#like sir you have fundamentally altered so many things and i am shaking you by the shoulders (after i get a chair to stand on)

[glitterghost]

Vessel thinking anyone could ever forget him? Sir, you are permanently etched into all our ears, minds, and hearts. Like fuck, I don't think anyone could forget you even if they wanted to.

[cometeclipsewriting]

Strowlers

Season 1: Episode 1

Chapter 2

AO3 Link

Summary: In a world where magic is both real and illegal, a librarian tries to help protect a young girl discovering her powers, while her girlfriend makes a device that helps to find unregistered magic users.

Full video episode can be found for free here!

“I was hoping that if they arrested me, they wouldn’t take Omar.” Whit shook her head. “I was wrong.” She lifted the cup she had been given, staring at the blue enameled metal. She huddled into her blanket, the air not cold enough to cause the frission that skittered down her back. But slow anger still burned in her core.

“At least I’m not part of the problem,” she looked around the ragtag huddle, her lips pressed into a flat line that only the most optimistic of souls would call a smile.

Night held them tightly, full dark. She had looked for them. Well, for people like them, for hours. And it was late, far later than she knew. But this was crucial. Across the jumping lights of the trashcan fire, a man slipped in, “You mean the Archanologists.” It wasn’t a question.

“Magic should be freed!” Whit pushed out. “Not collared and licensed.” She disagreed with Amanda on this subject on a fundamental level, and it had caused fights in the past; so they didn’t ever talk about it. Something she was bitterly regretting now. If she had known the research happening right under her nose, she would have searched for these people much sooner. Danger was coming to them. Coming to so many.

“What do you know,” a man asked, “about archanology?” His tone flowed, a poet speaking verse. Compelling, thoughtful, words full of meaning to discover.

Whit took a drink of her tea, shaking her head at the question, “Only what Amanda tells me... and what I read between the lines.”

***

“Thank you for seeing me on short notice.” Amanda spoke respectfully to the Preceptor, stepping up to stand beside him. She belonged among them. Her navy blue peacoat and professional slacks a clean symmetry to the two men’s A.R.C. suits. Like them, her hair was cut short and kept neat, the red-blonde parted and smoothed down. No spontaneity or ornamentation. The only true difference her lack of Focus scars gracing her temples.  

“You circumnavigated four levels of bureaucracy in order to reach me directly, Professor.” He didn’t look at her once, keeping his concentration and magic trained on the man strapped to the chair in the adjoining room. Recruit 291’s eyes darted erratically around the vision his released magic still weaved. “You have my attention.”

Amanda took one small breath, trying to match his level of dispassion. Emotions would only hinder her here. “As you may know, um,” she glanced away from the proceedings in the other room, “my research to date has been focused on how and when children’s powers manifest.”

The technician slipped on a pair of heavy sunglasses, flashing her own scars, crossed to the large bank of buttons and dials, and started the process. A flat tone filled the air and surrounding area, and the machine started up.

The two spheres on either side of Recruit 291’s head immediately produced a bright white light, electric sparks traveling to each other, penetrating his temples. It coursed through him, sending his body to vibrate, jerking uncontrollably. Through the glass, Amanda could swear she felt the prickle on her own skin; to have it touch you directly… Despite his previous compliance, the young man tried to escape now. The restraints kept him in place as the electric crackle altered him forever.

“Unfocused talent can cause extraordinary damage.” Amanda couldn’t help but watch, her heart rate erratic, her palms starting to sweat.  The Preceptor flexed his hand, testing what magic was still unrestrained but remained as cool as ever. As if he were just observing a lecture. “Especially when conducted through the unfocused and undeveloped mind of a child.” Her voice quavered, broke just a little, but she tried to keep her fear away. This horrible looking procedure was just a natural part of being a member of A.R.C.

“Your point, Professor.” He dropped his hand, but still watched carefully. Recruit 291’s eyes rolled back, the mouthguard preventing him from biting his tongue.

“What if we could detect talent in an individual before it manifests?” Amanda’s passion for her project collected her and the importance of her work beat over her fear. “I think my prototype solves that problem.”

In the other room, the machine powered down gradually, the electricity dying away. Recruit 291’s chest rose as he took deep, steady breaths, body easing into the chair. He blinked out at Amanda, his new scars raised white against an ashy black powder that had appeared on his skin. He waited patiently for the technician to come over and remove the mouthguard. He didn’t smack his lips or shift around in discomfort. He gave no indication of the stress his body had just been put through. He sat with an unnatural stillness, blinking, waiting.

“What do you feel.” The operator asked, but there was no inflection to the question. It was flat, monotone.

“I don’t feel.” He said, staring straight at Amanda. She swallowed. Hard. And the rhythmic blue flash of her collar reflected in the glass.

Director Rodrigo leaned over and hit the speaker, projecting his voice into the operating room. “Test him. If he retains his powers, he can apply for a job with A.R.C. If they have gone down too low… send him to corporate loan outs,” he instructed dismissively.

He turned around and looked at Amanda. “Does it work?”

The sudden shift back to her threw her for a moment. “My prototype?” She lifted her chin confidently. “Yes.”

“You know that makes it a level seven restricted technology.” He shifted his head just slightly, studying her closely. Was there a hint of sentiment in his voice? But his eyes showed absolutely none.

“Technically, yes.” One of the reasons she had kept it secret from everyone. Including Whit.

“And that your clearance level as an academic doesn’t begin to give you the authority-“

“But it works.” She interrupted, sure of her discovery and the sheer importance of the implications. She had to make them understand how it could revolutionize the process. How it could save so many lives. With a slight pause to bring her tone back down to the moderate tone A.R.C. members should always use, she continued, “And the regional council has the authority to grant a research waver.” And these two men were members of that council.

He looked at her, but Amanda couldn’t discern a hint of what he was thinking. The emotion she thought she had detected earlier gone entirely.

The low buzz of her phone filled the pregnant silence. Amanda looked away, just suppressing the grunt of aggravation from escaping. Why hadn’t she turned her phone off?

The Preceptor looked over his shoulder. “Take your call Professor, and we will discuss your request.”

She looked down, turning away and pulling her phone out of her pocket. Shit. This was not how she had hoped this meeting would go. She answered the call professionally, at least. “This is Amanda.”

***

“Amanda!” Whit cried with relief into the phone in one of the enclosed offices of the library. “I’ve been arrested! Or, I don’t know, I’m being detained.” In the desk across from her the cop watched her closely, as if she would burst into fire or start shooting magic bullets out of her mouth. A man with an at-ready rifle patrolled out in the main entrance of the library. And the creepy A.R.C. guy just watched her, too intent, his eyes still just a bit too wide. She really didn’t like him. He was like a predator, just waiting for her to run.

“No, something really crazy just happened at the library, and now these A.R.C. dudes think I’ve got The Power.” She made sure to add as much drama and sarcasm into her voice and had the pleasure in watching the cop role his eyes and explode out of his chair in a huff. “I know! I told them it’s ridiculous but- Hey!” He yanked the phone from her hand.

“Amanda Darrow?” He barked, pushing his authority.

“No, that’s impossible.” Amanda shook her head at what she was being told. Whit couldn’t have been responsible for the code 37. She had dreaded that the magical anomaly had been at Whit’s library, and it didn’t truly surprise her that Whit was somehow wrapped up in the fringes of it. But Whit couldn’t be the one who had caused a magical spike. “How- How did it happen?” How was she going to get her out of this?

The Archanologists had been speaking quietly behind her, but her tone must have pulled them from their official business. “Is there a problem?” Director Rodrigo asked.

Amanda took a little breath, turning to speak to him. You couldn’t just ignore a question asked to you by one of the head members of A.R.C. “Your agency is holding my… roommate for triggering an unlicensed manifestation.”

Love. She couldn’t tell them the truth of their relationship. Amanda loved Whit, a strong and powerful emotion. And emotions were anathema to Archanology. Emotions led to human mistakes and errors. The larger and stronger the emotions, the greater and more destructive the mistake. As she well knew. Not just from all the horror stories she heard in the news. Oh, no. She had her own personal well of horror to know that her love for Whit was not the wisest thing she had ever done.

“Did she?” Director Rodrigo prompted.

“Not a chance. She’s failed every test that we offer.” And more than a few of them several times. Whit really had hoped that they were just mistakes, and she had at least some small hidden talent that had not manifested for some reason. Amanda had explained many times that magic developed in childhood, but Whit still hoped.

“Give me the phone.” The Director held out his hand.

Really? Reluctantly, Amanda passed it to him, worried about what he would do. He had the authority to order just about anything.

“This is Field Director Lucas Rodrigo. Who am I speaking to?”

“A-agent Timothy Marks, sir.” Whit saw the swift shift from angry man-in-charge to the cowed underling taking orders from someone much more powerful than he was. She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back in her chair. She was confident her girlfriend would come through for her.

She glanced at the weird dude again. He was still staring, now tilting his head, Whit a specimen to study. She felt her face twist and she quickly turned away. He had shaved the sides of his head very short, proudly exposing his scars. A true fanatic who couldn’t feel anything, just like all the ones who had those marks of utter devotion to A.R.C. She shifted her shoulder; she swore she could still feel his eyes on her.

“A... Sir.” The cop sank down into the chair again, deflated. “Yes, sir. Understood. Sir.” Obviously reminded once again that while officially the police were supposedly above anyone’s authority, it was really A.R.C. who ran things. He put the phone down and sighed, unhappy. He rolled the words around in his mouth before reluctantly telling her. “You’re free to go.”

Whit smirked. Awesome. She took a moment, savoring this chance. “Where’s my book.” The two men looked at each other. “The one I was reading to the children? It’s mine.” She again made sure to interject some boldness into the words. Her sass might not do much, but you had to do something to fight against them.

The creepy Enforcer gave a quick little nod, and the cop pulled out her book, tossing it onto the desk. Whit slapped her hand down on it, a patently false smile just for him. And a very repulsed one raking up and down the A.R.C. man as she spun in her chair.

She left the office, quickly walking to her things. Pepper, who had been watching the whole charade, followed quickly. “Whit!” She called quietly, obviously just as aware of the armed men still patrolling the library. What did they want? Another little boy to collar and haul away?

“Are you alright, honey?” Pepper stopped outside the desk cubicle, not putting her back to any of the intruders to their library. The front door was shut and locked, although the man with a rifle and SWAT gear planted in front of the doors was a bigger hindrance than either of those things.

“Fine,” Whit said shortly, the little trembling of her fingers giving her away, but she hid it by getting her backpack out. Perhaps she was more shaken up than she wanted to be, then she even wanted to admit to herself, but she needed to keep it hidden. This was one of those things that no one else ever needed to know. A weakness that someone could use to hurt her. So she instead carefully slid her fairytales into relative safety of cloth and zippers. It wouldn’t do much, but it made her feel better and eased a little of her quivering.

Pepper gently slid Whit’s yellow beanie across the surface of the desk, “Here you go. I was able to pick it up after they left the upstairs.”

“Thank you,” Whit said quietly. Truthfully, she hadn’t even been aware that she was no longer wearing it. It must have fallen off when she had protested them picking up the unconscious Omar. Where had they taken him if most of their team was still here? “Did they let the other kids out safely?”

Pepper nodded solemnly, concern creating a furrow between her eyebrows, but she kept her eyes trained on the men still occupying the office. “Once they checked all the other children for magical talent, they hurried them out of the library.”

Whit sighed and sank into the chair. “And Omar’s family? Will they be told?”

Pepper’s frown deepened, and she shook her head slightly. “They will be told something, but I don’t know if it will be the truth.” She glanced back to Whit, a strange glint in her blue eyes. “I will make sure that they get the unaltered story, though.”

Whit blinked up at the small woman, confused. If Whit didn’t know any better, she would have thought the sweet librarian… dangerous. Something Whit had never even considered. But then Pepper looked solemn and concerned once more, and Whit dismissed the thought. The stress of the circumstance was getting to her imagination.

Abruptly, the Enforcer and the cop left the office, their goon squad falling into step around them. Whit slowly swiveled her chair, carefully watching them as they swept towards the door. The cop, obviously still pissed and holding a grudge, didn’t look their way as he passed. Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said of the other one. Another studying stare from his fish eyes, and then they vanished out of the library. Forever, with any luck.

Both women let out deep sighs, relaxing. Pepper crossed to the doors and locked them once again, turning the cheery sign saying they were closed for the day. Maybe they should make one that was a little less happy, for days like this one. “Why don’t you take some time and head out for today, sugar.” Pepper said compassionately. “You have been through enough.”

Grateful, Whit snagged the strap of her bag. “Thanks, Pepper. You’re the best.” She asked before she made her way to the bathroom, “Are you sure you don’t need help with something?”

Pepper smiled slightly and shook her head, “No, I-“ She stopped abruptly, staring at something. Something that a shock.

Whit frowned and looked. The wall of magazines. With that look, she had expected another A.R.C. dude, or something, but no one was there. “Pepper?” Whit asked slowly.

The librarian slowly shook her head, “Sorry, sugar. Don’t worry about it.” She forced a smile. “I suppose I am more shook up by this than I thought. Go on,” she made little shooing motions with her hands, and so she went.

But why did Pepper look more scared just now than she had the entire time earlier?

[theweightlessness-recedes]

All of us, will not forget him. And always, cannot forget.

Vessel thinking anyone could ever forget him? Sir, you are permanently etched into all our ears, minds, and hearts. Like fuck, I don't think anyone could forget you even if they wanted to.