several well-known celebrities with a little burst of shyness--get it together Kenz, you’re a celebrity now too, in your own right.

You’re the most important person here, she heard Duncan’s thought to her. I mean it, Kenz.You are. Don’t fucking worry about any of them. Tonight, this is for you. It’s about you. They’re going to see. Kenzie felt a rush of nerves, an aching affection for him, full of gratitude and desire and love, and she quickly dipped her mouth up to his and brought her hand to his hair, then she pulled away before he could deepen it--and pushed the door open, stepping out onto the carpet.

Kenzie’s eyes widened as the collective eyes of the press and photo pools drifted over to the BMW--as one, they seemed to shift all their energy and attention onto her and her alone, giving her the acute feeling of a deer trapped in the headlights of an oncoming semi-truck. Duncan was exiting behind her, and then a short-haired valet hurrying up to them, a flushed look on his face, pulling the front passenger’s open for Madeline, who gave him an appraising stare over her glasses as Kenzie felt the eyes of the guests now turning onto them as well--she locked eyes with Mark Usher for a moment, her blood going cold, and his expression was indecipherable to her, but Kenzie knew he knew who she was, which made her feel as though someone had usurped her body and put a mask on it. The Vice President can’t possibly know me, little ol’ Mackenzie Stone. How the fuck? Life makes no fucking sense anymore.

“Darlings, please, distract them from me,” Madeline turned her head to Duncan, who was holding his hand reassuringly at the small of Kenzie’s back as she stood stock-still, frozen and trapped in her thoughts. “I need to get to the refreshment table post-haste. Kiss or something.”

“You know I’m going to kiss her, Madeline,” Duncan smiled. “As often as possible and as long as she’ll let me.”

“That’s my boy.”

Madeline set out ahead of them before Kenzie could stop her, pausing to made a snide comment to a woman with platinum blonde hair and a monstrous dress that seemed to be made of the tinselly tassels of cheerleader pompoms in gold and white towards the front of the press area. The woman’s face pinched into a mask of dislike at Kenzie’s mother, and Kenzie fought the urge to laugh.

“Who’s that?” She whispered to Duncan, unable to look away from the horrible dress the woman wore. Kenzie felt acutely that she recognized her from somewhere, but couldn’t decipher where.

“It’s Gretchen Friedrichs,” Duncan answered in a dark tone. “She has a popular conservative web series called Patriot Watch. And she’s absolutely awful. I hope Madeline just told her to fuck off into a black hole. She’s going to try to talk to you. Ignore her.”

Duncan twined his fingers through Kenzie’s, his other hand coming down to her train to drape it over his arm, and he stepped forward, pulling her gently. Time to go, sweet Kenzie. You look as beautiful as a falling star. I know how brave you are. This is nothing for you. A piece of cake. They were nearing the press pool, the whole of which had turned their attention utterly on Kenzie and Duncan, making the hairs on Kenzie’s arms rise with the intensity of their stares. The energy was suddenly dense, suffocating, almost savage, and it made Kenzie want to turn and run back to the BMW--but the BMW wasn’t there anymore, Samuel had driven away. Too late, Kenz, you’re in it now. Kenzie glanced at Duncan, feeling her heart clench, feeling as though there was water in her ears, blocking her hearing, and she felt horribly dizzy for a moment. He’s so beautiful, all in gold and black, as beautiful as the evening, as divine as an angel with dark wings, Prince Duncan from high in his opulent tower, and who am I, but little Mackenzie Stone, tripping over her own feet, crying over every little thing, with her shitty little apartment and her shitty little tchotkes, her shitty little plants and her little goofy button face--

Kenzie. Remember when you had the nightmare? Breathe like that. Just breathe, baby. I love you more than anything on this earth. You know how extraordinary you are--but I’ll tell you again. You’ve felt it when our minds come together this way--you’ve felt it in our bed, how you’ve made me needy for you beyond all desire I’ve ever experienced, and you’ve felt it in the way you can bring comfort to others just by willing it into them. Mackenzie Stone. You are not a little of anything. You are a gold ocean of impossible depth. Now breathe. I love you. Show them. Duncan’s eyes were twin pools of sapphiric water--they knew her, and saw her, and accepted her utterly, worshipped her, and she knew it.

Kenzie breathed in through her nose, held it, and breathed out through her mouth. Then she went up to Gary Spencer and Sissy Conners, past Gretchen Friedrichs who shouted “Mackenzie, Mackenzie, does this mean you’re a Republican now?” and smiled at them--and when she smiled, rather than pressing the gold outward, Kenzie swirled it, stirred it, in the pit of her body, stirred it high into herself, and moved it through her mind. Mackenzie. You truly are that brave person Duncan believes you to be. Think of everything that’s happened. This is really nothing. You’re together. You are the sceptre, he is the sword. Eternal and unshaking.

The last of the thought came unbidden, a jarring, nonsensical certainty that she didn’t understand, and Kenzie blinked, moving it away from herself, refocusing on the high, heady boldness she could feel building in herself now. She shifted, resurfacing to reality, feeling the plug pressing into her again, pressing hot fingers into the sensitivity of her muscles and senses. Our secret, baby, here among all these people.

“Mackenzie, how are you feeling tonight?” Sissy was holding a microphone out to her, her smile too wide and too white, her dress a blinding, extremely tight bodycon in dark gold snakeskin. “You look absolutely exquisite, an absolute vision, I know you mentioned yesterday that Morgan Winthrop designed your look for tonight, but what’s the concept here, beyond the theme?”

“I’m the concept,” Kenzie was tilting her head down, batting her eyelashes slowly, giving her best Kenzie-wants-something-from-Momby look--one she’d perfected over a lifetime--aware the camera on Ricky’s shoulder behind them was zeroed on her. She glanced to the side--Duncan was saying something to Gretchen in a low voice, still clutching the end of Kenzie’s train, his expression dark. Gretchen looked like she’d swallowed something sour, and Kenzie looked back at the BPF reporters, a satisfied twinge floating through her mind. “Duncan was inspired by me. By our relationship. We both love mythology and we’re drawn to the myth of Hades and Persephone, so we kind of went with something along those lines, but--I feel wonderful, I can’t wait to see the set-up inside, I just love the banners already. I know everyone’s been working so hard. I love the romanticism of all of it, and I’m so happy Duncan and I are finally getting a chance to step out publically together, so, yeah--I’m just really happy to be here. And to show off Morgan’s extraordinary talents.” She grinned at Sissy, who was gaping at her with surprise. Duncan finally appeared at her elbow; he’d set her train down behind them, and Kenzie turned her head over her shoulder to glance down at it, fanning like a gold river over a black landscape, then turned her face up to him, her smile still wide. I fucking love you, baby. She grasped his hand and Sissy switched the microphone to Duncan now, her expression one of wonder, speaking rapidly.

“Duncan, wow--the look. The eyeshadow, the gold jacket, the collar--you two are just so incredibly beautiful together, there’s now an internet shorthand for your relationship, “Duckenzie”, which I’m sure you’re both aware of, I’ve heard you have a fan club now and your Instagrams are the most popular on the internet lately--I saw you already posted a shot of your looks for tonight and it’s racked up a quarter of a million likes already--is there anything you would say to your fans around the world? They seem to be growing by the hour, and tonight is sure to bring you more.”

“We think everyone is wonderful,” Kenzie said, and turned to Duncan, drifting gold against him. Everyone can see, baby. I feel it. He nodded, smiling down at her, his dark look shivering against her heart again, his thumb pressing into her palm, suggestive, hidden. “And good things are coming,” he said.

“Duncan, can you elaborate on that?” Gary said, his eyes switching back and forth between them, puzzled, rapt.

“It’ll be clearer in time,” Kenzie said to him, staring at him steadily for a long moment. Gary seemed utterly shaken by them; Kenzie could see sweat had broken out on his brow, and he looked away from her after a moment, nervously. “Thanks, Sissy, Gary. Thanks.”

“Have...a wonderful time.”

Sissy’s voice suddenly seemed tiny, far different from the boisterous tone she usually used. Kenzie could see the confusion in the other woman’s eyes--as if she’d seen something she couldn’t explain, something that had shaken her to the core. It’s us, Kenzie knew. Sissy saw us for a moment. Not me and Duncan, not really--she saw those other selves. The ones we see in our dreams sometimes. The ones that cannot be described in words. She saw us, just the tiniest bit, reflected from us like a mirror held up to another time and place. She felt us. Kenzie pulled Duncan away from the press pool, and to the black backdrop, turning towards where fifty photographers crouched on specially designed pews--their flashes immediately blinded her, made her suck her breath in, their voices rising in a cacophony so she could barely decipher one from the next.

“You got this, baby,” Duncan was whispering down into her ear, his hand snaking around her waist again. “Duncan! Mackenzie! Over here! Mackenzie, you look gorgeous! Mackenzie! You look beautiful Mackenzie! Duncan, this way, thank you! We love you, over here! You’re so lovely together! Duckenzie, look this way! Thank you! Duckenzie forever!” And Kenzie couldn’t help but laugh, dipping her head to showcase the dark rosebuds in her hair, Duncan turning his face down to her temple, his smile making her laugh again as he clutched her against him, their Cartier bracelets visibly crossed at their wrists for the onlookers, the shattering rhythm of the cameras rising higher, frenzied to capture the moment between them, the voices of the photographers clashing again and again against each other, and Kenzie felt absolutely drunk to be in his arms this way, suddenly forgetting the dozens of cameras facing them, feeling the pressure of the hidden ring at his groin pressing against the dip of her abdomen, making her shudder in his arms with tiny, almost imperceptible tension, and she could hear a kind of rising sigh from the photographers, a murmuring admiration that seemed to be making Duncan flushed, seemed to be kindling his boldness--he turned his face down to her, opening his mouth just so, kissing her in a rapturous, fluid movement that caused an audible gasp from the rows of cameras, a collective exclamation of gratification that elated her.

His lips bruised against her for a tender, tiny eon--Kenzie lost herself against him for the span of it, her eyes closing to the intensity of the camera flashes, the sound of the shouting mob floating away from her ears, her mind drifting to them alone in their bed in the blessed darkness, his strong, elegant hands tying her to the chain with velvet ribbon, that first kiss, that night on the balcony covered in roses, god, my life changing forever in your arms in an instant, beloved, the unbearable softness with which he’d first touched her, his hands falling to the sides of her face, the urgency of his mouth then, the venerate devotion in his mouth now--and then Duncan was breaking away from her, as if remembering himself, remembering that they were caught in the gaze of at least two hundred people in this moment, and they resurfaced to reality, both of them trembling against each other, longing for the moment where Kenzie knew, and could feel that Duncan knew, they could finally be alone. Alone together, the only thing I ever want now, ever.

There was another audible, collective sigh from the photographers as Duncan gently pulled Kenzie beyond the backdrop--this one of disappointment at the moment ending, Kenzie knew, frustration that they were leaving. They adore us, Kenzie thought. And she knew it was absolutely true; knew it, without ego or pretense, as she knew the full moon was hanging over them, watching the night unfold. They see it too.

Duncan was pulling her away from the frenzied press of the carpet--Kenzie could now see that almost everyone around them was watching them, but everyone seemed to be afraid to speak to them, eyes flitting over Duncan’s dripping-gold jacket, the striking shadow around his eyes, over the fall of her hair and the Cartier diamonds at her throat and on her wrist, falling down the shimmering gold of her bodice and the gentle dip of the sleeves, the train drifting behind her. No one dared to tread on her--Kenzie recognized a very famous actor, watched him carefully avoid the train, his eyes roving up over her form hungrily, and she met his gaze with a tiny smile. He looked away, sheepishly, blushing. I suppose one doesn’t dare mess with the Shepherds, generally speaking. Not for the first time, and she suspected, not the last, Kenzie remembered that Duncan was part of a very, very wealthy family, and that likely, he would soon be the inheritor of that immense wealth.

And then we’ll change the world, baby.

Kenzie gazed raptly at the foyer as Duncan helped her up the steps and through the double-doors, looping her hand into the crook of his arm, pressing her fingers into the muscles there, feeling him clench them at her touch. More baby, touch me more. There were dozens more of the banners here, Hughes’ Ophelia, Burne-Jones’ The Golden Stairs, but the angels of Waterhouse’s St. Cecilia caught her eye immediately--their sweet faces calm and reticent, watching the saint in her slumber, their innocence and sincerity clamoring into her heart. They look like Gabby and Lindy, Kenzie thought, remembering Lindy’s tears. My two little angels. Duncan looked back at her, noticing the emotion in her. She shook her head a little.

“It’s all just so beautiful, Dunny,” she whispered, and he was nodding to her, the dark beauty of him in the chandeliers moving her further still, moving her beyond words again. He brought his arm around her to drift down her back, pulling her beside the staircase, out of the way of the people around them, sliding his fingers down to the beginning of the incline of her ass, and she drifted back from him, shaking her head. No, baby, don’t. It’s too much. There are too many people. You need to be patient. She saw the terrible longing floating behind his eyes, saw the blue flames licking around her from him, and she smiled. Poor, poor baby. Is that ring making you ache and ache for me?

Yes, Kenzie, fuck. So fucking much. It’s almost unbearable. I feel like I’m about to pass out.

My poor, sweet baby. Kenzie went back to him, letting him grip her under her bare arms with his hot fingers, letting him press his mouth against her cheek, onlookers be damned. Let them look. Annette was nowhere to be seen here--Kenzie’s eyes skirted across the room as Duncan continued to kiss down to her ear, pressing into her. She must be in the room beyond. I don’t know how we’re going to avoid her, but we’re going to.

“We should probably find Momby, make sure she hasn’t fallen into a fondue fountain somewhere.”

“God, I just want you alone,” Duncan’s mouth was shivering into the dip of her ear, bringing the delicate hairs at the back of her neck up, his hands drifting at the smooth gold under her breasts. “I just want you all to myself, angel.” Kenzie could see people staring at them, eyes hungry; god, I don’t know who a lot of these people are, but they look fucking important.

“Shhh, really baby, we should find Momby, okay? Please?”

At that moment Kenzie’s eyes zeroed on a figure making a determined beeline for them from the other side of the foyer--Duncan was still pressing his mouth into her ear, sucking and biting there with urgency, his whispers having quieted to now drift secretly in her mind, and he hadn’t noticed the figure yet. It was a woman, and she was petite, like Kenzie, and beautiful, with wide, long-lashed eyes, full lips and a button nose, but rail-thin, her chin jutting towards them as though she were being pulled by an invisible force. She had long, artfully styled platinum hair, falling over her shoulder in expertly arranged waves, and her dress was a sculptured black bodice decorated with intricate gold embroidery, accentuating her minute waist, which fell into a voluptuous cascade of black tulle that seemed to buoy her across the room. At her throat was a huge yellow diamond, so large Kenzie wondered for a moment how she was holding her head up. Her fists were clenched at her sides as if she were bitterly angry, but a wide smile was plastered across her face, exposing all her teeth (like a crocodile, Kenzie thought). Her dark eyes were staring, eerily unblinking, at the back of Duncan’s head, and at Kenzie.

Marissa Montague.

“Duncan,” Kenzie whispered, trying to pull back from him, but he continued to kiss at her, lost for a moment, “Duncan, it’s--”

“Duncan Shepherd! Duncan, oh my god, I’ve been so busy lately, it’s been so hard to call you!” Marissa had reached them, and her voice pitched high, dipping towards uneven, though her smile remained plastered on her face, stretching her cheeks to what looked like an almost painful degree to Kenzie. Duncan stopped kissing Kenzie’s neck, but his mouth still hovered close to her, his arms still clutched tightly around her. Kenzie looked over his shoulder into Marissa’s eyes; she could see the coiled snake that rested behind them, the wanton need, now that Marissa was this close. But not for Duncan, not really, Kenzie knew. What she wants is attention--fame, attention everlasting from the multitude, and to be showered in riches, but her thirst for them is insatiable. There’s a hole inside her that gnaws with hungry teeth, and it has never had its fill, not once. So she searches for more food for it.

Duncan turned his head slowly to look at Marissa, and Kenzie saw the cast of a dark storm inside his eyes, felt the blue flame of him, shimmering, flare up with discomfort. Oh, no FUCKING way, she heard his thought, and slid her fingers down his arm, soothing him with her touch. It doesn’t matter, baby, I’m here. We’re together. Let them try to get between us. Let her try. Let anyone.

“Why would you be calling me anyway, Marissa?” Duncan was gazing at her evenly, still holding Kenzie close, his hand drifting in her hair, over the rosebuds. Kenzie could feel the wave of anger in him, feel the drifting measure of dislike. She’s lovely on the outside, Kenzie thought, but inside there is something gone, like it was ripped out of her and only the ragged void remains, a void she longs to fill but cannot. Poor Marissa. She instantly felt empathy for the other woman, seeing her so closely, felt embarrassed for her, as if Marissa were suddenly naked. As lovely as the actress was, Kenzie could immediately see how deeply discontent she was, how full of voracious need.

“Well, we never really finished what we started, now did we?” Marissa stepped forward, the smile that had been plastered faltering a little, her eyes skirting to Kenzie with annoyance, her hand snatching out, attempting to grasp his velvety arm. Duncan stepped out of her reach, pulling Kenzie to the side with him, his mouth curling up ever-so-slightly.

“And we never will. Marissa, this is my girlfriend--my partner--Mackenzie Stone. I’m sure you’ve read about her. Kenzie, this is Marissa Montague.”

“Of course,” and Kenzie forced herself to smile politely, bringing out a hand, Duncan’s cheek pressing against her hair, refusing to let go of her or let Marissa near him. “It’s lovely to meet you.” Marissa ignored the hand, crossing her arms now, barking out a little laugh.

“Partner,” she mimicked. “Since when have you ever had a partner, Duncan? We all know your reputation. You used to bring a different fuck buddy home every night, I was there back then, when we were all hanging around with the Ducatis and doing a mountain of cocaine every day.” Marissa plastered the grin back on her face. “I can see why you’re stringing this one along, though, what a scrumptious little pussy cat.” Marissa brought her hands up to her face and pressed them in a V against her mouth, flicking her tongue out.

This woman has no interest in sex, Kenzie knew, despite Marissa’s lewd gesture. Marissa’s eyes flicked over to her again with a measure of loathing, and Kenzie caught her gaze this time, trapping Marissa’s dark, intense eyes. In fact, it disgusts and bores her. But she is practiced at the art of pretending. She’ll fake interest in anything if she thinks it can move her to where she thinks she wants to be. Sometimes, though, she’s disillusioned by the reality versus her expectation. And she always wants more. Like a wind that howls endlessly.

“Marissa. What do you want?” Duncan’s tone dipped, and Kenzie could feel his anger beginning to stir, his frustration and lust for her pressing against the anger, kindling it further, his sorrow and disillusionment with his mother pressing there too, and his energy became ragged and chaotic, the turmoil in him suddenly like water boiling over. She concentrated, conjuring wave after wave of translucent gold in her mind, staring at Marissa evenly as she pressed them down over him in his arms. I have no animosity in my heart for you, she thought to the other woman. In fact, I feel acute sympathy for you. I’m sorry you’re trapped in a world where you cannot possibly be yourself.

“I want you to ditch this penniless, raggedy bitch, Duncan. What are you doing? I mean, who even is she? Do you realize what you’re doing to your reputation? Really, it’s embarrassing.” Marissa was rolling her eyes, fingers toying with the huge diamond at her neck, another mirthless laugh barking out of her. “I’m gonna go do a line in the bathroom, and you should join me. I mean, it’s silly that we stopped seeing each other. I’m willing to forgive you if you’ll just get rid of her.”

“Marissa. You’re embarrassing yourself right now. Please, go away. Immediately.” Duncan’s tone was quiet and very low. “Go away or I’ll have you escorted off the premises.”

Marissa scoffed. “Duncan Shepherd, you can’t fucking do that.”

“Marissa.”

Kenzie had been watching from the cocoon of Duncan’s arms, but a hot, blinding energy had been building behind her temples for the last few minutes, one that seemed to want to burst from her mouth and her eyes and the corners of her fingertips; seemed alive and impatient, shot through with sunlight, and the power of the energy, the feeling in the center of her belly, was immense, like the dream where she’d made the fire grow. The energy, Kenzie knew, could do whatever she willed it to do--could move objects, could stop them, could distort the air, could freeze it, could move unseeable things, reverse them, rewind them. The knowledge of the immensity of the energy overwhelmed her for a moment--and Kenzie felt sure that though this woman had some strange power of her own (it was like indigo, the color of her, like indigo that ached, and the thing Marissa ached for was a thing she couldn’t find, like a lost portion of her heart that had tumbled down a dark well, never to be retrieved from the depths again), Kenzie was calm in the certainty that hers was greater, because it was lighter, it was the gold that could move all things, the gold that could heal, and the gold that could shield from all darkness.

“Marissa,” Kenzie said again, focusing her eyes inside the other woman’s. “It’s over. You will not be able to move him again. You must stop now. It’s futile.” The world has shifted, she thought now, into Marissa’s wide brown eyes, the words clear in her mind, as if she’d read them in an ancient book. The path is set. Yours goes somewhere else. To attempt to alter our destiny--the High Destiny--will result in your personal destruction. Stop now, little one.

The air seemed to cool, to thin. The three of them were inside the energy now; the energy that had come from the center of Kenzie, that she had somehow pressed out, controlled, to only the cocoon of their circle. The other guests seemed to drift past them as if in a dream, not glancing at them, as if they didn’t see the cocoon at all, as if she, Duncan and Marissa were suddenly invisible--it’s working, Kenzie thought. Let’s see if I can move her away from us now.

Marissa’s expression had fallen from the obscene, mocking smile to one of confusion and apprehension--her eyes widened, her head whipping back and forth inside the cocoon Kenzie had created around them, and she seemed utterly bewildered.

“What the fuck,” she murmured, her voice cracking. “What the fuck are you doing to me?”

“Marissa, I’m sorry. I can see how cold you’ve felt, and for so long. Good luck on your path. Look for something that won’t harm others. Look for something to protect. I promise, if you can find that, you will be happy someday. Go now. Forget about Duncan. That’s all over. He is not yours, not at this time, and not in any time.”

And with those words spoken, Kenzie pushed Marissa out of the cocoon she had built, and Marissa turned, as if in a dream, and walked away from them, not looking back, her blonde hair and tulle skirt retreating until she had turned the corner of the vast parlor beyond, and they could no longer see her. Kenzie breathed in through her nose, held it, counted. As she did, she could hear her heart beating frantically, feel the tiny shaking in Duncan’s arms as he held her, His face had pressed against her temple again, his eyes closed, and he looked almost meditative, but Kenzie could feel the confusion inside him; he doesn’t understand what I did, either. But he trusts me. He trusts me now. He knows I’d never hurt him, never, never in this world. He knows I will always protect him. And I will, baby. I always will.

Then she breathed out, and the spell broke; the cocoon dissipated, and they were back in the foyer of the Shepherd mansion, the sounds of clinking glasses, lilting piano music, and blue-blooded voices speaking in polite cadences bleeding back into the background. Duncan opened his eyes to stare into hers, and the storms there had dissipated--their blue was calm now, like the sky bleeding into a summer evening, like the moon’s reflection on a pool of water.

“Kenzie, baby, what was that?”

[rumowrites]

Talents, Part 3

Read in on AO3 here Chapter one is here

This time Runaan get’s sent out to kill and Tinker is anxiously awaiting his return.

A few weeks after, Runaan was called off for an important mission. A huge honour, considering his age. They had both passed the trial a couple of days prior. Runaan with flying colours and a new record time and Tinker magically managed to not come last. The combat lessons Runaan had given him were more effective than he thought.

Despite the joy he felt for the elf he now was proud to call a friend at least, the sting of loss was apparent. When Tink gave him one of his creations that could replicate the healing spell as a parting gift the night before their departure, he had a hard time fighting back tears.

In his mind he knew Runaan was good. Very good. But the small nagging voice in his head grew louder and louder the nearer the hour of goodbye came. He couldn’t suppress a whispered “Be careful.” when he handed him the little enchanted bracelet. The tall elf nodded with a small smile “Of course. Thank you, I hope I won’t need it.” With that, he turned and joined the rest of his group to prepare for the next morning.

A small smile appeared on his face when Tinker realised he kept the hairstyle he’s made the other elf that day in the forest. Even the decorative hair ties were the same. Still, he couldn’t help but notice how young his friend looked, standing there between the most praised assassins of whole Xadia. They all had a good fifteen to twenty years of experience on him and Tink hoped they would use it to protect the youngest among them.

The weeks passed and he got more and more worried for Runaan. Meanwhile, Tinker had started an apprenticeship with the local jewellery and sword smith. He loved the work and found his natural talent exceeded the limited tools he had at home, soon. Varou, his mentor gave him every opportunity to try new things and experiment. He even had some customers already who regularly commissioned enchanted trinkets either as a gift or to take on missions. His days were usually busy but at night when he was alone in his own bed, the thoughts spiralling in his head wouldn’t leave him alone.

The giant leap his hear made once the bells announced the return of Runaan’s group was gigantic. It was late afternoon almost five weeks after they left and he was on his way home from an exhausting day at work, when he heard the familiar melody. Without a second thought, he raced towards the assembly place where he knew the group would most likely be found. He skirted to a halt once the familiar long white hair came into view. Amidst the stern but tired looking Assassins stood Runaan, back ramrod straight as his Leader informed the council about their mission. Upon seeing his unharmed, Tink released a breath he wasn’t aware that he was holding. Apparently everything went well, all four targets were put down and none of the elves sported any major injuries. He patiently waited until the assassins were released and Runaan came walking towards him once he spotted him at the edge of the crowd.

“I’m glad you are back.” Tinker started with a smile once his friend reached him. “I was a little worried that you took so long.” The other elf looked down at him with a slight smirk “I told you it would be fine.” Although Runaan seemed to be genuinely happy to see him, there was a certain pain in his expression Tink couldn’t quite place. “Do you, uh, have to be somewhere tonight?” the assassin examined his boots thoroughly before starting again “I mean, um, would you like to do something? We haven’t seen each other in a while I am sure there is a lot I have to catch up on.”

For a second, Tink’s heart threatened to just stop beating altogether. He just came back and the first thing he wanted to do was spent time with him. Him of all people? “I would love to but don’t you have a family that’s waiting for you?” Surely his parents were already expecting him back. “I um-“ Runaan started, fumbling with his braid “-yeah I, I should go.” He looked so put out that Tink reconsidered his response. His usually stern face was a circus of emotions, everything flickering over the elegant features for a split seconds and disappearing again. When Runaan turned to leave, he reached out to grab his wrist “Wait! How about tomorrow? I have to work until about five but afterwards we could meet up at the old well in the forest.” The lack of a reaction disturbed him slightly, and he quickly let go of the other’s arm “If you like that is?” he added in a faint attempt for a response. The tall elf blinked a few times, exhaustion now evident in his turquoise eyes “Yeah, I would like that. See you tomorrow.”

The next day, Tink hurried back from the workshop to be on time. A customer came in in the last second so he couldn't leave earlier.

When he reached the spot they were supposed to meet, Runaan was already there, sitting on the stone wall of the well, feet dangling in the air. Contrary to his combat uniform yesterday, he now wore a very form fitting undershirt and wide flowing pants that danced in the wind. His hair was open and flowed down his shoulders like a shimmering waterfall, making him look like an otherworldly creature.

Tink stopped in his tracks, staring until the other turned towards him. “Hey, um - sorry I'm late.”  

Runaan just smiled gesturing for him to join him on the wall. “You're not I was just early.” Upon closer, he looked even more tired than yesterday. Deep dark circles surrounded the otherwise sparkling eyes that now had lost their shimmer. He spotted a few bruises along his arms and shoulders where the assassin probably parried an enemy’s blow.

Runaan shifted a little uncomfortably under his gaze, looking ahead into the forest before turning to face him. “So? What happened while I was gone?”

Tinker gave a brief summary of what happened in their village and then explained how he'd started the apprenticeship and was now working at Varou's shop. Runaan hummed in agreement every once in a while but otherwise seemed content with simply listening.

Finally, when he found he had nothing more to tell Tink looked at the other apologetically “I would ask you about your mission but I know you are probably not allowed to talk about it, right?”

Runaan nodded, a sudden pain in his eyes “Yes, I've sworn an oath to keep it to myself. Maybe I will even have to leave again, soon. The council has already issued another order.” The statement made Tink pause for a moment. Last he knew the other hadn’t been an official part of the dark squadron yet. When expected to leave on a mission again it could only mean he now was one of them. At only sixteen that would make him the youngest elf ever to be allowed a place in the ranks of Xadia’s elite forces. “So they made you one of them? That’s great! Your parents must be so proud of you.” The pain in Runaa’s eyes changed to cold emptiness so fast it made Tinker shiver.

It took a while before the other spoke, eyes fixed on his hands where he fiddled with the bracelet Tink had given him. “I um, I don’t have any. Not anymore that is.”

Suddenly, the events from last night came back, making him feel sick. “I’m so sorry, I had no idea.” He desperately wanted to hug the other elf but didn’t know if it was a welcome gesture.

“It’s okay, they died an honourable death, defending Xadia. Their border patrol got ambushed by humans three years ago. They both stayed behind so others could escape with the Intel they gathered.” Slowly, the life came back into his eyes, a small sad smile forming on his lips.  “I’m still sorry.” Tink finally said, gently squeezing the other’s shoulder. They sat in silence until the sun was completely absent from the dark sky. Simply enjoying each other’s presence.

“I should go.” Runaan finally stated and hopped down from his spot on the well. “I have training tomorrow morning.” Nodding, Tink also stood, collecting the bag he’s placed on the grass upon arriving. “It was nice to see you again.” “Yeah, yeah it was.” Runaan agreed, turning in the direction of his house “Maybe we can meet again later this week?” the question sounded so hopeful, Tinkers heart skipped a beat or two. He grinned at the other elf “Definitely”.

That night, Runaan couldn’t find sleep. Just as the other nights before, the terrified faces of his victims floated through his mind as soon as he closed his eyes. Every time he tried to think of something else, Tinker appeared with his handsome features and gentle eyes.

With a sigh, he got up again, reaching for one of his training shirts and made his way downstairs. Two years ago he’d redecorated the large living area and now stood in an almost empty room that sported targets and dummies strewn aligned along the walls. The ceiling was covered in different sized handles and gaps so one could move from one side of the room to the other. Ever since his parents died, he never really had guests and figured to put the living area in better use.

Now, he jumped to grab one of the bars for a few pull-ups before he picked up his bow and nocked the first arrow. Runaan shot until his arms quivered, exhaustion sitting deep in his bones, after setting the weapon aside, he drifted in an exhaustion induced sleep on the couch, the only piece of furniture he had kept.

A few hours later the first rays of sunshine awoke him way to early and he realized he would probably be late for training if he didn’t hurry. He didn’t bother with eating but only pinned his hair back in haste and dressed in fresh clothes before grabbing his twin swords and rushing out the door. 

Chapter 4

[academyguide]

 Media InviteWomen wear many hats these days, sometimes too many that feeling suffocation is inevitable. Stress from work, business, family, etc, deadlines to meet, radiation from the electronic gadgets we are exposed to, the food we eat, etc., all contributed to toxins building in our body. I’m aware of all these and am trying my best to balance on a tight rope, but I have to admit that many things are beyond our control. We can’t dictate when our loved ones should fall sick, we can’t shift deadlines to hand in projects, and we can’t possibly have homecooked food every day too. Thus, from time to time, we need to detox those toxins accumulated in our bodies. I’m so glad to be introduced to Yunohana City Spa by Bliss Mum (ladies only), under the umbrella of Harmony Lifecare Group.Serene and I were given a walk-through of the programme, and I must say, that itself was already a great knowledge gained. I wasn’t aware that regulating our body temperature is essential for our immunity! We were then introduced to Hokutolite Stone and its healing properties. What wow-ed me were two experiments demonstrated on us. The Capillary ScreeningWhen we put on a fourth finger under the scope, we were able to see the size of our capillaries, how active our blood circulation is, and the possible health conditions that we might have currently. The diagnosis is on the point! But once we wore the Hokutolite Stone bracelet, our blood circulation improves instantly!The Balancing MotionI had thought that I have a pretty strong core and balancing is no issue for me. I was humbled by the plain demonstration of how wearing the Hokutolite Stone bracelet improved my stability!After the introduction, the Spa procedure started. We measured our weight, body fat – overall and visceral, and metabolism rate. I am ashamed to say, not only has my weight increased but my body fat composite and visceral fat as well ☹. Well, yes, I blame it on menopause. The Bedrock Spa TherapyBefore we hid ourselves in this spaceship alike capsule, we showered (yes, there is a shower facility) and changed into the pyjamas provided. There are three phases, the first phase is 15 minutes of warming up with chest down onto the heated rock bed. The heat will start warming up our internal organs. Some people will start sweating at this stage, some not yet. After 15 minutes of warming up, we hydrated ourselves with a cup of negatively charged ionised water. The second phase is another 15 minutes, but a half-session of sideway lying each time. One will feel the heat intensifying. At this phase, anyone will perspire. After another cup of negatively charged ionised water, we entered into the final phase, which is also 15 minutes. This was the time I played as the phantom 👻 in a very drenched body (I perspire easily) lying flat on my back. The mask placed over our faces helped us to detox our faces as well. I was told the entire 45-minute session is equivalent to a 30-kilometre jog! That’s three-quarters of a marathon!After the detox session, we proceeded to an hour-long of foot, shoulder, and back massage next door at Genkinoya (Unisex), under the umbrella of Harmony Lifecare Group as well.After nearly 2 hours of detox and massage, I felt so light, so recharged, and so rejuvenated. Yunohana City Spa is definitely a place I would like to visit more often. After all, we need to be of better health ourselves in order to take good care of others.  So, mummies, don’t short-change yourselves. Treat yourselves well, so that you are well enough to take care of others.  (function(d, s, id) var js, fjs = d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0]; if (d.getElementById(id)) return; js = d.createElement(s); js.id = id; js.src = "//connect.facebook.net/en_US/sdk.js#xfbml=1&version=v2.3"; fjs.parentNode.insertBefore(js, fjs); (document, 'script', 'facebook-jssdk')); Source link

[determined-magi]

Happy Holidays, dorks.

   Is that a sudden bag of items that appears nearby as if it was always there? Indeed it is. It’s tied with a rather easy knot to undo, yet there’s a note on it. It just says “Thank you” in glittery red gel ink.

   Inside the bag, there’s a variety of gifts for the mages.

   For Bellegur, there’s a set of four silver bangles with moonstones adorning the middle of the silver bands, along with a handmade green dragon plush that is actually fairly realistic to a drake more than a dragon even if it’s huggable and soft. It’s adorable, Belle, you know it is.

   For Braigon, there’s a dark purple blanket and a seemingly handmade shirt with his name sewn into the cuffs of the sleeves. There’s also a star locket that matches the amulet he got some time back. Who could have coordinated that, hm?

   For Thanneth, there’s a silver necklace of a raven distinctly painted white and has details of black on it. As if there were an inside joke somewhere for the mage to get… or maybe it’s not a joke meant for her. On top of that, there’s a handmade charm of a weighing scale that seems able to clip onto things with a small hook. Then of course there’s a detailed papier-mâché of a specific flower that was shown to him a while back by a certain Judge.

   For Agarwaenor, there’s a silver chain bracelet with a couple of charms on it- namely three: two swords tucked behind a shield, a silver heart, and a dragon’s head with the eyes bearing howlite; it feels notably as comfortably chilled as the dragon pendant. There’s a handmade red dragon plush that actually looks like a proper dragon save for how soft and fluffy it is with it. It’s cute and lovely, Agar, be nice.

   For Gilrin, there’s a small glass casing with a hook for her to hang up somewhere if she feels so inclined to placing it somewhere, a bundle of colorful flowers resting inside that have ice clinging to their edges- they look as if they’re being preserved comfortably in the soil and artificial grass. Her name is inscribed on the top of the casing. On top of that, there’s a small slip of paper with something of… a key? to the language of the book she had gotten some time ago, to help her translate. Of course, it’s only enough to translate the first few pages fully and then using context clues for the rest of the book, but it’s better than nothing, no?

   For Thannor, there’s a handmade reddish orange shirt with his initials sewn into the cuffs just like Braigon’s gift. However, this time there’s a new set of gloves, this time properly tailored to accommodate for his afflictions… as if the original gifter knew something was wrong with the last pair? Not to mention that there’s a coat that looks like it’d be too heavy, but once put on doesn’t feel much heavier than a spring jacket, but it keeps out the cold and balances the heat, decorated in his colors.

   For Rhowën, there’s… actually an odd set of gifts that don’t seem to correlate to the others’ gifts. There’s a rather simply silver necklace with just a citrine, cut into the shape of an eight pointed star, sitting pretty in the middle, along with a charm of a bow and arrow with the arrow painted yellow. On top of that, there’s a rather simply made blanket that has his initials on it, as well as just his name. On the other side of it, on the hem of the blanket, there’s a simple message of “I believe in you, always.”

   All of the mages get one thing in common, though. It's a small set of papers bound in leather that details how they look from the front and from the side, all of them being bust drawings. And of course, there’s small less detailed and less properly shaded doodles of various expressions they’ve all made before (some of them are adorably mocking) as well as a sketch of the inside of buildings a certain someone has visited that each of them would recognize in each of their specified books. I.e. Thannor would recognize his shop, and Gil recognizing a library a certain someone falls asleep in. In the back of each of the books is a written message saying “Don’t waste time on people in glass houses throwing stones. Stay strong. Thank you.“ 

   For what is the gifter thanking them for? Well, that’s completely up to interpretation.

The prince is needless to say a little dazed, watching  the gifts with ampt curiosity as he takes those respectrively. Bright green eyes a light sense of concern by the details and motif given, but otherwise they seem pleased. Much alike his magic, which for some reason is currently wanting to cuddle with it, on his room under fifty more plushes like it. His magic is being weird and speciffic again he guesses?

He casts a small circle spell and pushes the bangles inside, leaving the plush toy out, puffing a small whisp of smoke through his nostrils, in response to two female mages teasing him. Meanwhile the old man is chuckling as he puts on the star shaped locket without delay, while the shirt is guarderd in the same way the bangles were. He would wear it, but now it was better to stay on armor, given the little thing that happened to their little Judge. Once allwas done though, he would surely wear it, the fabric felt nice, something he knew his scarred body would appreciate once put.

Thanneth is squinting at Rhowën, asking if it was his, but he responded as quickly saying some of the craftmanship was beyond him, winking and pushing her lightly as she huffed. It was… nice, she liked it, even if it felt suspicious and concerning how much spot on it was. The golden mage was quick to laugh over it, before flinching and shriking on his seat as páin is soon to visit. Concern flashing in the young prince as he offered another moment with Gilrin to ease the damange done on his body, which he promptly declines for the moment. It felt far too spot on, the young blonde lady ask him if he knows the one who did it. He hums, saying he still haven’t confirmed his suspicions, but likely the one who heard cared enough to try and get those. He moves in carefully to grasp at it carefully, then moves on to lock it in a few threads of her hair, a small childish smile on him reminiscent of an old memory. There it was. He can almost see that girl that allways had a flower on her head… god, such goods times. Either way, Thanneth moves in to hug Rho, catching on to some of his ruses, saying she’s got a hunch he was involved in a way. The young judge just chuckles and says he just spilled some beans someone caught up to… that hardly counts. Thanneth justs thanks anyway, and ask to send in regards to the one who gave them, for once. She also insults him for being far too reckless again.

Agar meanwhile, is guarding his gifts all save the plush too, it feels kind of nice. Even if he often focus more or less on negative things, it feels kind of nice to get a plush, all others had wasted away by time, with the exception of a few, one which he often allways had in his inventory, it reminds him of family. It reminds him of pleasant fresh nights, not far from a fire to feel cold, but not close to feel warmth, just the right distance��� he likes that, he misses doing that more often. perhaps he will to get all topgether to go back to that? once whatver’s coming is done. For now he’s going to comform himself with this longing sensation it brings. And have a new inanimate companion to sleep with. Head turns towards Gil, who is curiously watching upon her own gift, humming towards the letter as a hand rests comfortably against the pleasantly colder surface of the case.

He can imagine she’s going to pass a night again late, doing her own things as she loves to do. That is… nice, she doesn’t seem like she is currently as stressed as she had been for the past weeks. Shame they might go back to it on a few days, once trheir friend is back and up again.

Thannor meanwhile is curiously trying on the new gloves and coat, partly curious and partly confused at the new pair, considering the one he’s wearing right now are pretty fine? Not very worn down? Hm… they feel more pleasant too, like if someone had put that ointment Gil sometimes puts on his hands, curious, since he’s one to never show those scars in public really, not even around Fleur yet.

Rhowën’s the last to see his gift, needless to say he is touched. Cursing faintly under his breath being such a corny individual, a half chocked laugh from stiffled sobs of happiness and and another part of him stinging with the stil healing woulds. A hand moving itself in dismissal of the worries of others saying he’s just being a corny little boy as allways, and also his usual crybaby self much like some others were. Either way he finds himself soon getting pulled into a group hug, and soon enough burying himself on it, magic calm and at ease for one in quite the while.

After some hours of talking they all fall asleep, on a rather absurdly long and big couch, with the old general at the middle, with a group of three at each side leaning and resting much alike children. Much alike all those years ago on their first decade of studies, much alike some of them did with their own blood. A look of eased minds even if for a few hours, before even their dreams became troubled lands…

It then when their tittles fade away, highly held compostures seem to wash away. Leaving nothing but six young mages, with no pretenses as they each lean over each other like safelines. People that, though not bound by blood, were bonded just as strongly as familes could be.

And something that was allways open greet new people, if they were determined enough.