#i'm even sorrier that i laughed

[fuckitwebhaal]

see when i started my durge playthrough i shipped them with orin and part of their backstory was their fucked up relationship

i was like yeah she’s my murder wife yk

so anyway then i found out they’re siblings :|

HELP. I'm sorry I did laugh a little bit at reading this. This is one of the reasons I don't encourage anyone to build a backstory before playing. I'm so sorry. I hope you have been coping well. I would love to hear what backstory you ended up making instead.

Also, they do call themselves siblings, but I think they are technically (great)uncle and (great)niece? It may just be an age thing between them that they call themselves siblings. Orin is the grandchild of Sarevok, who is a pure Bhaalspawn--that makes Durge and Sarevok (half)siblings, so... yeah. Great-uncle and great-niece. Love that for our Durges.

[whirlwindimagines]

Hiii! how are you? first at all, i would like to say that i love everything you write, i love the way you express the feelings of the characters and describe the scenarios to the point where i have you as an example to follow to improve my narrative in english lol

I have a request for a scenario where reader is Wolfwood's sister and he helps her to confess her feelings for Vash but that things go on a more chaotic and funny way to end in a beautiful and too tender way. I don't know if i explained well, i'm using translator 😔 (i don't know if you work with a fem reader so if you prefer a neutral gender reader i have no problem! <3)

Feel free not to do it if you don't feel comfortable! Take care of yourself, eat well and drink a lot of water! Greetings from Venezuela! <3

OMG, thank you for such kind words <3 makes my heart melt <3 <3 This is honestly one of the sweetest things ever, ;p; I'm so glad you enjoy my work that much, and that it helps you / inspires you. And Yes I will do fem!readers if specifically asked for it, and the translations is fine, I understand what you asking :) 

'Glitter and Gold'

Vash x Wolfwood!Reader

“Him really?” You groan, turning your gaze from your wonderful view to glare at Nicholas. “Don't you have somewhere better to be?” Snapping at him, clearly annoyed. You were perfectly fine minding your own business, stalking, staring ADMIRDING, Vash as he was entertaining some kids in the town you all have been staying. 

“Don't you have some more staring to do?” You shove Nicholas hard, watching in joy as he can't catch his footing and slams into the wall, you laugh sharply as he glares at you and rubs his shoulder. Turning your attention fully on your brother, you scowl at him hands on hips. “I wasn’t staring! I was simply gazing in Vash’s direction, totally accidental!” 

“Right, and it's not because your big ole crush on the guy.” You flush brightly, at a loss for words as Nicholas stares at you with that big ass stupid smirk. Your pretty sure your brain short-circuits, because NO there is so way your dumbass of a brother figured you out that easily. Surely you weren’t that obvious? You huff, crossing your arms over your chest and looking away. “I have no idea what you’re talking about!” a childish response, but he always did bring out the worst in you. Your gaze flickers to Vash for a second before back on Wolfwood. 

“Shouldn’t you be more, I don't know? Concerned? Where’s the lecture, the as your big brother blah blah.” You say mocking Nicholas voice in the process, he scowls at you lighting a smoke, “I don't sound like that.” he mutters under his breath, you’re deflecting hard, but it's better than going back to the point of this conversation.  

“Besides I’d feel sorrier for him.” You bristle at his mocking tone, ready to snap at him and start another fight when Nicholas raises a hand to stop you. “Listen, you should be thankful that your big brother wants to help ya out,” 

“And what's in it for you?” You snap, not that naive to think, he would help you out of the kindness of his heart. You are more surprised, he's even okay with this. Vash is well… Vash he’s a good guy, sweet, perfect, and caring… where were you going with this? Oh! But it would be dangerous to be with him, it was already dangerous as is just traveling with Vash the Stampede. 

“Noting don't worry about it.” Nicholas says, dropping his cigarette butt and stomping it out. “Look just meet me at the top of that platform in an hour” He must notice your confused gaze, because he sighs. “Look, Vash is… an idiot and we don't agree on a lot, but I know he’ll keep you safe and that’s enough for me.” he says it with a shrug, clearly embarrassed.

You are shocked, “Wow Nico, that was surprisingly very sweet.” the moment is ruined when he shoves you this time, and you lose your footing slamming into a nearby market stall. You jump back alarmed, when owner of said market stall starts yelling at you. Apologizing to the man You turn to cuss Nicholas out, but he’s already run off. With a sigh, gazing up at the platform he wanted you to go to. With an eyeroll and nothing better to do you make your way there. 

What could Nicholas possibly want to talk about up here, that you couldn’t down there? You become more and more annoyed, that jackass made it seem like he was going to help you and now he tricked you in coming up here! With a huff, you hear footsteps behind you, “About time!” you turn around and snap, only for your eyes to go wide. 

Vash raises a hand in hello, rubbing the back of his neck with the other. “Sorry I got a little lost! Wolfwood said you wanted to talk.” You feel the heat rise to your face, he set you up! “Ah! Sorry I didn't mean to yell at you, I had a fight with Nicholas early still annoyed ya know,” you say quickly stepping towards Vash, and clasping your hands together shyly. Vash looks at you softly and you feel your heart skip a beat, “It's okay, what did you want to talk about.”

You look away, looking out at the town the view was lovely up here, nice view, private spot a perfect place to confess honestly. You can't believe that’s why your brother sent you up here, how embarrassing there was no way you could confess on the spot like this! Your gaze turns back towards Vash whose waiting patiently for your answer. 

Feeling flush and a little brave, you take a deep breath stepping closer to the man. The worse he can say is no, and yeah it might break your heart for a while, but Vash was such a kind soul he wouldn’t hurt you intentionally. “Okay I’m just going to come out and say it, and we’ll if you don’t feel the same way that’s okay!” 

You watch his eyes widen, but you don’t let him get a word in already on a roll. “I like you! And it’s okay you don’t have to give me an answer, but I just really wanted you to know.” You said with a nervous smile. “Me!” You raise a brow at his tone as Vash points to himself with a wide eye look. 

“Wait hold on, you like me! Really?” Vash asks his voice getting an octave higher and his face growing red, you tilt your head as you look at him. “Yes, Vash, I like you.” It doesn’t seem like he’s going to reject you, but you’re not sure what to make of this reaction. 

Vash steps forward pulling you into a hug, your surprised but quickly melt into him. “I like you too, I was uh… too nervous to say anything because one-time Wolfwood over heard me call you pretty and he threatened me… violently.” 

You tightened your arms around Vash, you were going to kill Nico later. “Don’t worry about him, he’s a dumbass. I’m so glad you feel the same way.” You feel Vash chuckle, this all worked out perfectly. Pulling back to look at Vash he smiles softly at you, a real smile you notice.

Everything would have been perfect beside the explosion, your world tilts violently, letting out a startled yelp as Vash reaches for pulling you to his chest and holding tight. The platform shakes, you both lose your footing and hit the ground hard. 

Vash sits up his hands wandering your body, “are you okay?” Before you can answer, a different voice breaks out, “Oi! Get your grubby hands off my sister.” You sit up turning to glare at Nicholas as he joins you two out of breath. “What did you do!” You snap, as Vash helps you to your feet.

“Me? Why would this be my fault?” You give him an ‘are you serious look’, which just further springs an argument between the two of you. “Uh, guys?” Vash’s voice tried to breakthrough the argument, but the two of you ignore him. 

“Guys enough!” You glance at Vash hearing the panic and look to where he’s pointing, you roll your eyes a bunch of armed gunmen what else is new. “Oh, I knew I was forgetting something!” Nicholas calls out, you sigh. Letting out a light yelp, as Vash literally sweeps you off your feet and into his arms. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck. 

Smirking you point to your brother, “good luck.” You laugh at his dumbfounded look, moving your hand to grab Vash’s chin, you turn his face towards you leaning in you kiss him. He’s startled by it, nearly dropping you in the process, but you hang on for dear life. You can hear Nicholas yell of annoyance, but you just flip him off. Vash breaks the kiss first too look at you all starred eye, a gunshot breaks the moment. 

[dreamstate4you]

The Day the music Died.

-Miguel O'Hara

-3.3k words

-angst

Part 1 [discontinued]

"This is it...

This is my best. I am doing my best.

Every day, I get up, I get dressed, I feed myself.

I try to breathe in and out. I force myself to stop by Gabriella's room... And I think about how sorry I feel for little Gabriella because she will never remember Miguel's laugh.

Or the way he smiled,

or what it is to be hugged in his arms.

I feel even sorrier for myself because, most of the time, all i am thinking is that I can't leave Gabriella alone in this world to be with my husband.

Miguel was the air that I breathed and now there is no air."

Chapter 1

" We're sorry for your loss."

"You'll figure this out."

"It's a shame he was murdered."

The same old words were repeated to me. All in the same tone, a tone that held pity.

Everytime they said it, I smiled sadly at them. I was a widow. I was mourning.

I wore black, a colour of death. The death of my husband , Miguel, he was murdered.

When I first heard the news I thought I was in a nightmare. That I would wake up any second and be rescued as I find myself in his warm embrace ,but all I felt was the cold air next to our bed.

I couldn't believe it. I didn't want to believe it. I can't believe it.

I have seen his body, his could lifeless body ,but I won't believe it.

I cried myself to sleep for two nights until I decided that these tears wouldn't help me. I hoped that if I stopped crying then he would come back.

He had to come back to me and Gabriella.

"Isabella." Lola's voice broke me from my trance. I looked at her. I couldn't trust my voice to talk fearing that it would break.

"It's time to go home. Gabriella is already sleeping in my car." Lola must have noticed how I didn't move. I was looking at her direction ,but my eyes could not see her. Her voice was being overpowered by the silence.

"Come." Lola held my hand. Patient with me and guiding me to her car. Away from the grave yard, away from his grave.

Lola opened the car door for me. I stepped in and looked at Gabriella who was cradled up into a ball. She didn't understand what was happening. A child so young who just lost her father.

Tears were beginning to threaten to fall. I tried to push them back. I really did, but a few drops became rebellious and fell. I wiped them away as quick as I could. Blinking at a furious pace and looking up so no more could fall.

"Isa, it's okay to mourn." Lola said besides him.

"I know. I'm fine Lola. Honestly I am." I lied through my teeth. What can I say. What was I supposed to say. I'm not fine everyone knew that I'm not fine ,but what could they do. Nothing. The can't do anything.

Lola didn't pry further. She drove us home. My cold, empty home. A home without the person who made it home.

"You sure you'll be able to take her to school tomorrow. I can do it. I won't mind." Lola spoke as I cradled Gabriella into my arms. She was still asleep ,but she held onto my clothes. It seemed like a third sense of hers. She's scared I'd leave her.

"I'm fine Lola. i promise to contact you if anything comes up." Lola gives me a look from inside the car.

"Anything?"

"Anything."

I seemed to convince her for now. Lola rolled her car windows closed and drove off. I watched her car disappear into the sunset. I wished to stay where I was. Stay here and not move.

I didn't want to walk through that door and find the house empty. I didn't , I couldn't, I won't...

Regards I slowly walked to the porch clutching into Gabriella's sleeping body. The outside lights were off ... maybe Miguel forgot to turn them on. Maybe he was inside waiting for me.

I found myself rushing to open the door. Shifting Gabriella's body on one side as I fumbled with the keys once I opened the door and switched on the lights... nothing. It was empty.

It was cold

It was lifeless.

With heavy footsteps I climbed upstairs and it felt like climbing a mountain. I put Gabriella to sleep in her bed. Making sure to kiss her forehead to scare her nightmares away.

Once I was done and closed her door. It was time to go to our...no my room. I held onto the doorknob. Not turning it. Not letting go. I was frozen in place.

Miguel should be in there right? He had a long day at work and he was so tired that he just went to bed, right?

Opening the door and the cold air hit me like a truck. The bed was still as messy as I left it and my Miguel was not there.

I felt hallow. I refuse to cry. I won't cry. I shouldn't cry... I don't want to cry.

Involuntary of my wil my body sank into the ground. Instinctively my hands covered my face as I sobbed into them.

My Miguel wasn't here. My Miguel wasn't here. My Miguel isn't here.

I felt like my body, mind and soul were being ripped apart, put back together and ripped apart again.

"No. No. No. Miguel no. Don't do this to me. Please don't do this to me." I was begging to whoever was listening. God , angels, demons. I didn't care. I wanted him back. I can't live without him. I can't deal with another day without waking up in his arms.

Im afraid, lonely and in pain. I've lost my world. I've lost the person who made the world hold colour.

I sat there , against the door, holding my gaze with the messy undone bed.

Miguel always kept the house tidy and clean. It had order.

Seconds, minutes then hours had passed as I laid against the wall staring at that bed that haunted me.

The time? What time was it? I did not know how much time had passed. I did not want to know.

But I should try...for Gabriella.

I reached for my purse. It felt like my hand was graping something far away. I got hold of it and looked for my phone...my phone...the phone that held a polaroid photo of our wedding day.

I turned the phone to look at the polaroid. His smile...his smile that I'll never see again.

I felt myself slipping away. It felt like I was falling in an endless pit.

I tried. I really did try to get out of the pit ,but reality kept pulling me deeper into the abyss. And abyss where I had to realize that Miguel is gone. My Miguel is gone and I would never see him again... Or I could.

The dark thoughts clouded my mind ,but they pulled me out of the abyss. Frantically I stood up and rushed to the bathroom counter.

Pills

Pills

Pills

I held the white bottle of sleeping pills. A strong dios the doctor prescribed for Miguel when he was having trouble sleeping. They knocked him out until the next day. That was just one pill.

I poured the pills on my hand. They weren't a lot but a handful. They were enough, enough to let me sleep for an eternity, enough to let me see my Miguel.

"Mama." Gabriella knocked on the bathroom door. "I need help with picking my clothes." Gabriella opened the bathroom door.

I dropped the pills. I heard them scatter away. My way out of this torture was now on the floor.

For a second I stood frozen in shock. Gabriella, our Gabriella, my Gabriella... I was going to leave her in this world alone.

"Of course honey." I put on the best smile I could. It must have looked like a crooked smile to Gabriella, but my amazing daughter did not hesitate and lead us back to her room.

Her room. Her messy room that she would clean up with Miguel every Sunday evening.

I went to her closet and picked an outfit for her day at school. Her favourite Jean with a flower embroidery and a light sweater. I put and extra jacket in her back pack incase it got cold.

"You also need to change mommy. You can't take me to School in yesterdays clothes." She said to me swinging her legs as she tempered with her cloudy clock.

The cloudy clock. Miguel was so excited when he bought that for her. My poor Gabriella promised to use that cloudy clock until she was old and grey.

Oh this is unfair. My Miguel. My sweet Miguel you promised to be there to watch our Gabriella grow up, to scare her first boyfriend when she brought him home.

"There you go honey." I place the clothes I picked out for her on her bed. She took them and skipped her way to the bathroom.

I wondered... How is Gabriella feeling. She is a child. She's only six. We tried to tell her that her father isn't coming back. That her father is gone ,but she...she...she keeps telling us that her father promised that even if it took years he would come back to her.

Stupid Miguel. He's making this hard for us, for me.

I looked around her room. Going to the corner to being out her backpack for school. Inside was her soccer uniform. Miguel would often coach her in soccer, he told me he'd make her the best soccer player in the universe.

I sniffed as my nose felt clogged. The silent tears landing on my palms as I failed to control them. I feel to my knees ,clutching Gabriella's uniform as I sob.

When will this pain end.

I'm trying. No I'm not trying.

I need to accept it. Accept that Miguel is gone ,but I can't. I just can't. A part of me hopes that he'll come back home to me, to us, to the family that we built.

"Mama." Gabriella hugged me from behind. Lightly putting her hands on my shoulders as if I was a fragile piece of glass that would break.

I was pathetic. How can a parent allow their own child to see them like this. I quickly whipped my tears away.

"Gabriella. You're- you're done changing."

"Mama-"

"Mama is okay honey. Come on" I kneeled down to face her level. "Let's go pick mama's outfit. I picked yours and you pick mine."

Gabriella smiled at me . Our bright daughter. Our amazing daughter.

We both walked to me room. Gabriella slowly opened the door as if someone was inside and she didn't want to disturb them. It seemed to be a habit she picked up. We would always wake up early in the house while Miguel slept till lunch time.

I watched as Gabriella stood still in her foot steps , looking at the messy bed in a distance. She still held onto the door knob. It seemed like she was frozen in place.

"Honey-"

She shook her bed and bounced to my dresser. I followed her. I wanted to sit down on the bed ,but I couldn't bring myself to move as I watched my daughter go through my clothes.

"Ah here." She held out her favorite summer dress I often wore to our family vacations.

"Ah Gabriella that's a summer dress. You know it's too cold these days." I dismissed the idea. She seemed to not listen because she went to our shared closet- my closet now.

She opened it to reveal most of Miguel's hanged clothes. Gabriella took a deep breath staring at the clothes. Oh it broke my heart to see her in such a state.

She shook her head once again and pulled down one of Miguel's blue and red puffer jacket.

"Wear this." She placed it no top on the dress. Giving me a crocked smile.

"Mama." Her tone changed as she saw that I was staring at the jacket she picked out for me intensely. "Mama. Papa always said that he'd come back."

"Gabby." I sat on the bed putting my hands in on my face to cool my eyes down. I could not cry, no ,not infront of her. I must try to be strong. "Papa is not coming back."

"No mama. He always said that he'd come back! He said it could be one day, one week or even years ,but he promised to come back so don't be sad!" Gabriella screened at me. I looked at her and looked.

She...she-

"Now wear your clothes or we're going to be late for school." She walked around the bed and closed the door for me to change.

I sat on the bed bewildered.

I need to be strong. I have to be strong. I can't let Gabriella be unhappy because of me, but I can't find the strength without Miguel.

My Miguel.

My Miguel is gone. Right now I have Gabriella. My daughter. Our daughter. I should try.

Please let my try. Anyone who's listen please give me the strength to try.

I decided to grab the clothes she picked out for me and walk out of my room to go change into into the bathroom.

When I opened the bathroom door I expected to see the remains of the pills from earlier ,but when I looked I saw them swapt away in the corner of the bathroom.

Gabriella must have done that...

What was I thinking. I groaned in my hands. Feeling my eyes get warmer once again.

What kind of parent was willing to kill herself and leave her child alone.

I walked outside the bathroom and walked back into the bedroom. I guess I'll be changing in here.

I changed into the clothes Gabriella had picked for me. Miguel's scent that lingered in his jacket strongly effected my nose . It felt like he was close. It felt like he was embracing me. It felt like I was being taunted.

I ignored the feelings and stopped by Gabby's room. She wasn't here.

I started to panic. I walked into her room checking behind the door and behind the bed.

"Gabriella!"

"Mama?" I heard her voice from the stairway. I quickly left her room and saw her standing in the stairway.

I quickly ran to her and embraced her. I was afraid that she left me...like Miguel.

I pulled away from her hug and took her face in my hands.

"Mama is okay now." I spoke with my mouth full of spit. My eyes red and hot and my nose that was stuffy. " Wow you even did your ponytail perfectly." I stand up and look at her neatly done hair.

I heard the tv from downstairs Playing.

"We're you watching tv?" I ask her. She nods in returns and walks down the stairs to continue with her tv show.

I walked behind the kitchen counter to prepare for Gabriella's lunch. I opened the cabinet and found it empty.

I checked the fridge and the only thing left was food that had spoiled and half cut vegetables.

I let out a big sigh.

"Gabby. Is it fine if I give you lunch money? You can ask one of the teachers to go with you and buy food from the vendors outside the school."

I Pat down the jacket pockets looking for my phone which I did not find. I came to realize that it was still upstairs and the battery had probably died because I had not charged it.

I decided that I would just tell the teacher when I drop her off at school. I made a mental note of that.

"Come on Gabriella, let's go." I grabbed the car keys and observed Gabriella jump off the sofa to grab the remote. Switching the TV off and walking towards the kitchen chairs where she grabbed her backpack.

"You have everything?" I questioned her referring to the backpack. She nodded her head at me "yeah."

Both of us walked out and stood infront of the garage door. I pressed the button so the door could open.

Outside the wind was chilly. Not too chilly to make you shiver and make your teeth clutter,but enough to give you a Chill that passes by.

The door opened and Gabriella immediately climbed into the back set. I walked to the drivers side. Trying to not look at the other car, Miguel's car. His car that would just sit in the Garage unless I got rid of it.

I climbed into the car and put my head by the starting wheel. Taking a deep breath before securing myself with the driver seat.

I looked in the rearview mirror to see Gabby also snapping her seatbelt in place.

I collected my thoughts. Taking deep breaths every few seconds. I touched the car Screen tablet and I saw the time.

7:49

We were slightly late. Gabriella's school started at eight.

I started to drive to The school making sure to go at a fast but safe speed. I turned on the radio and immediately heard the channel talking about Spiderwoman.

I continued to drive, Gabriella looked out the window, once I arrived at the school I took out some money from the car Cabin and handed it to Gabriella.

She thanked me grabbing the money as she opened the car door.

I also opened the door and saw her homeroom teacher standing at the gate.

I waved at her and she waved back. I could already see it in her eyes what her next words would be. I reacted fast and spoke first.

"I gave her some lunch money. So be-"

"Oh yeah we got it miss O'Hara."

She cut me off from speaking. She must have pitted me to think that I could not speak for myself. I knew that smile. That half hearted smile she gave me.

I tried to ignore it and looked at Gabriella who was standing by the teachers side.

"I'll see you after school." I told her in a calm voice. Usually Miguel would pick her up after school if she was not busy ,but...things have changed.

"Bye mama." She waved goodbye to me. Turning around to run inside the building. The teacher stood still. She seemed to be debating with herself about her next words to me.

"Miss O'hara." Here it comes, I thought. "I'm sorry for your loss." Bingo there it is.

I tried to smile at her. Those words I heard at the funeral. The words that keep reminding me how I lost my Miguel, my world. The words that confirm my worst fear. The fear that I'm now alone in this world.

I gave up on trying to smile and just nodded my head. Heading back into the car and driving back home.

The drive back was silent. I did not turn on the radio. I allowed the car to be silent ,but somehow it felt louder than any other days.

I parked the car in the garage and waiting. Seconds then minutes passed. I took a deep breath and got out of the car. I had to go inside the house. I can't, I can't ,but I must try.

I walked to the door And opened it. The house was quiet. No sound, no life, no Miguel.

I closed the door behind me and placed my hand on the kitchen counter. Holding onto the counter I kneeled and held my head down. Letting the tears Flow from my eyes freely. I allowed myself to cry. I cried for a lot of things ,but mostly for Miguel. My Miguel.

[melanie-ohara]

A Soft Caress, As Cold As Death

Whumpuary2024, Day 30 - Prompt: Aftermath

Karlach confronts the emotional aftermath of killing Gortash, and Calarisa must decide how far she'll go to save the woman she loves

Oh, hellion my hellion. Why do I keep hurting you?

AO3 Here

Enver Gortash did not die well. His body had been rend with slashes and cuts from half a dozen weapons and shrapnel from his own defences. Not even Bane himself had been able to step in and defend his Chosen from the final blow - Karlach struck him down herself. Calarisa was on the other side of the battlefield they had made out of Gortash's private rooms when the fight finally ended, and by the time she dusted herself off and limped back to Karlach's side, she was already standing over the body. 

"So that's it?" Karlach said, nudging the corpse with her boot. "I waited years for this, and now he's dead and he's no fucking sorrier than he was before." 

Calarisa said nothing, but stood close enough that Karlach could feel their arms brush together. Enough to let her know she was there. She wasn't even sure who she was talking to: Mellephora looked like they were listening, but Karlach was staring at Gortash. 

"What was the point?" Karlach asked nobody. "I'm still dying." Her fists and her jaw tightened and she ground her next words out through bitterly clenched teeth. " I'm dying! I'm going to die!"

Wordlessly, Calarisa reached down and closed her hand over one of Karlach's fists. It was enough to reach her, and instead of bursting into angry flames again the heat building in her engine fizzled out as the tears started in her eyes. 

"It isn't fair!" she cried, hiding her face in her free hand. 

"I know," Mellephora said quietly. Karlach ignored them.

"I don't want it like this. What was the point? What was the point of any of it?" 

Calarisa stepped in front of Karlach before Mellephora could try and find something bardic to say, and reached up to take her hand away from her face. "Hey," she said. "Come here."  For the first time since Dammon had repaired her engine, Karlach hesitated to wrap her arms around her. "Please?" Calarisa asked, looking up into her eyes. 

It wasn't the crushing, achingly tender hug she normally received, but it was a comfort nonetheless. She wished she was taller, so Karlach could bury her face in her shoulder the way she deserved, instead of having to cry into her from between her horns. 

"I'm sorry," Calarisa whispered. 

All of Karlach's decade of rage had died on the floor in Gortash's blood and now she felt empty. It was a feeling Calarisa knew well. She held her for a moment, swaying gently, vaguely aware that Mellephora had wandered away to help Shadowheart search the place, and waited until Karlach was ready to hear the rest. 

"I haven't been a paladin very long," she said, quietly, so only Karlach would hear her. "But I've learned that vengeance isn't something you take for yourself."

She felt Karlach shake her head. "I thought I'd feel something when I got the fucker," she sad. "Not this." 

"You stopped him," Calarisa said. "Now he can't hurt anyone the way he hurt you, not ever again." She pulled back a little from the hug, so she could hold Karlach's upper arms and look her in the eye when she told her the truth Karlach couldn't see yet. "You saved the world from Enver Gortash. Protected the innocent, and avenged the wronged."

Karlach looked down at her with tears swimming in her beautiful golden eyes. "Then why doesn't it feel good?"

Calarisa lifted one hand to gently cup Karlach's cheek. "It isn't supposed to. Doing right is a burden, love. But I know you're strong enough to carry it."

Despite everything, Karlach's lips cracked into a smile. "When did you get so wise?" she asked. 

Calarisa managed a brief laugh. "I've spent too much time around Withers, I think."

"Thanks, soldier," Karlach said. She pulled away properly and dragged an arm across her face to wipe away the tears. Calarisa let her go. "I… think I need to be on my own, for a bit." 

Calarisa nodded once and patted her arm. "I'll find you later." 

"Yeah."

Karlach turned to leave the chambers. The four of them had already set up a secure route to get them back into the city, away from the prying eyes of any Flaming Fist attentive enough to recognise them, and if there was trouble she knew Karlach could take care of herself.

Mellephora waved to Calarisa, once the door had shut behind Karlach. "Where's she off to?" they asked.

"I don't know," Calarisa lied. 

"You didn't bring up Avernus," Mellephora observed. 

Calarisa looked away. "You saw her. I couldn't tell her she had to go back to the Hells, not while she was feeling like that."

"You're the only one who might be able to convince her not to throw her life away like this," Mellephora insisted. "You have to make her change her mind."

Calarisa sighed. "How am I supposed to do that?" she said. 

A shadow of sadness crossed Mellephora's face, disrupting their permanent half smile for a moment. "You don't wear that armour for nothing," they said softly, looking at the paladin sigil emblazoned on her chest. 

The hair on Calarisa's arms prickled and her blood ran cold. "You can't ask me to do that," she hissed, jabbing her finger at Mellephora's face. "You just can't."

Mellephora raised their hands in mock surrender. "I'm not, I'm not. But I know you've thought about it," they said. 

"She'll never forgive me," Calarisa whispered.

"But she'll be alive."

*

There were only two places in Baldur's Gate Karlach would go when emotion overtook her, and Calarisa doubted she was in the mood for the Blushing Mermaid. She went anyway, mostly to give Karlach time to reflect and come to terms with life without someone to hate, but also because she needed liquid courage to even approach her. She was still deliberating Mellephora's suggestion, but she didn't think she could stand to see the look on Karlach's face. Could she stand to let her die, when there was something she could do to stop it? By the time the sun started to set and the alcohol insulated her against the chill in the air, Calarisa still didn't have an answer.

She found Karlach exactly where she expected to - sitting with her knees raised and ankles crossed in front of her parents' grave. She made sure her boots made enough noise on the leaves on the ground that Karlach heard her coming - she didn't want to overhear a private moment if she was interrupting. Once she heard her, Karlach tilted her head back rather than turning to see who it was, and she beamed at her upside down.

"Hey soldier," she said, as Calarisa came to stand next to her.

"You seem… happier," she said, a little confused by her change in mood, but glad all the same to see her smile.

"I thought about what you said. I went after Gortash for the wrong reasons," Karlach said. "I wanted it to be a trade. I'd kill the fucker, get my peace, and then… well, you know."

Calarisa sat down beside her. "And now?" she asked, folding her hands and tail into her lap. 

"Now, I'm just happy to live." She turned her head to smile at Calarisa. "For as long as I have left."

Everything in her screamed to let Karlach have this victory, but the thought of losing her burned all of that away. She couldn't be happy for her. It was her life, and her decision, and despite everything she otherwise believed Calarisa couldn't accept it. She wanted to, but there was no getting away from the fact that she loved Karlach too much not to be selfish now. 

"I hate to say it," Calarisa said to her hands, too ashamed to look into those golden eyes, "but there's still the obvious solution." 

She didn't need to look up to know there was disappointment spreading across Karlach's face when she spoke. "I'm not going back to Avernus. I'd rather die free."

"It wouldn't be like last time," Calarisa tried. "Wyll and Sithla are going, and they'll be hunting Mizora. We could - "

"We?" Karlach interrupted.

Calarisa let a sad smile cross her lips. "Of course. I'll go anywhere with you."

Karlach shook her head. "You don't get it."

"I was in Elturel," Calarisa reminded her. "I've lived in Avernus too."

"Not like I have," Karlach argued. "Elturel was a city, from here. I know it wasn't pretty, but it wasn't the Hell I knew. Endless swathes of burning desert and nothing but devils and demons everywhere, Calarisa. Nobody should have to call that place home."

Calarisa noticed her tail twitching in anger and forced it to stop. Her whole family had died in Elturel, and everything she knew had ended in the fires of that place. She hadn't fought in the Blood War, but it had taken as much from her as it had from Karlach, and she had no right to tell her what she could and couldn't live through. But saying that wouldn't change her mind, so she let it go. 

"Home doesn't have to be a place," she offered. "It can be people too."

"I know," Karlach said, and smiled softly. "And I love you, and Wyll, and Sithla. And all the others."

"It wouldn't be like last time." 

Karlach picked a blade of grass from in front of her parents' grave and turned it silently between her fingers for a while before speaking. "If I die here, it means I escaped," she said eventually. "If I go back, then this is just a break between wars. I don't want to fight any more, soldier. I just want it to be over." 

Tears welled in Calarisa's eyes and she tried her best to blink them away. "Karlach," she pleaded, but there was nothing else she could think of to say. 

"It's alright," Karlach soothed. "It's been wonderful. I saw flowers again. I got to be with you. And say goodbye to my parents."

"I can't lose you," Calarisa whispered as the tears started to fall. "You don't understand. You only have to die , I have to go on living without you." 

Karlach didn't say anything to that, just laid a hand on Calarisa's shoulder until she shrugged it off in a fit of anger and turned her whole body to face her. The tears ran down her face but she was too upset to care.

"Yes, I helped fix your engine, but you fixed my heart ," she said, her voice cracking and broken. "When we met, I came with Wyll to kill you because I just wanted to slaughter a devil. I was scared and alone, and so, so angry after Elturel. I swore my oath so the pain wouldn't kill me. But then you - you showed me how much being alive was worth. I saw life properly for the first time since my brother and sister…" she swallowed hard. The memory of them was too painful, even now. "You saved my life, Karlach. Let me be selfish. Please live, for me."

Karlach bundled her tightly into her arms and pressed her close, and Calarisa gave up trying to hold back the tears. She screamed and sobbed into Karlach's chest until her throat hurt too much to make a sound any more, and wept until her eyes ached from  crying. In the end, she only stopped because she ran out of tears. She could feel Karlach rubbing her back, and the idea that one day she would have to give that up made her wish it was her that was destined to burn in hellfire. 

"You know I can't," Karlach whispered, and as much as she hated it, Calarisa knew she was right. Karlach had spent her entire life living for others, from Gortash to Zariel. Choosing to die was the only choice she had left.

"I know," Calarisa whispered back, and leaned back out of the hug. There would be more before the end, but now she knew to savour every moment they could keep for themselves.

"Will you be there for me?" Karlach asked suddenly. Calarisa blinked the last of the tears out of her eyes to look at her, and saw how much she needed her to say yes. "At the end, will you be with me?"

"Karlach, I - " Calarisa started, but gave up. There were no words to explain what Karlach was asking of her, it was too cruel to even think about. 

"I think I could do anything if you were there," Karlach said. "Even die."

Calarisa choked on something ugly in her throat. She couldn't do it. She couldn't let it happen, even if the only way to stop it would force Karlach into the exact same horrible trap she had lived in all her life. Mechanically, the way she had done before their battles against the Hag Ethel, Ketheric Thorm, and Orin the Red, Calarisa settled onto one knee and laid her hand over her heart.

"Karlach, I'm so sorry," she whispered.

"What are you doing?"

"I swear on my oath," Calarisa started, dipping her head and closing her eyes to focus on the words.

"Don't you do it," Karlach warned, but the threat was empty. 

"To defeat Zariel, Archdevil of Avernus," Calarisa finished. 

"No!"

It was too late. The oath was sworn. A brief warmth suffused Calarisa's otherwise cold, broken heart, and her fate was sealed. She was bound for Avernus now, no matter what. 

"It's done, Karlach," Calarisa said. Her voice sounded hollow to her own ears. 

Karlach stumbled a little way back from her, staring at her with exactly the look on her face Calarisa had feared. It was the same kind of betrayal that Gortash had visited on her all those years ago that damned her to Hell the first time. 

"You don't have to come with me," she offered. It was a pathetic, cowardly thing to say. 

"Fuck you." Karlach's voice was quiet, but the sound of it made Calarisa sick to her stomach. No matter how much it hurt, she wouldn't take it back even if she could. Zariel deserved to be the target of a vengeance oath more than anyone, for what she'd done to Calarisa alone.

"Nobody should have to suffer like this again," she said.

"Leave. Now." There was a pain in Karlach's words that ran so deep Calarisa was sure there was nothing that could heal the wound she had just inflicted. There was nothing she could do now but leave, and she got to her feet without another word. 

It turned her stomach to think of what she had just done to the woman she loved, but she couldn't stop herself from taking one last backward look as she walked away from the graveyard and into the night. Karlach was sitting where she left her, silhouetted by the setting sun, surrounded by a beautiful garden blooming in the last spring she would ever see.

[llamamamarisen92]

Burning out of Love

I love the idea of a durge who is entirely smitten by Karlach

Like this man LAUGHS and FLIRTS as he slays people. He makes ridiculous jokes as if he was just sitting in a coffee shop when he thrusts a dagger.

But when he sees Karlach he becomes incredibly soft and loving just with a glance from her. Like he's only doing good things because it makes her smile.

Warning: Language/Violence

He spun wildly in the air, sword thrust high above his head. Gortash readied for the blow, prepared to take down his old friend.

Johim grinned wildly as his sword struck down before Gortash could get his shields up. Gortash called upon Bane and felt the dark tendrils of his patron god taking over his consciousness.

Leaning his forehead against Gortash's he whispered ferociously.

"If you're going to hide behind your god I'll be sure to take you both out swiftly." Pressing a kiss to his cheek before thrusting his sword into Gortash's belly.

Gortash was no longer there. Bane's black hand grasped onto Johim's arm stopping his thrust.

"Child of Bhaal. It's a shame you turned your back on us. Oh, how I would have delighted in stealing you away for myself. A god among men."

How cocky the gods were. But he was a slayer of gods. And he would slay every single one of them if it meant stopping what he started.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Karlach moving in to land a blow. A dark force blasted her into the wall and all of Johim's fury came barreling to the surface.

There was no finesse. No insolent beauty to his movements anymore. He slashed wildly and unrelentingly at Gortash. A tiger being held up to the face of an unprepared hunter.

After a time Johim was covered in Gortash's blood and he breathed heavily over the dead Banite.

Searching the room for the spot where Karlach was he deflated. She sat curled in the corner crying. All ferocity left him as he rushed to her side.

"He's dead. And he's no fucking sorrier than he was before." He brushed at her cheek and she pulled away. "What's the point? I'm still going to die. I'm still dying!"

"We can figure this out, it's not over yet." He soothed.

"He stole my heart, my heart that was given to me by my mother. And all of this. The pain. The suffering. The loneliness… oh the fucking loneliness for ten years because my friend sold me to the devil!" She pushed him away and got up. But he persisted and held on to her hand.

"Whatever happens we are in this together, right to the very end."

He stood there, taking the heat of all her fury.

"You're going to go on living, dancing, eating, making fucking love all night." Her voice broke. "It's not fucking fair."

The thought of losing her after all this devastated him. She interrupted him before he could declare how if she died he would die with her. How he only ever wanted her.

"I need to go back to camp for a bit. Yell at the stars of whatever." Her sad smile set his heart beating faster. "Thanks for listening, love you."

She walked off and he turned to Gale and Astarion searching for any hint of an idea they may have.

"Karlach has precious little time left to her, we would do best not to waste it." Gale placed a knowing hand on Johim's shoulder.

He wouldn't let her die. Johim would find another way even if it meant selling his own soul to a thousand devils. Karlach was going to live.

[amatres]

Karlach: Is that it, then? I've killed the bastard who ruined my life, and now I crawl into a corner and die? Am I fucking missing something? Karlach: It makes no sense. None of it means anything. ... Karlach:And you - you'll just keep going, won't you. Watching the stars. Warming your hands on the campfire. Dancing, eating, making fucking love all night- all of it, all of it .. Karlach: It isn't fair. I don't want it like this. ... Karlach: Thanks for listening. For existing. Love you.

Karlach: Gods, I've changed. I used to hamstring pit fiends for fun. Look at me now. ... Karlach: Will you stay with me? When it's time. For me to go. I think I can do anything if you're there. Even die. ... Karlach: Thanks for everything, soldier. I'm extremely glad to be in this thing together.

Karlach: We did it, soldier. The city's going to be all right. And so are you. … Karlach: So were you. My friend. My companion. I adore you. … Karlach: I never gave up. I did my best. I did my best. It's the one thing I can't beat, isn't it?! I wanted to live. In my city. With my friends. But life is for the living. And I saw - gods! Goodbye, sun. Goodbye, sea. Goodbye. Karlach: I'm ready. I… I… Stand back, I'm going to-

Karlach: So Gortash is nothing more than a pile of flesh, same as the rest of us. Balaerra: Perhaps a bit uglier. Karlach: Feel like I should laugh but I'm just too godsdamned tired. Is that it, then? I've killed the bastard who ruined my life, and now I crawl into a corner and die? Am I fucking missing something? Balaerra: What do you mean? Karlach: It makes no sense. None of it means anything. He's dead, and he's no fucking sorrier now then he was before. What was the point? I'm still dying. I'm dying. I'm going to die! Balaerra: Maybe we can still fix your engine, stablize it. Karlach: Got a miracle in your back pocket you forgot to tell me about? I'm going to be as dead as Gortash any day now. Any moment. And what then? Off to the City of Judgement to waste into oblivion? Into the dirt to get eaten by maggots? Is that it for me? Is that fucking all?!And you - you'll just keep going, won't you. Watching the stars. Warming your hands on the campfire. Dancing, eating, making fucking love all night- all of it, all of it Karlach: That's my reward for everything I suffered. That's why I survived ten years of torment. The fighting, the clawing, the longeliness, the fucking loneliness… All of it, so I could rot. Because the person I trusted the most gave me away to the devil. It isn't fair. I don't want it like this. Balaerra: I would do anything to change it, but I just can't. Karlach: You could try. Haven't you got a Wish spell in that pack of yours? What the fuck am I supposed to do now? Balaerra: Live. For as long as you can. Karlach: You do it. I'm tired. Let's get out of here. I've always hated this place. Stupid fucking gigantic bridge or whatever. I think I need to go to camp for a while. Be alone. Scream at the sky. You can come and find me later, if you want to. Karlach: Thanks for listening. For existing. Love you.

Karlach: Hey, soldier. You're back. Balaerra: I've been worried about you. Are you all right? Karlach: Yeah, despite my best efforts. I kept trying to flop over and give up, but Karlach just won't let me. Did I miss anything important? Balaerra: We can talk about that later. I'm more concerned about you. Karlach: Would you believe if I said I'm all right? You know soldier, we're so fucked. The Dark Three are trying to consume the Swoard Coast, we've still got tabpoles in our eyes, and I've got a ticking time bomb in my chest. I'm not sure anyone has ever been more fucked than this. Karlahc: And yet… we're fine. In this moment, we're fine. Here I am. There you are. Breathing. Talking. Even laughing, if we want. Is it very precious to say that despite it all, I'm… happy? Balaerra: Very precious indeed. Karlach: Gods, I've changed. I used to hamstring pit fiends for fun. Look at me now. To make matters worse, there's something I wanted to ask you. Will you stay with me? When it's time. For me to go. I think I can do anything if you're there. Even die. Balaerra: Of course I'll be there, Karlach. Whatever you want. Karlach: Thank you. Now! Enough tragedy! I'm not done yet. And our schedule is packed with important heroics, isn't it. Plus, if I cry any more, I'm going to run out of tears and start leaking motor oil. Thanks for everything, soldier. I'm extremely glad to be in this thing together.

[nopointic]

really be on duolingo fighting for my life during the timed challenges knowing damn well it's not a good way of learning a damn thing for me

gamification of learning is honest to god one of the key reasons so many have been left behind in education in america but i'm not even opening up that convo again. millions before me had said it and millions after me will continue to say it.

as long as schools keep hinging "learning" on passing standardized tests and fucking over teachers who have to use games to install quick memorization in students so they can pass said tests so they can advance and get a simple diploma or move to the next grade, nothing will change about this entire set up.

nobody wins in this set up but the test makers and society that believes in money over people. and god forbid you're not good at memorization or games to learn. because then you're told well it's the BARE minimum already WHAT MORE CAN YOU ASK FOR. and then students are called lazy and dumb and told they're not worth it etc etc etc

so we have students obviously not learning. we know that. but everyone just blames the teachers not teaching. blames the students and their latest electronic device and social media site. and it's not that. those are factors yes, but it's not that.

it's the education system and learning. what form of learning is quickest, easiest, more "flashy and fun" so a test can be passed in the end.

i've felt sorry for children since i was a fucking child. i'm 31 now. it's fucking worst and i feel sorrier and i thought that wasn't possible. but my god does america know how to break you and lose faith you already thought you lost.

i guess if this was an essay i'd start the paper with a witty opening like capitalism, and why your child has contemplated suicide before, during, and after going to school in the 21st century

but like i said, i'm not writing another fucking paper. i'm tired. i use to tell kids and teens it gets better and i felt like a fucking liar every time i said it because it never got better.

so i don't say that anymore. i say i understand, it's not you, it's your school, it's the test, it's so many factors but it's not your fault. i say please eat that candy, eat that slice of cake, laugh with your friends in school, laugh at anything you can. i say don't cry over a failed grade. i say you're not just a fucking letter grade or gpa or any number. not a pants size or tshirt size or weight or hair length number or score for a team. a ranking in a class or ranking in anything. i say you're a person and your anger you have right now is valid. i say that fucking test you failed from that fucking review game you still did not get and you failing the information and someone is saying you were "spoon fed" the basic information to you, and you still failing a test means you are stupid? no. you're not stupid. and that person who said that? they're what we call a fucking asshole.

it's on the systems we live in. it's on that.

i guess i lied again cos this is an essay. but yeah. to students of any age, it's not you. i promise you that.

it's the format of style of teaching. money is always involved. who gets paid who doesn't get paid. who gets time and who doesn't get time.

it's not you being bad at games with learning tho. it's learning styles. so many. ugh. i fucking hate that one is prioritized over the other.

gamification is a tool that everyone cannot use. and yet so many education systems rely on it.

that's a fucking problem.

thank you teachers every where who are overlooked, underpaid, treated like those 10 products in 1 nifty machines we buy on the holidays while still being told they're not doing enough.

american teachers are asked to be parents, friends, guardians, nurses, fire fighters, medics, body guards, leaders, confidants, and yet told their job is not worth any form of funding or help. to just do it for the LOVE of the job. with no resources etc.

but hey! at least you might one day get a shout out from a sports player who remembers you one day right? or the paragraph of they loved their students so much when killed in school. you might even get your funeral paid for.

but working now, as a teacher, while alive, needing resources to teach your students now, needing a livable wage now to survive and have energy to keep teaching, you get nothing.

shits fucked up. so fucking fucked up.

i'd say vote in elections etc, but like i said, i'm 31. voted since i was 18. it has not gotten better... it's literally getting worse.

[trapton]

"oh well look at you," their voicebox seemed to follow the command of the one who spoke and instead tried to taunt but laugh at once. To clamber about without an idea of what to do and explore was that old clown's perfect type of fun yet coming across the puzzling appearance that is Burntrap would not be expected. Ennard's eye colour flickered a little. "Worse condition than us and all the way down here. . . you must be suffering hehe. There is an elevator shaft to climb you know~" and yet more taunting.

🔧 @wiredupclown !

𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚙'𝚜 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝, caught between purple and silver. unfortunate. glitchtrap is still an entity of himself, though hiding in the vanni network for safe keeping. [...] shut down, for the moment.

slumped down on the ground, his paws draw legs up with his already weak head weighted to one side. it's almost a sorrier state than in the thirty years he spent in that room. [...] though not so torturous as his old purgatory. he had met ennard there, once. taunted and killed by the visage of his daughter, and even the monster he had since become.

yet such monster twitches.. a laborious glitching of his eyes whilst external systems power on. his head and remaining ear twitching, while he gets a good look at his taunter. the jester whom had come to see his fate for itself.

he makes a rattling noise in the damaged voice-box. weathered due to water damage from hoses, putting out the fire at that ghastly amusement park. somehow still working, despite his recent trouble. even since having had fixing since his first brush with death. [...]

his mouth also makes a twitch of his own volition, trying again in vain to lift his head. pulling his gums back, with the grisly image of a corpse face. skeleton's skull teeth on haunting display. he wants to say 'i can't, you idiot. i'm to weak too climb' -- but inside all the taunting makes him feel is hope. all he's ever had, in all honesty. the tenacity to push on. so instead he asks in a quiet, gnarled whisper: "where?"

[ofangelsanddevils]

Illusion ch 13 This is not a Hygiene class.

It’d been more than a week since Liana’s personal army was enlisted. A whole week and there'd been no sign of the demon. Her friends acting as bodyguards was truly helping, though it was driving her absolutely nuts. She had practically no alone time. The only moment during the day that she had any breath of real freedom was during Gym class.

Elodie had offered to switch classes around so that she’d have the same Gym period, and Scott had pushed for this. Desperate to keep some time for herself, after much cajoling, Liana had convinced them that she'd be fine, and she'd succeeded, or nearly so. Quinn had Gym the same period, so he'd agreed to keep an eye on her from a distance, and the distance though miniscule was the key to her stolen moments of solitude. Yet, Quinn's watchful eye from across the Gym irked her. Liana chafed at the complete loss of her independence.

At least Quinn wasn’t allowed into the girl's locker room. Even though he watched her from across the Gym or out in the field depending on what they were doing, she managed to steal a few brief moments for herself. She was supposed to only be in the locker room when the other girls were there. As far as Elodie, Quinn, and Scott knew that's exactly what she did. They didn’t need to know that once she followed the rest of the girls into the locker room that she lingered inside the doorway for a few minutes until some of them started to trickle back out.

Then she’d go into the locker room which soon emptied. It was practically the only time she ever got any respite from her guards. Elodie spent every night at her house or conversely Liana slept at Elodie's. Also, Elodie insisted on standing outside the door when Liana took a shower or used the bathroom. Quinn and Scott accompanied her everywhere during the day. It was horrible, even considering the fact that normally she'd be thrilled to have Scott around so much. She’d never felt sorrier for the fish in the proverbial glass bowl as she had during the last few days. Her life was under a microscope and she was sick of it.

Today was no different, there’d been fighting between Scott and Quinn, who never seemed to get along anyway. Today had been especially horrible as they’d nearly come to blows in the lunch room during their argument over who would walk her to her Gym class;

“Why don’t you stop acting so high and mighty?” Quinn had lobbed a shot across the bow when Scott had suggested that he should walk her to class today. Scott's reply; "I need to make sure Liana gets there."

"So, you're implying that I'm irresponsible huh? You think I'm incapable of making sure she gets to class safely?” Quinn postured, his face dark and threatening.

“Don’t get bent out of shape, I didn’t say you were slacking off. I simply want to make sure she arrives without a scratch. That’s all! You shouldn’t take things quite so personally, Quinn.” Scott had said, as he attempted to maintain his equanimity while speaking with Quinn.

“You know what I think? You’re stalking her. She doesn't need enemies when she’s got someone like you around!” Quinn lobbed another shell and connected with his target. Scott stopped pulling his punches and the argument had escalated to a shouting match. Liana who'd finally had enough of their pissing contest had started laughing at the two dueling boys.

"As far as I'm concerned I'm the victim of multiple stalkers, three humans and one big scary demon." Her eyes sparkled with laughter as she said this, and it served to alleviate the tension.

But only temporarily. They were sure to argue again, and soon. Scott and Quinn were both walking powder kegs, ready to throw down.

Liana wasn't to blame for wanting to steal a few moments for herself away from the territorial contest between those two. She waited a bit longer than normal inside the doorway to the girl's locker room, and watched every single girl leave before she went in.

Liana’s locker was located towards the back of the locker room, one row over from the showers. She quickly undressed and jumped into the shower to wash up. She finished quickly and proceeded to dress. She had her shirt on and was pulling up her jeans when she heard a strange sound echo through the empty locker room.

She turned her head in the direction of the sound. There was a drain set down into the chipped and yellowing tile floor near her locker and the sound was coming from it. As she watched, bubbling dirty water trickled slowly up and out of the blackened drain and coalesced on the floor. “Disgusting!” She mouthed and turned back to finish dressing.

Then she heard raspy breathing. Something or someone was right behind her. She hoped that it was one of the girls who’d come back into the locker room, but she knew in her heart it wasn’t. It was the demon. Liana slowly turned around, swallowing back her fear as she did so. The demon stood over the drain as the last of his body solidified. He only vaguely resembled Scott this time, which made her uncomfortable remembering the last time at the club, when he’d masqueraded as Scott to draw her out into the garden.

His eyes were black and burning so Liana quickly dropped her own eyes to the floor to avoid being sucked into their vast empty depths. She grabbed the padlock to her locker from off the bench in front of her. She raised it and hurled it directly at the demon. The lock went right through him and out the other side, landing harmlessly on the floor a few feet behind the demon. When it landed it created a metallic hollow echo that reverberated around the empty locker room hollowly.

He laughed at her useless attempt to stop him. Liana despaired that she would escape this time. The demon lunged forward and grabbed her chin with his icy grip and forced her to stare into his eyes;

“Look at me! I want to see the embers of your soul burn away as you die.” He spat out. Small flecks of spittle landed on her cheek and left pin pricks of icy doom. The draw to stare back into his eyes was undeniable. She felt her soul begin to slip away. While she stared she soon realized that it would be infinitely easier to close her eyes and evaporate into the darkness. Her eyelids refused to close, and she couldn’t remember how long it’d been since the last time she’d blinked. Her eyes were dry as a hot desert wind, and she ached to close them against the darkness before her. They felt stapled open and raw from his burning gaze.

As the connection between her soul and body grew faint, she was aware of a dream-like state that took over and dominated her mind. In a matter of moments her mind unhinged itself from her body. The last thing she saw before she passed out was Scott appearing in the locker room. He jumped on the demon from behind, causing the demon to lose his grip on her face. When the demon released her, it caused her to fall hard against the lockers and she relished the release as her knees buckled. Her eyes closed as she slid down the lockers into the welcome embrace of oblivion.

Liana knew she was dreaming. May stood in front of her. Her sister wore a sparkling white robe and her wings were a pale blue and creamy white. She had a frown on her face. Liana didn’t remember going to bed the night before. Also, it was rather odd that she was dreaming of being half dressed, sitting on the floor in the girl’s locker room at school. “Odd dream!” Liana stated out loud.

May spoke softly; “This isn’t a dream, Liana. I needed to speak to you while you’re unconscious.” She slowly leaned down and pulled Liana to her feet.

“I don’t understand. How'd you get here?” Liana whispered, afraid that she’d ruin the vision if she spoke too loudly.

“I’ve been trying reach you at night, but you never seem to understand me when I visit you in your dreams, so I figured it would be easier to speak to you now while you’re passed out.” May said.

“I don’t understand. Where did Scott and the demon go?” Liana asked, suddenly remembering what had been happening only moments before she'd passed out. Except for May, she was the only person in the locker room.

“They’re still here.” May said placing a hand over Liana’s eyes. When she removed her hand, Liana saw her own body on the floor while the demon and Scott were engaged in a tremendous fight nearby. Liana's brow furrowed in concern when she watched Scott.

"Scott can take care of himself." May said, seeing Liana's concern.

“Like I said, they’re still here. Now, if you wouldn’t mind paying attention to me for a moment. I’ve got something important to tell you.” May said. “I’ve been trying to warn you. You’re in terrible danger.”

“Yeah, I know.” Liana said, indicating the fight raging behind them.

“No, I’m talking about a greater danger than the demon trying to kill you.” May responded.

Liana was in shock; “What do you mean more dangerous than the demon attacks?”

Her full attention was now on her sister as she ignored the chaos nearby. “I’m listening.”

“There’s a reason you’re being harassed. It all started a long time ago with the disappearance of a minor guardian angel named Calespiel and his charge, Laura. It happened nearly seventy years ago. At first, everyone assumed that he’d fallen in love with her, and had chosen to become human. And that he'd just done a better job at hiding from the angels in heaven when he quit. Raphael, the angel in charge of all guardian angels, investigated the entire incident and was unable to find any sign of Calespiel or the missing girl. It frustrated him. He spent a great deal of time searching, but he never found the rebel angel, nor did he find the girl.

In desperation he consulted the records of heaven to find his answers. The heavenly records contain a history of everything that has ever happened on earth or in heaven. When he searched, he found something disturbing. All evidence of Calespiel and Laura was gone. Erased! No record of them was left. It was as if Calespiel had never even existed, and any records of the times that Calespiel would’ve interacted, or intervened on Laura’s behalf were also missing. This confused Raphael. He didn’t understand how entries in the permanent records of heaven could ever be erased.

He became obsessed with finding answers. He was determined to get to the bottom of it. They say he searched for years. He became frantic to find the answers. Then he too disappeared. The last time he was seen was by the head angel, Michael. Raphael told Michael that he knew who'd done it. When Michael asked who it was, Raphael declined to answer, stating that he would inform him once he had more proof.

All of heaven sought for Raphael. No trace of him was ever found. He’d vanished as well. Michael consulted the records, but the records relating to Raphael’s investigation and disappearance were also missing. No one could find out what had happened to Raphael, or what he’d discovered before he'd disappeared.”

“An angel went missing?” Liana interrupted in surprise.

“Two angels and one charge remember.” May replied.

“I don’t understand, what does this have to do with me?” Liana asked.

“I’ve been keeping track of every time you’ve been attacked.” May answered.

“Are you one of my guardian angels?” Liana wondered aloud.

“No, but nonetheless I’ve been keeping my own personal record. The other day I finally got access to the official records, which wasn’t easy believe me. I found out that all entries for the attacks on you have been erased. It’s as if they never happened!” May admitted with anxiousness in her voice.

“So that means…?” Liana asked hesitating to voice her sudden fear, as if saying it aloud would somehow make it true.

“Yes, Liana! It means that whoever got rid of the girl Laura, and both of the angels Calespiel and Raphael, and then covered up their disappearance, is also involved somehow in what's been happening to you.” May proclaimed in one quick statement.

“So much more is going on here than you, or I, or even your guardian angel realizes. I’ve asked him to make contact with you directly, to meet with you in person, so you can figure something out between the two of you, but he refuses. He says it’s better for you if you don’t meet in person. He feels you're safer not knowing who he is.” May sighed, shaking her head causing her short blond hair to quiver around her face. May was even more beautiful as an angel than she'd been in real life.

“What should I do, May?” Liana twisted her hands together in helplessness.

“I’m not sure yet, Liana. I’ve told your guardian angel all about the records being changed and he’s keeping his eyes out for anything suspicious. He’s also requested to be assigned to you full time instead of part time.”

“What? I don’t merit a full time guardian angel, even after all I’ve been through?” Liana asked with surprise and anger.

“Of course you do. I didn’t want to worry you more than I already have, but more angels have disappeared since Calespiel and Raphael went missing. The guardian angels are dropping like flies. A year doesn’t go by now without another guardian angel disappearing. Once in a while their charges disappear too, but most of the time it’s only the angels themselves that go missing.

Heaven can’t quite keep up with finding replacements for all the missing angels, and the records are always found to have been tampered with. This has left the guardians who are left spread quite thin.” May sighed, worry creasing her forehead.

“I had no idea.” Liana said, for no particular reason, as if it were something she should’ve known in the first place.

“That’s okay.” May smiled slowly.

“I miss you.” Liana said, when she saw May’s smile.

“I miss you too. I’ve been trying to visit you, but it gets hard to sneak away from my post in heaven. I'm a guardian angel in training, and I'm in charge of the guardian alarm system, so when it went off I hurried to see you. I’ve tried visiting you in your dreams, but you never seemed to get that it was me and not a dream.”

“Will you be able to visit me again?” Liana asked, fearing the response would be never.

“I’m not sure when I’ll be able to get away again. I may only be able to visit you in your dreams in the future. This time I was able to get away because I knew my actions wouldn’t be recorded. Whoever is doing this has found a way to circumvent heaven. It sounds bad but in a way I’m glad that this attack isn’t being recorded, because it made it possible for me to visit you. For your sake, I hope that there won’t be any more attacks, even if they do provide a cover that allows me to slip out of heaven.” May smiled, a guilty look on her face.

Liana returned the smile, happy to be speaking with her sister. She leaned in to give her sister a hug when she suddenly felt a pulling sensation from behind her. It was from her body. She turned to observe her body on the floor, and realized that Scott had vanquished the demon. The demon was gone. Scott was leaning over Liana trying to wake her. Liana blushed with embarrassment, when she saw that she was still in a half-dressed state.

“Well,” Liana said, turning back to May, “guess I have to go. Thanks for…” Her words stuck in her throat.

May had vanished and Liana felt the renewed grief of losing her sister all over again. She turned back to stare at Scott and her own body, and contemplated running away instead of going back. “That would be a solution.” she thought. But before she could escape, the pull of her physical body on her soul increased tenfold and she found herself drawn back into her limp form. Slowly she became aware of her senses again, she could feel the cold tile floor and the hard lockers against her back. She could feel where the bruises from her fall were rapidly forming.

Next, Liana became aware of Scott leaning over her. He was desperately trying to wake her from her unconscious state. "It's nice to be this close to him." she thought. Though she should’ve been more worried about the state of her appearance, but at that moment she didn’t care. Finally she opened her eyes and heard Scott’s sigh of relief;

“I was so worried about you. I thought that maybe you might not wake up.” Scott spoke, his soft manner conveying his emotions.

“No, not likely.” Liana choked on her words as she tried to sit up and failed miserably. Scott leaned down and scooped her up in his arms, and started to set her down on a bench when she heard a loud shout from behind them. For a split second, Liana thought it was the demon come back to finish them off and she jumped, nearly toppling both she and Scott as he struggled to keep from losing his grip on her.

“I knew you were up to no good!” Quinn yelled.

“Listen here, Quinn! I don’t like what you’re implying. I’ve done nothing wrong besides save Liana from the demon that was attacking her!” Scott said.

“Is that true Liana?” Quinn said, watching Liana for signs of distress.

It took her a few moments to find her voice; “Yes, it’s true.” Liana said, as she slowly nodded her head to emphasize her reply.

“Oh.” Quinn said with a sulk on his face. “Sorry, Scott, I thought that….”

“I know what you thought. You’re a great big jerk if you think that I would ever do something like that to Liana.” Scott's face was dark with anger.

Quinn hung his head in shame, and proceeded to mumble his apologies. Scott set Liana down on the bench in front of her locker.

“Sorry. Well, if you’re okay Liana, I guess I’ll head on to my next class. Let me know if you need anything from me, okay?” Quinn said.

Liana barely acknowledged him with a curt nod. She was trying to figure out how to put herself to rights, preferably without anyone else helping her. Quinn slunk away in embarassment. Liana watched him leave and she wanted to feel bad for him for having falsely accused Scott, but she didn't. As if Scott would ever take advantage of her. Lost in her thoughts, Liana didn’t notice Scott standing over her staring down with compassion.

“Do you need anything from me Liana? Is there something I can do to help?” He asked.

“Uh…You could turn around for a moment, so I can finish getting dressed.” Liana proffered, her face blushing through various shades of red. His face flushed as he realized that she was not yet modest.

“Oh sorry!” he said, and he turned his back to her.

Considering that she was still fairly shaky, Liana took quite a while to get ready. Every muscle and joint in her body protested at even the slightest movement.

“Finished.“ She sighed, proud that she’d managed so well.

Scott turned, sat down next to her and put his arm around her in a comforting manner.

“Do you want me to take you home, or do you think you can handle your next class?” He said, concern on his brow.

“I need to go home, if you wouldn’t mind taking me I’d be ever so grateful.” Liana said softly.

“That won’t be a problem.” He said. He held her arm as he directed her out of the door. They headed toward the parking lot to get to his car. They passed Elodie in the hall and Scott quickly explained the situation, and she promised to show up at Liana’s house as soon as she could. Liana was still weak so his car felt like it was miles away. Finally, they reached it and he gently guided her into the passenger seat. Once she was safely stowed, he got in and pointed the car towards her house.

She closed her eyes and worked hard at not falling asleep. She was weary to her soul. All the dreams, and the demon attack had taken their toll on her. Scott drove slowly so as not to jar her too much so it was interminable until they arrived at her house. She was grateful for his solicitude as she was utterly exhausted. Scott pulled up to her house and helped her out of the car. Liana leaned heavily on him to get inside. Before he could ask which way, she indicated the basement and he gently led her downstairs and into her room. He helped her to lie down on the bed. Then he wanted to know if she needed food or anything else.

“No, I think I'd be too tired to eat anything.” Liana acknowledged.

“Okay.” He said. He appeared to be at loss as to what he should do next.

Liana took pity on him. He seemed eager to do something to help her. “You can help me take my shoes off.” Liana offered, not sure if he would actually do it.

“Sure thing!” He said, as he proceeded to unlace her shoes. He surprised her then by sitting on the bed and then lifting Liana’s feet then placing them in his lap.

He gingerly removed one shoe and then the other as if her feet were made of glass. Then to her happy amazement he began rubbing her feet. Liana forgot that she was exhausted, and simply closed her eyes in pleasure. His touch was warm and caressing. Liana felt a warmth pooling in her feet that started to rise from her lower extremities into her stomach. The warmth didn’t stop there. It continued up into her chest and arms. This blanketing warmth was heavenly. Liana sighed, and opened her eyes to sneak a glance at him. He was staring over at her, his blue eyes betrayed the heat of his desire.

Liana's heart raced and her face blushed. She fantasized about what it would be like to kiss his lips once more. His mouth taunted her and she felt its’ magnetic pull. She sat up slowly keeping her eyes focused on his face and lips. Scott exhaled slowly as he watched her. He was a half-wild animal, unsure if he should trust her. She knew that he understood what she was going to do next. Liana was also intensely aware of the fact that he wasn't planning to do anything to stop her. She moved her legs gingerly off of his lap and leaned her face closer to the warmth that was radiating from him.

Without hesitation she gently wrapped her arms around his chest and pulled him closer as her lips found his. They were joined in a melting kiss that was infinitely better than a hot drink on an icy cold winter’s day. Liana had wanted to experience this again, ever since she’d kissed him the other day. Liana moved closer to him and for a moment he yielded in reply. Then he ceased kissing her, and pulled her hands away from him and placed them firmly back on her lap.

“I can’t do this.” Scott said, as he stood up increasing the distance between them. Liana's face fell and in response his face darkened with guilt. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

“What’re you worried about? I’m the one that kissed you, but I will say that you were kissing me back you know! You shouldn’t be sorry.” Liana said, trying to smooth things over.

“You don’t understand I can’t do this with you.” Scott said.

“Why, what’s wrong with kissing me?” Liana demanded, angry and hurt. She'd been summarily rejected again.

“I don’t want to get involved with you. I only want to be friends with you. That’s all!” Scott said.

“What’s wrong with me?” Liana questioned, sadly.

“Nothing, I don’t want you getting attached to me. I’m not worth it. It could cause some real trouble for you.” Scott replied.

“Can we talk about this? Why would you cause trouble for me?” She wondered.

“I can’t tell you that. Listen, I’m going to go now, as long as you’re feeling better.” He offered.

“Yeah, thanks. I’ll walk you to the door.” Liana said, trying not to sound like a pouting child.

“No, I can see myself out. You should stay here and rest, besides I think Elodie's here. I heard her car pull up. She’ll keep an eye on you.” Scott walked out the door with a small backwards glance of regret. Liana was furious with him.

And Liana fell to wondering about the whole interaction; "Why is he so bothered by the fact that I'd kissed him? Does he see me as a burden? I hate feeling as if he pities me."

Liana heard Scott and Elodie on the stairs exchanging information. As it was Friday, Elodie was going to stay the night, and get up early the next morning as she had somewhere to be. Liana could hear Scott telling her that he would be over in the morning to take over for her, and that it wouldn’t be a problem if Elodie had to take off before he got there. Liana heard them saying their goodbyes and Elodie continued down the stairs.

Liana absolutely did not want to talk about Scott, or anything else that had happened today, so she feigned sleep when Elodie came into her room. Elodie quietly set her things down, and took up her post in the corner with a book. That was one of the last things that Liana remembered as she fell asleep from utter exhaustion and disappointment.

[radicheart-a]

Half of him was expecting her to stomp off and feel sorry for herself. The other half thought maybe she'd actually stand her ground and snap back at him. That second one would have been annoying, but it would also have been the most preferable outcome based on how he understands her personality.

She does neither. Instead, she sits down and starts to cry...

...and Alastor begins to laugh.

It's soft at first. Nothing more than short, half-suppressed giggles, as if he's actually trying to stay polite despite how rude he'd just been. It doesn't last long though. The tittering gets louder, turning into a chuckle, then a laugh, until it finally winds up being a full blown wild sort of cackling, like a madman that's just escaped his padded room. Claw-tipped fingers flex and curl after his arms lift at the elbows, looking more like the dead branches of a tree than fingers.

The laughter continues as he speaks.

"Hm. Hmmhmm. Ha. Ahaha. Ahahahaha! Hahahahahahaha!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!! --hmm? What's THIS, then? Do I spy, with my little eye...MORE boo-hooing? Did I somehow manage to make you feel EVEN SORRIER about yourself? Or are you shedding crocodile tears on MY behalf?"

There's a dramatic gasp. Both for theatrics and to catch his breath. "Are you pretending to feel sorry for ME now?"

His hysterical laughter resumes in full force. "AHAHAHAHAHA!! I'm sorry, sweetheart!" No, he's not. "You - hhhhaha! - hhHHHAD your chance to be on my good side! In fact, yo-hoohoooooo had MULTIPLE FUCKING CHANCES! And EVERY SINGLE TIME you've SQUANDERED THEM with your own CRIPPLING SELF-PITY! You only have YOURSELF to blame for your loneliness, my dear!! And considering how often I've seen you COMPLAIN about it, I can only come to the conclusion that you truly DO belong down here! The only other thing that sets you apart from the rest of us is that you're creating your OWN misery!!"

And, on that note, Alastor turns, still shrieking with that insane cackling laughter, before walking a short distance and disappearing into smoke, leaving the sound of his howling echoing and ringing in the air for several seconds.

*Mayleene wasn't scared of him...but...she just felt...so fucking shitty. He does have no idea what she had been through...yet she had no idea what he had been through either. She does know other children went through abuse at the hands of their biological fathers but she doesn't even knew how to have had an actual father let along a mother as well because of being abandoned in the trash as an infant. All she can do is just sit on the corner as she can't even say anything...she doesn't have any excuses to give and no apologies can make up for what she said...if he were to kill her right there...then so be it. All she can do is close her eyes with fears just falling down to accept what he can give her having a right to die like a horrible person she is*

[mean-scarlet-deceiver]

DUCK-FIC?!! ⊙.☉ I- I need- more!?

LOL. Of course you do. We all do. The supply is way too stingy, seriously.

But, sorry to say, mine wasn’t really a Duck fic! More of a Truro/ensemble fic than anything.

Even sorrier to say, this fic is definitely on the scrap heap.

However, I will cave and post everything I had actually drafted for the Duck-and-Truro scene. I didn’t even bother to finish it up because nothing was really happening here—but it was a great deal of fun to imagine what they would have talked about!

(also, nonny, i'm sorry for the delay—it's my usual song-and-dance of 'dare i disturb the universe with my Stupid Stupid Stupidity? and, if i do, how much rambling must i do first?' but i broke through, in the end. thanks so much for dropping a line, despite all my tizzy and delay it is very very appreciated ♥)

Spring 1957

The Tidmouth engines often complained about Duck’s tendency to natter on. Nor were they the first, in his life, to need to occasionally remind him to shut up.

But the grand celebrity seemed to genuinely not mind.

“Go on,” he smiled, when Duck had caught himself about to ramble. “I’ve been talking all day myself, telling the same old story a hundred different times, and am glad of a rest. Besides, I’m rather curious, about this railway of yours.”

Duck went red, equally abashed and pleased. “Oh, there’s no place like it!”

“I must agree,” said City of Truro. “I don't have quite have my bearings, though. I thought this was the terminus?”

“Oh, it is, really. That’s the western coastal line, but it hasn’t been used since the war. And that’s the switch to the old harbor—but our Controller’s developing it so that it’s based at Knapford, now. And that switch to the north is a shortcut onto Thomas’s branch line—it bypasses the big station, so it’s useful for moving goods to and from the old harbor. The Ffarquhar branch, rather,” Duck corrected himself, but City of Truro smiled again.

“I’ve been rather out of things a long while. But even I know about Thomas’s branch line!”

“What!” Duck had to laugh a little. Of course, Sodor had its children’s books, and Thomas’s stories were especially popular. But the idea that the great City of Truro knew anything about it rather amazed him.

“Of course. I don’t suppose there’s an engine on all of British Railways that doesn’t know Thomas and Gordon.”

“Really? Oh, don’t tell them.” It was hard to predict which of the two would become more insufferable. Duck grinned, imagining it.

“Really. A few of the younger, rostered engines, whose crews read to them, could probably recognize all of you! I’ve met a couple such, who are great fans, and practically have those stories memorized. Evidently they’re very droll. I can’t believe the half of what I hear from them, though.”

“Oh, everything in those stories really happened, at some point. Sometimes the Thin Clergyman—the author—changes around the order a bit, or puts a rather odd twist on things, or invents some of what we say. And it causes quite a lot of bother and fuss among the engines here, whenever he does! But the events themselves all did happen.”

“I’m afraid that they have given the impression that your number one is rather accident-prone, then,” said City of Truro, very grave, and Duck had to laugh.

“Oh, that much isn’t true, quite.” Thomas was probably the engine that Duck got on with the least well of the lot, but Duck was loyal—and had to be fair. “He’s really a very responsible sort of engine, and not half as naive as the stories make out. But he’s very sporting, honestly, about letting the Thin Clergyman make a lot of hay out of his occasional little mishaps.” Which was remarkable, because Thomas was quite thin-skinned in general, outside of this one special arrangement. “There’s nothing Thomas wouldn’t do, if it helped out the railway.”

“Well, of course. That’s true of every proper engine… or, at least, it was.”

“Things have changed, on the mainland,” said Duck, darkly.

“They have,” said City of Truro. “Though one can hardly blame the engines. The railways themselves have changed so much. A nation-wide network is rather too big, somehow, for even their own new standard engines to feel proper loyalty. Were you on the mainland for nationalisation, Montague?”

“Yes, indeed. I worked Paddington station, up until the 08s started to come in. I’ve only been here on Sodor two years now! Where were you, when they made the Great Western a region?”

“I wasn’t on the Great Western at all. I was in store in a L.N.E.R. shed in the Scottish borders.”

Duck was indignant. “In store! Isn’t that just like them, though. How did you wind up stuck on their railway at all?”

“I can’t make any complaint about the L.N.E.R.,” said Truro mildly, “amusing though it might be, to wind up that Gresley Pacific of yours. They were the ones who preserved me, when I was taken out of service, right before the second war. Mr. Collett tried to get our railway to do so, but they weren’t willing at the time. So York took me in. It was very generous of them, to do such a thing for their old rivals, and to even have it printed right in their own museum, that my speed record was likely authentic.”

“They did? The London and North Eastern?” Duck had a good chuckle. “Oh, Gordon would blow a valve, if he knew!”

“A few of his cousins did just about that!”

“ ‘Likely,’ though. How silly!”

“Oh, be fair, now. The Great Western itself wouldn’t own to the thing officially, when it happened. So we can hardly expect the rest of the world to be much more definite about it!”

“But whyever not? I still don’t understand that. Surely it would have been a very exciting thing, to own to having the fastest engine in the world!”

“All the old railways did want to own just that,” agreed Truro. “But they also wanted to have a sterling reputation for safety! Back then, especially, because rail travel used to be a great deal less safe than it is now. Passengers needed lots of reassurance in those days—and deserved it. What driver and I did on those late-night runs was rather reckless, Montague. It would have brought a great deal of trouble down on our railway, if they had publicized it openly.”

“Like the other railways weren’t trying to do the same thing, on their runs!”

“Well, some weren’t. And now, looking back, I respect them rather a lot, for sticking by their principles. But yes, most all the other major networks were doing just the same as we.”

“Excuse me, though. If you were in a museum in York, how did you wind up in a shed at the Borders? That's too bad!”

“They sent a good many of us museum engines away, during the war, because they feared we’d be the target of air raids. Sprouston sheds were very dull, but they were safe—and I made a few friends, among the engines in service there. A good lot, if rather rough. It felt more homey than the museum, anyway, since I got much more railway news. Of course, after that move I seemed to be rather forgotten, but that’s always the danger of being put in store. Maintenance there kept me in good condition even though I wasn’t operational, and I’m grateful, because when our region looked into restoring me it proved a much quicker job than anticipated, thanks to their men. Of course, they’re no Great Western—I saw some appalling mismanagement there, both before and after nationalisation, and I’m sure our engineers were far the cleverer. Our Cities, our Castles, our Halls, and our pannier tank classes,” Truro smiled at Duck, “have all been second to none. But I’d not be here, without the North Eastern. It seems, too, like half your fleet here can say the same!”

“What? No, indeed.”

“Well, your renowned number four certainly is. And quite a lot of the others look Eastern too. At least, above the running board.”

“No, most everyone here is from the Midland region. Almost everyone’s older than me, though, and have had more or less rebuilding. Mostly more.”

“You’re Swindon-made,” said Truro calmly. “You’ll never need much rebuilding.”

Duck grinned. “Well, time will tell, I suppose! We’re a working railway, not heritage, so the first priority is always making sure we stay competitive with the mainland regions. But they do seem to be getting more interested in keeping us newer acquisitions in our original forms, as much as possible, so as to keep some of the old designs alive.”

“I couldn’t believe my eyes, when I saw your Great Western colors. I’ve been watching engines going in and out ever since, and you’re the only one here with your original paintwork. I couldn’t be prouder—but I am surprised, that your Controller allowed another railway’s livery!”

“I was too!” laughed Duck. “They’re very good to us, though. When I arrived here, the head painter told me I could have whatever I wanted. I told him, of course, that he should choose what he thought looked best, and that I’d be much obliged just so long as he got me out of that horrid B.R. black. But he laughed at me—in a nice way, you know—and made some sort of human joke about how I had to learn to dream in Technicolor. Whatever that is. Anyway, the truth was that there was only one thing I really wanted. But, of course, one wouldn't think it possible. So I had thought to ask for green, at least, and had been telling myself that I should soon come to like matching Percy—our number six; he was my first friend here. But in the end the North Western green is just not the same as ours, and it was oddly depressing, knowing that it was close but not quite right. If there had been a standard livery here, I should have been proud enough to wear it, but there isn’t anymore, really. At one point it was to be blue, but that scheme was given up long ago, and anyway I couldn’t help but think I’d look rather silly in that blue. It’s an old L.N.E.R. color, anyway! But the man insisted that I pick something, and so I owned that the only preference I really had was for my old Great Western paint, and short of that he should do as he liked. Much to my surprise, he grew quite excited, and said that it should be an interesting project—and perfectly possible, if I were willing to wait a little longer.”

“I expect you were,” said Truro proudly.

“Oh, of course! It was like a wonderful dream. Nor was it so very long. It turns out that Crovan’s Gate—that’s the workshop, for all the engines on this island, not just our own railway—they had inherited a good deal of things from Swindon, during nationalisation. Our Controller, it seems, is a great admirer of the Great Western, and he didn’t take my request ill at all. I believe he was as interested as we were, and he had a contact who came in specially, to make sure all the lining and lettering was done exactly right.”

“It makes sense, that he admires the Great Western,” said Truro thoughtfully, “for a good deal of our old spirit is quite alive here, so far as doing things your own way, and not letting London and Manchester come in and bully the life out of you. Still,” he chuckled, “although I take great pleasure indeed in seeing your paintwork, I must own there’s an old, fussy little part of me that’s rather shocked, at the idea of letting engines choose their own colors! And yet, don’t get me wrong, it’s a thousand times better than endless B.R. black.”

“Indeed it is! I know just what you mean, though, even if I am of course quite reconciled to the thing, now. I understand I have James to thank for all this—the red engine that you met earlier.”

“Ah. My new friend.”

“Well. I’m afraid he was only flattering you to get a rise out of Gordon.”

“I gathered that,” said Truro dryly, “and, I’ll be frank, I thought he could have been a bit more loyal. Gordon, I understood perfectly well, at least.”

“Oh, James is loyal,” said Duck, reflexively, though there was a shadow of doubt on his face. After all, he had never seen it really tested, although he suspected it was true. “He does stir things up pretty often, but I’m sure that when matters are serious we can all depend on him, and the truth is that he admires Gordon really—although it’s pretty sound policy, not to let on, because Gordon’s ego is plenty big enough as is. Anyway, James is only rather impulsive. He speaks first, and usually regrets it later. When he’s not cross—and, I confess, he often is—but when he’s not he’s good fun, and he is a hard worker, too, even if he does make ten times as much noise and fuss about most of his jobs as we’d think necessary, back home.”

“And it was down to him, that garter blue never quite became the standard around here?”

“Yes, that’s right. Of course, this was ages before I came—a little before I was even made, I think—but when James arrived they were to paint him blue. The engines were all blue at the time, even Henry, and they seemed to be working towards making them all look rather more alike despite being such a motley bunch, giving them the same cabs and tenders and splashers. But James had sheer gall enough to ask if he could have red, having always it seems rather fancied the idea. And the Fat Controller—the one at the time; he was the father to the one we have now—agreed, so long as James was useful and behaved himself, and that’s been the policy for all of us ever since.”

“And which one is this Henry?”

“Oh, the big green one. Number three.”

“Ah. The green three who is actually a Black Five!”

“Yes,” Duck chuckled, “though if you ever had heard the books read you’d know he wasn’t, always. That was a rebuild—the biggest they ever did.”

“Oh, was it, now? I had supposed he was younger than you.”

“No—only acts it,” said Duck wickedly, and then laughed, a little abashed. “I oughtn’t be speaking of them this way. You must think me pretty awful.”

“Not really,” said Truro, with perhaps a touch of wickedness in his own eyes, though he maintained a proper sobriety. “It may not be very Great Western—but then, I get the impression that it is very North Western.”

Duck had a good laugh at that. “Just so! We all rag on each other here, all the time. Everyone is so different from each other, in a way one often didn’t find, at home. That all said, they’re a good lot really, and I should be ashamed to bad-mouth them to strangers.”

“Well,” said Truro, “let’s consider ourselves friends now, instead of strangers, and then you needn’t worry.”

Duck blushed deeply. He had gotten very comfortable chatting away with the legendary engine, but the idea of being City of Truro’s friend brought the difference in their status back to him. “That’s—that’s quite an honor.”

“It’s been a real pleasure, Montague, getting to speak to another Great Western engine. And not a pleasure I expected to enjoy today. Are you here at Tidmouth tonight?”

“Oh, yes,” said Duck eagerly.

“Good! You’ll introduce me to the others, I hope. What about this other green friend of yours that you mentioned?”

“Oh—Percy?”

“Yes. You said he was the first engine you made friends with here.”

“Yes indeed! Funny enough, he worked the Great Western too, for a while. Then again, he’s worked just about everywhere. He was an industrial engine. We’ll see about tonight. There’s so much extra traffic today, with you here. Percy’s been helping me at Knapford, in between spotting in on Thomas’s line while Thomas brings specials down here, and basically being two or three places at once… we’ll have to see where he winds up for the night. The thing is,” laughed Duck, although secretly he was a bit annoyed, “Thomas is very likely to ask to stay here tonight specially and meet you. Percy wouldn’t bother to fuss with him about it. That’s one of the things I like most about him—he’s very down-to-earth, and not much awed by fame.”

“Then I should like him very much indeed,” agreed Truro. “Buffers crossed. What about your number two, is he based here?”

“Edward? No. He’s taken his last train out of here already, to his own branch line.”

“Ah, that’s too bad. I should have liked to speak with him. He looks to be one of my sort, you know, and I was surprised to see another of us. It looked to me as if he might still be in regular traffic, too.”

“Oh, of course he is! He works as hard as anyone here. And he would have loved to meet you too,” laughed Duck. “He’s been that excited, about the news of you coming! He remembers when word was first going around, about your speed record.”

“Is that so? I supposed he was from about my own time, to be sure, but I hadn’t thought he was around quite so long as me.”

“He’s older than you, I’m sure. He was made last century.”

“All these rebuilds,” said Truro, with mock rue. “I'll never keep track of your lot here, if you’re going to keep springing that trick on me. But now I am sure that he and I did similar work in our day, and that under all that Eastern re-modeling he was a light, speedy sort of engine by design.”

“You’re quite right—he was a main line express engine for a time, though I didn’t know that till just recently, for these days he does just about everything but! But he's told me how they all went a little mad, on his old railway, as word was going around about your run. Said everyone spent the rest of the decade debating it, but that many of his relatives were convinced you had done it… and that a few grew rather reckless, wanting to do the same!”

Truro chuckled. “I’ve heard a couple variations of that, from different places all over the country. I’d almost rather be disbelieved and dismissed, than have anyone come to grief in that sort of way.”

“Well, I don’t think anything bad happened on Edward’s railway. He says his managers came down pretty hard on his whole class, and put an end to the thing sharpish. But it sounds like you were much admired, among his lot. He mentioned one brother in particular, who wasn't such a fool as to fight his driver's controls and play speed trial—but he did manage to get all the way down to Great Western territory, hoping to catch a glimpse of you. But, of course, you were based in London, so he never got anywhere close, really.” Duck grinned. “I liked hearing how much our railway was respected, even back then. And I liked, too, that it got him to talk a bit about his time before Sodor. Most of the engines here never do. It’s rather strange!”

“I suppose some of them didn’t see as much service as you did, on their first network. Gordon, I know, was a prototype, and only did test runs on the mainland.”

“Is that really so?”

“I’m certain of it, as I’ve spoken with some of his brothers and cousins, you know. They’re very proud of his career here, for after his trials it was concluded that a good many changes were still needed to the class, and Gordon might have been expected to be taken apart… of course, that whole lot of great Eastern Pacifics are absurdly proud about everything. In any case, Gordon at least hardly knows anything but Sodor, and I suspect he’s not the only re-homed prototype here.”

“That’s funny,” said Duck thoughtfully, “for Gordon’s almost the only other one, besides me, who does talk much about his old railway… of course, now I think on it, it’s always a pretty generic sort of boasting. I suppose I might have guessed that he was never in full service there. Still, I always rather liked him better for such loyalty—and I suppose I still do. James was a prototype too, but he did have about fifteen years on his old railway, and he never talks about it. I can’t understand it.”

“Which railway was that?”

“Oh, the old Lancashire and Yorkshire.”

Truro looked rather serious. “Don’t judge him harshly for that, Montague. The L. & Y. was a bit notorious for being hard on its engines.”

He said nothing more, and for a moment Duck was quite silent too. It had never occurred to the pannier that James could ever not broadcast a grievance—which told him loudly and clearly that, whatever Truro meant, it must have cut James very deeply.

And James would never forgive him, if Duck were to know anything more about it.

“Your lot here hasn’t gone in very much for big engines, have they?” asked Truro, sounding thoughtful.

Duck wasn’t sure how curious the other engine was, or whether he was simply tiding them over the awkward moment. Either way, he took the chance gladly. “Well, we have some, of course. They’re very conscious here, about making sure we’re every bit as efficient as the Other Railway—and then some. If we’re not following their modernisation policies, then we must prove our ways are just as good!”

“The Other Railway,” repeated Truro, amused, and Duck laughed, going a bit pink.

“Yes, it’s what we all seem to call it, over here.”

“It’s still your railway, too! But I can’t help but like that,” admitted Truro. “And you mustn’t be too quick to judge the others here, Montague. I can think of lots of reasons they might not wish to talk much about their old lives. I shouldn’t want you to forget where you came from, but you must be proud of being North Western, too. It’s a fine home, you’ve got here.”

“Oh, I know it!” said Duck earnestly. “I am, indeed, and no mistake. Of course I’d give them my best anyway—but I’m awfully proud, to be one of the Fat Controller’s engines. And don’t take that amiss, either,” he added, with a grin, for Truro looked sceptical, at the cheek of the younger generation. “He knows very well everyone calls him that, and doesn’t mind. A great man, our controller.”

It took a moment, but, visibly deciding to not judge any too harshly himself, City of Truro relaxed into a smile.

“I am,” he said, “very glad to hear it.”